Gospel Story Finder

I recall a memorable lesson I learned from Chicago Daily News columnist Sydney J. Harris. He wrote:
I walked with my friend, a Quaker, to the newsstand the other night, and he bought a paper, thanking the newsie politely. The newsie didn’t even acknowledge it.
“A sullen fellow, isn’t he?” I commented.
“Oh, he’s that way every night,” shrugged my friend.
“Then why do you continue to be so polite to him?” I asked.
“Why not?” inquired my friend. “Why should I let him decide how I’m going to act?”
As I thought about this incident later, it occurred to me that the important word was act. My friend acts toward people; most of us react toward them. He has a sense of inner balance that is lacking in most of us; he knows who he is, what he stands for, how he should behave. He refuses to return incivility for incivility, because then he would no longer be in command of his conduct. [“Do You Act—Or React?” condensed from the Chicago Daily News]
I like that example because it challenges each of us to focus our attention on the individual responses each of us must make to the individual personal adversities that are sure to hound us throughout our lives.

With no family or friends, Todd, 23, is one of the loneliest people at the Desert Development Center for mentally and physically handicapped people. A product of drug-using parents, he has never had a single friend, a single visitor. On this day Sean White, a teenager in the Las Vegas Stake, took his hand and did not let go of it all day. He was patient and kind to Todd, and stayed by his side, talking to him and offering his friendship. A simple thing. But after Sean left, Todd quietly told a staff member, “This is the best day I have ever had.”
Sean was one of 300 teenagers from the Las Vegas Stake who participated in a service-oriented youth conference. They conducted a field day patterned after the Special Olympics for some 80 handicapped people at the center where Todd lives. And because they did, at least one young man had the best day of his life.

There is a famous story in my wife’s family about her late father, Chuck, and his first post-college experience. After graduating, my father-in-law went searching for a job and got an interview with an established oil company in the Houston, Texas, area. As he did his due diligence and research, he learned that he would be interviewed by the company’s executive committee. He was afraid that his youth would be seen as a negative and that other more-experienced candidates would have an advantage over him. So, he did the only thing he could think of to even the playing field. He walked into the local pharmacy and bought himself some grey hairspray. He applied it just to his temples to make himself look more mature and experienced for his interview.

Pleased with his cosmetology skills, Chuck now had the confidence he needed for this perfect job opportunity. He arrived early for the interview and was escorted into the conference room. With stress hormones firing on all cylinders, he felt a drop of sweat on his temples. Then the Texas heat, combined with the heat in the room, caused the sweat to flow like a waterfall. Chuck answered each question with clarity and confidence, though he got some interesting looks from his interviewers. At the end of the interview, the interviewers seemed jovial, shook his hand, and said goodbye. My father-in-law then went to use the restroom. He looked in the mirror and noticed that the silver hair dye had melted all down the sides of his temples, over his cheeks and neck, and into his shirt collar.

He did not get that job. It was a fumble, and there would be more fumbles in his life. However, this experience did not keep him from interviewing with other firms. He did not quit, and he eventually landed a career that would bless his eternal family.

Dear Topher,
Thank you for the get-well card and the snapshot of you and that kangaroo on the playground. It sounds like school in Blackwater isn’t much different from here in Michigan, except I have never seen anyone bring a wallaby to class!
Yesterday was my twelfth birthday. My little sister, Kimmy, drew me a picture of an elephant on stilts. It was pretty funny. The nurse hung it on the wall by the side of my bed. Oh, and Mom and Dad bought me a puzzle—one of those hard ones with zillions of tiny pieces. I guess they think I’m going to be here for a while! Dr. Gunnerson tries to find a piece every time he comes in my room, but he says it’s harder to put together than some of his patients.
I feel about the same, I guess. Some days are better than others. It’s hard to know about cancer.
Well, I’d better go now, Topher. I’m real tired, and Dad is making funny faces and it makes it hard to write.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
It was fun reading your letter. Good luck with your part in that ward musical. Are you serious about your bishop playing Bigfoot? Maybe they grow bishops bigger in Australia—ha, ha!
Speaking of bishops, Topher, mine has been coming to see me a lot lately. In fact, he helped me finish that puzzle. It’s a picture of a raccoon and a turtle. I told him that I wish more people would show reverence for Heavenly Father’s creatures by being kind to them. He said that life is precious—all of it. I asked him if animals go to heaven when they die. He said that it says in the Pearl of Great Price that all things were created spiritually before they were placed temporally upon the Earth.* He said that spirits are eternal, so that certainly ups their odds!
Then we talked about dying, how it is a part of living, that it is like a door we all pass through in order to keep on living forever. He said that it isn’t so important how much time we have on earth but what we do with the time we have. Then he held me a long time and didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t talk. I think he was crying. Then he whispered in my ear and said that Heavenly Father was very proud of me and had a special place prepared for me in Heaven.
Later that day Dad and our home teachers—Brother Sullivan and his son Larry—gave me another blessing. Dad asked Heavenly Father that if it was His will that I should be called home early, that my pain might stop so I could better enjoy whatever time I have left. Well, Topher, guess what? The pain went away. It is easier for me to write now too.
Linda, one of the nurses, is bringing my supper in, and it smells good, so I guess I’ll say good-bye for now.
Your pen pal,
Cindy

One mother reinforced these points in a family home evening lesson. She began by showing a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and one of a gambling casino. The family discussed how architects strive to harmonize form and function as they design buildings. They noticed how the towering spires of the Salt Lake Temple lead the eye upward toward the heavens, inviting reverence and awe. “I explained that the temple’s outer dignity and grandeur accurately reflect the sacred purpose of the building—to lead us toward God,” the mother says.

Then the family discussed how the casino’s exterior reflects the purpose of that building. “We could see how the gaudiness of that building indicates excess. It beckons people to seek worldly pleasures,” this mother continues. The family talked about how building materials, colors, and design all contribute to the overall purpose of a building.

“When I held up pictures of a person in modest clothing and one in immodest clothing, our children immediately made the connection that clothing can reflect the purpose of a person,” she explains. The family could see that immodest clothing draws attention to the body of the person wearing it. They could also see that modest clothing allows the spirit of the person wearing it to radiate. “We ended by discussing how the way we dress can either contribute to or detract from our divine purpose as children of God,” she concludes. “I challenged our family to make sure that the way we dress accurately reflects who we really are and what we are about.”

Let me tell you a story about a young man who faced just this question. Mark is not a real person, but his story is based on real experiences.

After his first year at BYU-Idaho, Mark served a mission in Brazil. When he returned, his high school sweetheart Carol convinced him to move to Cedar City, Utah, where she was attending SUU on an athletic scholarship. Mark transferred to SUU, but things did not work out like he had hoped. After dating for three months, Carol told Mark she was not happy with their relationship and thought they ought to date other people.

Mark was hurt and confused, but he did not give up. Since he really loved Carol, he continued to talk with her and finally convinced her to see him again. Their relationship picked up and over the next few months went really well. At least that is what Mark believed. In fact, Mark thought things were going so well he bought a ring and proposed to Carol.

On the night Mark proposed, Carol was surprised and upset. She turned Mark down and said things that really hurt Mark. Carol told him that she could see she would not be happy with him, that there were other guys she had met she wanted to date, and that it was time to move on. Mark was humiliated, frustrated, and angry; and he said some things in anger to Carol he should not have said.

Mark finished out the year at SUU, but he was unhappy and uncomfortable. It seemed to him that everything about SUU reminded him that Carol was the only reason he moved to Cedar City. He decided to return to BYU-Idaho.

In the first year Mark returned to BYU-Idaho, he moved in with some old friends from his old ward; but he did not date anyone. He was still angry and hurt. He doubted himself and was deeply afraid of rejection. Instead of fading with time, the anger he felt toward Carol festered. The pain and self-doubt and fear were like a dull ache in his heart. He was moody and cynical (especially about girls). He let his calling in the ward and his home teaching slide, and his roommates grew worried about him.

His roommates finally convinced Mark to go see the bishop. As he sat in the bishop's office that day, he knew that he should forgive Carol for the pain she had caused him, put his life in order, and get on with finding an eternal companion. But all of that seemed way too hard. It was as if he stood on one side of a great canyon needing to get to the other side, with no way across.

This was precisely what Mark needed. He had already planted the seed. He had served a mission and felt his testimony of the Savior grow. In his service to the Lord, the seed had sprouted and begun to grow; but it was not yet the magnificent tree of which Alma speaks. In fact, since the problems with Carol had festered, the young tree in Mark had stopped growing. Mark needed the tree to grow again and bear fruit. He needed to partake of the divine nature. He needed the gift of a merciful and forgiving heart, which he did not have.

In the Lord's framework, the first step in the growth of the tree is desire. Please turn with me to Alma, chapter 32, verse 27:

Whether you are planting the seed for the first time or trying to rekindle growth in the tree, desire is the beginning. For Mark the critical question was: Do you want to forgive Carol? Do you want to be rid of the anger and the pain and everything that you are feeling?

As Mark focused his mind and heart on what he really wanted, he realized he was sitting in the bishop's office because he wanted the anger and the pain to go away. It was the beginning of a desire to forgive.

With that beginning, Mark needed to take the second step and "give place" in his heart to the word of the Lord about forgiveness and the Atonement. The Lord said, "Of you it is required to forgive all men."[17] He also said, "I am Jesus Christ the Son of God. . . for behold, by me redemption cometh."[18]

To "give place" in his heart for these words, Mark needed to see himself with the eye of faith as a new person-forgiving Carol-rid of the anger and the pain through the power and mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ. For Mark to see himself with the eye of faith, he not only needed to imagine the tree growing and bearing fruit, but he needed to acknowledge in his mind and feel in his heart that it could happen. This is the beginning of hope.

This process did not happen all at once for Mark. There were more visits with the bishop, much prayer, and much searching of the scriptures. But there came a point where he really did see himself with the eye of faith. He began to see that the gift of forgiveness was possible. At that point, Mark took the third step: he kept his heart open to the Spirit. Alma's powerful promise in verse 28 became a reality. If you, too, will keep your heart open to the possibility of new growth, the Holy Ghost will cause the word of God to "enlarge [your] soul; . . . enlighten [your] understanding, . . . [and it will begin] to be delicious to [you]."[19]

Just as life-giving moisture in soil makes the young tree put out new roots and branches, the Holy Ghost makes the word of God come alive in the prepared heart. Let me give you an example of the word of God about the power of the Atonement and forgiveness.

Jesus suffered for our sins. But He also suffered our infirmities, our weaknesses, our pain, our humiliation, our self-doubt, our fear, and the effects of our anger. And He overcame them all. Everything we have suffered and are suffering, He suffered and overcame. This means that Mark did not need to carry the burden of fear, pain, and anger anymore. Jesus Christ, who has all power in heaven and in earth, who heals all wounds, would take the burden. Mark could give it to Lord; in fact, the Lord already had it.

When this thought took hold in Mark's heart, it was truly delicious to him. His understanding increased, and he began to see and feel light coming into his life. There was greater hope than before, because the Word is true.

Mark had come a long way; but there was much, much more to do. The young tree had begun to grow, but it needed much more care. This was the fourth step: nourishing the tree with great care. Here is Alma again (verse 37):

Since we are growing a tree, it means there must be a sustained period of nourishing and cultivating before there will be fruit. And it means also that the nourishing must be done with "great care." It is not easy to grow a fruit tree. But if it gets root and grows strong, the tree will bear fruit for a long, long time.

"Nourishing with great care" involved three things Mark's young tree needed to continue to grow and bear fruit.

First: A Fertile Heart

A fertile heart is a heart that is open to the Savior, ready to make new commitments of faith and righteousness. It is a heart where deep desires to be good and to do good combine with an attitude of willing obedience. It is a heart prepared to change.

A barren heart is full of the rocks and dense clay of pride, selfishness, lust, and greed. It is a heart committed to anger and sin and disobedience.

Mark's heart was open to the word of the Lord, but there were pockets of rocks and clay beneath the surface of his heart. His pride and the anger he had harbored toward Carol had hardened his heart. He had stopped being of service to others, and he had stopped feeling close to the Lord. The only way for the young tree to grow was for Mark to break up the rocks and the clay. Mark needed a broken heart. He had to change. Mark had to exercise his faith in Christ and repent of his lack of service and the pride, anger, and cynicism in his heart.

Mark learned something we all must learn: repentance is essential to the growth of the tree and its gifts of Christlike virtue. We all have in our hearts rocks and clay we need to break up. As we seek to become more like Christ, we all need to change. We all need hearts that are broken and spirits that are contrite. We all need to repent.

Second: Nourishment of the Spirit

The young tree began to grow in Mark's heart because the Holy Ghost made the word of God come alive in him. Growth will continue only with the continued nourishment of the Spirit. The Holy Ghost knows exactly what Mark needs to receive the gift of forgiveness and mercy. Through the "unspeakable gift of the Holy Ghost,"[22] Mark can receive increased faith and trust in God; deeper knowledge and understanding of the Atonement; feelings of love, peace, comfort and reassurance; increased empathy for others; and an increased testimony of the Savior. These are the nutrients Mark's young tree needs to grow and bear its precious fruit.

Mark knew from his mission and other experiences that to have the Spirit with him he needed to pray always with real intent, to feast on the words of Christ, to keep the commandments, and to do nothing that would drive the Spirit away. Mark's bishop reminded him of these things and also taught him that service to others would bring the Spirit into his life. The bishop promised that the Lord would bless Mark with a forgiving heart if Mark would act on the promptings of the Spirit to serve others.

Third: Deep and Extensive Roots

Mark's young tree needed to sink many roots down deep in his heart. Deep and extensive roots anchor the tree, protecting it against the winds and storms of life. Deep roots secure the nourishment an abundance of fruit will require. But deep and extensive roots also protect the soil of the heart, keeping us safe from floods of anger or despair or temptation and binding our commitments and desires to the Lord.

With a fertile heart and nourishment of the Spirit, the young tree can begin to take root. But Mark can act in faith to strengthen and deepen those roots. He can begin with his roommates, making sure the old cynical, angry, moody Mark does not reappear, watching carefully to be kind to them, to serve them, and to forgive them. He can love and serve others he knows. Here is an example:

Acting on a prompting, Mark decided to go see Bill, one of the students Mark home taught. Bill had never gotten along very well with Mark, but Mark made the visit. Mark arrived just in time to help Bill clean up a big mess caused by a flooding dishwasher. (Bill had put liquid dish soap in the machine.) That experience was an important lesson in forgiveness and the beginning of a great friendship.

It took time and "all diligence"[23]; but with much prayer, repentance, and service, Mark's heart began to change. The old cynicism and anger began to disappear. In its place came light and joy and confidence in the Lord. It was not easy. It did not happen quickly, but the "great and precious promises"[24] came true. Through the ministry of the Holy Ghost, the power of the Atonement worked in Mark according to his faithfulness. He received the gift of a merciful and forgiving heart. Mark nourished the tree, and he tasted its fruit.

The day came when Mark called Carol and apologized to her for his angry words those many months ago and sought her forgiveness. Carol told Mark she was sorry for the pain she had caused him, and Mark was so happy that he could say to her in all sincerity of heart that he had forgiven her and wished for her nothing but the best.

Several years ago I heard about a good brother who described his attitude as President David O. McKay gave the concluding talk of general conference. It was a sultry afternoon, and this was the fifth session he had attended. He was sitting in the balcony, and his mind had a serious wandering problem. He noticed a man sitting in the middle section who had fallen asleep with his head tilted back and his mouth open. It occurred to him that if he were in the roof of the Tabernacle, he could drop a spit wad through one of the vent holes right into the mouth of that sleeping man. What a glorious thought!

Following the meeting, he overheard two men talking about their feelings during President McKay’s talk. They were visibly moved by what they had heard. He thought to himself, These two brethren were having a marvelous spiritual experience, and what was I doing? Thinking about dropping spit wads from the ceiling!

Although born and raised in the Church, I went to a Catholic university at the age of seventeen—straight from BYU to Gonzaga University at Spokane, Washington. Every professor of mine was a Jesuit priest, wearing the long black, full-length cassock—every one a Ph.D., and every one a great Christian gentleman. I want it understood, I went there scared to death, the only Latter-day Saint boy on the entire campus. They knew that I was a Latter-day Saint. But they didn’t ridicule my church, or me, and they gave me great strength and support. I came to see them as great spiritual leaders—making tremendous sacrifices in their own lives.

Disagreeing with my older sister was not unusual for my nine-year-old self. As with most brothers and sisters, our disagreements were more for the challenge of being the winner than for the subject of the argument.
This time, however, it seemed vital to my intellectual esteem that I be right. We were arguing about the clouds in the sky and the earth’s rotation. I had learned in my science class that the earth revolves in constant motion so I just knew that it wasn’t the clouds we saw moving across the sky, it was the earth rotating beneath them.
Since my sister and I couldn’t come to an agreement, we took the problem to our fact source: Mother. “Mom, do the clouds move or do they stay in one position and the earth moves beneath them,” we asked in unison, each anxious for her theory to be the correct one.
To my sister’s delight and my disappointment, mother explained that although the earth is constantly revolving, the clouds moved as the wind blew them across the sky. My understanding of earthly laws was incomplete and I had to alter my thinking process. There was more I needed to learn.
Fifteen years later I see how silly my idea was. I thought I could base all my observations of the physical world on the partial knowledge I had of it and be accurate in those observations. That is, until they were corrected by a more knowledgeable source.

Many years ago, as I began serving as head coach of the Ricks College men's and women's cross country teams, I reflected on my experience as a distance runner and assistant coach. I had observed runners--inferior in talent to their peers--often out-perform these peers in key races. I had also observed talented runners who ran well, race after race. What was it about these runners that enabled them to experience consistent success? In what ways did they focus internally to get the most from what they did physically? As a young coach I concluded if I could figure out what consistently successful runners focused their thoughts on as they prepared for and ran races and teach this in a way those I coached could learn and passionately apply, then as individuals, as teams, and as a program we would realize greater success and be happier with the results.

One of the most foundational of these success principles is to have a clear understanding of your purpose. Understanding a strong, well-defined purpose empowers you to succeed. It strengthens your resolve and commitment, energizes you to get through obstacles, and focuses your efforts as you proceed along your chosen path. The first step to understanding your purpose is to discover what it is.

At one of our team meetings at the first of each cross country season, I would invite then college president, Elder David Bednar, to speak to our athletes. One of the first questions he would ask them was, "What do you think is the purpose of our cross country program at Ricks College?" After listening to their responses, he would clarify, "There is really only one reason why we have athletics at Ricks College and that is so others may see Christ's image engraven in your countenances."[2] He would then invite each of our team members to embrace the Honor Code, to live by both the letter and spirit for which it was given. He would also promise our athletes that as they diligently strove to realize that purpose, the Lord would strengthen them to perform beyond their natural abilities.[3] Understanding that purpose, buying into it as if it was their own, and exercising faith to receive the promised blessings, our athletes and teams radiated the light of Christ and were empowered to experience great success.

I was thrilled when we lived in Hawaii—our son brought home an associate of his, one that he had met at work, and invited him to share a family home evening with us. I have to admit that he did not look all that clean, and I wondered why our son was associating with him; but it was no long at all, after some friendshipping and fellowshipping activities, that this young man cleaned himself up and was baptized into the Church. What a thrill it was for me, a few months ago when I visited the California Arcadia Mission, to see this young man sitting with the missionaries. He is there serving a full-time mission.

Once when traveling with Elder and Sister Russell M. Nelson, we left our hotel in Bombay, India, to catch a plane for Karachi, Pakistan, and then on to Islamabad. When we got to the chaotic airport, our flight had been canceled. Impatiently, I said to the man at the airline counter, “What do you expect us to do, just give up and go back to the hotel?” He said with great dignity, “Sir, you never go back to the hotel.” We rummaged about the airport, found a flight, kept the appointment in Islamabad, and even had a night’s sleep. Sometimes life is like that: we are left to press forward and endure frustrated expectations—refusing to “go back to the hotel”! Otherwise, such “give-up-itis” will affect all seasons of life. Besides, the Lord knows how many miles we have to go “before [we] sleep”! (“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”).

Editor’s Note: The following account was shared by LeRoi C. Snow, the son of President Lorenzo Snow. Brother Snow tells how, at age 85, his father was concerned he would be asked to succeed President Wilford Woodruff, who was ailing, as President of the Church. Following President Woodruff’s death on September 2, 1898, President Snow knelt at an altar in the Salt Lake Temple and pleaded with the Lord for guidance.
After finishing his prayer, [my father] expected a reply, some special manifestation from the Lord. So he waited—and waited—and waited. There was no reply, no voice, no visitation, no manifestation. He left the altar and the room in great disappointment. Passing through the celestial room and out into the large corridor, a glorious manifestation was given President Snow which I relate in the words of his granddaughter, Allie Young Pond. …
“One evening while I was visiting Grandpa Snow in his room in the Salt Lake Temple, I remained until the door keepers had gone and the night watchmen had not yet come in, so grandpa said he would take me to the main front entrance and let me out that way. … After we left his room and while we were still in the large corridor leading into the celestial room, I was walking several steps ahead of Grandpa when he stopped me and said: ‘Wait a moment, Allie, I want to tell you something. It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. He instructed me to go right ahead and reorganize the First Presidency of the Church at once and not wait as had been done after the death of the previous presidents, and that I was to succeed President Woodruff.’
“Then Grandpa came a step nearer and held out his left hand and said: ‘He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as though He stood on a plate of solid gold.’
“Grandpa told what a glorious personage the Savior is and described His hands, feet, countenance, and beautiful white robes, all of which were of such a glory of whiteness and brightness that he could hardly gaze upon Him.
“Then he came another step nearer and put his right hand on my head and said: ‘Now, Granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with Him face to face.’”

Nearly 25 years ago, our family lived in Massachusetts, where I was enrolled in graduate school. My program of study was very demanding, leaving me little free time. One Sunday in church the ward Primary president approached me and asked if I might substitute as a Primary teacher for two weeks. Primary was then held on a weekday afternoon, and I knew it would be difficult to find room in my schedule to teach the class. But after some hesitation, I agreed.
The appointed day came to teach Primary. That afternoon I was in the university library, absorbed in a book on international politics. The subject I was studying seemed somehow more important than the upcoming Primary class. Consequently, I procrastinated until just 30 minutes before the class was to begin to review the lesson I was to teach. Then I walked from the library down to our ward chapel on the edge of campus. My reluctant attitude must have slowed my steps, for I arrived a few minutes late. As I stepped to the door of the Primary room, the children were just beginning to sing the opening hymn. It was a song I had never heard before, a song whose melody and message touched me deeply:
As I have loved you,
Love one another.
This new commandment:
Love one another.
By this shall men know
Ye are my disciples,
If ye have love
One to another.
(“Love One Another,” Hymns, no. 308)
As I stood there, transfixed in the doorway, the Spirit bore witness that I was looking at the most important class taking place in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that day.
Back at the university in dozens of classrooms and laboratories, dedicated scholars were pursuing answers to the world’s problems. Yet valuable though such efforts may have been, the university did not and could not hold the ultimate answers to the problems of a troubled world. Here before me was the Lord’s answer: the quiet building up of His kingdom on earth by the teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ. What was taking place in Primary that day was a small part of a divinely revealed plan for the salvation of a fallen world.

During general conference in 2001, President Gordon B. Hinckley introduced the Perpetual Education Fund. I needed the opportunities that such a program offered so I could lift myself economically, but I wondered whether I could meet the program’s requirements.
During sacrament meeting a few months later, our stake president spoke about the program. To my great surprise, I learned that I might qualify after all. I thought to myself, “This is my last chance. I can’t pass it up.”
I then began to consider the responsibilities the program would require of me, and I feared that I would fail and once again fall short in Heavenly Father’s eyes. But I overcame these thoughts, and gathering information from the local institute director, I applied. Considering my past, I had little hope that I would be accepted. I felt that I did not deserve such a blessing even though I had repented and returned to church.
When I received a positive response from Church headquarters, my family and I rejoiced. The amount granted was not enough for the entire academic year, but I went ahead and registered for a major in computer programming. I received high grades and earned a scholarship that paid for the rest of my schooling.
Since then I have done everything in my power to show my gratitude. I work hard, I study hard, and I fulfill my responsibilities in the Church. I attend institute classes to try to make up for the years I missed and to learn what the Lord expects of me.
The most important thing I know is that I have been forgiven for all the bad things I did in the past. All of my plans for the future are based on this knowledge. I will continue to help my family, but now I will be able to do so in a better manner.

One Sunday morning, an email from FamilySearch arrived in my inbox. It spoke of my great-great-grandfather, Thomas Jefferson Thurston. I learned that he was buried in St. George, Utah, USA, where I was serving as a historic-site missionary. Exploring further on my family tree, I discovered that Thomas moved to St. George in 1880 at the age of 75 to be close to the St. George Utah Temple. I also learned that Thomas built one of the first pine homes in St. George. I was excited and intrigued because these details were all new to me since I was familiar with Thomas only by name.
I wanted to find his headstone the next day. Early in the day I said, “Let’s wait to go after we have served at the Jacob Hamblin House” (one of the historic sites where I served). A short time later I felt prompted to say, “Let’s go now.”
Having seen a picture of Thomas’s headstone on FamilySearch.org, the headstone was surprisingly easy to find. While standing beside the headstone I noticed a lady hurrying toward me. At the headstone of our ancestor, we discovered we were third cousins once removed. We hugged, laughed, and took pictures together. I felt that I was guided by the Holy Ghost, especially in timing, to arrive at the cemetery before Susan, my newfound cousin, left the cemetery.
I left the cemetery with excited anticipation to go directly to the address listed on FamilySearch where my great-great-grandfather had lived. There stood his home. It had been 140 years since he’d begun construction on the home. Seeing his house, I felt unanticipated emotions of connection and love for my great-great-grandfather.
A plaque at the front of the lot confirmed that this was the home he built. As I was reading the plaque, the owner of the home drove out of the driveway. He stopped and I said I was a great-great-granddaughter of the builder of this home. The man kindly offered to show me the home. I was able to see and touch the home of my great-great-grandfather who was born in 1805.
I walked on the original pine floor in the living room. I looked through original windowpanes. I walked up steep historic steps to the second level. In the quiet, I imagined my ancestors eating, sleeping, and learning the gospel in this home. If I had arrived minutes later, I would not have been invited into the home where Thomas had lived. My Heavenly Father was in the details as I visited the home of my great-great-grandfather and felt a closeness to him beyond anything I had imagined.
I thought of the words of Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Our desires, faithfulness, and obedience invite and help us to discern His mercies in our lives. … Each of us can have eyes to see clearly and ears to hear distinctly the tender mercies of the Lord as they strengthen and assist us in these latter days.”1
In just over 24 hours, I had connected with my Great-great-grandfather Thurston. I learned of his obedience, sacrifices, and accomplishments. FamilySearch was my source to learn about him, but the whisperings of the Spirit connected me to my heritage. The love my Heavenly Father manifested to me strengthened me and will remain in my memory forever. I know the series of events and the details of my day were blessings from the Lord.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Larissa yelled to her classmate Eric. She jumped off her bike and raced for the door. Bursting inside, she threw her arms around Mom and blurted, “Eric says I’m not really yours. He says that all of you are white and I’m black, and that we aren’t a real family because we don’t match.” She shoved her arm next to Mom’s to compare. “See!”
Mom hugged Larissa tight. “Maybe Eric doesn’t understand what makes a real family.”
Just then Dad walked in. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt your arm?”
Larissa sobbed. “No! I don’t match you guys, so Eric says we aren’t a real family.”
“Hmm.” Dad held his arm next to Larissa’s. “I guess Eric doesn’t know what makes a real family.”
“That’s what Mom said.” Larissa jerked her arm away. “But maybe he does know. He looks like his family. He says families are supposed to match.”
Allie squeezed through the door, trying to keep the wind and dry leaves outside. “What’s supposed to match?” she asked.
“We are,” Larissa said. “Eric says so, and he should know because his whole family matches.”
“Well, he doesn’t know what makes a real family then,” Allie said.
The door flew open and the wind blew leaves and the twins in together. “Why is Larissa crying?” they asked.
Larissa wailed. “See! Jeremy and Zack match. They look alike, they dress alike, and they even say the same thing at the same time. I don’t match any of you!”
“What?” Jeremy and Zack asked.
“It seems that Eric thinks Larissa doesn’t belong with us because she doesn’t look like any of us,” Dad said.
“Well,” Zack began, “Eric must not know what makes a—”
“It’s true,” Allie interrupted. “We don’t look alike, but there are lots more important qualities for a family to share. We love each other and we help each other. Each of us is special to the other. Isn’t that more important than looking alike?”
“That gives me an idea,” Mom said. “Come to the computer.”
Opening the family history album, Mom pointed to a name on a pedigree chart. “My grandmother, Eleanor Edmonds,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find.” She quickly entered the name “Eleanor Edmonds,” the word “Ohio,” and the year “1882” into the computer.
“Larissa,” Mom said, “please click on ‘search.’”
The computer clicked and whirred and finally, after a few seconds, a box appeared on the screen that read, “NO MATCH FOUND.”
“That’s not right!” Allie said. “Eleanor is your grandmother. How can the computer say there’s no match?”
“What would the computer use to match families together?” Mom asked.
“Names!” the twins said.
“Dates and places,” Dad added.
“Then why did it say no match found?” Allie asked.
“The computer has to have all the right information to match her to us. I entered Ohio as Eleanor’s birthplace. Actually, she was born in Nebraska. Because the computer had the wrong information, it couldn’t make a match. But no matter what the computer says, I have all the information I need to know that Eleanor is my grandmother.”
“Oh, I get it,” Larissa said slowly. “Eric doesn’t think I belong in this family because he doesn’t have the right information.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “He does not know that Heavenly Father wanted you to be with us and made sure we could adopt you and be sealed as a family in the temple.”
“We match because of more important things than our hair and our eyes and our skin,” Dad said. “We are a family because we followed God’s plan for us.” He held up the family history album and pointed to a photo. “This is Eleanor Edmonds, Mom’s grandmother.”
“Wow!” the twins said.
“She doesn’t look anything like you, Mom,” Larissa said. “Your hair is straight, your skin is dark, and your eyes are brown. Her hair is curly, her skin is fair, and her eyes are light.”
“That’s right, honey. When I was growing up she lived next door. I learned that she and I are a lot alike in ways that are far more important than looking alike.”
“Poor Eric,” Larissa said. “He doesn’t know that looking alike doesn’t even matter.”
“And the best part is that we can be a family forever, no matter what we look like,” Dad said.
“Cool!” the twins shouted.
Larissa smiled. “We’re a perfect match!”

The Arizona Temple was the only other Mormon place she ever had me visit. If I asked her what she wanted to do for a night out, she’d always reply, “Let’s go visit the temple. I love it there.”
I gave in, and we went there a few times. Usually we just walked through the grounds and admired the gorgeous landscaping, but after our third visit she talked me into touring the inside of the visitors’ center.
Inside, we saw several films and met many very friendly people. After the films and introductions, we went on a guided tour of the center. At the conclusion of the tour, our guide bore his testimony of the things we had seen that night. Liz cried.
After that experience, the temple was one of her favorite topics. “Chris, isn’t the temple a beautiful place? That’s where I’ll get married someday. I’ve promised myself that.”
“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting married there either,” I said. “It’s really no different than a cathedral.”
“It is different. When two people are married in the temple, they’re married forever.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ve always believed that true love lasts forever.”
Liz grew very serious. “You don’t understand. Only active members of the Church are allowed in the temple. You wouldn’t be allowed to enter.” She explained again that when her time came, she would be married in the temple. No other place was acceptable for her.
“But what if you really love a guy who’s not LDS?” I asked. “If you really love someone, it shouldn’t matter where you get married. All that matters is that you’re together and you’re in love.”
“If two people really love each other,” she answered shaking her head, “they’d never settle for anything less than an eternal relationship.” She paused and looked me in the eye. “I never would.”
As we neared the end of our senior year, we had many arguments about temple marriage. Liz maintained that she’d never marry outside of the temple. I argued that, in true love, the ceremony was not important. Love was eternal regardless of the type of marriage.
The more we discussed it, the more she talked about the temple and how special it was. I was confounded. It was obvious that we were falling in love, yet Liz wouldn’t budge on her temple marriage hang-up. I felt positive that if our love matured, she would eventually give in and agree to be married anywhere. I was wrong.
One afternoon at school, Liz met me at our locker. Her eyes were tearfully red, and her voice was taut with emotion. “Chris, I’ve decided that we can’t see each other anymore. We can’t go out again—ever.”
Her words stunned me. “What do you mean? Look, I don’t care what your parents think …”
She looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. “It’s not my parents. It’s me. I can’t allow myself to date you. I don’t want to fall in love with you.”
“Liz, you’re just upset. Why don’t we just talk this out like we’ve always done? You’ll feel better in a little while.”
She backed away from me. “No, I’ve made up my mind,” she sobbed. “I can’t afford to see you again!” She pressed a shiny black paperback into my hands and ran down the hall.
We stopped seeing each other. Liz started going out with LDS guys, and I moped around campus. I thought about the many discussions we’d had. What was it that made her so stubborn about a temple marriage? Why wouldn’t she compromise? What made her so special?
Several weeks after we broke up, I returned to school late one spring afternoon. I searched through the mess in my locker and soon found what I was looking for. The little black paperback was slightly dog-eared but still readable. Maybe it would answer some of my questions. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me carrying an LDS book, tucked it inside my jacket, and went home.
When I got home I hurried upstairs with my secret bundle and hid it in my desk drawer. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve of me reading Mormon “propaganda.”
Two weeks passed before I had a chance to be alone with the book. When I had the opportunity, I took the book out of my desk, stretched out on my bed, and started to read.
I opened the book, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, and skimmed its pages. A section about the Joseph Smith story caught my eye, so I read it carefully. As I read the story of Joseph Smith’s vision, I knew that it was true. I also knew that if his story was true, then the church he founded must also be true.
A little later I agreed to take the missionary discussions, and I rapidly gained a testimony of the principles of the gospel. After the discussions, I knew that I should join the Church, and after much fasting, praying, and soul searching, I was baptized. Liz was there. She cried.
A little more than a year after I was baptized, Liz and I again visited the temple, this time to be married for time and all eternity. That was 13 years ago. Today, and every day, as I watch our family blossom and grow, I’m grateful for the strong testimony of that cute little Mormon girl. I’m thankful that she was courageous enough to refuse to compromise on an issue that meant eternal happiness for her, and eventually, for me too.

When I was a young university student, one of my classmates urgently pleaded with a group of us—his Latter-day Saint friends—to donate blood for his mother, who was bleeding profusely. We went directly to the hospital to have our blood typed and tested. I’ll never forget our shock when told that one of the prospective donors was unfit because of a positive blood test for a venereal disease. That infected blood was his own! Fortunately, his mother survived, but I’ll never forget his lingering sorrow. He bore the burden of knowing that his personal immorality had disqualified him from giving needed aid to his mother, and he had added to her grief. I learned a great lesson: if one dishonors the commandments of God, one dishonors mother, and if one dishonors mother, one dishonors the commandments of God.

Ray Wilson and his wife, Terry.
Photographs by Richard M. Romney
You could say Ray Wilson has ink in his blood. His mother ran a small-town newspaper in Paradise, California, called the Ridge Gazette. Starting at age 14, Ray became the printer. His sister, Kathy, sold ads and helped run the paper. The Gazette started as a weekly, became a daily for a time, and then returned to a weekly.
After their mother died, Ray and Kathy sold the paper and started a printshop. Three years later they were doing well enough to purchase the building where their business was located.
“We grew from there,” Ray says. He continued to run the printing equipment, and Kathy, always friendly and helpful, took good care of customers and accounts.
“We were doing reasonably well,” Kathy says, “not getting rich, but surviving.” They loved living in the town where they were born and raised and knew almost all of their clients personally.
Ruins of the Wilsons’ printing business.
That idyllic life ended abruptly on November 8, 2018, when a wildfire raced through Paradise, destroying almost everything.
“Our extended family lost six buildings in one day—Kathy’s house, our house, our business, and my wife, Terry, and her brothers lost three rental units,” Ray says. “We went from being OK to being homeless in less than 24 hours.”
“My brothers and I had rentals,” Terry says, smiling. “Now we just have property.”
And they also have one other thing, thanks to following a principle of self-reliance—insurance. That has helped, at least in part, to recover what they lost.
Ray, Terry, and Kathy had always operated their business and personal finances according to gospel principles. They knew about paying tithing and other offerings first, living within a budget, having an emergency fund, and getting out of debt. But insurance?
“I know that self-reliance teaches us to get out of debt and have savings and insurance,” Ray says. “I don’t know that having insurance is a spiritual principle as much as a temporal one, but it sure makes things a lot easier once you need it. It’s definitely been a blessing.”
So has the compassion of those around them.
“There’s another printshop in Chico [about 22 miles (35 km) away] that ordered a lot of banners and posters from us, so we were on a friendly basis with them,” Kathy says. “After the fire, they told us that if we needed anything, they’d be happy to help. They did jobs for us at cost so that we could meet our commitments and keep our customers. They also knew a lady who ran a printshop in Chico who wanted to retire, so they got us in contact with her, and it all just worked out.”
Ray’s sister Kathy joins him at their new shop in Chico, California, where hope is growing again.
Using insurance-settlement money, they were able to purchase the shop in Chico, and now their business is growing again. They have the previous owner’s client base, “and a lot of our customers from Paradise are finding us again,” Kathy says. Fortunately, they also have clients all over the United States. “I just finished boxing up some books,” Ray says. “They’re shipping out today to Portland, Oregon.”
When tragedy strikes, Kathy says, “you can’t just sit and cry about something you have no control over. You have to figure out a way to get around it. So that’s how we’ve done things. We find reassurance in knowing that the Lord is mindful of us, and we do our best to take care of ourselves.”
“I figured I wasn’t ready to just sit and do nothing,” Ray says. “So we prayed, asked God for help, and went to work.”
“That’s what’s impressed me about these two,” Terry says. “I’m at home, overwhelmed with all the paperwork and the loose ends that are still out there, even with insurance and other support. But Ray and Kathy get up every day and get going. They find a way to make it work. I think for me, just knowing that we’ve done what we can and that we’re doing our part—keeping covenants and commandments—brings us peace and confidence. You feel confident that there’s a way to move forward with faith.”