Gospel Story Finder

A woman in my ward taught me a priceless lesson about the sweet peace that comes from a sure faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement.
This woman’s patriarchal blessing promised her the joys of motherhood. But years passed while she and her husband prayed and waited for children. Finally, their prayers were answered. For nine months their lives were filled with joyous preparations. They painted a special room; bought furniture, clothes, and other baby supplies; and offered many prayers. The doctors said she would never be able to have another baby after this one, so her dreams were wrapped up in this child.
The day came when this sister gave birth and heard the cry of her baby.
“It’s a beautiful boy,” the nurse said.
The mother closed her eyes and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. Four minutes later, the baby was dead.
I saw her in sacrament meeting two weeks afterward. As the music director, she walked to the front of the chapel and took her seat beside the organ. Under her direction we sang “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, no. 136). She stood straight and tall, her face bright, her testimony radiating. At times the words came with great difficulty for her. She swallowed and pressed her lips together. Then she stopped singing, but her arm continued to move, conducting us as we sang.
Later, with tears coursing down her cheeks, this sister bore her testimony in these simple words: “I know that my Redeemer lives. I know that He is just and that He loves us. And because He lives, my son also lives.”
In her faith I saw an assurance of the reality of our Redeemer, whose Atonement for us makes immortality and eternal life possible. Her son had been taken, but she knew that he would be restored to her someday.

I had just started my first job, and I loved it. On a particular day, not long after I started, a co-worker and I heard the bell telling us a customer had come in the door. It was a man, about 50 years old, who looked just like anyone else. The man walked about half the distance to our counter from the door before he pulled out a knife. He then walked very quickly to us and demanded money from the till.
Fortunately, he just took the money and ran. Even before he was out the door, I began to call the police. After hours of questions we finally left the police station. I thought about what had just happened as I drove home. I had been scared, but all I could think was, What happened in this man’s life that made him resort to breaking the law and putting innocent lives in danger? I wondered what his life was like.
The strangest part was that I kept wishing I could help this man. I kept asking myself if there was someone who could have helped him, who could have led him to think more about his choices in life. Then I began to think about all the people I knew. I wondered if there might have been someone who needed me, but I had not listened to the Spirit long enough to know it.
As all this was going through my mind, I had an overwhelming feeling. I prayed, first to thank my Heavenly Father for protecting me, but then to ask Him to bless the man who robbed our store. I asked Him to help the man find the happiness I have in my life. I knew Heavenly Father was the only one who knew how to help this man.
At that moment I realized how truly blessed I was to have the gospel. No matter what happens, I know I can turn to my Father in Heaven and He will help me. The gospel was a very special gift I had been taking for granted all my life.
I wanted to find the man who robbed the store and tell him about prayer and about the gospel. I wanted to tell him of the Atonement and of God’s plan for us. But I especially wanted to share my testimony of God’s love for all His children.
Even though this man put my life in danger, he is a precious child in Heavenly Father’s sight. He is one of His lost sheep. I felt then, and even now feel, a love for this man I do not know.

Sylvan Lake was also the opening scene of a special early morning testimony meeting, planned and conducted by the Adventurers. The girls canoed across the lake to a quiet place away from the camp, where testimonies were borne and a special breakfast cooked.
“Not one canoe capsized!” an Adventurer boasted. “What do you think of that?”
“I didn’t think we could do it,” said another. “Not just the canoes, but the whole idea of an independent Adventurer camp.”
It was a different idea—one of several that emerged from Cam-Jam ’74—allowing the 31 Adventurers from all participating stakes and areas to organize and maintain their own campsite.
“It was great,” they agreed. “The work got done, but it was done by our schedule and according to our rules. For the first time we were really putting our camp skills to the test.”

During my life I have had many experiences of being guided in what I should do and in being protected from injury and also from evil. The Lord’s protecting care has shielded me from the evil acts of others and has also protected me from surrendering to my own worst impulses. I enjoyed that protection one warm summer night on the streets of Chicago. I have never shared this experience in public. I do so now because it is a persuasive illustration of my subject.
My wife, June, had attended a ward officers’ meeting. When I came to drive her home, she was accompanied by a sister we would take home on our way. She lived in the nearby Woodlawn area, which was the territory of a gang called the Blackstone Rangers.
I parked at the curb outside this sister’s apartment house and accompanied her into the lobby and up the stairs to her door. June remained in the car on 61st Street. She locked all of the doors, and I left the keys in the ignition in case she needed to drive away. We had lived on the south side of Chicago for quite a few years and were accustomed to such precautions.
Back in the lobby, and before stepping out into the street, I looked carefully in each direction. By the light of a nearby streetlight, I could see that the street was deserted except for three young men walking by. I waited until they were out of sight and then walked quickly toward our car.
As I came to the driver’s side and paused for June to unlock the door, I saw one of these young men running back toward me. He had something in his right hand, and I knew what it would be. There was no time to get into the car and drive away before he came within range.
Fortunately, as June leaned across to open the door, she glanced through the back window and saw this fellow coming around the end of the car with a gun in his hand. Wisely, she did not unlock the door. For the next two or three minutes, which seemed like an eternity, she was a horrified spectator to an event happening at her eye level, just outside the driver’s window.
The young man pushed the gun against my stomach and said, “Give me your money.” I took the wallet out of my pocket and showed him it was empty. I wasn’t even wearing a watch I could offer him because my watchband had broken earlier that day. I offered him some coins I had in my pocket, but he growled a rejection.
“Give me your car keys,” he demanded. “They are in the car,” I told him. “Tell her to open the car,” he replied. For a moment I considered the new possibilities that would present, and then refused. He was furious. He jabbed me in the stomach with his gun and said, “Do it, or I’ll kill you.”
Although this event happened twenty-two years ago, I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I read somewhere that nothing concentrates the mind as wonderfully as having someone stand in front of you with a deadly weapon and tell you he intends to kill you.
When I refused, the young robber repeated his demands, this time emphasizing them with an angrier tone and more motion with his gun. I remember thinking that he probably wouldn’t shoot me on purpose, but if he wasn’t careful in the way he kept jabbing that gun into my stomach, he might shoot me by mistake. His gun looked like a cheap one, and I was nervous about its firing mechanism.
“Give me your money.” “I don’t have any.” “Give me your car keys.” “They’re in the car.” “Tell her to open the car.” “I won’t do it.” “I’ll kill you if you don’t.” “I won’t do it.”
Inside the car June couldn’t hear the conversation, but she could see the action with the gun. She agonized over what she should do. Should she unlock the door? Should she honk the horn? Should she drive away? Everything she considered seemed to have the possibility of making matters worse, so she just waited and prayed. Then a peaceful feeling came over her. She felt it would be all right.
Then, for the first time, I saw the possibility of help. From behind the robber, a city bus approached. It stopped about twenty feet away. A passenger stepped off and scurried away. The driver looked directly at me, but I could see that he was not going to offer any assistance.
While this was happening behind the young robber, out of his view, he became nervous and distracted. His gun wavered from my stomach until its barrel pointed slightly to my left. My arm was already partly raised, and with a quick motion I could seize the gun and struggle with him without the likelihood of being shot. I was taller and heavier than this young man and at that time of my life was somewhat athletic. I had no doubt that I could prevail in a quick wrestling match if I could get his gun out of the contest.
Just as I was about to make my move, I had a unique experience. I did not see anything or hear anything, but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man’s chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life.
I relaxed, and as the bus pulled away I followed an impulse to put my right hand on his shoulder and give him a lecture. June and I had some teenage children at that time, and giving lectures came naturally.
“Look here,” I said. “This isn’t right. What you’re doing just isn’t right. The next car might be a policeman, and you could get killed or sent to jail for this.”
With the gun back in my stomach, the young robber replied to my lecture by going through his demands for the third time. But this time his voice was subdued. When he offered the final threat to kill me, he didn’t sound persuasive. When I refused again, he hesitated for a moment and then stuck the gun in his pocket and ran away. June unlocked the door, and we drove off, uttering a prayer of thanks. We had experienced the kind of miraculous protection illustrated in the Bible stories I had read as a boy.
I have often pondered the significance of that event in relation to the responsibilities that came later in my life. Less than a year after that August night, I was chosen as president of Brigham Young University. Almost fourteen years after that experience, I received my present calling.

I began to reflect about how we could discover the right church. I knew that there were many different Christian churches with different doctrines. I thought, “Well, the Internet has a lot of sources,” so I searched for “the true persecuted church.” I don’t know why I typed it in that way, but several lists of churches appeared, including The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There are many Christian churches in Brazil, but I had never heard of this church.
Upon entering the Web site, I read the story of a 14-year-old boy who had seen God and Jesus Christ face-to-face and had translated the Book of Mormon by the power of God. I had never heard anything about Joseph Smith or the Book of Mormon before, and I thought it was interesting. But what caught my attention was that the Book of Mormon told of Jesus Christ appearing to the ancient inhabitants of the American continent.
I had a great desire to read this book, so I requested a copy. I told Julyette about the site, and after she read the story of Joseph Smith, she was certain this church was the Church of Jesus Christ. She said I had been prepared by the Lord to find the Church for her.
I was impressed with her conviction and wanted to know for myself. I asked my mother if she knew about the Book of Mormon. She told me my sister had a blue book from two missionaries. I borrowed the book and read it from cover to cover in one week; I wasn’t interested in anything else. What a feeling of peace I had! I remembered a promise that everyone who read the book should ask God if it were true, and He would respond (see Moroni 10:3–4).
Early in the morning I went to my room to offer a prayer. I placed my trust in God and asked Him if the book was true, and I felt a burning inside. I did not know what the feeling was, but I felt joy. That night I had a dream in which a Book of Mormon prophet appeared. I asked him if the book was true, and he said it was. When I woke up I thought, “The Book of Mormon really is true.”
I asked around until I found someone who knew the directions to the church. One Friday I rode my bicycle to the chapel, but no one was there. I prayed for help to know when meetings were held. I went again the following week. When I arrived, an elderly lady told me that Church meetings were on Sunday mornings. I returned home happy and excited with my heart beating rapidly.
When I arrived on Sunday morning, I was well received by the members. I was impressed with the organization of the Church. I felt peace and joy in my heart during the meetings, and I asked the missionaries to come to my house to teach me. I returned home and told my mother that I had found the right religion.
The missionaries taught me about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I already knew the story of Joseph Smith, so when they invited me to pray to learn the truth, I told them I had already received an answer and told them about my experience. They were impressed with my testimony and suggested a date, May 15, 2004, for my baptism. In the meantime, my friend Julyette was also baptized. My baptism was the greatest joy of my life, and my friend and I are very happy we found the true Church of Jesus Christ.

They’ll tell you about the many years when the Saints met in a dilapidated old building high on a hillside. It was held to the mountain by a metal cable running right through the chapel. The members called it their iron rod. Once the roof caved in during Mutual, narrowly missing several people. Snakes sometimes found their way into one of the classrooms, and were gently carried out, giving rise to neighborhood rumors about strange LDS forms of worship. In the wintertime the members sat huddled in blankets listening to blanket-wrapped speakers and teachers. Each gospel truth came out in a puff of white mist. When it came time to move to a nicer building, the youth of the ward did their part with several fund-raising hot dog sales.

The following spring, Martin Harris traveled to Harmony with some bad news. His wife had filed a complaint in court, claiming Joseph was a fraud who pretended to translate gold plates. Martin now expected a summons to testify in court. He would have to declare that Joseph had fooled him, or Lucy would charge him with deceit as well.8
Martin pushed Joseph to give him more evidence that the plates were real. He wanted to tell the court all about the translation, but he worried people would not believe him. Lucy, after all, had searched the Smiths’ house and never found the record. And though he had served as Joseph’s scribe for two months, Martin had never seen the plates either and could not testify that he had.9
Joseph took the question to the Lord and received an answer for his friend. The Lord would not tell Martin what to say in court, nor would He provide him any more evidence until Martin chose to be humble and exercise faith. “If they will not believe my words, they would not believe you, my servant Joseph,” He said, “if it were possible that you should show them all these things which I have committed unto you.”
The Lord promised to treat Martin mercifully, however, if he did as Joseph had done that summer and humbled himself, trusted in God, and learned from his mistakes. Three faithful witnesses would see the plates in due time, the Lord said, and Martin could be one of them if he stopped seeking the approval of others.10
Before closing His words, the Lord made a declaration. “If the people of this generation harden not their hearts,” He said, “I will establish my church.”11
Joseph reflected on these words as Martin copied the revelation. He and Emma then listened as Martin read it back to check its accuracy. As they read, Emma’s father came into the room and listened. When they finished, he asked whose words they were.
“The words of Jesus Christ,” Joseph and Emma explained.
“I consider the whole of it a delusion,” Isaac said. “Abandon it.”12
Ignoring Emma’s father, Martin took his copy of the revelation and boarded the stagecoach for home. He had come to Harmony seeking evidence of the plates, and he left with a revelation testifying of their reality. He could not use it in court, but he returned to Palmyra knowing the Lord was aware of him.
Later, when Martin stood before the judge, he offered a simple, powerful testimony. With a hand raised to heaven, he witnessed of the truth of the gold plates and declared that he had freely given Joseph fifty dollars to do the Lord’s work. With no evidence to prove Lucy’s accusations, the court dismissed the case.13
Joseph, meanwhile, continued the translation, praying the Lord would soon send him another scribe.14

Jetta Pearl Stewart pulled off her bonnet and plopped down on the porch next to Father. “What’s a pearl?” she asked him.
Eight-year-old Jetta knew what a pearl was, but she loved hearing Father’s answer. Like always, Father explained how pearls grow in oysters, layer upon layer, until they become bright and beautiful.
“Pearls shine like you, my little Jetta Pearl,” he said, smiling. Jetta smiled back. She liked being his Pearl.
At dinner that night, Father told Jetta he had an important question for her.
“Ever since you were little, you have had a special way with music,” Father said. “Would you like to learn the piano?”
Jetta’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes!”
“It would mean traveling far away and staying with your teacher for a while,” Mother said. “No one here in Milburn can teach you.”
Jetta’s smile faded. She had never been away from her family for more than a day. And to be far away …
“But it’s important for us to develop our talents, even when it’s difficult,” Father said.
Mother nodded. “You would have to work very hard.”
Jetta loved music. And she had always wanted to play the piano. Slowly, a smile crept onto her face. “I’m going to play the piano!”
But the next morning, as Jetta watched Father hitch the horses to the wagon, she didn’t feel excited at all. Today she was just scared. She hadn’t expected to be leaving home so soon.
Jetta slowly climbed up into the wagon next to Father.
“You ready, Jetta Pearl?” he said.
She didn’t feel ready, but Jetta nodded. The wagon lurched forward.
After a while, Father glanced over at her. “Do you know how proud your mother and I are of you?”
Jetta nodded. “But what if you need my help at home?”
Father smiled. “We’ll sure miss you, but this is a way only you can help. You’ll be serving Heavenly Father by developing a gift He gave you.”
She hadn’t thought about it like that. Could her musical talent really be a gift from Heavenly Father?
Father continued. “It will take time, but little by little you’ll get better at playing piano. And then you’ll be able to serve lots of people.”
Jetta felt her fear start to fade. She was going to learn the piano and serve Heavenly Father. It would be scary, but she knew that He would help her.
Father winked. “Layer by layer, my little Pearl is getting bright and shiny.”
Just like Father had said, little by little Jetta learned to play the piano. She even learned how to play the organ.
After a few months, Jetta returned home. That Sunday she became Milburn’s very first organist! Her heart raced as she sat at the huge organ the community had worked to buy for her to play. It was so beautiful that Jetta was almost afraid to touch it. She had to sit on a book to reach the keys.
She took a deep breath and started to play. The notes soared across the room, full and beautiful.
Jetta sneaked a peek at the congregation. People were smiling as they sang. Jetta smiled too. Her playing was far from perfect, but she was using her talents to serve.
She remembered Father’s words: “Pearls shine like you, Jetta Pearl.”
Little by little, layer by layer, Heavenly Father was making her into a true pearl.

As with Alma the Younger, remembering the Savior helps us repent. Let me share a personal story. For the past few years our department has sponsored a Tobacco Control Intervention in Eastern Europe—a place in dire need of assistance with this issue. Petty crime, especially pickpocketing, is a problem there, as it is in many places of the world. I followed all of the crime prevention advice we gave to our students. I bought a cheap substitute wallet, took out all of my credit cards, and kept a minimal amount of cash with me. I also put my wallet in my front rather than back pocket. One day while I was on the subway, some very skilled “Artful Dodger” picked me clean.

It was the first time in my life that I had been directly victimized by a crime. It bothered me. It bothered me a lot. I started brooding over this incident and devoted an extreme amount of mental energy and time thinking about it. I confess I had some very unchristian thoughts of what I would do to the thief if I ever caught him or what should be done with him. In the Doctrine and Covenants it says that when you are sinned against and you refuse to forgive the sinner, you have the greater problem.29 I was exhibit A of that principle.

Even after four days I was still thinking about this “terrible injustice” in the middle of the night to the extent that I lost hours of sleep. I slept through my alarm and missed sacrament service. I nevertheless went to priesthood and Sunday School and decided to stay for the next branch’s sacrament meeting. I came into the chapel early. They have a very small hymnal in Ukraine, and the organist was playing some Christmas songs, in June, for the prelude. I started to contemplate the beautiful words of these Christmas hymns and thought of my Savior. I began to have a change of heart.

Two Aaronic Priesthood members came to prepare the sacrament. I have been a teacher and a teachers quorum advisor. You give me a couple of teachers and a good water faucet and the sacrament can be prepared in just a few minutes. It does not take a lot of attention.

That was not the case with these young Aaronic Priesthood holders. The first thing they did was say a prayer before they started to prepare the sacrament. I assume they were praying to put themselves in the frame of mind for this holy ordinance. I had never seen this kind of devotion before.

Then they carefully laid the first linen on the sacrament table. They stood back to make sure all the corners were perfectly correct. They carefully pressed out a few wrinkles. They placed cups in the water trays and with bottled water carefully and uniformly filled each cup. They placed the bread on the table, then reverently and with great solemnity covered the sacrament table as if they were covering the dead body of the crucified Christ. I do not think Joseph of Arimathea and the earlier disciples showed any more reverence when they took care of the body of our Lord.

Watching these Aaronic Priesthood brethren touched me deeply and caused me to think about the teachings of the Savior. No angels came down from heaven to smite me, but the Spirit whispered the following message to my soul: “Brother Lindsay, you big baby! You lost 12 bucks and a cheap wallet, pal. Get over it! You claim to be a disciple of Christ; now act like it. That’s not how the Master would do it.” I was chastened.

The meeting started and rapidly progressed to the sacrament. I did not speak the language, but as the priests offered the sacrament prayers with heartfelt expression, I felt the meaning of the words, which sank deep into my heart. I remembered my Savior, and I cried unto Him, saying, “I am so sorry for my unchristian thoughts and actions. I have been so narrow, so petty. I can do better, and, with Thy help, I will do better. I want to be Thy disciple. Please forgive me.”

As my mind caught hold upon this thought, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet the most beautiful spirit erased all the enmity and feelings of revenge that had infected my soul. All those negative feelings were completely gone. Brothers and sisters, I testify that when we remember the Savior, good things happen.

After graduating from Indiana University, I worked as a tax accountant at PricewaterhouseCoopers, which involved long days and frequent travel for client meetings. Following several years of extensive work-related travel, my wife and I decided it was time for a change. With her family residing in Phoenix, we contemplated relocating to either Arizona or Hawaii. After praying about our decision, we both felt prompted to move to Oahu. Thirteen years later, I am thankful for the Spirit's guidance, and I believe there is no better place to raise our family than in Hawaii.

When I decided to serve a mission, my friends encouraged me to finish college instead. But I decided to go on a mission anyway, and they wondered why. One of my friends said a mission was a waste of time, and I was a little offended by that. But I told him why my mission was important to me. Now I’m on a mission, and I still write my friends and share the blessings I’m receiving as a result of being a missionary.
Elder Janray MillarezPhilippines Quezon City Mission

Sugar Creek was the first camp the pioneers made after they left their warm, comfortable homes in Nauvoo. Within two weeks it was filled with five thousand people, who were waiting for the signal from Brigham Young before going forward on their journey “out west.”
To Tommy and Betsy it was like living in a city, for the tents and wagons were placed along streets as their houses had been in Nauvoo. Between each was a space roofed over with brush to protect it from the weather. There the meals were prepared, and there the children played.
In the center of the camp was a big square, something like a park. On one side of it Tommy and Betsy lived in their covered wagon. Anytime during the day or night they could look out onto the square and see campfires burning and people standing nearby trying to get warm.
One morning, very early, Tommy saw Brigham Young on a wagon box in the center of the square. A moment later his voice boomed out over the camp like a giant cannon: “Attention, Camp of Israel!” And Tommy knew that within minutes everyone in camp would come to the square to hear what Brigham Young would say.
“I hope he tells us that it is time to move on out west,” said Tommy.
“I hope so, too,” said Mother.
But Brigham Young said nothing about going out west. Instead, he said that during the past few days eight hundred men had arrived at Sugar Creek without enough food to last a week, and he asked those who had food to divide with those in need. He promised that if the Saints would do this, the Lord would bless them with all the food they needed.
President Young urged the men to go to the towns on the north and on the south to ask for work building roads, building bridges, or putting up fences; he also suggested that pay be made in food. He reported that featherbeds, watches, dishes, shawls, silverware, and furniture could be traded for corn and wheat.
Tommy and Betsy were especially interested when he told the children they could help by gathering willows from the creek bed to weave into bushel and half-bushel baskets that could be traded for food.
Immediately following Brigham Young’s “Amen,” and even before there was talking or moving around, the people heard the faraway sound of a bell ringing.
“It’s the bell in the temple tower at Nauvoo,” Tommy whispered to Betsy, and to him it was as if the Lord were giving his own “Amen” to the words his prophet had spoken. In the quiet of his own heart, Tommy promised that he would try to do all Brigham Young wanted him to do.
When the meeting was over, Tommy’s father gathered his family around him and said, “We’re beginning a long journey. We’re not even sure where it will end. We only know that the Lord will lead us there. We know also that all we’ll have is what we take with us. Now the problem is, shall we give the food we brought with us to those in need, or shall we save it for ourselves so we can be sure of having enough?”
Tommy remembered the quiet promise he had made. “President Young has asked us to share,” he said, “and I think that is what the Lord wants us to do.”
“I know the Lord will help us get more when we need it,” added Betsy.
Tommy’s father smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “We can’t blame the Saints for coming here without enough food. No one was really ready to leave Nauvoo now, for everyone expected not to leave until spring. Some had money to buy food and equipment, but most of them didn’t, so they had to trade their farms and houses for whatever they could get for them. Brother Johnson, for example, traded his house for only a covered wagon and a yoke of oxen. There was no money to buy food, so they just brought what they had, and I’m sure it will be gone in a few days.”
“He’ll go to a nearby town to find work to buy food,” added mother.
“Are you going, Father?” asked Tommy.
“Yes, Brother Johnson and I are going together,” Father answered. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You can take my silver spoons with you,” Mother offered. “I think you can trade them for a wagonload of corn to keep our animals alive and strong until the grass starts to grow.”
“You can take our featherbed,” said Betsy. “I know someone will want that.”
“I’ll gather willows in the creek bed and weave them into baskets, like President Young asked us to do,” said Tommy.
All were so interested in listening to each other that no one noticed Sister Johnson, who had been standing just outside of the covered wagon. They were surprised when she spoke. “You can take my shawl,” she said quietly, “and the little sugar bowl my grandmother gave me.”
As she brought the items inside the wagon, she teetered as if she were going to fall. Tommy’s father jumped off the wagon to help her. “Are you ill?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, “but I am hungry. We haven’t had much to eat the last two days.”
Tommy’s mother hurried to help Sister Johnson lie down. “Munch on this sea biscuit,” she insisted, “while I fix you some hot mush.”
Later Tommy and Betsy and their father went back with Sister Johnson to her wagon. Tommy carried some potatoes, his father some flour, and Betsy a pail of milk.
As she carried the milk, Betsy thought of her kitten she had left in Nauvoo. In her mind she again heard her mother ask, “You wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry just so you could have you kitten along, would you?”
Betsy smiled and said, “No,” very quietly to herself. And this time she meant it for sure!

Four years ago I spoke in this setting about couples serving full-time missions. My prayer was that “the Holy Ghost [would] touch hearts, and somewhere a spouse … [would] quietly nudge his or her companion, and a moment of truth [—a moment of decision—would] occur.” One sister later wrote me about that experience. She said, “We were sitting in the comfort of our family room enjoying conference on television. … As you spoke, my heart was touched so deeply. I looked over at my husband and he looked at me. That moment changed my life forever.”
If you are or will soon be the age of a senior missionary, I come to you this afternoon to witness of the blessings that can change your life forever. Your Heavenly Father needs you. His work, under the direction of our Savior Jesus Christ, needs what you are uniquely prepared to give. Every missionary experience requires faith, sacrifice, and service, and these are always followed by an outpouring of blessings.
As we discuss these blessings, you will naturally consider what I have called the four Fs: fear, family concerns, finding the right mission opportunity, and financial challenges. May I yet add another more important and powerful F—faith. Only through our faith can we heed God’s counsel to “choose ye this day, whom ye will serve”—“to serve the Lord God who made you.” And only through a trial of our faith can we receive the miraculous blessings we seek for ourselves and our families. “For if there be no faith among the children of men God can do no miracle among them; wherefore, he showed not himself until after their faith.”
Allow me to share some of these miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children: “That faith also might increase in the earth. … That the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”
Another couple faced family concerns with faith. A faithful sister wrote: “The decision to serve a mission was not hard. But my 90-year-old mother was extremely apprehensive about our leaving. She took great comfort when she heard that our families would be blessed as we serve.” A faithful brother expressed similar concerns about leaving his elderly parents, to which his father responded: “Don’t use your mother and me as an excuse not to go on a mission with your wife. You pray about it and follow the guidance of the Spirit.”
To an earlier generation of missionaries called to leave their families, the Lord offered this reassurance: “And if they will do this in all lowliness of heart, … I, the Lord, give unto them a promise that I will provide for their families.”
Certainly family concerns are real and should not be considered lightly. But we cannot meet our family challenges without the blessings of the Lord; and when we sacrifice to serve as full-time missionary couples, those blessings will flow. For example, one couple worried about leaving their youngest daughter who was no longer active in the Church. Her faithful father wrote: “We prayed for her continually and fasted regularly. Then, during general conference, the Spirit whispered to me, ‘If you will serve, you will not have to worry about your daughter anymore.’ So we met with our bishop. The week after we received our call, she and her boyfriend announced they were engaged. Before we left for Africa, we had a wedding in our home. [Then we gathered our family together and] held a family council. … I bore testimony of the Lord and Joseph Smith … and told them I would like to give each of them a father’s blessing. I started with the oldest son and then his wife and proceeded to the youngest … [including our new son-in-law].”
As we consider couple missionary service, it is appropriate to involve our families in the same way. In family council meetings, we can give our children the opportunity to express their support, offer special assistance we may need, and receive priesthood blessings to sustain them in our absence. Where appropriate, we may be able to receive priesthood blessings from them as well. As the faithful father in this story blessed his family members, his son-in-law felt the influence of the Holy Ghost. The father wrote: “By the end of our first year [the] heart [of our son-in-law] began to soften toward the Church. Just before we returned home from our mission, he and our daughter came to visit us. In his suitcase was the first set of Sunday clothes he had ever owned. They came to Church with us, and after we returned home he was baptized. A year later, they were sealed in the temple.”
Though the details of this story may be unique, the principle is true for all who say to the Lord, “I’ll go where you want me to go.” I testify that as we put our trust in the Lord, He will find the right missionary opportunity for us. As He said, “If any man serve me, him will my Father honour.”
In considering missionary opportunities, many couples throughout the world have an abundant desire to serve but lack abundant means. If this is your situation, remember that the right mission call may not be to a far-off country with a strange sounding name. The right call for you may be within your stake or area. “Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.” Counsel with your extended family and your bishop or branch president. As the Lord’s servants understand your temporal situation, you will be able to receive the eternal blessings of full-time missionary service.
If you cannot serve because of serious extenuating circumstances, would you consider making a financial contribution to help those who can? The reasonable sacrifice of your means will not only bless other missionaries and those they serve; it will bless you and your family as well.
Now, to those who were not able to serve a mission in their youth, may I speak directly to you. Perhaps over the years you have been burdened by feelings of regret or felt less than adequate because you did not have a missionary opportunity to serve and grow when you were younger. My advice to you: look forward, not back. Begin preparing for your mission as a senior missionary couple today! Save a little money each month. Study the scriptures. Accept Church callings. Pray to feel the Lord’s love for others and receive His love and confidence in you. You can one day claim all the blessings of missionary service!
And what marvelous blessings they are! After 51 years of marriage, I was asked, “What part of life would you want to live over again?” I did not hesitate to reply, “When my wife and I served together in the great missionary work of the Lord.” The sentiments of another missionary couple echo those of my wife and myself: “Our decision to go on a mission brought new vigor, new emotions, new friends, new places, new challenges. It brought us closer together as husband and wife; we had a common goal and a real partnership. And best of all, it brought new spiritual growth, instead of spiritual retirement.” Brothers and sisters, let us not go into spiritual retirement.
Now, may I extend a challenge to bishops and branch presidents throughout the world? Over the next six months, would it be possible for each of you to consider recommending one or more missionary couples beyond those presently planning to serve? Your greatest resource in meeting this challenge will be those senior members of your ward who have already served missions. In my own ward, an inspired bishop called a special meeting of prospective and returned missionary couples. As we bore our testimonies of sacrifice and service, the Spirit witnessed to us all that a call to serve is indeed a call to “know the richness of [the Lord’s] blessing[s].”
I’ve heard of a stake president who has arranged a senior missionary class to inspire prospective missionary couples and help them prepare to serve. Priesthood leaders, as you prayerfully seek to encourage full-time missionary service, remember that when a couple is called, they not only help accomplish the work of the Lord throughout the world; they plant a seed of service in their families that will blossom for generations to come. I continue to be grateful for the influence of my parents, who served as couple missionaries in England and set an example for their posterity.
Now, to you prospective missionary couples, please do not wait for your bishop to meet with you about serving a mission! Go to him. Share your feelings. Where missionary service is concerned, the Lord expects us to express our desires. As we do, we can trust that the same Spirit that prompts us to seek a mission call will inspire a prophet to call us to the right assignment.
And there are so many calls! There are calls to teach the gospel to those who desire to receive the truth, including to youth in the Church Educational System; calls to work in welfare and humanitarian service; in temples; in family history centers, mission offices, and historic sites; calls to “do the greatest good unto thy fellow beings, and … promote the glory of him who is your Lord.”
Consider these examples: A couple called to India helped a school for blind children build sanitary facilities and acquire braille typewriters. A couple in Hawaii nurtured a little branch of 20 members to 200 and prepared 70 members to attend the temple together. A couple in Peru arranged for medicine and Christmas toys to be provided to 550 children in an orphanage. A couple in Cambodia taught institute classes and gave leadership to a branch which, after only 10 months, grew to 180 members. A couple in Russia helped local farmers increase their yield of potatoes to 11 times that of the state farms, while a couple in the Philippines helped nearly 700 poorly nourished families learn to raise rabbits and cultivate vegetable gardens. A couple in Pennsylvania assisted 60 individuals, half of them members of other faiths, in preparing their family genealogical records. A couple in Ghana helped drill and refurbish wells, bringing water to 190,000 people in villages and refugee camps.
Whether or not the results of every mission are this obvious to mortal eyes, all those who serve make an invaluable contribution in the sight of the Lord, for all “have compassion, making a difference.” Couple missionaries are role models and examples of strength to full-time missionaries and to priesthood and auxiliary leaders throughout the world. I express my gratitude for all these and the thousands of others who are serving in so many capacities, contributing millions of hours in service to their fellow man.
My brothers and sisters, if you have felt stirrings to engage in this work, however quiet those feelings may be, do not procrastinate the day of your service. Now is the time to prepare; now is the time to be called, the time to sacrifice. Now is the time to share your gifts and talents, and now is the time to receive God’s blessings for you and your family. “There is a constant need for more couple missionaries,” President Gordon B. Hinckley has said. As this work rolls forward, that need is increasing. Let us, in our richest years of experience, maturity, wisdom, and most of all, our faith, rise to meet that need as only we can.
We, above all, have special reason to do so. From our life’s experience we can look back and recognize the goodness of our Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ, to us and our families. As one faithful brother explained, “My wife and I would like to serve five missions—one for each of the beautiful children God has blessed us with!” Whatever blessings we have received individually, I testify that we have all received the greatest blessing of all: “God [our Heavenly Father] so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,” and His Son, Jesus Christ, “loveth the world, even that he layeth down his own life.” I bear my special witness that His atoning sacrifice is the ultimate expression of that love.
As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, it is our greatest privilege to return His love through sacrifice and service and claim His holy promise: “And whoso layeth down his life in my cause, for my name’s sake, shall find it again, even life eternal.” That we may do so is my heartfelt prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One time, I was annoying my sisters. My mom sent me to time-out in my bedroom. That made me so angry that I threw a terrible fit.
While I was in my room, I decided to pray. I started thinking of my blessings and thanking Heavenly Father for them. As I did this, I started to feel peace in my heart. The angry feelings I had toward Mom went away. I know that the Holy Ghost helped me feel that way, and I have a testimony of prayer.
Jonah Leavitt, age 6West Linn, Oregon

When I was 16 years old and living in Porto Alegre, Brazil, my older brother had a friend who often visited our home. One day this friend told us that he had found a church and that he liked its members’ way of living.
He told us a little bit about his experience with joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but he wasn’t sure that my brother and I were “church material.” He thought that the standards of the Church would be too much for my brother and me to embrace.
Our sister, however, was a good, kind girl. Because of these traits, our friend thought that she might be interested in what Latter-day Saints stood for, so he asked our mother if she could attend a Church activity with him.
Our mother agreed but only on the condition that my brother or I go too. My brother was faster than I was and quickly said, “Not me!” So I was designated to go to the activity with my sister.
I didn’t really mind. I had been curious about the Church since I had first seen the large, square chapel across from my school. I had seen people coming and going from the church often, and I had noticed that the men wore white shirts and ties. I wondered what could be going on inside “the big box,” as I then thought of the building.
My sister and I arrived at the church with our friend. Inside, at the center of a large cultural hall was a small group of people: two sister missionaries and maybe six others. They were playing a simple game and enjoying popcorn and juice. Everyone was laughing and having a good time.
“Who are these people,” I wondered, “and why are they so happy?” I knew it certainly couldn’t be because of the game they were playing or the physical environment or the treats they were sharing. Those were all so simple. The happiness seemed to be coming from inside them.
I had often wondered where true happiness came from and what I could do to find it. I thought maybe it came from exciting activities or taking exotic vacations or pursuing all that the world has to offer. And then I went to that meetinghouse, where these people were so happy without any of those things. It made a significant impression on me.
After the activity the missionaries stood at the exit to shake hands with everyone. When my sister got to the door, they asked her if she would be interested in knowing more about the Church. She said, “No, thanks.” But I was still curious. I felt a “desire to believe” (Alma 32:27), so when they invited me to learn more about the gospel, I said yes.
My parents weren’t interested in the missionary lessons or in having them conducted in our home, so I arranged to have the lessons at the meetinghouse. Over the next month I learned about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ—about what made those people in that cultural hall so happy. I learned that happiness came from doing what the Lord wanted me to do, that it came from within, and that I could be happy no matter what was going on around me. That doctrine was “delicious to me” (Alma 32:28). I wanted it in my life.
A month after that first activity, I decided to join the Church. In the years that followed, both of my parents also joined the Church.

Years ago, in my childhood home, my parents decided to recarpet the house. The night before the new carpet arrived, my mom asked my brothers to remove furniture and rip out the old carpet in the bedrooms, so that the new carpet could be installed the next morning. Emily, who was 7, was asleep on her bed.
While she soundly slept, my brothers removed all the other furniture from her room and everything from the walls and the closet—then even the carpet. Then they had an idea—an awful idea; they decided, as big brothers around the world sometimes do, to prank their little sister.
They then removed everything from the walls and the closet.
The room was completely bare except for the bed.
Then they wrote a note and tacked it to the wall:
“Emily, we moved. We’ll write in a few days and tell you where we are. Love, your family.” Well, the next morning Emily did not show up for breakfast as usual. My mom sent one of my brothers to get her. Emily was not in her bed, but my brother did hear the sound of crying coming from inside of the closet. There was Emily, curled up and crying her little heart out.
Emily reflected on this experience later:
I wondered, why would they just leave me?
I felt so alone and unloved.
Was I really that unimportant?
In my 7-year-old mind I thought, “No one likes me, not even my own family.” I was crushed. But what would have happened if I just opened the door? What would I have heard? What would I have smelled? I would have known I was not alone.
I would have known I really was loved. The thought never even crossed my mind to do something about my situation. I just gave up and stayed in my closet crying. And yet if I had simply opened the door...

I have always admired my great-grandmother Mary Bommeli’s devotion to sharing the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Her family was taught by missionaries in Switzerland when she was 24.

After being baptized, Mary desired to join the Saints in America, so she made her way from Switzerland to Berlin and found work with a woman who employed her to weave cloth for the family’s clothing. Mary lived in a servant’s room and set up her loom in the home’s living area.

At that time, teaching the doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was illegal in Berlin. But Mary found she could not keep from sharing the things she had learned. The woman of the house and her friends would gather around the loom to hear Mary teach. She spoke of the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith, the visitation of angels, and the Book of Mormon. Remembering the accounts of Alma, she taught about the doctrine of the Resurrection. She testified that families can be reunited in the celestial kingdom.

Mary’s enthusiasm to share the doctrine of the restored gospel soon caused trouble. It was not long before the police took Mary off to jail. On the way, she asked the policeman for the name of the judge she was to appear before the next morning. She also asked about his family and if he was a good father and husband. The policeman described the judge as a man of the world.

In the jail, Mary requested a pencil and some paper. She spent the night writing a letter to the judge, bearing witness to the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as described in the Book of Mormon, discussing the spirit world, and explaining repentance. She suggested that the judge would need time to reflect on his life before facing final judgment. She wrote that she knew he had much to repent of, much which would deeply sadden his family and bring him great sorrow. In the morning, when she had finished her letter, she gave it to the policeman and asked him to deliver it to the judge, and he agreed to do so.

Later, the policeman was summoned by the judge to his office. The letter Mary had written was irrefutable evidence that she was teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel and, by so doing, breaking the law. However, it wasn’t long before the policeman returned to Mary’s cell. He told her that all charges were dismissed and that she was free to go. Her teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had caused her to be cast into jail. And her declaring the doctrine of repentance to the judge got her cast out of jail.

Mary Bommeli’s teaching did not end with her release. The record of her words passed true doctrine down through generations yet unborn. Her belief that even a new convert could teach the doctrine of Jesus Christ has ensured that her descendants will be strengthened in their own battles.

It was Helamán’s first day of school. He wore his favorite shirt, and he had a new pencil. His new teacher let him sit at a table with his friends Sylvester, Jorge, and Miguel. It was a good day.
“Put away your things,” said Señora Martínez. “It’s time to eat lunch.”
Helamán’s family always prayed together before meals. He raised his hand. “Señora Martínez, are we going to pray before we eat?”
Señora Martínez smiled at Helamán. “You may say a prayer for your food if you would like.”
Helamán and his friends opened their lunches.
“What is a prayer?” asked Sylvester.
“It’s talking to Heavenly Father,” said Helamán. “It’s the way we thank Him for our food.”
“Can you say a prayer for all of us?” asked Miguel.
Helamán folded his arms. His three friends folded their arms too. Helamán closed his eyes and bowed his head. His friends did the same.
Then Helamán said a prayer, just like his family did. He thanked Heavenly Father for the good day they were having and for their lunches. He asked for a blessing on their food. He ended in the name of Jesus Christ and said, “Amen.”
Sylvester, Jorge, and Miguel looked up.
“You can say amen too,” said Helamán.
His friends grinned and said, “Amen.”
The next day at lunchtime, Sylvester said, “Say a prayer, Helamán.”
“Yes, say a prayer, Helamán,” said Miguel. Jorge nodded.
So Helamán prayed again. This time he said he was extra thankful that his mom had made him a ham and cheese sandwich, his favorite. He asked Heavenly Father to help them learn in class that day.
Each day at lunch, Helamán’s friends said, “Say a prayer, Helamán.” And each day, Helamán said a prayer. He prayed with his friends each day for a week.
The next Monday at lunchtime, Miguel said, “Today I will pray.”
Helamán was surprised. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, bowed his head, and listened while Miguel prayed.
Miguel began by saying, “Dear Heavenly Father.” He thanked Him for their food and asked Him to bless it. He ended in the name of Jesus Christ and said, “Amen.”
“Amen!” said Helamán and Jorge.
“Amen,” said Sylvester. “I didn’t know you could pray.”
“I learned by listening to Helamán,” said Miguel. “I asked my parents if I could say a prayer on our meals at home. They said yes, so I pray just like Helamán does.”
“Wow,” said Sylvester. “I think I’ll ask my parents if I can say a prayer at our meals too.”
“Me too!” said Jorge.
Helamán smiled. He was glad he had been able to help his friends learn to speak with Heavenly Father. He knew Heavenly Father loved him, and Heavenly Father loved his friends too.
This story took place in Mexico.

Just before this meeting started, Brother Stapley, with a twinkle in his eye, asked me to answer for a story he heard I had told to the All-Americans at BYU last night; and in keeping with my inward response to Brother Petersen’s great sermon on honesty today, I must tell the truth.
The story, Brother Stapley, was mythical. It was reportedly the statement of a man who golfed with you and Brother Tanner and who, when he came back, said, “Have you ever played golf and been the only one rained on?” I can testify to you that Brother Stapley gets rained on, and was snowed on two days ago, as I observed. As we went from the place where he had snow deposited on him from a tree limb, just as we came out from a meeting into that beautiful storm, I drove up streets that were littered with limbs of magnificent trees. I was fearful of what I would find when I got home, and my apprehensions were justified. Some of our lovely trees were broken. In our backyard a fence we had built to protect the neighbors while our children grew up was flattened. And I would like to tell you something serious and truthful. I haven’t worried a minute about that. I have been thinking about tonight and what we are here discussing.
We are talking about casualties, some that have happened and some that are happening, and some that we want not to happen in the future. God has from the beginning been very interested in his children, those safely in the fold, some who have strayed, and those not yet in.
We are talking primarily tonight about those who are in, or some who may not quite be in as much as they should be and as we would like them to be. I read again with joy what Alma the prophet wrote about some people who were far from the fold, who had once been in. He took three of the sons of Mosiah, two of his own sons, and two other converts and went to teach the Zoramites, who are described as having fallen into great error, for “they would not observe to keep the commandments of God, and his statutes. … Neither would they observe the performances of the church, to continue in prayer and supplication to God daily, that they might not enter into temptation. Yea, in fine, they did pervert the ways of the Lord in very many instances; therefore, for this cause, Alma and his brethren went into the land to preach the word unto them.” (Alma 31:9–11.)
As that happened, Alma offered to the Lord the kind of prayer that is in our hearts as we listen to these great servants of youth speak tonight. “O Lord, wilt thou grant unto us that we may have success in bringing them again unto thee in Christ. Behold, O Lord, their souls are precious, and many of them are our brethren [I suppose we might parenthetically assume he was thinking that many of them are the wives and children of our brethren now and in the future]; therefore, give unto us, O Lord, power and wisdom that we may bring these, our brethren, again unto thee.” (Alma 31:34–35.)
I recently had called to my attention by Brother Joe Christensen an excerpt from Church history that I would like to share with you in part. In the Documentary History of the Church (vol. 5, pp. 320–21) is “A Short Sketch of the Rise of the ‘Young Gentlemen and Ladies Relief Society’ from the Times and Seasons.” You will observe, as the annotator says, that this has more to do with youth than with the Relief Society, but that was the heading.
“In the latter part of January, 1843, a number of young people assembled at the house of Elder Heber C. Kimball [you realize that the Prophet Joseph Smith is writing this] who warned them against the various temptations to which youth is exposed, and gave an appointment expressly for the young at the house of Elder Billings; and another meeting was held in the ensuing week, at Brother Farr’s school-room, which was filled to overflowing. Elder Kimball delivered addresses, exhorting the young people to study the scriptures, and enable themselves to ‘give a reason for the hope within them,’ and to be ready to go on to the stage of action, when their present instructors and leaders had gone behind the scenes; also to keep good company and to keep pure and unspotted from the world.”
The Prophet then notes that the next meeting was held at his house, and though the weather was inclement, there were many there, to overflowing.
“Elder Kimball,” he writes, “as usual, delivered an address, warning his hearers against giving heed to their youthful passions, and exhorting them to be obedient and to pay strict attention to the advice of their parents. …”
The Prophet then says something that has touched me and I think will touch you who work with youth: “I experienced more embarrassment in standing before them than I should before kings and nobles of the earth; for I knew the crimes of which the latter were guilty, and I knew precisely how to address them; but my young friends were guilty of none of them, and therefore I hardly knew what to say. I advised them to organize themselves into a society for the relief of the poor, and recommended to them a poor lame English brother … who wanted a house built, that he might have a home amongst the Saints; that he had gathered a few materials for the purpose, but was unable to use them, and he has petitioned for aid. I advised them to choose a committee to collect funds for this purpose, and perform this charitable act as soon as the weather permitted. I gave them such advice as I deemed was calculated to guide their conduct through life and prepare them for a glorious eternity.”
You see, our efforts to reach youth today are not original. They are about the same, motivated with about the same sense of their need, and certainly by the same spirit that directed those of old. This statement of the Prophet moved me because I have had that same feeling when I have stood before them. As a teacher for years, I have pondered their future as I taught them, and I have lived long enough to see the fulfillment of my fondest hopes, or the beginning of the fulfillment of them, for many of them, and, I am sorry to say, the realization of some of my apprehensions. They are, in fact, a great and remarkable generation, yet like many of you I am well aware of the major problems confronting all of our young people, and that many of them desperately need help.
It would be an interesting experience for some of you to walk through a few days of our relationships with youth as we visit with them in person, by telephone, in interviews, by mail. It is just a few days ago that I deplaned at a major airport, met some of you leaders there, and a beautiful young college-age lady who was waiting for me. She had left her home against the wishes of her parents and others and had hitchhiked to a rock festival. On her way home from that adventure, hitchhiking now with a male companion, she was picked up by officers of the law, arrested for possession of drugs, tried, and sentenced to five years in prison. Through the intervention of our local brethren, who were reached by a distraught mother through the bishop, she was given parole freedom, but the record has been made and her life is hanging in the balance. She has some decisions to make.
On my desk is a current letter, one of many, from an anguished girl crying for help. Three times the words are repeated, “Please help me.” Within hours there has been a call, another call, from a disturbed young man seeking guidance for his friend who questions a Church position which he feels he cannot accept, which he thinks makes his position in the Church tenuous or untenable.
In my hand I hold a letter received two days ago from a faithful, brokenhearted father whose son, about the same age as the others, took his own life, notwithstanding the efforts of loving parents and a fine, wholesome family. I wish there were time to read a description of how hard these marvelous parents have tried. This is a missionary family, a committed family, a stay-together family; yet this boy, convinced of his own worthlessness, that he was a failure and that the mistakes he had made were disqualifying, took his own life. His father sent a copy of the note he left, and asked me to make such use of his letter and this letter as judgment and my feelings suggested.
What can we do? How can we help this great young generation meet the challenges of their time? I am certain that we must thoughtfully examine not only their needs and their problems, and what we have to give them, but how we undertake to give it, and what we appear to them to be as they observe it. I have been rethinking my own experience and will give you just an example or two quickly. May I do it in the spirit of a statement that to me for a long time has been very choice: “Neither laugh nor weep, nor loathe, but understand.”
What are some of their problems? These basic observations have come from experience with youth and from their own lips and lives. I can sum them up in four or five needs.
First, they need faith. They need to believe. They need to know the doctrines, the commandments, the principles of the gospel. They need to grow in understanding and conviction. They need to worship and to pray, but they live in a time when all of this is so seriously questioned, when doubt is encouraged.
Two, they need to be accepted as they are, and to be included. They need a family, the most important social unit in this world; and even if they have a good family, they need the supportive influence outside their home of others, of neighbors, of friends, of bishops, of brothers, of human beings.
Three, they need to be actively involved, to participate, to give service, to give of themselves.
Four, they have to learn somehow that they are more important than their mistakes; that they are worthwhile, valuable, useful; that they are loved unconditionally.
I knelt with my own family, at the conclusion of a great family home evening, the night before our lovely daughter was to be married in the temple. I think she wouldn’t mind my telling you that after we had laughed and wept and remembered, she was asked to pray. I don’t recall much of her prayer, the tears and the joy and the sweetness, but I remember one thought: she thanked God for the unconditional love she had received. This life doesn’t give one very many chances to feel exultant and a little successful, but I felt wonderful that night, and thank God that she really believes and understands what she said. We cannot, my dear brethren, condition our love by a beard or beads or habits or strange viewpoints. There have to be standards and they must be enforced, but our love must be unconditional.
I read you just a sentence from the letter left by the boy who ended his own life: “I have no hope, only dreams that have died. I was never able to obtain satisfactory interpersonal relationships. I feared the future and a lot of other things. I felt inferior. I have almost no will to achieve, perseverance, or sense of worth, so goodbye. I should have listened to you but I didn’t. I started using acid last summer. It’s purgatory.” What a tragic story!
We need to understand their needs. They need to learn the gospel. They need to be accepted, to be involved, to be loved; and they need, my brethren—my fifth and final point—the example of good men, good parents, good people, who really care.
I went to the funeral of my cousin a few weeks ago, and I pass on to you something that touched me deeply there. Maybe it is the message I can share with those of us who can do something, if we will, for our great young generation. A man who served as his counselor, now himself the bishop, said of my cousin: “Every boy in his lifetime has the right to know a man like Ivan Frame.”
God bless us to love them, to accept them, to give to them what they need in order that they may be what they want to be and give what they want to give, I pray, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Oh dear! It looks like I’ll have to go to the store,” Aunt Mabel suddenly announced as she closed the refrigerator door.
“But it’s snowing, and the wind is howling,” Annie said. She’d just been looking out the window of Aunt Mabel’s cozy farmhouse.
“But I must go—my refrigerator and cupboards are bare.” Aunt Mabel sounded determined.
Annie was spending a few weeks on Aunt Mabel’s farm. The early snowstorm had been sudden and unexpected. The snow was being whipped around by a wind that sounded quite fierce! It was hard to see anything but snow out the window. Annie got a worried expression on her face.
“We’ll just get all bundled up and make our way through the storm—like the pioneers did. On a farm, one has to keep the pioneer spirit alive,” Aunt Mabel continued as she helped Annie put on her jacket and boots.
The pioneer spirit? Annie’s face took on a look of determination. If Aunt Mabel had the pioneer spirit, she would have it too. “Are we going in your pickup truck?” Annie asked as they headed out the door.
“No, sweetie. We’ll walk.”
Walk? Annie thought. Walking will require a lot of pioneer spirit. “I’m ready if you are, Aunt Mabel.”
“You’re a brave girl. Just for that we’ll bring back an extra special dessert,” Aunt Mabel promised, opening the door.
The snow swirled in the wind. Though it was freezing cold, Annie couldn’t help noticing how beautiful it looked.
Aunt Mabel walked around the side of the house. Annie followed, fighting the strong wind that seemed determined to rip her scarf right off her neck!
Aunt Mabel pulled open a large door in the ground.
Annie stared. What was she doing?
“Come on, sweetie. Follow me to my store. Watch these steps—they’re a bit steep,” Aunt Mabel cautioned. Annie held on to the railing as she followed. At the bottom of the stairs Aunt Mabel pulled a string. A light came on.
“Wow!” Annie exclaimed. “A store right in your yard!” There were rows upon rows of shelves bulging with rows upon rows of jars! Jars filled with colorful fruits and vegetables—green beans, corn, peas, pickles, jams, peaches, pears, applesauce, and more.
On the dirt floor were boxes filled with carrots, potatoes, onions, cabbages, and apples. Practically any kind of food one could find in a grocery store was right there in Aunt Mabel’s cellar!
“All summer, while my garden is producing, I work hard stocking my store. Then when winter arrives, I can relax with a good book—or with my favorite niece—and enjoy it,” Aunt Mabel said.
“Are those watermelons in the corner?” Annie asked in amazement.
“They certainly are. Those are the last melons from my garden. I coated them with paraffin, which is like candle wax. That way, if I’m lucky, they’ll keep into early winter.”
They filled two boxes with both canned and fresh fruits and vegetables and carried them up to the house. Annie’s box had potatoes, carrots, and apples in it. Aunt Mabel took jars of other fruits and vegetables. Then Aunt Mabel rushed out to the cellar again and came back up with a watermelon in her arms. “Our special dessert,” she said, smiling at Annie.
Back in the cozy, warm kitchen, Aunt Mabel and Annie soon filled the refrigerator and cupboards.
A pair of headlights shone through the kitchen window. Angie looked out. “Someone in a blue truck is here.”
A man came to the door. “Come in, John,” Aunt Mabel told him.
“I’m on my way to town. I just stopped to see if you might need something. You know that my truck has four-wheel drive. It’ll make it through anything.”
“Thank you, John. I certainly do appreciate your stopping by, but we don’t need a thing. In fact, I just brought up a watermelon from my store. It’s too big for the two of us—this is my niece Annie, who’s visiting me from the city—so won’t you take some home with you?”
“What a treat! Thank you.” He turned and smiled at Annie. “Hello there, young lady. It looks like you’re getting a taste of our country winter.”
“Yes, but I’m not worried about it. We have Aunt Mabel’s store, right in the cellar. And we have the pioneer spirit. We can make it through anything.”