Gospel Story Finder

When I was a boy, I used to go with my father to the stockyards. We lived on a small farm and occasionally sold a few animals there.
The holding pens for the cattle, hogs, and sheep were on the river bank. A fenced bridge spanned the river and connected with a ramp that angled up to the top story of a processing plant on the other bank. Since the animals to be butchered had to be herded across the bridge and up the ramp, the men who managed this operation developed a clever solution. They trained a black goat to enter the sheep pens, mingle with the sheep, and then lead the way across the bridge and up the ramp through the door of the processing plant. Once inside the doorway, the goat stepped aside, and the sheep pressed on to their ultimate fate.
I remember watching this scene as my dad explained the operation. He paused, then added, “Let that be a lesson to you; be careful who you follow. Make sure you know where you are being led.”
I’ve never forgotten that experience. When I think of fathers leading, teaching, spiritually feeding their families, I remember how my father did it—in simple but lasting ways. The opportunities to teach important lessons are not always planned. They often arise out of our day-to-day experiences—here a little and there a little, taking advantage of a teaching moment.
It encourages me to read Enos’ experience, showing that his father’s effort to provide spiritual nourishment did not have their greatest impact immediately. (Enos 1:3.) Sometimes it may seem that our efforts are of little avail, that they are being ignored or at best grudgingly endured. But experiences such as the one I had as a young boy, watching a black goat named Judas, are witnesses to me that the return is worth the investment, even when it takes a while to gather interest.

As a witness of the Lord Jesus Christ, I bear witness of the Book of Mormon that led me to Him. I found the Lord Jesus Christ within the covers of the Book of Mormon as a 19-year-old missionary, walking through the rain and the mud of England, riding a bike with mud clear up the back of my coat and over the top of my head, tracting in cities that had never been opened, with baptisms that did not come for a long time. Those nights I went back to No. 3 Gilmore Road and read and read and wept. I knew that Jesus was the Christ, that the Book of Mormon was true, that the gospel had been restored. If the folks in England didn’t understand that, then I would just keep knocking on their doors until they did.

My brother Bill was six years older than I was. He was my ideal, I wanted to be just like him. I would follow him and his friends around and, although I am sure he sometimes thought of me as a little pest, he was good to me and allowed me to tag along.
When Bill was in high school, he had saved enough money to buy himself a car. I remember well the day he drove his very first car home. It was his pride and joy, and he spent many hours shining it up. One day as we were coming home, he stopped at the bottom of the lane that led to our barn and asked me if I would like to drive his car up the lane, which was permissible in those days on a farm. Of course I would! I couldn’t believe that he would trust me to drive his new car—I knew how much it meant to him.
I ran around and jumped into the driver’s seat. He showed me where the key was, how to shift gears, and where the gas pedal was. My foot just barely reached the pedal. I knew everything I needed to know to start the car, and off we went. It was great! It was only when we reached the top of the hill that I realized he hadn’t shown me how to stop the car, and we ran right into the side of the barn. I felt so bad! I was sure that Bill would never trust me to drive his car again. However, a few days later he asked me again if I wanted to drive his car up the lane—but this time he showed me where the brake was! I was so grateful that he understood that running into the barn had just been an accident and that it hadn’t destroyed his trust in me.

I will never forget my first temple recommend interview with my bishop as I was preparing to go to the temple for my own endowments. The bishop was my father. Every day we spent a lot of time together, and he could have interviewed me in our home, in the barn, in the field, in our car, or in any convenient place. But Dad wanted to make this a special occasion, one that I would remember.
One day I received a telephone call from the bishop’s office. Dad wanted to set up an appointment with me for a temple recommend interview. I thought this strange, as he had never called before to set up an interview or an appointment with me. We arranged a time for a meeting in the bishop’s office. The appointed time came. When I arrived in his office, his desk was completely cleared, which was unusual, because normally it would have been almost covered by papers and books. Only the scriptures lay on top of the desk. In addition to giving me the formal interview, Dad wanted to make it a learning experience for me.
He passed the scriptures over to my side of the desk and asked me to read: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Thou shalt not steal; neither commit adultery, nor kill, nor do anything like unto it” (D&C 59:6). The last sentence stuck in my mind.
We then discussed what it meant to be morally clean. The discussion focused on cleanliness of thought. Out thoughts, he said, usually develop into actions. If our thoughts remain clean and pure, we will never commit acts that would prevent us from holding a temple recommend.
Next, he picked up the scriptures and read: “And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.
“And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them. Amen” (D&C 89:18–21).
With that promise of the Lord in our minds, we discussed the value of keeping our physical bodies as healthy, wholesome homes for our eternal spirits. The spirit of man should be housed in the cleanest tabernacle we can build while we are here on earth.
Then my father handed the scriptures back to me to read: “Behold, there shall be a record kept among you; and in it thou shalt be called a seer, a translator, a prophet, an apostle of Jesus Christ, an elder of the church thought the will of God the Father, and the grace of your Lord Jesus Christ,
“Being inspired of the Holy Ghost to lay the foundation thereof, and to build it up unto the most holy faith.
“Which church was organized and established in the year of your Lord eighteen hundred and thirty, in the fourth month, and on the sixth day of the month which is called April.
“Wherefore, meaning the church, thou shalt give heed unto all his words and commandments which he shall give unto you as he receiveth them, walking in all holiness before me” (D&C 21:1–4).
We discussed the necessity of honoring and sustaining the prophet. We have been promised that the Lord will never let his prophet lead us astray. Here is a sure foundation on which we can build our lives.
Next my Dad read: “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:20–21).
We talked about the importance of being obedient to the law of the Lord, and the payment of tithes and offerings to him as a test of our faith.
Finally, we turned to the scriptures and read: “The veil was taken from our minds, and the eyes of our understanding were opened.
“We saw the Lord standing upon the breastwork of the pulpit, before us; and under his feet was a paved work of pure gold, in color like amber.
“His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father” (D&C 110:1–4).
We talked about the eternal hope we have in the Atonement of our Lord and Savior, and how necessary it is that we partake of these sacred ordinances so we can receive the greatest gift he has given us, the gift of eternal life, life with him.
Dad filled out the temple recommend form and had me sign it, gave me a warm handshake, and congratulated me for being worthy to hold a current temple recommend. I left the office feeling exhilarated because I had passed one of the most important tests of my life. I had been deemed worthy to hold a temple recommend. I made a commitment to myself that I would always live worthy of holding a current temple recommend.

Scripture study has helped Stephen Odhiambo Mayembe to find answers that he says we can’t find by ourselves. “By studying the scriptures, we can find the answers to some of the problems we have in our day-to-day lives,” he says. “And also by studying the scriptures, it gives us that courage to endure to the end because the scriptures will always be there to teach us and tell us what to do.”

Studying the Book of Mormon helped Stephen gain a testimony of the Church. During a visit to his aunt who was a member, she invited him to go to church. After he started reading the Book of Mormon, he prayed to know if it is true and received an answer.

He says that reading the scriptures regularly helps him keep Church standards even when those around him question his beliefs. “By being a member of the Church, my faith has been strengthened, and through that I can say that I cannot be shaken [see Jacob 7:5],” he says.

My father could remember the very day, even the very hour, that his family—father, mother, and four children—left the Church, many never to return again in this life. He was 13 years old, a deacon, and in those days families attended Sunday School in the morning and then sacrament meeting in the afternoon. On a beautiful spring day, after returning home from Sunday morning worship services and having a midday family meal together, his mother turned to his father and asked simply, “Well, dear, do you think we should go to sacrament meeting this afternoon, or should we take the family for a ride in the country?”
The idea that there was an option to sacrament meeting had never occurred to my father, but he and his three teenage siblings all sat up and paid careful attention. That Sunday afternoon ride in the country was probably an enjoyable family activity, but that small decision became the start of a new direction which ultimately led his family away from the Church with its safety, security, and blessings and onto a different path.
My father was fortunate to marry a good woman who encouraged him to come back to the church of his youth and begin again to progress along the path. Their faithful lives have blessed all of their children, the next generation of grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren.
Just as the simple decision to attend or not attend one of their Sabbath day worship meetings made a significant difference in the lives of my grandparents’ family, our everyday decisions will impact our lives in significant ways. A seemingly small decision such as whether or not to attend a sacrament meeting can have far-reaching, even eternal, consequences.

Margreta found the treasure! Tonight she would show her younger brothers and sisters where it had remained undiscovered for years, even though many of the family had searched for it.
She sat on the wooden chair in the kitchen, looking out the window at the landscape. She was glad her family lived in western Finland. She loved to walk with her father across the fields in winter, when the frozen grain stubble crackled and their breath hung misty and white in the evening air. Once a moose had walked out of the woods, crossed the far road, paused, then strolled toward the lake. She also loved the long summer days, fragrant and soft, when she helped her mother garden and sew.
“Hurry along, Margreta,” her mother said now. “Please set the table and finish cutting the bread. Our two guests will be here for dinner soon.”
Margreta’s family spoke Swedish and Finnish—and two other languages when they visited family and friends. But when they were home, the family spoke Swedish.
She spread an embroidered cloth on the table, then placed plates of bröd med smör (bread with butter) on the cloth. Tall glasses for the lingonberry juice came next. The last time the two young men had come for dinner, they’d said that they’d never tasted lingonberries before. One of them said that the juice tasted like something called cranberry juice. Both said that they liked it.
Margreta’s thoughts went back to the treasure. The family first heard about “Vilhelmina’s treasure” many, many years ago. Grandaunt Vilhelmina had brought the trunk with her to Finland when she returned from her travels to help a sick friend. She told the village that her Swedish trunk held something of great value to her and that she wanted to share it with family and friends. But before she could tell them of the treasure, she became sick and died suddenly.
Margreta thought about where the trunk sat now in Great-grandmother Ulrika’s home, where Margreta loved to visit. Even though her great-grandmother was frail and very elderly, the fragrance of warm bread still mingled with fragrant blossoms from plants that covered the windowsill. Poles suspended on rafters in the kitchen held round loaves of rye bread baked in the brick oven and then stored for winter meals. A spinning wheel, the footboard worn thin from years of spinning wool, sat next to a rocking chair. A woven, colorful spread lay across her great-grandmother’s bed, and handwoven curtains and bright wall hangings gave the modest home a warm, homey feel.
A braided rug filled one corner of the parlor. On the rug sat an old pump organ, and next to the organ sat Grandaunt Vilhelmina’s Swedish trunk. When Great-grandmother pumped her feet on the organ and played the keys, Margreta sang as she ran her hands over the sturdy trunk lid and the leather straps that held it closed.
Through the years, family and friends had searched closely through every item in it and had even peeled back its paper lining, hoping to find the treasure Vilhelmina had spoken of. Some thought it might be gold coins; others thought that it must be a treasure map. Sometimes when Margreta visited Great-grandmother Ulrika, she opened Vilhelmina’s trunk. Margreta loved to look through the lace doilies and linens, now yellow with age. A book, written in a foreign language, lay at the bottom of the trunk. Margreta once asked if the book was valuable or if a treasure map was hidden somewhere in the pages. Great-grandmother told her that the family had gone through the book a page at a time and had found nothing. Two sheets of paper filled with Vilhelmina’s swirly handwriting had faded words Margreta could barely make out. Her grandaunt must have been trying to translate parts of the book, but the little that she had finished was now crumbly with age.
Margreta put aside her thoughts of the trunk and got out bowls and platters for the food her mother was cooking. Her father brought in two more chairs to the kitchen table.
“I’m hungry!” Hans, Margareta’s younger brother, exclaimed as he brought in a load of firewood.
“Don’t step on my dolly!” little Sophia cried.
When the two began to argue, Margreta stepped in, brushed off Sophia’s doll, and soothed her brother. Before Margreta found the treasure, she would have joined in the argument. But now she remembered some of the words written on Vilhelmina’s papers, and she thought of the king who built a tower so that the people could hear his words as he spoke to them. He counseled them that the children should not fight and quarrel with each other, that they were to love one another, and serve one another.*
Margreta heard a knock at the door just as her mother finished making the risgrynpudding (rice pudding). The last time the elders visited, Elder Gonzales had mentioned his family enjoyed rice with beans and chili peppers. Elder Chan had said his family liked rice in a bowl with fish. And both had said that rice pudding was wonderful!
After dinner, the family and the Elders gathered around the table. Margreta could hardly wait to show the treasure in the Swedish trunk. She knew now that it wasn’t gold coins or a treasure map. The real treasure was the book at the bottom of the trunk!
Elder Chan and Elder Gonzales were excited about the book and told Margreta and her family that it was written in English. Then Elder Chan handed Margreta a book about the same size. “Here’s the same book your family has, but this one has been translated into Swedish,” he said.
Margreta’s eyes sparkled as she thanked him. She opened the book and began to read: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents …”‡

It’s 7:00 P.M., and you’re on problem number four of your math homework. The first three problems have taken 20 minutes. Your sister pokes her head in the room and says, “Come on. Family home evening’s about to start.” What do you do?
If you’re Tracy Brook, 15, of the Ottawa Ontario Stake, you drop your pencil and go. She says, “When I have a lot of homework, at first I think, ‘Oh, I don’t have time for family home evening.’ But then after family night is finished, I feel a lot better.”
Why does Tracy feel this way? Because family home evening blesses her life. “It strengthens everyone’s testimony,” she says. “We get to understand more about the Church and the scriptures.”

A few years ago, when Elder M. Russell Ballard and I were the General Authority advisers to the Church Public Affairs Department, we realized that media outlets often contacted people who weren’t members of the Church to find out about the Church. Desiring a change, Elder Ballard and I, under the direction of the First Presidency, began visiting the editorial boards of major newspapers, sharing the message that, as Latter-day Saints, we are politically neutral. We don’t take a position in terms of candidates or parties. We do, however, want to be the ones who define our own faith. “We want you,” we told them, “to come and talk to us if you’re going to discuss what we believe.”
Those visits were well received, and we found that our request resonated. And we’re now finding a much better understanding of Latter-day Saints among the media. Some old stereotypes have been broken down, and we see other people recognizing us as people of character who try to approach life from an educated and informed point of view. We’ve also noticed a realization outside the Church that Latter-day Saints aren’t all the same; our people are very different from one another in good and interesting ways.

During a recent assignment to Peru, I visited the humble home of Brother and Sister Morales. It was filled with love. They are the parents of three children and have been members of the Church for four years. Sister Morales has learned much in Relief Society. To help provide for their family and their missionary son, she took in washing and ironing. She helped with two children of a neighbor who had to leave home to work. She supported her husband, who is struggling with kidney failure and was serving in the elders quorum. They discussed the Heber J. Grant lessons together in preparation for his teaching the lesson.
I asked her, “Are you a visiting teacher?” With a smile on her face she responded, “Oh, yes, Sister Parkin. I visit four sisters. Two are less active, but I will love them back.”
Leaving their home, I noticed a hand-drawn sign above the door. It asked, “Did you read your scriptures today?” Relief Society is blessing this home, this ward, this neighborhood. How has it blessed you?

I really enjoy school and the time I get to spend with my friends. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have even more friends to play with.
I got an invitation to a friend’s birthday party. The only bad thing about that was that it was on a Sunday. I told my friend that I go to church on that day. I decided to take him his birthday present on Monday.
I know that Heavenly Father wants me to spend the Sabbath Day with my family, doing activities that are going to help me know more about the gospel and that will teach me how to be a better example to my little brother.
I am trying to be like Jesus Christ.

In his October 2025 general conference address, President Oaks described the harrowing season that followed his father’s passing.19 Not only did he lose his father, but, six months later, his mom was away for an extended period,
anxious to qualify herself to earn a living for her three children . . . [by] pursu[ing] a master’s degree at Columbia University. [But, as President Oaks has recounted,] this proved to be too soon. The loneliness resulting from this separation from her family so soon after the loss of her husband, combined with the rigors of graduate study, strained her beyond the breaking point. In May 1941 [his mother] suffered . . . a nervous breakdown, which required medical supervision away from her family for many months. With faith and priesthood blessings and the loving support of her family, she was able to resume her employability and unassisted parenting in August 1942. Her spiritual and emotional strength was felt throughout the remaining thirty-seven years of her life in her leadership and service in many professional, civic, and Church positions.20

But while his mother was away and then recovering from illness, President Oaks’s third- and fourth-grade years in elementary school were, as he described it, “terribly unhappy.” He was bullied on the school bus and playground. And his fourth-grade teacher required students to pass their “arithmetic papers forward to be graded publicly.” The teacher would then announce results, usually putting young Dallin “at the bottom of the class.”21

President Oaks later wrote: “I knew I was the dumbest boy in the room. I remember one occasion when some classmates threw snowballs at me and called me stupid.”22

Things felt like they couldn’t get any lower. But Christ had other plans for this young man of promise who would someday stand out among the most respected legal minds in the world—so much so that the president of the United States seriously considered appointing him to the U.S. Supreme Court. Later still, he would be called as a prophet of God.

Things improved. The family moved and formed “a stable home.” The new school was better, and a new teacher with “a wise combination of confidence and challenge” helped President Oaks “back on the path of learning and gave [him] many happy memories.”23

President Oaks observed:

These experiences taught me firsthand that when a person is not performing well, there are many possible reasons, some not of his [or her] own choosing. I am forever grateful for a marvelous mother and a wise and loving teacher. Their faith in me encouraged me in the thought that I could amount to something. . . .
Given love and opportunity, every child and adult can recover. All who know this and have the capacity to help others should assist as they can.24

Thanks for your hard work today. Here’s your pay for the last month.
Thanks! See you Monday.
Yes! Now I finally have enough to buy that bike! I can’t wait to ride around the city with my friends next week.
Hey, I know that look. You got paid today?
Yep!
It was my payday too! I grabbed an extra tithing envelope if you need one.
Oh. Yeah. I forgot about tithing. Can’t I just … pay it next month?
Well, son, that’s your choice to make. But I’ve always felt the blessings that come from paying tithing as soon as I can.
I get what mom’s saying, but … if I pay tithing now, I won’t be able to buy that bike for a whole other month!
But why shouldn’t I buy it now? I have lots of good reasons to do it.
It’ll help me get to school and work faster. …
I can use it to help mom run errands when she’s busy. …
I’ll get lots of exercise riding around with my friends. … Isn’t mom always saying I should spend more time outside?
The next Sunday…
“Consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual.”—Mosiah 2:41
I still wish I had my bike. Think of how fast I could get groceries! But I also feel … happy. Even without it. Does that make sense?
It does to me.
Maybe I’ll start saving for a bike too. Then we can race to the market!
Ha! Only if you like second place!

We can learn how to trust God by looking to the example of one group of pioneers.

One of the most incredible pioneer stories is the journey of the first wagon company from Nauvoo, Illinois, USA, to the Missouri River. They experienced their fair share of feeling “stuck.” How did the pioneers feel after being chased from their homes in Ohio, Missouri, and Illinois, only to find themselves stuck in the mud while trudging their way through Iowa Territory? Let’s take a look at their story.

The first wagons crossed the Mississippi River on a freezing morning in February of 1846. With their limited knowledge of the western United States, they estimated they could cross the plains and reach the Salt Lake Valley in a few months. The company optimistically started the 300-mile trek across Iowa—only to find themselves caught in endless spring rain.1

Traveling incredibly slowly, they took more than four months to cross just Iowa. They were over 1,000 miles away from the Salt Lake Valley and didn’t have enough resources to make it there before winter. So they were forced to settle along the Missouri River until they could continue their trek the following spring.2

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were days some pioneers felt frustrated with God’s timing, felt alone, or perhaps even wondered whether God was guiding them.

He knew that the pioneers wouldn’t make it to Utah in the summer of 1846. Just like He can guide you throughout your life, He had future blessings in store for them that involved present momentary disruptions. I sometimes wonder if at times this is part of why God allows bad things to happen to good people.

The rain slowed the pioneers down just enough so they could indirectly help thousands of pioneers after them. God knew the pioneers needed to create a settlement on the Missouri River, which would become an essential outfitting post for thousands of Saints who would follow.3 God saw the bigger picture—and was able to use the rain to fulfill His plan.

Grettel Garcia: “I remember being in Young Women when I was twelve and asking my dad, ‘Why can’t we just be at home?’ I didn’t want to go to an activity. He told me, ‘Sometimes we go for ourselves, and sometimes we go for the people who are there.’ And I really felt it in my life. Even this last Sunday I was struggling, and I was able to be helped by somebody at church. And then during the week, one of my friends was struggling, and I was able to enlighten her.”

I was still sitting on the porch thinking when Katie and Shauna came running around the house. “Come and play catch with us,” they called.
We threw the ball back and forth to each other, and then Katie threw one that was too high for me. Running backward to catch it, I slipped and fell on my backside in a clump of Mom’s blue irises. Mom came out of the shed just then with a pair of clippers to cut a bouquet. I looked at the smashed flowers and was just starting to speak, when something inside of me seemed to say, “No, Janna Lynn, you’re not going to say Katie made you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I ran backward and fell.”
“Yes, I know. I saw you,” she replied.
“And you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
The way she laughed, I almost felt good about sitting on her flowers.
“Just look at all those irises that you didn’t sit on,” she said. “A daughter who tells the truth is more important than a whole yard full of flowers!”
Goodness! That must have been the Holy Ghost prompting me to the the truth, I thought. And He’s helping me to learn what a great feeling you have when you know you’ve done the right thing. I could hardly wait to tell Cindy.

Ten years after Uncle Joe passed away, I was reading through my great-grandmother’s journal. The journal told of her husband leaving her with no money, $30 due in rent, and nine mouths to feed.
Then she wrote: “In Bisbee [Arizona] the people were so good to us. Even when we lived out of town south of Bisbee, they brought us home [from church]. Brother Joseph Kleinman, who lived in Mexico, brought us home many times, and not only that, but [his family] took us all to eat dinner with them. They served fried rabbit with all the trimmings, which we enjoyed very much. They were transferred to Nogales … and they let us have their rabbits, pretty white ones, and we sure had all we could eat then.”

I had been on my mission in Honolulu, Hawaii, USA, for only four and a half months when I had a major seizure and was subsequently diagnosed with epilepsy. The ensuing months brought hospital visits, countless tests, and a new medication with frustrating side effects.
Until then, I had been so focused on missionary work that I hadn’t experienced much homesickness, but from the moment of my seizure, my heart ached. I missed my parents and felt alone even while surrounded by wonderful, caring people. I didn’t want to go home, but I wanted to feel peace.
With my mission president’s permission, I spoke with my parents on the phone about my medication. My father, who had just fulfilled his lifelong dream of joining the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square, assured me that he would be singing his heart out for me in general conference, which began the next day.
The next morning, I prayed fervently for the peace I so desperately needed. I had received answers to specific questions during general conference before, and I trusted that I could receive guidance again. As conference opened, the choir sang “Dearest Children, God Is Near You” (Hymns, no. 96). Within the first minute, I saw my dad on the TV screen. The camera zoomed in on his face for quite some time.
Tears came to my eyes as a tremendous feeling of peace enveloped me. I knew that God loved me. He knew exactly what I needed that day—a simple assurance that He was near and was aware of me. I felt God’s love, and by extension, the love of my family, my companions, and my mission president. Instead of feeling burdened, I now saw an opportunity to grow closer to the Lord.
My health challenges didn’t disappear. I had to leave my mission early after all, but I knew that God was there and that He loved me. That assurance has followed me through many more heartaches and has given me hope in my darkest hours. Others may call it a coincidence, but I know that seeing my dad sing about God’s love was a small miracle in my time of need.

When we were being evacuated, I found out that on Sunday afternoon after our sacrament meeting, a group of protesters had been preparing to attack our apartment. One of our neighbors shouted, “They aren’t French!” but they would not leave. Finally, another neighbor cried, “They’re missionaries!” and the rioters dispersed. I again remembered the words, “My Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you,” and I realized that I was living the promise from my stake president’s blessing. I had seen prophecy fulfilled.

I recall reading of General George C. Marshall, whom President Franklin Roosevelt appointed to be his chief of staff early in World War II. Roosevelt was a very persuasive, informal man. During one of their first meetings, desiring to be friendly, perhaps even palsy-walsy, he called General Marshall “George,” to which the reply came, “It’s General Marshall, Mr. President” (David McCullough, Truman [New York: Simon & Schuster, 1992], p. 534). Think about the courage that simple act took—but it helped to define a relationship that, by the way, became a rich relationship.