Gospel Story Finder

When I was a teenager, I was rummaging in the attic one day and came across a pile of dusty boxes. I discovered a clarinet, a saxophone, a violin, and a trumpet. After asking my dad about them, I learned that these were some of the instruments he played. He had a band when he was in high school in Boise, Idaho, USA. He was a talented musician who deeply loved music and making music. His band played at major social events in Boise and even on a cruise ship that sailed to Asia. After he moved to Southern California, USA, in 1928, the band reorganized and became very popular.
In 1931 he married my mother, Clara Jeffs. They wanted to have children. He felt that for him the demands of the entertainment world were inconsistent with the meaningful family he wanted. So one day he put all the instruments in their cases and carried them to the attic. Save for rare family events, he never played them again.
I never realized what a sacrifice he had made until later. In 1993 he moved from his Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, home to an apartment in downtown Salt Lake City, near his office. During the move we came across the instruments again. I asked him if he would like to give them to the Church because of the important part they played in his young life. His answer took me by surprise: “Not yet. I can’t part with them now.” Although Dad knew he would never play them again, he could not bear the thought of giving them up. It was only then that I realized what a great sacrifice he had made.

I had been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints just a few days when a casual conversation among a group of friends turned to my recent conversion.
Some were intrigued, even fascinated. A few were indifferent. One young woman my age simply and uncompromisingly refused to believe I was Christian.
It was my first taste of trying to explain my beliefs to those who did not share them. I remember feeling utterly frustrated as I tried to penetrate a mind so tightly shuttered that no amount of reasoning could pry it open.
As the Church grows it will face increasing scrutiny, like any major faith, and that will lead to many more face-to-face or online conversations between our members and their families, friends, and associates who don’t share our faith.
Paying attention to some basic principles can help members respond to questions or comments with more confidence.
One of the great advantages that faithful Church members have is that our faith encourages us to “live our religion.” There is a sense of authenticity that comes as friends and associates see the connection between what one says and what one does.
If a Latter-day Saint’s life is his or her best sermon, then our conversations ought also to be open, genuine, and engaged in with a spirit of kindness, even if people ask inappropriate questions or adopt a cynical tone. Our claims to be followers of Jesus Christ are most convincing when our actions are in harmony with our beliefs. When we are answering questions or even criticisms, there will be times when we need a thick skin. We may also need a sense of humor.
In 2007 at a commencement ceremony for BYU–Hawaii graduates, Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “If you live the principles of the gospel [rather than] just study them, that special combination of knowledge will allow you to feel comfortable and prepared to teach what you know to be true—in any setting.”
When we are addressing questions or comments about our faith, it is important to establish some context from the outset.
Rather than simply responding to a series of random questions, it might be helpful to first take 30 seconds to establish a foundation. That can be as simple as explaining that we embrace Jesus Christ as our Savior and accept the Bible’s teachings about His birth, life, ministry, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. We also believe that the Christian world departed from the truths Jesus taught in the Bible and that the Church He established needed to be restored.
Laying out the foundational beliefs of the Church in this way supplies a reference point as the discussion turns to other tenets of the gospel.
As members listen to questions, they can discern the gospel principle at the heart of the question and connect the answer back to the Savior.
For example, why do we send missionaries to Christian countries? Because in His day Jesus sent His messengers two by two “into all the world.” And we do the same today. Why do we frown on cohabitation before marriage? Because Jesus and His Apostles taught the sanctity of marriage and all that goes with it.
We do not need complicated, sophisticated secular arguments when the principles we try to live by come from the Son of God.
Answering our friends’ questions is not about reciting memorized answers. Sharing genuine, personal experiences can invite the Spirit to bear witness and carry the message into the listener’s heart.
One of the greatest hindrances to sharing our faith is being afraid we don’t have the answers. Few people in other churches are experts in their own history or doctrine, and studies show that Latter-day Saints are incredibly well educated in their own faith by comparison.
When someone asks a question about the Church’s doctrine or history that we don’t know, it’s okay to say, “I don’t know.” But we can all share personal experiences to explain how we feel about our faith.
If we relate our own experiences about prayer or fasting or communicating effectively with our families, those experiences can’t be challenged. They are ours, and no one understands them better than we do.
Some people won’t approach a member with questions because they fear being roped into a half-hour lecture. If they ask a casual question, be sensitive to their interest, comfort, and level of understanding. Signaling our sensitivity at the outset can put those who are curious at ease.
Understand that the same conversation isn’t going to work for everyone due to differing backgrounds—religious, secular, and otherwise.
Members of the Church have an unprecedented opportunity to be a force for good in helping clear up misconceptions about what we are not and to increase others’ understanding of who we are and what we believe.
As people learn more about Latter-day Saint beliefs, they may see some distinct differences and yet find some unexpected common ground on which to build better relationships.

Several months ago, I reconnected with a classmate from business school. It had been nearly forty years since we had spoken. My friend had gone on to extraordinary success in the world of finance. After we had briefly caught up on our personal lives, he then stunned me with this comment:

Kevin, I am envious of your life. I have never really understood the whole religion thing that drives you and why you left your career to serve in the Mormon Church. But I wish I had what you have. I managed to marry the only Jewish woman in the world who did not want children. Our marriage eventually ended. I remarried and have two lovely daughters, but I am not sure whether I will ever have grandchildren. I am envious of the family you have.

My friend had clearly “crushed it” when it comes to affluence and influence, but he lacked what he now desired most. You and I have been taught principles of an abundant life; my friend had not. “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

I grew up in Monterrey, Mexico, in the state of Nuevo León. My parents were faithful Latter-day Saints, and I can’t remember a single time when we failed to attend church. When I was five or six years old, my father owned an old dump truck that he used to haul construction materials and garden soil. Each Sunday my sisters and I climbed up into the bed of that truck while my father and mother climbed into the cab. Then we drove to the home of my cousins, where their family climbed up to join us. Next we picked up the Gonzales family, then the Solanos family, and so on. By the time we arrived at the chapel, the dump truck was filled not with soil but with Saints.
Some people who lived nearby thought it was most entertaining to watch more than 20 men, women, and children in white shirts and ties or Sunday dresses come pouring out of a dusty dump truck. Neighbors came outside each Sunday just to enjoy the spectacle. They laughed at us, but we weren’t a bit embarrassed. We were happy to be going to church. We repeated that performance twice each Sunday all through the 1960s.
When the truck wasn’t available, my family walked. Even if it was raining or cold or sizzling hot, we walked just the same, though it took at least an hour going and an hour coming back. And in those days there were Church services in the morning and the afternoon. We always attended both.
When I returned to Monterrey after many years, every one of my fellow dump truck passengers was still active in the Church. That experience united us and made us strong. I still attend all my meetings. How can I do less now than I did then?
Children, go to your meetings. Go on foot. Go by car. Go in a dump truck. But go.

I chose a place in the hills on the moors called Saddleworth Dovestones, where I would not be disturbed. I took my lunch, scriptures, and my journal and headed out, climbing to the top to offer the desires of my heart to my Father in Heaven. As I prayed, I listened very carefully for an answer, maybe a peaceful feeling or a burning in my bosom, but I felt nothing.
As I walked back, I noticed a series of rocks on the ground carefully placed to spell out the words “Truth Will Prevail.” “Curious,” I thought, but nothing more. However, when I told my mother, she said simply, “That’s your answer.”

But I felt so alone! I was in Zion, the place of peace and rest for the Saints. I was supposed to be happy. But I missed my family.
The blind lady allowed me to stay with her and keep house, and I tried my hardest to keep everything neat and clean for her. But she wasn’t my family. Mama was always in my thoughts. I knew that she would come. Somehow, some way, Mama would make it to Zion.
Whenever I heard of a wagon train coming into the Salt Lake Valley, I watched for the dusty sky—a sure sign that the wagons would arrive soon. Then I’d run to the fence and climb as high as I could to see the immigrants. At first they would be just a dust cloud on the horizon. But slowly, oh so slowly, I could make out the wagons and the animals and the people.
I studied the women passing by. Mama’s hair is that color—but no, it isn’t her. Over there is a woman with Mama’s posture—but no, it isn’t her, either. Could that one driving the team be her? No, no, no. With every incoming group, I thought, Surely Mama will be in this company with my younger brothers and sisters.
I searched and searched, and doubts would come. No one smiled at me. No one ran and wrapped me in her arms. As the wagons rolled past, another heartache began. With each disappointment, the tears coursed down my cheeks and I cried until there were no more tears left.
Two long, hard years passed before Mama finally came. When she did, I could hardly believe my eyes. She was worn and tired and covered with dust. I almost didn’t recognize her. But she knew me, even though I had grown quite a bit taller.
I ran to her as fast as I could. I wrapped my arms around her and wept—this time tears of happiness. She had made it to Zion. I wasn’t alone anymore. Together we were home. At last I felt Zion in my heart.

This is the testimony of two wonderful young people I met recently in Mexico, Brother and Sister Alvarez. They told me that since they were baptized eight months ago, rather than the estrangement from family and friends they had feared, they were finding a new love and respect being given to them, besides all the wonderful new friends that they had found among their brothers and sisters in the Church. They had prospered materially, and above all they had found a peace and nearness to their Heavenly Father that they had never known before.

I have permission to tell you the story of a young man who grew up in our community. He was not a member of the Church. He and his parents were active in another faith.

He recalls that when he was growing up, some of his LDS associates belittled him, made him feel out of place, and poked fun at him.

He came to literally hate this Church and its people. He saw no good in any of them.

Then his father lost his employment and had to move. In the new location, at the age of 17, he was able to enroll in college. There, for the first time in his life, he felt the warmth of friends, one of whom, named Richard, asked him to join a club of which he was president. He writes: “For the first time in my life someone wanted me around. I didn’t know how to react, but thankfully I joined. … It was a feeling that I loved, the feeling of having a friend. I had prayed for one my whole life. And now after 17 years of waiting, God answered that prayer.”

At the age of 19 he found himself as a tent partner with Richard during their summer employment. He noticed Richard reading a book every night. He asked what he was reading. He was told that he was reading the Book of Mormon. He adds: “I quickly changed the subject and went to bed. After all, that is the book that ruined my childhood. I tried forgetting about it, but a week went by and I couldn’t sleep. Why was he reading it every night? I soon couldn’t stand the unanswered questions in my head. So one night I asked him what was so important in that book. What was in it? He handed me the book. I quickly stated that I never wanted to touch the book. I just wanted to know what was in there. He started to read where he had stopped. He read about Jesus and about an appearance in the Americas. I was shocked. I didn’t think that the Mormons believed in Jesus.”

Richard asked him to sing in a stake conference choir with him. The day came and the conference started. “Elder Gary J. Coleman from the First Quorum of the Seventy was the guest speaker. I found out during the conference that he also [was a convert]. At the end Richard proceeded to pull me by the arm up to talk to him. I finally agreed, and as I was approaching him he turned and smiled at me. I introduced myself and said that I wasn’t a member and that I had just come to sing in the choir. He smiled and said he was happy that I was there and stated that the music was great. I asked him how he knew the Church was true. He told me a short version of his testimony and asked if I had read the Book of Mormon. I said no. He promised me that the first time I read it, I would feel the Spirit.”

On a subsequent occasion this young man and his friend were traveling. Richard handed him a Book of Mormon and asked that he read it aloud. He did so, and suddenly the inspiration of the Holy Spirit touched him.

Time passed and his faith increased. He agreed to be baptized. His parents opposed him, but he went forward and was baptized a member of this Church.

His testimony continues to strengthen. Only a few weeks ago he was married to a beautiful Latter-day Saint girl for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple. Elder Gary J. Coleman performed his sealing.

I held a secret desire through my growing-up years of being a professional baseball player. I practiced thousands of hours and paid the price to become good enough to earn a tryout with the Cincinnati Reds in Pocatello, Idaho. However, it was not until I tried out for the BYU baseball team following four years of military service during the Vietnam War that I was taught baseball in a truly Christlike manner.

One day in pitcher’s fielding practice I scooped up one of the grounders that coaches Glen Tuckett and Vernon Law were rolling out in front of home plate. The drill was one where they would call out, about the time that I fielded the ball, where they wanted the throw made. On this particular occasion, Coach Tuckett hollered, “Third!” I whirled quickly and threw the ball about ten feet over the head of the man covering third base.

Instead of screaming at me or reacting angrily like other coaches had done, Coach Tuckett walked out to me and quietly said, “Throw it to third the same way that you would want him to throw it to you.” I could not believe my ears! Here was a kindly baseball coach teaching me the Golden Rule. I soon discovered that I did not need to be a professional baseball player. My long childhood, adolescent, and young adult ball-playing career came to an abrupt end. But I am still learning to become more like the Savior.

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Youth Dance
Come have some fun at the dance this Saturday! Remember, no saying no—always say yes when someone asks you to dance!
I’m excited for the dance, but For the Strength of Youth says that agency is the ability to choose and act for yourself. What if I just don’t feel like dancing with someone? Don’t I get to choose whether to say yes or no?
You should always be kind, but I think it’s your right to choose. Let’s talk to the leaders about this rule.
Thanks for letting us know how you feel. You’re right. It’s your choice. We understand not everyone will always feel comfortable dancing, but they still want to come.
Hey, will you dance with me?
Thanks, but I just don’t feel like dancing right now.
Oh, OK.
I’m not trying that again!
What about her?
Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask!
“Heavenly Father has given you agency, the ability to … act for yourself.”
For the Strength of Youth (2011), 2.

One of the pioneers of Bible translation was William Cameron Townsend. In 1917, Townsend, then twenty-one years old, was hired by contract to sell copies of the Bible in Central America. In the Guatemalan jungle, he came face to face with reality and the Cakchiquel Indians. He could sell them Spanish Bibles, but few could read them. And even though Spanish was the official language in all the schools, few Cakchiquel could express themselves freely in Spanish. Their own language had never been written.

One native asked Townsend, “Why doesn’t your God speak my language?” The missionary could not give him a good answer. Townsend stayed past his contract time, learned to speak Cakchiquel, and invented a way to write it. Then he translated the New Testament. It took him twelve years, but that translation gave those people dignity, hope, and love for the scriptures. It also gave Cameron Townsend his life’s mission.

In 1934, in an abandoned farmhouse in Arkansas, Townsend started what would become the Summer Institute of Linguistics. From two students that first year, the Institute has grown to more than three thousand linguists and trained technical people such as pilots, radio operators, nurses, and teachers. In teams of two, translators go to the forgotten peoples of the world. They learn the language, teach the people to read and write, and then with a team of native speakers, they translate the New Testament. It still takes twelve to fourteen years. Some Institute teams stay twenty years to do the Old Testament as well. A linguist can use up a lifetime translating the Bible into two languages.

Institute workers have been decimated by exotic diseases and other dangers. In 1982, one was shot by guerrillas. Many live primitively, often in isolation. Still they go.

Sandra
Photograph by Cindy Smith
Like many young women in Uganda, Sandra walks more than a mile to church, helps clean the meetinghouse on Fridays, and attends seminary on Saturdays. During the week, she rises before 5:00 a.m. to read schoolbooks, and then she walks to school, returning home after 6:00 p.m. She missed a year of school because of financial difficulties but faces her challenges with a positive attitude: “The gospel has really helped me to stay steadfast and immovable.”
Sandra is the only Church member in her home, but her parents support her Church service, such as helping when the ward cleaned the grounds of a local orphanage. Her family sees how the gospel has helped her be strong, even when facing unresolved problems. Reflecting on the source of that strength, Sandra says, “When I go to church, I feel like I am putting on the armor of God” (see Ephesians 6:11–17).
A more recent convert, Susan, loves the Church. Originally from South Sudan, her family fled hardships and was blessed to receive the missionaries in Uganda. As a refugee, she found peace and protection in the gospel. On Sundays she would bring her younger siblings to church, as well as up to 10 other children who are not Church members. After the unexpected death of a family member, she returned to South Sudan, where she waits for the Church to be established in her area. Both Susan and Sandra face challenges, but they rely on God and enjoy the fruits of living the gospel of Jesus Christ (see Alma 32:6–8, 43).

While at Eastmont Junior High, Dene was approached by Coach Massey. He knew Dene played soccer and asked him to try kicking a football. Coach Massey was impressed with what he saw. When he moved up to be freshman coach at Alta High School, he asked Dene, who was to be a freshman at Alta in the fall, to come and try out for the freshman team. Dene was kicking so well that Coach Massey sent him to see Coach Berry, who needed a place kicker for the varsity team. And so the 105-pound freshman soccer star found himself competing with two big, strong seniors for the varsity job. When Dene stepped up and booted a 45-yarder, the seniors both started making other plans for the football season.

Later in her life when I lived next to her, she suffered from a blood disease that I never knew anything about. To me, she was simply my loving grandma who read to me, invited me to tea parties, brought homemade soup to me when I was sick, taught me how to laugh at myself, and always had hot homemade brown bread coming from her oven. She never mentioned the disease, but since then I have read occasional journal entries where she mentions what a sore trial this was. Here is part of her journal:

“I am 61 and my skin has been broken out about 7 years. It came on all of a sudden. They don’t seem to know just what it is. The eruption leaves in the summer. I am writing this so if any of you children ever have the same thing, develop the philosophy I have tried to develop. ‘Things that can’t be cured must be endured.’ It has been a great trial to me, but I am sure I have been more tolerant of people and tried to be sweeter and kinder because of it.”

A year later she wrote, “I still have my skin disease after about 8 years. . . . I used to feel so peppy and now I have felt kind of sick most of the time. . . . Even so, it could be worse and I am thankful I am alive. Dad (my grandpa) has been such a darling, understanding fellow in spite of my blemishes – Bless him– I will always be grateful to him.”

Her last entry came a month before she died about 8 years later. She said, “My skin trouble has taken a turn for the worse. . . lumps have developed on my side and back. They are bad sores . . . but I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for letting me live this long. Dad has been so good, kind and sweet to me.”

When I read her journal now, knowing what I now know about her 17-year long illness, I am astonished at how few times she mentions her debilitating disease in her journals -- and never to us. Instead, she focuses on the welfare of her family and friends, and expresses joy in life. Only after her death did we learn that Grandma died from what was then a rare blood cancer manifesting itself in skin flare-ups. Only then did we glimpse what the Grandma who loved to laugh with us, to invite us for hot homemade bread, and to ask us about our “beaux,” had so graciously endured. “What cannot be cured, must be endured.” And she endured it so well!

Although my husband and I came from families with religious and moral principles, we were not satisfied with the way our own family of five was progressing spiritually. I attended the same church we had been reared in, accompanied by our three children—Beverly, Janice, and Ralph. My husband, Raúl, didn’t go to church because he thought that all churches were businesses. He thought they were highly commercialized and that many of the leaders profited from the members’ donations. He also believed religious literature should not be purchased but should be given to people who are interested in it.
In February 1986 my husband chanced to see two Latter-day Saint missionaries walk by our house, and he called them over. His intent was to ask them if the church they represented was interested in buying a lot to build a meetinghouse on. My husband is in the real estate business, so he saw this meeting as a sales opportunity.
The missionaries were not able to give him any information on that matter, but they didn’t miss this chance to ask him if they could set up an appointment for a discussion about the restored gospel. My husband was certain this was just another church like all the others he had come in contact with before, so he asked them to come back the next day. He intended to show them that their church just used God to do business.
We received the missionaries the next day with a bit of suspicion. But as they proceeded to talk to us about the Church and its history, we began to feel something very special in our hearts. When they left they gave us copies of the Book of Mormon, and my husband asked how much he owed for them. To his surprise, the books were free. His surprise was even greater when he realized that this Church was not a business. He became interested and started asking the missionaries all kind of questions.
We went to church every Sunday after that, and by 15 July 1987 our whole family had become converted. We were baptized and later were sealed for eternity as a family in the temple. Our son, Ralph, served as a full-time missionary and later married in the temple. Our two daughters have married returned missionaries in the temple, and we now have nine beautiful and healthy grandchildren.
My husband and I have served in many callings in the Church and have continued to grow spiritually and to help the gospel grow in our branch, located in the southern part of our beautiful isle of enchantment, Puerto Rico. My husband has presided over the Salinas Branch twice. The work has been hard, but we know that our example as a branch has left many seeds scattered over our little town.
What more could we ask of our Heavenly Father? Our gratitude is eternal. What started as a simple sales conversation and an effort to prove the Church was a business came to be the greatest possible celestial transaction for our family—the opportunity to be united with each other, with our Savior Jesus Christ, and with our Heavenly Father.

Kendra:
I was so mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. I actually moved to Florida for a few months. One day I just cried out to God, “I’m tired of the arguing. Please help me figure out if this Church is right.”
As I prayed, peace came to me. Once I came back to North Carolina, I didn’t have all the negative energy I had before. I used to leave the room when the missionaries came, but after this experience, I started interacting with them and cooking dinner for them. But I still wasn’t ready to go to church with Kevin.
I started searching for another church that my children would be interested in, but no matter how good a church was, my daughter, Aryanna, would say, “I want to go to church with Daddy!” We eventually agreed to go one Sunday to Kevin’s church, and the next Sunday we’d find another church.
Later on, a friend I made in the ward texted me and asked if I wanted to sing in the choir for a stake conference. Why does she want me to sing? I thought. I’m not a member. I kept battling it, but finally I said, “Sure, I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t like singing in other churches where there’s a band, it’s loud, and it feels like you’re at a concert. We sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The words of the hymn and the sweet sound of the music really touched me.
Kevin:
A few months later, we were sitting in fast and testimony meeting, and Kendra said to me, “I think you should go up and share your testimony about prayer because of what it did for Dad.”
Kendra’s stepdad had just had a massive heart attack. We called on the ward to pray for him and our family during that time. Thankfully, he pulled through.
“I think you should do it,” I said. She got up and bore her testimony. It was so amazing. After this, things just started to unfold for her.
Kendra:
At the beginning of 2018, I kept hearing the name “President Monson.” At this time, I didn’t know this was the prophet. One night the missionaries came over and asked how I was doing.
“I’m doing fine,” I said, “but a person’s name keeps coming to my head, and I don’t know who it is.”
“What’s the name?” They asked.
“President Monson.”
“Kendra, that’s not just any name,” they said. “That’s the name of the prophet who just passed away. You should look at some talks he gave and see what the Lord wants you to learn from him.” I looked at some of his messages, and they were really touching and helped me. From there, it just seemed that the gospel kept coming back to me.
When we would go out to eat before, I would usually order a sweet tea, but Kevin would say, “You don’t need a sweet tea; get something else.”
One day I went to a fast food restaurant for my lunch break and ordered a sweet tea. A few minutes later, an employee said, “At the very moment you ordered a sweet tea, the machine broke.”
She said it would take about an hour to fix the machine. I only had 30 minutes for lunch. I just ordered a soda instead. At that point I laughed and said, “All right, I get it now!”
I wanted to join the Church, but I also didn’t want to make my mom mad. My mom played a big role in my decisions while I was growing up. She was a minister, so I constantly listened to her instead of going to church and learning for myself.
I was a little hesitant when we set a date for my baptism. The missionaries came over, and we talked about it.
Finally, I asked my daughter, Aryanna, “Do you want to be baptized?”
She said, “Mom, I’m ready whenever you are.”
She told me that when she went to church, all the girls ran and greeted her. They took her to Primary classes and were always friendly. They wanted her to be part of things. She became really good friends with one of the girls. That’s what she enjoyed about it.
At Aryanna’s baptism, she cried tears of joy. When I saw her, I thought, I’m where I need to be.
Kevin:
I know Heavenly Father brought the gospel to our family because He loves and cares about us so much.

Two years ago my wife and I visited some of these sites. Two experiences come to mind that have relevance to this search for balance. In Jackson County we sat on the lawn within the boundaries of the future Jackson County temple. It was sunset. We were alone. We talked of history. We talked of prophecies of the future. But we remember most the sweet, peaceful, spiritual witness that Jesus Christ stands at the head of this Church and that Joseph Smith is what he claimed to be, a prophet of God. No amount of historical research alone can bring to pass that spiritual witness. It comes only when we become attuned and learn to recognize spiritual things. However, the spiritual witness was intensified by our knowledge of what has happened and what will happen there. That evening we found the elusive balance.

Upon graduation from high school and before I left on my mission, I obtained a summer job as a lifeguard at a swimming pool. As I arrived for my first day, I learned that because I was the newest employee I had been scheduled to work every Sunday the entire summer. I tried to work out a different arrangement with my employers, but they wouldn’t change my schedule.
I had committed to keep the Sabbath day holy as an Aaronic Priesthood holder. And as I prepared to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, I knew I needed to keep that commitment. Because of the nature of my job, my options were to quit or make other arrangements with my schedule so that I could keep the Sabbath day holy. As I prayed, I felt impressed to stay at the job and that the Lord would help me accomplish the thing He had commanded.
As the summer progressed, I met individually each week with other lifeguards who did not share my standards and offered to work for them on Friday nights or Saturdays if they would switch with me so I could have Sundays off. I was able to find a different person who would switch with me for all 12 weeks of the summer. The Lord prepared the way, and I was able to attend Church and keep the Sabbath day holy all summer.
Not only did this experience strengthen my understanding that the Lord would prepare a way for me to keep His commandments, but soon my co-workers noticed I was always searching for someone to work for me on Sunday. They learned that keeping the Sabbath day holy was a commandment and that I was determined to keep the commandment. At the end of the summer when the pool closed, there was a party with all of the lifeguards. At the party I received a parting gift from the other lifeguards. It was a work calendar they had made for me without any Sundays. They acknowledged that I had been scheduled to work every Sunday but had not worked one. They expressed respect for my commitment to keep the Sabbath day holy.
My commitment to keep the Sabbath day holy as a young man and through my life as an adult has brought me the blessings the Lord has promised. This lesson was learned many years ago when I received a calendar with no Sundays.

Last year one of my grandsons took his wife to New York City with their parents to attend the beautiful new Manhattan temple. The hustle and bustle and noise of the thousands of people outside was deafening. As the taxi pulled up in front of the temple, Katherine, my grandson’s wife, began to cry. Even on the outside of the temple she felt its sacredness. They entered, left the noisome world, and worshiped in the house of the Lord. It was a sacred and unforgettable experience for them.

Sam’s dad, Chris, has some precious possessions—six ordinary grey pebbles given to him by his daughter when she was little. Sam tells the story:
“I was about seven when my dad was going on a business trip for three days. He didn’t travel often, and I was nervous that while he was gone he would forget us. I wanted to give him something to remind him of his wife, my two older brothers, me, and even our dog. I don’t know what made me get the pebbles. I guess since I was in Primary, they taught me about the brother of Jared and his stones.
“I went outside and picked up six pebbles. I cleaned them off and put them in a paper towel. I took them upstairs and told him not to forget us while he was gone. I told him that each one was for a family member. It’s a good thing I gave him six, because my youngest sister was born after that, and she took over the dog’s pebble. I didn’t think he would keep them forever. Now he talks about them all the time. He was excited that his little daughter understood the importance of families and how the Church is based on family. He still keeps them in his trinket box and takes them with him whenever he has to travel. I didn’t know that as a seven-year-old I would have such an impact. It makes me feel kind of special as well.”