Gospel Story Finder

While camped on the Bear River, Brigham Young contracted mountain fever and became so ill that he could not continue to travel. It was decided that eight wagons and several men would stay behind with him, and the rest would go on. But as the main group moved on, others were stricken with the fever. The pioneers decided to let the sick rest while an advance company with 23 wagons and 42 men led by Orson Pratt scouted out the best route through the mountains.
The advance party found the Donner Trail, made the year before, and began to follow it. The trail was very rough, so the men spent much of their time clearing trees and leveling the ground for those behind them.
On 21 July 1847, Orson Pratt and Erastus Snow went down Emigration Canyon ahead of the others to scout out the area. They had only one horse, so they took turns walking and riding. A few miles from the mouth of the canyon, Erastus realized that he had lost his coat. He took the horse and turned back to find it. Orson walked on alone and was the first of the pioneers to set foot in the Salt Lake Valley. He and Erastus returned to camp, and the next day the advance company entered the Salt Lake Valley and headed north.
On 23 July they traveled to an area near where the Salt Lake Temple now stands. Orson Pratt called everyone together and led them in a prayer of thanksgiving and of dedicating themselves and the land to the Lord. After the prayer, the pioneers immediately went to work unpacking the wagons, establishing a settlement, and plowing the dry, hard land so that it could be planted. On that same day, Brigham Young and his group crossed Big Mountain. From its summit, President Young looked out of the carriage he was riding in and declared: “This is the right place. Drive on.”* The next day, 24 July, the last of the company arrived in the valley. It had taken the pioneers 111 days to make the journey to the Salt Lake Valley.
Sunday, 25 July 1847, the Saints worshiped and gave thanks for their safe journey. It had been a long trip, and for many years Saints would continue to sacrifice to cross the plains—but at last a place had been found where The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints could prosper.

I have one more way to learn to love. My story begins in first grade. I loved first grade. The windows that were decorated with our drawings for anyone to see who drove down Main Street were changed with the seasons. I loved the smell of chalk dust and pencil shavings. I loved jump rope and tag at recess, and I loved the books the teacher read to us after lunch. In our school, two first-grade classrooms on the first floor were matched by two second-grade classrooms directly above on the second floor. We first graders were not allowed to go up those stairs except on an occasional afternoon visit to the school library, carefully chaperoned by our teacher. But each day I stood on the first floor and watched the second graders clamber up the stairs talking and laughing, the boys punching each other in the arm and the girls giggling and whispering. I longed to go up those stairs, too. Going upstairs to second grade appeared to me to be the ultimate step in maturity. Second graders knew more than we did, and somehow I understood that knowing more would be advantageous to me, so I longed for the day I could go upstairs to second grade.

That day came. I climbed the stairs on the first day of second grade and sat down in my classroom expecting maturity and understanding to unfold before me. I looked around the room and found seated there the same children I had been with in first grade. To my surprise and dismay, nothing, simply nothing, seemed different. It appeared that second grade would not unlock the mysteries of the world. Surrounding me were ordinary children. All of us apparently were no different than we were last year. What a disappointment when I had expected something much more grand.

I have lived long enough now to watch my classmates grow up, marry, raise families, wrestle with the economy, put food on the table, and set one foot in front of the other in doing the best they could. What I couldn’t see in second grade—and often miss even now—was that I was growing, too. Just because the same people were around me didn’t mean we were the same.

You need to know that I am quite fearful of heights. Standing on anything higher than six feet from the ground, I begin to feel very uncomfortable. Being so afraid of heights, several years ago I did something that I never thought I could do. Some experienced mountain climbing friends of mine invited my two youngest sons and me to go with them on a hike down the Pine Creek Trail in Zion National Park. This hike takes you through a magnificent, deep, narrow, twisting, slot canyon. The thing that makes this particular hike so exciting (for those who are not afraid of heights, I might add) is the seven required repels as you descend this slot canyon.

Repelling is the technique used to descend from something by rope. The equipment consists of special climbing ropes, gloves, straps, anchors, a harness that goes around your waist and hips and a carabineer which is an oblong metal ring that the rope passes through to help control the speed of your descent. Repelling requires a sense of adventure, some skill and some physical strength and is definitely not for those who are terrified of heights. In spite of my fear of high places, and after a lot of persuasion from my friends, I reluctantly decided to make this hike. The most compelling reason for doing something this scary was knowing that my boys would love it.

Well, off we went and after a little practice with our equipment and some fairly easy repels, which I am pleased to say I handled quite well, we found ourselves at the end of the slot canyon with one more rappel to go. This last rappel was the biggest one of all. It was a 125-foot free fall down through a dark cavern into a shallow pool of water! A free fall rappel means being suspended on the rope free of any other kind of support. I cannot describe how frightened I was as I looked over the edge of the cliff into the darkness and saw how far it was down to the bottom.

I watched as some of the members of our group confidently secured themselves to the rope, leaned back over the edge of the cliff, and with great excitement began their descent to the ground below. All the way down they would shout back up to us telling how fun and thrilling it was. Finally, it was my turn. I carefully made my way to the edge of the cliff. Realizing my two boys were watching, I wanted to portray an image of strength and control, not that of a quivering wimp. Notwithstanding my best efforts, I am sure they could see that I was truly scared to death.

Terrified, I held firmly onto the rope and slowly backed up to the edge. Trying not to look down, I took a deep breath and leaned back into my harness and began to inch my way over the cliff into the great, dark abyss that extended 125 feet below me. After a few steps over the edge, it opened up into a large cavern. No longer would I be able to provide any support with my feet. I now had to “free fall." At that moment, I fought with images in my mind of the rope breaking and falling to a certain death. Shaking and hoping that the rope would support me, I took another deep breath and carefully let more rope pass through my carabineer until I was hanging there in mid air. As I firmly held the rope I could literally feel its strength. It was then that I looked up and I could see that the rope was still connected securely to the anchor in the rock above. The rope safely held me and instantly I felt confident that I would be all right. At that moment a wonderful, reassuring feeling of excitement swept over me. My rappel to the ground below was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life.

Of all the requirements Rocco has fulfilled to earn his various awards, he points to one in particular as most valuable for his personal growth: “Reading the Book of Mormon,” Rocco says without hesitation. “That was the biggest and most rewarding challenge.”

“I had read the Book of Mormon once already, a year or so ago, but I was just reading to get it done,” Rocco explains. “When I started reading it again, I really wanted to learn and gain a testimony of it.” He approached reading the Book of Mormon in a completely different way his second time through. “Every time I read now, I pray before to ask Heavenly Father’s Spirit to be with me as I read.”

Rocco’s already begun on his next big project—to more actively share his testimony with others as he prepares to serve a full-time mission. His Scouting experiences and earning the Duty to God Award have helped him in his personal development and in becoming a missionary. “To spread the gospel, I needed to know what is in the Book of Mormon, and I needed to know that it is true,” he says. “After reading the Book of Mormon for the second time, I received a testimony of it.”

Now that he has received his call to serve as a full-time missionary, the testimony Elder du Plessis has built is proving much more useful than the rope-and-log bridge he built for his Springbok construction project. However, some of the backwoodsman skills he learned as a Scout may come in handy as he serves in Zimbabwe, Zambia, and Malawi.

I have certainly seen this in my own life.

When I was very young, my family was twice forced to flee our home and leave everything behind. On both occasions, it became apparent that people in our new locations considered us as “less” than them. Among the children my age, my accent marked me as an outsider, and it was a rich source of ridicule and laughter for them.

The trauma and stress of our relocations caused me to fall behind in my studies, and I lost one full school year. In East Germany, I had studied Russian as a second language. It was difficult, but I managed. Now, in West Germany, I was required to learn English.

This seemed impossible to me! I believed that my mouth was simply not made for the English language.

During my teenage years, I had a crush on a most amazing girl with beautiful large brown eyes. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in me.

So there I was, a rather insignificant and struggling young man living in post-war Germany who didn’t seem to have much chance of success in life.

However, I had a couple of good things going for me. I knew that my family loved me. In school and in church, teachers encouraged me to always set my goals high. I still remember when a young American missionary taught this principle from the scriptures: “If God is for [you], who can be against [you]?”2

There was something about this that struck me with great power. “If that’s the case,” I thought, “then why should I fear?”

So, I believed. And I trusted God.

For a time, I was in an apprenticeship program. One of my teachers challenged me to aim higher and attend night school to study mechanical engineering. It took a great deal of extra work, but it led me to discover my great passion for aviation! It came as a shock when I learned that to become a pilot, I needed to know English. But I wanted to become a pilot, and somehow miraculously my mouth seemed to change, and English no longer was such an impossible language.

With new motivation, a fresh commitment to work hard, and trust in Heavenly Father, I took small steps that helped me to build the confidence that I could do it. Of course, that didn’t mean things always went smoothly.

When I was 19, I traveled to San Antonio, Texas, USA, to begin my air force pilot training. On the airplane, I sat next to a man who spoke with a Texan accent. I realized to my horror that the English I had worked so desperately to learn was not the same English he spoke!

At pilot training school, things were difficult too. It was an extremely competitive program, with everyone vying for the top spot at graduation. I knew right away that I was at a disadvantage because most of my classmates were native English speakers.

My flight instructors cautioned me about another potential disadvantage—I spent a lot of time at church. The local members welcomed me into their branch and into their homes, and we even built a chapel in Big Spring, Texas, together. My instructors worried that such activities were impairing my chance at a high ranking. I didn’t think so. So I trusted God and did the best I could.

Eventually, I did learn English, though I’m still working on it. I completed my pilot training—and finished first in my class. I became a fighter pilot and later an airline captain. And that beautiful, brown-eyed girl of my dreams became my wife.

I would like to illustrate the fulfillment of President Packer’s promise in the life of a Relief Society sister in Fredericksburg, Virginia. This sister was faithful. She joined the Church 18 years ago and believed with all of her heart that she could have a family united in the gospel of Jesus Christ. However, her husband was not prepared to make the necessary lifestyle changes. He supported her decision but would not join. She had two sons who were being influenced by the decisions of her husband. In the course of her struggle, a dear sister gave her a tape of a talk by Elder M. Russell Ballard. From that tape she learned that faith and doubt cannot be in the mind at the same time. She firmly grasped onto this hope that the Lord would support her in her righteous desires if she would be faithful. She told no one but set a goal for her husband’s baptism and the reactivation of her two sons. New ideas kept coming into her mind as to what she could do to bring about this great promise. Slowly but surely she began to see progress. Her husband accepted the challenge to take the discussions again, and her sons felt a new spirit in their home and started reacting positively.
First, both sons became active in the Church again. And finally, her husband was baptized and received the priesthood. Not coincidentally, her husband’s baptism was within three weeks of the date which this faithful sister set as her goal to unite her family in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Someone else who loved basketball helped me prepare for my mission too. His name is Devin Durrant, and he was one of my teammates in college. He became my hero.
He asked me if I knew what it felt like to make the winning shot in a basketball game. I said yes. Then he said, “It’s great. But it can’t compare to how you’ll feel when you teach and baptize someone on your mission.” I never forgot that.

Brother Thamas, a thin elderly man, sat by himself, often some distance from the other members who gathered to greet each other at the beginning of our Sunday meetings. His was a small figure, humble in appearance. He had been recently baptized and had no family. His Spanish, although understandable, was a mixture of Portuguese, French, German, English, and his native Hungarian. In brief conversations with those members who tried to fellowship him, he spoke of faraway Hungary.
One day the bishop asked him to speak for a few minutes in sacrament meeting. He was surprised but accepted. We too were surprised to hear his name announced. We prepared ourselves for a brief and simple testimony.
But once he stood at the pulpit, this brother’s appearance was transformed in a most remarkable manner, and he immediately captured our attention. His posture became erect, almost military, although he wore no uniform or medals. His manner was that of a soldier—old, but proud. Slowly but confidently he began his compelling story.
During World War II he had served in an infantry battalion in an area where constant combat covered the earth with blood, pain, and death. His squad was commanded by a sergeant who had earned the hatred of his men through extraordinary harshness. One terrible night a mortar shell exploded not far from the sergeant, critically wounding him. The commanding officer stopped a dilapidated truck that often passed by to pick up the wounded and dying and take them behind the lines to be cared for or buried.
The squad watched the fate of their dying leader from a distance. Not one went to help him. The officer asked for a volunteer to carry the man to the truck and accompany him behind the lines. No one volunteered.
Then, after something of a pause, Brother Thamas stepped forward. “Moved by compassion,” he told us, “I decided to carry the unfortunate fellow and go with him on his trip. I took care of him the best I could during his long and painful ride.
“I returned later in search of my squad. When I reached the front, I learned that fierce bombardment had wiped out a large number of men on the awful night of my departure. Not one man from my squad had survived apart from myself. And then I understood. I thanked God for having moved me to compassion. He saved my life and gave me a chance to hear the restored gospel.”
Our simple affection for a bent old man changed to appreciation, admiration, and gratitude for his having shared an example of the pure love of Christ.

Brother José de Souza Marques was the type of leader who truly understood the principle taught by the Savior: “And if any man among you be strong in the Spirit, let him take with him him that is weak, that he may be edified in all meekness, that he may become strong also” (D&C 84:106).
As a member of the branch presidency in Fortaleza, Brazil, Brother Marques with the other priesthood leaders developed a plan to reactivate those who were less active in his branch. One of those who was less active was a young man by the name of Fernando Araujo. Recently I spoke to Fernando, and he told me of his experience:
“I became involved in surfing competitions on Sunday mornings and stopped going to my Church meetings. One Sunday morning Brother Marques knocked on my door and asked my nonmember mother if he could talk to me. When she told him I was sleeping, he asked permission to wake me. He said to me, ‘Fernando, you are late for church!’ Not listening to my excuses, he took me to church.
“The next Sunday the same thing happened, so on the third Sunday I decided to leave early to avoid him. As I opened the gate I found him sitting on his car, reading the scriptures. When he saw me he said, ‘Good! You are up early. Today we will go and find another young man!’ I appealed to my agency, but he said, ‘We can talk about that later.’
“After eight Sundays I could not get rid of him, so I decided to sleep at a friend’s house. I was at the beach the next morning when I saw a man dressed in a suit and tie walking towards me. When I saw that it was Brother Marques, I ran into the water. All of a sudden, I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. It was Brother Marques, in water up to his chest! He took me by the hand and said, ‘You are late! Let’s go.’ When I argued that I didn’t have any clothes to wear, he replied, ‘They are in the car.’
“That day as we walked out of the ocean, I was touched by Brother Marques’s sincere love and worry for me. He truly understood the Savior’s words: ‘I will seek that which was lost, and bring again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick’ (Ezek. 34:16). Brother Marques didn’t just give me a ride to church—the quorum made sure I remained active. They planned activities that made me feel needed and wanted, I received a calling, and the quorum members became my friends.”
Following his reactivation, Brother Araujo went on a full-time mission and has served as bishop, stake president, mission president, and regional representative. His widowed mother, three sisters, and several cousins have also entered the waters of baptism.
When speaking about the work of the Aaronic Priesthood quorums in his ward, Brother Araujo, who is once again serving as a bishop, stated:
“Our rescue work is the focus in all three quorums of the Aaronic Priesthood. We have a list of each one of our lost sheep. The quorum presidencies, advisers, and bishopric divide up and go visit them on a regular basis. We visit not only the less-active members, but we also visit the nonmembers in less-active or part-member families.
“Activities are organized to reach each young man. We discuss each young man in our quorum presidency meetings and in our monthly bishopric youth committee meetings. In 2003 we managed to rescue five priests, one teacher, and two deacons, who are now active in their quorums. We have also reactivated some families and have enjoyed the blessing of seeing some nonmembers enter the waters of baptism.”

Doug Goreas, member of the Royal Canadian Sea Cadets, recently completed a cruise aboard the HMCS (Her Majesty’s Canadian Ship) Mackenzie to Japan. Doug, 16, was selected along with 29 other cadets for this privilege.
Doug’s voyage first took him to Pearl Harbor and then on to Japan. After reaching the port of Kagoshima, Doug relates, “I would have to say that Kagoshima was one of the highlights of my trip. While on leave there, I happened to glance into a bookstore and saw two well-dressed, clean-shaven young men. They looked like Mormon missionaries. When they came out, I approached them, and they were just that. It was great to talk to them and find out about the Church in that area.
“They invited me to the youth group meeting the next night, and as I had leave I attended. I sat in on an English class and afterward played in a Ping-Pong tournament. Teenagers are the same wherever you travel. It was a wonderful experience.”
Doug’s next port of call was Kure, where he took a train trip to Hiroshima to visit the Hiroshima Peace Park, built as a reminder of the destructive potential of the atom bomb. After visiting the ports of Kobe and Yokuska, the HMCS Mackenzie cruised back to Canada.
A student at Kelowna Senior Secondary School, Doug is an assistant to the president of the priests quorum of the Kelowna Branch, in Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. During the past four years he has won numerous awards, including the Kelowna Citizenship and Achievement awards.
Doug plays nine instruments and presently plays the tuba with the Kelowna Senior Secondary Concert Band. He attributes his interest in music to “the fine example and inspiration of the members of the Church.” Doug is looking forward to serving a mission and completing a university degree in music.

But before the end of the year, Alyce’s brother Pete was killed in an automobile accident. Such news travels fast. The seat next to mine in algebra was empty for a whole week, and I felt compassion for Alyce. I wanted to write her a note, but I didn’t know what to say. Anyway, I thought Alyce didn’t want to hear from me. The following Monday when Alyce still wasn’t back in school, however, I decided to send her a card. I stopped in Gilbert’s drug store after school and looked for an appropriate sympathy card. Finally I picked out the one I liked best and took it home. I started putting it in the envelope, but before I sealed it, I took the card back out and wrote a few words on it that I though might be comforting. I knew Pete had been dear to Alyce. She had talked about him a few times. Once she had said, “Pete is not like me. He doesn’t joke (tease) as much. He has a quiet sense of humor like you.” Whenever she talked about Pete, I could sense a cheerful pride in her voice.
I decided to mail the card that night before I changed my mind. The least I could do was tell her I was sorry and try to comfort her in some small way. Even if our friendship had changed, it could possibly still help her.
That Friday Alyce was back in her seat next to me in algebra class. “How are you doing?” I asked quietly as I touched her arm. She looked tired and thinner.
“Okay, I guess. Thanks for the note.” The next minute some of her friends came in, and she called to them and said something funny. They laughed, relieved to see that Alyce had recovered. She looked down at her desk and then over to me again. “Could I talk to you, maybe after school?”
“Sure,” I wondered what she wanted to talk about.
“I’ll meet you by the oak tree.”
“Okay.”
She was there after the bell rang and we began silently wandering. “Do you care if we sit down on the grass for a minute?” Alyce asked.
“Of course not.”
She didn’t talk but lowered her head; I couldn’t see her face, but then a tear dripped down to the grass. I handed her my handkerchief. “Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to see me. I didn’t intend to cry.”
We walked around the school until we found an area that was somewhat secluded near the bleachers. She had stopped crying and she took hold of my hand. “You know, you’re one of the few people who has treated me like I’m more than just a funny person. It’s hard to be funny all the time. There’s a lot of pressure.” She began laughing. “That sounds funny, doesn’t it?”
“I think I understand,” I said.
“Like right now. I don’t feel much like being funny, but nobody knows how to react to an unfunny Alyce, so feel I have to joke and tease.” Her lips began to tremble.
“Go ahead and cry if you need to, Alyce,” I said.
She cried then, and I put my arm around her shoulders and felt helpless as her back jerked with each heavy sob. “I’m sorry,” I kept saying. “I’m sorry.”
“I feel so foolish,” she said.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t feel that way.”
Finally, she got control of herself and bit her lower lip. “I’m not going to cry anymore now.” She swallowed hard and tried to smile. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called this little meeting,” she joked. Then she was serious again. “It’s about something you said on the card you sent me, Bill. I memorized it. You said, ‘I have strong faith that Pete still lives.’ “She bit her lip again. “I’ve got to know more about that.” She was whispering in emotional spurts. “My family has never been very religious, and I’ve got to know where he is right now.” She was losing control of her emotions again, and she paused for a moment. “If you believe it, I can believe it too.” She tried to laugh. “Because you’re the most honest person I’ve ever met!” Again she paused and was serious. “And, I know I can trust you, Bill.”
“I’m glad,” I said softly but emphatically. “Because what I said is true.” I was starting to feel emotional, too. “Yes, I’d like to tell you more, Alyce.” Now I felt my eyes beginning to fill with tears, and now I was the one who felt foolish. “Could I borrow my handkerchief back for a minute,” I said as ruggedly as possible. “I think I might need it before this little meeting is over.”
“You know, you’re one of the few people who has treated me like I’m more than just a funny person. It’s hard to be funny all the time.”
“If you believe it, I can believe it too … Because you’re the most honest person I’ve ever met!”

For instance, I once visited in a counseling session with a young woman in her early twenties, hurt and angry because her father had verbally exploded at her the night before. She asked, “How am I supposed to feel any self-esteem?” With a strong sense of ill-usage, she told of a friend working in law enforcement who wanted to prosecute her ex-boyfriend who had introduced her to illegal drugs. She thought this was unfair and she felt responsible for her ex-boyfriend’s getting in further trouble with the law. You see, this boyfriend had returned to dealing drugs after serving a prison term for the same thing. In addition, he had kept all her furniture the last time she moved out and, incidentally, had given her an STD. Yet she had just a week previously contemplated moving in with him again, rather than stay with a new boyfriend (not an ex-felon and with a stable job).

It’s important to understand that this was a very nice young woman. She was attractive and could obviously be lively and fun. She wanted to be drug-free and out of debt (“but how am I supposed to pay my bills if I’m in a re-hab center?”). Those living at a telestial level are not necessarily unpleasant or “bad” people. Nevertheless, they are allowing appetites and passions to govern their choices and their lives. Eventually, the consequences start to pile up for them and for those around them. While not a terrible person, this young woman was not a very safe candidate in terms of potential for marriage or motherhood.

I joined Girl Scouts and have made a lot of new friends. We do lots of fun activities, but once there was an activity on a Sunday. I really wanted to go because the girls would be learning new songs, eating s’mores, and earning a patch, but I know that Sunday is the Sabbath. I knew that going to the activity wouldn’t be the right choice for me, so I went to church instead. When I saw my friends’ new patch at our next Girl Scout meeting I was a little sad because I didn’t have one. But I remembered that I had kept the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy, and that made me happy. Sometimes doing the right thing is hard, but it always feels good afterward.

Once I was arguing with my mom and felt pretty bad. So, I decided I would pray. Although I was in a bad mood and didn’t want to be spiritual, I knew praying would end up with me getting happy and less argumentative. So right there at the table, after my mom left, I started my prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’ve come to you tonight because …”
No, I opened my eyes and unfolded my arms. That sounded weird. I tried my second attempt. “Heavenly Father, I need …”
That also sounded strange. Now that I think of it, the opening to my prayers had only one problem, and I am glad I tried again because I felt Satan urging me to stop and give up my prayer to ask Heavenly Father for help. “Dear Heavenly Father—”
Suddenly I had a prompting to say thank you! So I did, and all the many things I could thank my Father in Heaven for started spilling from my head. When I was done thanking Him, I then discussed the problem at hand. My prayer lasted 25 minutes. In the end I made sure to close in the name of Jesus Christ. After my prayer I felt a wonderful peace inside me, the warm spiritual feeling that I know our Heavenly Father and parents love me and that I am a child of God.

Brigham’s mission to England, as the head of the Quorum of the Twelve, began with two dramatic departures that reveal his growing confidence in the Lord and his own developing ability as a courageous and prophetic leader. Indeed, the two years between April 1839, when Brigham led a majority of the Twelve in a daring, necessarily secret, formal farewell ceremony while surrounded by their enemies in Far West, and April 1841, when he triumphantly led them back from England, were among the two most important of his life—both in accomplishment and in personal development. We need to remember that in England he participated in the justly famous mass conversions in Herefordshire along with Wilford Woodruff; that he preached in London and visited St. Paul’s Cathedral and the British Museum; that in England he healed the lame and sick, compiled a book of hymns, published the Book of Mormon and prepared an index for it, established and for a time edited the Millennial Star—these things while welding the Quorum of the Twelve into a unified, smoothly working executive and apostolic body, with himself firmly at its head.
The first departure came as the result of a revelation Joseph Smith received in Missouri in July 1838, commanding that the Twelve, recently riven by the apostasy in Kirtland, be organized again and expand upon its assigned task of proselyting by going to England. They were to “take leave of my saints” in Far West the next April 26 on the building site of the temple.18 But before that time came, Joseph and many of the leaders had been jailed, leaving Brigham suddenly in charge of a desperate winter exodus back across the state to Illinois. The Governor’s extermination order was in effect, so enemies of the Saints were openly boasting that they would kill anyone who tried to fulfill “Joe Smith’s prophecy” about the Twelve leaving for England from Missouri.
Some of the Saints who were gathered in Quincy, Illinois, argued that in their persecuted condition surely the Lord would not require them to fulfill his word to the letter, but Brigham had been learning from Joseph the value of something more important than practical expediency. He knew the value of energetic, even dangerous, effort and sacrifice in keeping faith with the Lord and His prophet, and he knew the value of great example in motivating faith in the Saints. The three other apostles in Quincy agreed with Brigham that “the Lord God had spoken and it was our duty to obey and leave the event in his hands and he would protect us.”19 The four traveled back by carriage, picking up apostle John E. Page (who was still bringing his family out of Missouri) on the way and meeting Heber Kimball in Far West, where he had been in hiding awaiting them. Heber recorded that the Lord cast a deep sleep on the town.20 They met while it was still dark (Brigham was practical as well as courageously faithful) on the morning of April 26, ordained Wilford Woodruff and George A. Smith apostles, thus providing a minimum Quorum of seven to do business, directed the laying of a token stone for the foundation of the temple, and “took their leave … agreeable to revelation.”21
The Twelve then returned to Illinois (taking with them the last group of refugees, who had risked their lives to fulfill the Lord’s command to the Twelve to “take leave of my saints”), assisted in settling the scattered Saints on the future site of Nauvoo, and spent the summer getting ready for their missions—preparing physically for their families as much as their destitute condition would allow, and preparing spiritually through meetings with the Prophet, who had been released from jail in time to join them in founding the new city. Then a memorable meeting was held at Brigham Young’s cabin across the river in Montrose on July 2, where “brother Joseph taught many important, glorious principles calculated to benefit and bless [us] on [our] mission,”22 especially advising the apostles to be merciful with each other and pray for each other, to avoid all pride and backbiting such as had brought on the past troubles with dissension and apostasy.23
When the apostles tried to leave in August, the malaria that infested the low, swampy ground where they had settled along the Mississippi had disabled nearly everyone. Brigham’s description is typically simple and restrained, leaving us to imagine the physical and emotional suffering of this second dramatic departure: “My health was so poor I was unable to go thirty rods to the river without assistance. … I left my wife sick, with a babe only ten days old, and all my children sick and unable to wait upon each other.”24 His family was even without adequate clothing because of losses to the mob in Missouri; Brigham himself was wearing a cap made out of a pair of old pantaloons, and he took along a quilt because he had no overcoat until some Saints in New York made him one. He commented that he thus “had not much of a ministerial appearance.” But though deathly ill for a time, and literally carried from place to place as he and a few companions were shuttled by the Saints across Illinois, he gradually recovered strength and began to have experiences commensurate with his calling—even though he lacked the “appearance.”
Traveling without purse or scrip, Brigham found that $13.50 given them by the Saints and kept in his trunk became like the Old Testament widow’s cruse of oil and barrel of flour that were continually replenished; drawn from again and again, it provided $87 worth of fares and meals as they traveled by stage across Indiana and Ohio to Kirtland. There they found John Taylor; he had left earlier while in good health but had been stricken enroute by a near fatal illness from which he was just then recovering. Brigham, showing the expanding dimensions of his spiritual leadership, met with the apostles in the temple where he anointed and blessed Elder Taylor and washed the apostles’ feet.25 This quality, Brigham’s growing confidence in the power of the Lord available to him, associated closely with the humble recognition of his own roughness and his need for polishing, is revealed again in his entry on crossing Lake Erie:
“The lake was so rough that no boat came into port until the 26th, when we went on board the steamboat Columbus. … The wind rose about one o’clock in the morning. I went up on deck and felt impressed in spirit to pray to the Father, in the name of Jesus, for a forgiveness of my sins, and then I felt to command the winds to cease, and let us go safe on our journey. The winds abated, and I felt to give the glory and honor and praise to that God who rules all things.”26
The missionary journey took great physical courage as well as faith. While jumping onto a ferryboat in New York, Brigham slipped and fell against an iron ring on the deck, severely dislocating his shoulder:
“I directed brothers Kimball and Hedlock to lay hold of my body, and Brother Pratt to take hold of my hand and pull, putting his foot against my side, while I guided the bone with my right hand back to its place. … When I came to a fire I fainted, and was not able to dress myself for several days.27
Brigham reported that on the voyage across the Atlantic “I was sick nearly all the way and confined to my berth. … When I landed on the shore I gave a loud shout of hosannah.”28 When he arrived in England on April 6, 1840, he was so emaciated that his own cousin Willard Richards (who had remained in a leadership role there since coming with Heber Kimball in 1837) did not recognize him.

Wilfredo Perez, a recent convert from Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico, has always had a lot of friends.
“The day I joined the Church,” he says, “many members told me that maybe I’d lose some friends. I wondered why. I couldn’t see why my being a Latter-day Saint would affect my friends.
“I kept doing things with my friends, but I no longer talked about or did some of the things I used to do before I joined the Church. Sometimes that made them a little uncomfortable. In the beginning, it was hard to say no. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings or have them think I didn’t like them anymore.
“One of my friends invited me to a New Year’s Eve party. I went and he told me, ‘Wilfredo, come in and have all the rum and beer you want.’
“I told him, ‘No thanks. I don’t like rum or beer, and besides, it’s not good for my health.’
“‘Okay,’ he said, ‘enjoy the party any way you want.’ So I enjoyed being with my friends, but without drinking or doing things I knew I shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their hand of fellowship and brotherhood is extended to a special member of their quorum. Nick Schwan was recently baptized. He is mentally challenged and attends the special education classes at their high school. Both at school and at church, he’s one of them. They treat him with kindness and listen to what he has to say. “At first,” says Joe Carson, “we didn’t think Nick really knew what was going on around him, but after a while we realized that he picked up on things and he doesn’t really forget anything. He’s just a normal guy. He’s just a little …” Joe is at a loss for words. He knows how the quorum feels about Nick, and the feeling is good and supportive.

Right now there are 20 full-time missionaries serving from the Anchorage Sixth Ward.
Okay, just 19 of the them are elders, but the Young Men claim the young lady serving from their ward because they suspect that their good example helped encourage her to consider a mission.
And there are 10 to 12 priests getting ready to follow in their footsteps in the next couple of years. They readily admit there are other wards in the Church with as many or more full-time missionaries serving, but for a relatively small ward away from a large LDS population, they feel pleased with the tradition of service they are setting. They know just as they progress from deacon to teacher to priest, the next step is a mission.
Bishop Wesley E. Carson says, “We’ve put a positive spin on peer pressure. Serving a mission has become a family tradition; it’s become a ward tradition; and it’s become a quorum tradition.”
Back to the parking lot. “It’s a serious activity,” says Brother Smith. “I don’t want to see anyone’s initials out there. I want you to be proud that when you drive in on Sunday, the stripes are straight.”
The yellow stripes will be straight. Members of this priests quorum know all about following guidelines and doing a good job. They know where service leads—to feelings of worth. And they know the ones that have set the example for them are now in the mission field. The lines are straight, and they’ll follow.

One such family was left by the father when the youngest child was four months old. It was a traumatic time with a difficult divorce, but the courageous mother was full of faith and determined that she would do everything she could to succeed as a single parent.
She found, as many do, that the gospel, when translated into action, not only provides a key to solving many welfare problems but it can also prevent them. Difficulties that could lead to dependency can be resolved and bring, instead, strength and happiness.
This mother gathered her children about her and explained their situation. There were back payments due on the house, current bills of every sort, and no income. They could turn to others for help; but if they were willing to work together as a family, she thought they could keep their house and make it, once more, a happy home. They were willing. Every child who was old enough found a way to help earn some money. They cut lawns, delivered papers, tended babies, collected aluminum cans, did housework. One of the older children took the responsibility for the gas bill, another for the lights; the mother put her earnings toward the house payments. They limited other spending to bare necessities.
In time, the house payments were caught up. They were able to meet their other obligations and actually invest in some small, inexpensive properties they could fix up to generate income. This enabled the mother to be at home. With these ends achieved, the children no longer needed to contribute all their earnings to the family’s physical requirements. With freedom from financial threat, the mother now suggested to her children that if they wanted to continue to work they could attend college, go on missions, and even travel and see the world together. The children did continue to earn and save their money. They learned the value of work and of family, and they have accompanied their mother to places others only dream of.
All this has been done while fulfilling their Church obligations. They are quick to testify that the greatest reward they have received from the experiences of the past few years has been their spiritual growth. Putting such principles as love, work, service, self-reliance, and consecration into practice has brought to this family the dignity of accomplishment, a unity of purpose, and a closeness to one another and to the Lord that is immediately apparent when one is in their company.

In the Locality File, Rebecca found that Rebecca Burdick Winters had an article written about her in the July 19, 1958, Deseret News. It was on a microfilm and was titled Lonely Grave of a Pioneer Mother. Reading it, she learned that in August 1852, Rebecca Winters and her family were traveling by wagon train to Salt Lake City. When deadly cholera invaded the wagon train outside Scotts Bluff, Nebraska, Rebecca helped care for the sick, and she watched her friends die until she herself was stricken with it and died.
As the family prepared to bury Rebecca’s body, a band of starving Indians rode into the camp, demanding food. When told that there was no food to spare, they became desperate and threatened to kill the pioneers.
Hiram Winters explained to the Indians that there was a terrible sickness among the wagon train. When the Indians failed to believe him, he removed the blanket from Rebecca’s body. The Indians quickly fled, leaving the pioneers to bury their dead in peace.
Rebecca’s lonely grave was marked only by an old metal wagon tire inscribed Rebecca Burdick Winters, Age 50.
Years later a survey party for a railroad discovered the wagon tire that marked the grave. The railroad track was to have gone over it, but the officials decided to reroute it around the grave of the brave pioneer mother.
The article went on to tell about Gideon and his family. Then Rebecca found a paragraph about Rebecca Burdick Winters. It said that in 1902 her descendants, in loving memory, erected a monument made of Salt Lake granite beside Rebecca’s grave. In 1964 a national patriotic organization erected another monument by the grave, naming Rebecca Burdick Winters “The Pioneer Mother of America.”