Gospel Story Finder

Moving pipe! The words filled me with dread. My thoughts turned to a few months earlier when mom had insisted that I get a summer job. In our small town, that meant pretty much one thing—moving pipe. So all summer, my cousin Scott and I were moving pipes.
On the first day of our summer job, we stood gazing across a vast landscape of green alfalfa. The 40-foot-long (12 m) pipes were linked together in a straight line that seemed to stretch out for miles. After a short training, Scott and I disconnected our first pipe. Scott lifted his end up, and cold water splashed all over my tennis shoes. We hefted the pipe through sticky mud and reconnected it at the next riser. As we walked back for the next pipe, my sloshing shoes became heavier as mud clung to them in ever-thickening layers. Eventually, the mud, water, and our own perspiration drenched our clothes and spirits.
My thoughts returned to volunteering at the Church farm. “Well, I—I don’t think I can come,” I stammered. “I have to go to my own job every morning.”
“That’s no problem,” assured Brother Hulet. “We always go to the Church farm in the afternoons.” Brother Hulet passed around the sign-up list. “When each one of you was ordained to the priesthood, you were given the power to act in the name of God. And when we serve Him by serving others, we are acting in His name. Besides, with all of us helping, the work won’t seem hard at all.”
The list was passed to me. I couldn’t believe that, so far, everyone had signed up to go every day this week. Didn’t they know how miserable this was going to be? I felt a great weight of righteous peer pressure exerted on me. Grudgingly, I signed up and passed it on.
Monday afternoon, I sat in my room recuperating from the morning’s work when I heard Brother Hulet honking his horn outside. I hesitated for a moment before changing back into my smelly, damp work clothes.
We soon pulled into the Church farm. Everyone but me raced toward the field. I lagged behind, head down, kicking rocks, when I was surprised by a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for coming with us,” Brother Hulet encouraged. “I know you worked hard this morning.” We walked together in silence for a few moments. Then he ran ahead to organize the group.
I watched him and thought about what he had said to me. I had worked hard that morning. I was tired and smelly, and I wanted to go home. But what about Brother Hulet? He had worked hard that morning too. So had all the guys, for that matter. So why did they seem happy to be here?
I caught up to the others, and we began our work. At first, I tried to cheer myself up by thinking of the noble sacrifice I was making. But soon my self-absorbed thoughts ended, and I noticed how quickly we were moving with everyone helping. We laughed and talked, and suddenly I realized I was actually having fun! In a few short hours we had completed our assignment.
As we rode home, I realized that what I thought was going to be an unbearable sacrifice seemed small. In fact, with everyone helping, it seemed like no sacrifice at all.
Brother Hulet stopped his station wagon in front of my house and looked back at me. “Thanks for your help today. Your hard work made it easy for the rest of us.” He smiled and winked.
I grinned back. “Thanks, but all of us helping together was what made it easy.” I climbed out of the car and closed the door.
Brother Hulet put the car in gear and began to pull away. “See you tomorrow, then?” he called through the open window.
“Sure. See you tomorrow,” I said.

Second, we can give more generously to the poor and needy. As I visit with Church members, I am overwhelmed with the goodness of faithful Latter-day Saints. A young man in Colombia, raised by his grandmother, owned several shoe repair shops and served as the custodian in his ward. When he was called on a mission, he had saved not only enough money to pay for his own mission but also contributed extra funds to support another missionary.

What about sharing our food, clothing, and furniture? The Lord commands that we not covet our own property (see D&C 19:26). In many places we are blessed to have Deseret Industries. We can teach our children to go through their closets regularly and share their clothing while it is still in style, allowing others to dress fashionably too.

Many rewards come from sharing our material possessions. King Benjamin reminds us of this when he says, “For the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God … impart of your substance to the poor, … such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief” (Mosiah 4:26). We can all be searching for the many opportunities in our lives to give—to share.

A few years ago I stood on the spot where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in 1431. Young Joan of Arc, one of the great heroines in history, became the unlikely standard-bearer for the French army in the Dark Ages, long before the gospel was restored. Joan had the Light of Christ and also the courage to follow its promptings and make a difference. Joan was a peasant girl who could neither read nor write, but she was bright. Long years of war with the English had impoverished and divided her country. At 17, sensing her life had a purpose, she left home, determined to help liberate her oppressed country. Naturally, people scoffed at her ideas and thought she was a little crazy, but in the end she persuaded them to let her have a horse and an escort to go and see the king.

Young King Charles VII of France had heard about Joan and decided to test her. He slipped into the ranks of the army and let one of his trusted associates occupy the throne. When Joan came into the room, she barely acknowledged the man on the throne, but promptly walked up to Charles and curtsied to him as her king. This so impressed the king that he gave her command over his 12,000 troops. At first the French soldiers did not want to obey her, but when they saw that all who followed her succeeded and all who disregarded her failed, they came to look upon her as their leader.

Clad in a suit of white armor and flying her own standard, Joan of Arc liberated the besieged city of Orleans in 1429 and defeated the English in four other battles. Twice she was wounded, but each time she recovered and went on fighting. Her orders seemed to be those of a military genius. She marched into the city of Reims and stood with sword and banner in hand while Charles was crowned king. She fought in the Battle of Paris until she was captured at Compiègne by English allies, who sold her to the English for 16,000 francs. She was imprisoned, tried as a heretic, and then burned at the stake in 1431.

Although this is a sad ending, it does not take away from Joan’s greatness. She was courageous enough to follow the personal inspiration to which all of us are entitled. As the Lord said to the Prophet Joseph Smith, “I am the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world.”

David also tells of inviting friends and family to meetings. “Last year when my family was getting baptized, my mother invited our granny and our aunts all to church, and they came along and said they quite enjoyed it. They thought it interesting that we didn’t have just clergy up there but had everyday people bearing their testimonies. And my friends enjoy our church. They say it isn’t so much like a dungeon sort of place they’re used to, and that it isn’t boring.”

A young couple I know bought 40 acres of raw land. They were going to raise peaches. They had leveled the land, planted the trees, and then weeded and irrigated and watched until the time had come when they’d have a harvest. This particular spring the orchard was a sea of blossoms, and it looked as though they were going to have a bounteous harvest. Then without warning a frost wiped out practically the entire crop overnight. Well, young John didn’t go to church the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday, nor the next. Finally his good bishop came out to see what was wrong.
He found John in the field and said, “John, we haven’t seen you in church for several weeks. Is anything wrong?” John said, “I’m not coming anymore. Do you think I can worship a God who would let this happen to me?”
Of course, the bishop felt sorrowful and he expressed his feelings to John. And as he looked down at the ground for a moment, he said, “John, I’m sure the Lord knows that you can’t produce the best peaches with frost. But I’m also sure He knows that He can’t produce the best people without frost, and the Lord is interested in producing people, not peaches.” Well, John went to church the next Sunday, and another year a harvest came. He learned a valuable lesson that helped keep him active in the Church all his life.

In Holland during World War II, the Casper ten Boom family used their home as a hiding place for those hunted by the Nazis. This was their way of living out their Christian faith. Four members of the family lost their lives for providing this refuge. Corrie ten Boom and her sister Betsie spent horrific months in the infamous Ravensbrück concentration camp. Betsie died there—Corrie survived.
In Ravensbrück, Corrie and Betsie learned that God helps us to forgive. Following the war, Corrie was determined to share this message. On one occasion, she had just spoken to a group of people in Germany suffering from the ravages of war. Her message was “God forgives.” It was then that Corrie ten Boom’s faithfulness brought forth its blessing.
A man approached her. She recognized him as one of the cruelest guards in the camp. “You mentioned Ravensbrück in your talk,” he said. “I was a guard there. … But since that time, … I have become a Christian.” He explained that he had sought God’s forgiveness for the cruel things he had done. He extended his hand and asked, “Will you forgive me?”
Corrie ten Boom then said:
“It could not have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
“… The message that God forgives has a … condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. …
“… ‘Help me!’ I prayed silently. ‘I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’
“… Woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. As I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
“‘I forgive you, brother!’ I cried. ‘With all my heart.’
“For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then.”6

A few years ago my family and I took a vacation from our home in Arizona to the Midwest. We drove through many states, including Kansas, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Illinois.
Our vacation was going very well, and we were learning to enjoy each other’s company during the long van rides from place to place.
One evening we pulled into a fast-food restaurant in Missouri, all anxious to grab a bite to eat. As we got out of our van, I suddenly had a silent but powerful impression that I should look at the back tire on our van. I started to walk toward the restaurant, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I looked back over my shoulder and then stopped. Again the impression came to my mind: “Check the back tire.” It was so forceful I couldn’t ignore it.
As I approached the rear of the van, I heard a hissing sound. Sure enough, our right rear tire had a leak and was quickly going flat. I ran to get my dad, who had already gone in with the rest of the family.
My father took the van to a gas station down the road before the tire went completely flat. Since the tire wasn’t damaged, the repair was inexpensive and quick. We were able to have the flat fixed just minutes before the service station closed for the night. I don’t know what would have happened if I had ignored the prompting. But I do know that because I responded, we were able to continue our trip safely and conveniently.
Ever since that incident, I’ve always felt reassured of the power of the Holy Ghost and how truly blessed we are as members of the Church to have that special line of communication. I am grateful for that experience, for it will stay with me, forever reminding me that our Father in Heaven loves, cares about, and watches out for all of His children.

It all started when my stake set up a project to help refugees. I really liked the project, so I asked my mom to tell my schoolteacher about it, and my teacher wanted to do something with the fourth grade. To set the example for the project, my sister, Maddie, and I went door to door asking for donations.
The day came to present the project to the rest of the fourth grade. I was a bit nervous. Actually, I was super freaked out, but I did my best. I told all the other fourth graders what we needed for school kits for the refugees. I told about how we went door to door, and I gave them a challenge to try to do better than me in raising money. Together we made over 100 kits! We put in notebooks, pencils, and other school supplies. We also added a note to say, “Welcome to Germany!”
My mom and I took the kits to the refugee camp. I wouldn’t say the camp was nice, but there was a playground and an area for learning academics. There was a train next to the camp that was really loud, and the kids told me it sounded like jets flying by in Syria and other places like that. Maybe it sounded like bombs to the kids who had heard them in their home countries.
I met a few kids at the camp my age, including Daniel, an awesome chess player. I didn’t get to play chess against him, which was too bad because I love chess, but they invited me to play foosball and ping-pong. The boys told me that they missed their homes and really wanted to leave the camp and go to school again.
After we played foosball and ping-pong, we handed out the kits. I feel good that I could do something kind for the kids who lived at the camps.

Let me tell you a story of something that happened in my life in the last few months which illustrates, to a degree, the difficulty men sometimes have in looking for short-run pleasures versus long-run joys. (Sometimes long-run means only a few hours in contrast to the moment.)

This last Thanksgiving there was quite a snowstorm here in Utah. I don’t know how much snow fell in Provo, but there was a lot where I live in Bountiful. I as an individual don’t especially enjoy the snow—particularly when it’s in my driveway. That doesn’t impress me at all. That morning I looked out the window and saw about a foot of snow in our driveway. I gathered up two of my boys, Troy and Travis, who were seven and five, and convinced these boys how happy they were going to be to help their dad shovel all that snow. As you know, that takes some doing, but you can make work fun because that does happen to be one of the real sources of joy: employment, a good job, doing something of worth. I took them outside with me and we shoveled the entire walk.

After we finished we were cold, and I was ready to go in. But I saw a teaching moment, and so I said to these two boys, “I wonder if we shouldn’t go shovel Phil’s walk.” (Phil is our neighbor next door.)

I was pleased as one boy said, “That sounds good, Dad.” The other boy said, “I’m cold.”

I looked again for that moment to teach and said, “I wonder how Phil would feel as he awakened this morning if he opened his door and saw his entire walk all finished.” Then the other boy caught the spirit of it and said, “Well, I think, Dad, that he would really be happy, wouldn’t he?”

I took that as the moment to say, “Well, what do you think, Troy, that Heavenly Father would have us do?”

He said, “Well, I think we had better shovel the walk.” We went over and we shoveled the entire walk. By that time we were tired, and the youngest boy said, “Let’s ring the doorbell now and tell Phil what we’ve done.” He was going for some short-run pleasure, wasn’t he? Again there was a great teaching moment as I was able to say, “No, Travis, I think it would be best if we didn’t tell him and left it a surprise. Heavenly Father likes us to do things anonymously.” I had to tell him what that meant—that we do things without anyone’s knowing that we’re doing them. The next thing I knew my other boy had caught the spirit of it and said, “Well, what about the Jackmans’ walk?” Before we finished that morning we had done three other walks. There was great joy later in the day as we had some phone calls come to the house. These boys saw the joy that comes to the heart of one who was attempting to do good anonymously and thereafter was found out.

We grew so close together over the years as friends that even after I was married she continued to teach me great lessons. We lived next door to each other. When I would return home from work, I had to pass her home before going into my home. During her later years she had arthritis, and I always worried about her health. One of the first days after my wife and I were married and I arrived home from work, I stopped in at my mother’s house before going to my own. I will never forget the experience of having her take me by the arm and escort me right back out of her house with this counsel, “You go see your wife first and tell her you love her. Then you can come and see me.”

In February 2002 I was sitting across the desk from President Gordon B. Hinckley. He asked, “Bonnie, how is your health?” I answered that my health was fine, although I could not hear in my right ear because I had lost that hearing in the mission field. He then asked, “How is the hearing in your other ear?” “Fine,” I said. “Well, then,” he replied, “just turn your head.” He then proceeded to issue my current call. President Hinckley understands the principle of doing the best with what we have and making adjustments when we need to compensate.

As a teenage boy, I struggled a lot with my identity. I wondered why I was on this earth and who I was supposed to become. When I was about 13, the principal of my school gave every student a copy of the New Testament with English and Japanese side-by-side. “It isn’t for religious purposes,” he said. “It is a very good translation, so use it to study English.” When I opened it up though, it gave scripture references for when you feel lonely, need answers to your questions, or are struggling. I could relate to all of those situations!
I read about Jesus Christ. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). “Take up [your] cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). The words resonated with me even though I didn’t fully understand them. I wondered who Jesus Christ is and what it means to have Him as a Savior. I wondered if I was the only one feeling such a connection to what was supposed to be a textbook.
A few years later I met some missionaries for the first time. My parents had warned me about the young Christians who were going around preaching. As I was walking home, a tall American missionary with a kind smile stopped me. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid he would talk about his church. If he had, I might have run the other way! All he asked was how to find the post office. I told him and then walked home.
As I walked away, I felt something. If I see the missionaries again, I thought, I will talk to them.
Not long after that, I ran into a different set of missionaries. I was shocked that God would hear and answer the prayers of a boy like me, until I read about Joseph Smith. I had read in the New Testament to pray always, but God appearing to a man? It felt both radical and right. Rather than run away, I set up an appointment to have them teach me.
A month into meeting with the missionaries, they invited me to be baptized. I didn’t want to turn them down, but I was hesitant to leave the tradition of my parents and everyone around me. There were two paths before me, and I knew there was only one way to know which one to take—I had to pray like Joseph Smith. I asked Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, if the things the missionaries had been teaching me were true.
That was my turning point. From then on, I knew for myself that the restored gospel is true. No one could take that knowledge away from me. I knew which path to follow, and nothing could change that.
I had many questions when I was younger. I learned that I am a child of God, He loves me, He has a plan for me, and He wants to answer my prayers. This knowledge changed my entire perspective on life. I learned that who I am and what I do is significant.
Before I learned that I was a child of God, I wanted to blend in with everyone. I was afraid of standing out. But after I learned that I am a child of God, I realized I can stand out; I can be different.
Praying and realizing that I am a son of God gave me the courage to explain my feelings to my parents, but they didn’t quite understand. They thought I was rebellious and too immature to make the decision to be baptized. They were embarrassed that their son was following this strange religion rather than their traditions. I knew who I was and what I wanted, but I also wanted to honor my parents and hoped they would honor my religion.
I explained my situation to the sister missionaries. They had an idea—they could come talk to my parents so that they would feel better about this religion. I told them I was afraid my parents wouldn’t want to talk to them. Then one of the sisters suggested that we fast together.
When I didn’t eat breakfast, my mom was worried. “Why didn’t you eat?” she asked. I explained that I was fasting, and that made her even more concerned.
“First you are going to this no-man’s land of religion, and now you are not eating. I’m worried. I’m shocked! I’m going to call those missionaries.”
She did call the sisters, and somehow they got themselves invited to our house for dinner!
We had a great time. The missionaries taught my parents the hymn “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301), and we sang it together. My father loved that. After dinner with the sisters, neither of my parents was worried about me going to church. And I felt I was able to honor them by living the gospel because it really encompassed everything they had taught me. I thought if I loved them long enough and treated them kind enough, eventually they would understand. It took 35 years after my baptism, but my mother was baptized and went through the temple just a few years ago!
Knowing that I’m a child of God has impacted many of my life decisions. I also know that as we follow the Spirit and do what Heavenly Father asks of us, even when it seems hard, He will bless us. That is always the best choice.

In 1849, President Brigham Young called a small number of men to travel to various parts of the world to preach the gospel. A former Swedish sailor, John Forsgren, who had joined the Church in Massachusetts, USA, and traveled to the Salt Lake Valley, asked President Young to be sent to Sweden as a missionary. He was called to serve and arrived in Sweden in June 1850.
Elder Forsgren first visited his younger siblings in Gävle. His brother Peter was ill, and doctors said he was beyond help. Elder Forsgren explained the purpose of his mission to his siblings, then anointed and blessed Peter, who was restored to full health. On July 19, 1850, Elder Forsgren baptized his brother, who became the first convert in Sweden.
In 1850 Peter Forsgren, above, was baptized by his brother John.
Photograph courtesy of Susan Easton Black

What is more amazing than seeing a child smile for the first time?
Nothing, as Devan Griner found out personally when he served as a youth volunteer on a two-week mission with Operation Smile to Vietnam. There he helped very young patients overcome their fears about doctors as they waited for their turns to have cleft palates or other facial deformities repaired. Devan also started a Smile Club in Skyline High School in his hometown of Salt Lake City, Utah.
Devan is the first to tell that he is not the only LDS teen working long and hard for Operation Smile. When he was elected to serve on the national youth council, he met Amanda Fairbourne, also on the national council, who is a member of the Church from Plymouth, Minnesota.
The chapter Devan helped organize at his high school is also not the first in Utah. The Bountiful High School chapter was organized first, but the members unselfishly helped him get a chapter going at his high school.
But sometimes that’s what it takes to be an everyday hero, not the person who is doing the most, or even the one who is doing it first, just the one who is doing all he can to serve in a good cause. And Devan is doing just that. He persuaded his school to donate the proceeds from their annual Millions of Pennies charity drive to Operation Smile. Because Operation Smile was such a good cause, the school responded with unprecedented enthusiasm. The thought of putting a smile on a child’s face was enough to melt the toughest hearts. Their donation became the biggest youth chapter donation ever received at the national headquarters.
Operation Smile started 15 years ago when a plastic surgeon and his wife, who also served as his nurse, went to the Philippines and donated their time to repairing cleft palates for several weeks. So many children were turned away that they were determined to come again. And they did, this time bringing other volunteer doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists.
The good work spread. Soon doctors from all over the United States were donating their time on surgical teams visiting countries where cosmetic surgery to repair deformities was too expensive or nonexistent.
Teenagers wanted to get involved. They started forming clubs to raise money for the supplies the doctors and nurses needed to take with them. The surgeons and medical personnel donated their time, airlines often donated the flight tickets, but money was still needed to fly all the equipment needed to set up operating rooms in countries around the world. The surgical teams would sometimes operate 16 hours a day, each doctor handling as many as 30 little patients. “That’s the cool thing,” says Devan. “In a matter of 30 minutes in cleft palate surgery, a child’s life is changed forever. Before, the kids have big huge holes. Sometimes they wear bandannas because they feel disgraced. They often aren’t allowed to attend school, and some are even abandoned by their parents. A 30-minute operation changes that.”
Devan got his club involved in fund-raising. His friends and fellow club officers Travis Nilsson, Jared Ellsworth, and Ruth Ann Romney were soon as enthusiastic as Devan about seeing healthy smiles on the faces of children. The Skyline Club used video presentations and plenty of talk to spread the word. Also, Devan was trained to be one of two youth volunteers to go on a mission with one of the surgical teams. Sent to Vietnam, Devan was not entirely prepared for what he would see.
“I met a kid about 14 who had a bad burn contracture. A contracture is when the scar pulls as it heals. He fell on a lamp when he was six months old. His burn was on his face and neck, and it pulled his head to the side and pulled his eye down. It kind of surprised me. I didn’t know how to react.
“I was juggling for the kids and blowing bubbles to entertain them as they waited for their turn in surgery. Every time I looked at him, he was watching me. He liked the bubbles. His chin was pulled down so far by the scar that he couldn’t bring his lips together enough to blow bubbles. I gave him the bubble wand, and he started making huge bubbles, putting on a show for everyone. It kind of hit me. He looks horrible, but inside he was great. I could tell he was trying to smile because he was having fun.
“I saw him after his operation. The surgeons released the burn scar and removed a lot of scar tissue. His eye went back to normal. His mouth came back up. He had some skin grafts. After the operation, I went over and shook his hand. He could actually smile. It was cool.”
Devan, Travis, Jared, Ruth and the rest of the club members have learned what it means to lose a little bit of themselves in the service of others. They have come to appreciate the blessings of their own lives and the good things that they sometimes take for granted.
It’s enough to make you smile.
After each child goes through surgery, he or she is given a Smile bag or Smile doll that has been made and donated by various organizations to help in the efforts to brighten the lives of children.
The Young Women of Logan First Ward, Logan Utah Stake (below), made 139 hand puppets which they donated to Operation Smile. The puppets were sent with a surgical team to the Philippines, where they were used to entertain the children and help them feel at ease prior to surgery. Dayna Conger, a Laurel whose brother is serving a mission in the Philippines, said, “This project was a lot of fun. It made me feel more connected to my brother and the people he is serving.”

I think of a little story President Benson told us a short time ago when he told about being at a banquet back in the East. He sat next to a minister, and the minister said: “Mr. Benson, I’d like to visit with you after the banquet.” So they got in another part of the building, and he said: “Now there are two things in your church we would like to copy.”

Brother Benson said: “And what are they?”

“Well, first, it’s your missionary system,” he said. “You send your missionaries all over the world. You don’t pay them; you make them pay their way to their field of labor, maintain themselves while they are there, and all the Church does for them is to pay their return fare when they come back.” He said: “Now in our church, we have a missionary fund. But,” he said, “we offer to pay our men to the field of labor, to maintain them while they are there, and then to return them after they are released—and we can’t get anybody to go!”

While attending a conference in the East the other day, I listened to the experience of an engineer who joined the Church some months ago. The missionaries had called at his home, and his wife had invited them in. She had eagerly responded to their message, while he felt himself being pulled in against his will. One evening she indicated that she wished to be baptized. He flew into a fit of anger. Didn’t she know what this meant? This would mean time. This would mean the payment of tithing. This would mean giving up their friends. This would mean no more smoking. He threw on his coat, walked out into the night, slamming the door behind him. He walked the streets, swearing at his wife, swearing at the missionaries, swearing at himself for ever permitting them to teach them. As he grew tired, his anger cooled, and a spirit of prayer somehow came into his heart. He prayed as he walked. He pleaded with God for an answer to his questions. And then an impression, clear and unequivocal, came almost as if a voice had spoken with words that said, “It’s true.”
“It’s true,” he said to himself again and again. “It’s true.” A peace came into his heart. As he walked toward home, the restrictions, the demands, the requirements over which he had been so incensed began to appear as opportunities. When he opened the door, he found his wife had been on her knees.
Then, before the congregation to whom he told this, he spoke of the gladness that had come into their lives. Tithing was not a problem. The sharing of their substance with God who had given them everything seemed little enough. Time for service was not a problem. This required only a little careful budgeting of the hours of the week. Responsibility was not a problem. Out of it came growth and a new outlook on life. And then this man of intellect and training, this engineer accustomed to dealing with the facts of the physical world in which we live, bore solemn testimony with moistened eyes of the miracle that had come into his life.

The newspaper review read: “The audience was knocked out. The Herreys, with their pocket-size show, including both love ballads and rock music, received a long and well-earned ovation from the audience. Not to forget the two youngest Herreys who performed a number that made you think of some good American groups.”
That was printed in the Göteborg sposten, the newspaper of Sweden’s second largest city, Göteborg (population 50,000). Every year the Göteborg sposten sponsors a talent contest called “Unknown Talents.” In the 1976 contest there were 150 entries who competed for 13 places in the show. The Herreys won one of those places.
And who are the Herreys? A Latter-day Saint family who began their singing career during family home evening and at family outings.
Willy and Gerd Herrey have seven children all together, but it is the four youngest who make up the singing, dancing, and instrumental combo. Per, who plays the guitar, is 17. Marie is 15 and plays the piano. The drummer is 11-year-old Richard. The youngest is 9-year-old Louis.
They also have two sidemen who are both active members of the Church: Peter Edvinson and Rolf Hagglund.
The group plays all kinds of music from slow ballads and folk songs to current rock. Most songs are arranged by Per, who puts them into four-part harmony. Brother and Sister Herrey are always nearby to help with arranging for equipment and giving encouragement whenever the young people need it.
By winning one of the 13 spots on the “Unknown Talent” show, the Herrey family gained national attention and the opportunity to do four performances at Liseberg, Göteborg’s large amusement center.

Now another covenant story.
While in school at BYU I always had the calling of Priests' Quorum Advisor. I tried to prepare a good lesson for Sunday morning, but I did not have the time to really magnify my calling. I was taking a full load in school, working twenty hours a week, serving in the Utah National Guard and striving to get good grades so that I could get into graduate school.
Many times I felt a guilt complex for not giving more time to spiritual things, like service projects, going the second mile in Home Teaching, spending more personal time with those young Priests, or other acts of charity.
Eventually, this feeling drove me to my knees and I poured out my heart to Heavenly Father. I counseled with Him. I tried to explain my circumstances, my burdens, my sorrow for not being more giving of my time. I made a covenant with Heavenly Father: if He would be patient and forgiving and would help me get through BYU and graduate school, as soon as I was out of school, I promised that I would make "serving the Lord" my highest priority in life. That I would accept every calling that came from His servants, and that I would be faithful and valiant in everything He would ask of me or my family. I really meant it.
The Lord heard my prayers. He quickened my mind in my studies. He provided jobs and income to get through school. He helped me finish at BYU and graduate from Arizona State in 1966. I am so grateful. I cannot thank Him enough. I was so ready to keep that covenant.
We graduated from school and accepted a job in Portland, Oregon. We moved into an inner-city ward that really needed help.
Myreel became a Primary President at 22 years old. I became an early morning seminary teacher, young men's president, Sunday school teacher, and helped with Elder's Quorum projects. A year later, I was called to be the Bishop of our ward. Since then the Lord has blessed us with countless opportunities to serve for which we are most grateful. And I think it goes back to that covenant in 1965.

“Oh, Sarah, that’s a beautiful sweater!”
As usual there was a crowd of girls clustered around Sarah Dunlap. This time they were admiring a pink sweater, soft and luxurious.
“It’s such a beautiful color!” one girl exclaimed.
“Where did you get it?” another asked.
“At the Mainline—yesterday.” Sarah smiled smugly. “Dad gave me the money and told me to get whatever I wanted.”
Janie Meyers stood on the fringe of the group. How she would love to have the girls crowd around her like that! If I could buy beautiful clothes like Sarah does, I’d be popular, too, Janie thought. She wished for the hundredth time that they had never moved here to Yarborough. Why did her Dad have to lose his job in Macetown? His job in Yarborough didn’t pay nearly the money that his old job did, and everything here was much more expensive. Having things seemed important to these girls at Janie’s new school. She longed for her old, comfortable, Macetown friends as she turned and started down the street by herself.
Janie heard the group giggling and talking as they left the school. She walked as slowly as she could, hoping that they would catch up with her and include her in their group.
But the girls passed her without a word. Janie blinked quickly to keep from crying. She stared down at her blue cotton dress. No wonder none of the girls will talk to me or make friends with me. My dress is two years old and looks a little worn. If we could afford to have nice things, I’d make a lot of friends, she told herself resentfully.
Janie felt guilty about her thoughts. She knew that her parents were trying as hard as they could to make things comfortable for her and her sister, Susie. Living here wasn’t easy on them either.
“Hey, Janie, wait up!” Monica Lewis ran up and swung her arm through Janie’s. “I was wondering if you could come over to my place this afternoon, Janie.”
Janie couldn’t believe it! Monica dressed even better than Sarah, and Janie knew that she lived in one of the nicest houses in town. Janie stammered in her eagerness to accept. “S-sure.” Then she remembered and added, “I’ll have to call my mom and let her know.”
Although Janie had never seen anything as large and grand as Monica’s house, she was surprised that Monica’s mother wasn’t there.
Monica shrugged it off. “Mother’s probably at some committee meeting or something. She’s never here when I get home.”
Janie couldn’t remember a time that her mom hadn’t been home when she got there after school, but she didn’t say anything.
Monica’s room almost made Janie gasp. Monica had her own record player, her own phone, even her own TV! Janie thought ruefully of the small room she shared with her sister.
About a half hour later Mrs. Lewis came home. The girls were playing records and dancing when the door burst open. …
“Monica, turn that thing off!” Monica’s mother was a small woman, but her voice was loud and harsh. “I have a splitting headache, and I certainly don’t need to hear that noise.”
“You always have a headache,” Monica muttered.
“It’s no wonder, listening to your racket. And keep a civil tongue, miss. Who’s this?”
Monica mumbled the introductions.
Mrs. Lewis acted as if she didn’t even hear. “Your friend can’t stay long. I have to leave again in a half hour, and you’ll have to fix supper for your father and brother. There’re some TV dinners in the freezer. All you have to do is heat them up and make a salad. Hurry up now, Monica.” Rubbing her head, Monica’s mother left the room.
There was dead silence. Monica looked as if she were going to cry. After a moment Janie suggested, “I guess I’d better be going.”
Monica clutched her arm. “Wait a sec, Janie. I was wondering … You’re doing pretty well in geography, aren’t you?”
Janie nodded.
“Do you think we could study together sometime? I don’t understand what we’re doing.”
Was that why Monica invited me over? Janie wondered. Just so I could help her with her studies? It was all Janie could do to agree to get together for a study session sometime soon. She left Monica’s house as quickly as she could and started for home.
The minute that Janie opened the door to her own house, she heard Mrs. Saunder’s voice in the living room. Mrs. Saunders had come over as part of the welcoming committee soon after Janie and her family had moved to Yarborough. She had a booming voice and expensive tastes. It seemed to Janie that Mrs. Saunders looked down on her mother because she didn’t live in a big house or wear expensive clothes.
“Then we can expect you to help with the charity rummage sale, dear?” Mrs. Saunder’s voice came out to the hall where Janie stood. Janie closed the door quietly and tiptoed up the stairs.
“Yes, I’d love to help.” Her mother’s quiet voice floated up to Janie. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
How can Mother be so nice to that woman? Janie wondered. She heard the rustle of movement as Mrs. Saunders rose to leave.
“Perhaps you could pick up a few things for yourself while you’re tending the booth.”
Janie stopped abruptly as Mrs. Saunders’ comments rose up to her. How dare Mrs. Saunders say such a thing!
Then she heard her mother’s voice: “Oh, I don’t think that we’ll be buying anything right now. There really isn’t that much that we need.”
“But, my dear”—Mrs. Saunders wouldn’t leave the subject alone—“it must be so hard for you. I think that you are just marvelous. You’re coping so well.”
“Hard for me?”
“Why, yes. To have to do without so much!”
“But I have the best things of all, the greatest things that anyone could have: I have my health, my family’s health, the love and companionship of a good and gentle man, and two good, happy, kind, loving daughters. What could possibly be more valuable than that?”
“Oh, well, of course,” Mrs. Saunders murmured. Janie could tell that Mrs. Saunders hadn’t understood a word that Mother had said.
Mrs. Saunders didn’t see Janie on the stairs as she said good-bye and left. In a rush Janie was down the stairs and in her mom’s arms. “Did you really mean it, Mom?” Janie whispered. “Are Daddy and Susie and I really that important to you?”
Mom gently stroked Janie’s hair. “Of course, dear. Oh, I get tired of scrimping, of not being able to get you and Susie pretty things, of worrying about paying the bills, and of all the rest of it. But, darling, when I get very discouraged, I just remember the three of you and how much I love you. You are everything that is really important to me. So whenever I get blue, I remember how blessed I am, and I try even harder.”
Janie thought about the girls at school. She remembered how hurt she’d been that none of the other girls had paid attention to her. But I didn’t really try to make friends. I was so worried that I didn’t have everything that they all had that I didn’t give them a chance, she decided. Maybe all Monica wanted right now was a tutor for geography, but it looked like she needed a friend as much as Janie did. She moved toward the phone.
“Where are you going?” Mother asked.
“To see if Monica wants to come over and study after dinner,” Janie replied. “I think she’s going to like it here almost as much as I do!”

Just about three months ago, one little girl resolved within herself to establish a special place where only goodness and kindness were permitted--her own little Zion. While visiting our children's grandparents' home, I observed our youngest daughter, Sophia, spend most of the morning in a small playhouse situated under the stairs. When she finally finished arranging everything just the way she wanted it, she came upstairs and began writing something on bright orange paper. After inquiring, I learned that this paper and, more importantly, its message, represented the finishing touch to the playhouse. Before entering the small opening under the stairs and posting the orange paper, little Sophie posed for a picture. When I finally examined the paper, I was amazed at what I saw. Would you like to know what it said?
Rules:
In the simplest, yet most profound way, a six-year old girl established behavioral guidelines that would lead to peaceful and profitable interaction--her own little Zion.