Gospel Story Finder

In the 1830s, missionaries baptized Mary Grimshaw and her family into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Grimshaws immigrated to the United States and made their home in Nauvoo.
Mary was given the assignment of helping Emma Smith, the wife of the Prophet Joseph Smith, with her laundry each week. Mary and Emma worked side by side in the Smiths’ kitchen.
“I’m so glad that you have agreed to help me,” Emma said as she lifted a large tub of water onto the black coal stove.
“I’m glad that I’m able to help,” Mary answered while she put dresses and shirts into the water to simmer and soak.
The kitchen air soon became hot and moist, and it smelled of strong lye soap. Mary wiped the perspiration from her forehead. She dipped a wooden spoon into the water and pulled out a shirt. Kneeling beside another tub of sudsy water, she scrubbed the shirt up and down the washboard. When the shirt was scrubbed clean, Mary handed it to Emma.
Emma rinsed it first in one tub of cool, clear water, then in another tub of clear water. The last tub had a few drops of bluing added to the water to make the shirts whiter.
After each article of clothing was washed and rinsed, it was pulled through a hand-turned wringer, which looked like two rolling pins hooked together with a crank on one end to turn them. The ringer was attached to another tub. As the clothes went through the ringer, the squeezed out water ran into the tub to be reused. The clothes were then hung neatly on the clothesline to dry.
“Thank you for your help,” Emma said.
“Oh, it was fun. I enjoy having an excuse to come to your home,” Mary told her.
Mary did enjoy helping on laundry day at the Prophet Joseph Smith’s home. For five years Mary faithfully returned each week.
Then one sad day the Prophet Joseph Smith was shot and killed. Wanting to go and comfort Emma in some way, Mary said to no one in particular, “Sister Emma needs me more today than ever.”
As she walked to the Smiths’ house, she smoothed the braids that hung from both sides of her head, straightened the apron tied around her waist, and forced on her best smile.
She thought of how different the day felt. The very air was filled with sadness and uncertainty. She wondered about her future and the future of the Church. Stepping onto the porch, she knocked on the wooden door.
Emma looked pale and lonely, and her eyes were red and swollen.
“I’m so sorry,” Mary heard herself say. “Do you still want my help today?”
“Yes,” Emma replied. “I was hoping that you would come. Please go into the kitchen and get started.”
As Mary began to sort the clothes, she jumped back unexpectedly. On top of the pile of clothes lay a man’s shirt. The left side was stained with blood, and there was a small hole singed by gunpowder. The sight of it made Mary feel weak. She fell to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably.
At the close of the day, Mary wrote in her diary, “Today I washed the shirt the Prophet Joseph Smith was shot in.”
Mary’s faith in the gospel grew. She sustained Brigham Young as the new prophet. Later she crossed the plains with the other pioneers and made her home in Smithfield, Utah.

I was on the baseball team in high school, but I needed shoulder surgery my junior year and was unable to recover enough to play. When I had to quit baseball, I was very torn up. I wasn’t sure what to do with my life.
I have always been into music and had started writing songs on my guitar. For a long time I did this as a hobby and nothing more, but when I couldn’t spend my time playing baseball, I decided to transfer all of my passion into my music. I contacted a friend who had a home recording studio, and we started recording some of my songs. After four months I came out with an eight-song CD.
My parents have been encouraging me to save up for my mission since I was very young, but until this point I still didn’t have a lot of money in my mission fund. I decided that once my CD was finished I would sell it and save all of the profit for my mission fund. My goal is to make half the money I need for my mission through my music.
I know how important serving a mission is, and I’m working hard to earn the money I need. While it was disappointing to not be able to play baseball anymore, I know the Lord has a plan for me. I can’t play baseball, but I can play music. I see now how the Lord has opened up a way for me to earn some of the money I need to serve Him on a full-time mission.

“If every kid did something like this, just think how it could change the world.” This comment was overheard at a neighborhood swimming pool last summer in Craig, Colorado, a small community of 8,000 people. It was 13-year-old Evan Pressley they were talking about—and still are.
Evan, a deacon in the Craig First Ward, Meeker Colorado Stake, went door-to-door in his hometown last June asking for money, not for himself, but for orphans in China. He managed to raise $2,418. “And 45 cents,” he adds. He turned what he raised over to a Chinese nonprofit, tax-exempt service organization headquartered near Denver, Colorado.
Evan’s inspiration to help orphans living thousands of miles away in China began with his visit to that country in December of 1996. Evan accompanied his parents, Dave and Mary Pressley, when they adopted his little sister, Marianne Kai Yue. “After I got home, I just wanted to help some babies who are not as fortunate as my little sister, who has found a family.” Marianne and Evan have two older brothers, Ben, 19, and Dan, 18.
As a result of traditional prejudice against females, hundreds of girls are abandoned daily in China. Evan’s little sister was one of them. She had been left on a doorstep in a small village when she was only one day old. On a note attached to her clothing was the handwritten date and time of her birth: “April 15, 1996, 9:23 A.M.” Eight months later, when the Pressleys took her home, she weighed only 10 pounds. Poor nutrition is a fact of life for Chinese orphans. Their caregivers are very loving but lack the funds to feed the babies well.
In the spring of 1997, Evan sent a handwritten letter to Lily Nie and Joshua Zhong, directors of the agency the Pressleys went through to adopt Marianne, informing them of his project. His goal was to raise $2,175. He exceeded that goal and came up with a total of $2,418 (and 45 cents). He made a list of specific things he wanted done with that money: repair a child’s cleft palate and lip; buy a heavy-duty washer and dryer; provide enough formula for eight babies for one month; buy a crib and some toys; set up a small children’s health clinic. All this for $2,418! “Money goes a long way in China,” Evan explains.
In August of 1997, Evan hand-delivered the money to Lily and Joshua. And they more than honored his request. Joshua, who affectionately calls this “the Evan Project,” traveled to China last fall with the money and carefully carried out Evan’s itemized list. He even chose the child that would have the cleft palate surgery. The funds went to the Fusan Children’s Welfare House in Liaoning Province in northern China. “There are more than 150 children there,” Evan says, “and 95 percent of them are handicapped. They’ll never be adopted.”
Was Evan’s project easy? “A lot of people turned me down. I almost quit when I knocked on one man’s door and he told me that he wouldn’t contribute. He even admitted that he was hard-hearted!” Very discouraged at this point, he says, “I fasted for 24 hours and prayed. I told Heavenly Father that I really needed to do this, for the babies in China, and would he please help me find people who wanted to give.” Evan’s prayers were answered.
Several articles were published in the newspapers about the Evan Project. Later, Joshua Zhong sent a letter to one newspaper thanking the people of Craig, Colorado, for their support. He also sent a letter to Evan expressing his feelings. “I want to thank and salute you for an incredibly moving and successful fund-raising effort. I am deeply touched by your love for the Chinese children. … You are an amazing kid with a very BIG heart!”
What does this “amazing kid” have in mind for the future? You guessed it. He’s not through helping orphans in China. He’s given it a lot of thought, and he’s getting close to earning his Eagle Scout Award. For his project he’s going to do something like gathering baby formula—lots of it—to send to Chinese orphanages. After all, when you have a BIG heart, it can strrreettch a whole lot to make room for one more Chinese baby … or 50 … or 150.

George Albert was very ill. The doctor had diagnosed typhoid fever, a dread disease at that time, and ordered the boy to stay in bed for at least three weeks. His mother was told that George Albert should have only liquids and that she should brew him some coffee.
At this very young age, he demonstrated a great faith in his Heavenly Father and a willingness to follow His commandments. George Albert wanted to get well, of course, but he didn’t want to disobey the Word of Wisdom. He asked his mother to bring him water instead of coffee and to send for their ward teacher.
Brother Hawks came quickly in answer to Mrs. Smith’s request and gave George Albert a blessing, promising him that he would soon be well. And the very next morning when the boy awakened, the fever was gone and young George felt much better. Some years later in telling a group of children about this experience, he said, “I was grateful to the Lord for my recovery. I am sure that he healed me.”

Illustration by Melissa Manwill
When I was nine, my brother Leif got really sick. He went to the hospital. My mom told my sister and me that my brother had leukemia, a blood cancer. We prayed that my brother would be OK.
My dad stayed at the hospital with my brother. Two days later we drove to the hospital to see Leif. It was the first time I’d seen him since he was diagnosed. My grandma and grandpa were there helping. When I walked in, my brother was on a bed with many tubes and needles connected to his arms. I gave him a hug and began to cry. But I felt the Spirit with me. Heavenly Father was comforting me. He gave me love and support.
As we drove home from the hospital, the Spirit was still with me. I’m thankful that Heavenly Father blessed my family and my brother in many ways. The members of my ward helped our family. And my schoolteachers showed kindness to me. I felt the love of Heavenly Father through many people.
Leif has had a lot of struggles with his leukemia. Prayer and family and ward fasts have helped him so much. Leif has two years left of chemo treatment, but he has made it through the first and hardest year.
Heavenly Father sends the Holy Ghost to comfort you in times of need and inspires friends and family to help you.

I thought of another great man in my life—a coach who has affected my life for eternity. I am pleased to announce that he and I are engaged together in learning more fully the gospel of Jesus Christ in a missionary effort.
I will never forget the day I walked into his office, scared to death as fifteen-year-olds are, trying to sign up for a varsity team. I stood outside his door for the better part of five minutes; and then, when I got the courage, I knocked timidly. The voice said, “Come in!” I opened the door and walked in.
He said, “What can I do for you, son?”
I said, “Where do you sign up for varsity baseball?”
He said, “Let me ask you a question—do you want to play ball or be a champion?”
I said, “I came to play ball.”
He said, “I’m sorry, we’re all filled up.”
With a broken heart, I turned and walked out. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear! I stood in the hall for a minute (thank goodness my dad had taught me courage to keep trying), then plucked up my courage and again knocked on the door. The answer came as before, “Come in!” I walked in.
He said, “Oh, it’s you again.”
I said, “Yes, sir, maybe you didn’t understand my earlier question. I asked you where to sign up for varsity baseball.”
He said, “I asked you a question. Do you want to play ball or be a champion?”
Well, I knew the other answer hadn’t worked, so I said, “I want to be a champion.”
“Oh,” he said, “sign here.” And I did. He said, “We build champions.” Then he turned and said, “Have you ever signed a contract before?”
I said, “No, sir, I’m only fifteen.”
He said, “At this institution, we commit ourselves to principles.”
He took from the bottom drawer of his file a contract already typed, and on it were the standards that we have been listening to in this great conference. He said, “You take that home and read it over with your parents. If you can agree to the conditions, you sign it and bring it back tomorrow.” I did. Somehow, I made the team.
In the contractual agreement were promises to be the kind of a Latter-day Saint I knew I ought to be. We went through a great, great season. It ended in a tie with our arch-rival high school. The play-off game was to determine the state championship. As we assembled on the field in the last-minute preparation for the great event, the coach had us around the batting cage. As he was making his little pep talk, he stopped in front of me and said, “Oh, by the way, you will pitch the deciding game.” My heart dropped! He continued his counsel. And then he stopped in front of our excellent second baseman. Most of you would know him because he went on to play for the Chicago White Sox for a number of years. He said, as he looked, “Jimmy, is that a nicotine stain on your finger?” Jimmy, like the rest of us, had made a commitment to keep his body clean.
Jimmy, looking at his finger, quickly hid his hand and said, embarrassed, “Yes, sir.”
The coach said in front of the whole team, “Did you sign a contract with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you broke the contract?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know the penalty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you turn in your uniform? You’re through.”
I wanted to say, “Coach, tomorrow’s the big game. (Jimmy was batting .385 and hadn’t made an error at second base all year.) But the coach was thinking of a boy, not a game. Jimmy turned in his uniform, but the coach kept close to him.
I drew the assignment the next day to pitch against Al Yalian, who later signed with the New York Yankees for a fabulous bonus. Thirteen innings we went, and he beat me in the thirteenth—1–0. The run came when a ground ball was hit to second where Jimmy normally played. The ball got through a nervous substitute’s legs onto the outfield grass and eventually scored an unearned run, which defeated us. And now, years later, I thank God for a great coach who taught me that principles are more important than games.

Charlotte pushed her fingers into her ears. Singing time was usually her favorite part of Primary. But today she didn’t want to hear the songs they were singing. She had asked if she could sit in the hall instead.
She stared at the green carpet, trying not to cry. It didn’t work.
Someone walked up beside her. Charlotte quickly wiped away her tears and looked up.
It was Sister Henry. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Charlotte swallowed. “Those songs are about happy families and being together forever,” she said quietly.
“Oh. I see.” Sister Henry sat down beside Charlotte.
A few months ago, Charlotte’s parents had called a family meeting. Dad explained that he was moving.
“So it’s kind of like you’re getting a divorce?” Charlotte had asked.
“Not kind of,” Mom said. “We both love you, but yes, we are getting divorced.”
Charlotte remembered how her skin felt cold and hot at the same time. Then all of her feelings erupted! Fear, anger, confusion, and deep sadness—the kind that made you feel sick.
She still felt that way sometimes. Like when Mom and Dad sat on opposite sides of the pool at her swim meets. Or when her little brother cried for Mom when they stayed at Dad’s house.
Or when they were singing about families in Primary.
“When my parents got divorced, it felt like someone was punching me in the stomach,” Sister Henry said. “Over and over again.”
Charlotte was surprised. “Your parents are divorced too?”
Sister Henry nodded. “They got divorced when I was about your age.”
Charlotte looked at her hands. “Sometimes when we sing ‘Families Can Be Together Forever,’ I think, ‘Except for mine.’” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I get so mad. And that’s bad, isn’t it?”
Sister Henry shook her head. “No. I used to feel sick whenever I saw kids with both of their parents together.”
“Yeah!” Charlotte said. “It’s like they’re in a happy family club, and I’m not. Everything is different now.”
“It’s normal to feel mad, sad, or scared now—however you feel,” Sister Henry said. “Divorce is hard. But I promise that you will feel better. Your family is still your family, even if it looks different now. It helped me a lot to remember that my parents still loved me, and would for all eternity.”
Charlotte smiled. She liked Sister Henry.
Sister Henry leaned closer to Charlotte. “But you know what helped me the most?” she whispered.
“What?” Charlotte whispered back.
“I learned that I still have a perfect, happy family,” Sister Henry said. “And so do you. We all do, no matter what our earthly family is like right now.”
Charlotte crinkled her nose. “How?”
“Well, our earthly families aren’t perfect, but our heavenly family is. So no matter what happens, we have heavenly parents who love us and a wonderful heavenly home waiting for us.”
When Charlotte thought about that, she felt a little hopeful. She imagined what it would be like one day when she saw her heavenly parents again.
“Maybe when we’re singing about families, I can think about my heavenly family,” Charlotte said. Sister Henry nodded.
Charlotte had just one more question. “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”
“Not a bit,” Sister Henry said.
Charlotte stood up. “Then I think I’m ready to sing.”

In December of last year, the Kingstown Branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints joined with the National Emergency Management Organization on the World Day of Service to hold educational sessions for church members and their friends on food and water storage and disaster preparedness. In addition to the presentations, seeds were provided to all attendees so they could plant their own gardens.
The following month, district and branch presidencies in St. Vincent and the Grenadines encouraged members to refocus their efforts toward being self-reliant both temporally and spiritually. Members took this counsel to heart and did what they could to increase their food and water storage despite their limited financial resources. Some even planted their own gardens. Since then, there have been many reminders to start preparing, even in small ways. Some sisters began purchasing water bottles and sharing them with others who showed interest. Others planted gardens and added to their food supply.
These preparations have been very beneficial as they have been used since the La Soufriere volcano began erupting on April 9, spewing ash into the air.
Sister Nichole Franklyn, Relief Society president in the Kingstown Branch, recalls, “We started a kitchen garden. We were happy, but it took a lot of work. We prayed each night over the crops, and Heavenly Father heard our prayers and blessed them.” Their simple garden has grown and is producing.
Not all the produce in their garden is ready to harvest, but they are reaping cucumbers and sweet peppers. They were worried that the ash fall would ruin their garden as it has much of the agriculture on the island. “Many crops have been completely wiped out, but God has spared ours. We were able to reap cucumbers. Right now, we can sell our cucumbers for five dollars per pound, but we opted to share with three shelters,” Sister Franklyn said.
The members were also encouraged to become spiritually self-reliant. Following the example of a group that started in St. Lucia where a group of sisters are meeting for prayer and scripture study at 5:00 am each morning from Monday to Saturday, the sisters in St. Vincent also began in earnest. They meet on Zoom with other members of the Church in the Caribbean Area at the same time. Despite the prevailing circumstances, the members are strong and without fear, and they continue to meet morning after morning.
Sister Franklyn is grateful for the blessings that her garden has brought to her family and to those in the shelters. “The Lord watches out for His children and provides when we are able to follow His teachings through our leaders,” she said. “It really feels good to give rather than to receive at this time.”

Let me now share a very personal experience from years ago that may serve to illustrate this point. I was set apart as a stake president by two General Authorities, and during the blessing, certain—as I viewed them—promises were mentioned, one of which related to the success of a new business venture I had just undertaken. But things did not go well business-wise. Unbeknownst to me, I had started an advertising agency on the cusp of a serious recession. After weeks of unease, early one morning, with many unanswered questions in my heart, a terrible uncertainty and a feeling of being alone washed over me like a waterfall of doubt. Although going into business for myself seemed like an inspired decision at the time, I had begun to second-guess the rightness of my choice, and I even wondered about the inspired words that had been uttered in that blessing just a few months earlier.

Fortunately I followed a common pattern and went to the scriptures and to the Lord, anxiously looking for answers—any answer that would mitigate my vexed state of mind. I was pondering the words in Matthew 28 about the risen Lord, specifically what the angel said to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary who were in search of the Master, searching just as I was on that morning and perhaps as you may be searching today: “He is not here: for he is risen, as he said.”13

The details of what followed are not important here, except to say that in my scriptures there is written in the margin a little note that says, “Special experience.” The Lord blessed me that day with a powerful witness of the reality of the Savior as my personal advocate with the Father, as the Creator of heaven and earth, and as the would-be Friend of all mankind. Today I testify that He lives and that He wants nothing more than to help us perform well on this playing field of life.

Yes, the business survived the recession and, happily, all the words spoken in my blessing were fulfilled. More important, I learned something about the definition of the phrase “in the Lord’s own way.”

Someone has given us this thought on time (I shall read it):
“And in my dreams I came to a beautiful building, somehow like a bank, and yet not a bank because the brass marker said, ‘Time for Sale.’
“I saw a man, breathless and pale, painfully pull himself up the stairs like a sick man. I heard him say: ‘The doctor told me I was five years too late in going to see him. I will buy those five years now—and then he can save my life.’
“Then came another man; also who said to the clerk: ‘When it was too late, I discovered that God had given me great capacities and endowments, and I failed to develop them. Sell me ten years so that I can be the man I would have been.’
“Then came a younger man to say: ‘The company has told me that starting next month I can have a big job if I am prepared to take it. But I am not prepared. Give me two years of time so that I will be prepared to take the job next month.’
“So they came, ill, hopeless, despondent, worried, unhappy—and they left smiling, each man with a look of unutterable pleasure on his face, for he had what he so desperately needed and wanted—time.
“Then I awakened, glad that I had what these men had not, and what they could never buy—time. Time to do so many things I wanted to do, that I must do. If that morning I whistled at my work, it was because a great happiness filled my heart. For I still had time, if I used it well.” (Author unknown.)

I saw the ability of “not rendering evil for evil” but showing patience and respect beautifully demonstrated by a widow, Anne, who showed kindness when rebuffed by another. Anne was assigned to visit teach another woman in her ward, Betty, who had recently lost her husband. Betty was beside herself with grief and loneliness and pushed away any attempt by ward members to approach her.
As Betty explained later, “I was angry and frustrated, and I could not bear to be around others. At the same time I longed for someone to break through to me. I just didn’t know what to do!”
When Anne went to Betty with some flowers to express her condolences, Betty pushed the door shut in Anne’s face, loudly telling her that she did not want visitors and did not want or need anything from neighbors! Anne slowly walked home, wondering what she should do. After spending a few minutes at home praying and thinking about her own loneliness and sadness, Anne decided to return to Betty’s home.
After knocking, Anne was surprised when Betty opened the door. Anne pulled Betty into an embrace, held her tightly, and said, “I’m so sorry you are hurting.”
Rather than pushing Anne away, Betty melted into Anne’s arms and sobbed, all the while saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

When I was a teenager, I struggled with some sinful habits that bordered on addictive. The struggle went on for several years and affected the way I perceived myself and my relationships with others.
In church and at home, I heard often about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s perfect love for each of us, regardless of what we’ve done. This is a beautiful truth. But despite that knowledge, I still felt stuck in what seemed like a never-ending rut of sin and self-hatred that I couldn’t escape. I simply couldn’t find the strength to change.
It wasn’t until college that I started to really strengthen my testimony of Christ, and only then did I become personally acquainted with the aspect of His character and His Atonement that I needed: His enabling power.
I needed to know that Jesus Christ could change me. I’d proven countless times over the years that I didn’t have the power to change myself; only He could help me. And once I finally gained that testimony for myself, I found His help in ways I never could before.
One Sunday as I took the sacrament, I pondered about the symbolism of the bread and water—which represent the body and blood of Christ—and the order in which we partake of them. It was significant to me that we are offered the bread (which reminds me of sustenance and strength) before being given the water (which makes me think of washing and cleansing). To me, this suggests that the Savior doesn’t wait to offer us strength until after we have repented and are made clean. Instead, His enabling power is available to us throughout the repentance process.
As Elder D. Todd Christofferson taught: “We do not need to achieve some minimum level of capacity or goodness before God will help—divine aid can be ours every hour of every day, no matter where we are in the path of obedience. But I know that beyond desiring His help, we must exert ourselves, repent, and choose God for Him to be able to act in our lives consistent with justice and moral agency.”1
This was a pivotal realization for me.
I had been trying and failing to overcome my bad habits on my own for years. So from that moment forward, I started viewing the sacrament as an opportunity to draw strength from the Savior every week, as well as a preparation to receive the cleansing, sanctifying power of the Holy Ghost.
My prayers started including pleas for increased ability to resist temptation, instead of just asking for forgiveness. I saw those prayers answered over time. My scripture study became less of an item to check off and more of an opportunity to hear the voice of the Lord. Going to church became more significant. The Spirit began to point out things I was doing or exposing myself to that, though not inherently sinful, were not contributing to my spiritual well-being, and I found the motivation to remove them from or limit them in my life.
As Christ enabled me to make these seemingly little adjustments, the Spirit’s influence on me grew, and with that growth came an increased ability to resist the temptations that had previously held me captive. The intervals between my moments of weakness gradually lengthened. I started noticing factors that left me vulnerable to temptation, and it grew easier to limit those factors. Instead of my bad habits being removed all at once, it was an incremental process of replacing that sin and evil with righteousness and good habits.
Through this process, I learned so much about how the Savior knows our needs and can provide us with unique help for the unique problems we have at certain times of life.

Records show that she preached on priesthood authority, the Book of Mormon, and other gospel topics. After hearing Emma preach on the life and mission of Joseph Smith, one missionary wrote, “I enjoyed her remarks very much; and was sorry when she stopped speaking.”

Sadly, Emma contracted elephantiasis late in her mission and received an early release. When the women and girls at the school learned that she was returning to Utah, they wept. The Malaela branch held a farewell meeting for her, giving her one last chance to preach. She “spoke quite forcibly,” the minutes of the meeting indicate, “and exhorted all to be true to the gospel.”

Emma herself remained true to the gospel—and her covenants—for the rest of her life. In Utah, she continued her education, participated in the state’s Polynesian community, and consulted on the first Latter-day Saint hymnal in Samoan. At some point, she also met a Hawaiian Saint named Henry Kahalemanu. They were married in the Salt Lake Temple on January 31, 1907.

Three years later, Emma passed away at age 26 and was buried at Iosepa, a settlement of Polynesian Saints 60 miles (97 km) west of Salt Lake City. Although her life was brief, her devotion to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ remains a powerful example for Saints around the world, especially young women who answer the call to serve today.

I challenged eight couples in my former home stake in California to set aside their comfortable lives of planned retirement and to bless the Scottish Saints with their gospel knowledge and service.

Arthur Thulin had been a bishop, his wife Myra a skilled teacher. Arthur anxiously wrote that he was nearing seventy and might die in Scotland. I replied, “Arthur, you are going to die somewhere; Scotland is a great place to die—but when you die, die with your boots on, not in a comfortable rocking chair.” The Thulins came, blessed the lives of many, and Arthur lived several years after their two-year mission.

Ezra J. Poulsen relates an experience he had as a student at this university. The English professor and poet was the late Alfred Osmond, and the incident, I believe, adequately reflects that which I would like to explain.
In a college English class years ago, we were assigned to write several rhymed couplets in the style of Alexander Pope. The professor required the trembling authors to read their verses aloud for criticism and review.
One of the boys refused to take part. “I’m not a poet,” he said.
The professor, a large man with bushy eyebrows and a voice of thunder, pointed a blunt finger at the student and roared, “Young man, I want you to understand you’re not a finished product. You’re still in the process of being created.”
This dramatic ten-second speech startled the entire class into a state of intense receptivity, and I doubt if anyone present ever forgot it. It was a master stroke of teaching.
Brother Poulsen continues,
For me, this remark has become a fixed belief. I am not a finished product. I am still in the process of creation. In moments of idleness, retreat, or discouragement, I seem to hear the old professor’s challenge in my ears. And I rise to do battle with my daily problems.
Quickly, new avenues of constructive effort seem to open up. Old plateaus of mediocrity are left behind. I find ever-widening horizons, because growth is the natural law of life. [This Week Magazine, 16 September 1962]

One sister, shortly after moving to a new ward, suffered a devastating illness that left her nearly bedridden for almost two years. She describes how the sisters of her new ward, working through the Relief Society organization, blessed her life:
“A loving and sensitive Relief Society president visited often, and other sisters checked on me every day of the week. I forged bonds of friendship with each one as we shared feelings of the heart, discussed current affairs, laughed at the small indignities of illness, and generally enjoyed each other’s company. One sister quietly did my laundry, freshened my dogs’ food and water, and brought her grandchildren to visit. Another … made delicious custard for me when I could eat no other food. …
“I rarely was able to attend church during my illness, but I still felt right at home in the ward family” (JoAnn Jolley, Ensign, September 1994, 51–52).

The line of 31 horsemen snaked along the steep, rocky ridge that cupped a narrow beach on the northern shore of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Below them, on the margin of sand, a sheepherder and his dogs moved their sheep from Squaw Springs.

The horsemen dismounted, and slipping and sliding down the hillside, led their horses to a large cave overlooking the water. After a 10-mile ride across the Promontory Mountains to the east, they’d arrived at their destination, a former Indian wintering ground.

The Explorers and Venturers of the Corinne Second Ward tethered their horses and prepared to eat lunch. With them were their advisers, Bill and Bob Smoot; several fathers and young brothers; Bishop Royal Norman and a counselor; the service and activities committee chairman; and their guide, veteran horseman Jesse Nicholas.

Because Corinne is a close-knit, rural ward, the young men sometimes enjoy sharing a variety of super activities with others in the ward. “We invite the young brothers along so they can get a taste of Exploring and look forward to it,” adviser Bill Smoot said.

This particular trek to the pair of caves formerly used by the Shoshone Indians took place during the Christmas holidays. A mild winter had left the area bare of snow, and the unseasonably high temperatures, ranging in the 40s, made horseback riding a pleasure.

This journey began one Wednesday morning when the youth met at the Smoot dairy farm to help load the stock into trucks and horse trailers. Bishop Norman, driving another truck filled with 10 horses, met them at the farm. They assembled for prayer and advice from the bishop. “Please no bullets in your pistols or rifles. We don’t want any shooting accidents, and you can load your guns when we get to a suitable place. Let’s remember to treat the property with respect so we’ll be welcomed back.”

After prayer they went by caravan the 50 miles to the Nick Chournos sheep corrals in Booze Valley near Promontory. The horses were unloaded, saddled and bridled, and everyone rode up Whittaker Pass, led by Brother Nicholas. Three of the horses carried double, including the bishop’s. The bishop explained that super activities such as this one have kept the Explorer program going well in the ward for the past 19 years, the length of service of the adviser. He noted that about 85 percent of the young men eventually go on missions. “During one five-year period, every one of them went on missions. I feel activities such as this help keep them interested in the Church.”

The Venturer adviser observed that the activities of the two groups have helped to cement father-and-son relationships. He said several dads have been encouraged into activity as a result.

Six mule deer sprang from under the cedars halfway up Whittaker Pass and bounded up the slope opposite the gully. The riders paused to watch. Some of the less conditioned—riders and horses—rested before moving on.

Bill Smoot, Explorer adviser, said that every other year they spend a week on a pack trip in the Uinta Mountains east of Corinne. “That way every Explorer gets at least one pack trip,” he said.

Super activities are not only events for the Explorers and Venturers, the adviser emphasized. During the spring the young men painted three houses belonging to widows in the ward and participated in other projects.

During the descent through South Canyon on the other side of Whittaker Pass, the horsemen broke into groups, with the slower horses bringing up the rear. Occasionally they stopped to admire the rugged winter beauty of the mountains.

One of the riders said another super event planned for the year will be a Tin Lizzie Derby involving all the posts in the stake. Each post will buy a car, an old clunker, for a nominal sum, get it into running condition if necessary, and compete in various skill tests.

“After that,” the Venturer adviser said, “they will sell the car and return the money to the respective posts. The goal is to see which unit can get the most money. They may advertise the car in the paper, sell it to a dealer, or break it down for parts,” he said.

Past activities have included visits to the Utah State Prison near Salt Lake City, to nearby military installations, and to the air traffic control facility at Salt Lake International Airport. They have boated on lakes, visited caverns, and attended rodeos.

These activities have served as confidence builders for some and have helped others better understand one another. This has resulted in a closer unity among the post members. In addition to opportunities for spiritual growth, the activities have kept them physically fit. Some of this unity and activity is demonstrated in the wrestling prowess of a half-dozen young men in the ward. Corinne Second Ward’s Aaronic Priesthood holders represent 50 percent of the local high school wrestling team. Some have won recognition in AAU-sanctioned wrestling events.

Because they come from a rural ward, they plan well in advance so their farm and stock work is taken care of in their absence. During the summer they have to plan around irrigation turns. Fortunately, there are often enough family members to take up the slack while they’re gone.

They rode several miles down the canyon through pasture country, then over the ridge surrounding Squaw Springs where the two caves were located. Brother Nicholas said artifacts found in the Indian caves have been removed for further study by a university. Thus visits to the caves don’t damage archaeological investigations. Brother Nicholas noted the caves were used during the winters by Shoshone Indians.

“One of them told my grandfather about the caves, but he never could find them. Tom Whittaker did, though, and that’s how I know of them.” He continued, “That Indian said that when he was a youngster, the entire band was trapped inside the upper cave by an enemy tribe. They got mighty dry before they were able to get out.”

The riders dismounted at the upper cave, and the lunches were unpacked from the saddlebags. There were several smashed sandwiches and flattened dessert packages, but all was eaten with good humor. A number of items were shared with others, and there was food left over.

After exploring the cave they carefully packed any litter into their saddlebags. The young men mounted again and rode down the hill where they investigated the lower cave before turning home.

Halfway back up South Canyon they met the property owner who was conferring with one of his herders. They exchanged greetings and rode around the grazing sheep. Because sheep scatter easily, owners don’t like visitors in the area. The Explorers had asked permission to travel through, so there was no problem.

Back at the sheep corrals the young men engaged in an impromptu target match, utilizing the soft drink cans retrieved from the cave. As they practiced with .22 caliber pistols and rifles, Bishop Norman said, “Had there not been sheep around we could have stopped along the way and practiced.”

After the horses were led into the trucks and the last round was fired, the Explorers and their guests loaded up for the return trip home.

Bill Smoot summed up the value of this trip and other super activities. “They help us grow closer together, boys and leaders. Every young man in our ward is active in the Church, and every leader knows each of the boys well. Part of the reason for that is because we plan regular super activities.”

For Brigham, every day is an adventure. He loves his friends, he enjoys learning at school and at church, and he enjoys meeting new people. Everyone he meets becomes his friend. President Thomas S. Monson invited Brother Arballo and the Reneer family to visit him in Salt Lake City. After allowing Brigham to sit in President Hinckley’s chair, and after singing and playing the piano for the group, President Monson promised him that the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles would pray for him. Now when he sees President Monson’s picture, Brigham exclaims, “There’s my friend!”

Study the words of President David O. McKay, who tells of how, in his youth, he knelt and “prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster” that “God would declare to [him] the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith.”
President McKay related that when he arose from his knees, he had to admit that “no spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say that I am just the same [boy] that I was before I prayed.”
I don’t know how young David felt in his heart at that time, but I’m sure he must have been disappointed—perhaps frustrated that he didn’t receive the spiritual experience that he had hoped for. But that didn’t discourage him from continuing his search for that knowledge.
The answer to his prayers did come, but not until years later, when he was serving as a missionary. Why was the answer to his prayer so long delayed? President McKay believed that this spiritual manifestation “came as a natural sequence to the performance of duty.”

When the Livingston Branch of the Kingwood Texas Stake put on a dance, it was a new page in their history.
The branch, with a total membership of 59, had never sponsored a stake activity, so the Mutual decided to remedy the situation and sponsor the next stake dance. They decorated the multipurpose room, planned refreshments, and sent out invitations. When the night came, more than double the expected number attended. It was a good night for dancing in Livingston.