Gospel Story Finder

Then there is the remembered Christmas tale by O. Henry about a young husband and wife who lived in abject poverty yet who wanted to give one another a special gift. But they had nothing to give. Then the husband had a ray of inspiration: he would provide his dear wife a beautiful ornamental comb to adorn her magnificent long hair. The wife also received an idea: she would obtain a lovely chain for her husband’s prized watch, which he valued so highly.

Christmas day came; the treasured gifts were exchanged. Then the surprise ending, so typical of O. Henry’s short stories: the wife had shorn her long hair and sold it to obtain funds to purchase the watch chain, only to discover that her husband had sold his watch so that he might purchase the comb to adorn her beautiful long hair, which now she did not have.

President David O. McKay tells: “I remember as a deacon chopping wood for the widows on Saturday. We met as a group of nine boys, held a short meeting, took our axes, went to the widows, and chopped enough wood for each to last that week.”
And President McKay continues: “As a priest, I recall administering the sacrament and my failure the first time I offered the prayer. We did not have the prayer on a printed card before us then as is frequently the case now. We were supposed to memorize it. The sacrament table was just under the pulpit, and my father, the bishop, always stood right over the one who asked the blessing upon the bread and water. I thought I knew the prayer, but I had memorized it privately, and when I knelt and saw the congregation before me, I became flustered.” (Cherished Experiences, comp. Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1976, p. 190.) This challenge did not cause him to become discouraged, my young friends. He made additional preparation and lifted himself to a level of excellence.

Yes. The last item is correct. That’s what the young men from the Canyon Ward, Spanish Fork Utah Stake, learned last year. Not only did they get to hike in some of the most scenic mountains in Wyoming and Montana, but they scaled even higher heights by including daily scripture study as the focus of their wilderness experience.
“We’ve been on great hikes before,” says John Oldham, 16, past captain of the ward’s Varsity Scout team. “But this time we really emphasized the spiritual side in our planning.”
For example, the trek began with a testimony meeting. “It was great,” says Joshua Christensen, 18. “We sat and looked at the Teton Mountains as the sun went down. We talked about the gospel, about each other, about the Savior. The Spirit was there. It set a great mood for the entire trip.”
That’s not all. The group held devotionals and firesides every day. And each day they studied a scriptural theme.
“We’d read a scripture together in the morning, ask some questions about it, then we’d try to think about it or put it into practice during the day,” explains Doug Thompson, 15. “Then at night we’d talk about our answers.”
The result was that everyone was talking about, thinking about, and acting upon the scriptures.
“We read about prayer,” Doug continues, “and while we were hiking there was a time for everyone to ask for something, like praying for strength when the backpacks seemed too heavy, or for a little extra boost to make it through the rain.”
Joe Oldham, 16, says he appreciated one day’s devotional that talked about helping others.
“That same day, my cousin John and I were the first ones up to the top lake. I stayed there to watch our packs, and John went down to help my younger brother, Mike (14), with his pack because it was so heavy. Everyone helped each other out.”
“One day when our firewood was all wet,” says Alex Wright, 19 (now on a mission in Brazil), “a bunch of guys came and brought us dry firewood. That was on the same day we’d been reading about service.”
“There were tons of waterfalls,” Ryan Steadman, 14, remembers. “They’re huge and they cascade down the rocks and make all this mist. It’s so beautiful you have to believe someone made it. It made me think of the scripture (Moses 6:63) that says, ‘All things bear record of me.’”
And there were other lessons learned while hiking and camping:
“I gained an appreciation for the blessings we take for granted at home,” says Joe Elliott, 16. “In the wild you can’t just go get a drink of water; you have to pump for 20 minutes to purify it.”
“You think you need all these things to survive,” John adds. “You think you need to play basketball, to go on dates, to listen to music all the time. But out there, you can live without the worldly things. And when you read the scriptures, you can concentrate more closely on what the Lord wants you to hear.”
“Our first devotional was on prayer, on being able to pray at any time about anything,” Joshua says. “I think we all did that throughout the trip. And it taught us how to walk with the Spirit. I thought a lot about Proverbs 3:5–6 [Prov. 3:5–6], ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’ I thought as we were hiking along the mountain trails physically, that spiritually we were also hiking some trails.”
Talk with these young men today, and there’s no question last year’s trip left enduring memories. They speak of how the rains came every day, right on schedule, and how that taught them the value of being prepared in advance. They talk of deepened respect for plants and animals. They express a desire to learn more and more. They laugh about diving into ice-cold water, enduring mosquito bites, and returning down the trail in search of stragglers. They even speak reverently about specific answers to prayer.
But threaded into almost every comment, and tied forever with their summer activity, is a deepened love and appreciation for the word of the Lord.
Mike may express it best when he says, “Anybody can go out and go backpacking. But we had a different kind of experience because we oriented it toward the scriptures.”
It’s an adventure that left them, literally, on top of the world.

Not too long ago, Sister Stutz and I had the pleasure of meeting a Brigham Young University-Idaho student in an off-campus setting. After discovering our common ties to this institution, one of the first comments this student made was, "I so love Devotionals at BYU-Idaho." I asked her what it is about Devotionals that she loves so much. "I love coming together as a campus community, learning from faculty and other wise people, and especially I love feeling the Spirit," she replied. "What prompted you to start attending Devotional?" I inquired. "Students who had gone before told me how great it was and encouraged me to go. So I did. After that first experience I was hooked and have attended Devotional ever since." "Do you often share what you learn in Devotional with others?" I probed. She reflected, "Each week I share what I learn with my parents, friends, and others, including the Devotional Highlight on BYU-Idaho's Facebook page." "Have you ever invited someone who may not be attending to come to Devotional with you?" I asked. "Yes," she replied. "I encourage my roommates to attend and sometimes ask classmates if they are going to devotional, too. Some come, but others don't." Acknowledging that some students and employees are unable to attend Devotional due to work or other commitments, I asked, "Why do you think some choose to regularly attend Devotional, while others rarely choose to do so?" Her response was insightful. "I think Devotionals are amazing! You put yourself in a situation where the Spirit can teach you more. Those who are serious about their conversion to the Gospel make time for Devotional."[1]

Brigham Young’s conversion to Mormonism in April 1832 brought a dramatic release of language in him that included speaking in tongues and beginning his first diary. At the same time, he began, hesitantly then avidly, to preach the restored gospel in the area near his home in Mendon, New York. Like many other early converts, even before receiving a formal call from the Prophet, he felt the truth of the Lord’s reminder that “it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.”1 At a cottage meeting he attended only one week after his baptism, he was suddenly called on to speak—for the first time in public—and occupied over an hour under the press of the Spirit. As he said, “I opened my mouth and the Lord filled it.”2

As a young boy of five or six years of age, I had a powerful experience with prayer. My grandfather, who was not very old at the time, was very ill—feverish, ashen, and almost unconscious. It was a real crisis for our family. He lay in a bed that had been set up for him in his living room, and many of our family members, as well as our stake patriarch, knelt in a circle around his bedside to pray for him.
Although I was the only one in the room who was not an adult, I was invited to be in that prayer circle. Each member of the circle took a turn saying a prayer out loud. Then I, as the youngest one there, was called upon to pray last. I had participated in family prayer, the blessing on the food, bedtime prayers, and the other prayers that children say, but I had never experienced prayer like this before. People were crying, and everyone was anxious and concerned. It all seemed awfully important and urgent and somewhat frightening.
As a result of these prayers, my grandfather’s health was restored. The patriarch later told me that he felt my grandfather had been healed primarily because of my prayer. I have never forgotten that experience. Because I was so frightened at the responsibility to pray in such a setting, prayer took on a deeper meaning for me.

Prophets have charge for the whole earth, not just for members of the Church. I can report from my own experience how personally and devotedly the First Presidency takes that charge. As needs grow, the First Presidency has charged us to increase our humanitarian outreach in a significant way. They are interested in the largest trends and the smallest details.
Recently, we brought to them one of the protective medical gowns that Beehive Clothing sewed for hospitals to use during the pandemic. As a medical doctor, President Russell M. Nelson was highly interested. He didn’t want to just see it. He wanted to try it on—check the cuffs and the length and the way it tied in the back. He told us later, with emotion in his voice, “When you meet with people on your assignments, thank them for their fasting, their offerings, and their ministering in the name of the Lord.”

By 1946, schools in Dortmund had reopened. But young Enzio’s remaining high school years began a period of sincere questioning and deep confusion for him. Before the war, his teachers had extolled Hitler’s doctrines as the cure for Germany’s ills; now they disavowed ever having taught them. What could this mean? Did adults not know right from wrong? As his disillusionment deepened, he became scornful and bitter and filled with the melancholy of a searcher.

The audience cheered and applauded in approval. The concert was over. The boys bowed to the crowds as beads of perspiration streamed down their faces.
They were satisfied with their performance. They had worked long and hard to prepare for this tour, and the effort was again paying off. The fans yelled for more as they clapped and whistled wildly in an effort to persuade the group to sing another song. The boys nodded their heads to each other and sprang once more to their instruments for an additional number.
This was one of their many moments of triumph. From Australia to Germany, from England to Japan, from Canada to South America, from California to New York, the Osmonds had become a household word. Everyone knew them all—or did they?
As the boys performed their encore, a young man stood backstage like a silent shadow and watched. He couldn’t hear the music clearly, but he could feel its beat. His excited smile was almost exaggerated as his eyes followed them and beamed with pride. He shuffled his feet as though to imitate the dance routine the boys were now performing.
He was their older brother, Tom. As he watched, he longed to be with them, but he knew that was impossible because he is deaf.
How does it feel to be a member of the famous and successful Osmond family without being able to be a part of their theatrical accomplishments? Tom explains it this way:
“People meet my famous brothers with excitement just beaming from their eyes. When they are introduced to me and find out I am one of the brothers, too, they briefly shake my hand, give me a look of pity, and quickly return to their first interest, my brothers. It really used to depress me sometimes. I felt so left out.
“As my family became more and more famous, their pace of life continued to increase. They were coming and going constantly. The phone was always ringing. People were always stopping by the house. Not being able to hear, I depend on lip reading a lot to understand what is going on. With everyone in such a hurry and things always happening so quickly, it got to where I couldn’t keep up with it all.
“I’d get frustrated. I’d yell at one of my family, stop them from their busy responsibilities, and insist they take time to tell me what was going on. They tried so hard to keep me informed, but it was impossible. The more popular they became, the more I began to realize that our lives were headed down two different roads. I found I was no longer content being just one of the other Osmond brothers. I wanted to be known as myself, liked for myself. I wanted to be me!
“But who was I? This soul-searching led to a question that arose in my mind time and time again: ‘Who am I, really, and why am I deaf?’
“I learned from my mother and father’s teachings that I am a child of God, that my Father in heaven loves me and will hear and answer my prayers.
“At first, faithfully believing but misunderstanding this, I fasted and prayed often that I would be healed from my infirmity so that I could be famous with my brothers. When my miracle didn’t come, again I asked why?
“Once my father said to me there was no question in life that could not be answered in the scriptures. And so I began to search them for some clue to who I really was, why I was here on this earth in this condition, and what my purpose in life was to be.
“I rambled through the pages of holy writ, reading here a verse and there a verse until one day I came across John 9:1–3:
“‘And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.
“‘And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?’
“Then Christ’s answer, like the thunder from heaven, hit me deep inside as I read:
“‘Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.’
“That’s when it finally came to me. I was an individual. I had God-given talents. And even though I couldn’t be a singer like the rest of my family, I still had something major to contribute with my life. I realized I had to stop pouting over my weaknesses. I needed to discover those talents, develop them, and use them to achieve my own success.
“I knew from the beginning it wasn’t going to be easy. But I found comfort in the words of the apostle Paul who suffered from his own problem, which he called a thorn in the flesh. He was told by the Lord that ‘strength is made perfect in weakness.’ (2 Cor. 12:9.) Paul said he took pleasure in his infirmities for ‘when I am weak, then am I strong.’ (2 Cor. 12:10.)
“I was determined I was going to make my own success in life. I wondered if there had ever been any handicapped persons who had. So I decided to do a little research.
“I discovered that about one out of every seven persons in the world has some kind of disability. I found out that there are about 25 million handicapped persons in the United States alone. But only about 10 million of them have the kind of handicaps that could keep them from leading normal, useful lives.
“With further study, I learned that there have been a lot of famous people in the world who have overcome handicaps to achieve success and make major contributions to mankind. For instance, Franklin D. Roosevelt was crippled by polio at the age of 39. He never walked again without braces or other artificial aids. Yet, Roosevelt became the only president of the United States ever elected four times.
“Helen Keller conquered not one, but three physical handicaps. She became blind, deaf, and mute before she was two years old. But she learned to read, write, and speak. She devoted her life to helping the blind and the deaf.
“Clarence Shepherd Day, Jr., was a famous American author. After the Spanish-American War, he suffered from arthritis and had to stay in bed for the rest of his life. But he did not let this interfere with his writing. He wrote the ironic and humorous books Life with Father and Life with Mother.
“Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Jose Feliciano, and Sammy Davis, Jr., are four individuals who partially or completely lost their eye sight, but they became famous actors and musicians.
“Handicapped persons have made great contributions to literature, music, and art. Lord Byron had a club foot, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an invalid. Each wrote some of the world’s finest poetry. After John Milton became blind, he wrote Paradise Lost, one of the world’s greatest epic poems. After Ludwig Von Beethoven became deaf, he composed some of his best-known music. Alec Templeton and George Shearing, both born blind, gained fame as outstanding popular pianists.
“Francisco Goya, the noted painter, was deaf. Actress Sarah Bernhardt held audiences spellbound even after losing a leg. Winston Churchill overcame stuttering to become one of the world’s most eloquent speakers.
“Many athletes have become champions in spite of handicaps. When Glen Cunningham was eight years old, his legs were scarred to the bone in a schoolhouse fire. Yet he became a great track star. Golfer Ben Hogan, injured in an automobile accident, was told he might never walk again. Four years later he won three of the world’s top golf tournaments. Two baseball stars, Grover Cleveland Alexander and Tony Lazzeri, had epilepsy. John Belmonte, the famous bullfighter, had a twisted and deformed body.
“In every case these people overcame a serious handicap to become noted in their fields. And there were hundreds more who were not so famous but who hurdled the insurmountable odds of their own handicaps to achieve personal success.
“After studying these cases, I found I could admit it without frustration: I had a physical handicap. And finally I accepted it and began to work hard each day to overcome its limitations and use the talents I did have to achieve success.
“My handicap became a blessing to me. It strengthened me as I learned to overcome my difficulties. I learned that I must work harder at everything I do because of my deafness. Even the simple task of speaking and expressing myself was a challenge.
“Have you ever thought of how difficult it would be to learn to talk if you could not hear the sounds of the words? It’s not easy, and it takes many hours of practice and patience. I am very grateful to my wonderful family for all the encouragement and assistance they have given me in helping me to improve my speech. I had to learn to be humble so that I could readily accept their criticism and correction.
“But in my struggles I have learned that there are more than just physical handicaps. There are handicaps of attitudes also that hold back far more people from success than the physical kind. Many individuals believe they can never achieve success, so they never try. Some even preprogram themselves to fail before they ever start.
“Against the discouragement of many who said it was impossible, I taught myself to play the piano, drums, and saxophone, and I learned how to tap dance for my own enjoyment and amusement and other people’s amazement. I conquered the skills of printing and the techniques of photography and turned them into a successful business that now provides me my livelihood.
“I learned to love people and wanted to associate with them and share my story with others so that they might learn and grow from my experiences. To do this, I started giving lectures and writing. In each case these things were and still are difficult to accomplish. But my life now has new purpose and meaning because I had the courage to try and be what I wanted to be. Through these efforts I am beginning to discover the real me.
“My parents always taught me, ‘Prepare yourself and the opportunity will come.’ John A. Widtsoe said, ‘Decide what you want to be, pay the price, and be what you want to be.’
“For those of us who are physically handicapped, the price is a little higher, but our goals can be accomplished. No one should let a disability hold him back or make him think he cannot achieve.
“Whenever the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. Every weakness has its compensating strength. The Lord gives us this comforting promise in Ether 12:27:
“‘I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.’
“As I said, there are more than just physical weaknesses. Bad habits are weaknesses, too, and hold us back just as much as the physical ones. The love of money, lust, greed, envy, covetousness, dishonesty, criticism, unfair judgment, gossip, name calling—all are weaknesses that keep us from achieving and growing spiritually as well as temporally. Yet the Lord promises in this verse from the Book of Mormon, that if we will humble ourselves before him and seek his help, he will assist us in turning these failings into strengths.
“Impossible you may say? No, it is not. The Osmond family motto comes from Proverbs 3:5–6: [Prov. 3:5–6]
“‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“‘In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’
“I’m grateful we chose that for our motto. It’s been a strength for me in my life. It’s helped me to realize that there is no handicap in the world that can keep a person from achieving some measure of success if he or she will just keep trying, place his trust in the Lord, and never allow himself to get discouraged by self pity.
“I am often asked what advice I would give other handicapped people, and this is what I answer, although really, it applies to everyone:
“Meet with faith each challenge that comes to you. Have courage and don’t give up, no matter what your difficulties. Be independent and self-reliant. Educate yourself. Overcome selfishness and self-pity by dedicating your life to the service of others. And last, discover your talents and use them!”

Getting a testimony of the Restoration wasn’t a quick experience for me. It was very difficult and brought me into the “depths of humility” (Mosiah 4:11).
It started when I was a devout, hardcore Calvinist. Though I’d returned to full activity a couple years before, questions I’d had since childhood lingered in the background of my mind. Over the previous months and years leading to meeting the missionaries, they grew and multiplied after receiving no satisfactory answer from asking or researching them. These endeavours to discover more truth left me with more confusion. They were corrosive to my faith. Its crescendo was when these queries led to a faith crisis. I doubted everything from the most minor of doctrines to the very existence of God.
One night, I earnestly and desperately prayed to know who He is, for help. By then, I was closer to agnosticism than Christianity. Mere days later, I met the missionaries when somebody I used to vaguely know from school (and hadn’t spoken to in over three years) added me to a group chat with Elders McIntosh and Beam. God sent me who I needed when I needed them.
The two things I remember from the conversation played a huge role in my conversion. When I joined a video call (late) Elder Beam was reading Moroni’s promise (see Moroni 10:3–5). His companion, Elder McIntosh, and he carried a sweet and sacred Spirit which impacted me. I didn’t recognise it at the time (two months would pass before I’d learn to recognise it) but it drew me to them. I wanted to know them; I wanted to know what they had to say.
From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.
Over the next few months, I did a deep dive into researching the Church of Jesus Christ, the positives and negatives. In doing so, in meeting the missionaries and following through on the commitments I made, in praying, in reading the Book of Mormon alongside the Bible, every single question I had was answered fully. The biggest questions such as the nature of God (I was never fully satisfied with descriptions of a triune God) were answered. The smallest questions I had were answered just the same. It was a miracle.
When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.
I know this is His Church. I know He is the Saviour and Redeemer of mankind. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father. I know we can come closer to them by reading the scriptures. I know we can be blessed and come closer to them by living the covenants we make in the font and in the holy temple. This is the true Church of Jesus Christ.

I remember the job opportunity that finally came after months of searching during the depression. Unfortunately the work was in an amusement park, and beset with moral hazards. The final decision was mine, but how careful the bishop was to alert me to the problems and obstacles ahead. For the nearly two years I was employed there it was a job requirement to carry a package of cigarettes in my pocket for the convenience of the customers. But not once did I ever forget my bishop’s advice or my parental teaching about the Word of Wisdom. Neither were any of the other temptations able to overpower me.

When I was a child growing up and learning about life, I did not have the security of my father and mother telling me who I was, how I could find lasting happiness, and what would happen to me if I were to die. My parents did not have the gospel of Jesus Christ, so my childhood was very uncertain in many ways and often full of fear.
But in all the memories of my childhood, there is at least one of peace and joy. This is the memory of Christmas.
Christmastime was celebrated in the traditions and customs of my home country of Germany, and it was specifically for the children.
Four Sundays before Christmas Day, preparations for something holy and beautiful could be felt in our home. A little wreath with four candles on it was placed on the family table.
On the first Sunday, the first candle was lit. As a family we sat around the table, singing Christmas songs and preparing little gifts that each of us would give to each member of the family.
On the fourth Sunday, the last candle was lit, and expectations for the coming joyous events were growing extreme.
A Christmas tree did not appear in our home until December 24. On that day, we children had to stay outside, go on errands, and play by ourselves. I still remember how time seemed to not pass at all.
We children were taught that the Christmas tree and all of its glory and beauty, along with presents and food and cookies, came from the little Christ Child.
This lack of logic did not bother us children. We believed that there was a Christ-child person of a supernatural existence who cared for us in such a way that once a year He would come in person to fulfill all of our hopes and dreams.
In preparation, we cleaned the rooms where we slept. We put on our best clothes. We had our gifts ready to give. When the sun started to set on that special day, we were invited to get ready to enter the living room.
As was the custom, the doors to the living room had been locked because we children were not to go into that room. It became a place of great mystery. Once in a while we heard some rustling of papers, and once in a while the more courageous of us tried to peek in the keyhole—only to learn that the key was in it from the inside and the door was locked.
When Mother finally decided that we were clean, orderly, dressed, our hair groomed, and had our rooms in order, we were asked to listen carefully. Suddenly we heard a little bell ringing, and our hearts beat close to explosion. This was it! This was the moment when the doors were unlocked and we were allowed to go into the living room. And there it was—a Christmas tree standing from the floor to the ceiling! We became aware of its beautiful, fresh-cut smell and that it was glowing with candles. Our father, who happened to be already inside the room when we walked in, was watching it carefully so that nothing caught on fire.
The Christmas tree had many decorations that we as children would see only at Christmastime. In the center of the tree was a wax sculpture of a little Christ Child surrounded by glowing angels of gold paper and silk.
Our family gathered around the tree and sang four or five Christmas songs. Then we children were invited to find our own corner of presents, which had been covered by a blanket.
This Christmas Eve tradition developed in us powerful feelings of holiness, joy, love, gratitude, and security. These feelings, radiating from the symbols of the little wax figure of the Christ Child, which we saw only at Christmastime, had a great influence on all of us.

When our children were younger and we would be on our way to Sunday church meetings, occasionally we would pass a car pulling a boat. My children would become silent and press their noses against the windows and ask, “Dad, why can’t we go waterskiing today instead of to church?”

Sometimes I would take the easy but cowardly way out and answer, “It’s simple; we don’t have a boat.” However, on my more conscientious days, I would muster up all the logic and spirituality available to a patriarch of a family and try to explain how much happier our family was because of our Church activity.

I first realized I wasn’t getting through when on a subsequent Sunday we saw a family laughing and excited as they loaded their snow skis onto their car. One of my teenage sons said with a sly grin, “They’re not really happy, huh, Dad?” That statement has become a family joke whenever we see someone doing something we cannot do. When I see a teenager driving a beautiful, expensive sports car, I say to my sons, “Now there’s one miserable guy.”

“Elder Confer, teach me,” said the voice on the other end of the line, “but don’t teach me about the Book of Mormon.” Christine Yong, our new investigator, was wanting to know more about our religion.
As missionaries in the Singapore Mission, my companion and I were excited to have an investigator like Christine. She and her sister Sara seemed to be sincerely interested in the gospel. But during the weeks we had shared the gospel with them, they had some doubts about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. We weren’t about to give up on them though, so we set up another appointment.
I went with our branch mission leader, Patrick Lim, while my companion went with another member to other appointments. Brother Lim and I planned to teach Christine about repentance, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. We usually invited people to be baptized when we talked about baptism. But both of us wondered, given all the challenges she was facing, whether Christine would be ready for baptism. We prayed for the Spirit before meeting with her.
During the discussion, Christine seemed to understand repentance and baptism. But as Brother Lim taught about receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, Christine voiced her concerns.
“Elders, I’m not sure if God is there and if He would really answer my prayer,” she hesitantly admitted.
We described to her the calm, peaceful feelings the Spirit brings, but she wasn’t familiar with the influence of the Holy Ghost. She had tried to pray and read the scriptures, but things just didn’t seem to be coming together.
For a moment, we were at a loss for answers. Then a scripture came to my mind, and I felt impressed to share it, even though it was in the Book of Mormon—the book she had requested us not to teach from. I asked Christine to read Ether 12:6: “I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.”
As I explained that our faith in the Lord is tested before we receive an answer from Heavenly Father, I felt the Spirit strongly in my heart. I prayed Christine would feel it too. And she did.
“I’m so touched. I’m really very touched,” Christine said, as tears flowed down her cheeks.
“This is the Spirit, Christine. This is what the Spirit feels like,” Brother Lim and I said as tears started to flow down our cheeks too.
After we had shared that verse with her and taught her further, Christine accepted our invitation and was soon baptized.

What kind of thanks?
There sits a young man here today in whose home I was a guest at a stake conference. Since he had recently left for the Y, I was to sleep in his room Saturday night. As his gracious mother showed me the room, she opened his closet where I saw a handwritten letter taped to the rod in the closet. It read:
Mom,
Thanks for all you’ve done to make this a “special summer.” You are a very “special mother” and I thank the Lord for the blessing of being your son.
I love you and appreciate all you do in my behalf. See you in November.
Paul.
As she paused while I read it, she said, “Hope you don’t mind hanging your clothes out here. This note is still kind of precious. You know, every time I open this closet I read it again, and I would like to leave it there a little longer.”
Well, Paul, you are probably leaving for home tomorrow. May I suggest that when you get home you take that sweet little mother of yours in those strong young arms and give her a squeeze so that she’ll know you are home—and thankful.
A. Theodore Tuttle“What Kind of Thanks,”BYU Speeches of the Year, November 26, 1968, p. 5.

One Saturday morning Brady picked one of his favorite books from his shelf and wrote inside the cover: THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME. Brady wasn’t sure why he had done it, but now that he had done it, he wanted to write those same words in every book that he owned. So he did.
At noon his older sister Kate walked into his room to tell him lunch was ready. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, closing the book he had been writing in.
“You are, too, doing something,” insisted Kate. “I saw you. You were writing something in one of your books. Let me see what it is.”
“No!”
“Yes!” Kate tried to grab the book from Brady. They tugged at the book between them. Kate won. She always did.
“This book belongs to me,” she read aloud.
Out loud it sounded dumb to Brady.
“Brady,” said his sister, “how is anybody going to know who ‘me’ is? You need to write your name.”
To Brady’s surprise, Kate’s question and suggestion made sense. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks.”
His sister said, “You’re welcome.”
After lunch Brady spent most of the afternoon adding his name to the writing in the front of his books. Each one looked like this: THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME, BRADY.
By the time he was done, he felt so proud to see his name in all of his books that he began writing it on everything—his tennis shoes, his ruler, his shoe box with his shell collection in it, his map of the world, and his baseball mitt.
Then Brady wondered if his mother would be angry and yell at him for writing his name on everything. He decided he didn’t want to find out. So he taped a big sign to his door that read: THIS ROOM BELONGS TO ME, BRADY. KEEP OUT!
It wasn’t long before his sister knocked on his door and asked, “What’s going on, Brady? What’s the sign for?” And before Brady could say “keep out,” his sister had opened the door, walked into his room, and sat down on his bed. “May I borrow your bike, Brady? Just for a few hours?” she asked.
A strange new feeling came over Brady. He shouted, “No! It’s my bike. It belongs to me, Brady. And you keep away from it!”
“OK, OK,” said his sister, and she left.
That night, at the movies, Brady’s mother reached over and took some popcorn from Brady’s popcorn box.
“Mom,” whispered Brady.
“Be quiet,” whispered Brady’s father. “Watch the movie.”
But as soon as Brady looked back at the screen, his mother reached over and took some more popcorn. She did it again, and again!
Brady stood and said loudly, “Please, Mom, stop taking my popcorn!”
And she stopped. Brady thought it was because everyone in the theater had turned and glared at her.
For several days afterward, whenever someone wanted to “help” Brady finish his ice cream or whenever someone wanted to “borrow” a stick of his gum, Brady puffed up big and said: “No, it belongs to me, Brady.” He had never felt so powerful.
Now Kate never walked uninvited into his room. And there was never any confusion about what belonged to Brady. At first Brady was glad to know that he could make people leave him alone. But he noticed something else had changed too. When Brady wanted to use his sister’s paint set or to stick his finger into the cookie batter to taste it, or to “borrow” his father’s shaving lotion, he was always told “No! It belongs to me.” And Brady had to do without.
Brady began to feel uncomfortable and left out. When he thought about it, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had started naming and claiming things in the first place. He decided that he liked the way things were before.
Brady knew he couldn’t take his name off all of his possessions, but he could do one thing. He could take down the KEEP OUT sign from his door and put another one up instead.
So he did.
This one read: WELCOME, FRIENDS!

This year, Ricky Joel, 18, graduated from high school on Pohnpei (or Ponape), a mountainous, tropical island about 19 kilometers wide and 23 kilometers long. He is a second-generation Latter-day Saint, an example of the blessings that come to families who join the Church.
“Ricky doesn’t drink or smoke,” his sister, Jayleen, says. “And he has lots of friends. The guys say, ‘You need to respect him; he’s a priest.’ And all my girlfriends are interested in him. It’s rare to see a boy with teeth not stained by the betel nut.” Betel nut is a mild narcotic that, when chewed with lime, stains teeth red.
Ricky’s parents were among the first to join the Church on Pohnpei. His father joined first, in 1977; his mother had a more difficult time because her grandfather was a minister in another religion. When the missionaries first arrived, persecution came, too. Some of the people “beat them up and told bad stories about them,” Ricky says. “But my dad made friends with them.”
The persecution hasn’t ebbed much since then. Untruths still circulate. Even some schoolteachers talk against the Church. And in a society that equates manhood with smoking and drinking (both alcohol and a local limb-numbing beverage called sakau are popular), Ricky finds keeping the Word of Wisdom a challenge. “If you drink,” he says, “you have lots of friends. If you don’t drink, they call you a girl.”
Ricky received his testimony of the gospel by working with the missionaries. Like his father, he developed a friendship with the elders and has been helping them for the past three years. Through the experience, he learned that the Book of Mormon is true. “Everything about the Church is true,” he says. “I feel lifted up.”
Seeing how different Ricky and other active LDS youth are from their peers has begun to soften the attitude of many Pohnpeians toward the Church. While most of the younger generation are struggling to cope with newly imported vices like alcoholism and dysfunctional family life, the Latter-day Saint youth seem to be handling the challenges with better success.
Still, there are plenty of challenges for Pohnpei’s young Latter-day Saints, who, like other LDS youth in the islands, are exploring new waters. They succeed by preferring a strong relationship with God to fitting in with the crowd. The love they feel for their Heavenly Father binds them to him and helps them keep his commandments.
“If you don’t let what people think bother you,” Ricky says, “it’s easy being a Mormon.”

Let me tell you a little bit more about what comes through inspired patriarchs. One of the most powerful ways the Lord conveys his will to you and to me is through a patriarchal blessing. The Lord crafts those blessings personally for each one of us. I’ll tell you something a little bit humorous about my patriarchal blessing in that respect, given that tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.

I took a date one time to general conference in Salt Lake while I was attending BYU. In between conference sessions, we ran into our stake patriarch, Brother Delbert V. Groberg from Idaho Falls. (Incidentally, the “V” in his middle name stands for Valentine). Well, I introduced my date to him and we chatted for a few minutes and then went on to conference and that’s the last I thought of it. A few weeks passed and I was talking to my dad, and he said “I understand that you ran into Brother Groberg down at conference.” I said “Yeah, I did. How do you know that?” And he said, “well, I just happened to bump into him” (They were in the same ward). And they got to talking and I said “Well, what did he say Dad?” And my dad just simply said, “She’s not the one!” You can imagine how I felt when Dad related that experience to me! I recalled the portion of my patriarchal blessing that spoke of marriage and family, and I began to wonder if Brother Groberg had seen a vision of my future wife! I really didn’t know what he saw or felt, but I was impressed that he cared enough about me to offer guidance, and I respected him enough to follow it.

Paul Reid, Pacific Area manager of the Church’s Welfare and Self-Reliance Services, knew about SolarBuddy through a previous project.
“Randomly, one morning I woke up with the idea of having thousands of our Church youth and young adults light the world at Christmas with a gift for thousands of children around the Pacific who often do not have light to read or study after the sun goes down,” he said.
Carl Maurer, who worked with Mike Malouf in coordinating the effort, said, “This lighting the world will be a blessing to those in energy poverty locations in the Pacific, where not only the receiver is blessed, but the giver also.”
Tehina Avaeoru of French Polynesia shared one way she felt blessed as a volunteer assembler of SolarBuddy lights: “This activity was very uplifting because we were able to help others,” she said. “I really felt the Spirit (of God) and the love we can have for each other.”
Fellow volunteer Tamarua Richmond agreed. “To have done it with friends was even better. It was a great atmosphere. We all had our part to play and I’m glad we did it.”
Todd Miller from Hamilton, New Zealand, said, “Today has been a fantastic opportunity for young and old to do something for someone else this Christmas season. We hope these small lights will make a big difference.”
When Jiovilisi Seniceva heard about the SolarBuddy humanitarian project, he thought about the people in the outer islands of his homeland of Fiji. “Many don’t have light in their homes, and I hope this project can help,” he said.
Church Welfare and Self-Reliance employee Peniette Seru joined a group of Church members who visited a small village in Fiji’s south to deliver SolarBuddy lights to families.
She smiled as she recounted her experience distributing lights to young people who live in homes with no electricity. “One hundred and fifty other lights were donated to a children’s heart hospital (in Suva) to be given to children who come in from outer islands,” she said.
Not only did volunteers assemble lights, but they also wrote notes to each future recipient.
Australian volunteer Yvette Barnes wrote in a letter to a light recipient: “We hope that every time you use this light, you know this is made with love from me.”
Reflecting on her experience, she said, “For every person here, there’s a good vibe, good energy. We’re feeling the love.”
From this project that began as a “lightbulb idea,” thousands of children will see the world in a new light.
“We are inspired by Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, and His example of bringing light to those who sit in darkness,” Elder Wakolo said. “We hope our small gifts of love and light—made possible by the Australian charity, SolarBuddy, and by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—will brighten hearts, homes and futures.”

Not only does this service bless the homes from which missionaries come, it blesses lives where missionaries go. One young lady who worked among the Indian people wrote: “The Navajo are a great people. Words can’t express my love for them. …
“The Navajo people accepted me, a white girl, as one of their own. They called me their white daughter. I had a hard time with the language, but I could teach by reading the lessons. I was very fortunate to have Navajo companions who could explain in detail. We could communicate with love. I learned that love is the greatest language to know. This people loved me and I loved them. We spoke with smiles, laughter, and sometimes tears. They were patient with my broken Navajo and helped me when I couldn’t think of a word. I left with a testimony in my heart and a feeling that cannot be described in words. …”
She concludes with, “In December I met a returned missionary. We fell in love and have been married in the temple.”