Gospel Story Finder

I was a missionary serving in Sendai, Japan. Early in December we had a heavy snow, which was unusual for Sendai’s mild climate. As my companion and I were leaving the apartment that morning, we noticed our neighbors trying to clear the snow from the parking lot so the cars could get out. No one had snow shovels, so housewives and kids were trying to remove the deep blanket of snow with whatever they had. My companion and I armed ourselves with frying pans and dustpans and joined our neighbors. I had never had so much fun clearing snow before. When the parking lot was cleared, we poured some hot water on our bike chains and gears to unfreeze them and went tracting.
As we tracted that day and throughout the month of December, I noticed my companion making notes as we left some of the houses. We were having a terrible month with very few teaching opportunities, and I finally asked him what he was doing. He replied that he was simply making a list of people who were nice to us, even if they weren’t interested in our message.
As Christmas got closer, my companion and I really started to catch the spirit of the season. We went to the nearby canal bank where some evergreens were growing and cut off a branch. In our apartment, we stuck the branch in a two-liter glass bottle and hung Japanese coins on the branch as ornaments. We strung Styrofoam packing peanuts on dental floss and wrapped them around the branch. Since the branch was too flimsy to support our tin-foil star, we suspended it from the ceiling with dental floss so it hung about two inches above the top of the branch. We decorated our wall with Christmas cards we received from home. Altogether, we thought the apartment looked very festive.
The streets became snow packed, with two ruts where the cars would drive. We would ride our bikes down the outside rut in the road. When a car approached, we’d climb up onto the snowbank with our bikes to let it pass. As we rode, we would sing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs, which was quite a feat in the cold winter air as we panted in our hurry to reach our destination.
On Christmas morning, my companion woke up early and made a racket in the kitchen. I was looking forward to a big breakfast, but when I finally wandered into the kitchen, all I got was a piece of toast. Instead of a Christmas breakfast, my companion had baked chocolate chip cookies to take around the neighborhood.
After we opened the presents we had received from home, we used the wrapping paper from our gifts to wrap copies of the Book of Mormon. Using the list my companion had made of people who were nice to us, we delivered plates of cookies and gift-wrapped copies of the Book of Mormon to the people on the list. Many of them were surprised to see us again, but we explained that on Christmas it’s customary to give presents to your neighbors. We told them that the present we gave them was precious because it contained the word of God and His Son, Jesus Christ, whose birth is commemorated at Christmastime. Most of them seemed touched that we would return to their home with a gift, and many scrambled back inside and returned with bags of oranges or persimmons to give to us. Many of the people we visited that day accepted the discussions as a result of our service.
As we returned to our apartment that evening, I felt very peaceful and content. That holiday season I realized more than ever before that Christmas is all about Christ. It is easy to see that the focus of His life was service. As we try to emulate His life, the Christmas season presents a unique opportunity to serve our fellow men and open doors to share the gospel with them. I’m grateful for that memorable missionary Christmas that taught me what the true spirit of Christmas really is.

by Scott Richards
Brian Rasmussen of the High River Ward, Calgary Alberta South Stake, recently became the youngest commercial airplane pilot ever licensed in Canada.
He received his commercial license on March 18, 1981, the day of his 18th birthday.
Brian first enrolled in flying lessons when he was 16 years old, and since that time, he has proven to be a very dedicated and talented pilot. By the time he turned 17, Brian had flown 35 hours and had passed five exams and a flight test to qualify for his private pilot’s license. In receiving his private license, Brian set a record by becoming the youngest private pilot ever licensed in western Canada.
After achieving that goal, Brian set his sights higher and kept on working. Between his 17th and 18th birthdays, Brian logged another 115 hours flight time to bring his “in air” total to 150 hours. He also passed another flight test and written exam and participated in 30 hours of classroom instruction. By the time his 18th birthday arrived, Brian had qualified to become Canada’s youngest commercial pilot. In addition to his flying, Brian also finds time to work on his dad’s farm and participate in Church activities. When he turns 19, Brian plans to serve a mission.

Tamton and Taake feel they have been richly blessed by the Lord. Several years ago, Tamton wanted to build a large fish trap to support his family. But to build one, he needed to take thousands of rocks out into the ocean. The task seemed impossible. He had only a small canoe and just his sons to help.
“I prayed hard about the problem,” he says. “The next day I saw a float [a tangle of debris] beached on my land. In the float were some large pieces of styrofoam. With them, I built a raft, and with the raft, my sons and I built our fish trap. In fact, we built two.” The traps have been valuable family assets. When the traps catch more fish than the family can use, they sell the extra.

Our whole family worked as stake missionaries to the Salt Lake Stake Hmong Branch, and I taught Neng and Shoua and the other children how to fold their arms to pray, how to look at the pictures in Book of Mormon Stories, how to sing “I Am a Child of God.” They taught us how to say hello in Hmong—nyob zoo (knee-ah shong)—and we taught them all kinds of things, like how to turn on a light, use a pencil, or buy a chicken with money. At Christmastime generous people gave the Hmong some clothes, toys, fruit, candy, nuts, and cookies. They ate the oranges and nuts, but they threw away the candy and cookies!

For as long as anyone in the Maryland Heights Ward can remember, the Byrnes have arrived at church with a car full of friends.
“When one girl we picked up had trouble being on time,” Christina Byrne explains, “we started saying the Byrne Express was leaving, so she’d better be ready.”
The Byrnes—single mom Janet, and daughters Christina, Anna, and Josie—are simply responding to an invitation from missionaries to fellowship new and prospective members.
“We try to make people feel welcome,” Christina says. “If they feel needed, they keep coming.”
Stefany Richmond agrees.
“After my family started coming to church,” Stefany explains, “Anna offered to pick me up for Young Women. I had a lot of bad influences at school, so coming to church gave me a chance to make new friends. It helped to have somebody to talk to.”
Stefany is now a Latter-day Saint. So is Jason Barker, who first met Anna when sister missionaries brought her by. “I thought it was cool how young people in this church feel about dating and standards. My standards were pretty low, and I didn’t feel right about it. It was reassuring to find teenagers who thought high standards were important.”
But the biggest benefit of the Byrne Express may be what it has done for the Byrnes. “There’s been a lot of testimony building for me,” Anna says. “I had to be sure of what I was saying, because it was influencing people I really like. I spent a lot of time fasting and praying. It was like the missionaries found them to help me.”

While serving as an Area Seventy in Mexico, Elder Adrián Ochoa spent a couple of days in the city of Chihuahua in counsel with the stake president and others, then boarded a plane destined for home. But after taking his seat, he received a forceful spiritual prompting that his work in Chihuahua was not finished.
The flight crew was making final preparations for take-off. “But,” said Elder Ochoa, “I knew I had to get off that plane.” So he disembarked. A series of subsequent interviews yielded important information that resolved a difficult issue and permitted the spiritual progress of a family.

Natalie laid her head on the back of her seat and looked out the window. She tried to focus on the houses and cars flashing past. But it wasn’t easy. A bunch of older kids at the back of the bus were saying bad words again. Loudly. And it wasn’t just swear words, either. The things they were talking about were not things Natalie wanted to hear.
Natalie wasn’t the only one who felt uneasy. Her friend Katy frowned and stared down at her hands. Thomas looked at Natalie and shrugged his shoulders. The bad language was bothering all of them!
Natalie peeked back at the older kids. Then she hurried and turned around before anyone saw her. She could ask them to stop, but that thought made her stomach flip-flop. It probably wouldn’t do much good anyway.
She decided to pray instead.
Dear Heavenly Father, she silently prayed. Please make them stop.
Natalie finished her prayer and waited. Nothing happened. The older kids kept saying the same bad words. Katy was still staring at her hands. Thomas still looked uncomfortable. Why didn’t Heavenly Father do something? Why didn’t He make them stop saying those bad words?
Please, Heavenly Father, she prayed silently.
Then a thought came into Natalie’s mind: Talk to the bus driver.
She scrunched up her nose. Talk to the bus driver? What if he yelled at her? What if the older kids saw her and made fun of her?
The thought came again. Talk to the bus driver.
Natalie felt a peaceful feeling.
Help me be brave, Heavenly Father, she prayed. As the bus pulled up to her stop, Natalie took a deep breath and walked up to the bus driver.
“Mr. Avery?”
“Yeah?”
“Um … some of the older kids in the back are saying really bad words,” Natalie said quietly. But then she felt a little braver. Her voice was a little stronger. “It makes other kids and me uncomfortable. Is there something you could do about it? Please?”
Mr. Avery glanced at the back of the bus through the rearview mirror. He nodded.
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll talk to them.”
Natalie smiled and walked down the bus steps. She hopped off the last one and skipped home. She was feeling much better.
The next day, Mr. Avery smiled at Natalie as she got on the bus. “I talked to our friends in the back of the bus,” he said. “I reminded them that what they say affects those around them. I told them I didn’t want any bad language on our bus anymore. Let me know if it happens again.”
Natalie grinned. “Thanks, Mr. Avery.”
Natalie had a happy feeling in her heart. Heavenly Father had helped with the swearing. He didn’t make them stop. But He did help Natalie know what to do. He helped her be brave. And next time she needed courage to speak up, she knew she could do it with His help.

I wonder if we realize the tremendous responsibility we have to the other forms of life upon earth and to the continued existence of them all, if for no other reason than the Lord made them and they are very good. They are alive; they are part of the “handiwork” of nature. Henry David Thoreau seems to have grasped the meaning of stewardship. In his book Walden he relates:
“Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went to the woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, and began to cut down some tall, arrowy white pines, still in their youth, for timber. It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but perhaps it is the most generous course thus to permit your fellowmen to have an interest in your enterprise. The owner of the axe, as he released his hold onto it, said that it was the apple of his eye; but I returned it sharper than I received it.”
The Lord loaned us the earth and all therein. In a very real sense we are merely borrowing it. It is the apple of his eye, for it is through this earth and our mortality here that he can bring to pass our eternal life. Because we are here we have an interest in his enterprise. Are we going to return the earth in as good a shape as we received it? Or are we carelessly destroying it and the things therein, contaminating it for our own short-term material and personal gain?
Perhaps the nature of the stewardship changes from locality to locality. Perhaps our stewardship is simply caring, having a respect for life. A simple form of stewardship is expressed in the life-styles of two men I remember who used to live along the Yukon River. George McGregor, a prospector and trapper, was already an old man when I first met him. He is dead now, but for many years he lived alone in a log cabin he had built at the foot of a falcon crag. Every year the falcons came to nest on the rocks above his cabin. They were not disturbed by him, because he was a quiet man who blended serenely and unobtrusively into his surroundings and was a part of the land just as much as the falcons, the river, and the spruce tree. Once, George saw a female falcon swoop out of the air and strike a marauding raven dead in midair over the river in front of his cabin, and his old eyes used to brighten when he told about it. He had never read Walden, but I am sure he instinctively understood the meaning of stewardship.
In recent years another man built his cabin by a falcon cliff not far downriver from George’s crumbling home. He was a loud man, exploiting nature, cutting down trees with a noisy power saw, and keeping a pack of howling sled dogs chained up at the base of the cliff. He also operated a large, creaking fish-wheel right in front of the rocks where the river runs deep and the salmon swim up. No falcons nested on the cliffs after this man built his cabin, nor have they returned now that he is gone. It will take nature some years yet to repair the scar he left.
Are we making an effort to determine what we can do to honor our stewardship? The challenge seems to be to understand our kinship with the rest of the Lord’s creation, our obligations to “keep and dress” it, and to be especially sensitive to animals such as the still proud, but vanishing peregrine falcon. Let us lengthen our vision and horizons and allow the Lord to say of us one day, “Well done, my good and faithful servants.”

It must have been the feeling of rhythm and strength in my stride that comforted me as I ran along the beach of Puget Sound. Troy, my big retriever, caught my sense of abandon and bounded first ahead, then back, stopping to investigate a shell or seaweed along his way. Out of breath now, I threw a stick out into the swells past the breaking waves and stopped to watch Troy leap after it. I threw the stick again and again as I continued down the beach. Each time Troy would find it in the waves and bring it to me with an expectant look. Finally the sun made work of the game, and I flopped down on the sand.
“Stay away from me,” I warned as the big dog shook salt water all over me. I grabbed his wet head and held it tightly. “You’re still my friend, old boy, even if I don’t spend much time with you anymore either,” I said half to him and half to myself. I needed to sort things out. My interview with Bishop Jenkins the day before had turned my recent vague uneasiness into a knot in my stomach.
“I feel like being able to dance is a gift from God, a talent I must express. I can’t explain it, but I cannot ignore it,” I told the bishop. “I really do want to come to church, but my practices for Young Entertainers are all day Sunday.”
“And you felt that a chance to tour and perform all summer was worth the price of your church meetings,” Bishop Jenkins guessed.
“Yes, I was so sure it was right,” I answered, “and that my dancing is more important. I love the energy on stage. I feel special and important. But, bishop, I feel confused.”
I sat back and tried to organize my fragmented thoughts. “I am compromising so much for my dancing. I feel engulfed in it. I’m too busy for old friends and my family. My new friends in the group think my faith is narrow-minded and naive. Their dancing is their religion. I don’t know what to do. To be a Young Entertainer is a dream come true. Do we dream our dreams and then let them go before they can be realized?”
Bishop Jenkins paused thoughtfully. “Let me share an idea from a talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer,” he finally said.
“‘There are many who struggle and climb and finally reach the top of the ladder, only to find that it is leaning against the wrong wall’” (Ensign, Aug. 1976, p. 61).
Thinking about it now, he didn’t really answer my question, but certainly the part about the person climbing the ladder applied to me.
“Heavenly Father, am I climbing the wrong wall?” I asked silently. “Is that why my life is so out of balance?”
Stirring from my introspection, I looked around for Troy but saw no sign of him. I stood up and searched up and down the beach. Still no dog. Shading my eyes from the glare on the water I thought I saw Troy’s head bob, then disappear under the water. Yes, there it was again. I dashed down to the chilling waves and dove in. The cold water took my breath away, but my concern was for my obviously drowning dog.
As I neared him, he was so exhausted his head barely broke the surface as he struggled. “What is holding onto him?” I swam almost to him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Troy’s jaws were tightly clenched on a bulb of seaweed! It was evidently still attached to the rocks below the water. He was paddling back and forth trying to free it and bring it to shore. I grabbed his jaws and forced him off the bulb. I half dragged him to shore and we both plopped down totally spent, gasping for breath.
My thoughts were tumbling. Why would Troy hold on to that seaweed until he nearly drowned? Why didn’t he let go and swim to shore if he was in danger?
Suddenly I stopped. How like my own struggle. My dog was working so hard to get something, he didn’t realize the danger he was in. My situation began to appear much clearer. I had been so caught up with my dancing that I hadn’t realized that I was in danger of losing the other things that mattered in my life.
With this revelation came a new agony—what to do. Could I put my ladder against the right wall, keep balance in my life, and still participate in the dance group, or did I need to “let go” and swim for safety now. Mentally tallying the list of compromises I needed to make for the dance group, I determined that my answer was to let it go. A sense of peace and comfort helped soothe the wrenching feeling in my heart and helped me to realize that it was the right decision.
“I can still dream my dreams,” I told Troy, “and perform and prepare so that my climb up the ladder will be on the right wall. Come on, Troy, let’s go home.”

As we moved forward in our relationship, Annie (my wife) and I agreed on a few things. The first was that there was no easy escape clause in our marriage. Divorce wasn’t an option unless infidelity or abuse were involved. We agreed that everything else could be worked out. We also recognized that the behavior patterns we had seen in our homes growing up didn’t work. We needed a better way: that way is the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Because Annie and I had both previously been endowed, temple attendance was an important part of our courtship. We went regularly and enjoyed the Spirit together. We started studying the Book of Mormon together. This formed a good basis for our discussions about what we wanted to create in a marriage.
The same month that my wife and I got engaged, the Church released the proclamation on the family, which counsels, “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”2
Similarly, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) in speaking of the increase in divorces throughout the world, identified one major reason: “It appears to me that there are some obvious reasons that account for a very high percentage of these problems. I say this out of experience in dealing with such tragedies. I find selfishness to be the root cause of most of it.”3
It’s easy to blame our spouse for problems, especially the small annoyances that bubble up with daily living. If we concentrate on those problems, they can grow into huge divisions that can sink a marriage.4 I’ve often found that selfishness makes those frustrations grow. Knowing this has helped me to think more about Annie and her needs and helps me to ignore minor annoyances.
We have now been married for 22 years. It hasn’t always been easy. Annie and I have had the normal relationship bumps. There have been difficulties over the years. But because of our commitment to the relationship and a willingness to turn to the Lord for answers, we have grown together. As different situations and questions have arisen, we have been able to turn to the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, and prayer to find solutions.
The average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is nine years (in the USA).5 Because Annie and I built our marriage after the manner the Lord has shown us, we beat those odds. I’m glad we didn’t let fear of the world we were raised in stop us. There’s always more work to do, but we are both confident that our marriage will continue to improve through the years to come.

Elder Thomas H. Hilton and Sister Sarah M. Hilton were serving on a mission in Samoa, where they lost three of their children, between 1891 and 1894. Little Jeanette lived less than a year, George Emmett for only seven days, and Thomas Harold for a year and a half.

Of the death of Thomas Harold the record says: “On Sunday the 11th, he was not feeling very well. … For two days following he appeared to be improving, but on the morning of the 14th, his mother again became concerned about his welfare. From then until his death, on March 17, 1894, everything that loving hands could do was done for his recovery, but he grew rapidly worse. …
“Oh how loath we all were to believe that it was so! How sad to see our dear sister again bereft, and her so far from dear parents and friends who she has left for the gospel’s sake.
“Thomas Harold Hilton was about one and a half years old, a beautiful little boy and very dearly beloved by all the missionaries, as well as the natives who knew him. Much sympathy is felt for the bereaved parents and the blessings of the Lord are invoked upon them.”

His mother, Jean, joined the Church as a teenager in Hawaii, USA, and later attended Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, USA, where she stayed with the family of Gerrit de Jong, the first dean of the College of Fine Arts. “The de Jongs helped me understand what a gospel family is like,” she says.

After BYU, Jean attended Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, USA, where she met Walter A. Gong. “He was already a Christian and quickly understood what the restored gospel offers,” Jean says. He joined the Church, and a year later they were married in the Salt Lake Temple. Both became professional educators and collectively spent more than 70 years teaching.

“Dad also became a patriarch,” Elder Gong says, “and because patriarchal blessings were given in our home, our home was filled with a deep reverence for God’s love for each of His children.”

On December 23, 1953, in Redwood City, California, the first of Jean and Walter’s three children was born. “His given name, Gerrit, is Dutch, to honor Gerrit de Jong,” Jean explains. “His middle name is Walter, to honor his father. And our family name is Chinese, which honors his heritage.”

Jean says Gerrit was considerate to his younger siblings, Brian and Marguerite. “He liked to help them,” she says, “even with little things like teaching them to tie their shoes.” She remembers coming home from church one day and overhearing Gerrit and Brian saying they thought a sacrament meeting talk was boring. “So I challenged them: ‘Then you come up with a better talk.’ They took the challenge and started paying more attention to all the talks,” she says.

Everyone is a child of God! This means that in the eyes of our Heavenly Father we are all equal and that he loves us all the same. It took me quite a while to realize this. I felt sorry for myself because I wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, or because I didn’t have a date for every Friday night, or some silly reason like that. I knew it was wrong for me to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. I just felt depressed.
Then I read “Our Family Motto” by Tom Osmond in the April New Era, and it really made me think. I was being greedy and very selfish wanting such useless things when I could have much higher goals and ambitions to work for. (In the 13th Article of Faith it says, “If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” Isn’t it worth it to work now in order to be rewarded later?) Tom is deaf, and he has accomplished so many things by having such a positive attitude. A person’s handicap is not what matters. What matters is how he applies himself and goes after his dreams. If you have self-confidence and a positive attitude, you’ll go so much further!
Now, I still look the same, and I’m not going out every single night, but I’m more pleased with myself. I’m not completely satisfied yet—I never will be! But I feel that I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles (self-pity, lack of confidence) that were in the way. We can do anything we want to if we go after it, knowing that we’ll accomplish it by doing our best. After all, we’re children of God.
Gayle HayesPasadena, Texas

Friday, March 11, 2011, 2:46 p.m.; K?riyama, Japan; K?riyama chapel, second floor.
Fifteen missionaries in the middle of leadership training begin to practice teaching about Joseph Smith. As the message of hope and peace fills the room, the windows begin to rattle. The noise intensifies. What began as vibrations escalates to booming.
The building jerks side to side, and the movement increases in speed and magnitude until it becomes one continuous jolting motion. Standing and walking are nearly impossible. Some missionaries try to take cover under the tables—until the tables are thrown across the room. The building, the city, even the whole province reel in commotion as if the earth will burst open. One thought prevails in my mind: “Get the missionaries out of here!”
As mission president of the Japan Sendai Mission, I had been teaching the missionaries and members for months to “turn to the Lord” (Mosiah 7:33). Now, as I turned to Him for divine guidance, inspiration came quickly: “Open the door—create an escape route.” I knew that I must open the door before the ceiling collapsed, trapping us inside. So I rushed to the door and opened it. “Get out of here!” I shouted.
The missionaries staggered along the shifting, rocking, heaving floor toward the open door; then they headed down the stairwell and out of the church. Once outside, we felt safer, although we were not yet safe from the elements. The weather had turned bitter cold, and snow pelted our faces.
Across from the church, headstones in a Buddhist cemetery toppled over; the wall of the cemetery had turned to rubble. A large fissure zigzagged up all 12 stories of an apartment building behind the church. Large chunks of concrete facade had crumbled off the walls of an adjacent elementary school. Windows had blown out, and broken glass littered the ground. On the opposite side of the road, a blue tile roof lay in pieces. I gathered the 15 missionaries in the parking lot of the church, and we gave our Heavenly Father thanks for our protection and asked for His continued help.

For many youth, the reward for finding out so much about their ancestors was taking their names to the Snowflake Arizona Temple to do baptisms and confirmations for the dead.
“It was the neatest experience to go to the temple and do baptisms for the people in my family I had worked so hard to find,” says Janalie Wilkins. To complete her Individual Worth Value Project, she spent time at her local family history center learning how to use the Personal Ancestral File (PAF) computer program and researching her relatives on the Internet.
“At first, it seemed overwhelming,” admits Janalie. “But then I remembered the scripture about baptisms for the dead: ‘They without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect’ (D&C 128:15). I have a testimony of that now. Doing genealogy work is very important and helps us grow closer to Heavenly Father.
“And it’s not just for old people,” she adds with a grin. “There are millions of people waiting for their work to be done.”

“Are you going to paint this Saturday?” has been the familiar question among many college youth in Las Vegas, where they have painted the inside and outside of a church built by the Afro-Methodist Episcopal Church whose members were having trouble getting the building finished. The congregation lacked funds. The Student Association of Las Vegas Region pitched in and raised $4,000, in addition to painting the building. Under the direction of priesthood leader James Seastrand, president of the Las Vegas North Stake, and Reverend Charles Wyatt, the project got under way. It was a great time of togetherness, with the Relief Society and the ladies of the Afro-Methodist congregation providing lunch each workday. Funds were raised through dances, bake sales, car washes, and concerts. “The unity among the students and with people of another race was something wonderful to behold,” said Shauna Rollins, vice-chairman of one M Men-Gleaner Council in the area.

Illustrating the faith of his mother, Elder Uchtdorf retold an experience his family encountered as refugees from Czechoslovakia during World War II. During a brief stop, his mom left the train to look for food. Upon returning, she could not locate the train and prayed for help. After the prayer she noticed her family and the train on a parallel track.
“Some of my memories of these days are of darkness and cold, but with the help of God, we were moved into days where a light was shining forth to all who came out of that darkness and coldness and were willing to accept the Savior,” he said.

When I started reading “When Thou Art Converted” in the March New Era, it sounded strangely familiar. I suddenly realized that the author was the same Elder Young who taught me the discussions while I worked for the Forest Service last summer in Swan Valley, Idaho.
My job and the Teton Dam disaster made for a really interesting summer, but the sincerity and care with which Elder Young taught me left the most memorable and cherished impression. He ended his mission before I finished the discussions, so I never really had the chance to thank him for the wonderful way he helped change my life and open up new horizons. I only wish he could have been there for my early-morning baptism in the Snake River so he could have witnessed one of the happiest fruits of his labors.
Carol KounanisWest Lafayette, Indiana

Then take your children to tithing settlement with you, just as President Howard W. Hunter’s grandson was taken with his father several years ago. In that experience the bishop indicated his pleasure in young Brother Hunter’s wanting to pay a full tithing. In the process of receiving the coins, he asked the lad if he thought the gospel were true. As the boy handed over his full tithing of 14 cents, this seven-year-old said he guessed the gospel was true but “it sure costs a lot of money.” Well, the buildings, programs, and materials I have mentioned do have an attached cost. That is not an unimportant lesson for our children to learn in their youth.

“I hadn’t thought much about the lyrics of songs on the radio until I went for a drive with a friend from Idaho Falls who kept punching the buttons on the car radio. ‘Some songs aren’t worth listening to,’ he said. He explained that if he wouldn’t want his mom to listen to the song, he wouldn’t either. Maybe that’s corny, but if it is, I’m for it. I’m a lot more selective about what I listen to now,” said one young woman from California.