Gospel Story Finder

During my second Christmas as a full-time missionary, my companion and I were visiting a recently baptized member and her family. After a great Christmas dinner, we shared with them a Christmas message.
We asked the family to draw pictures of things that reminded them of the season, such as stars, presents, nativities, and Christmas trees. We then read some scriptures, including 2 Nephi 19:6: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called, Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.” We sang “Once in Royal David’s City” (Hymns, no. 205), watched a movie about the Nativity, and bore testimony of Jesus Christ.
It was a Christmas in simple circumstances, away from our families and the usual Christmas celebrations, but as we bore testimony of the Savior, I felt a deeper love and appreciation for Him and His birth than I had known before. I realized it would be my last Christmas in full-time missionary service to my Heavenly Father, but I understood that His Spirit could testify to me of His Son wherever I was.

David Archuleta, a 17-year-old from Murray, Utah, a town centered in the Salt Lake Valley, made it as one of the top two on American Idol, a television singing competition.
In one interview given while in the middle of the competition, David was wondering about the changes that were coming with the fame of performing for millions of viewers each week. He said that he still felt like “I’m just David from Murray.”
The nation may have been surprised to hear such a pure, clear voice coming from one so young, but David’s classmates at school, and especially those in seminary, were not surprised at all. They already knew he had an amazing voice because they get to hear him sing at school programs and for seminary devotionals.
“Every time it’s his turn to do the class devotional,” says Brother Justin Harper of the Murray High Seminary, “he asks if he can sing. Then the other teachers will bring their classes in just for devotional to hear him. It really sets a wonderful spirit for class.” Even while busy and involved with the television show, Brother Harper said David reported on his daily scripture reading to keep up with his seminary class.
Mietra Aarabi, one of David’s close friends, says that David did not enter the competition to become a celebrity. She says, “David understands that he has a talent and that his voice affects people. He’s not arrogant about it. He is as humble and thankful to those who help him as you saw on the show. That’s how he really is.”
Was David the popular guy in school? Jessica Judd, another of David’s friends says, “If by popular you mean people like him, then yes, everyone likes him. At lunch, you know how everyone has their own group to sit with. You can never find David because he’s going around talking to people. He cares about you.”
The Church is a major force in David’s life. “He is so strong,” says Mietra. “He is the one that reminds us of what is right. He will keep on doing what he believes.”
“Even while he was so busy in Hollywood, he asked about the meeting schedules of wards in the area and went to church,” says Jessica.
David Archuleta is not just David from Murray anymore. The music world now knows about a great guy with an amazing voice that has a quality they can’t quite describe. Those at home in his ward, in his seminary class, and his hometown know what that is. What he believes shows.

“Mom, I shouldn’t have to do all of these dishes!” Roxanne complained. “David didn’t do them last night, and now I have to do his dishes too. Can’t he help me?”
“David is helping me with something else right now,” Mom said.
“But it’s not fair!” Roxanne said loudly.
“Please speak nicely,” Mom said.
Just then, David poked his head around the corner, laughing and making faces. “Yeah,” he whispered so Mom couldn’t hear. “Speak nicely!”
Roxanne put her hand under the running faucet and threw a handful of water at David.
“Roxanne!” Mom exclaimed.
Roxanne tried to explain, but Mom sent her to her room. Roxanne lay on her bed until Mom came in to talk.
“Roxanne, how do you feel right now?”
“Angry.”
“Would you rather feel happy?” Mom asked.
“Well, yes,” Roxanne said.
“I know I asked you to do more dishes than normal, and that’s hard,” Mom said. “And I know it isn’t always easy to get along with your brother. But don’t forget that you’re always in charge of your feelings.”
Roxanne thought. Even though she would rather feel happy, it wasn’t easy to let go of her anger.
“It’s hard to change how I feel,” Roxanne said.
“I understand,” Mom agreed. “I was feeling upset because we have visitors coming tomorrow, and I’m worried that we won’t be ready. But then I remembered that I would rather be happy, so I said a prayer and chose to feel good instead.”
Mom gave Roxanne a quick hug. “I need your help tonight,” she said. “When you feel better, I hope you will join me in the kitchen.”
Roxanne did want to help Mom. She knelt down by her bed. At first she didn’t feel like praying. Then she started telling Heavenly Father how she felt and asked Him to help her be happy again. She remembered how tired Mom looked and decided to pray for her too.
After her prayer, Roxanne felt calm enough to go back into the kitchen. As she walked in, Mom smiled and handed her a sponge.
Roxanne eyed the stacks of dishes in both sinks and on the counter. She sighed, then she started washing, one dish at a time. Soon, the chore didn’t seem so bad. And before the first sink was empty, she was even humming a little.

Gbenga Onalaja is the only Mormon at his Catholic school in Ibadan, Nigeria, and he is a little bit shy. So when a visiting archbishop asked a question at a school assembly of more than 1,000 people, Gbenga hesitated more than a minute before he answered the question.

“After his remarks, the archbishop asked the question ‘Who was Saint Martha?’” says Gbenga.
The Catholic designation of “Saint” threw Gbenga off a little bit, so he didn’t raise his hand. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, however, it appeared that no one knew the answer. Gbenga knew what he had to do.
“I raised my hand and the archbishop called me up to the front of the assembly. I was nervous and my leg was shaking, but I managed to answer that Martha was the sister of Mary and Lazarus.
“He then asked me to explain, so I told him what I knew. It was easy because I had learned it all in church.”
The archbishop was so pleased with Gbenga’s answer, he rewarded him with a scholarship for his last year at the school. Gbenga was also able to tell the archbishop about the Church.
Gbenga, who is a deacon in the Ibadan Third Branch, says, “Since that day, I have been referred to as ‘scholarship boy.’ Every time I hear that phrase, it brings back good memories and reminds me to listen to the promptings of the Spirit.”

Fire has been used to describe a wide range of things, from romantic love to a “burning” testimony. Another common association with fire is anger. Ever heard of someone being described as “hotheaded” or as having a “fiery” temper?

Anger, like fire, can appear suddenly and without warning. Both can destroy anything they touch. Yet there’s something intriguing about fire. If you cut off its access to fuel, the flames vanish. The same principle applies to anger.

Object lesson time!

Supplies
Baking soda (aka sodium bicarbonate)
Vinegar
Tall drinking glass (see-through is more fun to watch, but not necessary)
Measuring spoons
Candle and flame source

Explain to your family that in this object lesson, fire represents anger. Ask somebody to read the following story by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008). As they read the story, light the candle.

“Many years ago I worked for one of our railroads. A switchman was aimlessly strolling about the platform one day. I asked him to move a car to another track. He exploded. He threw his cap on the pavement and jumped up and down on it, swearing like a drunken sailor. I stood there and laughed at his childish behavior. Noting my laughter, he began to laugh at his own foolishness. He then quietly climbed on the switch engine, drove it over to the empty car, and moved it to an empty track.”1

In the same talk from which I quoted a statement from President Woodruff, he also said: “After I came to these valleys and returned to Winter Quarters, I was sent to Boston by President Brigham Young. … While on the road there, I drove my carriage one evening into the yard of Brother Williams. Brother Orson Hyde drove a wagon by the side of mine. I had my wife and children in the carriage. After I turned out my team and had my supper I went to bed in the carriage. I had not been there but a few minutes when the Spirit said to me, ‘Get up and move that carriage.’ I told my wife I had to get up and move the carriage. She said, ‘What for?’ I said, ‘I don’t know.’ That is all she asked me on such occasions; when I told her I did not know, that was enough. I got up and moved my carriage four or five rods, and put the off fore wheel against the corner of the house. I then looked around me and went to bed. The same Spirit said, ‘Go and move your animals from that oak tree.’ They were two hundred yards from where my carriage was. I went and moved my horses, and put them in a little hickory grove. I again went to bed.
“In thirty minutes a whirlwind came up and broke that oak tree off within two feet from the ground. It swept over three or four fences and fell square in that dooryard, near Brother Orson Hyde’s wagon, and right where mine had stood. What would have been the consequences if I had not listened to that Spirit? Why, myself and wife and children doubtless would have been killed. That was the still, small voice to me—no earthquake, no thunder, no lightning—but the still, small voice of the Spirit of God. It saved my life. It was the spirit of revelation to me.” (Millennial Star, 53:642–3.)

My sister Nancy is on a mission, and she says I, Erin Christensen, should start writing a journal, so here it is.
Today President Schultz spoke in church. He’s our stake president. Mom and Dad got really excited about his talk. It was about the rewards of being member missionaries. More says we’ll talk about it in family home evening tomorrow.
We pray about our missionary work lots of times every day. I know that we need Heavenly Father’s help if we are going to be good missionaries. Barbi and I built a clubhouse in the backyard after school. She said she’d like to come to the activity day on Saturday, but she needs to ask her parents.
I invited Barbi to go to Primary with me today. She couldn’t go because she was going to visit her grandma. Maybe next week. We’re having a Primary activity day on Saturday. I’m going to invite Barbi.
We checked out a video from the ward library and watched it at family home evening. It’s called “Our Heavenly Father’s Plan.” I’m pretty sure that my sister shows it to her new investigators. (Those are people who want to know more about the Church.) I’m learning a lot about being a missionary!
Barbi is going to go with me to the activity day!
More and Dad took Mr. and Mrs. Brown to the ward dinner party tonight. It was just for adults, so Barbi and I stayed home and made posters for our clubhouse.
Activity day was called “Peace Among All Nations Day,” and Barbi got to carry the Italian flag to represent Europe. I think she had fun. I sure did!
More and Dad fasted today, even though it wasn’t fast Sunday. Dad says that if we fast, we’ll be able to get closer to Heavenly Father and He’ll help us in our missionary work. I hope so—Barbi still couldn’t come to Primary.
The Browns came over for family home evening again tonight. Mom gave a great lesson about loving our neighbors. I made the treats—graham crackers with chocolate frosting!
Dad invited the Browns to hear the missionary discussions next week. They said no. I was sure that they’d come—they’d be great Latter-day Saints! Now what do we do?
Dad invited the Browns to look at the slides from our camping trip to Maine last summer and have popcorn with us on Friday. They live next door, and Barbi Brown is my best friend. It would be great if they got baptized!
Tonight was great! More and Dad showed them the slides, and we ate lots of popcorn. I think the Browns had a good time. After they left, we had a family prayer. I felt really good about our missionary work. I think we’re going to have someone ready to listen to the missionaries. Maybe it’ll be the Browns!
I wrote a letter to Nancy today. She’ll be happy about our missionary work. I wonder how she gets people to teach on her mission.
Wow—we’ve decided to work as a family to have someone ready to hear the missionary discussions. The meetings will be right here at our house. Dad says that we don’t even have to know who that person is right now. We just need to pray, have faith, and do everything we can to help as many people as we can to know about the Church. If we do, Heavenly Father will help us.
When I said my prayers this morning, I said a special prayer for our missionary work. I hope I can get one of my friends to join the Church. We need more girls in my Primary class!
Dad and I raked leaves for Mrs. Thompson across the street. She’s old and can’t do it for herself. Dad says that doing things for other people is part of missionary work. I think it made her happy. Her husband died last summer, so she needs help with some things, I guess she’s lonely too.
I felt sad all day because the Browns don’t want to listen to the missionaries. Then this afternoon the most amazing thing happened! I went to Mrs. Thompson’s house to rake leaves again. While I was raking, she came out with some milk and cookies for me, and we sat down on the porch. We started talking about families. She thinks our family is pretty special. I told her that Mom and Dad were married in the Washington Temple and that that means we’ll be together forever. She got tears in her eyes and asked me if there was a way she could learn more about being married forever. I said, “Sure—just come over to our house next Tuesday, and the missionaries will teach you.” And she’s going to come!
We had a busy weekend. Dad talked with Mrs. Thompson Saturday morning, and she said she couldn’t wait till Tuesday. So the missionaries came that night and the next night, and tonight too. And she asked to be baptized! Heavenly Father answered our prayers, even though it wasn’t the way I expected. The Browns are still our friends, and maybe someday they’ll want to learn about the Church and get baptized too. I hope so. Meanwhile, I’ve already written to tell Nancy the good news about Mrs. Thompson. I guess I know a little about how she feels being a missionary. It feels GREAT!

I love the story I have heard Ann Madsen tell of her husband, Truman G. Madsen. While studying philosophy at Harvard University as a PhD student, he would spend his days deep in the arcane philosophic discourses of the world’s great minds, coming to understand their attempts to describe the way things are. From the field of ethics—what is right and wrong, all the way to epistemology—how, and even whether we can actually come to know things, the “philosophies of man” would swirl in his head. Then, she said, he would come home in the late afternoon, absorbed in thought about an issue of the day and take a book to the front porch and ask the question aloud, “Well, let’s see what Brother Joseph had to say about this.” He sensed that he could not fully come to understand the ideas of men without exposing them to the light of the gospel.

Once my mother taught me how to turn my face and feet to the light, she also pointed the way to the temple. I learned the powerful lesson of an example. She never had to say a word about the importance of temple work. I just watched her face and feet. She went to the temple and was sealed to my father. She walked miles from work, often in rain or snow, and placed the money in her temple fund. A few coins added up and paid for a temple trip every year and purchased documents needed to get names ready to take to the Swiss temple.

During her summer vacation, mother traveled to the temple in Switzerland, a three-day bus trip one way. After by brother and I started our lives away from home, she would work overtime as needed and then take time off to go to the temple. For years she packed her suitcase, got on a bus, then a train, and slept in a hotel to catch a morning flight from Finland to Switzerland. Once there, she took another train and a bus to the temple, where she worked a week before returning home. Imagine her joy when she could get to the temple in Sweden in less than a day. Finally, in October 2006, a temple was dedicated in Finland, only a three-hour drive from my hometown.

I remember mother describing the feeling in the temple after her first trip. Her face was shining, and she said she would like to create the feeling of temple in our home. We refined our manners and lowered our tone of voice to "temple voice." Everything in our home was orderly and beautiful. We always came home to a peaceful setting where the spirit of the Lord could be felt. As followers of Jesus Christ, we should model our behavior according to the things we learn in the temple. Our homes and our places of employment and study should reflect the light we obtain from the House of the Lord.

After he left school, Géoffroy kept working hard. Soon he had a farm of his own.
Then one day he saw a friend who was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His friend gave him a Book of Mormon. Géoffroy read the Book of Mormon and prayed. He felt warm and peaceful inside and knew for sure that the Church is true.
He already knew what to do next. He worked, prayed, and relied on God. First he got baptized. Then he shared his testimony with those around him. Some of his friends got baptized too. What started as a small group of members soon grew into a branch. He was helping the Church grow in Benin!

During the spring of our 20th year together, my husband lost his job. Even though he had a new job by Christmas, our finances were grim. We didn’t expect to have much of a Christmas for our own family, so we wondered how we would carry out our secret tradition.
During home evening we talked as a family about what our Christmas would be like that year. We recognized with gratitude that even if gifts would be scarce, at least we still had warmth, food, and each other. We thought of all the people who had essentially nothing: no home, no family, no warmth. Then we thought about how for years short little legs had run inside our Christmas coat and bright eyes had peered out from its furry hood. How would we put the coat to use this year?
One Sunday morning we loaded everyone into the car and drove downtown with our Christmas coat. We drove to an area where homeless people often spent the night, and we watched for someone who didn’t have anything warm to wear. When we spotted a man walking alone, my husband and son walked over to him. The rest of us watched as the man accepted the coat and smiled. Tears filled my eyes as I saw him put on our Christmas coat, the only gift we had to give that year.
Other Christmases have since passed, and we have been able to continue our tradition. None of us has forgotten about the Christmas coat, however. When I consider all the years the coat disguised us while we delivered gifts, the memory of the year we gave it away warms my heart the most.

When I’d been married only two weeks, I almost burned our apartment down. I was making toast when suddenly our brand-new toaster burst into flames.
While I stood there in shock, my new husband took action. He ran the toaster outside and dumped it upside down. Along with my blackened toast, out came … a thoroughly toasted instruction manual. Oops.
Thankfully, you don’t need to be perfect at making toast (or at anything else) to be ready for eternal marriage. But there are a few simple things you can do to prepare, as a youth, right now.

In the summer of 2011, I had the privilege of meeting Josh Larson at the Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, USA. A few months later, Josh was helping his father clean out a warehouse. Without warning, a chain transporting a 1,480 pound (670 kg) beam suddenly snapped, dropping the beam onto Josh, crushing him from his neck to his legs. Miraculously, Josh’s father was able to move the beam off his son’s body. He performed CPR until emergency personnel arrived to transport Josh, who was still not breathing, to the hospital.
Josh spent days in critical condition. Doctors worked fervently to repair his cracked skull, shattered sinuses, and other severe injuries. After numerous operations, Josh was eventually stabilized. He then began the long, slow road to recovery.
Today Josh still experiences many of the effects of his accident. He has a damaged eye, is partially deaf in one ear, and has a metal plate in his head. Yet he chooses to look at his ordeal as a blessing. He knows that he owes his life and his recovery to Heavenly Father and the support of those around him. Gratitude fills his heart.
Josh’s recovery has been long and slow. He still experiences many of the effects of his accident but considers the accident to be more of a blessing than a trial.
At a recent conference for youth, Josh talked about the prayers and fasting offered by family, friends, neighbors, and ward and stake leaders: “I am counting my blessings. Prayers have been answered. I think this has been more of a blessing than a trial. I love all you guys.”

After my call to the Relief Society general presidency, I felt a desire to know more about the women who had served before me. I was impressed by the teachings of Sister Zina D. Young, first counselor in the second Relief Society general presidency. She said, “Sisters, it is for us to be wide awake to our duties.” I pondered on the words awake and duty and did some additional searching in the scriptures.
In the New Testament, Paul taught the Saints of his day:
“It is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer. …
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand: … let us put on the armour of light.”
In the Book of Mormon, Alma taught his people the sacred duties of those who enter into a covenant with God:
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places. …
“Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?
“And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.”
Sister Young’s statement and these scriptures caused me to consider the “duties” we must awaken to in our day.
When we are baptized, we enter into a covenant. Elder Robert D. Hales taught, “When we make and keep covenants, we are coming out of the world and into the kingdom of God.”
We are changed. We look different, and we act different. The things we listen to and read and say are different, and what we wear is different because we become daughters of God bound to Him by covenant.
When we are confirmed, we receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, the right to have the constant influence of a member of the Godhead to guide us, to comfort us, and to protect us. He warns us when we are tempted to walk away from our covenants and back into the world. President Boyd K. Packer teaches that none of us “will ever make a serious mistake without first being warned by the promptings of the Holy Ghost.”
To receive this gift and always have the Spirit with us, we must be worthy and vigilant about checking the condition of our hearts. Is our heart soft? Do we have a humble heart, a teachable heart, a gentle heart? Or have our hearts become gradually hardened as we have allowed too much of the noise of the world to distract us from the gentle promptings that have surely come from the Spirit?
When we were baptized, our hearts were changed and awakened to God. While on our mortal journey, we need to regularly ask ourselves, “If [I] have experienced a change of heart, … can [I] feel so now?” And if not, then why not?
Many of the early Saints “experienced this mighty change in [their] hearts.” It awakened them to receive temple blessings that strengthened them in their duties. Early Saints in Nauvoo went “to the temple all day and long into the night” to receive ordinances and make covenants before they began their journey westward.
Sarah Rich, a Relief Society sister in Nauvoo, said this: “Many were the blessings we had received in the house of the Lord, which has caused us joy and comfort in the midst of all our sorrows and enabled us to have faith in God, knowing He would guide us and sustain us in the unknown journey that lay before us.”
With hearts changed through faith in the Savior, they relied on the power of His Atonement. They were awakened to act. They knew deep in their hearts that there was one—the Savior—who understood their personal adversity because He suffered it for them in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross. He felt their fear, their doubt, their pain, and their loneliness. He suffered their sorrows, their persecution, their hunger, their fatigue, and their loss. And because He suffered all these things, He could say to them, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
And they came. They trusted in and followed the prophet. They knew the journey would be long, their duty difficult. They knew that sacrifice would be required, but sustained by their faith and cleaving to their covenants, they were spiritually prepared.
Before leaving Nauvoo, a group of Saints wrote a message in the assembly hall in the temple they were forced to abandon. It read, “The Lord has beheld our sacrifice: come after us.”
Recently I participated in a pioneer trek with young men and young women in our ward. Each morning I asked myself, “What is my sacrifice? How do I come after them?”
On the second day of the trek we had pulled our handcarts eight miles (13 km) when we came to a place on the trail called “the women’s pull.” Men and women were separated, and the men were sent ahead up a hill. As we started to pull our handcarts, I looked up to see our priesthood brethren, young and old, lining both sides of the trail, hats off in respect for the women.
The path was easy at first, but soon we were in deep sand, and the hill grew steep. I had my head down and was pushing with all my might when I felt a tug on the cart and looked up to see Lexi, one of our young women and my neighbor. She had pulled her handcart to the top and, seeing our need for help, ran back. When we reached the top, I wanted so much to run back to help those following me, but I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding so hard, the words heart attack entered my mind more than once! I watched with gratitude as other young women dropped their handcarts and ran to help.
When everyone reached the top, we took some time to record feelings in our journals. I wrote: “I didn’t prepare well enough physically so didn’t have the strength to help those following me. I may never need to pull a handcart again, but I never want to let my sisters down spiritually, never!”
It was a sacred experience that awakened me spiritually to my duties to my family and others. Throughout our journey I reflected on what I had learned.
First I thought about my sisters, those who had pulled and those who continue today to pull their handcarts alone. Nearly 20 percent of the women in those early handcart companies were alone for at least part of the way. These were women who had not married, were divorced, or were widowed. Many were single mothers. They all pulled together—covenant daughters, young and old, in different life circumstances, on the same path, with the same goal.
Those who ran to help their sisters in need reminded me of rescuers, both seen and unseen, who are quick to observe, see a need, and act.
I thought of the Lord’s words: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”
Lining both sides of the trail were faithful, obedient, covenant-keeping men. Their priesthood power—the power God uses to bless all His children—lifted, strengthened, and supported us. They were a reminder that we are never alone. We can have this power with us always as we keep our covenants.
I thought of the men who were separated on the journey from families, leaving them to pull the handcart alone. Many men died on the journey. Some sons stayed behind to serve missions in their native lands. Others had emigrated earlier to prepare for their families’ arrival in the Salt Lake Valley. Some men were absent by choice, having chosen not to keep their covenants.
Like those who went before, many today live in circumstances that are not ideal. We continue to teach and strive for the ideal because we know that continually striving will keep us progressing along the path and prepare us for opportunities to receive all promised blessings as we “wait upon the Lord.”
Each of us has had and will continue to have adversity in our lives. This mortal life is a time of testing, and we will continue to have opportunities to use our agency to choose what we will learn from the adversity that will surely come.
As daughters of God, we continue on the path in faith because we recognize, as President Thomas S. Monson taught, “The saving ordinances received in the temple that permit us to someday return to our Heavenly Father in an eternal family relationship and to be endowed with blessings and power from on high are worth every sacrifice and every effort.”
It isn’t enough to just be on the journey; we must be awake to our duty and continue with faith as we draw upon the comforting, strengthening, enabling, and healing power of the Atonement.
Sisters, I love you. I don’t know many of you personally, but I do know who you are! We are covenant-keeping daughters in His kingdom, and endowed with power through our covenants, we are prepared to do our duty.
Relief Society prepares women for the blessings of eternal life by awakening us spiritually to increase in faith and personal righteousness. Let us begin with ourselves. Let us begin where we are. Let us begin today. When we are spiritually awake, we will be better able to strengthen families and homes and help others.
This is a work of salvation, and the strengthening and enabling power of the Atonement makes it possible. Awaken to who we are. Awaken to our duty. We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us. Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Such was the experience of William Norris, formerly the chairman of a large computer manufacturing firm and a friend of many years. Mr. Norris determined to build a plant in an area of extreme poverty. The neighborhood was predominantly composed of a minority race—unmarried women with children, uneducated, uncared-for, but needing help. These women became the work force in the production of high-tech computers.

I had the privilege to be hosted by Mr. Norris and to be given a tour of his new facility. I was impressed with the employment provided—but more impressed with the company nursery, which occupied a wing of the building. Here, while their mothers worked, children received schooling, including proficiency with computers. Since most of the children did not have fathers and grandfathers who cared, retired grandfathers in the community were invited to have lunch with them. The children were benefited, and the grandfathers had a special blessing brought into their lives.

As a result of Mr. Norris’s dream, the chain of poverty was broken. Children learned to earn. It was as though William Norris had personally blessed the life of each worker. Through the window provided by Mr. Norris—even love in action—I saw demonstrated the philosophical and practical truth: The bottom line of living is giving.

Heavenly Father knew that this strong-willed son needed a good father. He picked out a great one for me. My dad’s devotion to his children and grandchildren consumed much of his time. He loved the Lord and was about the Lord’s errand throughout his days. He was not only my dad; he was one of my heroes.
Dad was the president of my priests quorum and bishop of our ward during my teenage years. You who have been a bishop’s son know that sometimes performance expectations tend to be a little high for bishops’ sons.
During Dad’s tenure as bishop, a new meetinghouse was built in our area. Local financial shares were partially fulfilled by providing labor. Often I arrived home to find a note on the kitchen table inviting me to join Dad in working on the new building. These invitations were not always received with great warmth and enthusiasm. It seemed to me that the bishop’s son received more than his fair share of invitations to work on the new meetinghouse.
As the building neared completion, landscaping commenced. The priesthood brethren were extended a work opportunity to haul fertilizer to the site. Because the bishop was a part of the expedition, the bishop’s son felt an obligation to respond. We drove to a mountain sheep corral. Into a large truck we shoveled very finely ground, dry sheep fertilizer. The wind blew much of what we threw into the truck back to us. This unsavory material gathered in our eyes, throats, noses, ears, and down our backs. I can’t ever remember being more uncomfortable. I’m afraid I verbalized my feelings with emotion. When we arrived back at the meetinghouse to unload the material, I found my new bike had been stolen. My complaining was loud. Why would the Lord permit someone to steal my bike when I was about His work?
When Dad and I arrived home, we showered and sat down to an evening meal. My complaining about the day and my lost bike continued. As we knelt in prayer, Dad thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity of the day’s service and expressed love for me. He asked forgiveness for the person who had taken the bike. He noted his sorrow for the loss but expressed gratitude that it wasn’t his son who had committed the theft. Dads make great heroes. I pray that if you are fortunate enough to have a father close by, he can be your hero. Dads, live in such a way that your sons and others can look up to you as heroes.

Joseph Knight arose early the morning of September 22, 1827. As he went outside to check on his animals, he noticed that his horse and wagon were gone. He was a guest in the home of the Joseph Smith family in Manchester, New York, and Joseph and Emma had borrowed his horse and wagon in the predawn to go to the Hill Cumorah.
Brother Knight was a dear friend of the Prophet and was among the first to hear Joseph describe the sacred experience of being visited by the angel Moroni. The angel had appeared to Joseph Smith once a year for the three previous years, and this morning was to be the fourth and last visitation. During this visit the angel Moroni had promised to let the Prophet take the gold plates if Joseph had been faithful.
When Joseph and Emma returned from the Hill Cumorah, the Prophet told Brother Knight something of his glorious experience. He told him of the size of the plates and described the glasses, or Urim and Thummim, which he (Joseph) had been given to help translate the Book of Mormon.

“Remember, just five minutes,” warned the attendant as he ushered Salt Lake businessman Nephi L. Morris into the plush Chicago office of important financier Thomas N. McCauley. Handing the tycoon the caller’s business card, the attendant posted himself by the door to be sure the five-minute limit would not be exceeded.
“From Salt Lake City I see,” remarked the busy executive. “Sit down Mr. Morris. Because you are a Utahn, I want to tell you about an experience I had years ago out in your part of the world.” Not waiting to find out Brother Morris’s business reason for the visit, Mr. McCauley disregarded his own tight business schedule—and his upset attendant—and for a full hour related to his visitor a singular experience cherished in his memory.
Mr. McCauley explained that while still a young man he had amassed a fortune in the East before the turn of the century. But the strain of business finally broke him physically. His doctor warned that the only hope for recovery was for the young executive to spend six months to a year in the West, living in the open. Reluctantly accepting this advice, Mr. McCauley turned his extensive business affairs over to associates and went west, accompanied by the doctor.
For months the two men camped in a covered wagon while leisurely traveling about the Rocky Mountain regions. Then, when recovery seemed near, McCauley suddenly developed a fever of 102 degrees and severe chills. The doctor, fearing for his patient’s life, hurried the wagon to the nearest settlement: Bunkerville, Nevada, a small Mormon settlement near the southwest corner of Utah. Having a deep dislike for Mormons, the doctor nevertheless swallowed his pride and appealed for help at the home of a local farmer, Edward Bunker, Jr., who turned out to be the town’s bishop and the son of the man for whom Bunkerville was named.
The strangers had not known that this man’s home often served as a hospital or hotel for people passing through those barren regions. While bishop from 1883 to 1908, Brother Bunker served as the local doctor, setting about 40 broken limbs, amputating fingers, lancing sores, and once even successfully sewing on a boy’s foot that had been amputated by a mowing machine. According to local tradition, the Bunker family rarely dined alone because of the good bishop’s hospitality. Travelers could stay at the Bunker home as long as they wanted, said the Bunker rule, but they would be treated like one of the family and could not disrupt the normal family life.
The Easterners were quickly made welcome and were promised every accommodation within the tiny community’s power to give. Their wagon and team were cared for. Food was provided. Bedding and supplies materialized, and the Bunker parlor was converted into a makeshift hospital ward.
Day after day the doctor and the Bunkers carefully nursed the critically ill patient. Weeks passed and McCauley made only slow progress. The doctor spent his time with the sick man or off by himself. While confined helplessly to his bed, however, the young man was in a unique position to witness the everyday activities of this humble Latter-day Saint family.
At times the parlor door was left ajar, and McCauley could look into the next room where, after a day of hard farm toil, the family blessed and then ate their evening meal. Many times at nightfall McCauley observed them kneeling in family prayer, the bishop himself often praying aloud.
At last the patient’s condition improved enough for the doctor to allow him to resume the journey. On the morning of the doctor and McCauley’s departure, the Bunker family arose early as usual. Unknowingly they had awakened their guests, who could not help but overhear the special family prayer offered in their behalf. The family gathered in the dining room where the sturdy bishop, kneeling beside his children and as humble as they were, reverently poured out his soul in supplication. Among other things he fervently thanked God for blessing their guest with a great recovery of health, and he invoked a special blessing for a full and complete healing.
During the prayer McCauley noticed his doctor friend slip quietly from the parlor with tears on his cheeks. McCauley, recognizing the faith being exercised in his behalf, could barely suppress his own tears as a deep feeling of gratitude welled up in his heart. As he confessed while telling the story to Brother Morris years later, “I have never heard such a prayer in all my life.”
Arising from prayer the family went about their daily chores while Bishop Bunker came into the parlor to say goodbye to his guests. Shaking hands with McCauley, he expressed to the Easterner his great pleasure at “having been favored with the privilege of rendering an act of kindness,” then wished him and the doctor a pleasant journey.
“I am greatly indebted to you, Bishop Bunker,” said McCauley, “and I desire to properly compensate you for your merciful kindness and care of me, which is responsible for saving my life. I am a man of ample means and to reward you generously would be a great pleasure to me.”
Knowing the Bunkers’ existence was hard and that they lacked many material things, he was amazed when the bishop kindly refused the offer. “No,” said the Mormon, “I can’t accept anything from you. I have only done what any man should do for his brother.”
“But I must do something to compensate you for what you bestowed upon me. I cannot let you go uncompensated. Please tell me what I can do for you in money or otherwise.”
To this earnest request the hospitable bishop replied: “I am already amply repaid for my helpfulness to you. The only way you can pay me is by doing for some other person who stands in like need of help as I have cheerfully done for you.”
And that closed the transaction as far as Bishop Bunker was concerned.
But McCauley never forgot the debt he felt he owed, and in following years he repaid it—mainly by helping Latter-day Saints. When donations were sought to build a monument in Utah to Brigham Young, McCauley’s name headed the donors’ list with a $1,000 contribution. During Utah Senator Reed Smoot’s membership trial in the United States Senate, the influential financier personally lobbied with Vice-president William Howard Taft in defense of the Mormons. He offered financial opportunities to various Utah and Church leaders. When two prominent Mormons suffered financial reverses during the panic of 1907, McCauley gave them back their notes and canceled their loan obligations to him.
And whenever opportunities presented themselves, even if it meant turning a five-minute appointment into an hour’s discussion, the financier felt an obligation to tell Utahns like Brother Morris about his struggle with death in the Nevada wastelands where a Mormon bishop, whom he had not seen before or since, had exercised faith in God to help a stranger recover. That was something, McCauley explained, which all his own wealth and power could not accomplish.
The story so impressed Brother Morris that he immediately noted it down. Twenty years later, in 1943, he wrote to Bishop Bunker’s descendants and shared the story with them, for whom it now is a source of family pride and inspiration.

Devastating earthquakes and tsunamis have recently occurred in diverse places, including Chile, Haiti, and the islands of the Pacific. A few weeks ago Presiding Bishop H. David Burton, Elder Tad R. Callister, and I were able to meet with the Saints who had lost family members as a result of the tsunami that hit the eastern side of Samoa last September. The chapel was full, and it was an emotional meeting. We were able to assure these choice members that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, they can be reunited with the loved ones they have lost.

The stake president, Sonny Purcell, was driving his car when he saw the enormous wave coming far out at sea. He honked his horn and stopped children on the road walking to school and warned them to run for higher ground and safety as fast as they could. The children followed his instruction. He frantically drove, reached his four-year-old daughter, put her in the car, and then tried to get to his mother. Before he could reach his mother, the wall of water picked up his car and swept it over 100 yards (91 m), where it lodged in a tree. He scrambled to secure his daughter on top of the car and then swam to rescue his mother, who was clinging to a branch of another tree near their house. With great effort he swam with her to the car and safety. Many were not as fortunate. They did not have time to get to higher ground and safety. Many lost their lives, particularly the young and the elderly.

We told the Samoan families that members all over the world expressed love and concern and had prayed for them and contributed fast offerings and humanitarian aid for both the members and their neighbors. The same is true for the members and their neighbors in Chile and Haiti. We do this because we follow Jesus Christ.

As we met with the families in Samoa, the significance of spiritually going to the higher ground, living a better life, and clinging to saving ordinances was abundantly clear. The Savior’s example and life teach us to spiritually avoid the low pathway, where the things of this world dominate. As I shook hands with the members after our meeting, one sister told me her family had not been to the temple and they had lost a daughter. She tearfully said their goal now was to prepare themselves for the sacred ordinances of the temple so they can be together eternally.
As I have pondered what this sister said and the current condition of the world, I have felt an urgency to counsel each of us to seek the higher ground—the refuge and eternal protection of the temple.

Next day we visited the Global Expo centre. It was the most emotional day, seeing 2,800 refugees living without basic medical help, and a mountain of volunteers in dire need of additional financial help. The volunteers, from many different churches, were addressing spiritual as well as physical needs. We were with Bellwether International, a human-rights nonprofit organisation, and with them we were able to give socks and other practical clothing.