Gospel Story Finder

One of the guidelines in For the Strength of Youth states: “Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ.”
After studying these words, one young woman realized that perhaps some of her clothes were not completely modest. Through prayer and study of the scriptures, she was reminded that she was a disciple of Jesus Christ and that, as His representative, she needed to make some changes. She didn’t want to have anything in her wardrobe that was a temptation, so she went through her closet and drawers and got rid of anything that wasn’t modest. She said, “I would be smart if I didn’t even try on anything in stores that I knew I shouldn’t wear. Why be tempted?” That firm resolve showed the Lord that she respected her body, and she drove down a deep stake for modesty.

We have seen many examples of this promise being fulfilled. Recently a young woman told us that after having researched her grandmother’s name, she had come to the temple to do the work for her. She said that as she was baptized for her, she had the clear impression that her grandmother would greet her in the next life. Experiences such as these strengthen testimonies and instill a desire to participate in further ordinances of the temple.

Let me offer an example of a powerful woman who played a key role in the Restoration, who trusted in the Lord, and who leaned not unto her own understanding.

Shortly after the Church was organized in Palmyra, New York, Lucy Mack Smith remained in Waterloo, New York, with a large group of Saints while her husband, Joseph Sr., and sons, including Joseph Jr., departed before her to Kirtland, Ohio. Her responsibility was to bring this group to Ohio when she received word from Joseph.

Well, word came in early spring 1831. Lucy, with the help of some of the brethren, began to move the group to Buffalo, New York, with the intention of making passage to Ohio by ship on Lake Erie. In her words:

When the brethren considered the spring sufficiently open for traveling on the water, we all began to prepare for our removal to Kirtland. We hired a boat . . . ; and . . . we numbered eighty souls.

And then, as they pushed off into the Erie Canal, headed to Buffalo:

I then called the brethren and sisters together, and reminded them that we were traveling by the commandment of the Lord, as much as Father Lehi was, when he left Jerusalem; and, if faithful, we had the same reasons to expect the blessings of God. I then desired them to be solemn, and to lift their hearts to God continually in prayer, that we might be prospered.

About halfway to Buffalo from Waterloo, passage along the canal became impossible. Conditions for the eighty Saints were uncomfortable, and murmuring began almost immediately. Lucy, relying on the Lord, had to unite their faith:

No, no, . . . you will not starve, brethren, nor anything of that sort; only do be patient and stop your murmuring. I have no doubt but the hand of the Lord is over us.

When they arrived in Buffalo on the fifth day after leaving Waterloo, the harbor leading to Lake Erie was apparently frozen solid. They took passage on a ship with Captain Blake, a man acquainted with Lucy Smith and her family. After a couple of days, although conditions on the ship were not conducive for all of them to stay while awaiting notice of departure, Lucy reported:

Captain Blake requested the passengers to remain on board, as he wished, from that time, to be ready to start at a moment’s warning; at the same time he sent out a man to measure the depth of the ice, who, when he returned, reported that it was piled up to the height of twenty feet, and that it was his opinion that we would remain in the harbor at least two weeks longer.

This was devastating news to the group, as supplies were low and conditions were difficult. Lucy Mack Smith further recorded her admonition to the Saints:

You profess to put your trust in God, then how can you feel to murmur and complain as you do! You are even more unreasonable than the children of Israel were; for here are my sisters pining for their rocking chairs, and brethren from whom I expected firmness and energy, declare that they positively believe they shall starve to death before they get to the end of their journey. And why is it so? Have any of you lacked? . . . Where is your faith? Where is your confidence in God? Can you not realize that all things were made by him, and that he rules over the works of his own hands? And suppose that all the Saints here should lift their hearts in prayer to God, that the way might be opened before us, how easy it would be for him to cause the ice to break away, so that in a moment we could be on our journey!

Now, please observe here the great faith of Mother Smith—how she chose to trust in the Lord and how she asked that the Saints with her not lean unto their own understanding:

“Now, brethren and sisters, if you will all of you raise your desires to heaven, that the ice may be broken up, and we be set at liberty, as sure as the Lord lives, it will be done.” At that instant a noise was heard, like bursting thunder. The captain cried, “Every man to his post.” The ice parted, leaving barely a passage for the boat, and so narrow that as the boat passed through, the buckets of the waterwheel were torn off with a crash, which, joined to the word of command from the captain, the hoarse answering of the sailors, the noise of the ice, and the cries and confusion of the spectators, presented a scene truly terrible. We had barely passed through the avenue when the ice closed together again, and the Colesville brethren were left in Buffalo, unable to follow us.

As we were leaving the harbor, one of the bystanders exclaimed, “There goes the ‘Mormon’ company! That boat is sunk in the water nine inches deeper than ever it was before, and, mark it, she will sink—there is nothing surer.” In fact, they were so sure of it that they went straight to the [news] office and had it published that we were sunk, so that when we arrived at Fairport we read in the papers the news of our own death.

After a few years of conducting meetings in and around Kotpad, I moved to northern India, where I began to sell books from the Evangelical Christian literature society. I came across a book called Is Mormonism Christian? Something about the book intrigued me, and I decided to read it.
The book had a lot of criticism toward the Mormons and their beliefs. Even so, many parts of the book intrigued me, especially their concept of the Godhead, the components of their worship, and the history of polygamy. However, what interested me the most was that their church was named after Jesus Christ. I was curious to know more.
One day while praying, I felt inspired to investigate the Mormon Church. I learned that Salt Lake City, Utah, was the Church’s headquarters. I decided to write a letter and addressed it to “Men in charge of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA.”
In 1959, in response to my letter, Brother Lamar Williams from the Church Missionary Department sent me Joseph Smith’s testimony, the Articles of Faith, and the Book of Mormon. I studied them all and was convinced of their truthfulness. However, there were no missionaries or members to teach me in India.
Then in January 1961, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited Delhi. I spent three days traveling with him to the Taj Mahal at Agra and to Dharamsala. I was like a sponge soaking up all the gospel lessons he taught. On the final day of his visit, I was ready for baptism. On January 7, 1961, I was baptized by Elder Kimball in the Yamuna River; Sister Kimball was the official witness, though there were many curious onlookers. I was confirmed that evening.
Those three days when the Lord’s Apostle taught me without any interruptions have been some of the best days of my life. Parting was sad because he had become my special Mormon friend.

During the final phases of World War II, I turned eighteen years old and was ordained an elder—one week before I departed for active duty with the United States Navy. A member of my ward bishopric was at the train station to bid me farewell. Just before train time, he placed in my hand a book. Its title, the Missionary Handbook. I laughed and commented, “I’m not going on a mission.” He answered, “Take it anyway. It may come in handy.”
It did. During basic training our company commander instructed us concerning how we might best pack our clothing in a large sea bag. He advised, “If you have a hard, rectangular object you can place in the bottom of the bag, your clothes will stay more firm.” I suddenly remembered just the right rectangular object—the Missionary Handbook. Thus it served for twelve weeks.
The night preceding our Christmas leave our thoughts were, as always, on home. The barracks were quiet. Suddenly I became aware that my buddy in the adjoining bunk—a Mormon boy, Leland Merrill—was moaning with pain. I asked, “What’s the matter, Merrill?”
He replied, “I’m sick. I’m really sick.”
I advised him to go to the base dispensary, but he answered knowingly that such a course would prevent him from being home for Christmas.
The hours lengthened; his groans grew louder. Then, in desperation, he whispered, “Monson, Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so; whereupon he asked, “Give me a blessing.”
I became very much aware that I had never given a blessing. I had never received such a blessing; I had never witnessed a blessing being given. My prayer to God was a plea for help. The answer came: “Look in the bottom of the sea bag.” Thus, at 2:00 A.M. I emptied on the deck the contents of the bag. I then took to the night-light that hard, rectangular object, the Missionary Handbook, and read how one blesses the sick. With about sixty curious sailors looking on, I proceeded with the blessing. Before I could put away my gear, Leland Merrill was sleeping like a child.
The next morning Merrill smilingly turned to me and said, “Monson, I’m glad you hold the priesthood.” His gladness was only surpassed by my gratitude.

Illustration by Allen Garns
One rainy day on my mission in Colombia, my companion and I had an hour left before we had to be home. We were hungry and tired from walking all day. We hadn’t found anyone to teach.
We also had no money with us, and we hadn’t gone grocery shopping. We knew we would get home and have nothing to eat. I tried to push away these negative thoughts and focus on the work.
“Look what I found!” My companion suddenly exclaimed.
She had found some money on the ground. From the expression on her face, I could tell she was thinking what I was. We could buy something to eat!
But after a moment, my companion said, “No, this money is not ours!”
“But I’m hungry!” I thought.
“Whoever it belongs to, we’re not going to find them at this time of night,” I told her.
She suggested that we pray. I knew that was right, but a part of me thought it was crazy. We had worked hard all day long. We were hungry. Maybe finding the money was a blessing for our service.
Then I remembered my mother. When I was young, she taught my sisters and me to always be honest. She was an example to us and prayed that we would have courage to be honest. I knew that if she were there, she would be sad if I did not make the right decision.
So we prayed. We asked Heavenly Father to help us find the owner. Several minutes later, a young man came along, searching for something. He had tears in his eyes and looked upset. My companion and I went up to him and found out that we had what he was looking for.
We returned his money to him, and he thanked us repeatedly. He said he needed it to pay for college. Without it, he would lose his enrollment. My eyes filled with tears, and I repented of my previous desires to spend the money. We got his contact information, and we were able to teach him and five other people. That night I thanked my companion for her good example.
I know that God blesses us when we are honest. We didn’t have anything to eat that night, but I do not remember going to bed hungry. Finding the money was a blessing, after all.

Brothers and sisters, several years ago while I was speaking in general conference, the sight in my left eye was suddenly compromised by something called macular degeneration, which subsequently worsened and has left me without useful vision in that eye.
As I have dealt with this challenge, I am ever more thankful for other kinds of vision, including hindsight vision. As I have looked back over my life, I have been able to see certain experiences that made a significant difference. One of those experiences is how my full-time missionary service as a young man in England blessed my life and shaped my spiritual destiny.
I have reflected on how the economic challenges associated with the Great Depression in the 1930s led to an unfortunate turn for my parents and our family. My father became so involved in saving his automobile dealership and supporting a family during this difficult period that for a time my parents did not attend church.
Although we did not attend church services as a family, that did not prevent me from attending occasionally with my friends.
In those days, going on a mission was in the back of my mind, but it wasn’t something I talked about with my parents.
While attending college, several friends and I decided to serve missions. Visiting with my bishop, I filled out my missionary application while my parents were out of town. When my parents returned, I surprised them with the news that I had been called to serve in Great Britain. I am grateful for their enthusiastic support of this decision and for good friends who helped me decide to serve.
My missionary service prepared me to be a better husband and father and to be successful in business. It also prepared me for a lifetime of service to the Lord in His Church.
In the April 1985 general conference, I was assigned to speak in the priesthood session. I directed my remarks to the young men. I spoke about preparing to serve as a missionary. I said, “Of all the training I have received in my Church assignments, none has been more important to me than the training I received as a nineteen-year-old elder serving a full-time mission.”
The Lord knows you. When you are serving your mission, you will have experiences that will help you come to know Him better. You will grow spiritually in serving Him. In His name, you will be sent on errands to serve others. He will give you experiences with promptings from the Holy Ghost. The Lord will authorize you to teach in His name. You can show Him that He can trust you and can rely on you.
Just over five months ago, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland and Elder Quentin L. Cook, who had also served as missionaries in the British Isles, joined me in visiting with members and missionaries in that beautiful land. While there, I reflected on my experiences as a young missionary. I testify that my mission is where I came to know that my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ, know and love me.
I was blessed to have two wonderful mission presidents, Selvoy J. Boyer and Stayner Richards, along with their dedicated companions, Gladys Boyer and Jane Richards. Looking back, I can see even more clearly that they trusted me and loved me. They taught me the gospel. They expected a lot from me. They gave me many challenging assignments and leadership responsibilities to help me to grow and prepare for a life of service.
I have also reflected on being called by President Spencer W. Kimball to preside over the Canada Toronto Mission with my dear wife, Barbara, and our children at our sides. President Kimball called us to serve in April 1974, shortly after he gave his inspired missionary message titled “When the World Will Be Converted.” In that message President Kimball explained his vision for how the gospel would be taken to all the world. He called for many more missionaries from around the world. He reminded us of the Lord’s expectation “that every man should … lift a warning voice unto the inhabitants of the earth.” President Kimball’s teaching about the expectation for young men to serve a mission became a topic of conversation in homes around the world. That expectation has not changed. I am grateful that President Russell M. Nelson also reaffirmed the Lord’s expectation this morning.
It has been almost 10 years since President Thomas S. Monson announced the lowering of the missionary age for young men and young women. In my view, a primary reason for this change was to give more of our youth the life-changing opportunity to serve as a missionary.
As an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, I now call upon you young men—and those young women who desire to serve a mission—to begin right now to talk with your parents about serving a mission. I also invite you to talk with your friends about serving a mission, and if one of your friends is not sure about serving, encourage them to talk with their bishop.
Commit to yourselves and to your Heavenly Father that you will serve a mission and that from this time forward you will strive to keep your hearts, hands, and minds clean and worthy. I invite you to gain a solid testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
Fathers and mothers of these wonderful youth, you have a vital role in this preparation process. Begin today to talk with your children about missionary service. We know that the family is the most profound influence in helping our young men and young women prepare.
If you are still in the age range for missionary service but have not served yet due to the pandemic or other reasons, I invite you to serve now. Talk to your bishop, and prepare to serve the Lord.
I encourage you bishops to help all young men and young women who are close to missionary age to prepare to serve, and I also encourage you bishops to identify those who are old enough but who have not yet served. Invite each young man to become a missionary, as well as each young woman who desires to serve.
To the missionaries currently serving, we thank you. Your mission has been during a worldwide pandemic. As a result, your mission experience has been unlike my mission experience or the experiences of any missionaries who served before 2020. I know it has not been easy. But even during these difficult times, the Lord has had a work for you to do, and you have done it wonderfully well. For example, you have used technology in new ways to find those who are ready to learn about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. As you have served diligently and according to your abilities, I know that the Lord is pleased with your effort. I know that your service will bless your life.
When you are released from your mission, remember that you are not released from activity in the Church. Build upon the good habits you learned on your mission, continue to strengthen your testimony, work hard, pray, and be obedient to the Lord. Honor the covenants you have made. Continue to bless and serve others.
I pray that you young men and young women and your parents will see and know how missionary service will forever bless your life. May you know in your minds and feel in your hearts the power of the invitation the Lord gave to the great missionary sons of Mosiah. He said, “Go forth … and establish my word; yet ye shall be patient in long-suffering and afflictions, that ye may show forth good examples … in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls.”
May God bless the youth of the Church to desire to prepare and serve Him is my humble prayer, which I offer this morning in the sacred name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

Christine: As a man and woman get to know one another through continuous dating experiences, qualities and character emerge. As I watched Roger work on his truck one day, I was impressed that he knew some auto mechanics and I was especially awed when I saw how he handled frustration. Because of the auto design on this model a certain area he needed to work on was very difficult to access and therefore it was extremely exasperating. As he made repeated attempts, I could tell he was provoked. His face got red, and his fists clenched, but, he never lost control and he didn't swear. In fact, I think the strongest expletive I've ever heard him say is "rats."

“Class, I have a surprise for you,” Mrs. Taylor said as she walked to the front of the room.
Evelyn looked up from her test, grinning. There was a big “A+” at the top.
“You all did so well on your tests that tomorrow we’ll watch a movie as a reward,” Mrs. Taylor said, writing three movie titles on the board. “Here are the options we can vote on,” she said over everyone’s cheers.
Evelyn bounced in her seat, trying to see what the titles were. The first two movies were some of her favorites. She leaned over to her friend Katy. “Which one are you going to vote for?”
“Definitely number three,” Katy said. “My parents wouldn’t let us watch it at home, so I never got to see it.”
Evelyn looked at the board again and saw the name of the third movie. Her heart started to pound. Evelyn had heard of this movie, and she knew it was one she wouldn’t feel right about watching. What if her class voted for it?
“Who would like to vote for option one?” Mrs. Taylor asked.
Evelyn stretched her hand high and looked around. She bit her lip nervously. Only two other people were voting.
Mrs. Taylor made tally marks on the board. “Option two?”
Evelyn’s heart sank. Only three hands went up.
“And option three?”
Fifteen hands shot up. Evelyn slumped down in her seat, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. How could she get out of watching that movie if everyone else wanted to?
When she got home, Evelyn went straight to her room and let her backpack fall to the floor with a heavy thunk. The sick feeling had stuck with her the entire day. “I wish I actually could be sick,” she thought. “Then I wouldn’t have to go to school tomorrow.”
Evelyn pulled her test out of her backpack and stared at it, clutching it in her hands. “The movie was supposed to be a reward, not a punishment!” she thought, angrily crumpling the test up and stuffing it under her bed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She knelt by her bed and started to cry. Then she started to pray. She choked out a few tangled sentences, asking Heavenly Father to take the problem away, but after a while her prayer changed. “Please help me to make this better. I don’t want to see a movie that will make me feel bad, and I hope that my friends and teacher will understand.”
Evelyn finished her prayer. The trembling, sick feeling had disappeared. She didn’t even feel afraid anymore.
Jumping to her feet, Evelyn raced out of her room to find Mom. She had an idea.
The next day, Evelyn walked into class. In one hand she held a note from Mom explaining how watching the movie would make Evelyn feel uncomfortable. In the other hand she carried three of her favorite movies. Evelyn handed the note to Mrs. Taylor and watched her read it.
“Thank you for letting me know how you feel,” Mrs. Taylor said.
“My mom says it’s OK for me to go sit in with another class while the movie is playing,” Evelyn said. “But I also brought some other movies in case everyone would like to watch one of them instead.”
Mrs. Taylor smiled and reached for the stack of movies. “A movie is not much of a reward if we can’t all enjoy it,” she said.
Mrs. Taylor wrote the new titles on the board. “Class, I’d like to vote again on the movie for today. I have some new options for you.”
Evelyn went and sat at her desk, happy she wouldn’t have to miss out on the class reward. But the best reward of all was knowing that Heavenly Father had taken away her fear and given her courage to do what was right.

In 1982, Elder Hugo E. Martinez and his wife, Sister Nuria Alvarez de Martinez, were both in their medical residency training in Mississippi, USA, when an unexpected knock came at their front door.
There stood two Mormon missionaries.
“We opened our home to them, but we knew nothing about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We didn’t even know about the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,” Elder Martinez says, smiling.
Still, the gospel lessons shared by the elders immediately resonated with the young couple. They soon accepted the missionaries’ invitation to be baptized.
“And we have not looked back ever since.”

Wouldn’t you get a little nervous if your high school counselor suddenly and unexpectedly called you into the office?
You’d especially be nervous if you were Richard Aballay, a senior at a Catholic seminary in New York City. Richard had seen the LDS commercials on TV, had contacted the missionaries, and was baptized. He hadn’t yet mentioned it to anyone at the school, where boys are preparing to become Catholic priests.
“How are you doing in your subjects?” the counselor began politely on that fateful day in late October.
“Fine,” said Richard, cautiously.
Then the counselor jumped to his real concern. “Are you affiliated with another church?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Why?”
“I have come to know the Savior better in this church. I know this church is doing more for me. It is the church of God.”
As the counselor began to lecture, warning Richard that being a member of a different church was grounds for dismissal, Richard thought how easy it would be to say he’d made it all up. Then he could finish his senior year in peace.
“But I couldn’t do that,” Richard said later. “You can’t deny the truth when you have it.”
By the next day it was official: Richard had to leave.
The following week was torment, Richard said. But with much prayer, his family was able to find space for him in another good school.
“From that experience,” Richard says, “I have learned that the Lord will never abandon me.”
In fact, it gave Richard the chance to tell more people about the gospel, since his classmates wanted to know why he would leave school for his new beliefs.
Being dismissed from school is not the only challenge Richard has faced. He’s grown up in the Bronx, a borough of New York City. It’s not an easy place to live.
“I know for a fact that if it weren’t for the gospel, I would probably go into something crazy,” he says. “The inner city is hard. But I know the greatest blessing in my life has been the priesthood.
“Ever since I was first ordained a deacon, I noticed a great change. I just felt like the Lord was with me. And I had a confidence—I could walk into my school where kids were doing bad things, and I could say no. It helps keep me straight. I’m always saying to myself, ‘I want to honor the priesthood.’”
The gospel has helped him in other ways, too. One is that since he joined the Church, Richard has been able to overcome a speech impediment. Before receiving the Holy Ghost, “I could not say a word in public,” Richard said. Now he blesses the sacrament, talks in church, and has taken roles in two road shows. “It’s like it says in Ether 12:27. My weakness became a strength,” he says.
Richard also used to party a lot. But, after the last bash, he said, “I saw things there and I didn’t feel right. For some funny reason I knew I didn’t belong there.”
He left the party and vowed to become more involved in things like service, schoolwork, studying the scriptures, listening to good music, and not to watch so much television.
“It’s hard,” he says. “I’m a teenager. I like to keep up with things going on outside. I don’t want to be a social hermit. But I feel that if I’m going to go on a mission, and if I’m going to get married in the temple, and if I’m going to receive callings, I know I have to be worthy.”
Many of his friends think this is a strange road to take. They also think it’s a little weird that he decided to attend BYU, a school where there aren’t many Hispanics. “I like a challenge,” Richard explained.
That decision is typical of him. “I don’t care what other people think of me. It’s what my Heavenly Father thinks of me, it’s what my mom thinks of me, it’s what I think of myself,” he says.
Even though it sometimes seems that his trials have increased since he joined the Church, Richard says, “I know God really has his hand working in my life. You have to go through a lot to learn what’s good and what’s bad, and to appreciate what you have instead of wanting more.”

When former Young Women general president Elaine S. Dalton gave a talk suggesting that the most important thing a father could do for his daughter was to “love her mother,”7 I was pierced with the recognition that it was I and not my husband who needed to hear the talk; he had been far more conscientious about communicating to my children how much he loved me than I had in the reverse. I thought of the multiple times I had walked into a room and my husband had asked one of my children, “Guess what?” to which one would respond, “I know … you love Mom,” or, “I know … Mom’s your best friend,” or “I know … Mom’s your dream girl,” or any number of similar declarations he had reinforced over the years. I realized that the immense security I felt in my marriage, and that I had taken for granted, was a direct result of my husband’s generosity in expressing his love, admiration, and respect for me to our children.

Recently, I was at home with my 4-year-old daughter, Romana, and we were both in my bedroom. I left the bedroom and went to the living room, leaving her alone in the bedroom. A few minutes later, I called out to her: “Romana, you are alone in the bedroom, come to the living room to be with me and your dolls.”
Without hesitating, she replied: “Mom, I am not alone, God is with me! We are never alone, remember?” I was so touched to hear my little girl saying those words. A few days earlier, during our family study, my husband and I had taught our children that our Heavenly Father and our Savior are always with us, despite our weaknesses and challenges. We are never alone!

She remembered the sharing time lesson in Primary last week. Sister McClure had asked Jason to blindfold Sam. Sam then had to walk across the room. Sister McClure said Sam would have to listen carefully to Jason, who would whisper the right directions to him. At the same time, the other children and teachers called out to him, trying to lure him away from the straight path.
When Sam made it to the other side of the room, Sister McClure thanked him and then asked if he’d had a hard time crossing the room blindfolded.
Sam nodded and said that all the voices had confused him and tempted him to stray from the path. Only Jason’s directions had kept him going in a straight line.
Sister McClure said that members of the Church had someone who could lead them in the right direction because he talked with Heavenly Father. She asked if the children knew who that was.
Kaylie raised her hand. “The prophet.”
Sister Rojas, the chorister, then led them in singing “Follow the Prophet” for the closing song.

The ward Primary presidency were deep in thought as they contemplated the organization’s needs for the coming year. “What shall we do about Jenny?” one of them asked. “She is the only eleven-year-old in the whole ward. Don’t you think we should just combine the classes? You know how difficult it is to get teachers, especially to teach just one child.”
The Primary president nodded. “Yes, that’s true,” she said. “But I just don’t feel right about that solution. The Anderson family is having some problems with Jenny’s older sister right now, and I don’t think that Jenny is getting all the attention she needs. I think we should be particularly prayerful about this decision.”
At that time, Primary was held on a week-day afternoon, and it was difficult to find people who could teach Primary during the week. And to find someone who would be willing to teach only one child seemed an impossible task.
The next day, the Primary president studied the ward membership list. It seemed that all those who might be suitable already had more than one calling. So she took the problem to Heavenly Father—and prayed again about finding a teacher for Jenny.
The next time she looked at the ward list, she felt drawn to Sister Conner’s name—an unlikely choice, she thought, because Sister Conner said she was not a good teacher. In fact, Sister Conner had said many times, “I’m just not a teacher. I makes me nervous to stand in front of people.” Sister Conner had said it so often that everyone in the ward believed her. But there was no mistaking the Spirit’s promptings, so the Primary president took her request to the bishopric.
Sister Conner was surprised to receive the call. “Are you sure?” she asked the bishop. “You know I can’t teach.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” came the answer. “The Lord needs you in this calling, Sister Conner. We suggest that you pray about what you can do to help Jenny.”
Sister Conner was so nervous about her new calling that she was actually relieved that there was only one child in her class. Jenny was delighted when she found out that she was really going to have a teacher all to herself. Her parents were relieved and impressed that Sister Conner had accepted such an unusual calling.
The Primary year began. Every Primary day Sister Conner and Jenny could be found in the same small classroom. Sister Conner gave the lessons, and they planned projects and had fun together.
One winter day, Jenny came home from school looking as if she was getting sick from a cold. When her mother said that she had better stay home from Primary, Jenny burst into tears. “Mom, you don’t understand. I have to go. Sister Conner needs me. If I don’t go, she won’t have anyone to teach, and that would make her feel very sad!”
As the year progressed, friendship and love grew between Sister Conner and Jenny. Sister Conner taught Jenny to sew, and Jenny taught Sister Conner how much it meant to her to have a teacher of “her very own.” Jenny learned many new skills that year, and Sister Conner learned that she could indeed teach—and that she loved teaching!
As the time for Primary graduation grew closer, Sister Conner and Jenny decided that they wanted Jenny’s graduation to be a special time. Jenny’s mother bought fabric for a new dress, and Jenny and Sister Conner sewed it together.
At last, graduation day arrived. The program was a beautiful, spiritual ending to a unique year, and Jenny looked lovely in the dress she and Sister Conner had worked on together.
Jennifer is a grown woman now—beautiful and self-confident. After nine years of marriage, she has been blessed with only one child. But she learned long ago the value of “just one child”—from Sister Conner.
Meanwhile, Sister Conner has become a great Primary teacher. She still prefers teaching small classes, and when questioned about the year she taught Jenny, she says, “I didn’t do much. It wasn’t a sacrifice for me at all; it was really fun. I just loved Jenny. I enjoyed that year more than almost anything I have ever done. Even after all these years, I still miss her.”

Elder and Sister Rakotovao are a delightful and dedicated couple who are natives of Madagascar and who cannot stop smiling while serving the Lord as senior missionaries in the city of Ansirabe, Madagascar. When they joined the Church 17 years ago, they were already married and too old to serve as young missionaries. But they are now showing the Lord their gratitude by serving their third mission as a senior couple. In 2010 they sold their land and everything in their house so they could serve as senior missionaries in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. Of this experience they recently said, “Serving in the temple is serving others. While serving others we felt like we were serving our Lord God. It is this strong feeling in us that drives us to serve a mission again.” And so, after serving faithfully in the temple for two years, they returned home and began preparing for yet another mission. Earlier this year they once again left their home in Antananarivo to serve where needed under the direction of the mission president. They are grateful to be missionaries in the Lord’s Church and are an inspiration to all Latter-day Saints as they serve their third senior couple mission with great devotion and personal sacrifice.

As a teenager, I eagerly anticipated an expensive gift for Christmas, often speaking of it without considering my parents’ financial situation.
When Christmas arrived, the gift I longed for was not under the tree. Initially, I felt disappointed, but soon my disappointment turned to embarrassment as I realized my parents were carrying heavy financial burdens—supporting my brother on a mission and my sister in college, as well as providing for me, their youngest.
As the morning progressed, I noticed there was little under the tree for them and much for me. In my selfishness, I had been blind to the love and sacrifice my parents had shown me all along.
Years later, after returning from my mission, I spent Christmas alone with my parents once again. They beamed with joy as they watched me open gifts from under the tree, and once more, nearly every gift was for me.
This time, I saw things differently. My teenage experience had taught me a valuable lesson. I wasn’t merely thankful for the presents—I was deeply touched by my parents’ love and the sacrifices they had willingly made for me.
I have come to understand that some gifts are more valuable than others, and often, those gifts require sacrifice from the giver.

How grateful I am that missionaries from the western United States traveled across the world to teach me and my family in England thirty-five years ago. It was not long after our baptism that a fine local brother who was serving as counselor to the mission president said to me, “Find yourself a teacher.” When I inquired of him the significance of this counsel, he expanded it by saying, “Find yourself a teacher who can lift you and inspire and motivate you. But remember, he must be standing on higher ground.”

As the years have rolled by in an unending sequence of experience and service, I have had many such teachers, both in business and church activities. I will mention five only, who will represent those not named. In September 1958 I was introduced to a man with whom I served closely for two years. This was T. Bowring Woodbury, the new president of the British Mission. As he was set apart by President David O. McKay for this important calling, the prophet referred to the opening of a “new era” in Britain with the dedication of the London Temple that very month. “By” Woodbury, as he was affectionately known to his many friends, was a man of vision and valor—these two qualities being essential elements of faith. He imparted of his knowledge and experience to me, and helped me to feel the urgency of the work, and to develop leadership skills. I had many spiritual experiences with him during these two years of close association as we helped to make the promised “new era” become a reality. I became a wiser person.

At about the same time I began to work closely with a bright young chemical engineer, Dick Morris, in the large company where I was employed as a cost-control accountant. He expanded my vision in another way, regarding the industrial scene, the interrelationship of industrial processes, and of personnel. I gained knowledge, but also wisdom—not only in creating statistical reports, but in interpreting them as a basis for decision making. We came up through the organization together, and he eventually was appointed managing director and then chairman of the board. My role expanded too, into management accounting and business management. He was a great teacher.

In the early 1960s, I was very privileged to have President N. Eldon Tanner as a teacher when he served as West European mission president, based in England. The lessons he taught me spanned both church and business, for I learned from him as a newly called stake president, as he shared his similar experiences and suggested ways to improve and develop. I learned from his business acumen and integrity when he served as chairman of the board of Deseret Enterprises Limited, the first Church commercial enterprise in Europe. As director and general manager, I was with him often, and am so grateful that he helped me fulfill this need to be taught and lifted.

Then, during the 1970s and 1980s, I was privileged, along with so many others, to be taught by a prophet of the Lord, Spencer W. Kimball. During my service as a Regional Representative from 1970 to 1975, mission president from 1975 to 1978, and since then as a General Authority, my soul has been lifted as I have been taught from on high through him. This has not only been in meetings and conferences, but in many personal settings. One such time was when I was visiting from England for general conference and I inquired of President Kimball’s secretary if could see him. I knocked on the door and his familiar voice said “Come in.” I started to open the door, but before it was fully open, he was already at the door. I felt a sense of urgency, and real caring. He took me by the arm, showed me round his office, then sat me down across the desk. “How is the work going in England?” he inquired. I gave a brief report, but he knew already; he was teaching me the principle of stewardship and accountability. Then he reached up to his bookshelves, took down a book, and handed it to me. “Have you read this book?” he asked. As I looked at the title I indicated that I had read some of the book but not all. He smiled, took up a pen, opened the book and wrote a message, and then gave it to me again. I shall always treasure that copy of The Life Story of Heber C. Kimball, the first missionary to England.

There are many more great teachers—exemplars of whom I could tell—but I just have one more, my dear wife. How much I have learned from her—in charity, in patience, in endurance, in joyfulness. She has lifted me now for over forty years, and has shown me wisdom as we have counseled together, prayed together, laughed together, and cried together. I am grateful for those pearls of wisdom.

One day Mom had everybody either weeding, picking beans, skinning tomatoes for canning, or chopping vegetables. My sister and I shredded gallons of squash and made 16 loaves of zucchini bread and two zucchini spice cakes. In between our use of the food processor, Josh, my seven-year-old brother, chopped up cucumbers, banana peppers, cabbage, onions, and celery to make medley pickles.
As sliced vegetables poured out the spout, he dumped them into an empty ice cream bucket. It looked blah, so mom headed out to the garden to get red cabbage, yellow tomatoes, carrots, and a handful of green beans.
Meanwhile, six-year-old Danny dashed into the house after emptying the compost bucket. It was his job to deposit scraps like tomato skins and zucchini ends into the compost pile. Noticing a new bucketful, he ran out the door, dumped it, and scooted back. Beaming with pride, he showed Mom how he had dumped some “extra stuff without being asked.” There went the pickles!

In my last month, my mum went with me during the Easter break. It was a sunny day, but there were some grey clouds threatening on the horizon. We started taking the pictures and we really wanted to take advantage of my mother’s time off from work, but the grey clouds started getting closer and darker. We prayed asking Heavenly Father for help to achieve our goal. And then, in a blink of an eye, there was some wind and the clouds moved, and it was sunny again. And it happened again, so we prayed once more, and we had sun a second time. We did this three times, and we had positive results from our prayers each time. We completed our goal: we finished that section, and we ended up taking 405 pictures on that day.