Gospel Story Finder

An instance when Japanese leaders appreciated the Church’s timely assistance was when local priesthood leaders identified an overwhelmed refugee shelter set up at a school in an isolated area. Together with the public affairs council and the local Church welfare manager, the priesthood leaders arranged for food and other relief supplies to be delivered to the shelter, which was housing approximately 270 displaced tsunami victims.
Although those at the shelter were initially surprised to receive assistance from a Christian church, the second time Mormon Helping Hands volunteers came, wearing their yellow vests, one child yelled, “Here they come! I wonder what they brought this time!”
After receiving the donations, the shelter coordinator told Elder and Sister Grames, “Your church brought us the first meat and fresh vegetables we had after the earthquake.”
“It felt good,” says Sister Grames, “to really be a helping hand not only to the shelter but also to the priesthood leaders who were trying so hard to reach those in need.”
Elder Niiyama explains another positive result of the council’s efforts: “We found that sharing information about the Church’s relief work with members as well as outside opinion leaders was very vital to our public affairs objectives. I feel people outside of the Church now have a better image of the Church and members are more confident in the strength of the Church in Japan.”

When I was a young man, I served in the Church as a counselor to a wise district president. He was constantly trying to teach me. I remember the advice he once gave to me: “When you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time.” I thought then that he was pessimistic. Now, more than 50 years later, I can see how well he understood the world and life.

When President George Albert Smith was young, his deceased grandfather George A. Smith appeared to him in a dream and asked, “I would like to know what you have done with my name.” President Smith responded, “I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.”1
Each week as we partake of the sacrament, we covenant and promise that we are willing to take upon us the name of Christ, always remember Him, and keep His commandments. If we are willing to do so, we are promised that most wonderful blessing—that His Spirit will always be with us.2
Just as President George Albert Smith had to account to his grandfather for what he had done with his name, someday each one of us will have to account to our Savior, Jesus Christ, for what we have done with His name.
The importance of having a good name is spoken of in Proverbs, where we read: “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold”3 and “The [name] of the just is blessed.”4
As I pondered these scriptures and the importance of having a good name, a flood of memories came into my mind about the good name and legacy my parents left my four brothers, my two sisters, and me. My parents did not have the riches of the world, nor did they have silver or gold. Nine of us lived in a two-bedroom, one-bath home with an enclosed back porch, where my sisters slept. When my parents passed away, my brothers and sisters and I gathered to divide their earthly possessions, which were few in number. My mother left a few dresses, some used furniture, and a few other personal items. My father left some carpenter tools, some old hunting rifles, and little else. The only things of any monetary value were a modest home and a small savings account.
Together we wept openly, giving thanks, knowing they had left us something much more precious than silver or gold. They had given us their love and their time. They had often borne testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, which we can now read in their precious journals. Not so much by words but more by their example, they had taught us to work hard, to be honest, and to pay a full tithing. They also engendered a desire to further our education, to serve a mission, and most important, to find an eternal companion, be married in the temple, and endure to the end. Truly they left us the legacy of a good name, for which we shall ever be grateful.

Until just recently I would have said one life preserver is as good as another. But not anymore! What changed my mind?

Recently I attended a safety exhibit that stressed accident prevention. The water safety display intrigued me most. It included a variety of familiar pieces of lifesaving equipment. On each piece of equipment was a simple card with just one word in bold, block letters. The card read YES on the pieces of equipment that were safety approved; NO on those that were not. I was amazed. I thought all the equipment was approved and would save one’s life in an emergency. The man in charge of the display said, “Most people think all equipment is perfectly safe, but they are just taking things for granted. That’s the tragedy of it. Instead of saving you, some of this equipment could get waterlogged, weigh you down and contribute to your drowning.”

He demonstrated several pieces of equipment with the YES label and then said, “If you want to be safe and sure, use only approved equipment.”

President Tandiman, a retired government official, was working in a law office in 1970 when he met Latter-day Saint attorneys applying for government recognition of the Church. At their invitation, he accepted the missionary discussions. He was affected by the conduct of the missionaries and their teachings and the fellowshipping he received. “These made a deep impression upon me, an impression that stayed with me and helped me remain active in those early years of my membership,” he says. President Tandiman’s wife and six children also accepted the gospel, and he baptized them. His daughter is now married and has a daughter of her own. Four sons have served missions in Indonesia, and a fifth son is looking forward to a mission call.

One year after his baptism, Brother Tandiman was called as president of the Djakarta Branch, then later as the West Java District president.

The day I received my call was exactly two weeks after I had sent in my papers. Before opening the envelope I knelt down to ask my Heavenly Father if this was where he wanted me to go. I begged with all my heart that he would answer me, and the answer came with the same peaceful feeling I had received when I asked about the gospel before my baptism. “Yes, this is the mission I have chosen for you,” came the answer, and I quickly opened the envelope. I was called to the California Ventura Mission.
Once on my mission, as I prepared for a transfer, I thought back to all the spiritual experiences I had had. I remembered a humble woman who asked my companion and me, with tears in her eyes, why we hadn’t come sooner. I remembered a little ten-year-old we baptized who worked long hours in his neighbor’s garden so he could first earn money to buy a Bible and then go on a mission. I also remembered one sacrament meeting when a woman I had baptized came up to me and said, “It’s all because of you,” when she received a call to serve in the Primary. She practically radiated gratitude as she thanked me for coming to her door the afternoon we met.
All these experiences were a fulfillment of a blessing I had received before leaving on my mission that said I would bring many people into the Church who would become great leaders. But now I was facing a transfer that I was not excited about, completely unaware of what was in store for me in my new area. The transfer was to Agoura Hills, California. I believed my mission president was an inspired man, but why Agoura Hills? The area was very affluent but very low in baptisms. You could count on one hand the baptisms in that area for the past several years. I had been one of the top baptizers in the mission for several months, but now all that would probably change. Then I remembered the words from a song that was sung at my farewell: “I will go where you want me to go, dear Lord.” So I went.
It is every convert’s dream to find the missionaries who baptized him and let them know about the change they brought to his life with the gospel. I also had that dream, especially because so many members of my family had been baptized after the elders left our area. I was now serving a successful mission. I had a sister attending Ricks College, another sister on a scholarship at BYU, and a brother and a sister both preparing to go on missions. I had lost track of the elders who had converted me. I wanted to find them and let them know how many lives they had touched.
My second Sunday in Agoura Hills, just before sacrament meeting started, a man in the ward came up to me and asked me about myself. I told him I was from Wyoming, and he said they had sent a son on a mission to Wyoming. A sensation of electricity ran through my body, but I knew it was not likely that this was one of the elders that I knew. So I asked, “What mission? The Colorado, Utah, or Montana mission?”
He said his son had served in the Billings Montana Mission, and when I asked him if he had ever been in Lander, Wyoming, where I was converted, the man answered yes again. I asked him a few dates and names and soon discovered that the man I was talking with was the father of one of the elders who had converted me. I said, “Your son is one of the elders responsible for bringing me and my family into the Church.” The man immediately introduced his wife, and tears filled her eyes as she realized that she was seeing a direct result of the sacrifices she and her family had made to send their son on a mission. Brother Miller introduced me to other members of the ward, and every time he told them who I was he choked up. I sat in sacrament meeting with tears streaming down my face as I thought of the mysterious ways the Lord had worked in my life. Who could have predicted that Elder Miller would come to my home and I would go to his almost nine years later?
I was able to see Elder Miller again, and he looked the same except for the three little daughters clinging to his leg. I finally had the chance to tell him thank you. He too was overcome with emotion as he told me what a feeling of satisfaction he had, seeing someone he had taught having as much success in the gospel as my family and I were.
I am truly grateful for that family who gave so much to bring me and my family the gospel. Because of their sacrifices, we as Lamanites are fulfilling Nephi’s prophecy in 2 Nephi 30:6, where it says, “and many generations shall not pass away among them, save they shall be a pure and a delightsome people.” [2 Ne. 30:6]

Today, probably more than in any other period of history, we find more profanity and vulgarity being used. I had a particular experience in my life that showed me how using the wrong word can shock those who do not expect such an utterance to come from you. I was in boot camp in the U.S. Marine Corps during World War II. Of course, the language among my fellow Marines was not of the caliber that you would want to repeat. Being a recently returned missionary, I determined I should keep my language above the level they were using. I tried consistently to keep from saying even the simplest and most common of swear words.

One day we were on the rifle range firing for our final qualification scores. I had done well in the 100-, 200-, and 300-yard positions. Now we were back at the 500-yard position. All I needed was a reasonable score—just hitting the target without even having to hit the bull’s-eye—and I would make Expert Rifleman. We had been charged up with the desire to excel and be the top platoon in firing for qualifications. I tensed up at the 500-yard standing position and on my first shot threw my shoulder into the rifle. Of course, the flag waved—I had missed the target. And likewise I missed the opportunity of being named Expert Rifleman.

Out of my mouth came a little four-letter word that I had determined never to use. Much to my shock and chagrin, suddenly the whole range stopped firing and everyone turned and looked at me with their mouths open. Any other Marine firing from that position that day could have used the word I used without anyone paying attention. But because I had determined that I would carry the standards of the mission field into the Marine Corps, everyone was shocked when I forgot myself.

Michie Eguchi came to Hawaii from Japan in the early 1900s and brought with her a silk Japanese scroll. Her granddaughter Kanani Casey served a mission in Japan and later discovered that her grandmother’s scroll traced her family’s ancestry back almost a thousand years.
In 2013, Kanani’s house burned to the ground. She and her family lost nearly everything in the fire. They had stored their genealogy in plastic tubs underneath their bed. After the fire, they went back to the house, only to find a mountain of ash and soot.
“The only thing that I really hoped to find was the copy of the scroll with its translations and history,” Kanani said. “I was reassured that all the temple work had already been done for my Japanese ancestors, but the copy of the scroll was so precious to me.”
As Kanani and her husband, Billy, waded through the ashes, they eventually found a blue plastic bag. Inside the bag, they found the copy of the scroll, along with translations and a family history book, amazingly still intact. The scroll was just a little burned around the edges, but it was the only thing in their bedroom that survived.
Kanani feels the Lord preserved the scroll “for the benefit of my posterity as a testament of his love for us and to show the importance of doing family history and temple work” (in Christensen, Stories of the Temple in L??ie, Hawai?i, 172–74).

Jenny came home from school, dropped her backpack off in her room, and slumped down on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
Jenny sighed. “Today Mrs. Patterson gave each of us three paper flowers. If anyone talks during quiet time, we have to give someone one of our flowers.”
Mom nodded.
“Emily keeps saying I need to give her a flower. But I’m not even talking!”
“Have you talked to your teacher? Maybe she can help,” Mom said. “But sometimes when people act like that, they really just want a friend.”
Jenny scrunched up her forehead. “It seems like a strange way to show you want a friend.”
“I know. But if you pray, Heavenly Father will show you how to be a friend to Emily.”
That night Jenny prayed for help. She asked Heavenly Father to help her know what to say when Emily asked for her flowers.
At school the next day, her teacher announced that she would retire soon. A lump grew in Jenny’s throat. She loved Mrs. Patterson! Jenny wanted to cry as she thought about how empty her school would feel next year. Later she went home and told her mom about Mrs. Patterson leaving.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said. “I bet Mrs. Patterson is sad too.”
Jenny nodded. “Maybe our class could buy her a new wind chime. She loves those.”
“Great idea! Let’s go to the store tomorrow. You could invite some friends to come too,” Mom said.
Jenny smiled. She was excited to give Mrs. Patterson a present.
“Speaking of other kids, did you talk to Emily today?” Mom asked.
Jenny shrugged. “She kept asking for flowers again. I didn’t know what to do, so I just gave them to her. I prayed for help last night, but it’s not getting any better.”
“Don’t give up,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father hears your prayers. Just keep praying, and you’ll know what to do.”
That night Jenny prayed again for help with Emily. When she got to class the next morning, she quietly sat down at her desk next to Emily. Almost immediately Emily told Jenny to give her a paper flower.
Jenny hesitated. Suddenly she knew what to say. “Emily, I have a question for you.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I want to buy Mrs. Patterson a new wind chime, and I need help picking one out. Do you want to come shopping with my mom and me?”
Emily’s face lit up. “Really? I guess I could help you.” She looked down at her hands. Then she reached into her desk. She carefully pulled out several paper flowers and handed them to Jenny.
“I’m sorry I took your flowers.”
Jenny reached for the flowers, and the girls smiled at each other. Mom was right, Jenny thought. Maybe she just wanted a friend!
As Jenny turned to her desk, she felt happy inside. Heavenly Father had heard her prayers! She was sad to lose her favorite teacher, but she was happy to gain a new friend.

Mark Bennett from Camarillo, California, is not only into Russian, but has been into Russia as well. As a priest from the Camarillo First Ward, Camarillo California Stake, Mark was one of three high school students who participated with several college students in a four-week travel study program in Moscow and Kiev in the summer of 1977.
“We studied the language three hours each morning, and spent the afternoons visiting places of interest in Russia,” explained Mark. Because he was the only LDS participant, he conducted his own personal worship services on Sunday.
Mark’s firsthand experiences in the Soviet Union helped him earn the title of champion of the Southern California Regional Olympiad of Spoken Russian last February. A panel of teachers and professors asked contestants questions on everyday life in Russia, literature, culture, geography, and history. Participants were then given a half hour to prepare an oral summary of a story in Russian. After winning the Southern California title, Mark went on to place third in the Olympiad’s Pacific Coast regional competition in Seattle, Washington.
Mark, a 1978 graduate of Camarillo High School, is a freshman at Brigham Young University.

On Tuesday, April 26, members of the Coalinga Ward welfare committee met with other welfare leaders of the Hanford Stake in an emergency preparedness training seminar. Each ward was given a hypothetical disaster and assigned to come up with a plan of action for dealing with that situation. The scenario for the Coalinga Ward read: “A severe earthquake has caused major damage to the city of Coalinga and surrounding area. Power and communication by telephone are out. Fires are burning in some areas of the city. Many homes and public buildings are partially or totally destroyed.”
As Coalinga Ward leaders discussed their plan of action that Tuesday night, no one suspected that in less than a week they would actually be putting it into effect. Bishop Fowkes, a geology professor, conducted the session. “It’s not very likely that we’ll see a major earthquake in Coalinga,” he began. (Coalinga’s location in relation to the San Andreas fault made a large earthquake seem unlikely.) “But we’ll go ahead with this exercise and come up with a plan anyway,” the bishop continued.
The following Monday, May 2, at 4:43 P.M., an earthquake measuring 6.5 on the Richter scale hit just outside of Coalinga on an unknown fault. The downtown area was devastated, buildings caught fire, power was disrupted, and several homes were knocked off their foundations. Nearly every home sustained damage of some kind. It was time to implement the plan.

How can the Lord and His Church help you on your educational path? One young man from Brazil learned they can help in remarkable ways.
College felt scary to Samad: “I didn’t feel like it was for me,” he says. “But my father encouraged me to try BYU–Pathway Worldwide. I was scared and didn’t believe in myself, but I decided to join.”
At first, Samad felt frustrated. “I felt I had not achieved anything,” he says. “I needed light and hope. BYU–Pathway became that hope for me.”
Samad began to gain confidence in himself and in Heavenly Father. “The more I learned each week, the better I felt” he says. “The service missionaries and instructors reminded me of my talents and abilities. The marvelous courses and stories of people who received blessings helped me open my heart and let the Lord change me for the better.”
Samad’s hopelessness and fear of the future washed away with each new term. “I want to share this experience with others who are facing the same fears and anxieties I felt,” he says. “There’s hope in Jesus Christ. He can help you in your education. I took the first step, and I’ll never regret it.”

“In the Celestial Room, I felt an assurance that I will be healed,” Domingo Servito who faced a fatal health condition testified.
He miraculously survived an eight-hour, high-risk major operation after the Open House, and a few weeks later he was able to attend the Dedication, and celebrated his 68th birthday the day after the Dedication. He bears witness that, “when you feel the assurance of the Spirit, it will truly happen.”

Now, my dear older sisters, I see God’s image in your noble countenances. How your wisdom, patience, and experience have touched so many lives! My amazing mother-in-law, Mary, in her 90s used to say, “People think because I’m old I don’t know anything.” Let me tell you what she knew and what she did. While living in a senior residence, Mary asked the manager if they could use a room for church services. He told her no because the center was nondenominational. She refused to accept his answer! With some other senior sisters, Mary persisted until the company provided a room. Soon a branch was organized, and members were meeting each Sunday to partake of the sacrament and renew their covenants. Age is not a barrier to becoming an instrument in the hands of God.

Jean’s older sister, Marilyn, played the violin in the orchestra at BYU. Sitting next to her was Julie Groberg, who also played the violin. It was the first semester, and these two girls shared many conversations. One day Julie and Marilyn got talking about their families. Julie spoke of her young brother who was a freshman and hadn’t had a date since he arrived at BYU. Marilyn told of her sister, Jean, who was also a freshman and hadn’t had a date yet either. “So, together, they cooked up this blind date arrangement and approached me,” said Jean. “I didn’t like the idea of a blind date, but our other roommate knew the Groberg family. She gave enthusiastic counsel that I shouldn’t turn down this great opportunity. So on the good faith of my sister and our roommate, I mustered up the courage.”
Her first date with John H. Groberg was only the beginning of what in time developed into a beautiful courtship. Five years later it lead to eternal marriage in the Los Angeles temple. But first, while he served a mission in the Pacific Islands, she continued dating and enjoying the association of many friends. She was also diligent in keeping pace with his spiritual growth through study, active service in the Church, and keeping in touch with him through letters. Jean shared something about those letters that became even more important in later years. “His letters would come from so far away and would be written sometimes months ahead of the time he would finally find a boat to take them out. There would be times I would have a particular concern, and it seemed that I would get a letter from him just at the right time telling of an experience he had had or a lesson he had learned that held the very answer I needed. Often the letter had been written before the concern even existed, but it just seemed the timing was what it needed to be.”

While attending a conference in the East the other day, I listened to the experience of an engineer who joined the Church some months ago. The missionaries had called at his home, and his wife had invited them in. She had eagerly responded to their message, while he felt himself being pulled in against his will. One evening she indicated that she wished to be baptized. He flew into a fit of anger. Didn’t she know what this meant? This would mean time. This would mean the payment of tithing. This would mean giving up their friends. This would mean no more smoking. He threw on his coat, walked out into the night, slamming the door behind him. He walked the streets, swearing at his wife, swearing at the missionaries, swearing at himself for ever permitting them to teach them. As he grew tired, his anger cooled, and a spirit of prayer somehow came into his heart. He prayed as he walked. He pleaded with God for an answer to his questions. And then an impression, clear and unequivocal, came almost as if a voice had spoken with words that said, “It’s true.”
“It’s true,” he said to himself again and again. “It’s true.” A peace came into his heart. As he walked toward home, the restrictions, the demands, the requirements over which he had been so incensed began to appear as opportunities. When he opened the door, he found his wife had been on her knees.
Then, before the congregation to whom he told this, he spoke of the gladness that had come into their lives. Tithing was not a problem. The sharing of their substance with God who had given them everything seemed little enough. Time for service was not a problem. This required only a little careful budgeting of the hours of the week. Responsibility was not a problem. Out of it came growth and a new outlook on life. And then this man of intellect and training, this engineer accustomed to dealing with the facts of the physical world in which we live, bore solemn testimony with moistened eyes of the miracle that had come into his life.

I was greatly impressed as I listened to the BYU alumni president, Ernest L. Wilkinson, M.D., tell of an emergency call that took him to the Intensive Coronary Care Unit of the LDS Hospital [in Salt Lake City], where a close personal friend of his of several years’ duration was in critical condition with a massive coronary thrombosis. He said: “As I approached his bedside he grasped my hand and through an oxygen mask, though gripped with pain and breathing in a labored manner, he muttered, ‘Oh, Doctor, can you save me? I have so many things I have been putting off and wanting to do.’
“As we labored into the hours of the morning, utilizing all of the modern electronic gadgetry that medical science can provide, and as it became increasingly evident that my friend would not survive, I was haunted by his comment and its inference. Are we thinkers or are we doers? How many of us procrastinate the really important decisions in life? Will we be found wanting when we too are at the crossroads of life and death?”

In the summer of 1975 I was 25, and my father had just died. He had been involved in the Canadian oil and gas industry with business interests in other parts of the world. I traveled to Europe and spent a considerable amount of time settling his business dealings there for my mother.

After hours of business meetings each day, my colleagues would take me downtown to relax at a famous shopping and promenade area on one of the busiest streets in the city.

With one of the hottest summers on record, it seemed that all the tourists in Europe were on that street. You could see people of various nationalities strolling by, sometimes in native costume or scantily dressed because of the heat.

The street was lined with exclusive stores selling expensive products, but some of the sordid side of life was obvious there as well—pornographic theaters, so-called adult bookstores, and taverns. And, in direct contrast to everything around them, four Latter-day Saint missionaries with a missionary street display.

Their presence seemed amazing, even to a nonmember like me. On this street, where much of what is bad in society was represented, the missionaries were an island of spirituality.

Because I was still discussing business, I was unable to go talk with the missionaries, but I watched them. I noticed that none of the young men looked at the young ladies walking down the street no matter how scantily dressed the girls were. I was quite impressed with that. I decided that I would go back and meet them in the evening when I was free of work, but every time I went to find them, they were gone. I could never seem to find them.

I had to leave the city for a few days, but shortly after my return, I saw two missionaries walking down that same street. I later discovered it would have been their preparation day.

As they walked, they would look in the shop windows. I decided to follow and look in the windows that they looked into to see what interested them. I discovered that they were looking at shoes or coats, and when they did look into a bookstore, it was one that sold only text books. They did not stare into the wine shops or other shops that offered immoral literature or art.

I planned to meet the missionaries at their street display within the next day or two, but suddenly the business deal was completed, and I was on my way back to Canada.

When I got home, I forgot some of the feelings I had experienced watching the missionaries. However, through a friend’s referral, some missionaries made an appointment with me.

As I let the two young men into my apartment, I had the same feelings I felt on the street in Europe when I saw the missionaries there. I sat down and listened to the first discussion. I looked into the eyes of the elders, conscious of the sincerity of their testimonies, and felt that I had known them all my life. After several weeks of missionary discussions, I joined the Church.

I have often thought about the missionaries I saw in Europe. If the two missionaries I followed had stopped in front of a tavern and had been laughing and joking about beer, or if they had gone into some of the stores that you might expect young people to be curious about, the impact of their example on me would have been lost.

The world walked by those missionaries that summer. They never knew I was watching and that their presence bore testimony to me. They never knew that their example was what affected me and made me receptive to the gospel message. Although they never spoke to many of the people on that street, I wonder how many others were influenced as I was just by their example.

Thirty-five years later, my son encouraged me to visit Mexico with him. We hoped to find some of the people I had taught. We attended a sacrament meeting in the little town where I began my mission, but I didn’t recognize a single person. After the meeting, we spoke with one of the members and asked if he knew anyone on my list of people I had taught so many years before. We went through the list without any success, until we got to the last name: Leonor Lopez de Enriquez.
“Oh, yes,” the man said. “This family is in another ward, but they attend church in this building. Their sacrament meeting is next.”
We didn’t have to wait long before Leonor came walking into the building. Although she was now in her mid-70s, I recognized her immediately, and she recognized me. We shared a long, tearful hug.
“We’ve prayed for 35 years that you would return so we could thank you for bringing the gospel to our family,” she said.
As other family members entered the building, we shared hugs and tears. Soon we discovered that the bishop of this ward was one of Leonor’s sons, the chorister was a granddaughter, the pianist was a grandson, and so were several young men in the Aaronic Priesthood. One of her daughters was married to a counselor in the stake presidency. Another daughter was married to the bishop of a nearby ward. Most of Leonor’s children had gone on missions, and now grandchildren have also served missions.
We learned that Leonor was a much better missionary than I was. Today her children thankfully recall her tireless efforts to teach them the gospel. She taught them that small decisions, over time, result in a full, righteous, and happy life, and they have taught those things to others. All told, more than 500 people have come into the Church because of this one wonderful family.
And it can all be traced back to a conversation over lunch. I often think that if Dr. Pingree had been more focused on his career or other worldly pursuits, he might never have asked why I wasn’t serving a mission. But his focus was on others and on furthering the work of the Lord. He planted a seed that has grown, brought forth fruit, and continues to multiply exponentially (see Mark 4:20). My mission taught me the eternal consequences of a single decision to do the Lord’s will.

Home teaching requires energy. I remember times when I was so exhausted from the demands of difficult days in the surgical operating room (in addition to duties relating to family needs and to Church responsibilities) that the prospects of spending evening hours in home teaching were not always anticipated eagerly. Almost without exception, however, I can say that I returned home more invigorated and happy than when I left. I often told Sister Nelson that rewards for a home teacher were not remote; they were immediate, at least for me.