Gospel Story Finder

The spirit you bring from your service in the temple will touch many within your circles of influence—some you may not have even considered. At the conclusion of one of our visits to the temple in Washington, D.C., the group of members shared testimonies as the bus rolled across the miles toward home. One after another, participants shared their joy and gratitude for the immediate and eternal blessings of the temple. Our nonmember bus driver finally couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed the microphone and expressed appreciation for being with us. He then said, “I don’t know what you people have, but I feel something different here.” Of course, a ward mission leader on the bus got his contact information and later gave it to the missionaries.

Not long ago I received a touching letter from Sister Mori Farmer. It tells of two home teachers and the loving service they provided the Farmer family during a time when the family was experiencing some difficult financial circumstances. At the time the service was provided, the Farmer family was out of town attending a family reunion.
I share with you first a letter written to the Farmer family by their home teachers, which the family found taped to their garage door when they returned home. It begins: “We hope you had a great family reunion. While you were gone, we and about 50 of our friends had a great party at your house. We want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for the years of unselfish service you both have given to us. You have been Christlike examples of untiring service to others. We can never repay you for that—but just thought we’d like to say thanks. Signed, your home teachers.”
I quote now from Sister Mori Farmer’s letter to me:
“[After reading the note from our home teachers] we entered the house with great anticipation. What we found shocked us so much we were at a loss for words. I stayed up all night crying over the generosity of the people in our ward.
“Our home teachers had decided that they would fix our carpet while we were away. They had moved the furniture out into the front yard so the carpet could get stretched and finished. One man in the ward stopped and asked what was going on. He returned later with several hundred dollars’ worth of paint and said, ‘We might as well paint the house while everything is out.’ Others saw the cars out front and stopped to see what was going on, and by week’s end 50 people were busy repairing, painting, cleaning, and sewing.
“Our friends and fellow ward members had fixed our poorly laid carpet, painted the entire house, repaired holes in the drywall, oiled and varnished our kitchen cabinets, put curtains on three windows in the kitchen and family room, did all the laundry, cleaned every room in the house, had the carpets cleaned, fixed broken door latches, and on and on. In trying to make a list of all the wonderful things they did for us, we filled three pages. All of this had been accomplished between Wednesday and our return on Sunday.
“Almost everyone we talked to told us, with tears in their eyes, what a spiritual experience it had been to participate. We have been truly humbled by this experience. As we look around our home, we are reminded of their kindness and of the great sacrifice of time, talents, and money they made for our family. Our home teachers have truly been angels in our lives, and we will never forget them and the wonderful things they have done for us.”

One night I watched a scary movie and then went to bed. After I was asleep, I started having bad dreams. I got scared and woke up. It was the middle of the night. My bedroom was very dark. I got out of bed and knelt and prayed. It made me feel better, and I was able to go to sleep with no bad dreams. I know that Heavenly Father answers prayers and that He loves me.
Matthew Voelkel, age 8Lakeview, Oregon

Once I gave a lesson in family home evening about missionary work. I challenged my family to invite someone to church. We decided to invite one of our friends who was our neighbor. My mom and I talked about what I could say before I called our friend. I was very nervous, but I invited him to sacrament meeting. I told him it was our Primary program and that I was giving a talk. He thanked me for inviting him but didn’t say if he would come. When I entered the chapel on Sunday I didn’t see our friend. I felt disappointed. After I was sitting on the stand, I suddenly saw him in the congregation. I was so happy and grateful that I got to be a missionary.

Sitting on the set of a local TV talk show, Elise Jenkins thought she was going to lose it. Being on television wasn’t getting any easier for the shy 18-year-old, even though she’d already been on other TV and radio talk shows and appeared twice on the evening news.
“I really didn’t want to be on TV,” Elise says, “but in order to make my cause well known, it had to happen.”
What started out as a Laurel project for this small-town girl from Valley Springs, Arkansas, has turned into a worldwide effort that has thrust her into the public eye. The project? Show Hollywood producers that there is a market for G-rated versions of today’s popular movies. “Since they’re already making edited versions of movies for airlines, why not make them available to the public?” Elise says.
Elise’s novel idea is slowly spreading, and people from around the world are taking notice and lining up behind this otherwise bashful teenager. On her petition to Hollywood, Elise has so far gathered some 75,000 names—more than 370 times the number of people living in her hometown. She’s received at least one signature from every state in the union, as well as signatures and letters of support from as far away as China, Australia, Austria, Belgium, and England. “I even got a letter from Pago Pago,” says Elise. “Where on earth is that?”
Elise’s story started four years ago as she was thinking of an idea for her Laurel project. “All the language, violence, and immorality in movies has always bothered me, so I thought trying to change things would be a good idea,” she says.
Elise mailed postcards to family and friends to see if they’d be interested in petitioning Hollywood. Few responded. Undaunted, Elise tried a high-tech road more traveled: cyber-space. “That’s how it started to spread,” she says.
In an e-mail message, Elise asked recipients to make copies of her petition, gather signatures to mail in, and then pass on her e-mail to others. Encouraged by the responses that started trickling in, Elise set an optimistic goal for the number of signatures she wanted: one million. “I know that’s a really big number, but I wanted something that could actually convince movie producers to change,” she says.
Despite her efforts, after five months Elise had only managed to get about 2,000 signatures. Just as her goal of one million names was beginning to seem utterly unattainable, Elise received a phone call that would drastically change the course of her campaign.
David Longhurst, a Church member from Port Angeles, Washington, had been impressed with Elise’s story after reading a Church News article about her. A professional Web site manager, David offered to create a Web page for Elise’s petition and to add it to his own nonprofit “Good Works” Internet site, at www.goodworks.net. The response was overwhelming.
“It took five months to get 2,000 names by mail; then it took five days to get 2,000 more through the Internet,” says Elise. “I remember one day David called, and he said he was getting signatures on the Web site something like one every five seconds.”
The publicity from the Internet also brought in more written responses: a stack of 821 signatures gathered by a young woman in Layton, Utah; 642 names from another girl in Ontario, Canada; 611 names from the Oklahoma Oklahoma City Mission. Nearly every day, Elise found herself carrying home a huge stack of mail from the post office.
Today, Elise loves to look through the scrapbook she’s compiled of all the letters she’s received from around the world. The messages inspire her:
“You have touched many people’s lives and may have made the difference in our society. Many people feel the way you do.”
“Hooray for you! It’s wonderful to see someone do something I’ve been thinking needs to be done for a long time.”
“A few people may not make much of a difference except to themselves, but if everyone who feels this way will act upon their convictions, it will make a difference.”
Elise says she’s been amazed at the enthusiasm and numbers of the responses she’s received. As she continues her crusade, she doesn’t know whether she’ll make her goal of a million names, but she does know she’s provided an avenue for many people to take a stand for what they believe in. “I’ve been trying to stand as a witness of Christ and encourage others to do the same.”
And no matter what happens when her petition reaches Hollywood, Elise says she’s learned a powerful lesson: “One person really can make a difference.”

The building of this structure has been a bold undertaking. We worried about it. We prayed about it. We listened for the whisperings of the Spirit concerning it. And only when we felt the confirming voice of the Lord did we determine to go forward.

At the general conference of April 1996, I said: “I regret that many who wish to meet with us in the Tabernacle this morning are unable to get in. There are very many out on the grounds. This unique and remarkable hall, built by our pioneer forebears and dedicated to the worship of the Lord, comfortably seats about 6,000. Some of you seated on those hard benches for two hours may question the word comfortably.

“My heart reaches out to those who wish to get in and could not be accommodated. About a year ago I suggested to the Brethren that perhaps the time has come when we should study the feasibility of constructing another dedicated house of worship on a much larger scale that would accommodate three or four times the number who can be seated in this building” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1996, 88–89; or Ensign, May 1996, 65).

The vision of a new hall was clearly in mind. Various architectural schemes were studied. One was finally selected. It included a massive structure to seat 21,000 with a theater accommodating another thousand. There would be no interior pillars to obstruct the view of the speaker. There would be trees and running water on the roof.

Ground was broken July 24, 1997, the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the first pioneers in this valley. That was an historic event.

We did not know it at the time, but in 1853 Brigham Young, in speaking of temples, said, “The time will come when … we shall build … on the top, groves and fish ponds” (Deseret News Weekly, 30 Apr. 1853, 46).

In 1924 Elder James E. Talmage of the Council of the Twelve wrote, “I have long seen the possible erection of a great pavilion on the north side of the Tabernacle, seating perhaps twenty thousand people or even double that number, with amplifiers capable of making all hear the addresses given from the Tabernacle stands, and in addition to this a connection with the broadcasting system, with receivers in the several chapels or other meeting houses throughout the intermountain region” (journal of James E. Talmage, 29 Aug. 1924, Special Collections and Manuscripts, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah).

In 1940 the First Presidency and the Twelve had their architect draw up a plan of a building that would seat 19,000 and would stand where this building stands. That was 60 years ago. They thought about it, they talked about it, but finally they dropped the idea entirely.

These statements and actions were wonderfully prophetic. We knew nothing about them. All of them have come to our attention since we began this construction.

We have not built a temple with trees and fishponds on the roof. But on this edifice we have many trees and running water. Brigham Young may have foreseen this structure very near the temple. We have what Brother Talmage thought of, and much, much more. These services will not only be heard by all who are seated in the Conference Center, they will be carried by radio, television, and cable, and they will be transmitted by satellite to Europe, to Mexico, to South America. We reach far beyond the intermountain area of which Brother Talmage spoke. We reach beyond the confines of the United States and Canada. We essentially reach across the world.

This is truly a magnificent building. I know of no other comparable structure built primarily as a hall of worship that is so large and that will seat so many. It is beautiful in its design, in its appointments, and in its wonderful utility. It is built of reinforced concrete to the highest seismic codes required in this area. The concrete is faced with granite taken from the same quarry as was the stone for the temple. Both buildings even carry the blemishes of that granite.

The interior is beautiful and wonderfully impressive. It is huge, and it is constructed in such a way that nothing obstructs the view of the speaker. The carpets, the marble floors, the decorated walls, the handsome hardware, the wonderful wood all bespeak utility, with a touch of elegance.

It will prove to be a great addition to this city. Not only will our general conferences be held here, and some other religious meetings, but it will serve as a cultural center for the very best artistic presentations. We hope that those not of our faith will come here, experience the ambience of this beautiful place, and feel grateful for its presence. We thank all who have worked so hard to bring it to this stage—the architects, with whom we have had many meetings; the general contractors, three of whom have worked together; the subcontractors; and the hundreds of craftsmen who have labored here; the construction supervisor; the city building inspectors; and everyone who has had a hand in this project. They have all joined in a herculean effort so that we might meet together this morning. Many of them are with us, I am happy to say.

And now, my brothers and sisters, I would like to tell you about another feature of this wonderful building. If I get a little personal and even a little sentimental, I hope you will forgive me.

I love trees. When I was a boy we lived on a farm in the summer, a fruit farm. Every year at this season we planted trees. I think I have never missed a spring since I was married, except for two or three years when we were absent from the city, that I have not planted trees, at least one or two—fruit trees, shade trees, ornamental trees, and spruce, fir, and pine among the conifers. I love trees.

Well, some 36 years ago I planted a black walnut. It was in a crowded area where it grew straight and tall to get the sunlight. A year ago, for some reason it died. But walnut is a precious furniture wood. I called Brother Ben Banks of the Seventy, who, before giving his full time to the Church, was in the business of hardwood lumber. He brought his two sons, one a bishop and the other recently released from a bishopric and who now run the business, to look at the tree. From all they could tell it was solid, good, and beautiful wood. One of them suggested that it would make a pulpit for this hall. The idea excited me. The tree was cut down and then cut into two heavy logs. Then followed the long process of drying, first naturally and then kiln drying. The logs were cut into boards at a sawmill in Salem, Utah. The boards were then taken to Fetzer’s woodworking plant, where expert craftsmen designed and built this magnificent pulpit with that wood.

The end product is beautiful. I wish all of you could examine it closely. It represents superb workmanship, and here I am speaking to you from the tree I grew in my backyard, where my children played and also grew.

It is an emotional thing for me. I have planted another black walnut or two. I will be long gone before they mature. When that day comes and this beautiful pulpit has grown old, perhaps one of them will do to make a replacement. To Elder Banks and his sons, Ben and Bradford, and to the skilled workers who have designed and built this, I offer my profound thanks for making it possible to have a small touch of mine in this great hall where the voices of prophets will go out to all the world in testimony of the Redeemer of mankind.

And so to all who have made this sacred edifice possible, and to all of you who are here assembled on this historic occasion, I express gratitude and appreciation, my love and my thanks for this day and this sacred and beautiful house of worship, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Dylan! Time to get up!” Mom said. “We’re going over to church.”
Dylan opened one eye. “Mom, it’s Saturday,” he said sleepily. “We don’t go to church until tomorrow.”
Mom laughed. “Don’t you remember? We’re going to help clean the chapel today.”
Dylan groaned. After a long week at school, he looked forward to sleeping in and doing fun activities on Saturday.
“This is a great way to serve the Lord,” Mom said. “You might actually like cleaning after today.”
“I might have to get up early and clean today,” Dylan thought, “but I don’t have to like it.”
When they got to the church building, Dylan saw some ward members gathered around the custodial closet. They were all adults. “Maybe I’m too young to do most of this stuff,” he thought.
Just then Brother Palmer spotted Dylan and handed him some disposable rags and a bottle of disinfectant cleaner. “You can clean the sinks and empty the trash in the men’s restroom,” he said.
“Can this day get any worse?” Dylan thought.
Dad smiled at Dylan. “Dylan and I will be a team,” Dad said. “We’ll clean the restroom and the windows on the south end.”
Dylan followed Dad into the men’s restroom. “I could be eating a doughnut for breakfast right now,” he thought.
Dad started whistling as he began scrubbing the first sink. Dylan recognized the hymn:
Put your shoulder to the wheel; push along.
Do your duty with a heart full of song.
(Hymns, no. 252)
“Dad sure seems happy,” Dylan thought as he picked up a rag. As they worked, Dylan and Dad talked about a baseball game they planned to go to that night. Dylan began to feel less tired. Soon Dad said, “We’re all done in here! Let’s start on the windows now.”
Out in the hallway, everyone was busy vacuuming and wiping. Staci from Dylan’s Primary class was cleaning a window.
“This is fun!” she said. “It’s not every day you get to help take care of the Lord’s house.”
Dylan paused. “The Lord’s house,” he thought. Outside the sun was shining in a bright blue sky. “Cleaning isn’t so bad if it helps keep the Lord’s house beautiful on the inside, just like His world is on the outside.”
Dylan went to work seeing how clean he could get the windows.
Mom tapped him on the shoulder. “Good work, bud!” she said. “Those windows really shine!”
“I think we’re all done,” Dad said. “Let’s put the supplies back in the closet.”
On the way out, Dylan stopped by a picture of Jesus in the foyer. As he looked at the Savior’s loving face, it felt good to know that in a small way he had helped Him today.
“Would you like a doughnut when we get home?” Mom asked.
“Sure!” Dylan said. “This was a good way to spend Saturday morning after all,” he thought happily.

Eagle Scout Allen E. Wyatt, president of the teachers quorum in his Ohio ward, brought honor to the youth of the Church when he won the Dan Beard Council speech contest and then went on to win the area contest held in Columbus, Ohio. Next came the east-central region run-off where he placed fourth and received an all-expense paid trip to Washington, D.C. In Washington Allen attended a congressional breakfast with congressmen and senators and observed the national finals of the contest at the national Scout office.
Allen is active in the Church and since his conversion four years ago has been instrumental in bringing his family into the Church. Among other honors, Allen was a winner in the Optimists Speech Contest and the PTA poster contest in Hamilton, Ohio.

I recall as a boy hearing of the experiences of my Miller ancestors. In the spring of 1848, my great-great-grandparents, Charles Stewart Miller and Mary McGowan Miller, joined the Church in their native Scotland, left their home in Rutherglen, Scotland, and journeyed across the Atlantic Ocean. They reached the port of New Orleans and traveled up the Mississippi River to St. Louis, Missouri, with a group of Saints, arriving there in 1849. One of their 11 children, Margaret, would become my great-grandmother.
When the family arrived in St. Louis, planning to earn enough money to make their way to the Salt Lake Valley, a plague of cholera struck the area. The Miller family was hard-hit: in the space of two weeks, mother, father, and two of their sons died. My great-grandmother, Margaret Miller, was 13 years old at the time.
Because of all the deaths in the area, there were no caskets available—at any price. The older surviving boys dismantled the family’s oxen pens in order to make crude caskets for the family members who had passed away.
The nine remaining orphaned Miller children and the husband of one of the older daughters left St. Louis in the spring of 1850 with four oxen and one wagon, arriving finally in the Salt Lake Valley that same year.

On one occasion he was home on a break from college. He was focused on upcoming finals and was not feeling right, though he didn’t feel physically ill.
“If you’re feeling well and don’t feel right,” his mother told him, “you need to go serve somebody.”
Brett threw a snow shovel in the back of the family pickup and went around shoveling the driveways of the widows in the ward. He felt much better.
“I was so focused on myself and the finals, I had forgotten that the real purpose of life is to serve others,” he says.

Some of our most stalwart and faithful members have suffered a challenge to their faith for a season. I love the true account of W. W. Phelps, who had forsaken the Church and testified against the Prophet Joseph Smith in a Missouri court. After repenting, he wrote to Joseph, “I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me.” Joseph did forgive him, put him back to work, and lovingly wrote, “Friends at first are friends again at last.”

Jude Okekearu was baptised on 28 September 2024. He is from the Ibo tribe in southeastern Nigeria, who are renowned for being educated and hard-working. Jude worked in a bank, but was made redundant when it downsized its workforce. He then gained employment as a hotel manager, but at greatly reduced wages. The opportunity presented itself to come to the United Kingdom doing care work. It was a chance for a new start. He now lives in Kirkcaldy, Scotland, sharing a flat with other Nigerians.

So it is with our own spiritual experiences. If others do not enjoy them, it does not mean that we do not. I am reminded of an experience with this in New York as a graduate student. I was serving as a seventies stake missionary. The bishop called one evening and told me that some members were involved in a religious discussion with a group of what we would now call “born-again Christians.” The members were challenged by the conversation and had called him for some help. He asked me if I would be available to enter the discussion, which I did. Through that wonderful evening, it became clear that my new friends rejected the idea that Joseph Smith could have had a vision. My response was a question: “What is the highest and most sacred personal experience you could have?”

Their answer was, “A revelation of Jesus.”

I answered, “Why then would you deny another that same blessing?”

A young boy was trying to smooth out the dirt area behind his house so he could play there with his cars. There was a large rock obstructing his work. The boy pushed and pulled with all his might, but no matter how hard he tried, the rock wouldn’t budge.
His father watched for a while, then came to his son and said, “You need to use all your strength to move a rock this large.”
The boy responded, “I have used all my strength!”
His father corrected him: “No you haven’t. You haven’t had my help yet!”
They then bent down together and moved the rock easily.

The quality and tone of this favorite are much like the kind of man my friend Leo Politi is—soft, warm, tender, and full of reverence for life.
Every day Rosa and Jose rode their horse Polomo to the village school. After school, Rosa saw an expensive doll in the store window. She longed for this doll, but she knew she could never afford it. At Christmastime her mother gave the family something better than the doll. Because of Leo Politi’s touch, no one forgets Rosa or her dreams.
This book is also available in a Spanish edition.

But the arctic offers other more satisfying and rewarding experiences, not so full of sadness and uncertainty. Let me relate one. I could not tell what caused the rough-legged hawk, who shares the cliffs with peregrines, to make repeated swoops at the top of the brush-covered bluff above its nest. The nest was only about two feet below the bluff’s brink and contained four large fledglings nearly of age to leave the nest on their maiden flights. It was July 1968 and the stillness of the tundra was only interrupted by mosquitos humming in my ears. Suddenly, the reason for the hawk’s concern became evident as a wolverine emerged from the brush and tried to reach its paw down to one of the young hawks before being struck by the parent bird. It did not succeed, however. From a flashing dive the male parent hit the wolverine squarely in the middle of the back, nearly knocking it over the bluff. The battle was momentarily decided, and the wolverine retreated to search elsewhere for food. Few people see wild wolverines, let alone watch them in such a completely natural act; we were but 100 feet away.

One of my favorite things is soccer. I participated in a soccer challenge. We demonstrated our skills, and then winners were chosen. I qualified to go to the state competition. I was so excited and really wanted to go, but it was on a Sunday. My mom and I talked about it one morning before school. We had a prayer, and she asked me to think about it. After school, my mom met me at the bus stop. I told her I was going to go to church instead of the state competition. I know I made the right decision. Every time I look at my trophy from the local competition, I will remember that it means more than winning at soccer.

This story took place in the USA.
Maddie put her dance shoes into her bag. Dance class had just ended, and it was time for lunch. She met her friend Ashlynn at the door.
“What did you think of that new song?” Maddie asked as they walked to the lunchroom. Their class was going to dance to a new song for their final show of the year, in front of all their families.
“It’s OK, I guess,” Ashlynn said.
“Some of the words seemed kind of weird,” Maddie said. “I don’t like it very much.”
Maddie thought she’d be embarrassed if her parents and little sister watched her dance to music like that.
Ashlynn shrugged. “My brother really likes it. He plays it a lot.”
“Oh.” Maddie looked down.
All day the song played in Maddie’s head. She didn’t like how it made her feel. But Ashlynn didn’t think it was bad. Maybe it was OK.
Maddie remembered a home evening lesson her family had about music. Mom said that good music can help people feel the Holy Ghost. And music with bad words could make it harder for them to feel the Spirit. Maybe the Holy Ghost was telling her the song wasn’t good.
She frowned. The song didn’t have any swear words. Was it still bad?
When Maddie got home, she told Mom about the song.
“Can you look at the words and see what you think?” Maddie asked.
Together they found the words of the song online. Maddie watched Mom’s face as she read.
Mom frowned. “I can understand why you don’t like it,” she said. “It doesn’t have swear words, but I don’t think it’s a good song for fourth-graders to dance to. I’ll ask your dance teacher about it tomorrow.”
The next day, Mom talked to her teacher, Mrs. Slater, at school. Maddie was worried that Mrs. Slater would be upset, but she wasn’t! She said she understood why Mom didn’t like the song. But she said it was too late to change the music.
“Maddie doesn’t have to dance to the song,” Mrs. Slater said. “She can sit out for that dance.”
Sitting out by herself sounded scary. Maddie decided to ask Ashylnn to sit out with her. Ashlynn said yes!
When the day of the dance show came, Maddie met Ashlynn in the hall.
“I’m glad you’re going to sit out with me!” Maddie said with a smile.
But Ashlynn didn’t smile back. “I’m not going to sit out after all,” she said, adjusting her skirt. “I’m going to dance with everyone else.”
Maddie felt sick inside. She didn’t want to sit out alone. But she still didn’t feel good about the song.
Maddie lined up with the others and danced to the first song. Then it was time for the next song.
Her heart pounded. She said a little prayer in her heart. Then she took a deep breath, walked to the side of the stage, and sat down.
Once she was off the stage, Maddie felt much better. She watched her classmates dance. When they were done, she clapped. She felt happy and warm.
Maddie smiled. It was scary to sit out all by herself, but she felt good that she had listened to the Holy Ghost.
Illustration by Susana Gurrea

Francine and I had both joined the Church years before we knew each other. None of our parents had, however. After we met, and after we decided to be married in the temple, we faced the difficult task of telling our families that they could not attend our wedding. Only worthy members of the Church were allowed to enter the temple, we explained.
Our families and friends were hurt—even upset. Their attitude was, “This is the most important day in your lives. How could you refuse to let us share it with you?” We knew they considered us inconsiderate and ungrateful.
Loving our families very much, we felt the weight of this quandary. We also wanted the other nonmembers who had influenced our lives—friends we loved and respected—to know that we cared about them and their feelings. We wanted them all to feel appreciated.
But we also wanted to be married in the temple.
After considerable prayer, we finally arrived at an answer: Rather than have a reception honoring us, the newlyweds, we would have a reception honoring our guests.
We specified on the invitations that the reception would include a program at the beginning. We were careful to have all the posed photographs taken before our guests arrived. Then, at the specified hour, we met the guests in a receiving line for about twenty minutes. We then asked everyone to be seated.
Our bishop conducted the program, starting with a prayer. We didn’t want to offend our many nonmember guests, and so we were glad to learn later that many had appreciated the prayer. Our program consisted of two musical numbers and three talks. First, the bishop explained eternal marriage so clearly and beautifully that, according to our guests, many felt feelings of joy and enlightenment that they had never felt before.
Then Francine and I spoke. We told briefly and simply of our feelings for each other, our families, and our friends. We publicly expressed our love and appreciation. Then we shared our understanding and testimony of eternal marriage.
The program closed with a prayer and blessing on the refreshments. While we ate we mingled with our guests. Many asked questions about temple marriage and expressed appreciation for our testimonies. My father-in-law repeatedly thanked me for the program.
“Now I don’t even miss walking Francine down the aisle,” he said. After the refreshments came a “money dance,” a tradition from my parents’ European background. In a money dance, the bride and groom start dancing together, but someone who wants to cut in can do so by pinning a dollar bill on the bride or groom. With our money dance, many of our guests had a chance to chat with either Francine or me. They told us they loved us; they even told us they were glad we were Mormons.
Afterward, many guests said it was the best reception they’d ever attended. Our parents seemed proud and happy.
By making our reception a gift to our guests, we were able to give them the greater gift; insight into eternal marriage and the Lord’s great plan of eternal progression.

A new boy in my class didn’t have any friends. Kids made fun of him and called him mean names because he looked different. I felt bad for him. I talked to my mom about how sad it made me feel that he had a hard life and got teased for no reason. One day I asked my mom to put two brownies in my lunch. At lunchtime I asked Sammy if he would like one of the brownies. He had a big smile. The other kids looked at me as if they were wondering why I gave him a brownie. I said, “Sammy is my friend.” Sammy started asking me for help because he knew he could trust me. After I showed Sammy kindness, other kids did, too. It made me feel happy inside to know that I made a difference in Sammy’s life. We’ve become good friends. I think Jesus wants me to treat Sammy the way I do. He loves all children.