Gospel Story Finder

Trying the Prophet’s Teachings
I was touched by President Nelson’s message in conference that God wants to speak with me and tell me what He wants me to do. Today I thought I would try that out. I prayed that I could be of help to someone today. After lunch I needed to fill my car up with gas. I had the thought that I needed to buy someone gas. Somewhat skeptically, I thought, “We’ll see.” I began pumping my gas. A minivan pulled up next to me, and a lady got out with her son. She got her purse out and fumbled through it.
I was finishing pumping when I heard her say somewhat timidly, “Excuse me.” I turned to see a worried look on her face.
I told her I was supposed to buy someone gas today. “Is that someone you?” Surprised, she began to tear up. “Someone’s watching out for you today,” I said. I walked around the pump and inserted my credit card. Then I got in my car and drove away with the absolute assurance that someone is up there watching out for me too. Thank God for a prophet!”
—Jonathan Benson, story shared on the Liahona Facebook page

There are many stories that demonstrate the principle of "small and simple things," but the one I would like to share comes from an experience that my son, who is currently serving a mission in Brazil, shared with us relating to "small and simple things."

He said,
On Sunday there was a baptism for the other elders in our house. It was scheduled for after the great big stake conference. So after the meeting we all went to try and set stuff up for the baptism. The only problem was that there was no water in the font! The water wasn't working! So we tried to find a place we could get water and there were some faucets and hose lines we were running into the font but it was so slow and we were running with buckets to anyplace on the church grounds where we could get water! The cool part was that just about the entire ward saw what we were doing and helped! There were little kids that would grab a tiny cup and run into the bathroom and fill it with water then run to the font and dump it in... we had older members grab big water bottles and fill it up at the drinking fountain and throw the water into the font! Cupful by cupful, step by step, the whole ward filled that font just enough to baptize someone they had never met... Man it was such a sweet experience seeing everyone doing everything they possibly could to help us fill the font! Each cupful doesn't seem like it did anything but with everyone pitching in, the work will press forward! We don't always need to do everything, have that huge gallon tank full of water! We need to do our part and help the church grow.....one cupful at a time.

Profile number three also relates to a missionary of unfaltering faith, Elder Mark Skidmore. When he received his call to Norway, he knew not one word of Norwegian—yet he realized that to teach and to testify he would need proficiency in the language of the Norwegian people. To himself he made a private vow: “I will not speak English until I have brought into the waters of baptism my first Norwegian family.” He plodded. He prayed. He pleaded. He worked. After the trial of his faith came the desired blessing. He taught and baptized a choice family. He then spoke in English for the first time in six months. I met with him that same week. His expression was one of thanksgiving and gratitude. I thought of the words of Moroni, that courageous captain: “I seek not for power. … I seek not for honor of the world, but for the glory of my God.” (Alma 60:36.)

It is about two such boys and two good men that I’d like to talk tonight, for they form the central theme of my remarks.
The boys are special young men, like all of you and the men are choice leaders in church and community. I met one of these fathers and his five-year old son just a few days ago. The father told me of a recent conversation with his boy in which he explained that elections are coming soon and that he is being urged to run again for the office of mayor. “Shall I run for mayor?” he said.
“Uh-uh,” said the lad.
“Well,” said the father, “some church leaders are coming to our stake next week and they may ask me to continue to serve as stake president. Shall I say yes if they ask me?”
“Uh-uh,” said the boy.
“What do you want me to do?” the father laughed.
His son said, “I just want a regular dad.”
The other story was equally interesting and significant to me. This family has a tradition of educational accomplishment and the father was shaken a bit when his wife brought him their high school son’s report card with his first C on it. Dad brooded over the matter and when the son came home invited him into the study, sternly confronted him with the card, and said, “Son, what is this I see on your report card?”
“Well, Dad,” replied the boy, “I hope you see the five As.”

Sure I had a testimony. Or did I? I prayed, read the scriptures (most days), and went to church, but did I really have a personal testimony of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon? These thoughts filled my mind when a stake leader asked me to join some of the other stake youth in a special project.
Project? What kind of project?
I quickly learned that each participant would need to read the Book of Mormon for a month, and then we would all tell about our experiences. It didn’t sound too bad until I learned we would be filmed so the stake leaders could share a video of our testimonies with the youth in each ward.
Every ward in the stake would see this?
I decided being videotaped would be way better than having to talk in front of huge groups of people in each ward. So I agreed. Each day, I curled up cozily to read at least one chapter in the Book of Mormon. As the days whizzed by, I realized I loved this book. The Book of Mormon came alive with new depth and vitality. Near the end of the project, I read Moroni 10:3–5. I wanted to know the truth, and I had faith to receive it.
That night when all was quiet, I knelt to ask God to know if the Book of Mormon is true. As I prayed, I felt encircled by a peaceful warmth. I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. This book became as true and as real as the stars I see glistening in the sky. What a powerful testimony this experience became in my life!
The time arrived for the leaders and invited youth to meet together. We came fasting to help bring the Spirit into our meeting. When it was my turn, I rose to speak. My testimony of the Book of Mormon had not come in a sudden burst of light or some other dramatic display. It had arrived more simply. The same peace and warmth I had felt when I prayed about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon came over me again. I stood and bore testimony of the sacred pages I had read; I knew the Book of Mormon is true.

Brown Fox’s scalp prickled with dread as the Indian boy cautiously picked his way over the rocky floor of Whispering Canyon. The narrow winding canyon twisted in tight turns like a coiling snake. The steep bluffs closed in on either side like walls, and in some places they met and formed short tunnels.
Brown Fox was not in Whispering Canyon by choice. He had been traveling along a forest trail that ran along the top of the forbidden canyon when a stone rolled under his moccasin. Before he could recover his footing, he had plunged into the abyss. Instinctively Brown Fox grabbed at a mass of gnarled roots and found himself suspended halfway down the cliff.
“My mother is right about my clumsiness. They should have named me Duck Foot!” Brown Fox murmured shakily, grateful for the strong roots so firmly anchored in the rocks.
Because the top of the bluff jutted outward, there was no way for Brown Fox to get back up, even if he had a rope. He trembled with dread as he stared downward. His darting black eyes saw that his only escape was to descend into Whispering Canyon. The handholds and footholds were precarious, but feeling like a fly and knowing there was no other escape, Brown Fox began his descent.
Brown Fox heard eerie moaning whispers as he stepped down onto solid ground. His heart began thudding like a war drum. According to the legends of his tribe, the gloomy place was haunted. Not even the bravest hunter would follow a deer or a buffalo into the haunted corridor where there were constant moaning whispers. Even the oldest men of his tribe could not remember a brave who had entered and survived the forbidden canyon.
The Indian youth cautiously followed a faint path, making certain no loose stone rolled under his moccasins again.
Because he could not see the sun, Brown Fox lost all track of time. He was sure he had walked for several hours, and now the chilling sounds grew louder. Several times Brown Fox started to turn back and then changed his mind. He knew that the south end of the canyon started only a few miles from his village. The north end might wind in aimless circles like a labyrinth, and he would be trapped inside forever! No. He would continue traveling southward.
Brown Fox became so weary that he grew careless. Suddenly he heard a warning rattle. Leaping straight up, Brown Fox clung to a projecting ledge. He was terrified as he watched a huge rattlesnake slither away. The fanged one would have killed Brown Fox if the ledge had not been there!
Shaken by his encounter with the snake, Brown Fox decided to camp for the night where he found a pool of clear icy water. A basin had been carved out of solid rock by the fragile threads of water falling from high up the bluffs.
How many hundreds of years has it taken to form this basin, Brown Fox wondered. He removed thin strips of dried meat from his skin pouch for his supper. Then he sought a safe place to sleep. Remembering the snake, Brown Fox finally found a large boulder with very steep sides. As the drifted off to sleep, the young Indian boy felt less frightened, for the whispering and moaning sounds had stopped.
The sounds had started again, however, when Brown Fox awakened at dawn. They were shrill now and even more frightening. The moans began to rise and fall like the mourners’ chanting when a chief dies. But Brown Fox forced himself onward, although dread slowed his steps. He expected any moment to be confronted by some horrible apparition.
Suddenly Brown Fox stood still in wonder and awe as the canyon turned again. Before him a lush green valley stretched for miles. Brown Fox could see a wide lake, blue as the sky, that sparkled like a jewel in the bright sunshine. Nearby a grassy slope was covered with a herd of fat buffalo. A sleek deer bounded into a dense growth of trees as he watched. How glad Brown Fox was that he hadn’t turned back. He felt overcome with envy as he compared the beautiful valley to the parched and barren land where his people lived.
Now Brown Fox realized that the eerie moaning wails had changed to a soft humming sound. Then the sound completely stopped. The wind ruffled his hair and the noises began again. The Indian boy laughed aloud when he saw a thin spire of rock almost as tall as the canyon walls. Like a needle, the spire had a hole at the top where a cave had once been. The rushing of the wind through this opening made the moaning sighs. They were picked up by the towering bluffs and then magnified and carried for many miles through the canyon!
There were no evil spirits after all and nothing to keep his people from moving to this rich green valley! Brown Fox had solved the riddle of the “haunted” canyon.
Excitement lent wings to his feet. The chief would believe the boy, and he would send a group of braves back with Brown Fox to explore the valley. Brown Fox’s eyes reflected his pride as he thought about the chief calling for volunteers to accompany a boy to Whispering Canyon. They would all be frightened, but each would step forward. None would dare to show terror at actually entering Whispering Canyon, and no Indian braves would be outdone by a mere youth!
As Brown Fox hurried toward home, he thought of how he would proudly return in a few weeks to the canyon with the braves of his tribe, leading the women and children into the beautiful fertile valley he had found.
Here there would be food for all, and there would be peace for his people. The haunted canyon would protect them against enemy tribes, who would fear the canyon even more when they discovered that an entire tribe had vanished into its whispering depths.

Several years ago, a student who had studied at the Brigham Young University Jerusalem Center wrote to me soon after returning to the United States. She reported a particular challenge regarding Sabbath work: “One of the most difficult things I had to do was tell my boss that I couldn’t work for him on Sundays anymore. The last two summers it didn’t bother me to work on Sunday, but because of the knowledge I’ve gained since then, there’s no way I could justify it now.”
Her admiration for her boss made telling him difficult. “I guess I didn’t want to tell him because he’s been so good to me; I’ve always been able to count on having a job there.”
It took her three days, including a day of fasting, to get up the courage. “All I wanted was for him to understand my position. I took an olivewood carving as a peace offering—just in case. Of course, the conversation centered around Jerusalem and everything I’d done in Israel. I tried to prepare him for why I couldn’t work on Sunday.
“The conversation eventually came around to my job. My nerves betrayed me and my voice got a little shaky, but finally my feelings came out. The Spirit must have been there because there were tears in his eyes, and it was hard for him to talk, too. He told me that he respected my decision and was glad that I stood up for what I believed in.
“He also explained that his beliefs were a little different from mine and that he had to be fair and treat all of his employees equally. He never did come out and say I wouldn’t be working for him any longer—but we both knew. It felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders. I don’t have a job, but that’s okay; something will work out.”

When I was about 16, we had an activity about being a full-time missionary. We divided into pairs and lived like missionaries for a week. That was the first time I learned how important it is to share our testimonies with others. This activity helped me realize not only how hard it is to serve the Lord, but also the joy we feel by sharing the gospel and seeing how Christ’s teachings change someone’s life. It helped me understand what it is like to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).

The power of that individual covenant was impressed upon my heart three weeks ago as I attended a baptismal service. There before me were eight beautiful children sitting with reverent anticipation that finally their special day had arrived. But as I looked into their bright faces, I did not see just a group of children. Instead I saw them as I think the Lord would—individually. I saw Emma and Sophia and Ian and Logan and Aden and William and Sophie and Micah. Each baptismal covenant is made one by one. Each dressed in white, they were there—ready and willing with all their eight-year-old hearts to make their first covenant with God.
Think back and picture your own baptismal day. Whether you can remember many details or just a few, try to feel now the significance of the covenant you individually made. Having been called by your own name, you were immersed in water and came forth as God’s daughter—a covenant daughter, one willing to be called by the name of His Son and promising to follow Him and keep His commandments.
Covenants with God help us to know who we really are. They connect us to Him in a personal way through which we come to feel our value in His sight and our place in His kingdom. In a way we can’t fully comprehend, we are known and loved individually by Him. Think of it—each of us holds such a place in His heart. His desire is that we will choose the path that will bring us home to Him.
As essential and significant as the covenant of baptism is, it is only the beginning—the gate that puts us on the path to eternal life. Ahead on our journey are temple covenants to be made and priesthood ordinances to receive. As Elder David A. Bednar reminds us, “As we stand in the waters of baptism, we look to the temple.”
It is not only in making covenants but also in faithfully keeping these covenants that we are prepared to receive eternal life. That is our hope, our goal, and our joy.
I was an eyewitness to the power of covenants as I watched my righteous parents, who loved and lived the gospel. In my sweet mother I was privileged to see clearly the daily decisions of a covenant daughter of God. Even when she was a girl, her choices reflected her priorities and identified her as a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I have seen the peace, the power, and the protection that came into her life as she made and kept sacred covenants on her journey. Her life on this earth reflected her love for the Savior and her desire to follow Him. Oh, how I want to follow her example.
My parents’ lives together began in an unusual way. It was 1936. They were dating seriously and were planning to marry, when my dad received a letter inviting him to serve as a full-time missionary in South Africa. The letter said that if he was worthy and willing to serve, he was to contact his bishop. You can quickly see that the process of being called as a missionary was very different in those days! Dad showed the letter to his sweetheart, Helen, and they determined without question he would serve.
For two weeks before he left, Mom met Dad each day for a picnic lunch in Memory Grove near downtown Salt Lake City. During one of their lunches, having sought direction through fasting and prayer, Mother told her dear Claron that if he still wanted to, she would marry him before he left. In the early days of the Church, men were sometimes called to missionary service and left wives and families at home. So it was with my mother and dad. With the approval of his priesthood leaders, they decided to be married before he departed for his mission.
In the Salt Lake Temple, Mother received her endowment, and then they were married for time and all eternity by President David O. McKay. Theirs was a humble beginning. There were no photographs, no beautiful wedding dress, no flowers, and no reception to celebrate the occasion. Their clear focus was on the temple and their covenants. For them, the covenants were everything. After only six days of marriage and with a tearful good-bye, my dad left for South Africa.
But their marriage was more than just the deep love they had for each other. They also had a love of the Lord and a desire to serve Him. The sacred temple covenants they had made gave them strength and power to carry them through the two years of separation. They had an eternal perspective of life’s purpose and of promised blessings that come to those who are faithful to their covenants. All these blessings transcended their short-term sacrifice and separation.
While it certainly wasn’t an easy way to begin married life, it proved to be an ideal way to lay a foundation for an eternal family. As children came along, we knew what mattered most to our parents. It was their love for the Lord and their unwavering commitment to keeping the covenants they had made. Though my parents have both passed away, their pattern of righteousness is blessing our family still.
The example of their lives is reflected in the words of Sister Linda K. Burton: “The best way to strengthen a home, current or future, is to keep covenants.”
Their season of hardship and trial was not over. Three years after Dad returned from his mission, World War II was raging, and like so many others, he enlisted in the military. He was away from home for another four years as he served in the navy aboard battleships in the Pacific.
It was a difficult time for my parents to be separated again. But for my mother, those days of loneliness, worry, and uncertainty were also marked by whisperings of the Spirit that spoke of eternal promises, of comfort and peace amid the storm.
Despite her challenges, my mother lived a rich life, full of happiness, joy, love, and service. Her love of the Savior was reflected in the way she lived her life. She had a remarkable connection to heaven and a gift and capacity to love and bless everyone around her. Her faith in God and hope in His promises are reflected in President Thomas S. Monson’s words about the temple when he said, “No sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings.”
In all the seasons of her life, Mother was strengthened and blessed by her love of the Lord and by the covenants she faithfully made and kept.
There is no doubt the details of your story will be different than hers. But principles from her life apply to all of us. When daughters of God focus on the temple and on their sacred covenants, God is able to send blessings in personal and powerful ways. Like my mother’s example to me, your choice to believe and keep covenants will leave a rich legacy of faith for those who follow you. So, dear sisters, how can we access the power and blessings of temple covenants? What can we do now to prepare for those blessings?
As I have traveled, I have come to know there are sisters of all ages, in all circumstances, whose lives provide answers to these questions.
I met Mary shortly after her eighth birthday. Like so many others, she is excited about doing family history and has contributed over 1,000 names for temple work. Mary is preparing herself now for the blessing of entering the temple when she turns 12.
Brianna is 13 and loves doing family history and temple work. She has accepted Elder Neil L. Andersen’s temple challenge. She has prepared hundreds of names for temple work and, along with herself, has included her family and friends in performing the baptisms. In this sacred work, Brianna’s heart is turning not only to her earthly fathers but to her Heavenly Father as well.
Although Anfissa is a busy young adult who is working and going to graduate school, she still makes time to attend the temple each week. She seeks revelation and finds peace as she serves in the house of the Lord.
Katya, a dear sister in Ukraine, has a deep love for the temple. Before the temple in Kyiv was built, she and others in her branch sacrificed to travel 36 hours on a bus to attend the temple once a year in Germany. These devoted Saints prayed, studied scriptures, sang hymns, and discussed the gospel as they traveled. Katya told me, “When we finally arrived at the temple, we were prepared to receive what the Lord had to give us.”
If we are to receive all the blessings God so generously offers, our earthly path must lead to the temple. Temples are an expression of God’s love. He invites us all to come, learn of Him, feel His love, and receive the priesthood ordinances necessary for eternal life with Him. Each covenant is made one by one. Every mighty change of heart matters to the Lord. And yours will make all the difference to you. For as we go to His holy house, we can be “armed with [His] power, … [His] name … upon [us], … [His] glory … round about [us], and [His] angels have charge over [us].”

Recently, while giving a lesson in my ward, I asked for a show of hands of those who wanted to hear words of counsel from the Lord’s prophet. Everyone raised their hands. Then I said, “The best way to receive counsel from our President and the other Brethren and to bring their messages into our homes is to subscribe to the Liahona (Spanish).”
Now I am the ward magazine representative! I am very happy to have this calling, and the Lord blesses me as I respond to the call.
Marcelo Imaldo Castillo NavarreteAlmirante La Torre Ward, Los Angeles Chile Stake

One of the great experiences of my life came as I was beginning my independent career as a faculty member at the University of Texas at Arlington. Paul had a great experience on the road to Damascus, and I had my own on the road to Dallas. No, I did not see the Savior as Paul did, but I did experience His love, and I got to see how many little, seemingly less-important choices added up to bless me.

I was trying hard to raise a family and to serve faithfully in the Church. It is challenging to do this as a young assistant professor. I had taken the job planning to pursue a certain course of research that appeared to have good opportunities for funding. I set up my lab and needed a test problem to check whether or not my instruments were working. I wasn’t quite ready to do what I had originally planned, and I remembered some work I had done years before as an undergraduate at BYU. This gave me an idea for a new experiment. It wasn’t a big deal, but I tried it, and it worked.

I wanted to attend a scientific meeting I thought would further my career. I needed something to present at the conference because the university required me to present in order to fund the trip, so I took the results of my test experiment and drove 700 miles from Dallas to Nashville to attend the meeting. It was just a poster presentation, one among hundreds, but I was shocked at the strong positive response I received.

I had to drive the 700 miles home by myself, and that was when the revelation began. All the way home it was as if I heard a voice saying over and over, “Drop your original plans and pursue this other course of research.” I did, and that choice laid the foundation for my entire subsequent career. In part, that is why I am here at BYU today. It may not have won a Nobel Prize, but the choice was a good one. It came after much thought and hard work and led to much more thought and hard work. I still don’t know if the Lord cares about the science I did. I doubt it matters at all to Him, but I do know for sure that He loves me and my family, and that matters a lot. It has blessed my life.

I have spoken several times of the sacred moment in which eight worthy elders of the Church who played on our basketball team in 1992. This was one of the greatest teams in our history that went to the Final four in the National Tournament. But I will remember them as faithful, worthy elders of the Church. One of their team members, Barry Hardy, an African American and not a member of the Church, who had world class jumping ability that later took him into the professional ranks, was injured in a game. Some thought it was a season ending injury, perhaps a career ending injury. I was present with Coach Wagner and others and watched as eight worthy priesthood holders, fellow basketball players put their hands on Barry Hardy's head and blessed him that he would play again with them. It was an electrifying moment. There was almost instant improvement to the injury. Two weeks later Barry was back in his top form. Nothing is more indelible in my memory than the circle of worthy priesthood holders in love and harmony blessing a fallen companion of another race and another religion.

My daughter, Tifanny, and I were at a store one evening. As we left the store, I saw some unopened candy and a toy just outside the door. We couldn’t find the owner, so I told her she could have the candy and toy. She looked at me and said, “I would like to be honest.” She took the candy and toy into the store. She came out with the greatest feeling for being honest and choosing to do the right. She likes to choose the right.

I want to share with you one precious experience that has affected my life and opened the eyes of my understanding. As a businessman I was responsible for the sales of a group of clients, and I was constantly challenged to maintain a good relationship for selling in spite of not participating in popular habits like drinking alcohol, smoking, or telling improper jokes, things which the Spirit did not allow me to do. One day while I was working in my office in. Dortmund, Germany, I received a telephone call from one of my clients. He was calling me from Paris, France. His company had an exhibition there, and he invited me to come and visit him and talk about more business. I was immediately warned and alarmed by the Spirit that his real reason for inviting me to Paris, besides talking about business, was to find someone who would pay his pleasure bills in that expensive city. I was honored by the opportunity for more business, but scared by the expectation of the uneasy decisions that lay ahead of me. I knew that I had to go because this was my obligation as a salesman. I took the night train to Paris, traveling with a serious, constant prayer in my heart, a prayer that I would have the power to be successful without compromising my standards.
My friend picked me up in the early afternoon at the train station in Paris. I immediately discovered that he was not in the mood to talk about business, but that he wanted to show the city and its amusements to me, a total stranger unable to speak French. I intensified my prayer to my Father in Heaven, and he gave me a spirit of comfort, and even happiness and joy. I told my friend how happy I was to see him, and that I had to take the early night train back in order to meet some important responsibilities at home. He looked at me, smiling, and said, “No, no, you will stay with me until tomorrow. We have many important matters to discuss, and I will show you the city in privacy. No one will see you, and I will not tell anybody. Today we will enjoy life.”
I knew that his understanding of the enjoyment of life was totally different from mine, yet I also knew that his company’s business was vital for the survival of our company. So I prayed harder, pleading for help. Finally he invited me to a nice little restaurant, wanting to show me the places that only the knowing know. The Spirit said that there was nothing wrong with having dinner with him, so I agreed, and we started one of those long-lasting, expensive French meals. He ordered for both of us because he spoke fluent French, and he ordered two bottles of wine in spite of my strong protest that he not order wine for me.
The conversation was good, his bottle was emptied; mine remained untouched. Finally he became aware of this, took the bottle and filled my glass and his glass. He took his glass in his right hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “My dear friend, you know how much I enjoy your company and the standard you keep, but now you will drink this one glass to my health. If you don’t you will not receive one more piece of business from me.”
I felt my blood freeze inside of me. It came to my mind, “Brother Busche, now you have to make a decision!” All kinds of rationalizations came creeping into my heart. But before I could say anything, I was overtaken by a power that filled me with great joy and light. To my surprise, I found myself putting my right arm around him. This Spirit made me say something that I would never have been able to think of myself, something that changed the situation totally. I heard myself say, “Mr. So-and-so, you know that I know you better than that. I know that you would never make a logical business decision and have it based on such illogical conditions.” I gave him a big hug, and smiled in his eyes with a deep feeling of love and friendship. This surprised him for a moment, and he was unable to speak. Then his eyes began to fill with tears. He hugged me back, and began to speak. They were words of apology. He wept and said, “I want you to forgive me. If you had drunk this glass of wine, I would have made a fool out of you tonight. I wanted to destroy you, but now you will be my friend forever. Don’t worry anymore. Right after this meal I will take you personally to the station so that you can get your train on time. You will also receive all the business from me that you want and are capable of handling.”
And so it went. When I was in the little sleeping compartment on the night train back home, I cried for joy and happiness and praised the Lord for his help at the right time and in the right way.

These types of conversations are not too unusual for young people in Boston. Rose Marie Knighton, Weston Ward, said her friends at school noticed that she didn’t use bad language. “One of my friends came up to me and said, ‘I’ve never heard you swear.’
“I said, ‘That’s because I don’t.’
“‘You mean you’ve never sworn once in your whole life?’
“‘No.’
“‘Well, swear now.’
“‘No.’
“‘That’s neat.’
“The fact that she reacted like that made me feel pretty good. Not using bad language is hard, especially on the playing field. I play soccer. Sometimes the refs will make a bad call or a player will just make me mad and everyone around me is swearing, and I just have to concentrate on not doing it too.”

Jill and I have always had family scripture reading. Generally we had scripture reading at 6 A.M. Our children would come to the table half asleep, and we sometimes wondered what they were learning. But years later, our second daughter, Mindy, came to visit us after she had children of her own. She attended church with us on Fast Sunday and bore testimony that of all the experiences she had in our home, family scripture reading was one of the most important to her.

A couple years ago, Scott and I were able to accompany the school dance team to Ecuador and Peru. The team often puts on their performances to help others. One organization that they were sponsoring was a small community surrounded by sand that was in need of help and so the money collected from the dance team performance was going to rebuild their tiny homes, and to dig a well so water would be closer.

It was Sunday, and we had a big lunch, and still had a lot of leftovers, so we decided to pack them up and offer the food, our love, and the check to this little town that had suffered such devastation. So in our Sunday clothes we ventured off in our comfortable 50 passenger bus. As we got close to our destination, we got stuck in the sand. We filed out of the bus, to look at what we could do, when from this little community that had been hit by disaster. The people came out carrying shovels, and any makeshift tool to help "dig us out". Here we were there to serve them. But indeed they served us.

We were able to then go into their little community, and share with them our "leftover lunch". I watched as these students gave away sandwiches to this very grateful and humble people. One man heard that we had a new grandchild. He ran into his little make shift hut and pulled out a homemade rattle to give to us. We were so humbled with the generosity of this good people.

As you would expect to hear from me, one of the best tools we have at our disposal as parents is the family council. I cannot emphasize enough its importance in helping to understand and address challenges in the family. When members of one family began to feel unusual contention invading their home, they called a family council to discuss the situation. The father and then the mother explained to their children what they had observed and asked how each felt about it. The mother and father learned that since their two oldest children had left home—one to be married and one to go to college—an unfair burden of responsibility had been unwittingly shifted to the two oldest children remaining at home, and they were becoming resentful. By counseling together and listening to what their children were feeling, a more equitable distribution of responsibility was made among the children, resolving much of the frustration and tension in the home (see M. Russell Ballard, Counseling with Our Councils [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1997], 154).

When I was a little girl, during the hot, muggy Louisiana summers, my father would promise us kids that if we were ready and waiting when he got home from work, he would take us swimming at the city park pool.

At 5 p.m. on most afternoons, I and two of my younger brothers lined up on the hot cement curb in front of our house, dressed in our swimming suits with towels around our necks, peering seriously down the street at the corner. Even the hot pavement couldn’t break our ­concentration—though sometimes we would jump back to the cool grass of the front yard for a moment, we would not shift our gaze from the far corner of the street.

When Daddy’s green Ford rounded the corner, we cheered, jumping up and down.

He would get out of the car, pull his tie off, and say, “I’ll be right back.” Soon he would return in his swimming suit, and we would be on our way to the pool.

Why did we three young kids stay so sharply focused? Why were we so certain we would get to go swimming? Because we knew our father. Because we knew he loved us, and we had felt his love. Because he kept his promises, so we trusted him. And because we knew he had power that we didn’t have: he could drive a car and get us to the swimming pool! So we focused on him—our unfailing driver—and trusted that he would get us where we wanted to go.

What did the program accomplish? Some of it can never be measured because it went on inside people’s hearts, but there have been a couple of encouraging signs already. One pair of missionaries report that a family of investigators, whose smoking had kept them from baptism, gave up the habit in anticipation of the coliseum program. Another pair of missionaries are now teaching the gospel to a waitress whom they met at a truck stop on the way to the coliseum. She was impressed that neither the elders, nor any of their investigators, would drink coffee.