Gospel Story Finder

“Wider, please.”
Lane was reluctant to show the tartar on his teeth to the cute, new dental assistant, but he had no choice. She pulled the overhead light closer. He admired her green eyes, all he could see of her face. The rest was hidden behind the surgical mask. He watched her gloved fingers juggle the little dental pick and mirror as she scraped at his teeth.
Lane was relieved to see that Rhonda, the regular assistant who had worked there for years, was not there. She was an older woman who had always been very nice to him, but she had a horrible case of dandruff and he could see the flakes all too clearly whenever she bent her head over his open mouth.
“You must be new,” he managed to say to the assistant. It was obvious, but it was all he could think of to say. “I’ve been coming to Dr. Hodges since I was a little boy, and I’ve never seen you here.”
“Mmmm,” she said, concentrating. “Just moved here. How often do you floss?”
“Uh, well, maybe a few times a month. I kind of forget to do it every day,” he admitted. Now he regretted being so lax with his flossing. He was probably not making a very good impression. He would have to hurry to change that. Once Dr. Hodges injected the anesthetic, his mouth would go numb. It would be impossible to impress her with a lopsided smile and garbled speech. He wondered how he could let her know that he had made the winning basket last year in the high school playoffs without seeming arrogant.
He missed his chance. The assistant squirted his mouth and suctioned the water out, dabbed his face with the paper bib pinned around his neck, then left. He heard his little brother Evan talking to her from the cubicle next to his. Evan would talk her leg off. Dad had predicted that Evan would grow up to be either a police negotiator or an auctioneer.
“Hey, my brother has to get his teeth fixed, and he already had a whole bunch of shots. I don’t think he cried. He’s getting a short haircut, and my mom and dad bought him a bunch of suits and ties.”
“Wow,” was all the assistant said, in a dull-sounding tone. She told Evan, “I’m putting some of this cleaning stuff on your teeth. It’s a little gritty, like sand, but it tastes like cherries. I’ll use this little tool and scrub your teeth with it, okay?”
“Oh, that’s like the cleanser I use on the bathtub on Saturday when I do my Saturday jobs. Except it tastes better.” There was a pause, and then Evan said, “Not that I ever ate cleanser. Yuck!”
It was quiet while the assistant scrubbed his teeth, but as soon as Evan’s mouth was free, Lane could hear him talking again.
Dr. Hodges came in. For a moment, Lane was distracted while the dentist examined his teeth and got ready to give him the anesthetic.
Lane could hear Evan as he continued to talk. “I’m getting baptized next Saturday. I’m eight, so I’m old enough because I mostly know how to tell right from wrong. Baptisms are in a big font like a warm swimming pool. I guess it’s like a bath for my spirit. Hey, you can come if you want. It’s at seven on Saturday night at Westbrook chapel, just a couple blocks from my house.”
Lane was thinking, Come up for air, buddy, even as his eyes squinted in pain as Dr. Hodges nestled the needle into the back of his mouth.
Evan kept talking. “My brother’s going on a mission. It’s for our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some people call us Mormons because we have the Book of Mormon. It’s kind of like the Bible, but we read the Bible, too. Anyway, my brother will go to Argentina and baptize people there after he teaches them about the gospel. They put on white clothes and go under the water too. Nobody drowns,” he added.
Then Evan said, “He’ll be gone a long time. Two whole years. And nobody pays him. He usually doesn’t do things for free.” Lane could hear a smile in Evan’s voice when he said, “And I get his room.”
Dr. Hodges chuckled and said, “Your little brother’s quite a talker.” All Lane could say, with his mouth full of anesthetic, was, “Tell me about it.”
In the next cubicle, the assistant said, “Evan, we’re all done. If you want, you can wait for your brother here.”
“Okay,” Evan answered cheerfully. “I brought my Friend with me. Do you get the Friend?” Without waiting for her to answer, he continued, “I don’t think the dentist gets it because I didn’t see it with the magazines in the waiting room.”
Lane didn’t think the assistant understood Evan because she said, “Your friend, huh? What’s his name?”
Evan patiently explained, “No, the Friend isn’t a person; it’s a magazine for kids about my church. There are magazines for big people, too. You can look at mine and see what’s in it. There are stories and games. I was trying to find all the stuff hidden in this picture.”
Lane could hear the assistant putting instruments away and moving around in the cubicle. Lane’s attention quickly became focused on his own mouth as Dr. Hodges carefully drilled out his cavities and applied the fillings.
Evan was still talking. “My brother is going to explain about the Church on his mission to people like you who don’t know about it. You’d really like it. We learn about Jesus and how to be like him. I have my own Book of Mormon, but my grandma will give me a brand-new one with gold on the edges and my name on it when I get baptized. I think the dentist needs one in his waiting room. He can have my old one. I brought it to read the part about Jesus coming to America. My dad marked the place for me.”
Finally, the appointment was over. Lane tried one last time to talk to the assistant. “Sorry about my little brother,” he said, flashing his clean teeth in what he hoped was a brilliant smile, though he could feel only half his mouth curve upward. “He’s really a chatterbox.”
“No problem,” the girl said. “I think he’s cute.”
Lane refrained from asking what she thought of Evan’s older brother, though he was tempted. He hoped she thought he was cute, too.
She said, “Going to Argentina, huh?”
“Yes,” Lane said, quickly adding, “I’ll only be gone for two years. Do you plan to work here for a while?” She smiled and left to clean more teeth.
Evan picked out a toy dinosaur from the dentist’s treasure chest, then told Dr. Hodges, “I’m leaving you this book for your waiting room.” He held out his Book of Mormon to show him. “It doesn’t cost you anything.”
Dr. Hodges looked puzzled but nodded his consent and then went to attend to a patient.
On the way home, Evan suggested they stop at the store for some candy, but Lane said no. “You want to undo all the work we just had done? That’s how you get cavities! You keep it up and the only thing you’ll be able to eat will be soup.”
They rode in silence for a split second. “Is that how you got all your cavities?” Evan asked.
After the baptism, Evan changed into dry clothes and was talking to his grandpa when he looked to the back of the room and started waving furiously. “Hey! You came!”
Lane was startled to see Dr. Hodges standing near the back. Evan called out, “Hey, he’s my dentist!”
The boys and their parents made their way to Dr. Hodges and told him they were glad to see him. Dr. Hodges smiled at Evan and said, “You were right, Evan. You didn’t drown.”
To Evan’s parents, he said, “I hope you don’t mind my coming. My sister has been writing to me about the Book of Mormon, and she has been talking about getting baptized. Evan invited us to come to his baptism when he was at the office last week, and I wanted to see what your church was about. I’ve known your family for years, and I know you’re good people, but I didn’t realize you were Mormon until Evan brought in his Book of Mormon and told us about your church.”
He spoke to Evan again. “I hope you don’t mind that I took your Book of Mormon home with me. I’ve really enjoyed reading it.”
After they got home, Evan came into Lane’s room, where Lane was packing his suitcase. Lane had been quietly getting ready to go to the Missionary Training Center, thinking about Evan’s baptism. He was feeling ashamed. He had had plenty of opportunities to talk about the Church at the dentist’s office and didn’t. He was too busy hanging onto the last shred of his social life before leaving. He had thought it would be hard to be a missionary because he didn’t know what to say to people. But wasn’t missionary work just getting the word out and being happy about having the gospel, like Evan? It was that simple.
“Hey, buddy,” Lane said, hugging his little brother, “you are one terrific missionary. Think you might fit into my suitcase? I could be your junior companion.”

I have two younger sisters, both of whom are mothers. My youngest sister, Shirley, has eleven children. Sharon, another sister, has a little girl who was born to her after six years of anxious waiting. Ten years later, through the fervent prayers of the extended family for the wonderful blessing of adoption, a little boy came into their family and was sealed to them in the temple for time and eternity. What a blessing he and the other children have been to all of us!

Over the years my sisters and I, with our husbands, have prayed for each other and with each other and about each other. We have come to know that the Lord has answered our prayers differently and not always in the affirmative and not always according to our timeline. But we have all felt the warm assurance of his approval and love.

Now I would like to speak of the special meaning the temple has for me. Part of this message is going to be sensitive, so I will appreciate your prayers as I give it so that I do not become too emotional.
Fourteen years ago the Lord took my wife beyond the veil. I love her with all my heart, but I have never complained because I know it was His will. I have never asked why but rather what is it that He wants me to learn from this experience. I believe that is a good way to face the unpleasant things in our lives, not complaining but thanking the Lord for the trust He places in us when He gives us the opportunity to overcome difficulties.
Fourteen years ago the Lord decided it was not necessary for my wife to live any longer on the earth, and He took her to the other side of the veil. I confess that there are times when it is difficult not to be able to turn and talk to her, but I do not complain. The Lord has allowed me, at important moments in my life, to feel her influence through the veil.
I know that I will have the privilege of being with that beautiful wife, whom I love with all my heart, and with those children who are with her on the other side of the veil because of the ordinances that are performed in the temple. What a blessing to have once again on the earth the sealing authority, not only for this mortal life but for the eternities. I am grateful that the Lord has restored His gospel in its fulness, including the ordinances that are required for us to be happy in the world and to live everlastingly happy lives in the hereafter.

“Hey, come on! The missionaries are waiting for you,” my friend called. The discussion went along smoothly, as most of the others had, and then one of the sisters said, “As you come to know the message we share with you is true, we invite you to be baptized.
I told them that I had already been baptized, and they explained that there was a proper method of baptism, which was complete immersion. I liked their message, but I couldn’t accept their challenge when I had already been baptized.
While I was walking home, the word baptism kept ringing in my ears. I asked myself, “Why do they ask me to be baptized again?” Before going to sleep, I opened the Book of Mormon and began reading the assignments the missionaries had given me. While I was reading I came across 2 Nephi 31:13:
“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, I know that if ye shall follow the Son, with full purpose of heart, acting no hypocrisy and no deception before God, but with real intent, repenting of your sins, witnessing unto the Father that ye are willing to take upon you the name of Christ, by baptism—yea, by following your Lord and your Savior down into the water, according to his word, behold, then shall ye receive the Holy Ghost; … and then can ye speak with the tongue of angels, and shout praises unto the Holy One of Israel.” [2 Ne. 31:13]
The Spirit was so strong that tears rolled down my cheeks. I knew that I had to be baptized again, this time by immersion, I cried to the Lord for forgiveness, and from that time I repented of my sins. The day I was baptized is still fresh in my memory. How great was my joy that day when I began to follow the Savior.

This summer, our first grandson was called on a mission. We watched with anticipation and excitement as he prepared for that great adventure. We saw a transformation take place as he experienced his farewell, his temple endowment, and his entrance into the Missionary Training Center. It was a literal miracle to see a typical selfish teenage boy become a selfless servant of God. He became a man overnight. We thrilled at his letters from the Training Center in which he told his friends to get with it—that “this” is where it’s at. We saw a new boldness as he became immersed in his mission. That boldness and spirit have been increased now that he is in the mission field teaching what he believes.
Let me share a portion of a letter he wrote to a nonmember friend who is investigating the Church:
“It’s great to hear you’ve taken the discussions. They are really cool. Let me tell you something about commitment. You have just got to make it. Get committed! Read the Book of Mormon. I did it in nine days, and I only read for one and a half hours a day. Get committed to attend church every week. It is a commandment of God, and it’s necessary for baptism. Get committed to pray. If you would read the Book of Mormon and pray about it, you would know that it is true. Finally, get committed to baptism. Christ did it, and you have to, too. I suspect that you know the gospel is true, or you wouldn’t put up with it. Remember, God knows you know it; and if you don’t make the commitment, he will still hold you accountable because you know the truth. Being lukewarm in the gospel doesn’t do anyone any good—especially you!”
As a grandfather, I exult when I see my own flesh and blood entering the Lord’s service so well prepared and pray that my other grandchildren will respond as readily to the call as he has done.
From the Missionary Training Center, my grandson wrote to a friend: “Read the Book of Mormon. … It is the best book I have ever read, and I am not just saying that.”

Some 30 years ago, while working in the corporate world, some business associates and I were passing through O’Hare Airport in Chicago, Illinois. One of these men had just sold his company for tens of millions of dollars—in other words, he was not poor.
As we were passing a newspaper vending machine, this individual put a quarter in the machine, opened the door to the stack of papers inside the machine, and began dispensing unpaid-for newspapers to each of us. When he handed me a newspaper, I put a quarter in the machine and, trying not to offend but to make a point, jokingly said, “Jim, for 25 cents I can maintain my integrity. A dollar, questionable, but 25 cents—no, not for 25 cents.” You see, I remembered well the experience of three towels and a broken-down 1941 Hudson. A few minutes later we passed the same newspaper vending machine. I noticed that Jim had broken away from our group and was stuffing quarters in the vending machine. I tell you this incident not to portray myself as an unusual example of honesty, but only to emphasize the lessons of three towels and a 25-cent newspaper.

This great caring about how we behave toward everyone around us was one of the great lessons President McKay taught. On the trip to Europe to dedicate the temple sites in Switzerland and England, President McKay was surrounded by eager English youth seeking autographs from him. The first in line was a young girl about nine years of age. She asked the President’s son, who was accompanying him, “May I have President McKay’s autograph?” The son, who thought his father was too tired, began to dissuade her, but President McKay, overhearing the conversation, turned to her and asked jokingly, “Do you think I can write plainly enough so you can read it?” The girl wasn’t sure whether he was in earnest and became flustered. At that moment an aide interrupted with a pressing question, and several minutes of conversation ensued. When the President turned to the table to begin writing autographs, the girl had disappeared.
“I have never seen Father more upset,” said his son. “Please find that girl in the blue dress,” President McKay directed. “I’m sure she has the impression that I didn’t want to sign her book. She misinterpreted my remarks. You must find her.” Before long, branch and mission presidents were looking for a little girl in blue. But the search was in vain. Finally, a missionary thought he knew who the girl was. He telephoned the President later that night and then received these instructions: “Tell the girl that I am sorry I missed her and that I have asked the branch president to send her book to me by mail to Salt Lake City; I will sign my autograph and mail it directly back to her.” And he did!

When I got my first paycheck for my first real job (at a sandwich shop), I rewarded myself with a shopping spree. I bought some music and a cute outfit. After spending every dollar I’d earned, I thought about my purchases.
“There goes two whole weeks of work,” I thought. And a sick feeling started to grow in my stomach.
As I thought about all those hours of hard work making sandwiches, my superficial purchases hardly seemed worth it. I vowed to be more careful with my money.
So from then on, I saved every penny for college and a possible mission and never bought anything I wanted ever again.
Yeah, right.
I was still a normal teenager who wanted stylish clothes, good music, and fun activities with my friends. But coming from a big family, I knew that if I wanted those things, I would have to save money to pay for them myself.
It might sound impossible, but I found ways to be financially prepared for the future and have fun at the same time—even with a part-time job that didn’t pay very much. Here are some tips on how you can increase your “money smarts.”

“We started talking after the funeral,” says David Nordquist. “We were sad, of course, but we knew where he was. We knew that he was happy and that we should try to remember that. We tried to think of a way to honor him. We wanted to do something special in his memory.”
They tossed around some ideas, but nothing seemed quite right until the topic of scripture mastery came up.
“Our ward had never won the stake scripture mastery competition,” says Matthew. “We knew that Brother Cunningham wouldn’t care if we won, but he would be proud of us if we really buckled down and learned the scriptures for the year. All of them.”
And so they began to train for the big stake scripture mastery event. They soon discovered that their goal of learning all the scriptures not only made them feel good about honoring the memory of their teacher but also made them feel good about themselves.
“There was really a good feeling in our class,” says James. “We were working toward the same thing, and it was a goal that really invited the Spirit.”
As the school year wore on, it became clear that learning all 25 scriptures with the speed and precision required for the stake scripture mastery competition was going to prove more difficult than the students thought. But they pressed on, and by the time the spring scripture mastery competition rolled around, a team of four students—Matthew Glanfield, David and Dee Nordquist, and Aaron Medwin—was pumped up and ready to go.
Their preparation was really down to the wire, with a few team members losing a little sleep the night before in an effort to really be ready. “I think we all felt that it didn’t really matter if we won,” says Dee. “We just wanted to do our best. We wanted this to be special.”
Of course the stake competition was just for fun, and Matthew and Dee were right; it didn’t really matter who took first place. But all that preparation paid off. When the final score was announced, the team from Welland came out on top.
It was a thrill to win. But the best feeling was knowing that the scriptures were really theirs, that they had total command of all 25 and could find them, quote them, and explain them.
“I know we all thought a lot about Brother Cunningham and what he had taught us after we won,” says Matthew. “I think my favorite scripture that year was Doctrine and Covenants 88:123–24. It talks about loving others and working hard. He really did all those things in his life and motivated us to do the same in seminary and other areas of our life.”

Finally, the blessings of covenant belonging come when we follow the Lord’s prophet and rejoice in temple-covenant living, including in marriage. Covenant marriage becomes supernal and eternal as we daily choose the happiness of our spouse and family before our own. As “me” becomes “we,” we grow together. We grow old together; we grow young together. As we bless each other across a lifetime of forgetting ourselves, we find our hopes and joys sanctified in time and eternity.

While situations differ, when we do all we can, the best we can, and sincerely ask and seek His help along the way, the Lord will guide us, in His time and manner, by the Holy Ghost.25 Marriage covenants are binding by mutual choice of those making them—a reminder of God’s and our respect for agency and the blessing of His help when we unitedly seek it.

The fruits of covenant belonging across family generations are felt in our homes and hearts. Please allow me to illustrate with personal examples.

When Sister Gong and I were falling in love toward marriage, I learned about agency and decisions. For a period of time, we were in school studying in two different countries on two different continents. It is why I can honestly say I earned a PhD in international relations.

When I asked, “Heavenly Father, should I marry Susan?” I felt peace. But it was when I learned to pray with real intent, “Heavenly Father, I love Susan and want to marry her. I promise I will be the best husband and father I can be”—when I acted and made my best decisions, it was then the strongest spiritual confirmations came.

Now our Gong and Lindsay FamilySearch family trees, stories, and photos help us discover and connect through the lived experience of generational covenant belonging.26 For us, respected progenitors include:
Great-Grandma Alice Blauer Bangerter, who had three marriage proposals in one day, later asked her husband to rig a foot pedal to her butter churn so she could churn butter, knit, and read at the same time.
Great-Grandpa Loy Kuei Char carried his children on his back and his family’s few belongings on a donkey as they crossed the lava fields on Hawaii’s Big Island. Generations of Char family commitment and sacrifice bless our family today.
Gram Mary Alice Powell Lindsay was left with five young children when her husband and oldest son both died suddenly just days apart. A widow for 47 years, Gram raised her family with sustaining love from local leaders and members. During those many years, Gram promised the Lord if He would help her, she would never complain. The Lord helped her. She never complained.

It’s nice having one whole coach to yourself, especially if he’s your dad. It provides services you couldn’t expect from ordinary coaches. For example, Dene was really shaken when he had a kick blocked in one game. Brother Garner took him back out on the field after the game, while the stands were still emptying, and had him kick ball after ball from the same spot. He hit 48 before he missed one. Brother Garner then explained that it wasn’t his fault if a kick was blocked occasionally, and Dene went away with his confidence restored.

But Brother Garner didn’t leave it at that. He did something positive to help overcome the problem. He built a ten-foot-high barrier for Dene to kick over. As a result, Dene has learned to chip PATs or short field goals so high that Goliath would have a hard time blocking them.

In 2013 we were living in Manhattan, New York, USA. We loved our ward. Because we were expecting our first child, we began looking for a larger apartment in the ward. We found one that seemed perfect, but it didn’t feel right.
That spring, Laura started to feel that maybe we should move to Brooklyn. Wil wasn’t so sure. We didn’t know anything about Brooklyn, and Wil wanted to be close to his investment-banking job so that, given his long work hours, he had a short commute. We decided to pray about it and listen for an answer during general conference.
As we watched the talks on a laptop computer in our studio apartment, Elder Stanley G. Ellis of the Seventy shared an experience he had as a member of a stake presidency. He said that families moving into his stake in Texas, USA, would often ask which ward was best. Only once in 16 years did a family ask which ward needed help.1
We were touched by his story. It answered our prayers. So, instead of staying in a ward we loved, that we felt comfortable in, and that had a great nursery and Primary, we took Elder Ellis’s advice to heart and prayed about where we should move.
At the time, we were serving as ordinance workers in the Manhattan New York Temple. One of the workers there knew New York City well. He suggested two wards where he thought we could help—both in Brooklyn.
The first ward was too far from Wil’s work. The second one was closer, and we felt we had found the right place when we visited the ward’s sacrament meeting. Many of the members were Haitian immigrants. Because Wil is from Gabon and speaks French, we thought the ward would be a great home for us.
A few weeks later we found an apartment and moved in. Wil was soon called to serve in various meaningful ways. Understanding the language took some time, but he felt blessed to quickly become proficient enough in Haitian Creole to help interpret for members during meetings and interviews. Laura was also blessed to serve in various capacities, and we became involved in missionary work.
We learned that when we serve the Lord and His children, He takes care of us. Our experiences in Brooklyn helped keep us grounded. They especially helped Wil care less about the fanfare of Wall Street and remember what matters most. In investment banking, almost everyone works on Sundays. Wil occasionally had to do catch-up work from home, but the Lord blessed us so that he never had to go into the office on Sundays.
When we moved to Brooklyn, we thought we were going to be one of only two families with young children in the ward. But the ward’s boundaries changed two weeks after we moved in, and several other young families also moved in.
Eventually, we intend to move to Gabon. We feel that our experiences in Brooklyn have helped prepare us to better serve the Church and people of Africa. We’re thankful we followed the prompting to move. The Lord blessed us—and continues to bless us—in ways we never could have imagined.

Based on folktales and dances of west Africa, the storyline of the celebration followed Kwaku Anansi, who searched for all the good things in the world to keep for himself. Each stake and district sang and danced and gave him something good, like courage, love, or family. But when Anansi saw the Accra Ghana Temple, its beauty convinced him that he should share all the good things he had collected.

Concordances are great but they do have their drawbacks.
I was just leaving my English class, heading for the lunchroom, when I saw Stan. He was coming down the other side of the hall. Positioning my books more securely under my arm and braving the current of bodies, I forged my way over to meet him.
“Well, we gonna talk about religion some more today?” he asked, glancing at the standard works under my arm. (I’d been to seminary that morning.)
We’d had several discussions about the Church. After entering the cafeteria and taking our places in line, he turned and said, “All right. You show me where the Lord says he has always and will always work through prophets, and I’ll read the Book of Mormon.”
Taking a paperbound copy of the Book of Mormon triumphantly from under my arm and thrusting it toward him, I quoted, “Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.” (We had talked about that last week in seminary.)
“Wait a minute,” he cautioned. “I want to see that in print. Chapter and verse.”
My smile drooped a little bit, and I swallowed hard. “Hmm,” I said clearing my throat, “let’s see.” I fumbled my other books to the floor and leafed to the Bible concordance. “Key words,” I thought. “Just remember the key words. You’ll find it in a second.” Kicking my books along the floor as the lunch line moved ominously toward the serving counter, I turned to prophet in the concordance.
“… Aaron thy brother shall be thy p. … that all the Lord’s people were p. … God will raise up unto thee. … is Saul also among the p. … I am a p. …”
It wasn’t there.
We were almost up to the silverware tray. My friend waited patiently. Thinking of other key words, I stumbled nervously to secret. The scripture wasn’t listed under secret. Almost tearing a page out of the concordance, I flipped to servants. It wasn’t listed there either. Stan was getting his silverware and moving into the line.
Kicking my books along the base of the serving counter, balancing my tray with one hand, Bible propped under my elbow, and turning the pages with my thumb, I glanced under the subdivision God. No luck.
“What key word is it listed under?” I thought as I sat down and watched Stan finish his mashed potatoes.
Out of desperation I tried another key word from the scripture: nothing. Nothing. Stan gulped down the last of his milk and asked me, “Found it yet?” Realizing my meatloaf was getting cold and the butter on my peas was congealing, I turned desperately to the last key word I could think of—reveal.
There it was! “Am. 3:7 he r. his secret unto his servants the prophets.”
I turned to Amos 3:7 and stuck it under Stan’s nose just as he decided the chocolate pudding was too watery and was preparing to leave. He read it, thought about it for a minute, stuffed his napkin into his milk carton and crushed it, and reached out to take the copy of the Book of Mormon.
“Thanks,” he said. “If I have any questions, can I ask you about them?”
“Yes,” I almost shouted as he turned to leave.
“See you tomorrow,” Stan said as he left.
Deciding cold meatloaf, congealed peas, and watery pudding didn’t look all that hot, I decided to leave too.
“Besides,” I thought, “because of that dumb concordance I don’t have enough time to eat anyway.”
It was easy to blame my scriptural clumsiness on the concordance, but at home later that night I realized the cold, hard truth. Although I had read my beautiful leather-bound scriptures many times, I could turn to comparatively few passages. My scripture study had not been systematic, and I had taken such “care” of my books that every page was clean, blank, unmarked.
“Perhaps,” I thought, “if I had marked my scriptures as I read them, taking time to classify and cross reference, I could have skipped the concordance fiasco.”
Duly penitent, I got out my colored pens, pencils, and notebook and became a confirmed scripture marker.
My books don’t look like new anymore. Occasionally there’s a blotch and a mistake. But I can usually find the passage I want when I want it. And I have never since struggled with a concordance while my lunch got cold.

“Grandfather George T. Benson, my father’s father, was bishop of the Whitney ward for 23 years, as I remember. He had been a counselor in the ward in Preston. The ward had grown, and it was decided to divide it by making a ward down in the Whitney rural area. While a meeting of the priesthood was called and it was decided to go ahead with the division, the visitor, who was probably great-grandfather Ezra T. Benson, asked what the ward should be named. Grandfather responded by saying, ‘There’s a young bishop in Salt Lake presiding over the Twentieth Ward by the name of Orson F. Whitney, whom I have often admired. I suggest we call this the Whitney Ward.’

“This was approved. Orson F. Whitney later became a member of the Council of the Twelve, was my mission president, and performed the marriage of Flora and me.”

President Benson

This story took place in the USA.
Chakell laughed at her sister’s silly pictures. It was Christmas Eve, and she and her family were playing a drawing game around the fireplace.
Christmas Eve was Chakell’s favorite day of the whole year. She felt cozy and happy after all the treats and giggling. She didn’t want it to end!
“All right,” Mom said. “It’s time for the white stocking!”
Chakell grinned. Christmas Eve was her favorite day, and this was one of her favorite traditions.
Where she lived, people hung big, fancy stockings by the fireplace at Christmas. On Christmas morning, they would be filled with treats! But this stocking was extra special. Chakell and her family would fill it with gifts for Jesus.
Mom pulled out a beautiful white stocking with gold trim. Then she handed each person a little slip of paper and a pencil. “Write down one thing you want to promise Jesus next year,” she said.
“Then we will put them in the stocking, and we’ll read them next year on Christmas Eve,” Dad added. “But first, let’s read our promises from last year.”
He reached into the stocking and pulled out the small slips of paper from last year. He handed them out, and Chakell quietly read hers: “I will help more at home.” She thought she did a pretty good job at that this year. But what would she write this time?
“I know what I’m going to write!” her sister said happily.
Chakell thought about what she could give to Jesus. What could she do better next year to be more like Him? What would He want her to do?
That’s when she saw her older brother, Braeden, writing something down on his slip of paper.
Chakell frowned. She couldn’t see what he wrote, but she was sure it wasn’t anything he would really do.
Braeden teased Chakell a lot, and they hadn’t been very nice to each other this year. She loved her big brother, but she didn’t think he would ever try to be more like Jesus.
Why does he have to be so mean to me? she thought.
She watched as he folded his paper and put it in the white stocking.
Braeden saw her staring and smiled. “Don’t peek,” he said.
Chakell looked back down at her paper and wrote, “I will try to be nice to everyone this year.” Then she put her paper in the stocking too.
Soon it was time for bed. But Chakell couldn’t stop thinking about what Braeden had written. Nobody was supposed to read anyone else’s promise to Jesus, but she really wanted to know!
While the others got ready for bed, Chakell snuck over to the white stocking. She found Braeden’s slip of paper and opened it.
“I promise to be kinder to Chakell this year,” it said.
She couldn’t believe it. Was this really what Braeden wrote? She felt tears in her eyes and carefully tucked the paper back inside the stocking.
Mom always said that having faith in Jesus Christ could help anyone change and become more like Him. Maybe she was right. Maybe Jesus really could help Braeden and her be nicer to each other.
The next morning as Chakell sat down for breakfast, she still felt warm inside. As soon as Braeden came down the stairs she wrapped her arms around him in a big hug.
Braeden’s eyes widened. “Whoa, what’s this for?”
“I just wanted to give you a hug,” she said. “Merry Christmas!”
Braeden grinned and hugged her back. “Merry Christmas.”
Illustrations by Kevin Fales

It was an important occasion. The president-elect of the United States, Dwight D. Eisenhower, had assembled his cabinet members for their first meeting. He greeted his new advisers warmly, smiling broadly as he chatted and shook hands.
But when everyone was seated, his smile gave way to seriousness. He turned to his Secretary of Agriculture. The incoming administration had great need of divine inspiration, the president said. Because of that, he was asking Ezra Taft Benson to open the cabinet meeting with prayer.
Even though he was taken by surprise, Ezra Taft Benson was a man used to praying, both in public and private. He offered a beautiful, sincere prayer, and it became a tradition to begin all cabinet meetings with an appeal to the Lord.
That was in January 1953. In November 1985, the same man who prayed at that cabinet meeting took another giant step in a life filled with service to God and country. Following the death of President Spencer W. Kimball, the Lord called Ezra Taft Benson to be President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Photo by Eldon K. Linschoten
Throughout his life, President Benson has set an example in both public service and his private life. He brings to his latest calling a wealth of experience and an unquestioned reputation for integrity, love of family, and knowledge of the gospel.
Ezra Taft Benson was born in Whitney, Idaho, on August 4, 1899. He was the first of 11 children of George T. Benson, Jr. and Sarah Dunkley Benson. The birth was difficult. The doctor said he would try to save the mother, but he held little hope for the baby.
President Benson tells the story, “The faith of my father, the administrations of the priesthood, and the quick action of my two grandmothers, who placed me first in a pan of cold water and then in a pan of warm water alternately, brought forth a husky yell to the joy of all” (Ensign, Oct. 1974, pp. 22–23).
The new baby was named after his great-grandfather, the first Apostle selected by Brigham Young after the death of Joseph Smith. That Ezra T. Benson served in the Nauvoo Legion and came west with the first company of pioneers.
As he grew up on the farm, Ezra, or “T” as he was nicknamed, learned the value of work. At age four he could drive a team, and he was soon herding cattle, thinning beets, milking cows, and doing general farm work. When Ezra was 12, his father was called on a mission. The family sold half the farm and shared their two-room home with the family that operated part of the remaining acres. President Benson’s mother was left to care for seven children, and the eighth was born shortly after his father arrived in the mission field.
“Never did I hear a murmur from her lips,” President Benson recalls.
In this time of hardship, the family pitched in. Ezra was known as a “tease” at school, but he worked hard. He also found time to trap muskrats to help meet expenses, and to round up cattle in the mountains. At 16, he single-handedly thinned an entire acre of sugar beets in one day. He loved sports, especially basketball and baseball, and was a friend and teammate of Harold B. Lee, who later became the 11th President of the Church.
Young Ezra also learned lessons from his father, who, after his two-year mission, served in the bishopric and the stake presidency. “Remember,” his father said, “that whatever you do or wherever you are, you are never alone. Our Heavenly Father is always near. You can reach out and receive his aid through prayer.”
As a student at Utah State Agricultural College (now Utah State University), Ezra mustered the courage to ask Flora Amussen for a date. The youngest of the six children raised by her widowed mother, Flora was “the most popular girl in town,” a tennis star, actress, student-body vice-president, and a leader in many activities. Nevertheless, the “farm boy” continued what he described as an “inspirational and soul-satisfying courtship.”
But the romance was postponed by Elder Benson’s mission call to England. He labored in Newcastle, where he became a mission leader. He often dressed in the plain clothes of a workman while preaching to the unemployed on the streets. After two and a half years, he returned home and proposed to Flora. But she decided to serve a mission herself. When she returned from Hawaii, he had graduated from Brigham Young University. They were finally married in the Salt Lake Temple on September 10, 1926.
After further studies in Iowa and graduation with an M.S. in agricultural economics, they returned to the family farm. Ezra Benson was so helpful to other farmers that county commissioners drafted him to be the county agricultural agent.
In addition to his employment, he was an active Scoutmaster. He still loves to tell stories about how he shaved his head to fulfill a promise to his Scouts, about hiking through the mountains, and about winning singing contests. His dedication to Scouting would eventually earn him positions on the National Advisory Board and the Executive Board of the Boy Scouts of America. His service would earn him the Silver Beaver, the Silver Antelope, and the Silver Buffalo awards, the highest awards in Scouting.
His success in the county led to other positions with the University of Idaho Extension Service and a move to Boise. He helped organize the Idaho Cooperative Council and became its secretary in 1933. One of the campaigns for which he was largely responsible made Idaho potatoes famous throughout the land.
After holding many other Church callings, he became president of the Boise Stake in 1938.
In 1939, he was asked to serve as executive secretary of the National Council of Farmer Cooperatives, representing two and a half million farmers nationwide. He moved to the nation’s capital, where he served as the first president of the Washington D.C. Stake.
Over the next five years, he developed a national perspective on farm issues and won the confidence of government officials and business leaders. He was offered a position at triple the salary and decided to discuss the offer with his former mission president, President David O. McKay of the First Presidency.
While in Salt Lake, he was told that Church President Heber J. Grant wished to see him. President Benson recalls:
“President Grant took my right hand in both of his and looked into the depths of my very soul and said: ‘Brother Benson, with all my heart I congratulate you and pray God’s blessings to attend you; you have been chosen as an Apostle of the Church.’”
Although he could hardly believe it was true, he accepted the calling and put aside the high-salaried position he had originally come to discuss. He was sustained at the October conference and set apart on October 7, 1943.

Illustration by Dilleen Marsh
I was baptized when I was 19. Many of my family and friends did not accept my decision to join the Church, but that didn’t stop me. Two weeks later, I started my second year of college. When I got back to campus, I became nervous about my new faith.
I started to worry that I wouldn’t have the courage stand up for my religion. I felt alone. I had never met a member of the Church at college, and I didn’t know where to find a meetinghouse, or if there was even a ward or branch nearby. I prayed to Heavenly Father for courage. I prayed I would have confidence to stand up for my newfound beliefs.
A few days later, I helped some people move in. I met a young man named Brian and we became friends. We were walking through campus one day when he asked me what my plans were for Sunday. I told him I was going to church.
“Oh, what church do you go to?” he asked.
Despite the anxious feeling in my stomach, I straightened up tall and said, “I go to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I was proud of myself! I was also nervous about how Brian would respond. Just then, I saw the missionaries. Before Brian said anything, I told him I would be right back. I ran over to the missionaries. They were happy to meet me and gave me all the details I needed to get to church the next day.
I went back to Brian and explained what had happened. I also shared a little bit about the Church with him, and we continued walking without much difference, except I now had a spring in my step. I also felt the warmth and peace only the Spirit can bring. I had been worried about being alone and not knowing where to go to church. But I believe that those missionaries arriving at that exact spot at that time was Heavenly Father’s way of blessing me for declaring my faith.
More than 10 years have gone by, and since that day I have never been afraid to say, “I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints!”

The news reached me on a telephone that seldom rang. My two sons and I were working in the yard of a mountain home we built as a place of retreat from my heavy responsibilities as president of Brigham Young University. The caller was Elder Boyd K. Packer. He told me about the revelation on the priesthood, which was just being announced. We exchanged expressions of joy, and I walked back to my work. I sat down on the pile of dirt we had been moving and beckoned to my sons. As I told them that all worthy male members of the Church could now be ordained to the priesthood, I wept for joy.

Harry was fighting in a torrent of rain and blood one night on New Guinea during World War II. Shrapnel from enemy mortar shells ripped his stomach apart, and he lay dying in a muddy foxhole. As he pled with God to send a rescue crew, he closed his eyes and a dreamlike picture of his sweetheart flooded his mind’s eye. The image of returning to her and raising a family together gave him the will to live until a British officer named Abel scooped him onto a stretcher. Harry returned home to marry the girl of his dream, and soon they joined the Church. Fifty years later, their posterity is among the strength of the Australia Devonport Stake. Harry was kept alive—physically and spiritually—by his dream of family love.