Gospel Story Finder

“There it is,” I whispered to Randy as we watched the magpie glide through the air and land in the poplar trees just this side of Jed Franklin’s place. We clutched our rocks and glared at the shiny black bird with the white tips on its tail and wings. Dad had said that he didn’t like magpies eating our vegetables, so Randy and I had chased it out of the garden. Chasing magpies was lots more fun than weeding.
“Do you think we ought to follow it over there, Russell?” Randy asked.
I thought about going back to the garden to finish weeding. I scratched my head. “Dad said that if they’re not chased miles away, they just come back.”
Randy swallowed. “But it’s on Mr. Franklin’s place now.”
I shuddered just a little. Jed Franklin was the meanest man I knew. He lived alone on a little run-down farm just down the road from us.
“I figure we can sneak over there through the trees without him seeing us,” I whispered.
Before Randy could answer, I started down the dirt lane toward the Franklin place. I heard Randy scramble after me. The magpie was still in the poplar tree when we got there. We each threw a rock.
“We didn’t throw close enough to it,” I muttered as I watched the magpie fly away, then perch itself right on top of Mr. Franklin’s new light pole. “We can chase it a lot farther away for sure from there,” I said excitedly.
“But, Russell,” Randy gasped, “we can’t go into Mr. Franklin’s yard!”
I stared ahead and suddenly grinned. “He’s not even there. His pickup’s gone.”
A few moments later Randy and I were hunched down by the corner of Mr. Franklin’s barn, looking almost straight up at the magpie. “Aim good,” I said.
I don’t know which rock went where. All I know is that we shattered Mr. Franklin’s new light! Glass flew everywhere.
We sprinted for home—past the poplar trees, across the dirt lane, and to the garden, where we should have been all afternoon. We grabbed our hoes and started chopping weeds as fast as we could. Even when we were finished, we kept looking for weeds where there weren’t any. And every few minutes we glanced toward the Franklin place.
It was almost suppertime when we heard Jed Franklin’s old pickup rumble down the road past our place to his. We didn’t dare stay in the garden after that. We put our hoes away and went into the house.
That night after we’d gone to bed and should have been sleeping, I lay on my pillow with my eyes wide open and a thousand things going through my mind. When I’d said my prayer that night, the words didn’t go anyplace. They just stayed in the room with me. “Are you awake?” I whispered to Randy, who was on the bottom bunk.
Randy kicked his covers back and muttered, “Yes. I can’t go to sleep. I keep thinking.”
“We didn’t mean to do it,” I argued. “It was an accident.”
“I know,” Randy came back, “but Mr. Franklin still lost his light.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” I muttered.
The next morning, Randy and I were helping Dad fix a sagging barn door, when Mr. Franklin pulled up in his pickup. I took a step backward, bumping Randy and spilling a sack of nails on the ground. Mr. Franklin leaned out of his pickup and glared at us. “Well, they’ve done it again,” he snapped.
Dad straightened up. “Who did what?” Dad asked.
Mr. Franklin stared at Randy and me. I gulped, wondering how he’d found out. “They broke my new light,” he growled. “It hasn’t been in a week, and they knocked it out yesterday while I was away.”
“Who did it?” Dad asked.
I got ready to turn and run. I just knew Mr. Franklin was going to jab a finger at Randy and me and bellow, “They did!”
“Kids!” Mr. Franklin snorted. “Probably those kids on the three-wheelers. They’re always racing through my yard and driving up into the hills. They leave gates open, tear things up, and scare my stock. Now they’ve gone and knocked my light out. If I ever get my hands on them … !”
“Those guys on the three-wheelers sure saved us,” I muttered after Mr. Franklin had left and Dad had gone into the barn. “And we didn’t even have to lie or anything,” I said, smiling, but still feeling dark and sick inside. I kept thinking of something Mom had told us once. She had said that you could tell a huge lie just by being quiet when you knew the truth.
“Why does Mr. Franklin have to be such a mean old guy?” I asked Dad when he came back.
Dad thought for a moment, then answered, “Oh, he’s not mean. Just lonely.”
“He sure seems mean to me,” Randy said, “always running around with that ugly frown.”
Dad scratched his head. “Sometimes Jed looks mean and angry with everyone because nobody ever seems very nice to him.”
After we had finished the door, Randy and I sat in the barn and talked.
“I wish we hadn’t done it,” Randy said.
I nodded. “We ought to pay him for the light.”
Randy gasped. “But then we’d have to tell him we broke it in the first place.”
“Well, maybe we could work for him. We wouldn’t tell him why, and that way we could pay for the light without him even knowing it.”
It was the best idea we had had. We hated to hoe corn, but we knew Mr. Franklin had a little patch that needed hoeing, so we headed for it. The sun was hot, bugs buzzed around us, sweat trickled down the sides of our faces, our backs ached, and I even wore a blister on my hand. But for the first time since Randy and I had broken the light, I felt good because we were making up for what we had broken.
“What are you kids doing?” a voice boomed out at us as we were finishing the last two rows.
We whipped around, and there stood Mr. Franklin leaning against a fence post.
I gulped and licked my lips, “We’ve been hoeing your corn.”
“Why?”
“The corn needed hoeing,” Randy said.
“We wanted to,” I added. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, I don’t mind.” He almost smiled. “Mighty fine work.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn brown wallet. “I guess you boys could use a little spending money.”
“We didn’t do it for money,” I burst out.
Mr. Franklin looked at me, then at Randy, who was nodding in agreement.
“But I’d like to pay,” Mr. Franklin said, counting out some money. “I don’t remember any kids ever helping me before. Sometimes kids come over and knock my lights and windows out, but this is the first time any showed up to help.” He held the money out. “I insist that you take it.”
We couldn’t make ourselves tell him about the light, so we took the money and headed for home, feeling worse than we’d felt before we hoed the corn.
“Why don’t we feel good, Russell?” Randy asked me. “I thought you were supposed to feel good after you did something good. I just feel rotten.”
“I guess it’s because we did something good just to cover up something bad.”
For a long time we stayed in the barn, thinking. We both knew that there was only one thing we could do to make us feel better, but we were both scared to do it.
“I’m going back,” I finally announced.
“Going back!” Randy gasped.
“I’m giving the money back.”
“But what will you tell him?”
I took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll just tell him the truth. That’s what we should have done to start with.”
It was hard going back to Mr. Franklin’s place, one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life. I would rather have hoed a dozen fields of corn than explain what we had done to his light.
We found him by his old pickup. The hood was up, and he was hunched over the engine, banging and tugging with a wrench. His hands were greasy, his face was red, and he was chewing hard on a soggy toothpick.
As soon as he looked up and saw us, I pulled the money from my pocket and set it on the fender of the pickup. Then I stepped back and looked directly at him. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Randy was doing the same.
Mr. Franklin looked at the money. “What’s this for?” he demanded gruffly.
I swallowed hard and looked down at the ground. I watched a tiny ant tug and pull at a piece of straw that was ten times bigger than it was, “We didn’t hoe the corn for money,” I explained in a raspy whisper. “We did it to pay for your light.”
“My light?” He straightened up and wiped his hands on his pants.
My heart was hammering so hard in my chest that I thought it was going to burst. I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn’t have any breath to speak. I sucked in some air. “The kids on the three-wheelers didn’t break your light,” I wheezed. “We did.”
“But we didn’t mean to,” Randy got out. “We weren’t trying to be mean or anything. We were just trying to chase away that old magpie.”
“Did your dad make you come over here?” Mr. Franklin asked.
We shook our heads. “We’re sorry,” I mumbled. “That’s why we wanted to hoe your corn. To make things right.”
For a long time he just stared at us without saying anything. I could feel little drops of sweat trickle down my back. And a fat, pesky fly kept buzzing around my head, but I didn’t slap at it or anything.
Finally he took his toothpick from his mouth, flipped it into the dirt, and said, “Thanks, boys.” He even sounded nice. “I appreciate what you’ve done. Telling me about the light is more important than hoeing my corn.” He actually smiled. “Everybody makes mistakes, but only those who are really grown-up take the blame for them and make up for them.”
When Randy and I finally left the Franklin place, that dark, ugly feeling inside us was gone. I knew that that night I wouldn’t have any trouble saying my prayers or going to sleep.

Tourists inundate the center of Philadelphia during July, particularly on Independence Day.
What better place, then, for missionaries to contact people who would be interested in knowing more about the Church? And one ideal location would surely be the Independence National Historic Park, across the street from the Liberty Bell display and near Independence Hall, site of the Constitutional Convention.
Using heavy cardboard backing obtained from a local art club display, missionaries and members of the North Philadelphia Branch built a three-sided display, eight feet high and nine and one half feet wide, and obtained Park Service permission to display it near a large fountain in the park.
The triangular display featured displays on genealogy, America’s 200-year history, and America’s 2,000-year history. It featured a screen on which films could be shown.
But on the fourth day, a wind-and-rain storm snapped the frame.
Instead of abandoning the project, the missionaries were encouraged by members’ efforts to keep the display alive. A new display, including an additional presentation on family home evening, was built, this time with plywood. Brother Arthur Abraham, a counselor in the branch presidency, donated a trailer so the proselyting aid could be moved.
While using the new display on the first day, the elders taught 17 discussions. On July 4, they served as an information booth for Independence Day visitors. Their records show they talked to more than 1,000 people, and at least one person will be baptized as a result.
“The project caught the members’ attention when they saw that the missionaries were sincere in doing a good job,” Cheryl Ann Murdock, a young adult in the branch, said. “They became excited about missionary work, and the Church received a great deal of exposure to the public. We were proud to see the Church represented in the park.”

Bye, Molly! We love you!
Be a good helper for Grandma!
I miss Mom and Dad. When will they get home from the hospital?
After your sister is born. Then you’ll get to meet her!
I don’t know if I really want a sister.
Hey, I need your help with a special surprise.
Let’s make a treat for your parents. What should we make?
Brownies are Mom’s favorite!
Wow, you are a good assistant chef! You know something else your family needs help with?
Eating brownies?
Probably! But you can also help by being a kind big sister.
Really?
Yes! I can tell you know how to help your family.
I have an idea for another surprise.
I can’t wait until Mom and Dad AND the baby come home!

If we remember that our families can be eternal, our trials won’t seem as difficult. A man from Hong Kong, Lee Hing Chung, learned this for himself. When he lost his arm in an accident and could not work to support his family, he became very depressed. He and his family later joined the Church and were sealed in the temple. Before Lee was baptized, he thought that money would make him happy. After he was baptized and made temple covenants, he found true happiness because he understood Heavenly Father’s plan. He said, “When I attend church on Sunday with my family, I am so grateful that we are together and that we can be together forever. … The temple reminds me to be good, to be disciplined, to be worthy.”* Temple blessings give us hope, happiness, and a desire to become like Heavenly Father so that we can be with our families forever.

“Along in the early fall, we used to find wild fruit such as choke cherries, service berries and little red berries called buffalo or squaw berries, all of which we enjoyed very much. One day I decided to have a reception in the evening. So after we camped I asked some of the girls and boys to come and spend the evening at our camp fire after their chores were done. Verbal invitations and short notice never gave offense then. All were delighted to come, no one refused.
“In the meantime, I had asked mother to let me make some buffalo berry pies. Of course, she did. Pies were a great luxury and seldom seen on the plains. I wanted to surprise my guests with the sumptuousness of my refreshments. And I did. Well, I had hardly gotten the ox yokes and some other things artistically arranged before my company arrived, they did not come as late as seems to be customary now. After we had chatted a while and sung some songs, I excused myself to go into the pantry (a box under the wagon) and brought out my pies. In passing the pie, I rather apologetically remarked that they might not be quite sweet enough. One gallant young man spoke up very quickly, saying, ‘Oh anything would be sweet made by those hands.’ And I believed him.
“After serving the company, I joined them with my piece of pie. Well, the first mouthful, I ate and tasted as if it had been sweetened with citric acid! That ended my pie making on the plains. I often wondered how they could have eaten it, but etiquette demanded it. I don’t think there was enough sugar in the camp to have sweetened that pie.”

I would like to begin with a personal story. In 1988 I was visiting with my brothers and sisters when the conversation drifted to our father, who had passed away many years earlier. We shared our memories of Dad: his ways of doing things, his favorite sayings, our fishing trips (where all he did was bait hooks), and so forth. After enjoying the discussion for 10 or 15 minutes, I was surprised when my youngest sister started to cry. When her emotions settled down, she reminded us that she had been only six years old when our dad passed away. Though she was happy to hear us talk about our memories of Dad, she was saddened because she herself had very few memories of him.

That experience bothered me for several weeks. Being the oldest child in the family, I had many memories of my father and could not imagine life without those memories. It bothered me further when I realized that my wife and most of my siblings’ spouses would never meet my dad and that my children and their cousins would never know their grandfather. So I enlisted my wife’s help, and for the next several months we set about compiling a book about my father. We contacted extended family, found former friends, and called work associates and Church leaders who had interacted with Dad. We asked all of them to write down their memories of him. We made copies of pictures, news articles, and documents that showed his special achievements, trying to put everything we could find about my father in a book. After many months of effort, the book was finished, and we printed copies and gave them to family members as our Christmas gift.

Young Women in the Warner Robins First Ward, Macon Georgia Stake, had their last standards night at the beach. Well, okay, not exactly—but they did come with their beach towels and sunscreen, ready to learn and have a great time. The “beach” was actually a room at the meetinghouse where talks about how to stay in spiritually “safe water” were given by “lifeguards” who were actually their parents and leaders.
The standards night was based on an article in the October 1994 issue called “Swim between the Flags.” Each leader-lifeguard had a flag that represented a standard; principles like honesty, modesty, and chastity were discussed.
“It was a very positive night, and I received answers to some questions that I had,” says Mia Maid Sarah Harden.
Beehive Stefanie Papenfuss agrees, “The leaders talked about some things that I had never thought about, like making the right kinds of friends to help you keep your standards strong. The whole night was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot.”

One night our family went out for pizza and games. When I finished eating my pizza slices, I was still hungry. I wanted to take a slice from my sister Eden, but my parents said not to. A minute later she decided to give me her last slice. That made us all smile.
Two nights later, Eden finished eating her dinner first. It was one of her favorite meals, and she wanted another helping. When I heard my mom tell her it was all gone, I decided to share mine. Eden was happy, and I felt good sharing something with her that she really likes. I remembered the good example Eden was to me when she shared her pizza.

Every year, my parents and older siblings travel to Guatemala as part of a humanitarian medical team. One year, I got to go with them as a member of the nonmedical team. I was so excited! I got my passport and stashed it in a fireproof box where my parents kept other important papers.
But the night before the trip, I opened the box and couldn’t find my passport anywhere. A wave of panic came over me. If I couldn’t find my passport, I wouldn’t be able to go to Guatemala!
My family and I looked everywhere, but we couldn’t find it. Finally, my father suggested we say a prayer. We knelt together and prayed that we could find the passport soon so that we could regain calm and sleep well that night.
Right after the prayer, my mom immediately went to the desk in the corner of the room. She crawled underneath it, and wedged in the baseboard of the wall was my passport!
I was so grateful. We knelt again to thank Heavenly Father for helping my mom find my passport. I’ll never forget how glad I felt knowing that He hears and answers our prayers.
Gideon S., Texas, USA

In May of 1974, I was with Brother John H. Groberg in the Tongan islands. We had an appointment to visit the king of Tonga, and we met with him in a formal session. We exchanged the normal pleasantries. However, before we left, John Groberg said something that was out of the ordinary. He said, “Your Majesty, you should really become a Mormon and your subjects as well, for then your problems and their problems would largely be solved.”
The king smiled broadly and answered, “John Groberg, perhaps you’re right.”
I thought of the Apostle Paul before Agrippa. I thought of Agrippa’s response to Paul’s testimony: “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.” Brother Groberg had the courage to bear his testimony to a king.

Several universities recruited him to play for them when he finished his senior season. At this point, playing football first began to clash with doing what he knew he should. When he told recruiters he intended to go on a mission, two of the schools, Washington and Stanford, lost interest. But that didn’t deter him. More than once as he was growing up, his father had taken out his mission slides, and the family had watched as he told about his mission. Eli had always known that he, too, wanted to go on a mission, and he never questioned that decision.
Eli finally chose to attend BYU, and he played there his freshman year before leaving on a mission to Argentina. He came back two years later, stronger, faster, more coordinated, and even more ready to play football. He played his sophomore and junior seasons. He got married and took classes at the university. But always at the back of his mind, he knew that someday he might have to choose between playing football and keeping the Sabbath day holy.

Sister Heaston shared an experience from when she served at a Young Women camp. She said:
“One of our … devotional speakers … taught us about ‘becoming.’ One of her statements … was, ‘Be someone who reaches out to know and serve others—throw away the mirrors and look through the window.’
“To demonstrate this, she called up one of the young women and asked that young woman to stand facing her. [She] then pulled out a mirror and put it between the young woman and herself so that she, [the speaker], was looking into the mirror while she tried to talk with the young woman. Not surprisingly, it didn’t even begin to be an effective or heartfelt conversation. This was a powerful object lesson that illustrated how difficult it is to communicate with and serve others if we are too worried about ourselves and see only ourselves and our needs. [She] then put away the mirror, pulled out a window frame, and put it between her face and the young woman’s face. … We were able to see that the young woman had become [her] focal point and that true service requires that we focus on the needs and emotions of others. Ofttimes we are so worried about ourselves and our own busy lives—as we look in mirrors while trying to look for opportunities to serve—that we do not see clearly through the windows of service.”8

Elder Graham W. Doxey, who once served in the Second Quorum of the Seventy, told me of an experience. His mother, who was later a counselor in the Primary general presidency, also told me of this experience.
During World War II, he was in the navy posted to China. He and several others went by train to the city of Tientsin to look around.
Later they boarded a train to return to their base, but after more than an hour, the train turned north. They were on the wrong train! They spoke no Chinese. They pulled the emergency cord and stopped the train. They were put off somewhere in the countryside with nothing to do but walk back to the city.
After walking for some time, they found a small pump-handle car, the kind that the railroad workers use. They set it in the rails and began to pump their way along the tracks. It would coast downhill, but it had to be pushed uphill.
As they came to one steep downhill slope, they scrambled aboard the car and began to coast. Graham was the last to get aboard. The only place left for him was in the front of the car. He ran alongside and finally climbed aboard. As he did so, he slipped and fell. He was bouncing on his back with his feet against the car to keep from being run over. As the car quickly gained speed, he heard his mother’s voice say, “Bud, you be careful!”
He wore heavy military boots. His foot slipped, and the thick sole of his boot caught in a gear of a wheel and stopped the car just one foot (30 cm) from his hand.
His parents, who were presiding over the East Central States Mission at the time, were sleeping in a hotel room. His mother sat up at about 2:00 in the morning and awakened her husband: “Bud’s in trouble!” They knelt by the bed and prayed for the safety of their boy.
The next letter he received said, “Bud, what’s wrong? What happened to you?”
He then wrote to tell them what had happened. When they compared times, at the very time he was bouncing along that track, his parents were on their knees in the hotel room half a world away, praying for his safety.

In the Central Valley of California, there are 44 teenagers who will never forget the city of St. George, Utah, with its hospitable people and its beautiful white temple.
The youths’ 18-hour stay there was the culmination of six months of planning, hard work, and cooperation between the youth and adults of the Tulare Ward (Visalia California Stake) and those of the St. George Second Ward.
The moment the weary travelers arrived at the Second Ward chapel after their 500-mile journey, they were met by an enthusiastic crowd of St. George youth who immediately sought out, tagged, and friendshiped each California teenager. Together these new friends shared the experiences of that day and the next. The anticipation of their meeting and their bond of common beliefs seemed to create an instant, comfortable friendship on both sides.
After an official welcome by Bishop Ross Taylor, the young people toured the tabernacle built during the same period in which the temple was constructed. Everywhere there was evidence of pioneer skill, artistry, and devotion.
Following the tabernacle visit, the group toured the Brigham Young Winter Home and caught a glimpse of the life of that great prophet and the times in which he lived.
After dinner in the homes of their hosts, the youth met at the templegrounds for the long-awaited tour. A lovely scene met their eyes. To one teenage girl, Shawna Brown, “the temple stood out like a gleaming jewel, shining forth with the Spirit of the Lord.” In this small, quiet town was the most magnificent building most of them had ever seen, a great sparkling building surrounded by deep-green lawns, a building normally brilliant white, bathed now in the golden glow of a setting sun. As the young people joined the long lines of those waiting to enter, they huddled for warmth in the unfamiliar chill of the southern Utah evening.
Inside there was peace and calm and cheerfully whispered “hello’s” between the white-clothed temple workers and the awed young visitors.
“What impressed me most,” said Julie Peterson, a convert of one year, “was that the workers in the temple were so at peace and so nice. I want to work there when I become older. Most of all, I know that I’ll marry in the temple, no matter what!” Liz Myers, a young investigator, commented, “It was beautiful, just walking through. It made me feel so clean inside. It was a great feeling!” Michelle Meadows said that being in the temple felt to her “like a little bit of heaven on earth—it was so peaceful and so beautiful.” As the group was passing through the last sealing room, one of the workers whispered to Claire Forman, “This is where you’re going to be married.” She answered, “Oh, yes!” Now, recalling that experience, Claire says, “There is no way I would even consider marrying outside the temple.”
The tour was over too soon. Too soon they stood once more outside the great building looking up at its inscription, “Holiness to the Lord.” But the influence of those few minutes may never end. To David Anderson, it brought greater meaning to going on a mission, coming back to get married for time and all eternity, and living a righteous life.
“We realized,” said Ruben Ruiz, “that the temple is the house of the Lord and that it was built for a purpose. We realized that the work done in the temple is sacred and that you need to be worthy to enter.”
Following the temple visit, the combined fireside in the Second Ward cultural hall concluded the evening. Three young St. George couples related the strength and meaning that temple marriage had brought into their lives.
The final event of the trip occurred the following morning among the red sandstone cliffs of Snow’s Canyon. Never had pancakes—complete with juice, bacon, and eggs—tasted so good. Following breakfast, the youth—lured by the cliffs around the little tree-and-sagebrush-covered valley—clambered up the sloping walls, which seemed almost stair-stepped for their benefit. Campers who chanced to be in the canyon that morning must have been startled as the hills literally burst forth into song. The final rendition was “I Am a Child of God,” sung by the Tulare teenagers from their mountaintop loft to their bishop, who stood looking up from the sands below. It was an impromptu, heartfelt expression of their love for him that neither he nor they will ever forget.
As the two groups exchanged addresses and goodbyes—the St. George youth to return to what was left of their late October Saturday, and the California young people to their journey home—no one doubted that all were spiritually richer than before. Bishop Taylor said that because of the enthusiasm of the California youth in their desire to visit the house of the Lord, the hearts of those in St. George had been reawakened to a remembrance of the great blessing of the temple and the particular privilege of living within its very shadow.
The feelings of all might be best summed up by the statement of Tulare’s Laurel class president, Karen McPherson, as she bore her testimony in sacrament meeting the day after the trip: “Bishop Dredge has been pounding into us for years, ‘Get married in the temple! Get married in the temple!’ And now I know why!”

Dane Cluff, a deacon from the Ashland Oregon Second Ward, Medford Oregon Stake, is the first young man in the Crater Lake Council of the Boy Scouts of America to become an Eagle Scout by his 13th birthday. By his court of honor Dane had earned 24 merit badges and nine skill awards and completed the required Eagle project. His project consisted of planting iris bulbs at a nearby rest area and raising the money to cover the expenses. (An unexpected boost came when a local flower shop donated 500 bulbs in five different colors.) The highway department approved his plans and rototilled the area in preparation for planting. Dane designed the planting patterns, organized workers to help in the planting, and did much of the planting himself.

Disengaging from sin can be difficult. Breaking a habit can cause pain and anguish. This past spring I decided to personally remove a large pine tree in my backyard. The tree was about 24 inches in diameter, 50 feet tall and required extensive work with a chainsaw to bring it down. It also needed to be cut into smaller pieces so it could be hauled away.

Then I had the difficult task of removing the stump. Some of the roots were 10 inches thick and spread out like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Removal required many hours of digging and chopping with an axe. Unfortunately, I developed an injury in my right hand and, as a consequence, had to have carpal tunnel surgery.

That tree started out as a tiny seedling, easily removed by pinching it with my two fingers and yet, as a huge tree, many hours of hard labor and pain and even surgery were required.

May I conclude my remarks on fast offerings with portions of a letter I received several years ago from Elder John H. Groberg, who at that time was president of the Tongan Mission.
“Enclosed find a check for $1,000 for excess fast offerings from the Tongan Mission. Normally this letter would end here, but because of an experience I recently had I would like to add a little more.
“As you may or may not be aware, Tonga is one of the poorest countries financially in the world. The average wage rate is only around 12¢ per hour if you are lucky enough to have a job. …
“Recently, while visiting one of the far distant islands that is very difficult to get to, I went late in the day to the home of one of the good widow sisters there.
“When I first approached her hut the sun was still quite bright and I could not help but notice the stark poverty of her surroundings. It had been raining earlier. The mud and decay and the ever-present smell of drying fish were at first repulsive. But the warmth of meeting with a fellow Church member—especially after years of separation—together with tears of appreciation for the long-awaited visit, soon pushed the unpleasantness of the surroundings temporarily into the background.
“As we conversed in her fluid native tongue and she told of her love for and faith in the Church and of all the blessings she had received, I could not help but think about her apparently miserable circumstances. … All sorts of ideas went through my mind, and I must have let my thoughts wander as I suddenly became aware that somewhere between phrases about blessings and poverty and service she had gone to her hut and was now returning with a small knotted rag.
“Suddenly my mind seemed to fill with light, and the words ‘fast offerings’ flooded in. I was so excited with the idea that had come so suddenly and so clearly, that you can imagine my utter amazement and unpreparedness when she took a threepence (a coin worth about 3¢) from her rag and said softly, ‘Here is my fast offering … to help the poor.’
“I wanted to explain that fast offering was to help her, not for her to help others. The explanation never came, for as I looked through misty eyes, first at the threepence then back at the good sister, the whole scene changed.
“The hut was a glowing mansion and the mud was gold. … The world seemed to stand still for a moment. All of nature seemed to stop and listen as from the heavens the whole universe seemed filled with the reassuring words: ‘Blessed are the poor … for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ (Matt. 5:3.)
“As the setting sun signaled the end of the day, so it also told of the approaching end of her beautiful life of service.
“I took the threepence, and as I write this check the whole experience once again fills my mind and I wonder, ‘How many threepences to make a thousand dollars?’”

I was shy and a bit of a bookworm. I’d pick reading and arithmetic over recess and soccer any day. I always did well in school, and I earned good grades. But my mother knew that I needed more than straight A’s in school. She always encouraged me to do active things and to get involved in other activities. Most of the time I would have stayed home, but her influence helped me gain other leadership abilities, and I developed a willingness to meet challenges and try new things. By the time I left high school, I was “into” varsity basketball and many outside clubs and other activities.

Now I would like to tell you about a great family experience we had just earlier this month that I think all of us can learn from.

The first part of August I reached a major milestone in my life. I was passing from middle age to old age with my 80th birthday. To celebrate it, I decided to take my children and grandchildren on a tour of Logan, my hometown, to share with them the impact this city has had on my life.

First we stopped at the Maddox Ranch House restaurant in Perry, Utah, for an early dinner. Perry is a significant city in our family history. After dinner we caravanned over to Logan, where I had designated nine stops that I wanted my family to see. With each stop I selected a scripture to teach a lesson on the importance that particular location had for me in my life.

1. Logan High School Lesson: Live Up to Your Potential
For they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man. [D&C 60:2]
I was very shy in high school and did not take advantage of the opportunities that were there to enlarge and build my talents. I was afraid to try. The lesson I wanted to teach my family is to live up to your potential. Don’t be afraid to try. Have confidence in yourself. You won’t succeed the first time on anything you do, but successive attempts will bring confidence and the development of new talents.

2. The Logan Tabernacle Lesson: The Joy of Gospel Service
That ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God. [Mosiah 2:17]
My father had served in the presidency of the Cache Stake in Logan for some 20 years. It seemed appropriate to stop at the tabernacle, where we held our stake conferences, to teach the lesson that Church service brings great joy and is a sure way of developing your skills in human relationships. You enter Church service with the pure intent to build our Father in Heaven’s kingdom. The Lord more than compensates you for your time and effort with blessings that increase your talents and abilities to be used in further service. It is impossible to stay even with the Lord.

3. My Father’s Law Office Lesson: Select Your Profession Early
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
But thou, O man of God, flee these things; and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness.
Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses. [1 Timothy 6:10–12]
I related to my family how I had prepared myself for the banking profession. Dad was the bank attorney. From my newspaper delivery earnings I saved enough to buy 10 shares of First National Bank stock. Dad insisted that I attend the stockholders’ meetings and vote my 10 shares. He thought that was a way of introducing me to the banking profession. A job offer came after graduation that was much more lucrative than banking. I thought I would accept the position for a few years and then return to banking. I never did become a banker. I tried to teach my grandchildren that the selection of a major in college is not as important as integrity, ethics, developing good study habits, and building character as a person of faith, confidence, and industry.

4. My Birthplace Lesson: The Value of Our Heritage
Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents . . . ; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when ye remember them ye may remember their works; and when ye remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good.[Helaman 5:6]
I was given the name of my father. I honored my father and wanted to retain the same values he had established. Our heritage gives us those enduring values that will be with us now and through all the eternities.

5. The Old Family Home Lesson: The Blessing of Good Parents
I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father. [1 Nephi 1:1]
I tried to teach my family that the credit for the success you achieve in life really belongs to the parents who have given you a wonderful start. My father was a hard worker, good provider, and a sterling example of service, honor, and integrity. He loved his family and made time for us in his busy life.
Mother was always there to teach and encourage us. She was a great homemaker, a careful housekeeper, an excellent manager of household finances, and a wonderful cook. How I honor and love my parents.

6. The Comfort Inn Lesson: Accept the Challenge of Change That Occurs in Your Life
That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day. [D&C 50:24]
We checked in at the motel. After checking in, I told my family, “Tonight you will sleep in the place that used to be our old cow pasture.” This is where the motel had been built. My, how times have changed! I will always be grateful that I grew up in an age when we plowed, planted, tended, irrigated, and harvested. These activities were very important in our lives.

Future generations will have little opportunity to enjoy those same blessings we received. We live in a world of rapid change. Somehow we must find a way to hold onto the basic unchanging values and yet be ready for additional revealed light that will lead us to greater opportunities.

7. Aggie Ice Cream Store Lesson: The Value of Traditions
And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy.[D&C 130:2]
Having an Aggie ice cream cone on every trip to Logan has become one of our many traditions. More important are traditions of Church activity, Church service, family loyalty, and so forth. Special traditions we establish here with members of our family will endure. We should build traditions that will be strong in our remembrance, that will last even into the eternities.

8. Utah State University Lesson: The Value of Taking Time to Have a Happy, Successful Courtship
And again, verily I say unto you, that whoso forbiddeth to marry is not ordained of God, for marriage is ordained of God unto man. [D&C 49:15]
I explained that most of my courtship had occurred on the USU campus. Dances, ball games, meeting in the halls between classes, walking across the quad to the library, studying in the library, attending institute classes, taking special walks around the campus, etc., all gave time to becoming better acquainted and enjoying the richness of the relationship that was being developed. It became the most important thing in my life at that time. When this time comes to you, it affects all that you do. Make it precious and special.

9. The Logan Temple Lesson: The Importance of the Temple
In the celestial glory there are three heavens or degrees;
And in order to obtain the highest, a man must enter into this order of the priesthood [meaning the new and everlasting covenant of marriage];
And if he does not, he cannot obtain it. [D&C 131:1–3]
The center of our lives must be the holy temple. We must always be worthy to enter therein. If we live worthy of the covenants we make with the Lord in His house, we literally bind the Lord to give the blessings He has promised us. The Lord will fulfill His promises if we will be faithful to the covenants we make with Him.

We ended the tour later in the evening at the old Logan Ninth Ward building. We had arranged for a room there in which the family could gather. My secretary had prepared a PowerPoint presentation of my life. There were pictures starting with my grandparents, parents, and on through my early life. Then there were pictures from my marriage and of the blessings of children, followed by a collage of pictures of the events we have enjoyed together as a family.

On Sunday morning we attended church services in the Ninth Ward chapel. This building was constructed under the supervision of my father while he served as bishop. He was the bishop for only 18 years. I had opportunity that morning to bear my witness and testimony of the blessings of the gospel in my life.

We then drove to our home in Salt Lake City. However, before letting them enjoy a delicious birthday dinner prepared by my wife, I quizzed the family on what they had learned. I again bore witness to the divinity of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I am absolutely convinced that the greatest refuge we will find in our life will be those wonderful, close associations we have with our immediate family members.

Two months after the above experience, the second adventure took place. I was again out in the mountains, this time with a group of Scouts, and we were 20 miles out in the back country. We were taking our annual 50-mile hike and had decided to do it a little differently; we would hike in for 15 or 20 miles and then take day hikes into the surrounding lakes and streams where the boys could do some fishing. One day we broke into three groups: The first was going to hike in three or four miles to some high beaver ponds along a stream where the fishing was alleged to be great. The second, of which I was the leader, was headed to the top of a beautiful mountain about six miles away. The third group, exhausted from several days of such activity, would stay in camp, fish in the adjacent stream, and clean up. All went well with my little group of eight young Scouts and also with those in camp, but the first group was in for quite an experience. As the boys arrived at the appointed fishing areas, they spread out along the river for about a mile, each selecting what he thought would be the best spot. As the day wore on, they collected around the proven fishing holes. However, one young Scout had started working his way downstream looking for a new spot. Suddenly he experienced what felt like an attack of appendicitis. Being nearly a quarter of a mile from the nearest boy and close to the noisy stream, his yells for help were in vain. Not being able to walk because of the pain in his side, he lay down next to the river in despair, fearing for his life.
In the second illustration, the young Scout remembered his whistle and his training. Three blasts at three minute intervals was a plea for help. His whistling was heard by two boys up the river, and they came running. It wasn’t long until he was being carried on an improvised stretcher to the base camp where medical care was available.