Gospel Story Finder

Poverty defined Heber’s growing years but not negatively. Having little money was a challenge that never deterred him. Wanting to learn to pitch a baseball but not having enough money for a ball, Heber earned the money by shining boots for his mother’s boarders. Later he longed to attend the Salt Lake Theatre; instead of feeling sorry that he had no money to buy tickets, he obtained a job as a water carrier for theater patrons and was thus allowed to watch the plays.6

A few years ago, the company for which I worked transferred me and my family to Southern California. A few weeks before we moved, Arnold, a neighbor, told me a story that I will never forget.
One Saturday afternoon he saw our three-year-old son, Lawrence, in front of his house. Lawrence was down on his hands and knees searching for something in the gravel and along the sidewalk. When Arnold came outside to get the paper, he asked Lawrence what he was looking for. Lawrence told him that he had lost a nickel. Then Arnold went back inside his house to read the newspaper.
Several hours later when he looked outside again, Lawrence was still out there. It was beginning to get dark. Lawrence had taken off his shoes so he could rub his bare feet around with the hope that he could feel the nickel that had somehow escaped his sight.
Our neighbor went outside to offer his sympathy and then suggested, “Maybe you should go home and come back tomorrow when it’s lighter.”
Lawrence picked up his shoes, came home, and told his mother and me that he had lost his nickel. Later that evening when Lawrence went to bed his mother comforted him, “Maybe you can find your nickel tomorrow.”
The next morning when Arnold went to get the Sunday newspaper, Lawrence was in his pajamas searching in the grass.
“My, but you are up early this morning,” Arnold said. “Are you still looking for your lost nickel?”
Lawrence nodded his head and kept on looking.
A short time later, Lawrence came into the house and came to our bedroom and shook his mother. “I found my nickel,” he told her, his voice full of pleasure.
Hardly being awake, his mother answered sleepily, “Fine, Lawrence, go back to bed.”
I made the same kind of suggestion to him and he went downstairs to his own room.
Not long afterward the older boys and I got up and went to priesthood meeting. When we came home, Lawrence and the rest of the family were all ready to go to Sunday School. When we walked through the front door of the chapel, we met Arnold.
“Well, Lawrence, you must have found your nickel,” he said.
“Yes, it was my tithing saves,” Lawrence replied.
Arnold said he was humbled by a three-year-old boy who had taken a great deal of time to look for a nickel—not just to have his nickel but because it belonged to the Lord.
On the day we were ready to move, Arnold and his wife came to tell us good-bye and give us a package. I’ll never forget my feeling when we unwrapped the package and found inside a framed picture of a nickel pasted on a piece of white cardboard. Underneath the coin these words were written: The Lord’s Nickel.

Ulisses was called to the Brazil Rio de Janeiro Mission. He served the first part of his mission under President Helio da Rocha Camargo, who would later become the first General Authority called from Brazil. Ulisses began his mission in early 1978. The first temple in Latin America was dedicated later that year in São Paulo by President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985).

In January 1980, Ulisses and his companion, who also had not received his endowment, boarded a bus in Rio de Janeiro for an eight-hour ride to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. Ulisses’s parents and siblings met him there, and the Soares family was sealed for time and eternity. Ulisses has never forgotten those five hours together in the São Paulo Temple. Later that day, he and his companion returned to the mission field.

“Conner, it’s time to get up,” Mom said, gently shaking him. Conner moved slowly at first. Then he remembered.
“Today’s Sunday!” he shouted as he jumped out of bed. He raced to put on his Sunday clothes and hurried down to breakfast. He didn’t even slow down to play the game on the back of the cereal box.
What is he doing today that is so special? Mom wondered.
Conner did have something special to do. He had waited all week for Sunday to come.
Last week in his Primary class, Sister Plummer had said, “When I was about ten, I discovered something that helped me to be more reverent. If you would like to know my secret, listen for the words ‘always remember’ in sacrament meeting next week, then always remember what comes after those words.”
Conner had decided that he would listen. He wanted to know Sister Plummer’s secret.
At church, he heard Bishop Sheppard say, “Remember to come to the ward picnic.” Conner knew that that wasn’t Sister Plummer’s “always remember.”
He listened as the congregation began to sing the sacrament hymn. He wondered if Sister Plummer’s special words might be in the hymn. He pointed at each word and found himself singing along. But he didn’t find the special words.
Conner bowed his head and listened carefully as his best friend’s big brother began the sacramental prayer. Toward the end of the prayer, he heard “always remember.” He knew what Sister Plummer’s secret was! He knew who he was always to remember. But can I “always remember” Jesus? he wondered.
Conner folded his arms and sat reverently. When a deacon stumbled down the stairs coming from the stand, he wanted to poke his little sister and say, “Sara, did you see that?”
But he didn’t because he remembered.
After the sacrament, the first speaker was Sister Swanson. She smiled a lot and was easy to listen to. He had no trouble remembering while she was speaking.
“Good morning, brothers and sisters!” Brother Swanson said. He was a big man with a jolly voice. But the words Brother Swanson spoke were almost as large as he was. Conner didn’t understand and soon lost interest. His fingers began to fumble around in his pockets. He found a rubber band and started to twist it. Suddenly he remembered. The rubber band went back into his pocket, and he looked up at Brother Swanson and listened for words he knew.
A little girl in front of him was chewing bubble gum and blew a little bubble. It made a tiny pop. Conner watched as she began blowing another. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.
Then Conner remembered. When the big bubble popped, he didn’t see the little girl’s face covered in pink. So he didn’t laugh like some people around him did.
Not long after the bubbles, the Johnsons’ baby rolled under the wooden bench and pulled playfully at Conner’s leg. The baby said, “Connn, Connn …”
Conner reached down to play with her, but he stopped himself just in time. He had remembered.
“Sorry, Conner,” Sister Johnson whispered as she struggled to grab the wriggly baby girl.
Conner didn’t hear or see them leave. His big blue eyes were watching Brother Swanson’s fill with tears. His ears were hearing the speaker’s voice soften to a near whisper as he spoke of his love for the Savior. Conner felt warm and tingly inside.
After the meeting, Mother said, “Conner, you were so reverent today. How did you do it?”
Conner smiled. “Every time I thought about something else, I always remembered someone.”
“Whom did you always remember?”
“I always remembered Jesus,” Conner said, “and it felt good!”

I have a friend who was blessed with a beautiful family and a promising career. This changed when an illness left him unable to work, which was followed by a divorce. The years since have been difficult, but his love for his children and the covenants he has made with God have sustained him. One day he learned that his former spouse had remarried and had requested a cancellation of their temple sealing. He was troubled and confused. He sought peace and understanding in the house of the Lord. The day after his visit, I received the following message from him:
““I had an amazing experience in the temple last night. I think it was obvious that I still held quite a bit of resentment. … I knew that I must change, and I have been praying all week to do so. … Last night in the temple I literally felt the Spirit remove the resentment from my heart. … It was such a relief to be freed from it. … An ominous physical burden bearing down on me has been lifted.””
While he still has his challenges, my friend treasures that experience in the house of the Lord, where the liberating power of the love of God has helped him to feel closer to God, more optimistic about life, and less anxious about his future.

All of this came together for me in a very personal way a year or so ago in Manila in the Philippines when a telephone call from my wife reached me in the middle of the night in a hotel room telling me that our only son had suffered a severe accident that threatened his mobility and perhaps his life. He was being flown home to be operated on.

About the time of his anticipated arrival home, I telephoned. There was a brief delay, then the sound of my wife’s voice, quiet and subdued. “Your four sons-in-law are standing around your son administering to him,” she said. “Paul has anointed him, and John is about to give him a blessing. He was worried because you’re not here. This will be the first administration he’s had from anyone but his father—but he’s comforted now.” I joined them in that prayer of blessing on my knees in a lonely hotel room half a world away, a room suddenly made sweet and warm.

My mind went back to a time when I doubted my self-worth and usefulness. I had been feeling a bit restless and perhaps even a bit discontented with my church calling. For many years I had served in various music positions. I loved these callings, and I always tried to do my very best in them. Yet there came a point when I began to feel as though I was in a rut, stuck on the very bottom rung of the “Church-calling ladder.” Other women seemed to float in and out of what appeared to me to be more important callings—serving first as Primary president, then as Gospel Doctrine teacher, then as a counselor in the Relief Society. I wondered what was wrong with me, what the flaw was in my character that the bishop did not feel I was capable of doing anything beyond music, why he felt I could not be trusted with “more.”

Then something said one day in a sacrament meeting caught my attention and humbled me to the core. The speaker, a middle-aged gentleman, had not held any “high-profile” positions in the ward for as long as I had known him. Yet he was steady and true. I knew first-hand of his second-mile efforts as a home teacher, of his behind-the-scenes work with the Scouting program, of his good heart. He began his remarks that day with the phrase, “How grateful I am for the opportunity to serve . . . .” I did not hear anything else he said. The words “how grateful I am” kept ringing in my ears. I felt ashamed of my attitude, ashamed for not having been grateful for the opportunity to serve.

This man was not worried about status or titles; he was sincerely grateful to serve in whatever capacity he was called.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry.
This was the pep talk I recently gave myself the day before my 30th birthday. (It was a melodramatic day, to say the least.) But crying about my birthday is not out of the ordinary for me. I’ve never been a fan of growing up.
(And, in case you’re wondering, my pep talk didn’t work.)
Shocking, really.
I would turn 30, and the world would keep spinning.
So why did I feel like it was about to end?
Well for one, I struggle with anxiety. So there’s that. But I always felt like turning 30 would seal the door to my youth forever. I felt like I hadn’t accomplished enough during my 20s. And after facing challenges during that decade, I was scared of the new responsibilities and trials heading my way (possibly motherhood, a worsening chronic illness, and who knows what else).
As my anxious thoughts spiraled, I said a prayer asking God for comfort, and I started to ponder my past decade of life as a young adult.
What had I accomplished? What had I learned? How had I changed?
And that’s when I focused in on the most important thought that came to mind:
“How did I deepen my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ during this time?”
This changed my perspective.
Being a 20-something-year-old can be a very confusing, heartbreaking, and just plain hard time. Many seem to be thinking the same thing: “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
My early 20s consisted of an ebb and flow of feelings of aimlessness, fear, loneliness, and sometimes even a sense of abandonment from Heavenly Father when my life wasn’t going the way I thought it would.
When I was 24, I felt like I was in the darkest season of my life. But words from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf struck my soul and triggered the start of a deep change in me.
At a worldwide devotional for young adults, he said:
“When I was your age, I had no idea where my life would take me. I definitely didn’t see any dots connecting in front of me.
“But I did trust God. I listened to the advice of loving family and wise friends, and I took small steps of faith, believing that if I did the best I could in the moment, God would take care of the big picture.
“He did. …
“In Proverbs, we find this great promise: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths’ [Proverbs 3:5–6].
“I don’t believe there is a question mark at the end of that verse. No, I think there should be an exclamation point!”1
After hearing Elder Uchtdorf’s words at 24, I committed to using this time of life to trust in the Lord.
And, six years later, on the day before I turned 30, I was hit with the profound truth that, despite the melodrama (and the actual, difficult drama) this is what young adulthood has been for me:
Sacred.

As our youngest son, Clark, was approaching his 12th birthday, he and I were leaving the Church Administration Building when President Harold B. Lee approached and greeted us. I mentioned that Clark would soon be 12, whereupon President Lee turned to him and asked, “What happens to you when you turn 12?”
This was one of those times when a father prays that a son will be inspired to give a proper response. Clark, without hesitation, said to President Lee, “I will be ordained a deacon!”
The answer was the one President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, “Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.”

Years ago I was invited by a dear friend to show up at the church because he needed my support. He was a good friend. When I arrived at the church I was directed into the Bishops office. I sat there with my friend not really knowing what was going on. As the meeting started, I realized that the Bishopric, very lovingly, was holding a court for my friend. I was shocked to hear the allegations and confession of my friend to drug trafficking cocaine all over the world. I was dumbfounded and my mind was spinning and wondering how? He was a returned missionary. I had been in his home numerous times for dinner and social gatherings where the Spirit was truly felt. He was a few years older than me and I looked up to him. I witnessed his testimony and love for the Savior on many occasions. His good parents were both temple workers. He was a good friend and I loved him like a brother. Soon the meeting concluded with love and support expressed by each member of the Bishopric. As Todd and I walked out of the building and into the parking lot, I asked my friend "how, how did it start? How did it happen?" He simply said, "It started small and grew out of control."

At a seminar held in Warsaw, Poland, attended by students and leaders of the Communist party, a student posed this question: “Please don’t be angry, sir, but could you explain the ‘meaning of life?’” Poland’s leading Marxist philosopher reported that as he glanced at the hundreds of pairs of eyes silently staring at the party leadership, he recognized the seriousness of this question and a weakness in their philosophy that has neglected to deal with this challenging problem.
We as members of this church know the meaning of life. It has been revealed in its truthfulness and purity and is available to all who seek, will listen, and believe. The mission and responsibility of this church and its members have been made abundantly clear—to proclaim the Lord’s teachings unto the entire world. We must be prepared to accomplish what the Prophet Joseph Smith proclaimed—to see that “the truth of God [goes] forth boldly, nobly … till it has penetrated every continent … swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished. …” (Documentary History of the Church, vol. 4, p. 540.) The Lord has said: “Prepare ye the way. …” (D&C 65:1.) Then it is our duty to prepare all of our members so that we might develop a strong foundation and belief in the true gospel of Jesus Christ. The Church-wide teacher development program was developed to help accomplish this purpose. It is now in various stages of implementation in the stakes and the wards and in English-speaking missions throughout the world.
The aim of the teacher development program is to improve teaching wherever teaching is done in priesthood quorums, auxiliary organizations, and in our homes so as to bring about worthwhile changes in the lives of boys and girls, men and women. The First Presidency initiated this program knowing full well the importance of the teaching moments in our classrooms and because of their conviction that all teachers can improve. This program combines the most effective teaching techniques with spiritual principles.
This priesthood-sponsored program, directed by the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve, places the responsibility for its success with the stake presidents and then the bishops.
The able and highly competent committee appointed by the First Presidency, with Brother Rex Skidmore as chairman and Brother Ruel Allred, Sherman Sheffield, Stephen Covey, and others, has under inspiration developed what is now considered the most effective teaching program in use anywhere.
You stake and ward leaders have performed magnificently with the instruction given to you through the Regional Representatives of the Twelve in organizing, ordering the material, and getting this program off to an auspicious start. There have been shipped to the wards, stakes, and missions 917,598 copies of instructional material. Even with this vast quantity shipped, we apologize to a few who have yet to receive some material, because your orders far exceeded the quantities estimated. A fourth printing was necessary. All back orders are being distributed this week.
I am sure you would like to know how the teacher development program is progressing. The old adage that nothing succeeds like success certainly applies to this program. A stake teacher development director in Idaho reports, “We have now finished our sixth basic lesson in all of the wards. The stake inservice leaders contact me two weeks before the stake leadership meeting to review the filmstrips so they will be properly prepared for their meetings. There is a strong positive response in our stake. Participants taking the first basic course observed our present teaching and were shocked. Their eyes have been opened to the principles of effective teaching.”
A Regional Representative of the Twelve reports, “Teacher development exceeding expectations. Excellent!”
From California: “All ten wards in our stake are half through the basic course.
“When the Primary began these new inservice lessons, they had only one person teaching the entire group. Now the inservice leader has several Primary workers also as teachers, and they break up into smaller groups so everyone can be involved and report their experiences. Some were concerned with micro teaching. Now they use it and enjoy it.”
From a New York stake: “The teacher development materials are excellent and the concepts aid anyone in teaching. I have even used some of these techniques in the public school system.
“Members are asking to be enrolled in the basic course. They are ‘standing in line,’ my wife being one of them.”
One lady reported her teaching improved after the second lesson. She began to use the “eye to eye” approach. She began to “teach with the spirit and heart rather than with the book.”
This story from a Utah rural area: “Twenty-four years ago, as a young man, I was called to teach a Sunday School class of thirteen- and fourteen-year olds. I thought my first lesson was pretty good, but I didn’t have enough material to last through the class period. During my second lesson, again I was out of material. I resolved it would never happen again, but it did the next Sunday. I gave the books back to the Sunday School superintendent. All of these years I have carried a feeling that I was a failure as a teacher, yet I still wanted to teach.
“Now I have taken the basic course. I know what a teacher should be. I know how to prepare. I know how to involve my class, and now I am teaching and fulfilling my lifelong desire. I have developed a foundation for teaching.”
I am sure you have been impressed with the advice and encouragement that President Joseph Fielding Smith and President Harold B. Lee give to the entire Church membership in the film You Make the Difference. This film, which every stake has in its library, outlines the need and demonstrates the methods for calling the participants and implementing the program. The proper influencing of the behavior of individuals through enlightened knowledge is our challenge.
As you know, the program is in three phases:
First: The eleven-week basic course is conducted every week in wards and branches. When one group of participants is graduated, another group starts the course. All officers and teachers, as well as prospective teachers, at some time, should take the basic course.
Second: The monthly inservice lessons are for all priesthood and auxiliary officers and teachers, and will be a continuous program. Each year a new series of inservice lessons will be prepared. The second series will begin in September 1971. Inservice lessons for subsequent years are now in preparation.
Third: “Supervision in Teaching” will be introduced in September 1971 with a supervision manual and other aids to assist the leaders and teachers to understand this new concept of effective supervision. This concept is not in its traditional use but is supervision using priesthood principles of love and understanding.
This entire teacher development program is being made available to units of the Church all over the world. Translation into sixteen languages is in progress. Non-English-speaking missions and stakes are receiving detailed instructions regarding distribution and suggested programming in their areas.
To develop great teachers takes effort, dedication, faith, and believing—the kind of believing expressed by some graduate students involved in this program in one of the student wards at one of the large California universities: “We have studied this program, and we know the program is inspired. Our problem and challenge is to see that it is properly implemented and put into effective use.”
The Church is now beginning an interesting period when members of this true church in increasing numbers will be able to proclaim “I know,” for they will have been effectively taught.
It has been said that teaching is one of the noblest professions. The Savior gives us some insight into the importance of our teaching responsibilities as he admonished Peter in that great encounter on the seashore when he queried Peter: “… lovest thou me more than these?” And then, to the dismay of Peter, he repeated his instructions three times, saying, “Feed my lambs,” and then, “Feed my sheep. … Feed my sheep.” (John 21:15–17.)
We must understand these instructions and our responsibility to “teach one another the doctrine of the kingdom” (D&C 88:77), but to teach it effectively so that all of us, our children, our children’s children, and generations yet unborn will be able to perceive and comprehend the true meaning of life as proclaimed by the Master, and then have a desire to live it and eventually gain exaltation in the kingdom of our Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

On the Saturday before general conference in October 1856, Elder Franklin D. Richards and a handful of returning missionaries arrived in the Salt Lake Valley. They reported to President Brigham Young that hundreds of pioneer men, women, and children were scattered over the long trail to the valley, facing the early onset of winter. The people were hungry, and many carts and wagons were breaking down. People and animals were dying. All of them would perish unless they were rescued.
Sunday morning President Young assigned all those who would speak that day and during the conference that followed to address the pioneers’ plight. In his address he said:
“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess. It is to save the people. …
“I will tell you that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”2
Cyrus H. Wheelock sat in those meetings. He became a member of the first rescue party that left Salt Lake City on October 7 to search for the Saints scattered on the plains.
Later, George D. Grant, who headed the rescue party, reported to President Young: “It is not of much use for me to attempt to give a description of the situation of these people, for this you will learn from [others] … ; but you can imagine between five and six hundred men, women and children, worn down by drawing hand carts through snow and mud; fainting by the wayside; falling, chilled by the cold; children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding and some of them bare to snow and frost. The sight is almost too much for the stoutest of us; but we go on doing all we can, not doubting nor despairing.”3
The text of “Ye Elders of Israel” may have been on Brother Wheelock’s mind during those difficult days of 1856. The rescuers literally reached out to the weary, hungry, and cold. They cheered them up and showed them the way to Zion in the Salt Lake Valley.

Last summer I received a letter from a woman who has emerged from a long period of Church inactivity. She is ever so anxious for her husband, who as yet is not a member of the Church, to share the joy she now feels.
She wrote of a trip which she, her husband, and their three sons made from the family home to Grandmother’s home in Idaho. While driving through Salt Lake City, they were attracted by the message which appeared on a billboard. The message invited them to visit Temple Square. Bob, the nonmember husband, made the suggestion that a visit would be pleasant. The family entered the visitors’ center, and Father took two sons up a ramp that one called “the ramp to heaven.” Mother and three-year-old Tyler were a bit behind the others, they having paused to appreciate the beautiful paintings which adorned the walls. As they walked toward the magnificent sculpture of Thorvaldsen’s Christus, tiny Tyler bolted from his mother and ran to the base of the Christus, while exclaiming, “It’s Jesus! It’s Jesus!” As Mother attempted to restrain her son, Tyler looked back toward her and his father and said, “Don’t worry. He likes children.”
After departing the center and again making their way along the freeway toward Grandmother’s, Tyler moved to the front seat next to his father. Dad asked him what he liked best about their adventure on Temple Square. Tyler smiled up at him and said, “Jesus.”
“How do you know that Jesus likes you, Tyler?”
Tyler, with a most serious expression on his face, looked up at his father’s eyes and answered, “Dad, didn’t you see his face?” Nothing else needed to be said.
As I read this account, I thought of the statement from the book of Isaiah: “And a little child shall lead them” (Isa. 11:6).

On that frozen morning, I heard shouting and distressed moos in the distance behind me as I ran to get an axe and some rope.
OK, hold on—let’s back up for some context.
Two years before that snowy morning, my family had moved from suburbia to a tiny little plot of farmland in Missouri. Our new property had some forested land to explore and a small pond, which was nice, but I wasn’t a fan of all the animals that I was now expected to help take care of.
Now, back to that cold winter morning. We could tell there was a problem when one of our poor little cows didn’t come to his food dish at the regular time, even after we shook the food in a metal tin. They were trained to come running when we shook the tin. It seemed to be some sort of angelic summons to them, but the tactic didn’t work that morning.
We kept waiting and soon heard distressed moos off in the distance. We went to investigate and discovered that the cow had walked out into the middle of the frozen pond and had fallen in. The pond was only about five feet deep, but the cow was quite small and had to bounce on his hind legs to keep his head above the frigid water.
And that’s when the yelling started.
My parents directed me to run to our toolshed a quarter of a mile away and bring back an axe that we could use to break up the ice, as well as some rope. The moment I got back to the pond, we tried to use the rope to pull the cow out but quickly discovered a couple of things: one, none of us actually knew how to tie a lasso, and two, the only rope available was closer in strength and size to twine. It seemed to me that our little cow was a goner.
My dad and mom really cared about that cow, so my dad led the charge, axe in hand, and they started to literally chop their way through the ice towards the cow, clearing a 20-foot-long path for the cow to walk out of the pond. Everyone was worried that either the cow would kick my dad or that my dad would accidentally hit the cow with the axe, but somehow the crazy plan worked. The cow didn’t drown!
But the worry wasn’t over. As soon as the cow got out of the water, he started shivering like an old washing machine on spin cycle. My parents were freezing too, but they were more worried about the cow. My dad ran to get a campfire started in the middle of the field while my mom ran to get some quilts. Us kids corralled the cow close to the fire so that he wouldn’t run away. Soon, he warmed up enough to stop shivering and eat some of his hard-won breakfast.

Welcome to the butterfly garden. Please move slowly, pay attention, and do not touch the butterflies.
Later …
How was the butterfly garden?
It was quiet and peaceful. I was kind of stressed at school today, but being in the garden made me feel better.
That’s how I feel when I go to the temple. I leave all my worries behind. I feel God’s love there.
I can’t wait until I’m old enough to go inside the temple. Can we visit the temple grounds together?
Of course!
This story took place in the USA.

He hopped on one foot to the backyard. Scrunching down on the sidewalk, he looked to see if the birds had eaten the bread crumbs he had put out for them before breakfast.
“Oh, oh—ants!” he said. Ants were carrying off the rest of the bread crumbs. Then Kevin spotted a tiny ant trying to lift a bread crumb twice its size.
Backward and forward the ant staggered, clutching the crumb. And each time it dropped the crumb the ant picked it up again.
“C’mon, Ant, you can do it,” Kevin said.
At last the ant balanced the bread crumb just right and scurried off home with it.
“Good for you,” said Kevin.

The first story that I would like to share is about a person who is special to me. This person is my mother.

My mother’s name is Emma Broederlow Lobendahn. She was born in Savai’i, Western Samoa on August 14, 1921. As a young child, she was sickly and at the age of 13 became gravely ill, bedridden and in pain for months. Despite many visits to the doctors, nothing seemed to be working so my grandmother went to the Branch President and asked him to give my mother a blessing. The branch president sent a message to the members and asked them to fast for my mother the next day. My mother shared this about the blessing:

“I remember the branch president laying his hands on my head to give me a blessing. As he prayed he blessed me with many things – the one thing that I remember are these words: ‘Emma, you are not going to die yet – the Lord has work for you to do.’” (Grant Underwood, Pioneers of the Pacific)

As a result of the fast and blessing, my mother was completely healed in two weeks. She was never sickly again, and to this day remains physically strong at the age of 94. It is her testimony that she was preserved by the Lord for an important work that she would do later in her life in Fiji.

Continuing my mother’s story, she moved to Fiji in 1943, where she was married and started a family. Back then, the church had not yet been established in Fiji, and she has shared that she missed attending church meetings. Over ten years later, in 1954, the first LDS missionaries to arrive in Fiji held a meeting to organize the church in Suva, my mother, my two older brothers and myself attended. This is what she has shared about that meeting:

“There were fourteen of us at that meeting. The meeting was wonderful – it felt good to be among members of the church and I was happy. Something dear to my heart was finally happening. I was going to be able to renew my baptismal covenants every Sunday during the blessing and passing of the Sacrament. I was going to have the church in my children’s lives. (Grand Underwood, Pioneers of the Pacific)

The missionaries who organized the meeting and began the work of the church in Fiji were Elder Boyd Harris and Elder Sheldon Abbott. A few weeks after the church was organized, they went to see my mother and asked her to be the Relief Society President. After not attending church services for the previous decade and without much formal education, she felt inadequate to accept the calling. She said,

“I told them that I could not do it – that the responsibility was too much for me. I was afraid that I would make mistakes – the thought of being a Relief Society President scared me.” (Grant Underwood, Pioneers of the Pacific)

Over a period of several days, the Elders came back a second and then a third time to extend the calling to her. I want you to listen carefully to how she responded, despite her fears:

“When the Elders came back the third time I knew that I had to do something different. I had to take my fears and worries to the Lord. When they told me that the Lord wanted me to be the Relief Society President – I felt different – a peaceful feeling came over me and my mind went back to a place and time in Samoa when I was a young girl who was very ill and thought that I would die. I fondly remembered the blessing that my Branch President gave me: “Emma you are not going to die, the Lord has work for you to do.” I told Elder Harris and Elder Abbott that I would accept the calling and I wanted to serve to the best of my ability. Once I said “yes” followed by diligence and sacrifices, the Lord blessed me by helping me with good health and strength and above all with His spirit to do my best. (Grant Underwood, Pioneers of the Pacific)

During one of our many sharing times, she proclaimed: “Accepting the call as Relief Society President was one of the best things that I have ever done.”

Even though she felt fear and personally unqualified to take on this calling, her faith qualified her for the work. My mother served as Relief Society President of the Suva Branch of the Fiji Suva Mission from 1954 to 1977, a total of 23 years. As her daughter, I remember many of the things that she did as part of that calling, which she held for my entire childhood, teen, and early adult years.

She fed the labor missionaries who had been brought in from her native Samoa meals regularly while they built the first chapel in Fiji. She organized bazaars for the women in the branch to sell goods and fundraise money to support their families. There were times I remember vividly just the two of us would be present for Relief Society meetings, where she would sing an opening hymn, say an opening prayer, read the lesson aloud to me, sing a closing hymn and say a closing prayer. When I got older, she would often use me as her visiting teaching companion during her travel sometimes requiring several days to fulfill her leadership assignment. All of this was done with four of her own young children to care for.

My purpose in sharing these virtues and accomplishments is to emphasize the extraordinary transformation in my mother from being fearful and lacking confidence in her abilities, to someone who was an effective leader exercising faith, hope and charity with an eye single to the glory of God.

Our friend Zuleika comes from Alegrete, Brazil. Although her family was not religious, at age 12, Zuleika began to read the Bible and visit local churches, searching to know more about God. With her parents’ reluctant permission, she studied with the missionaries, gained a testimony, and was baptized. Zuleika told me: “During the discussions, I was shown a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and told about the sealing ordinances. From that moment, I had the desire of one day entering into the house of the Lord and having an eternal family.”

It took me a long time, many years of preparation, to make it into orbit. I learned that important things don’t come easily or quickly. I learned that persistence pays off. I also learned that you have to be prepared when the opportunity comes. I started preparing for the space program long before there was a space program. I could pass the six-day astronaut physical examination because I had lived the Word of Wisdom all my life. When they started accepting applications for the astronaut program, I had already completed my education. I already knew how to fly jet airplanes. When they ran an FBI check on me, there was nothing in the record that would disqualify me. Now, you young men of the Aaronic Priesthood, this evening you have already started to prepare for what you will someday become. I encourage you to prepare well.

The day the Laurels went camping along the Colorado River, I had an important announcement to make. I had decided to begin meeting with the missionaries. As my new friends exclaimed in delight, I interrupted, cautioning them not to expect too much. “I’m not getting baptized or anything like that. I just need a more organized way to learn about your beliefs.” My friends smiled at each other knowingly.
As the weekend progressed, I found that just being in an LDS environment was educational. The first thing I noticed was that Mormons prayed more than any other church people I had met; and in my search for religion, I had met many of nearly every faith. Their prayers were different. They had no book of prayers, like the one my grandmother had owned. They just talked to God. They lived what they learned in church, too. This was no Sunday religion. It was all day, every day, and I liked that.
In the evening, we spread out our sleeping bags and admired the billions of stars in the sky. Some of the girls began asking me questions. How had I been introduced to the Church? Where had I gone to church before? How did I feel about what I was learning?
I didn’t know how to answer that last question. How could I describe my confusion without hurting their feelings? No other church had affected me this way. I had spent hours sorting through LDS doctrines, trying to guess which ones were true. I had always hated guessing. I wanted to know the truth. But there was no research method to prove the Church one way or another. I sighed. “It’s hard,” I admitted. “Everything you teach is so different, and it’s going to take a while to know what’s true.”
“I know what’s true,” one girl said quietly. Then she bore her testimony, confidently, without embarrassment.
I felt that feeling again—the feeling I had felt when I was ten and heard the story of the First Vision while visiting the Los Angeles Temple. It was also the feeling I felt when I heard an especially moving lesson. I didn’t know what the feeling meant, but I suspected it was important. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to know, to really know and not just to guess.
“You said you know these things. How do you know?” I asked.
“I’ve prayed about them. You’ve learned about Joseph Smith, haven’t you? About how he was searching for truth and went into the grove to pray?”
I nodded. “Yes, and I’ve tried to pray, but God isn’t going to come down and tell me the answers.”
“Well, probably not, but he doesn’t have to come down in person in order to talk to us. He talks to us all the time. All we have to do is learn how to listen.”
I sat up, interested. “I’ve prayed before, and other churches have told me God answers prayers, but no one ever told me how. You mean I can ask him if your church is true, and he’ll tell me?”
“Of course. That’s how I did it.”
I was amazed. “If it’s that easy, you would think everyone would join your church.”
My friends laughed. Then they began teaching me how to get a testimony. A few months later, I had my answers. And just after my 17th birthday, I was baptized. They were right. All I had to do was listen.