Gospel Story Finder

Now I will skip to 1906 when my father was called to be a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. There were three men appointed in that same conference, in this order: George F. Richards (my father), Orson F. Whitney, and David O. McKay. I was at that time serving as the secretary of the Netherlands Mission, and just a few days before that conference was held, I received a letter from my father that read like this: “My son, I had a remarkable dream last night. I dreamed that the Savior came and took me in his arms, and as I found me in my Master’s embrace, the love that filled my heart can’t be compared with the love that a man feels for a woman. I feel the meaning of the words of the song, ‘I Need Thee Every Hour.’”

Then, just two or three days after I received that letter, a cablegram came to our office, the mission headquarters. It was addressed to President Grant, who was then president of the European Mission, and he was up in Berlin. We used to open the telegrams to see if they were important enough to try to relay. As for this telegram, I can quote you the exact words. It read this way: “Cowley and Taylor deposed. Richards, Whitney, and McKay appointed.” When I read that, I figured that the dream my father had just had, of which I had just received word in that letter, was to let him know that he was being called by revelation.

President Grant was due in Rotterdam the next morning so I went to the station to meet him. I handed him the telegram–I had sealed it up again–and he opened and read it, and he said, “Well, well. Cowley and Taylor deposed. Richards, Whitney, and McKay appointed.” Then he said, “I wonder who this Richards could be.” I could have told him but I waited for him to tell me. “There’s your father, your uncle Charlie, your uncle Franklin”–and then he said, “I guess it’s your daddy; Brother Lyman thinks he’s the salt of the earth.” Well, these are experiences that one does not usually forget.

Then I had another experience. One of our secretaries in the Church office building had a daughter attending a non-Mormon university. She had been in charge of the Junior Sunday School in her ward and had prayed with our people and so forth, but her professor had so destroyed her faith that she resigned from the Sunday School and refused even to kneel in prayer with her own family. Her mother came to me broken-hearted to see if she could get some help, and I said, “Well, I can’t help her because I’m not a college graduate, but I know how I can get you some help. I can make an appointment with a man who can get her back on the track, I’m sure, if she is willing to fill the appointment.” She was, so I made the appointment with Brother Henry Eyring, and he got her back to her place in the Church. A few years after that I was down in Los Angeles attending a conference; after the conference I ordained a young man a bishop, and I learned that he was the husband of this girl that I mentioned to you who had lost her faith temporarily in that university.

The other day my mom and brother and I went to the aquarium. We were looking at the sea horses when my brother saw a little boy crying. My mom asked him if he was lost. He said he couldn’t find his mom. My mom comforted him. Then we started looking for his mom, but couldn’t find her. Finally we took him to a worker. After a while we saw the boy again. He was with his mom. The worker helped him find her. I felt a good warm feeling because we had helped the little boy. I knew it was the right thing to do.

Natasha VimahiThere is a young woman, named Tasha, in our community who is fighting a losing battle to breast cancer. For the past few months as her pain steadily became more frequent and more intense and the doctors verbalized a time frame of the inevitable, her friends have rallied together to make the most of Tasha's days. They vowed to make her bad days better and to make her good days terrific. Here's just a few of the things they have done in the last few months to help her "endure it well":
When Tasha surprised everyone with the comment she was hungry and wanted some food from Kua Aina Burger, her friends gently packed her into the van and made an adventure of the trip up to Haleiwa with a few stops and spontaneous entertainment on the way.
When she had a craving for food at Hukilau Café, they all went there too.They visit her often with massages and pedicures.Sundays are spent with her talking, laughing and propping her pillows to make her comfortable in any way.For Halloween, they held a pink costume party.Tasha's cheerleaders often take their children to sing to Aunty Tasha as a distraction from her pain.Even when the Seasider basketball teams went up to San Francisco to play earlier this year, these crazy friends turned it into a "We Love Tasha" Day.
When you have crazy and fun friends like Tasha has, who needs morphine to dull their pain? Morphine is for enduring, BFF's are for enduring it well.

I was the brand-new missionary given to Elder Leavitt, who had only arrived in Sweden two months earlier. My eight weeks in the MTC had only partially prepared me for the culture transition I was experiencing. My language skills were still, you could say, developing, and my senior companion’s were not much more progressed. We had learned several door approaches and discussions by heart, but this memorized speaking was the easy part. Understanding what the people said and then responding correctly was the hard part.
Every day, as we left our apartment, we would ride our bicycles past a school where there was a group of loitering youth. Being from the farmlands in Idaho, I had only heard about “punk rockers,” their elaborate clothing, and their unpredictably wild lifestyles. There in Sweden, I was given the opportunity to gain a real firsthand experience. School was out for the summer, and a group of 10 to 15 of these punkers would gather every day and do nothing except harass the passers-by. Guess who stood out as prime targets in our white shirts and ties? Day after day, they yelled “Mormoner” (Mormons), followed by words which had not been included in our MTC Swedish vocabulary lists. I could tell that we were becoming a prime source of entertainment as we cycled past. Over my first week in the field, these foul incomprehensible phrases had become an afflicting plague, growing in length, volume, and intensity.
Being a new missionary, I thought my whole two years would follow this pattern. I was ready to resign myself to bowing down and suffering in silence. One day we were approaching the group again, and Elder Leavitt and I began again to pedal faster to help limit our exposure to the embarrassing harassment. A new set of phrases spewed forth as we rapidly passed. I, of course, did not understand what was verbally hurled, but my senior companion apparently did. We rode 30 or 40 meters farther while he hesitated and thought. “Enough!” was his response.
Elder Leavitt jumped on his brakes, abruptly slamming to a sharp stop. I swiftly swerved to keep from crashing into his bike and halted on the other side. Gathering myself, I looked over my shoulder. My companion had turned back and was heading straight for that motley band as fast as he could pedal! Only a few seconds had passed, but visions of poor Elder Leavitt being slugged, kicked, clubbed, and knifed flew threw my mind. I had to get over there to save him. I turned back and pumped furiously on my bike to catch up.
Missionaries diligently offer prayers each morning for help in bringing souls to Christ. We too prayed to be given teaching opportunities. We prayed to be led to those who were spiritually suffering, those who were searching for the light of the gospel. We prayed for humility and for the ability to hear the Spirit’s promptings. Up to that point, however, I had never thought about praying for safety. Perhaps our mothers’ prayers would be answered.
A line of black rubber was left behind Elder Leavitt’s back tire as he skidded his bike sideways right up to the center of the bewildered cluster. With wide eyes, they had fallen silent as he confidently placed his kickstand and stepped off toward them. I was right behind.
Elder Leavitt firmly stood, peered around, and said in English, “Who said ‘Mormoner’?”
I could hear my heartbeat during that eternal, silent pause. It was like the eye of a hurricane. One of them pointed his finger at one of the others, and a different one pointed to another, saying, “He did.” And yet another pointed at someone else.
“Do you really know who we are and what we do?” Elder Leavitt said with confidence, again in English.
We got various responses from these youths. The winds of the hurricane had indeed shifted; we had taken control. The mood quickly changed from aggressive to friendly as we began to answer questions about the Church, about Mormons, and especially about us and why we had come so far to their country.
We left with smiles and our traditional handshakes.
The few days remaining of that summer found the same kids still gathering at the school.
“Mormoner!” they would still call out, but they added phrases (which I did understand) such as “How are you doing?” “Where are you going today?” “Please come over here. We have another question.”
In a not-so-subtle way our prayers had been answered. Through those teens, we had been given teaching opportunities; we were bringing light to those who were searching; we were indeed being ambassadors of Christ’s Church by following the promptings of the Holy Ghost. I will always thank my first companion as he helped set the stage for the remainder of my mission.

Sister Mary Robinson shared a heartwarming experience that she had with her family while they served. “It was easy for me to volunteer for this project as I thought it would be a great opportunity to enlist my children in service and to teach them some new skills in the process. We started with a conveyor belt system, which was great to begin with, but it didn’t take too long to descend into something like chaos. Everyone wanted it to be their turn with the sewing machine, as they were thoroughly enjoying how fast they could get it to go.
“I spent most of my efforts re-organising their work, unpicking stitches, re-threading the machine, and so on. My husband, Lee, helped the boys with the machine, and my six-year-old daughter was trimming the threads. My four-year old’s counting efforts consisted of throwing the bags in the air and hoping they’d land in some sort of pile. I was ironing them back into shape and hemming the tops with the help of my 11-year-old daughter, Rosa, and musing to myself that it would be so much quicker and easier for me just to do them myself.
“Just as I’d finished that thought, Rosa quietly whispered to me, ‘Mum, this is great seeing my prayers come true. I’m always praying that the poor will get what they need, and now I’m helping them too.’ My heart melted, and I was so grateful for every tiny hand and for every loving heart that was so willing and happy to help. I didn’t see the mess or chaos after that, just the love they each had for their fellowmen. I was reminded of how richly we are blessed as we reach out and serve, and how willing the Holy Ghost is to teach and mould us into a more Christlike version of ourselves as we do. And more than that, how incalculably valuable it is to teach these lessons to our children.”

It was Sunday, November 9, 1975, in Bountiful, Utah. The chapel was filled, and the doors into the overflow were opened. The echo of sliding chairs being set up in the cultural hall could be heard above the prelude music. It was because so many friends and family had come to rejoice with Elder Thorne in his sacred call from a prophet of the Lord—a call to serve for two years as a special witness for Christ to his brothers and sisters in Argentina. Just before the music stopped, Elder Thorne and his parents left the door where they had been shaking hands and made their way to the stand. All eyes were on them as they took the remaining seats just behind the pulpit. It was easy from where I sat to look over the audience and locate his proud grandmother and grandfather. This was an occasion for the entire family; they were all a part of this special event. His four younger brothers were smiling, probably because they would get to expand into Gale’s room as soon as he entered the mission home, or maybe because they anticipated how they would feel in just a few short years when they would respond to the call of a prophet.
In this setting I recalled the words of President Spencer W. Kimball:
“The gospel must go to all the world, to every creature, every clime, every people, every soul. It calls for an ‘all-out’ effort. This appeal is not for the rich nor for the poor, for the successful or the intelligentsia, but to every heart and mind in the world, to every corner of the earth. We are still far from our goal.”
This call to arms was given by a living prophet. He further stated, “We call for more missionaries, but we want more worthy missionaries and more able missionaries.” (Regional Representatives Seminar, October 2, 1975.)
I observed, in this large audience, an unusual number of young girls, many of them visitors to our ward. They brought with them the excitement and enthusiasm of youth. Their very presence added to the beauty and importance of the occasion. Among them I spotted the plain, the confident, the bashful; but common to each was the radiant, youthful expression of anticipation and commitment. I studied the expressions on the faces of several of these young women and followed their gaze resting upon Elder Thorne—the dark suit, the white shirt with the conservative tie, and the little-shorter-than-usual haircut.
The young women and young men in the audience represented a circle of friends bursting with pride and sharing the honor of one of their number. It was not hard to believe that in the heart of each one were the words, “I’ll go where you want me to go, and I’ll do what you want me to do.”
Since the girls were sitting in groups of twos and threes and fours, it appeared evident they were not competitors seeking the missionary’s attention. It was obvious that they too were part of the “all-out” effort spoken of by the prophet.
But what part did they play? What had their influence been in Elder Thorne’s preparation? In his closing remarks I began to sense the powerful influence friends had had on this young man who was spiritually mature beyond his years. After expressing gratitude for family and loved ones, and before his final testimony, he grasped the pulpit on either side and leaned forward. He dropped his head just a moment. Then, looking up, he quietly said, “And I give thanks to all my friends, especially you girls in the audience who have kept the standards and encouraged me to do the same.” His voice deepened as he continued, “Thank you for your influence that has helped me prepare for a mission.”
After the closing prayer there seemed to be a spontaneous gravitation as young men and women from all parts of the building quietly, with increasing power, moved forward until they encircled their young missionary friend. Without accompaniment their voices united in singing “God be with you till we meet again” like a prayer to heaven from the voices of living angels. The tears flowed freely from the eyes of these youth who had played a very vital part in helping to build a more worthy and a more able missionary.
In that moment I witnessed a power of love and support from friends that would serve as a reservoir of strength to each one of them in the days to come.
Leaving the chapel, I was driven by the desire to more fully understand how those young girls had been such a powerful part of the “all-out” effort. If it could be identified, it could be repeated over and over, and the results would be immeasurable. My search led me to many youth in many areas. The first responses were stated in a variety of ways, but the message was always the same.
“We don’t know what it is, but we can tell you what it isn’t.”
Tim said, “It isn’t just telling me that I ought to go on a mission, because I want to make that decision myself.”
After a few moments David, looking a little thoughtful, expressed himself this way: “Some girls say they won’t go with you if you don’t plan on going on a mission. It doesn’t seem to matter to some of them whether you are a good missionary or not, and that’s no help.”
Brent added, “A girl can talk to you about a mission, but when she starts to get close to a guy and influences him the wrong way, it is not what she says that counts.”
Bradley added, “A girl has a lot of influence, and if you like her, you try to do the things that impress her. If good things impress her, then that is what you try to do.”
In a tone of independence and conviction, David expressed these thoughts: “Some girls don’t even care if you go on a mission or not. I think they should care, but they shouldn’t try to force you, because when you are forced to do something, you just want to turn and go the other way. You want to use your own agency about something that important.”
It was Ross who said, “Occasionally I get the idea a girl is more concerned about what I ought to be doing than what she ought to be doing.”
Stan added, “If a girl is not willing to pay the price to do what she ought to be doing, then I think she is a hypocrite to be trying to tell me that I should go on a mission.”
Finally all of the comments about what it isn’t were expressed, and then, like nuggets of wisdom, I learned from many young men those truths that when understood and practiced by the young women of this church will be an influence of such power and magnitude as to affect for good every corner of this church and the entire world.
Young women of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, do the young men you associate with know that you have a standard of excellence from which you will not depart? Do they know by what you say and do that you honor and respect your parents and that you follow the counsel of the leaders of the Church? Do they know you will delay dating until after you are 16 because a prophet of the Lord has given that direction? By your actions do they know that you have made up your mind to be good and that you will not weaken? Can they look to your friendship to gain confidence and respect for themselves? Will your language, your dress, your choice of entertainment, music, books, and movies help the young men who associate with you develop admiration and respect for womanhood? As young men are exposed to the world’s distorted role of womanhood, can they see in you the refinement and sweetness that encourage an attitude of reverence, respect, and honor for that sacred calling?
Strange that I had not realized it before, but it is not as a young woman encourages a young man to go on a mission that her greatest influence is felt. Rather, it is through her actions as she reveals her commitment and testimony to the gospel of Jesus Christ and gives evidence through her power and influence in the advancement of good.
William George Jordan had this to say:
“Into the hands of every individual is given a marvelous power for good or evil—the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life. This is simply the constant radiation of what man really is, not what he pretends to be. … He can cultivate sweetness, calmness, trust, generosity, truth, justice, loyalty, nobility—make them vitally active in his character—and by these qualities he will constantly affect the world.” (As quoted by David O. McKay in April general conference, April 6, 1950, Improvement Era, May 1950, pp. 366–67.)
When a young man is encouraged by the example and testimony of his friends to do those things that are a magnification of his priesthood, preparation for a mission becomes one of those things. As a young woman begins to comprehend and accept her responsibility to her own mission in life, she becomes a powerful influence in the life of the young men who associate with her. They are encouraged by her example to attain their goals as she begins to prepare for her ultimate destiny.
Girls who are filling their own lives with righteousness, who are developing a taste for all that is good and wholesome, who are learning skills for successful womanhood and motherhood, radiate the light of God. Young men feel this light when they are in the presence of noble young women. The nobility within them is awakened. A yearning to be worthy to be the eternal companion of a noble daughter of God is kindled. Young men will stretch their lives to be equal to the greatness of the soul they feel within themselves. A mission will be one of the initial steps that can result from the influence of a girl whose own preparation causes her to radiate the light of God.
“That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.” (D&C 50:24.)
When a young man returns home from his mission, he can be assured that such a young woman will have kept pace with him spiritually, that she is prepared to receive inspiration, that she has progressed intellectually, socially, and has in every way prepared to stand as an eternal companion. She will sustain him, not drain him, so that together they come filled, ready to accept the further responsibilities the Lord has for those who love him and keep his commandments.
It was Sunday again, and another “more worthy and more able” missionary was responding to the call. I advanced my frequently asked question one more time, and Elder Snow, glancing warmly and respectfully at the young girl standing by his side, smiled and responded: “She never told me I should go on a mission. I just always knew it was important to her because everything about the Church is important to Jannie.”

I am grateful to men and women and people of all ages whose lives help us see this pattern of righteousness. I am thankful for a living prophet. A few days after I was called as a counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, the First Presidency of the Church approached my chair to set me apart and give me a blessing. I realized the prophet of God was about to lay his hands upon my head, and I was in awe. Following the blessing, as I turned to face the prophet, I was quite unprepared for the magnificence of the spirit I felt. I bear testimony that Ezra Taft Benson is a prophet of God and that Jesus Christ is our Savior. He has given us a pattern of righteousness that, when followed, will lead us back to our Heavenly Father. I bear this witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Brother Ridd said his family’s work ethic has been a blessing in his life. So have mentors and priesthood leaders who have sometimes nudged him along the gospel path. While many of his classmates from high school accepted mission calls at age 19, Randall opted to enroll in college and enlist in the army. He later took a job as an X-ray technician while continuing his studies at the University of Utah. A few wise men were bold enough to tell him that his place was in the mission field. He followed their direction and put in his application to serve. Soon he was sharing the gospel in the Mexico North Mission. “I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I had not served a mission,” he says.

Painting the signs has helped Raegan and Rylyn through challenges. “When Kendall was sick, there were times we didn’t really want to be in the house because it was hard for us to see. So we decided to go and paint, and that lifted the load a lot,” Raegan says.
Kendall eventually passed away at age 16. Raegan says, “It was hard, but we knew that families are forever. We knew that even if we didn’t have much time with her, if we do our part, it’ll help us be closer to being with Kendall and Kallen again.”

“It’s not like we were on a date, Bishop,” said Paul. “We were just hanging out.” Fifteen-year-old Paul was trying to explain why he was having moral problems with a young lady whom he had never “dated.” When the bishop spoke with the young lady, she, like Paul, failed to grasp the seriousness of what they had done because, after all, they weren’t “dating.”
Young Latter-day Saints know the guidelines for dating. Most can recite them by memory: don’t date until age 16, date in groups, and only date those who share your same high standards. But more and more LDS teens aren’t dating in the traditional sense. Sure, they may attend a few proms or other formal dances at school, but most young people today prefer to just hang out. “We just get together at someone’s house,” one teenager explains, “and watch videos, play games, or talk. No one asks anyone. Word just spreads that we’re getting together and everyone comes.” Another said, “Sometimes we pile into cars and just drive around. It’s fun.”
Of course hanging out can be fun. It’s casual and informal. There’s no pressure, and it takes very little preparation. Most parents and Church leaders are happy to see young people gather with positive friends and stay in groups. Such activities can promote feelings of acceptance and inclusion that are necessary and good. However, the casualness and lack of accountability that accompany hanging out can sometimes open the door to problems and put young people in situations where their safety—both physical and spiritual—is in jeopardy.
As a bishop in a BYU student ward, I asked some of the young people I work with for their advice. Is it possible to hang in there with gospel standards and covenants while hanging out with friends? Here are their responses and suggestions:
Plan activities in advance. Josh Smith from San Antonio, Texas, says, “I know it takes a little effort, but it really is better if your friends know what they are going to do. Say, ‘Hey, we’re going to make some cookies and deliver them, or we’re going to play volleyball.’ Just so everyone isn’t sitting around saying, ‘So, what are we going to do now?’” Josh is right. It’s easy to go with the flow, but if we are not careful the flow usually takes us in only one direction—down. Dustin Coffman from Lake Charles, Louisiana, says, “Everyone finds it harder to resist inappropriate videos, music, and activities when such things are thrown at us at the last minute and we haven’t thought about what we could do instead.”
Make sure an adult is around. Ryota Natsume, a young convert from Japan, says, “I can’t believe how many young people feel that it’s no problem to be at someone’s home when their parents are not there. That’s just not respectful or smart.” Jeni Judd from California says, “My friends used to think I was so weird when I would ask if their parents were going to be home while we were there, but that was my family rule. You couldn’t be at friends’ houses if their parents weren’t home. At the time I thought it was dumb, but now I realize that kids just act differently if they know an adult is around. They are just not so wild.”
Respect the property of others. Lindsay Gunnell, from Orem, Utah, says, “I always liked having friends over, but my parents hated it because things would get broken, and no one would say anything or take responsibility. My dad has a nice pool table and entertainment center in our basement, but after they got damaged he just said, ‘No one can go downstairs, period.’” Just because hanging out is casual doesn’t mean the rules of common sense and courtesy don’t apply.
Another example comes from Jason Porter from Chicago. He says, “My friends would just pig out at my house like they had never seen food before. I always felt stupid saying no, so they would just clean out the fridge and the cupboards. My mom and dad were really good about it because they wanted me to have friends over, but they didn’t have the money to be feeding the whole neighborhood all the time.” Few parents do. Amy Lockhart, from Canada, says, “A good rule to follow when you are at someone else’s house is don’t help yourself to food unless it is offered to you.”
Use seat belts. Even young people who have good seat belt habits when driving with their own parents and families are too easily distracted when they are with friends. They pile in and out of cars without even thinking about safety. Lindsay Robinson, from Atlanta, Georgia, says, “I always made my friends buckle up when I was driving and even when I wasn’t. Sometimes they would make jokes about it and call me mom, but they got the point. I think inside they were grateful that I was being careful.” Never try to fit more in a car than the number of available seat belts. If there aren’t enough seat belts for the whole group, then make other plans.
Obey curfews. This was a point that was brought up by all the young people I talked to. They warned that when you’re just hanging out, it’s easy to let the time slip away, and before you know it you’re breaking curfews all over the place and getting everyone in trouble. Dan Stanger from Helena, Montana, says, “Although your parents may give you a later curfew, someone else in the group may have an earlier one. That guy is going to feel stupid bringing it up or being the first to leave, so just pack up and quit the whole thing at a decent hour and then no one has to be in an awkward position.”
Stay out of bedroom areas. “Another thing,” Dan says, “stay out of the bedrooms. I know how it is to get talking with a girl and then wanting to get away from the crowd and the noise, but don’t go to the bedrooms.” Ben Dunford, from Grayson, Georgia, says, “When I came to BYU, I had to sign an honor code that said I would not only keep a curfew and not be in girls’ apartments or allow girls to be in my apartment after a certain hour, but I would also never have girls in my bedroom area or be in their bedroom areas. If it’s smart for BYU students to live that way, it’s smart for any Latter-day Saint anywhere.”
Another young woman in my ward said, “The good thing about hanging out is that you are with a big group of people. The bad thing is that no one is keeping track of who is or isn’t there. You can break away from the group pretty easily before anyone misses you. That can lead to trouble. I know that firsthand. My parents would never have let me be alone with a certain boy, but they let me hang out with my friends. Well, this boy and I always made sure we were both at the same place, and then we would take off to some back room to be alone. We never did anything really bad, but I totally regret what we did and even more the deception and dishonesty we were involved in.”
Immorality is immorality whenever it happens or wherever it happens. Despite what is shown in movies or sung in love songs, immorality always results in undesirable consequences. When it comes to staying clean, sometimes hanging out can be even more dangerous than dating because young people don’t have their guards up. They are vulnerable to temptation and experimentation because they feel more comfortable, relaxed, and safe than they do in formal situations.
Is it possible to stick with Church standards and keep covenants while hanging out with friends? The young college students in my ward answer with an emphatic, “Yes!” But they caution that you just have to remember a few things. Planning wholesome activities in advance and making sure there is an adult around to chaperon are sure ways to set yourself up for success. Respecting the property of others and using seat belts in vehicles are excellent ways to make sure nothing spoils the fun. Following curfews and staying clear of bedrooms are ways to make sure no one has to live with regrets.
After Paul and his “girlfriend” spoke with their bishop, they realized that they could get themselves into negative and undesirable situations even when it wasn’t a formal dating situation. Everyone will be happier if we worry less about what does or doesn’t qualify as a “date” and more about keeping our covenants. Perhaps some of the suggestions from the young people in my ward can help others hang in as they hang out.

Now, around the fire in Whitehorse after a Sunday of worship and a delicious meal with the Whitehorse Saints, we were reliving the experience one more time before starting home the next morning. As the fire died away, the chill went unnoticed in the warmth of the Spirit. A theme of priesthood and prayer threaded the testimonies.
“The last day as we were rushing to meet the train, we stopped at a rock outcropping to rest, and Brother Woolley asked me to say a prayer. As I knelt upon the earth, tears streamed down my face and an overwhelming feeling of sweet humility filled my being. I felt an overpowering desire to always be close to my Heavenly Father and live so I would please him. The words poured from my mouth and I prayed publicly for the first time in my life by the Spirit. I was prompted to ask for strength and that we might make the train on time. We did. I also asked for a special blessing upon the girls behind us. It was incredible, but they reached the station only 15 minutes to a half hour behind us. I’m so very thankful I had this camping experience and the opportunity to rely so heavily on the Lord.”

Some time ago Sister Edgley and I were being chauffeured through a city in South America. Our driver was a stake president who was a convert to the Church. This stake president was a very successful international attorney. As we were passing the slums of the city—houses of cardboard and tin with no water, sewer, or plumbing of any kind—my wife asked the stake president where he grew up.
He pointed to the slums and said, “A place just like this.”
My wife then asked, “How in the world did you ever climb out of this kind of poverty to become the successful person you now are?”
The stake president simply responded, “It was the gospel. The missionaries came and taught us who we really were and what we could become. My brother broke out, got an MBA from BYU, and now is the president of a large corporation in South America. My only other sibling is a sister, and she is a successful attorney.”
This story is repeated over and over—hundreds, even thousands of times. In fact, the restored Church was born out of poverty and what some would see as absolute hopelessness. But the Saints came to believe in themselves, who they were, and what they could become.

“I’m not used to talking much,” Kim’s father began, “except to my cows. But I would like to say that I’m proud of my daughter. I don’t tell her that often, though. You see, I was raised in a very strict home. My mother died when I was younger than Kim, and though my father was a wonderful man, he believed that showing affection made you weak. I don’t remember that he ever hugged me in his life. I guess that’s why I feel awkward about showing affection to Kim. But I’d like to tell a little story that I hope will show that I do love her.
“Kim was born in the winter months, and she caught pneumonia when she was only two months old. I tried to do the household chores because her mother had to care for her constantly. One night it was particularly hard for her to breathe. I took my little girl in my arms and blessed her and prayed for her … as hard as I’ve ever prayed for anything. Then, because her mother was totally exhausted, I sat in the rocker next to the stove and put my baby on her stomach across my lap and rocked her all that night. The doctor came the next morning and said that my rocking her in that position had given Kim’s little lungs a good night’s rest and that he thought that she was going to get well. So you see, that little girl is very special to me—she always has been, and she always will be.”

While the Mayflower skimmed westward with the breeze in her sails, Ellen played on deck with four-year-old Mary Allerton, the youngest passenger on board.
“Mary,” Ellen said, “shall we play pretend?”
“How do we play pretend?” Mary asked.
“Well, first, you make believe you’re my sister. Now I need to find a brother. Let me see … John Howland will be just right.” Walking briskly up to him, she said, “Ahoy, mate. A jolly good day it is.”
“Righto!” replied John, grinning. “That it is.”
“Aye, and a jolly good day for pretending,” Ellen added. “Would you like to pretend you’re my brother?”
“I’d like that very much,” the boy answered.
“Then it’s all settled. We are a family. Families stick together on ocean voyages and help each other.” Pretending helped ease Ellen’s homesick longing for Sarah and Roger.

I have always been ambitious about education and leap at every opportunity. One year in high school, I took courses at the local community college through a program funded by my school. I really like computer science, and I was excited to take a computer programming class so I could learn more.
When I got my schedule from the college, I realized that my programming class was at the same time as my Young Women activity every week. I tried to ignore it at first and tell myself that education was encouraged by the Church and that I was doing the right thing. As the time for classes to start drew nearer, I felt more and more uncomfortable about taking the class. When the time came that I had to tell my Young Women leader that I wouldn’t be making it to any of the activities, she sounded devastated. She told me that I would be sorely missed, and she would do anything to help me.
After talking to her, I felt bad that I thought the class was more important. When I got home, I went to my room and looked at the goal board I had made for Personal Progress. I had written on it, “If you want something, you’ve got to prove it.” I read my scriptures with that in mind and came across Mosiah 2:21. I realized I had to prove that I was going to serve God and not myself by letting my desires get in the way. I cancelled the class the next day. I had a wonderful year of Young Women activities, and I was able to set a higher priority for the Church in my life. I know it was the right thing to drop that class, and I am really glad that I did.

Dear Buddy,
Today was a Thanksgiving Day that I’ll never forget! We spent the morning tracting without much success. It was cold, and everyone was busy and didn’t want to talk. Then we spent the afternoon with some members who had invited us for Thanksgiving dinner. And did they ever put on a feast! The food was so good that I kept eating and eating until my belt yelled for mercy. Sister Marshall seemed to enjoy watching us eat, and she kept passing the food around. Then when we left, she gave us each a big package of leftovers wrapped in aluminum foil. It’s great to have members like the Marshalls who help the missionaries.
But it was what happened as we were riding our bikes home that made this an unforgettable Thanksgiving Day. Even though it was cold and windy and almost dark, we took the long way home to help work off some of our dinner. On a lonely road on the outskirts of town, we came upon a girl with long black hair who looked about your age. She was gathering sticks at the side of the road, and she was wearing a long-sleeve blouse, a shawl around her shoulders, a skirt, and sandals.
Elder Butler and I stopped, concerned about her being out in the bitter cold. Her name is Rosita. She didn’t know much English, but she took us to her mother, who was also gathering wood not far away. We helped them gather broken branches and old sticks until everyone’s arms were full. Then they took us to their home.
They live in a small shack with a woodburning stove in the middle. The only one who speaks much English is the father, and he was on a mattress in the corner, sick with a fever.
Their name is Morales. They recently came from Central America. Mr. Morales said that he brought his family to the United States to have a better life. He had a job here, but he lost it when he got sick.
There was hardly any furniture, and the room was smoky and drafty. They need so much—even simple things, like clothes for winter. All they had was what they’d brought in three suitcases. And each other. As I looked into their faces, I felt that I was in the presence of modern Pilgrims. Suddenly Thanksgiving became much more real to me. It is more than parades and football games on TV and tight belts from eating too much turkey and yams and pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving means hope and freedom.
Elder Butler and I gave Mr. Morales a blessing, and we gave our leftovers from dinner at the Marshalls to the Morales. They thanked us again and again and asked us to come back to visit them. We will.
Riding home, I no longer felt the cold wind blowing in my face and up the sleeves of my coat. All I could feel was the warmth of gratitude for all the blessings that we enjoy.
Love,Reed

Many years ago, in a very difficult time in our lives, I felt under attack from the adversary. At that time the Lord made it very clear to me that I needed to do more and to be better. Let me give you just a little background.
Sue and I had been married at that time for more than thirty years, and we had been active and involved in the Church all our lives. We served in the Church; we attended the temple every week; and we prayed with our children, studied the scriptures with them, and held family home evening. We tried to be good Latter-day Saints. And yet the Lord said to me, “You need to do more.”
One night I had a terrible nightmare. I awoke very anxious and concerned, and I knelt and prayed to my Father in Heaven for help. As I prayed, there came into my mind a passage from Ephesians:
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
In the morning I looked up the scripture and read these words:
Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.
When I read the words “put on the whole armour of God,” I felt a powerful witness of the Spirit that this was the answer to my prayers. I needed to put on the whole armor of God—every bit of it.
Sue and I talked about what that might mean, and we prayed for guidance. I learned that we needed to ask ourselves two questions. I believe these are the questions whose answers will lead us to do what we need to do to prepare for what lies ahead. Here they are:
As we asked those questions in prayer, we received very specific answers. We changed how we spent our time, what media we allowed into our home, how we served in the temple, how we studied the scriptures, and how we served the Lord. We needed to increase our spirituality. Through this process of repentance the Lord Jesus Christ reached out and changed our lives. We felt His mercy, His grace, His love, and His power in greater measure. Through His matchless power He changed our hearts and our minds and lifted us up to Him. It was a turning point in our lives.

“We started a tradition in our ward of helping each young man achieve his ‘triple crown’: Chief Scout Award, Queen’s Venturer Award, and full-time missionary,” Brother Molnar said. “One young man, Gordon Mitchell, got the ball rolling by doing a lot of things on his own. He persisted until he became the first young man in our ward to earn his Queen’s Venturer Award. He is now attending Brigham Young University, ready to go on his mission when he turns 19.

“His example encouraged his peers to strive for their ‘triple crown’ too. This year, our ward had six young men earn their Queen’s Venturer Award. This is an outstanding number for any one group, as there were only 33 recipients out of about 1,200 Venturers in the B.C.–Yukon Area. And, incidentally, out of the 33 recipients, 11 were Latter-day Saints.” Brother Molnar says he expects all seven of his Queen’s Venturers to go on missions.

Seven out of seven. Now that’s a record anyone in Scouting should understand.

“Christian Villadsen! Are you one of us or one of them?” demanded Hans. His clenched fists hit against his pockets, bulging with stones. The other boys crouched beside Hans, glaring at Christian.
A cold shiver ran up Christian’s back. What’s happening? he wondered. What has become of our peaceful and friendly village? Now there seems to be only hatred and fear!
He hadn’t listened like Grandmother, but that didn’t make it right to hide like this, waiting to throw stones at two men whose only crime was preaching a new religion.
“Well?” His friends waited for an answer.
They were his only friends since Peter Sorensen had joined the Mormon church. Now, no one dared to be Peter’s friend.
Hans shoved a stone into Christian’s hand. “Stay and help drive away the devils or crawl home. But decide now.”
Christian dropped the stone as if it were fresh from the hearth fire. “I have chores to do,” he said, pushing through the bushes they were hiding behind.
“Beware, Christian, or you may suffer Peter Sorensen’s fate,” Hans called after him.
Christian hurried down the road so fast that he didn’t even stop to warn the two men he passed about the danger ahead. But he couldn’t hurry fast enough to shut out the sound of thudding stones or pained cries. And he couldn’t outrun his feelings of fear and shame.
As he passed the Sorensen farm, Christian turned his head so he couldn’t see the house’s broken windows, the burned barn, or the blackened fields that had been nearly ready for harvest. If the villagers discovered that Grandmother was listening to the Mormon preachers, this could happen to them also.
“Christian!” Peter Sorensen called.
Christian’s stomach churned with fear. What if someone sees me talking to Peter? he worried.
Peter’s face was swollen and dark with bruises, a warning from the villagers to anyone else who thought of listening to the Mormon preachers.
“I wanted you to know that we leave for America tomorrow,” Peter said, and his smile was warm and friendly as ever.
Christian was embarrassed. He couldn’t think of anything to say to Peter, who had always been his best friend.
“May you also find the happiness we have found, Christian.”
“Happiness?” Christian gasped in surprise. “Is it happiness to have your farm destroyed, to be mobbed by your neighbors, and to be driven from your homeland?”
Peter smiled. “It’s happiness to have found the true church of God. That’s worth giving up everything for.”
Christian shook his head. “Nothing is worth that,” he disagreed.
“You say that only because the truth hasn’t touched your heart yet. When it does, you’ll know what to do and you won’t be afraid. May the Lord bless you, Christian. I’ll always be your friend. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.” Then Peter turned and limped slowly into the house.
If Grandmother doesn’t stop going to those Mormon meetings, the villagers will drive us away, too, thought Christian. Fear twisted his stomach again. “Certainly nothing is worth that!” he declared. And what if the missionaries are speaking lies, like hr. Dam, the priest, keeps saying? Christian wondered. And how can he be so sure?
As Christian approached his house, he was nearly knocked to the ground by hr. Dam, who came charging through the door like an angry bull. “Take care, fru Villadsen! Such talk is dangerous,” he shouted over his shoulder.
When he saw Christian, hr. Dam wagged a finger in his face. “If your grandmother doesn’t stop listening to those devil preachers, you, too, may awake to find your farm burning.”
“If you’ll tell me what lies these missionaries speak, perhaps I can convince Grandmother. Lies aren’t worth being persecuted for.”
“Smart boy,” said hr. Dam, nodding. “But do you really think I’d listen to their lies myself?”
“You’ve never heard them speak?”
“Of course not!”
“Then how do you know,” pursued Christian, “whether they speak lies or the truth?”
Hr. Dam’s face turned red with anger. “What a fool you are!” he shouted at Christian.
“Hr. Dam will tell the mob, and we’ll lose everything,” Christian told his grandmother later. “Certainly nothing is worth that.”
Grandmother smiled. “Finding the true church is worth that and much more. Tonight, at the fjord, I am going to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” she said.
“No! If the mob finds you …”
“We will pray,” Grandmother said calmly, “that they don’t.”
She wouldn’t listen to Christian’s pleadings to stay away from the Mormon meeting. In the end, he went with her, to help her escape if necessary. In the meantime, he decided, it won’t hurt me to listen to the missionaries, just enough to see if the words they speak are worth all the persecutions.
The night was clear, and a crisp breeze rippled the waters of the fjord as Christian and his grandmother crept quietly through the darkness to the meeting place. There, everyone lovingly greeted each other. Christian listened carefully to the missionaries, trying to find the lies that caused such hatred in the village. He could find none. When the baptisms began, Christian pushed forward for a better view.
Grandmother stepped into the waters to be baptized, and Christian felt a hand on his arm. Peter Sorensen was standing at his side. “I hoped we would meet again soon,” he said simply.
Then Grandmother was standing with others, while the fjord waters dripped from their clothing to form puddles on the ground. Her face was radiant with joy. “It is worth everything,” she said. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Christian felt so choked with emotion that he almost didn’t hear the angry voices and tramping feet moving up the road toward them. The beautiful, joyous feeling in his heart was shattered suddenly by fear. “Hurry, into the fields!” came the warning.
The group on the bank disappeared as quickly as it had gathered. Christian and Peter grabbed Grandmother and plunged into the fields, crouching to stay out of sight. Behind them, the enraged mob began its search. Closer and closer they came to where Christian, Grandmother, and Peter hid.
The mob was now so close that Christian could see their angry faces. The friends and neighbors they had known all their lives were now trying to destroy them. “Burn the fields,” cried hr. Dam, his face twisted with hatred. “That will drive them out.”
“We should have brought the dogs to hunt them down.” That was Hans speaking—their friend Hans—and his face was distorted with rage.
Christian looked at his grandmother and Peter beside him. They were afraid. He knew that. But their faces were beautifully peaceful and calm. There was no twisting, darkening hatred here, even though there was reason enough. Instead, the words of the missionaries had given them something that left no room for such feelings, something that even fear could not drive out.
And in his heart, though Christian was not quite ready to fully accept all that the missionaries said, he knew that he, too, had found something priceless. The truth is worth persecution, he decided.