Gospel Story Finder

Logan had turned eight years old last week. Today was a special day—he was going to be baptized. He and his father dressed in white clothes and took their seats near the baptismal font.
Logan’s brother-in-law, Ryan, was asked to give a talk at the baptism. After the opening song and prayer, Ryan read the fourth article of faith: “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
Then Ryan placed a blue paper square on the floor at one side of the room and a white paper square at the other side. “Logan, come stand on this blue square,” he said. “Can you get from the blue square to the white square without stepping on the carpet?”
Logan looked across the room and shook his head. “It’s too far.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s too far for you to get there by yourself. And do you think you can return to Heavenly Father without help?”
Logan shook his head again.
Ryan placed six more squares on the floor, each square a different color. “Heavenly Father has given us steps to bring us back to Him. Do you know what they are?”
Logan thought of the article of faith Ryan had just read. “The first one is faith.” Ryan nodded as Logan stepped onto the red square. “And the second one is repentance.” Logan moved to the yellow square.
Ryan pointed to the green square. “This one represents one of the steps you’re taking today.”
Smiling, Logan stepped onto the green square.
“Baptism,” he said. He was much closer to the white square now, but there were still three more in between.
“The orange square represents receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Ryan said, “another step you’ll take today.”
Logan stepped onto the orange square.
“What do you think the last two squares represent?” Ryan asked.
Logan thought for a moment. The fourth article of faith included only the first four principles and ordinances of the gospel. He had learned in Primary that baptism was the first of many covenants he would make. “Does the next square stand for the temple?” he asked.
“Right!” Ryan beamed. “After your baptism and confirmation, you’ll prepare to receive the priesthood and temple ordinances. What do you think the last square stands for?”
Logan couldn’t remember any more steps. Then it dawned on him—it was the simple truth taught by prophets and scriptures. “Stay righteous,” he said.
“Exactly,” Ryan said. “After making all of these covenants, we must stay faithful.”
Logan sat down and Ryan finished his talk. Then Logan and his father entered the baptismal font. With the authority of the priesthood, Logan’s father baptized him. After they had changed into dry clothes, Logan was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“Remember the Spirit you feel right now,” Ryan said afterward as he hugged Logan. “Try to keep it with you for the rest of your life.”
Logan knew he would never forget this special day—a day he had taken two important steps toward his heavenly home.

Though all of us have to do things we do not like, it is important that you ultimately enjoy your work. If you can’t stand to be indoors, maybe you had better try to find something that you would like to do outside. One high school senior loved to fish and camp, and consequently he became very knowledgeable about nature. He got in touch with two prominent naturalists and they hired him. His job? To help study the habits and life of the grizzly bear in Yellowstone National Park.

Years ago, while serving my mission, my companion and I had just finished a teaching visit. As we walked away, trying to get to our next appointment, he turned to me and asked a profound question. He was reflecting on Nephi’s encounter with the Spirit of the Lord in 1 Nephi 14:10, where Nephi learns about the two churches: the church of the Lamb of God and the church of the devil. My companion asked, “Why is the other church referred to as the church of the devil?”
His question really made me think. After several attempts to answer his question, he responded to his question by saying: “Because they do not perform saving ordinances.”
His response stirred something within me, prompting me to deeply ponder the importance of the true Church being restored in these latter days. I reflected on the significance of the Restoration of the gospel and the Church of Jesus Christ through the Prophet Joseph Smith. This Restoration brought back not just the fullness of the gospel but also the authority to perform saving ordinances.
I testify of the Lord’s own words, recorded in section 1 of the Doctrine and Covenants, that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is “the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth” (verse 30). I know it is the Church of the Lamb of God. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and it has drawn me closer to my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I feel Their love in my life, and I know that They desire for me, and for all of us, to return to live with Them after this life.
I am deeply grateful for the knowledge that we belong to the Church of the Lamb of God, and I bear testimony that this is the Lord’s true Church on the earth today.

Over the past couple of years, Luis Miguel Meza, 17, has begun feeling distant from the friends he has known since his first year in school. “They began to smoke and drink and put pressure on me to do so,” he says. “I had to be strong in the face of lots of criticism.” He prayerfully studied the section in For the Strength of Youth on choosing friends wisely. “As time passed, I had opportunities to become friends with people who don’t drink or smoke and who respect me for my standards. I still see my old friends, and we say hi to each other. But because I was willing to make a sacrifice, Heavenly Father was there to give me a hand.”

Running along the beaches near Santa Cruz, California, can be an invigorating experience—the pulse of the waves, the soft sand, the salty air, the boundless ocean. But when you reach the rocky point at the end of the beach, you have to turn around and run back the other way.
Unless, of course, you swim around it.
And that’s exactly what Makena Madsen does. Each year this 16-year-old from the Capitola Ward in the Santa Cruz California Stake participates in an event called a Run-Swim-Run. In this race along the coast from one pier to another, the sandy beach is interrupted by a harbor and two rocky points, which the racers must swim around.
All in all, the race amounts to about six miles of running and one mile of swimming. Makena can complete the strenuous course in just over an hour—one of the best times for her age group.
Though the race takes great athletic ability, for Makena, it represents more than just an athletic contest. For one thing, it raises funds for a local nonprofit group that sponsors positive and wholesome activities for youth. For another thing, it is a chance to learn lessons about life, the gospel, and herself.
The race has taught Makena about many things, including preparation, overcoming obstacles, and making good choices.
She has learned to look ahead for danger, as well. The run along the beach is relatively easy. But once you reach the point where you have to swim, there are a number of things to watch out for.
“Depending on the swell, the swim can be dangerous,” she says. “Sometimes you have to make sure that the waves won’t slam you into the rocks.”
“One time I went through the seaweed,” she says. “It probably would have been faster for me to go around. It’s hard to get through it because it pulls on you and scratches you all up and you can’t swim through it. And it hurts.”
She compares this experience to choices that entangle us in worldly or destructive behaviors and cause us to get stuck instead of making progress. Such choices are like shortcuts that seem easy at first but aren’t the right way to go.
Makena has many influences in her life that help her make good choices. She credits her parents with having taught her Heavenly Father’s plan, which has helped her realize the importance of making choices on her own.
“I like learning about the plan of salvation, which is my dad’s favorite thing to teach us,” she says. “It shows you the whole picture, so you actually know why you’re here, and you have a reason to be good, not just because your parents told you to.”
By following her parents’ counsel, Makena, who is the oldest in the family, is also setting an example for her younger sister and brothers to follow. For instance, she has taken to heart what she has learned about personal prayer.
“I like to pray,” she says. “That’s a good thing. I like to be able to pray wherever I am, in any situation.” Prayer even works in school, she says. Once she was intimidated by a history teacher who would ask questions and assign homework if you gave the wrong answer. “I prayed she wouldn’t call on me or that I would know the answer,” says Makena. She wasn’t called on, but more importantly, she says, “I felt peace.”
In seminary she has appreciated the lessons that have helped her better understand and relate to the scriptures—like the time the teacher had them carry some “golden plates” around the neighborhood when they were learning about how Joseph Smith protected the Book of Mormon record.
Makena is also grateful for her youth leaders. “Our leaders do a lot for us,” she says. “They spend a lot of time to make fun activities on Mutual night. And I like the Young Women lessons. They have a lot to do with our daily lives.”
In addition to parents and adult leaders, Makena says that her friends help her keep her standards high—both those who are Church members and those who aren’t.
“All the girls in our ward are friends,” she says. “It’s good to have friends who have the same standards as you.” And though there aren’t many LDS students at her school, that isn’t a big issue. “At school everyone knows I’m Mormon,” she says, “but a lot of them have similar standards.”
In this community, teenagers like Makena make a lot of friends across school boundaries, as well. And she feels that she and her friends all support each other and help each other make good choices.
Makena participates in several different clubs, sports, and other activities at school and in the community, including soccer, volleyball, and dance. And she keeps up on her studies, too. She’s already thinking about college, though she’s not exactly sure where she wants to go.
One thing is sure, though. No matter what challenges and obstacles may present themselves, Makena knows that with her faith in the gospel, she can overcome them—even if she has to swim around them.

Julie was sad. Nana—Grandma Marilyn—was in the hospital, and Mother had gone to visit her.
“What’s wrong, Julie?” Angie, her older sister, asked. “Are you having trouble with your math homework again?”
“No,” Julie replied. “Math is OK. I’m worried about Nana. Is she going to get better?”
“I don’t know,” Angie said. “The doctors aren’t sure what’s wrong with her.”
“Why aren’t you as upset as I am? Won’t you miss her if she doesn’t get better? What if she dies? Don’t you love Nana?” Julie had tears in her eyes.
Angie gathered Julie into her arms. “I think Nana will get better, and of course I love her,” Angie said. “But even if she dies, we can be together forever.”
“I thought that meant that Nana would always be with us, that I’d always be able to go to visit her, that none of us would ever die,” Julie said.
“No.” Angie smiled. “We’ll all have to die sometime. Being together forever means that because our family has been sealed together in the temple, after we leave this life, we can be together forever as a family in Heavenly Father’s kingdom.”
Julie sighed. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me see if I can help. Next month Mark and I are going to be married,” Angie said. “Do you know where we are being married?”
“Sure, that’s easy. You’ve been planning for months to be married in the temple.”
“Actually, for as long as I can remember, I’ve planned on being married in the temple. The reason is that when we are married in the temple, we will also be sealed together as an eternal family unit. The brother who will perform our marriage has the priesthood authority to join us as husband and wife not just for this life, but for forever. Because we will be sealed in the temple, if we live righteously, we and any children we have will be sealed together as a family for eternity. Because Nana and Grandpa John were sealed in the temple, and Mom and Dad were sealed in the temple, we are all sealed together as a family even after this life.”
“And that’s all there is to it?” Julie asked.
“No. We also have to live as an eternal family. For example, we need to try to live the gospel, love one another, have family home evening, pray together, help each other, and be kind to one another.”
“Thank you for helping me feel better today,” Julie said as she hugged Angie. “I’m glad you’re my sister forever.”
“So am I,” Angie said.

James Peter Fugal was an honest man! He herded sheep much of his life in the rolling hills of Idaho. On one bitterly cold winter night, he was herding sheep for another man when a blizzard set in. The sheep bunched together, as sheep do, in the corner of a fenced area, and many died.
Though the death of the sheep was no fault of his, James Fugal felt responsible and spent the next several years working and saving to repay the owner for his lost sheep.
This same desire to live Christian principles was evident in Aurelia Spencer Rogers, who founded the Primary organization of the Church. She had a concern for the moral character and social development of children. Leaders of the Primary since Aurelia Spencer Rogers continue to teach wholesomeness, virtue, and love for one another as well as to instill a desire to understand and live by traditional values.
Sister Haight and I attended a sacrament meeting some distance from our home. We found, to our delight, that the Primary would present the program, the theme being “We Believe in Being Honest.”
I marveled at the eagerness of these young children as they spoke about the fundamental principles they were learning of telling the truth, respecting the property of others, being trustworthy, and standing for the right.
I thought of James Fugal, the humble sheepherder, and how wonderful it was that these children were being taught the same values that made him a man of such noble character.

“When I was about ten or eleven years old, I was involved with Primary. My teacher, Sister Zundell, was a very special person. She always taught us so effectively about the Savior. Many times while she was teaching, a little tear would trickle down her cheek, and it always impressed me that she had such tender emotions about the Savior. She taught us about His life and His teachings, which had a profound effect upon me. I can’t tell you the words or the stories that she told us; but just the way she did it, with the tears that would come, had a great effect upon me and the others in the class.

“Tom? You got a minute?” Five-year-old Kevin stood outside his brother’s door.
“Sure, Kevin. Come on in,” Tom answered, looking up from his studies.
Kevin hurried to where Tom sat. “Tom, do you have to go to school tomorrow?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because tomorrow is your birthday!” Kevin protested.
“That doesn’t matter. Besides, I have a test.”
“Oh.” Kevin hesitated. “Tom, do you know any secrets?”
“No, I can’t say that I do,” Tom answered, his eyes lit with amusement.
“I do,” said Kevin smugly, “but I can’t tell you, ‘cause it’s a surprise!”
“Yeah?” Tom asked, eyeing Kevin with affection.
“Yeah,” Kevin answered. His eyes searched Tom’s. “Tom, if somebody made you a picture with lots of horses on it, do you think you would like it?”
“I sure would!”
“Better than a silver belt buckle with your initial on it?” Kevin asked hopefully.
“Lots better,” Tom replied vigorously.
“Better than a pair of real cowboy boots?”
“Yep,” Tom answered. He pointed at the wall facing his bed. “If I had a picture like that, I’d hang it right there so I could see it first thing every morning.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tom said, ruffling Kevin’s hair.
“What’s your favorite kind of cake, Tom?”
“I don’t know, Kevin. Got any suggestions?”
“Chocolate! With fudge icing!”
“Is that your favorite?” Tom asked, still smiling.
“Yeah!”
“Then it’s mine too.”
“Tom?” Kevin rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I’ll ever get as big as you?”
“Not if you don’t get to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”
“Will you carry me piggyback, Tom?”
“Sure.”
After Kevin was tucked snugly into his bed, Tom turned to leave.
“Tom?” Kevin called.
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” Kevin said.
“I love you, too, Kev.”
“Night, Tom.”
“Good night, Kevin.”
Kevin was still sleeping when Tom left for school the next morning. When he returned home, Kevin was waiting for him on the front steps. He tugged at Tom’s hand. “Hurry, Tom!”
“What’s the rush?”
“Come and see!” Kevin skipped as he led Tom inside the house.
Fifteen candles burned brightly on a chocolate fudge cake resting in the center of the table. Tom and Kevin’s parents came from the kitchen singing “Happy Birthday.”
“Surprise! Surprise!” Kevin yelled, jumping up and down.
“Wow!” Tom said happily.
Kevin helped Tom blow out the candles on the cake; then Tom opened his packages. He was very happy to get cowboy boots and a silver belt buckle with his initial on it from his parents. He saved Kevin’s gift for last.
Inside the package was a large white poster board. Several pictures of horses, cut from magazines, were glued to it. “This is terrific, Kevin!” Tom said, smiling.
“I made it all by myself!”
“Will you help me hang it in my room?” Tom asked.
“Yeah! Are you going to hang it in front of your bed so that you can see it first thing every morning?” Kevin asked anxiously.
“You bet!”
“Surprises are a lot of fun, huh, Tom?”
“Yeah,” Tom said, picking Kevin up and swinging him through the air. “Surprises are great!”

Mother had been at the hospital late that night with Daddy. She told us that the doctors didn’t know for sure what was wrong with him. There was nothing to do but wait and see what tomorrow would bring.
Before we went to bed, Mother telephoned the hospital to check on Daddy one last time. A nurse told her that they would call her back in a few minutes since they had an emergency to take care of. We didn’t know it at the time, but the emergency was Daddy.
When the nurse called back, she asked Mother to come immediately. My brother, Lewis, and one of my sisters, Rebecca, said they would go with her. Tired and worried, I dressed for bed, but when I lay down, the Spirit said to me, “Get up—you’ve got to go.”
I ignored the voice, but it came again, stronger this time, and I didn’t argue. When we arrived at the hospital, Mother said, “I’ll go right into the intensive care unit and check on Daddy. I’ll be back in a minute.”
After a long time, she finally came out and said, “I can’t let you see your father in his condition. It would break his heart if he knew you saw him like that.”
We loudly protested, but she stood firm, saying, “No. Remember him the way he was.”
Surely Mother couldn’t mean that Daddy was dying! I was frantic with fear. Then my eyes fell on the Bible lying on the table. I took it and started reading. As I read, my attention was drawn to one verse in particular:
“For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better” (Philip. 1:23).
When I finished reading, I knew Daddy must go. Lewis was now sobbing in the waiting room. My younger sister, Rebecca, was telling me how it hurt her to see Lewis cry, and how hard it would be to not see Daddy here in the hospital. My older sister, MaryAnn, and my two brothers, Karl and Michael, were still at home, anxiously awaiting news from Mother. Oh, what awful news to hear!
After shedding many tears, we all sat on a couch and drifted in and out of fitful, uneasy sleep. I remember thinking: It can’t end this way. Something has to happen to let us know he’ll miss us and to give us comfort in the years ahead.
When I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed that Daddy was standing in the doorway, dressed all in white. He was crying, but I knew he was happy. He raised his hand and whispered, “Bye-bye, kiddies.”
I didn’t want him to go, but I awoke suddenly and he was gone. He died later that night.
I woke up the next morning in my own bed, barely remembering that friends had taken us home from the hospital the night before. I sat up in my bed and looked around the room. I knew something was wrong, and then I remembered: Daddy died last night. I sank back down on my pillow, already damp with tears, and cried some more.
The days after the funeral were the hardest: setting the table with only seven plates, hearing my mother softly crying in the night, and seeing his chair—empty. Where was the father I loved so much? Then I remembered my dream of his tearful good bye, and the scripture, “Having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better.”
Yes, he would be with us in spirit whenever we needed him, memories of him bringing us great comfort. Knowing that he was with Christ made it easier for me to bear my sorrow.

“Can I keep her, Mother? Please, can I keep her?” pleaded Karyn, cuddling the meowing bundle of matted white fur.
“She’s the sorriest-looking little kitten I’ve ever seen,” said Mother. “Are you sure she’s old enough to leave the mama cat?”
“Her mama’s gone,” Karyn answered. “That’s why Tammy wants to give her to me. And that’s why her fur is all stuck together—she kept falling in her pan of milk.”
“Maybe we could get a doll bottle for her to nurse,” suggested Mother. “What happened to the mama cat?”
“Nobody knows. Tammy’s mother found the three little kittens in their shed yesterday. They were almost dead from hunger.”
“You mean Tammy’s cat didn’t have the kittens?” asked Mother in surprise.
Karyn shook her head. “Tammy doesn’t have a cat.”
“Poor little baby,” crooned Mother, reaching for the crying and clawing kitten. “You really need a mama to lick you clean.”
“I bet Tie-Dye would be her mother,” Karyn said, her face brightening. “She’s going to have babies. Maybe she’d like one a little early.”
“If she had her kittens today, she could nurse this one, too,” mused Mother thoughtfully.
Soon Karyn had the big tortoiseshell mother cat resting comfortably in a towel-padded apple box in her room. Then she placed the little white kitten next to Tie-Dye and stepped back to watch. Tie-Dye opened her eyes wide, then gathered the kitten between her paws and began licking its matted fur.
“Look,” said Mother. “The baby is trying to nurse.” Mother rubbed her chin and said, “I wonder … Let’s leave them alone for a while to get acquainted.” And she and Karyn tiptoed out of the room.
Later when Karyn returned, she found Tie-Dye licking a new little black kitten while the white one slept peacefully in the corner.
“Mom,” Karyn squealed joyfully. “Tie-Dye had a baby.” Then she began to worry. “Maybe she won’t want the white one now.”
“I don’t think it will make any difference,” assured Mother, patting her shoulder. “She’s already adopted her.”
Several hours later, Karyn sat contentedly watching Tie-Dye nurse her four kittens. The white one looked like a giant next to the three newborn babies.
“She’s really a very pretty little kitten now that Tie-Dye has cleaned her up,” observed Mother, coming into the room.
“See how bright and fluffy her coat is.”
Tie-Dye began licking the white kitten again.
“She loves her just like the ones she had herself, doesn’t she, Mom?” said Karyn, leaning over the box adoringly. Then she jumped up and hugged her mother around the waist. “That’s the way it was when you adopted me, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“That’s exactly the way it was,” nodded Mother, hugging Karyn tightly. “Just exactly.”

Soon after, Bengt Erlandsson, interior designer for the Palmyra New York Temple, asked Tom for a sketch of the First Vision. Again, Tom turned to the Lord.
“I was overwhelmed about doing this window for the Lord’s temple right there on the land where the First Vision actually happened,” says Tom. “I went to the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple for inspiration, and while praying, my mind was flooded with a vision of all 108 windows. I wanted to portray that wonderful light the Prophet Joseph felt in the Sacred Grove.”
Tom sketched the artwork and remembers going to the Church Office Building thinking, What am I doing? I’m just a young man with all these ideas for windows they didn’t even ask for. I must be crazy. But he felt the Spirit prompting him.
Miraculously, Tom’s sketches were approved. With tears in their eyes, Tom and his wife, Gayle, knelt and thanked the Lord for allowing them such a privilege.
With less than four months to complete the 17,000-piece project, Tom worked feverishly, involving youth from his area. “I hired 16- to 19-year-olds who had an open mind and would ask for God’s help,” he says.
On April 6, 2000, Tom and Gayle entered the celestial room for the Palmyra temple dedication. “Everyone was telling me how beautiful the windows were, but the Spirit whispering, ‘I am pleased with the work,’ was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life,” he says.

One family stands out in my mind. My friend had been the recipient and observer of kindly acts of service by her neighbor. Tenderly and efficiently she saw her care for the sick, notice the shy, cheer the downhearted.

One day, while she was attending a lecture, a mother sitting near her rose hurriedly to take a child out who had become ill. As my friend went to see if she might be of assistance, there was another woman there already. Her manner of helping was quiet and quick, knowing just what to do, and it reminded my friend so much of her neighbor that she finally asked if, by chance, she knew her neighbor, only to find that they were sisters. In that family they had learned the meaning of service. By its selfless nature, service within a family increases spirituality and strengthens bonds of love.

Walking down the steps that led to the basement of our meetinghouse, I caught sight of my mother, hunched over a strange-looking machine, peering at illuminated pages in a darkened room and straining to read old documents. Still a young child, I didn’t understand what my mother did every Tuesday night for two hours in this quiet room. I had been sent to retrieve her from the church’s depths because Mutual had ended and my family wanted to go home.
My mother’s dedication to family history confused me for years. I often heard Church leaders stress the importance of participating in family history, but it seemed like an overwhelming task to me. Besides, it looked so boring.
“What satisfaction could she possibly receive from poring over lists of dead people’s names,” I wondered one afternoon as a teenager after dropping her off at the family history center. I continued in this vein of skepticism until, little by little, I began to wade into the waters of my ancestry.
The first time I felt the appeal of family history occurred during the Christmas break of my freshman year at BYU. One evening, as the rest of the family boisterously played a board game in the living room, I found myself seated at the kitchen table with my mom and older sister. The conversation soon turned to relatives, particularly my mother’s dad and his parents.
My great-grandparents, Orla and Roger, died in their 20s, leaving my grandfather and his brother in the care of Roger’s family. After Orla’s death, her father, Robert, died of appendicitis. A short time later, her mother fell, cracked her skull, and suffered several strokes, becoming bedridden. Orla’s oldest sisters, Thelma and Ena, then carried the full burden of supporting the family—a difficult task for two young, unmarried women in the late 1920s.
It was all so fascinating to learn about people I felt connected to but had never met. I was amazed by the trials my family had faced. Hearing it all made my own problems seem so small in comparison.
Several months later, with my mother’s story crowded into the recesses of my mind by school and work, I received an assignment in one of my classes at Brigham Young University to find 8 to 10 primary documents containing the name of one of my ancestors.
My genealogical training to that point consisted of singing the Primary song “Family History—I Am Doing It,” but grades weren’t negotiable in my mind, so I began at the only place I could think to start—Orla’s family. I looked her up on a pedigree chart and traced her line back until I found her grandfather, Joseph Argyle Jr.
One afternoon, I made the trek across the BYU campus to the library and into the family history library. I explained to a worker who Joseph Argyle was and the little information I knew about him.
For the next two hours, that worker guided me through a treasure hunt, which took us all over the library. We searched records of Mormon passengers on emigrant vessels, discovering that Joseph and his family crossed the Atlantic on a ship. Later that year, he traveled to Salt Lake Valley with the Ellsworth handcart company, which we found in a record book of handcart companies. We looked through the Endowment House records (found where he received his temple ordinances), the Utah death index (he lived to 84), and old Church membership records (there he was).
In an online database of Utah newspaper archives, I found a front-page obituary for my great-great-great grandfather. Published in the Davis County Clipper in February 1927, every sentence contained an interesting fact, such as Joseph’s contribution to the building of the Salt Lake Temple.
“He has the credit of having hauled the largest stone put in that building which weighed 13,000 pounds,” the article read.
I began to get a glimpse of the impact we can have on future generations when I discovered he had 88 descendants at the time of his death, a number which increased exponentially in the past 79 years.
Every time I found another document with my ancestors’ names on it, I felt a little tingle of excitement run through my body. It was like a mystery novel, putting all the pieces together, little by little beginning to understand who this man was. I became so immersed in learning about my ancestor, I didn’t leave until late in the afternoon, almost missing work!
I completed the assignment and received an A, but even more importantly, I created a tangible connection with one of my relatives. Joseph Argyle left his home, sailed across the ocean, traveled to Utah and helped build the temple, all because he believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ, a legacy which I inherited and which gives me the strength to fight my own battles in the 21st century.
I am a link in the chain of Joseph Argyle, and I can pass on his example to strengthen my children and their children. There are others I can help as well. The temple work for the vast majority of my ancestors has yet to be completed, and hundreds, even thousands, of my ancestors are waiting for me to do my part.
For more information on how to get started on your family history, visit your local family history center or go to www.familysearch.org.

For the next several years, I enjoyed all the blessings Latter-day Saint youth have. I attended seminary and Young Men activities, blessed and passed the sacrament, and eventually received the Melchizedek Priesthood. Unfortunately, my mother opposed my Church activity, protesting that I spent too much time at church. When I turned 19 and began to fill out my mission papers, my mother asked me to stop. I decided to respect her wishes and to serve the Lord in whatever other ways I could.
For the next four years, I served as stake clerk, giving my might, mind, and strength to my duties. And I often worked with the full-time missionaries. I dreamed of someday becoming a full-time missionary.
In time, I was called to teach seminary. This opportunity, along with my stake calling, kept me busy enough to feel that at least I was serving the Lord—even though I was not on a mission.
Then one day my sister came to visit with her two beautiful little daughters. It was one month before my 24th birthday. Time was running out, and I knew I needed to decide what I was going to do with my life. That day one of my nieces fell asleep in my arms. As I watched her sleep I realized that someday I would have children and they would ask me, “Daddy, why didn’t you go on a mission?” At that moment I made my decision.
My decision was not easy for my mother to accept. She and my father were separated, and I was the only child at home with her. Still, I knew that what I was doing was right, so I filled out my papers and sent them in. When my call to serve in the Honduras Comayaguela Mission came, my mother was so upset she became ill. But in time, she began to accept my decision, and she even helped me prepare to leave.
On the day I left for the Missionary Training Center, I gave my mother a priesthood blessing. And as I served I began to understand the Lord’s promise: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say” (D&C 82:10). How great was my joy when the calling I had so long dreamed of holding was finally mine—that of full-time representative of the Lord and His Church. How great was my joy when one year into my mission I received word that my mother had accepted the truth and had been baptized. How grateful I am that I took a leap of faith.

Quorum members still talk about the time they touched down in a remote pasture to change crew members and found themselves right next to two campers who were slumbering peacefully in sleeping bags. The crew quietly made the transfer and, without a word, were off again. Awakened finally by the roar of the burners as the balloon lifted, the sleepers rolled over in time to see a huge balloon hanging in the sky above them. They may still be talking about the fantastic “dream” they both had.

Another “father” in my life was a member of my stake presidency. President Merrill was always at our stake dances, Young Women camps, and youth conferences.
As I was preparing to leave for college, President Merrill felt I needed some fatherly advice before heading into the world. His voice was gentle and soothing. I could feel his concern. I knew he loved me. He told me he would go as far as the Salt Lake Temple to attend my wedding.
A few years later, I called my father to announce my engagement. He was cold and indifferent. Nothing had changed. I tried not to cry. I turned to my Heavenly Father in prayer, and the Spirit reminded me of President Merrill’s promise. I wondered if he would remember what he had told me several years before. Did he really mean it? I picked up the phone and dialed his number. President Merrill answered. I stumbled through telling him of my engagement and asked if he remembered his promise to me. “What temple are you getting married in?” he asked.
“The Salt Lake Temple,” I answered.
“Then I will be there,” he said. He drove 13 hours in the snow to be there for me. When I walked into the sealing room with my soon-to-be husband, President Merrill was the first person I saw. He was my father that day!

My older brother, Joseph, is a medical doctor and practiced for many years in the San Francisco Bay area. An elderly Samoan Church member, who was a new patient, came to his office. He was in severe, debilitating pain. It was determined that he had a kidney stone, and appropriate treatment was undertaken. This faithful member stated that his original goal was merely to understand what was wrong so he could pray in Samoan to his Heavenly Father about his health problem.

Brother Manoï’s daughter Othis remembers her father as frequently being in meetings. He was in so much demand he sometimes had to leave during his evening meal and didn’t come back for two or three hours. Her father may have been busy, she remembers, “but with families of Church leaders there are blessings that outweigh the challenges.”
Othis respects her father for the leadership he gave the branch and district. “He never talked with his family about things he heard when counseling with Church members. He was more intent on sharing and helping than criticizing. Often, after talking with someone, he would fast and pray about their problems. He sometimes cried with them. One lady he had to excommunicate came to him 10 years later and asked him to be the one to baptize her back into the Church.”

Perhaps you will remember the story of Corrie ten Boom, a 50-year old spinster who became a militant heroine of the anti-Nazi underground during World War II. I would like to share with you two examples of how love worked in her life to help her do good when she had been extremely ill used.

The first time was when she was a young woman in Holland. She was very much in love and had thought her love was returned. But then one day the young man came to her door with another young woman. He wanted to introduce Corrie to his fiancée. The family rallied around to help her face this crisis. After the young couple left, Corrie fled to her bedroom, where she lay sobbing. She writes: “Later, I heard Father’s footsteps coming up the stairs. For a moment I was a little girl again waiting for him to tuck the blankets tight. But this was a hurt that no blanket could shut out, and suddenly I was afraid of what Father would say. … Of course he did not say the false, idle words.
“‘Corrie,’ he began instead, ‘do you know what hurts so very much? It’s love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain.
“‘There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill the love so that it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or, Corrie, we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel. … Whenever we cannot love in the old, human way, Corrie, God can give us the perfect way.’”
Later, after the terrifying experience of a wartime Nazi concentration camp, she found herself face to face with one of the S.S. guards.

“It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there—the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, [her sister] Betsie’s pain-blanched face.
“He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. ‘How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.’ he said. ‘To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!’
“His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
“Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.
“I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
“As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
“And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself” (Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, New York: Bantam Books, 1971, pp. 44–45, 238).
Love is the life-giving force that renews the spirit of men and women and brings a new life to the world, a life that brings a longing for immortality.