Gospel Story Finder

Just about everybody says, “Don’t go visit Mrs. Brocklebank, or you’ll get chased out of her yard with a broom.” Well, that’s fine for everybody else to say, but not so fine for me, because Mrs. Brocklebank is my grandmother!
She lives down the street in a little house that’s surrounded by trees. My family visits her every Sunday afternoon, and I usually hide behind my dad and try not to say anything, except when she speaks to me, and even then I hardly dare raise my voice above a whisper. It’s not that I don’t like her. I don’t know her well enough to not like her. The real problem is that I’m too afraid of her to know her.
Mrs. Brocklebank came to Alberta, Canada, from Germany many years ago. She was already pretty old, Mom told me, when she met Mr. Brocklebank and got married and had my father. Grandfather Brocklebank died when Dad was still young, and my grandmother had to raise him all by herself. Maybe that’s why she’s so feisty.
Anyway, to make a long story short, I’m in a real fix. Last week in Primary Sister Little told us that by next Sunday we have to bring our completed four-generation program to class. My family have only been Latter-day Saints for three months, so I didn’t know what she meant by “four-generation program.” When she explained it to me, I was dumbfounded. After church I took the problem up with my parents.
“Oh yes,” said Dad. “They explained the program in priesthood meeting last week.”
“I’ve heard about it, too,” Mom said. “It’s something that I was planning for us to start on in a family home evening next month.”
“But I have to have it next week!”
“Well, that’s no problem,” Dad said. “Mother has all that stuff.”
“Mother?” I said, looking at Mom.
“No, no. Not your mother—my mother.”
“You mean Mrs. Brocklebank?”
“Grandmother Brocklebank,” Mom said.
“That’s who I mean,” Dad said.
The situation was turning into an insurmountable problem. Mrs. Brocklebank had started to take the discussions with the rest of us, but she had quit before finishing them. She had argued with everything that the missionaries had said. I could tell that I was licked even before I started.
Later, when we went to visit Mrs. Brocklebank, I sat quietly in a corner and looked at the floor. Finally Dad pushed me forward and said, “Mother, Kenneth has something to ask you.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Brocklebank’s eyes fixed on me like two steel drills.
“Mrs. Brock—Grandmother,” I began, clearing my throat and staring at her long nose and thin lips, “I need some family history information.”
“Family history information? Whatever for?”
I told her about the four-generation program—how it included me, Mom and Dad, her and Mr. Brocklebank, and their parents, and how if we went to the temple and got the work done, we could be together forever.
“Together forever? What makes you think that I want to be together with anyone forever?”
“Come now, Mother,” said Dad. “You’re just being difficult.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Brocklebank, folding her arms and pinching her lips together, “that’s what I’m best at!”
I took the blank Family Group Record Sheets out of my pocket. They were kind of wadded up and wrinkled, but I straightened them out with my hand. When Mrs. Brocklebank wasn’t looking, I left them on the dining room table by a vase of red carnations.
The next Sunday came fast, and I wasn’t ready for it. I had said several prayers that week about the four-generation program, but I didn’t have much hope that Mrs. Brocklebank would help me. I figured that Heavenly Father must get pretty tired of people asking for things all the time, so mostly I just thanked Him for things. I thanked Him for Mom and Dad and my best friend, Peter, and for my Primary teacher, Sister Little. Sometimes I even thanked Him for Mrs. Brocklebank.
I got up Sunday morning and put on my suit. I always have trouble with my tie, so I went to see Dad. While he was tying it, he said, “Mother called and wants you to go over to her house on your way to church.”
I pleaded with him to go with me, but he said that he had to be at priesthood meeting early.
My knees were shaking and my heart was pounding as I knocked on Mrs. Brocklebank’s front door. She stood behind the screen, looking down at me. “Come in,” she said.
I went in. The house was quiet, and I could hear her electric clock making a little whirring sound. I stood still with my arms at my side.
“I have something for you,” Mrs. Brocklebank said. She went over to her dining room table and came back with the Family Group Record Sheets.
They were folded—not all crooked, like when I fold papers, but neat and straight. I opened them up. Every space was filled in with a name, even mine. Every name had places and dates written next to them. Mrs. Brocklebank had completed my four-generation program! I opened my mouth to thank her.
“Take it and go before you’re late for church,” she said gruffly. “And don’t say anything. I dislike people who snivel.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And come back later. I want to hear more about being together forever. But don’t get any ideas about me being interested in the Church. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
I looked back at Mrs. Brocklebank. She was frowning and trying to look annoyed, but I suddenly realized that she wasn’t, not really. I smiled right at her. “I understand, Grandma Brocklebank,” I said.
(To be concluded.)

Ben was angry. It was Saturday morning, and he had just come home from a violin rehearsal. He had a list of chores to do, a violin performance that afternoon, and now something more—his dad had just told him that it was his family’s turn to clean the church.
“I’m not going to have any time to play!” he declared as he threw his jacket on the floor.
Dad sat down with Ben at the kitchen table and said quietly, “I know this is a busy day. But it might be easier if you remember who your time really belongs to.”
Ben calmed down. He knew he was a child of God and that everything—even time—was a gift from Heavenly Father. He nodded slowly.
Dad smiled. “Go get a Book of Mormon, Ben. I want to show you something.”
Dad opened the scriptures to Mosiah 2. “You remember King Benjamin, don’t you?” Ben grinned. He liked to hear stories about the ancient prophet whose name he shared.
“King Benjamin wanted to teach his people how to be happy. He built a tower so people could hear him better, and the people gathered from all around. It was a lot like general conference. He stood on the tower and reminded the people that their homes, families, bodies, and even the air around them were gifts from a loving Heavenly Father.
“He also told his people that he had worked very hard his whole life serving them. He said, ‘And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’”*
“You see, Ben,” Dad concluded, “when you are helping other people, you are helping Heavenly Father. If Jesus appeared to you this morning and asked you to serve Him all day, you would probably be pretty excited about it. If you think about it, Jesus has already asked us to serve Him every day.”
Ben was almost convinced, but he had a question. “I can see how working helps others, but how does playing my violin serve anyone?”
Dad smiled wisely. “Why don’t you wait and see?”
As Ben started doing his chores, he realized that the work needed to be done, so he might as well be cheerful in doing it. He soon noticed how happy it made his mom when he worked without complaining.
Later, when Ben went to the church to help clean, he had fun racing his brother as they vacuumed the cultural hall. He thought about how a spotless church shows respect to Heavenly Father. And cleaning didn’t seem to take as long as he thought it would.
The violin performance was at a home for older people. At first Ben felt nervous. Most of the people were in wheelchairs, and many of them looked like they were asleep. But as Ben began to play his violin, he noticed a white-haired lady in the front row. She was tapping her foot to the music. Ben tried to play his very best just for her. He played a fast fiddling song, and everyone began to clap their hands and stomp their feet. Soon everyone was laughing and smiling.
The last song was “I Am a Child of God.”** Ben played better than he ever had before. As the final notes sang out, a sweet and peaceful feeling settled over the room.
Ben understood now. Beautiful music brings people closer to Heavenly Father, and he was serving others by inviting the Spirit. As he sat down, Dad squeezed his shoulder. “When you play your violin, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me. You have a great gift and you need to keep sharing it.” Ben felt warm inside.
As they walked out of the rest home, Ben waved good-bye to his new friends.
“How do you feel now?” Dad asked.
“I feel so good, Dad. I thought today would be nothing but work. But when I thought about serving Heavenly Father instead of myself, everything seemed easier.”

In 1994, when Ghana’s president, J. J. Rawlings, received Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elder J. Richard Clarke of the Seventy, who was serving then as Africa Area President, members saw this as recognition that their religion is an important influence in the lives of many Ghanaians. It signaled the opportunity at last to display their faith as openly as do citizens of other faiths.

Public recognition does not mean, of course, that the path for Ghanaian members is always smooth. They struggle with the same economic and educational difficulties faced by others in their country.

Ghana is a country with great potential for development, yet it is struggling to find the needed financial resources. Although there are too few jobs to go around, the abundance of small businesses shows that Ghanaians are willing to work hard at any available opportunity.

Latter-day Saint businessman Kweku Anno of Accra gestures toward the men working under the metal sheds of his manufacturing enterprise. “Every one of them has a cousin or a brother who needs to be trained.” If he sent out word that he wanted 10 workers, Brother Anno says, there would be 100 outside his gate before the day ended.

A mechanical engineer, he designed the simple, sturdy concrete block- and brick-making machines built in his shop. Brother Anno estimates that each machine will provide jobs for four people. His own business enterprises support 52 people.

Bishop Holbrook Christian MacArthur of the Cape Coast First Ward estimates that 80 percent of the members in his ward are either unemployed or under-employed. Some 30 percent of the men are out of work—mostly younger men who have not yet established themselves in vocations or careers. Like Latter-day Saints elsewhere in Ghana, members of his ward have banded together to organize cooperative businesses ranging from construction work to selling food products made of cassava, an important Ghanaian crop.

Their perseverance in spite of setbacks is a manifestation of the faith of Ghanaian Latter-day Saints, the bishop says. Sometimes in interviewing members, he learns of problems that would be daunting to others. “But just give them a little encouragement, and they will ignite. They will look up to their God. They have a faith that God works in his own due time.”

This kind of faith gives Ghanaian members confidence that their Father in Heaven watches over them. One day, Beatrice Ashon withdrew five million Ghanaian cedis (about US $4,500) from her bank in Accra for use in her business enterprises. Apparently, someone was watching. That night, a gang burst into her home, fired several shots, tied up a relative, and locked a group of visiting children in another room. The gang demanded Sister Ashon’s money and also stole some household goods. But no one was hurt. Police learned later that this same gang had killed victims in other incidents. Sister Ashon believes everyone in the home was protected by the power of God.

After the robbery, her businesses failed because of the loss of the money. “That was a very big test,” she says, “but we are happy.” She is persevering in the gospel and looking for ways to begin again financially.

The scarcity of jobs and the financial difficulty of starting out as a couple make many young Ghanaians put off marriage. But Kofi Opare tells other returned missionaries in their mid- and late twenties that it’s a mistake to delay. “You have to forget all the hardship, and do it.”

At 26, Kofi was about the average age for a Ghanaian bridegroom. Like most young member couples, he and his wife, Theresa, had a legally binding traditional marriage. He visited her parents and brought gifts—money, in place of the customary alcoholic beverage; cloth; a hymnbook for Theresa; and her engagement ring.

That ceremony took place in December 1994, but Kofi and Theresa chose not to live together as husband and wife until they could have a formal wedding at an LDS chapel in June 1995. They wanted the influence of the Church in their married life from the very beginning. In the interim, they dealt with practical details—saving cash for all the costs of starting a household and securing a place to live.

Theresa has a steady income from her seamstress shop, but Kofi has to take part-time work as he can get it. Despite this, Theresa says, she and Kofi felt that “you have to make a bold decision” and go ahead. But a wise Latter-day Saint man, she adds, will find a woman in the Church who understands the eternal purposes of marriage and will not demand material things. “It takes two to make a team, to make a marriage work.”

Literacy can be another challenge for members. While English is the official language of government and business in Ghana, it is a second one for most citizens, who learn a local African language in their homes. Many who have had the full benefits of education speak English, perhaps another European language, and several local languages. But schools are run by private (usually religious) groups, and fees push education out of reach of some Ghanaians. Thus, they are not prepared to learn skilled jobs, to interact with people from other areas, or to feast on the scriptures.

Because of this, literacy classes are common in stakes and wards, districts and branches throughout the country.

Alice Sackey, Young Women president in the Accra stake, has great confidence in younger members of the Church: “I see that we will have strong leaders in the future from our youth.” She says their participation and their obedience to the gospel are outstanding, but in her responsibility for the young women, she finds the need for special help with literacy. “Some of them don’t attend school. But we’ve made it our goal that every one who passes through Young Women will know how to read and write English before she goes into Relief Society.”

Cecelia Oduro, Cape Coast stake Relief Society president, points out that those who are unfamiliar with English are handicapped in studying the gospel; they cannot “get the message by reading for themselves.” But she has seen people who were intimidated by the need to learn English rejoice later as they became fluent enough to discover the treasures of the scriptures on their own.

Members for whom literacy was never a problem have set an example of feasting on the word of God. Returned missionary Ronald Adjei Danso of Accra says that if he did not “dig” constantly in the scriptures, he would have difficulty meeting the spiritual challenges of life. Edmund Frempong, a former bishop and now a high councilor in the Accra stake, joined the Church partly because the gospel solved his theological puzzles. “I found that the teachings of the Church were systematic and reasonable. Everything that is true must appeal to reason.”

Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation, he says, encompasses and clarifies the concept of life taught by his Akan tribal ancestors—that we came from a spirit world and will go back there after this life. “That is what my forefathers were trying to explain.”

Members still face the challenge of misinformation and erroneous thinking about the Church. False impressions linger in the minds of many Ghanaians.

The majority of Ghanaians are Christians, though there is a significant Muslim population, and many still practice native religions. While long-established Christian religions are well represented, numerous small, independent churches emphasizing one biblical teaching or another have sprung up in Ghana. In many ways, this religious atmosphere in the country is a blessing, Church members say. Children begin learning about Jesus Christ at the elementary school level, and moral values are an integral part of education.

In this religious atmosphere, however, it has been easy for the idea to persist that Latter-day Saints are not Christians because their doctrine is different. Monica Ohene-Opare runs a school, and some parents have withdrawn their children upon learning that she is a Latter-day Saint. Others have been pleasantly surprised by LDS beliefs about Christ heard in Primary songs that she taught their children in classes.

Kenneth Kobena Andam, president of the Cape Coast stake, says the idea that Latter-day Saints don’t believe in Jesus Christ is losing its credibility. Many Ghanaians “now recognize that ours is a Christian church. And they recognize by the way we live that we have something special.” In fact, he says, the teachings of the Church have become well enough known that people expect higher standards of behavior from Latter-day Saints.

Also, the old criticism about the Church being a “white man’s church” is being overcome. In the early days of the Church here, the idea was spread that people of another race and culture had come to Africa to exploit its people yet again. But Ghanaians who valued newfound gospel truths would not be dissuaded from baptism, and those who felt the Christlike love radiated by LDS missionaries could not believe they had come to exploit. Today, Ghanaians lead the stakes, wards, districts, and branches in their country, running Church programs so well in many instances that they might serve as casebook examples for members anywhere.

The loving example of Ghanaian members has a powerful effect on their friends and families.

Phillip Ohene, now serving as clerk of the Koforidua Second Branch, says his LDS employer “talked to me about the Church through his actions. He would tell me the thing, and I would see him doing it himself.” This example helped Phillip decide to investigate the gospel. In shaping people’s attitudes about the Church, he says, “What they hear is not so important. It is what they see.”

What John Sule-Bukari’s Muslim parents saw made them feel good about their children’s involvement in the Church. John, his older brother, and two older sisters are Latter-day Saints. Their parents, John says, are pleased about the ways the gospel has changed their children. One of his sisters and his brother have served as full-time missionaries, and John, second counselor in the Young Men presidency of the Koforidua Second Branch, hopes to go next. To do it, he will have to work around his obligatory two years of national service, which can range from military training to school teaching.

Perhaps the example of members like these stands out because of the way the gospel shapes their responses to the challenges and tests of life.

Latter-day Saints are given unique opportunities for spiritual growth through these challenges, says Jonathan Koranteng, first counselor in the bishopric of the Tesano Ward in Accra. Some churches teach that people who come to God will have all their problems resolved, he says, but we should be grateful that all of our trials in this life are not taken away. “They are a part of our Heavenly Father’s plan, meant to prepare us for a better future.”

Brother Koranteng, who has experienced a heavy share of adversity, notes that Lehi said there will be opposition in all things (see 2 Ne. 2:11, 15). “I only pray that I will have the courage to withstand everything that comes my way.”

Fortunately, says Sister Kaku of Cape Coast, the Saints have the best of help in meeting their challenges. “If you have the Spirit, you are able to live the gospel wherever you are.”

Thinking of Church members scattered across the earth, she says, “We share the same gospel, unity, love—everything.” While there may be differences of color, “when the Saints meet, these are wiped off. The Spirit is the same. The Spirit makes us one.”

When it was time for Erik’s Eagle project, he found plenty of people willing to help. “I always went out helping the other guys with their projects, and they helped me in return,” he says.
The cemetery in Patagonia sits on a hill and overlooks the town. Although it is still used, the cemetery doesn’t receive continual maintenance, and many of the headstones were buried, and weeds and trash had covered others. For his Eagle project, Erik, with the help of his family, ward members, and friends from the community, cleaned the cemetery.

Only 5 percent of the people in Cambodia are Christians. A family in that country was searching for the truth. While their 11-year-old son was riding his bicycle he saw some men in white shirts and ties showing someone a picture and asking who it was. He felt he should stop. As he watched, he was prompted to say, “That is Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and He came to save man.” Then he rode away. It took the missionaries a month to find him and his family. Today, the father is a counselor in the mission presidency.

Later in my life, my father saved me again. This time I was not facing physical danger, but my spiritual life faced a challenge.
In high school I played sports, mostly football and baseball. During my last year, I was selected to play in an all-star baseball game at the end of the season. After that game, when the school year was ending, I was invited to play on a local baseball team. It wasn’t a professional or even semiprofessional team, but I was flattered to be invited to play. The only problem was that most of the games were played on Sunday afternoons.
I did a pretty good job rationalizing. I thought I could play because my Church meetings were in the morning. I could attend my meetings and teach my Sunday School class before going to the games each Sunday afternoon.
With this in mind I spoke to my father. I told him about the baseball invitation and what I was thinking of doing. Although he was the stake president at the time, he wisely restrained himself and did not tell me to give up my baseball wishes, as he could have. Instead, he simply said, “Well, when you make the final decision, just remember the impact it will have on your Sunday School class.”
Nothing more needed to be said. At that point the answer was absolutely clear in my mind. I turned down the invitation to play on that team, and I have not played a game of baseball since. Instead, I enjoyed playing on Church softball teams for many years, never having to play on Sunday.
I appreciated the way my father helped me make that difficult decision. He did it in such a way that allowed me to see the importance of such a choice and understand that the decisions I make can have a great impact on people other than myself. This decision also set the stage for a choice I had to make later about serving a mission.

The music screamed from the radio, jerking me from my peaceful sleep. “Turn the radio down, Eric!” I bellowed.
I cracked open my eyes and watched my brother dance insanely in front of his dresser. His good left hand was clenched around an imaginary microphone, and his partially crippled right hand flapped as he twisted to the music.
“Eric!” I yelled again, and he turned toward me, gave me his sheepish grin—and turned up the radio. I lunged after him, and he bolted out the bedroom door, laughing as he ran. His straw-colored blond hair flapped as he ran, exhibiting more energy than I could ever match. I shut the door and climbed back in bed.
My brother Eric is a unique individual. He was born seven weeks prematurely and has had health problems his entire life. Two strokes, as a baby and at the age of two, left his right side partially paralyzed and destroyed a third of his brain.
When he was ten, he began having seizures, so we took him to a neurologist. After reviewing his CAT scans, the doctor came into the room expecting to see a drooling, severely retarded child. Instead, he met my brother, the electronics wizard and family clown. The doctor thought someone had accidentally switched scans. That’s because he didn’t know the miracle, my brother.
Eric’s brain damage left him with problems. He had a limited attention span and lacked many of the “normal” behavioral inhibitions. It was not uncommon to see him walk along and suddenly burst into an absurd song and dance. Those who didn’t know him thought, “Who is that?” But those who did know him thought, “That’s Eric.”
Eric was born a year and a half after I was. Our older brother, a headstrong toddler, demanded a lot of attention. Eric’s health problems also required a lot of my parents’ attention. As a result, my parents couldn’t give me as much attention as they, or I, would have liked. For years I resented Eric. “He’s a mistake,” I thought. “I’m really the youngest.” I tormented him and punched him and tried to make him miserable. But Eric always smiled at me and never hit me back.
One night I did something that made Eric cry, and when I did I felt like the lowest and the worst. Eric was watching TV. We had been fighting over something, so I started making fun of his disability. I never had before. I must have felt malicious. I made my hand look like his right hand, curled up and spastic, and I limped around and talked gibberish while I drooled.
The thing I remember most, as Eric started crying, was that he looked down at his crippled hand and hugged it to his chest. At that moment I wished the floor would swallow me, and I think I tasted what hell might be like.
Our relationship changed after that incident. As we grew older I tormented him less, and when I did, he fought back. We basically ignored each other until our family moved to California one summer.
When school started, Eric and I were the only people we knew at school, and we had to rely on each other. Instead of eating lunch by myself, I met Eric and we sat on the stone steps together. As we dug through our brown bags and munched ham sandwiches, I was surprised at the growing number of people who waved at, talked to, and sat down beside Eric. His cheery grin, relaxed attitude, and silly jokes soon had us in the middle of a noisy group of friends. Others saw in Eric what I had kept myself from seeing, and they showed me his strength, his dedication, his strange but hilarious sense of humor, and his amazing ability to shrug off pain.
One lunchtime Eric was a couple of minutes late. He spotted our group and sprinted across the sloping lawn, gripping his brown sack in his good left hand. His backpack bumped against him, his shirttail billowed, and his shoelaces straggled behind him. His weak right ankle tangled with his charging left foot, and he went down in a heap. He tried to catch himself, but his right arm crumpled and he plowed the grass with his face.
A couple of guys and I jumped up and ran to him. By the time we reached him, he was sitting up in the middle of his spilled backpack and smashed lunch. Dirt and grass smeared his nose and forehead, and he had a bloody scrape on his chin. He grinned up at us and said, “I hate it when that happens!”
One of the guys asked him incredulously, “Did you do that on purpose?”
Another example of his determination was when he joined the swim team. I had swum the year before and lettered in water polo. Eric decided he’d like to take a crack at competitive sports. He never missed a practice, even though he never placed higher than last in any meet. Sometimes he ended up in the wrong lane because his left side was so much stronger than his right, and he often worked up such momentum that he crashed into the concrete pool sides. But by the end of the season, he had halved his personal best time for the 50-meter freestyle.
Eric has been an example to me, even when I wouldn’t admit it. He taught me how to be tolerant of other people’s differences, how to overcome and overlook weakness, and how to find strength. He taught me to use what I have and to never give up. He showed me the value of being myself and how to love without condition.

As the brethren gathered for priesthood meeting, I was impressed to read to them the testimony that Elder Melvin J. Ballard, my grandfather, bore when he was ordained to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles on 7 January 1919. I quote a small portion recounting his experience in 1917 when he had sought the Lord pleadingly in a situation where there were no precedents for guidance:
“That night I received a wonderful manifestation and impression which has never left me. I was carried to this place—into this room. I saw myself here with you. I was told there was another privilege that was to be mine; and I was led into a room where I was informed I was to meet someone. As I entered the room I saw, seated on a raised platform, the most glorious being I have ever conceived of, and was taken forward to be introduced to Him. As I approached He smiled, called my name, and stretched out His hands toward me. … He put His arms around me and kissed me, as He took me into His bosom, and He blessed me until my whole being was thrilled. As He finished I fell at His feet, and there saw the marks of the nails; and as I kissed them, with deep joy swelling through my whole being, I felt that I was in heaven indeed. The feeling that came to my heart then was: Oh! If I could live worthy … so that in the end when I have finished I could go into His presence and receive the feeling that I then had in His presence, I would give everything that I am and ever hope to be!” (Melvin R. Ballard, Melvin J. Ballard: Crusader for Righteousness [1966], 66).

When girls do get a chance to get together and go into town, they sometimes ignore warnings about not flirting with guys on the subway or not going into certain bad areas of town. Rosalie Dolan, who teaches the Sunday School class for nannies in the ward, said, “One of the things we cautioned these girls against was going into the ‘combat zone’ in downtown Boston. Two girls, their first Saturday here, headed straight to it to find out what was so terrible. They saw someone who had just been murdered. That really scared them. It seems like the worst thing to do is tell teenage girls not to do something.”

President David O. McKay remembered listening to his mother many times tell of growing up in Wales, where she was born in the village of Merthyr Tydfil on August 28, 1850.
When Jennette was only six years old, she and her family came to America on a large ship. They had been baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and wanted very much to live with the Saints in Utah.
The Evans family settled in Ogden, Utah, and Jennette was attending school there when she first met David McKay. They were later married by Wilford Woodruff, who would soon become president of the Church.

Kristy Monson enjoyed being in the second grade. Every afternoon she rushed home to tell Mom about her day. On Monday, she bounced through the door, waving an invitation to the birthday party of her best friend, Debbie. On Tuesday, she brought home a new T-shirt she had received as a reward for reaching her goal in the school’s reading program. On Wednesday, she proudly modeled a construction-paper princess hat that she had made. On Thursday, she ran home as fast as she could and exclaimed that her class had traveled to the fish hatchery for a field trip.
Friday was different. A dark cloud hovered over Kristy as she trudged home from school and through the kitchen door. Her normal ear-to-ear smile was replaced by large tears that streamed down her round, freckled face.
Mom immediately set down the pan she was drying and wiped away Kristy’s tears.
“Oh, Mom,” Kristy sobbed, “today was the worst day of my life!”
After offering a few words of comfort, Mom led Kristy to the family room, where they sat together on the sofa. “Sweetheart, please tell me what has upset you.”
Choking back tears, Kristy explained, “Debbie was mad at me for playing hopscotch with Cindy during recess, so she told some of the other girls that I’m adopted and that I’m not really a Monson.”
Mom smiled and replied, “Of course you’re a Monson. The very first time I held you in my arms, I knew that you belonged with us. I’m sure that each member of our family will always remember the wonderful morning when we took you to the St. George Temple to have you sealed to us forever.”
Mom wiped a few tears from her own eyes as she continued, “Dad and I love you just as much as we do your brothers and sisters, and we feel that Heavenly Father helped us find you because He knew that we needed you in our family.”
“I do know that you and Dad love me,” Kristy said as her smile slowly returned. “And I’m very thankful to have such a wonderful family. Thanks, Mom! I always feel better after talking to you.” Giving her mother a hug and a kiss, Kristy skipped off to her bedroom to change her clothes so she could play.
Later that evening, Dad found Kristy sitting at her desk with a serious look on her face. “Mom told me what happened at school today. Do you want to talk about it?”
After collecting her thoughts, Kristy said, “I’m glad to be a member of this family. I love you and Mom very much, and I’m thankful for my brothers and sisters. I even forget that I’m adopted until someone reminds me. But, Dad”—tears welled up in Kristy’s eyes—“why am I the only one who was adopted?”
Dad smiled and hugged Kristy. “First let me remind you of how very thankful I am to have you as my daughter. I love you very much, Kristy.” His voice took on a reverent tone as he continued, “And you aren’t the only one who is adopted. In a very special way, your mother and I, and Jared, Josh, Kari, and Kelli have been adopted, too.”
A look of confusion spread across Kristy’s face.
Dad laughed softly. “Let me see—how can I explain what I’m talking about? I know—in family home evening we’ve been helping you to prepare for your upcoming baptism.”
“I know that baptism is so important that even Jesus was baptized,” Kristy put in with enthusiasm. “I can follow His example and be baptized by immersion. That means I’ll be completely covered by water.”
“That’s correct, honey. Do you remember the covenants you will make with your Heavenly Father?”
“I think so, Dad. I will promise to always remember Jesus and keep His commandments. And Heavenly Father will promise me that I can always have His Spirit to be with me.”
“You’ve done a great job remembering many of the things we’ve talked about, Kristy, and I know that you’ll continue to learn and understand even more. Do you remember whose name you will take upon you when you are baptized?”
“Yes,” Kristy quickly answered. “Jesus Christ’s.”
“That’s right. When you were adopted, you took upon yourself the Monson name. When you are baptized and take Jesus Christ’s name upon you—”
“Then I will be adopted into His family?” Kristy interrupted.
Dad smiled as he picked up Kristy’s scriptures. He opened the Book of Mormon and turned to Mosiah 5:7. “Maybe this scripture will help you to understand.”
Kristy read, “‘And now, because of the covenant which ye have made ye shall be called the children of Christ, his sons, and his daughters; for behold, this day he hath spiritually begotten you; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.’”
“Wow!” Kristy exclaimed. “The more I learn about baptism, the more I see how special and important it is. I can’t wait until my baptism on Saturday!”
Saturday afternoon arrived, and the friends and family members of the children who were going to be baptized filled the chapel. Debbie sat down next to Kristy. Both girls looked beautiful in their white dresses.
“Kristy,” Debbie whispered. “I met with the bishop last night for my baptism interview. We talked about the importance of repentance and about baptism for the remission of sins. Before I’m baptized, I want to tell you how sorry I am for being mean to you the other day at school. Will you please forgive me so we can be best friends again?”
“Of course I forgive you,” Kristy quickly answered. “I’m glad that we’re best friends and that we’re both being baptized today.”
When the Bishop stood at the pulpit to conduct the meeting, Kristy was so excited that her stomach felt like it had butterflies fluttering around in it. She enjoyed the talk that Debbie’s brother gave about having faith in Jesus Christ, and the one her own sister, Kari, gave about the Holy Ghost. Kari shared personal experiences of how the Holy Ghost had helped her since her baptism. Kristy knew that after her baptism and confirmation, she could have the Holy Ghost as her constant companion if she always tried to obey the commandments and choose the right.
After Kristy and Debbie’s Primary class sang a song about baptism, the two girls quietly walked to the stairs by the font. When it was their turn, Kristy and her dad went down the stairs into the water. Then Kristy’s dad said the special prayer and gently lowered her under the water until she was completely immersed.
As Kristy came up out of the water, she felt warm and happy. Her bright, glowing smile matched the faces of her family and friends. This was a special day she would remember forever.
After the services, Kristy and Debbie talked together. “I feel really happy inside,” Debbie said. “I’m glad I chose to follow Jesus and be baptized. I really do feel clean and pure.”
Kristy nodded. “I feel exactly the same way.”
“And I’m glad you forgave me for saying those mean things about you,” Debbie said softly.
“That’s OK,” Kristy replied, putting her arm around her friend. “One of these days I want to tell you something special I’ve learned about being adopted.”

One of the president’s sons gives this poignant insight into his father’s character and to the source of President Smith’s great inner strength:
“As children, so frequently we would hear him say, ‘If only the people in the world would understand the trials, the tribulations, the sins our Lord took upon himself for our benefit.’ Whenever he would refer to this, tears would come into his eyes.
“A few years ago, as I sat alone with my father in his study, I observed that he had been in deep meditation. I hesitated to break the silence, but finally he spoke. ‘Oh, my son, I wish you could have been with me last Thursday as I met with my Brethren in the temple. Oh, if you could have heard them testify of their love for their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!’ And then he lowered his head, and tears streamed from his face and dropped to his shirt. Then, after many seconds, without as much as raising his head, but moving his head back and forth, he said, ‘Oh, how I love my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!’”

Sometimes compassionate listening can lead to action. Sister Lois Porter, a Relief Society president in Salt Lake City, was visiting an elderly woman in the hospital. “I asked what I could do for her, and she answered, ‘Nothing.’ But when I asked her what was worrying her, she told me she was worrying about her lawn and her cat. I would never have known that, but I was then able to water her lawn and feed her cat for her.”

Let’s compare John’s experiences with those of a Latter-day Saint teenager named David.
In open defiance and rebellion against his father, David stole the family car. Succumbing to the excitement of high speed, he failed to negotiate a turn, rolled the car several times, and was critically injured. Fortunately, those who were riding with him received only minor injuries.
The family and ward members fasted and prayed for David’s recovery. He was given a special blessing by his home teachers and was visited often in the hospital. Even the other young men in the accident and their parents visited and expressed hope for his recovery. Although David was left somewhat crippled and scarred, he recovered and everyone thanked the Lord for preserving his life.

Our family has been reading stories about the latter-day prophets. They all learned to work hard when they were young. We read that when Brigham Young was only eight, he made most of the family meals because his mother was very sick. When Joseph F. Smith was about the same age, he chopped wood, hauled water, and drove an oxen team.
Jamison (Jamey) is five and the oldest child in our family. He always tries to set a good example for his two younger brothers. Every morning, he does a chore. Some mornings, he helps fold laundry. Others, he vacuums or cleans the bathroom. He also makes his bed, cleans his room, and helps watch his one-year-old brother.
Even though it isn’t always fun, Jamey says that he gets a really good feeling inside when he does his best work. He says that he wants to be like the prophets and work hard. He knows that Jesus is happy with him.

A man of wisdom often offered this simple piece of advice: “David, stand tall.” My dad did not expect that I would add inches to my stature or rise up on my tiptoes. He meant that I should be courageous in my decision, not compromising principles, not violating spiritual values, and not shrinking from responsibility. When I have followed his advice, life has been very good. When I have failed to stand tall, life has usually been unpleasant. I recently asked my two young grandsons what it would mean to them if Heavenly Father asked them to stand tall. I noticed one inadvertently raised himself to his tippy-toes so as to seem a little taller. And then they quickly said in unison, “He wants us to do what is right.”

When I was a child growing up and learning about life, I did not have the security of my father and mother telling me who I was, how I could find lasting happiness, and what would happen to me if I were to die. My parents did not have the gospel of Jesus Christ, so my childhood was very uncertain in many ways and often full of fear.
But in all the memories of my childhood, there is at least one of peace and joy. This is the memory of Christmas.
Christmastime was celebrated in the traditions and customs of my home country of Germany, and it was specifically for the children.
Four Sundays before Christmas Day, preparations for something holy and beautiful could be felt in our home. A little wreath with four candles on it was placed on the family table.
On the first Sunday, the first candle was lit. As a family we sat around the table, singing Christmas songs and preparing little gifts that each of us would give to each member of the family.
On the fourth Sunday, the last candle was lit, and expectations for the coming joyous events were growing extreme.
A Christmas tree did not appear in our home until December 24. On that day, we children had to stay outside, go on errands, and play by ourselves. I still remember how time seemed to not pass at all.
We children were taught that the Christmas tree and all of its glory and beauty, along with presents and food and cookies, came from the little Christ Child.
This lack of logic did not bother us children. We believed that there was a Christ-child person of a supernatural existence who cared for us in such a way that once a year He would come in person to fulfill all of our hopes and dreams.
In preparation, we cleaned the rooms where we slept. We put on our best clothes. We had our gifts ready to give. When the sun started to set on that special day, we were invited to get ready to enter the living room.
As was the custom, the doors to the living room had been locked because we children were not to go into that room. It became a place of great mystery. Once in a while we heard some rustling of papers, and once in a while the more courageous of us tried to peek in the keyhole—only to learn that the key was in it from the inside and the door was locked.
When Mother finally decided that we were clean, orderly, dressed, our hair groomed, and had our rooms in order, we were asked to listen carefully. Suddenly we heard a little bell ringing, and our hearts beat close to explosion. This was it! This was the moment when the doors were unlocked and we were allowed to go into the living room. And there it was—a Christmas tree standing from the floor to the ceiling! We became aware of its beautiful, fresh-cut smell and that it was glowing with candles. Our father, who happened to be already inside the room when we walked in, was watching it carefully so that nothing caught on fire.
The Christmas tree had many decorations that we as children would see only at Christmastime. In the center of the tree was a wax sculpture of a little Christ Child surrounded by glowing angels of gold paper and silk.
Our family gathered around the tree and sang four or five Christmas songs. Then we children were invited to find our own corner of presents, which had been covered by a blanket.
This Christmas Eve tradition developed in us powerful feelings of holiness, joy, love, gratitude, and security. These feelings, radiating from the symbols of the little wax figure of the Christ Child, which we saw only at Christmastime, had a great influence on all of us.

“Mama! Mama! I’m sorry I got all wet, but Jalen was blowing bubbles in the pool!” Jordan shouted.
Jordan’s mother raced outside to find his baby cousin, Jalen, lying purple and lifeless on the deck of the pool near the stairs. She gathered up his body and began to pat his back. Jalen began to cough up lots of water.
Jalen’s parents had been upstairs. They rushed downstairs and took him to the doctor. Jalen’s PaPa and Grandma went with them. Then everyone began to notice that Jordan was soaking wet from head to toe—clothes, shoes, and all.
“Jordan, you are so brave! You pulled Jalen out of the pool without even taking time to take off even your shoes,” his mother said. “What happened?”
“When I went outside, I saw Jalen in the middle of the pool, and he was blowing bubbles. He was so scary looking that I didn’t want to touch him. But I got in the water and pulled him to the stairs. I didn’t know what to do next, so I went to get you.”
Jordan’s Aunt Amberly went to help him find some dry clothes. She asked, “If Jalen was so scary that you didn’t want to touch him, how did you know what to do?”
“Something told me what to do,” he told his aunt.
“Do you know that the feeling you had was like a still, small voice telling you what to do? Do you remember from Primary who the still small voice is?”
“I know—it was the Holy Ghost,” Jordan said. “I’m glad I listened to Him.”
Jordan Jones, age 6 (as told by his Aunt Dawn)Tupelo, Mississippi

Never feed the foxes! What does that mean? Breaking commandments is like feeding foxes. In England where we live, my wife and I had heard that foxes were right in town. We wanted to see a fox. A neighbor told us that if we left food for the foxes we probably would see one. Our butcher gave us some bones. Each night we would place some bones out in the backyard. Soon a fox came to eat. Then a few more. Now we have at least five foxes racing through our flower garden, digging up the lawn, and leaving a shamble every night, sort of like a furry Jurassic Park. What started out as a curiosity is now a problem, and sin is much the same. An indiscretion can begin a process that can make a mess of a whole life. Remember, if you don’t start feeding the foxes, they will never tear up your yard. If you avoid making the seemingly small and harmless mistakes, your life will be free of many larger problems later on. Be courageous by living straight. Create happy memories for yourselves and those around you.

As we reach out in service to Father in Heaven’s sons and daughters, our faith will increase. I know of a young man named Gofaone Lebang who joined the church when he was about 16 years old. There was something unique about this young man; he was born with a physical disability, which meant that he was wheelchair bound ever since he was a baby. Brother Lebang has always been a very vibrant and faith-filled disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. At the age of twenty he made the decision to serve a service mission. He was called to the Johannesburg South Africa Mission. One could not ask for a more positive individual. He always had something uplifting to say to all he came in contact with. I later had the opportunity to serve with him in the same elders quorum presidency and then on the high council. Through the years, I never once heard him complain or murmur about his physical disability but instead have always watched him move forward with faith. His willingness to serve increased the faith of all who served with and around him. Many years later he is still the same; he reaches out and ministers to others in different ways.