Gospel Story Finder

At a young age, Elder L. Whitney Clayton learned to love work and family. Early every Saturday, his father, a physician, would leave to attend to medical duties. Before he left, he would write on a chalkboard a list of all the chores to be done that day. When he returned he would join his sons and work side by side with them. From his father, Elder Clayton learned a work ethic that has blessed his life.

Jack was in trouble. He had poked his little sister, Harper. Mom told him to stop. He dumped his toys in the kitchen. Mom asked him to pick them up. He pulled out all the plastic cups to build with. Mom told him to put them away. Then he got in a fight with his little brother, Adam. And that’s when Mom yelled at him. Jack yelled back. Then Mom told Jack to go sit outside.
Jack ran through the kitchen and out to the balcony. He slid the door shut as hard as he could. He walked back and forth and back and forth. He was mad!
And he was sad. He wished Mom hadn’t yelled at him.
He stopped and looked down at the cars far below the apartment. He watched small cars and big buses drive by. He wished he hadn’t yelled at Mom. He shouldn’t have teased Harper. Or fought with Adam. He hadn’t made very good choices today.
Jack sighed. He looked back at the street and counted cars.
Soon the balcony door slid open. It was Mom.
“Jack?” she said softly. She stepped outside and slid the door shut behind her. She stood by Jack and looked at the cars with him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Jack said. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t very nice. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.” Mom gave Jack a big hug. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m still learning just like you are, and sometimes I make mistakes.”
Jack hugged Mom tight.
“Let’s go try again,” Mom said.
She followed Jack back inside. She helped him pick up the cups. They helped Harper find her blanket. Then they played a game with Adam and Harper. When Adam got mad about losing, Jack didn’t get mad back. Mom gave him a big smile. They were learning and trying together.

In October 1918, 100 years ago, President Joseph F. Smith received a glorious vision. After almost 65 years of dedicated service to the Lord in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and just a few weeks before his death on November 19, 1918, he sat in his room pondering Christ’s atoning sacrifice and reading the Apostle Peter’s description of the Savior’s ministry in the spirit world after His Crucifixion.
He recorded: “As I read I was greatly impressed. … As I pondered over these things … , the eyes of my understanding were opened, and the Spirit of the Lord rested upon me, and I saw the hosts of the dead.”1 The full text of the vision is recorded in Doctrine and Covenants section 138.
Let me provide some background so that we may more fully appreciate Joseph F.’s lifetime of preparation to receive this remarkable revelation.
When he was President of the Church, he visited Nauvoo in 1906 and reflected on a memory he had when he was just five years old. He said: “This is the exact spot where I stood when [Joseph, my uncle, and my father, Hyrum] came riding up on their way to Carthage. Without getting off his horse father leaned over in his saddle and picked me up off the ground. He kissed me good-bye and put me down again and I saw him ride away.”2
The next time Joseph F. saw them, his mother, Mary Fielding Smith, lifted him up to see the martyrs lying side by side after being brutally murdered in Carthage Jail on June 27, 1844.
Two years later, Joseph F., along with his family and faithful mother, Mary Fielding Smith, left his home in Nauvoo for Winter Quarters. Although not yet eight years old, Joseph F. was required to drive one of the oxteams from Montrose, Iowa, to Winter Quarters and then later on to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving when he was almost 10. I hope you boys and young men are listening and will realize the responsibility and expectation placed on Joseph F. during his boyhood.
Just four years later, in 1852, when he was 13, his beloved mother died—leaving Joseph and his siblings orphans.3
Joseph F. was called to serve a mission in the Hawaiian Islands in 1854 when he was 15 years old. This mission, which lasted more than three years, was the beginning of a life of service in the Church.
Upon his return to Utah, Joseph F. married in 1859.4 For the next few years, his life was filled with work, family duties, and two additional missions. On July 1, 1866, at the age of 27, Joseph F. had his life forever changed when he was ordained an Apostle by Brigham Young. In October the following year, he filled a vacancy in the Council of the Twelve.5 He served as a counselor to Brigham Young, John Taylor, Wilford Woodruff, and Lorenzo Snow before becoming President himself in 1901.6
Joseph F. and his wife Julina welcomed their first child, Mercy Josephine, into the family.7 She was only two and a half years old when she passed away. Shortly after, Joseph F. recorded: “It is one month yesterday since my … darling Josephine died. O! that I could have saved her to grow up to womanhood. I miss her every day and I am lonely. … God forgive my weakness if it is wrong to love my little ones as I love them.”8
During his lifetime, President Smith lost his father, his mother, one brother, two sisters, two wives, and thirteen children. He was well acquainted with sorrow and losing loved ones.
When his son Albert Jesse died, Joseph F. wrote to his sister Martha Ann that he had pled with the Lord to save him and asked, “Why is it so? O. God why had it to be?”9
Despite his prayers at that time, Joseph F. received no answer on this matter.10 He told Martha Ann that “the heavens [seemed like] brass over our heads” on the subject of death and the spirit world. Nevertheless, his faith in the Lord’s eternal promises were firm and steadfast.
In the Lord’s due time, the additional answers, comfort, and understanding about the spirit world President Smith sought came to him through the marvelous vision he received in October 1918.
That year was particularly painful for him. He grieved over the death toll in the Great World War that continued to climb to over 20 million people killed. Additionally, a flu pandemic was spreading around the world, taking the lives of as many as 100 million people.
During the year, President Smith also lost three more precious family members. Elder Hyrum Mack Smith of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, his firstborn son and my grandfather, died suddenly of a ruptured appendix.
President Smith wrote: “I am speechless—[numb] with grief! … My heart is broken; and flutters for life! … O! I loved him! … I will love him forever more. And so it is and ever will be with all my sons and daughters, but he is my first born son, the first to bring me the joy and hope of an endless, honorable name among men. … From the depths of my soul I thank God for him! But … O! I needed him! We all needed him! He was most useful to the Church. … And now, … O! what can I do! … O! God help me!”11
The next month, President Smith’s son-in-law, Alonzo Kesler, died in a tragic accident.12 President Smith noted in his journal, “This most terrible and heart-rending fatal accident, has again cast a pall of gloom over all my family.”13
Seven months later, in September 1918, President Smith’s daughter-in-law and my grandmother, Ida Bowman Smith, died after giving birth to her fifth child, my uncle Hyrum.14
And so it was on October 3, 1918, having experienced intense sorrow over the millions who had died in the world through war and disease as well as the deaths of his own family members, President Smith received the heavenly revelation known as “the vision of the redemption of the dead.”
He alluded to the revelation the following day in the opening session of the October general conference. President Smith’s health was failing, yet he spoke briefly: “I will not, I dare not, attempt to enter upon many things that are resting upon my mind this morning, and I shall postpone until some future time, the Lord be willing, my attempt to tell you some of the things that are in my mind, and that dwell in my heart. I have not lived alone these [last] five months. I have dwelt in the spirit of prayer, of supplication, of faith and of determination; and I have had my communication with the Spirit of the Lord continuously.”15
The revelation he received on October 3 comforted his heart and provided answers to many of his questions. We too can be comforted and learn more about our own future when we and our loved ones die and go to the spirit world by studying this revelation and pondering its significance in the way we live our lives each day.
Among the many things President Smith saw was the Savior’s visit to the faithful in the spirit world after His own death on the cross. From the vision I quote:
“But behold, from among the righteous, he organized his forces and appointed messengers, clothed with power and authority, and commissioned them to go forth and carry the light of the gospel to them that were in darkness, even to all the spirits of men [and women];16 and thus was the gospel preached to the dead. …
“These were taught faith in God, repentance from sin, vicarious baptism for the remission of sins, the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands,
“And all other principles of the gospel that were necessary for them to know in order to qualify themselves that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit. …
“For the dead had looked upon the long absence of their spirits from their bodies as a bondage.
“These the Lord taught, and gave them power to come forth, after his resurrection from the dead, to enter into his Father’s kingdom, there to be crowned with immortality and eternal life,
“And continue thenceforth their labor as had been promised by the Lord, and be partakers of all blessings which were held in reserve for them that love him.”17
In the vision, President Smith saw his father, Hyrum, and the Prophet Joseph Smith. It had been 74 years since he had last seen them as a small boy in Nauvoo. We can only imagine his joy at seeing his beloved father and uncle. He must have been inspired and comforted to know that all spirits retain the likeness of their mortal body and that they are anxiously awaiting the day of their promised resurrection. The vision revealed more fully the depth and breadth of Heavenly Father’s plan for His children and Christ’s redeeming love and the matchless power of His Atonement.18
On this special 100th anniversary, I invite you to thoroughly and thoughtfully read this revelation. As you do so, may the Lord bless you to more fully understand and appreciate God’s love and His plan of salvation and happiness for His children.
I testify that the vision President Joseph F. Smith received is true. I bear witness that every person can read it and come to know it is true. Those who do not receive this knowledge in this life will surely come to know its truthfulness when everyone will arrive in the spirit world. There, all will love and praise God and the Lord Jesus Christ for the great plan of salvation and the blessing of the promised Resurrection when body and spirit will once again be reunited, never to be separated again.19
How grateful I am to know where my precious Barbara is and that we will be together again, with our family, for all eternity. May the peace of the Lord sustain us now and forever is my humble prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Five years ago I was invited to a very candid conversation with then Elder Jeffrey R. Holland on whether BYU was realizing its prophetic potential. Sensing his concern, I explained that we still had the honor code, our academic freedom policy, religion classes, and devotionals to act essentially as “bumper lanes” protecting us from getting too far off spiritually.
Without hesitation, Elder Holland cut me off and responded, “Clark, bumper lanes are very different than bowling for a strike!”
In the ensuing years, we have ensured that BYU has appropriate bumper lanes in place: temple recommend requirements, mission-fit hiring, aligned promotion criteria, mission-focused questions in the student application, and other key institutional guardrails. We will continue to safeguard this university, its standards, and its expectations with clarity and purpose. This is a basic stewardship of governments.
But if these boundary conditions capture our concerns and attention, we may be missing the real aim of the university itself. Hiring and promotion standards establish boundaries, but they are not the goal.

Other traditions I grew up with that have continued in my own family today are family prayer and scripture study. Although we were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was a boy, my parents had strong Christian roots and taught us good values.
Our regular prayer and scripture study prepared us for when the missionaries knocked on our door. I was 20 years old at the time. We immediately recognized the truths the missionaries were teaching as we learned about modern prophets, the Book of Mormon, and the Restoration of the gospel. As I read the Book of Mormon, from the very first verse I knew it was true. Our entire family was soon baptized.

At some time in life almost everyone yearns to travel to a faraway country and meet people of another culture, another language, and another way of life.
For the following Latter-day Saint youths this dream became a reality when they spent several months studying in Europe. Here is a report on what this experience meant to them:
Lee Vanhille, 23, from Palo Alto, California: “The impression I had of Spain before I left home was the standard one—flamenco dancers and castanets—but that is a very small part of Spain. There are wide, open flatlands, mountains, beaches, castles, cathedrals—everything, including bagpipes in the north.
“I enjoyed the young people in Spain better than those anywhere else we traveled. I found them very open and willing to talk. They were nice, clean-cut kids.
“I really enjoyed the experience of studying Spanish literature and then seeing what I was reading about. It’s like seeing poetry come to life.”
Jana Christensen, 19, from Alpine, Utah: “I was in southern Spain and it was very hot, but the beaches were beautiful. And, oh, the Mediterranean! Spain is such a beautiful country!
“The people were the most loving I’ve ever met in my whole life. For instance, I was waiting for the bus one night, in a pouring rain, and I didn’t have a coat on. It was miserable! An older lady was standing at the bus stop, and we began conversing in Spanish. When the bus came, we talked all the way to my stop. To get up and leave her was the hardest thing to do. It was just as if I had known her forever. I said, ‘Adiós. Buena suerta.’ (Goodbye. Good luck.) She reached up, hugged me, and kissed me on both cheeks. After I got off the bus and glanced back, she was still waving good-bye.
“One thing that amazed me about Spanish girls was that whenever they’d be in the mood to do something exciting, they’d go upstairs in the dorms and turn on the record player full blast—that great Spanish music—and they’d get up and dance. They would give it everything they had, really dancing up a storm. They’d do flamenco; they’d clap; they’d sing. Pretty soon I’d go join them, and then we’d all be singing. It was so much fun. I left a lot of copies of the Libro de Mormon around for them when I left.
“The Saints there are great! It was really strengthening to hear the Spanish people bear their testimonies at their branch.
“For me this was a trip of firsts. It was my first time on an airplane, first time on a train, first time in a taxi, first time out of the country, first time in a subway—everything was a first. I appreciated learning more about other people. I am a lot more accepting and tolerant of others than I was. I feel more love for others.”
Tamera Nielsen, 20, from Salt Lake City: “Austria is one of the most beautiful countries in all the world. It fills your heart to go there. The youth of the Church there are very dedicated to the Lord—some of the most dedicated people I’ve ever met. The Austrian people have such enthusiasm for the gospel!
“The country is very green, and the Austrian Alps are really inspiring. The people often take what they call a spaziergang, a kind of nature-appreciation walk.
“Austrian young people like to go to movies. A date is really different in Austria; the young couple meet someplace downtown instead of the boy calling for the girl at her home. I’ve learned a lot about people and about tolerance, and I’ve learned that the Church is truly worldwide.”
Stephen Driggs, 22, from Phoenix, Arizona: “I went on a mission to Germany, so I had a good language background.
“I stayed in Salzburg, where we have an active branch. For an Austrian branch, it has a lot of young people. It’s a very young and growing branch, very enthusiastic.
“The country is terrific! Austria has great culture—things like operas, concerts, and an overwhelming sense of history. It’s a fantastic place to study history because of the things you can see, the buildings you can visit, and the monuments—people and places that were influential in making history.
“While there, I stayed in a private home. Family life is more formal than in the United States. The relationship between parent and child is quite formal. Dinner is always at a particular time, and they usually have cake and coffee in the afternoon. The family are always together for dinner. They served me a lot of coffee substitutes.”
Mark Stoddard, 22, from Auburn, California: “My main intent in traveling was to help myself improve in the French language. I went to Grenoble.
“My father’s in the U.S. Air Force, so I’ve lived in Germany for three years, in England for three years, and a little while in Taiwan and Australia, but I found Grenoble to be an interesting city, bigger than I thought it would be. I thought it would be a small village but it’s not. There are mountains completely encircling it, and it’s situated right in the middle of the whole valley. There are apartments after apartments—thousands of apartments.
“I found that the French people behaved much differently toward me than they had when I visited there before. Now I was learning the language. When you won’t try to speak their language, they won’t spend much time with you. If you make an attempt, they are extremely hospitable. I went into a patisserie one day—that’s a place where they sell beautiful, delicious pastries. They bent over backwards trying to help me with the language, just because I was trying.
“In my travels I have found that when you find other members of the Church, it doesn’t matter whether you are French, Italian, German, Australian, or whatever, there is no difference except that we speak different languages. I kept thinking of Ephesians, where it says that the reason we have the Church is to bring us to a unity of the faith. The French people are great. I really grew to appreciate them.”
Judy Harrison, 21, from Ogden, Utah: “I went to Grenoble because I’m a French major and I wanted to learn the language. My family and I lived in Japan from 1960 to 1962.
“Lots of people have said that the French really don’t have a distinct culture. As I traveled through Europe, I would see the Austrians with their dirndls, the Germans with their dirndls and lodens, and the Spaniards with their ponchos—they all seemed to have a definite symbol for their country. It took me quite a while to find the symbol of the French. There just aren’t any people like the French. They are small, dark, slender, excitable—a truly unusual people. Anyway, I finally decided it was the French personality that was France’s symbol.
“Meeting the people and showing them friendship brings them alive. I found that out well when one lady in Marseilles took time to help me. I was buying santons (dolls used in nativity scenes), and she took time to set out all of her dolls, taking them from the window, lining them up, and explaining the history behind each one of them. I was really impressed.
“I attended the comife de patronage (school for foreign students). The teacher was a dynamic French woman, Madame Bonneville. I loved to watch her talk; she used her hands so expressively.
“Before I went to France, I wasn’t up on current affairs. I went to school and to church and enjoyed life the way it was, and I didn’t know what was happening in other countries. But I soon found out that in France you can’t do that. You’ve got to face problems and find out what’s happening and see what you can do. I’ve suddenly been confronted with many problems that I have always ignored before. It’s changed my whole outlook on life.
“I’ve learned something else. Americans tend to be a little overconfident and to go around speaking English all the time, expecting others to understand them. But most Europeans speak two or three languages. How many of us can do that?”

When he was just 10 years old, Joshua Dennis spent five days trapped in the pitch-black darkness of an abandoned mine. When rescuers finally heard his faint cry for help and pulled him out of the horrible darkness, he was disoriented, cold, and exhausted. Much to their surprise, he wasn’t afraid. Josh spent his time sleeping, yelling for help, and praying. “Someone was protecting me,” he explained. “I knew people were going to find me.”
Joshua’s simple but profound faith had been nurtured by his parents, who taught him that he had a Heavenly Father who knew where he was at all times. They taught him he had been born with the Light of Christ within him. Truly, Josh had been brought up in light and truth (see D&C 93:40) so that when he found himself huddled on a ledge 2,000 feet deep in a mine, he had drawn upon that light to sustain and comfort him, to give him courage and hope. Josh experienced what Abinadi taught when, speaking of Christ, he said: “He is the light and life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened” (Mosiah 16:9).
Remember little Josh Dennis? He is now Elder Dennis serving a mission far away from the dark mine which held him captive. Now Elder Dennis finds his way along the narrow, unfamiliar paths of Honduras sharing a message of hope, salvation, and light. What he teaches every day is the paradox he experienced as a young boy lost in a mine: that amidst encircling gloom, amidst the darkest possible circumstances, it is possible to feel hope, peace, and comfort—all because of the light which is stronger than all darkness, the light of Jesus Christ.

Although Harold B. Lee was a master of seeing the big picture and coming up with creative and far-reaching solutions, he never lost sight of individuals. On Christmas day during his first year as stake president, he became distressed when his daughter went across the street to show her new doll to her friend and came back crying because the other little girl had received no gifts for Christmas, her daddy being out of work. He recalled, “For me it was a very difficult Christmas. I did not enjoy the dinner that I sat down to that day, because I, as stake president, had not become acquainted with the people in my stake.

“The next Christmas we made preparations. We made a survey, and we found that we had more than a thousand people who needed help during these difficult times. So we made ready by gathering toys and taking them to the old storehouse. Then the fathers and mothers came and helped fix the toys, putting them together, dressing dolls, and sewing things.

“We had oranges and apples. There was roast beef with all the trimmings for Christmas dinner. The bishops arranged to have it delivered to all the needy families, and then called to let me know that all had been visited.

“That year when I sat down to my Christmas dinner I felt I could enjoy it, because, as far as I knew, every family in my stake was having a good Christmas.”

Several years ago I took my first photography class. One of the assignments the teacher gave us then was to shoot, develop, print, and mount one photograph each week. On Fridays these photographs were displayed in front of the class and critiqued by the teacher.
After about the third week, one of the students raised his hand and said, “There’s nothing left to take pictures of; all of the good things have been done.”
There were about 40 students in the class, and in the three weeks we’d been displaying photographs, every prominent building, statue, water fountain, and stray dog in the area had been exposed, printed, and dry mounted several times.
The teacher mumbled something about “seeing and imagination” and then dismissed the class. The following Friday the teacher, after the regular display and critique, set out 20 of his own mounted photographs.
“I took these in the parking lot,” he said. “Outside of this building.”
His photographs were beautiful. There were pictures of the abstract designs of cracked paint on curbs, the texture of rusted gutter bars, reflections from windows, rows of head lights that looked like eyes, the design of a hundred car hoods, a student looking for his car in a sea of cars. The photographs were more than just nice images. They made a statement about the culture of our society, about us. The beauty, the communication, the sensitivity—all of the elements of art were in the photographs.
For me, this experience with this teacher was discovery. It formalized something I had already sensed. From that point on, everything around me became something to be seen, to be photographed. I took pictures of pipes on ceilings, vegetables, fruits, tattered billboards, and nearly everything else that I saw. Looking, seeing what I saw opened an entirely new universe for me; everything I saw was alive with excitement. It was a little like a fish discovering water.
After this discovery of seeing, I made another discovery. It was summer, and it was late in the afternoon. The sun was close to the mountains and had turned a warm orange color. I was in my grandmother’s house. The windows on one of her doors are made of hand-cut glass. These windows formed a prism refracting the orange light into an incredible spectrum of color on a white wall. The sun was dropping behind trees and the shapes of leaves were silhouetted on the wall with the colors. The wind was blowing lightly, moving the leaves and the shapes and colors on the wall. It was one of the most beautiful images I’d ever seen.
I had my camera with me, but I knew there was no possibility of catching what I was seeing. I knew the image would be gone in a matter of seconds. I had to appreciate it for what it was, when it was. I realized then that there are many images I can’t photograph that are both beautiful and important to see. Beyond that I realized there are many other things I had not yet been much aware of—sounds, smells, textures.
It was seeing, the recognition, the sensitivity, that was important to photography. What I discovered was that this sensitivity, this awareness is important to every art, including the art of living. I started again, a little differently, to try to see what I’d been seeing but hadn’t been aware of. I have found universes even brighter and more exciting than what I’d discovered by learning to see. I have also found that the more I am aware of and sensitive to the people and the world around me, the more I begin to understand about those people and that world. And the more I understand about the people and the world around me, the more I understand about myself.
Edward Weston: “The photographer’s most important and likewise most difficult task is not learning to manage his camera, or to develop, or to print. It is learning to see.” (The Art of Photography, Time Inc., 1971, p. 17.)
Paul Strand: “It is one thing to photograph people, it is another to make others care about them by revealing the core of their humanness.” (Documentary Photography, Time Inc., 1972, p. 133.)
Henri Cartier-Bresson: “I believe that, through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us which can mold us, but which can also be affected by us. A balance must be established between these two worlds—the one inside us and the one outside us. … And it is this world that we must communicate.” (The Art of Photography, p. 21.)

Since we can’t have that conversation in this setting, I will share one of my stories with you. My miscarriage was not my first experience with uncertainty. One of my first major bouts with uncertainty began when I was in my early twenties. My husband, Chris, and I were recently married and were hoping to have children. As months passed, and then years passed, we discovered that it would not be easy for us to get pregnant. So we waited. In the waiting, we filled our lives with graduate studies, Church service, and friendships. We had a good life. But our struggle with infertility was deeply painful to me. There was so much uncertainty in that waiting. Would we ever discover why we were unable to have children? Would we finally be able to welcome a child into our family? What should I do with myself while I waited? Work? Get a PhD?

This uncertainty and waiting invited me to regularly turn to God for answers. I was discovering the first principle of waiting upon the Lord: I had to actively seek God in order to find Him. To seek Him, I studied the scriptures. I studied teachings of prophets. I attended ward meetings. I went to the temple. I magnified my calling. I prayed fervently. Despite my seeking, the answers did not come swiftly.

I remember sitting with my ward in Newark, Delaware, on a day when I felt like the heavens were particularly silent. (Remember that scripture in which Isaiah referred to the Lord hiding His face?) One of our congregational hymns that Sunday was “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go.” We sang these words:
But if, by a still, small voice he calls To paths that I do not know, I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine: I’ll go where you want me to go.
Those lyrics represented my uncertainty—those “paths that I do not know”—and through the other lyrics of that hymn, I began to receive an answer to my prayers. In the midst of my uncertainty and longing to know, I had to put my hand in the Lord’s hand. I had to let Him lead me.

As we continued singing the hymn, I received a distinct impression that the Lord wanted me to go deeper into darkness and uncertainty on an unknown journey. I felt impressed that the journey would include further graduate studies, but I also felt that I would not immediately receive the answers I sought about having children. Instead, I had to keep moving forward. I had to keep waiting and seeking. In such darkness, I couldn’t seek the Lord with my eyes alone. I had to seek Him with my heart. What a deeply humbling thing it is to wait upon the Lord. Though I did not receive all of the answers I sought, I was finding the Lord, and He was helping me feel His presence in my life.

So I kept moving forward. Later in that same school year I attended the general Young Women meeting. Many of the talks that ­evening focused on personal revelation. The ­closing address was given by President Gordon B. Hinckley. This was a significant talk for me. President Hinckley taught:
Find purpose in your life. Choose the things you would like to do, and educate yourselves to be effective in their pursuit. . . . In this day and time, a girl needs an education. She needs the means and skills by which to earn a living. . . .
Study your options. Pray to the Lord earnestly for direction. Then pursue your course with resolution.
The whole gamut of human endeavor is now open to women. There is not anything that you cannot do if you will set your mind to it. You can include in the dream of the woman you would like to be a picture of one qualified to serve society and make a significant contribution to the world of which she will be a part.

In this message the Lord offered me a vision through His prophet of the kind of future that could be mine. Again, I received no particular answer to my lingering question about when or whether I would have children. My uncertainty was not resolved, nor was my waiting over. Yet I was reminded that “the whole gamut of human endeavor” was open to me. Regardless of whether I became a mother, there could be a work for me to do. I felt a confirmation that continuing my education could help me become “one qualified to serve society and make a significant contribution to the world” around me. President Hinckley was reinforcing the message I had received a few months before while I sang that hymn with my ward members.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
I won’t say I’m sorry and that’s that, so leave me alone!Don’t take that attitude with me, young lady. You can just go to your room until you’re ready to apologize to Matt.
You’re mean! You always favor Matt, and you treat me like a baby. I will go to my room because I don’t want to be near you!
a little later. … May I come in, sweetheart?
Mandy, do you remember the time in the Bible when Jesus commanded a terrible storm to be still, and it was?Yes.
You and I have had a terrible storm inside us, Mandy, and so have Mommy and Matt. Shall we ask Heavenly Father in Jesus’ name to help the storm be still?OK. Maybe then I’ll feel like apologizing to Matt.

The row of strawberry plants seemed to stretch into infinity. I picked another handful of the plump red berries and dropped them into my carrier. I would have to pick a lot of them to pay for the blue jeans I wanted for school next fall.
Mom works hard to take care of Joey and me. We have everything we need, but Joey and I know Mom can’t afford expensive things—like the blue jeans at Stovers. They cost thirty dollars a pair. I was sure all the girls at my new school would be wearing them, and I just had to have a pair.
I had tried to get a summer job, but no one wanted a fulltime baby-sitter, and I’m not old enough to work in the stores. There aren’t many jobs available when you’re only fourteen. Then I saw Mr. Baker’s ad in the paper: “Berry pickers wanted.”
Joey bounced up from the sofa, “Hey, Marcie! Can I come too?”
I shook my head. “The ad says you have to be twelve, and your birthday is still three weeks away.”
Joey pushed a lock of red hair out of his face and his blue eyes sparkled. “I can hardly wait to get a paper route,” he said.
Getting a paper route was all Joey had talked about since we moved here. Mom agreed to let him apply for one when he turned twelve.
When Mom came home from work, I showed her the ad.
“Berry picking is hard work, Marcie. You’ll have to get up very early every morning to catch the bus,” she warned.
“But it’s the only way I can earn money for the school clothes I want.”
Mom smiled. “You can try it. I know how much you want those blue jeans.”
“Thanks, Mom!” I shouted, throwing my arms around her.
In the morning the excitement I had felt began to evaporate. I didn’t know any of the kids waiting for the bus. By the time it came. I’d almost made up my mind to go home. Instead I found myself being pushed aboard the bus with the crowd.
When we reached the berry field, I wondered if Mr. Baker would hire me, but he smiled and handed me a punch card and a carrier. I followed the other kids into the field.
I was soon tired of bending over so I got down on my knees. A berry whizzed past my head and I looked up to see where it came from. Two boys were picking up berries from their carriers and firing them at each other.
The girl in the next row looked over and smiled. She had a bright red scarf over her dark hair, and her hazel eyes looked friendly. “Don’t pay any attention to those two,” she said. “They’re always doing that.”
“Have you worked here long?” I asked.
She nodded. “I started when the field first opened. Mr. Baker pays a bonus if you stay the season. My name is Alice. You’re new, aren’t you?”
“We moved here last month. My name is Marcie. This is the first time I’ve tried picking strawberries.”
Alice smiled. “It’s hard work at first, but you get used to it. I earn enough money for my school clothes. We’ll finish here in three weeks, then the raspberries will be ready.” Alice picked up her full carrier. “Want me to save you a seat on the bus this afternoon?”
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
“See you later,” Alice said and started for the berry shed.
It felt good to know I wasn’t the only one earning money for school clothes. I liked Alice and hoped we would become friends.
Before quitting time, my knees hurt too much to kneel down and my back ached from bending over. It took a long time to fill my carrier. Now I knew why Mr. Baker paid a bonus for staying the season.
“Quitting time!” the field supervisor called. Everyone hurried to the berry shed.
“Anyone want to cash in their cards?” Mr. Baker asked. Some of the kids turned theirs in and got paid. “How about you?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head. Mr. Baker smiled. “See you tomorrow then, unless it rains.”
I climbed aboard the bus and sat down next to Alice, but I was almost too tired to talk.
Joey met me at the door with a big grin on his face. “I’m going to get a paper route!” he shouted. “Mr. Rivers says there will be one open the day after my birthday! It’s the area between Williams and Miller streets. Now we can both help Mom by earning extra money!”
I remembered that the bus had gone past those two streets on the way home. Joey was so proud, I didn’t have the heart to tell him how far he would have to walk.
After the first couple of days, berry picking did get easier. By the following week, I could pick almost as fast as Alice. Maybe I can earn enough for two pairs of jeans! I thought.
The sky clouded over the next Monday, and on the way home it started to rain. “Do you think we’ll be able to pick tomorrow?” I asked.
Alice shook her head. “Not if this keeps up. Rain makes the berries soft, and the cannery won’t take them.”
It rained all the next day. I watched the sky anxiously and wondered if there would be any good berries left to pick. I could never earn enough for the jeans if it didn’t stop soon.
Joey came in soaking wet. “What are you doing out in the rain?” I asked.
Joey wiped his face, “I have to learn my paper route. The kid who has it now is teaching me.” Then he smiled and added, “I stopped at the secondhand shop to look at bikes too.”
Tuesday night the rain stopped and my hopes soared. There were still three days left to pick!
I worked as fast as I could. By Friday afternoon the field was finished. Everyone lined up to get paid. I had filled five punch cards and had two punches on the sixth. Mr. Baker smiled and counted out $43.40. “Come back next year,” he said. “You’re a good worker,”
On the way home, Alice said, “I start picking raspberries next week. Would you like to come with me?”
“Are they as hard to pick as strawberries?” I asked.
Alice smiled, “No, silly, you pick them standing up.”
“Good!” I laughed. “It will be fun working together.”
Mom was in the kitchen frosting a cake when I got home.
“I made $43.40!” I shouted, waving the bills in the air. “With what I’ve already saved, I have $51.20!”
Mom was decorating the cake when I came down the stairs. It’s Joey’s birthday! I’d been so busy I had forgotten it.
I rushed out of the house and stopped at the second-hand shop.
“May I help you?” the man asked.
I described Joey. “Do you know what bike he comes in here to look at?”
The man smiled and pointed to a red and white bike. “He’s almost worn it out just looking at it,” he said.
I thought about how far Joey had to walk to deliver papers, then I looked at the price tag and gasped.
“Hurry up, Marcie!” Joey exploded halfway through supper.
“Calm down, Joey,” Mom said. “Let your sister finish eating.”
“Go ahead and serve the cake, Mom,” I said.
Joey made a wish and blew out the candles. Mom handed him her gift. Joey ripped off the paper.
“Oh, boy!” he shouted. “A baseball mitt!”
Mom raised her eyebrows in surprise when I wheeled in my gift to Joey. “I start picking raspberries next week,” I said quickly.
I’m not sorry I spent the money, I decided. The look on Joey’s face when he saw the bike was worth the price of a dozen pairs of blue jeans!

Illustrated by Dilleen Marsh
WELCOME!I’m Sister Simon.Hi! I’m Ramón.Hello. I’m Cathlyn.I’m Mei Lin.Hi! I’m David.And I’m Joshua.
Hey, Ramón, let’s get going. We’ll be late for the project to help Brother Hollister.
I’m afraid I can’t make it. Brother Hollister’s a great guy, and I really want to help him, but my uncle just invited me to go to the ball game.
OK. See you later.
I mean, I can help Brother Hollister some other time, right?
Of course. Don’t worry about it.
Look, I know he’s helped others all his life, and times are tough for him right now, but a guy needs to have some fun, too, doesn’t he?
Absolutely. Enjoy the game.
Sure, I always feel great after one of these projects, and there’ll be other ball games, but … Oh, all right then, you’ve talked me into it. I’ll call my uncle and get a rain check on the ball game.
Boy, you really know how to pressure a guy.
What?

Cape Town South Africa Stake
The youth from the Cape Town South Africa Stake read from Ephesians 5:9 [Eph. 5:9]: “For the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth.” That was the theme of their youth conference. Then they began a two-day work project where they repaired and remodeled a wooden building that would be converted to a day-care center for five small settlements at Du Noon outside of Cape Town.
The youth straightened and reinforced a dilapidated wall and removed rotting boards so new ones could be installed. They landscaped the outside property, replaced and cleaned windows, and sanded and varnished the wood.
“I didn’t think work could be such fun,” said Siyabulela Mavula of the Guguletu Branch. “What made it more enjoyable than other work was the fact that we were all friends and we were helping these people who couldn’t help themselves.”

Lea and Mom were almost done shopping. Then Mom stopped to look at some clothes.
“I’ll be just a few minutes,” Mom said.
Lea sighed. When Mom said “a few minutes,” sometimes it meant 20!
Lea found a shelf of toys nearby. She flipped through a coloring book and then tossed a bouncy ball a few times. But that got boring pretty fast.
Then she pulled out something shiny and round. It was a yo-yo! It looked just like the one Oskar had brought to school last week. During recess he had showed everyone his fancy tricks. The tricks had names like “Walk the Dog” and “Around the World.” Lea had asked him if she could try, but Oskar wouldn’t let her.
Lea slipped the loop of the string over her finger. She let the yo-yo drop and then tugged on the string like she had seen Oskar do. The yo-yo hit the floor with a clunk. She tried again. After a few tries, she was able to bring the yo-yo back to her hand! If she could figure that out so quickly, she could probably learn to do all the tricks Oskar had done.
That’s when Lea looked at the price tag. She frowned. She didn’t have nearly that much in her money jar at home!
“I’m almost done, Lea,” Mom called.
Lea sighed. She was about to put the yo-yo back when an idea popped into her head. The yo-yo wasn’t very big. She could slip it into her pocket and keep it! The store owner wasn’t looking. No one would ever know. She could keep it forever and learn to do new tricks. And kids at school would think she was cool.
As Lea looked down at the yo-yo in her hand, she felt prickly and nervous. Her hands felt sweaty. She gripped the yo-yo tighter. What was this bad feeling? She wanted it to go away.
Then she remembered something Dad had told her before she got baptized.
“After you’re baptized, you’ll receive the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Dad had said. “The Holy Ghost helps us make good choices. He speaks to us in a still, small voice.”
“He’ll talk to me?” Lea asked.
“Not exactly,” Dad said. “It may be like a thought coming into your mind. Or a feeling coming into your heart.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“It’s different for each person,” Dad said. “But usually, when you do something good, the Holy Ghost will help you feel calm and peaceful. When there’s something dangerous, He will warn you. And when you want to do something wrong, the Holy Ghost will leave, and you’ll feel confused or unhappy.”
Lea looked down at the yo-yo. She really wanted it. But she knew the Holy Ghost was telling her that stealing was wrong.
Lea put the yo-yo back on the shelf. As soon as she did, she felt peaceful and warm. She walked back to Mom.
“I’m done,” Mom said. “Are you ready to go?”
Lea smiled. “Yes.”
As they left the store, Lea felt as light and happy as sunshine. The yo-yo might have been fun for a while. But following the Holy Ghost was something she wanted to do always.

In his senior year he finished 15th in the cross-country nationals. Then came the golden indoor season that was to vault him into the aristocracy of the running world. He somehow managed to talk his way into the Sunkist Invitational meet, even though his times really didn’t qualify him for that level of competition. There he went head to head in the two mile with the great Suleiman Nyambui, the University of Texas at El Paso star. Doug had never beaten Nyambui, the silver medalist in the 500 meters at the Moscow Olympics, although as members of the same college athletic conference, the two had competed many times. This time Doug stayed right behind Nyambui throughout the race.
“When Suleiman moved out to take the lead, I stepped right out behind him. I stayed right on his tail. I decided that what I needed to do was surprise him when I went around him. It’s twenty-two laps on the indoor track for two miles. So I said, ‘with two laps to go, I’ll make my move.’ So that’s what I did. I made it right at the top of the turn. I cut a little close, and I just brushed him with my arm, and I think that kind of surprised him. I brushed by him on the outside just as he looked to the inside to see where everybody was. I think he was kind of startled, and by the time he recovered I had six or seven yards on him. And then I just ran like crazy. He never caught me. Indoors the race is often won by the man who makes the first move and doesn’t die. The crowd was amazed that Suleiman could be beaten, especially by me.”
This was a victory that any athlete could treasure for life, even if it was followed by no others, but in this case both Doug and most knowledgeable track people sensed that it marked a great turning point in his career, the beginning of something big, a rite of passage from just another good college runner to something different. Doug was edging into that elite circle of athletes who can be described as “world-class.”

Elder Rasband’s middle name is Anderson. It helps him remember his mother’s family. His great-great-grandparents were Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson. They lived in Denmark almost 200 years ago. They learned about the gospel in Denmark and were baptized. In 1862 they traveled to the United States to be with other Latter-day Saints. Jens died on the trip across the ocean, but Ane Cathrine and her son kept going. It was hard, but their faith was strong. They made it all the way to Utah.

Once upon a time a husband and wife who loved each other very much wanted to have a child of their very own to hold and to cuddle and to love. As time passed and they had no children, they prayed to their Heavenly Father to send them a special child. Heavenly Father heard their prayers.
One day this husband and wife received a telephone call to go to a distant city to meet with some people who said they had a tiny baby that this man and his wife could adopt. Excited and filled with anticipation, they made the journey in their car. When they arrived at the city, they went to a certain home and there they were taken into a room where they saw a tiny baby lying in the middle of a big bed waiting for them. There really is such a thing as love at first sight, for when this husband and wife saw that little boy lying there all alone, they immediately fell in love with him. They took him home with them and loved the baby so much that they talked about him as their own beloved son.
Yet in spite of their great love for that little baby, they had a fear in their hearts that they might not be able to keep him as their very own child. They first had to see a judge and ask him if they could adopt this baby according to law. Because the judge wanted to make sure the little boy would be properly cared for, he first had to find out if the husband and his wife loved each other, if they had a good and happy home, and if they had enough money to feed and clothe the baby.
It took time for the judge to decide all these questions and all the while the love of the husband and his wife for the baby grew and grew. Finally, the judge gave legal consent for the couple to adopt the baby and this was done. Now the baby was their very own special child and their fear was gone that he would be taken away from them. Still, the judge could only give them permission to have the child during their lifetime on this earth. But they loved that baby more than that! They believed in Jesus and knew that Jesus had more power than the judge. Jesus could give them the child forever and ever and not just for this life only.
After the adoption papers had been signed and the baby had been given a name, the couple took their son with them to a temple of God. There they dressed in white clothes and dressed the little boy in white clothes too. Then they all knelt down at an altar in the temple. A man who held a special priesthood sealed that little boy to his new father and mother so that the family could be together forever. Now this boy really was their own special child, not only during this life, but even after death. If they all did what was right and loved one another, they could all live together with Jesus in heaven. Now that baby really was their special child!
Now, back to my story. When the father and mother had their little adopted baby boy sealed to them, the man who performed the ceremony told the father and mother to hold up their little son so he could look into the mirror. There was a mirror in the front and in the back of the room so that when the little boy looked he could see a long line of fathers and mothers holding little boys in their arms. Now he knew that he had a whole line of mothers and fathers who loved him with all their hearts and who would love him always. Then that little boy really did feel he was a special child. All children of our Heavenly Father are special, but the little boy knew that he was a very special child with parents who loved him.
I know that this story is true, because I am that father who loves his very own special child more every day and, as mothers do, my wife loves him even more. Every child who lives in such a family where love is can also feel he or she is a very special child.

“Come here, over by the light.” Kitty joined him by the window. “Do you remember this?”
He held out to her a piece of white cloth. When she took it in her hand, she saw it was a dress, a tiny frothy dress, all white, with many tucks and flounces; and across the yoke in front were red and blue marching figures. It was beautiful, and somehow, she knew it had been hers.
“You looked like an angel,” her father said softly. “Your hair was blonde then, and you were all dolled up in this dress and little white shoes and white socks with—I’m almost certain—red and blue stripes matching the whatsit on the dress. It was a Primary thing, Easter, I think, and you stood right in the front row and sang every song without missing a word—three years old and you didn’t miss a word—and me sitting on the back row blubbering when you sang that one about “I Am a Child of God.” l was embarrassed like the dickens until I noticed that both of the men beside me were sniffing and honking too. Oh, your mother was so proud of you, and that dress! I guess she took a whole roll of film of you in that dress. Still has ’em someplace.”
Kitty looked more closely at the dress. Tiny stitches, many of them handmade.
“Mother made this?” Her father nodded. “But she doesn’t sew.”
“She doesn’t now. Obviously, she couldn’t do it all. She loved sewing for you, Kitten. And for herself, and Jenny, and the house. But finally she said it took too much time from other things.” He took the dress from her and began folding it very carefully.
“But she didn’t give up painting.”
“Of course not. Didn’t give up breathing, either. Your mom’s like—well—like a well that people come to, to be refreshed. But she has to be filled herself, or she’ll have nothing to give. Her painting is one place she gets renewed. Those scriptures of yours are another place too. And have you ever heard your mother make an appointment for Saturday night?”
Kitty thought a long minute, then shook her head.
“Nope, because that’s our time, hers and mine. We go out, to a movie, or to dinner, or for a drive, or a walk, or sometimes she drags me to an art gallery and sometimes I drag her to a hockey game. But it’s strictly our time.”
“You think it’s okay for me to have some ‘me’ time, even though I’m not married?”
“Absolutely. You ought to be able to take off, oh, say after noon on Saturday and not answer to anybody. Lie up here and watch the dust motes dance in the sunlight. Take your bike out in the rain. Spend the whole long afternoon getting acquainted with just what it feels like to be 13, so’s you’ll never forget. To kind of help you along with that, I hereby relieve you of your Saturday garden chores.”
“I guess mom gave up a lot of stuff besides sewing, didn’t she? I just never thought about it before.” Kitty looked again at the red and blue figures marching across the white dress.
“Sure. But she kept a lot, too. That’s what I’ve been saying. She never considered giving up painting, and you mustn’t ever consider giving up your music.”
How did he know, Kitty wondered. How did he know that of swimming and chorus and reading and all the other things, her cello was the one set apart, different, in its own special world?
“Look, Kitten, all your life you’ll be called on to do things because you have the brains and the talents and the unselfishness to do them. But you’ll have to use some of those brains to figure out how to give to others and still have something left for yourself. Now take Tami, for instance. You’ve been great with her. You’ve done things for her that her own parents didn’t seem able to do. But she takes a lot of your time. Still, she is your cousin and she does need someone to love her and work with her, so she can be every bit as much as she possibly can be, whatever that is. Now what does that brain say about a solution to that?”
Kitty got up and walked over to the window. Down the street, she could see Tami’s house. She imagined Tami helping her mother set the table, and remembered how proud she’d been when, after hours of Kitty’s help, she’d managed to do it perfectly by herself. She didn’t want to desert Tami.
“Jenny!” she suddenly said “Jenny’s old enough now, and she’s good with Tami. In fact, it would be good for her to get her nose out of that TV and start working with Tami. I could coach her in the things she’d need to know—”
“Sure you could,” her dad said. “She’s ready for that job now, just like you’re ready to take on a different leadership job.”
“The Beehive class?”
“Yep. That’s a totally different challenge—a whole bunch of girls your own age, instead of one retarded cousin. But you’ll handle it. Kitty, I really think you ought to talk with your mom. She can tell you a dozen hints about juggling these things. But never think it’s easy. It’s not, not for her, not for you. Some things you give up, some you keep, some you compromise. And sometimes you move from one thing to another because you’ve learned what you needed to learn, or given what was most important for you to give, like with Tami.”
Suddenly, from the house, Kitty heard her mom’s voice.
“Carlyle? Kitty? Where are you two? Dinner’s ready!”
“Come on, Kitten. Let’s not keep her waiting.”
“Sure thing, dad. And then after dinner, I’ve got to have a long talk with that woman. Oh, but wait—” She ran over to the window seat and picked up the neatly folded little white dress.
“I think I’ll just hang on to this for a while,” and she clambered down the stairs after her father, whistling softly “I Am a Child of God.”

One young couple loved playing computer games with each other as their favorite way of dating before they got married. After they were married, their basic needs forced them to talk through a few fundamentals, like actually living with another real person. They soon discovered that they hardly knew each other. Then one of them began computer dating again to escape the demands of paying attention to a live companion under real-life conditions. Before long, sadly, the marriage ended. Their foundation was just too shallow.