Gospel Story Finder

When I was about 11 years old, a man came to our little town to teach at the Church academy. He played the violin a little, and we hadn’t had anyone there for a long time who had played the violin. My mother was impressed and picked up a little violin, I guess at some little rummage sale somewhere, and decided that I should learn to play the violin.
Even though I had never seen anyone play the violin in public, he came to our house and started giving me some little simple lessons on playing the violin. I was coming along fairly well by the time we graduated from the eighth grade in grammar school, and for the graduation exercises held in the high school I was asked to play a violin solo.
I’d carefully practiced the little number “Träumerei,” as I remember the name. My sister who was four years older than I and was then one of the popular girls in high school was my pianist. At the graduation exercises, Connie McMurray was the valedictorian. Girls are always smarter in school than boys. As she was giving the valedictory address, there was a little pedestal with a pitcher of water and a glass on it for the school board. The school board was on the stand, plus a little handful of us who were graduating from the eighth grade.
As Connie McMurray was giving her famous valedictory address, near the end of it we noticed the little doily under the pitcher of water on the pedestal was moving over a little bit towards the edge, and over it fell with the pitcher and glass of water! Connie McMurray fell in a dead faint.
In the scurrying around of cleaning the water off the stage and rearranging the chairs, they announced that we would now have the violin solo from David Haight. I walked over to the little old piano, and my sister came up from the audience. I took that little simple violin out of that wooden case as my sister sat down at the piano and sounded an A. I said, “Go ahead and play.”
She said, “David, you’d better tune it.”
I said, “No, no, I tuned it at our piano at home.” We had an old Kimball piano at home. You know, homes in those days—if you had a piano and books, that’s all you needed for the family. I had carefully tuned the strings by twisting those ebony pegs of that violin, but I didn’t know that all pianos weren’t the same. So as my sister said, “You’d better tune it,” I said, “No, no, it’s all tuned. I tuned it at home.”
So she went ahead and played the introduction, and then I came down on the first note. We were off about two notes.
As she slowed down, I said, “Keep playing,” because I couldn’t imagine anyone would take the time of a famous audience like I was playing to—you know, 100 people in that little high school auditorium. You wouldn’t hold up Carnegie Hall while you tuned your violin! That would be shop work. You would do that in the back room so that when you would start to play, why, you’d be all ready to play.
She slowed down. I said, “Keep playing.” We finished it, and she didn’t speak to me for days following that show.

I was born in The Hague, the fourth son and the youngest child in my family. My father always wanted me to read, write, and speak perfect Dutch. When I had been disobedient or had done something that was not to his liking, I had to copy in my best handwriting the whole front page of the local newspaper. He said, “Here is paper, and here is a pencil. Copy every line and every headline on the front page of the newspaper, and then I will see how you are doing.” If I made ten mistakes in the spelling of words, I had to do it all over again. If I made five mistakes, I had to do half the page. If I had made no mistakes, he would reward me with a Dutch chocolate bar. That’s the type of man he was. If you performed well, he said, “You’ve earned a reward.”
How grateful I still am for this useful way of correcting wrong behavior in my youth. Now I know how to spell words not only in the Dutch language, but also in the English language because I have sought the same perfection in other languages as I have in my native tongue. My father instilled in me the belief that when one communicates, one must be word perfect.

My parents had been within those very walls, though they weren’t able to frequent them as often as they would like to. They first went to the temple together a year after they were married. It was difficult because even though they knew they couldn’t afford to go, they knew they couldn’t afford not to either. It was always emphasized in our home to go to the temple as soon as we could and to make temple marriage our goal. My parents also showed me how important and sacred their covenants were. They taught me that they received many blessings from keeping their covenants, and because of their example, I decided that was something that I wanted too. Throughout the years, I kept reminding myself to “always keep the temple within my sights,”1 even though the nearest temple was far away.

All of the Authorities who are here tonight could testify that in the reorganization of stakes they have had remarkable and inspiring experiences. I recall being assigned to reorganize a stake about 40 years ago. The president had suddenly died. The Brethren asked me to go down and speak at the funeral and reorganize the stake. I had never done this before. I was new as a General Authority. I was to be all alone.
When I arrived, I was taken to another town, where I participated in the funeral service. I asked all of the stake officers and the bishops to remain after the service and announced that a reorganization of the stake would take place the next evening.
I asked the mission president to sit with me as I interviewed the brethren, none of whom I knew. We interviewed late into the evening. I soon discovered there were problems in the stake. There were divisive feelings. When we were all through, I said to the mission president, “I am not satisfied. Are there not others?” He said, “I know of only one man whom we have not interviewed. He moved here rather recently on a transfer in his company. He is the second counselor in a bishopric. I do not know him well. He resides in another city.”
I said, “Let’s go see him.” We drove and went to the hotel where I would be staying for the night. Here I was, having interviewed all of these brethren and having not found one that I considered worthy to preside and having scheduled the reorganization for the next evening.
We arrived late at the hotel. I called the man; a sleepy voice answered the phone. I said that I wished to see him that evening. I apologized for calling him so late. He said, “I’ve just gone to bed, but I’ll put on my clothes and come.”
He came to the hotel. The conversation that followed was most interesting. He was a graduate of BYU in petroleum geology. He worked for a big oil company. He had served elsewhere in positions of responsibility in the Church. He knew the program of the Church. He had served a mission. He knew the gospel. He was mature in the Church. And the territory for which he was responsible as an employee of the oil company was exactly the same as the territory of the stake. I told him we would telephone him in the morning and excused him.
The mission president went on his way, and I went to bed.
At about three o’clock the next morning I awoke. Doubts began to flood my mind. This man was almost a total stranger to the people of the stake. I got out of bed and got on my knees and pleaded with the Lord for direction. I did not hear a voice, but I had a very distinct impression that said, “I told you who should be stake president. Why do you continue to ask?”
Ashamed of myself for troubling the Lord again, I went to bed and fell asleep. I phoned the man early the next morning and issued to him a call to serve as president of the stake. I asked him to select counselors.
That evening when people gathered for the meeting, there was much speculation as to who would be the stake president, but no one even thought of this man. When I announced his name, people looked at one another for a clue to discovering who he was. I had him come to the stand. I announced his counselors and had them come to the stand.
Even though they did not know him, the people sustained him. Things began to happen in that stake. The people had known for a long time that they needed a stake center, but they had been uncertain and argumentative as to where it should go. He went to work and within 18 months had a beautiful new stake center ready for dedication. He unified the stake. He traveled up and down, meeting the people and extending his love to them. That stake, which had grown tired, came to life and literally bubbled with new enthusiasm. It stands as a shining star in the large constellation of stakes in this Church.

More than forty years ago I was a missionary in the British Isles. That was the time of the British Empire when it could truthfully be said that the sun never set on British soil, and when the British flag waved over a fourth of the world. In those days the peace of the world was peace in the British Empire. Now the British Empire is gone; its parts are independent nations, and the British Empire, symbolized by the lion that roared so loudly, is old and sick and weak.
It is easy for me to believe that the nations shall tremble when the Son of God comes again to claim his kingdom, for when that day arrives, “The Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall He sit upon the throne of glory:
“And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats. (Matt. 25: 31–32.) There will be a judgment not only of the nations but also of the people. “Behold,” said the Lord, “now it is called today until the coming of the Son of man, and verily it is a day of sacrifice, and a day for the tithing of my people; for he that is tithed shall not be burned at his coming.
“For after today cometh the burning … all the proud and they that do wickedly shall be as stubble; and I will burn them up, for I am the Lord of Hosts; and I will not spare any that remain in Babylon.” (D&C 64:23–24). Some years ago one of our brethren spoke of the payment of tithing as “fire insurance”; that statement evoked laughter. Nonetheless, the word of the Lord is clear that those who do not keep the commandments and obey the laws of God shall be burned at the time of his coming. For that shall be a day of judgment and a day of sifting, a day of separating the good from the evil. In my personal opinion no event has occurred in all the history of the earth as dreadful as will be the day of the Second Coming—no event as filled with the destructive forces of nature, as consequential for the nations of the earth, as terrible for the wicked, or as wonderful for the righteous.
It will be a time of great and terrible fears, of cataclysmic upheavals of nature, of weeping and wailing (D&C 19:5), of repentance that comes too late, and of crying out unto the Lord for mercy. But for those who in that judgment are found acceptable, it will be a day for thanksgiving, for the Lord shall come with his angels, and the apostles who were with him in Jerusalem, and those who have been resurrected. Further, the graves of the righteous will be opened and they shall come forth. (See D&C 88:97.) Then will begin the great millennium (D&C 43:30) period of a thousand years when Satan shall be bound and the Lord shall reign over his people. Can you imagine the wonder and the beauty of that era when the adversary shall not have influence? Think of his influence upon you now and reflect on the peace of that time when you will be free from such influence. There will be quiet and goodness where now there is contention and evil.
I know that you are familiar with all of this and with much more of that which is found in the scriptures, but I have felt impressed to repeat it as a reminder to each of us of the faith and the certainty that we have of these coming events. To know when these events will occur would take from us much of the self-discipline needed to daily obey the principles of the gospel.
Most of us seldom think of these millennial events, and perhaps it is well we do not. Certainly there is no point in speculating concerning the day and the hour in which they will occur. Let us instead live each day so that if the Lord does come while we are yet upon the earth we shall be worthy of that change which will occur as in the twinkling of an eye and under which we shall be changed from mortal to immortal beings. And if we should die before he comes, then—if our lives have conformed to his teachings—we shall arise in that resurrection morning and be partakers of the marvelous experiences designed for those who shall live and work with the Savior in that promised Millennium. We need not fear the day of his coming; the purpose of the Church is to provide the incentive and the opportunity for us to conduct our lives in such a way that those who are members of the kingdom of God will become members of the kingdom of heaven when he establishes that kingdom on the earth. May I suggest just two or three things which, if followed, will assist.
The prophet Micah declared: “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8). There is enough for a long sermon in that one command. Let me talk about one point only: “To love mercy.” As an example, may I read a paragraph from a letter I received from a young woman who is engaged in this kind of activity as president of the Relief Society.
Yesterday [she writes] I spent most of the day picking up welfare groceries and delivering them. One of the two cases I called on was tragic. She is a woman who, years ago, was in a fire and her head was badly injured. For years she has undergone constructive surgery and has a number of pins holding her scalp together. She is divorced, and in order to support herself and her four-year-old girl, she works doing any small job she can find, until she is through surgery and can return to school to complete her training as a dietician. She has no car and relies solely on her bicycle for transportation in this great and busy city. She has ridden that bike all winter, with her little girl on the back, sometimes going as many as 48 kilometers in a day to get to and from a small job.
A week ago she slid on a patch of ice while riding her bicycle, fell, struck her head, and suffered a concussion. She refused to go to the hospital because she had no money to pay medical bills, so she remained in her apartment, suffering from pain until her sister found her and got medical help. Her mother was able to assist her just a little. Her home teacher happened to call and discovered her plight. When I, as the Relief Society president, called her, I discovered she had no food in the house, no medication for her diabetes, and no money. So yesterday I went to deliver the groceries and take her some medication. What an opportunity to serve someone so desperately in need!
Love mercy; obey the commandment of the Lord by imparting your substance for the work of this kingdom. Now let me share with you a testimony spoken by a man once poor in his childhood and now prosperous in his old age. He stood before the congregation and said,
“When I was a boy, on a summer’s day I would lie out in the alfalfa patch and chew on twigs and look up at the sky and wonder where the windows of heaven were that my parents had spoken of. I couldn’t see them in the clouds, and I thought they must be somewhere in the blue sky. I wondered how the windows could be opened so I could get a Boy Scout uniform and a pony and a bicycle. I never got these things, but I have come to see how the windows of heaven are opened as I have received the kindness of good and generous neighbors and friends in this ward in which we live.”
Finally, pertaining to this general subject, let me read a few more words of revelation: a few words of commandment, and a few more words of promise. The commandment: “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly.” The promise: “Then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God.” (D&C 121:45.) I have thought of that statement a great deal. It has been my privilege to meet a number of presidents of the United States and leaders, rulers, and governors in other lands, and it is a reassuring feeling to be able to stand in the presence of such men with confidence. As I have thought of that, I have also thought how marvelous it will be if someday I might stand with confidence in the presence of God.
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion,” the Lord continues in this statement, “and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever”—including, I should like to add, that time when the Lord comes at the great day of sifting and separation of the righteous from the wicked. My brothers and sisters, of these things I testify, relying on the revealed word of the Lord; and I humbly pray with sincere desire that each of us may so live our lives here and now that we may have neither fear nor worry concerning that great and dreadful day of his coming. God bless us in our search for truth and peace and strength, I humbly pray in the name of Him who shall surely come at a time we know not, but whose coming shall be as certain as the coming of the sun in the morning—in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Guy de Maupassant, the French writer, tells the story of a peasant named Hauchecome who came on market day to the village. While walking through the public square, he caught sight of a piece of string lying on the cobblestones. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. His actions were observed by the village harness maker, with whom he had previously had a quarrel.
Later in the day the loss of a money purse was reported. Hauchecome was arrested on the accusation of the harness maker. He was taken before the mayor, to whom he protested his innocence, showing the piece of string that he had picked up. But he was not believed and was laughed at.
The next day the purse was found, and Hauchecome was absolved of any wrongdoing. But, resentful of the indignity he had suffered because of a false accusation, he became embittered and would not let the matter die. Unwilling to forgive and forget, he thought and talked of little else. He neglected his farm. Everywhere he went, everyone he met had to be told of the injustice. By day and by night he brooded over it. Obsessed with his grievance, he became desperately ill and died. In the delirium of his death struggles, he repeatedly murmured, “A piece of string, a piece of string.” (In The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Roslyn, New York: Black’s Reader Service, pages 34–38.)

My classmates and I were staying overnight at Tanyllyn Lodge in the Welsh mountains as part of our sixth-form geography field trip. I was glad that my friend Louise and I were assigned to share a room.
It took us a while to get ready for bed. We took turns using the one tiny sink in the room and the even tinier mirror. Our clothing for the next day had to be set out along with our hiking boots and thick socks. Louise finished her preparations before I did and climbed into her bed.
When I had finished doing everything except saying my prayers, I hesitated beside my bed. Louise was not a member of the Church and had no idea I prayed each night.
My first instinct was to slip into bed as she had done and feign sleep while I silently prayed. But I anticipated two big flaws with that decision. First, I knew Louise would start talking to me and I would never make it through my prayer uninterrupted. Second, I was a little daunted by the next day’s grueling agenda and needed the comfort of a fervent prayer on my knees.
I vacillated in indecision for a few minutes, then turned to Louise and told her I was going to say a prayer. She looked a bit startled, but before she could say anything, I knelt at the end of the bed, bowed my head, closed my eyes, and offered a silent personal prayer. She was still watching when I rose.
There was a rather awkward silence as I crawled into my bed. As I anxiously searched for something to say, Louise said, “Sian, do you do that every night?”
“Yes,” I replied.
There was a slight pause, then the question, “What do you say?”
I was surprised. I had never really considered the possibility of someone not knowing how to pray. I told Louise I began my prayers by addressing our Father in Heaven. Then I thanked him for blessings I had received, asked him to help me, and closed my prayer in the name of Jesus Christ.
There was another pause, and during the silence I felt my heartbeat quicken. Before I lost my nerve, I asked her if she would like to pray with me.
“Okay,” she said, with curiosity in her voice. “What do we do?”
We knelt together by the side of the bed, and I said a prayer aloud. When it was over, I asked her how she felt.
She smiled shyly. “Well, you’ve given me something to think about.”
I don’t know what Louise’s thoughts were as we lay in our beds afterward. Mine were thoughts of gratitude. Lying there in the dark, I felt the Spirit confirming to me that we do have a Heavenly Father who loves us and listens to our prayers. I hope Louise felt it, too.

“What a place for a reunion!” I tell myself the moment I see the cabin. When my grandparents retired they sold a perfectly normal house and bought this place in the woods near a very cold lake. They said it had room for everyone, so we should all come here for a reunion.
The cabin had been a simple A-frame at one time, but the previous owners kept making additions as if they were afterthoughts. Additions were attached to additions. I can’t believe my grandparents bought it. Even more unbelievable is the fact I’m in a car with my family, and we’re driving up to it, and we’ll be living here for the next three weeks.
As the car stops, I hear the noise, a kind of roar full of shrieks and bangs. My cousins. They come rushing out, leaping at us with their arms wide open, smothering us with hugs before they go running down the hill toward the lake.
Let me explain the family connections here. My grandparents have six children. The oldest is my dad. Now he’s moved into the cabin along with my mom and the two biggest suitcases. That leaves me (I’m 15), my brothers (13-year-old twins), and my little sister (who’s 10), standing with our bags in the dust. We’re staring at The Cabin when Sarah and Marleen come to help us. Sarah is my dad’s brother’s wife, the mother of six kids. Aunt Marleen is Dad’s youngest sister and is due to have a baby next month—her first.
Sarah and Marleen help us carry in our stuff. Once inside we see Grandpa and two of Dad’s brothers playing a computer game. As I approach the stairs I hear the wall of sound coming again and count as 18 cousins—all kids—rush past me and up the stairs. My grandmother stands in the kitchen doorway, hardly noticing the mob.
I am directed to the loft, which is much coveted by all but reserved for me since I’m the oldest grandchild. But I’m not convinced that’s where I want to be spending my nights. So I go to the basement to see if there are any spare rooms. That’s where I find four mattresses spread on the floor, with little girls’ clothes everywhere. Perpetual slumber-party-city. I’m doomed.
“Marti! Wanna see a caterpillar?” It’s my six-year-old cousin, Erin.
“Nah,” I say, turning back to the stairs. “I’ve seen lots of them, thank you.”
I discover a room loaded with books that’s kind of between floors. I’m looking at the books and thinking maybe I could move in when I hear a thundering sound above me. I look up to see the room is just under the staircase. That would be like living under a freeway overpass. Anyway, the room is soon overflowing with boys and their sleeping bags.
“Aunt Rebecca (that’s my mom) told us to use this room. She’s gonna use the one we were in. Isn’t this neat?” My cousin looks around at my brothers and his other male counterparts. They seem to be in agreement; they are staking out their individual territories.
So I head upstairs to find all the rooms there are taken by at least two people, some by four or five. Will I ever have a quiet moment for the next three weeks?
I go downstairs to explain my dilemma to my grandma, but she’s nowhere to be found. Grandpa tells me she went on a walk with Deenie, my little sister.
“Anything I can do for you?” I ask Grandpa, who is playing a computer game.
“Well …”
Grandpa pushes the pause button on the computer and turns around to look at me as he takes my hand. I think he knows I need to talk.
“Too bad we can’t do that with life,” I say, pointing to the button he’s just pushed.
“Unfortunately, life can’t be paused,” he says. “That’s why we have pause buttons on computers instead.” He squeezes my hand. “Now what’s troubling you?”
“I’m supposed to sleep in the loft, and I don’t really want to stay there because it’s all open and everything and everyone will see me and I’ll see everyone else and it’ll be all noisy and everything and …” My voice begins to sound like Minnie Mouse’s.
“Well, the only problem is there are lots of cousins who want that loft.” As if to emphasize the point, we hear a bang and then we hear several cousins running into the back bathroom.
“Are you willing to take whatever room is vacated? Even if there are other cousins there?”
Not exactly, I think. I want a room to myself. But just about anything would be better than the loft.
“Okay,” I declare.
“Then it’s set. Just wait and see.”
That night at dinner, my grandfather announces there will be a contest for the loft. A spontaneous cheer erupts, and I spill my spaghetti on my jeans.
“After dinner,” Grandpa announces, “we’ll all go down to the lake and skip rocks. Whoever is the best rock skipper will get the loft.” This declaration is followed by more cheers.
The rock skipping winner ends up being Tamara, Aunt Sarah’s 12-year-old. I’m amazed the boys didn’t out-skip her, but I think they’re too excited about being all together in the library room. I don’t skip any rocks. I just watch. When the contest ends, we all end up eating gooey cake that adds yet another interesting color to my jeans. And then I’m moved in with my six-year-old cousin, Erin.
I have doubts about abandoning the loft. Erin is constantly asking me questions. “Marti, what time does the sky turn blue? Why is your hair brown? Do fish sleep?” When Erin isn’t asking me questions, she’s staring at me. And when she’s not asking and not staring, she’s telling long involved stories about her day—tales of hiking, catching crayfish, and finding a dead bird. The next day is more of the same.
I’m relaxing on the beach soaking up some rays. Serious stuff. “Marti, come see,” she calls.
My answer is always the same: “Later. I’ll look later.” I then return to my book and/or tan. I’m hoping she’ll give up on me and give me some peace and quiet. Erin is soon joined by Deenie, and they approach me in tandem. “Marti. Row us to the island, pul-eeze! Pretty please?” Maybe I can find a place to hide. But they always manage to find me.
One day everyone is going for a walk around the lake together. I immediately see it as a chance to be alone at last. “Don’t you want to come with us, Marti? Are you sure?” Grandpa practically pleads with me. I say I’m tired and think it would be nice to be alone for a while.
Finally everyone leaves. And it’s great. The peace and quiet is all I had hoped it would be, except that it doesn’t last long enough. When everyone comes back, they’re all licking ice cream cones.
“Marti,” Erin exclaims, “we saw this really big bird that flew right down over us!”
“It was a bald eagle,” Jonathan says. I’ve never seen him look that excited about anything other than football.
“Yeah, it was so awesome,” adds Adam. “It flew right over our heads and then dove to the lake and grabbed a fish—right out of the water!”
“Probably the trout I’ve been hoping to catch all summer,” Grandpa says.
That night, I’m trying to pretend I’m asleep, but Erin starts talking to me anyway. “You missed it, Marti,” she says solemnly.
“Missed what?”
“The eagle.” She looks at me as if I’ve committed a crime.
It’s obvious I’m not going to get to sleep anytime soon, so I go outside on the deck where I find Grandpa looking through his telescope. I know he’ll make me look at some planet, so I go into the kitchen to get my yogurt. One problem. Someone has already eaten it.
“Honey, look,” Grandma says, holding up my jeans that are miraculously clean again.
“Yeah, great,” I say.
“You don’t seem happy about it.”
“Someone ate my yogurt.”
“Oh, we’ll get you some more.”
“And it’s so noisy here. All the kids are running around until late. Why do you let them?”
Grandma sits down and motions for me to do the same. “Honey, it’s summer and you kids all have so many rules all the time. This is a time to relax; to get to know each other. All you cousins don’t see each other that much. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind if we all stayed up playing and enjoying each other’s company.” Grandma stops for a moment, then focuses back on me. “Course, your moms would never allow that, staying up all night.”
Just then, Adam bursts into the kitchen. “Grandpa says come and look. He found Venus!”
Grandma jumps up and follows. I venture back to my room. Erin is already asleep, and I drift off to the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in days. But when I wake up it’s strangely quiet. I look at my watch and see it’s nine o’clock. How could it be this quiet? Erin’s bed is empty. I panic and run down the stairs, putting on my robe as I go. No one’s there.
“Anyone here?” I call out.
“Up here, Marti.” My grandmother calls me by name and I feel a chill. I enter the bedroom to see everyone there. Some have tear-stained eyes. My grandpa is in bed, sleeping peacefully. I think I must be having a strange dream. Then Mom says, “Grandpa died in his sleep.” That’s all she manages to say before she begins to softly cry.
Then my tears come out so fast they take me by surprise. “No!” I hear myself say, and I sink down on the carpet between Deenie and Erin. “I didn’t even look in his telescope.” It’s a strange thing to say, but everyone seems to understand.
For several days everything is like some kind of numb dream.
“He’s here,” Grandma says. “I can feel him nearby, loving all of us.”
“Yeah, he is,” Erin says, “except it will be a long time before I can give him a hug again.”
Four days later, after the funeral is over, we start to laugh and share all our memories. I surprise myself to see how I can cry so hard and laugh so hard in the same day.
Then I walk around the lake by myself. I see the eagle snatching another fish. “That’s my grandpa’s fish!” I yell, and realize my heart is beating rapidly just at the sight of the diving eagle. I look up at the sky. It looks bigger than I’ve ever seen it before, and there are pink clouds on the horizon. I say “Thank you” aloud to my grandfather for all he’s taught me.
And I thank my Heavenly Father, for the pink clouds, the eagle, one cousin named Erin, and the big sky that’s whispering “eternity” to me personally. I speak to my grandfather. “You’re right. Computers have pause buttons because you can’t pause life. I should know. I’ve been trying to pause mine.”
My heart is full of so many things, and they all translate to love. I pick some tiny flowers on my way back up the hill. I see Adam on the front deck examining the telescope.
“Think you could find Venus tonight?” I ask.
“I’m gonna try.”
“Let me know if you do.”
Erin looks at me curiously. I hand her the flowers, and she holds them close to her nose. She seems to be pondering deep thoughts for a long time. Then she raises her head and says, “Grandma said I can make chocolate chip cookies for dessert tonight. You wanna help me?”
“Sure.” She holds my hand in one of her small hands, the flowers in the other, and she escorts me to the kitchen, squealing enthusiastically, “Grandma, look at these beautifullest flowers!”
I don’t even flinch.

“I went a little farther that time!” Lewis exclaimed, marking where he had landed with a stick. A new house was being built next door, and six-year-old Lewis loved playing in the big piles of dirt. He especially liked to jump off the top of a pile with his brother and see who could go the farthest. Jumping was the next best thing to flying, and Lewis wanted more than anything to be able to fly. Not just to ride in a plane—he’d done that lots of times with his dad in a little four-seat airplane—he wanted to fly like a bird. He thought about it all the time.
Last Sunday, Lewis had been given a lesson in Primary about faith. Sister Jones had said that if you have enough faith, you can do anything—even move mountains! Lewis didn’t want to move a mountain—he wanted to fly over one. He believed that Heavenly Father could help him do that just as easily. Lewis didn’t hear the rest of the lesson that day because he was dreaming about his first flight. He knew exactly how it would be. He would jump off something very high and dive to the earth. Just before he hit the ground, he would pull out of the fall with his arms spread out and glide above the earth, rising higher and higher. He could almost feel the wind in his hair and see the look of surprise on his brother’s face as he flew effortlessly over his head. Yes, it was going to be truly wonderful!
“Lewis,” Mom called from the house.
“Yes, Mom?” he replied from the top of the dirt pile.
“Grandma is here and wants to see you.”
Lewis jumped one more time, marked the spot where he landed, and rushed to the house. “Hi, Grandma. How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was great fun, Lewis. I brought you something.” She held up a small pair of flight attendant wings that she had received on her flight home.
“Wow! Thanks, Grandma!” He had wings! Now he knew he could fly. He pinned them to his shirt and ran outside to the dirt pile. Sure enough, he seemed to jump a little farther and a little higher. The problem, he thought, is that this hill is too small. If I could find something higher, I’m sure I could pull out before I hit the ground.
The next day, Dad took Lewis with him to a construction show. One of the companies there was producing new playground equipment, and Lewis saw the biggest jungle gym he’d ever seen. He grinned. Today was the day he was going to fly!
While his dad was busy talking to some other builders, Lewis pulled the flight attendant wings out of his pocket and pinned them to his shirt, then raced over to the jungle gym. He climbed to the very top bar—about fifteen feet high—and yelled, “Watch this, Dad!” He jumped off, completely unafraid. On the way down, his leg caught on a bar and he crashed to the ground.
Lewis’s leg was broken, and his body was bruised and scratched.
“Are you feeling better now?” Dad asked on the way home from the hospital.
“Dad,” Lewis sobbed, “I don’t understand. In Primary, my teacher said that if I had enough faith, I could do anything.”
“I see. Lewis, you need to understand something about faith. The scriptures say that faith is things which are hoped for which are true. If I believed with all my heart that the oceans are filled with spaghetti, it still wouldn’t be true. Faith in Jesus Christ is true because He really did come and die for us and He really does love you. Faith in the scriptures is true because the Lord really commanded the prophets to write them so we could read them and learn about Jesus Christ. Heavenly Father obeys natural laws, like gravity. Can you see the difference?”
“I guess so.”
Dad continued, “You will be able to fly, Lewis, but on this earth the way you have to do it is by following the natural laws. When you get a little older, you can take flying lessons and get a pilot’s license of your own. Now let’s go home and let that leg heal.”
Today Lewis is grown-up and flies high in the sky as an airline pilot. But he still dreams that the day will come when he will be able to fly through the clouds on his own.

A scripture that really helped me when I was young is Joshua 1:6–9. It says, in part: “Be strong and of a good courage. … Observe to do according to all the law. … Turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper.”
As a young man, I thought, “Once I receive an assignment from the Lord, I will not turn to the right or to the left.” I had some good experiences as a result. For instance, one day while I was in business training, I had to go to a Church meeting, but I had a work responsibility related to the mail. Normally this responsibility would take me and the other trainees as much as an extra hour after our regular work hours. But I had to go to Hamburg on the 5:30 p.m. train to get to my Church meeting. I told the others of my dilemma, and they said to me, “Good luck. It is not going to happen.”
I said, “Sure it will, because this is an important meeting.” They shrugged their shoulders and said sarcastically, “Yeah sure—you and your faith. You think just because you are religious that everything is going to work out. That means that we would have to finish the mail by 10 minutes to 5:00. It has never happened.” I said, “Well, whatever happens will happen. But I need to be in Hamburg on time tonight.”
Now, believe it or not, for the first and only time in three years, everything was finished that day at 10 minutes to 5:00, and I made it to the train on time. This impressed my fellow trainees and opened the door for me to have some gospel conversations with them.

Danny was always drawing doodles. He drew doodles around the pictures in his coloring books. He drew doodles on his drawing paper. Sometimes he even drew doodles on his bedroom walls. But most often Danny drew doodles at school when he should have been studying.
Miss Phillips, Danny’s teacher, wanted him to learn to read. Danny’s father and mother wanted him to learn to read. Even Danny’s little brother, Tommy, wanted him to learn to read so that Danny could read stories to him when their mother was busy with the baby. And Danny wanted to learn to read so he could read all of the books he saw on the shelves in the library.
When Miss Phillips said, “Class, it’s time to read now!” Danny took out his reading book, his marker, his writing tablet, and his pencil. But instead of reading, Danny kept his pencil busy drawing doodle drawings. Doodle here, doodle there, doodle everywhere! Before long Danny had forgotten all about learning to read.
Time went so fast when Danny was drawing doodles that he was surprised one Monday morning to hear Miss Phillips say, “Class, reading time is over and it’s time for recess now.” Danny was even more surprised to hear Miss Phillips say, “Danny, will you please stay inside while the other children go out to play?”
“Yes, Miss Phillips,” Danny answered meekly.
Oh dear, thought Danny, Miss Phillips must have seen me drawing doodles again!
Danny sat quietly in his seat and watched his friends hurry outside to play. Soon Miss Phillips asked him to come up to her desk.
“Danny, how many pages did you read today?” Miss Phillips asked.
“Two pages,” Danny mumbled.
“That isn’t very much reading, is it?” Miss Phillips went on.
“No, Miss Phillips,” Danny admitted.
“You were drawing doodles again, weren’t you, Danny?” she questioned.
“Yes, Miss Phillips.”
“Danny, I know doodles are fun, but reading is fun too and very important. I have an idea,” said Miss Phillips. “If you will spend one whole week reading during reading time and not drawing doodles, then I’ll let you teach the art lesson to the class for one day and everyone can draw doodles. How does that sound, Danny?”
Danny’s face lit up, “Oh, that would be fun, Miss Phillips! Will you draw doodles too?”
“Yes, Danny, I will draw doodles too,” Miss Phillips answered, “and we can put our pictures up on the bulletin board for all the parents to see when they come to school.”
All that week Danny worked hard. Danny read lots and lots of pages in his reading book. Whenever he started to doodle, Danny would quietly put his pencil down on the desk. Then he would look up at Miss Phillips and smile.
The next Monday Danny taught the art class and showed everyone how to draw doodles. Danny had had more practice than many of his friends, even Miss Phillips, so of course his doodles were a little better than any of the others. When all of the boys and girls were through with their doodling, Miss Phillips arranged the pictures on the bulletin board.
That night the parents came to visit. They saw the desks and books, and then they saw the bulletin board where Miss Phillips had printed the words DANNY’S DOODLES. All the doodle pictures were there.
Danny’s mother saw his doodles. “That one looks just like a boy reading a book!” she laughed.
“Yes, it does,” Danny’s father agreed.
Miss Phillips was standing nearby. Her eyes twinkled as she said, “And Danny told me today that he had decided that reading can be as much fun as drawing doodles.”

Life isn’t always ideal. Some of you might have had painful experiences similar to someone I’ll call Amber, a client I worked with in my position as a counselor with Family Services. Amber has given permission for this part of her story to be shared in this article.
Shortly after Amber was born, her mom decided to leave Amber’s father. Once Amber was old enough to care for herself, her mom left her home alone all day to work two or three jobs.
Amber saw happy families around her with both a mother and a father and wished her family could be together too. She took care of herself most days, and when her mom was home, she enforced strict rules and expectations to protect Amber from getting into trouble.
Amber’s difficult childhood left her with a lot of negative feelings toward her parents.

Losing one of my brothers while he was serving faithfully in the Abidjan West Mission was the beginning of gloom and dark clouds for my family. Things began to go badly in all facets of our lives. My maternal family members, who are not members, made lots of allegation against my parents but that never moved my parents, because of their unwavering faith in the Savior. My dad would say “it is the will of the Lord and what the Lord sees fit for His children, He does that for them”. Having a perfect knowledge of the plan of salvation gave us an assurance that surely, we would meet and be happy with my brother again after this test of mortality.
A few months later, I made a decision that raised eyebrows all around me. I decided to serve a full-time mission too. My decision to serve came as a blow to a greater part of my family and my closest friends. Most of them, if not 100 percent of them, counselled me not to, but my desire to serve the Lord and humanity was not thwarted because I knew what foundation I was built upon and my parent’s trust and support kept me going.
Amid the impending situation, I felt so different from everyone else and I remembered the talk by President Monson in which he quotes an old Primary song: “Dare to be a Mormon; Dare to stand alone. Dare to have a purpose firm; Dare to make it known”.1
This ultimately drove me to obtain my patriarchal blessing, and in it I realized the Lord has a greater work for me and that it can be accomplished successfully only if I exercise unyielding faith in Him. That helped me press on to pursue His course.
Currently, I am serving in one of the greatest missions (if not the greatest) and this brings me joy every single day. Whenever I share the restored gospel to God’s children, bear an honest and uplifting testimony, encourage them to have faith, repent, and prepare to make covenants, I feel the same joy that Lehi felt with his family in the Book of Mormon (see 1 Nephi 8:12).
Ever since I began this journey, I strive to develop the faith to reap because having just the faith to thrust in our sickles is not enough. The faith to reap is an unwavering faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ. It’s surely unyielding. Jacob, in the Book of Mormon, also admonished us “that we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea” (Jacob 4:6).
These are miracles that come as we exercise this faith in Jesus Christ. I know for a surety that we do not require perfection to reap but all we need is persistence, genuine intentions, and an unfailing determination.
My parent’s faith in Jesus Christ has been the backbone and driving force for me in being a full-time missionary and it gives me the strength each day to press forward, remain valiant, and return with honor because I know who I am, what I stand for and whose team I play for.

Moving from his hometown hadn’t been easy for Charlie. After Dad had been offered a better job, the family decided to move. Charlie’s seven-year-old brother, Justin, didn’t mind the move. Justin made friends wherever he went.
But going into a new sixth-grade class in the middle of the school year was hard for Charlie. Most of the kids had known each other since kindergarten. No one seemed interested in getting to know him. So Charlie was excited when Ryan and a couple other guys in his class asked him to go to the mall with them after school. They were going to look for some equipment for baseball season, which was only two weeks away.
As the boys walked into a sports equipment store, Charlie pulled a catcher’s mitt from the wall and tried it on.
“That’s a cool mitt,” Ryan said.
“I know,” Charlie said. “Too bad I don’t have any money.”
“Just stick it in your backpack,” Ryan said. “Nobody’s watching.”
“What? You just want me to take it?” Charlie asked.
“They overcharge for everything in this store,” Ryan said. “We probably pay too much for a lot of things.”
Charlie wanted that mitt. Baseball season started soon, and he needed a new catcher’s mitt. A lump formed in his throat. He knew he shouldn’t take the mitt.
“Go ahead. Take it,” Ryan said.
“Not right now,” Charlie said. “Maybe later.”
Charlie hung the glove back on the wall and turned around. The boys were laughing.
“Baseball season is coming up,” Ryan reminded Charlie as they left the store. “You’re going to need a glove soon.”
Charlie couldn’t concentrate on his homework that evening. He still wanted that mitt. He started to wonder if Ryan was right. At dinner, Mom and Dad noticed something was wrong.
“How are things at school, Charlie?” Dad asked.
“I got 100 percent on my spelling test,” Justin said.
“That’s great,” Dad said.
“How about you, Charlie?” Mom asked. “How’s that essay coming along?”
“I’m almost done,” Charlie muttered. “I’ll go finish it now.”
Charlie’s teacher had assigned him to write an essay about freedom. Charlie pulled out his notebook, picked up his pen, and began reading from his textbook. “Freedom has two parts—agency and responsibility.”
Charlie had learned about agency at church, but he never really thought about it being connected with freedom. He started thinking about the catcher’s mitt. He knew he shouldn’t take it. He decided he wouldn’t—no matter what the other guys thought.
The next day at school, Charlie told Ryan he wasn’t going to take the catcher’s mitt.
“What’s the big deal?” Ryan asked. “They’ve got hundreds of them.”
“Stealing is wrong, even if the store has a lot,” Charlie said.
Ryan laughed as Charlie walked away.
That night, Charlie told his parents how he had been tempted to take the mitt.
“What stopped you?” Dad asked.
“I just knew it wasn’t honest,” Charlie said. “I knew it would be the wrong choice.”
Dad placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “We’re proud of you,” he said.
Even though Charlie still hadn’t made any good friends in his new class yet, he felt happy as he lay in bed that night. With baseball season just around the corner, he knew he would have a chance to make some new friends.

One day in fourth grade I took a spelling test. I had studied and felt I knew the words well. When I got my paper back, it was marked 100 percent. But as I read over the words, I found that I had misspelled one. I thought about keeping the good grade, but decided that it wouldn’t be honest. So I told my teacher about my mistake. She looked at me and said, “Well, I’ll give you 100 percent anyway since you’re so honest.” It makes me feel good to know that I can follow the Savior and have eternal life.

May I share with you a letter from a young man which reflects the spirit of love and which helped to make firm a testimony of the gospel:
“Dear President Monson:
“Thank you for speaking to us at the National Scouting Jamboree held at Fort A. P. Hill, Virginia. On the tour that we took we saw a lot of famous places like Niagara Falls, the Statue of Liberty, the Liberty Bell, and many other places. The one I enjoyed the most was the Sacred Grove. Our parents had written us all letters to read by ourselves while in the grove. After I had finished the letter my parents had written to me, I knelt in prayer. I asked if the Church was really true and if Joseph Smith really did see a vision and is a true prophet of God, and also if President Hinckley is a true prophet of God. Right after I was done praying I felt this feeling of the Spirit that these things were indeed true. I had prayed before about the same things but never received such a powerful answer. There was no way that I could deny that this Church is true or that President Hinckley is a prophet of God.
“I feel so blessed to be a member of this Church. Thanks again for attending the Jamboree.
“Sincerely,
“Chad D. Olson
“P.S. We gave our tour guide and our bus driver a copy of the Book of Mormon with our testimonies in it. They are the greatest! I want to be a missionary.”
Like Joseph Smith, this young man had retired to a sacred grove and prayed for answers to questions phrased by his inquiring mind. Once more a prayer was answered and a confirmation of the truth was gained.

My brother was the first member of my family to join the Church. He is a great example to me. A few years after he was baptized, my whole family started listening to the missionaries. I decided to join the Church because I know that Jesus Christ is real and this is His true Church. After I was baptized, it felt like I was reborn into a new life. I promised God I would keep His commandments. If we want to go back to Heavenly Father, we need to obey His commandments.

David loved to sit on the front porch and think, and that was exactly what he was doing one warm summer day.
“I want to be very, very smart like my dad,” David said to the postman who delivered the mail. “I’m going to read and learn everything!”
The postman smiled. “That’s a very good ambition,” he said, “but that will take a lot of time and study.”
“Ambition,” David repeated to himself after the mailman left. “That’s a big word. The mailman is smart and uses big words.”
This gave David an idea. “That’s what I’ll do to become smart. I’ll learn smart-sounding words.”
Just then David’s little brother, Bobby, came around the corner of the house carrying a baseball and mitt. “Hi, David. What are you doing?” he called.
“Thinking,” David answered.
“What about?” Bobby asked.
David sat up tall and answered, “Ambition.”
“Ambition?” Bobby looked puzzled.
“Yes, ambition. Everyone has to have it you know,” David said with authority.
“Oh, but how do you think about it?” Bobby wanted to know.
“I’m thinking about how smart I am when I use ambition,” David said proudly.
“I’d rather play ball,” Bobby said as he ran off to do just that.
David went into the house and took the dictionary from the bookshelf. He put it on the table, closed his eyes, opened the book, and then with his finger he pointed to a word.
“There,” he said to himself. “This is where I’ll start.”
He looked at the word his finger had found. “Ex—ex—a exa—I can’t even say it!” David exclaimed. “How can I become smart if I can’t even say smart words?”
“What’s that, David? Is something wrong?” his mother asked as she came into the room.
“It’s this word,” David replied. “What does e-x-a-s-p-e-r-a-t-i-o-n spell?”
“Exasperation,” she answered.
“Exasperation,” David repeated with a smile. “That’s a good, big, smart word.”
“It certainly is,” Mother agreed.
David felt better now. He walked back outside and down the street. Mrs. Smith was sweeping her sidewalk and stopped to say hello to David.
“Hi, Mrs. Smith,” he answered.
He held his head high and tried to look very smart as he said, “Exasperation. Ambition.”
Mrs. Smith looked puzzled. “Oh my, David,” she murmured. “How perplexing!”
“Per-plex-ing. Perplexing,” David repeated after her. “That’s a very smart word to remember.” He went on down the street until he came to the corner grocery store. Mr. Packer, the grocer, was David’s friend.
I’ll show Mr. Packer how smart I have become, he thought.
David walked into the store and stood very tall in front of the counter and said, “Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.”
“What?” Mr. Packer asked rubbing his head in a curious way.
“Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.” David repeated the words loud and clear.
“My, my,” was all Mr. Packer could say.
David left the store and hurried home. “Oh, Mother,” he said. “I have become so smart. And it didn’t take much time at all!”
“Smart?” Mother wondered.
David stood very proud and tall, and said, “Yes, just listen to me. Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.”
“What?” Mother asked.
“Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.”
“But it doesn’t mean anything,” Mother said.
“It has to mean something?” David questioned.
“Yes, or no one will understand you. Do you know what those words mean?”
David hadn’t thought about that. He slumped down in a chair feeling quite silly while his mother explained.
“Ambition is a strong desire to achieve. Exasperation is a feeling you get when you are irritated or annoyed. And perplexing is when you are confused or puzzled.”
“Those words mean all that? I guess I’ll never be smart,” David sighed.
“Yes, you will. But you have to learn the meaning of words before you can use them,” she replied.
“That’s a lot of work!” David said.
“It certainly is,” Mother agreed.
David thought very hard. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll just have to do it. I’ll study and work until I learn the meanings too.”
Mother smiled and said, “Now that’s the smart thing to do!”

Captain Brown was likewise concerned about the turbulent sailing conditions. In four weeks only one-third of the distance to New Orleans had been covered; there were 2,900 miles yet to go. He therefore ordered an inventory of food reserves, which showed them adequate unless the unfavorable winds continued. In the midst of the company’s anxiety, however, the Spirit brought them reassurance on March 29: “a tongue interpreted that we should have a speedier voyage than was anticipated, as the Lord was well pleased with our fasting and had heard our prayers.”

Events of the next few days and nights, however, seemed to negate that prophecy. Storms struck again: “strong gale; great swell on the water; ship rolling very much; many of the passengers sick. … Things rolling about.” Outside the elements were at war, but within the Spirit was at work. After one preaching meeting where “Brother Finch gave a brief and lucid explanation of the first principles,” five converts were baptized. On April 1, the unfavorable winds continued, but at a testimony meeting, which many sailors attended, three more baptisms occurred, including the ship’s carpenter, the first crew member to convert. The next day found food rations reduced. But that evening three more sailors and one passenger were baptized at the testimony meeting.

On the first Sunday in April, five weeks from Liverpool and still not halfway to New Orleans, a special Church meeting was held in the steerage. While the vessel was tossed on the heavy seas, many testimonies were borne. Then, “a proposition was made that we should pray through our president for favorable winds.” Unitedly, they petitioned for divine assistance, “when, remarkable to relate, the Lord almost immediately answered our prayers.” Christopher Arthur, Jr., twenty-two years old and not yet a Mormon, later recalled the moment: “Prayer was offered on the 3rd of April for a fair wind which was answered while we were on our knees.” There was one more squall that night, but from then on ideal weather sped the vessel toward Florida. During the next three days, as the Saints rejoiced “that our prayer was heard,” the International sailed as far as it had during the previous two weeks. Frequently the stretched sails carried the ship 220 miles per day.

One young woman, Stacie, recognized the value of such traditions when she moved into a new ward. Her first few Sundays were challenging. She even told her parents she didn’t want to return. That very week her adviser called and invited her to an upcoming youth activity. Stacie recalled: “I was trying to think of an excuse, but the adviser said that every year they did a big dating game, and that caught my interest. I figured if they did it every year, it must be fun. So I went, and that was when things began to get better.”