Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago, I lost a dear friend. He and I had spent many hours talking, working, and fishing together. I learned so much from him. I watched as he loved and served those around him in ways that I simply had never seen anyone do before. He was healthy and strong, his work ethic was unmatched. And then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, he was diagnosed with cancer and passed away. Left behind were his wonderful wife and eight children, two of whom were still young. In my mind, I can play out dozens of scenarios where his unique personality and capacity would have helped people and made the world a better place. I wish he was still here. I feel like he was taken too soon. It has been a few years, and it still feels like he was taken too soon.
To this day, I do not fully understand the Lord’s purpose in taking Big Wave Dave from this earth.

I am grateful to have experienced this in my life. I mentioned previously the difficult experience of losing my dear friend, Big Wave Dave. As the days passed after his death, I was struggling personally to deal with him being gone. During the services held to celebrate his life, I sat and looked into the eyes of his wife and daughters, whom I also love dearly, and I was overwhelmed. I felt their pain. I felt a desire, unlike anything I had felt before, to bear their burdens, mourn with them and comfort them. I tried to do that. I know it wasn’t enough to alleviate all their pain, but I hope it made a difference.

Twenty-four out of twenty-five! They had tied! In a five-shot free throw playoff, Ray Swanson, a deacon from the 18th Ward, Pocatello Idaho West Stake, edged out his Indiana opponent to be declared the national winner in the 12–13 year-old division of the Elks Hoop Shoot contest. (He received a 2 1/2-foot-high trophy for his efforts and was greeted at the airport by schoolmates, city officials, and a pep band when he returned home.) To become eligible for the basketball free throw competition held in Kansas City, Missouri, Ray also won local, district, state, and Northwest Region titles. Since he began competing four years ago, he has won every local and district title in his age group and three state titles also. Ray is the teachers quorum secretary in his ward.

Dear Libby,
I guess you don’t know me, but I’m Kevin’s brother. I don’t know if he ever mentioned me or not. Did he? My name is Rick. I’m 15.
I don’t know if you know anything about me, but I know plenty about you. Are you worried? (That’s a joke.)
Kevin wrote a lot of neat things about you. I kept all his letters. I was reading them this morning. I like to go to his room and wrap his sleeping bag around me and read his letters.
In one of his letters he said your real name is Elizabeth, but you like Libby better. I do too. Except it reminds me of canned green beans. He said you were the first Mormon he’d ever met.
I’m 15 now. I was 13 when Kevin joined the Marines, and 14 when he was killed guarding the American Embassy in Rome.
Kevin and I were really close. Even my parents said so.
You probably didn’t know it, but he told me a lot of things about you. He told me things he didn’t even tell my parents. For instance, once he wrote and said that your hair is the same color as our dog. Now before you get mad, you should know we have an Irish setter named Lady, and the color of her hair is my favorite color. So if what Kevin said about your hair is true, then I think that when you get a little older you could be Miss America or even that lady on TV’s “Wheel of Fortune.” I like her because she doesn’t talk much. Mainly she points at the prizes and smiles.
Kevin told me a lot of things about you. Are you worried? I know you’re a dental assistant, and that’s how he met you, when you were cleaning his teeth.
Personally if I were a dental assistant I’d never fall in love with one of my patients. In the first place, how can you stand to put your fingers in a stranger’s mouth? And second, how can you respect somebody after you’ve scraped away all that crud from their teeth? I mean, it’s like you know the absolute worst thing about them.
He said he looked up at you, and that you had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen in his life. Do many guys fall in love with you when you’re scraping gunk off their teeth? I never would. No way. Of course Kevin always was a little different.
He also told me that on your first date you went jogging together. That sounds like Kevin. He was always looking for ways to save money. And that you didn’t drink or smoke, but you were a lot of fun anyway. He said that made him curious about you. I guess that’s why he agreed to go to your house and let those ministers from your church talk to him about God and stuff like that.
You must really be something to get him to change religions, because I thought he was pretty good the way he was. And I guess it’s no secret that it set my parents off. Mom said she thought you probably sweet-talked him into it. She says things like sweet-talk all the time because she’s from Georgia. She has all these strange sayings that none of the rest of us have ever heard before.
But about you sweet-talking him into becoming a Mormon—I don’t think so, because Kevin could be pretty stubborn sometimes, and if it’s true what Kevin said about you not kissing him for a long time after he started dating you, then I don’t think anybody can say you sweet-talked him into anything.
I didn’t mind Kevin joining your church if that’s what he wanted to do.
By now you’re probably wondering why I’m writing this letter. Actually it’s mainly because Dr. Nelson asked me to do it. He’s the psychologist assigned to my case. I told him about you, and he told me to write you a letter. He gave me a week to do it, and the week’s up tomorrow, and I have to go back to him then, so I’m sitting here in Kevin’s room, with his sleeping bag wrapped around me, writing you. It’s very early in the morning. Actually it’s three-thirty. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night.
I was 14 when he was killed. I wonder sometimes what was so valuable in that embassy. A bunch of old men. Was any of it worth Kevin’s life?
He sent me pictures of Italy. I’ve got one of him standing by an old boat. He’s smiling in the picture, and there’s this beautiful blue water behind him. The picture was taken just a month before he died.
It makes me wonder if at the same time the picture was taken, somebody was meeting in some little room, maybe in one of those houses in the background of that picture, working out a plan to bomb the American Embassy.
Besides being my brother, Kevin was my best friend. Some people said they’d never seen two brothers so close. Even when he was away from home, he wrote to me about things that were happening to him.
He liked to kid around even in his letters. In one letter he’d give me a puzzle, and in the next letter he’d answer it. It used to drive me crazy sometimes. But he was like that. Always fun.
I saved all his letters. I read them every night.
If a guy could have any kind of brother, he’d be the one to choose. To me he was the kind of guy who can do anything. He made me a kite once after I’d broken mine. He just made it out of newspaper and some branches from a tree. Did you know he got freckles on his face in the summer? He was never ashamed to tell people I was his younger brother. Once he even took me along on one of his dates. We went to a carnival, and he let me ride with him and his girl friend on the Ferris wheel, in the same car. It was a little crowded, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Once he took me camping, just the two of us. During the night there was this heavy thunder storm. It didn’t last long, but my sleeping bag got wet. His was dry because he’d remembered to put down a ground cloth. He told me to do it too when we set up camp, but I said it was too much bother. The reason I said that was because the sky was clear then.
Well, after the storm, and my sleeping bag was wet, he didn’t get mad and tell me it was my fault anyway for not putting down a ground cloth. Instead he got out of his sleeping bag and asked me to get in it instead. I asked him what he was going to do, and he said he thought he’d go build a fire and think.
I let him do it because I was too young to realize that it was only two thirty in the morning and nobody in their right mind goes out and sits by a fire for four hours in the middle of the night to think.
He did things like that for me all the time.
All the girls loved him. They really did. In high school for sure, because I was around and saw what was happening around our house. I wish I had a dime for every girl who came over to our house with a batch of cookies for Kevin. It was good for me too, because he’d always share with me.
Did you love him? A lot? I hope you did.
I asked him once why girls liked him so much, and he said it was because he treated them right. I asked him what he meant, and he said you’ve got to remember one thing about girls and that is that they’re people too. And I said well of course they are. Everybody knows that. So he named this really foxy movie star, and asked me if I thought anybody knew what her favorite color was. And I said no. And he said, that’s because people don’t treat her like she is a person. What do they treat her like, I asked, and he said they treat her like she’s a toy.
You can’t do that, he said. You’ve got to find out interesting things about them, like if they ever had measles, or when’s the last time they used crayons to draw a picture, or if they’ve ever baked a pecan pie, or if they play the piano, or if they know how to change the oil in a car.
This is really getting to be a long letter, isn’t it? Well, I’m almost through.
I have a question I want to ask you. I read all his letters this morning. And mostly I understand them all, except the last one, the one he wrote just before he was killed.
And that’s the main reason why I wanted to write you. I’ll copy down part of his last letter for you. I’ll skip the parts you wouldn’t be interested in.
I heard yesterday that an embassy in Germany was bombed. I hope they stay away from ours. Sometimes I get scared.
Rick, here’s a puzzle for you. Ready?
When things get bad and I’m afraid, I turn to another brother of ours. He’s faced it all before. When I get to a place in my life where I need help with a certain thing, then I read his words and they help me.
You and I are real close, and I’ve never really preached to you much, but I wanted to tell you about this older brother of ours. He’s someone I can go to for advice, and he will be there for you too. Because he’s been here on earth before us, and he knows the best way for us to live. And he loves us, even more than I love you.
In my next letter I’ll tell you who this brother is. And where you can find the things to read he wants to tell you.
Love, Kevin
That’s what he wrote. And it’s the thing I can’t understand.
Here I am, after he’s dead, reading his letters over and over again, trying to understand more about him. And then to think that he was doing the same thing about a brother of his.
But the thing that doesn’t make sense is that there is no other brother. There’s just the two of us in our family. So what did he mean? When the army sent all his belongings back to us, I went through everything, hoping to find what he said he had from this other brother that he talked about. But there weren’t any other letters except the ones from me and my parents and you—just that, and an old beat-up copy of the Bible and the book of the Mormons.
What I want to know is—who is this other brother he talked about? And where are the letters from this other brother to Kevin that he said he read all the time? I need to know because I really need help now too, at least that’s what my parents and Dr. Nelson think.
My mother just came in and told me it was late and I should go to bed. I told her I was writing a letter to you. She told me that you came to the funeral. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you then. I’m sorry I ran away and caused my parents more worry. But I’m all right now.
If you have any ideas on my question, please write to me. And would it be all right if we wrote to each other once in a while? Kevin loved you, so you must feel bad too. Maybe we can help each other for a while, and then I won’t have to keep going back to Dr. Nelson.
Your new friend (I hope),Rick

A mission is a couple of years in the future, but it’s something 17-year-old Jeremy thinks a lot about now. Where will he be called? Will he have the opportunity to learn a language? What will a mission be like? What more can he do to get ready?
Jeremy Pownall lives in Sydney, Australia, a place known for its famous opera house, great climate, relaxed lifestyle, and surfing. Actually, body-boarding is his passion right now, although he pretty much only gets to go for a few hours early Saturday mornings. He is just getting his mind around the fact that when he goes on his mission he’ll be leaving the beach and the waves behind. After all, a lot of his surf mates have done it. In fact, those mates are the very ones who are the most effective in convincing him that he really can serve a mission and be more than happy about it.
“There’s nothing like an early-morning yarn going to the surf,” he says. “I go with the returned missionaries in the ward and my Young Men leaders. They are great advice givers. All of them say that there will be great experiences in your life, but a mission is the best experience for your life.”
What do a bunch of LDS surfers talk about at the beach? Jeremy smiles slightly and says, “We talk about the waves we’ve caught and the places we’re going to travel to, where we would like to go on a mission or where they’ve been on their missions. The older guys tell us to definitely marry in the temple. And they remind us that we are going to marry the girls we date.” Being surrounded by surf and sand seems to be the right spot for all this good advice to sink in.
Jeremy admits that he really is a listener. And he soaks in the good advice that comes from his mentors, the ones who are a few years ahead of him on the road of life. “They tell me that if I ever do something that I regret, to never feel uncomfortable about going to my bishop or talking to my parents.”
In another instance, at Young Men camp, he listened when someone got up and spoke about his patriarchal blessing. “I hadn’t thought too much about that,” he recalls. “A week later I went for my interview, and a month later I got my patriarchal blessing.”
In talking about his testimony, Jeremy mentions one of his mentors in particular. “He’s one of my dad’s friends from New Zealand. Whenever he comes here, he goes out of his way to take me surfing. It’s a perfect opportunity for us to talk. The talks I’ve had with him are a major part of my conversion story.”
Sometimes it is in the relaxing moments out in the water or on the drive to the beach when what is said is the easiest to listen to. For Jeremy, that’s where his own testimony came into focus.
The next step in his conversion was bearing that testimony. “I think my testimony grew exponentially when I started bearing it more often and more freely. I feel more confident.”
After all, he points out, he does live in the mission field every day. “A lot of people respect me for my morals, especially here in Australia. Here people at 14 will start going to parties, getting drunk, and trying smoking and drugs. They respect me for still being an interesting and outgoing sort of person, yet not doing any of that stuff.”
Jeremy has big plans for the future. His success in school and his interest in learning languages might lead to becoming an ambassador or diplomat. “Everyone complains about how world leaders are doing things at the moment. I think I could do a better job. Maybe they need the Spirit to guide them.”
Jeremy is sensitive to the impressions of the Spirit. He listens to those who have made good choices. He pays attention to his seminary teacher and his youth leaders. And he likes what he hears.
The bottom line is that he is happy. He had a friend tell him once that she envied people from his church because they all seemed to be happy. Jeremy agrees. He says he has always treasured that about the gospel. “I’m blessed to live in Australia. I’m blessed to have a good family and be brought up in the gospel. I don’t want to waste it.”

From Ruth Manu:
"Although there are countless sacrifices from others that have blessed my life over the years, this one stands out the most. I was in a horrific car accident a few years ago that resulted in my mother's death and me being life-flighted in critical condition. My sweet, selfless grandmother sat in the hospital and rehab centers with me every day for just over a month. I did become frustrated with her at times; however, it was one of the biggest blessings ever to have her with me at that time when I felt so utterly abandoned and alone."

Melinda was almost eight, and she was eager to be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. She was ready to make a covenant—a sacred promise—with Heavenly Father.
Melinda had already practiced making and keeping promises. When her mother asked her to read to her little brother each evening, Melinda promised to do it—and she did! And each time she went to her friend’s house, she promised she would be home on time. She kept that promise, too.
Most of all, Melinda was trying to always remember Jesus. When she was tempted to pretend she didn’t hear her father call her to come home, she thought, What would Jesus want me to do? She quickly ran home.
Now she was eager to promise Heavenly Father to keep His commandments and to take upon her the name of His Son and always remember Him. She knew when she was baptized and made that promise, He would promise her that she would always have His Spirit to be with her.
In family home evening, her father taught about the Liahona, a special compass the Lord gave to Lehi’s family to guide them through the wilderness (see 1 Ne. 16). The Liahona worked only when the people were faithful and diligent in keeping the commandments (see 1 Ne. 16:28). Melinda knew she must also be faithful and diligent in keeping her baptismal covenant so she could have the Holy Ghost to guide her. She knew if she kept her promise, Heavenly Father would keep His promise.

First, sins and mistakes made by others. Let's begin talking about this problem by examining an incident in Church history. Many of you are familiar with this story. In the year 1838, two sisters in the Church got into a squabble over who should get the cream produced by their cows. One of those sisters was Elizabeth Marsh, wife of Thomas B. Marsh, the president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. President Marsh was loved, honored, and respected in the Church.

This disagreement grew into an argument, which just kept escalating. President Marsh took Elizabeth's side and got deeply involved. In the end, it resulted in President Marsh and Elizabeth leaving the Church. Nineteen years later he came back to Brigham Young and pleaded to be taken back as a Church member. By this time, however, he was a broken man who had prematurely aged and lost his health. Furthermore, all of his previous accomplishments and blessings from the Church were gone.

Think of how his life may have been better if he had chosen to leave the past behind, to let a little injustice go, to cast away a grudge, and move forward.

I recently learned a valuable lesson about seeing deeply from a young woman named Rozlyn.
The story was shared with me by my friend who was devastated when her husband of 20 years moved out. With her children splitting time between parents, the prospect of attending church alone seemed daunting. She recounts:
“In a church where the family is of paramount importance, sitting solo can be painful. That first Sunday I walked in praying no one would speak to me. I was barely holding it together, and tears were on the brink. I sat in my typical spot, hoping no one would notice how empty the bench seemed.
“A young woman in our ward turned and looked at me. I pretended to smile. She smiled back. I could see the concern in her face. I silently pleaded that she wouldn’t come to talk to me—I had nothing positive to say and knew I would cry. I looked back down at my lap and avoided eye contact.
“During the next hour, I noticed her looking back at me occasionally. As soon as the meeting ended, she made a beeline for me. ‘Hi, Rozlyn,’ I whispered. She wrapped me in her arms and said, ‘Sister Smith, I can tell today is a bad day for you. I’m so sorry. I love you.’ As predicted, the tears came as she hugged me again. But as I walked away, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I can do this after all.’
“That sweet 16-year-old young woman, less than half my age, found me every Sunday for the rest of that year to give me a hug and ask, ‘How are you?’ It made such a difference in how I felt about coming to church. The truth is I started to rely on those hugs. Someone noticed me. Someone knew I was there. Someone cared.”
As with all gifts the Father so willingly offers, seeing deeply requires us to ask Him—and then act. Ask to see others as He does—as His true sons and daughters with infinite and divine potential. Then act by loving, serving, and affirming their worth and potential as prompted. As this becomes the pattern of our lives, we will find ourselves becoming “true followers of … Jesus Christ.” Others will be able to trust our hearts with theirs. And in this pattern we will also discover our own true identity and purpose.
My friend recalled another experience while sitting in that same empty pew, alone, wondering if 20 years of effort to live the gospel in her home was all for naught. She needed more than calming reassurance; she needed vision. She felt a question pierce her heart: “Why did you do those things? Did you do them for the reward, the praise of others, or the desired outcome?” She hesitated for a moment, searched her heart, and was then able to answer confidently, “I did them because I love the Savior. And I love His gospel.” The Lord opened her eyes to help her see. This simple but powerful change of vision helped her continue to press on with faith in Christ, despite her circumstances.

“Did you notice the Jacksons are driving another new car?” Jim asked his wife. “That’s their second new car in less than three years. I don’t know how that man does it, but he sure knows how to make money. He makes me feel like a failure. We haven’t had a new car for eight years.”

“Yes, but you spend much more time in church service,” Jim’s wife says “You just don’t have time to concentrate on making money.”

The workbook, Addiction Recovery Program: A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing (item no. 36764), outlines the 12 steps and the principles associated with them. Each step has a scripture study section with questions to ponder and space for writing. One participant says that the straightforward approach of the 12 steps gave him hope. By the time Clifford awoke from a coma caused by a drug overdose, his marriage and career had ended. He wondered how he could ever put his life back together. “To have the gospel in little bite-sized steps, 12 of them—I could do that,” he says.
Many say that steps four and five, which focus on personal inventory and confession, are the most challenging. But it depends on the individual. Paula, who struggled with compulsive eating and overdependence in her relationships, worked hardest on step eight—forgiving and restoring relationships—as she tried to forgive her abusive father. She says now, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this miracle in my life: to love and forgive.”
The change that has happened to me is I’m not miserable all the time. Sometimes it’s not easy. Perhaps the Lord doesn’t see fit to take it all from me right now, but He strengthens me so I can bear it patiently and cheerfully, and I can progress. He lightens it just enough that I learn the most that I can.
The gospel teaches that grace comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ (see Ether 12:27). Grace is an enabling power that makes recovery possible. It is “divine means of help or strength” that helps us do good works we wouldn’t be able to do or maintain by ourselves.2
Suzanne, who went through the program herself before becoming a Church-service missionary, says, “I knew that God could tell me what to do, but I never knew He had the power to help me do it. Now I understand the grace that comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”
Through grace, participants regain the hope they have lost. One participant, Edward, grew up in the Church, but his childhood insecurities left him feeling that he wasn’t as good as other people. He says, “I didn’t understand the Atonement, and I didn’t love myself, so nothing really mattered.” When he was in his 20s, he started drinking and using drugs in an attempt to dull his negative feelings—a pattern that continued for 20 years.
When he was arrested a second time for drunk driving, he was ordered to get treatment. In the Church’s program, he learned that receiving forgiveness and regaining a sense of self-worth were possible. He attended church every Sunday, studied the 12 steps, and applied these gospel principles and actions to his life. He became willing to turn his life over to Heavenly Father and, in the process, learned how to love himself and how to let the Atonement work in his life. “I couldn’t overcome all these things by myself,” he says. “The Savior can do for me what I can’t do for myself.”
Those who struggle with addiction aren’t the only ones who can experience a mighty change: loved ones find that as they apply the 12 steps to their own lives and attend recovery meetings, they can experience the blessings of the Atonement in regard to their own grief. In some areas the addiction recovery program provides support groups for family and friends, who discover that the Savior can heal them of the pain, anger, and guilt that loved ones sometimes feel.
When Deborah learned of her son’s drug addiction, she was plagued by feelings of guilt as she thought about how she could have been a better mother. Then she discovered that she could apply the steps to herself. She says, “What I learned in the program is that no matter how my son is doing, I can still be happy and have Heavenly Father in my life.” She adds, “On the outside I look the same, but my life has completely changed on the inside.”
Shannon, whose husband faced a pornography addiction, attended the support group for spouses. As she participated, she noticed a change in herself as well. At first she focused on the pain she felt over her husband’s addiction. But then, as she started learning and applying the steps, a miraculous change occurred. She says, “I began talking less and less about my husband and more about what I had learned from each step. I began to see how the Lord was working in my life.”
In the past I was able to abstain for periods of time. I’d get myself back in good standing with the Church and serve in callings, and everyone would tell me how great I was. But I didn’t feel great on the inside at all. And that’s why abstaining is just one part of it. True recovery is not doing it and not wanting to do it because our nature is changed.
Mark learned that through the Atonement, individuals can not only stop their addictive behaviors but also heal the underlying causes of their addiction. And with the help of their priesthood leaders, they can repent and bring the blessings of the gospel back into their lives. Doug LeCheminant of LDS Family Services clarifies the objective of the program: “Our end goal for those in the program is that they will be able to make and keep temple covenants—not just stay sober.” The sweetest fruits are activation, baptism or rebaptism, priesthood advancement, temple ordinances, and restoration of blessings.
Steve, who found himself in jail wearing his church suit, says, “Today I’m clean and sober because of my Heavenly Father and the 12 steps.” His activity in the Church is especially meaningful to him. “I am a father. I am a priests quorum adviser. I am also a facilitator because I want to give back to a program that gave so freely to me.”
Every day I seek my Heavenly Father in prayer and through the scriptures. In the morning I read books about recovery, and I write my feelings and my impressions. I call a support person in the program to help clarify my thinking. I go to the meetings. I try to serve. And I have never relapsed on a day that I have done those things.
Those daily tasks keep Mark spiritually well. Others who have been through the program have discovered the same truth: maintaining spiritual strength requires continuous effort. No one is completely safe from relapse, but through daily gospel living, those who struggle with addiction come unto Christ and receive strength and hope.
“I’m learning bit by bit, precept upon precept,” says Mark. “My nature is changing, and it’s the first time since this started that I can say I have hope. I truly believe that I never have to relapse again.”

Not long after he came back from Asia in 1927, Howard went to see Ned Redding, a friend who lived in Southern California. After serious deliberation he decided to stay there and look for a career. He got a job with the Bank of Italy (later Bank of America) in 1928 and enrolled in evening classes for college credit. This same friend, Ned Redding, introduced Howard to a young lady friend of his at an M-Men and Gleaner dance at the Wilshire Ward on 8 June 1928. Her name was Clara (Claire) May Jeffs. Attracted to her at once, Howard said to Claire: “Why don’t you ever go out with me?” She said, “Why don’t you ask me?” Soon she and Howard began dating. They became engaged early in 1931 and were married on June 10 that year.

After their engagement, Howard decided to give up professional music and set new goals of marriage and a family. Since that time he has played his musical instruments only at family gatherings.

On one occasion I was in a mission conference when a missionary with great compassion, with tears in his eyes, asked me, “Why did the Savior have to suffer so much?” I reached for our hymnbook, turned to this song, and answered his question with this verse:
And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,
Sent him to die, I scarce can take it in,
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.
Jesus suffered so much because of His love for you and me. What a message! Worthy music is powerful. It has power to make us humble, prayerful, and grateful.

Illustration by Joshua Dennis
I had always thought of myself as a healthy person. So I was shocked when I woke up one morning feeling like my chest was being squeezed so hard it was about to explode. I was rushed to the hospital, but after hours of testing, doctors couldn’t find the problem. They sent me home, even though I still suffered excruciating pain. Thus began a seven-month-long ordeal of doctor’s appointments, hospital stays, and the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.
I started to become depressed. I had to drop my college classes and move back in with my parents. I couldn’t go out with friends. I hurt too much to do any of my hobbies. I felt that everything I cared about—my aspirations, my relationships, my talents—had been shattered, and now the pieces of my former self seemed impossible to put back together. And I started to wonder: How could Heavenly Father let this happen to me? Didn’t He love me?
After yet another disappointing and painful doctor’s appointment, all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. But as I arrived home, I saw something strange on the porch: an old, tattered shoebox covered in tape and addressed to me.
A letter on the box revealed that the package came from one of my friends. She had heard that I was sick and wanted to cheer me up. When I opened the shoebox, I found that it was full of little pieces of Styrofoam. It was a homemade puzzle made especially for me.
As I put the puzzle together, I began to cry. The puzzle formed my name, surrounded by sweet messages of love and encouragement. I felt that the shattered pieces of myself were now being put back together as I assembled my friend’s gift.
A short time later, I started taking a medication that reduced my symptoms and helped the doctors make a diagnosis. I had a rare but treatable condition, and with the proper medicine, I could return to normal life.
Even as my body healed, I knew I would never forget what I had learned. Because of my friend’s sweet gift, I knew that I was loved and that Heavenly Father had not forgotten me. After months of feeling shattered, thanks to the kindness of a friend and the love of my Father in Heaven, I became whole again.

Father was a longshoreman. He worked on the docks, long hours, loading and unloading cargo from ocean-going ships. The work made him strong. His friends from the docks often came to our home. They’d sit me on their laps, muss up my hair, and always say the same thing, “Your dad is the best worker there. He does the work of two men.”
Work was important to my father. His parents were immigrants to America from Italy. They set up a small produce market in Boston, and it was there my father learned to work. He hosed the vegetables, swept the sidewalks, and carried groceries to the old wood homes of the neighborhood. He joined the navy after high school and was stationed in California where he met my mother. She worked as a waitress in a little restaurant not far from the base. Father came into the restaurant, night after night. After two weeks of taking his order, my mom said something about how much he must like the food. Father blurted out that it wasn’t the food that kept him coming back; it was the pretty waitress who was helping him. They began courting. Six weeks later, Father complained to her at the restaurant that there was something in his soup. My mother sifted through it with a fork and pulled out a diamond ring. She looked at him and said, “Yes.”
After his discharge from the service, he found his job on the docks, bought a home, and settled in. My sister Paula was born, and I followed four years later. My parents seemed content, but even as a child I recall them discussing their plans and their lives—what our family needed and what they wanted to become. Inevitably they came to the same conclusion: something was missing, but they didn’t know what.

My family noted how careful the Jews were in Israel to keep that commandment to the best of their abilities. They made sure their shopping was completed well before their Sabbath began. Many orthodox Jews would not even turn on lights in their homes or turn on or off their ovens on the Sabbath day to avoid what they considered to be breaking the Sabbath. When the Sabbath arrived, they do not drive cars. They would dress up in the Sabbath best and walk to their synagogues and rejoice and sing and welcome in the queen of the Sabbath. My family laughs now at an experience that happened while we were eating a Sabbath dinner at one of our orthodox Jewish Friend's home. The couple had a couple of young children. One was 5 years old and he left the table to use the restroom.
While there, we heard him say to his parents he saw a spider in the bathroom. The father told him not to kill the spider, because it was the Sabbath day. Almost immediately, he heard the young boy say, "Too late. I killed it!" These Jews were a great reminder of the importance of keeping that day holy. They took it as seriously today as if it had been given to them anew from God.

It was about that time Bob began talking again about going on his mission. We hadn’t mentioned it much, but then one day he said, “Well, I guess when we get home I’ll start getting ready for my mission.” From then on, he talked about a mission more and more. One night, about 1:00 A.M., after a long, hard day, he rolled over in his sleeping bag and said, “Dad, tell me about eternal life.” We talked for about two hours. Then, with his last effort, he said, “That’s what I want” and fell asleep. For me that made the whole trip worthwhile.
We slowly regained our lost time, and by the end of the trip, arrived in the small Eskimo village at the mouth of the river right on schedule. We had one half of a meal left. Our canoe was so badly damaged we had to abandon it (after notifying Canadian officials). We had sailed over every set of rapids on the river but one (whether we were tired or afraid of the one we carried our equipment around I’m not sure), so we didn’t claim any records. But Bob had been lost and now was found. The day after we returned home, he went to see the bishop and expressed his desire to serve the Lord. He is now serving in the Illinois Chicago Mission.

When I was a young man, one of the things I aspired to was to go on a mission—a dream that I think is a worthy goal for any young man or woman in the Church. At that time, missions weren’t emphasized in the same way that they are today; I was the youngest of six children, and I am certain my family was an important factor in my decision.
So I think my heritage in the Church influenced me deeply as I made my decision, but it was not the only factor. I had already begun my college education when I was interviewed by the bishop relative to going on a mission. In addition, I had previously received a very flattering and tempting offer: an appointment to the Naval Academy at Annapolis where I knew that I would receive one of the finest educations available at that time. I remember sitting down in my room and thinking, “Well, Frank, where do you want to go? Where will Annapolis take you? And where will a mission take you?”
Fifty-five years later and with a testimony much strengthened by a lifetime of experiences gained by serving the Lord, I know that I made the right decision and have frequently been grateful to my Heavenly Father that I had enough faith in Him and enough love for the Church that I was willing to make that decision.

On occasion our prayers are answered quickly. I'm reminded of a story told by another faculty member.

A good Brother related that one morning he was up early preparing to go to the office. He was up well before the day had dawned, and was standing at the sink in his bathroom preparing to shave when he saw the door to a bedroom at the end of the hall open. His young son stumbled toward him tiredly rubbing his eyes. As he got to his father this little boy looked up and said in a very sleepy voice, "Dad, what was the first color?" This good man thought, "Where in the world did that come from?" This from a little boy, who thinks fathers know everything. The father responded, "I am not sure I know what the first color was." With that the little boy, with an inquisitive look on his face said, "Just a minute." He turned and quickly made his way back to his bedroom, leaving the door ajar; his father saw him kneel at his bed with his head bowed in prayer; moments later the young boy jumped up and hurried back down the hall and said, "Pink…, the first color was pink" and turned and hurried back to bed. The father then said to us, "There you have it. Now you know what the first color was."

I had always just assumed that when you got into ninth grade, you went to seminary. So I was surprised when I received a call from the bishopric asking me if I wanted to enroll.
I thought, “Sure. Why not?”
The next thing I knew, it was the first day of ninth grade, and I was on my way to released-time seminary. I was pretty scared and not very excited. “Yeah,” I thought, “another church meeting to go to every day. What could my teacher possibly have to teach us every single day? And I was supposed to do this for four years? What if I didn’t know anyone in my class? What if I didn’t like my teacher? What if I just didn’t want to go?”
But I forced myself out the door of my high school and took that long trek to the seminary building. When I got there, I looked for my name to see which class I was in. I then waited for someone I knew so I wouldn’t have to be alone. Little did I know that in seminary you are never alone. I finally gave up waiting and went to class. As I walked into the classroom, I was greeted by a warm smile and a friendly handshake. That’s when things started to get better.
I took a seat, and as I looked around at all of the beautiful pictures on the walls, my friends started to come in. Friends! Now I could have fun.
Class finally started, and we all told a little about ourselves. Then the teacher, Brother Toma, introduced himself and told us about seminary—how important it was to come every day and how there would be gospel study, fun activities, and sometimes even treats!
I couldn’t believe how fast that class went by. It was so much fun; I didn’t want to leave. When the bell rang, I had to drag myself back to the school.
When I returned to school, I could instantly tell a difference. My school had never seemed so worldly before. I was amazed at how strong the Spirit had been in that seminary building, even on an orientation day.

Years ago, while conducting a class discussion on stewardship, something remarkable happened. I posed the question, “Who captains your stewardship?” After considerable open, thoughtful, and sometimes invigorating discussion the class was clearly divided. Some answered “the Savior” while others countered by saying, “We are the captains” of our stewardship. The class-time ended without a clear resolution to the question.

The next morning as I entered my office I noticed on my desk a picture painted by Warner E. Sallman, entitled Christ the Pilot. On the back of the picture, one of my students wrote a note that read: “Brother Price, who captains my stewardship? Hopefully it is as the picture indicates.”

Though I had seen the picture many times, it was at that moment that insights flowed into my mind and soul as never before. A thoughtful student’s initiative and the Spirit of the Lord taught me that day. For the next few hours I recorded my thoughts, observation, feeling, scriptures and words of living prophets on the subject of stewardship, while gazing at this picture.

Let us review Heth’s observations and add a few from other students. We note that the:
1. Conditions are stormy, not unlike life
2. The speck of blue sky is a ray of hope
3. The Savior is near
4. He is showing (pointing) the way
5. The young man is attentive and alert
6. He appears calm and confident
7. The young man’s hands are on the wheel
8. The Savior’s hand is placed gently on the young man’s shoulder.
The young man seems to understand his stewardship role. He seems willing to receive divine guidance. With our hands on the wheel of stewardship, clearly, we are responsible for what happens.

As we look at this picture, our role as stewards becomes apparent, and our relationship to the savior is defined.