Gospel Story Finder

Just two weeks into the new school year, my best friend, Scott, and I were driving home discussing our plans for later that evening. As we pulled into the driveway, I saw my dad working on the barbecue. As I stepped out of the car, I told Scott I would be ready for him to pick me up later. My dad, overhearing the conversation, told me that he was having students from his college ward over that evening for a ward social. “I could use your help getting things ready,” he said. I turned to Scott and told him that our plans would have to be postponed.
As Scott left, my dad asked me to take the grill’s propane tank to the store and fill it. After quickly changing my clothes, I loaded the tank into our truck and drove toward the store.
Between my home and the store there is an elementary school. I was well aware of the school as I had gone in that direction many times. But this time I was in a hurry and did not pay attention to the school zone speed limit. I knew school had been out for about an hour, so I ignored it.
After filling the tank, I headed home. As I approached the school, I had the feeling I should slow down. I didn’t heed the prompting and continued on. As I came closer to the school, I saw Bobby Logan,* a young boy from my ward, run onto the road.
He was on his way to the school to play with his sister and some of his friends. As Bobby came to the road, he stopped and looked at me. I started to slow down, again feeling the prompting. As I approached Bobby, he looked directly at me. We had eye contact for a second, and I had the thought that he was going to run in front of me. At that very moment, he did.
I was too close to miss him, and although I hit the brakes, it was too late. Realizing what had just happened, I quickly got out of the truck and ran to Bobby, who was lying on the ground. I ran to his house and told his mother to call an ambulance. Then I went back to Bobby’s side. I offered a silent prayer and pleaded for his life as I knelt beside him.
Bobby’s mother arrived and immediately checked for a pulse. I was crying hysterically and repeatedly said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit him.” Sister Logan looked at me and told me that she forgave me.
The ambulance arrived and took Bobby to the hospital, but he died about 30 minutes later. My bishop came to our home with the tragic news of his death. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t know what to do or say. I was devastated.
A few days later I saw the Logans. As we visited, Sister Logan told me that the family felt strongly that Bobby was happy. She told me they held no harsh feelings toward me. As I heard these things, I felt the Spirit testifying to me that what she said was true, and their sincerity was very real.
During the next few days I struggled with the realization that I had taken another person’s life. As I battled with my emotions, I withdrew more and more. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything.
One day my mom and sister persuaded me to go with them. They were conversing in the front seat of our car, and I was lying on the back seat, pondering the question why and wondering how I could ever move on from that point in my life. Again I offered a silent prayer to Heavenly Father for the strength to overcome this obstacle. In the midst of my crying and praying, I suddenly felt the most overwhelming feeling of joy and peace. It was at that moment that I knew Bobby was fine and that he was happy. I also realized how much love my Heavenly Father has for me. I could truly feel His arms of love and understanding around me.
Since that day I began healing from my emotional pain. It took a long time for me to get to the point where I could accept myself again, but I knew I was on the right track. Because of this experience, I have become even more grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I can’t imagine trying to endure this without the love of my family, the Logans, and countless friends who rallied around me. I saw the gospel in action. I saw my Savior’s healing hands work through those I love. I also know the Spirit is one of the most precious gifts we have.
The Logans are my heroes because they epitomized Jesus Christ from the very beginning of this ordeal. They forgave. For that I am eternally grateful. I know that I will see Bobby again and that hopefully then his family and mine will rest together in the heavens.

In his responsibilities as chair of the publicity committee, James was tireless in confronting errors and falsehoods, often by directly speaking to editors.15 Of one occasion, James related the stubbornness of some of the agitators and his desires for them to be honest in their publications:
“We made a personal visit to this editor and spent considerable time in an effort … to clear away the prejudice he had toward our people; and to show him the untruthfulness of the statements made in his article, [which] we took with us [as] unimpeachable evidence for this purpose. He emphatically told us there was nothing we could do or say or adduce that would change his attitude; that his mind was made up and that he was against our religion on general principles. He defended what he insisted was his right to attack us in any way he wanted to, in order to protect his patrons and friends.”16

Early one morning, without warning, the violent shaking of an earthquake woke us up. After making sure no one was injured, our family went out on the patio of our home to stay away from danger. There was fear that other violent earthquakes, aftershocks, would take place later on. How could we know when they would happen?
My wife came up with the simple idea of detecting tremors by hanging an old pair of scissors from a column in our home. Each time another tremor was near, the scissors would softly rattle, which made them ring like a small bell. This way, we could prepare for the violent shaking of the earth which soon followed.
This same phenomenon will occur on a spiritual level, if you listen. Anything that is contrary to your standards, that goes against correct principles, will trigger a warning, just as the soft ringing of the scissors let us know an earthquake was on the way. When you feel these warnings, get immediately away from danger. The best help you can have during critical moments will be the Holy Ghost. You have the right to his companionship. He will reveal to you what is right and what is wrong, and help you make correct decisions (see D&C 9:8–9 and D&C 45:57). But you must live worthily in order to receive his help. And you must learn to receive this spiritual help through personal revelation.

When I was very young I lived in Czechoslovakia, and the rich, centuries-old traditions of Christmas were everywhere around us. Although many years have passed, I still look back on those days with fondness and tenderness.
One year, when I was perhaps four years old, I was in the room where we kept our Christmas tree. It was decorated with lovely, shining ornaments. Silver tinsel draped over the branches, catching the light of real wax candles that flickered all around me. Nearby was a window that looked out onto the street; its curtains shimmered in the light, adding a certain mystery and magic to the scene.
It was on that day that I made two eventful discoveries.
The first was that if I held a lit wax candle behind the curtains, the light sparkled beautifully through the delicate fabric.
The second thing I discovered was that curtains are flammable. As you might guess, the flame from the candle caught the fabric of the drapes and spread quickly, threatening the walls and ceiling of our home.
I screamed in fright. My parents ran in from the other room and quickly pulled down the drapes and stamped out the fire, preventing what could have been a terrible tragedy.
Once the danger was over, the charred remains of our once-beautiful window trimmings littered the floor; the now-bare window loomed behind me, cold and condemning; and I stood timidly in front of my mother and father without explanation or excuse.
I knew, with all the certainty of a four-year-old boy, that I had ruined Christmas!
Nearly seven decades have passed since that fateful day. And as a result of my one and only brush with arson, I have learned some important things.
First, don’t ever play with fire—an important message with literal and figurative implications for everyone, not only children.
Second, even though I nearly turned our apartment into a pile of ash and smoke, I did not ruin Christmas. Looking back, I think my fear that I had ruined Christmas came from an incomplete understanding of what Christmas really is. And I’ve noticed that it’s not only four-year-olds who have this misunderstanding.

As newlyweds, my wife and I both were stubborn. We would disagree and argue about things that didn’t really matter, and it had worn down our relationship. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted if we had kept going down the road we were on.
But making eternal covenants in the house of the Lord has made all the difference. Our temple covenants changed the focus from “me” to “we.” We learned to value our eternal relationship instead of focusing on our own needs as individuals. Eventually, we became “of one heart and one mind” (Moses 7:18), which vastly improved our course, connection, and communication.

I was always active in the Church, but I didn’t realize that I didn’t yet have a true testimony of the gospel. I guess my beliefs were based on the testimony of my parents and my priesthood leaders and everyone else who helped me in the Church. They knew I participated in everything. I memorized the Articles of Faith when I was in Primary. I participated in the Young Men program. But something was missing.
My search for a testimony was triggered when I was a teenager and my peers started asking questions about our beliefs and practices. Latter-day Saints are a minority in the Philippines, so most of my friends and peers were not Church members. I started wondering why I was required to do things or why I couldn’t do some of the things they did.
I also had a question about going on a mission. When I was in Primary, my bishop asked me, “Are you going on a mission?” and my response was, “Of course.” When I grew to be a young man and started enjoying life and high school, “Of course” became “Yes,” still with some excitement. And then in the later years of high school, with more peer pressure, I said, “I think I’m going on a mission,” and I started to waver. And then finally, I actually didn’t know. My response became “Maybe.”
So I had these questions and went to my bishop and my parents. They challenged me to read the Book of Mormon. That is when I came to understand that it was time for me to get my own testimony. I’d been reading the Book of Mormon for seminary, but I decided to take the challenge and really read the Book of Mormon.
I made it a point to pray before and sometimes during my reading—just to have a prayer in my heart and afterwards plead with my Father to let me know the truth about the Book of Mormon and what people had been telling me about gaining a testimony.
The first few times, of course, it was the same—they were just words on the page. But later on the scriptures began to be more understandable to me. And then I started to have particular feelings about some principles that were taught.
The next stage was that I was really getting into it. I was looking for opportunities to read, because I was finding myself in there, and it was having a wonderful effect on me. The Holy Ghost was constantly helping me to feel good about the things I was reading, causing a sensation to come over me—a warm feeling in my heart.
Finally, in one of those prayers, I just knew—I just knew that it was true. It was that overwhelming feeling that, no doubt about it, the Book of Mormon is true, the Church is true. When that testimony came, all the questions went away, and I knew that this is the true Church and that I needed to serve a mission.

The Kaohsiung Seventh Branch at the Taipei Taiwan Temple in December 2001.
In 2000 we were called to serve as branch president and Primary president of the smallest unit in the Kaohsiung Taiwan Stake. We had about 20 people at sacrament meeting, including our young family, four active elders, and the missionaries. We later sent out two elders on missions, trusting that the Lord would replenish our branch.
As we worked with our branch, we remembered President Gordon B. Hinckley’s (1910–2008) counsel that every convert needs “a friend, a responsibility, and nurturing with ‘the good word of God.’”1 We felt impressed that our new members should quickly be given callings so they could grow by serving. The missionaries introduced us to each investigator, and within two weeks of each of their baptisms, they received a calling. They developed friendships as they served with other members.
Within a month, every newly baptized brother received the Aaronic Priesthood, and each blessed and passed the sacrament. We also prepared them to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood by the next stake conference.
New elders were taught how to perform ordinances, and then these elders taught the newer elders. We believed in learning by doing and in retaining learning by teaching. Branch members were responsible to model and mentor, teach and train, and sustain and support each other.
We used home and visiting teachers, family home evenings, ward activities, and potlucks to fellowship new converts. They were nurtured with the word of God through Sunday and weekday religious instructions. Institute grew from 2 to 25 students. To further nurture our small branch, we attended and served in the Taipei Taiwan Temple every month—a 10-hour round-trip by bus. Normally, our stake struggled to fill a second temple bus. As our branch grew and families prepared for their temple blessings, we set a goal to fill our own bus. Twice that first year, while the rest of the stake filled one temple bus, our small branch filled a second one. Soon after, the stake asked each ward to fill one temple bus at least once a year.
By the second year, our convert retention increased from 30 percent to more than 90 percent, and our sacrament meetings grew to about 100 people, including 25 active elders. Our branch became a ward, and our old building was renovated into a new chapel.
The smallest branch had become the strongest ward in the stake because every convert had been blessed with friends, callings, and nurturing with the word of God.

A year after Carlos joined the Church, he and María decided their house was too small for their growing family. So Carlos designed and built a new, larger home. It is beautiful and spacious—with lots of room for children and friends. Nathalia is practicing the piano in the living room. Verónica is doing homework at the dining room table. Marcelo is outside playing with Alfie, their cocker spaniel. And Sandra and Andrea are giving their dolls a party. Guests are treated like family here. A barbecue, a covered patio, a trampoline, and a swimming pool are out back. The garden is full of vegetables, pineapples, and sugar cane. And the trees are heavy with fruit: bananas, oranges, guavas, avocados, and mangos.

Carlos dedicated their home when it was finished. “A spirit of love and happiness reigns here,” he says. “We’re trying to comply with what the Lord wants. And all these things have been added to us, just as the scriptures say.

“These are really unimaginable blessings,” he says. He shudders when he realizes how close he came to losing—or giving up—everything. “I have no time for my social clubs now. Instead, we have our family gatherings. And I give most of my time to the Lord. While I’m driving, I’m thinking about the members of the stake and their problems. There’s lots to do. I wasted forty years of my life. Now I need to give Him my time.”

“Carlos is the best member of the Church I know,” says Sister Roig. “He magnifies his callings, he loves the gospel, and he’s the greatest defender I know of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith.”

In 1998, during a trip with my family through the state of Utah, in the United States, we visited the Monticello Utah Temple. As we walked around the temple, my wife and I discussed the words we had heard regarding the construction of more temples in Mexico. We thought that if one day a temple was built in Oaxaca, it would be in a long time, and we might not see it.
How wrong we were and how short our vision was. Thus, saith the Lord: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.”1 Two years later, on March 11, 2000, the Oaxaca Mexico Temple was dedicated by President James E. Faust (1920-2007).

United in their resolve to be true to their call from the prophet, the company headed into the desert toward 50-Mile Spring. Since there was no road, the pioneers cut their own through what one man described as “the roughest country I ever saw a wagon go over.” Mostly rock and nearly void of foliage, the land was a combination of gulches and straight-walled chasms more than 100 meters deep.
At 50-Mile Spring, President Smith divided the company into three work groups: one to work at the crevice, one to build a road from the crevice to the river 1.2 kilometers away, and one to build a ferry. For the next six weeks, all three groups worked simultaneously. “I don’t think I ever [saw] … men go to work with more of a will to do something than that crowd did,” wrote Cornelius I. Decker of the group who worked to widen the narrow crevice. “We were all young men; … we did make dirt and rock fly.” Two blacksmith forges were established at “the Hole” so that blacksmiths could keep tools sharp as men cut solid rock. Several men were lowered by rope in half-barrels over the 14-meter cliff. While dangling in midair, they drilled holes in the cliff and filled them with blasting powder. Work continued in snow storms as well as in sunshine.
The second group constructed a road over virtually impassable land. The steep upper third of the road was a serious challenge; among the problems the workers had to solve was how to create a section of road along the face of a 15-meter rock wall. First they blasted a ledge along the wall, then extended the ledge outward. This was done by hammering staves into holes drilled parallel to the ledge. Logs, rocks, and gravel were piled into the resulting area to build up a shelf just wide enough to accommodate a wagon.
The third group built a ferry wide enough to carry two wagons at a time across the Colorado River. Part of this group also began work on a road eastward.
On 26 January 1880, everything was ready.
Elizabeth M. Decker wrote of the first wagons to go down through “the Hole”: “Coming down the hole in the rock to get to the river … is almost strait down, the cliffs on each side are five hundred ft. [about 155 meters] high and there is just room enough for a wagon to go down. It nearly scared me to death. The first wagon I saw go down they put the brake on and … [chained the rear wheels together so they slid as a unit instead of rolled] and had a big rope fastened to the wagon and about ten men holding back on it and they went down like they would smash everything. I’ll never forget that day.”
The wagon of Joseph Stanford Smith was the last of 26 wagons to pass through Hole-in-the-Rock that day. Brother Smith, known as Stanford, had helped others all day while his wife and three children sat on a pile of quilts in the snow and watched. Apparently not realizing that men would be coming to help them, Stanford and his wife, Belle, thought they were stranded. So they determined to bring their wagon down by themselves. Belle sat their three-year-old son on the quilts, placed the baby between his legs, and told them not to move until their father came back for them. Ada, the oldest, sat in front of her brothers and said a prayer.
Belle and one of the horses pulled on the ropes tied to the back of the wagon as Stanford braced his legs against the dashboard and gently urged the lead horses on. As soon as they started down, the anchor horse fell. Belle caught her foot in the rocks and broke free several times before she too fell and was dragged along with the horse down the steep slope. By the time the wagon stopped, a jagged rock had torn into Belle’s leg from heel to hip. Stanford ran to her to see if she was all right. With pioneer tenacity, Belle told him she had “crow-hopped” all the way down. Stanford helped her into the wagon, cleaned her cut, and then climbed back up for the children. As he passed his horse, which was dazed but alive, Stanford took off his hat and waved it in the air as a salute to his wife. They had made it!
After crossing the Colorado River by ferry, the company still faced more than 240 kilometers of rugged ground. Elizabeth M. Decker described this land in a letter to her parents. “It’s the roughest country you or anybody else ever seen; it’s nothing in the world but rocks and holes, hills, and hollows. The mountains are just one solid rock as smooth as an apple.” Because the land turned out to be rougher than anticipated, the journey took much longer than expected—six months instead of six weeks—making the so-called shortcut extremely arduous. Two babies were born along the way. Supplies had to be brought in to the company by mule train. On 6 April 1880, the exhausted company came upon a few acres of good farmland near a small river. They named the spot Bluff City.
Though travel worn, the pioneers had remained true to their resolve to follow the prophet and move forward, and they had endured the hardships in good spirits. As one member of the company recalled, “In a camp … moving … through extremely rough country, one would naturally look for some trouble and a few accidents, but this was not the case. All was hustle and harmony.”
The road created by this pioneer company served as the major highway in and out of the area for about one year. Westward traffic heading back up the steep corridor through Hole-in-the-Rock required each wagon to have a six-horse team.
By 1882 the road had fallen into disuse, but the pioneers had done what they had set out to do—establish a settlement in a remote area of the proposed state of Deseret. Though the area today remains somewhat isolated, it stands as a legacy of those faithful and tenacious pioneers who cut their way through solid rock in obedience to a prophet’s call.

“You think you’re better than everyone else because you don’t swear,” Jared said at recess.
“That’s not true,” said Brock.
“Then why won’t you say one swear word? Just one? It’s not going to kill you. Everybody else swears.”
Brock shrugged. “I just don’t want to.”
Brock knew swearing is wrong and makes the Holy Ghost leave. Brock wanted the Holy Ghost with him. So he didn’t swear.
Brock was new at school, and so far, Jared was the only one in his class who wanted to be his friend. But Jared bugged him about swearing every single day. And every day Brock got a little more tired of saying no. Besides, Brock was afraid that Jared would stop being his friend, and then he’d really be lonely.
“Just say one swear word,” Jared said after school. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Finally Brock was so tired of being bothered that he said one swear word—one that wasn’t too bad.
Jared nodded. “Good. Now you’re one of us.”
After that, Jared’s other friends talked to Brock too. They ate lunch with him and played football with him at recess. But being in Jared’s group of friends was like walking into quicksand. The more Brock hung out with them, the more he talked and acted like them. And they all swore. A lot. They laughed at and insulted each other. They said rude things about their teachers. They got mad and acted mean a lot. Slowly Brock started feeling angry more often and found more and more reasons to swear.
One night when Mom and Dad were gone, Brock and his sister Katie got into an argument about what show to watch. Before Brock even thought about it, a swear word jumped out of his mouth.
Katie looked shocked. “I’m telling Mom.”
Brock ran to his bedroom and slammed the door. What was wrong with everyone? Why were they making him mad all the time? When his parents came home, Brock cracked open his door and heard Katie say, “Mom, Brock swore at me.”
“What?” Mom sounded surprised. “Brock would never swear.”
Brock closed the door and slumped down on his bed. He thought about how different he’d become since he started swearing. It had been a long time since he had felt the Holy Ghost.
Brock knelt down by his bed and prayed. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’m so sorry I’ve been mean and angry. I’m sorry I started swearing. Please help me do better.”
As Brock prayed, a warm feeling filled his heart. For the first time since he started swearing, he felt really happy. He knew God loved him, and he could feel the Holy Ghost. He felt forgiven and knew he could change. Heavenly Father would help him.
After his prayer, he told Mom the truth and apologized to Katie. Brock felt better after that. It felt good to repent.
The next day at school, Brock didn’t eat lunch with Jared’s group. Instead he sat next to some kids he didn’t know. It would take time, but Brock knew he would find friends who were kind and happy and didn’t swear. Just like him.

On one extremely cold Saturday night during the winter of 1983–84, Sister Monson and I drove several miles to the mountain valley of Midway, Utah, where we have a home. The temperature that night was minus 24 degrees Fahrenheit (–31°C), and we wanted to make certain all was well at our home there. We checked and found that it was fine, so we left to return to Salt Lake City. We barely made it [a] few miles … before our car stopped. … We were completely stranded. …
Reluctantly we began walking toward the nearest town, the cars whizzing past us. Finally one car stopped, and a young man offered to help. … This kind young man drove us back to our Midway home. I attempted to reimburse him … , but he … indicated that he was a Boy Scout and wanted to do a good turn. I identified myself to him, and he expressed his appreciation for the privilege to be of help. Assuming that he was about missionary age, I asked him if he had plans to serve a mission. He indicated he was not certain just what he wanted to do.
On the following Monday morning, I wrote a letter to this young man and thanked him for his kindness. In the letter I encouraged him to serve a full-time mission. …
About a week later the young man’s mother telephoned and advised that her son was an outstanding young man but that because of certain influences in his life, his long-held desire to serve a mission had diminished. She indicated she and his father had fasted and prayed that his heart would be changed. … [She] wanted me to know that she looked upon the events of that cold evening as an answer to their prayers in his behalf. I said, “I agree with you.”
After several months and more communication with this young man, Sister Monson and I were overjoyed to attend his missionary farewell prior to his departure for the Canada Vancouver Mission.
Was it chance that our paths crossed on that cold December night? I do not for one moment believe so. Rather, I believe our meeting was an answer to a mother’s and father’s heartfelt prayers for the son they cherished.

My dad’s funeral was small and sacred. Twelve of us sang happy hymns of gratitude to God for my dad’s mortal life. When we started singing “There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today,”1 the family next to us, previously weeping for their own loss, became quiet. They seemed surprised that we weren’t shattered by our loss, but we experienced the peace of knowing there is a plan for us. I believe they also felt the peace that Jesus gives.

In our family we have identical twin sons. In some circumstances they are practically impossible to tell apart.
A few years ago, when the twins were about ten years old, we moved and found ourselves in new surroundings. Several days after the move I was talking to Aaron, one of the twins, and inquired about the big bump he had on his forehead.
“Well, Dad,” he said, “Lincoln [who is his older brother] was chasing me down the hall, I ran around the corner, and I saw my twin brother, Adam. Now, I knew I could outrun Adam, so I just kept running.” It turns out he ran into a full-length mirror!

I try to be like Jesus Christ by helping other people. When I went to Kibben-Kuster School, some of the children in my class had special needs. I helped them by talking to them and giving them hugs when they felt left out—I even learned some sign language. One of the children got hurt at recess, and I went to him and took him to the nurse. Another child lost something she had brought to class, and I helped her to find it. Now I go to a different school, but I still remember my friends from Kibben-Kuster.

For many weeks I felt clean and happy. I loved talking about my baptism and how my heart seemed to be growing. My family and Primary teacher reminded me often that the Holy Ghost would help me know what was right and wrong.
A few days ago I had to take a test in school, and I was really nervous. I kept thinking how easy it would be to copy from the girl sitting next to me. I knew that cheating was wrong, but I was desperate to get a good score. Then I remembered that the Holy Ghost would help me. I said a prayer in my heart asking for strength to make the right choice.
The rest of the day, I felt as happy as I had at my baptism. After school, I ran to our car and gave Mom a hug. “I got 100 percent on my test!” I exclaimed.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And I didn’t even cheat.”
Mom frowned. “You wanted to cheat?”
“Well, I thought about it,” I admitted. “But I had a feeling inside that it was wrong. So I prayed for help and just tried my best.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you listened to that feeling.”
I’m glad too. Really glad. I always want to be worthy of my companion—the Holy Ghost.

I was scared I wouldn’t make new friends when we moved to South Korea. When I was reading the Friend, I saw Matt holding the South Korean flag in the “Find It!” activity (April 2020). Matt said, “Wherever you go in the world, Primary is the same.” I felt Heavenly Father was telling me that Matt was right and that I can go to Primary in South Korea and make friends!
Alice W., age 10, Gyeonggi-do, South Korea

Let me share with you the experience of Barry Bonnell and Dale Murphy, well-known professional baseball players formerly with the Atlanta Braves baseball club. Each is a convert to the Church. …
“An experience occurred during the 1978 season that Barry described as ‘life changing.’ He was struggling terribly, batting about .200. Because of his poor performance, he was down on himself and felt miserable. He really didn’t want to go when Dale Murphy asked him to come along to the hospital, but he went anyway. There he met Ricky Little, a stalwart Braves’ supporter, but a youngster afflicted with leukemia. It was readily apparent that Ricky was near death. Barry felt a deep desire to think of something comforting to say but nothing seemed adequate. Finally, he asked if there was anything they could do. The youngster hesitated, and then asked if they would each hit a home run for him during the next game. Barry said [later], “That request wasn’t such a hard thing for Dale, who in fact hit two homers that night, but I was struggling at the plate and hadn’t hit a homer all year. Then I felt a warm feeling come over me and I told Ricky to count on it.” That night, Barry hit his only home run of the season. A child’s prayer had been answered, a child’s wish had been fulfilled. … May our Heavenly Father ever bless these sweet souls, these special friends of the Master.

While touring the New England Mission in May 1960 accompanied by his wife Camilla, Elder Spencer W. Kimball taught much to many. One day is particularly memorable.
Elder Kimball had requested and been permitted to take time to do some genealogical research on the actual location of the birthplace of his grandfather, Heber C. Kimball. While it had generally been concluded that Heber C. Kimball was born in Sheldon, Vermont, Elder Kimball wanted conclusive proof. He also wanted to check for other genealogical information.
Searching stores on the main street of St. Albans for helpful maps and checking records in the city halls of St. Albans and Sheldon, he received mainly general information that confirmed what he already knew. And so, early the next morning, he visited the cemetery. The dew was heavy, but presented no obstacle to his moving about among the headstones looking for Kimball names. When finding any, he would sparkle with joy and record the information in his notebook.
Imagine his influence on me as I watched him and Sister Kimball poring over record books and relating any information they found to that which they already had. I sensed a feeling of fulfillment in the Kimballs in their being able to spend this time in the area from which Elder Kimball’s illustrious grandfather had come.
In order not to lose the chance to teach and train, Elder and Sister Kimball ended this most unusual day in meeting with the Saints in Barre, not far from Sharon. Sister Kimball instructed ninety sisters and Elder Kimball provided over forty brethren with priesthood leadership training. Concluding the visit with a district meeting of the Saints from all parts of Vermont, Elder Kimball issued the Saints the challenge to double their membership by the end of the year.
Teaching. Always teaching!

A few years ago, when President Kimball was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, he and Sister Kimball were touring missions overseas.

A change in the airline schedule found them, along with a mission president and his wife, in a cold and drafty airport, late at night, with no place to go but wait for an early morning flight.

Sister Kimball had her coat, but the mission president’s wife did not. President Kimball tried to give her his coat, but she would not take it. As they began to fall asleep on those hard benches, President Kimball got up and gently put his coat over the sleeping wife of the mission president. This kind of selfless concern for others is how President Kimball has lived his life. This is the same leader we sustain today as prophet, seer, and revelator. This is the man whom God has called to lead nearly six million Latter-day Saints.

He has literally spent his life in taking off his coat, so to speak, and putting it around the shoulders of those he judged to be in greater need: people of all colors and creeds; men, women, and children. It has never made any difference to him. All are his brothers. All are his sisters.