Gospel Story Finder

The need was critical.
In early 2013, five cases of measles broke out in the Za’atari refugee camp in the Middle Eastern country of Jordan. More than 100,000 Syrian refugees, living in overcrowded conditions, were at risk of contracting this highly contagious, dangerous virus. The Jordanian government planned a massive immunization campaign to keep the disease from spreading. The plan was to immunize at least 90,000 Syrian refugees between the ages of 6 months and 30 years within a two-week period.
But there was a problem. The United Nations Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF) had the serum. The Jordanian Ministry of Health had the clinics. What they didn’t have were cold-chain supply items—syringes, containers for sharp instruments, serum coolers—and time was running out.1
Enter Ron and Sandi Hammond, senior welfare missionaries serving as country directors in Jordan for LDS Charities. As Ron and Sandi already had working relationships with UNICEF and the Ministry of Health, they quickly joined the collaboration between these organizations to determine how LDS Charities could help.
Ron says, “We inquired about the cost of purchasing the cold-chain supply items. When they told us, we said, ‘We think LDS Charities can help.’ They said, ‘How fast? We’ve got to get moving on this!’”
Within 20 hours LDS Charities had approved the purchase of the necessary cold-chain supplies. “When we informed the Ministry of Health and UNICEF,” Ron says, “they were awe-struck. How could an NGO [non-governmental organization] move so quickly? Not only did the immunization campaign go forward on schedule, but it also inspired a nationwide campaign that inoculated hundreds of thousands of Jordanians and Syrian refugees.”
Photograph courtesy of Samir Badran, UNICEF-Jordan
Crisis averted.
Furthermore, this productive partnership among UNICEF, Jordan’s Ministry of Health, and LDS Charities created the potential for future collaboration.
How Ron and Sandi Hammond arrived at that important moment in the Middle East is a testament of the Hammonds’ faith and the inspiration behind the Church’s senior missionary program.
In 2012 the Hammonds were serving as ordinance workers in the Rexburg Idaho Temple. Ron had a successful dental practice and was teaching in the Religion Department at Brigham Young University–Idaho. But the serene routine of their lives changed abruptly with a distinct spiritual impression to immediately submit papers to serve a mission. The timing surprised them. Their married children were in various stages of career moves and relocations, and Ron was not yet looking to retire. But the Spirit assured them that they were needed and that all would be well.
As it turned out, priesthood leaders at Church headquarters had been fasting and praying to find the right couple to serve as country directors for LDS Charities in Amman, Jordan.
“It was so evident,” says Sandi, “that the Lord was out ahead of us, preparing the details of the specific assignment He had for us. We know that He does this for every missionary who serves. It is comforting knowing that the Savior is arranging things for you to serve before you ever arrive.”
“In retrospect,” Ron says, “we are grateful we were neither specific nor insistent on where we wished to serve. Leaving such matters in the Lord’s hands allowed Him to give us an experience we would not have had otherwise.”
That experience included working with Jordan’s royal family on humanitarian projects of interest to the royals. The Hammonds collaborated with local hospitals and clinics to provide training to Jordanian medical staff on life-saving neonatal resuscitation skills, resulting in a significant reduction in mortality among newborns. Through their efforts and the efforts of other missionary couples, LDS Charities provided training and equipment to vision clinics and organizations serving those with physical disabilities. Among those that the Hammonds and other welfare missionaries supported was a center that teaches women with physical disabilities how to design and make specialty clothing and craft items. These skills gave students the opportunity to better provide for themselves and their families.
Photograph courtesy of LDS Charities
Other projects included working with other NGOs and the Jordanian government on emergency response and screening Jordanian students to receive one of two scholarships each year to attend Brigham Young University. One of the most satisfying experiences the Hammonds had was working with the Latin Catholic Church to build school rooms for Iraqi Christians who had nowhere else to meet.
While in Jordan the Hammonds learned how true the Lord’s promise is to those who serve Him: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
“God is involved in the work,” Ron says. “He is down in the vineyard with His servants. Any couple who goes on a mission is joined in the vineyard by the Lord of the vineyard. We don’t believe in miracles in Jordan; we lived them.”
Indisputably, the angels they felt “round about” them included the heavenly variety, but they also included the mortal variety, especially their children, who supported their decision to serve so far from home.
And their family in turn was blessed by the Lord’s protective, sustaining power. Significant career and relocation decisions were made, and concerns with potential birth complications were resolved as their children turned to the Lord, counseled together, and prayed and fasted for one another.
The blessings their children received were so remarkable that when Brother and Sister Hammond were invited to extend their two-year mission to three, each of their children expressed enthusiastic support. They sensed the Lord was doing something very special for them as a direct result of their parents’ service.
Still, the separation the Hammond family felt was a sacrifice. Being halfway around the world from those they loved was difficult. But it wasn’t as difficult as it would have been in the past. Technology made it possible for the family to be involved in one another’s lives as often as needed. Sandi says, “Couples don’t lose contact with their families. We kept in frequent contact with our children’s families back home. Because of FaceTime and emails, our four new grandchildren, born while we served, knew us and were warm and welcoming when we returned.”
Photograph courtesy of the Hammonds
Among the many blessings the Hammonds feel they received from their service is having their eyes opened to the generosity and friendliness of the Jordanian people. When the Hammonds first received their call, they were uncertain about the people they would be serving.
“But we found our Muslim friends to be gentle and generous,” Ron says, “and we are certain that had they sensed we were ever in harm’s way, they would have gone out of their way to protect us.
“Their charity is amazing. Jordanians can’t bear knowing others are going without if they can help. They have been welcoming refugees since pre-Davidic times. The Bible contains many references to ‘beyond Jordan,’ and we began signing our letters ‘Beyond Jordan’ as recognition of the compassionate service we were privileged to provide in this historically compassionate country. For centuries Jordan has been a place of charity, and the Lord has blessed the people for it.”
Working so closely with the Jordanian people enabled the Hammonds to develop some strong friendships. “We were invited to several Iftar meals, the meal that ends the daily Ramadan fast,” Sandi says. “Our Muslim friends also invited us to attend engagement parties, weddings, and other family-focused occasions.”
The Church doesn’t proselyte or permit baptisms of Muslims in Jordan or anywhere else where the law forbids it, so the Hammonds didn’t share information about the Church. Instead, they focused on building and maintaining relationships—with the royal family, local humanitarian partners, other couple missionaries serving with them, and religious and government leaders. When asked for details about the Church, the Hammonds encouraged inquirers to visit LDS.org.
Considering the remarkable experiences Ron and Sandi had, do they feel they are somehow special among couples called to serve—or that could be called to serve?
Yes—and no. “We served where and when the Lord needed a couple with our specific skills and life experiences,” the Hammonds say. “But that’s true for all senior missionaries. Every couple with the ability to serve a mission has been prepared to serve in ways special to them. They just need to exercise faith enough to go where the Lord has need of them, and He will use them to make a difference in the lives of others.”
“Couples can make a difference,” said Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “Couples can accomplish remarkable things no one else can do. …
“… The ways in which couples can serve are virtually limitless. From mission office support and leadership training to family history, temple work, and humanitarian service—there is an opportunity to use almost any skill or talent with which the Lord has blessed you. …
“… You have received much in your life; go forth and freely give in the service of our Lord and Savior. Have faith; the Lord knows where you are needed. The need is so great, brothers and sisters, and the laborers are so few.”2

Our daughter’s family dealt with a serious medical challenge, and dinners from kind neighbors were arranged. The first night, a hot pot of chicken noodle soup arrived, with a side of warm chocolate chip cookies. The next afternoon, friends dropped off lunch—chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies. And that night, yes, chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies was the dinner of choice provided by another good Samaritan. And the next night—you guessed it—another pot of chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies arrived for dinner.
This isn’t just a funny story about chicken noodle soup and chocolate chip cookies. It’s a story of caring for a sister and her family in need. With each spoonful of soup and bite of chocolate chip cookie, our daughter and her family felt loved and supported. Each pot of soup and plate of cookies was made from a different recipe unique to each sister. Isn’t that the way we are in our service? We reach out in our own uniqueness, with our own ways and personally inspired recipes. We don’t get hung up on what to do; we just do it.

For example, my dad and I have gone for ice cream after every general priesthood meeting since I became a deacon. We are going again tonight. Now, ice cream isn’t absolutely necessary to enjoy priesthood meeting—but it helps. I also remember my father telling me a few weeks before I was ordained a deacon that he hoped whenever I prepared, blessed, or passed the sacrament I would always wear a white shirt and a tie. I’m sure I had heard the same advice from a Sunday School teacher or had read it in some manual, but it wasn’t until my father said it that I intended to do it. By responding to my father’s suggestion I have shown respect for the sacred ordinance of the sacrament. And that small word of advice also helped me understand that priesthood ordinances are not just work or assignments, but they are priceless privileges that I’m grateful to take part in.

Then, in words of soberness, he told me this story. When he was quite a young man, the Prince of Wales Colliery was the pride of the valley. Almost every family in the village had someone who worked there. But one spring day an explosion occurred deep underground, and a fire broke out in the passages where the coal was mined. Rescue teams tried to reach the trapped men, but each time the tire drove them back. So, in a desperate attempt to save the mine, the owners ordered the canal that ran close-by to be turned into the mine.
One hundred and eighty-four men and boys were trapped in the bowels of the earth. Those who were not burned by the explosion were drowned by the water that came pouring in. Hundreds of the villagers gathered around the mine, waiting to see if any were rescued. But as the hours passed, hope turned to despair. The rescue team that went down returned with saddened faces.
“No one”, they said, “could possibly have lived through those awful conditions.”
Still the villagers waited, for down below in the earth were their loved ones, and they did not wish to return home without them.
It was when the sun had touched the hilltop and the first shadows had settled on the village that it happened. Someone cried out, and a pair of hands could be seen climbing the cables that raised and lowered the cage. Eager hands assisted the man from those awful cables. The flesh was hanging in shreds from his hands, his clothing almost burned from his body. Tenderly they laid him down, and the doctor ministered to him as best he could. The man was near to death, but the courage that caused him to climb from the darkness of the mine to the day above would help him to live again. The man was Jimmy Drew.
The question on everyone’s lips was, “How could a man live through explosion, fire, and water and then climb those hundreds of feet on a steel cable and still live?”
That question was never answered, for God in his mercy had closed the mind of Jimmy Drew so that he would never tell of his terrible ordeal.

An example of such service was the missionary experience of Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, who were called to fill a mission in Poland. Brother Fussek was born in Poland. He spoke the language. He loved the people. Sister Fussek was born in England and knew little of Poland and nothing of its people. Trusting in the Lord, they embarked on their assignment. The work was lonely, their task immense. A mission had not at that time been established in Poland. The assignment given the Fusseks was to prepare the way so that a mission could be established.

Did Elder and Sister Fussek despair because of the enormity of their assignment? Not for a moment. They knew their calling was from God. They prayed for His divine help, and they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to their work.

In time Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles; Elder Hans B. Ringger, then of the Seventy; and I, accompanied by Elder Fussek, met with the religious affairs minister, Adam Wopatka, of the Polish government. We heard him say, “Your church is welcome here. You may build your buildings; you may send your missionaries. This man,” pointing to Juliusz Fussek, “has served your church well. You can be grateful for his example and his work.”

Like the Fusseks, let us do what we should do in the work of the Lord. Then we can, with Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, echo the Psalm:

“My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

“… He that keepeth thee will not slumber.

“Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:2–4).

In February 2016, the full-time missionaries began visiting us. At first Pat thought they were coming over to help on the farm. When we accepted an invitation for them to teach us, he thought the lessons were just for the children.
As the missionaries were preparing to teach us their first lesson, Pat went out to work on the tractor. After about 20 minutes, I could see that they—two sisters and two elders—were deflated. At that moment, I felt that I should get Pat and ask him to come listen for a couple of minutes.
Later the missionaries told me that they had been praying that that’s what I would do. They knew that Pat needed to hear what they were teaching.
After the missionaries had taught us for several weeks, Jesse, Bo, and Frank wanted to be baptized. Pat thought that was great, but he felt that he was “beyond salvation.” That was before he met Von and Glenda Memory and heard Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles speak during general conference.
When we saw Brother Memory at church, I recognized him from when I was a child. He was now serving as the ward mission leader. Pat introduced himself, telling Brother Memory that he really wanted the Church for our children.
“That sounds good,” Brother Memory said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll do it for the children.”
A few weeks later, after a lesson from the missionaries on the plan of salvation, Brother Memory said, “Boys, we’re going to talk about your baptism.” Then he added, “And then we’re going to talk about your dad’s baptism.”
Pat said OK, but his doubts about his readiness and worthiness persisted until general conference that April.
“You may be afraid, angry, grieving, or tortured by doubt,” Elder Uchtdorf said in his talk. “But just as the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep, if you will only lift up your heart to the Savior of the world, He will find you.”1
Pat said: “Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me that I really could be a part of this, that I was worthy of salvation. But after listening to Elder Uchtdorf, it hit me that it wasn’t too late for me. I actually have a shot to get to heaven. I had never felt anything like that. From then on I knew. This is the Savior’s Church. We found it. I got baptized and received the priesthood. A week later I baptized my boys. When our girls were old enough, I baptized them.”
A year later, we were sealed in the Birmingham Alabama Temple.

I started meeting with missionaries and learning more. The spiritual hole inside of me started to be filled. Around the time I was deciding to get baptized, some Christian friends invited me to one of their church campouts.
During the final sermon on the last day of camp, I prayed for God to confirm to me that the Book of Mormon was true. At that exact moment, a student who was studying to be a pastor pulled out the Book of Mormon and said, “Why don’t we read from this book? This book is all about Jesus Christ and is in line with the Bible.” The crowd went silent. I am convinced that this was an answer to my prayer.
After hearing from that student, I felt the Spirit confirm to me that this book is another testament of Jesus Christ. I was baptized soon after.

In 2003, I married and moved to South Africa where I have lived for the past 15 years. I often visit extended family in Maputo once or twice a year. While there I like to visit different wards to worship on a Sunday. As a pioneer member in Maputo, Mozambique, I love seeing the growth of the church in my home country. I love visiting old friends – brothers and sisters in the gospel – and to meet new members. I get tremendous satisfaction from seeing that my friends are still actively engaged in this work of salvation – the gospel of Jesus Christ – standing still and immovable in faith.
I was recently in Maputo and attended Polana and Sommershield wards. I was able to catch half of the sacrament meeting from Polana and then attended other meetings in Sommershield. While sitting in the congregation I was very pleased to see one of my Primary children, Vinícius, now a married young adult. He was sitting on the stand, conducting the Sacrament Meeting. As our eyes met, we smiled at each other and as I gazed around the congregation I saw other familiar faces – one of whom was Vinicius’ brother. My eyes were filled with tears of joy to see my former Primary children, 18 years later still active in the church. After the intermediate hymn, Vinícius stood up to announce the rest of the sacrament program from the pulpit to the congregation. Vinicius served his mission in Brazil and married in the temple not long ago. He is currently studying at university and serving as the second counsellor in the bishopric of Polana ward. With tears rolling my face, my thoughts went back to those Primary years when Vinícius and his brother were part of the Primary children that I served. I could picture in my mind the things that he used do and say to me then.
I felt the Holy Ghost whispering to me “your service in Primary has made a difference to someone…look at the fruit”. I had the sweetest feeling contemplating that moment. I was reminded of the scripture found in Mosiah 2:17 that says “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God”. My heart felt full and I was glad to be able to witness Heavenly Father’s plan for each of His children. I was grateful that I accepted the calling to serve in Primary and that I strived to learn how best to serve Heavenly Father’s children during my calling. I know of many more Primary children, like Vinícius, who are faithful followers of the Saviour. Many have served full-time missions and are currently receiving an education to prepare for their future careers and in future leadership callings in the church.

United in their resolve to be true to their call from the prophet, the company headed into the desert toward 50-Mile Spring. Since there was no road, the pioneers cut their own through what one man described as “the roughest country I ever saw a wagon go over.” Mostly rock and nearly void of foliage, the land was a combination of gulches and straight-walled chasms more than 100 meters deep.
At 50-Mile Spring, President Smith divided the company into three work groups: one to work at the crevice, one to build a road from the crevice to the river 1.2 kilometers away, and one to build a ferry. For the next six weeks, all three groups worked simultaneously. “I don’t think I ever [saw] … men go to work with more of a will to do something than that crowd did,” wrote Cornelius I. Decker of the group who worked to widen the narrow crevice. “We were all young men; … we did make dirt and rock fly.” Two blacksmith forges were established at “the Hole” so that blacksmiths could keep tools sharp as men cut solid rock. Several men were lowered by rope in half-barrels over the 14-meter cliff. While dangling in midair, they drilled holes in the cliff and filled them with blasting powder. Work continued in snow storms as well as in sunshine.
The second group constructed a road over virtually impassable land. The steep upper third of the road was a serious challenge; among the problems the workers had to solve was how to create a section of road along the face of a 15-meter rock wall. First they blasted a ledge along the wall, then extended the ledge outward. This was done by hammering staves into holes drilled parallel to the ledge. Logs, rocks, and gravel were piled into the resulting area to build up a shelf just wide enough to accommodate a wagon.
The third group built a ferry wide enough to carry two wagons at a time across the Colorado River. Part of this group also began work on a road eastward.
On 26 January 1880, everything was ready.
Elizabeth M. Decker wrote of the first wagons to go down through “the Hole”: “Coming down the hole in the rock to get to the river … is almost strait down, the cliffs on each side are five hundred ft. [about 155 meters] high and there is just room enough for a wagon to go down. It nearly scared me to death. The first wagon I saw go down they put the brake on and … [chained the rear wheels together so they slid as a unit instead of rolled] and had a big rope fastened to the wagon and about ten men holding back on it and they went down like they would smash everything. I’ll never forget that day.”
The wagon of Joseph Stanford Smith was the last of 26 wagons to pass through Hole-in-the-Rock that day. Brother Smith, known as Stanford, had helped others all day while his wife and three children sat on a pile of quilts in the snow and watched. Apparently not realizing that men would be coming to help them, Stanford and his wife, Belle, thought they were stranded. So they determined to bring their wagon down by themselves. Belle sat their three-year-old son on the quilts, placed the baby between his legs, and told them not to move until their father came back for them. Ada, the oldest, sat in front of her brothers and said a prayer.
Belle and one of the horses pulled on the ropes tied to the back of the wagon as Stanford braced his legs against the dashboard and gently urged the lead horses on. As soon as they started down, the anchor horse fell. Belle caught her foot in the rocks and broke free several times before she too fell and was dragged along with the horse down the steep slope. By the time the wagon stopped, a jagged rock had torn into Belle’s leg from heel to hip. Stanford ran to her to see if she was all right. With pioneer tenacity, Belle told him she had “crow-hopped” all the way down. Stanford helped her into the wagon, cleaned her cut, and then climbed back up for the children. As he passed his horse, which was dazed but alive, Stanford took off his hat and waved it in the air as a salute to his wife. They had made it!
After crossing the Colorado River by ferry, the company still faced more than 240 kilometers of rugged ground. Elizabeth M. Decker described this land in a letter to her parents. “It’s the roughest country you or anybody else ever seen; it’s nothing in the world but rocks and holes, hills, and hollows. The mountains are just one solid rock as smooth as an apple.” Because the land turned out to be rougher than anticipated, the journey took much longer than expected—six months instead of six weeks—making the so-called shortcut extremely arduous. Two babies were born along the way. Supplies had to be brought in to the company by mule train. On 6 April 1880, the exhausted company came upon a few acres of good farmland near a small river. They named the spot Bluff City.
Though travel worn, the pioneers had remained true to their resolve to follow the prophet and move forward, and they had endured the hardships in good spirits. As one member of the company recalled, “In a camp … moving … through extremely rough country, one would naturally look for some trouble and a few accidents, but this was not the case. All was hustle and harmony.”
The road created by this pioneer company served as the major highway in and out of the area for about one year. Westward traffic heading back up the steep corridor through Hole-in-the-Rock required each wagon to have a six-horse team.
By 1882 the road had fallen into disuse, but the pioneers had done what they had set out to do—establish a settlement in a remote area of the proposed state of Deseret. Though the area today remains somewhat isolated, it stands as a legacy of those faithful and tenacious pioneers who cut their way through solid rock in obedience to a prophet’s call.

We had just moved to a new state, and I was nervous. As I was walking into my new school, I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to let the Holy Ghost be with me. I felt a warm feeling in my chest. If you don’t know if you are feeling the Holy Ghost, see if you feel a warm feeling inside. Everybody feels it differently. It’s easiest to feel it if you say a prayer or do something good.
Joshua S., age 8, North Dakota

I have a sweet memory of a prayer that I treasure. For one of my summer breaks from college, I accepted a job in Texas. I had to drive hundreds of miles from Idaho to Texas in my old car, a car I had affectionately named Vern. Vern was packed to the roof, and I was ready for the new adventure.

On my way out the door, I gave my dear mother a hug and she said, “Let’s say a prayer before you leave.”

We knelt and my mother began to pray. She pleaded with Heavenly Father for my safety. She prayed for my non-air-conditioned car, asking that the car would function as I needed. She asked for angels to be with me throughout the summer. She prayed and prayed and prayed.

The peace that came from that prayer gave me the courage to trust in the Lord and lean not to my own understanding. The Lord directed my path in the many decisions I made that summer.

Jensen: In Laramie, Wyoming, I was only there for four weeks, but we helped a man. He was a chain smoker. He was opposed to the Church. His wife was a member but hadn’t attended meetings in years.
But they had a young boy who was active in Scouts, and the other boys in the troop kept asking him why he’d never been baptized. He told his mom, “I want to be baptized.” It was the first time the father and mother were able to seriously discuss religion. He didn’t like the hypocrisy he’d seen. He said, “If a church believes in the two great commandments, to love the Lord and your neighbor, if they believe that and live it, then that’s the church I want to be part of.”
So they went to their boy’s baptism a week later, and as they walked in, written on the chalkboard was the scripture, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:37–39).
He said, “I can’t believe this. Somebody’s trying to tell me something.” The speaker spoke on the same subject. The congregation sang a hymn on the same subject. Needless to say, he went home feeling good.
He started reading the Book of Mormon, and apparently he had a spiritual experience. He says one night he fell asleep one man, and woke up another. He hasn’t smoked since. Tears would stream down his face as we taught him. In one month he was baptized. Two months later he was made Sunday School president. Then he was made an elder, then called into the elders quorum presidency. Now the whole family has been sealed in the temple. The gospel changed his whole life.

When Russell got home from his mission he was excited to get a cell phone. He had used one before but without the games, cameras, and text messaging capabilities. On one of the first weekends after his return, he was asked to help out at a neighborhood garage sale. As people wandered among the various items spread out on the lawn, Russell played with his new cell phone and began texting a friend about how much he missed his mission. Suddenly, he noticed a lady who appeared a little confused as she looked at several of the items. He put his cell phone away and approached her. He soon discovered she was new in the area and spoke Spanish but little English. Having served in Spain, he delighted her by speaking Spanish. Before long, he had not only helped her pick out a few items, but he had also taken her name and address with the intent of sending the missionaries.
Russell says, “Here I was texting my friend about how much I missed my mission, and I almost let a missionary opportunity pass me by. When I put the cell phone away, I actually ended up getting a missionary referral. I was happy to have my new cell phone, and texting my friend was fun, but nothing made me happier than getting this referral for the missionaries.”

Turning 18 is a very important event. Since Eric was away at BYU for his 18th birthday, we decided to send him something special. Every member of the family had an assignment. Jennifer would make cookies, Dad would send money, Brad (also at BYU) would help him spend it, Jeff would draw illustrations, and I would write verses for a spectacular birthday card.
I got very enthusiastic about my assignment. I decided to write a verse about every year of his life. There would be a verse about the time he took his first trial flight off the garage when he was four, and one about the time he self-medicated his cold with half a bottle of cough syrup to save the doctor’s fee when he was five. And it would end with a verse about his latest venture—refusing to withdraw from a spontaneous football squad even after he saw his six-foot-four, 280-pound opponent. (Yes, they carried him off with a broken collarbone.) That was my Eric! Active, daring, and a little mischievous.
I sat down and wrote the first few verses and laughed. And then I thought about Eric when he was six.
“Eric’s got a girl friend! Eric’s got a girl friend!” I remembered how Brad teased as he and Eric made their afternoon entrance after school. I waited for a typical “I don’t!” from Eric and a “You do!” from Brad.
There was none. Eric was silent. I couldn’t detect a smile, a frown, anything on his cherubic face. He just ignored Brad totally and asked, “Can we eat breakfast sooner tomorrow, Mom? I want to go to school early.”
“Yes,” I answered. I was surprised at his coolness. “Yes, of course. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No.” He shook his head, smiled, and walked out the back door to play.
“See. I told you!” Brad confirmed.
I’m not a nosy mother—well, only a little nosy. I wanted to know why Eric went to school 15 minutes early and came home 15 minutes late for a week. But he volunteered nothing. I didn’t want to turn Brad into a spy (it only entered my mind twice and I got over it), so I learned nothing.
On Tuesday I had to return library books. I decided to go at 1:50 so I would be driving by the school at 2:20 when school was out. (A mother does have to look out for her children.)
I was late and had to drive almost home before I saw Eric. He was with a girl. From the back I could see she had long, blonde hair and a pretty dress. But something was different. She didn’t raise her left leg far from the sidewalk, and as I passed I could see her left arm was limp. Eric saw me. He grinned widely and waved. As I smiled back my eyes surveyed a beautiful little girl with an enchanting smile and blue eyes.
At dinner I decided it was time to be open about the whole thing. I wanted Eric to know it was acceptable to have lots of friends in the first grade—even if one was a girl.
“I saw your friend today, Eric. She’s pretty.”
“She’s nice,” he added.
“So that’s the reason you go to school early?” his father asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, tell me about her. What’s her name? Where does she live? What does she look like?”
“Her name’s Jena. She lives on Vista View. And she looks like … like … uh … like a girl.”
The family laughed. “She’s very pretty.” I explained. “She has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a radiant smile.”
“What’s radiant?” Eric asked.
“That’s like a heater,” Brad informed him.
“That’s a radiator,” Father clarified. “But it’s like that. It means warm and friendly.”
“What’s wrong with her leg?” Brad asked innocently.
Eric bristled and raised his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with her leg.”
“Brad wasn’t being mean, Eric. She does have a problem with her leg and arm. She has cerebral palsy, Eric. That doesn’t change her being pretty or nice.” I taught physically handicapped children and accepted the fact that everyone has limitations of some kind, but Eric was crushed. His fork clattered to the plate, and he proclaimed loudly in his squeaky, first-grade voice, “There’s nothing wrong with her at all,” and ran into his room.
We said nothing further about it. Eric was a normal boy who ran bicycles into garage doors, played Zorro, and chased strange dogs away. He just went to school a little early and came home a little late every day.
In early December I got a phone call.
“Is this Eric’s mother?”
When anybody started a conversation like that I wondered if Eric had just ridden his bike over someone’s flower bed. “Yes,” I replied. After all, I was responsible.
“This is Mrs. Hamilton. I’m Jena Hamilton’s mother.”
“Oh, yes. Hello!”
“I called because I wondered if you were aware of what Eric has been doing for us—I mean for Jena—but really it affects all of us.”
I was puzzled. “No, I guess I’m not,” I replied honestly.
“Do you know Jena?”
“I saw her going home from school. She’s a very pretty girl.”
“Then you know she has a problem with her leg and arm. She has cerebral palsy.”
“I see.”
“When we moved here last summer and I went to register her, the school said they wouldn’t accept her. Her learning isn’t impaired. It’s just a motor involvement, but they insisted the kids would taunt her until we would be sorry. They asked me to enroll her in the special education program over at Fairhaven. I didn’t want her at Fairhaven. She’d have to ride the bus for over an hour. I insisted they let her try it here. They were skeptical, but I was quite adamant.”
“I understand your feelings.”
“When school started, it was just like they said. Some of the kids wouldn’t quit yelling names and making fun of her. And no one would play with her. After the first week and a half of school, with her coming home in tears every day, I decided to reconsider Fairhaven. Then a little miracle happened—Eric!”
“Eric?”
“He decided enough was enough. He asked Jena if he could play with her at recess. The boys laughed at him and called him names too. But he ignored them.”
“That’s not my Eric,” I thought.
“He walked home with Jena to the accompaniment of jeers. From that day on he has walked her to school, played with her at recess, and walked home with her. The third week of school some boys started throwing rocks at Jena. Eric challenged them to a ferocious fight if they didn’t stop.”
That’s my Eric. He was two inches shorter than anybody, but he was never afraid of a fight if it was necessary.
“I guess he said it so firmly they decided to leave her alone. Jena is doing so well now. Other children are playing with her, and no one seems to be paying attention to her problem.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“There’s more,” she continued. “Yesterday I stopped Eric out in front—I was so happy how things are going—and I said, ‘You’re such a nice boy! How did you ever get to be such a nice boy!’ It was a comment, not a question of course, but he spoke right up and said, ‘Our church teaches all the boys to be nice boys.’”
“Well, I was so surprised, I said, ‘And what church do you belong to, Eric?’
“And he said, ‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes called the Mormon church. Would you like to have the missionaries?’ He’s quite a boy!”
Well, do you want the missionaries? I was hoping my voice would say. But it didn’t. “Yes, I guess he is. I really appreciate your calling me.”
Jena Hamilton didn’t need Eric much after that. They were friends, but he went back to playing with the boys and calling all girls “dumb.” In a year or so Jena moved, and we moved.
I looked down at the birthday card I was making. I decided not to write a verse about Eric when he was six. It was too special.
Later I mailed the overweight birthday card and savored the thought of Eric reading his life out loud to his roommates.
It was almost midnight Friday when the phone rang.
“Mom, this is Eric.”
“Eric, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Are you hurt? Did you wreck the car? Did you …”
“Mom! I’m fine. Just listen a minute.” His voice was exuberant.
“Oh, yes. Today’s your birthday. You got my card! You got the money! You loved them both! But you didn’t have to thank us at this hour!”
“Mom! Listen! And put Dad on the other phone. Okay? Brad and I went out to dinner with the money. We were just sitting around here in the dorm reminiscing when the phone rang. It was a girl.”
She said, “Is this Eric Miller?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this Eric Miller who used to live on Hillview Avenue in San Sebastian?”
“Yes! Who is this?”
“Oh, you probably won’t remember me. It’s been a long time. This is Jena Hamilton.”
“Jena! I can’t believe it! Sure I remember you. Hey, what are you doing here in Provo? Visiting?”
“I’m going to the Y just like you.”
“But why? How did you decide to come here?”
“Well, about three years ago Mom and I were doing dishes when two young men knocked at our door. They said they were representatives of Jesus Christ and would like to leave a message with us. Mom said, ‘No, thank you, we really aren’t interested.’ Then for some reason she asked, ‘What church are you from?’ And they said, ‘We belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes called the Mormon church.’ Mom looked at me, and we both said, ‘That’s Eric’s church.’ There was an unstated courtesy we would extend to someone from Eric’s church. We weren’t interested, of course, but we would be courteous. Well, you know how that goes! We were baptized after the fourth lesson.”
“Jena! That’s wonderful! Hey, it’s my birthday. We’re celebrating! Where are you living? Can we come over?”
Eric ended his story. I wiped a tear off my chin and nose. He paused a long time. “Well,” I demanded, “Did you go over? How is she doing?”
“She’s beautiful!” Eric replied enthusiastically.
“And her leg? Has it improved?”
“Her leg? What was the matter with her leg?”

Called as a new Apostle in 1943, Elder Benson soon received from the First Presidency a most challenging and significant assignment. He was assigned to give assistance to members of the Church in Europe who had been devastated by World War II. He witnessed the ravages of war. He saw the hungry, the cold, the destitute.

Frederick W. Babbel, called to serve as executive secretary to Elder Benson while he was in Europe, wrote to his family:
“The Lord knew what he was doing when he sent [Elder] Benson over here. He is a living apostle of God in every way. … I continue to marvel at his unwavering faith, his unflinching courage, his resolute determination and undaunted spirit. … He not only speaks to God, but he listens, and I’m sure God speaks with him even as he did with his apostles of old. … [He is] one of the humblest, most devoted men I have ever known, so kind in spirit and manner … a man surpassing all men I have known.” (On Wings of Faith, p. 125.)

In this special assignment, President Benson was responsible for perhaps the largest distribution of welfare supplies to members that has been undertaken. Thousands of tons of food, clothing, bedding, and medical supplies were delivered to Saints in thirteen nations. It is significant that he will now be sustained as the President of the Church during the fiftieth anniversary of the welfare program.

During that historic mission away from his family, Elder Benson held meetings with the Saints, reorganized the branches and missions, and lifted members’ spirits. To them he was an angel of mercy.

Only by prayer and divine intervention was he able to accomplish that mission and gain entrance into some countries. He said, “I assure you I know the source of the success which attended our labors. … It would [have been impossible] … to accomplish the mission … without the directing power of the Almighty.” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1947, p. 152.)

One day we had a special devotional on the Savior as part of our early-morning seminary class. The girl in charge bore her testimony of Christ, then asked each of us to share our feelings. Our teacher, Brother Pratt, added his testimony, and said we needed to know Christ died for each of us individually.
While I was listening to the others bear their testimonies, it occurred to me I wasn’t really sure I had a testimony of the Savior. I had always attended church and seminary classes, and I thought he was Heavenly Father’s Son, and an example to follow, but I wasn’t really sure of him as my Savior—someone so essential to my salvation.
I managed to give some sort of reply and spent the next several days pondering over the experience and praying to know for myself. I received a warm feeling that the Church was true and that I should live its teachings. I felt good about that answer and decided that having a basic testimony of the gospel and living the standards of the Church was enough. But I still didn’t understand the need for a Savior.
Later I moved from home. Eventually I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just decided that I was no longer going to go to church. Then my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden a black cloud lifted, and I knew, as words came into my mind, where I could improve, and the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help; I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives” (Hymns, no. 136). And I am grateful.

In this conference just a year ago, President Thomas S. Monson shared an example of sacrifice in connection with temple service. A faithful Latter-day Saint father on a remote island in the Pacific did heavy physical work in a faraway place for six years to earn the money necessary to take his wife and 10 children for marriage and sealing for eternity in the New Zealand Temple. President Monson explained, “Those who understand the eternal blessings which come from the temple know that no sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings.”9

Once I was in Turkey with a busload of American tourists. One day we were sitting in our bus after a visit, waiting to continue our trip. Next to where we were parked was a fruit-and-vegetable shop. As we were sitting in the bus, I noticed a boy about ten years old leave the shop and board the bus with a box of fresh cucumbers to give to the people on the bus. Middle Eastern cucumbers are sweet and delicious, and people eat them for snacks. The boy had dressed up for his mission to our bus with his suit coat on and his hair freshly combed and still moist from the combing. I was touched by the kindness of the boy and his shopkeeper father for providing this treat as an act of love and hospitality for the foreigners in their town. It was in keeping with what I have grown to love so much from the culture of Muslims in the Middle East. The smiling boy walked from the front of the bus to the back, offering the delicious treats along the way. There were enough for all. As he began to walk back to the front of the bus, someone offered him money, which he refused; getting money was not the boy’s objective in bringing the cucumbers. The American became insistent and eventually stuffed some money into the boy’s pocket, much to the boy’s embarrassment and dismay. As he tried to escape to the front of the bus, others followed suit, putting money in his pockets or throwing it in his box. As he made his way to the front exit, I noticed his expression change from happiness to disappointment to embarrassment to sadness. By the time he arrived at the front, he was in tears.

I was heartbroken and embarrassed. The boy was deeply hurt. His act of love had been prostituted into an act of business.

But the people on the bus—all fine people—felt good about themselves; they felt justified. Someone had provided them with a service for which they needed to pay. They had paid their own way, and they didn’t want to owe anything to anybody.

A young man shared with me an experience he had the first day he arrived on this campus, an experience that taught him a valuable lesson. He had left his home and parents and traveled all the way across the United States to attend Brigham Young University when he was just seventeen years old. He left with a feeling of excitement for this opportunity to be on his own. He looked forward to this new independence and “freedom.” He was rather happy to be away from the close supervision of his parents. This thought enticed him, for he could now do, or not do, anything he wished.

As he went into the administration building to get his identification card, one of the first persons he met said to him, “Aren’t you the son of—?” and she mentioned his mother’s name. “I’ve known your mother for many years.”

As she expressed her respect and special regard for his mother, this fine young man determined that he would never do anything to disappoint or discredit her—or his father. Being away from his parents had become all the more reason to live as they had taught him and to honor them by living honorably and righteously himself.

One day Lincoln’s friends told him that they had pretended to put money into the school’s pencil machine. They told the secretary that they didn’t get a pencil, and she gave them one. Lincoln decided to give it a try.
At recess Lincoln sat on a bench and looked at his free pencil. He felt very sad inside. He wanted to do what was right. He told the secretary what he had done and gave her the pencil. Lincoln felt better.