Gospel Story Finder

“That old man’s a regular puzzlement, isn’t he?” Nathan blurted out to his six-year-old brother, B. J., who walked beside him down the dirt road toward home.
“What old man?” B. J. asked without looking up as he stomped his already muddy feet in the December rain puddles along the wagon-rutted road.
“You know,” Nathan returned, “the one who moved into the Kelsay place six months back. Josiah Potts. It’s less than three weeks until Christmas, and he’s just as ornery as ever.”
“You mean because he never smiles?” B. J. asked, jumping like a frog over a dirty puddle.
Nathan stopped to stare at the sod house nestled in a tangle of dogwood trees just off the road. He leaned against the rickety fence that bordered the little yard. “I guess so,” he said barely loud enough to hear. Thunder boomed and jagged flashes of lightning rent the damp air like the sights and sounds of the war his pa had gone to fight and had never come home from.
A frigid wind tugged at B. J., and he squinted up impatiently at his twelve-year-old brother. “Don’t fret about it, Nathan. Mr. Potts is just a grumpy old man.”
Nathan nodded, still gazing intently at the house.
“Maybe Mr. Potts lost somebody in the war, too, B. J. Maybe that’s why—”
Nathan stopped abruptly as Josiah Potts appeared on the little warped porch in front of his house. His long, ghostly white beard whipped every which way in the stiff wind, and his deep-set eyes seemed every bit as dark and foreboding as the sky above.
Nathan jumped back from the fence, his sleeve catching on a rotting picket and breaking it loose.
“Well,” the old man barked, “just what’re you staring at?”
Nathan swallowed hard. “Nothing in particular, sir.”
“Since when am I ‘nothing in particular,’ boy?”
“Didn’t mean no spite, sir,” Nathan uttered meekly.
“Then get away from my fence,” Mr. Potts growled. “I lost enough in Atlanta during the war without some young scalawag coming by here and busting up my fence.”
Nathan couldn’t keep from asking, “Did you lose anything besides property, Mr. Potts? Kinfolk, maybe?”
Gray, wiry brows buckled over Josiah’s eyes in tired pain. “My wife and boy, if it’s any of your business—which it isn’t!”
Nathan fidgeted uneasily. “My brother and I lost our pa at Shiloh.”
“You two had best get on home before you get caught in the rain,” Mr. Potts muttered, adding, “The heavens have a way of dropping a heavy load on a fellow’s shoulders without warning and of leaving him in the lurch.”
Nathan sensed the old man’s despair. Maybe Mr. Potts doesn’t know what B. J. and I know, Nathan speculated, about how families can be forever. He doesn’t know about —
“Well?” Josiah’s voice interrupted Nathan’s thoughts. “What are you dawdling for?”
As soon as Nathan had hauled wood and taken the lids off the rain barrels under the eaves to catch the runoff so his ma would have water for the next washday, he hurried into the dugout. He stuffed something under his arm and was on his way out the door when his mother stopped him. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, Son?” she asked.
“I just want to give something to Mr. Potts, Ma.”
Nathan revealed a little worn Bible under his arm.
“Your Bible? What on earth for, honey?” his mother asked.
“I’ve read it twice,” Nathan explained. “Maybe it will help Mr. Potts as much as it did me. Besides, I still have the Book of Mormon Pa gave me when he got home from his mission before the war, and we have our family Bible that I can use.” Nathan eyed the scriptures in his hands. “There’s something in here I want Mr. Potts to read. See, I marked the pages.”
B. J. looked skeptical. “He’ll probably just throw it away.”
Nathan sighed. “Maybe. But it’ll give me some peace of mind. I’ll be able to walk by that old man’s place and say that at least I tried to mend his hurt, and it won’t weigh on me so much any more.”
Ma looked at him a long moment, her eyes misting. “I’m seeing more and more of your pa in you every day, Nathan. We could use another good Mormon missionary right here in Mapleton.”
When Nathan reached the sod house, he paused, talked himself into going up the steps, and almost knocked on the door. Instead he decided to write a note on the inside of the Bible’s cover. When he had finished, he placed the book on a chair on the stoop and left as quietly as he had come.
Two days later, as Nathan was passing Josiah’s house on his way to the gristmill, he heard Mr. Potts call, “Hey, boy!” The old man was standing just behind the screen door. “Why’d you give me the Bible, boy?” He stepped out onto the porch for an answer.
Nathan took a deep breath. “It’s … it’s almost Christmas, Mr. Potts. It’s … a gift.”
The old man stared at Nathan, a ragged smile starting to push at the edges of his melancholy. “Why would you want to give me a gift?”
“I figured you could use one,” Nathan answered.
Josiah’s knotty, leathery hand brushed a wad of unshorn hair from his unblinking gaze. “You marked a place in it that says, ‘He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’
“‘And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.’
“I take it that means that a body’s loved ones who have passed on are waiting somewhere for those still alive in the flesh?”
Nathan nodded. “That’s right, Mr. Potts.”
Tears spilled in streamlets down the old man’s face. “I’d give anything in the world to believe like you do, boy. Anything.”
Nathan thought he would burst inside as he said, “Well, for a start, Mr. Potts, how about an hour of your time this Sunday? Would you come to church with us—with Ma, B. J., and me?”
“I think I’d like that,” Josiah answered slowly. “Yes, I do believe I would.”
A few minutes later as Nathan continued on his way to the mill, rain started splintering down. Funny, Nathan thought as he walked along, it sure feels warm.
That year, on Christmas day, Josiah Potts was baptized in Cold Water Creek by Bishop Nephi Cole. When he came up out of the water, Nathan saw him gaze toward the heavens in a way he never had before.

The father of my friend Vaiba Rome, Papua New Guinea’s first stake president, was also taught that he could turn to his Father in Heaven in times of need. He and his fellow villagers could survive only through the crops they grew. One day he lit a fire to clear his portion of the village farmland for planting. However, the fire had been preceded by a long hot period, and the vegetation was very dry. So his fire became of the President Thomas S. Monson variety, as our prophet himself described at the last general conference (see “Obedience Brings Blessings,” Ensign or Liahona, May 2013, 89–90). It began to spread to the grassland and bushes, and in the words of his son, “a big monster of fire” resulted. He feared for his fellow villagers and the possible loss of their crops. If they were destroyed, he would be subject to village justice. Being unable to extinguish the fire, he then remembered the Lord.
I now quote from his son, my friend: “He knelt on the hill in the bushes and started to pray to Heavenly Father to stop the fire. Suddenly there appeared a big black cloud above where he was praying, and it rained so hard—but only where the fire was burning. When he looked around, there was clear sky everywhere except where the flames burned. He couldn’t believe the Lord would answer a simple man like him, and he again knelt down and cried like a child. He said it was the sweetest feeling” (see Alma 36:3).

“All right, everyone. Let’s have talk time,” Mom called.
Josie had been looking forward to talk time all day. Every evening, Josie and her two little brothers, Ben and Wes, gathered in the living room with Mom and Dad to talk about what was going on in their lives.
Tonight Dad had said he would help Josie practice her script for the morning announcements. Reading the morning announcements was a special privilege at Josie’s school. Tomorrow Josie would play a small part of her favorite song over the school’s speakers and use the microphone to announce the day’s activities and lunch menu.
Josie ran to the living room, excited to rehearse her script.
“There’s our famous announcer!” Dad said when Josie hopped on the couch next to him. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
“I’m excited but a little nervous. I’m afraid I’ll mess something up in front of the whole school,” Josie said.
“That’s why we practice,” Dad said. “Go ahead and read through your script, and I will listen for places you can improve.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Josie said.
She and Dad reviewed the script so many times that Josie lost count. Then Josie stood and performed her script one last time for her family. Mom and Dad cheered. Ben gave her a high five, and Wes smiled and clapped his hands.
Josie went to bed happy and confident.
The next day everything went smoothly. Even though she was nervous, Josie smiled when she heard her music play on the school’s speakers. She was glad she had practiced the script with Dad, and she read it slowly and clearly without any mistakes.
“You did an excellent job,” Mrs. Blake, the assistant principal, said.
At the end of the school day, Josie stood in line for the bus. An older boy turned around and asked, “Are you the girl who read the announcements today?”
Josie smiled. “Yes,” she said.
“Why did you pick that song?” the boy asked. “It was a dumb song. You really ruined morning announcements.” Then he called her a mean name and laughed with his friends.
Josie sat alone in the front seat of the bus. She felt sick to her stomach.
When Josie got home, she found Mom playing with Wes.
“Mom, I know it’s not talk time yet, but I was wondering if we could still talk right now,” Josie said.
“Of course, Josie,” Mom said. “What happened? Did something go wrong with the morning announcements?”
“No,” Josie said. “Everything was perfect. At least I thought so, until a boy told me I picked a dumb song. He called me a really mean name too.”
Mom patted the floor next to her. Josie walked over and sat down. Mom gave her a big hug. Josie and Mom talked about everything that happened that day, including Mrs. Blake’s compliment.
“I’m sorry that boy and his friends were rude to you,” Mom said. “But it sounds like other people you respect, like Mrs. Blake, were very pleased with the way you read the announcements. Dad and I are so proud of you. You worked very hard, and it paid off!”
Josie hugged Mom again. “Thanks, Mom,” Josie said. “I feel a lot better.” Josie was glad that any time could be talk time.

Just a little over a year ago, I determined that I would not put off any longer a visit with a dear friend whom I hadn’t seen for many years. I had been meaning to visit him in California but just had not gotten around to it.

Bob Biggers and I met when we were both in the Classification Division at the United States Naval Training Center in San Diego, California, toward the close of World War II. We were good friends from the beginning. He visited in Salt Lake once before he married, and we remained friends through correspondence from the time I was discharged in 1946. My wife, Frances, and I have exchanged Christmas cards every year with Bob and his wife, Grace.

Finally, at the beginning of January 2002, I scheduled a stake conference visit to Whittier, California, where the Biggers live. I telephoned my friend Bob, now 80 years old, and arranged for Frances and me to meet him and Grace, that we might reminisce concerning former days.

We had a delightful visit. I took with me a number of photographs which had been taken when we were in the Navy together over 55 years earlier. We identified the men we knew and provided each other an update on their whereabouts as best we could. Although not a member of our Church, Bob remembered going to a sacrament meeting with me those long years before when we were stationed in San Diego.

As Frances and I said our good-byes to Bob and Grace, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy at having finally made the effort to see once again a friend who had been cherished from afar throughout the years.

There was something different about the group from Las Vegas in the St. George (Utah) Temple. All of them were there to do the ordinance work for their own deceased family members and ancestors. They had participated in a program in which ward members submitted ten times as many names for temple work as they had the year before.

Larry Halsey, bishop of the Las Vegas ward, had been wondering how to help the members of his ward respond more to the spirit of Elijah. Suddenly he realized that, though individuals can accomplish a little by themselves, a ward working together can do a lot more. So in December 1986, he challenged the ward members to each submit the name of one deceased family member or one ancestor for temple ordinance work in 1987. Bishop Halsey then turned to his priesthood executive committee and correlation council for ideas on how to help the members. He says, “I wanted to get rid of the idea that family history research was hard. I thought that few could be intimidated by submitting just one name. And I knew the total results on a ward level could be quite exciting.”

The bishop assigned the high priests group leader to coordinate efforts. The ward leaders began to make brief presentations before the priesthood quorums, the Relief Society, and the youth. In July, Bishop Halsey reemphasized the challenge through a ward newsletter. Though slowly at first, ward members started to take notice.

Because the challenge included all ward members, ward leaders also emphasized preparing members to go to the temple. A temple preparation seminar was started. Home teachers, visiting teachers, and friends also helped less-active members to prepare. The Sunday School contributed by beginning a family history class. The Relief Society called a family history consultant who gave two- to three-minute presentations every week to encourage progress.

By April 1988, enough names had cleared for the ward ancestral temple trip. Eighteen ward members participated that first time—usually only five or six went on the two-hour trip to the St. George Temple.

As news of the experience spread, interest in the project increased. A program on the stake level was initiated. Meanwhile, ward members who had not made the April trip began asking for help to get their records ready. Later, Brother Howard Weisman participated in more than 182 ordinances for his own family.

Brother Weisman and his wife, Terri, were called to be family history consultants and they began visiting with ward members, sitting beside them as the families researched family records, guiding them in what to do. Terri Weisman says, “Many have gathered information and just need to know how to submit or fill in unknown information. We look at our work as missionary work. We teach one on one—part-member and less-active families, young singles, widows and their children, ward and stake leaders—and we challenge them to pray about what they’re doing.”

Bishop Halsey noted that “once the ward members became involved, they learned how simple family history work is and how wonderful the rewards are. The program became self-motivating.”

By the end of 1988, ward members had submitted 1,018 names for work in the St. George Temple. As Sister Weisman points out, “When people do the work for those who are dear to them, they catch the vision.”

A few years ago my father had a serious operation and spent several weeks in the hospital. This was during the winter months. My sons and I had made several trips down to my parents’ home to keep the snow cleared from the driveway and walk, but one day while I was working and my sons were in school, we had a very heavy snowfall. My mother was trying to clear the walks when a young university student came by, laid his books down, gently took the shovel from her, and cleared all the walks and driveway. As my mother thanked him he said, “That’s all right. I am away from home going to school. Maybe someone else’s son will be there to help my mother.”
As my mother told me how this young man had helped her, I remembered the words from my childhood: “God bless you, my son. I pray that some young man will be there to help your mother.”
And he was.

Bill and Susan are devout Latter-day Saints who, after nine years of marriage, have four children, a car, lovely home, and job security. In fact, there is really only one thing missing from their marriage: happiness. Oh, they have their happy moments, but the stormy days outnumber the sunshiny ones. They finally decided to make an appointment with their bishop.

After they had discussed a wide range of problems, the bishop explained to Bill and Susan that we all tend to live our lives according to “scripts”—behavioral patterns we’ve picked up from our parents or from other significant people we’ve known. These patterns and habits may be at the root of some of our marital misunderstandings. “Regardless of whatever patterns our relationships may have fallen into, the scriptures can provide us with the life scripts we need to guide our daily actions. Bill and Susan, how often do you read the scriptures together?”

“We’ve tried a few times,” Sue replied, “but it seems like we have a hard time scheduling scripture study around work, other obligations, and television.”

Bishop Wilson then challenged Bill and Susan to read the scriptures each week with an eye toward searching them for solutions to their mutual problems. Bill mildly protested: “But, Bishop, I studied the scriptures on my mission, and I can’t recall many verses that specifically tell us how to resolve our family problems.”

The bishop smiled at Bill’s response. “Maybe the answers were there, Bill. Have you ever followed Nephi’s counsel to liken the scriptures unto ourselves? (See 1 Ne. 19:23.) I’d suggest that during the coming weeks you set aside fifteen or twenty minutes each day to systematically study the scriptures. You may want to start with specific topics found in a topical guide. Follow through with a discussion of what you read—and above all, liken the scriptures to your own family relationships. You might also write in your journals the insights you gain so you can readily refer to them later.”

Bill and Susan accepted the bishop’s challenge. Before they began, they had assumed that scriptural counsel—like the Beatitudes, for example—was to guide their actions and attitudes toward neighbors, colleagues at work, and friends. Suddenly the insight grew within them that any scripture counseling us how to treat our fellowmen is, by definition, inspired counsel on how married couples should treat each other. For example …

In 1989, Robert M. and Lola Walker, a missionary couple in Ghana, were transferred to Ivory Coast. They could speak no French, so they were instructed to hire a translator and seek help from American families living there.
The Walkers accepted their assignment with some trepidation but with faith that the Lord would help them meet their new responsibility. At Church meetings in Abidjan, the Walkers initially understood only what the Spirit helped them understand. During one meeting, a young man approached them and asked in fluent English if he could help. That young man, Adolphe Mande Gueu, was the first of four translators the Walkers hired, taught, and baptized during their 14 months in Ivory Coast.
Before his baptism, Adolphe quickly became acquainted with the gospel through his translation of lessons and talks. His translation work for the Walkers prepared him to understand and gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon, which he read in three days. He says the Holy Ghost bore such a strong witness to him of the book’s truthfulness that he read it almost nonstop.
“This book testifies to me that your message comes from God,” Brother Gueu told the Walkers, “and my family and I must be a part of the gospel.”
Brother and Sister Gueu, along with their four children, have been stalwarts in the Church ever since their baptism in 1988. He was a branch president and later became the first teacher for the Church Educational System in Ivory Coast. Today he is the regional director for CES. Sister Gueu also has served in many callings, including president of the district Young Women organization.

We had the opportunity to meet President and Sister Richard W. Winder. He is the first mission president in Czechoslovakia since before World War II. My sister was very curious about President and Sister Winder, the life they had left behind in Salt Lake City to fulfill their mission assignment, their unpretentious way of living in Czechoslovakia, and the love they showed for the people. She felt of their spirit, and cried.

Five days before I was due to leave Czechoslovakia for home, President Winder informed me that President Gordon B. Hinckley of the First Presidency would be visiting Czechoslovakia and holding a meeting in Brno, 160 kilometers from Prague. President Winder asked if I would attend the meeting and act as an interpreter for President Hinckley. I accepted, and with Ilona, I drove to Brno.

That meeting was a highlight of my visit. With President was Sister Hinckley, and President Hans B. Ringger, president of the Europe Area, with Sister Ringger, President and Sister Winder, and my brothers and sisters in the gospel. President Hinckley understood how nervous I was, acting as his interpreter and translating Church terminology into Czech, and he was very considerate. It was a very spiritual experience for us all. My sister didn’t take her eyes off of him, and her face shone at me from the congregation.

Since my visit, I have learned that the gospel seeds I planted have started to bear fruit. My niece, Olga, has been baptized, and she is now living with a family in London, England. She wrote to me: “When you visited with us, I heard you share your testimony of the gospel, and although I didn’t completely understand what you meant, I wanted to know more. Now, as a member of the Church, I know. I feel as though I have grown in wisdom beyond my years. Life makes sense to me, and for the first time I know what to do.”

In returning to Czechoslovakia, I found my family and friends—roots that I thought were lost. And I have come to realize that the basic desire for truth is never dead. I am sure that the gospel will spread in Czechoslovakia and that the Czech and the Slovak Saints will take their rightful place in the worldwide family of the Church.

Juan’s parents taught him as a child to follow standards that bless his life. These helped him grow and develop his talents. “Since I was little, I set goals in Primary and Young Men to learn instruments,” he explains. “I play the violin, flute, piano, and now the guitar. I like the guitar most of all.”
Juan also set personal fitness goals based on Fulfilling My Duty to God. Over the years he has studied tae kwon do, swimming, and gymnastics, and he was even on his school’s running team.
“I love to learn. That’s why I always took the challenge to learn a new instrument or sport, to learn something more,” he says.
These goals also supported a larger objective. “Everything I’ve done, all that I have studied, all the physical preparation, all the goals I’ve set—everything has been with the object of going on a mission,” he explains. “And going on a mission is just part of another goal: to be sealed in the temple and become a good husband.”

President Dallin H. Oaks relates a time in his life when his faith to serve God was tested. He learned that there are tipping points in our lives that affect our determination to let God prevail in our lives. He was a young law clerk, so his job demanded long hours. He often returned home after 9 pm. You may find yourself in similar situations - school, family, jobs, and of course church callings. He was called as a stake missionary and counselor in the stake mission presidency. This calling required forty hours of proselyting per month, gospel study and at least three to four evenings per week. Accepting the calling would mean significant adjustments to his schedule. He exercised faith and accepted the call, which became a tipping point in his life. He immediately reduced his time at work so that he could fulfill his church assignment. During the two years of his stake missionary service, he suffered no reduction in his accomplishments and advancements in his employment. He knew the Lord magnified his abilities as he put the Lord first in his life. He said, “I learned that I could do more professionally in part of my time with His help, than in all of my time without it.” [10] President Monson has said, “When we are on the Lord’s errand, we are entitled to the Lord’s help.” [11] Serving the Lord allows you to come to know Him as you become dependent on Him.

I have a little bit of a strained relationship with my brother, Michael. Just normal sibling stuff, like we get on each other’s nerves. But I’d been praying to God for a few weeks to bless Michael and to help me love him and be kind to him.
Then one Sunday in sacrament meeting, my brother was up at the sacrament table so that he could bless the bread. While the bread was being passed, I said another little prayer in my head: “Lord, please bless my brother Michael with happiness.”
In that moment, I just felt this enormous sense of love for my brother, and I realized how much God loved him. The feeling was quiet and reverent, but it was extremely powerful to me.
After the sacrament, Michael came and sat down. It felt so awkward, but I turned to him and told him that God loves him.
I have felt God’s love for people around me, and I’ve felt it for me personally. I know that He loves you, too.

Your testimony will have immeasurable impact on the lives of those who hear your voice. The impact of a single testimony is illustrated by Brigham Young’s account of his own conversion to the gospel when Eleazer Miller, a humble missionary, bore testimony to him:
If all the talent, tact, wisdom, and refinement of the world had been sent to me with the Book of Mormon, and had declared, in the most exalted of earthly eloquence, the truth of it, undertaking to prove it by learning and worldly wisdom, they would have been to me like the smoke which arises only to vanish away. But when I saw a man without eloquence, or talents for public speaking, who could only say, “I know, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith is a Prophet of the Lord,” the Holy Ghost proceeding from that individual illuminated my understanding, and light, glory, and immortality were before me. I was encircled by them, filled with them, and I knew for myself that the testimony of the man was true. [JD 1:90]

In your quest to define yourselves, do not get caught up in comparisons with role models or body types that may seem to be macho or chic but in reality are not becoming to you as sons and daughters of our loving Heavenly Father. One 17-year-old girl became so obsessed about her figure that she began to skip meals and ended up with an eating disorder. When it became apparent to her father, he insisted that she eat a substantial meal. This confrontation ultimately brought her to her senses, and she wrote:
“All my life I had done things for everyone else. The grades, the manners, the awards—everything for them, nothing for me. This eating thing, this losing weight had become mine. It represented me and my choices, and now my dad was trying to take that away from me, too!
“As I lay in bed that night crying and feeling fat, I knew I needed help. I knew I was hurting people I loved.
“After staying up all night, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t my dad I hated. I hated ME! I realized that I wasn’t in control. For the first time in my life, I understood that this was my problem. I needed to take control of my life—not let the disease control it.
“Things didn’t change overnight. In fact, it was one long road to recovery. But slowly, with the help of friends and family, I began to heal. Now that I’m at my ideal weight, I have stopped weighing myself altogether. I no longer peruse fashion magazines, either—I may not be ‘in style,’ but I feel just right!”3

My dear brethren and sisters, since our last general conference, my sweetheart—my beloved wife for 59 years—passed away. While I was at home on a rare Saturday with no assignment, we had worked together. She had washed our clothing. I had helped to carry it, fold it, and put it in place. Then while we were sitting on the sofa, holding hands, enjoying a program on television, my precious Dantzel slipped peacefully into eternity. Her passing came suddenly and unexpectedly. Just four days earlier, our doctor’s report at a routine checkup indicated that her laboratory tests were good. After my efforts to revive her proved fruitless, feelings of shock and sorrow overwhelmed me. My closest friend, angel mother of our 10 children, grandmother of our 56 grandchildren, had been taken from us.
With deep gratitude, I acknowledge the tremendous outpouring of love from dear friends across the world. Countless letters, calls, cards, and other messages have been sent. All tributes expressed loving admiration for her and sympathy for us whom she left behind. Those messages came in such large numbers that we, regretfully, were unable to respond to all of them individually. May I thank each and all for your great kindness toward us. Thank you so very, very much. Your expressions have brought much comfort through this time of heartache for our family. We really love dear Dantzel! We miss her!

The Young Women of the La Canada (California) First Ward are planning to make waves—big ones. They intend to repeat their win of last year in the stake swim meet, which in itself isn’t surprising until you realize that because of failure to meet swimsuit standards only one girl from their ward qualified in 1974.
Two years ago most of the girls didn’t have or want a one-piece swimsuit. Last year in bishop’s youth committee, the bishop asked, “What are we going to do about winning the meet this year?” The subtle coaxing came across, and various suggestions were proposed. Availability and costs of buying appropriate suits for everyone were discussed and dismissed. Sewing was the best alternative to promote both unity and modesty.
Finding 47 yards of chlorine-proof, stylish, inexpensive, and two-way-stretch fabric proved as hard as mastering the butterfly stroke. Moving from yardage stores to sportswear factories to fabric distributors, everyone had just about given up when a distributor, who admitted he had a soft heart for Mormons, got an appointment with one of California’s largest swimsuit manufacturers. The girls were offered an orange-and-purple-patterned fabric and immediately took to it with scissors and sewing machines. Soon every girl in the ward had a new suit, as did eight nonmembers. Many of the girls had never owned a one-piece suit. The stake meet was more than a swimming test for the La Canada young women—it was a victory through obedience to and acceptance of gospel standards.

At home in a hidden-away corner, I have a small black walking stick with an imitation silver handle. It once belonged to a distant relative. Why do I keep it for a period now spanning more than 70 years? There is a special reason. As a small boy I participated in a Christmas pageant in our ward. I was privileged to be one of the three Wise Men. With a bandanna about my head, Mother’s piano bench cover draped over my shoulder, and the black cane in my hand, I spoke my assigned lines: “Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.” I vividly remember the feelings of my heart as the three of us “Wise Men” looked upward and saw a star, journeyed across the stage, found Mary with the young child Jesus, then fell down and worshipped Him and opened our treasures and presented gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

I especially liked the fact that we did not return to the evil Herod to betray the baby Jesus but obeyed God and departed another way.

The years have flown by, but the Christmas cane continues to occupy a special place in my home; and in my heart is a commitment to Christ.

“You wouldn’t think it was funny if you had to dance with him,” said Lisa in a cross voice.
“I’m sorry, Lisa,” said Stephanie, smothering one last chuckle, “but I couldn’t help laughing because there was a time when I thought you had two left feet. Remember when we were learning to clog after third grade a couple of years ago?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lisa, thinking back. “Was I really that bad?” She thought some more, then admitted, “I guess I was before Tammy took over. She walked me through every step of that dance until I had it just right.”
“And now old Two-Left-Feet Lisa can dance,” said Stephanie with a friendly grin.

Many years ago when I served as a bishop, I presided over a large ward with over 1,000 members, including 87 widows. On one occasion I was visiting, along with one of my counselors, a widow and her mature handicapped daughter. As we left their apartment, a lady from the apartment across the hall was standing outside her door and stopped us. She spoke with a foreign accent and asked if I were a bishop; I replied that I was. She told me that she noticed I often visited with others. Then she said, “No one visits me or my bedfast husband. Do you have time to come in and visit with us, even though we are not members of your church?”
As we entered her apartment, we noticed that she and her husband were listening to the Tabernacle Choir on the radio. We talked with the couple for a while, then provided a blessing to the husband.
Following that initial visit I stopped by as often as I could. The couple eventually met with the missionaries, and the wife, Angela Anastor, was baptized. Sometime later her husband passed away, and I had the privilege of conducting and speaking at his funeral services. Sister Anastor, with her knowledge of the Greek language, later was to translate the widely used pamphlet Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story into the Greek language.

Some people also stumble over statements made by Church leaders that have turned out to be incorrect, not about doctrine but in their personal opinions. For example, President Joseph Fielding Smith (1876–1972) wrote in the first edition of his book Answers to Gospel Questions, “It is doubtful that man will ever be permitted to make any instrument or ship to travel through space and visit the moon or any distant planet.”4

Later, following the Apollo moon landings and the death of President David O. McKay, Joseph Fielding Smith became President of the Church. At a press conference, a reporter asked him about this statement. President Smith replied, “Well, I was wrong, wasn’t I?”5