Gospel Story Finder

Brother Kelly reached into the box of questions our seminary class had written anonymously. “Can I know now who I’ll marry?” he read.
I tried to look bored as he answered my question.
“No,” he said. “At your age, you cannot know who you’ll marry.” Then he kindly explained that we might already be acquainted with our future spouse, but now wasn’t the time to find out. He encouraged us to develop friendships, not exclusive romantic relationships.
I’d read the same counsel in For the Strength of Youth: “Good friendships can and should be developed at every age. … When you begin dating, go in groups or on double dates. Avoid going on frequent dates with the same person” ([2001], 24–25). I wanted to obey. But I also wanted something more.
I wished I could feel the sense of belonging I thought having a boyfriend would provide, and I wanted my attraction to one of my guy friends to have a purpose. It was hard to care about him and have nowhere for those feelings to go.
I knew my secret question was a little unrealistic, but other serious questions remained: Would I ever find someone who loved me? What was the point of having these emotions now? And what was I supposed to do with them?
Besides being drawn to one of my guy friends, I also believed being his girlfriend would prove I was lovable. I should have taken to heart the evidence Heavenly Father had given me that He loved me and that I had nothing to fear.
My patriarchal blessing promised I would find someone to marry at “the appropriate time.” Later I found out that my dad had used the same words when I was a baby and he had asked Heavenly Father to bless me with a husband “at the appropriate time.”
Though Heavenly Father didn’t answer my prayers about whom I might marry, He assured me I would marry, and He even told me when: at the right time. I didn’t need a boyfriend to help me feel secure nearly as much as I needed to remember God’s promises and His love for me.
It was hard to always remember the eternal perspective because my worries threatened to crowd out other thoughts. Would the guy I liked ask me out? Should I ask him? Sometimes I wondered why Heavenly Father hadn’t created His children so that attraction wouldn’t be an issue until after high school!
Now I understand that my feelings had some divine purposes. Feeling attraction motivated me to form friendships. Whether I was socializing in groups or going on dates, getting to know guys taught me to communicate better and treat men respectfully. I learned what traits were uplifting and what kind of person I should marry someday.
Admiring guys also helped me remember to prepare for the temple. Even though high school isn’t the time to build serious romantic relationships, thinking about love at a young age is normal. Our spirits long to be with someone because marriage is a part of Heavenly Father’s plan. As I reflected on my feelings and imagined what an eternal relationship might be like, I was even more determined to qualify for temple blessings.
Strong feelings can be hard to cope with. All my instincts told me I’d be happier channeling my energy toward the guy I liked—thinking about him, talking to him, spending time with him. But whenever I made the effort to ponder the eternal picture, my stress melted away and I was happier. I knew I could find real peace by putting Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ first in my thoughts and actions. This meant studying the scriptures, attending church, finding ways to serve, working on Personal Progress, and following the instructions in my patriarchal blessing.
Nurturing my spirit made it easier to enjoy friendship and dating according to the standards outlined in For the Strength of Youth. Resisting the urge to pursue exclusive relationships wasn’t easy, but it blessed me. I gained spiritual strength by proving to myself I could make hard decisions, even when part of me felt like doing something else.
Although I was disappointed by Brother Kelly’s answer, he spoke the truth. Had I spent high school dating only one person, I would have missed out on meeting people who helped prepare me to recognize my husband when I met him years later. No wonder I couldn’t know the answer to my secret question. Some of my classmates married old friends, but I didn’t. At age 16, I was nine years away from meeting my future spouse!
What could dating only one person in high school have accomplished? Possibly fun times, but also distraction from pursuing other goals, a lack of peace for ignoring Church teachings, and heartbreak when the relationship ended.
In the years following high school, I dated a few men seriously until the Holy Ghost confirmed that “the appropriate time” and person had come into my life. I’m grateful I waited for the best time to pursue exclusive relationships and received all I’d hoped for: a sense of belonging in a marriage that could last for eternity, and a confirmation that Heavenly Father was happy with my decision.

When it came time for my mission I had my father give me a priesthood blessing. Before the blessing, he asked if there was anything in particular I was worried about. I told him I was a little concerned that if I didn’t have much chance to play the piano and write, and all the other things I enjoyed doing, when I came home I would be too rusty. Considering I hoped to make my living doing some of these things, my ability to do them was of major concern to me.
My father gave me a wonderful blessing. In the blessing I was told that while it’s true we need to exercise our talents or lose them, that rule doesn’t apply to missionaries; if I served faithfully, even if I never used my talents once in those two years, when I came home my abilities wouldn’t have diminished but would have increased. What a promise.

Jon gazed out the car window, trying to see his new house through the falling snow.
“We’re here,” Dad said, stopping in front of a white house.
Inside, Jon looked around glumly. “I can’t believe we had to move a week before Christmas. Tonight we should be having friends over for our Christmas cookie party!”
“We’ll have a family party this year,” Mom said. “You and Amy help Dad get the living room in holiday shape—I marked the box of Christmas decorations to be put there. I’ll start in the kitchen.”
The movers had put the right things in each room, so in no time the living room furniture was in place. Even the drapes were hung.
Soon four red stockings hung on the fireplace, and the nativity scene was on the mantel, just as it had been every Christmas that Jon could remember.
Mom, stirring a bowl of cookie dough, came from the kitchen to watch him and Amy fasten big red and green bows where the holly chain was caught into loops on the staircase banister. Dad was straightening the tree in its stand.
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!” Mom sang. She watched as Dad strung tiny red and green lights on the tree, then flipped the switch on. The lights twinkled like red and green fireflies. He stretched to put the star on top.
“It’s tilting left,” Amy said.
“It’s tilting right,” Jon said.
“Make up your minds,” Dad chuckled.
“It’s perfect!” Mom declared.
Jon gazed around the room, “You’d never know that behind every closed door are mountains of unopened boxes.”
“We’ll start on those tomorrow,” Mom said, “but tonight we’ll have our party.” She went back to the kitchen.
Jon anxiously waited for the gingerbread men cookies to be baked. They’d put them into plastic bags, tie the bags with red and green ribbons, and hang them on the tree. It had always been one of his favorite parts of Christmas. … It wouldn’t be the same this year, though, without friends.
Amy went to help Mom, while Dad and Jon hung a big Christmas wreath on the door.
Soon the smell of hot gingerbread cookies set Jon’s mouth to watering. Dad’s nose started to quiver, so they followed the smell to the kitchen.
Dad plopped down on a stool. “Mmmm! Let’s bag the cookies.”
Mom smiled and disappeared into the pantry.
“Oh, no!” she cried. She came back to the kitchen looking stricken. “No plastic bags!”
A Christmas tree without gingerbread men in plastic bags to catch the colors of blinking lights? It was unthinkable!
“We can get some from the store,” Jon said.
Dad shook his head. “The stores here close early.”
Mom looked at Jon. “You’ll just have to go next door and ask if we can borrow some!”
“Ah, Mom, I can’t do that. I’ve never even met the people.”
“It’s a good way to make friends.” Mom handed Jon his coat and shooed him out the door.
The snow had stopped, and night was settling in. Jon wondered where the time had gone.
He went next door and knocked. “Hi, I’m Jon, the new boy in the white house,” he said to the girl who came to the door. “We need to borrow some small plastic bags.”
“Hi, my name’s Teresa,” she said. “Plastic sandwich bags? We don’t have any. Maybe Reggie has some.” She turned to her mother who had come up to welcome Jon. “May I take Jon to Reggie’s house?”
“Si (yes).” Teresa’s mom asked Jon, “Is it OK if Rosita and Manuel go with you?”
“Sure,” Jon said. “May they come home with me afterward for a cookie party?” He smiled at Teresa’s brother and sister as all three, at their mother’s nod, scrambled to get their wraps on.
At Reggie’s house, a pretty African-American woman answered the door. She smiled as Teresa explained what they wanted.
“Reggie,” she called, “please bring the new box of sandwich bags from the cupboard.”
Reggie grinned shyly at Jon. “Hi. Did you just move into the white house?”
“Yes. And we need the bags to put gingerbread cookies in. Do you want to come help?”
“You bet! OK, Mom?”
“Of course. Have a good time. It’s nice to meet you, Jon.”
This is more like it! Jon thought. It feels a lot more like Christmas now.
On the way back to his house, the children met a freckle-faced, red-haired boy. His name was Jim, and he was Reggie’s friend, so Jon invited him to come along. “I think our phone’s working, so you can call home and make sure it’s OK.”
Jon had just opened his front door, when someone called to Teresa.
“It’s Reiko, my friend from Japan,” Teresa said. “May she come too? Her family just moved here. They don’t know about Christmas, so the missionaries are teaching her family about Jesus Christ.”
“Missionaries?” Jon asked. “Mormon missionaries?”
“Sure,” said Teresa. “We’re all Mormons, except Reiko.”
Wow! All right! Jon exulted to himself. Mormons are the same, no matter where you live! Christmas is going to be Christmas after all! Aloud, he said, “You bet she can come—the more the merrier.” Teresa motioned for Reiko to join them, then introduced her to Jon and explained about the party.
Mom and Dad looked startled when seven kids paraded into the house.
Before Jon could close the door, another young face peered in.
“Aleki!” cried Jim. “He’s visiting from Samoa. Is it all right if he comes too?”
“Hurray—friends for our Christmas cookie party!” Amy whooped.
Soon everyone had been introduced, and Mom happily began to stir up more cookie dough. “Jim and Reiko, you’d better call now to let your parents know where you are. Aleki too.”
Laughing and chattering, the kids washed their hands, then started stuffing cookies into plastic bags.
Dad laughed. “Watch it—you’re eating more than you’re bagging!” He played a tape of Christmas carols, and everybody sang along. Soon all the bags were filled.
“Why don’t you kids hang the cookies on the tree,” Dad said. “Mom and I will sit on the couch and supervise.”
“Look at all those young arms,” Mom observed quietly to Dad. “See how they work together. Dark brown, lighter brown, golden brown, creamy ivory, and white. Red and green aren’t the true Christmas colors. The true colors of Christmas are the beautiful colors of the children all over the world.”

Teenagers in Taiwan have to get up at 5:00 a.m. to go to seminary at 5:30. This is a very big challenge for me because I have a lot of exams and homework. So I have often been late for seminary. Originally, I blamed the Church for making me get up so early. But my parents advised me to pray and ask Heavenly Father for help.
At first, I thought Heavenly Father couldn’t help me. But one night I knelt down by the bed and prayed, asking God to help me find the reason I couldn’t sleep enough. After that, I reviewed my routine. I saw that I wasted a lot of time before bed.
Now I try to go to bed earlier. I pray before bed, thanking God for giving me happiness and peace and for the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
I pray before bed, thanking God for giving me happiness and peace and for the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

When the missionaries taught me the gospel, the friend who gave me the Book of Mormon promised me that if I read it cover to cover in English, I would learn to speak English. I took that promise seriously, so I started reading, even though I didn’t understand much at first. I read and studied the Book of Mormon every day and every night. I even kept it under my pillow so that if I woke up at night, I could start reading again.
Within a year, I spoke English well enough to work in an English-speaking call center. After saving money, I was called to the India Bangalore Mission.
During my mission, I was really concerned about not having all of my family together in the Church. One day I read this verse: “Behold, you have had many afflictions because of your family; nevertheless, I will bless you and your family, yea, … and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church” (Doctrine and Covenants 31:2).
I felt the Spirit so strong that I knew this verse was speaking to me. It took 14 years for that promise to come true in my family. But three years ago, I baptized both of my parents. Now we are all members of the Church except for one of my brothers.
I say this often: “The Church is a place where dreams come true.” Because of the Church, I have the things I desired most. I learned to speak English. I served a mission that was full of miracles. After my mission, I met Radhika, who is now my beautiful wife, and we were sealed in the Bern Switzerland Temple. We have a four-year-old son. My family is with me in the Church. All of my good dreams have come true.

The line of 31 horsemen snaked along the steep, rocky ridge that cupped a narrow beach on the northern shore of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Below them, on the margin of sand, a sheepherder and his dogs moved their sheep from Squaw Springs.

The horsemen dismounted, and slipping and sliding down the hillside, led their horses to a large cave overlooking the water. After a 10-mile ride across the Promontory Mountains to the east, they’d arrived at their destination, a former Indian wintering ground.

The Explorers and Venturers of the Corinne Second Ward tethered their horses and prepared to eat lunch. With them were their advisers, Bill and Bob Smoot; several fathers and young brothers; Bishop Royal Norman and a counselor; the service and activities committee chairman; and their guide, veteran horseman Jesse Nicholas.

Because Corinne is a close-knit, rural ward, the young men sometimes enjoy sharing a variety of super activities with others in the ward. “We invite the young brothers along so they can get a taste of Exploring and look forward to it,” adviser Bill Smoot said.

This particular trek to the pair of caves formerly used by the Shoshone Indians took place during the Christmas holidays. A mild winter had left the area bare of snow, and the unseasonably high temperatures, ranging in the 40s, made horseback riding a pleasure.

This journey began one Wednesday morning when the youth met at the Smoot dairy farm to help load the stock into trucks and horse trailers. Bishop Norman, driving another truck filled with 10 horses, met them at the farm. They assembled for prayer and advice from the bishop. “Please no bullets in your pistols or rifles. We don’t want any shooting accidents, and you can load your guns when we get to a suitable place. Let’s remember to treat the property with respect so we’ll be welcomed back.”

After prayer they went by caravan the 50 miles to the Nick Chournos sheep corrals in Booze Valley near Promontory. The horses were unloaded, saddled and bridled, and everyone rode up Whittaker Pass, led by Brother Nicholas. Three of the horses carried double, including the bishop’s. The bishop explained that super activities such as this one have kept the Explorer program going well in the ward for the past 19 years, the length of service of the adviser. He noted that about 85 percent of the young men eventually go on missions. “During one five-year period, every one of them went on missions. I feel activities such as this help keep them interested in the Church.”

The Venturer adviser observed that the activities of the two groups have helped to cement father-and-son relationships. He said several dads have been encouraged into activity as a result.

Six mule deer sprang from under the cedars halfway up Whittaker Pass and bounded up the slope opposite the gully. The riders paused to watch. Some of the less conditioned—riders and horses—rested before moving on.

Bill Smoot, Explorer adviser, said that every other year they spend a week on a pack trip in the Uinta Mountains east of Corinne. “That way every Explorer gets at least one pack trip,” he said.

Super activities are not only events for the Explorers and Venturers, the adviser emphasized. During the spring the young men painted three houses belonging to widows in the ward and participated in other projects.

During the descent through South Canyon on the other side of Whittaker Pass, the horsemen broke into groups, with the slower horses bringing up the rear. Occasionally they stopped to admire the rugged winter beauty of the mountains.

One of the riders said another super event planned for the year will be a Tin Lizzie Derby involving all the posts in the stake. Each post will buy a car, an old clunker, for a nominal sum, get it into running condition if necessary, and compete in various skill tests.

“After that,” the Venturer adviser said, “they will sell the car and return the money to the respective posts. The goal is to see which unit can get the most money. They may advertise the car in the paper, sell it to a dealer, or break it down for parts,” he said.

Past activities have included visits to the Utah State Prison near Salt Lake City, to nearby military installations, and to the air traffic control facility at Salt Lake International Airport. They have boated on lakes, visited caverns, and attended rodeos.

These activities have served as confidence builders for some and have helped others better understand one another. This has resulted in a closer unity among the post members. In addition to opportunities for spiritual growth, the activities have kept them physically fit. Some of this unity and activity is demonstrated in the wrestling prowess of a half-dozen young men in the ward. Corinne Second Ward’s Aaronic Priesthood holders represent 50 percent of the local high school wrestling team. Some have won recognition in AAU-sanctioned wrestling events.

Because they come from a rural ward, they plan well in advance so their farm and stock work is taken care of in their absence. During the summer they have to plan around irrigation turns. Fortunately, there are often enough family members to take up the slack while they’re gone.

They rode several miles down the canyon through pasture country, then over the ridge surrounding Squaw Springs where the two caves were located. Brother Nicholas said artifacts found in the Indian caves have been removed for further study by a university. Thus visits to the caves don’t damage archaeological investigations. Brother Nicholas noted the caves were used during the winters by Shoshone Indians.

“One of them told my grandfather about the caves, but he never could find them. Tom Whittaker did, though, and that’s how I know of them.” He continued, “That Indian said that when he was a youngster, the entire band was trapped inside the upper cave by an enemy tribe. They got mighty dry before they were able to get out.”

The riders dismounted at the upper cave, and the lunches were unpacked from the saddlebags. There were several smashed sandwiches and flattened dessert packages, but all was eaten with good humor. A number of items were shared with others, and there was food left over.

After exploring the cave they carefully packed any litter into their saddlebags. The young men mounted again and rode down the hill where they investigated the lower cave before turning home.

Halfway back up South Canyon they met the property owner who was conferring with one of his herders. They exchanged greetings and rode around the grazing sheep. Because sheep scatter easily, owners don’t like visitors in the area. The Explorers had asked permission to travel through, so there was no problem.

Back at the sheep corrals the young men engaged in an impromptu target match, utilizing the soft drink cans retrieved from the cave. As they practiced with .22 caliber pistols and rifles, Bishop Norman said, “Had there not been sheep around we could have stopped along the way and practiced.”

After the horses were led into the trucks and the last round was fired, the Explorers and their guests loaded up for the return trip home.

Bill Smoot summed up the value of this trip and other super activities. “They help us grow closer together, boys and leaders. Every young man in our ward is active in the Church, and every leader knows each of the boys well. Part of the reason for that is because we plan regular super activities.”

When I was 22, my life took an unexpected turn: my mother passed away. She and my father were people of great faith, and they had raised me in the gospel. After her death, my father moved away from our country to the United States. As time went by, I began to feel very lonely since I am my parents’ only child. I did not have my mother with me here on the earth, and my father lived far away; I only saw him for three weeks out of the year.
It was with those feelings that I began to increasingly seek refuge in my “friends” from college and from the office where I was working. Little by little, I began to find false happiness in temporal things. I stopped attending church, and I gradually became completely inactive. Later, I married a wonderful young man who, though he had very good principles, did not know about the gospel. We had three children: Leah, Isaac, and Ismael.
Illustration by Kelley McMorris
One October, my father came to visit and see the new baby. During his visit, six-year-old Leah asked her grandfather why he never brought her grandmother with him. My father then explained to her that Grandmother was in a very special place close to Heavenly Father. As soon as my father left, Leah forcefully told me, “Mom, I want to meet Grandma. I know she is in heaven, but I also want us to be there together someday—Grandma and Grandpa, Dad, Isaac, Ismael, and you, and me. I want to live with you forever. I want us to be the same family up there that we are down here so we can play with Grandma!”
I did not know what to say. I touched her beautiful, innocent face, and then I walked off to my bedroom. I fell on my knees and cried until I ran out of tears. I asked Heavenly Father for forgiveness. I knew that I had left the path that would allow us to live together as an eternal family. I had failed in my responsibility to lead them along the right path, and I had failed to talk to my husband about the gospel.
When I was able to stand, I contacted a Church leader, and he put me in contact with the elders in my ward. The following night, they came and taught my husband. From that night on, our lives changed forever. Now we attend church every Sunday as a family. I have a calling that allows me to help less-active sisters. We are also preparing to attend the temple.
The Spirit of God sometimes guides us through those we least expect. This time it happened through my six-year-old daughter. I now know that by being sealed in the temple, I can live with my family forever.

Elder Byron J. Gilbert, a missionary, reported that in 1992 he and his wife, Emma, traveled from Nairobi to Chyulu to teach and interview eight candidates for baptism, but 75 people came for the discussion. During church, they had to fill the sacrament trays three times.9 Another missionary, Sister Linda Leavitt, who served in Chyulu for more than a year, said that many who desired to join the Church waited three months before their names could be placed on a waiting list to be taught the missionary discussions. During the three-month period, all attended church and most lived the law of tithing, kept the Word of Wisdom, and fasted.10

Such cruelty is a mystery to Adjoa. Her own heart is tender toward all suffering or sadness. She was already comforting those who stood in need of comfort before she ever made baptismal covenants. And if she can’t help someone personally, she fasts and prays for him. When her younger brother, Dominic, who had been living with her aunt and uncle, was taken to live with his grandmother in London, Adjoa was worried about him. She fasted and prayed for him and was comforted.

Adjoa dreams of being a wife and mother someday, but she is also preparing herself to be a businesswoman until that day comes. Whatever happens, she won’t forget the real reason she came to earth. “Heavenly Father sent us here to get a body and be tested and then return to Him. He gave us a Savior who died on the cross to save us from our sins. I love Jesus. I love Heavenly Father.”

One of Ghana’s most important crops is cacao, from which yummy chocolate is made. But Ghana’s future depends on something sweeter than chocolate. It rests with children like Adjoa whose love and goodness will call down the powers of heaven on behalf of their people.

Note: Since this story was written, Adjoa has been reunited with her parents and three brothers.

“What can I do to be more perfect?” was the question many people asked themselves that day. And for many the answer was found in St. Matthew 25:40. “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” [Matt. 25:40]
James was one of those. He enjoys helping people, but sometimes they need your help at the most inopportune times. “It seems like your mother always wants you to do something when your favorite show is on television or when you are in the most exciting part of reading a book. Why don’t they ever ask you to take out the garbage when you are studying?”
His goal for Thursday was to do what he was asked, when he was asked to do it, and most importantly, to do it cheerfully. “It was a lot of work to remember that. Sometimes I had to stop and remind myself to do it now. But by the end of the day, I had conditioned myself to respond immediately. It just gave me a good feeling,” he concluded.

They might, however, have been less impressed had they ventured out of the heart of the city into the residential area. For all of its bustle, the little city of 20,000 Saints and gentiles was still a country town. Neat brick or plastered adobe houses set well back in fenced lots lined the streets. Each lot included space for a garden, fruit trees, shrubs, chicken houses, and a barn for a horse and buggy and, in many cases, a cow. Loose livestock wandering the city streets was a chronic nuisance; in the midst of April conference that year, a cow was found prostrate on North Temple Street in the 18th Ward area. After two days, the Deseret News editor reported that “the cow … has gone the way of all cows, at last, but did not go quite far enough to please the good people of that immediate neighborhood. The present state of weather will soon render the carrion a disagreeable source of annoyance and complaint.” (DN, April 10.)

No one seemed to take the matter of bovine intruders too seriously until a cow lumbered in at the front door of a local restaurant and became stuck between the tables, unable to move forward and unwilling to move backward. At this point, the city council passed an ordinance declaring that after June 7, 1880, all cows found running at large would be impounded by the city. (DN, June 4.)

Eventually, this solved the problem, though for a time indignant cow owners simply kept their animals penned until the marshall had made his rounds at night, then turned them loose to forage at will. (DN, June 11.)

Why is Brother Lenstrom’s carrying case so beat-up? Katie wondered. She was waiting for her dad after church, and Brother Lenstrom’s brown leather carrying case was the only interesting thing to look at. She decided that at church next Sunday she would watch him carefully to see how his case had gotten so shabby.
The next Sunday, when her family got to church, Brother Lenstrom was just ahead of them. Katie ran to see if he had his carrying case. An elderly couple in front of him was struggling with the door, so Brother Lenstrom hurried over and stuck his carrying case in it before it closed on them. The door left a big mark on his carrying case, but Brother Lenstrom just smiled.
Katie took out her piece of paper and wrote:
1. Held door open
When she got to Primary, Katie was glad to see that Brother Lenstrom was a substitute teacher. Now she could keep watching him and his carrying case. He kept it on the floor until singing time, then, to the delight of all the children, used it to beat out the rhythm of “Book of Mormon Stories.” Katie quickly scribbled on her paper:
2. Drum for Primary
Katie persuaded her family to sit in the row behind Brother Lenstrom in sacrament meeting. Sister Brown and her two little boys were sitting next to him. He smiled at the squirming boys, asked Sister Brown something, then took a Friend magazine out of his carrying case. He opened it to the For Little Friends section and gave it to the boys. Katie took out her list and wrote:
3. Holds FRIEND to share
During the meeting, when one of the boys was trying to color a picture, Brother Lenstrom let him use the carrying case as a drawing table. Katie got out her list and wrote:
4. Drawing table
After sacrament meeting Katie didn’t think she’d see Brother Lenstrom again, but she did—at the drinking fountain. He was helping a small boy reach the water by using his carrying case as a stepping stool. Katie wrote on her list:
5. Stepping stool
On the way home, while she looked at her list, she realized that Brother Lenstrom’s beat-up carrying case was always used in the service of others. It was more than an ordinary carrying case—it was a “caring case!”

Doug shared his parents’ dismay as they left their car and looked around at the littered highway rest area. What should have been a cool, green oasis for weary travelers looked as though it were part of a garbage dump! There were plenty of trash containers, but most of them were practically empty. Around them were scattered cans, paper plates, and plastic cups and utensils. Napkins and old newspapers blew along the sidewalk ahead of them.
“I don’t know how we can possibly eat our picnic lunch in this dirty place,” Doug’s mother sighed. “And just look at that! Vandals have chopped out the center board of the only picnic table left.”
“It’s disgraceful,” Father said angrily. “It costs the government a lot of money to provide these little mini-parks for the public. The trees and lawns are beautiful and well trimmed. Why can’t people appreciate such facilities and care for them?”
“Because they have no pride,” Mother murmured sadly as she fanned flies away from the baby.
“I’ve read that people in some countries don’t tolerate such abuse of parks and other public facilities,” Mother continued. “Bystanders shame any offender into picking up discarded objects. And if that doesn’t work, one of them picks up the rubbish even though he didn’t drop it. Can you imagine what a terrible impression this mess would make on visitors from other countries?”
“Well, we certainly can’t eat here,” Father said. “We’ll use the rest rooms and then try to find a cleaner spot farther down the highway.”
“Why don’t we clean up this one instead?” Doug suggested. “All the others will probably be just as dirty. We need to stretch our legs after the long ride anyway. The exercise will be good for us.”
His parents looked startled but pleased as their dark-haired son began picking up and depositing handfuls of litter into one of the trash cans. They smiled when they saw two other children from a nearby table join him. Soon other boys and girls scrambled after the litter and suddenly everyone made a game of cleaning up.
A station wagon pulled up and parked. The occupants climbed out and headed for the outdoor drinking fountain. A teenage girl watched the children and then returned to the station wagon and took out an overflowing litter bag. She was careful to see that every scrap was emptied inside the trash can. She stooped to catch a blowing paper and deposited it in the container too.
Doug’s mother smiled. “Neatness seems as contagious as littering. I’ll bet I can clean up this pile of litter before you can gather up that stuff over there by the fountain!” she challenged Father.
A few at a time, the people who had eaten at nearby tables began to pick up around them, some a little self-consciously. Even travelers who seemed in a hurry took time to pick up a few cups or bottles before leaving. Children giggled and raced after the few remaining plates and napkins that tumbled about in the wind.
An elderly couple smiled as they watched. In a very short time the rest area was spotless, and the many travelers from different places had taken time to get acquainted with each other. The people in each car honked and waved as they left to resume their journey.
Doug was very hungry by the time the family had all washed up and spread their lunch on a shaded redwood picnic table. A cool breeze rustled leaves overhead, but there were no pieces of litter blowing about. Everyone had a feeling of pride as they ate their lunch and enjoyed the now-beautiful spot.
A young couple parked their van and got out. “What a lovely place, and it’s so much cleaner than the others we’ve seen,” the blond girl said, stopping in the shade. The man tossed his paper cup at a trash can. It hit the rim and bounced off, scattering ice. The girl dropped a pink tissue and shrugged as it tumbled across the lawn. They looked startled and embarrassed as Doug picked up their litter and deposited it in a trash barrel. “This place was filthy, too,” he explained, “but my family and a bunch of other travelers took time to clean it up.”
A big semitrailer truck pulled into the circular drive and parked. Two weary-looking men got out and started up the walk toward the rest rooms. One man dropped a candy bar wrapper. The young couple was leaving now but the blond girl stooped to retrieve the wrapper and place it in the trash barrel. The truck driver glanced down at the tattered road map he had started to toss, then took a few extra steps to drop it into the barrel. “I’ve never seen one of these places so clean. It’s a nice change,” he said. His driving companion nodded in agreement.
“In a way I hate to leave,” Doug murmured, as his mother folded the tablecloth and packed the picnic basket. “We won’t find another place as nice as this.”
“Then we’ll just take the time to make it as nice,” his mother countered. “Look what happened when you started picking up litter. It started a cleanup campaign like a chain reaction. Maybe all those travelers who worked together here today will keep fighting thoughtless pollution wherever they go. Pride in our country has to start somewhere. Who knows, maybe you started it here today!”
They were back in the car, preparing to leave, when a woman put a leash on her dog and started strolling up the grassy slope where the two truck drivers had spread blankets for a nap.
One man raised up on his elbow and called, “What’s the matter, lady? Didn’t you read that sign? There’s a roped-off area over there for walking dogs. How do you expect to keep rest areas clean unless you keep the rules?”
The flustered lady hurried back down the slope and headed toward the area set aside for pets.
“I guess I did start a chain reaction, didn’t I?” Doug remarked with a grin.

Our family recently acquired a personal computer, and I enthusiastically set about learning to use it. Having artistic interests, one thing that I found fascinating was a paint program. The first day I had great fun using circles and lines of varying sizes to create simple pictures. The magic of computers was mine!
A couple of days later, as I was exploring the various functions of this same program, I discovered a wealth of type styles and sizes that I could call up and reproduce on the screen. Then I found some preset designs and borders. Now I could make signs and posters. I had arrived!
Eventually, I found in the manual some detailed pictures that could be created with my program. I tried but found it impossible to reproduce them because of the clumsiness of drawing with the mouse attachment. I decided that I must lack some basic coordination gene and resolved to stick to what I already could do.
Then I learned about a command that would magnify an area of any picture so that it could be added to or taken from one small dot at a time. With this knowledge I finally, painstakingly created a picture that was the equal of any example in the manual.
I am still learning new ways to use my computer. But, more importantly, my experience with it has convinced me of the need to continue daily in learning new ways to make the gospel a living, directing force in my life.

My friend Stephen was not just any friend. He was awesome in every way, and I really looked up to him. One day, he asked me if I wanted to know about something that made him incredibly happy. Of course I did. Anything that was important to him was important to me. He continued to ask me other questions before he would reveal what it was that made him so happy. Did I want to know the truth? I finally realized that he was probably talking about his church. After a couple of weeks, he asked if I would speak with the missionaries. I thought, “Why not? Nothing is going to happen from just one visit.”
The day came to meet the missionaries, and as I walked into Stephen’s house, I was quite nervous. I had no idea what to expect. The elders introduced themselves. They seemed extremely nice and fun. Then after a prayer, they began the first discussion. I remember the feeling so well. As they talked about Joseph Smith, the Book of Mormon, and Jesus Christ, I knew that there was something special about this gospel.
When I arrived home, I told my mom everything I had learned and how much sense it made. My mom seemed slightly interested but not even close to the level of excitement I had. I was filled with some sort of energy, and I wanted to know more.
The next week I had the second discussion. Again, everything taught made sense. At the close of the discussion, one of the elders asked if I would be baptized. Honestly, I was shocked. I didn’t think this question would come up so soon. I told the elders that I simply didn’t know. They asked me to kneel with them and pray aloud to know if the things I had been taught were true. I had never prayed vocally with others before, so I was rather timid.
My best friend, the missionaries, and I knelt, and I prayed. I prayed to Heavenly Father to know if Joseph Smith was a prophet. I asked if the Book of Mormon was true. I pleaded to know if this was the true church and if it was in His plan for me to join it. I prayed for guidance and direction. I prayed to know what Heavenly Father wanted me to do. After probably 10 minutes of sincere prayer, I said amen and opened my eyes.
All I could feel was the Spirit. It was the most wonderful feeling I had ever felt. I was amazed with the knowledge and truth I had just been blessed with. I looked at the missionaries and told them I wanted to be baptized. We set the date. I knew at that moment that everything I had been taught and everything to come was true. I had gained my own testimony.
When I told my mother, she was more understanding than I had expected. She told me that if I really felt this was what I needed to do, then I should do it.
Sooner than I could believe, I was getting ready to be baptized. My whole family attended, which made it even more special. As my best friend and I walked into the font, wearing all white, the Spirit was present. I was about to be clean, as clean as I had been when I was born.
When I came out of the water, I couldn’t believe it. I had been baptized. This was my first best day.

One cool, misty morning last October, Don stood near the gigantic rocket, talking to the Mia Maids and teachers from his own ward. One of them was his daughter Lisa. He had just given them a tour of one of the simulators he used in training for the Skylab 3 flight. They had learned the function of the various gauges and switches, discussed how men work in weightlessness, talked about emergency procedures. They had sat in chairs just like those the astronauts would use and marveled at the incredible investment of time and training a person must make to take his or her place in one of those seats.
Now Brother Lind told them a little bit about the Saturn V rocket and the Apollo mission.
Then he talked to them about another journey, another mission, the one all mortals undertake, about the other mission control, and about the training that can get mortal adventurers home safely with their mission fulfilled.
“If we’ve learned anything in the space program,” he said, “it’s that we don’t want to make emergency decisions during an emergency. We want to think ahead of time about all the kinds of things that might come up and have preplanned decisions, which we call the mission rules, on what we’re going to do. When you go off to college and get invited to a fraternity rush party, and somebody shoves a glass of beer or a cocktail into your hand, if you have never thought about whether you believe in the Word of Wisdom, that’s far too late. Or if some guy pulls into a dark, country lane with you, that is not the time to start deciding if you believe in chastity. You should have decided that a long time beforehand. When we train for a flight we practice our procedures for every possible emergency through lifelike simulations. Then if a real emergency comes up we already know exactly what to do. So you’d better review your lovers’ lane procedures before you get there, or what you’re going to do in the military base before you get off the base and some new buddy says, ‘Come on with me. I’ll take you to a great place.’
“In life you’re going to get in these tight situations where, in a sense, you’re drastically alone. There may be 50 other people at the fraternity rush party, but boy, if you’ve never turned down your first cocktail, you’re going to feel all alone, and it’s going to be your background and your training and what you’ve thought out ahead of time that’s going to get you through some of those critical things.”
Don couldn’t be with them long, because he had many duties, but the young men and women had been dismissed from school till after lunch, so they took a tour of the visitors’ center, tracing the U.S. space program from the very beginning right up to the present. But although their heads were full of lunar buggies and Gemini capsules, they went away that day with an increased understanding that their own mission was far more important than anything that would ever come out of NASA.

Just before dusk on September 12, a party of missionaries returning from the British Mission arrived in camp. They were led by Elder Franklin D. Richards (1821–99) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, my wife’s great-great-grandfather. When Elder Richards and the others saw the difficulties of the handcart company, they promised to hurry on to the Salt Lake Valley and send back help as soon as possible.
When the Franklin D. Richards party reached Salt Lake City, they immediately reported to President Young the precarious condition of the immigrants. The Saints in the valley had not expected more immigrants until the following year, and news of their plight spread like wildfire.
Two days later, October 6, 1856, general conference was held in the Old Tabernacle. From the pulpit, President Young made the call for men, food, and supplies in mule- or horse-drawn wagons to leave the following day to render assistance.2

“Once when I was a baby, I was very ill and my father was away from home. It was a Sunday evening, and our home teacher—called a block teacher then—came to our home before sacrament meeting. He had heard that I was ill, and he’d stopped to ask if there was anything that he could do. Mother said no, so he left. But after sacrament meeting he felt impressed to come back. This time Mother asked him to bless me, which he did, and in the blessing he promised that I would recover. That night Mother woke in the middle of the night and checked on me. When she did, she thought that I was dead, because my skin felt cold, but it was only because the fever had left me.”

Some years ago, President Romney and I were sitting in my office. The door opened and a fine young man came in with a troubled look on his face, and he said, “Brethren, I am going to the temple for the first time tomorrow. I have made some mistakes in the past, and I have gone to my bishop and my stake president, and I have made a clean disclosure of it all; and after a period of repentance and assurance that I have not returned again to those mistakes, they have now adjudged me ready to go to the temple. But, brethren, that is not enough. I want to know, and how can I know, that the Lord has forgiven me, also.”

What would you answer one who would come to you asking that question? As we pondered for a moment, we remembered King Benjamin’s address contained in the book of Mosiah. Here was a group of people who now were asking for baptism, and they said they viewed themselves in their carnal state:
“… And they all cried aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; …
“… after they had spoken these words the Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they were filled with joy, having received a remission of their sins, and having peace of conscience. …” (Mosiah 4:2–3.)
There was the answer.
If the time comes when you have done all that you can to repent of your sins, whoever you are, wherever you are, and have made amends and restitution to the best of your ability; if it be something that will affect your standing in the Church and you have gone to the proper authorities, then you will want that confirming answer as to whether or not the Lord has accepted of you. In your soul-searching, if you seek for and you find that peace of conscience, by that token you may know that the Lord has accepted of your repentance. Satan would have you think otherwise and sometimes persuade you that now having made one mistake, you might go on and on with no turning back. That is one of the great falsehoods. The miracle of forgiveness is available to all of those who turn from their evil doings and return no more, because the Lord has said in a revelation to us in our day: “… go your ways and sin no more; but unto that soul who sinneth [meaning again] shall the former sins return, saith the Lord your God.” (D&C 82:7.) Have that in mind, all of you who may be troubled with a burden of sin.
And to you who are teachers, may you help to lift that great burden from those who are carrying it, and who have their conscience so seared that they are kept from activity, and they don’t know where to go to find the answers. You help them to that day of repentance and restitution, in order that they too may have that peace of conscience, the confirming of the Spirit of the Lord that he has accepted of their repentance.

Some years ago I was invited to speak to a group at Harvard University. At that time a member of the Church was campaigning for national office and this created much interest.
Both faculty members and students were to be present. I, of course, hoped that the gospel message would be accepted and that the meeting would end in harmony of views.
As I prayed that this might result, there came to me the strong impression that this prayer would not be answered.
I determined that however preposterous talk of angels and golden plates and restoration might be to them, I would teach the truth with quiet confidence, for I have a testimony of the truth. If some must come from the meeting unsettled and disturbed, it would not be me. Let them be disturbed, if they would.
It was as the Spirit foretold. Some shook their heads in amazement, even cynical amusement, that anyone could believe such things.
But I was at peace. I had taught the truth, and they could accept it or reject it as they pleased.
There is always the hope, and often it is true, that one among them with an open mind may admit one simple thought: “Could it possibly be true?” Combine that thought with sincere prayer, and one more soul enters a private sacred grove to find the answer to “Which of all the churches is true, and which should I join?”