Gospel Story Finder

The power of the priesthood and the importance of its restoration and blessings came to have special meaning in my life when I was the age of many of you. I was just 15. My mother and father were miles away from our home, and my grandmother was staying with me. While my parents were away, a serious ear infection developed, and I was rushed to the hospital. The infection required major surgery and was carried out immediately. Following the operation, I overheard one of the doctors tell a nurse that the damage to my ear had been so severe that I would permanently lose my hearing and my equilibrium.

When my parents arrived at the hospital and realized the seriousness of my situation, they knew what to do. My father and another Melchizedek Priesthood holder, having the power and authority to act in the name of God, administered to me, using the oil that had been consecrated by the priesthood for the healing of the sick. My father placed his hands upon my shaven head, which was mostly wrapped in bandages, and gave me a blessing.

My mother was also impressed that she should place my name on the prayer roll of the Alberta Temple where those in attendance would join their faith in prayer for me. It was the first time I knew that people could have their name placed on the prayer roll in the temple. In time, through faith and the power of the priesthood, my healing was complete.

I love going to the library to check out books. I especially like to check out books about my favorite superheroes. One time I brought a book home that I was really excited to read, but when I opened it, one of the drawings was a girl who wasn’t dressed very modestly. I brought the book to my mom, and she asked what I thought we should do about it. I said I thought we should take it back to the library and not look at it. I felt happy inside after I made the right choice.
Caleb O., age 4, Utah, USA

Latter-day Saints also have a presence at West Point, the U.S. Army’s academy in upstate New York, and at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. Consider this story about Midshipman Blake G. Jacobson:
One night while he was on watch, his upperclassman asked why the ring he wore bore the initials CTR instead of BGJ. Jacobson explained that the ring is often worn by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and that CTR stands for Choose the Right. The upperclassman already knew Jacobson doesn’t smoke, drink, or swear.
A few days later, during a company inspection, the upperclassman suddenly yelled out, “Mr. Jacobson, what does it say on that ring you’re wearing?”
Jacobson was surprised, but barked out, “CTR, sir!”
“And what do those letters stand for, Mr. Jacobson?”
“Choose the Right, sir!”
“Correct. Men, from now on those letters are our company motto!”
From then on, the company chanted, “Choose the Right, left, Choose the Right, left,” as they marched around academy grounds. (Story submitted by Joe and Glo Jensen.)

Driving to the Los Angeles Airport with a busy radio executive, I learned that he and his wife, though born in the Church, had never participated. Their social life of parties and weekends for fun and escape dominated their lives.
After eight years of marriage and three children, they were becoming concerned about their lives but did nothing about it.
Different sets of home teachers came and went. A new home teacher—a true shepherd—came into their lives, and after a time this new home teacher committed this man to go to Church once. Brother Adamson said he would not give up smoking and drinking. He had made a firm resolve not to live the Word of Wisdom, and if he was not welcome in Church because of it, that was fine. The home teacher said, “You are welcome, and I will pick you up.”
The first Sunday Brother Adamson attended Church he waited for someone to move away from him because of the strong tobacco odor, but that didn’t happen. “They will ask me to pray or work in the Church,” he thought. That didn’t happen either.
The home teacher did not phone on Sunday mornings to give him a chance to make an excuse and back out but drove to his home and would say, “Are you ready?” This home teacher picked him up every Sunday for over a year.
The Adamsons began reading A Marvelous Work and a Wonder and found that the Church consisted of much more than just the Word of Wisdom, which he had heard so much about all his life (and because he didn’t live the Word of Wisdom, felt the Church had nothing to offer him).
This couple soon learned it is a Church of love, not a Church of fear. They learned of the mission of the Savior and of our Heavenly Father and of repentance. They became so proud of the Church they had been born into that the Word of Wisdom no longer was an important issue. He didn’t go through the pangs of quitting. It just happened. There were so many other principles of the gospel that now were so important in their lives.
He said, “I found myself working on our new chapel and then one day quietly telling the bishop, ‘I’m ready, now. You can call on me to pray.’”

As I entered the home for old people, my thoughts were not really on grandma, even though she was dying. I love her, and it made me sad to realize she would soon be leaving, but she had been waiting so long to be with grandpa again that it seemed like her dying would be a blessing, a long-awaited reward for her faithfulness. My own mind longed for such assurance of what the future would hold. I was wrestling with an important decision and was filled with confusion; I found myself pleading with the Lord for peace of mind. That’s why I was so surprised when such a feeling of calmness came over me when I walked into grandma’s room. She was weeping. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and told me softly that as she looked back at her life, she was overcome with the blessings the Lord had given her. Her quiet reflection and gratitude totally removed me from my earthly worries. I hardly realized I was standing there, listening to her in the darkness. She was radiant, thin and dying, but glowing.
Any unappreciative thought I’d ever had about her was erased from my mind, and I was so humbled that I can’t find words to explain it. Why don’t those times stay with us forever? I put my unwrinkled hand over her wrinkled one and held it. I asked her what she was thinking. She said something I’ve often felt but could never quite express. She shook her head and said, “Oh, dear, if you knew all I think about.” Then she told me I looked different. I told her it was because I had no eye makeup on and she probably couldn’t recognize me. But she hadn’t even looked at me. She’d been looking out the window and then she said, “No, you are different than when you came in. You’re seeing your future laid out in front of you, and you wonder what will happen to you.” Tears came to my eyes. She was right. “Don’t be impatient, my dear. The Lord has many good things in store for you, and he loves you very much. But you are impatient like me. You want to tell the Lord when you’re ready and when you’re not.”
The she smiled. “I have been a trial to my Lord all my life because of my impatience, and now I see my life closing, and I realize he still loves me—he loves me.” When she had finished, tears fell down her cheeks. I wasn’t crying outwardly, but when I saw her tears, mine came, too. At that moment we were sharing something together as children of God, not as an old lady and her granddaughter. That is how I will remember Grandma Windsor, and when my time comes to join her, I hope she will be proud of me.
I walked down the steps of the home for old people with one more testimony that there really is one greater than ourselves, and that he loves me far more than I can even imagine. He has blessed me so much! Knowing that, I can’t be anything less than my best. When I fail, I punish myself. He is a God of abounding love, not hate or resentment. I do so many things wrong, and yet he still loves me. Looking at grandma’s face that day, I could see that love. I could see wisdom, humility, and peace—an overwhelming peace. I wish I could have written on stone plates that would last forever the feeling I had then.

A few years ago, our family started going through some trying times. Our daughter, who was two at the time, had received a cancer diagnosis that required ongoing rigorous treatments. We also had a baby who had her own medical complications requiring frequent monitoring and visits to specialists. Life was not going quite as we had planned!
Based on our circumstances, we needed to make a few changes—and do so quickly! Upon the cancer diagnosis, I quit my job, dedicated my time to my children’s health-care needs, and started traveling out of state frequently for my daughter’s treatment.
As a six-year stretch of various cancer treatments for her began, I didn’t know that I was going to get an intensive course on how to be ministered to and in turn how to minister to others.
I’d like to share a few of the lessons that personally helped me when I was the one being served:
Say yes to help—if it actually is helpful. It can be hard to be on the receiving end of service. It is humbling since it can bring up vulnerabilities and weaknesses. But if someone offers something that would be helpful to you, say yes! Some offers may not be helpful, and in those cases, it is appropriate to politely decline. Maybe in that case you can suggest something they could do instead. In the future, you can offer to serve someone else.
Reach out. I am grateful for the organization of the Church because there are people in the ward or branch who are responsible to minister to each one of us. We are not alone. If you are in need, humbly reach out. Speak up and let others know a way that they can help. So many struggles are not public knowledge and not shared, so it might be hard for others to know how to help you if you don’t tell them. One example is that we had a few unexpected treatment appointments come up, and we had not yet arranged childcare. I asked a few friends to have my youngest daughter over for playdates to help ease the burden on Grandma, who was primarily caring for her. They were so kind and willing but would not have known I needed that help if I did not ask.
Be graceful in response to people’s well-meaning comments. No one but our Heavenly Father and the Savior can know exactly what you are going through. Be generous in accepting people’s comments or words of sympathy. We all have been in the position of wishing we could take back something we have said. On the rare occasions when people said something that came across the wrong way, I would try to focus on their good intentions and move on.
When able, share your thanks! When you are in the trenches of your trials, thank-you notes or expressions of gratitude might not be a possibility. In those times, it can feel overwhelming to notice and receive any gifts of generosity or love. If you missed an opportunity to share your thanks, remember there is no expiration date for gratitude. You can always reach out later and let them know how much their service meant to you at the time.
During our daughter’s first few months of treatment, our time and energy were filled with the daily grind of our children’s health-care needs. Normally, I like to give people thank-you notes but didn’t make the time for that. Instead, I kept a list on my computer of some of the gifts and acts of service we received, both to remember to thank later and to remind us of the wonderful people watching out for us. This is a list I hold dear to my heart, and it serves as a reminder on how I can help those around me.
To follow Jesus Christ, our ultimate example of being a minister, includes being “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light” (Mosiah 18:8). I have received many Christlike acts of service, making my burdens light. Being on the receiving end of this kindness is humbling, and I am grateful to have learned more about our Savior’s love by being ministered to by His disciples.

Last year, our very first nephew, Nathan, left to serve a mission in Mexico. We explained to our children that Nathan was in the MTC to learn Spanish. One evening we decided to devote a family home evening night to writing letters to him. Although we were helping the youngest, all of the other children were writing independently. At one point, Stephen, age 7, asked, “How do you spell ‘empty?’” We thought nothing of it at the time, but later as we were reviewing what the kids had written, we saw this question in Stephen’s letter: “Dear Nathan, what do you do in the empty sea?”—Meredith J., Colorado

I would like to fast-forward a number of years now to a time when my wife and I were awaiting the arrival of our first child. I'll never forget that first ultrasound appointment. Like any soon-to-be father, I was excited and anxious all at the same time. I wanted to know that all was well. Here is a picture of one of those ultrasounds.
To my untrained eye, I could not tell which end was up. For me, the question of that day was, "Doctor, where's the heart?"
The nurse kindly pointed out to me which little blip was the heart. "See, there's the heart," she exclaimed. I wasn't sure I did. She moved it again. "Can you see it now?" And then, to all of our surprise, she said, "Oh my, there are two hearts in there. You are having twins."
We gasped. My wife cried. I don't know if they were tears of joy or fear. Maybe a bit of both.

Brother Truman G. Madsen tells about a visit he made to Israel with President Hugh B. Brown (1883–1975), an Apostle of the Lord who served as Second Counselor and then First Counselor in the First Presidency. In a valley known as Hebron, where tradition has it that the tomb of Father Abraham is located, Brother Madsen asked President Brown, “What are the blessings of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?” After a short moment of thought, President Brown answered, “Posterity.”
Brother Madsen writes: “I almost burst out, ‘Why, then, was Abraham commanded to go to Mount Moriah and offer his only hope of posterity?’
“It was clear that [President Brown], nearly ninety, had thought and prayed and wept over that question before. He finally said, ‘Abraham needed to learn something about Abraham’” (The Highest in Us [1978], 49).

Bathsheba’s early life was filled with excitement as she witnessed the beginnings of the restored Church. Born May 3, 1822, in Shinnston, Virginia, to Mark and Susannah (Ogden) Bigler, Bathsheba was a cheerful child, and she loved to spin, weave, and do embroidery with her mother and to go horseback riding with her father on their three-hundred-acre plantation. Religiously inclined, she was careful to say her secret prayers.
She wrote in her autobiography about joining the Church at age fifteen: “Some Latter-day Saint Elders visited our neighborhood. I heard them preach and believed what they taught. I believed the Book of Mormon to be a divine record, and that Joseph Smith was a Prophet of God. I knew by the spirit of the Lord which I received in answer to prayer, that these things were true.” Bathsheba’s immediate family and her uncle and his family were baptized.
One of her first experiences as a member of the Church was ridicule by her young acquaintances, and when the family decided to join with other Saints in Far West, Missouri, Bathsheba was disappointed that she couldn’t leave immediately with her married sister, Nancy. While pondering this disappointment, she seemed to hear a voice say, “Weep not. You will go this fall.” And her family did leave for Missouri that autumn.
During their journey, they were stopped by men who gathered around their wagon and tried to prevent them from going any farther. But after talking among themselves, the men said, “As you are Virginians, we will let you go on, but we believe you soon will return for you will quickly become convinced of your folly.” But Bathsheba and her family never thought of the gospel as “folly,” and events such as this only caused them to cling more strongly to their beliefs.

David dove off the boat ramp into the deep, green water, down and down, looking for the happiness he’d always found when swimming in the pond. The pond was on his grandfather’s land, and he was staying with his grandparents, at least for now. He burst through the surface and gulped down the warm June air. The cows, which had followed him to the pond, looked startled at his sudden appearance from under the water, as if they hadn’t seen him do this a thousand times before. They were lined up on the wooden ramp like a row of animal bathing beauties on a diving board.
David chuckled at them and rolled over onto his back, remembering how it was when he was only five and his mother was teaching him to swim. He had clung to her, scared but excited, until she finally went under the water and he went under with her, holding his breath for the first time. When they came up, he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t stop.
“What’s so funny?” she’d demanded. “You—your hair was going straight up!” It was the first of many days spent at the pond, giggling and splashing and laughing.
That summer his grandmother had planted yellow willows along the banks. Now they had grown up tall, just like David. On one side of the pond, his grandfather had given the willows a haircut, cutting their weeping branches off evenly six feet above the dusty path. On the other side, the willows were long and trailing, their leafy tips dipping into the green water. David caught some of these with his toes as he floated by on his back. He pulled them along with him for a little while, shaking the leaves higher up on the tree. He hadn’t found what he was looking for; he knew that he wouldn’t now. Even the combination of the warm sun and the cool water wasn’t enough to make him happy again.
Still floating, he looked straight up into the open sky and squinted at a passing bird. He could hear his grandfather working with his hoe. Even though he was eleven years old, his grandfather still stayed close by when he was swimming. He wondered how much longer he and Dad would stay with Grandpa. They had come to the farm as soon as school was out for the summer, because Dad knew it was David’s favorite place.
When his mother was still alive, the pond was the best place in the world. But Mom had died in the spring, and he missed her so much that his head ached from it. He wanted a whole family with a father and a mother. The sky suddenly blurred as if he were under water again. He desperately wanted to feel better, but he didn’t know how.
“Shoo, you moos!” He waved his arms. “Go on, move!” The cows lumbered off, settling down under the willows. He climbed onto the ramp and lay there, making a wet silhouette on the boards, and thought of his mother. She had been the only member of the Church in the family. He had gone to Primary, and Dad had listened to the missionary discussions, but neither he nor his dad had been baptized.
After she died, Dad talked with him about joining the Church. “Davy, I’ve decided to be baptized. I’d like you to be baptized with me, but you are old enough to decide for yourself.”
“I’ve already decided. I don’t want to be baptized with you.” David turned away so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in his father’s face. He didn’t know then—or now—exactly why he answered the way he did. He wasn’t sure of anything.
“All right,” Dad had said, “but will you think and pray about it while we’re at Grandpa’s? You know that if you’re baptized, we can go to the temple next summer and be sealed together as a family.”
David knew about the temple. He had learned about it in Primary, but all that he cared about now was that Mom was gone, that she wouldn’t swim and laugh with him again.
Dad was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on a Saturday afternoon, and the smile on his face as he came up out of the water was one of a very few that David saw anymore.
He was still thinking about that rare smile, when a bee buzzed close to his ear. He sat up. His swim trunks were nearly dry, and the planks of the boat ramp were getting hot in the sun. He remembered Grandpa telling him the story of building the boat ramp on the little pond.
“When Grandma and I were first married and bought this farm, Davy, there was no ramp, just a pond. Grandma said that she wanted to swim but that she wasn’t going to get her feet muddy getting out of the water—you know your grandma. So I went up to the lake to see how it was done, then came back and built Grandma the boat ramp.”
“Is that when the neighbors started to tease you?”
“Yes.” Grandpa laughed, remembering. “They wanted to know when I was going to bring my yacht up to our watering hole. But it didn’t matter. I loved your grandma so much that I would do anything for her. I still do.”
Now Grandpa’s words repeated themselves inside his head: “I loved your grandma so much that I would do anything for her.” Did Dad love Mom that much? He thought about his father’s plan to go to the temple next summer. Yes, he loved her enough to study and pray about the Church and then be baptized. What about me? he wondered. Do I love Mom that much?
The tune to a Primary song came into his head. Its last few words floated like a whisper into his heart: “A family is forever.”
He bowed his head and put his hands in his lap, praying for the first time since Mom died. “Heavenly Father, please help me to know what to do. Please help me to feel better. Please help me!”
Suddenly he was warm all over, with a feeling that started somewhere near his heart and spread out to his fingers and toes. He felt reassured and relieved, just as he had when he was learning to swim and felt Mom’s arms around him. There was something else too. He knew the gospel was true, and he wanted to be baptized and go to the temple the next summer with Dad. He would tell him tonight.
All at once he jumped up and took a joyful flying leap off Grandma’s boat ramp, making a gigantic splash in the pond. He rose quickly to the surface, breaking through the water with a grin on his face. The cows looked at him in surprise, as if they had never seen him do it before.

Single at 43! Learning to date again at my age was a weird experience. I have to apologize publicly that when I saw my kids and you students falling in love through communications via e-mail, texting, skyping, Facebook messages, etc., I thought to myself, "Just pick up the phone already, just like in the old days." What I found though, as I started this dating journey is that you could still use the phone, but all of these other communication mediums were important and I could build a relationship through the use of them as well. Before Diane passed away I did not plan on dating or remarrying after her passing. I planned on going back to corporate and making my mark on the world.

I was interviewing at Microsoft in December of 2014 and had this feeling, a weird feeling, that going back to corporate wasn't what I needed to do. I had gone on one date with Kami McKane, who was a widow with three boys at home. I really liked her. She was smart, funny, pretty, and had a great testimony. My late wife Diane had told me numerous times that she expected that I remarry, but it always seemed weird to talk about. So when I did start dating, I knew I had her blessing, which was a great comfort. Anyway, Kami and I continued on our courtship and we married last year. Many people asked why we would get married again. Kami is sealed to her late husband as I am to my late wife, both of us for time and all eternity. Why get married again, for time only? Our relationship is one of friendship and love, but most importantly to help each other and our children to return undefiled and prepared to sit at the judgment seat of God and return to our eternal companions.

Now we have a blended family of seven children, ages seven to 24. All of our children have had their hearts broken. To lose a mother or father is traumatic. All we can ask is, "Dear Heavenly Father, what am I to learn?" To curse God, blame others or not move on is not God's plan. We must move forward, we can only move forward or backward. Staying in one place is moving backward. Kami is my wife now. She is a great example to me and our children. She went to college and earned her degree in English, with no real plans to ever use it, but knew it was wise to do so. She was married in college to a great man, who provided for her and her children. When he died suddenly of a massive heart attack, she was thrust into the work force. She took on a school teaching job and did that until we married. What would she have done for employment had she not completed her degree is a lesson for anyone contemplating not completing their education.

As I walked down the dusty, Brazilian country road, my mind strayed to a day in my childhood. Now, I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was serving the Lord as a missionary. But the setting took my mind back to a loving aunt, a wonderful day, and a promise.
Aunt Rocilda and her family lived on a large farm. Our extended family was very important to us and we loved to visit her. Since a day in the country was a day away from the pressures of everyday life, I always looked forward to our visits to the country—especially Aunt Rocilda’s farm. I could tell that one of her greatest joys in life was making me happy.
One particular day, I had played hard and taken advantage of every opportunity to enjoy the farm. Aunt Rocilda had given me a fish to take home and it seemed that she had shown me her love more than ever that day.
As I prepared to leave, I hugged her and made her a promise; I wanted to somehow repay her for her Christlike love. “Someday,” I said with the sincerity of youth, “I will go to Sao Paolo and I will bring you back a big gift.”
As I grew up, the dream of Sao Paolo never faded, though the remembrance of my promise did. One day I learned that Aunt Rocilda had died. As I mourned, I remembered my promise to her and I grieved that I would never be able to fulfill it.
However, I did go to Sao Paolo and there I met two Latter-day Saint missionaries. After being baptized, I worked toward a mission and the blessings of the temple. As I entered the Missionary Training Center in Sao Paolo, I thought of my aunt. What would be the greatest possible gift I could give her? I felt a strong desire to share the blessings of the gospel with Aunt Rocilda, and I made sure that temple ordinance work was done in her name.
Though Aunt Rocilda didn’t receive the “big gift” in this, earthly life, I feel that she has accepted the greater, eternal gift.

One day Tanner was riding his bike with his friend, Cole. Suddenly Cole’s bike crashed to the sidewalk. Tanner saw that his friend had scraped his arm and he was crying.
Right then Tanner had a good idea. He hopped off his bike and asked, “Cole, do you want me to make you something happy?”
Cole didn’t know what Tanner meant. But there on the sidewalk, Tanner did a happy dance. He jumped, kicked, and turned around as he sang, “Do, do, do!”
Cole wasn’t crying anymore. He was laughing so hard that he was rolling on the grass.

Many years later, Diane had a friend named Lynn who was taught by missionaries. Diane saw how happy Lynn was. At Lynn’s baptism, Diane heard the name “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” She remembered her friend Emma. That was the name of the church Emma went to!
Diane wanted to know more. She read the Book of Mormon and asked Heavenly Father if it was true. She felt happy, just like Emma had said she would. On the day of her baptism, she was so thankful for Emma, the friend who told her about the Church while playing hopscotch.

From this point forward, I began to experience mixed emotions about becoming a member of the Church. I was concerned about my father’s opinion and his reaction to my decision.
During the sixth discussion, I received the message that I had an incoming call from my father. The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was indeed my dad.
He said, “Your mother informed me you’ve made a decision to join the Latter-day Saints.”
I said yes.
He said, “I’m here to prevent that from happening.”
And I said, “You know what, Dad? I love you and you’ll always be my dad. You’ve done a great job with me. But I’m 22. I’m a man now, and these decisions are for my family and my future. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and will continue to do for me, but this is my decision. I’m going to do it, and I know the Lord wants me to do this.”
My dad wasn’t very happy when he hung up the phone. Immediately I got on my knees and asked the Lord to help me see and understand that what I was going to do was correct. I was thousands of kilometers from home. I was all alone, and nothing was going right. Only when I was with the missionaries did I feel good. At that moment the Spirit testified to me that it was the Lord’s will and that the Lord wanted me to be baptized. A very clear voice said, “You are to do the Lord’s will. You are to follow His example.” Then I knew. I never looked back after that. I was baptized on 12 October 1995.

These words represent Elder Pratt’s declaration of the miraculous coming forth of a remarkable book. How he came in contact with the book is an interesting story.
In August 1830, as a lay preacher, Parley Parker Pratt was traveling from Ohio to eastern New York. At Newark, he met a Baptist deacon by the name of Hamlin, who told him “of a book, a strange book, a VERY STRANGE BOOK! … This book, he said, was supposed to have been originally written on plates either of gold or brass, by a branch of the tribes of Israel; and to have been discovered and translated by a young man near Palmyra, in the State of New York, by the aid of visions, or the ministry of angels. I asked him how or where the book was to be obtained. He promised to let me see it, at his house the next day. … Next morning I called at his house, where, for the first time, I saw the ‘BOOK OF MORMON’—that book of books … which was the principal means, in the hands of God, of directing the entire course of my future life.
“I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page. I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. … I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists.” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, third edition, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1938, pages 36–37.)
Parley Pratt was then twenty-three years old. Reading the Book of Mormon affected him so profoundly that he was soon baptized into the Church and became one of its most effective and powerful advocates. In the course of his ministry he traveled from coast to coast across what is now the United States, into Canada, and to England; he opened the work in the isles of the Pacific and was the first Mormon elder to set foot on the soil of South America. In 1857, while serving a mission in Arkansas, he was killed by an assailant. He was buried in a rural area near the community of Alma, and today in that quiet place a large block of polished granite marks the site of his grave. Engraved in its surface are the words of another of his great and prophetic hymns, setting forth his vision of the work in which he was engaged:
The morning breaks; the shadows flee;
Lo, Zion’s standard is unfurled! …
The dawning of a brighter day
Majestic rises on the world.
The clouds of error disappear
Before the rays of truth divine; …
The glory bursting from afar
Wide o’er the nations soon will shine.
(Hymns, 269.)

As you reach out to them, please remember the experience of a friend of mine. He had never owned a horse in his life until he married a wonderful woman who loves horses. Wanting to impress his new bride, he announced one evening that he was going to the pasture to teach a colt how to be led. He weighed more than the colt. He knew more than the colt. He assumed all he would need to do was pull on the lead rope and sooner or later the colt would follow. He was confident that the process would be short and simple.

He attached the lead rope to the halter, got in front of the colt, and pulled. The colt resisted. My friend pulled harder, and the colt planted his legs more firmly. So he really pulled, and the colt fell over. The process was repeated several times until my friend made this assessment: in just four or five minutes he had successfully taught the colt to fall over. All he had to do was get in front of the colt, pick up the rope, and over it would go.

His wife, watching this process, finally suggested that instead of getting in front of the colt and pulling, he might try wrapping the rope around the colt and simply walking alongside. To my friend’s chagrin, it worked.

There seems to be something inside each of us that resists being told or pushed or pulled. But if someone puts an arm around a young man and walks alongside him, he is likely to follow along with a desire to serve. Please remember this as you strengthen the testimony of one more who can serve.

One young woman decided after reading her patriarchal blessing that she wanted to do something grand to help the poor and needy. After unsuccessfully trying to give aid to some people she saw on the street, she thought she’d failed. Then she got home and found her brother crying because he’d been teased at school. After taking him out for ice cream and listening to his troubles, she learned a lesson. “The poor are just as likely to be in your home as on the streets,” she says. “There are all sorts of needy people in the world—those who need food and shelter, of course—but also those who need love, counsel, and encouragement.” (Read the rest of her story at lds.org/go/needyNE11.)

When I was in grade school, my mom would pick me up from school every Wednesday so we could get a little exercise by swimming laps together. At first, I did not enjoy this. I had little to no athletic talent, and I only went because it meant I would not have to ride the bus home from school.

But I soon realized the benefits of this weekly appointment. My mom taught me how to strengthen my strokes, how to align my body in the water, and when to breathe. I found an unhurried rhythm as I pulled myself through the water.

Pull, pull, pull, breathe.

What I treasured the most, though, was the uninterrupted time with my mom. I never had to worry about keeping up with my more gifted peers or keeping track of the number of laps I swam. It was just my mom and me keeping a rhythm.

Not long ago, I started to swim again. Relearning the rhythm has been easy. Pull, pull, pull, breathe. The stillness of the experience has felt familiar and become a medicine for my often-frenzied mind. I have found that by finding a place where I can’t hear much of the noise around me, my thoughts are less susceptible to external influences.

During this dedicated time to myself, when I’m not reaching for my phone or checking things off my to-do list, I have seen just how valuable a still environment can be. Eliminating some of the excessive noises of my day-to-day life makes it much easier to turn my thoughts to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

And by regularly seeking out this quietness, I’ve been able to invite more frequent spiritual experiences into my life. Turning off my phone or stepping away from my daily tasks for a moment is a way for me to say, “Heavenly Father, I have prepared myself to draw closer to Thee. I’m ready to listen.”

Many times, as I wait and listen, there isn’t an audible voice or even a specific thought, but instead a feeling of stillness. With the stillness comes warmth, peace, and a closeness to God and Jesus Christ (see Psalm 46:10). I can feel my efforts to be aligned with Them strengthened. Ultimately, it is the seeking of uninterrupted quiet moments like this that has allowed me to feel close to my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ, to know Them, and to hear Them.

Little did my grade-school self know that when my mother invited me to swim with her each week, she was also teaching me how to seek after stillness and listen to the voice of the Good Shepherd. As I have grown and practiced seeking out times and places to commune with God, the more I have realized that God is always there and has been anxiously waiting for me to draw nearer to Him.