Gospel Story Finder

I learned at an early age about service in the Church. One of my memorable Church experiences took place shortly after I graduated from Primary. One day, my parents told me that Brother Jim Barton, the deacons quorum advisor, had called and wanted to meet with me at our home. No one had ever made an appointment with me before, so I was quite excited—and a little nervous.
When Brother Barton arrived at our home, he sat down with my whole family, which included my parents, my younger brother, and me. He talked about the importance of Church callings and explained to my family about my new calling as the president of the deacons quorum. He asked my parents and my brother if they could support me in that calling. They said that they would.
We talked about the importance of service and of Church callings, and the responsibilities I would have as president of my quorum. Brother Barton testified that the Lord had called me, and he outlined the keys that I would hold in this new calling.
His visit took about an hour, and it made a huge impression on me. I was deeply impressed by the importance of Church callings—of any Church calling. I was also impressed that an adult would take the time and make the effort to help someone so young understand. That one experience set the tone for every Church calling that followed. It also set a pattern for me as I have extended Church callings to others. There is no small Church calling, and the Lord needs us to do our part and do it as well as we can, to share the gospel with others, and to help the Church run smoothly.

The Fowkes family had been having emergency drills during family home evenings for several years. This training helped them instinctively do the right things when the quake hit. Nathan, 13, who was studying in the library, immediately dove under a table that protected him from being hit by a tall cabinet of books. His younger brother and sister ducked under the kitchen table at home and missed being hit by falling china. just three weeks before the quake, Sister Fowkes had shown her son Kendall, 9, how to turn off the gas, electricity, and water in the house, so he could earn a Cub Scout achievement. This knowledge saved the family from a flooded basement, since the quake caused a water pipe to break.
Ten years earlier the Fowkes had made some other preparations. Following two consecutive dreams about being in an earthquake, Sister Fowkes insisted that her husband string wire in front of the shelves in their fruit room before they left on vacation. Eventually their foresight paid off. While they had over 200 bottles stacked seven shelves high, none were broken.

Logan had turned eight years old last week. Today was a special day—he was going to be baptized. He and his father dressed in white clothes and took their seats near the baptismal font.
Logan’s brother-in-law, Ryan, was asked to give a talk at the baptism. After the opening song and prayer, Ryan read the fourth article of faith: “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
Then Ryan placed a blue paper square on the floor at one side of the room and a white paper square at the other side. “Logan, come stand on this blue square,” he said. “Can you get from the blue square to the white square without stepping on the carpet?”
Logan looked across the room and shook his head. “It’s too far.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s too far for you to get there by yourself. And do you think you can return to Heavenly Father without help?”
Logan shook his head again.
Ryan placed six more squares on the floor, each square a different color. “Heavenly Father has given us steps to bring us back to Him. Do you know what they are?”
Logan thought of the article of faith Ryan had just read. “The first one is faith.” Ryan nodded as Logan stepped onto the red square. “And the second one is repentance.” Logan moved to the yellow square.
Ryan pointed to the green square. “This one represents one of the steps you’re taking today.”
Smiling, Logan stepped onto the green square.
“Baptism,” he said. He was much closer to the white square now, but there were still three more in between.
“The orange square represents receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Ryan said, “another step you’ll take today.”
Logan stepped onto the orange square.
“What do you think the last two squares represent?” Ryan asked.
Logan thought for a moment. The fourth article of faith included only the first four principles and ordinances of the gospel. He had learned in Primary that baptism was the first of many covenants he would make. “Does the next square stand for the temple?” he asked.
“Right!” Ryan beamed. “After your baptism and confirmation, you’ll prepare to receive the priesthood and temple ordinances. What do you think the last square stands for?”
Logan couldn’t remember any more steps. Then it dawned on him—it was the simple truth taught by prophets and scriptures. “Stay righteous,” he said.
“Exactly,” Ryan said. “After making all of these covenants, we must stay faithful.”
Logan sat down and Ryan finished his talk. Then Logan and his father entered the baptismal font. With the authority of the priesthood, Logan’s father baptized him. After they had changed into dry clothes, Logan was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“Remember the Spirit you feel right now,” Ryan said afterward as he hugged Logan. “Try to keep it with you for the rest of your life.”
Logan knew he would never forget this special day—a day he had taken two important steps toward his heavenly home.

Second, let us rejoice in our diversity. I grew up a Buddhist, the daughter of a Japanese plantation laborer in Mahukona, a tiny village which no longer exists, on the big island of Hawaii. My first exposure to Christianity came during the annual Christmas pageant organized by Captain Beck, who was in charge of the plantation. Every year, there was a little nativity play, the singing of Christmas carols, and wonderful presents from a mysterious fat man in a red suit and a white beard.
When I was about seven, Captain Beck asked me to be the angel in the nativity play. I didn’t know what an angel was, but I was proud to be chosen and worked hard on my speech. And it was hard work. My native language was a combination of Japanese and pidgin, and here I had to memorize strange, seventeenth-century King James English. I was just a skinny little seven-year-old in a white cheesecloth costume with crooked tinsel wings and a wobbly tinsel halo on my head. But when the big night came, I was ready.
“Fear not,” I said. “For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy. … For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10.) I didn’t know who David was or Christ. I only knew Buddha. I didn’t know what swaddling clothes were or why the baby was in a manger. I didn’t know what shepherds were or why they were afraid or what good tidings were. It was only later, when I became acquainted with the Church at age eleven and joined the Church at age fifteen, that I realized that baby was the Son of God and that the good tidings were those of the gospel. Then I understood my “reason to rejoice” in Christ, the Lord.

Eugene Till, our mission president in Seoul, Korea, and Brent Anderson, one of our Latter-day Saint chaplains, were my companions as we traveled from the demilitarized zone to Pusan to visit our military bases. Meeting after meeting we talked to our servicemen, looked into their faces, shook their hands, and listened to their comments about their homes, their loved ones, and their home wards. Increasingly I began to feel some of the loneliness in their hearts. As I asked, “Are you hearing from your elders quorum? Does your family write often and encourage you to live the principles of the gospel?” the disappointment on their faces—and sometimes a cynical smile—gave me my answer. To the question “Does your bishop know you are here?” the reply was, “I don’t even think he cares. He is too busy to be concerned about me.” Of all those who attended our meetings—can you imagine—only one said he knew his ward leaders did care.
As we drove from base to base, a kaleidoscope of these disappointed faces kept crossing my mind. “Feed the flock of God which is among you,” Peter admonished. (1 Pet. 5:2.) A clear impression came to me that I was witnessing a needless neglect and that I must tell this story. This lack of interest at home for these young men is not the Lord’s plan, not the way he has taught us. Many of us are not responding to the Church direction, not responding to our charge to “[teach] them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” (Matt. 28:20.) This responsibility to teach and to encourage does not cease because they are out of sight; in fact, our interest must be intensified. Our concern is not for the career military Church member who, with his family, adds great strength to local Church units, but for the young men—mostly single, lonely, exposed to the evil enticements and temptations that can be part of military life.
There is a growing number without benefit of a mission or college disappearing into the military. The Selective Service has been discontinued. However, the armed forces are successful in recruiting. Your stake reports indicate we now have more in the military than in the mission field. Nearly 20,000 of your sons—and some daughters—are in the military service. President Kimball is asking for more full-time missionaries. Why shouldn’t parents, bishops, and elders presidents treat these 20,000 in the military as missionaries? You know they are—whether for good or not. You are their Church leaders and should be continually encouraging them. What a glorious opportunity. But you might say, “Oh, there is a difference!” Do you recall a modern prophet saying, “Every member a missionary”? Shouldn’t you give your son in the military this same attention? You have the obligation. Many thrilling missionary stories have involved our men in the military. At a base in Thailand, out of 18 members at our meeting, 11 had recently joined the Church, and two had converted their wives back home. These stories go on and on. Unfortunately, there are two sides.
A chaplain reported: “There is a universal absence of mail from home—from parents, from priesthood leaders. Parents, particularly of inactive young people, do not keep in touch with their sons or daughters.” The chaplain continued, “Nobody seems to care but the Latter-day Saint chaplains and the prostitutes, and, sir, that makes competition pretty tough.”
A number of Latter-day Saint girls are joining the military. Bishops, counsel our young women concerning the grave dangers and pitfalls because of the lack of moral guidance. A Latter-day Saint chaplain responsible for women on a large base said: “They are painfully alone, many struggling with repentance versus the world and desperately needing to feel support from parents and the Church. Otherwise, they find understanding elsewhere.”
Many of the single men are floundering on the cutting edge of sin. They are saying, “Please help me.” There is no hometown moral support that goes unappreciated.
How important is a letter? At a testimony meeting far from home, a young man said: “The devil had me convinced that I was a forgotten soul. Why not sin a little? Then a letter from Mom, one from my bishop, and a letter from our ward’s executive secretary finally caught up with me—one, two, three. I’d prayed for reassurance, but never had I felt such a sense of being important! Three letters to prove it. All in one mail call! I thank God for those few who care.”
Just to know that someone cares is sometimes enough to turn the tide. All too often young people enter military service because they feel unwanted or unloved, and they can become completely demoralized in this new environment when there is little or no encouragement to hold high the standards and goals of their lives. One bishop writing to a young man admitted, “While praying for our servicemen, I suddenly realized my prayers were useless without some action.” Then, in a letter, he expressed his love for this boy and asked, “How can I help you?” The young serviceman, with tears, said, “My bishop cares.”
A Latter-day Saint chaplain, whose office was near the mailroom, reported, “Daily, brokenhearted men and boys poured out their sorrow to me after they had looked again and again in their empty mailboxes. Some, in the depths of their hurt, swore they would never write another letter, and some of them, I’m sad to report, kept that unwise threat and watched their family ties disintegrate. Others would say that ‘no mail’ was proof of ‘no love or concern’ and that they were therefore justified in seeking affection from professional lovers. The old saying ‘We live or die at the mailroom’ never was truer than in the military.”
Another serviceman said, “During my 13 months in Southeast Asia, I heard from my sweetheart every day. During her busy days caring for our five children and attending school, she completed every day by writing me a letter. Think of it! Almost 400 days without a single miss!”
One of your sons, who had received a tape from home, wrote, “I was holding my one-man sacrament meeting as usual—out under a tree—listening to Church tapes. Bruce R. McConkie’s voice was never this interesting back home. I’ve played him 50 times.”
We challenge parents, home teachers, elders quorum presidents, and bishops that from today you show your concern for these young people. Flood them with affection, letters, tapes, cards, packages, birthday and holiday greetings of all types. Give your Young Adults, teenagers, and others in your ward a stimulating project. Sixteen-year-old Debbie Trujillo wrote a serviceman, “Hi. My name is Debbie Trujillo, and I’ve just been baptized in the Church. I don’t know much about you, but our class is doing this project, and I think it’s neat.” The serviceman said, “I hope my reply can be as sweet and uplifting as her letter.”
The Church can be proud of our chaplains, who bring hope and goodness to men of all faiths. After one of our chaplains had helped a member change his life, the man brought to the chaplain’s office a hand-sculptured model of a sheep and said that he felt as if he had been the one sheep for which we had left the ninety-and-nine. The chaplain writes, “I keep this little sheep on my desk as a reminder that in the military when we leave the 99, we always find more than one.”
The Savior’s analogy of the lost sheep vividly portrays the concern he has for all, but especially those that might stray. The Savior’s mission is to try to save all. The shepherd leaves the ninety-and-nine pastured safely and goes into the mountains to seek that one that has strayed. “When he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.” (Luke 15:5–6.) Can’t you somehow feel the Savior’s concern to account for everyone.
He follows this parable with a similar one, “the Lost Coin.” Whereas the sheep had strayed—wandered away—the coin, as the result of carelessness on the part of the woman, is dropped and lost. She sweeps previously unswept corners, even lights a candle. By her diligence it is recovered. “And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one … that repenteth.” (Luke 15:9–10.)
Members of your family can be part of a real “lost battalion” in urgent need of our help. They hunger for what only you can give them. When you don’t supply it, they accept some devastating substitutes.
I pray that as you close the drapes on each day, you will rest peacefully knowing, “The wind still whips the leaves, but the roots are down.” In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

I remember when Dad asked my brother and me to help him build a corral. That afternoon we marked the soil where the posts were to be placed. A lot of hard work digging holes lay ahead of us.
To make it go faster and to give us some fun, Dad suggested we have a contest. “You two start and go one way, and I’ll go the other. Let’s see who can win—me or you two together.” We agreed and chose our side.
The next morning, after we had finished the morning chores and had breakfast, we took our shovels and crowbars and got ready for the race. Dad said “Go!” and the dirt started flying. We hardly looked up. I’ll always remember how hard the rocks were and how my hands stung each time I jabbed the crowbar into the soil to loosen them.
Soon Dad was gaining on us, and we stepped up the pace. It seemed, however, that no matter how hard we dug, Dad was still going faster than the two of us together. We couldn’t figure out how he was doing it.
After about half an hour, Dad called out, “Take a five-minute rest.” We were very willing and quickly sat down. While resting, we planned how we would work and beat him from then on.
When we started back to work, I took the crowbar and went ahead of my brother to loosen the rocks while he shoveled them out of the holes. It was then I discovered the reason for Dad’s speed. I came to one of the marked holes that Dad expected to dig, and when I stuck my bar in it, the bar went deep into soft ground.
I found out that the night before, Dad had quietly slipped outside and poured water into each of his marks. The water had softened the ground, and now all he had to do was scoop it out while we were breaking our backs and hands with the crowbar.
That experience taught me a valuable lesson: Thinking and planning ahead can make hard tasks easier. Dad could have told us to pour water in the marks of our post holes the night before, but because we learned our lesson the hard way, we have never forgotten it. Don’t be afraid of hard work, but be willing to take advantage of the great wisdom of those who have dug many post holes before you.

As exciting as “Welcome to the Valley” was, it wasn’t the end of the trek experience—not really. In many ways, the trek started friendships with neighbors and community members who had watched the youth over the last 72 hours or heard about the trek through local news coverage.
Anna Parker had an opportunity to connect with neighbors as she and her peers passed through one community. Anna immediately noticed that some of the women there were on horseback, so she told them how much she loved horses. She also explained to them what the youth group was doing and then invited the women to join the youth that night for country dancing. One of them came and even stayed for a short devotional afterward. She was so impressed by the youth that she asked to learn more.

Just right, Andi thought as she quickly looked in the mirror. She was wearing her favorite red dress. She always wanted to look her best on Sundays. She ran down to breakfast.
Andi was just finishing her last piece of toast when the Reeders’ car horn honked from the driveway. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” Andi said, kissing them as she ran out the door.
Even though Mom and Dad weren’t members of the Church, they encouraged Andi to go to church each week. The Reeder family had given her a ride almost every Sunday since she was baptized and confirmed. Andi liked how they always made her feel so welcome and loved.
After sacrament meeting it was time for Primary. Andi loved being in Brother and Sister Long’s class. They were kind, and their lessons were always the best.
“Today we’re going to talk about temples,” Sister Long said. “What are some things we know about temples?”
Andi knew one answer: “We can do temple baptisms.” She was excited about that because in a few years, she would be able to go to the temple to do baptisms.
“Great, Andi. What else do we know?”
“You can be married in the temple,” said Andi’s friend Allison.
“Very good,” said Sister Long. “Anything else?”
“Families can be together forever when they’re sealed in the temple,” Allison added.
But not my family, thought Andi. Mom and Dad haven’t been sealed in the temple! Suddenly her face felt hot, and her eyes began to sting with tears.
“Are you OK, Andi?” asked Sister Long.
“Yes,” Andi said, trying to hold back the tears. But she could feel her heart pounding all through the rest of the lesson.
When class was over, Sister Long sat by Andi and put an arm around her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I won’t be with my mom and dad forever,” Andi said. “They haven’t been married in the temple. Who will I belong to after I die? Does Heavenly Father still love me even if my parents aren’t members?”
Sister Long looked straight into Andi’s eyes. “No matter who you are and no matter if your family has been to the temple or not, you are still part of Heavenly Father’s family. You can stay close to Him and be an example to others. He will always love, guide, and protect you, no matter what. He wants to bless you and your family. You are a child of God, Andi.”
Just then Andi’s heart seemed to skip a beat, and the pounding stopped. Now a warm feeling filled her heart instead. She knew what her teacher had said was true.

After crossing an ocean, Elizabeth found herself in a completely new culture. She traveled by train to Iowa, USA, the end of the westbound railway at the time. Arriving in July 1856, Elizabeth joined the Willie handcart company.
Ever Onward, by Joseph Brickey
The suffering of the Willie and Martin handcart companies is well chronicled. The companies left late in the season and got caught in an early winter in the Rocky Mountains. Freezing and low on food, more than 200 died.
Among the rescue party sent by President Brigham Young was Elizabeth’s husband, William. The couple was reunited in deep snow and freezing wind.
After recovering in Salt Lake City, the couple ended their journey in Cedar City, only a few miles from where Rosalene’s began.

It seemed like any other early school morning for the Pleasant Grove (Utah) High School security guard, until he noticed a group of boys crowded around a small car in the student parking lot. It looked awfully suspicious. They must be trying to break in, he thought. But as he neared the scene to investigate, he recognized the boys and knew they were good guys, even though they were searching for a way to break into the empty car. The owner of the car had left the radio blaring, and the boys were trying to get in to turn it off.
Why did these popular guys take the time to rescue the little car? That Volkswagen belonged to 17-year-old Shellee Lundgren, a varsity stunt cheerleader.
Why had she left her radio on? Wouldn’t the loud music have been too much to overlook? Not for Shellee—she’s deaf. But even so, sometimes she likes to feel the vibrations of the music on the radio.
It may not be common for a cheerleader to be deaf, but with hard work and the support of others, Shellee is able to accomplish most everything she wants to. And even though Shellee’s hearing loss is not typical of most teenagers, she sure is. Without talking to her, you’d never even guess she has a hearing disability. She’s usually with friends or talking on the phone, she dates, and her long hair covers the hearing aid she wears behind her left ear. She reads lips, so she can usually understand you, but it can be hard to understand her until you get used to the way she talks. But what strikes you most about her is that she hasn’t let her hearing problem slow her down. She’s outgoing and not afraid to try whatever she wants to do. Her philosophy is “Never say I can’t.”
Shellee wanted to dance, so in grade school she started dance and gymnastics classes. She has been competing and performing ever since. Someone signals Shellee when to begin, and then she counts through the rest of the piece. As a child, oftentimes she was more on beat than the rest of the children because she counted. “Most judges never even know I’m deaf,” she says.
Because Shellee is always trying, people are drawn to her. For example, in ninth grade Shellee wanted to be a cheerleader. When it came time for tryout practices, she went but struggled trying to understand all the instructions. Luckily, her bubbly personality and eagerness to learn won her the admiration of the other girls and one varsity cheerleader in particular.
Michelle Shoell, then a junior, took Shellee home with her every night that week to practice with her. Shellee could do the moves; she just needed help combining the moves with the words. “She is one of the most sparkling people I’ve ever met,” Michelle says, “and I wanted to see her make it.”
Before the final tryouts, Michelle even told the coach, “I don’t really care if I make it as long as Shellee does.” Both girls made the squad.
In no way is this kindness towards Shellee a one-way street. Shellee makes it easy to become her friend. Melissa Despain, a former fellow cheerleader, says when she first met Shellee she was afraid they wouldn’t be able to communicate. “But she was really nice about it,” she says. Shellee is more than willing to talk slower, repeat herself, and she always smiles to encourage you to continue trying.
Raychellene Jasper, Shellee’s best friend and fellow cheerleader, can hear, and the two have been known to be inseparable. Raychellene helps Shellee understand all the instructions at their practices. Raychellene says, “She makes me feel unique and special and like I’m needed and wanted. It’s a mutual dependency.”
Shellee is a friend as well as an example. “A lot of people didn’t think I could make the cheerleading team,” Shellee says. But when she did, some kids took it to heart. They thought, If she did it, maybe I could too.
It may seem like Shellee’s got it made. Being deaf hasn’t kept her from dancing, doing well in school, or making friends. However, it has made the gospel harder for her to understand than it is for most teenagers.
Only in the last year has Shellee attended a deaf ward, so until then she had to fend for herself at church. “I never knew how much she was actually getting,” says Janell Frost, one of Shellee’s Primary and Young Women teachers.
Fortunately, Pleasant Grove High School has a deaf seminary teacher whose class Shellee can attend. “Seminary has helped me a lot,” she says. “For example, I didn’t know I would live again after I die. I was so happy because then I knew I would see Grandma again.” Shellee hadn’t been able to grasp that concept until then, although she has always been an active member of the Church.
Reading the scriptures is hard for Shellee because of the vocabulary. She doesn’t recognize words from having heard them in conversation; she has to learn each word individually by looking it up. Words like nevertheless are hard enough to understand when you’ve heard other people use them. How is a deaf person to understand it without help?
Shellee’s seminary teacher is helping to solve this problem with drawings. She has her students draw pictures in their scriptures that go along with the stories so they can have a better idea of what is going on. “It helps a lot,” Shellee says.
In part, Shellee wants to go on a mission because she has had a difficult time understanding the gospel principles. “I want to go on a deaf mission so I can learn more. I want to help those who are lost.”
Whether they are obvious or not, we all have our barriers to overcome—even smart, outgoing, cheerleaders who accidentally leave their radios blaring. But when we work together and keep on trying, those barriers come crumbling down.

The second thing you can do is to be a friendshipper. A friendshipper is a person who tries to be a friend to people and invite them out to church activities. Sometimes it’s hard to go to a new place when you don’t know anyone there. But if you have a friend, it makes it much easier. This lesson I learned with one of our daughters.
As school was about to begin for the year, she was a little nervous because she had to go to a new school. Sister Dunn and I told her everything would be fine, but on the morning when she had to go she was frightened. She didn’t know if she would be accepted or if she would make new friends or if her teacher would like her. She announced, “I don’t think I had better go to school today.”
I said, “Why not?”
She answered, “I think I’m going to get sick.”
We decided that it would help if I took her to school. But when we got there she didn’t want to get out of the car, so I helped her out. As we walked up the sidewalk she grabbed my leg, and by the time we were inside she had both legs. She was really scared. Then a wonderful thing happened. Along came a friendshipper. She saw my frightened daughter and came running up and said, “Hi, Kellie. How are you?” And in about five seconds my daughter forgot all about being afraid. I remember that as she left me she stopped a few paces away and said, “You can go now Dad—I don’t need you anymore.” This wonderful little friendshipper took Kellie’s hand and now everything was all right.

Shortly before Gina was baptized in December 2001, her nonmember friends left her. They thought Gina was joining a cult. But Gina didn’t let that stop her, because joining the Church was so important to her.
A couple weeks after her baptism, Gina drove two hours to her first Church activity: a semi-formal dance. Gina knew only one person there. At the next activity, ice skating, she met more Latter-day Saint teens and exchanged e-mail addresses with them. In the months following her baptism, she began to get to know more youth in her stake.
Gina lives in a stake that covers a lot of territory. Her Church friends live about two hours away. Besides the time involved, the cost of gas makes it expensive to drive to see her friends. But it’s worth it to Gina because her friends are strong members of the Church and such good influences on her.
Gina was the only active teenager in her branch; she was the only student in seminary; and her Church friends live far away. Why does she go to all the effort? “I know what I know, and I know it’s the truth,” she says. “To be with people who have a strong testimony of the same things I do is worth driving two hours to have that spiritual backing up.
“There is wear and tear during the week, but you just have to stay strong. When that weekend comes, you’re ready for some Latter-day Saint fun and goodness surrounding you,” Gina says, laughing. “It’s definitely worth it.”

With fascination I watched one evening on television the story of a family in the Midwest. It included the father and mother and three sons and one daughter.

The father and mother determined when they married that they would do all they could to see that their children were exposed to the very best educational experiences.

They lived in a modest home. They observed modest ways. But they nurtured their children with knowledge. Every one of those children achieved in a remarkable way. Every one was well educated. One became a university president; the others became heads of large business institutions, successful individuals by any measure.

Have you ever been by a lake or an ocean during a bad storm? The waves and the wind can become ferocious! One night a family watched a terrible storm from the window of their home near a beach. Huge waves crashed against the shore. They battered the family’s wooden boat dock, breaking it apart. The next morning they found pieces of the dock all along the shoreline. But their boat was floating peacefully and unharmed in the water. It was held in place by the strong anchor they had tied it to the night before. The anchor had held the boat and kept it from crashing into the shore and being destroyed.
Just as the boat was safe in the storm because it was held by an anchor, we can be kept safe when we listen to and follow the prophet. Listening to and obeying his counsel is like an anchor in our lives. The prophet tells us the things Heavenly Father wants us to do. He tells us things that will guide us. He tells us how we can have peace, even during times of fear and worry.

In recollecting times where I have acknowledged the hand of the Lord in my life, I was reminded of a time when I was eleven years old. I had an accident that punctured my spleen. This required hospitalisation and, in advance of the operation, going without food and drink for what seemed like an eternity. I particularly remember being in a large room, feeling vulnerable and alone in the early hours of the morning. I silently prayed for help to ease my anxiety and discomfort. Within a very short period of time, a nurse came and offered me an ice cube wrapped within a cotton bandage to suck on. The relief and refreshment felt like a luxurious feast. More importantly, however, I recognised and acknowledged the hand of the Lord.
A scripture in Psalms was fulfilled in that hospital bed. That night “I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears”.2 Though this may seem trivial, my attempt to ask and exercise faith was answered. And I had not only felt physical relief, but I also felt that He knew me.

“We not only had little money or food, we didn’t have much clothing either. I had a pair of shoes with soles that were worn clear through. I’d cut out pieces of cardboard and slide them inside the shoes to cover the holes. When I went to church, I would sit with both feet flat on the floor—I didn’t want anyone to see ‘Quaker Oats’ through the bottoms of my shoes.

“Everything was fine until those shoes wore out. It was Saturday, and I didn’t know what to do. I thought, I have to go to church. They really care about me there. Finally I got out the box of old shoes some neighbor had given us. The only shoes that fit me were a pair of nurse’s shoes. I thought, How can I wear these to church? They’ll laugh at me. I decided I wouldn’t go to church.

“The next morning I knew I had to go to church, even if I had to wear the nurse’s shoes. I decided to run over to the meetinghouse early and sit down close to the front before anybody got there. I thought, I’ll put my feet back under the pew so that no one can see them, and then I’ll wait till everyone leaves before I go home. Well, I dashed over to church half an hour early, and nobody was there yet. I put my feet back under the bench. Everything went just as I’d planned—until the Sunday School superintendent announced, ‘We will now separate for classes.’

“I had forgotten we had to go to class! The ushers came down the aisle, and as they came to my row, everybody stood up and left. I just sat there. I couldn’t move. But the whole meeting seemed to stop and wait until I moved, so I had to move. I got up and followed my classmates.

“In our classroom the teacher had us sit in a big semicircle. Each of my shoes felt like it was two feet in diameter. I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was. But not one of those eight- and nine-year-old children in that class laughed at me! No one pointed at my shoes. My teacher didn’t look at them. I was so busy watching everyone to see if anyone was looking at me that I didn’t hear a word of the lesson. When it was finally over, I dashed home. I thought, Thank goodness, nobody saw them. I know now, of course, that they saw those nurse’s shoes that I wore. But they were kind enough not to laugh or call attention to them.”

Now, I wish to move to a different matter. I spoke of this same thing many years ago. I repeat it because those who heard it then have long since forgotten, and those who did not hear it need to hear it. It concerns President Joseph F. Smith, who served as President of the Church from 1901 to 1918, altogether 17 years.
Joseph F. Smith was the son of Hyrum Smith, who was the brother of the Prophet Joseph and was martyred with him in Carthage. Joseph F. was born at Far West, Missouri, on November 13, 1838. He came out of Missouri as an infant. As a lad not yet six years of age, he heard a knock on the window of his mother’s home in Nauvoo. It was a man who had hurriedly ridden from Carthage and who told Sister Smith that her husband had been killed that afternoon.
When he was 9, he drove an ox team with his mother across the plains to this valley. At the age of 15 he was called on a mission to Hawaii. He made his way to San Francisco and there worked in a shingle mill to earn enough money to buy passage to the islands.
Hawaii was not a tourist center then. It was populated by the native Hawaiians, who were, for the most part, poor but generous with what they had. He learned to speak their language and to love them. While serving there he experienced a remarkable dream. I quote from his narrative concerning this. Said he:
“I was very much oppressed [when I was] on a mission. I was almost naked and entirely friendless, except [for] the friendship of a poor, benighted … people. I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look a … man in the face.
“While in that condition I dreamed [one night] that I was on a journey, and I was impressed that I ought to hurry—hurry with all my might, for fear I might be too late. I rushed on my way as fast as I possibly could, and I was only conscious of having just a little bundle, a handkerchief with a small bundle wrapped in it. I did not realize … what it was, when I was hurrying as fast as I could; but finally I came to a wonderful mansion. … I thought I knew that was my destination. As I passed towards it, as fast as I could, I saw a notice [which read B-A-T-H], ‘Bath.’ I turned aside quickly and went into the bath and washed myself clean. I opened up this little bundle that I had, and there was [some] white, clean [clothing], a thing I had not seen for a long time, because the people I was with did not think very much of making things exceedingly clean. But my [clothing was] clean, and I put [it] on. Then I rushed to what appeared to be a great opening, or door. I knocked and the door opened, and the man who stood there was the Prophet Joseph Smith. He looked at me a little reprovingly, and the first words he said: ‘Joseph, you are late.’ Yet I took confidence and [replied]:
“‘Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!’
“He clasped my hand and drew me in, then closed the great door. I felt his hand just as tangible as I ever felt the hand of man. I knew him, and when I entered I saw my father, and Brigham [Young] and Heber [C. Kimball], and Willard [Richards], and other good men that I had known, standing in a row. I looked as if it were across this valley, and it seemed to be filled with a vast multitude of people, but on the stage were all the people that I had known. My mother was there, and she sat with a child in her lap; and I could name over as many as I remember of their names, who sat there, who seemed to be among the chosen, among the exalted. …
“[When I had this dream,] I was alone on a mat, away up in the mountains of Hawaii—no one was with me. But in this vision I pressed my hand up against the Prophet, and I saw a smile cross his countenance. …
“When I awoke that morning I was a man, although only [still] a boy. There was not anything in the world that I feared [after that]. I could meet any man or woman or child and look them in the face, feeling in my soul that I was a man every whit. That vision, that manifestation and witness that I enjoyed at that time has made me what I am, if I am anything that is good, or clean, or upright before the Lord, if there is anything good in me. That has helped me out in every trial and through every difficulty” (Gospel Doctrine, 5th ed. [1939], 542–43).
The core of that meaningful dream is found in the reproof given by Joseph Smith to young Joseph F. Said the Prophet, “Joseph, you are late.”
Replied Joseph F., “Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!”
The result of that dream was that a boy was changed into a man. His declaration “I am clean” gave him self-assurance and courage in facing anyone or any situation. He received the strength that comes from a clear conscience fortified by the approbation of the Prophet Joseph.

When I was 10 and living in Taiwan, my grandmother introduced the missionaries to our family. My dad was able to baptize me, my mom, and my brother. However, soon after we were sealed in the temple, the rest of my family stopped attending church.
So, naturally, the responsibility of family history work fell on my shoulders. But that task was never easy for me.
I tried to follow the invitations from our Church leaders to do this sacred work, but because of various setbacks, I stopped putting in much effort.
For one, my parents never liked the idea of doing temple work for the dead. They felt that we were making the decision for our ancestors to receive ordinances and that it was disrespectful to their agency.
I also had a hard time finding information about my ancestors. Most Chinese families keep a book of genealogy called a zupu that contains records that trace as far back as 2000 B.C. But my family’s zupu didn’t have the birth and death years of my male ancestors or any information at all about my female ancestors, so I couldn’t submit names to the temple or perform ordinances for my ancestors.
After these setbacks, I gave up on my family history efforts.
By the time I got to college, I hadn’t thought about family history for years. Then, during one semester, my stake encouraged us to set a goal to take a family name to the temple. Our stake leaders promised us that if we would pray before we started doing family history work, we would be led to the ancestors who wanted their ordinances done.
At first, I wasn’t really excited about this invitation. I had already tried and failed before.
However, as I prayed every day to have success in my family history work and for a desire to keep moving forward in my efforts, my heart was softened. And soon enough, I did start feeling a desire to begin again.
One night, I felt a strong prompting to open up my family tree on FamilySearch and research one particular line of ancestors. After unsuccessfully searching a few different names in a search engine, I found a web page for one of my ancestors.
Apparently, this ancestor was a prominent figure during the revolution in Taiwan, and all his information was recorded on this page, with sources attached. From there, I was able to find more information about his children and parents.
Through that random internet search, I was able to find and submit six names to the temple that day, and within a month I had submitted over 50 names.
It was incredible.

My wife and I attended a sacrament meeting near Recife, Brazil. A young boy, possibly 9 or 10 years of age, wearing his new blue suit on a very hot day, went to the pulpit and in a very relaxed way looked at the congregation. He said, “Our family has been studying about moral agency.” He then read: “Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh. … And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil.” The boy then said, “Some of my older friends are choosing to smoke and use drugs, but we all will have to accept the consequences of our actions.” He finished with his testimony, saying, “I can see that this is true.” This testimony from one so young was powerful and touched our hearts deeply.

Kind words not only lift our spirits in the moment they are given, but they can linger with us over the years. One day, when I was in college, a man seven years my senior congratulated me on my performance in a football game. He not only praised how well I had done in the game, but he had noticed that I had showed good sportsmanship. Even though this conversation happened more than 60 years ago, and even though it’s highly unlikely the person who complimented me has any recollection of this conversation, I still remember the kind words spoken to me that day by Gordon B. Hinckley, who would later become President of the Church.