Gospel Story Finder

The first of these callings came when I was a deacon. I attended with my family the branch of the Church in Frankfurt, Germany. We were blessed with many wonderful people in our little branch. One was our branch president, Brother Landschulz. I admired him a great deal, even though he always seemed to be rather serious, very official, and most of the time dressed in a dark suit. I remember as a young man joking with my friends how old-fashioned our branch president appeared.
It makes me laugh to think about this now because it is very possible that the youth of the Church today view me in a very similar way.
One Sunday, President Landschulz asked if he could speak with me. My first thought was, “What did I do wrong?” My mind raced over the many things I might have done that could have inspired this branch-president-to-deacon talk.
President Landschulz invited me into a small classroom—our chapel did not have an office for the branch president—and there he extended a call to me to serve as deacons quorum president.
“This is an important position,” he said, and then he took his time and described why. He explained what he and the Lord expected of me and how I could receive help.
I don’t remember much of what he said, but I do remember well how I felt. A sacred, divine Spirit filled my heart as he spoke. I could feel that this was the Savior’s Church. And I felt that the calling he had extended was inspired by the Holy Ghost. I remember walking out of that tiny classroom feeling quite a bit taller than before.
It has been nearly 60 years since that day, and I still treasure these feelings of trust and love.
As I was thinking back on this experience, I tried to remember just how many deacons there were in our branch at the time. To my best recollection, I believe there were two. However, this may be a huge exaggeration.
But it really didn’t matter whether there was one deacon or a dozen. I felt honored, and I wanted to serve to the best of my ability and not disappoint either my branch president or the Lord.
I realize now that the branch president could have merely gone through the motions when he called me to this position. He could have simply told me in the hallway or during our priesthood meeting that I was the new deacons quorum president.
Instead, he spent time with me and helped me understand not only the what of my assignment and new responsibility but, much more important, the why.
That is something I will never forget.
The point of this story is not merely to describe how to extend callings in the Church (although this was a wonderful lesson on the proper way to do it). It is an example to me of the motivating power of priesthood leadership that awakens the spirit and inspires action.

Betsy picked up her teddy bear and hugged him. “Yum, Yum,” she said, “time for bed.” She dressed Yum Yum in a polka-dot nightshirt and put him beside her pillow. “OK, Mommy,” Betsy called. “I’m ready.”
Mommy came in while Betsy said her prayers, then tucked her into bed. “Sweet dreams,” she said as she turned off the light.
“I want the light on, Mommy,” Betsy pleaded.
“But, darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be right there in the living room. Daddy too.”
“But Yum Yum likes the light.”
“All right, honey.” Mom smiled at her and turned the light back on.
Two minutes later all the lights in the house went off. Betsy screamed and clutched Yum Yum. Then she heard Daddy’s voice.
“It’s all right, Betsy,” he said. “Mommy and I are right here.” He scooped her out of bed and carried her to a chair by the window. “Look,” he said, “the lights are out all over town.”
“I’m scared,” Betsy said.
“You weren’t frightened a minute ago when the lights were on, were you?” Daddy asked.
“No, Daddy.”
“Then don’t be frightened now, Betsy. Look out the window and tell me what you see.”
“All I see is the moon and the stars.”
“That’s right,” Daddy said. “And they’re always there. I think that they are God’s way of saying that He’s always there. That’s why we don’t have to be afraid of the dark. Do you understand?”
“I think so, Daddy, but I’m not sure that Yum Yum does,” Betsy said.
Mommy said, “Do you remember the song we sang at Christmas—‘Silent night! Holy night!’? Well, a special star shone that night because it was a special night. I think that all nights are silent and holy, so when we see the stars and the moon, we don’t have to be afraid, because we know that Heavenly Father is watching over us. Now, are you ready to go back to bed?”
“Yes, Mommy. And Yum Yum is too. We aren’t afraid of the dark anymore.”

While the formal classroom may be intimidating at times, some of the most effective teaching takes place other than in the chapel or the classroom. Well do I remember that during the spring season some years ago, members of my ward and an adjoining ward took all the Aaronic Priesthood, who eagerly looked forward to an annual outing commemorating the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood. On this particular occasion we journeyed by bus 90 miles north to the Clarkston, Utah, cemetery. There, in the quiet of that beautiful setting, we gathered the youth around the grave of Martin Harris, one of the Three Witnesses of the Book of Mormon. While we surrounded the beautiful granite shaft which marks his grave, Elder Glen L. Rudd, then the bishop of the other ward, presented the background of the life of Martin Harris and read from the Book of Mormon his testimony and that of Oliver Cowdery and David Whitmer. The young men listened with rapt attention, realizing they were standing at the grave site of one who had seen an angel and had actually beheld the plates with his own eyes. They reverently touched the granite marker designating the grave and pondered the words they had heard and the feelings they had felt.
Then we walked a short distance to a pioneer grave. The marker bore the name of John P. Malmberg and contained the verse:
A light from our household is gone.
A voice we loved is stilled.
A place is vacant in our hearts
That never can be filled.
We talked with the boys about sacrifice, about dedication to truth. Duty, honor, service, and love—all were taught by that tombstone. In memory’s eye I can see the boys reach for their handkerchiefs to wipe away a tear. Heard yet are the sniffles which testified that hearts were touched and commitments made. I believe each youth had determined to be a pioneer—one who goes before, showing others the way to follow.
We then retired as a group to a local park, where all enjoyed a picnic lunch. Before turning homeward, we stopped at the grounds of the beautiful Logan temple. It was a warm day. I invited the boys to stretch out on the spacious lawn and with me gaze at a sky of blue, marked by white, billowy clouds hurried along on their journey by a steady breeze. We admired the beauty of this magnificent pioneer temple. We talked of sacred ordinances and eternal covenants. Lessons were learned. Hearts were touched. Covenants and promises became much more than words. The desire to be worthy to enter temple doors lodged in those youthful hearts. Thoughts turned to the Master; His presence was close. His gentle invitation “Follow me” was somehow heard and felt.

On Sunday Kevin went with Jenny to class, mainly to be with her. He had already discounted any possibility that their teacher could teach him anything, so he sat with his shoulders hunched over, his head down, wrestling with his problems.
It wasn’t until Sister Mattson called on him that he looked up. “Kevin,” she said, then read aloud from the manual, “this can best be seen by examining what the Savior said. Will you read Matthew, chapter 5, verses 14 through 16?” [Matt. 5:14–16]
Jenny loaned him her Bible and helped him find the reference. “‘Ye are the light of the world,’” Kevin began mechanically. “‘A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light …’” He stopped and stared at the words on the page.
“Yes, go on,” Sister Mattson urged.
“‘… and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.’”
“Kevin, there’s one more verse,” Jenny quietly prompted.
“‘Let your light so shine before men,’” he read slowly, “‘that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.’”
“Yes, and what can we learn from this scripture?” Sister Mattson asked.
He didn’t say anything. He pictured the small light in the darkened locker room and the dim figures of people moving around, each attracted by the light and using it as their reference point.
“Jenny, do you know what we can learn from this scripture?” Sister Mattson asked, thinking that Kevin did not have an answer.
“We can learn a lot,” Kevin said quietly, almost to himself. “The first thing is that in order to be a light, we have to live the commandments. You have to set your standards. You can’t re-decide what to do every time someone asks you to do something wrong. You’ve got to make a mental list: This is what I will do. This is what I won’t do. You have to decide what your life is going to mean, or it won’t mean a thing.”
“Thank you,” Sister Mattson said. “Now we should get on with the rest of the lesson.”
Kevin interrupted. “The problem is, I keep thinking that if I didn’t live here, it would be easier. It doesn’t really matter where you live. What matters is that you set your standards once and for all. If you do that, you can be a light.”
“Yes, thank you, and now we’d better get on to Ephesians,” Sister Mattson said.
“You’ve got to be a light to the people around you. Do you know how much light one small lighter can throw in a completely dark room?”
“No,” Jenny replied.
“Enough. That’s the point. Enough for everyone in the room to find his way out of the darkness. And the darker it is, the more the light is noticed. And people who enjoy the light will come nearer to it. That’s how I can find friends who will help me live my standards! We can gather friends around us who will help us, and the light will get even brighter.”
Sister Mattson by now was just looking at both of them.
“Do you know what I’m going to do?” Kevin burst out. “I’m going to memorize jokes from my brother’s Boy’s Life magazine. It has some of the corniest jokes in the world. Every time I hear someone starting a dirty joke, I’m going to bombard him with corny jokes. And I’m going to have a party of my own, at my house, with kids from school and the missionaries. In a nice friendly way, they’re going to know I’m a Mormon.”
“Thank you, Kevin,” Sister Mattson broke in. Turning to Jenny, she asked confidentially, “Jenny, what did he say?”
Jenny put her hand on his arm and answered proudly, “He said that he’s going to be okay.”
“How nice,” Sister Mattson said. “Well, we’d better get on with the rest of the lesson.” She looked at the page of the manual, paused, and then shut the book.
“No. I think Kevin’s story can teach us the same thing. What were you saying about the light in the dark room?”

When I was a boy, we lived in the summer on a fruit farm. We grew great quantities of peaches—carloads of them. Our father took us to tree pruning demonstrations put on by the Agricultural College. Each Saturday during January and February we would go out to the farm and prune the trees. We learned that by clipping and sawing in the right places, even when snow was on the ground and the wood appeared dead, we could shape a tree so that the sun would touch the fruit which was to come with spring and summer. We learned that in February we could pretty well determine the kind of fruit we would pick in September.

When Phillipe and Annelies Assard (left) met Lucien and Agathe Affoué in Côte d’Ivoire, both couples rejoiced to know they were not alone in the Church there.
Phillipe and Annelies Assard had built a comfortable life when the missionaries knocked on their door in Köln, Germany, in 1980. They quickly embraced the gospel and felt “overwhelmed with blessings.” Phillipe soon felt a powerful desire to return to his native country of Côte d’Ivoire to share the restored gospel. “So in 1986, after many prayers and fasting with my wife,” Phillipe recalled, “I decided to return to Ivory Coast to give what I had received, to improve the lot of my family and my people.”8
Before leaving Germany, Phillipe consulted with Church leaders. Though there were no Church units in Côte d’Ivoire, there were a number of members there who had joined the Church while in other countries. The Assards were given a list of their names and for the next year diligently wrote to each one. Gradually, the Assards rekindled the spark of faith in others and were given permission to begin holding Sunday meetings in their home. Wards and branches followed, and in 1997 the first stake in Côte d’Ivoire was organized.

“I appreciate the part in For the Strength of Youth that says we need to dress appropriately,” says María Alejandra Cabeza de Vaca, 12. “One day at school we were allowed to dress any way we wanted. I felt really bad because some of my friends dressed immodestly. I said to one of them, ‘Tomorrow I’m going to bring you something that will help you a lot.’ I gave her a copy of For the Strength of Youth. She read it and said she felt it was true and didn’t want to dress immodestly anymore. It’s good to share what we have so the world knows the good things we’re learning.”

I got my mission call to the Zambia Lusaka Mission. One of the hardest things about coming home early was members not understanding early-returning missionaries.
When I came back, I had to be hospitalized for three weeks, and no members from church called or visited. The only people who came were the group leader and the missionaries to administer the sacrament to me every Sunday—and that was only because I had asked them to. I really could have used the help of members to build my strength and my faith in Jesus Christ during those first few weeks home, but I had to do it alone.
The Lord continues to teach me every day about why I am home earlier than expected, even though it’s still hard to understand sometimes. I now realize that coming home early allowed me to find my father and his family and build a relationship with them. It allowed me to discover that I have a disorder that continues to be part of my life. And I’ve learned what my strengths and weaknesses are—for example, how to say “no.” Before, it was so hard for me to say no to anything or anyone. I was always willing to do things and put others first, no matter how tired or busy I was—which isn’t wrong, but because of this trial, I’ve learned that sometimes I need to put myself first.
I still continue to discover new things about the Lord and why I had to come home early. But a lot of blessings have come my way, and I rely on the Lord daily. Even though it’s hard sometimes and people don’t always understand, I know that the Savior does. And I continue to rely on Him and His infinite Atonement.
Lindi Chibase, Gauteng, South Africa

I’m not alone—my mom can get discouraged with her to-do lists, too. But one time she shared with me a little secret: some days she doesn’t write out a to-do list. Instead, she’ll wait until she finishes something, and then she’ll write it down and cross it off. At the end of the day, instead of looking at a list of all the things she still has to do, she has a different kind of list—a “done list.” And then she feels so much better.

It had always been my dream to live in Germany, and at age 16 I left home for a year to be an exchange student abroad. Although my host family would not be Latter-day Saints, I didn’t think it would have a big effect on me and how I lived. It ended up being a little different than I had imagined.
My host family did not support my going to church on Sundays, and because I had to rely on other Church members for rides, I was only able to go to Church a few times during the first months that I was in Germany. I thought I could handle it, but with no seminary, no family home evenings, no home teachers, no family scripture study, and no family prayer, I felt myself slipping, and temptations became stronger.
I went to Berlin for a week to stay with some friends during the fall holidays. The week was packed full of fun and excitement, but I was sometimes with people who were smoking, drinking, and doing drugs. I never participated, but by the end of the week I had become accustomed to it all. I didn’t realize it at the time, but during that week I didn’t pray or read my scriptures. Instead, I let worldly things distract me, and I felt like there simply was not enough time for prayer and scripture study.
When I returned home there was a note from my host family informing me that they would be out of town for a few hours. I felt exhausted, confused, and alone. For the first time in my life no one understood how I felt, and there was no one I could talk to who could relate to how I was feeling. After such an amazing week in Berlin, how was it that I felt so unhappy?
When I went into my room, I noticed a letter from my dad had arrived earlier that day. I tore open the letter and began to cry as I read the message that he must have been inspired to write. He wrote about the Church, the value of living the standards, and that he had full confidence that I was making good decisions on my own. How could he have known what I was facing? The message was brief, but it was the perfect thing for me to read. The letter concluded with: “Interesting how 16-year-olds can legally drink in Germany. … Just remember that freedom to do something means freedom not to do it as well.”
Dad’s letter reminded me that just because something is “legal” doesn’t mean that it isn’t still wrong. It brings far more happiness to live the standards of the Church than to live the standards of the world.
After I read the letter, I realized my father knew me better than I thought he did. I was quickly reminded of another letter I had from my Heavenly Father. He had also written me a very personal letter in the form of my patriarchal blessing. It was, once again, exactly what I needed. My patriarchal blessing became more personal and special to me in that moment when I realized how it really was a “letter from my Father” as well.
Heavenly Father knows and understands our needs, and I am so grateful I had that letter to read, to remind me of who I am, and who my Father is. We are children of God, and although worldly things can be distracting at times, they don’t bring true happiness. The week I spent in Berlin was fun, but I still felt alone, and that fun was only temporary. When I read my patriarchal blessing, I felt a joy and a closeness to God that was far better than the short-lived pleasures of the world.
I know that God lives, that He knows us personally, and that He truly wants us to be happy because He loves us more than we can imagine. He is our Father.

One of the most wonderful chapters in the history of the Church occurred when Wilford Woodruff, an Apostle of the Lord, was teaching the restored gospel of Jesus Christ throughout Great Britain in 1840—just 10 years after the establishment of the Church.
Wilford Woodruff and other Apostles had focused their work in the Liverpool and Preston areas of England, with considerable success. Elder Woodruff, who later became President of the Church, was constantly praying to God to guide him in this very important work. His prayers led to the inspiration to go to a different place to teach the gospel.
President Monson has taught us that when we get the inspiration from heaven to do something, we do it now—we don’t procrastinate. That is exactly what Wilford Woodruff did. With clear direction from the Spirit to “go … south,” Elder Woodruff left almost immediately and traveled to a part of England called Herefordshire—farming country in the southwest of England. Here he met a prosperous farmer named John Benbow, where he was welcomed “with glad hearts and thanksgiving” (Wilford Woodruff, in Matthias F. Cowley, Wilford Woodruff: History of His Life and Labors as Recorded in His Daily Journals [1909], 117).
A group of over 600 people, who called themselves the United Brethren, had been “praying for light and truth” (Wilford Woodruff, in Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Wilford Woodruff [2004], 91). The Lord sent Wilford Woodruff as an answer to their prayers.
Elder Woodruff’s teaching bore fruit immediately, and many were baptized. Brigham Young and Willard Richards joined him in Herefordshire, and the three Apostles had remarkable success.
In only a few months, they organized 33 branches for the 541 members who had joined the Church. Their remarkable work continued, and ultimately almost every one of the members of the United Brethren were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sunday, David decided at age 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience: “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and I scored 32 goals.” As a result, David earned the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”

Around the turn of the previous century, two missionaries were laboring in the mountains of the southern United States. One day, from a hilltop, they saw people gathering in a clearing far below. The missionaries did not often have many people to whom they might preach, so they made their way down to the clearing.
A little boy had drowned, and there was to be a funeral. His parents had sent for the minister to “say words” over their son. The missionaries stood back as the itinerant minister faced the grieving father and mother and began his sermon. If the parents expected to receive comfort from this man of the cloth, they would be disappointed.
He scolded them severely for not having had the little boy baptized. They had put it off because of one thing or another, and now it was too late. He told them very bluntly that their little boy had gone to hell. It was their fault. They were to blame for his endless torment.
After the sermon was over and the grave was covered, the elders approached the grieving parents. “We are servants of the Lord,” they told the mother, “and we have come with a message for you.” As the sobbing parents listened, the two elders read from the revelations and bore their testimony of the restoration of the keys for the redemption of both the living and the dead.
I have some sympathy for that preacher. He was doing the best he could with such light and knowledge as he had. But there is more that he should have been able to offer. There is the fulness of the gospel.
The elders came as comforters, as teachers, as servants of the Lord, as authorized ministers of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Illustration by J. Beth Jepson
One year we didn’t have much money for Christmas, so I prayed for help to be able to buy a gift for my stepdad, Adrian (whom my sister and I call Weegee). My sister and I had only two dollars between us to spend on gifts.
When my mom said we were going to a nearby thrift store to shop for Christmas gifts, I ran to my room and prayed for help: “Please help us find a gift for two dollars.”
At the store Elaina and I looked through the books and found a triple combination that looked brand new. We were so excited when we found it. I held onto it tight as we ran through the aisles to my mom. Jumping up and down, we said together, “We found a gift for Weegee!” At the checkout my mom asked, “How much for this?” The lady replied, “Two dollars.” My prayer was answered.
At that time our stepfather was not a member. He didn’t like Mormons, he didn’t believe in “the Mormon book,” and he didn’t like members picking us up for Young Men and Young Women activities. He even chased away the elders. But the ward members and missionaries didn’t give up on him.
On Christmas day we saved his gift for last. Elaina and I said, “This is the greatest gift anyone could ever give you! It will make you happy.” Weegee guessed a couple of times, and we laughed at his answers. We told him, “It’s an awesome gift! It’s going to change your life. It changed ours.”
Our mom was worried that he would be mad about our gift to him, but Elaina and I knew it was the right thing to do.
When he opened it, he thanked us for the gift and said he would read it.
Because we love Weegee, we wanted him to learn about Jesus Christ and the gift of His Atonement. We wanted him to believe like we do, to pray and repent, and to have the gospel in his life.
He read and prayed about the Book of Mormon, and with the help of the elders and ward members, he was baptized and is now a member of the Church. We were so happy to be sealed in the temple, and we know we will always be together forever as a family.

There are others, too, who are thinking more now about the things that really matter. “My wife had gone through I don’t know how many houses and helped clean up,” explained Brother Roy Vanlandingham. “And after she looked at all that broken fine china and cut glass, we realized what Christ meant when he said not to store up your treasures on earth. No matter what you’ve got, it can be taken away from you in less than 32 seconds. Your family is the only thing that matters. During the aftershocks, we sat in the middle of the street and watched our house rock three feet in each direction. But once I had found out my family was all right the panic was over.”

My older sister, Aurelia, and I took a jazz dance class this past school year. It was fun, and we were really looking forward to our costumes and doing the recital. Then the schedule came out, and our class had been scheduled for the Sunday performance instead of the one on Saturday. We decided to choose the right and e-mailed the dance teacher that we wouldn’t be able to be in the show so we could keep the Sabbath day holy. It took courage! The next time we went to our dance class we got a surprise. The teacher said that she didn’t want us to not be able to participate, and that we could do a special duet of our dance on Saturday instead. We did, and everyone said it was great. We felt happy that we had chosen the right.

The experience of a couple whom I shall identify as Brother and Sister Brown (fictitious names) is instructive. Sister Brown was only twenty-one years old at the time, a beautiful woman and a devoted wife. In her first trimester, she contracted the dreaded German measles.

Abortion was advised because the developing baby would almost surely be damaged. Some members of her family, out of loving concern, applied additional pressure for an abortion. “Don’t burden yourself financially with a handicapped child,” they argued. “You are too young and too poor.”

Devotedly Brother and Sister Brown consulted their bishop. He referred them to their stake president, who listened to their serious concern and counseled them not to terminate the life of this baby, even though the child might have a problem. He quoted this scripture:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Prov. 3:5–6.)

They chose to follow that counsel and permit their child to be born—a beautiful little girl, normal in every respect, except for a hearing loss, that became evident later. After an evaluation at a school for the deaf, Brother and Sister Brown were advised that this child had the intellect of a genius. Now, some twenty years later, she attends a major university on a scholarship.

When recently asked how they felt about their once-weighty decision, the mother quickly responded, “She is one of the great joys of my life! She is such a choice spirit! Though she lost the sense of hearing, she has compensated with augmented ability otherwise. Her eyes are alive with constant attention. She excels in dancing, even though she perceives the sounds of music from vibrations. She has served as an officer in school. But most significant is her guileless spirit, her unconditional love. She has taught us to serve and to share. Her spiritual insights have helped us to know God and his purposes. My husband and I are so grateful that she is one of our children.”

I’m glad this question was directed to me, because it’s a problem I have struggled with several times in years past. I thought for years that being called as president of the Relief Society was the greatest achievement for an LDS woman. If that did not happen then being called as president of the Primary or of the Young Women would be almost as satisfying.

Instead, I found myself serving as everything else. Several times I was a counselor in Relief Society, but never president.

I found reasons: “I wasn’t called because I have too many young children.” Then the next president would have four children not yet old enough to go to school. “I wasn’t called because I’m too young.” The next president would be younger. “I wasn’t called because I’ve only been in the ward five years.” The next president would be someone who had just moved into the ward.

Finally, there was to be another change, and everything seemed to indicate that I would be released as Junior Sunday School coordinator and called to lead Relief Society. I was sure my time had come. The bishop made an appointment with me “to talk about how things are going in Junior Sunday School,” but I knew he just wanted me to be surprised when he called me to a Relief Society position. I was ready with a list of things I thought would be new ideas; I had even decided who I would request for counselors.

Then came the meeting with the bishop. And do you know what we talked about? The Junior Sunday School!

I was really disappointed. I complained to my husband that the bishop must not think I was capable. When he gently replied that callings are from the Lord, I started to cry: “It doesn’t make me feel any better that the Lord doesn’t think I’m capable, either.”

Yes I really suffered at the time, but something happened to me, and I have never felt those feelings again. Like you, I was shocked and ashamed of my negative feelings; I really desired to change my attitude. And I finally did what I should have done before: instead of finding “reasons” for why someone else was chosen, or suppressing my disappointment, I went before the Lord, confessed my feelings—all of my feelings—and searched more deeply than before for the Lord’s reasons. When I was ready to learn, he was ready to teach me. Over the next few weeks, a process began that is still continuing. Gradually my understanding was opened, and the true nature of callings in the Lord’s kingdom was impressed on my heart. I’ve come to know the following things:
A calling is an opportunity to serve, not a reward. We sometimes carry over from the business world the idea that unless we are able to “work our way up” and become president of an organization our abilities have not been properly recognized. We have to be aware that the Lord is not giving us rewards by calling us, but is asking for wholehearted service. A calling may prove to be a blessing to us, it is true, but that depends upon our efforts after the call.
The true hierarchy of the Church is a hierarchy of righteousness. The Lord judges our hearts and actions, not the “level” of our callings. We have celestial visiting teachers in many wards, and celestial choristers and teachers. It’s character that pleases the Lord, not calling.
We cannot anticipate (or predict) the actions of our Heavenly Father. “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith Lord.” (Isa. 55:8.) Sometimes when we look back after a few years we can see the purposes of the Lord unfolding in our lives. It may be as hard for us to see this as it sometimes is for our own children to understand the direction we give to their lives. We marvel that the Creator has worked things out with such delicate balance in nature. Why not trust him, then, and strive for understanding? Why not truly say with Mary, “Be it unto me according to thy word.” (Luke 1:38.)
We can fulfill our own callings better. President Duane Lloyd, a counselor in the Philadelphia Pennsylvania Stake Presidency, comments, “No one is doing his own calling as well as he could be doing.” He recommends redoubling our efforts in our present callings as an antidote to desiring the callings of others. It means to change your attitude so that you feel your calling is the best one in the Church. It is really effective.
We need to be humble. Jesus told several parables and gave much counsel on the importance of being humble. He knew that we (and those around us) will be happier when we are not lifted up in our pride, happier when we are not coveting another’s opportunities. One of Lehi’s sons, Jacob, appropriately summarized all these thoughts when he said, “Wherefore, brethren, seek not to counsel the Lord, but to take counsel from his hand. For behold, ye yourselves know that he counseleth in wisdom, and in justice, and in great mercy, over all his works.” (Jacob 4:10.)
My earnest hope in sharing these experiences and thoughts with you is that your heart may be softened to the ways of the Lord, and that you can come to know that your Father loves you and cares for you. Who knows but that your service, wherever it may be, might be an example to someone who, unknown to you, models his attitudes on yours.

The miracle began when, with my husband and son, I moved back into the neighborhood where I had lived as a youth. Jane,* a non-member and a woman who had had trouble with alcohol for years, still lived there—with her husband, small daughter, and mother. For years, the neighbors had avoided dealing with Jane’s problem by deliberately having no contact with her family.
Although I remembered the stories of Jane’s wildness and drinking from my high school days, I also remembered her compassion as a nurse. She had never seemed too busy to come in the night to help someone in pain. She couldn’t be all bad, I decided. After all these years I would accept her good qualities and ignore the rumors.
I soon became aware that not all was rumor. Jane was an alcoholic. During her drinking bouts anything might happen. But the rest of the time she was a fine wife, a model mother, and a great friend. No one, however, seemed able to help her overcome her alcoholism. She was literally drinking herself to death.
Her family despaired. They accepted, they loved, they tried to cope, and their agonized hearts cried out for help. I could only offer Jane my love and friendship.
Since Jane’s daughter, Mary, and my son were almost the same age, I began including her in our family activities. We took her to church with us and on picnics and outings. She also stayed with us when Jane was drunk and out of control. For example, I remember one day I met Jane coming out of the liquor store, carrying a brown paper sack containing bottles of liquor. As soon as she saw me, Jane thrust Mary’s hand into mine and asked me to take Mary home. For several days, Jane’s mother, her husband, and I managed to care for Mary and keep things as normal as possible for her.
Through the years, a strong relationship developed between our families. I was amazed at how fast little Mary absorbed gospel teachings. She took the gospel into her home in bits and pieces, insisting on blessing the food when she was only three, and adding daily by precept and example.
Jane’s love for Mary, her desire to be the right kind of mother, and her frustration about her alcoholism almost overwhelmed her. She became desperate to change her life-style. One day she told me of a place that “cured” alcoholics. It wasn’t an easy process—most gave up under the pressure and sank back into despair. But Jane decided to risk all. She would rather die than continue the way she was.
The cure was expensive, but her family somehow got together the money needed. For months, Jane was gone. Later she compared that time to a literal hell, full of anguish and suffering.
While Jane was away, I wrote her letters of love and encouragement. One stressed the value of prayer and how much it could help. I never knew how much that letter helped her until years later when she took it from her purse, almost shredded from many readings, and read parts of it in a testimony meeting.
Jane made it. She was one of the few who were really cured. Her health had been practically ruined from the drinking, but her spirit was triumphant. She had won her fight. But there was more to come.
One day Jane came to talk to my husband and me. She told us that Mary, nearly ten now, wanted to be baptized. The real surprise came when Jane told us she wanted to be baptized, too. She wanted my husband to perform the ordinance for both of them.
Jane and Mary became faithful members of the Church. A short while later Jane’s husband and mother joined. The years passed. Then one day Mary brought a young man to see me. They spoke of plans to wed. Six months later Mary and her young man were married, and Jane’s family was sealed in the temple. The miracle was complete.

Once I was playing basketball with classmates at school, and one of the boys used the basketball to hit another classmate. I tried to stop him and help him understand that his behavior was wrong, but he didn’t listen to me.
Later my bishop asked me to give a talk in church about virtue. I didn’t know what virtue was and if I had it or not. Then my mother reminded me that because I tried to be a peacemaker among my friends at school and tried to help the weak, I had the attribute of virtue.
David S., age 10, Taiwan