Gospel Story Finder

The Church is well-known for its missionaries — well-dressed and cheerful young men and women, serving the community, often in lands far distant from their homes.
One of these missionaries is Elder Thomas Holton, born in Dublin, Ireland in 2001, and brought up in County Westmeath. However, because of COVID-19, his story is somewhat different.
Like countless others before him, Thomas had an ambition from his early years to serve a mission. He prepared diligently and faithfully. He was baptised by his father, also Thomas, when eight and ordained an elder by him in spring of 2019. Not long after, with the endorsement of his local leaders, he applied to be considered for full-time missionary service.
In October that year, he received a response. He was invited to serve in the far-off country of Zimbabwe, starting in March 2020, before which, he would spend a few weeks in a missionary training centre.
He looked forward to this with great excitement, but the global COVID-19 epidemic meant that things did not turn out as anticipated. For a start, Elder Holton was one of a dozen young people to attend the first ever virtual missionary training centre in the Church. In his own words, “This was a great occasion”. Then, when it became apparent that travelling to Zimbabwe was not going to be possible in the short or medium term, he was assigned to the Manchester area in the UK. He was excited about this because both of his parents had served their missions in England. But due to COVID-19, that expectation was also short-lived.
The solution came from an initiative, recently announced by the First Presidency of the Church, which focused on providing volunteer opportunities for young people who are unable, for whatever reason, to serve in the traditional way. Called ‘service missions’, they allow young women and young men to continue to live a consecrated life at home, while working in the Church and local community.
According to materials sent with a First Presidency letter, “Service missions are acceptable offerings to the Lord when a proselytizing mission is not possible. … All missionaries represent the Lord and carry out His work.”1
Elder Holton has demonstrated both courage and faith. He has been a pathfinder, ushering in a new generation as the first male service missionary in the whole of Ireland. He expects to have a transformative experience as he serves as the Saviour did. He acknowledges the support, example and love of his family and local leaders, including Mark Coffey, president of the Church’s Dublin Stake.
“The range of service prospects is remarkable, and I feel that this is a great opportunity to serve the Lord, help in the Church, cooperate with the community, and develop skills. Above all, serving a mission, of any kind, is a joy, because I get to be on the Lord’s errand. Among other things, I am teaching an online scripture class for teenagers, helping with financial auditing within the stake and volunteering where I can within the community. We are also implementing the JustServe programme locally and I’m heavily involved with that. And when the temples of the Church reopen fully after COVID-19, I intend to be working there regularly.”
Note

Dr. A. G. Kfoury, a devout Catholic who worked closely with Dr. Renlund for many years, states that Dr. Renlund was the lead transplant cardiologist in the region, “unmatched in his character, integrity, humility, and compassion.” He says Dr. Renlund “brought out the best in people. He did it quietly. He listened well and cared, and he was immensely interested in the success of those who worked with him.” Dr. Renlund led quietly by example and was always concerned about the families of his co-workers.
Dr. Kfoury particularly noted Dr. Renlund’s compassion for patients. For example, if a patient didn’t have means of transportation, Dr. Renlund would drive significant distances to the patient’s home, lift him or her into his car, and then drive the patient back to the hospital. Dr. Kfoury said this was extraordinary.

The youth of the Tampa Florida Stake had a great idea. They decided that every youth in the stake should have a subscription to the New Era. So they went to stake members asking for contributions to pay for the subscriptions. In return for the contributions, they pledged to finish landscaping the front of the recently completed stake center. The response from stake members was excellent, and the young men and women soon raised enough money to meet their goal. The orders were sent in, and soon every home in the stake in which a youth resided was receiving a copy of the magazine.
One day shortly before a stake conference, the young men and women of the stake showed up at the stake center and went to work landscaping. They put in turf and shrubs and soon had the place looking great. One young nonmember bicycling past thought it looked like so much fun that he stopped and joined in. As a little extra incentive, there were barbecued hot dogs for all the laborers. Because of the industry of the stake youth and the generosity of the stake membership, the stake center looks a lot better, and every youth was exposed to a potentially life-changing influence.
In the meantime, there are some benefits he does know about—increased enthusiasm on the part of the youth of the stake and sincere gratitude from the active youth who had not been able to receive the magazine because of financial or other reasons.
And of course the stake center’s looking better than ever. The results have been exciting. But of course that’s what happens when some great young men and women get a great idea and make it happen.

I remember some years ago an experience I had while directing one of the religious education programs of the Church in Southern California.
One of my responsibilities as a coordinator was to secure property, eventually erect an institute building, and then provide a religious program for our college youth. We had secured a wonderful institute site adjacent to the Los Angeles State College. Shortly after the transaction was consummated, the State of California indicated to me that they wanted to take the property by right of eminent domain, which was their prerogative. I checked with my superiors and they said, “Look into the legal side and see if we still don’t have a chance.” I did. We went into court for a hearing. The judge was impressed with the program of the Church and what we do for youth and people. We were sent back to do some additional homework and gather added information.
The day came for the final hearing, and I had about eight hours of work to do in four when at that very moment about ten o’clock one morning a knock came at the door, and because of my frustration I almost said (but I didn’t), “COME IN!” Instead I said, “Come in.” And in the framework of that door stood a 19-year-old USC freshman student who had refused our offers to come and join our group on four previous occasions. His head bowed, hands in his pockets, he said, “Brother Dunn, I have got to see you, now.” And I almost said (but I didn’t), “Can’t you see I am busy?” Because I was. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to invite him in; and as he took a chair, several questions went through my mind.
Question number 1, “What are you going to court for this morning, Paul?” “Well, to try to save a piece of property.” “What do you want the piece of property for, Paul?” “Well, to erect a building.” “Well, what do you want a building for?” “Well, to teach some students.” “What just knocked on your door?” “Oh, a student.” And wouldn’t you know, he took the whole four hours.
The time came for legal counsel to arrive, and we went to court. I don’t know all of the ramifications. We lost the hearing and eventually the piece of property, and it took us two years to secure another site. You would be happy with what the Church has done at Los Angeles State College, but more important, we saved the boy. Had it been your son, I think you would agree that we made the right decision.

As a study abroad student in Jerusalem, I participated in this commemorative event. Standing with a palm reed in my hand, I was inspired by how many other Christians had traveled to the Holy City because they loved and wanted to celebrate Jesus Christ.
People sang, cheered, praised, and danced. Just like in Jesus’s time, they waved their leaves from the top of the Mount of Olives, down to the Kidron Valley, past the Garden of Gethsemane, and into the Old City. Throughout the procession, I heard continuous shouts of “Hosanna!”
It was an experience I’ll never forget.

It was the day before my football team’s first practice of the season. That night I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I had saved up my money over the summer so I could pay all the fees myself. And now, at the age of 14, I was finally going to fulfill my dream.
During practice the next day, something really surprised me. It wasn’t how hard my coaches pushed us—I was expecting that. No, I was shocked at the filthy, vulgar language all the players and coaches were using. At first I tried to ignore it and not let it bother me, but after awhile it started to take its toll.
I found myself thinking those words, and even worse, repeating them when I was stressed. I prayed to my Heavenly Father and asked Him to help me be strong. Then, I made a promise to myself and to the Lord that I wouldn’t swear.
Later in the season we played a game against our biggest rivals. Right before the game started, our coach gathered us together to say a cheer. He told us the cheer that he wanted us to say, and unfortunately it required us to say a swear word. I remembered the promise that I made to myself and to Heavenly Father. I decided to say the cheer except for the swear word. I would just replace it with a more appropriate word.
When the cheer was over, the player next to me noticed what I had said and started to make fun of me. He went up to the coach and said, “Harsh is Mormon, and he’s not man enough to swear. He’s too churchy!”
I thought the coach would get mad at me or start to make fun of me as well, but instead he stood up for me and told my teammate, “Hey, leave Harsh alone. He has a lot of heart and can show you up on the football field any time!”
I was surprised. I thought my coach would respect me if I swore like everyone else. But actually, he respected me more because I was true to my standards.
I don’t know how big of an impact my example had on my teammates and coaches, but I realized later how strong that experience made me. Now, a few years later, it is easier for me to stand up for what I believe. I also realize that when we make a decision to obey the commandments, we are not alone. The Holy Ghost will help and support us through our trials.

At a church service I attended in a care center, after the wheelchair-bound residents received the sacrament, a young woman your age played a solo on her violin. The elderly sisters were so appreciative. They declared aloud their gratitude with comments such as “Beautiful,” “Wonderful,” “I love you.” Such distractions did not deter the violinist; rather, they enabled her to reach new heights in her performance.

That day she said to me: “I have never played better in my life. Something seemed to lift me beyond myself and my own abilities. I felt the inspiration of my Heavenly Father’s love.”

I reminded her, “When you are in the service of your fellow beings you are only in the service of your God.”

She nodded her acknowledgement, carefully placed her violin in its case, and, with tears of joy coursing down her cheeks, returned to her seat.

When the missionaries showed me the filmstrip of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s First Vision, it was difficult for me to contain my tears. The story of his search for truth was in some ways similar to my own.
At that time, I was 20 years old and living in Italy, the land of my birth. For five years I had been looking for answers my parents’ religion had not been able to give me. I had sought these answers in other religions and philosophies, but something seemed lacking in all of them. During the year before I met the missionaries, that search had become the most important thing in my life. I distanced myself from some of my friends and even left the university where I had been studying. My relatives could not understand me.
At the end of 1984, I met the missionaries on the street and gave them my address. I knew very little about the Church, but for some reason I wanted to speak to them.
Some days later I was in my room. I opened my heart to God, asking Him to show me what He wanted me to do. As I prayed I felt a great peace surround me. At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. When the missionaries came in, I knew they had the answers I sought.

When I was 11, my family moved to West Germany. My father and my mother ran a laundry to make a living, and I was the laundry delivery boy. I saw some shiny red bicycles, and I wished I could have one to make my deliveries. But I needed a heavy-duty bicycle to pull the cart with the laundry on it. I rode around pulling that heavy laundry cart before school and after school. It was hard seeing the other children play. But everyone in our family had to work hard, and I was an important part of the family business.
As I grew older, I learned about the blessings of doing things that at the time you don’t realize are important and good for you. When I was very little, I came down with a lung disease, but no one knew it at the time. When I grew older, I joined the air force. The doctors saw spots on my lungs. Because of the hard work of pedaling that heavy load, somehow my body had healed itself. I had built up endurance. I had built up strength. The doctors said that the disease took care of itself and that I passed my physical. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pilot.

I sat in my living room crying. It had been only a few days since I had had a miscarriage, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the loss of our baby. So many things reminded me of the tragedy, especially my closet full of maternity clothes.
Every time I went into my room, the clothes seemed to stare at me from their hangers. Most of them were brand new and never worn, reminding me that I was no longer pregnant. I was still too weak to stand up for more than a few seconds to put them away.
Suddenly someone knocked on my door. When I opened it, I saw my visiting teacher standing on the doorstep. It was the same visiting teacher who had been watching my children when my doctor confirmed to my husband and me that I had miscarried.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I need your help putting away my maternity clothes.”
I led her into the bedroom, emptied drawers, and stripped hangers. Then I lay in bed while she folded my clothes and gently laid them in boxes. After she had taped the boxes and carried them downstairs so I wouldn’t have to look at them, I felt my spirits lift.
Afterward she went into the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and tidied up—things I still wasn’t able to do. When she left, my house was clean, my clothes were out of sight, and my heart wasn’t quite so heavy anymore.
The Apostle John taught, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear” (1 John 4:18). When we reach out to share the Savior’s love, we are strengthened by His courage. Because my visiting teacher was filled with the love of Christ, she came immediately when the Spirit prompted her to come.
We received many expressions of love during that terrible time, including flowers, cards, cupcakes, and childcare, all of which we appreciated. But the expression that helped the most was when my visiting teacher, not knowing how badly I needed her, knocked on my door, and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

On a summer night in 1970, President Oaks had a frightening encounter with an armed robber on Chicago’s South Side as he returned to his parked car. His wife, June, was waiting for him in the vehicle.
“Give me your money,” the young mugger demanded.
“I don’t have any,” Brother Oaks replied, showing him his empty wallet.
“Give me your car keys,” he ordered. The keys were locked in the car with Sister Oaks. “Tell her to open the car,” the robber insisted. Brother Oaks said no.
The robber threatened,“Do it, or I’ll kill you.”
Brother Oaks said firmly, “I won’t do it.”
While the robber repeated his demands and threats, Brother Oaks saw an opportunity to wrestle the gun away from the young man. As President Oaks described in a 1992 general conference message, “Just as I was about to make my move, I had a unique experience. I did not see anything or hear anything, but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man’s chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life.”3
This miraculous manifestation of the gift of discernment enabled President Oaks to resolve the confrontation and ultimately saved his own life and the life of the young robber.

1 While Joseph Smith was living in Fayette, New York, Jesus Christ told him that it was time for the true church to be on the earth again. On April 6, 1830, Joseph held a meeting. Oliver Cowdery, Hyrum Smith, Samuel H. Smith, David Whitmer, and Peter Whitmer, Jr., came to the meeting to help Joseph organize the Church. Other people were at the meeting too.
2 After an opening prayer Joseph was ordained as the first elder in the Church, and Oliver was ordained as the second elder.
3 Joseph and Oliver administered the sacrament to the men, then confirmed them members of the Church of Jesus Christ and gave them the gift of the Holy Ghost.
4 Joseph and Oliver ordained some of the other men at the meeting to the priesthood. The Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they joyfully testified of how much God had blessed them.
5 During the meeting Joseph Smith received a revelation in which Jesus said that Joseph was a prophet and that when a prophet speaks, he speaks for Jesus. Therefore, the members of the Church should listen to and obey the words of the prophet.
6 After the meeting several people were baptized, including Joseph Smith’s mother and father. April 6, 1830, was a wonderful day. The Church of Jesus Christ was again on the earth.

In 1994, when Ghana’s president, J. J. Rawlings, received Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elder J. Richard Clarke of the Seventy, who was serving then as Africa Area President, members saw this as recognition that their religion is an important influence in the lives of many Ghanaians. It signaled the opportunity at last to display their faith as openly as do citizens of other faiths.

Public recognition does not mean, of course, that the path for Ghanaian members is always smooth. They struggle with the same economic and educational difficulties faced by others in their country.

Ghana is a country with great potential for development, yet it is struggling to find the needed financial resources. Although there are too few jobs to go around, the abundance of small businesses shows that Ghanaians are willing to work hard at any available opportunity.

Latter-day Saint businessman Kweku Anno of Accra gestures toward the men working under the metal sheds of his manufacturing enterprise. “Every one of them has a cousin or a brother who needs to be trained.” If he sent out word that he wanted 10 workers, Brother Anno says, there would be 100 outside his gate before the day ended.

A mechanical engineer, he designed the simple, sturdy concrete block- and brick-making machines built in his shop. Brother Anno estimates that each machine will provide jobs for four people. His own business enterprises support 52 people.

Bishop Holbrook Christian MacArthur of the Cape Coast First Ward estimates that 80 percent of the members in his ward are either unemployed or under-employed. Some 30 percent of the men are out of work—mostly younger men who have not yet established themselves in vocations or careers. Like Latter-day Saints elsewhere in Ghana, members of his ward have banded together to organize cooperative businesses ranging from construction work to selling food products made of cassava, an important Ghanaian crop.

Their perseverance in spite of setbacks is a manifestation of the faith of Ghanaian Latter-day Saints, the bishop says. Sometimes in interviewing members, he learns of problems that would be daunting to others. “But just give them a little encouragement, and they will ignite. They will look up to their God. They have a faith that God works in his own due time.”

This kind of faith gives Ghanaian members confidence that their Father in Heaven watches over them. One day, Beatrice Ashon withdrew five million Ghanaian cedis (about US $4,500) from her bank in Accra for use in her business enterprises. Apparently, someone was watching. That night, a gang burst into her home, fired several shots, tied up a relative, and locked a group of visiting children in another room. The gang demanded Sister Ashon’s money and also stole some household goods. But no one was hurt. Police learned later that this same gang had killed victims in other incidents. Sister Ashon believes everyone in the home was protected by the power of God.

After the robbery, her businesses failed because of the loss of the money. “That was a very big test,” she says, “but we are happy.” She is persevering in the gospel and looking for ways to begin again financially.

The scarcity of jobs and the financial difficulty of starting out as a couple make many young Ghanaians put off marriage. But Kofi Opare tells other returned missionaries in their mid- and late twenties that it’s a mistake to delay. “You have to forget all the hardship, and do it.”

At 26, Kofi was about the average age for a Ghanaian bridegroom. Like most young member couples, he and his wife, Theresa, had a legally binding traditional marriage. He visited her parents and brought gifts—money, in place of the customary alcoholic beverage; cloth; a hymnbook for Theresa; and her engagement ring.

That ceremony took place in December 1994, but Kofi and Theresa chose not to live together as husband and wife until they could have a formal wedding at an LDS chapel in June 1995. They wanted the influence of the Church in their married life from the very beginning. In the interim, they dealt with practical details—saving cash for all the costs of starting a household and securing a place to live.

Theresa has a steady income from her seamstress shop, but Kofi has to take part-time work as he can get it. Despite this, Theresa says, she and Kofi felt that “you have to make a bold decision” and go ahead. But a wise Latter-day Saint man, she adds, will find a woman in the Church who understands the eternal purposes of marriage and will not demand material things. “It takes two to make a team, to make a marriage work.”

Literacy can be another challenge for members. While English is the official language of government and business in Ghana, it is a second one for most citizens, who learn a local African language in their homes. Many who have had the full benefits of education speak English, perhaps another European language, and several local languages. But schools are run by private (usually religious) groups, and fees push education out of reach of some Ghanaians. Thus, they are not prepared to learn skilled jobs, to interact with people from other areas, or to feast on the scriptures.

Because of this, literacy classes are common in stakes and wards, districts and branches throughout the country.

Alice Sackey, Young Women president in the Accra stake, has great confidence in younger members of the Church: “I see that we will have strong leaders in the future from our youth.” She says their participation and their obedience to the gospel are outstanding, but in her responsibility for the young women, she finds the need for special help with literacy. “Some of them don’t attend school. But we’ve made it our goal that every one who passes through Young Women will know how to read and write English before she goes into Relief Society.”

Cecelia Oduro, Cape Coast stake Relief Society president, points out that those who are unfamiliar with English are handicapped in studying the gospel; they cannot “get the message by reading for themselves.” But she has seen people who were intimidated by the need to learn English rejoice later as they became fluent enough to discover the treasures of the scriptures on their own.

Members for whom literacy was never a problem have set an example of feasting on the word of God. Returned missionary Ronald Adjei Danso of Accra says that if he did not “dig” constantly in the scriptures, he would have difficulty meeting the spiritual challenges of life. Edmund Frempong, a former bishop and now a high councilor in the Accra stake, joined the Church partly because the gospel solved his theological puzzles. “I found that the teachings of the Church were systematic and reasonable. Everything that is true must appeal to reason.”

Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation, he says, encompasses and clarifies the concept of life taught by his Akan tribal ancestors—that we came from a spirit world and will go back there after this life. “That is what my forefathers were trying to explain.”

Members still face the challenge of misinformation and erroneous thinking about the Church. False impressions linger in the minds of many Ghanaians.

The majority of Ghanaians are Christians, though there is a significant Muslim population, and many still practice native religions. While long-established Christian religions are well represented, numerous small, independent churches emphasizing one biblical teaching or another have sprung up in Ghana. In many ways, this religious atmosphere in the country is a blessing, Church members say. Children begin learning about Jesus Christ at the elementary school level, and moral values are an integral part of education.

In this religious atmosphere, however, it has been easy for the idea to persist that Latter-day Saints are not Christians because their doctrine is different. Monica Ohene-Opare runs a school, and some parents have withdrawn their children upon learning that she is a Latter-day Saint. Others have been pleasantly surprised by LDS beliefs about Christ heard in Primary songs that she taught their children in classes.

Kenneth Kobena Andam, president of the Cape Coast stake, says the idea that Latter-day Saints don’t believe in Jesus Christ is losing its credibility. Many Ghanaians “now recognize that ours is a Christian church. And they recognize by the way we live that we have something special.” In fact, he says, the teachings of the Church have become well enough known that people expect higher standards of behavior from Latter-day Saints.

Also, the old criticism about the Church being a “white man’s church” is being overcome. In the early days of the Church here, the idea was spread that people of another race and culture had come to Africa to exploit its people yet again. But Ghanaians who valued newfound gospel truths would not be dissuaded from baptism, and those who felt the Christlike love radiated by LDS missionaries could not believe they had come to exploit. Today, Ghanaians lead the stakes, wards, districts, and branches in their country, running Church programs so well in many instances that they might serve as casebook examples for members anywhere.

The loving example of Ghanaian members has a powerful effect on their friends and families.

Phillip Ohene, now serving as clerk of the Koforidua Second Branch, says his LDS employer “talked to me about the Church through his actions. He would tell me the thing, and I would see him doing it himself.” This example helped Phillip decide to investigate the gospel. In shaping people’s attitudes about the Church, he says, “What they hear is not so important. It is what they see.”

What John Sule-Bukari’s Muslim parents saw made them feel good about their children’s involvement in the Church. John, his older brother, and two older sisters are Latter-day Saints. Their parents, John says, are pleased about the ways the gospel has changed their children. One of his sisters and his brother have served as full-time missionaries, and John, second counselor in the Young Men presidency of the Koforidua Second Branch, hopes to go next. To do it, he will have to work around his obligatory two years of national service, which can range from military training to school teaching.

Perhaps the example of members like these stands out because of the way the gospel shapes their responses to the challenges and tests of life.

Latter-day Saints are given unique opportunities for spiritual growth through these challenges, says Jonathan Koranteng, first counselor in the bishopric of the Tesano Ward in Accra. Some churches teach that people who come to God will have all their problems resolved, he says, but we should be grateful that all of our trials in this life are not taken away. “They are a part of our Heavenly Father’s plan, meant to prepare us for a better future.”

Brother Koranteng, who has experienced a heavy share of adversity, notes that Lehi said there will be opposition in all things (see 2 Ne. 2:11, 15). “I only pray that I will have the courage to withstand everything that comes my way.”

Fortunately, says Sister Kaku of Cape Coast, the Saints have the best of help in meeting their challenges. “If you have the Spirit, you are able to live the gospel wherever you are.”

Thinking of Church members scattered across the earth, she says, “We share the same gospel, unity, love—everything.” While there may be differences of color, “when the Saints meet, these are wiped off. The Spirit is the same. The Spirit makes us one.”

Another time when I learned the importance of prayer was when I was preparing for my first piano recital. I was about seven years old, and I was very nervous. I was afraid I would forget the piece, and I was also worried that my hands would shake so badly that I couldn’t play.
My mother knew I was scared, and she suggested that before I go on stage to play, I bow my head and ask Heavenly Father to help me feel calm and remember what I had practiced. I followed Mother’s advice, taking a moment to pray right before I performed.
He answered my prayers, and I learned that Heavenly Father could help me at all times in my life, even during piano recitals! I started to realize that He could help me in school. I prayed and asked Him to help me study and learn and take tests.
A few years later, when I was ten, my family visited the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove. I remember standing on the Hill Cumorah and listening to Daddy explaining exactly what happened there. Then we went to the Sacred Grove, and Daddy told us about Joseph Smith praying to Heavenly Father for the truth. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to young Joseph, blessing him with the answer to his prayer. I knew that if Joseph could get answers, so could I.
Throughout my life, I have talked to Heavenly Father regularly through prayer. I am very grateful to my parents for teaching me that Heavenly Father lives and that He always listens to us. He listens to me, and He listens to you. I know that He will always be there for you.

Tommy jumped out of bed and ran over to his hat tree. He did this each morning as soon as he woke up. What shall I be today? he wondered. A fireman? No, I was that yesterday. A baseball player? No, I was that Monday. Maybe a cowboy? Yes! That’s what I’ll be today. He reached up, took his cowboy hat off its peg, and put it on as he started down the hall to see what his mom was fixing for breakfast.
“Well, Tommy, I see that you’re a cowboy this morning,” said his mom as Tommy hurried into the kitchen and sat down in his chair.
“I’m not Tommy. I’m Cowboy Billy, and I’ve come to see what kind of grub you have for a hungry cowpoke.”
“Well, pardner, I’ve rustled you up some eggs and bacon and a glass of milk,” Mom said as she set his food down on the table.
“Well, Ma’am, that sounds pretty good,” said Tommy before blessing his breakfast and starting to eat. As soon as he was finished, he hurried off to get dressed.
Back in his room Tommy started looking for his chaps and his furry vest. He knew that before the day was over he would probably have to chase some rustlers and maybe a bank robber or two, so he opened his closet and pulled out his stick horse, Sam. Once he was dressed, he hopped onto his horse, galloped down the hall, and went outside. Tommy spent all morning playing in the backyard, and by lunchtime he was a pretty tired little cowboy. He rode Sam into the kitchen and put him by the door.
“Ma’am, do you have some oats for my horse?” asked Tommy. “He’s had a long morning chasing rustlers, and he’s pretty hungry.”
“Well, pardner, let’s see what I have,” Mom said. She held a bag up to Sam’s mouth.
Tommy could barely keep his eyes open as he ate his lunch.
“Well, pardner, don’t you think you should mosey on down to the bunkhouse and rest for a while?” suggested his mom. “I’ll wake you if you’re needed to chase any rustlers or bank robbers.”
Tommy slowly got up and headed down the hall to take a nap. Later, when he woke up, he jumped up and ran down the hall to the kitchen, shouting, “Got to go, Ma’am. There’s a bunch of robbers at the bank!” He jumped onto his horse and headed for the backyard again.
That night when Tommy got ready for bed, he put Sam to rest on his pillow, put his chaps and vest back in the closet, and put his hat back on his hat tree. Then he hopped into bed.
As Mom kissed Tommy good night and turned out the light, he was wondering which hat he’d choose the next day. Maybe I’ll be a fireman or a spaceman. Or maybe I’ll just be Tommy.

Years ago, way back when I was just about 11 or 12, I remember my father had received his paycheck on Wednesday and finally came home Friday night. Nothing was left. There wasn’t any food in the house—at least very little. I had saved 67 cents for tithing. He took me by the hand and pulled me into his bedroom and said, “Vaughn, I understand you have 67 cents saved for tithing.”

I said, “Yes, I do.”

He said, “Vaughn, the Church doesn’t need your money.”

That was true. In those days you could buy a loaf of bread for 14 cents, a small loaf for a nickel, and you could buy a quart of milk for 14 cents. The money could have at least bought our family’s supper.

So he said, “Vaughn, the Church doesn’t need your money. It has millions of dollars.”

That may have been true. Then he said, “Your brothers and sisters are hungry. We need that money for food. I want you to go get your money and give it to me.”

I remember I stood there. I couldn’t move. The tears came to my eyes. He was my father. I couldn’t say no. But I couldn’t move. I just stood there. I thought, “No, I’m not going to get it.”

A second time, a little heavier, he said, “I’m telling you, go get your tithing money.”

It was like my shoes were nailed to the floor. The tears came faster, and I didn’t move again. He was a big man.

Then a third time, threateningly, he said, “I’m telling you, Vaughn, you go get the tithing money.”

I remember standing there thinking, “I don’t care if he beats me. I’m not going to give it to him. It’s not my money. It’s the Lord’s money, and I’m not going to give it to him.”

My mother must have heard part of the conversation, because she came in and grabbed me, pulled me out of the bedroom, and said, “You let the boy alone. If he wants to pay his tithing, he’s going to pay his tithing.”

I don’t think I’ve missed paying tithing in all the years since.

Once, following a serious illness, I presided at a stake conference. To conserve my energy, I planned to leave the chapel immediately after the priesthood leadership session. However, following the benediction, the Holy Ghost said to me, “Where are you going?” I was inspired to shake hands with everyone as they left the room. As one young elder stepped forward, I was prompted to give him a special message. He was looking down, and I waited for his eyes to come up and meet mine, and I was able to say, “Pray to Heavenly Father, listen to the Holy Ghost, follow the promptings you are given, and all will be well in your life.” Later the stake president told me that the young man had just returned early from his mission. The stake president, acting on a clear impression, had promised the young man’s father that if he brought his son to the priesthood meeting, Elder Hales would speak with him. Why did I stop to shake everyone’s hand? Why did I pause to talk to this special young man? What was the source of my counsel? It’s simple: the Holy Ghost.

When I walked into the house, the first thing I saw was the letter, propped on the narrow table in the front hall, my name typed on the white envelope and the Brigham Young University letterhead in the corner. With trembling fingers I tore it open. I was accepted! And the scholarship my counselor at the University of Wisconsin had recommended I apply for had been granted! I read the words again and again, unable to believe that the dream was really coming true.
I looked up and my mother was standing in the doorway watching me. “You don’t have to tell me what’s inside the letter,” she said. “I can see it in your face.”
“Mother—” I began, but her eyes were blazing and she interrupted me angrily.
“You really think you’re something, don’t you? Cocky and smug and sure of yourself. Just like my sister, Beth. That’s how she was, you know. And she walked out on us, just like you’re going to do.”
“Mother,” I cried desperately, “I’m not walking out on you. I’m just going away to college. Nine months at the university. That’s all.”
“That’s what you think, Michelle. But what if you never come back? Beth never came back.”
“But that was different! She had done something disgraceful. Grandpa Hunter sent her away; he wouldn’t let her come back!”
She stood staring at me, with the strangest look in her eye. “The minute you joined the Mormon church, you turned your back on us and all we stand for. You’re not one of us any more, Michelle. When you go out to Utah, that will break the last tie.”
“Mother, no! Please don’t say such things.” I stepped toward her, but she moved away.
“How could you do this to me?” she cried. “How could you be so selfish and cruel? Beth was my big sister and she turned her back on me. She left me when I needed her the most. You’re just like her, Michelle; you’re just like her!”
I ran past her and through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the quiet yard. I was trembling all over and cold, though the summer night was mild. I had never dreamed that my mother compared me to her lost sister, Beth. I’d always known the old story about the mysterious sister who was disowned by her stern father and who disappeared to live her life in shame and seclusion somewhere. As a child I had thought it a romantic story, sweet and sad. But I had never dreamed of myself as becoming the main character in such a story. How could my own mother think of me that way? Was she ashamed of me? Did she want to disown me, as her father had once disowned the sister she loved?
Later that night when I was alone in my room, my younger brother, Paul, came in. “I just want to tell you what a creep you are,” he said. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know what I mean. You upset mother, and she screams and takes it out on all of us, then ends up crying half the night. All you do anymore is cause trouble, Michelle.”
“That’s not true, Paul!” I defended myself. There was a hard knot growing in the middle of my stomach, and I felt humiliated having to apologize for myself every time I turned around. “I never mean to cause trouble.”
“Well, you do. I hope it’s worth it to you, making your whole family miserable just so you can do what you want!”
He stomped out of the room without giving me time to reply. Hot tears began to gather behind my eyes. His words were unkind and unfair. But how could I make him understand what was really happening, what I really felt?
Later, when my little sister, Katy, came in to kiss me goodnight, she looked up with wide, innocent eyes and asked, “Why do you want to go away and leave us, Michelle? Mommy says you don’t really love us anymore or you wouldn’t go away.”
I pulled her into my arms and hugged her fiercely. “That’s not true, princess! I love you dearly! And it will be fun for you when I go away because I’ll write you a letter every week and send surprise packages in the mail.”
She brightened a little, and I hugged and kissed her half a dozen times before I let her go. Finally I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. What was my mother trying to do? Why did she have to punish me for being different from what she thought I ought to be?
After that the days seemed to drag, gray and dull, one after another. Part of the time I felt defensive and angry at my mother, wanting to hurt her back. But at other times I felt small and frightened, like a little girl, longing for her to hold and comfort me and dissolve my fears. She had taken the excitement and anticipation out of the whole thing, and sometimes I weakened and felt that maybe I shouldn’t go after all. But too many of my prayers had been answered, too many signposts pointed that this should be the direction my life ought to take. I kept telling myself that things would work out. Perhaps it would be easier for my family if I went away. If I weren’t so close, such a source of conflict and friction, it might be easier for them to understand, to get a broader, kinder perspective. Perhaps they might even miss me and appreciate me a little.
But I was afraid. And there was no one to understand. Lori could only see that I had the world at my feet, that I was going to Zion, Mecca, where everything would be sunshine and happiness and dreams-come-true. But I had never been to Utah before. I didn’t even know what a mountain looked like in real life. I didn’t know a single person in all of Utah, much less at BYU. What were other Mormons like? Would they laugh at me if I was different, if I did things wrong? Our little branch was so casual, so experimental. What would it be like in a congregation of hundreds of Latter-day Saints? What if they all knew ten times more about the gospel than I knew?
Finally, suddenly, the long days were past, and it was time for me to leave. The day before the bus came that would take me to the airport in Madison, I prayed and fasted all day. I couldn’t bear to leave my mother like this, with her hating me and thinking that I was deserting her, rejecting her as, somehow, her older sister once had done.
That night I had a dream. In the dream I was a little girl again, with long pigtails and a dirty face. Some mean little boys were chasing me down the sidewalk and I fell and scraped my knee. I stumbled back up and ran across the lawn, sobbing for my mother, screaming for her to come. Suddenly she was there, sweeping me into her strong, soft arms. She smoothed back my hair and kissed my cheek, and cleaned my scraped knee, painting it with iodine, then sticking a big, beautiful band-aid on top. I woke suddenly, feeling still her gentle fingers against my skin, seeing the smile of love on her face.
I sat up in bed and it came to me that my mother didn’t know how much I needed her! How long had it been since I’d asked her advice or her help? In her eyes I seemed efficient, self-contained, and sure of myself. Mormonism had excluded her from my life, and I had done nothing to compensate for that—to let her know I still loved and needed and valued her! And all these months I had been thinking it was all her fault, that I, alone, was the wounded party!
The next morning I called her into my room and asked if she would help me pack. She’s very neat and efficient, and I knew she could organize and fit in all my last-minute things in a way I never could. I told her so. I talked with her and I praised her, and soon the look of guarded puzzlement left her face and we both began to enjoy being together. It didn’t work miracles; there wasn’t enough time for that. I still couldn’t tell her how frightened I was, how much I really loved her and would miss her. But the look of cold anger had gone out of her eyes, and she came to the bus station, and when I pushed the note I had written into her hands and reached out to hug her, she reached out, too, and held me close a minute and kissed my cheek. It was all I could do to hold back the tears. I looked through the glass and waved to my family, wishing they knew how very much I loved them.
By the time my plane approached the Salt Lake airport, I felt worn out with the traveling and emotions of the day. The plane had crossed the high Rockies, which in the early sunset presented a fairy world of peaks and crevices, clouds and shadows in changing, shifting patterns before my eyes.
But now, as the plane touched down, as I moved with the press into the crowded terminal, it seemed everyone had someone to meet them and some place to go. I hesitated, uncertain what to do or where to go next. I noticed a woman approaching, an older woman, very attractive, with rich brown hair and a lovely face. As she drew closer, I thought she looked familiar, so I glanced at her again. It looked as though she was coming directly my way. I shifted my feet and stared down at the floor, and when I glanced up again the woman was standing right beside me. She smiled, and the feeling that I had seen her somewhere before grew stronger.
“Michelle?” she said, with a little question at the end of the word. “You are Michelle Briggs, aren’t you?”
“Why … yes …” I stammered.
“I thought so,” she said. “You look very much like your mother, Michelle; you have her beautiful eyes.” She smiled again. “I don’t mean to alarm you, my dear, but I’m your Aunt Beth.”
“I don’t understand,” I cried. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me … or … or that I exist at all?”
“Your mother, Michelle,” she said, and took my hand gently in hers. “All these years I have written to your mother, but not once did she reply.”
“You, you mean, my mother’s known where you’ve been all along?”
“She’s known, but she hasn’t wanted to admit it. Your mother was very young when I went away, and your Grandpa Hunter did a good job of poisoning her mind. By the time she was old enough to understand … well, it was too late.” “Understand? Understand what?”
She paused, and her eyes began to sparkle. “When I was a girl I defied my father and joined the Mormon church. I was young and unwise. I hurt his pride, and he refused to forgive me. When I left and went to Utah, he refused to tell anyone where I had gone or what had really happened to me. He died without knowing that I had married and that he had three grandchildren he had never seen and another one on the way.
“But, you see, Michelle, I kept taking the Franklin City paper and I read about your mother’s wedding, and I wrote to her faithfully, hoping that sometime something would touch her heart and she would respond to me.”
“All these years?” I breathed in amazement.
“All these years. And all these years I have prayed that the Lord would soften her heart; and he has answered my prayers, Michelle, through you.” The sparkle in her eyes was wet now and her hand tightened over mine.
“But what …” I stammered, “how …” I still didn’t understand.
“Your mother wrote to me telling me you had joined the Mormon church, telling me you were coming to BYU and asking me to take care of you.”
“My mother … did that … ?”
My aunt nodded. “She told me what a special girl you were and how much she loved you.”
I couldn’t see too well, for my own eyes were clouded with tears and my throat ached trying to hold them back. My prayers and Aunt Beth’s prayers—and the prayers of a mother whose concern had overcome her pride and prejudice, and who could still teach me something about sacrifice and love! I smiled at the lovely woman who held my hand.
“I’ve got a long way to go,” I said.
“You’ll make it,” she replied, and I felt she understood all the things I was unable to say.
“Yes, yes,” I agreed, “I have to make it. I want to be a real Latter-day Saint. I want to make my mother proud of me.”

Nathan, a neighbor boy, came around to play with my son Michael. Later I took them to the park. Michael rode his bike to the park and promised Nathan that he could ride on the way home. But when the time came to leave, Michael found it hard to keep his promise. He rode his bike home himself, feeling very unhappy. Nathan wasn’t too pleased either. After Michael had time to think about it, he agreed that Nathan could have a go on his bike after all, so off they went. Afterward Michael told me, “I liked sharing because Nathan is my friend, and it made me feel happy.”

The deacons in the Church have a sacred obligation to visit the home of every member to collect fast offerings for the poor. President Thomas S. Monson once related to me how he, as a young bishop, began to sense that the young deacons in his ward were complaining about having to get up so early to collect fast offerings. Instead of calling the young men to task, this wise bishop took them to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City.
There the boys met a disabled woman operating the switchboard. They saw a blind man placing labels on cans, and an elderly brother stocking shelves. As a result of what they saw, President Monson said, a penetrating silence came over the boys as they witnessed the end result of their efforts to collect the sacred funds that aided the needy and provided employment for those who otherwise would be idle.