Gospel Story Finder

Two years later, Paul was called to be home-study seminary president. His new responsibilities were going smoothly until one day when Sister Yockstel asked to talk to him after class. She gave him a list of seminary-age youth who weren’t enrolled in seminary and instructed him to get with the rest of the presidency and contact everyone on the list.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Paul said weakly. “There are a lot of people on this list.”
“Yes. And every last one of them is missing the gospel in their lives. Seminary or some other contact with the Church could really help them. Remember how much staying close to the Lord has helped you,” Sister Yockstel replied.
After dividing the list with the rest of the presidency, the task didn’t seem so ominous. Audrey volunteered to print up letters to everyone on her computer, and one day after class they spent a few minutes addressing, stuffing, sealing, and stamping envelopes. The next week, it was time to make telephone calls.
“Amy Richards,” Paul read on his list after calling two others. “Well, here goes.” He gulped, dialed the number, and waited.
“Hello.”
“Hello, is Amy Richards there?”
“This is Amy.”
“Hi, Amy. This is Paul Oasman,” he began mechanically. “I’m seminary president at church. How are you?”
“Fine. Church? What church?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We sent you a letter. Did you get it?”
“I don’t know. I think I got something. I didn’t read it. Church of what?”
“Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Mormons. Did you … did you ever go there?”
“I think we used to go to some church when I was little. That must be what it was. They told us about Jesus and prophets and we sang a song about popcorn on the apricot tree.”
“Yeah. That’s right. So would you like to come to seminary sometime?”
“Seminary?”
“Yeah. It’s for youth our age and we study the scriptures.”
“The scriptures?”
“Like the Bible and the Book of Mormon.”
“Well … I don’t think so. I’m really busy with my job and keeping my grades up. I want to go to college, and this is the only way I can go. But thank you for calling me.”
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” He gave her his number and they hung up shortly.
The phone calls weren’t really that bad, Paul reported to Sister Yockstel the next week. On a whim, he called Amy and the other two people on his list again a couple of months later to invite them to the Harvest Ball at the stake center, and again to invite them to the ward Christmas social. Each time Amy said something about being too busy, but they did spend a few minutes talking before hanging up. When he invited Amy to come to the Sweetheart Dance in February with him and a couple of his friends and she declined again, she asked him, “Why don’t you ever give up on me, Paul?”
“I don’t know. I had a friend Joshua who never gave up on me. Do you think I should give up on you?”
“Well, no, I guess not. But I never come.”
“Maybe you’ll come sometime.”
“Maybe,” Amy sighed. “I’m just really busy. Hey, I gotta go so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Amy did finally come to the youth barbecue in the spring and joined in the volleyball game. Paul went to talk to her when she stepped out to get some punch.
“See, didn’t I tell you? It’s a great activity!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun! Everyone’s really nice and everything.”
“Well, you’ll have to come to these things more often.” Paul glanced sidewise at her.
Amy lowered her eyes. “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t need to get too involved with you guys. I’m just going to leave in the fall to go to college.”
“But, hey. It’s not the people that are the most important part here. It’s the Church—the gospel.”
Amy was silent. Paul began to blush.
She finally spoke. “I know that’s what you’ve been getting at. I’ve told you, I’m not a religious person. And why should you care whether I am or not?”
“The Church is true, Amy. It’s not just something you like if it’s convenient. It’s true and it’s real. Christ really exists, and he really wants you to return to him!” Paul’s face was turning a bright embarrassed red, but he plunged on as Amy replied to his boldness.
“How can anyone know that?”
“You can pray about it. God will tell you himself.”
Amy squirmed. “Well, thanks. I’m just so busy getting ready for college. I know that doesn’t change the reality of it all, but I don’t want to have to think about the Church right now. I’m really not good enough to be into religion anyway. I better get back to the game.” She got up and left.
During the summer, Amy came to church with Paul six times and read the Book of Mormon occasionally. It made sense, and she felt good about it when she prayed like Paul asked her to, but the good feelings scared her, especially since her parents weren’t interested in getting involved in the Church. “They just want you there to raise their numbers. They don’t really care about you,” her father told her. “After we moved here we went to church for two months and nobody really spoke to us. And nobody called when we quit coming.”
College started for Amy at the end of August. Dorm life was really exciting. It didn’t take Amy and her roommate Letitia long to discover that they could make new friends very easily by sitting downstairs in the lobby. Someone was bound to come up and introduce himself.
One evening during the first week, Amy was studying her Spanish when a tall blond boy in a sports coat seated himself on the couch across from her. “What are you reading?” he inquired.
Amy looked up and smiled. “Spanish,” she answered.
“Ahhh. Fun. I study French myself. You must be a freshman.”
“Because I’m studying Spanish?”
“No, because we’ve never met. My name is Rod. And you are?”
“Amy.”
“Hi, Amy. Do you know about the big rally with Dr. Reality tomorrow night? I’m on the publicity committee.”
“No. Who’s Dr. Reality?”
“The main thing Dr. Reality does is give some very, very good study tips. Just wonderful.” Rod shook his head and smiled.
Amy shrugged. “Sounds good. Where is it?”
Rod gave her directions and added, somewhat condescendingly, “I must warn you, his lead-in is about how God doesn’t exist and how prayers before tests don’t help, but his study tips will.”
Amy suddenly felt like she’d been sucked into something. “How much of that does he say?” she asked guardedly.
“Quite a bit. It’s sponsored by the Free-Thinking Student Association. But you don’t have to be an atheist or anything. The study tips are good for everyone. So, what religion are you? I could see you getting nervous when I talked about God not existing, so I assume you must believe in one.”
“Oh, I’m not a very religious person,” Amy faltered. “I was baptized a Mormon when I was little, and I’ve gone there a few times, but I’m not really into that sort of thing.”
Rod leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “Oh, good! A Mormon!”
“What? I didn’t say I was a good Mormon.”
Rod chuckled. “Mormons are so funny. They have so much faith.”
Amy was confused. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Look out there. Do you see God? Do you really have any concrete evidence that he exists?”
Amy suddenly found her tongue. “Why do you care whether or not I believe in a God I can’t see?”
“Oh, I don’t care,” Rod assured her. “Believe what you want.”
I’ve got to get out of here, Amy thought. “I just remembered some stuff I need to do upstairs.” She got up and left quickly.
As she went up the stairs she felt the warm calmness of love from her Heavenly Father enfolding her. It was a feeling she knew she could not be imagining.
When she rounded the corner into her hall she came face to face with a girl with glasses and long, dark hair. Amy smiled on reflex.
“Hi, you’re not Amy, are you? I’m looking for Amy Richards,” the girl said.
“That’s me.”
The girl twisted her hands back and forth nervously. “Well, my name’s Sophie Petrowsky and I just thought I’d come by and say hi because I hear we go to the same church.”
Not another one! Amy stiffened. “The only church I’ve gone to at all is the Mormon church and I don’t go there very much. I just got invited to become an atheist.” She laughed ruefully, not wanting to hurt Sophie’s feelings. “It’s been a long day.”
Sophie relaxed a little. “Yes, it has,” she agreed. “Well, the Mormon church is where I go, and I thought—How did you get invited to become an atheist?”
Amy explained to her about Rod and what he’d said. Sophie nodded. “That sounds like Rod. I lived here last year and got to talk to him. He’s really smart, and he can be nice, but he’s a little overbearing. There are a lot of kids around here who just want to argue and cause trouble. And of course you’ll get all kinds of invitations to join different student organizations.”
“Why does everyone care so much about gaining converts around here?” Amy asked bluntly.
Sophie thought for a minute. “Well, we do like new faces in our groups. We like to make new friends. But in the Church there’s more to it than that.” Sophie twisted her hands again. “We have a message that we want to share with you and with everyone, and it’s because we love you,” she said softly. “This guy named Paul called the Latter-day Saint Institute about you a couple days ago.”
Amy closed her eyes, then shook her head and smiled. “Paul, you idiot,” she whispered. “What did he say?”
“Oh, he said you were really neat and that you’d been studying the Church a little. Mostly he wanted to make sure that you’d have a friend here, and that you’d know we were here for you. I can tell you about the institute program and when church is and everything if you’d like. We have a really good singles’ group.”
“I don’t have a way to get there.”
“Oh, that’s okay. The institute’s just right down the street, and I can get you a ride to church. I don’t have a car either, but Sister Newell said she’d take us this week.”
“Us?”
“I asked her first to make sure she’d have room. We’d like you to come, but if you don’t want to …”
Amy thought for a minute. “I want to,” she said decisively. “At least once for Paul.”
Five years later, two young men in suits stood at Mark and Letitia Stoon’s front door. They wanted to come in and share a message about Christ, they said. “No, I don’t think so,” Mark began, but Letitia, who had come to see who was at the door, stopped him. “Wait, are you the people with the Book of Mormon?”
The young man smiled. “Yes, we are,” one of them answered.
“I have a friend, Amy Richards. She was my roommate at college for a couple of years. She gave me one of those before she left to be a missionary in Mexico.”
“Really? That’s great. Did you read it?”
“I read some of it. I thought it was interesting. Amy always seemed to care about it. And she still writes to me. She’s a good friend.”
“Do you mind if we come in and talk about it with you a little bit?”
“Not at all,” Letitia smiled. “Come on in.”

A year ago I went with President Kimball back to his home in Arizona. And we visited the home where he grew up as a little boy. We climbed the winding stairs up to a bare room. And there the little boy, before he was a deacon, read the Bible by lamplight. We looked out the window from that upstairs room, and we saw the barns out in back where the cows had been. He used to milk nine cows every morning and night, the old-fashioned way. And as he milked the cows he learned the Articles of Faith, he learned the hymns, and he learned the Ten Commandments. He wrote them down on a little card and put them on the ground where he could look as he milked the cows.
And as he did these things, he made decisions about things he would and would not do. He was growing up, and he knew there were a lot of things that were good and a lot that were bad. He decided that when someone offered him a cigarette, he would say no. If someone offered him tea or coffee he would say no. If they suggested that he be immoral, he would say no; to lie or to cheat, he would say no. He made those decisions when he was a little boy, before he was a deacon. He would do as his mother had taught him. He would keep the commandments.
And so as he grew older and the boys all came around and said, “Spencer, will you have a cigarette? Will you have a drink of whiskey? Will you have some coffee?” he didn’t worry about hurting their feelings. He had decided just once to say no, and after that it was easy always to say no to the bad things. And that is how he has lived his life all these years.

Now, you young men, let’s carefully consider some examples from the lives of our prophets as they have spiritually prepared for the priesthood. President Joseph Fielding Smith shares with us his feelings in these words: “‘When I was a small boy, too young to hold the Aaronic Priesthood, my father placed a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hands with the request that I read it. I received this Nephite record with thanksgiving and applied myself to the task which had been assigned to me. There are certain passages that have been stamped upon my mind and I have never forgotten them.’ By the time he was ten years old he had read the Book of Mormon through not just once but twice. His brothers remembered of his hurrying to get through his chores as quickly as possible, and sometimes even leaving a ball game early, and secluding himself in the hayloft or in the shade of a tree to get back to his reading of the book.” (Joseph Fielding Smith, Jr., and John J. Stewart, The Life of Joseph Fielding Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1972, p. 57.)

When he was twenty-eight, Jacob married Magdelena Roschi, a lovely, cultured girl from his own village. Life was now a joyful experience for the young man, who was the principal of the high school he had attended. He was also honored by holding all of his late father’s offices, including auditor, assessor, and treasurer of Canton Bern, the second largest county in Switzerland.
In the late 1870’s, however, Jacob’s life took a drastic change. He heard the gospel, accepted it, and immediately faced persecution. He was forced to resign his position as principal, and was relieved of his county offices. But the worst shock came when Jacob’s father-in-law took Jacob’s wife and four small children from him.
Jacob felt that he should go to Zion, and in 1879 he emigrated to Logan, Utah. He led a lonely but diversified life for the next five years. He studied English and Church history, worked in sawmills, and laid track for the railroad. His sister in Switzerland, Anna Clara, forwarded his letters so he could keep in touch with his wife and children.
Those first years in America were difficult for Jacob. His daughter, Elizabeth Stowell, tells that he had a hard time adjusting to his new life and was often discouraged. But he never regretted having accepted the gospel.
In 1884 Elder Spori was called on a mission to Turkey. He arrived in Istanbul just a few days after Christmas and immediately began to proselyte. At first he needed an interpreter, but he had a unique talent with languages and in only three months had a good command of Turkish. He taught the gospel with strength and vigor. Using various methods to get his message into the homes of Turkish families, he taught French and English without charge and blessed the lives of many by teaching them the gospel. His students learned new languages, but they learned about the restored Church at the same time. Jacob also taught German but charged for this service to obtain funds for food and clothing.
In the summer of 1886 Elder Spori was called to go to Palestine. He was the first called specifically as a missionary to that country in this dispensation. Orson Hyde dedicated the land in 1841, but did not proselyte there. Elder Spori performed Palestine’s first baptism when he baptized Johan George Grau on 29 August 1886.
Elder Spori’s labors extended as far as Joppa, Damascus, and Jerusalem. It was here in the land of Palestine that he discovered how miracles can come about through small means.
By local law all Christians had to be out of the city of Haifa before the gates were locked at dusk. But Elder Spori was working in that city with an investigator who was ill at the time. The young Mormon elder hated to leave until he was sure his friend was better. That evening, with the investigator getting better, Jacob made plans to leave the city. He knew the gates were locked and that getting caught meant going to jail. As he walked along the city’s shore, pondering what to do, he watched the fishing boats coming into port. He noticed some men preparing the nets for the next day’s work and had the feeling he should help them. He stepped up and began working; no one seemed to notice him. When the work was finally done the men rolled up the nets, got into the small boat and prepared to set sail. Without a word Elder Spori also got into the boat. Before long they were on the sea. The next day the boat landed at Cairo, and Elder Spori jumped from the boat, went into the city, and resumed preaching the gospel.
After a mission of three and a half years, Elder Spori was released, and he returned to Switzerland. There he fulfilled an assignment from President Wilford Woodruff to help organize a company of Saints for their journey to Zion. It took him nearly a year to accomplish this.
Before his mission had ended, Elder Spori had received word from an almost inconsolable wife, still in Switzerland, that their eldest daughter, Katherine, had died from injuries received in a fall from a swing. Jacob, knowing well of the gospel’s ability to heal spiritual wounds, wrote his wife of the doctrines of the Church. She was touched by these new truths and became convinced the gospel was true.
Mrs. Spori applied for baptism and was reunited with her husband when he arrived in Switzerland following his missionary labors. She later bore fervent testimony and gave thanks for the eternal truths the gospel brought into her life.
Before leaving for Zion, Elder Spori translated several Church tracts into French. He was assisted by his youngest sister, Anna Clara Spori, a talented and well-educated young woman.
Finally, Jacob Spori and his wife and three children, Jacob, Magdalena, and Louise, and his sister Anna Clara left Bern for America. It was June, 1888. Their destination was Rexburg, Idaho. Jacob had been called to be the first principal of Ricks College, and the new school was getting ready to open.
Homes in Rexburg were scarce so the Spori family moved into an empty tithing granary. Their fifth child, Elizabeth, was born there 6 July 1888.
For the four years Jacob Spori was principal, he not only taught school, but was a friend of the families of the students. He would visit the homes of the Saints, especially when there was sickness there.
“At the time of the diphtheria epidemic in 1891,” his daughter recalls, “he went fearlessly to administer to the sick and comfort the bereaved.” Two of his daughters caught this dreaded disease, but he administered to them, believing they would be spared by the power of God. And they were.
After four years as academy principal Elder Spori asked for and received an honorable release from his work. He then turned to farming and began a project that was in later years a boon to agriculture in the area—he helped in the development of the canal on the Egin Bench, known as the Spori Canal.
Jacob Spori died in 1903—he was back teaching again, still doing the things he felt had to be done. His doctor had warned him that he suffered from diabetes and that he should stop working and rest more. Jacob’s reply was that he would rather “die working than die resting.”
Versatility and unwavering faith are two traits that characterize Jacob Spori’s life. He was a great educator, a student of languages, a missionary. He liked geology and mining, receiving his final degree in metallurgy when he was fifty years old. He became interested in medicine in Istanbul. Music was his great escape. He learned to play several different instruments. Science and agriculture were also parts of his life.
His life is well summarized in the words of his daughter: “He had such a burning testimony that he bore it whenever the opportunity presented itself. He used to tell us that nothing men can do will ever change the truthfulness of the gospel. All the seeming sacrifices he made seemed nothing to him compared with the peace and joy that came into his life when he joined the Church.”

As our mission in Brazil came to a close, we felt a similar desire to help our missionaries commit to lifelong obedience. In our last zone conference, we talked about our potential as children of our Heavenly Father. We read Doctrine & Covenants 132:19-20, which talks about the moment when we will enter into the celestial kingdom:

"They shall pass by the angels, and the gods, which are set there, to their exaltation and glory in all things, as hath been sealed upon their heads, which glory shall be a fulness and a continuation of the seeds forever and ever.
"Then shall they be gods, because they have no end; therefore shall they be from everlasting to everlasting, because they continue; then shall they be above all, because all things are subject unto them. Then shall they be gods, because they have all power, and the angels are subject unto them."

In that conference we all made a commitment to each other. By a raise of hands, we promised to live our lives worthy to always be able to enter the temple, and to be able to join together again in the celestial kingdom. We then gave each missionary a silver ring with our mission name and this scripture reference on it. 2006 was the summer of one of the "Lord of the Rings" movies. We became the Missionaries of the Rings. When we see our missionaries at reunions or other occasions, we speak of our rings and are reminded of the promises we made.

Farid says the biggest blessing he’s received since joining the Church is the knowledge that families can be together forever. A year after Farid joined the Church, his grandpa passed away. “I loved him so much,” Farid says. “He was one of my biggest examples. I felt really uncertain about where he would go in the next life.”
One of his friends at church talked with him about the plan of salvation and how he could do the temple work for his grandpa. Farid started working on his family history, and he went to the temple and was baptized for his grandpa.
“I have faith that when I die and pass through the veil, he will be waiting for me,” says Farid. “The Lord’s work doesn’t end in this life. I know now if my grandparents or parents pass away, we have the chance to see each other again in the life to come. We will be an eternal family.”
“I have faith that when I die and pass through the veil, he will be waiting for me.”

Even though I was baptized when I was eight years old, I didn’t always do the right things. When I was a teenager, I started hanging out with a group of guys, and we started getting into things I knew weren’t good.
After my sister got married, she helped me come back to the Church. I learned about the importance of the Word of Wisdom and treating my body well.
But one day, I committed another serious sin. I felt that I couldn’t have the Spirit or the power of the priesthood with me. I felt very worthless and didn’t think I’d be able to complete my responsibilities at church, like blessing and passing the sacrament.
But the gospel taught me that we can always repent. It was hard to go see my bishop and confess my sin. It was hard to know people could see me walk into the bishop’s office. But I wanted the Lord’s peace, and I wanted to repent.
My bishop said a prayer with me and told me that the Lord is always merciful to those who seek to repent and that I’d be able to recover from my mistake. I’ve now started reading the scriptures and praying, and I know it helps me resist temptation.

One day, my best friend from the Church provided it. I was to leave my parent’s house and establish a home elsewhere. I managed to get employment in Burntwood (Staffordshire) and bought a home there. After some time, my wife, Rajinder, let me go to a one-hour meeting one Sunday and I was called as the Sunday School president. But Rajinder refused to let the children go with me and at one time ripped up the Book of Mormon in front of me. She had been brought up as a strict Sikh and did not want to dishonour her family.

In 1982, we moved to Hemel Hempstead (Hertfordshire). The meetings were now consolidated, and I stayed for the whole three hours. I was called as the elders quorum president. An elderly missionary couple were assigned to visit my home, and for the first time Rajinder said a prayer and felt the Spirit. I subsequently baptised her. We were later sealed in the London England Temple with our children.

In 1986, I was called to be the branch president. I served in that capacity for three and half years and was released when our branch was merged into the Watford Ward.

My testimony has grown from strength to strength. I love the Lord and His restored gospel. I am in His hands and will always give thanks to Him for saving me and sending those missionaries. The evidence that this is the true church, is too great; I cannot deny it. Regardless of what happens to me or my family I will bless the Lord my God. I believe in His goodness, and that He will uphold me if I do as He asks. I give daily thanks for all the blessings He has given me and the tender mercies He has shown me.

I have recently published a book called LDS Christians and Sikhs. This book was the result of an inspiration I received to invite Sikhs to come to Christ. I have included many testimonies from Sikhs who have converted to the Church. I hope that it will do some good in persuading and inviting Sikhs to examine their religion and to offer them further blessings through the gospel.

I would like to share two more incidents in my life that have forever changed the way I think and feel.
In May of 2014 my parents were living in Burley, Idaho. I got a call from my mother that my father had fallen and was in the hospital. It was believed that he would quickly recover and may need a couple of weeks of therapy to get him walking again. He was moved from the hospital to a rehab center where I took the opportunity to visit with him several times a day. Two days after he was moved to the rehab center, he was returned to the hospital to be checked. My mother spoke to the doctors on the phone who assured her that this was routine, and we could come and visit with him while he was there. An hour later we arrived at the hospital to find that he had slipped into a coma and the doctors wanting to know what measures should be taken to preserve his life. We sat in shock for a couple of hours as the man that I had shared a strawberry milkshake with the previous night lay motionless in the hospital bed. At one point Mom and I found ourselves alone with Dad. Standing at the foot of the bed, our hearts full of gratitude, we looked upon the man we had always leaned on as a pillar of strength. My dear, sweet mother took his hand and said, “It’s okay, Ralph. You’ve done enough; you can go home.” Dad took three more breaths and passed away.
I think of my father every day, and I’m grateful for the impact he had on me growing up, and for the example he set.

During a stake conference assignment a few years ago while serving in South America, I met a couple that was grieving the recent death of their infant son.
It was in an interview during the course of the conference that I first met with Brother Tumiri and learned of his loss. As we spoke, he shared that not only was he deeply saddened by the death of his son, but he was also devastated at the thought of never seeing him again. He explained that as relatively new members of the Church, they had saved enough money to attend the temple just one time, prior to the birth of their little boy, where they had been sealed as a couple and had their two daughters sealed to them. He then described how they had been saving money for a return trip to the temple but hadn’t yet been able to take their little boy in order to be sealed to him as well.
Recognizing a possible misunderstanding, I explained that he would indeed see his son again, if he remained faithful, because the sealing ordinance that had bound him to his wife and daughters was also sufficient to bind him to his son, who had been born in the covenant.
Amazed, he asked if this was really true, and when I confirmed that it was, he then asked if I would be willing to speak with his wife, who had been inconsolable during the two weeks since their son’s death.
Sunday afternoon, following the conference, I met with Sister Tumiri and explained this glorious doctrine to her as well. With the pain of her loss still fresh, but now with a glimmer of hope, she tearfully asked, “Will I really be able to hold my little boy in my arms again? Is he really mine forever?” I assured her that as she kept her covenants, the sealing power found in the temple, effective because of the authority of Jesus Christ, would indeed allow her to be with her son again and hold him in her arms.
Sister Tumiri, though heartbroken by the death of her son, left our meeting with tears of gratitude and filled with peace because of the sacred ordinances of the temple, made possible by our Savior and Redeemer.

For more than forty years I travelled the world. After I was called as a General Authority, I began to be concerned about our three younger children. There were times when I was not home much and I knew they needed to spend more time with their father. So one family home evening I announced a new grand bargain. If they would keep the rules, help their mother when I was gone, get to bed on time, and do their home work, once a year I would take each of them individually with me on assignment. At my own expense--anywhere in the world I was going, they could each come with me.
Oh my! Were they excited? Did I really mean it? Anywhere? They wanted my schedule and began to plan their trips. And they knew where they wanted to go. They began alphabetically: Alaska, the headwaters of the Amazon, Anaheim, California, etc.
At the time our son Paul was twelve years old. He was gifted athletically but not spiritually. He had never born his testimony. I wondered if he ever would. But he decided that he wanted to go with me to Mexico. I told him he could but that he would have to bear his testimony there. He said, "Then I won't go."
I had a scheduled conference in Mexico City. As the date drew near my son again asked if he could go with me. I said, "Sure. But you will have to bear your testimony." He was adamant, "Then I won't go."
The time came to order the tickets; again he asked if he had to talk. I said yes. He said, "Does it have to be in Spanish?" I said, "Yes." He sighed and reluctantly said, "O.K." I called the mission president. He also had a twelve-year-old son. He agreed to pick us up at the airport and drive us to the conference. The boys could keep each other company.
One of the meetings was in Celaya. The road we took was narrow and wound through the mountains. As we started down the steep incline into town, the president suddenly braked the car. The road was blocked with a huge pile of logs and branches that had fallen from a rickety cart ahead of us. A woodcutter and his two sons were frantically trying to clear the road and reload their cart. My son said, "Good! Now I don't have to talk."
We shut off the car. We chatted a bit. The logjam didn't seem to be moving. Someone suggested that maybe we should help, so we did. And a kind of camaraderie developed on that mountain road between our sons, dressed in white shirts and ties, and the two barefoot wood gatherers. It just happened as bark filled their hair and sawdust covered their clothes. It took us about thirty minutes to pick up and restack the wood.
When we finished, we said goodbye to our new friends, cleaned up as well as we could, and drove to Celaya. At a convenient moment in the conference I called on my son to bear his testimony. He stood behind the little pulpit and in gringo Spanish haltingly said, "Yo se que el Libro de Mormón es verdadero, porque lo he leído."
It was true. He knew the Book of Mormon was true because he had read it--in Spanish! In painful, two verse at a time, early morning scripture study that our family had conducted for years, in English, and Spanish, and Portuguese, he had read it and he knew it was true. And to me what happened to my son Paul on that road to Celaya was just as important as what happened to his namesake Paul on the road to Damascus. And his testimony was just as valid.

For Ben H., 18, of North Lanarkshire, Scotland, the pageant was a great opportunity to share his faith and love of the restored gospel. Ben enjoyed his time performing, but the best lesson he learned was the importance of the gospel principles taught in the pageant. “The most important thing I learned was that the purpose of the production was to invite all to come unto Christ,” Ben said. While mingling with the audience at the end of a performance, Ben met a young man his age who had received a prompting during the pageant to serve a mission. The young man hugged Ben and thanked him for the performance. “He and I were both crying, and I was touched. I knew that was the reason I was there participating in the pageant.”
And even though he enjoyed his time on stage, Ben recognizes that the work doesn’t stop at the end of a performance or a pageant. “It doesn’t end when the production ends, because the production wasn’t the important thing. The important thing was that I was learning to be a missionary” and that others were learning about gospel truth.

I sat on the airplane Saturday morning enroute to Louisville, Kentucky, with a young friend, a medical person, who said that for years he has been singing in the Tabernacle Choir and has not been able to attend priesthood quorum meeting. Under the new meeting schedule he has been earnestly looking forward to a more consistent attendance. The week before the first consolidated meetings began, he was invited by the bishop to teach Primary. You will discover that that means he cannot go to priesthood meeting again for a while. The incident reemphasizes what I am saying—that sooner or later most of us end up doing some formal teaching, and if we do not we are yet teachers in other ways along the route.

While preaching at a public meeting in Philadelphia, Hyde declared that he was on a mission to Jerusalem so that he could dedicate that land for the gathering of the Jews. He also mentioned that Mormon missionaries travel without purse or scrip and that he was looking for financial assistance for his mission. Afterward, a stranger gave him a purse of gold and asked that when he delivered his prayer in the Holy Land, he pray for the donor.30
Since he did not know the name of the donor, Hyde supplicated God during his prayer in Jerusalem to
look with favor upon all those through whose liberality I have been enabled to come to this land. . . . Particularly do Thou bless the stranger in Philadelphia, whom I never saw, but who sent me gold, with a request that I should pray for him in Jerusalem.31

The identity of the anonymous giver was not made public until 1924. During a sermon given in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, Nephi L. Morris32 mentioned the offering given by the stranger to Orson Hyde when Hyde was in Philadelphia. Two months later Morris received a letter from John F. Beck, who had been in the audience when Morris had spoken at the Tabernacle. Beck told him that the stranger in Philadelphia whom he had spoken about was his father, Joseph Ellison Beck. John Beck wrote the following in his letter to Morris:
My father . . . was the man who sent the purse of gold to Elder Orson Hyde, with which to bear his expenses on his mission to Palestine. He did not have much to say about it, but all our family knew very well that he did that generous deed. . . . He did not become rich, but always had money laid aside for a time of need. I have heard the prayer Elder Hyde offered up in his behalf, and am a witness that every feature of it was wonderfully fulfilled.33

Let me add a personal connection about Elder Hyde and the stranger who gave him gold. This past summer I was on a field trip with a group of BYU students in the Old City of Jerusalem. After talking about Orson Hyde and his achievements, I asked the students if any of them happened to be a descendant of Orson Hyde. Bryson Ensign, one of the students on the trip, raised his hand and told me he was a direct descendant.
I asked Bryson if he had anything he wanted to add about Elder Hyde. He said that one of his favorite family stories growing up was about the stranger who gave Hyde the purse of gold that helped finance his mission to Jerusalem. I was thrilled to tell him that my son-in-law Joseph Paul Beck was a direct descendant of the person who gave the gold to Orson Hyde.
I took advantage of my speaking assignment today by requesting that Joseph P. Beck offer the invocation for today’s meeting. Joseph is the great-great-grandson of Joseph Ellison Beck. I also asked if Bryson Ensign, the great-great-great-great-grandson of Orson Hyde, would offer the closing prayer. It is a fortuitous ancestral meeting, of sorts, through their posterity.

When the typical teenager makes a “to do” list, it often includes homework, classes, Church activities, and a social life. But what if you added practices and games for three sports into the picture? Then it would be completely full, right? No room for service or volunteer work?
You won’t convince Blake Moore, a priest in the Forest Green Ward of the Utah Ogden Weber Heights Stake. Blake has received national recognition for his athletic skills, but he still feels service is a top priority. In fact, his dedication to service helped him to receive his latest honor, the High School Heisman Award.
In the United States, the Heisman Award is given to the best collegiate football player each year. A few years ago, a similar award was started for high school athletes. But the selection committee wasn’t just after the best football player. They were looking for a well-rounded person—someone who did well at school and was involved in his or her community. They found what they were looking for in Blake.
How does he fit it all into his busy schedule?
“You have time for what you make time for,” he says. “I don’t get it when people say they don’t have time for things. Everyone has the same number of hours in the day.”
Much of Blake’s service began through the Scouting program. In fact, for Blake’s Eagle project he organized a book drive for St. Ann’s homeless shelter and focused mainly on gathering children’s books.
But Blake’s service doesn’t end with his Eagle project. He is the area chairman for the American Cancer Society. He collects cash donations from people living in his Ogden neighborhood to be used for research and publicity. He is also the youth representative on the Utah state committee for the March of Dimes. He volunteers at a homeless shelter and a local hospital, and he also contributes his time and muscle to Habitat for Humanity.
Athletically, Blake has done it all. He is the captain of the football, basketball, and baseball teams. He also carries a 4.0 grade point average and is the senior class president.
Trying to get Blake to talk about his successes is like pulling teeth. But he finally admits that he has tried to be a well-rounded person—not just a student or an athlete. One thing he does emphasize is that it is “cool” to serve. “I want others to know that it is not nerdy to do service,” Blake says. “How could it be? Service is the best thing to do.”
Blake points out his flaws as if he is uncomfortable with all the recognition of his strengths, but he is not hesitant telling about the role his family has played in his life, where he is the youngest of five children. “The examples I’ve had in my life have really helped me. I learned from my brothers and sisters how to handle situations and leadership responsibilities. They’ve given me a lot of guidance.”
Two of his siblings are currently serving missions. “My brothers and sisters are my heroes. I owe so much to my family.”
The Moores believe this award is more than just honoring Blake. “We really feel that the Lord had a hand in it,” Blake’s mom, Leslie, said. “We hope this will further His work as kids see a good, moral person being honored.”
“Many kids that get this much attention would be ruined by it,” said Blake’s dad, David. “But Blake is the same person in all aspects of his life, on and off the field, in and out of the spotlight.”
Blake sincerely loves others, especially children. “I think it’s because I never had little brothers or sisters,” he says. “I really like getting to know the neighbor kids. I can see that they really look up to me. Children look up to athletes for role models, whether the athletes deserve it or not.”
The two national winners of the High School Heisman, one young man and one young woman, were selected based on three areas: athletics, academics, and community service.
Blake plans to attend a university for one year before serving a mission. “When I get back from my mission, I’ll have to decide how far to go with sports. I’ll pray about that decision.” Blake plans to use his love for people and his academic talents to be a pediatrician.
But no matter what the future holds, Blake will always make time to help others. “Nothing feels better,” he says smiling, “not even playing sports.”

When I was a child, my mother introduced me to the nature of God with a story from her own childhood: “As a little girl, I walked home from school with my brother. We always took a shortcut past a large black dog that chased us as we ran by his house. If we ran at just the right time, we could make it to a fence and to safety. My brother would tell me when to run.

“One day I was alone and didn’t run at the right time. The dog threatened me, and I froze on the sidewalk in terror. As he lunged toward me, I cried out as loud as I could, ‘Heavenly Father, help me!’”

Suddenly, my mother recalled, the dog halted as if his way had been barred, and she crawled through the fence to safety. She knew her prayer had been answered.
That story told me much about the God my mother worshiped. It gave me a sense of security, a comfort I could not have put into words.

“I remember that story of Nephi,” Brother Grossenheider said in his raspy old voice. “I was a deacon once, you know. But I was 16 or 17 years old. I didn’t know they sent young bucks like yourselves to do this kind of work.” He squinted at the sky. “I haven’t been to church in 60 years. But I remember doing fast offerings a few times when I was a deacon.”
He paused. “I’d forgotten all about that.” He turned the envelope over and over in his hands and examined it. “That used to be an important job, fast offerings. The bishop took us around in a wagon, and we loaded that wagon with eggs and tomatoes and carrots and meat, sometimes a chicken or two. And we drove right over to the people who needed it and gave it to them. They surely were glad to get it. Nineteen thirty-six, it was. Lots of people out of work. The Depression, you know.”
He looked keenly at us over his glasses. “No, I guess you don’t. But it was an important job back then. I suspect there’s still people in need, eh.” He looked at us sharply. “You boys look mighty young to be doing important business like this.”
We didn’t answer.
He shook the envelope at us again. “Can’t fit a chicken in here. How does this work?”
Reggie and I exchanged glances. “You just put some money in it,” I said and shrugged again. “Whatever you can afford.”
“Yep,” Reggie said and put his hands in his pockets. “And then the bishop takes care of it from there.”
The old man nodded and thought for a moment. “So I’m Laban, eh?” he said and squinted his eyes at us.
We looked at the ground, embarrassed, and adjusted our feet.
He took a dollar bill from his pocket. “I don’t have much,” he said and slid the dollar into the envelope. Then he stood and slowly walked to us with the envelope, his cane supporting his left side.
“You’ll be back next month?” Brother Grossenheider asked, handing me the envelope.
“Yes, sir, we will,” I said.
He worked his way up the porch steps with his cane, groaning as his legs lifted his body to each level. At the top he turned around and paused as his hard breathing settled to a quieter mode. “You boys close that gate when you leave, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and we did.
When we got to the street, Reggie said, “You know, I was thinking how the quorum needs a service project. Maybe next month we could ask Brother Grossenheider about helping with his yard. What do you think?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go tell Brother Baron.” I turned and ran. “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

Many years ago, when our children were small, we attended a local fair as a family. We had great fun on the rides and enjoyed the food and music. When it was time to return home, I noticed that I had lost the car and house keys. The place was large and full of people. How were we going to find those keys? Our strategy was to go to a secluded spot in the fairgrounds and have a family prayer. Then we went out to search for the keys.

The first thing we saw was a policeman on duty. We approached him, told him of our predicament, and then asked if a bundle of keys had been handed to him. He immediately asked us one question: “Are you members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?” After the initial shock caused by his question, I answered “Yes.”

He then handed me the keys and explained to us how he knew that we indeed were members of His Church. He told us that his father had been a branch president who also carried among his keys a small vial of consecrated oil, like the one I had on my keyring.

A few weeks later, our two youngest children got lost in a large department store where we had gone to get new eyeglasses for the older children. After waiting a while, they got bored and decided to go off on their own, looking for the toy section. The consequence was that they got separated from us.

What did they do when they realized that they were lost? They went to a secluded spot in the store and offered a faithful prayer that they would be reunited with us. Then they stepped out of that spot, with great faith that they would be found. At that same time, their older brother saw them as he was looking for them in that area.

Consider all that is learned from these two interrelated stories of faith. It is in the daily practice of the gospel that we mostly teach, and that children learn the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. It happens as we seek to diligently keep His commandments and covenants.

Like many people my age, whenever the stake leaders come to our ward, I brace myself for an hour or two of lessons on morality and the danger of straying from the gospel path. I had never thought much about what they said or even really understood what it was like to get off the “strait and narrow path” until I had a rather painful experience.
My family lives out in what is affectionately referred to as “the sticks.” Next to our property are remnants of an abandoned plantation. The only secure building is a rickety old barn with a loft brimming with hay. Over the years this has become a favorite haunt of mine.
My lesson came when I was attempting to make my way towards the barn to mull over a problem a friend had asked advice on. In order to get there one must follow an almost hidden path along the stream to an old road. I had never experienced the obstacle of fallen leaves on the path before, so I was paying careful attention to the stream in order to stay at least close to the path.
After a while I felt this was unnecessarily laborious and time-consuming. I tried a shortcut, which I thought would not be a bad idea as long as I stayed within sight of the stream.
I was wrong. In the woods one cannot stray too far from the path or he will end up in an undesirable place. Well, I ended up making a wrong turn.
When I finally realized that I was going the wrong way and would not be meeting up with the stream, I did not immediately turn around and try to retrace my steps. Instead, I thought I knew what I was doing, so I fought on through the tangle of trees. Suddenly I realized I was surrounded by the largest bunch of wild rosebushes I had ever seen. Being dressed in a T-shirt, shorts, and an old pair of deck shoes, I was not overjoyed at the prospect of fighting my way out of this predicament.
My dog, Peppy, had followed and when we arrived in this area tried several times to divert my attention and show me an easy way out. But my ego would not let me follow a dog. How could he know where I wanted to go? Eventually I got to the field next to the barn and then reached my destination, but not without much struggle and pain.

Soon after I completed my schooling at Utah State, I was working as a Music Therapist in south Louisiana. I was fortunate, and blessed to become well acquainted with my landlords, MaryAnne and Lindy Hoffmann, in the town of Thibodaux, Louisiana. The Hoffmanns owned the music store in Thibodaux. They had no children of their own, and they treated me like a daughter from the very beginning. Lindy was a drummer, and MaryAnne played the piano and clarinet. They were "my people" immediately. We became fast friends, and my parents back in Utah were very grateful to know that their still quite shy daughter was being looked after. They invited me to join them playing in the community band, which I did, and loved. I taught oboe lessons in the back rooms of the music store, and was invited to an occasional dinner. We spent lovely Sunday afternoons in the upstairs great room. But the thing I enjoyed most were my chats with MaryAnne in the evenings after work on the swing in the back yard of their beautiful southern home. They could see in me the teacher and musician that I had always wanted to be. I was working as a music therapist, but they helped me achieve my true dream of being in front of a band! These wonderful people helped initiate a change in my life that eventually brought me here to BYU-Idaho. When the time was right, I moved back to Utah and began my career as a high school band director.

The Hoffmanns are much like my own parents. They are hard workers, they are committed to serving others, they love their family, they are good, and they are honest people. I love being in their company. I always want to be the best I can be when I am in their presence. Lindy and MaryAnne are not members of our church. They have always been supportive of my beliefs and way of life, and the way they live their lives they might as well be members. One of my greatest hopes is that I have been as positive of an influence in their lives as they have been in mine. I have visited my sweet friends several times over the years, but not enough. I spoke with them on Mother's Day just a few weeks ago. They are aging, and I think of them often. They are givers. Their influence on me was life changing. They have been, and are, a blessing beyond my description, and I love them so!