Gospel Story Finder

My paper was due Monday. Todd had really loused it up. I had to trash the whole thing, all seven pages of it. Luckily, I stumbled across something about Jesse and Frank James, so I chose them for my new analysis. I typed my paper in a hurry on Monday morning, just before my class. It was pretty much a rough draft.

I thought my paper would be a “piece o’ cake.” Todd’s the reason I only got a C on the paper. Thanks a lot, Todd. But I guess sometimes it’s not such a bad thing to be wrong.

Years ago, while immersed in the task of preparing a talk for general conference, I was aroused from a sound sleep with an idea impressed strongly upon my mind. Immediately I reached for pencil and paper near my bed and wrote as rapidly as I could. I went back to sleep, knowing I had captured that great impression. The next morning I looked at that piece of paper and found, much to my dismay, that my writing was totally illegible! I still keep pencil and paper at my bedside, but I write more carefully now.

“Happy birthday to you!” everyone sang.
Chakell blew out all the candles on her cake in one breath. She grinned as her family cheered.
She was 10 years old today, and this birthday was going to be the best one ever!
“You’re growing up so fast,” Mom said.
“Now you’re in the double digits!” said Dad in his booming voice.
“Pretty soon you’ll be as old as I am,” said Chantele, her older sister.
Chakell’s smile slipped a little. “Well, I’m not that old yet!” she said. “I’m only 10.”
“But next year you’ll be in Young Women, and then you’ll be heading to middle school,” Chantele said. “Then you’ll be learning how to drive, and soon you’ll be all grown up!”
Chakell’s stomach suddenly felt funny. Her stomach hurt a lot lately, especially when she worried about the future.
She ignored her stomach and smiled. “Let’s have some cake!”
Later that night, Chakell sat on her bed and flipped through one of her favorite books. But she wasn’t focused on what she was reading. Her stomach still felt like it was being twisted.
Birthdays always made Chakell think about growing up. The older she got, the scarier the future seemed. Not knowing what was going to happen made her nervous!
Worried thoughts kept coming to Chakell’s mind.
I’ll never be a kid again!
What if I’m not smart enough for middle school?
What if I don’t have any friends?
My whole life will change!
Hot tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes and sniffed.
Then she heard a soft knock on the door. “Are you crying?” Mom asked. She sat on Chakell’s bed. “Didn’t you have a good birthday?”
Chakell scooted over, and Mom gave her a hug.
“My birthday was great,” she said, leaning on Mom’s shoulder. “But I don’t want to grow up! I’m so scared.”
Mom stroked her hair. “Growing up can be scary. But it can be fun too!”
Chakell wiped the tears from her eyes. “It doesn’t sound very fun,” she said. “It just sounds hard.”
Mom nodded. “It can be hard sometimes,” she said. “But you can be brave! Did you know that your life is meant to be an adventure? Heavenly Father sent you here to have amazing experiences.”
Chakell looked at the book she was holding. She loved reading about adventures. She hadn’t thought of life as an adventure before.
“But how can I be brave when I don’t know what will happen?”
“That’s why we have faith.” Mom smiled. “Faith is letting Heavenly Father lead us and knowing that He will help us be brave. He’s helped me be brave lots of times when I’ve been afraid of new things. And He will help you too.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Mom said. “You can pray and ask for help anytime.”
That made Chakell feel a bit better. “OK.”
Before she went to bed, Chakell got on her knees and prayed. “Please help me to be brave,” she whispered. “Help me to not be afraid of the future.”
As she finished, Chakell felt a calm, peaceful feeling. The future might seem a little scary. But with Heavenly Father’s help, it could also be an amazing adventure!
This story took place in the USA.

When I was young, my family and my Primary teachers asked me if I was going to go on a mission when I was older. I always said yes. When I was 12 years old, I was ordained to the office of deacon. My leaders started saying that I would be going on a mission in just seven years. It seemed so far away.
When I was ordained a teacher, the reminders of an upcoming mission became more frequent. When I was ordained a priest, they became even more frequent. I started to get worried because I had only three years left.
I liked the idea of going on a mission, as some of my older brothers had done. But the thought of being away from my family for two years in another part of the world was frightening. I realized that I was afraid to go on a mission because I didn’t have a strong desire to go.
I told Francisca, my sister, about my problem, and she sat down next to me and said, “Isaí, I understand what you’re saying, and I have just two things to say to you. The first is that a mission is where people can have the Spirit 100 percent of the time when their eye is single to the glory of God. The second thing is to ask the Lord to help your desire to go on a mission grow. The Lord will help you.”
I followed her advice and started to pray that my desire to serve a mission would become strong.
April 6, 2000, was a day of decision for me because that was the day my home teaching companion left to go on his mission. I went to the airport to see him off. When he got on the plane, I felt a nervous excitement about doing the same thing. But instead of feeling afraid, I had a feeling of peace. I concluded that these feelings were the answer to my prayers. I knew the Lord wanted me to serve a mission. From that day on, I had a firm desire to go on a mission when I was 19.
I was called to serve in the California San Jose Mission, and I have just recently returned. My years there were the best of my life. I found that even though I was far away from my family, when I had hard times or needed help, the Spirit of the Lord comforted and helped me. I came to know and love my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I could say with certainty that the Book of Mormon is true. My testimony of living prophets and of the Restoration grew. I came to love the people I was serving. And I learned that the gift of tongues is real—because I learned to speak and teach in English.
What I thought would be a big sacrifice became the greatest blessing in my life.

On one occasion, one of my counselors, J. B. Haws, and I were walking between apartment complexes when we met a young man in the parking lot. We stopped to say hello and found out that he was moving out of our stake. We talked for a moment and discovered that he was a returned missionary facing questions about his faith. My counselor is a master teacher who connects with people easily. Answering questions like these was natural and normal for J. B. I could see in this young man’s eye a light that may have been missing for some time reappear as they talked.
It was obvious that J. B. was interested in him and in his questions and concerns. The young man opened himself up because J. B. showed compassion. My counselor’s “bowels were filled” with love, and he had a desire to understand this young man without judging him. J. B. asked if we could visit him once he settled into his new apartment. The young man nodded, mobile numbers were exchanged, and a promise to follow up with him was made.
Before we left, we asked if there was anything we could do to help. He said, “Stopping to say hello was one of the most important things you could have done for me today.” Later that evening, I thought to myself, “If J. B. and I had not been out ministering, we may never have met this young man.”
It seems the Lord knew that we would be ministering that evening, so He placed this young man in our path—trusting we would see him and minister to him.

Get tough with yourself. President Spencer W. Kimball gave us a powerful example in a talk to the youth of Stockholm, Sweden. Describing his own boyhood, he said:

“As I was out alone, milking the cows, or putting up the hay, I had time to think. I mulled it over in my mind and made this decision: ‘I, Spencer Kimball, will never taste any form of liquor. I, Spencer Kimball, will never touch tobacco. I will never drink coffee, nor will I ever touch tea—not because I can explain why I shouldn’t, except that the Lord said not to.’ He said those things were an abomination. There are many other things that are, too, that are not in the Word of Wisdom. But I made up my mind.

“That’s the point I am trying to make. I made up my mind then, as a little boy: ‘I will never touch those things.’ And so, having made up my mind, it was easy to follow it, and I did not yield. There were many temptations that came along, but I did not even analyze it; I did not stop and measure it and say, ‘Well, shall I or shall I not?’ I always said to myself: ‘But I made up my mind I would not. Therefore, I do not.’

“I’m a little older than any of you here tonight, and I want to just say that I will soon go into another year and that I have never tasted tea, nor coffee, nor tobacco, nor liquor of any kind, nor drugs. Now that may sound very presumptuous and boasting to you, but I am only trying to make this point: that if every boy and girl—as he or she begins to grow a little more mature and becomes a little more independent of his friends and his family and all—if every boy and girl would make up his or her mind, ‘I will not yield,’ then no matter what the temptation is: ‘I made up my mind. That’s settled.’” (In Conference Report, Stockholm Sweden Area Conference, 1975, pp. 86–87.)

She was shy. I was outgoing. Why was she getting all the attention?
This question must have passed through my mind a million times every Sunday during my early teen years. Donna Gilliam was in my Beehive class, a quiet, pretty girl whose parents were deaf. Because of this she knew sign language perfectly. And all the adults thought that was so sweet. She would translate at Young Women functions, and the mothers would cry. She would translate at everything. And everyone, except me it seemed, was deeply moved.
That was a time in my life when I was selfish, wanting attention, wanting to be in the spotlight. But competing with Donna was impossible. In her shy way, she, and her family too, found a special place in our meetings and in the hearts of the ward members. Nevertheless, my jealousy continued.
A month after my fourteenth birthday, my mother was in a very serious car accident. Though she did not die, she suffered serious injuries. She had to stay in the hospital in traction for a month and a half. The accident happened in November, and it soon became clear that our mother would be spending Christmas in the hospital. Because it was important to include her in all the family activities we could, that meant we too would be spending Christmas in the hospital.
Others in my family looked forward to that Christmas as a “special experience” or more likely a growing experience. I viewed it as plain terrible.
I wasn’t much of a spiritual uplift to my family on Christmas Eve. I isolated myself in the corner of the hospital room and just sat there feeling sorry for myself. We were all just looking at each other, getting ready to open our Christmas presents, but somehow the usual anticipation and excitement were missing.
That’s when Donna walked in.
“Hello, Sister Fee,” she said quietly to my mother as her parents came in behind her. “We just came by for a minute. We thought we might sing.”
We all looked up in surprise. Her parents were deaf! How could they sing? I put my presents to the side and lifted my head in interest. I wasn’t exactly happy that they were going to sing, considering my jealousy of Donna, but I listened anyway.
I wasn’t at all prepared for the feelings that burst from within me as I listened to their soft voices sing “Silent Night.” Their hands moved in simultaneous motions, telling of the Christ child and heavenly peace. Tears spilled from my eyes, though I tried to control them. I heard the soft crying of my mother from the hospital bed. Donna’s eyes were tear-filled too. It became all too clear to me that I had been unfair to her.
When the song ended, their hands rested at their sides. We all looked at each other, overcome with emotion. Then they left, as quietly as they had come. Still in the corner of the room, I pondered the new perspective I had gained. Why had I ever been jealous of her? She had a very special talent. She and her family had brought a special spirit into our Christmas, changing it from a gloomy one into a celebration of renewal and hope. The Spirit assured me that my mom would be okay. That Spirit also brought me a new realization that I had talents too.
Right there in that hospital room I then promised myself that I would work on my own talents and stop being jealous of others. With that goal in mind, I found peace within myself. The song repeated softly in my head, “Silent night, holy night.”
All was calm in my heart.

I started going to church with Joe, and we made a plan to deal with my concerns. The first step was to identify what, exactly, bothered me about the gospel. We bought a small journal that I brought with me every Sunday. Whenever someone made a comment that irritated me, looked at a scripture with a perspective that I thought seemed odd, or talked about a policy that rubbed me the wrong way, I wrote down my feelings.
I scribbled in that journal for months. I would say things like, “I hate it when people say … ,” “Doesn’t anyone fact-check?” and “That makes no sense to me.” Expressing my feelings as I had them made them easier for me to understand and process. Before, when something bothered me, I would hold on to it all day, and it would poison my church experience. But as I wrote in my journal, I became free to enjoy more of church, in between the moments I struggled with. I was getting more out of it than I had in a long time.
Now that I had identified what bothered me, the next step was determining why these things bugged me. As we would eat Sunday dinner, Joe and I would discuss what I’d written in my journal. Sometimes I would simply say, “This is how I feel. I don’t know why.” Figuring things out took a lot of discussion, personal thought, and prayer. One thing I’ve always believed is that prayer is the most important and accurate source of information on pretty much everything.
Working together, Joe and I realized that when you know who you are and what you believe, it builds a wall of protection around your heart. And so, after a while of writing in my journal and discussing it with Joe and with Heavenly Father, I ran out of criticism regarding the Church.

Peace McBride, an apprentice seamstress, and her mistress, Mrs. Root, have heard the Prophet Joseph Smith preach, studied the Book of Mormon, and been baptized into the Church. Now Peace has received Sister Root’s permission and the necessary money to visit her family in a distant county to share her joy in the gospel with them.
On the eve of a brand new decade, December 31, 1839, Peace was bundled in a warm cloak and sitting on top of a coach. Only something as important as the gospel could make Peace take such a journey. Sister Root had tried for days to find someone who was traveling toward the town of Chester Springs, but there were few travelers this time of year. Even so, not a seat was left inside the coach, and no one had been willing to give up his seat to the young girl. I won’t think of the cold, Peace decided. I’ll think of how warm I was after my baptism, of Sister Root’s warm parlor, of anything but the cold.
Cheerfully she hugged a paper-wrapped parcel to her chest. It was Sister Root’s copy of the Book of Mormon. She had given it to Peace as the excited girl had boarded the stage. “I shouldn’t let you be doing this,” Sister Root had fretted. “But since you’re going, here, take the book. It won’t do you much good to just talk about it—your folks need a chance to read it.”
Feeling cold creep around her toes as the coach got farther and farther from Philadelphia, Peace wriggled them and thought about the past few weeks. There had been such a change in her employer! Peace could remember when sour words and slaps were served up regularly to her. Sister Root’s whole manner had changed from the time that she first listened to the Prophet.
Glancing around, Peace noticed that the slush in the road had frozen. She stomped her feet and moved her arms to keep warm. Finally she saw the inn up ahead. It was a two-day trip home, and whenever she made it, she always stayed there.
After a warm meal, Peace felt better and hurried to her room. She knew that the coach would leave shortly after dawn, and she needed all the sleep that she could get. Wrapping herself in the quilts, she drifted peacefully to sleep.
Several hours later she awoke as cold again gripped her. The cozy little room that she had enjoyed in the summer was far from any heat source. Seeing frost forming around the window and on the panes, Peace knew that it was frightfully cold. Reaching for her cloak, she hastily put it on over her nightclothes. Back under the covers, she shivered until she was warm enough to fall asleep again.
The frost was so thick on the panes when Peace awoke a second time that light from the feeble sunrise hardly penetrated the room. She dressed under the covers, then hurried to the gathering room. The other travelers were already huddled around the fire, so she had to stand behind them, where she could barely feel its warmth.
A warm breakfast and cheerful words from the inn-keeper helped. Bracing herself, Peace again took her seat on top of the coach. This time she wore all the clothes that she had brought with her. Yet, before noon, her throat was scratchy. By evening, she was really sick. As the coach approached Chester Springs, she was so ill that she hardly knew what was happening around her.
A kind farmer going her way agreed to take Peace to her family’s farm. It was only two miles outside of town, but to Peace the trip took forever. Each time the wagon hit a rut, her head seemed to explode with pain.
Hearing her mother’s voice was almost like being in heaven. Peace tried to rise from where she lay in the back of the farmer’s wagon, but she sank back weakly.
“Peace!” her mother cried. “Whatever are you doing here?” She bustled around and fussed as the farmer and Mr. McBride carried the girl into the house.
It was bliss for Peace to lie in a soft, warm bed in the safety of her home. Her mother helped undress her and started to take the paper-wrapped parcel from her.
“No!” Peace mumbled. “I need to keep this with me. It’s why I came here, and it’s very important.”
“Important or not,” her mother said firmly, “it’s going on the dresser. It will be there when you get better.”
It was a week before Peace felt well enough to even sit up. She had developed a fever and a deep cough and was able to do little but lie there and try to get well.
“You’re awake!” her mother said cheerfully one morning as she came into Peace’s room. “After breakfast and a wash, you’ll feel much better, I’m sure.”
Peace smiled at her mother. It was so good to be home. Looking over at the dresser, she noticed that the parcel was gone. “Where did my book go?”
“I have it, but not for long.”
Peace looked up in surprise at the angry tone of her mother’s voice.
“How did you come by such a book,” her mother asked.
“Sister Root gave it to me.”
“I should never have let you go off on your own.”
“But, Mother, you know I had to. It was an opportunity for the whole family for me to train with such a great dressmaker.”
“She promised to watch over you!”
Peace smiled at her mother and hoped to get her in a better mood. “She watched over me very well. Do you know anything about the Book of Mormon?”
“Reverend Thompson said that the book is of the devil. He told me to burn it!”
Peace sat up in bed. “You didn’t, did you?” she cried.
“Not yet.” Her mother’s face softened. “It seemed to mean so much to you. And you came so far to bring it to us. I’ll admit that I was a little curious about it, because you value it, so I read a little of it.”
“Did it sound like the devil wrote it?” Peace asked softly.
“Well, no,” her mother admitted and smiled back at Peace. “I read a beautiful story about the Savior visiting a strange people in a land that I never heard of.”
“Bountiful?”
“Yes, that’s it. I have to say that it was a beautiful tale!”
“Oh, Mother,” Peace said fervently, “it’s more than a tale. It’s true—every word of it! If you read about it and pray about it, you’ll know that too.”
“Reverend Thompson said that no God-loving person would get involved with this book. He’s a good man, and he’s been our minister since you were a baby.”
Peace didn’t know what to say. Reverend Thompson was a good man. He’d been more than kind to her over the years. “Have the Mormon elders been in this area?”
“Yes, they have,” her mother answered. “Why?”
“Did many people listen and join the Church?”
“Yes. In fact, the number of people in our church has dwindled. And Reverend Thompson is very unhappy about it.”
“There, Mother. That’s your answer. Reverend Thompson is afraid that he’ll lose his congregation.”
Now it was her mother’s turn to look thoughtful. “You may be right. …”
“Mother, will you and Father read the whole book—and pray sincerely about it? Then if you have any questions, we can ask the elders to come visit.”
“I’m still not sure.”
“Please? It means so much to me.”
Peace’s mother loved her oldest daughter very much. She had been parted from her for a long time, and she felt that it wouldn’t hurt to do as Peace asked.
“All right. I will read it, and I’ll ask your father if he will too. I can’t promise more than that.”
“I know,” Peace said understandingly. “Sister Root didn’t want to believe, either. She wouldn’t let me be baptized until she knew more about the Church.”
“Rightly so,” her mother agreed. “I guess that maybe she was caring for you well.”
With just a few days left till she had to go back, Peace spent all the time that she could with her two brothers and three little sisters. She talked to them about the big city and the things that she had seen. “Not long ago I went into a big church near Mistress Root’s shop. There was a man speaking there,” she told them. “His name is Joseph Smith. He’s a very great man, and he’s a prophet.”
“Like Moses?” Jimmy asked in wonder.
“Yes, like Moses. When he talked, I felt that he had great power. We all felt it, and it changed my life.” She told them all that had happened to her. She told them, too, about the Savior and His visit to the New World. They listened eagerly as she told them stories from the Book of Mormon.
Because it was winter, the McBrides spent most of their time indoors. Peace read the Book of Mormon to her father as he mended harnesses and to her mother while she knitted. They listened intently to what Peace read, and her brothers and sisters did too.
Peace attended sacrament meeting at the small branch. Afterward she invited the elders to visit her family. When they came, her father asked many questions. He didn’t say much but nodded his head as the elders answered him.
The time soon came when Peace had to leave. Her heart was heavy because her parents still had not committed themselves to joining the Church.
Her father took her in their wagon to the inn and placed her bag inside the boot of the coach. Peace had a seat inside this time. She also had a warm quilt that her mother made for her to wrap up in.
“Good-bye, Peace,” her father told her, giving her a big hug. “I know what you want from your mother and me. I’m proud of you for believing your religion enough to suffer hardship to try to bring it to us. We’re not ready yet. Don’t give up on us, though. Just give us time.”
Peace left with a warm feeling. She knew that no matter what happened, she had done what she could to teach her family. Now she would give time and the Holy Ghost a chance to finish the work.

A friend of mine had planned on going on a mission but was having doubts. I shared with him my feelings about missions, the great importance of them. I then bore my testimony of my great love for the gospel and for Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. It must have made my friend think. He is now planning for his mission. He has already submitted his papers.
My advice to you is to wait for the right moment to discuss this with him. If you’re afraid of being too pushy, take it one step at a time. If you don’t know the right things to say, ask Heavenly Father to help you.
Kaylene Miller, 15Magna, Utah

I recall the story of President Kimball's visit to a stake conference. They had taken a break from their long stake presidency meetings with Elder Kimball. One of the members of the stake presidency went into the men's restroom and to his horror, found that someone had pulled all the paper towels out of the dispenser and had then tossed them all over the floor - probably an energetic 4 year old! He immediately started out to find someone to clean up the mess.

As he was leaving the restroom, he passed President Kimball, just coming in to the restroom. Without a word, President Kimball stooped down and began to pick up the papers and place them into the wastebasket. We serve because there is a need, and we serve now.

As the only Church member in my family, I had to overcome many obstacles to serve a full-time mission. One of these was financial, and I spent countless hours looking for jobs so I could earn enough money for my mission. Finally I found a job watching over someone’s home. Although I made only a small amount, I managed to pay tithing. Then I found another job teaching English to three children. It more than doubled my salary, and I could keep both jobs. What a blessing! After working for some months—always paying my tithing—I finally received my call to serve in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission.
Sometimes I think of the Lord as a master and myself as one of His servants. If I am a lazy servant who does nothing but sleep, eat, and entertain myself, will He be able to reward me? No. But if I labor diligently, will our Master withhold His blessings from me? No. He will reward me more than I deserve. And if we are obedient to the law of tithing, how generous will our blessings be then? He has said that there will not be enough room to receive them (see Mal. 3:10; 3 Ne. 24:10). This is the Lord’s wonderful promise to all who pay tithing.
Eng Bun Huoch, Ta Khmau Branch, Phnom Penh Cambodia South District

Elder Michael Mátyás of Redmond, Washington, who was serving in Veszprém, remembers the first copy he gave out. It was to Sister Petö Éva, a member of about six months. Sister Petö had to leave the meeting before the announcement was made. “I stopped her and said, ‘I know you have to go, but before you go, there’s something I want to give you.’ And I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon. She started crying then. Since that was the first one I had given out, it was fairly emotional for me, too,” he says.

(Bill) Magnify our Callings President Gordon B. Hinckley declared that every new member of the Church needs three things: a friend, a responsibility, and constant nourishment “by the good word of God” (Moroni 6:4).
We were given a responsibility, a calling, when we first joined the church and we have continued to have opportunities to serve ever since. In fact, we still remember our very first calling as co-editors of the ward newsletter, a calling in which we served shortly after our baptism.
Soon after joining the church, we also participated in a request that each member of the church submit pedigree charts listing four generations of their ancestors. We were impressed how many life-long members had generations going back 5, 6, 8 or even more! As new and the only members in our family, it was a challenge for us to complete even four generations on ours.
Struggling to find her ancestors, you can imagine Dianna’s surprise when the bishop called her to be the ward family history consultant. Except for that exercise, she had little experience in compiling family history information. Though her background was limited, yet she was expected to help others, and herself included, to know how to do the research for locating ancestors and to prepare names for the temple.
However, we learned that many blessings come from serving in Church callings to those who walk with faith to fulfill callings for which they feel unqualified, even discovering new talents while prayerfully going about fulfilling their calling.
From that calling has come growth, and a continuing passion to research her family history and she has been teaching family history on campus for the past 12 years. Later we were also called to serve as the directors of the Laie Family History Center. Family history has become a real avocation for us. In fact, maybe perhaps too much in our children’s minds, since most of our family trips included visits to libraries and cemeteries. Consequently, they now request pictures of the living along with our pictures of burial plots when we return from one of our trips!

In addition to the LDS recipients, there was at least one Scout recognized who came from an LDS-sponsored troop but who is not a member of the Church. John C. Eisenhart received a Medal of Merit for saving his grandfather’s life when the grandfather fell from a six-foot ladder and fractured his skull. John used a handkerchief compress to stop the bleeding, and then called an emergency squad. The wound required 61 stitches. “I was glad that I had had my Boy Scout first aid training,” John said. He is senior patrol leader of Troop 51, Newark Ward, Columbus Ohio East Stake.

Let me share with you an experience that taught me this lesson very well. My mission call was originally to Brazil. When I arrived at the old LTM in Provo, I was the only sister who would be learning Portuguese. The biggest problem was studying the language. The rules forbade elders studying with sisters and I didn't see how I was ever going to learn to speak Portuguese if I couldn't practice with someone. Finally, as a compromise, I was allowed to study with an elder if we sat in the cafeteria. Generally though, I spent much of my study time alone. One day I was studying the discussion about the Savior's role as Creator and Redeemer. I was alone with my thoughts and with the truths of the lesson. In that tiny classroom I had one of the most significant testimony building experiences of my life. The sweetness of redemption and the love of the Savior filled my heart and I felt his encouragement.

Because we were unable to get visas to travel to Brazil, my district was sent to the New York City Mission. When we arrived the mission president told me that I was creating severe problems for him because he now had an uneven number of sisters and no apartments in the mission would accommodate three sisters. After a few days of pondering, however, he sent me to Manchester, Connecticut.

It wasn't long after arriving in Manchester that I met Jane, a young woman who was investigating the Church. Unfortunately I had replaced her favorite sister. She even wrote to the mission president about having me exchanged for her favorite sister but the mission president denied her request. One night Jane had come to our apartment for a lesson. It just happened to be that lesson on Jesus Christ, the Creator and Redeemer. From the minute we started the lesson something was wrong. Jane was acting flippant, almost rude. She wouldn't answer questions except with silly or inane answers. I tried to be patient, but finally, I could stand the mockery no longer. I slammed the flip chart shut and said, "this is too important to me to continue with you acting this way. Either cut the smart stuff and listen or get out."

Jane accepted my gentle invitation and got out. We didn't see her for days. My companions were sure that I had offended our golden contact and driven her from the Church. I was almost sure I had. It was gloomy. I wondered why the Lord had called me to Brazil, sent me through an intensive language course, just so that I could go to Connecticut and offend people in English.

After what seemed forever, but I think was really only about two weeks, Jane called and invited us to her home for a slide show. We arrived somewhat wary but Jane launched into a history of her family vacations. Jane's travelogue covered most of the eastern seaboard and then headed west. Suddenly, a slide of Temple Square in Salt Lake City flashed onto the wall. Jane said, "This is Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, the headquarters of the Church I want to join."

We were amazed and thrilled. Jane was baptized and two months later I was reassigned to the Phillippines, the Church having given up on getting me a visa to Brazil. Jane served a mission in Arizona a few months later. After her mission she called me. She said that on that night I had told her to listen or get out she had made up her mind to try an experiment before she came to the discussion. She had read the Book of Mormon completely and knew it was true. She knew what we were teaching her was true. But, she said, "I didn't know if it was important." She decided to test us by being obnoxious. She told herself that she would know whether the truth was important by how we responded to her rude behavior. She then told me that she knew that the sister I replaced would probably have been so afraid of hurting her feelings that she would have let her be rude all night. She then said, "you made me know how important the gospel was and the reason I had to get out of the room was that I knew I had to make a life-changing decision."

Did I waste my time in the LTM learning a language I never used? Were my three months in the New York City mission a waste? Maybe if I were to use the world's measures the answers would be yes. How inefficient to study a language I would never use. How ridiculous to send me to Connecticut in a frozen winter dressed in my tropical Brazilian wardrobe when the Church could have just sent me straight from the LTM to the Philippines instead. But, if measured by what the Lord considered to be important for my learning and growth and for Jane's learning and growth, every experience I had better prepared me to be the Lord's instrument. Would he do all that for one soul? Or two souls? Yes, I believe he did.

There is a famous story in my wife’s family about her late father, Chuck, and his first post-college experience. After graduating, my father-in-law went searching for a job and got an interview with an established oil company in the Houston, Texas, area. As he did his due diligence and research, he learned that he would be interviewed by the company’s executive committee. He was afraid that his youth would be seen as a negative and that other more-experienced candidates would have an advantage over him. So, he did the only thing he could think of to even the playing field. He walked into the local pharmacy and bought himself some grey hairspray. He applied it just to his temples to make himself look more mature and experienced for his interview.

Pleased with his cosmetology skills, Chuck now had the confidence he needed for this perfect job opportunity. He arrived early for the interview and was escorted into the conference room. With stress hormones firing on all cylinders, he felt a drop of sweat on his temples. Then the Texas heat, combined with the heat in the room, caused the sweat to flow like a waterfall. Chuck answered each question with clarity and confidence, though he got some interesting looks from his interviewers. At the end of the interview, the interviewers seemed jovial, shook his hand, and said goodbye. My father-in-law then went to use the restroom. He looked in the mirror and noticed that the silver hair dye had melted all down the sides of his temples, over his cheeks and neck, and into his shirt collar.

He did not get that job. It was a fumble, and there would be more fumbles in his life. However, this experience did not keep him from interviewing with other firms. He did not quit, and he eventually landed a career that would bless his eternal family.

Finally, let me share a beautiful example of uniting families for eternity. Lydia from Kharkiv, Ukraine, first learned about the temple from the missionaries. Immediately, Lydia felt a fervent desire to attend the temple, and after her baptism, she began preparation to receive a temple recommend.

Lydia attended the Freiberg Germany Temple to receive her endowment and then spent several days doing proxy work there. Following the dedication of the Kyiv Ukraine Temple, Lydia attended the temple more frequently. She and her husband, Anatoly, were eternally sealed there and later called to serve as temple missionaries. Together they have found more than 15,000 names of ancestors and have worked to provide temple ordinances for them.

When asked about her feelings regarding temple work, Lydia says, “What did I receive in the temple? I have made new covenants with God. My testimony has been strengthened. I have learned to receive personal revelation. I am able to perform saving ordinances for my deceased ancestors. And I can love and serve other people.” She concluded with this very true statement: “The Lord wants to see us in the temple often.”

The next year, Christmas was not so happy. We sat around solemn-faced after opening our presents. Finally Ron said, “Let’s go get wood.”
Nothing more needed to be said. We all got our coats, hats, and gloves and headed out the door. Again we were getting wood for a widow. But this time it was our mother. It wasn’t that we needed the wood; it meant something deeper. Two weeks before Christmas my dad had died. He left seven children to be raised by my mother.
I suppose because of one act of kindness and the lessons my dad taught his boys, he assured that his wife would never go without wood. We not only got wood for our mother, but often we would get it for other widows. On many Christmases, after we opened our presents, my brothers and I would go out and cut wood for one of the widows. Though it was never spoken openly between us, we were all doing it in memory of our father.

I believe that many bright and special and valiant spirits have been saved for this challenging time. I’m thinking about one bright little boy called Timmy.
Timmy had only two pennies in his pocket when he approached the farmer and pointed to a tomato hanging lusciously from a vine.
“Give you two cents for it,” the boy offered.
“That kind brings a nickel,” the farmer told him.
“This one?” Timmy asked, pointing to a smaller, greener, and less tempting specimen. The farmer nodded agreement. “OK,” said Timmy, and sealed the deal by placing his two pennies in the farmer’s hand. “I’ll pick it up in about a week.”
You young men could learn from Timmy, who invested two cents in a tomato that would be worth five cents in the future. If you are willing to invest now, you young men will have opportunities to accomplish as much as any generation that has ever lived. For too many, however, the seed of faith falls among thorns, and the seed becomes unfruitful.