Gospel Story Finder

“As Easter approaches, I have reflected on an experience my wife and I had in our recent travels to Central America. On our last day in Guatemala City, we attended a devotional where four stake Primary choirs shared musical and verbal testimonies of Jesus Christ.
“It was a beautiful, heartwarming meeting. I will never forget the sincere, simple testimony of Brother Ángel Zúñiga. As he bore a simple testimony of Jesus Christ, I felt a powerful witness in my heart that Ángel really does know that Jesus Christ is his Savior. It was a moment I won’t soon forget.
“Later, after the devotional, we were shaking hands with each of the children. One young boy asked me, ‘How is Jesus?’ I responded, ‘Jesus loves you, and He has confidence in you, and you can have confidence in Him.’ This young boy responded with a big, knowing smile that filled my soul with joy.
“As we think about what our Savior did for us during the week preceding Easter, I invite each of you to fill your souls with the knowledge that Jesus loves you, He has confidence in you, and you can have confidence in Him.”

I am acquainted with a couple from Central America. As members of a different faith, they were concerned when their young son passed away without being baptized. They consulted their minister and were told that the baby would go to limbo. "Where is limbo?" they inquired. The response was that it is believed to be a place of darkness, despair, and hopelessness.
Soon after, this couple joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They learned of eternal families and that their son was not in limbo but that he was saved and could be theirs forever. They learned of and were sealed in the temple, receiving great hope, with joy replacing despair.

Those who knew my father knew how active he was. Someone once told me that he could do the work of three men. He rarely slowed down. In 1938 he was operating a successful business when he received a call from the President of the Church, Heber J. Grant.
President Grant told him they were reorganizing the Presiding Bishopric that day and wanted my father to serve as counselor to LeGrand Richards. This caught my father by surprise, and he asked if he could pray about it first.
President Grant said, “Brother Wirthlin, there are only 30 minutes before the next session of conference, and I want to have some rest. What do you say?”
Of course my father said yes. He served 23 years, 9 of them as Presiding Bishop of the Church.

I remember vividly my first view of an iceberg. In 1937 Sister Kimball and I made our first crossing of the Atlantic by steamer from Montreal, out through the St. Lawrence River and into the North Atlantic.
One day when we were well out into the ocean, there was excitement on the ship. An iceberg had been sighted. Most of the passengers rushed to the deck to see this sight. We could see it in the distance—a great white object against the dark sea and the azure of the sky.
There it floated quietly in the water like a sharp peak of a high mountain range, a thing of beauty to behold. All my life I had heard about them, and now, for the first time, it was there before my eyes—a sharp mountain peak of ice.
This recalled to our minds the tragic sinking of the Titanic, steamship of the White Star Line, on its maiden trip across the ocean. The huge iceberg collided with this large, new ship late in the evening, April 14, 1912. Fifteen hundred and three persons, many of them eminent in Britain and in the United States, were drowned as the ship sank and only 703 were saved.
Then four years ago, flying from England to the United States, we passed over Greenland and saw them again. Much of our trip we had traveled above the blanket of clouds, but as we flew over Greenland, the sky was clear and free of clouds. The sun shone brightly. Seldom does the human eye ever see such beauty and grandeur. Stretching out in the distance was the mile-thick blanket of ice over the great, domed island. We saw the thick glaciers creeping slowly down the valleys to the sea, where they break off and become icebergs. The fjords were full of floating mountains of ice drifting on their way to the ocean. Here was the birthplace of countless such icebergs as we had seen 33 years earlier.

Usually we think of the bishop as the one who dispenses the comfort and advice needed in a ward to his family and to others. But when death took the son of her bishop and his wife, JoAnne spent countless hours talking with the grieving mother. JoAnne demonstrated a real ability to rely on the Spirit as she attempted to help. Her Ph.D. study is in death and grieving, so she knew how to help from a clinical as well as a sisterly perspective. JoAnne’s skill and spiritual sensitivity blessed a whole family. The mother told others in the ward that JoAnne often answered her prayers through an unexpected phone call or visit.

When I heard the story, I felt good that the bishop and his wife let JoAnne have this opportunity to give as a way of expressing her love and sympathy. This was that family’s season to be the receivers and JoAnne’s time to be the giver.

Last summer, the Olympic Games were held in Sydney, Australia. Certain rules and disciplines were attached to the various Olympic events: runners and swimmers had to stay in their lanes, shot-putters had to stay within the circle marked on the playing field, wrestlers had to stay on the mat—or the athletes would be disqualified. In addition, the use of performance-enhancing drugs was forbidden.
One young man from Denver, Colorado, who won an Olympic silver medal later was awarded the gold because the gold-medalist in his event was disqualified for using a banned steroid. In his response, he referred to his unfortunate competitor’s loss of the medal:
“I do feel sorry for him. But we all have choices. … He made his choice, and I made my choice. …
“I believe God was watching out for me. I believe he watches out for all of us. I’ve learned so many lessons from how this has taken place. I experienced the agony of defeat before the thrill of victory. That made me so much more of a stronger person, mentally and spiritually.”6

I opened the door a little, but an enormous barrier divided us still. I stood back, away from her. I felt swollen and sore from so many tears, forever isolated by shame and disgrace, absolutely empty of any hope of future happiness. The girl at the front door was a numbing reminder of the most hateful part of all: that everyone knew.
But into my unyielding dimness, Karen spoke quietly. “Come back to school, Heather. No one will hold what your dad did against you.” That was all. I closed the door firmly without a word.
I listened to her walk away, my feelings unraveling with each footstep, my thoughts trailing backward.
My 13-year-old world fell apart when the local newspaper revealed, without feeling, the enormous surprise: Mr. David McPhie,* bookkeeper and owner of McPhie Accounting, was convicted of embezzlement and would serve his sentence in the jail across the river. It seemed so impossible, so comically bizarre. But it was so painfully real.
The subsequent events are unclear and without sequence to me now, obscured not only by time, but by the confusion and withdrawal I was feeling then. Dad was gone. He never said “I’m sorry I have destroyed you” or “I regret turning out to be a stranger you never really knew.” Mom was unreachable, struggling herself to cope. She offered no explanation of why this had happened or how to go on.
The sheriff came into our home. Everything of value was seized: records, books, furniture, the bed Dad had made me with the headboard shelf for pretty things, the piano. Mom and I slept on mattresses on the floor of one empty bedroom. Did we cook and eat? What activities filled the empty days? I can’t remember. Focused on my own grief in an intense and self-centered way, I clung to one determination: I would never go back to school.
I don’t know how many days I’d been away from school when Karen came. And I don’t know how many days it was after she came that I went back to school.
Karen was there for me when I went back, gentle, with no questions. And other friends I didn’t know I had were there, too: enough of them to elect me secretary of the student council; to teach a shy girl that if you are brave enough to smile first, others will smile back; to show me I could survive.
In the years that followed, our lives went different ways. My family was put back together. I learned to love my dad again. Then I moved miles away.
Through the rest of growing up, through high school and college and marriage and children and all the ups and downs in between, I’ve often thought about Karen. About a principal calling a few students into his office to show them a newspaper headline and to ask them how they could help. About one girl saying, “I’ll go.” About which way my life might have gone without that one pivotal act of reaching out.

First Episode
I worked extensively with President Eyring during the transformation of Ricks College from a two-year junior college to the university known today as BYU–Idaho. At the time, he was a member of the Twelve and the commissioner of Church education.

Elder Eyring visited the Rexburg campus to assess the progress of the transition. I shared with him a status report on student enrollment projections, physical facilities renovations, construction projects, hiring of new employees, and many other topics. And we devoted considerable time to reviewing the financial resources and timeline necessary for the success of the transition.

During our time together, it became apparent that Elder Eyring and I had differing interpretations of the total resource package that had been approved by the Church Board of Education for the transition. We worked together to come to a common understanding but were not successful. I then indicated my willingness to do whatever the Brethren directed. But I also explained that fewer resources would necessitate the transition plan and timeline to be scaled back accordingly. We ended our workday together without achieving a final resolution.

Elder Eyring spent the night in our home. When he came to the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, his first statement was, “President, I was rebuked by the Holy Ghost last night.” He then indicated that the transition should continue going forward as outlined the previous day and that he had no ongoing concerns about the resources.

He then said to me something I have never forgotten: “President, if you have not been rebuked lately by the Holy Ghost as you are praying, then you need to improve your prayers.”

Given his extensive experience in institutions of higher education, his position as a member of the Twelve, and his authority as the commissioner of Church education, he simply could have decided “this is the way it will be.” But he did not do that. Elder Eyring learned of and from the Savior, he listened to His words that came by the power of the Holy Ghost, and he then walked in the meekness of the Lord’s Spirit. I learned valuable lessons about meekness through this experience with Elder Eyring. Such meekness is essential for inspiring and experiential learning.

On my first date with Nate, I was surprised to learn that he wasn’t a Latter-day Saint. He was very polite, but when I got home, I wasn’t sure if I would go on another date with him.
The next week, Nate called to see if I’d like to go out on New Year’s Eve. “I’m sorry, Nate,” I said. “That’s a Sunday night, and my family and I are watching a broadcast from the First Presidency.” I felt the spark of a prompting and added, “You are welcome to watch it with us if you’d like.” I was shocked when he said yes.
I felt the Spirit so strongly as the prophet encouraged us to set resolutions that would enable us to draw closer to Christ. Nate listened to every word. After he went home, I felt calm and peaceful. The next morning, he called me.
“I wanted to thank you for inviting me over last night,” he said. “All my friends were having a party, and I didn’t want to go because I knew there would be some bad stuff going on. I’m glad you invited me. I feel great.”
I felt the Spirit telling me that I had done the right thing. Being friendly helped Nate feel the blessings of righteous living. I know that God cares about all of us and that He will always enable us to choose the right.
Rachel H., Texas, USA

When Peter brought the sheep off the hillside that evening, he saw the king’s messenger riding away from Pleasant Valley. To have a messenger come to their small town was unusual. Peter chased the sheep into the cote and raced indoors to see what had happened. His two older brothers were dressed in their best clothing, and their mother was hurrying back and forth between the fireplace and the table.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked. “I saw the king’s messenger ride away from—”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Dominic broke in rudely. “Wise old Trebor is retiring, and our king needs a new advisor.”
Richard shoved his empty plate aside. “The messenger announced that all young men between the ages of fourteen and thirty would be interviewed by Trebor. Dominic and I are going to the castle in hopes that one of us will be chosen.”
“You must go, too, Peter,” his mother urged, placing her hands on his shoulders and frowning when her two older sons grumbled about being nursemaids.
“But,” Peter said. “I’ll not be fourteen until tomorrow. And I’m surely not wise.”
“But you’ll be fourteen by the time you arrive at the castle,” his mother reminded him.
Two mornings later it looked to Peter as though every young man from the small country of Meritania stood shoulder to shoulder in the castle’s courtyard. A stillness fell over the group when old Trebor hobbled onto a balcony.
“Young sires, tomorrow I will choose someone who shall be trained to take my place,” he said, his voice cracking with age. He clasped the balcony railing for support. “Today I will speak with each of you personally. And tomorrow there will be a final test to help me decide my successor.”
Early the next morning Trebor appeared on the balcony. “After interviewing all you young men, I will dismiss all but three.”
Peter’s heart pounded when he heard his name announced as one of the contenders.
“The old man must be slipping!” Dominic fumed. “Imagine choosing an inexperienced stripling like you, Peter, over a smart fellow like me!”
Richard laughed. “Our mother pleaded with you to finish school, Dominic, and to get an education, but you dropped out,” he said, “and it shows.”
“I’ll admit you have more schooling than I have,” Dominic agreed as he scowled at his brother. “But old Trebor didn’t miss much during those interviews, and I’m sure he noticed how soft your hands are from lack of hard work.”
“He probably also noticed that you talk so much you never hear anyone but yourself!” Richard’s voice rose in anger.
Peter hid his calloused hands behind his back and moved away from his brothers while the argument continued. He wondered what Trebor’s final test would be.
At ten o’clock Peter and two other young men approached Trebor in the castle’s great hall. The old man leaned on a cane, and peered at them from watery eyes.
“You have an hour to complete this test,” he quavered. “Go into the city and bring to me whatever you consider most important for a wise man to have. You are not to speak to each other about this, and you must travel alone.” Trebor waved his gnarled hand toward the castle’s drawbridge and shuffled over to sit down on a bench.
Peter and the other contestants hurried off toward the city. And, within five minutes of the hour, all three of them had returned. Trebor motioned for them to lay what they’d brought on a table near where he sat. “What is in that large package?” he asked.
“A bolt of precious material, sire,” replied one of the young men and unwrapped his package. “Clothes make the man,” he declared with a look of satisfaction on his face. “And one is accepted anywhere if he is well dressed.”
Hardly glancing at the elegant fabric, Trebor pointed a finger at a small leather pouch. “What does that contain?” he asked.
The second young man bowed confidently and said, “Sire, it is filled with gold dust. Gold will buy anything—fame, fortune, friends, shelter. A wise man needs all these things.”
Trebor’s expression didn’t change by one wrinkle as he pointed to Peter’s package. “Your package looks as though it came from the meat seller’s stall in the market,” he commented.
Peter’s face reddened when the other two young men snickered. “Yes, sire. It is a tongue, but more than that it is a reminder.”
“Explain, please,” Trebor said and sat forward interestedly, cupping a hand behind his ear.
“A tongue can do much harm or much good,” Peter said. “Harsh, untrue, or thoughtless words can hurt. Soft words, intelligent words, considerate words should fall from a wise man’s tongue.”
“You’re right, Peter!” declared Trebor, and he reached across the table to clasp Peter’s hands. “And since you shall be our king’s new adviser, I pray you will never forget the wisdom of your words.”

I am grateful that I had a father and mother who taught me as a boy the joy of work and the importance of paying my tithing and of spending less money than I made so that I could have something saved for my schooling and mission.
As a young boy, I raised chickens and sold eggs in the neighborhood, mowed lawns, worked in a warehouse and brickyard, and later sold printing. By working, I had my own money to spend, and I felt pretty grown-up. I paid my tithing, put some in a savings account for a mission and schooling, and the rest was mine to spend in any way I wanted to.
My parents taught me that tithing was a commandment of our Father in Heaven and a way for us to show our love for him and our appreciation for all the blessings he gives us. I still have a tithing receipt which was given to me when I was eight years old, and it is among my prized possessions.
The younger a boy is when he learns these important lessons, the more they become a part of his life. I am sure that many of the blessings I have enjoyed throughout my life have come to me because as a boy I learned the importance of working and being thrifty, paying my tithing, and putting something away for my mission and schooling.

Probably all of us have had experiences when we really needed someone to help us. I remember once as a small boy I surely did. While playing on a mountainside near our home, I fell into the middle of a huge, prickly cactus plant. Oh, did it hurt! The prickly spines of the cactus went through my sneakers, through my stockings, through my trousers, through my shirt—they went through everything! I felt like a human dart board.
Immediately I let out a cry that was loud enough to shake the mountains. I couldn’t move up, down, in, or out. Every movement I made seemed to send those needles deeper and deeper into my skin. I just stayed there and howled.
I was five years old at the time and my older brother, who immediately rushed to my rescue, was eight. He was overwhelmed at the sight of me and the complexity of my plight. Nevertheless, he began to pull out some of the spines, but they seemed to hurt more coming out than going in and I howled even louder. Furthermore, the pin-size wounds bled so when the spines were removed that after a few minutes I looked like an advertisement for Red Cross donations.
Finally my brother saw that his feeble plucking was hopeless. There were dozens of spines yet to pull, and I was still screaming at the top of my lungs. He did the only thing an eight-year-old brother could do. He ran down the mountain, got his small red wagon, and labored painfully to get it up the side of the hill to where I was awaiting death—I thought. With some tugging and hauling and lifting—and plenty of noise from me—he got me out of the cactus and into the wagon. Then in some miraculous way, known only to children and Providence, he navigated me down off that steep mountain in his wagon.
The rest of the story is blurred in my memory. As I recall, my mother got me out of my clothes and the rest of the prickly spines out of me. What I do remember clearly and will never forget is the sight of my brother tugging that wagon and determinedly making his way toward me. He was so concerned that he worked wonderfully hard to get to me. If I live to be one hundred, I suppose no memory of my brother will be more vivid than the view I had of him that day. I needed him desperately. And there he was, coming to help!

On another occasion two of our elders, rather young and inexperienced, had gone to a new city to open up the work. The city was almost totally Catholic and was reportedly under the domination of the Catholic bishop who resided there. As these elders went about their work, making contacts and becoming acquainted, people frequently said to them, “Does the bishop know you are here?”

They would answer, “We don’t know.”

“Well, it will be interesting to see what happens when he finds out you are here.”

So they were “walking on eggs,” so to speak, as they went about their work, wondering when the ax would fall, supposing that a powerful influence might be brought against them. One day the blow fell. A priest came to their lodging and delivered a letter. It said in substance, “We would like to know by what authority you come into this community and teach your doctrine without having first cleared it with the bishop of this area. Therefore, we ask you, to appear at a special meeting that will be held at a certain place and time in the central Catholic church.”

The elders called mission headquarters.

“President, what will we do? Can you come up and help us?”

I answered, “No, I can’t come, but they have offered you an invitation to explain what we believe. That is what you are looking for, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but how do we handle this situation?”

I said, “I’ll have my assistant come and join you. Accept the invitation, but do it on two conditions. You may say, ‘We’ll be glad to come if we are treated with courtesy and if you will assure us the opportunity to explain what we believe.’”

Then my assistant and I worked out a procedure concerning what they might talk about.

In the meeting, the priest in charge, without any formality, stood up and said, “These two young men are here teaching their religion and we have called you together to hear an explanation of their doctrine.” There were two or three hundred people present representing the influential people of the city. The elders were given a wide-open opportunity.

They stood up and spoke of the Apostasy, the Restoration, the need for the gospel to be restored, and then told of the Book of Mormon. Then, as they said, “Now if you people will read this Book of Mormon and pray about it, the Lord will give you a testimony,” a priest in the rear of the hall jumped up and said, “Oh, no, no, no. None of you can read that book.” Everyone laughed when he said that. So the opposition was overcome. There was no problem except that after the meeting a Seventh-day Adventist present got into an argument with one of the priests while our elders had several very pleasant conversations. From then on they had no ripples in their proselyting in that city. So don’t get mad.

Jedediah M. Grant, counselor to President Young and father to President Heber J. Grant, saw the spirit world shortly before his death and recounted what he saw to President Heber C. Kimball:
Brother Heber, I have been into the spirit world two nights in succession, and, of all the dreads that ever came across me, the worst was to have to again return to my body, though I had to do it. [JD 4:135]
President Kimball shared more of President Jedediah M. Grant’s experience:
He also spoke of the buildings he saw there, remarking that the Lord gave Solomon wisdom and poured gold and silver into his hands that he might display his skill and ability, and said that the temple erected by Solomon was much inferior to the most ordinary buildings he saw in the spirit world.
In regard to gardens, says brother Grant, “I have seen good gardens on this earth, but I never saw any to compare with those that were there. I saw flowers of numerous kinds, and some with from fifty to a hundred different colored flowers growing upon one stalk.” We have many kinds of flowers on the earth, and I suppose those very articles came from heaven, or they would not be here. . . .
After speaking of the gardens and the beauty of every thing there, brother Grant said that he felt extremely sorrowful at having to leave so beautiful a place and come back to earth, for he looked upon his body with loathing, but was obliged to enter it again. [JD 4:136]
President Grant’s experience is strikingly similar to many of the experiences and descriptions given by others, including President Young. No wonder President Young said that it took far greater faith than he had ever before exercised for him to desire to continue to live in mortality (see JD 14:231).
In Doctrine and Covenants 132:8, the Lord declared, “Behold, mine house is a house of order . . . and not a house of confusion.” Order and organization are certainly important characteristics in the spirit world paradise.
President Ezra Taft Benson taught:
Righteous spirits are close by us. They are organized according to priesthood order in family organizations as we are here; only there they exist in a more perfect order. This was revealed to the Prophet Joseph. [TETB, 35–36]
President Heber C. Kimball related how President Jedediah Grant also marveled at the extensive order and organization in the spirit world:
But O, . . . the order and government that were there! When in the spirit world, I saw the order of righteous men and women; beheld them organized in their several grades, and there appeared to be no obstruction to my vision; I could see every man and woman in their grade and order. I looked to see whether there was any disorder there, but there was none. . . . The people . . . were organized in family capacities; and when [I] looked at them [I] saw grade after grade, and all were organized and in perfect harmony. [JD 4:135–36]

Amanda Higbee was frightened. Papa had warned her about the wicked men who hated Mormons. The previous May Papa had baptized her, and it had been the happiest day of her life. Today was the worst, or so Amanda thought. Papa should have come home last night, but he hadn’t. Mama said not to worry, but Amanda was afraid some of the wicked men had caught him.
In the next room a door slammed, and Amanda rushed out. But instead of it being Papa, it was her brother Josiah, yelling, “Ma! The mill’s on fire! Walker’s barn is burning, and they’re heading toward the Robison’s!”
“Who are ‘they’?” asked Ma as Josiah tried to catch his breath.
“A mob of Missourians. They had guns and torches and everything! I heard them say that they were going to burn all the Mormons out of Jackson County.”
If Ma was frightened, she didn’t show it. Instead, she gathered her children about her and said, “Children, your father warned us that this might happen. I’m afraid it won’t be long before they’ll be here. Listen carefully. This is what you must do …”
After listening to Ma’s instructions, the children quickly obeyed. Mary gathered up the bedding, while Josiah brought the wagon around. After handing Joseph a bag of grain, Amanda helped Hannah with the cooking gear. In the distance, a reddish glow lit up the sky, and Amanda could hear men shouting. A few pieces of furniture were loaded into the wagon, and then the Higbees were off, with Josiah driving.
On the road ahead they saw several of their friends and neighbors. The Robisons and Walkers had escaped in time, as well as the Stones and Ewells. Amanda waved to Elizabeth Robison, but Elizabeth just stared past her. Wondering why, Amanda turned around and saw wagonloads of people coming from every direction. Behind them were burning farms and houses. Amanda started to cry. It was too much: Papa was lost, their home was gone, and now they were fleeing for their lives!
“What’s this?” Ma said, turning around. “Tears, Amanda? Hannah, you too? What you need is a good story.”
Amanda didn’t think a story would help, but Ma continued anyway. “Did you know that we are just like the Nephites in the Book of Mormon?” she asked.
“We are?” Josiah asked, “I don’t remember anything like this happening to them.”
“Oh, yes, Josiah,” Ma replied. “The Nephites were driven from their homes many times. Like us, they believed in a prophet of God, and because of their belief, they were often persecuted and sometimes put to death.”
“Did they have a prophet named Joseph Smith, too?” sniffled Hannah, wiping away her tears.
“No, Hannah. But there were many other prophets. Let me tell you about a prophet named Abinadi. When he preached to a certain king by the name of Noah, the wicked king refused to believe Abinadi’s words. He ordered his men to bind Abinadi and kill him by setting him afire.”
“Did they really burn him?” asked Amanda.
“Yes. But one of the king’s men, Alma, believed what Abinadi had taught. When Alma tried to save him, King Noah became even angrier, and he ordered his men to kill Alma too. Luckily Alma escaped from the king’s guards and hid.
“Alma repented of his sins and preached privately among the people the things that Abinadi had taught. Every day more and more people came to listen to Alma. In time over two hundred believers were baptized.
“One day,” continued Ma, “King Noah heard about Alma’s success and sent out an army to destroy Alma and his followers. However, when King Noah’s army reached the forest near the Waters of Mormon where Alma and his people had been gathered, no one was there. Heavenly Father had warned Alma, and everyone had escaped.
“After traveling in the wilderness for eight days, Alma found another beautiful place for his people to live. There they built houses, planted crops, and were very happy. They lived in peace for several years. Then a group of Lamanites and apostate Nephites found them. They were as bad as King Noah. They made Alma and his people slaves; they beat them for believing in Jesus Christ, and if any of Alma’s people were discovered praying to the Lord, they were to be put to death.”
“You mean the Nephites were killed just for praying?” gasped Mary.
“How would the Lamanites know if they were praying—did they have spies?” asked Josiah.
“I don’t know, Josiah,” Ma replied. “But the Nephites were brave people. They outsmarted the Lamanites by praying in their hearts. Heavenly Father heard their prayers and said to Alma, “Thou shalt go before this people, and I will go with thee and deliver this people out of bondage’ (Mosiah 24:17). Then He caused the Lamanites to fall into a deep sleep. While the Lamanites were asleep, the Nephites escaped. Soon they found a country with a good king, Mosiah, and they lived there in peace and prosperity.”
“I liked that story, Ma,” said Amanda. “Please tell us another.”
Everyone agreed, and soon their mother was telling them about Alma and his adventures in the city of Ammonihah. While her mother explained how Alma and Amulek escaped from prison, Amanda realized that she had forgotten all about her own problems.
When nightfall came, the Higbees looked for a place to spend the night. Rain had started to fall, so they decided to camp in the shelter of an overhanging bluff. Some of their friends camped near them, and for a while everyone felt safe. Then, about two o’clock in the morning, the rain turned into a raging storm, and a small stream near the camp became a roaring river. Amanda watched in horror as trees and bushes were swept away. Grabbing her belongings, she joined the rest of the family as they raced for shelter. Earlier, Josiah had spotted a cave near the top of the bluff, so they headed toward it.
Because Ma had become very ill during the night, Brother Carr offered to carry her to the cave. Walking next to them, Amanda felt like crying again. And when she saw that the cave was filled with wild hogs, she was terrified. But she, Mary, and Josiah decided that the family needed the cave more than the hogs did. So, grabbing sticks, the children attacked. The hogs fled.
Ma was carried in as soon as the cave was cleaned out as well as it could be. Too sick to lie down, Ma spent the rest of the night sitting in her chair. Amanda curled up between Mary and Hannah. Sharing a wet blanket, they tried to sleep as lightning crackled, thunder boomed, and babies cried.
Morning came, and with it the sunshine. A familiar voice awakened them. “Hello! Anybody up there?”
Amanda ran from the cave, shouting, “Papa! Papa! You’re safe! You found us!”
Behind her came the rest of the family. Soon everyone had been hugged and kissed. Then Papa explained how he had found them. After hiding for several days, he had returned home to find it burned and his family gone.
“Did you cry, Papa?” asked Amanda, snuggling closer to him.
“Yes, Amanda. I cried, and I prayed. Then this morning I rode into camp and heard about some crazy kids who had chased wild hogs out of a cave so that their mother could get in out of the rain.” The children smiled proudly, and father finished by saying, “Do you realize you probably saved your mother’s life?” He picked up Ma, and they all worked their way down the hill, a complete family once more.
Later that day the Higbees stood near the bank of the mighty Missouri River, where many of the Saints were lined up, waiting to cross over. These people had just fled fire, flood, and mobs. However, hope was in their hearts, for ahead of them was a new land. Like the Nephites, they would again plant crops, build houses, and live in peace for a few years. Their hard times were not over, but for now they were safe and happy to be alive.
The Higbees’ turn on the ferryboat came, and they began the crossing. Looking at the brown waves slapping against the sides of the boat, Amanda felt sick. Oh, Heavenly Father, she silently prayed, help us.
Heavenly Father did help them. They made the trip safely—all except Ma. She was nearly unconscious when Papa carried her up the bank. Some women, seeing her condition, rushed over to help. Within minutes a tent was put up, and Ma was carried inside.
“Is Ma going to die?” asked Hannah fearfully, trying to peek into the tent.
“No,” replied Papa. “Your mother’s baby is ready to be born.”
And sure enough, at that very moment they heard the cry of a newborn baby.
“Yippee!” yelled Josiah. “We just got us a brother.”
“It could be a girl,” Amanda reminded him.
But Josiah was right. Cradled in Ma’s arms was a beautiful baby boy.
“Look at his little fingers and toes,” Hannah whispered.
“Hello, baby!” said Joseph.
“His eyes are so big,” sighed Amanda.
“What’s his name?” asked Josiah.
“Let’s call him Alma,” Ma suggested, and everyone agreed.

May I share an additional experience I had as a bishop. I noted one Sunday morning that Richard, one of our priests who seldom attended, was again missing from priesthood meeting. I left the quorum in the care of the adviser and visited Richard’s home. His mother said he was working at a local garage servicing automobiles. I drove to the garage in search of Richard and looked everywhere but could not find him. Suddenly, I had the inspiration to gaze down into the old-fashioned grease pit situated at the side of the building. From the darkness I could see two shining eyes. I heard Richard say, “You found me, Bishop! I’ll come up.” As Richard and I visited, I told him how much we missed him and needed him. I elicited a commitment from him to attend his meetings.

His activity improved dramatically. He and his family eventually moved away, but two years later I received an invitation to speak in Richard’s ward before he left on a mission. In his remarks that day, Richard said that the turning point in his life was when his bishop found him hiding in a grease pit and helped him to return to activity.

Michael Herrick—“I certainly was glad to have the opportunity to return to Japan to meet again the wonderful Japanese people. They are just fantastic. I love them. While at Expo I learned to appreciate the close friendships we can have in the Church, but I also came to see the many possible friends we can have outside the Church. Members of the Church sometimes tend to avoid people who do not belong, just because they do not belong. If we do so, we miss out on many choice friends.

“One of the choicest experiences was to see one of the American guides, Claudette Polka, join the Church because of what she saw and observed of the M-Squad. She had always wanted to find a future marriage companion with whom she could kneel and pray. She saw in the M-Squad the kind of person she was looking for in her ideal man. To watch her become interested was a real thrill. (We were asked not to preach the gospel at Expo because we were representatives of the United States, and our actions could easily have been misinterpreted, had we done so.)

“Soon Claudette was attending our home evenings. We made her the ‘mother’ of our home evenings. After she attended our services, met with the missionaries, and learned about the Church, she invited her parents to come to Expo so that she could tell them personally of her desire to join the Church. To hear her testimony and to join in the baptismal service was a wonderful experience.

“It was a great honor to try to represent my country with dignity—and to represent the gospel in all my actions.”

September 1832 was a busy season of preparation for the early Saints. The Prophet was preparing to move to the John Johnson home southeast of Kirtland, Ohio; other brethren were preparing to leave for Missouri. In the midst of these preparations, Joseph Smith received the revelation that we now know as section 64 of the Doctrine and Covenants. After instructing the men going to Missouri, the Lord reminded them: “But all things must come to pass in their time. Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:32–33; emphasis added).
These verses are a guide for us as we prepare ourselves and our families to live in “perilous times” (see 2 Tim. 3:1). We must not become weary of doing good, and we must not become impatient; the changes we seek will come about “in their time.” Most important, the great work we wish to do will proceed from “small things.”
One of those small things, I have learned, is that I must find the time to fill my own spiritual reservoir each day. It’s tempting to make a massive list of my failings and then to work at them, as a friend of mine says, as though I am “killing snakes.” Self-improvement may seem a kind of work project, but it is—at heart—a change of heart. When we women struggle to keep up with life—raising children, providing necessities, attending school, dealing with issues of age or ill health—our own spirituality often ends up at the bottom of our long “to do” lists.
Scripture study and prayer will bring change—but not automatically. If we read with one eye and pray with half a heart, we are engaging in a ritual, and while that time is not worthless, it isn’t fully productive either. We need, with the support of family, to clear enough time to study—not just read—to contemplate, feel, and wait for answers. The Lord has promised that He will strengthen us, fortify and refresh us, if we will take time for Him each day (see D&C 88:63).
Sisters, we must prepare if we wish to serve, and we must serve if we wish to prepare. When I was 16 I was called to teach the three-year-olds in what was then called Junior Sunday School. (You know there was such a thing in the olden days.) I taught some busy children. They climbed on and under the chairs and table and never seemed to stop moving. I was dreadfully inexperienced, and during the first few weeks I wondered if I had done the right thing in accepting the call.
But I persisted, and what I learned—quickly—was that I couldn’t just pray for help. I had to be prepared. That meant planning activities, stories, and lessons, and it meant having plan B ready, along with C through Z. Many years later, when I was called to lead a Junior Sunday School, I knew how to assist new teachers. I knew how to enjoy the children, and I knew the importance of being faithful in my calling.
I, like many of you, have had numerous callings in the Church. Some have been easier for me than others, but I have tried to magnify each one. But does the phrase “magnify your calling” ever make you nervous? It has worried me! Recently I read a talk in which President Thomas S. Monson said on the subject: “And how does one magnify a calling? Simply by performing the service that pertains to it” (“Priesthood Power,” Liahona, Jan. 2000, 60; Ensign, Nov. 1999, 51). Sisters, we can do that! I hear women say that their callings are wearing them out or that they don’t have time to serve. But magnifying our callings does not mean staying up all night preparing handouts and elaborate table decorations. It does not mean that each time we do our visiting teaching we have to take something to our sisters. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies. Let’s simplify. The message of a good lesson comes through spiritual preparation. Let’s put our focus on the principles of the gospel and on the material in our study guides. Let’s prepare to create an interesting exchange of ideas through discussion, not through extra, invented work that makes us so weary we come to resent the time we spend in fulfilling our callings.
When we are called to serve, we are not offered a release date. Our lives are our service. Lois Bonner, a woman in my stake who is 92 years old, began serving as a visiting teacher when she married over 65 years ago. She still faithfully serves. The Nelsons from Canada and the Ellsworths from Utah, as missionaries, taught, mentored, and loved those of us who were in a small, growing ward in Missouri. We learned, through them, the joy of service and benefited from the wisdom of their experiences. I can think of no better way to thank our Father for all He gives us than to serve His children in every age of our lives.
Finally, I’m coming to understand the meaning and importance of our offerings—specifically, our tithes and fast offerings. Throughout the Doctrine and Covenants the Lord admonishes us to care for each other and to give of our temporal resources to build the kingdom of God. In fact, our willingness to do this is one of the prerequisites for the Lord’s returning to the earth (see Daniel H. Ludlow, A Companion to Your Study of the Doctrine and Covenants, 2 vols. [1978], 2:46). Though each of our circumstances may differ, it is important for us to give all that we can. The Lord has seldom required individuals to give all, but it is important for Him to know that we would and could do it, if asked (see Bruce R. McConkie, “Obedience, Consecration, and Sacrifice,” Ensign, May 1975, 50). In one stake where my husband and I lived, our stake president challenged members to double their fast offerings and prepare for the blessings that would come. I can now bear personal testimony that the Lord will bless us in unfathomable ways if we are true and faithful in giving generously.
Spirituality through prayer and study. Service to others. Generous tithes and offerings. These are not new principles. These are some of the “small things” that are prerequisites to that which is great. In the verse that follows, we learn what the Lord requires of us. He requires “the heart and a willing mind” (D&C 64:34; emphasis added). It is our hearts and our minds that must be made new. We each have our failings, our weaknesses, our less-than-perfect attitudes. The Lord asks us to open ourselves to Him, holding nothing back. He says to us, seek not “thine own life”; seek “my will, and to keep my commandments” (Hel. 10:4). The newness of heart comes when we do and give all we can, then offer our heart and will to the Father. As we do this, our Father promises us that our lives now and in eternity will be abundant. We need not fear.
Sisters, don’t become weary in doing good. If we are patient, we can experience the change of heart we seek. For most of us this will require only a slight change of course, sending us toward true north. The adjustments we must make are in those “small things,” but that does not mean they are easy. Too many forces are confusing our compass. But the pull to the polar star is one we recognize. It is the direction toward home.
I bear witness to you of the reality of the promises of the Father to us, His beloved daughters. I testify that as we attune our lives to emulate the life shown us by the Savior, we will know that the light of Zion is arising, that we are becoming a people prepared for His return. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In junior high and high school, I reached my dream to be an athlete. I played football and baseball. Our football games were usually played on Friday evenings. My father now worked out of town for a defense contractor during the week. But each Friday afternoon, he left work and drove six or seven hours to make it to every one of my games. He never arrived in time for the start of the game, but the coaches would leave a sideline pass at the gate for him. I knew that sometime during the first half, I would look up and there he would be on the sideline, watching me. Then after church on Sunday afternoons, he would have to turn around and drive back to work.
At first, I didn’t really understand what my dad was doing those mornings when he prayed for me. But as I got older, I came to sense his love and interest in me and everything I was doing. It is one of my favorite memories. It wasn’t until years later, after I was married, had children of my own, and would go into their rooms while they were asleep and pray for them that I understood completely how my father felt about me.

When I was growing up, my parents often traveled from our home in southern Nevada to Salt Lake City to attend general conference. On one occasion my mother brought me a small copper cast of the Salt Lake Temple. It sat on my nightstand throughout my youth, serving as a visual reminder of my goal for an eternal marriage.

It’s no wonder that I always wanted to be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple, even though our closest temple was in St. George, Utah, where Shirley wanted to be married. Can you guess where we were sealed? The Manti Temple, which is halfway in between! Now, if you were to ask Shirley, she would likely point out that the St. George Temple was closed that day, or we would have been sealed there. Either way, in our marriage we have continued to strive for a pattern of oneness and unity in all we do.