Gospel Story Finder

After years of inactivity, my father abruptly announced one day that we were going back to church. This met with some protest from me. Throughout my childhood I knew only vaguely of the Mormon Church. Basically I knew that there were rules against everything I was currently doing. I viewed the religion as a fanatical organization that demanded self-denial, something that my friends and I didn’t understand and wholly condemned. Besides, what would my friends say if they found out?
Finally my father and I agreed that I would just try going to church for a while and then if I decided against going any more he wouldn’t force me. Sunday came. I sat through sacrament meeting and Sunday School as if I were deaf. Then came Young Women. I sat in the corner of the classroom, arms folded, eyes glaring. (Later I found out that I had actually scared my adviser as much as I had hoped I would.) With that Sunday over I declared I would never go again! In order to avoid going the following Sundays, I claimed I had all kinds of illnesses, from a cold to tonsillitis.
Although I would have denied it at the time, I felt something that first Sunday we went back to church. I felt something from the adviser who really seemed to care about this strange new girl in her class. I felt something, too, from a Latter-day Saint schoolmate who took an interest in my spiritual well-being. From then on, every time I did anything wrong she would remind me that some obscure God was watching my every move. Somehow she convinced me to keep going to church.
Then I met our bishop, a large rancher who seemed too gentle for his intimidating stature. In my first interview with him he asked me to pray. I refused. I knew how to pray, but I couldn’t because I believed God wouldn’t listen to a sinner. The bishop seemed to understand, although I didn’t see how he could because I was sure he had never sinned in his life. But he didn’t condemn me. He seemed to consider me of equal value to all the “saints” in our ward. Feeling so accepted, I continued to attend.
The next couple of months were filled with something I had never felt before. I came to realize that it was the Spirit of the Lord trying to tell me that everything I was hearing and feeling was true. I don’t think I had a testimony at that time. I only knew that I loved my schoolmate and her funny ideas. I loved my Young Women adviser because she loved me. I loved my bishop because he didn’t condemn me. I loved the feeling I had when I was with these people, and I wanted to have that feeling always in my life.

“When I was about your age,” he began,” “we lived in that old farmhouse near your grandpa’s home, the house they use as a storage shed now.
“Your grandpa had been angry with me because I wasn’t doing everything that I should have been. I got all the lectures about obedience and responsibility. I was scolded, coaxed, and threatened, but still I did only what I wanted. I figured that I was old enough to make my own decisions.
“One morning your grandpa told me to be home right after school because he needed me to help him and my brothers irrigate the fields. He said that if I didn’t help, I would lose all privileges.”
“You mean that Grandpa was going to ground you?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Dad answered thoughtfully. “Well,” he continued, “I tried. I really did. But one of my friends asked for some help with our math assignment. By the time I got home, Dad and my brothers were already down at the irrigation canal, starting to turn the water into the fields.
“That canal was about two miles down the old gravel highway. When we lived in the old house, that highway was the only way through town. Oil tankers used it to get from the refinery to the storage tanks on the other side of town.
“I didn’t want to walk two more miles after having just walked home from school, so I went to the barn to get a horse. Well, Dad and my brothers had taken all the horses except one—Brandy.
“Dad had always told me, ‘Brandy is too spirited to ride with a nose loop. If you ride her, use a bridle.’”
“What’s a nose loop?” I interrupted.
“A nose loop,” Dad explained,” is made by wrapping a rope around the horse’s nose, then using the ends of the rope as reins. It isn’t the best way to ride a horse, but it’s all right when you ride a gentle one and you’re careful not to hurt it.
“I looked all over the barn for a bridle,” Dad continued his story, “but I couldn’t find one. I decided that I would risk riding Brandy to the irrigation canal with a nose loop, then trade horses with one of my brothers.
“I caught Brandy, put on the nose loop, climbed the fence, and jumped onto the horse’s bare back.”
“Weren’t you afraid of riding Brandy that way, Dad?” I asked.
“I think I was more afraid of what Dad would do if I didn’t make it to the canal,” he answered, “so I headed down the highway.
“Everything went pretty well for the first mile. I held the rope tightly, pulling Brandy’s nose in toward her neck. That was a mistake, but I didn’t know it then.
“She started getting restless. Soon she was skipping and jumping around, and I knew that I was losing control of her. I was within a half mile of the canal, though, and thought that I could make it. Then one of those oil tankers came up the highway.”
“Did the truck hit you and the horse, Dad?” I broke in, forgetting to even wonder why Dad was telling me a story about Grandpa’s horse.
“No, Danny,” Dad replied. “The driver blew his air horns, which was probably the worst thing that he could have done.
“Brandy spun around and headed for home at a full gallop. I grabbed a handful of her mane and held on for dear life. I bounced on her back, only managing to stay on because of my death grip on that handful of mane. Brandy never slowed down.
“As we got closer to the house, I knew that I would never make it. Your grandpa had just put up a barbed wire fence on the road to the corral where Brandy was sure to turn.
“When we reached the road, she made the turn at a full gallop. All I can remember after that is that I came off her back and headed for the wire. But instead of hitting the wire, I hit a fifty-five gallon metal drum.”
“Were you hurt bad?” I asked.
“Yes, Danny,” Dad said. “I remember waking up in a hospital bed. I hurt all over, my arm was in a cast, and my head throbbed. Your grandma and grandpa were both there.
“Your grandpa came close to the bed and smiled. ‘I’m glad that you’re back with us,’ he said. ‘You had a pretty nasty fall.’ Then he handed me this hunk of horsehair.”
Dad handed me a picture frame that had been in his desk. It held a bunch of coarse brown hair.
“It was part of Brandy’s mane,” Dad continued, “the part that I had been holding onto. ‘You might want to keep this as a reminder,’ your grandpa said to me. ‘Maybe it will help you remember to never ride Brandy with a nose loop.’
“That’s all that he ever said about that day. I knew what he meant. If I had obeyed, I wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital.
“I’ve kept that hunk of hair ever since to remind me that there is always a reason for obedience.”

When James R. Heap accepted his mission call, he was well aware of the years of college, medical school, and residency lying ahead. Still, he wasn’t worried that a mission break would hinder him professionally. Upon returning home he quickly made up for “lost” time. After three years of college he was accepted to medical school—the first year of medical school was applied to his graduation requirements—and he became an M.D. at the age of 26, the same age as many others who had gone straight through. (Incidentally, he was serving in the branch presidency of a student branch at the time.) He then took a three-year residency at Scott Air Force Base Medical Center in Illinois and is presently established as a family practice specialist in Phoenix, Arizona.

During those years of internship and residency, he continued his Church service, fulfilling many responsible callings, among them executive secretary, Sunday School teacher, and high councilor.

Dr. Heap feels that his mission contributed in a large way to his success as a physician. When he returned to college, he found that his capacity for learning, and the speed with which he did it, were increased. More importantly, devoting his time and talents to full-time missionary work brought about an increased love and concern for others. “Intelligence alone is not enough,” he maintains. “Intelligence plus a Christlike love for mankind is the perfect combination for a successful and respected physician.”

In addition to his present responsibilities as husband, father of five, and physician, Dr. Heap still finds time to serve as the ward music chairman, ward organist and choir accompanist, family relations teacher, and temple preparation seminar teacher. He has done more, at the relatively young age of 30, than many do in a lifetime.

How does he manage it, one might wonder.

“The more I give, the more I’m blessed and the more I’m able to do effectively,” he answers. “Happiness has come into my life through service to my God, my family, and my fellowmen.”

Let me share a very specific example to help you understand both the power and importance of building on such a foundation. The example I've chosen represents the most important aspect of building in which my wife, Margaret, and I have personally been involved - the building of our marriage and family. Even before we were married in the Logan Temple, we had decided that we wanted to build our marriage and family on the Savior and His teachings. We wanted a family built on a foundation of love, respect and service and obedience to all of the Savior's teachings. But like every young couple, we had much to learn about how to put that into practice. We had to adapt and learn how to become "doers" of His teachings, not just "hearers only."

Over the years as our family grew in number and age, and our personal circumstances made it possible to do so, we began planning for an extended family vacation every few years. Let me tell you about one of those memorable vacations. We decided we would go to Europe for three weeks, renting a van and staying in youth hostels, a friend's vacation house, and other inexpensive venues available at that time.

We gave assignments to our five children - ranging in age from 5 to 14 - to prepare reports on each of the places we would visit and to share those during the business portion of family home evening. We also decided where we would go in each country visited, what we would take with us, and what cities we wanted to stay in each Saturday and Sunday night so we could attend church and keep the Sabbath appropriately. This past week as I was preparing for this devotional, I asked our youngest son, Spencer, who was only five years old when we took that vacation to Europe, what he remembered of the trip. I was struck by his response. He said, "I recall so many wonderful memories: the big red van we all piled into, playing games in the airports as we waited for flights, the narrow streets in Spain where we had to pull in the side mirrors of our van to avoid having them hit the walls of houses, trying to keep serious faces for a photo in an old castle in Germany, falling into a cold mountain stream in Switzerland and having you come to the rescue and put an icy cold compress on my cheek, seeing the St. Bernard dogs at the border of Switzerland and Italy, and taking the ferry from Holland to England. But most of all I just remember the wonderful time we had as a family." Here is a photo of our family and that red van as we prepared to board the ferry in Rotterdam.

It has been over thirty years since we took that trip, but each of our five children remembers the many wonderful experiences as a family. At the time, our children thought they were going on a vacation, but Margaret and I hoped that we were building an eternal family on a foundation of love, respect and service. That trip was so successful that a few years later we took a fishing trip to Alaska. Here is one of the memorable photos from that trip. As we continued building our family on that sure foundation, their love, respect and service for each other continued to grow.

In 2001, Margaret and I were presiding over the England London Mission and 200 missionaries when my mother passed away after years of illness. Because we could not attend the funeral, our five children represented us. Here is a photo of them on that occasion as they supported each other while we were thousands of miles away.

Fortunately, that foundation of love, respect and service that we have sought to build for our family has continued to stand the test of time. Five years ago, our family decided to take another fishing vacation to that same spot in Alaska where we had gone decades earlier. Here is a photo from that vacation. And so you don't think we only gather for vacations, let me share one more photo when our family came for my inauguration as President of BYU–Hawaii in 2007. As captured in this photo we again had all of our family together. You will recognize the location as the Laie Temple. This is the photo I use as my screensaver on my personal computer. It reminds me daily that temples are an integral part of our family's foundation.

While we continue to renew and strengthen the foundation we started building on over forty years ago, we know now, even more surely that we did then, that the Lord and His gospel are the only sure foundation on which to build a marriage and family. As stated so clearly by the Psalmist: "Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it;"

This past year has been a remarkable time for our family. Our only daughter, Jenny, and her husband, Mark, have longed for a child of their own. Though it was not their first choice, they began to think about adoption. In January 2010, Mark was struggling with pneumonia. During this time, Mark and Jenny were preparing to adopt a baby. As Mark's condition worsened, Jenny encouraged him to see the doctor once more. On a February morning, as they drove to the doctor's office, Mark and Jenny mailed some of their final adoption papers. But what was just a doctor's visit changed our family's whole perspective. Mark was diagnosed with stage four non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. (Picture of Mark in Hospital) It was a terrible shock. Everything was different now. Our family went from looking forward to a new baby to praying Mark would regain his health.

During this past year, we have learned to count our blessings and trust the Lord. We learned of the goodness of people. We felt the prayers, love and support of family members and friends. We experienced miracles. One miracle was Mark's healing. Another was watching the Lord open the door and connect Mark and Jenny to a remarkable young woman who chose to place her new baby girl with Mark and Jenny. In December Mark's cancer screenings were clean and clear and on December 15th Paige Ryann was born and came home in time for Christmas. (Photo 5 Mark, Jenny and Paige) What a miracle! Through the Holidays I pondered the question: "What was the first gift of Christmas?" The answer of course is: "A Child." (Photo 6 baby Paige) I now understand in an entirely different way the infinite goodness, wonder and blessing of the birth of a child. Never forget that at Christmas time what we really celebrate is our Heavenly Father's supernal gift: a child, His only begotten Son.

And then there is Maddy. When her family stopped attending church, Maddy was confused and not certain what to do. She realized something significant was missing. So at age 13, Maddy began attending church alone. Even though being alone was sometimes hard and uncomfortable, she knew she could find the Savior at church and she wanted to be where He was. She said, “In church my soul felt like it was at home.”
Maddy held onto the fact that her family had been sealed together for eternity. She started bringing her younger brothers with her to church and studying scriptures with them at home. Eventually her mom began joining them. Maddy told her mom of her desire to serve a mission and asked if her mom could be ready to attend the temple with her.
Today Maddy is in the MTC. She is serving. She is witnessing of Christ. Her example helped lead both of her parents back to the temple and back to Christ.

Three months before receiving this call to be the Stake President, I walked into my office, as a Bishop, and almost audibly I heard a voice saying, “Your time here in this calling is coming to an end.” The thought kept reoccurring that it troubled me. I did not know what it meant, but I tried all I could to ensure that all was well with the ward, before the time came for me to be released. Two months later, we met as Bishops with President Hanneman, he announced that he would be getting released. He told us to prepare for an interview with Elder Sitati, who would be traveling to Hawaii to release him. I remember vividly that morning, as I sat directly across from President Hanneman, the same voice that spoke to me two months prior, said to me “You will be the next stake president.” I was blown away by this thought and dismissed it as quickly as it came to me. I could not think straight for the duration of that meeting as the feeling remained strong and I was not able to concentrate on much else.

President Hanneman asked us to share this information with our wives, but to keep it very confidential. I was so scared that I did not even share what was happening with my wife. That night, before I went to bed, it came again, this time with more clarity – “You will be the next stake president, and Dennis Mataia will be your counselor.” For the next few weeks I encountered countless trials of my faith and testimony, and was still too scared to tell my wife. She and I went on a business trip to Maui for a day, several days before my interview with Elder Sitati, and I remember telling her, “Honey, I think I will be the next stake president.” She did not respond and I paid no attention. She then asked me later on that day, “Honey you mentioned something about a new stake president, who do you think it will be?” I answered and said, “Me, Honey!” I wish I could have recorded the look on her face when I said that. Believe me, her facial expression was showing exactly how I was feeling at the time.

The time came to meet with Elder Sitati and Elder Auna for an interview. The interview went well. I answered all of their questions and then left with no feelings at all. I thought, “Well that was interesting. I wonder why the Lord gave me those promptings?” I was being interviewed together with men who were far more intelligent, humble, and looked more like the Stake President type, so I left relieved thinking, “Good, I’m glad that’s over”. A few hours later my wife and I were at home we were planning to go to Honolulu. When my cell phone rang. Before even looking at the phone the same voice tells me, “Get ready, here it comes!” I looked at my phone, and sure enough it was Roberto, the Executive Secretary. He said, “Bishop Niutupuivaha, how soon will you and your wife be able to make it here to the Stake Center?” I replied, “Twenty minutes.” We got ready and as I was driving over I thought, “Good. It’s been a few hours, they have already called the Stake president. I will be one of his counselors or called to some other Stake office.” When we arrived, Roberto asked us to be seated in the waiting area, as Elder Sitati and Elder Auna are just now breaking their Fast. I was so overwhelmed at that point, that I started balling like a baby. The Spirit was telling me, “I tried to warn you.”

One day, the sisters brought us uma surpresa—a surprise that would help me and my sister and brother know the Book of Mormon was true. It was a storybook with colored pictures telling the stories of the prophets in the Book of Mormon. “This is my chance to know if it’s true or not,” I thought to myself. I wanted to read it right away.
After the sisters left that night, I got ready for bed and started reading the storybook. Then I remembered that the sisters told me to pray before I read it. I knelt down to say my prayers and I asked Heavenly Father to help me know that the Book of Mormon is true. I said if I could stay awake until I finished reading the book, I would know that it was true. Then I started reading and was excited about the big trip Lehi and his family took across the waters in the barca [ship], and the wars between the people in the land. I liked reading about the 2,000 jovens guerreiros—the young warriors who fought for their families. I wished I was one of them. Before I knew it, I was finished with the book. And I wasn’t even tired.
Then I knew that the Book of Mormon was true and that everything the sisters taught was right. But the greatest thing to know was that Heavenly Father loved me so much he answered my prayer. Now I knew that if I obeyed his commandments he would answer my prayers. I was ready to be baptized.
Mother and I prepared for our baptisms. My brother and sister were too young to be baptized but they couldn’t wait until it was their turn. When the Elder baptized me and I came out of the water, I was proud and excited to be a new member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—a name I would never forget.

I have just finished reading “Taking upon Us His Name” in the April 1982 New Era. It is exactly the article I needed to read at this time. Thank you!
My only daughter, Audrey, and I were both baptized in 1976. She was 15 at the time. She went on to Ricks College, where she met her husband. They were married in the Idaho Falls Temple in December of 1980, and they are expecting their first child in late June. I’m so very happy for them.
On the other hand, since Audrey is gone, I’m all alone in the Church. I have gone to church alone and prayed alone. My spirituality has slowly dwindled away. It’s not much fun when an individual doesn’t have anyone in the family to communicate with on a spiritual level. I have prayed for my spirituality to come back. This article by Sister Ardeth Kapp has increased my testimony quite a bit.
How frail our mortal testimony can be when we are not encouraged by others, be it family or friends. I realized while reading that article that I don’t really need outside help. What matters most is what I feel deep in my heart. All I need is to know that our Heavenly Father loves me unconditionally.
I will continue to pray that other members of my family will be touched by the Holy Spirit as Audrey and I were. I pray that they will someday soon know all about the only true Church here on the earth. I read the New Era from cover to cover every time it comes.
Marina DouganCalgary, Alberta, Canada

And love endures through the hardships of life. The Apostle Paul taught, “Charity suffereth long. … [It] beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth” (1 Cor. 13:4, 7, 8). I watched a mother’s enduring love for her alcoholic son. She never gave up praying for him and being available for him. In his later years, he finally “came to himself” (Luke 15:17), kept a respectable job, and used his mechanical skills to fix up his mother’s house.

The weather was beautiful, and we were nearing the end of another marvelous week at girls’ camp. As youth camp leaders we gathered the rest of the young women and began the transition from the light-hearted fun of the afternoon to the more reverent atmosphere we desired for that evening’s program. One of the leaders suggested we sing some hymns.
We clustered together and started singing. As we sang, I noticed someone was a little out of tune. I thought someone was being silly, so I glanced sideways at those near me. But when I listened more closely, I realized who it was.
One of the youth camp leaders with us that year had Down syndrome. She had a tremendous spirit and loved each of us without reserve. And we loved her. She sang with all her heart, often being touched by many of the words that most of us mouthed without really thinking about them.
I reflected on how many times Alisa had been the one to go up to one of the girls who needed a hug. I remembered how dedicated she was to the gospel. I recalled her sweet testimony at the many youth conferences we had been to. And then I realized how many times Alisa felt the Spirit when the rest of us were too busy, too silly, or too tired.
I suddenly understood that Alisa was in tune where it really mattered. She was in tune with the Spirit. As long as she stayed on the path she was on and followed the guidance of the Holy Spirit, someday she would likely raise her voice in perfect harmony with a heavenly choir to sing praises to our Lord. For now, though, the most important thing was to be in tune spiritually.

Several years ago our family attended a Latter-day Saint Scout Training Camp. Our older children joined in the activities and were having a wonderful time. However, our nine-year-old autistic son, Brian, was having a difficult time. The Cub Scout events were not designed for someone with social and language impairments. I felt hurt, humiliated, and brokenhearted as I observed the intolerance and impatience directed toward my normal-appearing but handicapped son’s inappropriate behavior. He was as miserable as his peers.

So at a Relief Society meeting at the camp I took a few moments to explain Brian’s disability and share some of the challenges we were facing in rearing him. After that, the sisters began explaining the situation to their families. Within an hour the entire camp had learned about Brian.

Never have I seen such a complete reversal in attitude, nor felt such an outpouring of love and acceptance. It confirmed my belief that the Church is made up of wonderful people who will respond in a Christlike manner when they understand others’ needs. They’ll not only respond, but they’ll also be better because of it.

Recently a good bishop in an area of the Church where our members are a small minority introduced me to one of his Aaronic Priesthood youth through a letter. He is one of those who has a purpose. May I in turn introduce him to you by quoting the bishop’s letter? I have changed the names to protect the privacy of those involved.
“The tithes we forwarded last Sunday to your office included, $800 from a young 16-year-old priest in our ward. The background of this contribution is such an outstanding example of dedication to the Church that this letter is written to share it with you.
“On Saturday I received a call from one of our ward members.
“‘Bishop, did you hear what happened to Roger Smith today?’
“‘No,’ I said.
“‘Well,’ the voice continued, ‘he received a call from a local radio station. They asked Roger a question, which he answered correctly. The station then informed him he had just won a 1975 Corvette Stingray.’ The caller hung up.
“My mind flashed back to when I was a youth and how a similar car would likely have influenced me. I started to worry. I could picture the results pulling Roger away from all we hold sacred.
“The next morning in priesthood meeting, one of our adults announced that something special had happened to Roger Smith and asked him to tell us about it. Roger arose and humbly said, ‘Yes, something special did happen to me. A week ago today I was ordained a priest.’ He sat down.
“During the week in our older seminary class, Ronald Green, a young convert of a little over a year, was giving the spiritual thought in devotional. He built his thought around the incident in priesthood meeting.
“‘Maybe Roger was somewhat embarrassed and didn’t want to mention the car. He may have been put on the spot. But he gave us a profound truth we should never forget. No worldly possession can in any way compare to the great honor and blessing of holding the priesthood of God.’
“These incidents thrilled me, but I was still worried about Roger—what would that car do to him?
“I next saw Roger at the church helping prepare for a party for activity night. I said, ‘Hi, Roger. I’ll bet you’re getting a lot of phone calls from the girls at school.’
“‘No, not so many,’ he responded, ‘but a lot from the boys.’
“‘What do they say?’ I asked.
“His reply, ‘They ask me when I am going to take them for a ride in my new car, and I tell them I’m not going to because I’m not going to take the car.’
“‘You’re not?’ I could hardly believe my ears. ‘How come?’
“Almost indignantly he said, ‘Because I’m going on a mission. They told me I could take $8,000 cash instead of the car. I’m going to pay my tithing on it and then put the rest away for my mission.’ What he was saying still didn’t quite sink in until he added, ‘Nearly all of the $8,000 is going to the Church.’
“I wiped a tear from my eyes and felt relief from worry and a strengthened pride in our youth. But I had yet another surprise. I called his mother and dad to tell them how proud I was of their son. The call gave me an opportunity to ask about his reaction when he first realized he had won a car. I had visions of him letting out a yell of worldly ecstasy. His mother said his first reaction was, ‘Now my mission is paid for, but how do you tithe a car?’
“In my calling, I am supposed to inspire our youth. But they are the ones who are constantly inspiring me. Why the Lord is so good as to bless such as I with the opportunity of working with these devoted young people, I’ll never know. Thank the Lord for our wonderful youth!”

As the only member of the Church in her school, Angela has plenty of opportunities to be a missionary there. At a birthday party she attended, the girls began watching an inappropriate movie. Angela soon realized that it was not a movie she should be watching. “I told them, ‘I can’t watch this because I’m a member of the Church.’” She left the room, and another friend who was not a member soon followed. Together they watched a more appropriate movie until the other girls were finished. “When I left, I saw that I was wearing my CTR ring,” she said. She is glad that she was able to choose the right and set an example for her friends.

It had been 12 years since I had left my beloved California home and ward to remarry. With the Lord’s help, I had slowly rebuilt and achieved new goals. But I longed to visit dear friends who had shared the joys and the challenge of living in an area where Church members were a minority.
“Sometimes it isn’t good to relive the past,” my family members said. Nevertheless, I made the trip. At my old house, I marveled that the seedlings I had planted years before were now large trees shading the property. Overwhelmed with emotion, I left the spot and drove down the street. Old landmarks were hazily familiar. What was I doing here?
Then I sighted the spire of the local Church meeting-house, and I drove to my favorite parking spot. Though still not sure exactly what I was looking for, I began to feel more peaceful as I strolled through the church grounds. Rounding a hedge, I nearly bumped into a young man who was pulling weeds. He jumped to his feet, and I noticed that he had a fresh missionary haircut.
As I apologized, he looked at me strangely and said, “Aren’t you the mustard-seed teacher?”
I looked at him in puzzlement.
“Yes, I think you are,” he said. “You were my first Primary teacher. I could never resist coming to your class because of the clues about the lesson you always taped to the door. The picture of the jar of mustard was my favorite. I remember obediently carrying home my bag of tiny mustard seeds after your lesson about the parable. After that, I always thought of you as the mustard-seed teacher.”
The memory flooded back to me of a recently baptized woman bringing her seven-year-old son, Chandler, to my CTR classroom. Here was the same boy, now a young man.
“Your lessons made me want to be a good Latter-day Saint,” he said.
I was thrilled to hear that Chandler had recently submitted his application for a mission. As we spoke, I realized that his testimony was another tree that I’d help plant and nourish. When he was a young boy, his testimony had been embryonic, perhaps even “less than all the seeds that be in the earth” (Mark 4:31). Now the strength of his testimony made him a mighty tree in the Lord’s vineyard.
Silently thanking the Lord, I vowed to keep sowing grains of faith and to trust in their promise and strength.

Melinda left her house holding the key Mrs. Roberts had given her. “I’m off to work,” she said. She liked the way that sounded. “Not every 11-year-old has a job,” she thought.
She walked to the Robertses’ house and opened their mailbox. The Roberts family would be gone until Thursday, and they had hired Melinda to get their mail and do other chores at their house every day.
Melinda went into their house, put the mail on the kitchen table, and filled the cat’s food dish. Then she went into the family room to water the plants. It felt strange to be in her neighbors’ house alone.
In a corner of the room she saw a shelf filled with glass figurines. Each one was a little girl in a fancy dress. She picked one up and looked at it carefully. On the bottom it said, “Michelle.” Melinda wondered if each of the figurines had a name. She picked up another and turned it over. It was named Rebecca.
Melinda picked up another glass girl, one in a pretty yellow dress. As she turned it over, it slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. Melinda gasped and knelt down quickly to pick it up. Its head and one of the legs had broken off.
“Oh no,” she thought. “What am I going to do? Mrs. Roberts is going to be so mad at me!”
She put the head back on the figurine and was surprised to see that she could hardly tell it was broken. When she put the leg back, she found that the little girl could still stand up.
“If I put it back just right, Mrs. Roberts won’t even know it’s broken,” she thought. “If she picks it up or bumps the shelf, it will fall apart, but she’ll think she broke it herself. No one will know it was me.”
Melinda had a sick feeling as she walked home. She wondered if she should tell Mrs. Roberts about breaking the figurine. “But she trusted me,” Melinda thought. “She’ll never trust me again if she knows I broke something in her house.”
Melinda went to the Robertses’ each morning for the next two days. She was careful not to go near the shelf where the figurines were. She didn’t even want to look at them.
On Thursday afternoon, the Robertses’ car was back in their driveway. Melinda walked over to return their key. Mrs. Roberts thanked her for doing such a good job and gave her an envelope with money inside. Melinda could hardly speak. She felt awful. “It’s just a little glass girl,” she thought. “It’s not a big deal. And they’ll never know I did it.”
That night after dinner, Melinda’s father opened the Book of Mormon for family scripture study. They were reading about Helaman’s stripling soldiers.
Melinda and her brothers listened as Dad read Alma 53:20: “And they were all young men, and they were exceedingly valiant for courage, and also for strength and activity; but behold, this was not all—they were men who were true at all times in whatsoever thing they were entrusted.”
“They were super brave,” Nathan said.
“And strong,” Tyler added.
“They were strong and brave enough to fight,” Mom agreed. “That’s what the first part of the scripture says. But in the next part, it says something more about them—that they used their courage to be true. They stood up for what was right.”
Melinda looked at her Book of Mormon and read the words again. She had been entrusted with something, and she had not been true.
A little while later, Melinda stood at the Robertses’ door. Mrs. Roberts looked surprised to see her. “Hello,” she said. “Did you forget something?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I need to tell you something.” She took a deep breath. “I broke one of your little glass girls. I put it back so you couldn’t tell it was broken. I’m sorry I broke it, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it before. I was just scared, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come in and show me what you broke?” Mrs. Roberts said.
Melinda followed her neighbor into the family room and pointed out the girl in the yellow dress. When Mrs. Roberts picked it up, its head and leg fell off. “I would never have known it was broken if I hadn’t picked it up,” she said. “Well, it can be glued. I broke another one once, and I glued it.” She picked up another figurine and showed Melinda. “You can hardly tell, can you?”
Melinda shook her head. She hadn’t noticed the crack in the other one. “I really am sorry,” she said.
“It’s OK. I’m glad you came back to tell me the truth. That took a lot of courage. You know, we’ll be going out of town again next month. Would you like to help out at our house then too?”
Melinda looked up. “Do you trust me? Even after I broke something?”
“You’ve shown that you are very trustworthy. You told the truth when you didn’t have to. I’ll be glad to have you work for us again.”
“I won’t touch the figurines. I promise.”
“That’s fine. Thank you, Melinda, for coming over tonight.”
The heavy feeling Melinda had felt for days was gone. She felt as light as a feather as she skipped home.

“When I tracked my phone usage, I realized that I was on my phone the most on Sunday. I thought that was sad because that’s when I should be trying to get closer to my Savior—but instead, I had been staring at my screen.
“As I started reading my scriptures, I would read the 10 minutes every night before I went to bed, which for me was just about a chapter a night. As I did this, I noticed that I was able to fall asleep much easier. I also found myself making better decisions throughout the week, and I overall just felt better about myself.
“I am grateful that I was able to receive this invitation, and I plan to continue to read for 10 minutes a day and say my nightly prayers.”
Ryan E., 16, Alabama, USA

“Also when I was five years old, my family moved to southern California, where my great love became the Pacific Ocean. I used to enjoy going down to the beach almost every day to go surfing. When I was about seven years old, a decision was made to build a new chapel. It was for the Santa Monica Ward, and it is still being used today. I remember well the day of the ground-breaking. Mother had explained to me that men with shovels would turn the earth over for the ground-breaking ceremony. I remember taking my little sand shovel so that I could help break ground with the men. It gave me a feeling of pride in that building that has never left me. I felt that I was truly a part of it.

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

“When I was in sixth grade, I was elected student body president, which they called ‘mayor’ in those days. I was mayor of the school and used to wear my mayor’s badge. It was an honor that I’ve always appreciated. About this time, also, I was a member of an organization called the Western Rangers. This was before there was a Cub Scout program. We went on camping trips to the nearby mountains, and we had some exciting times doing the things that Scouts do.

“I always had in the back of my mind the thought that one day I would be a missionary. When I was old enough to serve on a mission, there was a terrible depression, and Dad was out of work. I did all kinds of odd jobs to earn and save enough money for a mission. I still remember the day I received my call: My boss, who was not a Mormon, called me in and told me he was very proud that one of his boys had been called to be a missionary. He gave me a check for fifty dollars, which in those days kept a missionary going for three months. I was called to New Zealand, and I served there for three full years. When I arrived there, I remember thinking that I was going to help those people become good, solid Christians. But after three years, I realized that they had taught me as much about being a good Christian as I had taught them—lessons of patience, kindness, gentleness, and compassion. Their Polynesian life-style was different from anything I had ever seen, and it was beautiful to see. That mission experience really changed my life and gave it new direction.

“The Maoris are often referred to as a nation of children. This is in no way a derogatory term; it is used because these people have such total faith and sincerity. If they make mistakes, they quickly repent. I was fortunate to be able to spend nine years of my life in New Zealand. The first three were as a young missionary, the second three as mission president, and the last three as executive administrator for all the Pacific Islands, with headquarters in New Zealand. I am grateful for the temples being built in Tahiti, Samoa, and Tonga, as well as for those already in use in New Zealand and Hawaii. A large percentage of temples are built for the Polynesians because of their faithfulness and their interest in genealogy.

“The greatest advice that I can give to the children of the world is for them to learn obedience and loyalty. I’m thinking, first of all, of being obedient and loyal to their parents and not showing disrespect of any kind to them. This carries over to obedience and loyalty to the prophet.

“I would like to add just one word about soft-speaking. Our home was a ‘soft-spoken’ home, and now my children won’t have it any other way in their homes. If we are going to invite the Savior to be a part of our family circle, we need kindness and gentleness in our homes.”

At times an awareness of the elderly is brought into focus by a reminder from one ever so young. May I share with you a Pakistani folktale which illustrates this truth:

An ancient grandmother lived with her daughter and grandson. As she grew frail and feeble, instead of being a help around the house, she became a constant trial. She broke plates and cups, lost knives, spilled water. One day, exasperated because the old woman had broken another precious plate, the daughter sent the grandson to buy his grandmother a wooden plate. The boy hesitated because he knew a wooden plate would humiliate his grandmother. But his mother insisted, so off he went. He returned bringing not one, but two wooden plates.

“I only asked you to buy one,” his mother said. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes,” said the boy. “But I bought the second one so there would be one for you when you get old.”

When we were baptized into the church in 1971, there were no temples in the Philippines, the nearest temple was in Tokyo, Japan. Upon learning about the ordinances of the temple and the sealing power that binds families to the eternities, we were so eager for the temple in the Philippines. It was a long wait until 1984 when the Manila Temple was dedicated by President Gordon B. Hinckley.
We were one of the many Filipino saints who rushed to the Manila Temple to be sealed as a family. Our joy was full when we received the ordinances and were sealed as a family. From that time on we never neglected our covenants with God, we regularly went to the temple despite the distance from Pangasinan to Manila. Like most Filipinos, we faced economic difficulties but we saved money to be able to enter the temple regularly. It was a joy to renew our covenants with God and perform ordinances for our dead.