Gospel Story Finder

I think back to 1951 when Sister Ballard came into my life. When I saw her, I fell in love. I have to admit that I worked very hard to get her to understand that I was the only true returned missionary.Brethren, sometimes you have to put forth that kind of effort! I have often told our children that the best sales accomplishment of my life was getting their mother to agree to marry me. In my case, I had to work hard to win the heart of my precious companion. Some of you may need to do the same.

We were married in the Salt Lake Temple. I had a part-time job and was attending the university (I won’t name which one). She also had a job. Together we were very careful. We saved what we could. We had a hard time and we had some desperate moments. But as we look back on our thirty-six years together, some of the most beautiful times of our lives were during those early days of our marriage when we were your age. Sister Ballard was nineteen and I was twenty-two. Do not miss living through the difficult times with your companion. I believe in many ways Barbara and I became more dependent upon each other and more dependent upon the Lord in those early days of our marriage than perhaps at any other time.

Some are concerned about supporting children. I tell you tonight: do not worry about it. If Barbara and I had sat down and figured out what children would cost and whether we could afford them, we never would have had any. Yet we are now the parents of seven children and grandparents of twenty-two grandchildren—and within a matter of weeks, twenty-three. Of all our life’s accomplishments, our children and our grandchildren are the most precious. We could not afford any of our children, but they are here and doing well. We have given them much love and they have given us much love in return. Today when we gather together as a family, it is glorious to us. We made it work and so can you.

Towards the end of 2020, for a series of four podcasts called ‘Real Questions’, LDS Living invited youth to send in questions relating to their concerns around important issues.
Scarlett Smith, a young woman from the Harrogate Ward in the York Stake, was fortunate to be able to take part in one of the four discussions. It was led by co-creator David Butler, who welcomed two surprise guests, Bonnie H Cordon, the Young Women’s General President and the Young Men’s General President, Steven J Lund.
Scarlett’s question was, “I live part time with my dad and part time with my mum, and they have different beliefs. What are some of the things we can do to stay focused on the gospel when we have different viewpoints in our family?’ Scarlett said, “I wasn’t sure what I could do to stay focused on the gospel when I have different viewpoints in my own family.” Realising other young people may have the same problem prompted her to submit her question.
Sister Cordon thanked Scarlett for asking her question and highlighted that there are so many other young people in the same situation. She asked what Scarlett found the easiest about this situation, and she responded that it helped her to relate to other friends in similar situations and enables them to help each other. Sister Cordon’s second question was, “What advice would you give to someone in your position?” Scarlett replied, “I would tell them to follow prompts that they get and to keep praying. Don’t distance yourself from the gospel.” Sister Cordon’s response was, “That’s a fabulous response, l love that—don’t distance yourself.”
President Cordon counselled Scarlett to, “Pray for your mom and dad that you will be able to share with them what is in your heart, the things that are very important to you. Seek to share good things with your family… Do it wherever you are. If you are at Mom’s house, you do it at Mom’s house, if you are at Dad’s house, you do it at Dad’s house … it will be a lifeline for you.”
President Lund highlighted that all of us are surrounded by people we care about that don’t believe the same things as we do; it can be especially difficult when it’s someone we are really close to and whom we love. Elder Lund asked, “Who is in your life that is on your side. Are there people around you who are supportive of your values?” Scarlett feels blessed that she has friends that are supportive even though they may not share her beliefs.
President Lund remarked, “Sometimes always doing the right thing against a headwind requires courage.”
“When talking with the general leaders of the Church, I was very excited at first because I didn’t know that they were going to be there. … I felt the Spirit strongly, as I knew the words that they spoke were true and that asking this question would not only help me but many others in the same position”, Scarlett said.
Meeting host David Butler said, “Life is always going to change, but there are some things that can always remain constant. No matter what life looks like, you can stay connected to God, and stay connected to the gospel.”
It was a wonderful experience for Scarlett to have been able to take part and receive direct counsel from Church leaders who made a significant impression on her. She said, “I started straightaway to establish and act on the words and things that had been said, as I knew they were true, and I knew it would help me build my faith. I felt full, and at peace, as I knew what I had to do and knew it was right.”
You can watch the interview with Scarlett at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YY4Bj49wkdQ

Third is an Attitude of Courage. I have seen courage in the military. I have witnessed courage in the classrooms of learning and the factories of industry.
Never have I observed its beauty more radiant than reflected from the service of a missionary. Often I am called upon to interview missionary candidates who have physical impairments. In considering the recommendation of one such candidate, the bishop of the ward had written:
“Brother (blank) is badly scarred due to an automobile accident. However, if courage will help, he’ll lead the lot.”
I made an appointment to visit with the lad. My initial reaction upon meeting him was one of overwhelming compassion.
“Son,” I explained, “if you were in the mission field, there would be those who would reject your message and you might feel that they were rejecting you. That would be unbearable.”
“Brother Monson,” he replied, “I have become used to that problem. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I so much want to serve the Lord and to preach the gospel. Please let me be called.”
The courage of his spirit bore witness to me of his faith. He received a call.
After two years of outstanding missionary activity, his president wrote, upon the occasion of his honorable release:
“The bearer of this letter has served in this mission for two years. He has been one of the finest missionaries in our mission over the whole time that he has been here. He has been effective as a leader, as a proselyting missionary, as the liaison between the mission office and the several stakes in which he has served, and in all respects his performance has been without flaw.
“He has handled his personal problem, his severe scarring, in a way that has discouraged or affronted no one. It has been on a basis that ‘this is my problem; don’t worry about it.’
“We love him dearly. We are grateful for his service; and if you have any more just like him, send them along.”

President Thomas S. Monson is a great example of this principle. In January of 2005, he was presiding over a priesthood leadership conference in Puerto Rico when he demonstrated how the Savior and His servants render service through personal ministry. At the conclusion of that wonderful meeting, President Monson began to greet all the priesthood leaders in attendance. Suddenly, he noticed that one of them was watching everything from afar, off by himself.

President Monson walked away from the group, toward that brother, and spoke to him. With emotion, José R. Zayas told him it was a miracle that he had approached him and an answer to the prayers that he and his wife, Yolanda, had offered before the meeting. He told President Monson that his daughter was in very poor health and that he had with him a letter from his wife that she wanted delivered to President Monson. Brother Zayas had told his wife that it would be impossible since President Monson would be too busy. President Monson listened to the story and asked for the letter, which he read silently. Then he put it in his suit pocket and told Brother Zayas that he would take care of their request.

In this way, that family was touched by our Lord, Jesus Christ, through His servant. I believe the words of the Savior in the parable of the good Samaritan apply to us: “Go, and do thou likewise.”

My mother was a great delegator. Each Saturday morning as my brothers and sisters and I were growing up, we received housecleaning assignments from her. Her instructions to us had been learned from her mother: “Be certain you clean thoroughly in the corners and along the mopboards. If you are going to miss anything, let it be in the center of the room.”
She knew very well if we cleaned the corners, she would never have a problem with what was left in the center of the room. That which is visible to the eye would never be left unclean.

My dad took my sister, Cathy, and me to a daddy-daughter campout. We had lots of fun. At night we listened to stories and sang songs around a big bonfire. We roasted marshmallows and ate s’mores before going to bed. Cathy and I woke up in the middle of the night because there was a big rainstorm. I said a prayer that our tent would not blow down like it had at our last campout. When I woke up in the morning, the tent was still standing. I thanked Heavenly Father.Susan D., age 7, Virginia

A famous lecturer, who happens to be a member of our fraternity, is coming to our campus, and our chapter is eager to prepare an informal reception for him. The frat house is undergoing remodeling, and because I am an officer, the guys asked if they could hold the reception at our home. I asked my folks and they agreed.
Since that time, the social chairman called to tell me that he has, at great difficulty and expense, acquired the two things that our famous guest is known to have a special taste for—a very rare kind of brandy and an equally unusual brand of imported cigar.
Invitations have already been sent to a host of distinguished faculty members and civic leaders. I do not want to hurt any feelings or cause any embarrassment, but our home is hallowed to us—a sanctuary from the world and its unspiritual practices—and we have never had liquor or tobacco on the premises before. What should I do?
“A lot of famous people admire the high standards of the Mormons. At your informal reception serve good, wholesome, enjoyable food, and without acting embarrassed explain to your guests how special your home is to you. This will not only make your civic leaders and faculty members respect you highly for your standards, but also give you a chance to speak to them about the gospel.”
Tracy WoodSalt Lake City, Utah
“All this individual has to do is explain to the members of the fraternity just what the problem is. They could very easily find another home for the reception and send out new invitations. In the long run the boy will be respected for upholding his standards and doing what he feels is right.
“It is a fact that even nonmembers who are not interested in the Church look up to the Mormons. They respect LDS people for their clean living and their strong family ties. This respect would be ruined if drinking and the use of tobacco were allowed in the home.”
Frank DolezolSun Valley, California
“I am a new member in the Church and because of my family’s opposition, there is much contention in my home. I have often dreamed of a home that would be a ‘sanctuary from the world and its unspiritual practices.’ I know that if I lived in the home described here, I would keep my home a sanctuary. I know that a home such as this is indeed a great blessing.”
Robynann McFarlandKeene, New Hampshire
“I would explain to the social chairman the standards that are observed in my home, and then I would give some alternatives: (1) He could present the lecturer with his gifts after the reception when everyone had returned to the fraternity house. (2) He could present the gifts at my home either during or at the end of the reception, explaining that they were for the lecturer’s private consumption whenever he felt he would enjoy them most.”
Gene PettyHonolulu, Hawaii
“I think that the individual should continue to maintain his home as a ‘sanctuary from the world and its unspiritual practices.’ He should tell the social chairman about the Word of Wisdom and how it is observed in his home and explain that he would rather not have the liquor and tobacco present at the reception. He should still offer to hold the reception, because I know from experience that a party without those things present is much more fun.”
JoAnn FawcettRowayton, Connecticut
“If he explains properly that his family and he believe in living their religion seven days a week, that they consider their home a hallowed, sacred place where the Spirit of the Lord is always invited and encouraged to dwell, and that therefore they would appreciate it if those who are attending would abide by the guidelines that have been set up (i.e., no liquor or tobacco), rather than embarrassing or hurting anyone, respect for him, his parents, and their convictions would be gained. Also, the famous lecturer, the host of distinguished faculty members and civic leaders, and most of all, his fraternity brothers who know his standards will be able to experience the atmosphere of a true Latter-day Saint home.
“Last May I heard Sister Ezra Taft Benson mention that, contrary to the practices of others, while they were living in Washington, D.C., they never served liquor at social gatherings where they were host, and they tried to always live the gospel in their home. She mentioned the many compliments she received, including one from the First Lady, on the spirit within their home.”
E. Jay BellProvo, Utah
“It is obvious that you and your family hold your home as sacred as any church meetinghouse. Nonmembers respect us when we ask them not to smoke or drink in our chapels. The Tabernacle on Temple Square has been the site of many civic functions where even presidents of the United States have spoken. If you make clear that yours is a Mormon household, and do your best to make the reception an enjoyable one, you will not offend anyone of good character.”
Raymond SwensonKearns, Utah

William W. Phelps was one of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s close friends. William was appointed printer for the Church. He moved to Missouri and became a leader in the Church there.
Later, because of some faults he thought he saw in the Prophet Joseph, he became an enemy of the Prophet. He signed a certificate defending the actions of one of the enemies of the Church. Because of William’s and others’ actions, Joseph not only lost a loved and trusted friend, he and other Church leaders were sent to prison!
Two years later, William realized what he had done was wrong. “I am as the prodigal son … ,” he wrote to the Prophet Joseph. “I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me. … I have done wrong and I am sorry.” He asked to be received again as a member of the Church.
Joseph answered immediately with love and forgiveness. He wrote: “Believing your confession to be real, and your repentance genuine, I shall be happy once again to give you the right hand of fellowship, and rejoice over the returning prodigal. … ‘Come on, dear brother, since the war is past, / For friends at first, are friends again at last.’” (See History of the Church, 4:141–42, 163–64.)
Joseph forgave his friend, and William became a valiant servant of the Lord once more. William wrote the hymn “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, number 27) about his forgiving friend, the Prophet Joseph.

Stories help bring home the meaning of reconciliation. There once lived a young king whose wife died, leaving him an only daughter. The king’s name was Midas. His daughter was sweet and loving, and Midas loved her very much. In his treasure chamber Midas kept tons of gold: gold dust, gold bars, gold coins, gold platters, gold goblets, gold statues, even gold cooking pots. Every day he would go down into his treasure chamber, locking the door behind him, and there he would play with his riches, gloating in the power and influence he thought these would bring to him.
For hours he would sit on the floor and count his money. He would toss it into the air and laugh as it rained gold on his head. He would wallow in the gold dust, and he would dance on it. “Except for my daughter, my little Merigold, it is gold that is my treasure. Merigold’s beauty, like that of a flower, will fade. Only gold is forever beautiful. How I love to touch it. If I can only get enough gold, I’ll be happy forever.”
One day as he was gloating over his treasure, he suddenly became aware there was someone standing beside him. It was an immortal visitor come down from heaven.
“Well, Midas, you have a lot of gold, I see.”
“Oh, it’s not so much. Really, it’s only a little.”
“You are not satisfied then?”
“No. I want more, much more.”
“How much more would it take to satisfy you?”
“Oh, I wish I could create gold by the touch of my hand.”
“Create gold by the touch of your hand? Are you sure that with such power you would then be satisfied?”
“Oh, yes. Nothing else in the world would bring me such happiness.”
“Are you sure you would never regret it if everything you touched with your hand turned to gold?”
“Never.”
“The temptation would not be more than you could handle?”
“Oh, believe me, I could handle it.”
“Then it shall be as you wish. From tomorrow at sunrise, whatever your hand touches, it will turn immediately into gold.”
The next morning Midas began to experiment with his marvelous new power. Just as the immortal visitor had promised, everything he touched turned to gold.
He took a walk in his flower garden, touching the flowers one by one to test his magic gift. Sure enough, no sooner did he touch a flower than it turned into gold.
“Isn’t that marvelous!” he laughed as he danced about, touching one flower after another. He would have turned all the flowers into gold, but seeing that it was breakfast time he went inside.
Just then his servant brought in his breakfast. The king reached out to take a piece of fruit. Putting it into his mouth without looking, he found that it, too, had turned to gold. He almost broke his teeth trying to bite into it. He took a cup of tea, but before he could bring it to his lips, the cup and the tea turned to gold. The thought struck him: “If I can’t eat or drink, I’ll soon starve to death.” But looking at the fruit and the cup of tea, he only shook his head and marveled at their shining beauty.
At that moment little Merigold came running in, laughing joyously. Looking at her, the king thought: “She is as radiant as the sun.” He reached out his arms to her, but as he touched her hand she instantly turned into a lifeless statue of gold. In a panic, Midas fell to his knees and cried out, “No! No! Oh, what have I done? God, forgive me! In my lust for gold I have destroyed my own daughter.”
Just then the immortal visitor appeared again before him.
“Midas, you are weeping. What has happened?”
“Oh, immortal visitor, I am of all men most miserable.”
“Is it that I did not keep the promise I made you?”
“No, you granted me my wish. Whatever I touch turns to gold.”
“You told me that that power would bring you happiness, but now you tell me you are of all men most miserable. How can this be?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize how evil my selfish wish was. My lust for gold has robbed me forever of happiness.”
“But, Midas, is not gold the most beautiful thing in all the world?”
“I detest the very sight of it.”
“Tell me, is not gold the most valuable thing in all the world?”
“Immortal visitor, tell me wherein gold has its value.”
“Well, surely it is more valuable than a cup of tea, is it not?”
“No. A cup of tea is of more worth than all the gold I possess.”
“Surely gold is more valuable than a piece of fruit, do you not agree?”
“No. A piece of fruit is of more worth than all the gold I possess.”
“Is gold not more valuable than a daughter’s love?”
“Oh, immortal stranger, you don’t understand. I have come to see that the common things of life: our children, our friends, even the ordinary things we see and touch every day, these are our real treasures.”
Seeing that the king’s sorrow was genuine, the immortal visitor took pity on him and said, “Would you have me remove the power I gave you, and let you restore your daughter’s life?”
“Oh, noble stranger, do this and I will give you all my gold.”
“Then, Midas, go and wash your hands in the river. And bring back a pail of water. With the water from the river, sprinkle whatever you have touched and it will return to its normal state. Then use your gold to help your people.”
King Midas took a pail and ran to the river, washed his hands, and ran back to his palace with the pail of water. He splashed water on the gold statue of his daughter, and she was at once restored to life. Then he fell to his knees, took his daughter in his arms, and sobbed: “Oh, Merigold, forgive me! God, forgive me!”
After that, King Midas lived a happy life, for he found true value in his family, his friends, and even the ordinary things of life that all of us see and touch every day.

I should like to read portions of one received only a few days ago. I do so with the consent of the writer. I have deleted anything that might lead to disclosure of the parties concerned. I have exercised limited editorial liberty in the interest of clarity and flow of language.
I quote now:
“Dear President Hinckley,
“My husband of 35 years died recently. … He had visited with our good bishop as quickly as he could after his most recent surgery. Then he came to me on that same evening to tell me he had been addicted to pornography. He needed me to forgive him [before he died]. He further said that he had grown tired of living a double life. [He had served in many important] Church callings while knowing [at the same time] that he was in the grips of this ‘other master.’
“I was stunned, hurt, felt betrayed and violated. I could not promise him forgiveness at that moment but pleaded for time. … I was able to review my married life [and see how] pornography had … put a stranglehold on our marriage from early on. We had only been married a couple of months when he brought home a [pornographic] magazine. I locked him out of the car because I was so hurt and angry. …
“For many years in our marriage … he was most cruel in many of his demands. I was never good enough for him. … I felt incredibly beaten down at that time to a point of deep depression. … I know now that I was being compared to the latest ‘porn queen.’ …
“We went to counseling one time and … my husband proceeded to rip me apart with his criticism and disdain of me. …
“I could not even get into the car with him after that but walked around the town … for hours, contemplating suicide. [I thought,] ‘Why go on if this is all that my “eternal companion” feels for me?’
“I did go on, but zipped a protective shield around myself. I existed for other reasons than my husband and found joy in my children, in projects and accomplishments that I could do totally on my own. …
“After his ‘deathbed confession’ and [after taking time] to search through my life, I [said] to him, ‘Don’t you know what you have done?’ … I told him that I had brought a pure heart into our marriage, kept it pure during that marriage, and intended to keep it pure ever after. Why could he not do the same for me? All I ever wanted was to feel cherished and treated with the smallest of pleasantries … instead of being treated like some kind of chattel. …
“I am now left to grieve not only for his being gone but also for a relationship that could have been [beautiful, but was not]. …
“Please warn the brethren (and sisters). Pornography is not some titillating feast for the eyes that gives a momentary rush of excitement. [Rather] it has the effect of damaging hearts and souls to their very depths, strangling the life out of relationships that should be sacred, hurting to the very core those you should love the most.”
And she signs the letter.
What a pathetic and tragic story. I have omitted some of the detail but have read enough that you can sense her depth of feeling. And what of her husband? He has died a painful death from cancer, his final words a confession of a life laced with sin.

“But the teacher I remember best was Sister Call. She was just a jewel. I remember how impressed I was that she was willing to go on hikes with the Trail Builders. She’d plan scavenger hunts but they were not just the regular kind. Each one would have a connection with some part of the lesson. As we would find each thing, it would teach us another part of the lesson. Then there was always a nice reward—some special treat at the end. I can’t believe the creative ways she used to keep our attention as young boys.
“Sister Call is a person who keeps on giving. Recently I received a phone call from her son. He wanted to bring a gift Sister Call had just completed for me. He brought to my office a beautiful quilt she had made. Thousands of careful stitches prepared in a beautiful pattern. She is ninety-one years young. I could not hold back a tear as I thought of the kindness of this great teacher.”

When I was 17 years old, it was time for me to prepare to serve a mission. I had my interviews with my bishop, and in one of them he asked me if I had a testimony of the restored Church of the Savior Jesus Christ.
I began to meditate and simply shared with him the things that I had heard from the other members of the ward when they shared their testimonies. Then I realized that I had never prayed for myself to know if the gospel was true. I was born in the covenant, but when it came time to prepare for my mission, I realized that I was simply active in the Church out of custom or tradition.
I made it a goal to study The Book of Mormon every day and to pray to my Father to find out if it was true. Time passed, and I didn’t feel any answer until I got to the last chapter of the Book of Moroni, verses 3 through 5, which say:
“Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts.
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moroni 10:3–5).
I was concerned because I had already finished the whole book and didn’t feel like I had received any response. In my neighborhood there was so much noise that the windows in my room were vibrating, I knelt down and prayed the most sincere prayer I have ever prayed in my life, and I begged my Heavenly Father to help me know if the Book of Mormon was true and if the Prophet Joseph Smith was a true prophet and if this was His Church.
With tears in my eyes and a very warm feeling in my chest, I felt how everything around me fell silent, and I heard the voice of the Spirit testifying to me that it was true. Since that day, I am a totally different person, and I have a solid and firm testimony thanks to my Heavenly Father.

In 1950—a few days before Christmas, when I was six years old and living in Palma de Mallorca, Spain—I stood on our living room balcony and watched a ship leave the harbor. On board were my father and my brother. With me on the balcony were my mother and my sister. My father, a chemist of perfumes, was leaving to pursue opportunities in Uruguay, South America. He never returned to his children or his wife. Several years later, he and my mother were divorced.
In the years that followed, I rarely heard from him. In the meantime, my mother took us to her native country, France, where, in 1964, I was baptized a member of the Church. One year later I left France for Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. In time, I served a mission, pursued graduate studies, and married.
Although my father had been almost completely out of my thoughts up to this point in my life, soon after my marriage a desire to do genealogical work for my ancestors made me think of him more and more. My patriarchal blessing told me that the time would come for me to do the work for my ancestors through genealogy and temple ordinances and that “means and opportunities” would be provided for me to accomplish that work.
After I had joined the Church, my brother, who had moved by then to France, had informed me that my father had accumulated facts, names, and dates on the Ainsa family. I resolved to write to my father, hoping to gain the necessary information to tie my genealogy from my grandparents to my paternal great-grandparents. I sent him a letter asking for details.
His reply consisted of a letter with only general information—and a request that I not bother him again. I felt resentful and angry, but I continued to pray that the “means and opportunities” necessary to do my family history work would be provided.
Sometime in March 1986, while we were living in Arizona, my father wrote again during a family crisis in which my mother was losing her sight. I was comforted by the care and concern that my mother’s second husband showed her and was again offended at my father’s critical letter. I sent it back to him and indicated that if I couldn’t receive pleasant letters instead of criticism, I would rather not communicate at all. Within three weeks, my father answered the letter, telling me, “Your brother will inform you of my death when it occurs. I don’t intend to write to you again.”
Nine months passed after I received the letter. Again I prayed about the admonition in my patriarchal blessing. The answer came unmistakably from the Spirit—I felt I should apologize to my father. I consequently composed a five-page letter to him that detailed the events of the year and that included an apology for my erratic behavior in my previous letter. When I mailed the letter, I prayed that the Lord would soften my father’s heart.
More than two months went by with no answer. Then one day a registered letter arrived. In it, my father asked, “Would you spare ten to twelve days during your upcoming summer vacation to visit me? If you accept, I will send you the money to help meet the cost of your expenses.”
I called my brother in Paris, France, who suggested that I wait a year, since my father had waited thirty-five years to try to see me. But as I prayed with my wife, Angie, we both thought of my patriarchal blessing and knew that my ancestors had waited long enough. I would go this year. My mother’s husband offered to pay for Angie’s trip, as we couldn’t afford it ourselves. My mother-in-law offered to care for our four children in her home in California.
Everything went according to schedule—everything, that is, except for feelings of apprehension. I started worrying that my father might criticize my mother, my wife, or me. He had done it before. How would I handle it this time?
Only when two dedicated home teachers—to whom I will be eternally grateful—came to our home a few days before our departure and gave us a priesthood blessing, did I feel at peace. They blessed my wife that she would be a source of inspiration to me, and they blessed me that I would be receptive to the promptings of the Spirit and would know what to say. I then knew that everything would be all right.
When we arrived in Montevideo, Uruguay, I nervously looked for my father and saw him standing with his wife. He waved his cane at me in recognition. I waved back. Finally, the customs officer told me to proceed. As I walked through the customs door, my father eagerly came toward me. We embraced and kissed each other. As we left the airport terminal, the Spirit told me that the man walking beside me was a different person than I had imagined.
We spent the next few days getting acquainted with one another, laughing together, discovering what we had in common, and becoming friends. Angie and I asked him to record on tape his experiences in his youth and in courting my mother, and we discovered many things about his past. Then, one morning, Angie and I prayed that we would be blessed that day with the right words in asking my father to share with us the Ainsa genealogy and history.
It was my father’s eighty-first birthday. After opening presents at breakfast, he excused himself and came back with an object hidden underneath a towel. He handed me a box and said, “This is the least I can do after all these years. Somehow I feel that I have to make it up to you.” Inside the box was a beautiful watch.
Thirty minutes later, as we were upstairs sitting around my father’s oak desk, I inserted a blank tape into the cassette recorder and asked him to tell me about my ancestors. He talked for a few minutes, then stopped. “It’s a waste,” he said.
I panicked. “Lord, please help me,” I prayed. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” Then I asked my father, “Why do you say it is a waste?”
“Because I have it in print,” he replied. My heart began to beat faster as he reached for a drawer in his desk, opened it, pulled out a folder, and handed me a sheet of paper with a list of names on it. “These are your ancestors on my father’s side,” he said, “and you’re welcome to this list.” I glanced quickly through it; it contained the names of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, as well as those of distant relatives.
“What about your mother? Have you compiled a list on her side of the family?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Your grandmother’s lineage is not important,” he muttered, brushing aside my inquiry. I replied that were it not for my grandmother, he wouldn’t be here, to which my father said, “Well, if it is that important to you, you can have it.” With that, he gave me an envelope containing names scribbled on several sheets of paper and said, “As a matter of fact, you might as well have everything.” He placed the folder in my hand.
I opened it and, as tears began to blur my vision, I read through several lists of names of distant relatives. Inside were pictures of my grandmother, my grandfather, and others. I wept openly. During the past twenty-one years, I had prayed on many occasions for this day. The Lord had heard my requests and had answered them at the appropriate time.
“Why are you crying?” my father asked.
“Because I am happy to be here,” I said.
At that moment, he, too, began to cry. He leaned his head on my shoulder and took my hand between his. “I am sorry,” he said. “I am sorry for what I did. I was wrong. I was never a father to you. During all those years, I never bothered to find out who you were. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you—it is forgiven and forgotten,” I uttered between sobs. As I embraced him, the Spirit whispered softly, “I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men” (D&C 64:10). We were at peace. All the years of separation, loneliness, and turmoil melted away. He knew who I was. He had found a son. And I had finally found my father.

Less than three months after she was married, she was hospitalized for a thrombosis in her right leg, and, after several months in the hospital, her leg was in such a bad condition that the doctor determined that the only option to avoid further complications was to amputate it. At that moment, she felt desperate: “I was anguished, not because of myself, but because I felt it was unfair for my husband that when he was newly married, he had to go through having his wife in that situation.”

Asking the doctor for a day to think before the surgery, she wondered what they could do to find out if that was really the Lord’s will. She claims that something told her that she “had forgotten some things,” and she was inspired to ask her husband and her father to call some members of the Church to do a collective fast.

She was greatly surprised to see that many members joined this fast, and what surprised her even more was that she could see that the Lord performed a miracle. The next day, the doctor could not believe the great change in her condition, reversing his decision to do the surgery and allowing her to have her leg today, with no sign of the state it was in at that time.

They also talk about another ingredient in their recipe for a happy home—family home evening. But that wasn’t always the case. “I remember when our family home evenings were mostly very long lessons,” says Christoffer, 18, with a playful glance in his mother’s direction.

“Sometimes I would get bored and fall asleep,” adds Andreas, who was only about five at that time. “But then I’d wake up, and there would be refreshments.”

Brother Ronndahl explains that when the children were quite young, Sister Ronndahl would regularly prepare lessons that were over an hour long. The lessons were difficult for the young children to sit through. Now the Ronndahls have eight children, ranging in age from 8 to 23 years old—the oldest, Rebecka, has served a full-time mission and is now attending college in the United States.

Brother and Sister Ronndahl decided to change their approach to family home evening. “We gathered the family together and said, ‘Hey, what do you like to do?’” says Sister Ronndahl. The parents weren’t too surprised to learn that the kids liked the food, the games, and singing hymns—they even liked the idea of a lesson, if it were only shorter. Brother Ronndahl sums it up well when he says the right ingredients were there but maybe not in the right amounts. “We discovered we should focus on the fun side of things too,” he says.

Sister Ronndahl decided to make an extra-nice dinner so Monday would start out as a special night. Then for family home evening they added a healthy measure of games and singing. They also shortened the lessons to about 10 minutes. The mixture worked well. “The children started to look forward to Monday nights,” says Kristina. “Everybody loved it.”

Now that the children are older, the lessons have lengthened and deepened. Rosanna, 20, says, “We actually can do very good lessons nowadays. We love to discuss the gospel and other things. It’s fun because we have so many opinions and ideas. Now it is more interesting because we’re talking about things that we want to talk about.” But the music, games, and refreshments are still part of the recipe.

“My favorite things are the refreshments and games,” says Josefin, 12.

“Refreshments and games of course,” echoes Christoffer.

“I think the songs and music are the best,” says Rosanna.

“The lessons,” Isabelle chimes in meekly. Her brothers and sisters immediately offer Isabelle some good-natured teasing. “No, really,” she adds earnestly.

“I think the whole family home evening is my favorite,” says Andreas. “The lesson, songs, games, refreshments—all of them together make it very fun. If we had a family home evening without a lesson or games or songs, it would feel like something was missing.”

“I love it when Brynolf and I don’t have to do anything for family home evening,” says Sister Ronndahl. “We can just sit aside, and the children lead and they have the lesson and they have the refreshments. They do everything. That’s my favorite.”

I remember when I was “[baptized] by immersion for the remission of sins.” That was appealing. I assumed that all my past mistakes were now washed away, and if I never made any more mistakes in my life, I would be clean. This I resolved to do. Somehow it did not turn out that way. I found that I made mistakes, not intentionally, but I made them. I once foolishly thought maybe I was baptized too soon. I did not understand that the ordinance of the sacrament, administered by you of the Aaronic Priesthood, is in fact a renewing of the covenant of baptism and the reinstating of the blessings connected with it. I did not see, as the revelations tell us, that I could “retain a remission of [my] sins.”
If you have been guilty of sin or mischief, you must learn about the power of the Atonement, how it works. And with deeply sincere repentance, you can unleash that power. It can rinse out all the small things, and with deep soaking and scrubbing, it will wash away serious transgression. There is nothing from which you cannot be made clean.
With you always is the Holy Ghost, which was conferred upon you at the time of your baptism and confirmation.
I was a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood when World War II exploded upon the world. I was ordained an elder when we were all marched away to war.
I had dreams of following an older brother, Leon, who at that time was flying B-24 bombers in the Battle of Britain. I volunteered for air force pilot training.
I failed the written test by one point. Then the sergeant remembered that there were several two-point questions, and if I got half right on two of them, I could pass.
Part of the test was multiple choice. One question was “What is ethylene glycol used for?” If I had not worked in my dad’s service station, I would not have known that it is used for automobile antifreeze. And so I passed, barely.
I prayed about the physical. It turned out to be fairly routine.
You young men should not complain about schooling. Do not immerse yourself so much in the technical that you fail to learn things that are practical. Everything you can learn that is practical—in the house, in the kitchen cooking, in the yard—will be of benefit to you. Never complain about schooling. Study well, and attend always.
“The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.”
“Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.”
We are to learn about “things that are above, and things that are beneath, things that are in the earth, and upon the earth, and in heaven.”
You can learn about fixing things and painting things and even sewing things and whatever else is practical. That is worth doing. If it is not of particular benefit to you, it will help you when you are serving other people.
I ended up in the Orient, flying the same kind of bombers that my brother flew in England. My mission, as it turned out, was in teaching the gospel in Japan as a serviceman.
Perhaps the hardest challenge of war is living with uncertainties, not knowing how it will end or if we can go ahead with our lives.
I was issued a small serviceman’s Book of Mormon that would fit into my pocket. I carried it everywhere; I read it; and it became part of me. Things that had been a question became certain to me.
The certainties of the gospel, the truth, once you understand it, will see you through these difficult times.
It was four years before we could return to our lives. But I had learned and had a sure testimony that God is our Father, that we are His children, and that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is true.
Your generation is filled with uncertainties. A life of fun and games and expensive toys has come to an abrupt end. We move from a generation of ease and entertainment to a generation of hard work and responsibility. We do not know how long that will last.
The reality of life is now part of your priesthood responsibilities. It will not hurt you to want something and not have it. There is a maturing and disciplining that will be good for you. It will ensure that you can have a happy life and raise a happy family. These trials come with responsibility in the priesthood.
Some of you live in countries where most of what you eat and some of what you wear will depend on what can be produced by the family. It may be that what you can contribute will make the difference so that the rent is paid or the family is fed and housed. Learn to work and to support.
The very foundation of human life, of all society, is the family, established by the first commandment to Adam and Eve, our first parents: “Multiply, and replenish the earth.”
Thereafter came the commandment, “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.”
Be a responsible member of your family. Take care of your possessions—your clothing, your property. Do not be wasteful. Learn to be content.
It may seem that the world is in commotion; and it is! It may seem that there are wars and rumors of wars; and there are! It may seem that the future will hold trials and difficulties for you; and it will! However, fear is the opposite of faith. Do not be afraid! I do not fear.
At noon today four young men, all grandsons, came to visit us. Three of them had young ladies on their arms—one to talk about his coming wedding, two of them to announce their engagements, and the stray to talk about his mission call to Japan. We talked to them about the fact that one day each of you will take a pure and precious daughter of our Heavenly Father to the temple to be sealed for time and for all eternity. These young grandsons must know what Alma taught: that the gospel plan is “the great plan of happiness” and that happiness is the end of our existence. Of this I bear testimony in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Emily buttoned her coat as she hurried up a hill. On its crest she looked toward the east and saw a beautiful sunrise. Its pink glow lit the great empty prairie.
How far east is England now? wondered Emily. How many miles westward have we journeyed since we left the beloved green hills of home?
“Emily! We’re ready to leave,” called her father.
Slowly Emily went back down the hill. Her feet lifted puffs of dry brown dust as she walked past people whose handcarts were in the rear of the long line. Everyone in the company was ready for another day of travel.
She was glad she didn’t have to pull a handcart all day like most of the men. Some women helped too. Even children and old people helped push the heavy carts up the steep hills and clung to the rear of them to slow them going down steep slopes.
When Emily reached their own handcart, her father was fastening the ropes from the canvas top to the wooden sideboards.
“It’s a good thing you have that red coat,” Father said. “We can see you even from a long way off.”
“You shouldn’t wander so far away by yourself, though, Emily. You could get lost in this wild country,” Mother scolded.
“I’ll be more careful, Mother,” Emily promised.
As the handcarts fell into line, Emily wondered if her parents understood why she walked back every morning to look east. Maybe they aren’t as lonely for our cottage back in England as I am, she decided. Remembering their home in Dorchester with its roof of golden thatched straw and the lilac bush where robins chirped at dawn, made Emily’s throat ache.
The long line of handcarts moved forward away from the rising sun. Mother’s voice broke into Emily’s thoughts. “You better put your coat in the cart. It’s getting too hot to wear it.”
Emily hated to part with her coat even for a few hours. However, she slowly put it into the handcart. When she had it on, England didn’t seem quite so far away. Wearing it brought back all the treasured memories of home.
Emily thought about the morning Grandmother had given her the coat as she was leaving with her parents for America to join other Latter-day Saints in the faraway Rocky Mountains.
With tears in her eyes, Grandmother said to Emily’s father, “I still don’t understand why you must leave England for your new religion. I know I’ll never see you again.”
Then she took Emily’s hand. “My dear, I have a gift for you,” she said. “It’s a coat made from wool I spun and dyed myself. Wear it always to remind you of me and of your home.”
Slowly the long days went by. Each step took Emily further away from her grandmother and England. Each step took everyone in the handcart company closer to their unknown “Zion” in the mountains. Around the campfires at night they talked of a valley encircled by towering, snow-topped mountains. Emily wondered if anyone else felt as lonely and frightened as she did.
Wagon trains going to Oregon or California sometimes passed the handcart company. One day a man from a wagon train stopped and said to Emily, “My daughter could use a coat like that one you’re wearing. Would you like to sell it?”
Emily thought of what her family could buy with the money, but she shook her head. “No, thank you, sir,” she answered. She felt that selling the coat would not only be giving up something she loved very much but it would cut her last tie with her old home.
The trail the handcarts traveled became rougher. One night around the campfire Captain Ames asked everyone to listen to a special message. “I don’t need to tell you that the trail has become much more difficult and our carts are wearing out,” he announced. “Each family must discard every item that can be spared in order to lighten the loads.”
Many belongings were left beside the trail the next morning. Emily’s heart was heavy when Father said to her, “I think you should leave your heavy red coat behind.”
“Oh, please Father,” she pleaded, “please let me keep it. I’ll carry it or wear it all the time so it won’t take up any room or add any weight to the handcart. Grandmother made the coat especially for me.”
“The weather will grow colder soon,” Mother added. “Maybe we should let Emily keep her coat. I’ll help her carry it if it becomes too heavy.”
Father looked at Emily and her mother. He saw how much the coat meant to both of them. “If you’re willing to carry or wear it, then you may keep the coat,” he said, “but it’s not to go on the handcart. We must obey Captain Ames’ rule to lighten our loads.”
One morning as Emily was walking behind her father she looked up and saw white snow-topped peaks along the western horizon. A few days later the handcart company was making its way through the mountain passes. The wheels on the worn handcarts creaked loudly with each turn. Everyone was weak and tired but they still kept going.
Late one afternoon Emily felt she could not walk any further. Her red coat seemed unusually heavy. Emily thought she couldn’t take another step before resting for just a few minutes.
I’ll just climb up that little slope and rest under a bush for a few minutes, Emily decided.
While resting, Emily watched the line of carts and people toil up a winding, mountain path. She lay down to watch the clouds float by. How good the ground felt to her aching back and legs.
Suddenly Emily sat up. It was dark. She had fallen asleep! Her first thought was to run as fast as she could, calling for her mother and father. But it was too dark to see where she was going.
I must stay calm, Emily told herself. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “please keep me safe through the night and tomorrow guide my parents to me.”
Soon a peace flooded over Emily even though the black hours of night passed slowly, slowly. She put on her red coat. Feeling it close around her brought a warmth that was more than just protection against the chill of the night.
Memories of England and Grandmother and her old home were as precious as ever. But there alone on the hillside, Emily began to think more about her new home in a valley where she could be with her father and mother. Maybe Grandmother might come there someday, too, she thought.
As the morning sun lightened the sky, Emily’s sadness and loneliness seemed to leave. She climbed up on a rock to watch the sun come up as she had done so many times. Always before her thoughts had turned with a homesick feeling to the east. Now she looked toward the west. In that direction they would have a new home.
Far in the distance Emily saw several men. As they came closer one of them started waving and then she heard her father call, “It’s Emily. That red coat has brought us right to her!”
Emily ran down the hill. “Oh Father,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry I got lost but I’m glad you found me.”
“We might have not found you,” Father replied, “if it hadn’t been for that red coat. How grateful I am that you kept it and that you had it with you to keep you warm. We spotted it a long time before you saw us.”
“I’m grateful, too,” Emily answered. “It will always be something special to remind me of Grandmother and England. But now I know a home isn’t just a place, and that love is more than just a coat. I can hardly wait until we reach the Valley.”
Father smiled, “We found you,” he said, “but I guess during the night you found yourself, too.” He gave Emily a warm hug.
Without looking back, Emily put the coat over her arm. Then she and Father turned their feet and their eyes to the west.

In British Columbia, Canada, Scouts of the Fifth Kelowna Troop arranged a special Remembrance Day recognition evening. The young men, ranging in age from 11 to 13, moved out of their comfort zones to interview LDS veterans in the Vernon British Columbia Stake, the troop’s sponsor.
Patrol leader Michael Edis of the Kelowna Second Ward conducted the evening as master of ceremonies. After a flag ceremony, the singing of the Canadian national anthem, and a presentation on the history of Remembrance Day, each Scout gave a short biography about the veteran he had interviewed. Each veteran was then presented with a “thank you” crest.
“They risked their lives for us,” said Brady Wilson. “It was fun to give out the thank-you awards and listen to their stories.”

When I became a priest in the Windsor Ward, London Ontario Canada Stake, our Young Men president, Brother Sandor, encouraged us to bless and pass the sacrament and perform baptisms as a way to exercise our priesthood. In one Sunday lesson, he also taught us about giving blessings during Aaronic Priesthood ordinations. He said, “You must be bold enough to say what the Spirit prompts you to say but be humble enough not to make up your own words!”
Not long after that lesson, a young convert in our ward was sustained as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, and Brother Sandor asked me to be the “voice” in the ordination. I was scared. I had never laid my hands on anybody’s head before, and I felt inadequate. But then the Spirit reassured me that it would be fine for me to do it, and I was reminded of what my Young Men president had taught us.
The young man to be ordained sat down in the chair, and I stood directly behind him. When we were all ready, Brother Sandor guided me through the ordinance prayer, and I repeated every word he said. After we had finished the ordination by saying, “… and we wish to pronounce a blessing on your head at this time,” Brother Sandor looked at me and indicated that I was on my own.
At that point, the priesthood entirely changed its meaning for me. It was no longer just a title, but the actual authority to act in God’s name—and I was giving that authority to someone else. I paused and waited for the Spirit to whisper to me what I was to say. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings I had during the blessing, but I can say that I now have a stronger testimony that the power of the priesthood is real.

But some of the siblings also had their own reservations about the Church. The second daughter, Cho Gil Ja, had doubts centered in part on why her older brother was asked to give so much service to his church without being paid, as ministers were in other churches. She dated, married, and was raising her own young children before she finally heeded her brother’s request to listen to the missionaries.
When they asked her to read the Book of Mormon, she became absorbed in the reading and finished the book in three days. She heeded Moroni’s admonition to pray about its teachings and received a strong confirmation that they are true. At that point, she says, “I felt there must be something I could do for God.” The impression she received in answer to this desire was that she too should attend church and serve.