Gospel Story Finder

A lovely young lady told the following story at a stake conference. She said, “I am a convert from upstate New York. My parents wanted their children to have eternal marriages.
“Our family moved to Utah, and eventually I found myself a husband. He was the president of the local motorcycle club and wore a black leather jacket and motorcycle boots. We rode motorcycles together—perhaps not what my mother had hoped—but by that time I had wandered from the Church.
“We moved into a house. Often our friends would gather there. I’m afraid our neighbors were quite uncomfortable with us. At least one neighbor took her children into her house when we were roaming about.
“But do you know what our neighbors did? They mowed our lawn because we didn’t have a mower. They brought flowers when one of us was sick, and quite often they brought food and fixed things around the house. Our little daughter was included in the neighborhood children’s activities and was even given a party on her birthday. When we tried to thank our neighbors, they just said, ‘Well, we all like to help each other.’ They made us feel welcome there.
“About 10 months later, we traded our black leather jackets and motorcycle boots for the white clothing of the temple. As we knelt across the altar from each other and looked around that room, there were our neighbors, those who had been mowing our lawn and making things better for us.”

Now there has been added another element. It began some years ago when drought in Africa brought hunger and death to uncounted numbers. Members of the Church were invited to contribute to a great humanitarian effort to meet the needs of those terribly impoverished people. Your contributions were numerous and generous. The work has continued because there are other serious needs in many places. The outreach of this aid has become a miracle. Millions of pounds of food, medical supplies, blankets, tents, clothing, and other materials have staved off famine and desolation in various parts of the world. Wells have been dug, crops have been planted, lives have been saved. Let me give you an example.
Neil Darlington is a chemical engineer who worked for a large industrial company in Ghana. Eventually, he retired.
He and his wife were then called as a missionary couple. They were sent to Ghana. Brother Darlington says, “In areas of famine, disease, and social unrest, we were there as representatives of the Church, extending a helping hand to the destitute, the hungry, the distressed.”
In small villages they drilled new wells and repaired old ones. Those of us who have fresh, clean water in abundance can scarcely appreciate the circumstances of those who are without.
Can you picture this couple, devoted Latter-day Saint missionaries? They drill into the dry earth. Their drill reaches the water table below, and the miracle liquid comes to the surface and spills over the dry and thirsty soil. There is rejoicing. There are tears. There is now water to drink, water with which to wash, water to grow crops. There is nothing more treasured in a dry land than water. How absolutely beautiful is water pouring from a new well.
On one occasion, when the tribal chiefs and the elders of the village gathered to thank them, Brother Darlington asked the chief if he and Sister Darlington could sing a song for them. They looked into the eyes of the dark-skinned men and women before them and sang “I Am a Child of God” as an expression of their common brotherhood.
This one couple, through their efforts, have provided water for an estimated 190,000 people in remote villages and refugee camps. Contemplate, if you will, the miracle of this accomplishment.

Several years ago I interviewed a young woman for a temple recommend to receive her own endowment and to be married and sealed for time and all eternity. As I completed the interview and signed the recommend, tears were streaming down her cheeks. I said, “Please share with me your feelings.” Then she told me the following story.
Since her youth she had sought to find truth and direction in her life. She had yearned to find peace and happiness, but no matter where she looked, she could not find it. It had come to a point where she was very distraught, assuming there was really nothing in life that had true meaning or was fulfilling. In this frame of mind, one evening while visiting a dear friend and recounting her concerns and despair she said: “I looked behind the sofa where I was sitting to the bookshelf. My eyes fell upon a particular volume, and a compelling feeling came over me. I knew I needed to find out what was written on its pages.”
She took the book from the shelf and read the title, the Book of Mormon. She asked her friend where she had received it. Her friend indicated that two young missionaries stopped her on the street and gave her the book but only after a commitment to read it. Due to a lack of time, she had just put it on the shelf.
“I started to read,” she said. “I could not put it down.” A feeling came over her that she had never felt before. Her friend told her that she could take the book with her. She went home and continued to read through the night. The next morning she went into the streets looking for the two young missionaries. It didn’t take long to find them. They agreed to teach her the gospel, and in a few weeks she was baptized a member of the Church.
Through her tears, she explained that since that day she had found a joy and inner peace that she never dreamed possible.
Living in a small town with few members and even fewer opportunities to marry in the Church, she didn’t dare hope that she might one day marry in the temple. But she felt it was through the guidance of the Holy Spirit that she met a young man while vacationing in another country. He was a member of the Church and honored his priesthood. They had fallen in love, and he had asked her to marry him in the temple. The realization that she could now go to the house of the Lord and be sealed for time and all eternity brought joy to her soul and feelings of thankfulness and gratitude that were overwhelming and impossible to describe.
“I continue to ask myself,” she said, “why me? Why me? I am so blessed.”
Her humble, sweet spirit and testimony touched me deeply. As she left, we both shed tears of joy and appreciation.

Usually at some point soon after baptism, new members will be asked to take on a greater role in serving in their ward or branch. The bishop or branch president will issue a calling. This can be a difficult time for some.
When I accepted the first calling I received—Relief Society secretary—I wondered, “How could I be given such an important responsibility?” President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, explained how: “There will be times when you will feel overwhelmed. One of the ways you will be attacked is with the feeling that you are inadequate. … But you have access to more than your natural capacities, and you do not work alone.”2
Sometime later, the Relief Society president commented that the suggestions I had made at a presidency meeting showed that I was inspired. Confused, I replied, “I am?” She kindly reassured me that I was responding to the Spirit. Recognizing the hand of God guiding the work we do is not easy at first, but as we keep the commandments and work diligently, we will recognize that He magnifies those whom He calls.

If you are Vaga Babayan, 16, of the Severozamoskvoretsky Branch, you’ll rejoice in the hope of the future.
Two years ago, Vaga and his family, frightened by continual earthquakes in Armenia, moved to Moscow. His father found employment in a bakery run by relatives. Although Vaga studies hard all day, he also helps with the family business.
“One day my father and my sister met the missionaries. Dad invited them to our house. My mother had been searching for the truth and was excited to learn. They kept teaching us. Every time they came over, I felt a warmth in my soul. Three months later, my mother, my sister, and I were baptized.” His father, in Vaga’s words, is “still working” toward baptism.
“There are a lot of great things in Moscow,” Vaga says. “But the greatest of all is that I became acquainted with the Church here. The growth of the Church in Russia is creating a new history in our own lives.”
The power to change. That’s also a great gift, a gift even those with 850 years of experience might appreciate.

In more modern times we can also find the same commitment and courage. Prior to World War II, the area that became the German Democratic Republic, or GDR, (or East Germany as it was known) was the most productive German speaking missionary site. The City of Chemnitz had the largest concentration of Saints outside North America at that time. But the post-war communist regime made it very difficult for the Saints. It was nearly impossible to get visas to travel to the temple in Switzerland. When parents could receive visas, children were not allowed to accompany them. Government observers often attended meetings and followed the activities of the Saints. But, the members made every effort to be true and faithful to the laws of the gospel and also to the laws of their native land. When President Monson first visited the Saints in the GDR in 1968 he found them in challenging circumstances but promised that if they would be faithful, they would have every blessing. The Saints stayed true and in 1985 the government approached leaders of the Church with the proposal that the Church build a temple in the GDR so members would not have to travel to Switzerland.

Elder Russell M. Nelson said, "The exemplary behaviors of the Saints in the German Democratic Republic...is especially important. Because of the excellence of their righteous example, positive recommendations were given by their governments to inquiring leaders of other nations.....They found our members to be upright and honest citizens. Literally, the moral integrity and devout faith of these Saints brought them their temple in Freiberg." (Drama on the European Stage" Ensign , December 1991, p. 7)

President Monson reported meeting with the State Secretary for Religious Affairs for the GDR in 1988 who said, "We've observed you and your people for twenty years. We know you are what you profess to be: honest men and women." When President Monson met with Chairman Honecker, the head of the government, he said, "We know members of your Church believe in work. You have proven that. We know you are good citizens in whatever country you claim as home. We have observed that." And then he gave permission for German youth to serve missions outside of Germany. All returned home and did not violate that trust.

Two years later the two Germanies were united.

I witnessed this union of generations one time when I was helping a woman in my ward. Her parents had been divorced when she was young, and she knew very little about her father’s side of her family. We found basic records that identified her father’s parents and grandparents. She had never known their names. She was overcome with love and joy. The Spirit of the Lord filled her heart, and she was eager to take their names to the temple so they too could make sacred covenants with God.

Life in general is a grand experiment in learning correct precepts. Allow me to illustrate this with an example from my childhood. When I was 10 years old, I was out in the country at my grandmother’s house sledding with my two brothers on New Year’s Day. It was a beautiful Currier and Ives setting as we stood at the top of the hill gazing down over the pasture covered in white with a beautiful, clear stream angling across the bottom. As in a Norman Rockwell painting, I hopped on my Flexible Flyer and told my brother Wayne to hop on top. My artistic brother, Robert, remained at the top of the hill to capture the magic moment in his memory as down the hill we went. As we leveled out at the base of the hill, I performed the hard-rudder-right maneuver to avoid the impending stream. The sled disregarded my instructions, and into the icy stream we went.

Undaunted, we dragged ourselves back into the house, took a hot bath, put on some warm, dry clothes, and went out again. As we approached the top of the hill again, I hopped on the sled and invited my older but now somewhat more cautious brother to hop on board. I thought to myself, “This really should have worked.” And down we went again. But as we neared the stream, age gave way to discretion and, discretion being the better part of valor, my older brother bailed on me. (After all, he is a mathematician, and he had a “proof by example.”) As for me—and, as you might suspect—the flexible steering mechanism again failed me, and again I plummeted into the icy stream. Alone. However, this time a stick from the brush went through my cheek, and we had to go find someone to sew it up, or else I would have been out there a third time. Even though it “really should have worked,” the laws of physics said otherwise. But perhaps some ­useful precepts can be drawn—even from failed experiments.

For one, overwhelming momentum ­overrides small course corrections: a vital ­lesson to remember in sledding as well as in personal relationships when you are alone with someone late at night—a potential slippery slope and a pattern for heartache; a reminder that if we fail to follow divinely established patterns of conduct and morality, as taught by living prophets, the momentum of the moment may inflict mortal wounds, robbing us of virtue, happiness, and peace of mind. Small course corrections each week as we partake of the sacrament and each ­morning and night as we kneel before our Heavenly Father, remembering Him who was wounded for our transgressions, will prevent us from taking on the debilitating wounds that delay or destroy our scheduled patterns of personal progress and our future rendezvous with happiness. Such spiritual corrections are vital because the adversary also has patterns and plans by which he tries to destroy us—­patterns that fuel the vain and foolish precepts of men. But, for us, a better pattern is: Don’t be alone with someone late at night. Instead, allow small course corrections to guide your momentum rather than the other way around. Such careful thinking and behavior, if practiced daily and exercised thoughtfully, will allow us to one day steer our immortal souls to “the right hand of God in the kingdom of heaven.”11

A true story from the USA.
Gracie finished her last bite of pancakes, put her dishes in the sink, and grabbed her backpack.
“Time for family prayer,” Dad said.
Everyone knelt in the living room. Gracie’s twin brother, George, said the prayer. “Please help us have a good day at school,” he said. “And please bless Mom that she will be OK. Please bless the doctors to know how to help her.”
Gracie’s mom had a brain tumor. She would need to have surgery. The doctors were hopeful that everything would be OK, but they couldn’t know for sure.
After the prayer, Mom gave everyone a hug. “I’m going to the doctor again today. Hopefully we can get more answers.”
What if Mom dies and I can’t talk to her anymore? Gracie wondered. She was so scared. She couldn’t imagine not being able to hug Mom or see her after school.
That day, Gracie went to class, recess, and lunch just like normal. But she kept thinking about Mom. When she felt scared, she thought about her favorite Primary song. Families can be together forever through Heavenly Father’s plan, she sang in her mind.
When they got home from school, Gracie and George ran inside and gave Mom a big hug. “How was your appointment?” Gracie asked.
“It went well,” said Mom. “We still don’t know a lot. I have a few more appointments next week before the surgery.”
Gracie was glad to see her mom. But she was still worried.
A few days later, the doorbell rang. When Mom opened the door, Gracie heard singing.
She stood with Mom on the doorstep and looked out at a crowd of family friends from church and school. They were singing Primary songs. “We’ve been thinking of you and wanted to bring some comfort,” one of them said. Then they started singing again.
George came to the door too. He turned to Gracie. “Let’s sing with them!”
Gracie and George grabbed their coats and ran outside to join the others. They sang as loud as they could:
Gracie saw Mom wipe away tears. Her little sister, Rosie, clung to Mom’s legs and listened too.
A peaceful feeling spread over Gracie. She was still worried about Mom. But she knew that Jesus Christ loved them. He was a God of miracles. And somehow, Gracie knew things would be OK.
Gracie’s mom had the surgery and is doing well. Their family is grateful that because of Heavenly Father’s perfect plan, they can find peace and hope no matter what.

Have you ever wondered how it might feel to go through life deaf, blind, or confined to a wheelchair? The youth of the Pleasant Grove 19th Ward in Utah recently found out when they participated in a “Handicap Awareness Week.”
“I can’t even get through the door into the bathroom!” exclaimed one girl who tried a few turns in a wheelchair. Getting a drink of water from the fountain was also difficult.
The youth listened to speakers and voluntarily took on disabilities of their own while participating in different activities. Experiencing handicaps first-hand helped the youth develop a new-found compassion for their disabled brothers and sisters. But they were also consoled. “We were actually relieved to realize that one can have lots of fun even with a serious disability,” said one participant.

Once, when I was about seven years old, I had a pal whom I liked very much. We often walked home from school together. We talked about such things as what happened at school that day or what we were going to be when we grew up. We talked of being brave and of being able to do many things.

Sometimes we would dare each other to jump across a ditch or to climb a tree just to prove that we were brave or that we could do things we had seen older boys and girls do.

As we came to my home one day we stood out by the road and talked about who was the fastest runner in the school. The discussion got a little louder as both of us began boasting. When I strongly insisted that I could run faster than my friend, he turned to me and said, “If you’re so fast, I dare you to run across the road before that car gets here!”

I looked up the road and saw a car a short distance away. Without another word I dashed into the road to prove that I was fast and brave. A moment later the car’s brakes squealed! Its bumper hit me, and I landed in an unconscious heap.

When I opened my eyes, my aching body, a hurt pride, and my mother’s anxious face made me realize that I had been neither fast nor brave. I had only been foolish. I had brought sadness to myself and to others.

Fortunately, my injuries healed quickly. Of greater importance was the lesson I learned that has been valuable to me throughout my life. I learned that the only dare a person should ever accept is the DARE TO DO RIGHT.

Thanks for the birthday card. Brenda said that she got one from you too. It’s fun to have a cousin born on the same day. Sometimes we pretend that we’re twins. Because it was our eighth birthday, we had our party together with all the cousins and aunts and uncles. Everyone went bowling—and Grandma Richards won!
Then we came to our house and played games. We had a piñata, and Mom blindfolded us and turned us around and around before we could swing the bat at it. Brenda got too dizzy and knocked a lamp off a table. It didn’t break, though. Whew!
After that, we made our own pizzas. They looked funny, but they tasted great. Because our birthdays are in the middle of July, Brenda made a pioneer face on hers and I made mine look like an American flag. Scooter wanted to put chocolate chips on my pizza for the stars, but Mom stopped him. She let him put some on his piece of cake, instead.
We had one huge birthday cake. One half was chocolate, and the other half butterscotch. It had yellow candles, and Brenda and I blew them out together. We had ice cream, too, and I ate a scoop of pralines-and-cream for you.

During the week, I studied the scriptures for seminary before I did my schoolwork. When I was too tired to do my homework or was having challenges at school, I opened my seminary manual, studied, and prayed. I found that when I did that, I could refresh my mind and focus better on my homework. I still apply this in my life. Today, whenever I have a hard time, I still read my scriptures or general conference talks to refresh my mind.
Many high school students in Korea spend most of their time going to school and studying late. We learned that when we took time out for seminary and Mutual activities, we felt refreshed and were blessed to do better with our schoolwork. The lessons I learned there also helped me in other situations while I was still in school.

In 1993, three days after I moved to Polokwane, in northern South Africa, I got a knock on my door. When I opened it, there stood two missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I grew up deeply religious, and my family had always warned me to stay away from the missionaries. But they seemed nice and I enjoy talking about religion, so I invited them in.
After a wonderful visit, they said to me, “Could we give you a Book of Mormon?”
“Wait just wait a minute,” I responded. “I think I have one.”
When I showed my copy to them, they were astounded. I explained that in my home city of Cape Town a number of years before, missionaries had given me a Book of Mormon at an exhibition. I hung on to it, and every now and then I paged through it.
After our visit, I invited the missionaries back. I had been raised in a different church, however, where my stepfather was a minister. The thought of having to be baptized again became one of the stumbling blocks to my conversion. Nevertheless, I began attending the Church’s small branch. After about a year and a half, the branch president called me into his office.
“David, I want to give you a challenge,” the branch president said. “We really want you to get a testimony of the Book of Mormon. I feel you can do that if I call you to teach Gospel Doctrine. You already teach at a university, and you’re not scared of standing in front of people.”
Today, teachers must be members of the Church.1 But back then, the branch president felt inspired to ask me to teach. I’m grateful for that.
“OK,” I said.
Every Saturday evening I would study the lesson in great detail so I could understand it, know it, and relate to the Book of Mormon’s stories and characters. For me, teaching the book really was a good way to find my testimony of it.
One Sunday, after I had taught for about a year, the mission president from Pretoria came for a conference and attended my Sunday School class.
“Thank you, Brother Baxter,” he said afterward. “That was a nice lesson. Where are you from?”
When I told him Cape Town, he asked what ward I had attended.
“I didn’t attend a ward.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I am what you would refer to as a Gentile?” I said. “I’m not a member of the Church.”
He went white in the face and rushed off to the branch president.
“You have a nonmember teaching the scriptures?” the mission president asked him.
“Well, did he do it badly?”
“No.”
“Was he inspiring?”
“Yes.”
“Did he teach true doctrine?
“Yes.”
They allowed me to continue teaching. A few months later, I went to visit my family in Cape Town for the Christmas holidays. While I was there, my mother told me she was going to leave her church after my stepfather passed away. At that very moment, the Lord helped me feel free of any feelings of guilt I had because of loyalty to my mother and the church I grew up in.
When I returned home, I called the branch president.
“I’d like to be baptized tomorrow,” I told him.
“David, are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I got a message from the Lord.”

A missionary and his companion knocked on the door of an investigator to whom they had given a Book of Mormon. As the elderly woman answered the door, the missionary felt a powerful feeling flood over him. The woman welcomed the missionaries and explained that she had read and believed what they had taught her. The young missionary was so affected by the feeling he felt that he prayed, “Dear Father, please let me never forget the feeling I have felt today.”

Before I begin my formal remarks, I am going to tell you a little story about why I feel so strongly about this place. It is not only because as a student here for a year after my mission I found my professional calling to be a teacher and a scholar at the feet of truly, truly inspiring teachers like Larry T. Wimmer and others, but it is also because I met Sue here.
I want to tell you this little story about why I get a chill that just covers me when I walk on this campus. I had met Sue, and we were in the same family home evening group. We went for a walk one night, and I had the very distinct impression from the Spirit: “This is your eternal companion.” Fortunately, she had the same feeling.
Just a couple of days later I was walking along a diagonal sidewalk toward where in those days the sidewalks met in a big X, right about where the Harold B. Lee Library annex is now. I was walking along toward that X when the national anthem began playing, so I stopped. When it finished playing, I walked along the sidewalk and came to where the sidewalks crossed in an X. I ran into Sue right there in the middle of the X. It was on a Wednesday afternoon, and there were thousands of students in that area. And I ran into my eternal companion in the center of the X! I didn’t say this to the Lord, but I got it.
Just a few weeks ago we celebrated our forty-fifth anniversary. She is the love of my life. I came here to find her because she wasn’t in Boston. She was here. I am so grateful. And whenever I walk on this campus I feel the same way.

Before basketball games, there is always a sense of excitement as adrenalin starts to flow. When I was in junior high playing for a local team, the feeling was no different. Everybody in the locker room would be riled up and excited, ready to play the game. But before we would head out onto the court, I made it a habit of going to a corner of the locker room by myself and kneeling in prayer.
Then one day things were different. Instead of praying alone, I was joined by two of my teammates who had asked me where I was going. When I told them, they asked if they could participate with me. Before long, word had spread and all my teammates knew about the prayer I had before every game. It was then we decided to have a prayer together as a team. When we asked Coach Thompson to join us, he obliged as long as he didn’t have to offer the prayer. That day in that huddle of young men there was a spirit that cannot be described.
At our next game, we were playing horribly and nothing was going right. In the middle of the second quarter, Coach Thompson called time-out and told everybody to drop down to one knee. He was going to offer a prayer. Though there were vocabulary words not often heard in prayers, the Spirit was felt.
By the end of the year I received some awards for the season I had played. However the most meaningful award for me was when I saw old rough-and-tough Coach Thompson, humble and in tears, talking about the basketball team that taught him how to pray again.

One evening several years ago as I was driving home from work after having picked up my two children, I momentarily lost consciousness. When I came to, I found myself looking up over the dashboard just in time to see a pickup truck right in front of me. The collision caused me to lose consciousness again. When I awoke, my vehicle was on its side and my children were screaming.
Several people rushed to help me and my children get out because our car’s engine was on fire. I was extremely sore all over, but my children and I escaped serious injury. My greatest concern at that moment was for the occupants of the vehicle I had hit.
Through the hours that followed and into the next day, my attempts to find out about the people in the other vehicle didn’t succeed. Finally, a hospital social worker came to my room and informed me that the driver of the other vehicle had been killed. I was devastated.
In the days following the accident I took time off work to recover physically, mentally, and emotionally. I also learned what had happened. I had crossed the center line into oncoming traffic and had hit a vehicle head-on. I also learned that the wife of the man who had lost his life had been a passenger in the vehicle and had been seriously injured. They had a large family, and although most of the children were grown and on their own, some were still at home. It was so disturbing for me to think that I had caused another human being to lose his life, a wife to lose her husband, children to lose their father, and grandchildren to lose their grandfather.
My physical wounds were healing, but the mental and emotional wounds were not. I kept asking myself, “Why did this happen?” I knew it had been an accident, but that did not make me feel any better. I was unable to sleep or cope with life. I couldn’t bear the thought of what the other driver’s family must be feeling.
I tried to get on with life and return to normal, but nothing seemed to work. All I could do was pray. I remember pleading for Heavenly Father to take this pain and suffering from me because I knew I could not continue on like this and fulfill my most precious callings as a wife and mother.
Then one day my doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a man standing on my porch. He had a very solemn and uneasy look on his face. Without saying a word, he handed me a box and an envelope. Accepting the gifts, I stood there, waiting for him to say something. After a moment I asked the man if I knew him. He shook his head and introduced himself. I instantly felt a lump in my throat as I recognized his last name. He was the eldest son of the man who had died in the accident.
I invited him in, and we talked for a long time. Our families had several common acquaintances, and he had heard through them what a difficult time I was having. He said his wife had asked him how he would feel if he were in my shoes, and that brought him to my doorstep. He told me his family knew it was an accident, and they knew their father and husband had received a call home from our Heavenly Father. He let me know his mother was going to be fine. We then hugged and cried for a time.
The envelope he gave me contained a card expressing that their prayers and thoughts were with my family and me. The box contained a small shelf plaque that reads:
“Dear God,
“We work and pray, but at the end of the day, no matter how hard we try, there are still many reasons to cry. So please send us angels to comfort us in our fears and help us turn the small successes into cheers. Amen.”
My prayers had been answered. I was able to sleep that night for the first time in the two weeks since the accident.
Since then I have seen this man and his wife from time to time, and they always ask how we are doing and if there is anything we need. I remain humbled by their thoughtfulness and unselfishness.
One general conference Sunday, between the morning and afternoon sessions, my doorbell rang again. It was not only this man, but also his mother and younger brother. They did not stay long, but I cherish their visit. Once again they came bearing a gift—a beautiful painting of Christ with this scripture inscribed on it: “I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls” (Matt. 11:29). The mother and I hugged and cried.
This family has taught me a kind of forgiveness and love that I never knew. I testify that through others our Heavenly Father and our Savior can convey Their love to us. I know Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers, and I now know that sometimes we have to let the atoning sacrifice of the Savior take away our pain when we have done all we can do. I am thankful that this family was able to feel and follow the promptings of the Spirit to answer my prayers.

One never knows what a little kindness can generate. One January, while serving in Akure in the Nigeria Lagos Mission, I had a small gift that I wanted to give to someone. I wondered, “Whom can I give it to that will benefit from it?” I took the gift to church two Sundays, yet I was undecided.
On the third Sunday, I went to church thinking I would give it to a good friend. He did not come to church that day, but I had a feeling that someone else needed it. Looking around the chapel, I saw a boy whose parents were not members of the Church. He seemed so lonely. I felt impressed to give him the gift. I presented it to him, feeling very happy within.
Something wonderful happened. His mother came to church the following Sunday. She thanked me for the gift. She said, “I have been promising my son that I would one day come to church. Today I came to express my gratitude for the gift.” That was how my companion and I met her; since then she has joined the Church. How happy the boy was to see his mom finally baptized.
I know that by small means great things are brought to pass.

In 1978, I stood on a football field in a stadium packed with 65,000 fans. In front of me were several very large opponents who looked like they wanted to take my head off. It was my first game as a starting quarterback in the National Football League, and we were playing the reigning Super Bowl champions. To be honest, I questioned whether I was good enough to be on the field. I dropped back to throw my first pass, and as I released the ball, I was hit harder than I’d ever been hit before. At that moment, lying under a pile of those massive athletes, I wondered what I was doing there. I had a decision to make. Would I let my doubts overtake me, or would I find courage and strength to get up and to carry on?
I didn’t realize at the time how this experience would prepare me for future opportunities. I needed to learn that I could be strong and courageous in the face of difficult situations.