Gospel Story Finder

I get it. I promise I do. You want to have everything mapped out—education, spouse, career. I am a consummate planner: I keep a planner with me. I love a good calendar with big boxes that I can write in, and I keep an electronic calendar too.

When I was sixteen, I received my patriarchal blessing. It was a beautiful and sacred opportunity, a blessing specific to me upon which I have relied and trusted for more than forty years now. I had hoped, and frankly at age sixteen expected, to have some specifics revealed to me, just as had my mother, who was told in her patriarchal blessing that she had the natural attributes of a nurse and should pursue that educational and professional path. My blessing, however, didn’t say anything about what I might study or if I should pursue a professional path. And so I studied what came naturally to me, and I graduated with a degree in English. And then I wondered what to do next.

Of course, given my personality, I wanted a plan; I wanted to have “next steps.” But nothing came to me clearly, so I took a step forward in faith and accepted a job in Washington, DC, working for a congressman from California. I hatched a plan to take the LSAT while I was back there—frankly knowing very little about what it would be like to be a lawyer. I was accepted to law school and met my husband while I was in my first year, and we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. He had his degree and was working. I kept studying and graduated from law school in 1989, and I started working as a lawyer at a well-established Salt Lake City firm.

During the course of my professional life, I had three sons—the bright lights in my life! Family always was, and is, my priority. My husband and I served in many Church callings. We raised our family in the gospel. We worked hard. We loved each other. We worked through personal storms together as a family. And for many reasons, I kept practicing law until Doug and I were called to be mission leaders in the Peru Arequipa Mission in 2016. I took a leave of absence during our service and then returned to practicing law and being a grammy when we came back to Salt Lake City in 2019. With my present calling, I have rolled up my shingle and have retired from the practice of law—at least for the next five years.

Why give you my bio? To express my testimony that my life plan was rolled out for me as I lived it, keeping my eye on the prize of eternal life. My patriarchal blessing didn’t tell me what to study, no angel suggested the practice of law, and no vision told me Doug Johnson was who I should marry. (In fact, my confirmation that he was the man for me came after he had proposed and I had prepared a pros-and-cons list.) Yes, I would have liked for it all to have been spelled out for me. But it wasn’t. Instead, the Lord trusted me, and, what is more important, I trusted in the Lord and just kept taking steps forward, believing that if I was off course, the Lord would redirect me.

This was a bit contrary to my nature. I want things on the calendar so I can plan for them. But, brothers and sisters, the Savior, who is the author and finisher of my story, has done a far better job than I ever could have!

Perhaps now you know why I gave the talk I did in general conference last October. The natural woman in me “is resistant to turning things completely over to the Lord and trusting Him entirely.”9 That resistance, that windage, is something I am working to reduce and to eliminate altogether.

I stand before you today and testify that I have felt the hand of the Master writing my story with me. And as it turns out, there has been joy in the journey as I have gained confidence in my Savior, Jesus Christ, to write my story. As I trust more and resist less, I feel bound more securely to the Savior. My faith and confidence in the Savior increase as I place my faith and confidence in Him. Because He knows my potential perfectly, He has taken me to places I never had imagined myself.

There are various names by which reference is made to the Lord Jesus Christ. These names give us insight into different aspects of the Lord’s atoning mission. Take, for example, the title “Savior.” We all have a sense of what it means to be saved because each of us has been saved at some time from something. As children, my sister and I were playing in a river in a small boat when we unwisely left the safe area of play and found ourselves being propelled by the current to unknown perils downstream. In response to our cries, our father ran to the rescue, saving us from the dangers of the river. When I think of saving, I think of that experience.

I think I will never forget the time the Spirit was shown me through the bright blue eyes of a nine-year-old, handicapped girl.
Heather is an intelligent child with a happy giggle, and a determined spirit housed in a body severely restricted because of physical handicaps. The simplest of activities are very difficult for her.
Because she cannot speak, Heather sends messages with her eyes. A direct gaze means yes, and a blink of her eyelids means no. Through a series of questions, gazes, blinks, giggles, and facial expressions, Heather shares her enthusiastic spirit and brings joy to the lives of everyone around her.
As her therapist and teacher for several years, I have sensed many times that for Heather, the veil between heaven and earth seems very thin. This is often true of handicapped children. If Heather could speak, what could she teach me about the things of the Spirit?
One Monday morning, Heather and I visited about the previous weekend. Heather indicated to me that she had attended Primary, so I began singing some Primary songs. A smile broke across her face whenever she recognized a song. I sang her my favorite, “I Wonder When He Comes Again.” Then I asked her if she had a favorite song. Immediately her eyes focused on mine and I was suddenly faced with the challenge of trying to find out which song she loved above all others.
Through a series of questions I discovered that her favorite song was one she had heard in Primary. She wasn’t sure which songbook it was in, but she knew it was about Jesus. I went through every possible song I could think of. To my dismay and Heather’s disappointment, I could not find the right one.
Heather refused to let me give up the search. For some reason she needed to share her favorite song with me. Finally, I agreed to bring my Primary songbooks to school the following day and go through them with her.
On Tuesday morning, Heather let me know that she was determined to find the song—now! We went through the books, but we couldn’t find it. She liked all of the songs, but none of them was the song. In desperation, I told Heather that if her mother could find the song we were looking for, we would sing it. If not, we would have to live with the fact that we couldn’t find it.
The next day, Heather was more determined than ever to find her song. Tucked in her wheelchair was a Church hymnbook. I sat next to her and, page by page, we read through the book. I sang the first phrase of each song, and each time Heather’s eyes closed in a definite no. Halfway through the book, I began to sing: “There is sunshine in my soul today, …”
As if someone had stuck her with a pin, Heather jumped and smiled. Her bright eyes looked directly at me. Together we laughed, feeling thrilled at the completion of our three-day search. “OK, now we can finally sing your favorite song,” I said. She smiled as I sang the first verse, and as I began the chorus she mustered all the effort she could and joined in with occasional sigh-like sounds. As I finished the chorus she looked at me steadily as if to say, “I liked that part.” I was so grateful I had found the song! I asked if she wanted to hear the rest of the verses and she responded with a firm yes. Again I began:
“There’s music in my soul today,
A carol to my King,
And Jesus listening can hear
The songs I cannot sing. …”
(Hymns, number 174.)
Heather’s reaction to those words was so strong that I stopped. I looked at her as I realized the reality and significance of the moment. “Heather, is that what you like about the song?” I asked. “Is that what you want me to know? That Jesus is listening, and he can hear the songs you cannot sing?” She lifted her head and looked me straight in the eyes. The testimony had been borne.
Feeling guided by the Spirit, I asked, “Heather, does Jesus talk to you in your mind and in your heart?” Her look was penetrating.
Knowing her close relationship with the Spirit, there was one more thing I wanted to know. With reverent anticipation I whispered, “Heather, what does he say?” My heart pounded as I viewed the clear look in her eyes as she awaited my questions so she could share her insight. I felt that the Lord gave me the right questions to ask as I took a deep breath and proceeded. “Does he say ‘Heather, I love you’?” Her eyes were radiant as she confirmed that statement. I paused, swallowed, and continued. “Does he say ‘Heather, you’re special’?” Again, yes. I paused again, with a lump in my throat, and then asked, “Does he say, ‘Heather, be patient; I have great things in store for you’?”
Heather’s head became erect; every fiber of her being seemed to be electrified as her eyes penetrated my soul. She knew she was loved. She knew she was special. She knew she only needed to be patient because great things were in store for her.
The moment seemed too sacred for further words. I leaned forward and pressed her cheek against my own. Without words, but through the bright blue windows to her soul, the truth had been made known.
Yes, Heather, Jesus, listening, can hear.

When I was 11, I was having doubts about if I was ready to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. The day of my ordination was getting closer and closer.
I had been taught that if I prayed to my Heavenly Father sincerely, I would get an answer from Him. So I knelt down and asked about the things I was doubting.
Later that day, I felt like I should read the scriptures. I felt prompted to turn to Doctrine and Covenants 20. This section talks about priesthood duties and responsibilities. As I read, verse 59 stood out to me. It reads, “They are, however, to warn, expound, exhort, and teach, and invite all to come unto Christ.” These words inspired me. As I read them, I knew that I would be ready to receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon.
Heavenly Father cared for me and gave me an answer that I needed to hear. Now as a deacon, I have looked back on my experiences and found that the teachings of that scripture are true. I am grateful that I chose to receive the priesthood. I look forward to serving the Lord as I advance in the priesthood.

It was a cloudy Sunday morning as I stood at the kitchen sink finishing the breakfast dishes. My two youngest children were watching a scripture video in the family room by the kitchen. I was lost in thought, and my cheeks were wet from tears. I couldn’t get my mind off the cancer that had invaded our home. My husband had been fighting it for several years, but now it had spread. My faith seemed to be wavering. My mind was crowded with “what if?” thoughts.
Suddenly the scripture video interrupted my thoughts with words from a calming voice: “Peace, be still. …
“Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?” (Mark 4:39–40).
I dropped the dishrag and turned to look at the TV. The video was about the Savior calming the storm. It was as if the words had been spoken to me by the Savior Himself. A feeling of warmth and peace flooded over me. It was a reminder to stick to the faith I had learned so much about through the years of cancer. It was a faith buttressed by words in my patriarchal blessing.
I received my patriarchal blessing when I was 15. One sentence that then seemed just to describe a part of my temple marriage now held great promise for me. It spoke of the righteous priesthood holder I would marry and said that he would “help thee, guide thee and aid thee, not only in thy youth but clear into thy later years.”
As I read and reread my patriarchal blessing during the years of battling cancer, that sentence gave me great hope. Each time, I found renewed faith in the promise of our future together. I remembered the great comfort that the Spirit had given me when my husband was first diagnosed. I memorized that part of my patriarchal blessing, and when cancer tests came back with poor results, I remembered that promise.
I learned to let the Savior carry us, I learned that I must keep my faith constant, and I learned to combat mounting fears with faith. The video that morning reminded me to rely on the Lord.
Having faith gives me the ability to let Jesus Christ carry my burden. Just as the people of Alma who were in bondage did not feel the burden on their backs (see Mosiah 24:14), so it is for our family with fighting cancer. Our family has been able to face cancer without feeling the burdens it could bring.
Learning the Painful Lessons
“Difficulties come into our lives, problems we do not anticipate and which we would never choose. None of us is immune. The purpose of mortality is to learn and to grow to be more like our Father, and it is often during the difficult times that we learn the most, as painful as the lessons may be.”
President Thomas S. Monson, “God Be with You Till We Meet Again,” Liahona, Nov. 2012, 111.
My husband still undergoes tests to track the cancer cells or to find possible tumors. We still have medical bills and the remaining side effects of treatments. And I still pray every day that my husband will have no more cancer. I pray that we will both live to old age. I also say to Heavenly Father, “Thy will be done.”
I do not know when the “later years” spoken of in my blessing will come. I hope the words in my blessing mean that my husband and I will be able to go on a mission when our children are raised. I hope they mean that my husband will lead our horse while giving rides to our grandchildren and will bounce our grandchildren on his knee. But I know that whenever God takes him from this earth, it will be in His time.
I no longer worry about when those “later years” are. It does not matter. I trust that the Lord will honor that promise made to me in my patriarchal blessing. He has taken care of us through these years, and He will take care of us in the future.
If you have not received your patriarchal blessing, consider talking to your bishop or branch president about receiving one. If you have a patriarchal blessing, do you read and ponder it often? Do you have faith in the Lord’s promises?

Third, we should give service to others. Service helps us to forget about ourselves and to think more about others. I remember one occasion when I participated in a service project to help a family in our ward. After the service project, I walked home in the dark. As I walked, I thought, “I have no problems.” Of course I had problems, but seeing some of the challenges that this family faced helped me to put my problems in perspective. When we serve others, we focus less on ourselves and experience more joy. The Savior said, “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”

Howard Swainston, a friend, age 87
“Ezra Taft was a little above the ordinary person. I always pictured him that way. He was one swell fellow. I’m a month older than he is. We grew up together. We thinned beets. We worked together. He loved to ride horses. We just grew up as almost brothers.
“He was a hardworking, clean-living young man. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to go out and thin an acre of beets a day. He was a hard guy to follow. We used to go to the canyon and get wood together. We used to put up our hay with hay derricks. I remember going into Cottonwood, 20 miles north. He and I went and got us a derrick apiece. We had to camp overnight. I never liked olives, and he made me eat some olives he had, and from then on I loved them.
“Someone interviewed me and asked if I had any idea he would be President of the Church. I said, ‘Good heavens no!’ We never thought of such things in those days. We knew he was a good guy, but we had no idea that he would be President of the Church.
“He was quite a joker. He was popular among everybody. He could make friends with anybody. He was just that type of a guy. He knew how to meet people. He had that personality. He seemed to like everybody. He didn’t have any enemies. He was just a good person. Everybody respected him.
“I can just see us out playing, having fun together, riding horses, playing ball. Every 24th of July we’d put on a celebration, and he was right with us. We’d have a rodeo and race horses and wrestle. That’s the kind of guy he was. He was always right at the head of everything. He was a leader right from the start.
“I can just see him as a big, husky, robust boy. He always had a smile on his face. I can just see him to this day that way. He was always ready to meet you and speak to you or go riding with you. That was the way he was—a lot of fun.
“Ezra T. was pretty good at basketball. He was a good athlete—a strong fellow. He was hard to handle.
“I think if I remember him in church he was just a little bit more spiritual than the rest of us. I think he was born to be a President of the Church, but we didn’t realize it.”

They also talk about another ingredient in their recipe for a happy home—family home evening. But that wasn’t always the case. “I remember when our family home evenings were mostly very long lessons,” says Christoffer, 18, with a playful glance in his mother’s direction.

“Sometimes I would get bored and fall asleep,” adds Andreas, who was only about five at that time. “But then I’d wake up, and there would be refreshments.”

Brother Ronndahl explains that when the children were quite young, Sister Ronndahl would regularly prepare lessons that were over an hour long. The lessons were difficult for the young children to sit through. Now the Ronndahls have eight children, ranging in age from 8 to 23 years old—the oldest, Rebecka, has served a full-time mission and is now attending college in the United States.

Brother and Sister Ronndahl decided to change their approach to family home evening. “We gathered the family together and said, ‘Hey, what do you like to do?’” says Sister Ronndahl. The parents weren’t too surprised to learn that the kids liked the food, the games, and singing hymns—they even liked the idea of a lesson, if it were only shorter. Brother Ronndahl sums it up well when he says the right ingredients were there but maybe not in the right amounts. “We discovered we should focus on the fun side of things too,” he says.

Sister Ronndahl decided to make an extra-nice dinner so Monday would start out as a special night. Then for family home evening they added a healthy measure of games and singing. They also shortened the lessons to about 10 minutes. The mixture worked well. “The children started to look forward to Monday nights,” says Kristina. “Everybody loved it.”

Now that the children are older, the lessons have lengthened and deepened. Rosanna, 20, says, “We actually can do very good lessons nowadays. We love to discuss the gospel and other things. It’s fun because we have so many opinions and ideas. Now it is more interesting because we’re talking about things that we want to talk about.” But the music, games, and refreshments are still part of the recipe.

“My favorite things are the refreshments and games,” says Josefin, 12.

“Refreshments and games of course,” echoes Christoffer.

“I think the songs and music are the best,” says Rosanna.

“The lessons,” Isabelle chimes in meekly. Her brothers and sisters immediately offer Isabelle some good-natured teasing. “No, really,” she adds earnestly.

“I think the whole family home evening is my favorite,” says Andreas. “The lesson, songs, games, refreshments—all of them together make it very fun. If we had a family home evening without a lesson or games or songs, it would feel like something was missing.”

“I love it when Brynolf and I don’t have to do anything for family home evening,” says Sister Ronndahl. “We can just sit aside, and the children lead and they have the lesson and they have the refreshments. They do everything. That’s my favorite.”

Sometimes attention to spiritual matters might mean just putting ourselves in an attitude of listening and learning. In one very critical time in my life, I was struggling with an important career decision. I was working in Southern California as an investment manager after graduation from BYU. One day I had a meeting with a client who was a successful cardiologist. He was late to our appointment. I became frustrated, as I felt my time was important and he was being inconsiderate.

He eventually came into the meeting, slightly out of breath. He apologized for being late and explained that he had been saving the life of one of his patients. This caught me off guard, and I struggled through the meeting with him. This man had been saving a life, and I had been impatient to discuss with him something certainly much less consequential. I struggled through this issue for months and considered changing professions—maybe I should be a teacher or maybe I should be a doctor saving lives.

One day while driving on the freeway in Los Angeles—which is inherently not a very spiritual environment—I was focused on this dilemma. As I prayed and pondered, I felt an opening of communication with the Spirit. I was taught profound truths: My desire to provide for my family was important, but I was first a disciple of Christ, and He had children within my chosen vocation who I could influence in righteous ways. He needed plumbers, architects, accountants, electricians, and even investment managers because His children who needed rescuing were in all those spheres of influence. This experience changed my approach at work. It changed the way I interacted with those with whom I was serving—both at church and in my chosen vocation.

Pam’s work at hospitals and children’s schools has given her a special interest in the handicapped. She is learning sign language and now regularly assists the visitors to Disney World who are hearing impaired.

“I’ve been able to sign for our arts festival and recently at the Ohio and Pennsylvania schools for the deaf. You can’t imagine how excited these kids are when they learn that I am from Disney World and that I can communicate with them in sign language,” Pam said.

Annie was so excited. Mom was going to pick wild mushrooms with her friend, Miss Maria. And she said Annie could come too! So could three of her siblings who were old enough.
“OK,” Mom said before they left. “I’m letting you come because I know you can be really good listeners. That’s super important while we look for mushrooms. Some wild mushrooms are delicious. But some mushrooms are poisonous. They will make you sick. So can you all promise to do exactly what Miss Maria says?”
“Yes!” Annie and her siblings shouted. Annie, Autumn, Gideon, and Adelaide grabbed their baskets and walked to the forest to meet Miss Maria.
Miss Maria was a mushroom expert. She had been taught how to find safe mushrooms to eat in the Bavarian Forest in Germany.
“Hey, kids!” Miss Maria said. “Who’s ready to find some mushrooms?”
Annie and her siblings cheered. “Me! Me!”
“Great!” Miss Maria said. “Now remember, you can only touch or pick the mushrooms that I say are safe.”
Annie and the others promised again to be good listeners. Then they followed Miss Maria into the forest.
The sun was bright as they walked across the moss-covered ground. There were mushrooms all over! There were orange, white, red, and brown mushrooms. Some were big. Some were little.
Annie’s favorites were the red mushrooms with white polka dots. They reminded her of fairy tales. But she listened when Miss Maria told her not to touch them. Those mushrooms were beautiful but very poisonous!
Miss Maria guided them carefully. Annie and her siblings were good listeners, just like they promised.
They also got to help in other ways. Autumn took pictures of the mushrooms. When Miss Maria found mushrooms that were safe to eat, Gideon carefully cut the stems. Then Annie and Adelaide carried them in the baskets.
Finally it was time to go home. Miss Maria reminded them to wash their hands with soap and water as soon as they got back.
“Thank you for showing us the forest and helping us with the mushrooms,” Annie said.
Miss Maria smiled. “Thank you for being good listeners!”
For dinner that night, Dad cooked potatoes, sausage, and eggs with an extra-special ingredient. Mushrooms!
“Yum,” Annie said as she took another bite. “These taste so good!”
“It’s a good thing Miss Maria knew which mushrooms were safe to eat,” Mom said.
“And it’s a good thing we listened to what Miss Maria said!” said Autumn.
Annie thought for a moment. “Is that kind of like how we need to listen to the Holy Ghost?” Annie was getting ready to be baptized and confirmed. She was learning about what it meant to have the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Mom nodded. “Yes! The Holy Ghost can help us know what’s right and good. Kind of like how Miss Maria helped us know which mushrooms were good to eat.”
“So it’s important to listen carefully to the Holy Ghost,” said Dad.
“Exactly,” Mom said.
“I’m glad the Holy Ghost can help keep us safe,” Annie said. And with that, she smiled and took another big bite of delicious mushrooms.

In preparing my remarks for today, I could not help remembering a recent experience of mine.
Some months ago, I enjoyed the privilege of presiding at a stake conference alongside Elder Donald J. Keyes, one of our noble Area Seventies. During the course of the Saturday evening session—often one of the highlights of a stake conference—we were required to adjust our program at short notice because of the inclusion of some additional speakers. In view of the fact that a duet, sung by a young couple, was to be moved in the program to follow Elder Keyes’s remarks and precede mine, I accordingly quietly whispered the proposed change in the program to him.
After doing so, it was quickly apparent that he had not fully grasped what I had just said, which required me to repeat my message a second time. Unfortunately, this time, and to my dismay, his lack of understanding was now amplified by a look of incredulity and utter disbelief. Realizing now that I had somehow failed in my attempt to clearly convey the change in our program, I repeated my message in a manner that could not be mistaken: I said, and this time more clearly and slowly than I had done previously, but with some added emphasis, “Don, the duet will be sung between you and me!”
This time my message hit the mark, for now his incredulity and disbelief were replaced by a nervous giggle and a hint of terror.
I then reviewed carefully in my mind what I had just said and at last realized my terrible error: When I had said, “The duet will be sung between us,” he had taken my words literally. In other words, he had understood that the duet would be sung by the two of us!
I am pleased to reassure all of you here today that neither I, nor President Samuelson, have any intention of singing any duet, anywhere, at anytime, to anyone!

“I got started in eighth grade in Tucson, Arizona,” Richard said. “I was in a math class with four friends. One day one of them brought a maze he had made and started a contest to see who could make the best maze. After a while the other four stopped making them, but I haven’t yet.
“I would make mazes at home and take them to school. Some of my friends got excited about them and started copying them, and that kept me excited about them. One of my favorites is a maze that’s a map of the United States. It begins in Maine and ends in Washington State.” He said he also likes a maze designed to look like wood grain and another modeled after Uncle Sam.
“When I feel like doing a maze, I sit down and think of movies I’ve seen, books I’ve read, anything that might bring me an idea. I’ve taken art all through school, but I don’t have any particular tricks I use in drawing mazes, though I do like to take a particular path a long way and then turn it into a dead end before I finally create the one good path. Usually, I just sit down and start drawing, and the idea works itself out as I go along.”
Richard, 19, attended Magee Junior High and Sahuaro High schools in Tucson and Jordan High in Sandy, Utah. He is from the 15th Ward, Sandy Utah Crescent West Stake, and has held leadke, and has held leadership positions in deacons, teachers, and priests quorums. An Eagle Scout, he also enjoys hiking, art, drama, and sports.
It was Richard’s father who first thought of using the maze book as a financial resource for a mission. “I promised the Lord that all the money would go into my mission fund,” Richard said. “The books weren’t selling too well to begin with, but last Christmas we had more orders than books and had to have some more printed.” They have now published more than 1,000 copies and hope to have more printed by this Christmas.
Richard has also made mazes for friends (“Usually they want me to make their name into a maze”), for the high school paper, and for teachers. He keeps a copy of every maze he’s ever made on file at home.
For the moment, however, mazes have faded into the background. “In the mission field,” he says, “I don’t have time to draw one, because it takes about two or three hours. Besides, there are more important things to do.” When he returns home, though, he’ll probably hit the drawing board again.
Here are some samples of his work.

“I’m sorry, Amy. You’re right. It’s just that material things have never mattered much to me. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a couple named Young who used to sit in front of me every Sunday during sacrament meeting right after I joined the Church. They always sat so close together even though they had a bunch of kids crawling all over them.
“When they bore their testimonies I could really feel they understood what the Church meant to the other one. So I started praying for a girl I could take to the temple who really understood what the Church meant to me.”
Steve squeezed Amy’s hand. “I found her. I found her the night you bore your testimony at that fireside.”
Amy squeezed back. “I’ll always remember that night. I’d been a member two weeks. It took a lot of courage to stand when I hardly knew anything. I didn’t have Primary when I was young or Sunday School. But I did know one thing for sure the night I stood up. I knew the Church was true.”

Anna’s heart sank as she walked into the room and saw the Christmas tree. The water heater in their house had burst, and water was all over the floor. Dad was still trying to clean up the mess. The few presents under the tree were completely soaked.
Anna and her little brothers grabbed some towels and tried to dry the presents. But it didn’t really work. They were a soggy mess.
Anna’s family was going through a hard time. Her dad didn’t have a job right now. Her mom was going to have a baby soon, and she felt sick a lot. And now they wouldn’t have any presents for Christmas.
That night as Anna got ready for bed, she could hear Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked. It sounded like she was crying. “We don’t have enough money for the house payment, and now we don’t even have presents for the kids.” Anna had an empty, twisty feeling in her stomach.
“We’ll figure something out,” Dad said.
Anna walked into the kitchen. Mom reached out and gave her a big hug. With her arms around Mom’s tummy, Anna felt the baby move. She smiled. “We have a new baby coming. You always say that a baby is a miracle.”
Mom smiled back. “That’s right. We have a lot to be grateful for.”
“We have each other,” Dad said. He kissed the top of Anna’s head. “It’ll be OK.”
On the way to her room, Anna heard her brothers crying. She sat down on David’s bed.
“Everyone is so sad,” David said quietly.
“And we won’t have any presents,” Robbie said, sniffling.
“It’ll be OK,” Anna said again. “You’ll see.”
Before she got into bed, Anna knelt and asked Heavenly Father what she could do for her family. She didn’t have any money to buy presents, but she still had a warm, comforting feeling in her heart.
The next morning, she stayed in bed thinking for a few minutes before getting ready for school. Then an idea came to her! That afternoon she hurried home and did her chores and homework. Then she found some paper and string and a few markers and stickers she had gotten for her birthday. She took them all to her room and closed the door.
Anna almost laughed when she thought about how surprised her family would be. First she folded the paper and tied it together with string to make four booklets. She chose a star sticker to put on Mom’s booklet and a planet for Dad’s. She put a dog for David’s booklet and a rocket for Robbie’s.
Then Anna started drawing. For Mom she drew a picture of herself sweeping the floor. She drew a picture of herself cooking dinner with Dad, one of her playing soccer with David, and one of her reading a book to Robbie. It took her several days to fill each booklet with pictures.
Finally it was Christmas Eve, and Anna carefully placed her booklets under the tree.
The next morning, she gave each person in her family a booklet. “I like these pictures,” David said. “I like playing soccer.”
“They’re not just pictures,” Anna said with a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re coupons! The pictures all show things I’ll do for you.”
“This is the nicest gift you could have given us,” Mom said as she looked through her booklet. Anna was thankful that Heavenly Father helped her think of making Christmas coupons. A new baby was coming, and with Heavenly Father’s help, everything really would be OK.

One of the most touching events I have ever witnessed took place at the auction three years ago. We had sat most of the day on aluminum bleachers, listening to the auctioneer’s bark, the crowd’s babble, and the animals’ bleating, mooing, and squealing. Suddenly we heard another sound—the wind pelting a freezing rain against the building.
Soon, in addition to parents and extended family attending the auction, we had many other people seeking shelter inside the metal livestock pavilion. They were quite surprised to find an auction taking place. Most were from the big city of Las Vegas and had never experienced a real animal auction before. They apparently found the auction entertaining, and a few even bid on animals. Of course, after the auctioneer explained that the price was per pound, the bidding slowed considerably.
Our boys’ pig came up for auction, and I remember feeling quite relieved when it was sold. All I could think of was getting home, away from the people, the noise, and the smell. It was still raining outside, so while I waited for my brother-in-law to get the car, I listened involuntarily to the auctioneer as he started the bidding on lambs.
A young girl brought out her lamb, and the bidding commenced. I don’t remember the exact amount, but I do remember thinking, “That’s a lot of money for a lamb.” Then a most amazing thing happened. The auctioneer explained that the person who had purchased the lamb was donating it back to the little girl to be resold. He went on to explain that this little girl’s father, who normally would have been there with her, was in the hospital. He had cancer, and the prognosis was not good. The family had no medical insurance, and the father was their sole support.
What happened next will burn in my mind and heart forever.
The bidding resumed, and again the little lamb was sold for an unheard-of amount of money. Again the lamb was donated back to be resold. About that time my brother-in-law returned, wet and windblown, but I couldn’t move. I told him something remarkable was happening, and though I tried, I could not stop my tears.
That lamb was sold again and again, and all those people, many of them from the city, were bidding and giving donations for that local family.
As I stood there in amazement, I couldn’t help but think of another lamb—not one that was sold again and again to benefit just one family, but One who allowed Himself to be sacrificed for all of God’s children. It seemed fitting that Easter was just around the corner. The Spirit bore witness to me that day of the significance of sacrifice in behalf of others and the importance of community.

For example, after finishing my second emphasis in graphic design, I had difficulty finding a desirable job. I applied to so many places, even in countries I did not know existed, but I didn’t get the job I wanted. As the last straw, I applied at this place but didn’t get the job. I was so angry. I was in the depths of despair. I knew I shouldn’t be because I would be turning my back on God. Those words came to my mind at that time. But I was still angry at God for not giving me the job I wanted. I was fuming and crying in the bathroom.

Then, in my head, not physically, but like a vision, I saw a bright light on the right side of my head and heard a clear yet gentle voice saying, "I love you." Those simple words caught me off guard. I did not understand what it meant. What does that have to do with me in this situation right now? Then I heard it again, but this time I heard, "I love you. I want you to be happy." I knew, then, precisely what that meant. Everything made sense. All the so-called failures and rejections were not God tormenting me, but it was me tormenting myself and misunderstanding Him, who is a loving Father in Heaven. He only wants me to be happy. Instead of giving me a fancy job somewhere, He gave me an understanding of His love and divine identity as a daughter of God. It was another time of perspective shift.

Abbie lived near Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah. She loved to see the Christmas lights twinkling in the winter and the tulips blooming in the spring, and hear the Tabernacle Choir singing all year round.
One day in sacrament meeting, Bishop Allen made an announcement: “Some Church members from Mexico are thinking about coming to general conference, and they’ll need places to stay. If any of you can host these guests, please talk to me after the meeting.”
On the way home from church, Abbie asked, “Will any of the visitors from Mexico come to our house for general conference?”
“I’m not sure, sweetie. But we’ve volunteered to let a family stay with us if they need to,” Dad said.
“Why do they want to come all this way for general conference? Can’t they watch it on TV?”
“They can watch it at their stake center,” Mom explained. “But until now, they have never had the opportunity to see a prophet in person. Do you remember how you felt when you saw President Hinckley?”
Abbie nodded. “I felt the Spirit really strongly when he walked into the room.” She had never been to general conference, but she had seen the prophet and two Apostles speak in other meetings. She had even gotten to shake an Apostle’s hand. Until now, she had never really thought about how special that was.
“Not every member of the Church gets a chance to see the prophet,” Dad said. “Some watch conference at a stake center and others listen to him on the radio. Some people can only read what he says weeks or months later.”
“Listening to him any way you can and obeying his words is what matters most,” Mom added.
Abbie knew that Mom was right, but she was still glad she had been able to see President Hinckley. She imagined living far away from Salt Lake, not being able to hear the prophet speaking inside the Conference Center or see the tulips blooming around the temple nearby. “I would travel a long way, too,” she decided aloud, “just to see the prophet once.” She hoped that the families from Mexico would come.
When the bishop called to tell Abbie’s dad that they would have guests for general conference, Abbie was excited and worried. Her family’s house was small. Would the visitors like staying here? She was also worried about the language differences. She didn’t know any Spanish! How would she talk to them?
Three weeks later, she stood with her parents in the stake center parking lot, waiting for their guests to arrive. Soon a dusty bus pulled into the lot. It jerked to a stop, and people piled out the door. They looked tired, and their clothes were wrinkled, but they were smiling.
Dad walked over to the group and started speaking in Spanish. He had learned it while serving a mission in Argentina. Soon he came back with a couple and their two children.
“This is Bishop Martinez, Sister Martinez, and their children, Isabel and Alejandro.” Alejandro was barely old enough to walk, but Isabel seemed to be only a bit younger than Abbie. Then Dad introduced Abbie and her mom to the Martinezes in Spanish.
“Hola,” Isabel said shyly.
“Hola,” Abbie repeated. Her dad had taught her that it meant “hello.” As Isabel smiled at her, Abbie’s worries disappeared. They couldn’t speak very well to each other, but they could still be friends.
After dinner, Isabel followed Abbie into her room. Abbie pulled out her box of toy dishes and food. Picking up a plastic apple, she told Isabel the English word.
“Apple?” Isabel repeated. “Manzana.”
“Manzana,” Abbie said. Isabel pretended to gobble it up, and they both laughed.
Isabel rummaged through the box and pulled out a little milk carton. “Leche,” she said. Abbie repeated the Spanish word, then told her the English word. One by one, they learned all the toys’ names.
“This is fun,” Abbie thought.
Suddenly, Isabel covered her face with her hands and cried, “Adios!” Abbie knew that meant good-bye. Confused, she wondered if she had somehow hurt Isabel’s feelings. But then Isabel opened her hands like shutters and yelled, “Hola!” She giggled. Her hands flapped shut again. “Adios!”
“It’s like peekaboo,” Abbie realized. She joined in. “Hello! Good-bye! Hello! Good-bye!”
The next day during conference, Abbie imagined Isabel sitting at the Conference Center, listening to a translator through headphones. She couldn’t wait for her new friend to come back and tell her what she thought of everything.
When the Martinezes returned, Isabel chattered excitedly. Abbie had never heard anyone talk so fast!
“What’s she saying, Dad?” Abbie asked. “Did she like conference?”
“Yes,” Dad answered with a smile. “She saw the prophet.” Abbie grinned.
In no time at all, Abbie and her family were taking the Martinezes back to the stake center to board their bus for home. Abbie felt so sad she couldn’t even look at Isabel. She didn’t want anyone to see her cry. But Isabel wasn’t going to leave without a good-bye. She hugged Abbie. Then she brought her hands up to her face. “Hola! Adios! Hola! Adios!” She laughed as she played their peekaboo game.
“Hello! Good-bye! Hello! Good-bye!” Abbie replied. She giggled, too, even though there was a lump in her throat.
As the bus drove away, Abbie tried to smile. “Can we have guests for general conference every year?” she asked. “I liked making a new friend.”

“Dad was a hard worker in his business and in the Church. He tried to make his time at home with the children quality time, and he was a very good teacher. His method of teaching was to thoroughly explain something to us and then to have us do it, sink or swim. He used to say that he didn’t want to put an old head on young shoulders but that he wanted us to learn as quickly as we could.
“I remember once when Dad had my brother and me help him build a corral. After we had measured where the postholes would be, Dad suggested that we have a posthole-digging contest the next morning and that he would challenge us both. He would start digging in one direction, and we would start digging in the opposite direction. Whoever dug the most postholes would win.
“Unbeknownst to us, Dad slipped out that night, and at each place where he was going to dig the next day, he soaked the ground with water. The next morning Dad easily shoveled the dirt and rocks out of his holes while we struggled with digging bar, pick, and shovels. The lesson we learned was that there is often a better way to accomplish a task if you think about it carefully.

Some 23 years ago I was called as a young man to serve as the bishop of a large ward in Salt Lake City. The magnitude of the calling was overwhelming and the responsibility frightening. My inadequacy humbled me. But my Heavenly Father did not leave me to wander in darkness and in silence, uninstructed or uninspired. In his own way he revealed the lessons he would have me learn.
One evening at a late hour my telephone rang. I heard a voice say, “Bishop Monson, this is the hospital calling. Kathleen McKee, a member of your congregation, has just passed away. Our records reveal that she had no next of kin, but your name is listed as the one to be notified in the event of her death. Could you come to the hospital right away?”
Upon arriving there, I was presented with a sealed envelope which contained a key to the modest apartment in which Kathleen McKee had lived. A childless widow 73 years of age, she had enjoyed but few of life’s luxuries and possessed scarcely sufficient of its necessities. In the twilight of her life she had become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Being a quiet and overly reserved person, little was known about her life.
That same night I entered her tidy basement apartment, turned the light switch, and in a moment discovered a letter written ever so meticulously in Kathleen McKee’s own hand. It rested face up on a small table and read:
“Bishop Monson,
“I think I shall not return from the hospital. In the dresser drawer is a small insurance policy which will cover funeral expenses. The furniture may be given to my neighbors.
“In the kitchen are my three precious canaries. Two of them are beautiful, yellow-gold in color, and are perfectly marked. On their cages I have noted the names of friends to whom they are to be given. In the third cage is ‘Billie.’ He is my favorite. Billie looks a bit scrubby, and his yellow hue is marred by gray on his wings. Will you and your family make a home for him? He isn’t the prettiest, but his song is the best.”
In the days that followed, I learned much more about Kathleen McKee. She had befriended many neighbors in need. She had given cheer and comfort almost daily to a cripple who lived down the street. Indeed, she had brightened each life she touched. Kathleen McKee was much like “Billie,” her prized yellow canary with gray on its wings. She was not blessed with beauty, gifted with poise, nor honored by posterity. Yet her song helped others to more willingly bear their burdens and more ably shoulder their tasks. She lived the message of the verse:
“Go, gladden the lonely, the dreary;
Go, comfort the weeping, the weary;
Go, scatter kind deeds on your way;
Oh, make the world brighter today!”
—Deseret Sunday School Songs, 1909, No. 197