Gospel Story Finder

Elder Aaron T. Hall remembers when he and his wife, Kimberly, were set apart as mission leaders over the Texas Houston South Mission. They told Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that their feelings ranged from overwhelmed to excited. Elder Bednar expressed the need to be grateful.
“What he taught us that day has never left my thoughts relating to any calling we receive, which is, ‘We are just simply grateful,’” he said. “You wonder how in the world the Lord would have ever chosen you, but we witness that He does. And because we are willing and available, He will make us capable.”

A story that fascinated my young imagination in my teenage years is that of a rich man who owned a large orchard. He just had one problem. His children grew up at a time that his orchard had already made him rich. He had many servants and so the children did not need to do any hard work. He noticed that the children were not interested in the orchard. They considered working in the orchard to be the work of the servants. It was too hard and too boring for them. For the purposes of this article, I will refer to the story as the parable of the buried inheritance.
The rich man was concerned about the difficulties his children would likely face after his death if they continued in that attitude. So, one day, he gathered them and told them that he had written a will in which he would give each one of them a share of the treasure he had accumulated for their inheritance. He had sealed the will and they could only open it after his passing. So, there was great anticipation among the children after he passed away. Each one looked forward to taking their share of the inheritance and continuing to live lives full of ease and comfort with plenty to enjoy.
The day of discovering what was in the will finally came. In the will, he told them that he had secretly buried their inheritance in different places in the orchard. Each child’s share had their name on it. But it was up to them to find out the secret hiding place where he had buried it. The only way to do it was to dig up the orchard. There was only one caution. They must take care not to damage the fruit trees!
So, the digging began. They dug up the whole orchard but did not unearth any treasure. Knowing their father to be a just man who always kept his word, they dug up the orchard a second time. This time, they ensured thorough turning of the soil in all the orchard, but still did not unearth any treasure. Now, by the time they finished digging up the soil again in the large field for the second time, they noticed that the branches of the trees of the orchard were all drooping and heavy with much good, ripe fruit. So, they suspended their digging and each of them plucked of the fruit of the orchard according to their ability and sold it. That is when the riddle of their father’s will dawned upon them. The hidden treasure was in the digging up and caring for the orchard to produce good fruit. The trees would continue to bear plenty of good fruit so long as they were taken good care of. In his death, their father had taught them the important principle that money does grow on trees if they did the hard work of taking care of them. From then on, they determined to work hard and preserved to themselves the inheritance their father had left for them.

As Melissa turned her attention back to the ward council meeting, she thought, “If only everyone could be surrounded by such loving friends and leaders as they progress toward the temple.”
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the Relief Society president comment on a sister in need: “She wasn’t at church last Sunday. I’ll make sure her visiting teachers let her know about the upcoming temple trip.”
“They’ve got some hard things going on right now,” added the elders quorum president. “I’ll follow up with their home teachers and see if there’s anything we can do.”
“The young women could help with babysitting,” said the Young Women president.
As Melissa looked at the faces of the members of the ward council, she saw genuine affection and concern. A smile spread across her face. “The Lord has prepared ways for His children to be protected and loved,” she thought. “The ward council!”

Sister Groberg shared other memories about her high school friends. “There was always a surplus of girls,” she remembered, and then added, “and I was never in the real dating circle. I hardly had any dates in high school, and you know how you’d feel. The day my older sister who was always an example for me turned 16, a young man called her up, and for four nights in a row a different boy called. It was like they had all been waiting for her to turn 16. It was so exciting. I thought that was the magical thing: you turn 16 and you start dating. Well,” Jean said, with emphasis, as though she was remembering it all over again, “it didn’t happen when I turned 16.” She paused a moment, reflecting on what must have been a very disappointing experience.
“And how did you survive that situation?” I asked.
“Oh, I had a lot of good girl friends, and we had a lot of fun” she said, then thoughtfully added, “I never feel badly if a girl doesn’t have dates in high school. If you’re just a little patient, you can still have a good time. I really had fun dating in college, a lot of fun.”

Sixteen-year-old Mattie Hughes was thrilled when she heard about what the prophet had said. Becoming a doctor was her dream. And now President Brigham Young was actually encouraging women to become doctors!
Mattie knew that some medical schools were finally letting women in. Of course, she would have to get a college degree before she could go to medical school. And she would have to save a lot of money. It would take a lot of time and a lot of hard work. She knew that.
But Mattie thought of her little sister, Annie, who had died on the wagon trip to Utah. There had been no doctor to help when she got sick. Then Mattie’s father had died. Here in Salt Lake City, Mattie knew lots of people who were sick or hurt. If Mattie became a doctor, she could help them.
Mattie decided to have faith. The prophet had said women should train to be doctors, and she wanted to be one of them! God would help her find a way to go to medical school.
Mattie worked hard to save money. She got a job as a typesetter for a newspaper. She had to carefully arrange every letter of every word in the right order so the newspaper could be printed. After work, Mattie went to classes at the university to get ready for medical school.
Between home, work, and school, Mattie walked six miles (10 km) every day! She wore heavy men’s boots because her regular shoes weren’t tough enough to trudge through the mud. She wished she could ride in the mule-drawn streetcar instead of walking, but she was saving every penny for school.
Mattie worried she wouldn’t be able to save enough money. She knew her mother and stepfather would try to help her, but they had other children to take care of. What else could she do?
Mattie decided to hold a fundraiser and ask friends and ward members to share whatever money they could spare. They were happy to help. Mattie was only the third woman to follow President Young’s call, and they wanted her to succeed and become a doctor.
After the fundraisers, Mattie had enough to go to medical school! She traveled across the country to a university and studied hard.
Two years later, Mattie held her head high and marched onto the graduation platform to receive her diploma. She was finally a doctor! She had never felt so excited.
Mattie looked into the cheering crowd of strangers. None of her family or friends from home could be there, but she knew they were proud of her. Soon she would return home to care for them and teach them what she had learned.
After coming back to Utah, Mattie worked at the Relief Society’s hospital in Salt Lake City. She loved being close to the Rocky Mountains! And she loved her job as a doctor. She helped treat diseases, heal injuries, and even teach classes on how to deliver babies.
Becoming a doctor had been hard work. But Heavenly Father loved her and had helped her. Now Mattie would spend the rest of her life helping others. The author lives in Michigan, USA.

Be slow to judge. From a graduate school textbook I read of an account which substantiates the wisdom of this advice. In a large factory with multiple machines, the employees had to work as a team to be successful. On a particular machine the crew was handicapped by one worker frequently arriving late. The foreman reprimanded the tardy person and told him, “If you come to work late again, you’re fired!”
The very next day the recalcitrant was again late. The class was asked, “What would you do if you were the foreman?”
About half the class said, “I would keep my word and fire the person.” The balance took pity and answered, “I’d give him another chance.” The instructor then gave us the correct answer: “I would ask him why he was late. His tardiness could well be fully legitimate.”

I am acquainted with a man who rebelled from the Church when he was a youth. He made some mistakes during this time and developed some habits. Eventually, however, he came to himself; he served a mission and returned home to hold many responsible positions in the Church. But he was never quite happy. He could have said as did Nephi:
“I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
“And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins.” (2 Ne. 4:18–19.)
Finally, in a night of spiritual turmoil, the man confessed to himself that he had never fully forsaken his sins. Although he had not committed sins worthy of Church court action, he still harbored attitudes and thoughts that robbed him of spirituality, and he went through cycles of guilt and despair that dampened his happiness. He made up his mind to change, and he kept his resolve. He broke the chain of sin and despair and, for the first time in memory, began to experience a real, true happiness. If someone had asked him, “Are we having fun, experiencing happiness, yet?” he could have answered, “Yes, more happiness, or joy, than I could have imagined.”

This summer, my wife, Kalleen, and I were changing planes in Amsterdam where, many years earlier, I was a new missionary. After I had spent months struggling to learn Dutch, our KLM flight was landing, and the captain made an incoherent announcement over the PA system. After a moment of silence, my companion mumbled, “I think that was Dutch.” We glanced up, reading each other’s thoughts: All was lost.
But all was not lost. As I marveled over the leaps of faith we had then taken as we walked through this airport on our way to the miracles that would rain down upon us as missionaries, I was abruptly brought back to the present by a living, breathing missionary who was boarding a plane home. He introduced himself and asked, “President Lund, what do I do now? What do I do to remain strong?”
Well, this is the same question that is on the minds of our youth when they leave FSY conferences, youth camps, and temple trips and anytime they feel the powers of heaven: “How can loving God turn into lasting discipleship?”
I felt an upwelling of love for this clear-eyed missionary serving the last hours of his mission, and in that momentary stillness of the Spirit, I heard my voice crack as I said simply, “You don’t have to wear the badge to bear His name.”
I wanted to put my hands on his shoulders and say, “Here’s what you do. You go home, and you just be this. You are so good you almost glow in the dark. Your mission discipline and sacrifices have made you a magnificent son of God. Keep doing at home what has worked so powerfully for you here. You have learned to pray and to whom you pray and the language of prayer. You have studied His words and come to love the Savior by trying to be like Him. You have loved Heavenly Father like He loved His Father, served others like He served others, and lived the commandments like He lived them—and when you didn’t, you have repented. Your discipleship isn’t just a slogan on a T-shirt—it has become a part of your life purposefully lived for others. So you go home, and you do that. Be that. Carry this spiritual momentum into the rest of your life.”

“Tell me a story about the old country, Grandpa. Please?” she used to plead.

“All right, but you know you’ve heard them all before.” His eyes would twinkle as the tale would unfold. “When I was a young lad, my family took care of sheep in the fields surrounding the town. The country was lush and green in the daytime, but at night everything was veiled in shadows. I had the evening watch alone. Sometimes the sheep were restless, so I always took along my old mandolin. I’d sing a quiet song, and it would settle them down. It would ease my mind a bit too. Tending sheep can be mighty lonely. My mandolin has always been a comfort to me, Manda. I’m glad you have learned to play it. Someday I want you to have it.”

A sharp nudge from her older brother brought Amanda back to the present. Bishop Madsen stepped up to the tall box that served as a pulpit and announced the opening song and prayer. Then Amanda’s mind wandered again as the service began. She could see herself bumping around in the back of the covered wagon, gazing longingly behind them as the trail disappeared into dust. She’d missed her home and the friends she’d left behind. Grandpa hadn’t seemed to, though. He’d sat in front, constantly looking ahead.

“Let’s sing a song,” he’d suggest. Amanda would be the first to join in.

Their voices had been carried by the warm Nebraska wind, and soon all the settlers in their company had began to sing along.

The most precious moments had been at night around the campfire. The wagons had been pulled together into a circle, and the moon had looked large in the prairie sky, softly shining on tired, sunbaked faces.

The trek to Utah was long and hard, Amanda thought. Grandpa had made it then. Why did he have to die now?

The bishop had finished speaking, and he turned toward Amanda.

“Amanda, we all know how much you and your great-grandfather loved to sing together. Do you think you could come up here and sing one of his favorite songs for us?”

Amanda froze in her seat. I could never sing without Grandpa, she thought. She looked at the mandolin lying among the flowers. It had helped Grandpa while he tended sheep. Maybe it would help her now.

She rose slowly and walked over to the casket. Her hands trembled as she lifted the mandolin from its bed of flowers. Several people in the crowd nodded encouragement. Amanda cleared her throat, placed her fingers on the strings, and began: “Come, come, ye Saints, …”

The song went beautifully until she came to the last verse. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice started to quaver.

Bishop Madsen stepped quickly to Amanda’s side, beckoning the congregation to join in. Instantly the little log church was filled with music.

And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy day! all is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell! …

Amanda sat down, still holding the mandolin. Mother put her arm around Amanda’s shoulder and said, “Grandpa’s mandolin can become as much a part of you as it was a part of him. Take good care of it.”

Amanda smiled. It was already a great comfort to her.

Myra clicked the mouse as fast as she could. Her character, Galina the elf queen, was trying to defeat the huge ice dragon. Her friends from school were online too. They were playing elves and fairies in the game.
Flashes of color burst all over the computer screen. This dragon was tough!
“Almost there, almost … Yes!” She jumped up and pumped her fist in the air.
The chat box on her screen lit up with messages.
“Awesome job!”
“Let’s do it again!”
Myra smiled. She loved playing Quest Planet with her friends. “Just need to drop off this treasure first,” Myra typed.
Ping. A new message popped up. “Pancake1000 would like to be your friend,” she read.
Myra frowned. She was only supposed to play online with friends from school. But maybe this was someone else she knew. She clicked “Accept.”
Ping. “Hi! I’m Ethan. What’s your name?”
I don’t know any Ethans, Myra thought. But maybe it would be OK to talk to him.
She bit her bottom lip. “I’m Myra,” she typed.
For the next few days, Myra played and chatted with Ethan online. He was really good at the game and showed her where to buy supplies for her character.
“Where do you go to school? I go to Jefferson,” Ethan said.
Myra paused. That was a school near hers. Maybe he knew some people from her school. She started to type “Woodberry.” But then she got a sick feeling in her stomach. She remembered how her parents always said not to share any personal information with people she didn’t know—like her full name, address, or school. She also knew to never send pictures of herself.
Ethan said he was her age and lived nearby, so maybe it was OK to talk with him. She still wasn’t sure, though.
So instead she typed, “Do you want to visit the Enchanted River? I need some vanishing stones.”
Pretty soon Myra noticed a pattern. Whenever she chatted with Ethan, he’d start out talking about the game, but then he’d ask questions about her real life. He always asked her for more information.
One day Ethan wrote something that made Myra really uncomfortable. She tried to change the subject. “I’m going to the Fairy Realm for some unicorn hair.”
Ping. A message popped up. Then another. And another. Myra ran out of the room to find Dad.
“Dad?” Myra said.
Dad looked up from a book. “What’s up?”
“I was playing my game …” Myra gulped and looked down. “Someone is sending me bad messages.”
Dad looked at the messages while Myra tried to look anywhere but the screen. Her insides felt like they were being squeezed. She wished she had never accepted Ethan’s friend request.
“I’m glad you told me. I’ll report him to the website and block him from your account. I’ll call his parents too. Is he in your class?”
Myra’s voice was soft. “I don’t know him … I’m sorry.”
Dad hugged her. “Do you remember why you should only play online with friends you know in person?”
Myra nodded. “To stay safe.”
“That’s right. It’s easy for people to lie about who they are online. I’m sure there are lots of nice kids on Quest Planet. But it’s safer to only play with kids you know.”
Myra was quiet for a few moments. “OK. I’m sorry.”
Dad gave her another hug. “I’m proud of you for telling me when something made you uncomfortable. That took courage. And it’s always a good choice.”
Now Myra really felt brave, just like Galina the elf queen!

Near my family’s home in St. George, Utah, was a big hill where I loved to play. One day as I was playing there with my older brother, Dennis, I slipped and tumbled onto a huge, prickly cactus plant. I had cactus spines everywhere—in my shoes, my trousers, my shirt. Frightened and in pain, and scarcely able to move because of all those sharp spines, I started to wail at the top of my voice. Dennis tried to help by pulling out the spines, but that seemed to hurt even worse and caused my skin to bleed. Finally, to my surprise, Dennis turned without a word and ran down the hill. I thought, Oh boy, that’s great. Right when I need him, he runs away. I was afraid that I was going to be left alone with that cactus in me forever.
Soon, however, I looked up, sniffling, to see him struggling up the hill with his small red wagon. He had run home to get it, and he pulled it all the way up the hill, tugging and pulling and huffing and puffing, so that he could take me home in it.

A true story from Brazil.
Melissa sat in Primary, excited to learn a new song. Her teacher, Sister Costa, said it was called “Gethsemane.”
“This song talks about how much Jesus Christ loves us and what He did for us. Listen closely and try to sing along.”
Sister Costa played a video that showed the words to the song with pictures on the screen.
Melissa sang even though she didn’t know all the words yet. She felt very calm inside as she listened to the words, “Gethsemane! Jesus loves me.”
When the song was over, Sister Costa held up a picture of Jesus Christ coming out of the tomb. “Jesus died, but then He lived again! Because of Him, we will all live again too,” she said.
Melissa got a peaceful feeling, like she was getting a big hug. “So … if someone dies, it’s not forever?” Melissa asked.
“That’s right, Melissa,” Sister Costa said. “Because Jesus Christ was resurrected, one day we will all be resurrected too.”
That Sunday, Melissa went home with a happy heart. She thought about the Savior’s love for her.
Some time later, Melissa’s house became quiet and sad. Her father had been sick for a while and passed away. Her mother cried more often. People gave longer hugs. Melissa could feel something very important had changed.
On the day of the funeral, it was very cold, and the sun barely showed in the sky. There were flowers around the casket. People stood quietly, and some were crying.
Melissa tightly held her mother’s hand. As she went up to the casket and looked at her father, she remembered the picture of Jesus Christ leaving the tomb. She also remembered Sister Costa saying that because of the Savior, we will all live again one day.
“Mom, Jesus is alive. He died, but He was resurrected. One day, Daddy will be resurrected too, right?” Melissa asked.
“Yes, dear,” Mom said. “Because of Jesus, we will all see Daddy again someday.”
Melissa missed her father. She wanted to hug him, hear his voice, and play with him again. Because of Jesus Christ, someday she would. But she would have to wait. Melissa placed her hand on the casket and whispered, “See you later, Daddy.”
Even though it was a very sad day, Melissa felt the same peace she had felt in Primary. She knew it was the Holy Ghost.
In the days that followed, whenever she missed her father, Melissa softly sang the words to “Gethsemane” to herself. And every time she sang, she felt comforted.
When Easter Sunday arrived, it felt different for Melissa.
Instead of thinking about chocolate eggs or bunnies, she thought more about Jesus Christ and her father. She knew she would still miss him. But she also knew that death was not the end.
She knew Jesus had risen and that one day her father would live again too.
And until that day came, she could sing, remember, and feel peace.

True rough-and-tough camping is alive and well deep in the heart of Texas, where girls of the Boerne Ward, San Antonio Texas Stake, went on a three-day high adventure.
“The trip began with a training meeting where the girls divided themselves into teams of two or three for sharing tents and cooking meals. They learned how to stay safe and comfortable in a primitive environment,” says their leader, Linda Bohman.
While they were on their campout, the girls went swimming, canoeing, rappelling, had devotionals, and went exploring.
After such a rigorous activity, everyone was ready to come home.
“Wow, it was hard, but I did it!” said one girl.

Sister Kirts, a professional hairdresser, met a family who had come to her salon for haircuts. They were donating their hair as their family’s Christmas project. From them she got the information about donating hair and did a little research. A minimum of 10 inches of hair was needed, bound in a ponytail. Especially needed was fine, light colored hair that would be more appropriate for children’s wigs.
With some hesitation, Sister Kirts presented the idea to the girls in her ward. It wouldn’t help Jessica directly, but the donation of their hair would help other girls and boys. At first, the thought was stunning. Ten inches! That was so much. “They were petrified at first,” said Sister Kirts. “I didn’t want to pressure them. But later that day, the phone just started ringing. And, one at a time, the girls called and said, ‘I’m in.’ I couldn’t believe that they would do it.”
The word spread through the ward. Even two little girls from Primary joined the Young Women in donating their hair. The local newspaper and a television station covered the event because so many girls were donating their hair at the same time. And at Christmastime, people could not help but compare this event to O. Henry’s story “Gift of the Magi,” about a young couple who each gives up the thing they value most to buy a gift for the other. In the story, the young wife sells her long hair to buy a chain for her husband’s heirloom watch. He, in turn, sells the watch to buy combs for his wife’s beautiful hair.
After the young women’s story aired on the news and was printed in the newspaper, the salon offered to cut the hair of anyone who wanted to donate it. Dozens of people responded. “Teenagers have so much power for good or for bad,” said Sister Kirts. “For these people who came to donate their hair, their biggest reason was that if an 18-year-old girl can do this, I can too.”
Rachael Ward, another of the Young Women in the Redondo First Ward, was a little frightened to go back to school after Christmas vacation with her new short hair. “It was awful waiting for that day. Everyone noticed my hair, even people I didn’t know before. A lot of people looked at me differently. They said it made them realize that people really do good deeds for each other. It’s not just a story on television. That made me feel good.”
Rachael’s friend Brittanie Streetmaker also donated her hair. “I was nervous, but now whenever I look in the mirror, I think of a little girl who will be so happy to have a cute styled wig. My friends ask me if I miss my hair, and I say I do, but I don’t regret it for a second.”
Editor’s note: Jessica is home from the hospital. She still suffers from partial paralysis and is continuing treatment for aplastic anemia. She loves the way the girls sacrificed to help others.

William Prabhudas of the Bangalore Second Branch works in a courthouse. He knows how heart wrenching it can be to see marriages torn apart. That’s one of the reasons he and his wife were so eager to find strength in the temple.
“Like most couples, sometimes we have small issues to work out,” he says. “But working them out is so much easier when we both have an eternal perspective.”
His wife, Sheela, says that going to the temple has helped not only her and her husband, but it has also helped their children: Celesta, age 13, and Doris, 7. “We were sealed as a family,” Sheela says. “It was a good feeling. We forgot the outside world, and it was like heaven for us. We talk about it all the time.”
“What a blessing to be sealed to my wife,” Brother Prabhudas says. “And then they brought our daughters in, dressed in white, to join us. It reminded me of cleanliness—cleanliness in our lives and in our homes. Cleanliness and the temple go hand in hand. When we are clean, the Lord promises—in His house of promises—to bless us.”
Celesta recalls that her family worked, planned, and saved for two years to be able to travel to the temple. But most of all, she remembers being in the temple with her parents and that her aunt and uncle and cousins were also there to see her family sealed. “Afterward, we all held hands together. We looked in the mirrors and thought about eternity,” she recalls. “It was beautiful. I knew I wanted to belong to my family forever.”

For some time I was active in doing family history and temple work. As I progressed in my research, though, I knew I would have trouble finding information about one person—my maternal grandfather.
My mother was not raised with her father and had lost contact with him, her siblings, and all her father’s relatives. She didn’t have anything to confirm his birth date or birthplace, and she wasn’t sure where or when he had died. I wondered if I would ever find the necessary information.
One day as I was looking through my mother’s diary, I noticed a photograph of my grandfather. As I turned it over, I saw that he had signed and dated the photo and indicated how old he was at the time. I now had an approximate date for his birth! I excitedly searched his name and the dates on FamilySearch. To my great astonishment, I saw that his ordinances had already been done. Who could have done my grandfather’s temple work?
I soon discovered that the work had been performed by one of my long-lost maternal uncles. I searched for his contact information and eventually found his telephone number.
I was nervous about calling him because he had met me 30 years before—when I was one. I didn’t know how he would react.
Still, I decided to call. When he answered, I explained how I had found the information about my grandfather—his father—and told him that I was his niece.
I will always remember his response: “You could never know the sadness I have felt about having lost contact with your mother. Now you have removed that sadness from me!”
We learned that his family and mine, though separated, had been baptized and confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints around the same time, and both families were firm in the gospel. It was a joyful, emotional moment for us.
I had long understood that family history and temple work can connect us to our deceased ancestors, but I had never considered that it could connect us to our living relatives as well. I am grateful that I have been able to help unite our family through family history—not only in the spirit world but also during our earthly life.

Several years ago, our newly married daughter and her husband began a series of moves from one place to another—graduate school, first job, and so on. These moves took them to various parts of the country. In each place the climate and soil conditions were different, but they determined they would follow the prophet’s advice and have a garden. Their first attempts at gardening were pathetic. The weeds grew much better than the vegetables. The gardens were “obedience gardens.” However, with continued effort, each year the gardens improved. They learned new techniques and developed skills. As children came to their family, each was taught to work and take responsibility in those “obedience gardens.” Now their gardens are attractive, worthwhile “survival” projects, as the family enjoys and shares the produce. They preserve the excess for later use. Besides the practical lessons they learned, they found peace and assurance in keeping the commandments. Surely the promise was fulfilled for them: the prophet’s advice had been for their good always.

The scriptures, prayer, and making and keeping covenants have not only helped the people of Ammon but also first-generation members everywhere—including me. You see, while I was born of goodly parents, I was not taught the gospel at home. However, my parents did teach me moral values and ethical conduct. I remember my nonmember father helping me write the first talk I gave at church. The assigned topic was honesty, and instead of quoting the 13th article of faith, we used an example of a man whose nickname was Honest Abe.

It was left to Primary teachers, Young Women leaders, and priesthood leaders to provide me with gospel instruction. When I was seven years old, my junior Sunday School teacher taught us about prayer, and I wanted to pray. She taught us about tithing, and I wanted to pay tithing. She taught us about fasting, and, well, I was only seven years old, so I didn’t want to fast. But when she taught us about baptism, I wanted to be baptized. I am grateful for my goodly parents who supported me in my decision and who later also became members of the Church.

In 1992, just three years after Naume and I were married, we were struggling with the basic necessities of life. A friend?—Jerry D. Hymas from San Diego, California, USA?—taught me a self-reliance principle that has made a difference in our lives, even in times of Zimbabwe’s economic meltdown, which we experienced from 2000 to 2008. Jerry said to me, “Eddie, here is a formula for financial success that has worked for me over the years and has enabled me to retire early. When you receive your paycheck, you (1) pay tithing, ten percent; (2) pay ten percent to yourself; and (3) save ten percent for emergency purposes.” Then he looked at me and said, “Never spend money you do not have.”
Naume and I have always paid our tithing and enjoyed the promised blessings, but we did not know about the other 20 percent he shared with me. Since then, Naume and I tried to the best of our ability to follow this model, and it has blessed us tremendously.
I recommend this to anyone, especially young adults and young couples. Navigating through life may seem daunting, but moving forward with faith and with a vision will help you reach your full potential. One has to have a financial plan. President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, promised, “When one learns to master the principles of setting a goal, he will then be able to make a great difference in the results he attains in this life.”1
For purposes of simplicity. here is what I would teach my grandchildren: I would teach them what to do with a dollar. I would teach them that their financial ability depends on what they do with a dollar. From the onset they would need to understand two challenges of life:
The development of their full potential.
The wise use of all their resources.
Most people, including myself, have gone through life saying, “If I had more money, I would have a better plan.” What I failed to grasp is that if I had a better plan, I would have sufficient money. While Jerry Hymas in 1992 taught me the plan of financial prosperity, this plan actually was taught by our loving Father in Heaven, in the Old Testament when He said, “Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth” (Genesis 1:28).
If you have a dollar never spend more than 70 cents. If my grandchildren—wherever they may be, or in any circumstance they may be in—if they could just grasp this principle, never spend more than 70 cents of each dollar which comes their way, through gifts or labor they will prosper. They will understand what the Lord said, “the earth is full, and there is enough and to spare” (D&C 104:17).
These principles will bless all of us: those who are currently employed need to plan for the future as well as those of us who are struggling in life and surviving hand to mouth. This concept would be a great blessing and help in being self-reliant. My suggestions on where to begin would be this:
Ten cents is for the Lord. Pay tithing. President Russell M. Nelson taught: “To develop enduring faith, and enduring commitment to be a full-tithe payer is essential. Initially it takes faith to tithe. Then the tithe payer develops more faith to the point that tithing becomes a precious privilege.”2 This life-changing teaching from the Lord’s prophet is very true.
Ten cents is forcapital. Put it somewhere where you cannot access it or use it. This could be for 10, 15, or more years. When I think of this ten cents, I am reminded of my mother. She would sift through very good ground nuts and maize and put some aside for seeds. She would fumigate—or we were made to believe, so that we would not be tempted to roast that maize and eat those ground nuts when we were hungry. Mother never used the seeds, even in the dire situations. She would rather have us go without than to eat those seeds. They were to be planted in the following rainy season and have them multiply. She would do the same in each harvest. She was never dependent on government handouts.
Ten cents helps to make sure that you would not buy anything in credit—except for a house. When one invests this ten cents, its having someone else use it with an interest to yourself. It’s not the amount that counts, it’s the PLAN!
Do this and watch the numbers change and fulfill your Heavenly Father’s blessing to you, be fruitful! In reality it is not more of what we will get, but what we are becoming. Our forebearers saw what they would become.
During the Great Depression in the United States of America, the Lord’s prophet, seer and revelator declared: “Our primary purpose was to set up, in so far as it might be possible, a system under which the curse of idleness would be done away with, the evils of a dole abolished, and independence, industry, thrift and self-respect be once more established amongst our people. The aim of the Church is to help the people to help themselves. Work is to be re-enthroned as the ruling principle of the lives of our Church membership.”3 This principle has blessed lives inside and outside the Church throughout the world.
My humble invitation to you is to rise and be fruitful.

Princess Jewel V. and her sister Princess Jazmine Miraede N. V. had a “remarkable experience” at the Giving Machines in the Philippines.
“Walking through the Giving Machines together was a profound moment for both of us,” Princess Jewel said. “It was heartening to select gifts for those in need, from essentials to educational supplies and medical care. Sharing this experience with my sister strengthened our bond and taught us the power of compassion and generosity, even at our age. It was a meaningful reminder of the impact we can make by simply giving.”