Gospel Story Finder

Searching for a great idea for a youth conference? The Aurora Colorado Stake has a suggestion.
Work.
Now just a minute. Before you stop reading, maybe we ought to define that a little bit.
Hard work.
Like shoveling gravel, digging dirt, weeding, painting, washing cars. You know, just the sort of thing you live for on a hot summer day.
Fun.
All right, all right. There’s an explanation. See, the kids from Aurora wanted to do something different for their youth conference, something grand. So they spent three days cleaning up a city.
It’s true.
“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ’something to help someone else,’ and something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we took them up on it.”
Inspired by a story in the New Era special issue on service (see March 1988, p. 46), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was nearby; a slumping economy had hit the area hard; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small LDS branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had a youth program that would love some company. In fact, while the youth from Aurora were there, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Great entertainment, right?
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., 84 young people divided into eight teams were scurrying all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the LDS youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
“We went into a store to buy some pop,” said Andy Clapton, 18, who had been shoveling gravel all morning at the train depot. “The clerk said, ‘Are you the Mormon kids? You’re doing a great job.’”
“Lots of people have asked what we’re doing,” said Sandra Hilborne, 15, as she leveled out tree bark in a planter box on Main Street. “We tell them we’re helping others and having fun at the same time.”
And that, really, is what began to happen.
“I wasn’t very excited at first,” said Liza Zmolek, 14. “But then I saw people watching us. I felt like somebody was counting on me, so I started working hard, and it felt good.”
Angelica Velez, 15, wiped her forehead, then smiled. “When we first got to the cemetery,” she said, “you couldn’t even see the tombstones. Then we brought in lawnmowers and weed whackers and raked it up and carried out a lot of wood. Now it looks nice.”
Ginny Stafford, 14, spent the morning on her knees, pulling weeds till her fingers were stained green. She said out loud what a lot of people were feeling: “It’s dirty work, but when you’re done, you feel happy, not dirty.”
Besides sprucing up Main Street, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
“I thought that was neat,” said Daphne Motto, 17. “It didn’t matter that it’s not an LDS church. It’s like we were saying, we’re all brothers and sisters and we need to help each other.”
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the LDS chapel.
“It was kind of scary when two full buses drove up,” said Corey Trial, 13, one of four active LDS teens from Granby.
“I’ve lived here all my life,” said Mark Bickmore, 14, “I’d never seen that many kids before with the same religion as me.”
Soon Ray Beaty, 16, of Granby, was working side by side with Aurora youth he’d met only that morning. “We get lonely up here, and sometimes we think we’re all alone. But working together like this, I think we’ve formed some friendships that will last.”
And Vickie Adams, 13, the only Granby girl active in Young Women, said, “I’m not used to this many people. It helps me feel like there are other Mormons around.”
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Other activities included a luau with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
“I found out the Church is a lot smaller here,” said Fred Tanquary, 17. “I mean, there are only four kids in the branch. But I think we all had the gospel in common, and they just became a part of us.”
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Tips on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room at the YMCA of the Rockies, the LDS youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. They presented him with framed historical photos of Granby, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
One young man who has been struggling to keep the commandments told the rest of the group they had helped him.
“I’ve known for a long time that I need to change some things,” he said. “And being here has helped me see how happy you can be just doing what’s right. I’m making a change. I’m starting over.”
Darla Evans, 17, said she thought it was great to do something at a youth conference besides entertain yourself. “Even the pioneer trek we went on last year—it was challenging, but it was still just for us. This has all been for other people.”
Another young man, a priest, said that he’d only been active in the Church for a year. “This is the only youth conference I’ve ever been to,” he said. “But I’ve really felt the Spirit here.”
Others, like Holly Mattison, 16, talked about living the gospel in a high school where, as a Latter-day Saint, she’s outnumbered. “It’s not always easy,” she said. “There are lots of challenges.” But she said a talk at one of the devotionals reminded her that the Savior loves her, that he knows her by name and will help her to be strong.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation. “If my mom had asked me to do the same thing in my backyard, I know I wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” said Adriana Velez, 17. “In fact, before we left, I told one of my friends what we were doing, and she said, ‘My parents would never make me do that!’”
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed 15 years ago,” he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the neatest thing’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come up here and bring us into the limelight in our community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”
The Aurora Colorado Stake hasn’t been around that long. It was formed when another stake divided, several months before the Aurora youth went to Granby. Before the stake was divided, the planned youth conference was a river trip. When plans for three days of hard labor in Granby were announced, some of the youth thought they were losing out.
But talk to the youth now, and they’ll rattle on and on about their “service conference.”
You know—the time when they went to Granby, where they learned that work can be a lot of fun.

Here is an example of a spiritual and a temporal evaluation of an everyday experience. In a BYU devotional several years ago, Elder Loren C. Dunn described how his father, a busy stake president in Tooele, gave his two young sons the responsibility of raising cows on the family farm. He gave the boys large latitude in what they could do, and they made some mistakes. These were observed by an alert neighbor, who complained to their father about what the young cow-raisers were doing. “Jim, you don’t understand,” President Dunn replied. “You see, I’m raising boys, not cows.” (“Our Spiritual Heritage,” in Brigham Young University 1981–82 Fireside and Devotional Speeches, Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 1982, p. 138.) What a marvelous insight! What an example for parents who are inclined to view and evaluate their children’s performance solely in temporal terms.

Let me share an experience I had out in the South Pacific some years ago as an infantry soldier. This has to do, I think, with discouragement, the feeling of inadequacy at times or wonderment as to whether or not one can persevere to the end. To those of you who are not familiar with military terms, let me explain. As infantrymen out in the Pacific, we used to make what we’d call a dry run on isolated beaches. We’d take an innocent island and, with LCVPs (landing craft vehicles), make a practice assault on the beach in order to get the feel of what combat would be like. We selected an island way out in the middle of the ocean on one occasion. Our particular regiment went ashore. We were to simulate combat conditions, so I was assigned to take a patrol into the shrubs. Lo and behold, about five hundred yards inland, we came upon a very friendly native village. But a very interesting sight was noted by all of us. Every man, woman, child, and beast, including dogs and cattle, was wearing green beads with three tiny shells attached to the end. That naturally created curiosity in the infantrymen’s minds.

Later we learned from a Baptist minister who had been serving in that vicinity that the people were very religious and superstitious. The beads were to ward off evil or failure or discouragement or even the temptation of death. The people used these beads as their good luck charms. At the time, the beads recalled to my memory the days when some of us as kids carried a good luck charm or a rabbit’s foot in our pockets. Some of us back on the farm were perhaps superstitious enough to hang horseshoes on the barn door or use a hundred other symbols to keep off the evil eye of failure or accident. I remember so well a common superstition of all ball players never to step on another player’s mitt while it lay on the ground. To do so was certain to bring failure and defeat.

Each Christmas season Anna and Rose looked forward to the family tradition of driving to the “light house,” a farmhouse that was covered from top to bottom with Christmas lights. When it came into view, they would cry, “Drive slower!” “Turn around!” “Go back!” One drive past all the lights that blinked and winked and flashed and chased was never enough.
On the first day of December the girls were eager to see the light house again.
“Can we go to the light house tonight?” Anna asked.
“It’s a little too early,” Mom said.
“We’ll go there when it’s a bit closer to Christmas,” Dad said.
Rose and Anna decided to go to their room and practice saying “ooh!” and “aah!” They wanted to be ready when the time came.
Finally, it was time to see the lights. The girls eagerly climbed into the car with their parents. As Dad drove, Anna leaned forward and sang, “‘Jingle bells, jingle bells,’” in his right ear while Rose belted out, “‘Now bring us some figgy pudding,’” in Mom’s left ear.
“How about a little ‘Silent Night’?” Dad asked with a smile.
Looking down the street, Mom frowned and asked, “Are you sure you turned on the right road?”
“Of course,” Dad replied.
“But I can’t see any lights up ahead,” Anna said.
“It’s dark!” Rose cried.
“I wonder what could be wrong,” Mom said.
“Maybe they got tired of stringing up all those lights,” Dad said.
“I don’t think so,” Mom replied. “Just last week my friend Marsha said she saw Mr. and Mrs. Watt outside, and Mr. Watt was climbing up a ladder with some lights.”
“I wanted to say, ‘Ooh,’” Rose said disappointedly.
“And I wanted to say ‘Aah,’” Anna said.
“Maybe they forgot to turn them on or they had to go away tonight. We’ll come back tomorrow night,” Dad said.
When the family drove to the farmhouse the next night, it was still dark.
Mom frowned. “I don’t like this. I think there might be something wrong.”
“Maybe they went away for the holidays.” Rose sighed.
“Or maybe the light bill was too expensive,” Dad suggested.
Anna whispered, “What if they died?”
Mom smiled and said, “I don’t think so, dear.”
The next day Anna and Rose were sifting through the newspaper to find the comics. Suddenly Rose exclaimed, “Look!” She pointed to a picture of the light house.
“Let me see,” Dad said. Everyone gathered around him as he read, “‘Families will have to miss the much anticipated tradition of viewing the thousands of lights at the country home of Mr. and Mrs. Watt. Mr. Watt is recovering from surgery at a local hospital. Mrs. Watt said, “Christmas won’t be the same without all the folks driving by our place this year.”’”
Disappointed, Rose and Anna went to their room. But a while later they came rushing back with smiles on their faces.
“Remember when you and Dad helped build the school playground?” Anna asked Mom.
“And a bunch of other moms and dads helped?” Rose added.
With puzzled looks, Mom and Dad nodded their heads in agreement. Then, slowly, big smiles spread across their faces, too.
“Wouldn’t that be a wonderful surprise!” Mom declared. “I’ll call around and see if I can get us some help.”
On the long drive home from the hospital on Christmas Eve, Mrs. Watt sighed as she caught sight of several light displays.
“Next year will be different, dear. We’ll get the lights up for sure next Christmas,” Mr. Watt promised.
“Oh, my,” said Mrs. Watt, “there’s a lot of traffic on our road tonight. Word must not have reached everyone that there are no lights this year.”
As their house came into view, Mrs. Watt gasped. Every window, every door, and even the garden gate were strung with colored lights. Birdhouses, doghouses, pine trees, big barns, little barns, toolsheds, and even the silo were aglow with lights. Nestled in the snow, from the mailbox to the garage, paper sacks filled with candles lighted the pathway home. And a giant Christmas card hung from the front door that read:
“Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
From your friends.”

When I moved to a new house in a new state, I found out that my brother and I were the only members of the Church in the whole school. Our meetinghouse was about twenty minutes away. I really liked my Primary class, but the other girls lived so far away from me that it was hard to get together.
One day a girl at school invited me to her birthday party. I was excited to tell my mom that the party was on Friday and that I would get the invitation on Thursday. On Thursday, I came home and quietly got some cookies out of the cookie jar and gathered several of my favorite stickers, wrapped them, and put them into my backpack. When Mom asked if I had brought home the invitation, I said, “Mom, I guess her party is on Sunday, so I am just going to give her a present at school.”
I am glad that Jesus Christ helps me to know what is right.

Colt Mattice of the Pinetop-Lakeside Fourth Ward, Pinetop-Lakeside Arizona Stake, was thrilled to turn 12 for two reasons—he received the Aaronic Priesthood and became a Boy Scout. Although he has Down’s syndrome, Colt is very aware of the responsibilities he now has.
Shortly after Colt’s 12th birthday, a boy at Colt’s school fell and badly cut his head. At the accident scene, Colt told a teacher, “I need to help the boy. I am a Boy Scout and a priesthood holder.” The teacher convinced Colt that the boy was being well cared for. As she began walking with Colt back to class, she was surprised to see him stop and, with tears running down his face, kneel down and utter a prayer for the hurt boy. The teacher later told a Church leader that she appreciated Colt’s example and could feel God’s presence all around her as she listened to Colt pray.

The completion of the St. George Temple also reconfirmed the hope and desires of the Saints for finishing the “Great Temple” in the Salt Lake Valley. Lucy B. Young, a wife of Brigham Young, was called to serve in the St. George Temple to administer to the living and the dead. An official Church periodical stated, “How many times the sick and suffering have come … to [the] temple, and at once Sister Young would be called to take the afflicted one under immediate charge.” One sister who had not walked for a dozen years “was brought, and under the cheering faith of Sister Young she went through the day’s ordinance and was perfectly healed of her affliction.” Spiritual experiences such as this, coupled with their desire to fulfill biblical prophecy, impelled the Saints to complete the Salt Lake Temple.

I met Megan when my family moved into our new house. She lived down the street, and we were both in Sister Crawford’s Primary class. We became friends and played together a lot. I watched Megan closely, trying to remember how she told a joke or how she fixed her hair or how she talked to other kids so easily. I thought Megan was perfect. I was shy. I wanted to be like Megan.
One day I called Megan to see if she wanted to play. She didn’t say anything at first.
“Caitlin is already over here,” she finally said.
Caitlin was in our Primary class too. I waited for Megan to invite me over, but she didn’t. Her end of the line was quiet.
“Oh. OK,” I stammered. Megan hung up without saying anything else.
That Sunday in Primary, Sister Crawford asked us, “What does it mean to be a good friend?”
I smiled at Megan, but she didn’t see me. She turned the other way and whispered to Caitlin. Suddenly Caitlin laughed out loud.
“Please quiet down, girls,” Sister Crawford said. They stopped whispering, but their shoulders trembled with giggles. Sister Crawford turned to me. “Angie, what do you think makes a good friend?”
“Well, someone who is nice and likes to play with you and—”
Megan and Caitlin giggled louder. My face got hot, and I looked at the floor. Were they laughing at me?
Sister Crawford frowned at them, then smiled at me. “That’s right, Angie,” she said. She looked around at the class. “How can you be a good friend?”
Adam raised his hand. “We can help people,” he said.
Sister Crawford nodded. “A good friend wants to help and serve others. Jesus Christ taught that when He lived on the earth. He also taught us that we should be kind to everyone.”
I looked at Megan and smiled at her. She didn’t smile back. I felt an empty spot in my chest. Didn’t Megan like me anymore?
At the end of the lesson, Sister Crawford held up a small basket. “I have something for you,” she said. She reached into the basket and showed us colorful strings that had been tied in small circles. “These are friendship bracelets. You wear it on your wrist, and whenever you look at it you can remember to be a good friend.”
Maybe friendship bracelets would help! Maybe Megan and I could get matching bracelets. As the basket went around the class, I leaned toward Megan. “What color are you going to get?” I asked her.
Megan shrugged. “Maybe a yellow one.”
“Me too,” I said.
Caitlin chose a blue bracelet. Then she passed the basket to Megan. Megan fingered a few bracelets, then pulled out a blue one too. I stared at her. Blue? She quickly handed me the basket. I stared into it, not knowing what to do. There were only yellow bracelets left. I slowly pulled one out.
Megan and Caitlin giggled and held out their arms side by side, admiring their matching blue bracelets. I felt a lump rise in my throat. Tears stung my eyes. I clenched my teeth together to keep from crying. I was not going to cry in front of them.* * * *
I threw myself into Mom’s arms as soon as we got home from church. “What’s wrong, honey?” Mom asked as I started to cry. Through my tears I told her what had happened. She sat next to me on my bed and held me close. “I’m sorry, Angie,” she said.
“Doesn’t Megan want to be my friend anymore?” I asked.
Mom stroked my hair. “Sometimes we don’t know why people do certain things,” she said. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“Sister Crawford said today that we should try to be kind to everyone, like Jesus was. But I don’t want to be kind to Megan.”
“I understand,” Mom said. “But I also agree with Sister Crawford. It might be hard, but we should try to be kind even if someone hurts our feelings. Jesus taught us to forgive others.”
“How can I do that?” I asked. I thought of the way Megan and Caitlin had laughed, and I felt that empty feeling again.
Mom pointed to a figurine of a girl kneeling in prayer that I kept on my nightstand. “Whenever someone hurts my feelings, I ask Heavenly Father to help me forgive that person. I ask Him to soften my heart and the other person’s heart.”
“Does it work?” I asked.
Mom smiled and kissed the top of my head. “I always feel better when I’ve talked to Heavenly Father,” she said.
When I said my prayers that night I thanked Heavenly Father for the friendship I had with Megan. Then I asked Him to help me forgive her. I scrunched up my eyes and thought hard. “Please help Megan and me be friends again,” I said.
I prayed for those things for the next few days. On Saturday I was swinging on our swing set when Megan came up our walk. I stopped swinging. We looked at each other but didn’t say anything. Finally Megan reached out and put something in my hand.
“This is for you,” she said. I opened my hand and saw a blue friendship bracelet.
“Do you want to play?” Megan asked. “Caitlin is coming over to my house. We’re going to pretend we’re princesses, and Noodle is going to be the queen.”
Noodle was Megan’s gray-striped cat. I giggled, picturing Noodle wearing a crown. I felt the empty spot inside shrinking. “Yes, I’d like to come over,” I said. “Thanks.”
I smiled at her, and this time Megan smiled back.

In our more recent history, too, we find people who lived as examples. Sarah Melissa Granger was just fifteen years old when she went to Nauvoo to join the Saints. It was the Nauvoo of the 1840 period, with the persecution beginning and the Saints pushing to complete the temple, for they knew that when the temple was finished they would become a covenant people.

Sarah was very much interested in the doctrine and revelations of her newfound faith. She attended the School of the Prophets and discussed the principles she learned there with her father. In later years she referred to her attendance at the School of the Prophets to underscore the emphasis she placed upon doctrinal study among Latter-day Saint women.

When she was about twenty-two, she married Hiram Kimball. Sarah was a member of the Church. Hiram was not. He was later baptized, but, when their first baby was born, the Nauvoo Temple walls were only about three feet above their foundation. The Saints needed money to complete the building. Sarah wanted to make a contribution to the temple project, but she wanted it to be her contribution, not her husband’s. Even though he was well off financially and could afford to give generously to the Church, that didn’t meet her needs as she saw them. She thought a great deal about how she could fulfill her responsibility. Then, she came up with an idea. She had a new baby boy just three days old. When her husband came to her bedside to admire the baby, she asked, “What is the boy worth?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “He’s worth a great deal.”

“Is he worth a thousand dollars?”

“Yes, more than that if he lives and does well.”

“Then,” she said, “half of him is mine, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I have something then to help on the temple,” she said.

“Have you?” questioned her husband.

“Yes, I think I’ll turn my share (of the baby) in as tithing.”

“Well, I’ll see about that,” said her husband.

Soon after that conversation, her husband, who was a major in the Nauvoo Legion, met with the Prophet. Her Hiram said, “Sarah proposes to turn the boy out as Church property,” and then he related their entire discussion.

President Joseph Smith seemed pleased with the joke. “I accept all such donations,” was his reply, “and from this day the boy shall stand recorded as Church property.” He turned to Willard Richards and directed, “Make a record of this, and you are my witness.”

Then he turned back to the father and said,

“Major, you now have the privilege of paying $500 and retaining possession, or receiving $500 and giving possession.”

To which the new father responded, “Will you accept the reserve block of property north of the temple (as payment)?”

“It is just what we want,” said the Prophet.

The deed was made out. Later the Prophet said to Sarah, “You have consecrated your firstborn son; for this you are blessed of the Lord. . . . Your name shall be handed down in honorable remembrance from generation to generation,”

Sarah Kimball could translate her vision of the eternal truths into daily living. Perhaps her life was best described by a woman who knew her well who said, “The name Sarah M. Kimball is synonymous with charity.”

Many of you have participated in treks to experience and appreciate the dramatic rescue of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. I first became aware of this rescue when I was a teenager. My mother gave me a book written by Orson F. Whitney, who would later be an Apostle. Elder Whitney’s book acquainted me with the heroic effort directed by Brigham Young to rescue the handcart companies. They had been overtaken by winter storms on the high plains of Wyoming. Some had died and many others were on the verge of death. Brigham Young became aware of their plight, and at the October 1856 general conference he instructed the Saints to drop everything and rescue those stranded on the plains.
The response was dramatic. Elder Whitney reported, “Brave men by their heroism—for it was at the peril of their own lives that they thus braved the wintry storms on the plains—immortalized themselves, and won the undying gratitude of hundreds who were undoubtedly saved by their timely action from perishing.”
One reason my mother had given me the book was Elder Whitney had made special mention of my great-grandfather David Patten Kimball, who had participated in the rescue when he was 17 years old. All the rescuers battled deep snow and freezing temperatures during much of the rescue of the handcart companies. At great personal sacrifice, David and his associates helped carry many of the pioneers across the freezing, ice-filled Sweetwater.
This true account greatly impressed me. I wanted to prove my devotion to the Lord through some dramatic act. However, in a visit with my grandfather, he explained that when President Brigham Young sent his father, David, and the other young men on their rescue mission, President Young instructed them to do everything they possibly could to save the handcart companies, even at the peril of their own lives. Their acts of bravery were specifically to “follow the prophet Brigham Young” and by so doing express their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. My grandfather told me that consistent, faithful dedication to the counsel of a prophet is the real lesson I should learn from my great-grandfather’s service. As heroic as it was for David and his associates to help rescue the pioneers, it is also valiant today to follow the counsel of our prophet.
An often-told account from the Old Testament illustrates this principle. Naaman, a prominent leader in Syria, was afflicted with leprosy. He became aware that the prophet Elisha in Israel might be able to heal him. Elisha sent word by a messenger that Naaman should wash himself in the river Jordan seven times. Initially, Naaman was upset with this counsel. However, his servants said, “If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it?” Then Naaman followed the counsel of the prophet Elisha, and he was made clean.
Like Naaman, you young priesthood holders might aspire to “do some great thing” or participate in something dramatic like the handcart rescue. However, your resolve should be to follow the counsel of the prophet. The First Presidency has reaffirmed its commitment to increasing the worthiness of young people who are recommended for missionary service. Keeping yourselves free from the sins of the world and meeting the high standards for missionary service should be one goal. Preparing yourselves to proclaim the gospel and rescue some of Heavenly Father’s children spiritually would be both significant and heroic. You can meet this challenge.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
What’s wrong, Sarah?
I’m not smart.
Who’s been teasing you?
It doesn’t matter, because it’s true—I’m not smart. I’m no good at math or English or anything else.
Heavenly Father, please help me know what to say.
Sarah, my dad read a scripture to my family last night. It says, “The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.”*
So?
So you may not be the top student at math or English, but you’re full of light and truth. It shines from your face. Sarah Mercer, you are intelligent!
You’re a child of God, and His glory is in you.
If you say so.
I do say so.

As a bishop or branch president, through motivating interviews you can bless the life of every young man in your ward as well as appropriate couples by encouraging them to prepare for full-time missions. Not only will you bless those potential missionaries but you may answer the prayers of parents who have a maturing son not yet committed to a mission despite their efforts to encourage that desire. For example, from childhood through maturing years, our daughter Mary Lee heard her parents speak of our treasured missionary experiences. We had explained how challenging missionary opportunities had enriched our lives and laid the foundation for all that we treasure in life. Yet we taught that it was her decision whether she would serve or not. Through her growing years, it was clear that she intended to be a missionary. However, as missionary age approached, her exciting experiences in the university began to present attractive alternatives. Once when she mentioned wrestling with that uncertainty, she was counseled to talk to her bishop. An appointment was arranged. As she sat down before a choice bishop, she asked, “What do you think of my serving a full-time mission?” The bishop jumped from his chair, clapped his hands on the desk, and said, “That is the greatest thing I could imagine for you.” That comment tipped the scales.

Mary Lee served a most effective mission in Spain that unveiled hidden capacities, matured her spiritual development, and caused to flower capabilities that have blessed her as a wife and mother. The bishop that had such a profound influence in my daughter’s life is J. Willard Marriott Jr., currently an Area Seventy. But we remember him most for what he did for our daughter Mary Lee. Now in her own family with the strong examples of a returned missionary father and mother, a son and a daughter have fulfilled exemplary missions. The remaining son will clearly be a missionary, and the last daughter will in time make the proper choice. Another grandchild, following in the footsteps of his father, was recently called to serve in the Mexico Cuernavaca Mission.

It sometimes seemed to Adam that not learning the piano was harder than learning it would be. But any struggle, no matter how difficult, would be worth the effort if it proved to his parents that piano lessons were a waste of time.
Now, martial arts lessons—those would be worthwhile. What if he was waylaid on the way home from school by bullies? What if he woke up one day to find himself trapped in some foul dungeon? How would he escape if he hadn’t learned tae kwon do*?
Or, if he had to learn an instrument, drums might possibly be cool enough. Instead he was subjected to Mrs. Turner’s endless urging to “make your fingers like tiny hammers.” Ugh!
So he purposely stumbled over the keys and acted as if he didn’t hear the jangling chords. He had to say one thing for Mrs. Turner—she was patient. She would pat her big white hair and attempt to smile. “That was a good try, dear.”
As for Mom and Dad, they were more determined than he had expected. He’d been taking unwanted lessons for two years. Weren’t they tired of hearing him pound away for half an hour every day but Sunday?
Tick-tick-tick sounded the clock. Three more minutes and practice time would be over.
His little sister, Sarah Kate, clumped her skates down on the bench next to him. “Will you roller-blade with me? Mom says I can’t go down the street by myself.”
“Nope,” Adam said. “I gotta finish practicing.” He brought his hands down with a crash.
“That sounds horrible!” Sarah Kate yelped.
Adam grinned. “Yeah.”
With a sigh, Sarah Kate left him.
Adam’s hands were in midair when the timer buzzed. He slammed down the lid of the piano and raced to the computer to play a game.
When he heard the missionaries’ voices, Adam deserted his game. He liked the elders. Sometimes they threw his football to him, or they played games with him and Sarah Kate. They were fun to tease too. Today, they were sitting at the table with Mom, helping her work on a Primary Sharing Time activity.
“Want to play ball?” Adam asked.
“Not now,” Elder Gilmore said. “Your mom needs us to cut out these circles.”
Adam tried to snatch Elder Presley’s name tag, but Elder Presley wasn’t in a teasing mood. He covered the tag with his hand, so Adam messed up his hair, instead. When that didn’t work, Adam plopped down into a chair. “I could cut some out too.”
Mom smiled. “Good! If you all do that, I can plan the music.” Mom was the Primary president, which in their tiny branch meant she was also the chorister, the secretary, and any teacher who didn’t show up.
Adam wrinkled his nose. “Primary music’s boring ’cause we always have to sing what’s on those tapes.”
Mom shook her head. “We’re lucky to have the tapes. Every day I pray that the elders will baptize someone who can play the piano.”
“We’ll work on it,” Elder Presley said. “You be on the lookout too.”
“I am,” Mom said. “I gave Adam’s piano teacher a Book of Mormon. She’s a wonderful woman, besides being musical. I invited her to church last week, but she didn’t come.”
Adam was unusually quiet as he cut out circles. When he finished, he agreed to skate with Sarah Kate. They skated a long way, but he hardly spoke a word. The rhythmic glide was good for thinking.
At his piano lesson the next week, he pulled out the Children’s Songbook. “Could you help me learn some of these?” he asked Mrs. Turner.
She flipped through the pages. “This is a wonderful book. Where did you get it?”
“It’s our church’s children’s songbook.”
“I don’t know about your learning these songs, though. I’m afraid they’re harder than the ones you’re already having trouble with.”
“I’ll learn them,” Adam said confidently. “I want to work on this one first.” He pointed to “Called to Serve.” It was one of his favorites.
Mrs. Turner shrugged. “All right. But you’ll really have to practice hard.”
“I will,” Adam said. “And can I do it here? Right after school? I kind of want to surprise my mom on Sunday.”
Mrs. Turner agreed, and all that week Adam practiced at her house. He worked on “Called to Serve” for an hour every day. Each night he prayed for help, and by Saturday the notes came fairly readily to his fingers.
On Sunday morning in Primary, Mom started to turn on the tape recorder. Adam stopped her. “I can play ‘Called to Serve’ on page 174.”
He sat down at the piano. There was a shivery feeling in his stomach. How had he thought he could play in front of everybody?
His eyes wandered over the children’s and teachers’ faces—and saw Mrs. Turner! She sat on the last row, a smile on her face!
He gave her a flickery grin and sent up a swift, silent prayer. He felt calmer as his fingers began to play the familiar notes.

When Robb Thomas, a 14-year-old teacher in the Bangor Ward, Augusta Maine Stake, decided to start a genealogy club in his school, Garland Street Junior High, he got a lot more than he bargained for. The club rapidly became one of the more popular clubs in the school.
“It was hard at first, because a lot of people didn’t understand the word genealogy, and they wanted to make fun of it,” Robb said. But when the club started bringing in films and guest speakers and taking trips to the state archives, interest grew quickly.
“One of the fellows who made fun of the club to begin with eventually ended up joining,” Robb said.
Other students now share an interest in discovering their ancestry. “It’s something I didn’t have before,” said 15-year-old Mary England, a member of the club. “I discovered my great-aunt had worked on tracing a family tree, but her records were misplaced.”
“I went to my grandmother, and she talked about my great-grandparents—who they were, and where they were born. I used that as a starting point,” said Holly Sands, 15, another member of the club.
Robb worked with the student council to obtain permission for forming the club, which meant finding a supervisor, making a presentation to the student council, and convincing the council to vote in favor of his proposal. “Robbie got the ball rolling, and then we got in and pushed beside him,” Holly said. A bake sale was used to generate finances.
Robb says he’s had a lot of opportunities to explain Church beliefs because of his work with the club. “Some people in the club asked me informally to make a presentation to them about temples and why we have them,” he said. “I showed them pictures of the interior rooms and the outsides of several temples, and we talked about baptism for the dead, endowments, and why genealogy is so important. We talked about temple marriage, too.”
Robb also spends a lot of time at the public library doing research and thinks about a career in genealogy. “I get a lot of help and encouragement from people in the ward, from missionaries, and from my parents,” Robb said. “I have some relatives in Salt Lake City who have helped out, too.”
This fall, Robb starts high school at Bangor High. There’s already a genealogy club there, and you can bet he’s got plans (along with many of his friends) to be active in it.

Dear brothers and sisters, it has been many decades since a general conference has been convened that President Boyd K. Packer and Elders L. Tom Perry and Richard G. Scott were not seated immediately behind the podium and speaking at one of these sessions. Our memories of them are poignant, and I add my tribute to honor them, each so uniquely different yet so harmonized in their witness and testimony of Jesus Christ and His Atonement.
Furthermore, I, like you, find strength in and sustain President Thomas S. Monson as prophet, seer, and revelator, and I marvel at his faithful and dutiful apostolic service spanning over 50 remarkable years.
And so it was on Tuesday morning of this week, just after 9:00 a.m. as the Bishopric was beginning a meeting with the Asia Area Presidency, who are here for conference, that I was called to meet with President Monson, along with his counselors. Moments later, as I walked into the boardroom adjacent to his office, I must have looked nervous sitting across the table, as he kindly spoke to calm my nerves. He commented, noting my age, that I seemed quite young and even looked younger than my age.
Then, within a few moments, President Monson described that acting on the will of the Lord, he was extending a call to the Quorum of the Twelve to me. He asked me if I would accept this call, to which, following what I am sure was a very undignified audible gasp, in complete shock, I responded affirmatively. And then, before I could even verbalize a tsunami of indescribable emotion, most of which were feelings of inadequacy, President Monson kindly reached out to me, describing how he was called many years ago as an Apostle by President David O. McKay, at which time he too felt inadequate. He calmly instructed me, “Bishop Stevenson, the Lord will qualify those whom He calls.” These soothing words of a prophet have been a source of peace, a calm in a storm of painful self-examination and tender feelings in the ensuing agonizing hours which have passed day and night since then.
I rehearsed what I have just described to you to my sweet companion, Lesa, later that day, seated in a quiet corner on Temple Square, with a serene view of the temple and the historic Tabernacle lying before us. As we tried to comprehend and process the events of the day, we found our anchor to be our faith in Jesus Christ and our knowledge of the great plan of happiness. This leads to an expression of my deepest love for Lesa. She is the sunshine in and of my life and a remarkable daughter of God. Hers is a life punctuated by selfless service and unconditional love of all. I will strive to remain worthy of the blessing of our eternal union.
I express my deepest love to our four sons and their families, three of whom are here with their beautiful wives, the mothers of our six grandchildren; the fourth, a missionary, has special permission to stay up past missionary curfew and is viewing these proceedings live with his mission president and the mission president’s wife from their mission home in Taiwan. I love each of them and love how they love the Savior and the gospel.
I express my love to each member of my family: to my dear mother and to my father, who passed away last year, who instilled in me a testimony which seemed to dwell in me from my earliest memories. I further extend this gratitude to my brother, sisters, and their faithful spouses, as well as Lesa’s family, many of whom are actually here today. I cast this net of gratitude to numerous extended family, friends, missionaries, leaders, and teachers along the way.
I have been blessed with a close association with the members of the First Presidency, the Twelve, the Seventy, and the general auxiliary presidencies. I express my love and esteem to each of you sisters and brothers and will strive to be worthy of our continued association. The Presiding Bishopric enjoys an almost heavenly unity. I will miss my association each day with Bishop Gérald Caussé, Bishop Dean M. Davies, and the staff.
I stand before you as evidence of the words of the Lord recorded in the first section of the Doctrine and Covenants: “That the fulness of [the] gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the [earth], and before kings and rulers.” These words are preceded by the Lord’s declaration which demonstrates the love of a Father for His children: “Wherefore, I the Lord, knowing the calamity which should come upon the inhabitants of the earth, called upon my servant Joseph Smith, Jun., and spake unto him from heaven, and gave him commandments.”
Our loving Heavenly Father and His Son, Jehovah, with a knowledge of the end from the beginning, opened the heavens and a new dispensation to offset the calamities that They knew would come. The Apostle Paul described the forthcoming calamities as “perilous times.” For me, this suggests that Heavenly Father’s generous compensation for living in perilous times is that we also live in the fulness of times.
As I agonized over my inadequacies this week, I received a distinct impression which both chastened and comforted me: to focus not on what I can’t do but rather on what I can do. I can testify of the plain and precious truths of the gospel.
These are the words which I have shared hundreds of times with both those who belong to the Church and many who are not members: “God is our [loving] Heavenly Father. We are His children. … He weeps with us when we suffer and rejoices when we do what is right. He wants to communicate with us, and we can communicate with Him through sincere prayer. …
“Heavenly Father has provided us, His children, with a way to … return to live in His presence. … Central to our [Heavenly] Father’s plan is Jesus Christ’s Atonement.”
Heavenly Father sent His Son to the earth to atone for the sins of all mankind. Of these plain and precious truths I bear my testimony, and I do so in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Church leaders were assigned by the First Presidency of the Church to reorganise the stake presidency. They had prayed and received impressions to their hearts and minds (See Doctrine and Covenants 8:2) that Kumaitotoya, who was then serving as a bishop, was the man the Lord had chosen.
Kaumaititoya received authority to lead the stake as Church leaders placed their hands on his head and blessed him in the same manner as the disciples were in the Biblical account found in John 15.
Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught that the priesthood is the authority to act in the name of Jesus Christ. He said, “Because Christ is not here with us, His priesthood is needed to teach His doctrine and to perform the ordinances of salvation. Priesthood authority is given to worthy male members of the Church and is received ‘by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof’ (Articles of Faith 1:5). Theological training or reading the Bible does not convey priesthood authority; rather, it comes from God according to the pattern He has established.”1
The call in 2013 came as a surprise to 45-year-old Solomone Kaumaititoya. It was not something for which he sought or to which he aspired. In fact, it caused him deep introspection and feelings of inadequacy. He would continue in his full-time career as an airline purser to financially support his family.
Kaumaititoya prayed fervently, asking, “Lord, what do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?” He also wondered, “How can I still do my job and be a stake president?”
The answers came to Kaumaitotoya in the form of scriptures and dreams that penetrated his heart deeply.
The words found in Moses 1:39, “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man,” left an impression upon Kaumaititoya. He said, “This was a call to do the Lord’s work. It wasn’t about me.”
Dreams came to President Kaumaititoya every few days when he was first called. He was shown some of the events that would happen in the stake. He said, “I knew what to do because I had seen it in a dream.”
He found that his life experiences had also prepared him in ways he couldn’t foresee. President Kaumaititoya had a very difficult childhood. As a young teenager, he climbed a hill one day to pray and to ask God why he had to go through such hard things.
He recalled, “I was really angry with God. I couldn’t understand why the Lord would let me go through such hard things. I was asking Him why?”
Kaumaititoya didn’t understand, at first, the answer that came on the hill that day: “For your experience.”
As he served, he made sense of what “for your experience” meant, when a teary congregant walked into his office to seek his ecclesiastical counsel about a similar family situation. Afterwards, it dawned on Kaumaititoya what the answer to his boyhood prayer meant. His path and his challenges had prepared him to minister to and serve people with understanding and love.
Lavinia Kaumaitotoya voiced her gratitude for her husband’s opportunity to serve. She said, “I have seen my husband grow and change to become a more spiritual, loving father and husband. I have seen him coming to know the Saviour.”
Latter-day Saints believe that callings or invitations to accept responsibilities or offices in the Church, are opportunities for growth and refinement. Serving the Lord and others in these volunteer roles increases love for God and for His children. It is a blessing to sacrifice time and energy for the Lord and to be called by Him to do His work.
Nine years ago, when Lavinia and Solomone Kaumaitotoya learned that it was time for a new stake president to be called, they fasted and prayed. They called upon the Lord to bless those seeking inspiration to know who the Lord wanted to lead their stake. They prayed that their stake would be blessed.
Almost as a bookend, the Kaumaitotoya’s again fasted and prayed the week before the stake conference when Solomone would be released as stake president, offering prayers of gratitude, and seeking blessings for the new stake president.
Solomone Kaumaitotoya declared, “President Adrian Yee has the authority to lead the stake now, and I sustain him. I’m ready to do whatever the Lord wants me to do.”

While growing up, I struggled with my mental health. I was eventually diagnosed with anxiety and depression, but I never told anyone the details. I never told anyone that I was often hearing voices and seeing things that nobody else did. I was worried about what they might think.
When I returned from my mission early because of my issues with mental health, I realized I needed to get help. So I set up an appointment with a psychiatrist. I made a plan to tell her only that I needed to get off the medication I had been taking for depression because it was making my symptoms worse.
But the Lord had different plans for that day.
When I stepped into the psychiatrist’s office, I felt the strongest sense of peace. My parents and I had been praying that the doctor would be inspired to help me and that I would be able to get things figured out. And I wasn’t sure why, but I felt that I was finally going to receive answers.
What I thought would be a quick appointment turned into a two-hour interview as the doctor asked me questions that struck me very personally. I was nervous, but the Spirit whispered, “This is the time to be honest. You can trust her.”
Taking deep breaths, I answered each question, feeling more and more comfortable with every answer. Finally, the doctor calmly said to me, “You have schizoaffective disorder.” She explained that it’s a cross between schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. I could not believe it.
“Schizophrenia?” I thought. “No way!” I immediately thought of supervillains and people locked up in straitjackets—those were the only types of people I thought could have schizophrenia. Horrified, I thought, “How am I ever going to tell my parents?” and “What will people think of me if they find out?” But the peace I felt from the Spirit persisted, and I heard it whisper once again, “This is right. You can trust her.”
Initially, I was terrified of letting people know. Not only did I have these problems, but now I had this label—one that would probably make people think of insane criminals! But time passed, and gradually I learned to accept that I have this condition, just as someone diagnosed with cancer or diabetes must accept theirs.
I’ve come to realize that labels—even scary-sounding ones—don’t define me. I’m still the same Courtney I was before I was diagnosed. Now I just understand the problems I face a little better. Just because I have a name for my condition now doesn’t change the way I’ve lived my life. It doesn’t change my worth, and it doesn’t change everything I’ve accomplished.
Today I can honestly say that I’ve been blessed by this experience. I have seen miracles come about because of my willingness to be honest and thanks to the treatment I’ve received. My paranoia and panic attacks have significantly lessened. I don’t hear voices in my head anymore, and I can walk around my house at night without being haunted by hallucinations. I’d never trade the healing that I am experiencing for the secrecy I once had about these challenges.
I know that the Lord truly knows what we need and when we need it. Sometimes we just have to be brave enough to reach for the tools He has provided for us. I believe that the Lord extended His mercy to guide me to that specific doctor at that specific time. It was nothing short of a blessing.

Without safety ropes, harnesses, or climbing gear of any kind, two brothers—Jimmy, age 14, and John, age 19 (though those aren’t their real names)—attempted to scale a sheer canyon wall in Snow Canyon State Park in my native southern Utah. Near the top of their laborious climb, they discovered that a protruding ledge denied them their final few feet of ascent. They could not get over it, but neither could they now retreat from it. They were stranded. After careful maneuvering, John found enough footing to boost his younger brother to safety on top of the ledge. But there was no way to lift himself. The more he strained to find finger or foot leverage, the more his muscles began to cramp. Panic started to sweep over him, and he began to fear for his life.

Unable to hold on much longer, John decided his only option was to try to jump vertically in an effort to grab the top of the overhanging ledge. If successful, he might, by his considerable arm strength, pull himself to safety.

In his own words, he said:
“Prior to my jump I told Jimmy to go search for a tree branch strong enough to extend down to me, although I knew there was nothing of the kind on this rocky summit. It was only a desperate ruse. If my jump failed, the least I could do was make certain my little brother did not see me falling to my death.
“Giving him enough time to be out of sight, I said my last prayer—that I wanted my family to know I loved them and that Jimmy could make it home safely on his own—then I leapt. There was enough adrenaline in my spring that the jump extended my arms above the ledge almost to my elbows. But as I slapped my hands down on the surface, I felt nothing but loose sand on flat stone. I can still remember the gritty sensation of hanging there with nothing to hold on to—no lip, no ridge, nothing to grab or grasp. I felt my fingers begin to recede slowly over the sandy surface. I knew my life was over.
“But then suddenly, like a lightning strike in a summer storm, two hands shot out from somewhere above the edge of the cliff, grabbing my wrists with a strength and determination that belied their size. My faithful little brother had not gone looking for any fictitious tree branch. Guessing exactly what I was planning to do, he had never moved an inch. He had simply waited—silently, almost breathlessly—knowing full well I would be foolish enough to try to make that jump. When I did, he grabbed me, held me, and refused to let me fall. Those strong brotherly arms saved my life that day as I dangled helplessly above what would surely have been certain death.”

Following an impression once saved my life. It was dark, I was alone, and I was high in the mountains several miles from the nearest road. Though I had never been on this particular mountainside, I was not lost. I knew the general location, and I knew that all I had to do was keep walking down and eventually this would lead me to a familiar road. The problem was the pitch darkness of the moonless night.
I chose a gully and started to feel my way down through the brush and deadfall. It was slow going, so I was relieved when the gully flattened out to a sandy bottom beneath my feet. I picked up my pace for about 10 steps and suddenly had a strong impression to stop. I did. Reaching down, I took a rock and tossed it out into the darkness ahead of me. I heard no sound for a few seconds, and then there was a clatter on the rocks a long distance away. I knew immediately that I was standing on the lip of a sheer drop-off.
I retraced my steps and eventually got down the mountain by another gully. I phoned my worried family close to midnight, just before they called for a search party. The next day I revisited that spot in daylight and saw my tracks, which stopped just two or three feet from a drop-off of at least 50 feet. I was glad I had heard and heeded a warning. Where did that lead? It saved my life.

Anastasia, a young mother in Ukraine, was in the hospital having just given birth to a baby boy as the bombings began in Kyiv this past February. A nurse opened the hospital room door and said with an urgent voice, “Take your baby, wrap him in a blanket, and go into the hall—now!”

Later, Anastasia commented:
“I never imagined my first days of motherhood would be so difficult, … but … I am focusing on … the blessings and miracles I have seen. …
“Right now, … it might seem impossible to ever forgive those who have caused so much destruction and harm … , but as a disciple of Christ, I have faith that I will be able to [forgive]. …
“I don’t know all that will happen in the future … but I know that keeping our covenants will allow the Spirit to be with us continually, … allowing us to feel joy and hope, … even during difficult times.”