Gospel Story Finder

I hope it is not presumptuous of me to place into the record of this conference, and therefore into the history of the Church, a note to complete the record of the last one.
In the last session of October conference, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle gave a touching and inspiring sermon on faith. He spoke from his heart, with scriptures in hand, without a prepared text. When he had concluded, President Hinckley, who conducted that session, said:
“I should perhaps be guilty of an indiscretion, but I think I will risk it and say that Brother Tuttle has been seriously ill and he needs our faith, the faith of which he has spoken. It will be appreciated if those who have listened to him across the Church would plead with our Father in Heaven, in the kind of faith which he has described, in his behalf” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1986, p. 93).
President Ezra Taft Benson, who was the concluding speaker, endorsed what President Hinckley had said and appealed himself for fasting and prayers of faith for the recovery of Brother Tuttle.
But Brother Tuttle did not recover. He died seven weeks later.
Now, lest there be one whose faith was shaken, believing prayers were not answered, or lest there be one who is puzzled that the prophet himself could plead for the entire Church to fast and pray for Brother Tuttle to live and yet he died, I will tell you of an experience.
I had intended to tell this at his funeral, but my feelings were too tender that day to speak of it.
One Sunday when Brother Tuttle was at home, confined mostly to his bed, I spent a few hours with him while Marné and the family went to church.
He was deeply moved by the outpouring of love from across the world. Each letter extended prayers of faith for his recovery. Many of the messages came from South America, where the Tuttle family had labored for so many years.
That day we reviewed his life, beginning with his birth in Manti, Utah, to an ordinary Latter-day Saint couple. We talked of his father, whom I knew, and of his mother, a faithful temple worker.
He talked of his mission, his college days, his marriage to Marné Whitaker, and his heroic service in the Marines.
Then we relived our days teaching seminary in Brigham City and supervising the seminaries and institutes of religion.
He talked of his seven faithful children and the flock of grandchildren whom he always described as “the best kids in the world.”
He spoke of his call to the First Quorum of the Seventy and the assignments that followed. Soon the Tuttle family was called to South America. They were hardly settled back home when the Brethren interviewed him about returning.
Others could say, “Of course, if you should call us, we would go.” But not him, nor Marné, for they had made covenants. Without complaint, his wife and family followed him back time after time for a total of seven years.
No matter that he had never recovered from serious physical troubles which began on his first assignment there. That day Brother Tuttle spoke tenderly of the humble people of Latin America. They who have so little had greatly blessed his life.
He insisted that he did not deserve more blessings, nor did he need them. Others needed them more. And then he told me this: “I talked to the Lord about those prayers for my recovery. I asked if the blessings were mine to do with as I pleased. If that could be so, I told the Lord that I wanted him to take them back from me and give them to those who needed them more.”
He said, “I begged the Lord to take back those blessings and give them to others.”
Brother Tuttle wanted those blessings from our prayers for those struggling souls whom most of us hardly remember, but whom he could not forget.
The scriptures teach that “the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much” (James 5:16).
Can you not believe that the Lord may have favored the pleadings of this saintly man above our own appeal for his recovery?
We do not know all things, but is it wrong to suppose that our prayers were not in vain at all? Who among us would dare to say that humble folk here and there across the continent of South America will not receive unexpected blessings passed on to them from this man who was without guile?
May not lofty purposes such as this be worked out in our lives if we are submissive?
Now, I know that skeptics may ridicule such things. But I, for one, am content to believe that our prayers were accepted and recorded and redirected to those whose hands hang down in despair, just as Brother Tuttle had requested.
In any case, ought we not to conclude all our prayers with “Let thy will, O Lord, be done”?
During his last weeks he was always pleasant, invariably comforting those who came to comfort him. I was present when he called his doctors to his bedside and thanked each one for the care he had received.
He was determined to live through Thanksgiving Day lest his passing cast a shadow of sorrow upon his family on that holiday in future years. That evening he saw each of his children, called those who were away, expressed his love and blessings, and bade them farewell. It was very late when they reached Clarie, who lives in Alaska, but his parting must be delayed until that was done.
Early the next morning, without resistance, with a spirit of quiet anticipation, he slipped away. At that moment, there came into that room a spirit of peace which surpasseth understanding.
Marné had been before, was then, and has been since, a perfect example of serenity and acceptance.
Now, to draw a lesson from this experience.
Brother Tuttle served twenty-eight years as a General Authority. He traveled the world. He supervised the work in Europe for a time. But with all the places he would go and all of the things he was to do, he repeatedly said that the crowning experience of his ministry was his service as president of the Provo Temple with his beloved Marné at his side.
Few know the demanding schedule of a temple president. The day may begin at three in the morning and end only too close to that same hour.
It was not that he was presiding over the temple but that the calling allowed him to be in the temple. He would have been quite content to serve under another. His feelings about that assignment were due not so much to his understanding of what a call is, as to his understanding of what a covenant is.
A covenant is a sacred promise, as used in the scriptures, a solemn, enduring promise between God and man. The fulness of the gospel itself is defined as the new and everlasting covenant (see D&C 22:1; D&C 66:2).
Several years ago I installed a stake president in England. In another calling, he is here in the audience today. He had an unusual sense of direction. He was like a mariner with a sextant who took his bearings from the stars. I met with him each time he came to conference and was impressed that he kept himself and his stake on course.
Fortunately for me, when it was time for his release, I was assigned to reorganize the stake. It was then that I discovered what that sextant was and how he adjusted it to check his position and get a bearing for himself and for his members.
He accepted his release, and said, “I was happy to accept the call to serve as stake president, and I am equally happy to accept my release. I did not serve just because I was under call. I served because I am under covenant. And I can keep my covenants quite as well as a home teacher as I can serving as stake president.”
This president understood the word covenant.
While he was neither a scriptorian nor a gospel scholar, he somehow had learned that exaltation is achieved by keeping covenants, not by holding high position.
The mariner gets his bearing from light coming from celestial bodies—the sun by day, the stars by night. That stake president did not need a mariner’s sextant to set his course. In his mind there was a sextant infinitely more refined and precise than any mariner’s instrument.
The spiritual sextant, which each of us has, also functions on the principle of light from celestial sources. Set that sextant in your mind to the word covenant or the word ordinance. The light will come through. Then you can fix your position and set a true course in life.
No matter what citizenship or race, whether male or female, no matter what occupation, no matter your education, regardless of the generation in which one lives, life is a homeward journey for all of us, back to the presence of God in his celestial kingdom.
Ordinances and covenants become our credentials for admission into His presence. To worthily receive them is the quest of a lifetime; to keep them thereafter is the challenge of mortality.
Once we have received them for ourselves and for our families, we are obligated to provide these ordinances vicariously for our kindred dead, indeed for the whole human family.
Now, there are those who scoff at the idea of vicarious ordinances performed for the salvation of souls. They think it all to be very strange.
No thinking Christian should be surprised at such a doctrine. Was not the sacrifice of Christ a vicarious offering for and in behalf of all mankind? The very Atonement was wrought vicariously.
The Lord did for us what we could not do for ourselves. Is it not Christlike for us to perform in the temples ordinances for and in behalf of those who cannot do them for themselves?
Genealogies, or family histories, as I prefer to call them, are an indispensable part of temple work. Temples are nourished with names. Without genealogies, ordinances could be performed only for the living. Searching out the names of our kindred dead is a duty of consummate importance. There is a spirit which accompanies this work very similar to that which attends us in the temple itself.
Missionaries and those with small children may not be able to devote much time to this work at present, but you can keep the spirit of it. You can talk to the old folks and record what they say, keep family records, attend the temple.
There is the tendency on the part of some to regard genealogical work as a tedious, onerous burden. And they are quite content to leave it to the aged or to others “who have an interest in such things.”
Be careful! It may well be that those who have that interest in such things have chosen the better part. And I would say to you, if you are called to other service, or do not have an interest in genealogy, do not belittle or stand in the way of those who do. Give them every encouragement; contribute what you can.
The Prophet Joseph Smith said: “The doctrine or sealing power of Elijah is as follows:—If you have power to seal on earth and in heaven, then we should be wise. The first thing you do, go and seal on earth your sons and daughters unto yourself, and yourself unto your fathers in eternal glory” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, sel. Joseph Fielding Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1938, p. 340).
The Spirit of Elijah of which the prophets have spoken is very real and accompanies those who seek for the records of their kindred dead.
The more I have to do with genealogical work, the more difficulty I have with that word dead. I know of no adequate substitute. I suppose departed would suit me as well as any. I have had too many sacred experiences, of the kind of which we never speak lightly, to feel that the word dead describes those who have gone beyond the veil.
Temple and genealogical work are visible testimonies of our belief in the resurrection and atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. Should we doubt that we live again beyond the veil, what reason would we have to do the things we are doing?
This work is our witness of the redemptive power of the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Now what of Brother Tuttle or of his family? I remind you that it is a veil, not a wall, that separates us from the spirit world. He kept his covenants. Veils can become thin, even parted. We are not left to do this work alone.
They who have preceded us in this work and our forebears there, on occasion, are very close to us. I have a testimony of this work; it is a supernal work in the Church. I am a witness that those who go beyond the veil yet live and minister here, to the end that this work might be completed.
God grant that we who have an opportunity to have part in it might seek that opportunity and labor with all our might, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Mandy* was a friend in my ward when I was growing up. We went to Primary together. She had no brothers or sisters and lived with her mother, who seldom went to church.
In those days, Primary was held on a weekday afternoon. One time while we were waiting for Primary to start, some of the girls in our class said some things that hurt Mandy’s feelings. She began to cry and went home.
Later in class when our teacher was taking roll, she paused when she came to Mandy’s name and asked if anyone knew where she was. The room became silent, and a couple of girls began to squirm in their chairs. It didn’t take long for our teacher to learn what had happened.
Our Primary teacher set aside the lesson she had prepared and taught a lesson I have never forgotten. She stood up and told us that we were all going to Mandy’s house to apologize and to mend our friendships.
We were silent as we walked the two or three blocks to Mandy’s house. At first, it was awkward when she came to the door with red and swollen eyes. But apologies were given and accepted. Our friendships were renewed, and soon we were all in tears.
Mandy came back to Primary that day. She continued to come every week and remained faithful as a youth. When she grew up, she married a returned missionary in the temple. Today she and her husband are raising a beautiful family. They remain active and involved in the Church.
I am thankful for a Primary teacher who cared enough to teach us about love and repentance by taking us to find a lost lamb. Through her example, I came to know just how much Mandy—and each one of us—mattered, not just to her, but also to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I have never forgotten that lesson.

On the subject of prayer, Elder Abrea said, “I know my prayers have been answered many, many times. One of the first times I remember was when I was eleven years old. My father also used to sell a variety of grains that had to be mashed for cattle to eat. One day he had an appointment and he couldn’t finish mashing the grain. I told him to leave me with the machinery and that I could finish it for him. He said he felt I was too young and wouldn’t be able to do it.
“‘Oh, father,’ I insisted, ‘trust me, I can do it.’
“Well, he decided to let me try. The job took about four or five hours, and I began by putting the grain into the machine. Things were going all right and then suddenly the machine jammed. I knew that you had to take one of the parts off the machine and put it on again and then it would work. I removed the part but I couldn’t get it back on the machine. I started to cry because I didn’t want to disappoint my father.
“At that time I had been a member of the Church for about six months, and I remembered one of the lessons I learned in Primary. Still crying, I kneeled down. I remember I said, ‘Father, I need Thy help, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.’ After that I went back to the machine and tried again, and it worked!
“The next testimony meeting was the first time I gave my testimony in public. I expressed my experience with prayer very simply and sat down. I know that the Lord does hear and answer our prayers.

“What’s up, Coach?” DeLyle said.
“Come in,” Coach Gardener said. “Sit down.”
DeLyle Condie walked into his coach’s office and pulled up a chair. He held his red basketball jersey in his hands. It was almost time for practice.
“I hear you’re going on a mission,” Coach said. “Let me show you something.” He turned on the projector.
DeLyle blinked in surprise. Coach often showed films of other teams playing. But these were pictures of palm trees and beaches.
“This is Hawaii,” Coach said. “The team’s going there next year. You’re going to miss it.”
“I know. But I’ve already decided,” DeLyle said. “A mission is the right thing to do.”
“Suit yourself,” Coach said. “But if you go, I don’t think you’ll ever play basketball again.”
DeLyle looked at his jersey. “I love basketball,” he said, “but some things are more important.”
“Good luck, then.” Coach sighed. “Now get to practice. You’re not a missionary yet!”
A few months later, Elder DeLyle Condie got on a ship in San Francisco, California, USA. It was 1955, and missionaries often traveled by boat back then. Three weeks later the ship arrived in Sydney, Australia. There, Elder Condie took an overnight train to Melbourne. Two elders were waiting for him.
“Wow! You’re a tall one!” Elder Johnson said. “You’d have been a great Mormon Yankee!”
“What’s that?” Elder Condie asked.
“More like what was that,” Elder Johnson said. “Missionary teams used to play in local basketball leagues. It was a way to help people get to know about the Church. One of the teams was called the Yankees. But we don’t do it anymore.”
“That’s OK,” Elder Condie said. “That’s not why I came on a mission.”
“Well, let’s get to the office,” Elder Johnson said. “It’s time to meet President Bingham, our mission president.”
President Bingham assigned Elder Condie to Tasmania, an island near Australia’s southern coast. There weren’t many Latter-day Saints there. In fact, in all of Australia, there were only about 1,200 Church members.
Elder Condie soon met lots of friendly Australians. But most weren’t interested in discussing the gospel. What they did want to talk about was the Olympics.
“Why are so many people interested in the Olympics?” Elder Condie asked.
His companion grinned. “The games are coming to Melbourne next year,” he said. “It’s a chance to put Australia on the map. Besides, lots of people are sports crazy already. I think that’s why the Mormon Yankees were so popular. I wonder if they’ll ever do that again.”
At the same time, 200 miles away in Melbourne, two men were discussing exactly that.
The coach of the Australian Olympic basketball team sat across the desk from President Bingham. “We need your help,” he said. “I know you used to have teams called Mormon Yankees. Some of your missionaries were pretty good. With the Olympics coming, it’s a long shot that Australia will win any games. We need to practice against players with talent and experience. Some friendly practice games will help people know more about your church, and they will help us get ready for the Olympics. Can you put a Mormon Yankees team together one more time?”
After the meeting, President Bingham found one of his assistants. “Bring Elder Condie back to Melbourne,” he said. “Missionaries will still be missionaries. But we’re going to help Australia prepare for the Olympics. And I’ll need Elder Condie to help choose a team.”

Born with a genetic defect in the joints which affected his ability to walk, Mark Powell has learned to face obstacles and achieve in ways that have surprised many.
Mark, a deacon in the Dallas Fourth Ward, Richardson Texas Stake, started playing the piano to exercise his fingers. Through hard work, he became proficient. Encouraged by school contests in composition, he began composing pieces for other contests. His piece, called “Dinosaurs,” for piano and synthesizer won the elementary division of the Music Teachers’ Association contest. He has also composed a piece called “Running Free” for two pianos, which also placed in composition contests.

On another occasion, I met a young man 14 years of age who was a superb tennis player. He had won all of the tennis tournaments in his class in an area that included several states. He had reached the semifinals of a very important tournament that was to take place in a distant city. As he arrived there, he found that he was scheduled to participate on Sunday. He went to the officials and told them he didn’t play tennis on Sunday; whereupon he was informed that if he wanted to play in this tournament, he would play on Sunday. He again indicated he would not play on Sunday, knowing that not to do so would mean he would forfeit the match. As it happened, the matches were rained out on Sunday. He played on Monday and won.
He then went by bus with the other finalists to another major city to compete in the championship matches that covered the entire Atlantic coastal region of the United States. They arrived on Sunday. The coach instructed the contestants to get out on the tennis courts and practice immediately upon arrival. This young man did not go to the tennis courts. The coach asked him why he wasn’t practicing. He said, “I don’t play tennis on Sunday.” The coach asked him why. His response was, “I am a Mormon.”
I suppose he wanted to win the championship for his age group more than anything else, and yet he himself had made the decision that keeping the Sabbath day holy was more important than being a champion in tennis. You see, he had found himself and had the courage and integrity to live his life according to the principles he had been taught, and he had made his decision regardless of social pressures.

On the bus to work one morning, I took a window seat. Before long I became aware of a little bee trying to get itself out of a fix. It was trapped between the two glass panels of the window, and no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t find its way out. Encased in a transparent prison, it could see freedom but couldn’t find an escape route. Perhaps frightened, it beat its wings furiously and desperately threw itself against the glass.
I’ve always been a person who didn’t like to see anyone or anything hurt. So after observing the bee for some time, I began to try to get it out of its difficulty. But lacking trust and understanding of my desire to help, it didn’t take advantage of the assistance I offered. In fact, all it did was continue to throw itself against the window. Finally I began to get a bit irritated.
Before I got to my stop and after the poor little bee had suffered much, it managed to get out of its predicament. From it I learned that we also can overcome trials—suffering less if we turn to and trust in Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, to whom all adversity is transparent.

Fourteen-year-old Trevor Hoffman of the Carrolton Second Ward, Lewisville Texas Stake, has already been wrestling for ten years. Recently, he won the Texas Amateur Wrestling Association Championship, in the 15-and-under, 85-pound division.
Last year Trevor had a perfect 21–0 record. He credits much of his success to family support. He’s also got several Montana State wrestling and judo championships under his belt, which he earned before moving to Texas. His goal is to qualify for the 1996 and 2000 Olympics.
Trevor doesn’t live his life on the mat, though—he spends some time hitting the books and has made his school’s high honor roll. He’s also active in his ward.

A friend of mine once shared an experience he had on his mission in Brazil. He and his companion met a woman who forcefully declared that she was not interested in any religious message. A religious leader had once told her that her infant son who died could never be saved because he had not been baptized. The thought of that broke her heart. She told the missionaries that unless they had a better message, she wanted nothing to do with their religion.
Fortunately, they had a better message.
The doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the salvation of little children can be summarized in a single verse of scripture: “All children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:10).
Although this doctrine is clear, many people still have questions about or misunderstand this topic. Let’s shed some light on a few of the most common questions.
Many people assume that little children are saved simply because they are innocent. While little children certainly are innocent, the Book of Mormon teaches plainly that without the Atonement of Jesus Christ, even “little children … could not be saved,” because “in Adam, or by nature, they fall” (Mosiah 3:16).
Although they are innocent of any sin, little children would still be subject to physical and spiritual death brought by the Fall. As a result, without the Resurrection and Atonement of Jesus Christ, they would be eternally lost, as would the rest of us (see 2 Nephi 9:6–10).
Gratefully, the Book of Mormon clarifies that “the blood of Christ atoneth for” little children (Mosiah 3:16), and “the curse of Adam is taken from them” (Moroni 8:8). Because of the Savior’s Atonement, little children are free from the effects of the Fall of Adam and Eve, “for they are whole” (Moses 6:54).
Doctrine and Covenants 137:10 teaches that “all children … are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven.” The only condition is that they “die before they arrive at the years of accountability.” Elder Bruce R. McConkie (1915–85) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained: “Accountability does not burst full-bloom upon a child at any given moment in his life. Children become accountable gradually, over a number of years. Becoming accountable is a process. … There comes a time, however, when accountability is real and actual and sin is attributed in the lives of those who develop normally. It is eight years of age, the age of baptism.”1
In other words, accountability develops within children all along, but at eight years old they are sufficiently accountable to be baptized and are therefore sufficiently accountable for their own sins.
As any parent knows, however, this does not mean children are incapable of doing something they know is wrong. What it does mean is that they are not yet sufficiently responsible for these wrong choices.
Children have what might appropriately be called a “grace period,” when they are not responsible for their wrongdoings as they learn and grow into accountability. If they should die in that time, then they are saved by the grace of Christ without baptism or any other effort on their part (see Moroni 8).
President Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918) lost many children to early deaths. He was comforted by the doctrine that little children would be resurrected as little children and raised to maturity by their righteous parents after the Resurrection. President Smith once shared the following: “Joseph Smith taught the doctrine that the infant child that was laid away in death would come up in the resurrection as a child; and, pointing to the mother of a lifeless child, he said to her: ‘You will have the joy, the pleasure, and satisfaction of nurturing this child, after its resurrection, until it reaches the full stature of its spirit.’ There is restitution, there is growth, there is development, after the resurrection from death. I love this truth. It speaks volumes of happiness, of joy and gratitude to my soul. Thank the Lord he has revealed these principles to us.”2
Not only will little children reach full maturity; they will also reach full exaltation. Abinadi taught that “little children also have eternal life” (Mosiah 15:25). The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that “you shall have your children; for they shall have eternal life, for their debt is paid.”3
To obtain the highest degree of the celestial kingdom, those who are accountable must enter into the new and everlasting covenant of marriage (see Doctrine and Covenants 131:1–3). Little children who die will have this opportunity in the future. President Joseph Fielding Smith (1876–1972) explained: “The Lord will grant unto these children the privilege of all the sealing blessings which pertain to exaltation. … When they grow, after the resurrection, to the full maturity of the spirit, they will be entitled to all the blessings which they would have been entitled to had they been privileged to tarry here and receive them.”4
This question is difficult to answer, especially for those who have lost a child. Perhaps the best way to start to answer this question is with the words of Nephi, who testified, “I know that [God] loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things” (1 Nephi 11:17).
We do not know all the reasons for every tragedy that happens in mortality, but we can rest assured that God loves us. Although we should not assume that tragedies are God’s will, His plan provides the way to overcome all tragedies.5 “Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot cure.”6
The Prophet Joseph Smith and his wife, Emma, had reason to ask why little children die—six of their children died. The Prophet said: “I have meditated upon the subject, and asked the question, why it is that infants, innocent children, are taken away from us, especially those that seem to be the most intelligent and interesting. The strongest reasons that present themselves to my mind are these: This world is a very wicked world. … The Lord takes many away, even in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth; therefore, if rightly considered, instead of mourning we have reason to rejoice as they are delivered from evil, and we shall soon have them again.”7
Another servant of the Lord, Elder McConkie, experienced the death of an infant granddaughter. At her funeral he said, “There are certain spirits who come into this life only to receive bodies; for reasons that we do not know, but which are known in the infinite wisdom of the Eternal Father, they do not need the testing, probationary experiences of mortality.”8
Forever and Ever, by Greg K. Olsen
Although nothing in this life can take away the feelings of loss a family experiences with the death of a child, we may find comfort in the doctrine that little children who die will be exalted. We know this because it has been revealed by our loving Father in Heaven and taught by His modern prophets and apostles.
These truths from latter-day revelation are some of the sweetest and most comforting truths of the gospel.

While I was serving as mission president in Scotland from 1975 to 1978, the Church had much opposition and criticism. On one occasion three ministers made derogatory statements publicly in a particular city. I wrote an open letter to the local newspaper announcing that we would be holding a public meeting there to dispel some of the misunderstandings which were being voiced around. It was a wonderful meeting. We first showed the fine Church filmstrip Meet the Mormons, and then I spoke to the large group concerning our beliefs and way of life. When we opened the meeting for questions, a number of people who were not members of the Church stood and said kind things about the Church and the Latter-day Saints they knew. Positive results ensued, and the work moved forward.

It’s important to obey the commandments and do what the Lord wants you to do. I learned this at a fairly young age.
When I was eleven years old, I began a paper route and was amazed at the amount of money I made. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it and was still delivering papers six years later.
One day the manager of the newspaper, as a result of my loyalty to the paper, offered me a job as assistant manager of circulation for the newspaper. My duties would include supervising other newspaper carriers and helping them sell subscriptions. In addition, every day after school and after delivering my route, I would spend a few hours at the office, answering complaints on the telephone. Between phone calls, I would be allowed to do my homework. The new job would include a raise—triple what I had been making as a newspaper carrier!
I was thrilled. I had been saving money for my mission, and many of my friends didn’t even have jobs. I really felt that the Lord was blessing me for keeping the commandments, including paying my tithing faithfully and keeping the Sabbath day holy.
A year and a half later, the manager approached me again. Plans were being made to begin a Sunday edition of the newspaper. He indicated with some enthusiasm that I would be able to deliver my papers early on Sunday morning, then come into the office to answer the telephone from 7:00 A.M. to 2:00 P.M. There would, of course, be another pay increase.
The manager saw that I was hesitating. Knowing that I was an active member of the Church, he said, “You may be thinking of not accepting this extra responsibility, but if you don’t take the job, you’ll lose your regular paper route and your weekday job. Many of the other paperboys would give their right arms to have your job. If you don’t take it, you’re fired.”
As I went home that day, I was discouraged and confused. I knew that I had been obeying the commandments, and I couldn’t understand why I would have to make such a difficult decision. I talked to my father and to my bishop, but they both indicated that the decision was up to me. My dad said, “I don’t know the answer, but I know someone who does (meaning the Lord). Ask Him.”
After I prayed and struggled for two days, I knew what I had to do. I knew that while there are some people who have to work on Sunday, I didn’t have to and shouldn’t. When I told the manager of my decision, he was angry, told me I was fired and to come in Saturday to pick up my last paycheck, then stomped away. For the next several days, he hardly spoke to me. I really wondered if I had made a correct decision, as it would have a direct impact on the finances for my mission.
When I went to pick up my last check, I found the manager waiting for me. “Please forgive me,” he said. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to make you go against your beliefs and break a commandment of the Lord. (He was an inactive member of the Church.) I have found another young man who is willing to work on Sunday. You can keep your job. Will you?” He then added. “You will find in your check next week and for as long as you work for me the amount of money you would have received had you worked on Sunday.”
Of course I did keep the job. I felt great joy that afternoon as I went home. I know that the Lord blesses us for keeping His commandments and doing what we know we should. Be careful that you never compromise the principles that you believe in. Remember to always trust in the Lord, and He will bless you for it.

From the time I was a young girl I wanted a Bible of my own. But it wasn’t until I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and felt a great need to get to know my Savior that I promised to buy a Bible the next chance I had.
The Church was new in my area in Venezuela, and orders for books could only be filled when someone traveled in person to mission headquarters. My branch president, who was a full-time missionary, was aware of my need. One day he told me that he would be traveling to the mission office in three days. I explained to him that even though the Bible cost very little money, at that moment I did not have it. I told him I would get it before he left, and he agreed to stop by my home on his way to the mission office.
The day of his trip arrived and I still did not have the money, so I appealed to the Lord in prayer. When I finished praying, my worry disappeared and I felt a great peace. I had barely risen from my knees when someone knocked at the door. I opened it and saw a young mother with a baby in her arms.
“I live just behind your house,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know you, but I need a favor, and for some reason I decided to come here.” She asked me to watch her baby for a short time, saying she would pay me. I agreed to do it.
By the time she returned, I had decided that I wouldn’t take her money. But she insisted and placed in my hand the exact amount I needed for the Bible. What tender emotions I felt at that moment! I knew that the Lord had answered my prayer.

There is a boy in my ward who has hemophilia (a disease that makes people bleed too easily). He is three years old. One day he fell off his bike and had a terrible seizure. He was in the hospital for three days. My whole ward fasted for him, and after the fast he got well enough to go home. I am so happy that he is home. I am thankful for fasting. I know that when we fast, wonderful things can happen.Jamie Robbins, age 10,Crestline, California

Martin follows Jesus by learning about Him. When Martin met the missionaries, they gave him a pamphlet about Jesus Christ. Martin is visually impaired, so he couldn’t read the small words. But he still wanted to learn more.
The missionaries gave Martin a copy of the Book of Mormon in braille. Braille is a form of written language for people who are blind or visually impaired.
Martin chose to be baptized with his dad. “I’m thankful for the Church of Jesus Christ,” Martin says. “I know it’s true.”

The next morning I was up a little before five, tossing bundles of the Herald onto the back seat of the car. During the night the snow had stopped and the world was buried under its wet cottony mass. I glanced down the driveway and wondered if I should take a few minutes to push some of the snow away before pulling out. Blowing on my numb fingertips and stomping the snow from my feet, I shook my head. I didn’t have time, I reasoned. And I was sure I could get out without getting stuck.
The first stop I made was at Sister Rencher’s. With most people I didn’t make the effort to set the paper inside the front door. I just tossed it in the general direction of the porch. But with Sister Rencher I made an exception because it was so hard for her to get around. I snatched a paper off the back seat, stepped from the car, and sprinted for the front steps. I stopped at the end of the walk and stared in disbelief. The front walk and steps were swept completely clean. I glanced at my watch—5:15 A.M. “Boy, somebody’s sure been up early this morning,” I muttered, hurrying up the clean walk and setting the paper inside the storm door. “Maybe Sister Rencher can get around with that walker better than I thought,” I grinned.
“That was quick,” Dad called to me as I burst in from the cold 90 minutes later. He was just putting on his coat and stuffing papers into his briefcase before heading out the door for work.
“There’s a ton of snow out there,” I remarked. “It must have snowed another four inches after we went to bed.”
“I guess you cleaned off the walks and driveway,” Dad joked.
“What did you want me to do, get up at three o’clock?” I grinned back. “I was lucky to get the papers delivered. But somebody was sure up early. Sister Rencher’s walks were clean as spring.”
Dad smiled. “What about Sister Hatch’s and Sister Ballard’s?”
“Dad, I was delivering papers, not home teaching. I don’t go over that way.”

Some of those involved in the project were able to submit names for family members who had researched names but had not submitted them for temple work. For Amanda Gardner of the Pioneer Ward, researching names helped draw her closer to family members. She helped her grandparents, Allen and Helga Willie, submit names they had been researching for 30 years. Her other grandfather, Sterling Gardner, helped her friend research names. Amanda says, “One of my good friends had no names to submit, so she came to my grandpa and he helped her find about 175 names. At first she was like, ‘Oh, they’re just names on paper.’ But I realized they’re not just names on paper; they’re family members.”

Some years ago I coached a high school basketball team through a rather unusual season. The season began with a number of disappointing losses. Some of the fans and townspeople didn’t make a secret of their unhappiness over the team’s failures. There was considerable public comment, and it was a challenging time for members of the team. Several of them finally became discouraged and withdrew from the team. Those who remained didn’t lose faith in themselves or in their coach. The rough going seemed to be an incentive for them to try even harder.

At mid-season the team began to win their games. They qualified for the district tournament and surprised everyone there by winning a place in the state play-offs. To the amazement of everyone, they went on to win the state championship—the first ever to be won by that school!

Following the celebration and the awarding of trophies after the championship game, I drove several of the team members back to our city. There was silence during much of the ride as we each reflected on the incredible outcome of our season’s efforts. Finally, one of the young men spoke. (He had been honored for being one of the outstanding players in the tournament.) “Coach,” he said, “I think we were supposed to win tonight.”

I was curious to know what had prompted this conclusion. “Why do you think we were supposed to win?” I asked.

His response was simple and direct—and I will never forget its impact. “Because we paid the price,” he said.

Indeed they had, and I am sure the lessons learned by those young men during that eventful year have been valuable to them throughout their lives.

Eight-year-old Megan enjoys playing the piano. Recently her piano teacher offered a reward of a doughnut for faithful daily practice. The teacher said she would be “dialing for doughnuts” and would call Megan sometime during the week. If she had practiced that day, she would earn the reward. When Megan was called, she was not at home to give her report. At her weekly lesson, the teacher asked Megan if she had practiced, to which Megan responded that she thought she had and took the reward. When Megan’s mother saw the doughnut, she questioned Megan and helped her understand that she needed to be honest. An apologetic phone call to her teacher was made with her mom’s encouragement. As teacher and student visited, it was discovered that Megan really had completed her music theory writing; hence, she fully qualified for the reward. Thanks to wise, concerned parents, valuable lessons will be remembered for a long while.

James Peter Fugal was an honest man! He herded sheep much of his life in the rolling hills of Idaho—both his own sheep and sheep for others.
On one bitterly cold winter night, he was herding sheep for another man when a blizzard set in. The sheep bunched together, as sheep do, in the corner of a fenced area, and many died. Many other sheep on surrounding ranches also died that same night because of the weather.
Though the death of the sheep was no fault of his, James Fugal felt responsible and spent the next several years working and saving to repay the owner for his lost sheep.
This was the type of deep moral honor and accountability that was fostered by scripture-reading, God-fearing settlers on the early frontier.
I thought of James Fugal, the humble sheepherder, and how wonderful it was that these children were being taught the same values that made him a man of such noble character.

Most of you know that despite his close supervision of he building of the St. George Temple, he was not its designer and in fact disliked acutely and vocally the small original tower, which offended his carpenter’s eye as badly out of proportion. He did not embarrass the local craftsmen by directly insisting on a change, but on August 16, 1878, about one year after Brigham’s death, his voice seems to have been heard. The tower was struck by lightning and, though the temple was miraculously preserved from burning, the tower was badly damaged—and was replaced by a much larger one.