Gospel Story Finder

“OK! We’re going to play a game called ‘Quiz Show’! Question #1: Do you want to empty the dishwasher?”
“Um … no.”
“Bzzzt! Wrong answer! So sorry. Question #2: Would you like to empty the dishwasher and mow the lawn?”
“What?! No!”
“Bzzzt! Wrong again! Question #3: Would you like to empty the dishwasher, mow the lawn, and wash the car?”
“OK! I get it! Yes!”
“Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner!”
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Ryan Stoker

One day I was walking through the mall when I noticed two guys, probably still in high school, heading in my direction and pointing to girls. They would look at them for a few seconds and then state a number between 1 and 10. I realized they were ranking them by their looks! I walked a little faster so they wouldn’t have time to rank me, but when they walked by, they pointed to me and said, “Uh, zero.” Then they were off. I felt something inside me go empty. I was so hurt. I couldn’t believe that someone would actually do something like that. I hurried to my car so I wouldn’t have to cry out in the open. Once inside my car, I cried for help in a silent prayer asking, “Lord, how do I get past this?”
In that moment, a scripture came into my head—1 Samuel 16:7. “The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” I was reminded that the Lord knows who I am. Zero is just a number those young men were using as a rude label.
I was comforted, and the emptiness I felt was filled with the love of God. Heavenly Father loves each of His children. There is not any scale big enough to measure the love He has for His children; it is worth so much more than the judgments of men.

I miss my friends. I wish I could have a birthday party this year. But there are too many COVID-19 cases.
Heavenly Father, please help me feel peace.
I know! I can look at my baptism journal!
My Testimony
The Holy Ghost will comfort me …
Thank Thee for reminding me about my baptism journal. And for the Holy Ghost. I feel much better now.
A few days later …
Happy birthday!
Knock, knock!
Beatrice! Our neighbor is here.
Happy birthday!
Thank you! How are you doing?
To be honest, I feel lonely. But I am trying to be happy.
Me too. I want to show you something!
This is from when I was baptized last year. It helps me feel better when I am lonely.
That is beautiful!
It reminds me that Jesus loves me and that everything is going to be OK.

The next morning, July 24, 1847, Wilford drove his carriage for several miles down a deep ravine. Brigham lay behind him in the carriage, too feverish and weak to walk. Soon they traveled along a creek through another canyon until they arrived at a level bench of land that opened to a view of the Salt Lake Valley.
Wilford gazed with wonder at the vast country below. Fertile fields of thick green prairie grass, watered by clear mountain streams, stretched for miles before them. The streams emptied into a long narrow river that ran lengthwise down the valley floor. A rim of tall mountains, their jagged peaks high in the clouds, surrounded the valley like a fortress. To the west, glistening like a mirror in the sunlight, was the Great Salt Lake.
After a journey of more than a thousand miles through prairie, desert, and canyons, the sight was breathtaking. Wilford could imagine the Saints settling there and establishing another stake of Zion. They could build homes, cultivate orchards and fields, and gather God’s people from around the world. And before long, the Lord’s house would be established in the mountains and exalted above the hills, just as Isaiah had prophesied.32
Brigham could not see the valley clearly, so Wilford turned the carriage to give his friend a better view. Looking out across the valley, Brigham studied it for several minutes.33
“It is enough. This is the right place,” he told Wilford. “Drive on.”34
Brigham had recognized the spot as soon as he saw it. At the north end of the valley was the mountain peak from his vision. Brigham had prayed to be led directly to that place, and the Lord had answered his prayers. He saw no need to look elsewhere.35
Below, the valley floor was already alive with activity. Even before Brigham, Wilford, and Heber Kimball descended the mountain, Orson Pratt, Erastus Snow, and other men had established a base camp and begun plowing fields, planting crops, and irrigating the land. Wilford joined them as soon as he reached the camp, planting half a bushel of potatoes before eating his evening meal and settling in for the night.
The following day was the Sabbath, and the Saints gave thanks to the Lord. The company met to hear sermons and partake of the sacrament. Though feeble, Brigham spoke briefly to encourage the Saints to keep the Sabbath, take care of the land, and respect each other’s property.
On the morning of Monday, July 26, Brigham was still convalescing in Wilford’s carriage when he turned to Wilford and said, “Brother Woodruff, I want to take a walk.”
“All right,” Wilford said.36
They set out that morning with eight other men, traveling toward the mountains to the north. Brigham rode in Wilford’s carriage part of the way, his hands clutching a green cloak around his shoulders. Before they reached the foothills, the ground leveled off into a plain, and Brigham stepped out of the carriage and walked slowly over the light, rich soil.
As the men followed Brigham, admiring the land, he stopped suddenly and thrust his cane into the ground. “Here shall stand the temple of our God,” he said.37 He could already see a vision of it in front of him, its six spires rising up from the valley floor.38
Brigham’s words struck Wilford like lightning. The men were about to walk on, but Wilford asked them to wait. He broke off a branch from a nearby sagebrush and drove it into the ground to mark the spot.
The men then continued on, envisioning the city the Saints would build in the valley.39
Later that day, Brigham pointed at the mountain peak north of the valley. “I want to go up on that peak,” he said, “for I feel fully satisfied that that was the point shown me in the vision.” The round, rocky peak was easy to climb and clearly visible from all parts of the valley. It was an ideal place to raise an ensign to the nations, signaling to the world that the kingdom of God was again on the earth.
Brigham set out immediately for the summit with Wilford, Heber Kimball, Willard Richards, and others. Wilford was the first to reach the top. From the peak, he could see the valley spread out before him.40 With its high mountains and spacious plain, this valley could keep the Saints safe from their enemies as they tried to live the laws of God, gather Israel, build another temple, and establish Zion. In his meetings with the Twelve and the Council of Fifty, Joseph Smith had often expressed his desire to find such a place for the Saints.41
Wilford’s friends soon joined him. They called the place Ensign Peak, evoking Isaiah’s prophecy that the outcasts of Israel and the dispersed of Judah would assemble from the four corners of the earth under a common banner.42
Someday they wanted to fly a massive flag over the peak. But for now, they did their best to mark the occasion. What happened is uncertain, but one man recalled that Heber Kimball took out a yellow bandana, tied it to the end of Willard Richards’s cane, and waved it back and forth in the warm mountain air.43

It was in March of 1878 that Aurelia first thought seriously of an organization for children, especially so little boys could be taught “everything good and how to behave.” She wanted desperately to help them and prayed that she might be shown a way. “A fire seemed to burn within me,” she wrote in her history.
A few weeks later Sister Eliza R. Snow went to Farmington to meet with the Relief Society. She and Sister Emmeline B. Wells, who accompanied her, stopped at Aurelia’s home for a brief visit on their way to the depot to board a train back to Salt Lake. Sister Rogers discussed with them her concern over many of the boys, who she felt were not being properly taught the gospel nor the manners that would help them become good men. She asked if an organization to help them would ever be possible. We are told that Sister Snow was “silent for a few moments, then said there might be such a thing and that she would speak to the First Presidency about it.”
At that time John Taylor was president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the acting president of the Church, since a president had not yet been sustained by the Church membership after the death of Brigham Young. Sister Rogers talked with President Taylor who discussed the matter with other members of the Quorum of the Twelve, and they were inspired to write to Bishop John W. Hess of Farmington, asking him to call some women to be leaders. Sister Rogers was chosen to be the president. “Up to this period,” she said, “the girls had not been mentioned; but my idea was that the meeting would not be complete without them . …” And so it was agreed.
Louisa Haight and Helen M. Miller were selected as counselors of the new organization to be called “Primary,” a name suggested by Sister Eliza R. Snow. Bishop Hess urged these women to visit every home in the area to invite the children to attend and to obtain their parents’ permission. Sister Rogers reported that they enrolled 112 boys and 112 girls! The children, together with all members of the ward, were asked to attend a public meeting on Sunday, August 11, 1878, when these women, and others, were set apart by Bishop Hess and his counselors to preside over a Primary at Farmington.
Bishop Hess was most helpful, often attending Primary himself or delegating other priesthood holders to do so. In a letter written shortly after the organization of the first Primary, Sister Snow wrote encouragingly:
“I feel assured that the inspiration of heaven is directing you, and that a great and very important movement is being inaugurated for the future of Zion . … The angels and all holy beings, especially the leaders of Israel on the other side of the veil, will be deeply interested.”
Sister Rogers’ records that were so miraculously saved from the fire report that the children were called together for the very first Primary on August 25, 1878. This is how she described the Primaries that followed:
“When they [the children] came to understand the motives which prompted the calling of their little meetings, they seemed elated with what was being done for them. Obedience, faith in God, prayer, punctuality and good manners were subjects oft repeated. At these meetings, the whole association would generally take part in the exercises. The smaller children were seated on the front benches, the rest according to size. At the proper time the smallest would rise up and, perhaps, recite a verse or two in concert, then sit down and the next bench full take their turn in answering Bible questions. Another class would sing a song; another would repeat sentiments or verses, one at a time, and so on.
“… The next spring we rented a town lot and the Primary Association planted beans and popcorn to go with the Relief Society wheat in the time of famine which is to come.”

When I was 17, my friend July invited me to go to seminary in her ward in Lima, Peru. I had a passing interest in the Old Testament, so I agreed to go.
My friend’s aunt, Sister Rosa de Arriaga, was the seminary teacher, and each day she started class by asking someone to pray. As I kept attending I not only gained a greater love for the scriptures, but I also learned to pray. Then one day Sister Rosa asked me to lead the class in prayer. The experience was unbelievable. My bosom began to burn, and a feeling of warmth radiated throughout my whole body. I felt like crying.
One Saturday I decided to attend a youth conference. I met a lot of young people and had a great time at the activity. When I showed up for a meeting later that afternoon in jeans and sneakers, I was surprised to see others wearing suits and ties. I felt uncomfortable, but one of the men smiled and signaled for me to come in. As I listened during the meeting, everything seemed very familiar to me.
Afterward, I went to Sister Rosa’s house to tell her what had happened. Sister Rosa’s son told me with a smile, “You won’t be able to dress like that tomorrow at the Sunday session.”
The next day, I walked into the meeting wearing a tie for the first time in my life. I was impressed by the orderliness of the meeting and the friendliness others showed me. Once again I felt that warm feeling in my chest, and the feeling continued throughout the entire meeting. When the choir sang I felt like crying. It was such a wonderful feeling that I wanted to have it all the time.
One month after my first seminary class, the missionaries began teaching me the discussions, and on 28 April 1996 I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My mom and sisters were baptized six months later and my dad one month after that. On 31 January 1998 my whole family was sealed in the Lima Peru Temple.
Later I served full time in the Perú Lima North Mission. After my mission I taught in the Perú Missionary Training Center for three years. Wearing a tie—which had once seemed so unusual—became an everyday occurrence.
I will always be grateful to my friend July and to my seminary teacher, Sister Rosa, for their role in helping this chain of blessings come to me and my family.

“Megan! Your shoes are on my side of the room!” Mia said with a huff.
“Well, your scriptures are on my side,” Megan said.
Mom poked her head into the room. “Girls, I don’t hear much cleaning going on in here. You can’t go to the park until your room is clean.”
“But this is all Megan’s mess!” Mia said. “It’s not fair that I have to clean it up.”
“It’s not all mine!” Megan said.
“Ugh.” Mia crossed her arms. “I wish I had my own room. Why do I have to share with Megan? Michael gets one all to himself!”
Mom sighed. “You know we don’t have another room. Michael’s older. That’s why he gets his own.”
“Well, at least make her keep her stuff off my side.” Mia drew an imaginary line with her finger down the middle of the room. “See? That’s your side, Megan. This is my side.”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “Maybe we could put up a curtain to divide the room. Would that help you two get along?”
Mia grinned. “Yeah!”
The next day, Mom sewed some fabric into a curtain. It was purple with a checkered pattern on it. She even sewed a ribbon with dangly beads across the bottom. Later Mia and Megan helped Dad hang the curtain up with a piece of wire. It stretched all the way across the room.
Mia clapped her hands in excitement. “Finally! It’s just like having my own room!”
She pulled out her crayons to color a picture. But after a few minutes, she got bored. She wondered what Megan was doing on the other side of the curtain. They usually colored together. It felt kind of lonely to do it by herself.
That night Mia knelt down to say her bedtime prayer. She thanked Heavenly Father for her home and for her family. That made her feel a little sad. She liked having her own space, but she missed playing with Megan.
Mia climbed into bed. But she couldn’t fall asleep. She turned over on her side. She could see Megan’s head through the little gap between the curtain and the wall.
“Megan?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” Megan whispered back.
“What if we made a little mailbox?” Mia asked. “To leave notes for each other.”
“Good idea,” Megan said. “Can we do it tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Mia closed her eyes with a smile. “Good night, Megan.”
“Good night, Mia.”
The next day, Mia found a little box. She put it between both of their sides of the room. Then she wrote a note and stuck it inside: Megan, do you want to play with my stuffed animals? Love, Mia.
Megan picked up the note and read it. “I’d love to!”
All week, Mia and Megan left notes for each other in their mailbox. And they played with each other every day. Sometimes they played on Mia’s side. Sometimes they played on Megan’s side. But they always had fun together.
“You know,” Mia told Megan one day, “I’m not sure we need this curtain after all.”
“Yeah,” Megan said. “It kind of gets in the way.”
Dad helped them take the curtain down.
“I’m glad you’ve learned to get along,” he said.
Mia smiled at Megan. “Me too.”

A wealthy merchant builds a great palace with high walls to protect his beautiful daughter, Danina, from the sadness of the world. One day Danina hears the song of the wind and learns that the world beyond the walls is always changing—sometimes sad and sometimes happy, but different each day. Afterward the palace becomes a prison to Danina, but she keeps the song of the wind alive by humming to herself until they meet again.

I have discussed the duty of priesthood leaders and members to care for their families, quorums, wards, and stakes. I should like now to discuss another aspect of priesthood responsibility, which is our privilege to sustain those in authority over us. Wilford Woodruff recorded a remarkable account which illustrates the importance of this responsibility.
In the early days of the Church, President Brigham Young asked Wilford Woodruff to take his family to Boston and gather the Saints from New England and Canada and send them to Zion. With a company of 100, they arrived at Pittsburgh at sundown. Brother Woodruff recorded:
“We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, … ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him [that] I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started, and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned.” What if the Saints had not followed the counsel of Wilford Woodruff? All wisely chose to be obedient. Had they not done so, they would have perished.

In ninth grade, Tami had a friend who was good at everything. Tami’s friend, Sandy, was popular. She ran track and won. Tami joined the track team just to be like Sandy. But Tami never won a race. Usually she came in last. Sandy could tell a joke. And boys liked Sandy.
Just before Christmas, the school announced a writing contest. Tami decided to enter. She spent her evenings writing her poem instead of talking with Sandy on the phone as she usually did. She worried about entering the contest. It wasn’t the kind of thing Sandy would do. Tami didn’t even tell her friend she was doing it. Sandy might laugh, or maybe even make fun of her. But it was thrilling to find how much she liked writing. When the results were announced, Tami’s poem won second place.
Encouraging herself to try something on her own wasn’t easy. But Tami discovered something—deciding for herself what she wanted made her happier than trying to imitate her friends. It gave her strength to make more decisions on her own.
In the next few years, as some of her friends began making choices that were against Tami’s standards, it was easier to make her own choices, even when they were less popular.

Until the white man came and explained that he was a collector of fossils, agates, and semiprecious stones for an eastern museum, Black Otter had not realized that these colorful rocks might have value. The man laid out many rock specimens to show the various stones he was seeking. “I have not come to cheat you,” he said. “These samples are not as valuable as diamonds and rubies, but I have brought brass and iron pots, good hunting knives, and metal fishhooks to trade.”

The man looked disappointed when nothing was offered. The tribe was very poor. The people wore many necklaces but they were fashioned of drilled bone, claws, or hard seeds, not colorful stones. The specimen hunter saw how the Indians admired the trade goods when he began to pack up. Their fishhooks were thick bone ones that allowed many fish to escape. Now he selected a large and small metal fishhook for each brave and presented them as gifts.

Black Otter had stayed back in the crowd, timid about approaching the white man. But he had watched his mother’s eyes that kept returning to the largest cooking pot. It was made of black iron with legs and a hook for hanging over a fire. Hesitantly, he stepped forward and laid the smallest of his three rocks near a similar specimen. Black Otter’s rock was clearer and gave off more colors in the sunlight.

The man examined the stone, then he smiled and offered a skinning knife and a small mound of fishhooks in trade. His smile faded and he sighed regretfully when Black Otter pointed to the iron pot. “I’m sorry, but your crystal is not worth that much,” he said. The youth felt that the man was being honest. He obviously wanted the rock.

The white man caught his breath when the Indian boy pulled out the two larger stones. When the deal was finished, Black Otter owned the pot, a razor-sharp hatchet, two fine knives, one for hunting and the other with many blades that folded into the handle, and a mound of fishhooks. Such sudden wealth stunned his parents. They’d never expected to own such things.

Black Otter was disturbed by the envious looks on the faces of his tribesmen. The youth did not want envy to set his family apart from the rest of the tribe. The price of jealousy could mean the loss of their friendship. “If I bring many stones, will you return with tools and utensils for all my people?” Black Otter quietly asked. The man agreed to return with a larger supply of trade goods, and so the youth had set out to search for the beautiful cavern.

My grandfather was a farmer. When I was quite young, I used to go to work with him at planting time. I loved to see him get the animals ready, put on their yokes, and hitch them to the harrow and plow. “Where are we going to plant today?” I would ask. “Down yonder,” he would reply. He knew well where the fruitful ground was.
I loved the moist, rich smell that rose from the ground when the tip of the plow broke the earth. As my grandfather prepared the furrows, I would bury the seed. “This ground is fruitful,” he would say. Later we would go back to the field to see the first green sprouts coming up. Soon the shoots became stalks, and then the grain would appear. The plants continued to grow until they were mature.
At harvesttime, the workers would cut the sheaves and take them to the threshing area, which consisted of poles wired together into a large circle. The sheaves were placed on the ground around the outside of this circle. Then the horses came and ran around the circle, trampling the sheaves, which loosened the grain from the stalks and crushed the kernels. Next, workers came with their tools to fan the chaff, separating it from the grain. After their labor was done, the workers sang and danced and enjoyed a traditional meal of roast lamb. It was a beautiful rustic celebration. The grain was stored in sacks and later processed into a variety of useful products.
And yet, despite all that we did to plant and harvest, the success of the whole process was primarily based upon the richness of the ground, the weather, and other conditions beyond our control. Without these conditions, the seeds would not have germinated, and there would have been no harvest.

A few years ago, I was sitting on the fence between being active and inactive in the Church.
I spent one weekend with my friend Spencer, who was about to leave on his mission. He shared his conversion story with me and his desire to serve a mission. I felt the Spirit, and the words “Go on a mission” spoke to my soul. Never in my life had I had the desire to serve a mission. I pushed the feeling away and tried not to think about it.
The very next day, as Spencer and I were traveling, our driver began talking to us about her faith. As she shared, the same words came to my mind: “Go on a mission.” Once again, I buried the feeling.
As we sang the closing hymn at a fireside the following day, the Spirit poured over me and again prompted me to go on a mission. With tears uncontrollably streaming down my face, I thought, “Heavenly Father, if this is what you want, then I’ll do it, even though I don’t want to.” As soon as I made the decision, my desire and excitement to serve grew.
I started my mission papers two days later, and when I received my call, I was assigned to serve in the Philippines Quezon City North Mission. This experience always reminds me that if we have enough faith to follow the promptings of the Spirit, we will find happiness and peace.
Thomas A., South Australia, Australia

During an interview while I served in an elders quorum presidency, I asked a fellow quorum member if he had ever felt and acted on a spiritual prompting. He thought for a moment and shared an experience.
One afternoon he was washing dishes when he received a strong impression to go knock on a neighbor’s door. He did not understand why, but the prompting was powerful and urgent. He stopped what he was doing and left right away.
He arrived at his neighbor’s door, not knowing what to do or say, and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. There was still no answer. Concluding that no one was home, he turned to leave but then felt another prompting.
He walked back to the door and simply said, “Sister, I love you.” Then he departed.
He thought this experience was unusual, and he felt a little embarrassed by it. I told him that the Lord does not always tell us the reasons for promptings, but we should never feel embarrassed for acting on them. This brother moved away shortly after our interview.

The total love and trust of children has been an amazing sustaining power against temptation in my life. I remember vividly years ago when our oldest son Jeffrey sat on my lap during a stake conference in which President Kimball addressed the congregation. During President Kimball's address, I leaned down and whispered in Jeffrey's ear, "Jeff, you are listening to a true prophet of God. Not only that but he is a very good man."

Jeff looked up at me with his earnest little face and said, "Daddy, do you think he's better than you are?"

I was stunned by his words and tears came into my eyes. Immediately I made a promise to Heavenly Father that I would never betray this little boy's trust. Certainly I was not equal with the prophet, but in the eyes of my son he saw me having the same stature. Most children see their parents longingly with those same eyes. To betray a child who has that kind of faith is to commit deep sin.

The problem has been duplicated many times in many places and in many different forms, but it is the response that makes this instance worthy of imitation. The chronological events tell the story:
1. Spring 1970—The associate student senate at California State College at Fullerton voted to cancel funds for the college-sponsored baseball tournament in which Brigham Young University had been invited to participate.
2. Shortly thereafter, Brent Romney, regional president of the Santa Ana region of the LDS Student Association, wrote an article to the student newspaper. He encouraged Mormon youth to write letters. He addressed the senate. The senate reversed its decision.
3. March 1970—A special election was held for the office of senator from the science and education area. Brent ran and won. Then it was decided that a mistake had been made and no senatorial seat was available for Brent.
4. May 1970—Regular elections were held. Brent ran for senator and won again. At the first meeting he was nominated for speaker of the senate. The race narrowed to two persons. Brent lost.
5. November 1970—Speaker of the senate quit. Brent ran for the office. After two weeks of deadlocked balloting, he won office and held it for the remainder of the year.
6. May 1971—Along with seven others, Brent ran for studentbody president. He placed second highest and in a run-off won by twenty-one votes. Black students report that it is their vote that won it for Brent—75 percent of the black vote went to the Mormon whom they had learned to trust.—JMT

It is important to Jonathan to live Jesus Christ’s teachings. When his father told him that there were many children who did not have toys like he did, he immediately put many of his toys into a box to give them away. They took the toys to a group of refugees, and Jonathan handed them out to the children. Tears filled his eyes as he saw how happy they were to get the toys. Later he told his father, “Now I know what Jesus means when He said to give. I have a warm feeling inside.”

Joseph Anderson was a Seventy. He lived to be 102, the oldest General Authority ever.
He served as secretary to President Heber J. Grant, beginning way back in 1922. In his old age, President Grant became seriously ill. When Joseph visited with him, President Grant said, “Joseph, have I ever been unkind to you? Have I ever abused you in any way?”

Joseph said, “No, President Grant, you have never been unkind to me in all these many years.”

Tears rolled down President Grant’s cheeks, and he said, “Joseph, I am glad that you can say that I have never been unkind to you.”

President Grant died the next day. Joseph Anderson, through the remainder of his life, had reason to rejoice in the kindness, the civility, the decency, the honesty, and the integrity on the part of a most remarkable and wonderful man—President Heber J. Grant.

Sue didn’t start out as a leader. She learned by trial and error. Growing up, Sue was just part of the crowd until the crowd started going a direction she did not care to follow. Her upbringing in the Church gave her a perspective different than that of her friends.

“In my second year of high school, my friends started doing awful things that would make me cry for them. I just wanted to shake them and ask, ‘What are you doing?’ but I couldn’t. It was frustrating. I started saying to myself, ‘Hey, Sue, you don’t need to do those things.’ “

That’s when she decided to make her own choices and possibly lead her friends in the right direction as well. Her bishop, Allen Dance of the Snoqualmie Valley Ward, noticed her ability to be a positive influence on her friends. “Sue has always sought the good. She has strengthened the weak in our ward and in the school. She goes out of her way to be friends to people who need a friend. As a result of her example, others have been blessed.”

When the children were young, we enjoyed personal, intimate visits with them at their own bedsides or curled up before the fire. Later it was a joy to have them travel with me on Church and business trips throughout the state of Idaho and later throughout the nation. Sometimes these trips were a reward for achievement—our oldest son, Reed, was taken on a trip from Washington D.C., to the west coast when he became the first Eagle Scout in the stake. His achievement was followed a year later by that of his brother Mark. It was on a day during this trip with Reed that I was called to a position of leadership in the councils of the Church. The intimate conversation and experience of that day will remain a precious memory always.