Gospel Story Finder

I know this struggle well. My own anticipatory fears nearly stopped me before I even started my journey at BYU. To start, I didn’t really want to go to BYU. I wanted to stay in California and was determined to do something different from all the other kids in my ward. Truthfully, I know that one of the biggest reasons I didn’t want to go to BYU was because I feared I wasn’t smart or spiritual enough to make it here. But the Lord knew otherwise. He strongly prompted me to apply and to attend BYU. I followed that prompting.

Often when we act faithfully on promptings, we believe that the challenge is over. But from experience, most of us know that isn’t always true. Despite my efforts to move forward in faith, I felt impostor syndrome right away. My major was full of valedictorians who were more articulate and who were better writers than I was. And as a transfer student, I felt everyone understood everything better than I did, including the BYU fight song. I struggled at church and in my religion classes to feel that I understood the gospel as well as everyone else did. I was being swallowed up in self-doubt. Everywhere I turned, all I could see was evidence that all the fears I had about myself before coming here were true. I did not belong at BYU.

However, that year I was blessed to end up in an apartment with some of the most wonderful women of faith. They helped me reframe my thoughts and focus on all God had done to prepare me for BYU and on what this opportunity could mean for my spiritual and intellectual growth. I began to understand the roles that Heavenly Father, the Savior, and the Holy Ghost played in my life and learning. Realizing this freed me to come to this experience imperfectly, trusting that They could make me more than I was. This perspective also helped me better see others in their own struggles and extend love and comfort to them. Most of all, it calmed my mind. I did belong here, and God knew it was where I could thrive and grow. I shudder to think of all I would have missed if I had surrendered completely to those fears.

The Anchorage Stake holds early-morning seminary at the stake center. It isn’t always easy to get there. With the deep snow and bitter temperatures plus the dark, many have to be truly dedicated to make the effort to get to seminary. One girl and her brother paddle a canoe across the lake in front of their home. When the lake is frozen, they take a snowmobile. After seminary, all the Mormon students catch the school bus at the same stop. They sometimes get teased about always being together, but it causes their friends to ask why they all are in the same place at the same time early in the morning. Several friends have become interested and started attending seminary too. Michelle Warner says, “Everyone at school knows you’re a Mormon. Even though they sometimes make fun of our standards, you can tell that deep down they respect you.”

As a high school junior I stood proudly before the small Protestant congregation and delivered an address entitled “Meeting Life’s Requirements.” Following the service, the church members greeted me in the courtyard, offering encouragement for my future religious endeavors. At home that day, I peacefully strolled in the crisp, autumn weather, contemplating the future and thinking to myself, “Maybe I should become a minister.”
It wasn’t the first time I had been before the church body, nor would it be the last. My religious interests developed early in life, and my infatuation with religion was enhanced because of the panic I felt about the prospect of a judgment day. In the introduction to a school paper on the clergy I wrote, “At the end of my freshman year in high school I began to consider the clergy as a profession.” I was at that time anticipating several years in college and theological seminary.
The stage was set, and my high school years were highly successful: student-body president, all-state football player, outstanding band member, and more. But some dramatic changes occurred in my life. The following statements are from my journal and tell the story.
Senior Year, High School—While investigating several churches to learn more about Christianity, I have discovered that some churches do not require extremely long periods of schooling to qualify as a minister. I have just spent several days at a Bible college and learned that if I attend this school I can be ordained a minister after four years. Perhaps after two years, I will be assigned a church of my own in which to officiate. The classes are interesting and Christian oriented.
A Short Time Later—I am planning on attending next year and have turned down a basketball scholarship because of these plans. The only thing that bothers me is that I sense something missing at the college as well as in my personal life. How long will it take to find peace of mind?
Locker Room Prayers—I asked Coach Landrum tonight if we could have prayer before our football games. We all just repeated the Lord’s Prayer, but we are united as a team. We don’t pray to win but to have the strength to be men on the field—using good sportsmanship, wishing no physical injury to either team, winning in the column of character and determination.
A Later Note: I played on many winning teams in elementary and high school. Never did I play on a team as united, as spirited, as our football team this year. It may be secondary that this was the first unbeaten, untied football season in our school’s history.
Approaching Graduation—Religion is becoming so distant that I’m not sure what to do. I pray but can’t interpret any answers. Still, a guilty feeling seems inborn in my soul. I’m bothered when I do wrong. Yet despite my conservative nature I take a drink or cigarette now and then.
Priorities—After I took my first drink the kids at school were more concerned about its effect on my basketball playing than they were about the effect it would have on my religious objectives.
Change of Plans—I just received a football scholarship (and a band scholarship) to Dodge City College. I don’t want to go to school this close to home, but financially it’s my only choice. I missed out on other scholarship offers previously when I was set on becoming a minister. Those plans will wait.
Summer—I’ve moved away from home now and am working at the Dodge City Recreation Center and playing American Legion baseball. It’s not unusual to work all day, go on road games, return home at 2 A.M. and get up at 7 A.M. to go to work.
Miss the Boat—This summer has been unusual. I have gone to church little. I read a lot and write a great deal. But it does seem sort of empty not gathering with people. Religion seems to miss the boat, but maybe so am I.
The Bible—I still tinker with the idea of Bible school education because I can have a pastorate of my own very early. I commented once in Sunday School that we need to return to preaching the Bible. One fellow disputed my claim saying that ministers needed to apply contemporary terms and up-to-date interpretations. But that adds to my confusion—everyone in church hierarchies has a different opinion as to those contemporary meanings.
Tsai Lee-Yueh—I now have a daughter! Tsai Lee-Yueh is her name. I’ve felt lately that while I’m experiencing this transition period I must do something for God on my own. So now I am paying several dollars to Christian Children’s Fund each month to help my foster daughter, Tsai Lee-Yueh, a little Taiwanese girl. I received a letter from her with an English translation. She and some of her friends were given individual Bibles. She wrote, “I don’t know that the Bible is such a precious thing. After the caseworker has taught us how to study the Bible, I know it is a precious book. I feel very happy.” Such a statement would put most Americans to shame.
College Begins—I still pray sometimes. A few times I have said, “Show me the way, Lord, if there is one for me.”
Semester Ends—My first semester of college has ended and I’m on the Honor Roll. Last night I lay in my bed thinking how little time I really devoted to my studies. I laughed to myself and thought, “I did this and all without God.”
A Mormon Girl—I met a Mormon girl the other night. My internal response was, “What’s a Mormon?” I’ve delved into many religions but admit an ignorance to this one.
Book of Mormon—I just spent the weekend with Mom, Dad, and Bill on the farm. I asked Mom if she knew anything about Mormons. She said she thought there was a pamphlet in the bookcase. She found it and an old black, hardback book. I’m reading it now—the Book of Mormon. Mother said it was a Mormon Bible.
After the Carnival—Janet’s the first girl I’ve dated with any regularity in at least six months. Tonight, after our date to my brother’s class carnival, we were talking and the subject of religion came up. I told her about my indefinite plans for the ministry and added, “There’s something wrong with every church.”
With confidence and spontaneity she replied, “Not mine.”
“Oh, sure, you tell me about it,” I answered unalarmed. She isn’t the first girl that has wanted me to be interested in a particular church. But she definitely has a sparkle of purity, a twinkle in her eye.
I told her that I had been studying the Book of Mormon, and she suggested that I talk to the elders. I told her I’d like to sometime.
Following Monday—The strangest thing happened this evening. I work every night at the recreation center, but today when I called in, Mr. Braddock told me they didn’t need me tonight. Studies didn’t appeal to me, so I called Jan about a date and she told me to come over to her house. The elders were coming. The meeting was already set up before I called her, but on any other Monday night I would definitely have had to work.
The Meeting—There we were in her living room. Any minute I expected old men in gray beards and maybe black hats to knock at the door. They rang the bell instead, and was I surprised when the elders turned out to be two young men close to my own age.
Tonight was a spiritual experience. I guess I answered all the questions with the answers they wanted. They said something about planning my baptism for April 27. I’ve never met two people more sincere than Elder Johnson and Elder Towsey.
Dad Knew Mormons—I brought a signed statement from my dad to the elders giving his approval for my baptism. He used to know some Latter-day Saints. He said you have to be a missionary if you join their church.
My Interview—I was interviewed tonight for baptism. It was a relief to find that the elders had only kidded me about taking a written test. I read the pamphlets a few extra times so I wouldn’t be tripped up. I told the district leader that the discussions were like the lifting of a veil, like I had heard the story before. The gospel contains many teachings that I have come to believe over the years, such as a literal, tangible, concerned Heavenly Father. I took the discussions so fast that I have to wait till my assigned baptismal date.
April 27—I was baptized tonight. My family attended the service, as did many of the branch members. This is the cleanest feeling I have known in my entire life. The warm, friendly attitude of the members here is still one of the amazing things about this church.
Few Will Listen—I thought of dozens of my friends who would surely join the Church now. They just needed to learn about it as I had. It’s not like that. I know that most of my friends respect me very much for my high standards, but others leave me asking, as did the Apostle Paul, “Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?” (Gal. 4:16).
Mother’s Day—Dad accepted my invitation and brought Mom out to the branch’s Mother’s Day program today. Bill came too. After sacrament meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared some sandwiches and salads for the elders and our family. About an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We are recipients of life’s greatest blessings.
Youth Conference—My first youth conference just ended, and on the final day I bore my testimony, thanking God that a girl lived the gospel so completely that I found a noticeable, attracting difference between her and other young people, thus leading me to the gospel. I encouraged my other young brothers and sisters to do the same. The gospel works.
A Mission Call—I’m so excited! I came home from classes today to find a letter from the First Presidency. Quickly opening it I discovered that I would be going to California. I wept joyously. Feeling so insignificant in His sight, I asked, “Why me?” The blessings of God seem so unbelievable.
Most Important—My first two years of college have been highly successful, but the most important thing is that I was going off 400 miles away to a Bible college, but circumstances intervened to allow me to discover the truth 13 miles from home. Now, in a week, I will leave on a mission to serve the Lord. I will be a minister.
Temple Sealing—Mom, Dad, and I were sealed as a family today in the Logan Temple for time and all eternity. Bill was still in school back in Kansas.
Temple Marriage—Elder Tuttle married Jan and me this morning in the Salt Lake Temple. Today was even more special because Bill was finally sealed to Mom and Dad. In addition, Mom’s cousins from Missouri were also sealed for time and eternity in the Lord’s house. Mother played a large role in their conversion.
September 3—Our first child, Jill Ann, was born today. Ours for eternity.
Another Baptism—Twenty years ago, Jan’s mother joined the Church. Today, October 9, her father was baptized. A very righteous and faithful man, he has helped the Church on numerous occasions, and served as Scoutmaster. Janet has been shedding tears of joy since her mother called to relay the good news earlier today.
“Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God;
“And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone” (Eph. 2:19–20).

I received a similar letter from Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, from a woman who said: “At the age of 19, I sat next to a sweet grandmother in Relief Society and learned to knit. She also was learning to knit. Over the years, I learned of bread making, of strength and perseverance. I learned that my toddler was just being a normal two-year-old, and I learned of a Heavenly Father who loves me. I learned to teach, to hug, to lead, and to follow.”

That salutary respite was short-lived. Tensions and hostilities between the Saints and Missourians increased until, in October 1838, Church members were again expelled from their homes. Then, in February 1839, the Young family and more than 800 other Saints were forced to leave the state; they braved the winter cold to seek refuge in Illinois. Since their wagons and animals had been confiscated, most of the destitute Saints walked.

During this difficult exodus, Brigham Young would push ahead with his family, find lodging for them, and then return to escort the weaker and orphaned Saints onward. Mary Ann and the children lived in 11 different quarters during the three-month ordeal.

Every December since I can remember my family has bought a nativity set, and every year we give it away. As a family we decide who we will give it to. Usually we choose someone in our ward or neighborhood who does not have family in the area, or someone who may feel lonely over the Christmas season.
Twelve days before Christmas we begin delivering our gifts. Each night we secretly deliver one piece of the nativity set with a poem attached, starting with the camel. On Christmas Eve, we deliver the baby Jesus. We do not run and hide when we deliver this last gift as we do with the others. Instead we deliver this last piece with some goodies in person.
The best Christmas gift I get every year is seeing the happiness of the people when we give them the baby Jesus—the piece to complete their set. I always get a wonderful feeling inside when I deliver the nativity set with my family. I know the Lord is pleased with what I am doing.
My brother is on a mission right now, and last Christmas we sent him a nativity set so he could carry on the tradition even while he was serving. I really enjoy this family tradition. It is something that I plan to continue when I get married. I thank my parents for starting this tradition that helps us focus on the Savior and His birth.

We attend a lot of meetings in the Church, and one meeting I attended a few years ago had a powerful effect on me. It was a testimony meeting in a ward in Barcelona, Spain.
To my surprise, around 10 youth shared their testimonies following an FSY conference they had participated in. What impressed me most was that they all bore pure, powerful testimonies of the Savior, Jesus Christ, His atoning sacrifice, and His love for all of us. I was amazed that after five days of fun activities with other youth, food, games, and dances, it was the joy they had in the Savior that really stuck with them. It left me wondering why.
Later I moved to Brazil. I learned the leaders in the area were preparing for an FSY conference. As an Area Seventy, I was invited to help organize the conference and to participate in all five days with the youth.
Before I left, the Area Presidency asked me to be prepared to give a report on my experience at FSY when I returned. My wife and I attended the conference, and for the first three days we enjoyed the planned activities, including morning scripture study, devotionals, classes, outside activities, good food, family home evening, and dances. Everything moved forward as planned, and I felt that I had seen enough to complete my report.
The next evening, we held a beautiful and touching musical program. The Spirit was so special that the owner of the conference site, not a member of the Church, told me that he would love to have our group attend FSY at his place every year.
After the musical program, the youth gathered in their groups for a testimony meeting. My wife and I went from group to group and heard touching testimonies. We could tell that the participants in the conference had been having strong spiritual experiences. We loved hearing the youth freely express their feelings of happiness. We felt like a part of a big spiritual family. We felt the love of the Savior for each one of us.
I looked to my wife and asked, “What is going on here?” She could not say a word. But we knew so many had experienced a spiritual moment and received an unforgettable testimony of the Lord, Jesus Christ.
I went to my room that night and wrote a totally different report! The following year, my wife and I went to FSY again and enjoyed the same experience. Now I understand why the youth in that testimony meeting in Spain shared such meaningful feelings for the Savior instead of relating the fun activities they had.
My desire is that you will have many similar experiences in your life, whether it is at FSY, by your bedside as you pray, when you read the scriptures, or when you share your testimony with your friends.
I testify that we are sons and daughters of a loving Heavenly Father. We came here to earth from His presence, and we are all members of His great spiritual family. Our eldest Brother is the Lord, Jesus Christ. He is our Master, and from Him we can learn and grow “in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man” (Luke 2:52), as He did.
Detail from Christ and the Rich Young Ruler by Heinrich Hofmann
Jesus Christ is our Savior. His power is infinite, and He stands ready to rescue us from any afflicting situation we may find ourselves in. He is our friend—a friend who loves us, knows us, and has offered His life to save us. His atoning sacrifice for us made it possible for Him to know how to succor us, to strengthen us, and to perfect us. Let us all accept His invitation: “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22).

For a time the Saints could not be comforted. The mourning, the black miasmic depression that descended upon Nauvoo was overwhelming. When Mary Fielding Smith, Hyrum’s wife, after midnight heard the high-pitched voice of Porter Rockwell, riding on a sweaty horse, shouting, “They’ve killed them! they’ve killed Joseph and Hyrum!” she screamed. And young Joseph wept. Soon all Nauvoo knew. Some felt bitter and wanted vengeance. Some who held command positions in the Nauvoo Legion went immediately and asked that they be marshaled. But the leaders had been told by the Prophet to stay home. That was that.

Letters came to Nauvoo from both Willard Richards and John Taylor. To reassure John Taylor’s family, Elder Richards wrote, “Taylor’s wounded, not very badly.” And peace prevailed in spite of the anguish. Many of the brethren absent on missions felt forebodings that day, even at the hour of the martyrdom. Only seven days previously the Prophet had sent letters to all the Twelve asking them to return to Nauvoo immediately. So it was that the returning Parley P. Pratt walked depressed across the plains of Illinois until he could hardly endure it. Finally he knelt and prayed for comfort; and then it was made known to him that the newspaper headlines he had seen in Chicago told the truth, that Joseph and Hyrum had in fact given their lives for the Lord’s cause, and that he was to go back rapidly to Nauvoo and tell the Saints to do nothing until the Twelve had reassembled.

Despite the provocation, then, peace and not war came in the aftermath of the Prophet’s death. With their Nauvoo Legion the Saints had power to win in any skirmish had they so chosen. But they who had been stereotyped as warlike and bitter and hostile and filled with vengeance demonstrated that they were not any of those. They were peaceful.

Ben rested his arm on the suitcase next to him in the car. Mom and Dad were driving him to Grandpa’s house. Ben was going to stay with his grandpa for one whole week. No brothers, no baby sister—just Ben and Grandpa.
Ben had talked to Grandpa about their week together. Grandpa said it was Ben’s week and they could do all of Ben’s favorite things. Ben looked out the window. Did he remember to pack everything? He had packed his lucky fishing hat, his sunglasses, and his favorite books.
“Now, remember,” Mom said from the front seat, “Grandpa isn’t a member of our church. He’s a good person and a good grandpa. But some things at his house will seem different to you.”
“Like what?” Ben knew his grandpa didn’t go to church. But he hadn’t thought about how that would be different.
“You might have to remind him that you don’t drink iced tea,” Dad said.
“OK,” Ben said.
“You won’t be able to go to church on Sunday, but you can keep the Sabbath day holy in other ways,” Mom said.
“I will,” Ben said.
When they arrived at Grandpa’s house, Grandpa was waiting for them on the porch. Ben was the first one out of the car. “Grandpa!”
“How’s my favorite seven-year-old?” Grandpa gave Ben a big hug. “Are you ready for your very own special week? You get to choose what we do together.”
“Can we go fishing?” Ben asked. “I brought my lucky fishing hat.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said.
“And can we go to the zoo?” Ben asked. “I brought my sunglasses.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said.
“And can we read together?” Ben asked. “I brought my favorite books.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said. “And I think we need a shopping trip so you can pick out a toy at the store.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “This is going to be a great week!”
On Friday, Grandpa and Ben went fishing.
On Saturday, Grandpa and Ben went to the zoo.
The next day, Grandpa made pancakes for breakfast. “Today is our shopping day,” Grandpa said.
“Yippee!” Ben exclaimed. “What kind of toy should I get?”
Then Ben remembered—it was Sunday. How could he explain to Grandpa about not shopping on Sunday?
After breakfast Ben said a prayer in his room. He asked Heavenly Father to help him explain to Grandpa about keeping the Sabbath day holy.
After the prayer Ben sat on his bed. Grandpa called to Ben, “Just let me put on my shoes, and we’ll be off.”
Ben took a deep breath and stood up. He found Grandpa tying his shoes.
“Grandpa, thank you for taking me fishing and to the zoo. But I think today we should take a rest.”
“What do you mean?” Grandpa asked. “I promised to take you shopping.”
“I know, but do you think we could go another day?”
“Are you OK? Are you sick?”
“No, Grandpa,” Ben said. “Today is Sunday. At my house we don’t go shopping on Sunday.”
Grandpa didn’t say anything.
“Can we stay home today?” Ben asked. “We can take a walk. We can read books.”
Grandpa smiled at Ben. “Sure we can,” he said. “It’s your very own week, so you get to choose.”
Ben gave Grandpa a big hug. “I knew this would be a great week,” Ben said.

Sylvia Sierra found herself in the middle of a divorce in October 1981. “I began to ask myself many questions: ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What else is there?’ I wanted something more, so I began to read the Bible. I found great hope when I read, ‘The God of heaven [shall] set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed. … A stone … cut out without hands … filled the whole earth’ (Dan. 2:44, 34–35).
“I cried when I read this scripture. I thought if I could only find that ‘stone,’ I would find the answers to my questions. But after nearly two years, I stopped looking for it, though I never gave up hope.”
Shortly after that, Sylvia attended church with A Latter-day Saint Friend. “When I entered the chapel, I realized immediately that I had never felt anything as great as what I was then feeling. In Relief Society, we saw a video called Together Forever. I heard a voice within me say, ‘This is what you are looking for.’”
Sylvia was soon baptized, and the following year she received her endowment in the Washington Temple. “For the first time I recognized that the Lord has great blessings for me,” she says. “The temple is everything. I continually yearn for those blessings and to return to the temple.”
Temple attendance has become the focus of Sister Sierra’s life, now a member of the Guaynabo Branch. She works three jobs cleaning homes, and she sells food at a roadside stand to earn money to go to the temple. “I work hard, but it is not a burden,” she says. “It is relaxing to know I am working to go to the temple. There is no prize like the blessings of the temple.”
When Sister Sierra returned from her first trip to the temple, she read D&C 65:2 during her regular scripture study: “The keys of the kingdom of God are committed unto man on the earth, and from thence shall the gospel roll forth unto the ends of the earth, as the stone which is cut out of the mountain without hands shall roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth.”
“I got a knot in my throat and cried as I realized that the gospel is the stone that I had read about in the Bible,” she says. “I had found the stone when I was baptized without even realizing it. I am so grateful to my Redeemer. I know that he lives, and one day I will see him face to face.”

Some time ago, Dr. James O. Mason, who was associated with us in the Welfare Services Department, was visiting one of the developing countries of the world. A teenage boy asked him if he would please bring a gift to President Kimball. The gift was a sketch he had drawn of a peacock with its tail feather in full fan. It was done so carefully—each feather in place—in such beautiful color. As we saw it, we marveled at the artistry of the boy and asked further about him. In response, Dr. Mason handed us a picture of this lad. He had no arms. A birth defect had left him crippled, and yet he had developed his artistic talent so as to draw this beautiful, intricate rendering by holding his pencils between his toes.

We were asked if the Church had funds that could be used to fit him with artificial limbs. We assured the mission president there were funds, but only after his family had done all they could. When we had the assurance that the family had complied with Welfare Services principles, funds were made available.

We later received another picture, showing his newly acquired arms and hands, with a report of how proud he was to be able to dress himself now. He had been greatly blessed by those who lived the law of the fast and were generous in their offerings.

I begin today by telling you a story about an event that happened to me when I was 16 years of age. My father had recently and unexpectedly passed away. It was difficult for me and my siblings. It was often unbearably difficult and traumatic for my mother.

My Mother was preoccupied with making certain that each of her children receive their patriarchal blessings. She wanted each of us to benefit from the direction that comes from a patriarchal blessing. I was the youngest and the last to receive my blessing.

I was fortunate to live in the ward where the Stake Patriarch also lived. His name was William A. Budge. If a movie was made about a patriarch and Central Casting was asked to find a believable model, William A. Budge would be at the head of the line. He looked the part. He was a respected bank president and community leader. He had beautiful white hair, had a deep and yet calming voice and it was obvious that people deferred to Patriarch Budge. In fact, in my youngest days I mistakenly thought he was President David O. McKay and that the Prophet attended our ward every Sunday.

When I went with my mother to his home for my blessing he engaged us in a discussion about a patriarchal blessing. It was a discussion intended to help a young person understand the significance of the event that was about to occur.

The message he wanted me to hear and to understand was that I was important to our Father in Heaven. I was receiving a blessing given by the mouth of an ordained Patriarch. He had been ordained by an apostle of Jesus Christ after he had been had been called by revelation to a prophet of God.

And I, a sixteen year old kid, was receiving insight through him, but also the insight was coming from a loving Father in Heaven. The Patriarch wanted me to understand the message we find in the Book of Moses (1:39) where we are reminded that the goal of our Father is to "bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."  And by the 'eternal life of man' he means the eternal life of his children.

He told us a story that I have remembered to this day. When Patriarch Budge was younger he had served many years as a stake president. In preparing for a stake conference, where a member of the Twelve was going to attend, President Budge asked the Stake Primary President to prepare a primary choir for the coming conference and to also compose a new song to sing during conference. Two very daunting tasks! Her name was Nomi Randall and everyone in this room has not only sung the song she wrote, most of you have it memorized.

She wrote for that stake conference the song "I Am a Child of God."  It was pre-formed in the Lorin Farr Stake conference and the rest is history and a wonderful addition to our culture. It is a song that is part of every primary and many adult meetings in the church and it is so important in our culture it is also a frequent song sung by grandchildren at the funerals of their grandparents. We learn we are children of God in our earliest days and as we say goodbye to those we love we help send them on their way by singing this song and reminding us that they are going home to Father. The song is an important thread in fabric of the Mormon experience.

For me the significance of the story was a way for Patriarch Budge to teach me I was a child of God. It was not just a song that contributes to the culture of Mormonism; it is a song that informs the youngest members of the Church a fundamental aspect of the doctrine that we all bear witness to. It is a message I have tried to remember in my roles as a son, brother, missionary, Aaronic and Melchizedek priesthood holder, husband, and father.

Sister Shumway experienced a similar “nevertheless” moment before coming to BYU–Hawaii. Her life dream was to open a music studio in the Philippines, and so she had no desire to come to school in America. Church leaders, seminary teachers, and especially her parents strongly encouraged her to apply, but she still refused. You can imagine her surprise one day when she received a letter from the school saying “congratulations, you’ve been accepted!” It turns out her father had submitted the application without her knowing!

The next and more difficult stage of the process was obtaining a visa to come to the United States. Her parents traveled with her to the U.S. consulate in Cebu, and after a short interview, the staff member stamped her application “DENIED.” She looked at her parents and said, “See, I told you, I’m not supposed to go.” “Let’s try again at a different consulate,” they said. So they traveled to Manila and waited in a long line to see the embassy worker. The man looked over her application and picked up his stamp. “DENIED.” “See, I told you, this is a sign; I’m not supposed to go,” she insisted. In her mind, she was thinking, “Why do you want to send me away? Did I do something wrong?”

That night her father pulled her aside and said, “May, you have to want this. You have to pray about this and accept what the Lord wants for you.” Up to that point, she had not prayed about coming here because she didn’t want the answer to be yes. So she humbled herself, fasted, and prayed, “Father, I don’t want to go to BYU–Hawaii; nevertheless, if it’s your will that I go, I will go.” This time she went by herself to the Cebu consulate. As she was waiting in line, she saw the same guy who had rejected her application just a few days earlier in Manila. She prayed that she wouldn’t be sent to his window. Luckily, she wasn’t.

Her interview was shorter than the two previous ones, so she thought “another denial.” The worker reached for his stamp. “APPROVED”! She could hardly believe it. Her small act of faith and her willingness to follow the counsel of Church leaders and her parents had eternal consequences for her, me, and our entire family.

In the Bountiful Utah Central Stake, a symposium introduced the morning’s activities and workshops. Wendy Wiscomb and her mother were assigned to organize the symposium. “My mother and I passed out sheets of paper to the girls in the stake asking them to honestly identify their concerns. Then we took the main problems and wrote them into the script. Some of the dialogue was in the exact words of the girls. For instance, one girl said, ‘I don’t even know what I’m going to wear to school tomorrow let alone what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.’ We talked about these problems. A number of girls told me afterward that it was really wonderful to hear relevant issues presented and later discussed in the workshops.”

Once upon a time, after a long and grueling day traveling to and from Kingston, the capital city of Jamaica, I decided to take a moment to rest both my body and mind. I sat down by two young men. They were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They began to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with me with kindness and enthusiasm.
Their message was one of hope and love. They assured me that every person who has ever lived would have the chance to hear and receive the gospel. This idea deeply touched my heart, and I decided to learn more. The Spirit testified to me that their words were true, and I felt drawn to their teachings of Jesus Christ.
Three weeks later, I was baptized. Two weeks after my baptism, I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. That moment began a new chapter in my life—one filled with purpose, faith, and growth.
Over the last 16 years, my journey has been one of miracles, challenges, soul-stretching experiences, and spiritual growth. Through it all, I have come to know, without a doubt, that I am never alone. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always there, guiding, protecting, and providing for me. This knowledge gives me strength and peace, no matter what life brings.

Searching for a great idea for a youth conference? The Aurora Colorado Stake has a suggestion.
Work.
Hard work.
Like shoveling gravel, digging dirt, weeding, painting, washing cars.
Mixed with fun and fellowship.
There’s an explanation. The young people from Aurora wanted to do something different for their youth conference, something special. So they spent three days cleaning up a city.
“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ‘something to help someone else,’ and ‘something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we encouraged them to go ahead.”
Inspired by a story on service in the Tambuli (see “Building a House Helped Build Testimonies,” February 1988, page 47), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was close to Aurora; economically the community wasn’t doing very well; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small Latter-day Saint branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had youth who would welcome some company and fellowship with other Church youth. And, while the young people from Aurora were there, it was decided, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., eighty-four young people divided into eight teams were busy all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the Latter-day Saint youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
Besides cleaning up the main street of Granby, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the chapel.
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Activities included a Hawaiian-style dinner with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Suggestions on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room, the Latter-day Saint youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. The presented him with framed historical photographs of Granby, which now hang in the train station, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation of their three days of service.
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed fifteen years ago, he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come here and bring us into the limelight in our Community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”

After I was asked to give this devotional, I thought back to when I was a university student. I didn’t go to BYU. I attended the rival university up north near where I grew up, and I was studying to be a teacher. I was living at home and commuting to campus, which meant that sometimes I rode the bus. At the time, I was not going to church regularly. My parents didn’t attend. My mother, who grew up in Norway, wasn’t a member, and my father had not gone to church since he had returned from World War II. But I had gone to Primary as a child, and those Primary songs had made a lasting impression. As I grew into adulthood, I returned to church.

One particular day as I was sitting in the back of an almost empty bus, something very unusual happened. I felt as if someone tapped me on the shoulder and forcefully said, “Go on a mission!”

My first thought was “What?” and then, “I can’t go on a mission!”

The thought had never entered my mind. Back then, young women did not often serve missions, and taking time off from my education had not occurred to me. My nonmember mother was not happy about the idea. There were four children in our family, and when most of us eventually served missions, she would grumble to her friends, “I tell them not to go, but they rebel.”

I did follow that prompting, and I was called to serve in Taiwan, which meant that I needed to learn Mandarin Chinese. I had heard that missionaries were able to miraculously learn languages because they received the gift of tongues, so I wasn’t very worried, but I had no idea how much time and effort would be required to make that gift of tongues manifest.

After I arrived in Taiwan, I felt that I was in a strange, foreign place where I couldn’t understand anyone and they couldn’t understand me. I wondered if I would ever become an effective missionary. How would I communicate with the people of Taiwan if I couldn’t learn the language?

Over time I became despondent and depressed. To keep my spirits up, I remember singing Primary songs and hymns to myself whenever I rode my bike to appointments. I worked hard, kept the commandments, and tried my best, but not much happened. As time went on, I became more and more disheartened. I thought about my experience on the bus and wondered if someone had made a mistake sending me to Taiwan.

After I had been serving for about six months, the mission was split, and I was called to be a senior companion. I couldn’t believe that this had happened! Up to that point, my senior companion was doing almost all the talking and teaching. I was too afraid to say much, even after I had memorized many discussions, which was what missionaries did back then.

After I became a senior companion, I had to speak up and actually use my language to communicate, and this meant that I made many mistakes. But as I actively used the language to talk with people, it slowly began to stick. Little by little, as I did my part and Heavenly Father did His part, I began to understand people, and they began to understand me. I felt God working through me despite my weaknesses and mistakes because the work needed to get done and my junior companion and I were all He had at that moment in that small town in Taiwan.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell has said, “‘Mighty’ changing . . . is mighty hard work”2—and I could add that it can take a mighty long time. I didn’t expect my mission experience to be so hard. I didn’t expect the discouragement. I didn’t expect the feelings of incompetence. I expected a pillar of light and an instant gift of tongues; instead, I got many small rays over time.

My mother ended up becoming my greatest supporter, despite her opposition to my mission. She wrote every week and shared her experiences of moving to America as a young woman and eventually learning English in spite of being very homesick and discouraged. She told me that my consistent efforts to use Chinese would eventually pay off. I don’t know what I would have done without my mother’s encouragement.

It was while Hal was studying physics at the University of Utah that a conversation with his father marked one of those defining influences in his life. He asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem. “My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” Elder Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’”

A little chagrined, Hal admitted he had not. “You don’t understand,” his father went on. “When you walk down the street, when you’re in the shower, when you don’t have to be thinking about anything else, isn’t this what you think about?”

“When I told him no,” Elder Eyring concludes, “my father paused. It was really a very tender and poignant moment, because I knew how much he loved me and how much he wanted me to be a scientist. Then he said, ‘Hal, I think you’d better get out of physics. You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.’”

The advice deeply impressed young Hal. He went on to finish his degree in physics, graduating not long after the end of the Korean War. During the war, the number of missionaries called from each ward had been greatly restricted. Further, by the time he graduated, Hal had already committed to a commission in the United States Air Force. So he entered the military without having served a full-time mission. But in a bishop’s blessing prior to his departure, Hal was promised that his military experience would be his mission.

That blessing proved to be prophetic, for though Hal was originally sent by the Air Force to the Sandia National Laboratories near Albuquerque, New Mexico, for temporary schooling, circumstances were such that he stayed on there for the full two years of his duty. Two weeks after his arrival, he was called as a district missionary in the Western States Mission. He served almost two years to the day in that calling.

“My mission did not help my football,” Bart says. “Some guys go out and expect that since they’re making a sacrifice for the Lord, the Lord is going to bless them by improving their football skills. That’s not the case.” Toward the end of his mission Bart did rise at 4:30 A.M. for conditioning workouts. (“All my companions wanted to be transferred. I know that,” he laughs.) But he wasn’t a superman when he returned. He had to scramble to regain his skills and reflexes.
“I wasn’t better than I was before my mission,” he confides. “I wasn’t even as good. But it didn’t take me long to get back into shape.” Bart also notes that by the time he returned to BYU, the starting center ahead of him had graduated, and the position was open to Bart for the next three years, whereas he would have been second string two of those three years had he chosen to stay and play.

Until my mother passed away about three years ago, I did not realize what it meant “to mourn with those that mourn.” When my mother passed, our family felt an outpouring of love from neighbors, family, and friends. I am not sure that those who mourned with us understood how their kindness comforted us so deeply.

My mother passed away on a Monday evening. On the afternoon of that day, after having spent the weekend in the very small hospital in Afton, Wyoming, my mother had been thrilled to be discharged and return home. My husband, Frank, and I had spent the weekend helping my father and visiting my mother and had left for Utah that afternoon after getting my mother settled at home.

That evening the Relief Society president was visiting my parents when my mother apparently suffered another stroke. The Relief Society president stayed with my father until the ambulance arrived. She contacted the bishop, who then met my father at the hospital. My mother could not be revived in the emergency room and passed away there. My parents’ bishop stayed at the hospital with my father for at least three hours until Frank and I could return to Star Valley. The bishop had stayed with my father so that my father would not have to go home to an empty house by himself at midnight. Then, in the following days, the bishop helped us to plan the funeral. The Relief Society planned a lovely lunch for our family after the funeral, and they cheerfully served us the traditional meal with ham and funeral potatoes.

There were other ways that people mourned with us. A day or two after my mother’s passing, someone brought a generous tray of deli meats, cheeses, and spreads that we picked at daily. Someone else brought the really thick, tasty kind of bacon and farm-fresh eggs. Friends and family came from long distances for the funeral, even when it was not convenient or easy. Others sent lovely flowers and plants, and, thanks to Frank’s green thumb, they are still alive and remind me of the generosity of dear friends. In my conversations with these sweet people, their acts of service did not seem to be any great sacrifice to them. Their generous and gracious acts helped us to feel the Savior’s love. We had a sense that we were not alone at a time of deep sadness. Their efforts to keep their covenants and to comfort us in Christlike ways still mean so much to me.