Gospel Story Finder

On another occasion I climbed Cuquenan Falls, the second highest falls in the world. To the best of my knowledge, I was the 14th person ever to reach the top. I was accompanied by Terry Brian, my partner in the rafting venture; Bernardo, a Venezuelan who provided transportation to the climb site; and Brazilo, our local Indian guide.
A four-hour hike from our vehicle brought us to the Indian village of Paraitepuy (Pear-rye-tu-pwee). Cuquenan and Roraima, two huge, twin, flat-top peaks loomed above us in the sky, shooting straight up. At the base of the mountains were rolling green hills and ravines overflowing with rain forest. All around were other high plateaus and mountains. Clouds loomed close overhead, and in the many crevices all around were broad-leafed plants, bats, and orchids. Everything was very green and beautiful.
Up at dawn the following day, we hiked across the plateau toward the foothills of Cuquenan. We stopped at the stream for lunch and bathed in the cool mountain water. The going became increasingly hard from there on. Finally we made camp in a large cave in the late afternoon. After bathing in the river, we spent the evening being eaten by jejenees (heh-he-nees), small gnatlike flies that bite as hard as horse flies. Cuquenan loomed larger than ever above us, filling much of the sky. The Indians call it Matuwe (Mat-too-wee), “the place of the dead.” They believe their dead ancestors wander around on its top as zombies, eating any unwary mortals who get caught there at night. The top of the mountain, we were told, was dark, misty, cold, and empty like a lunar landscape.
When we awoke the next morning there was a clear, red sunrise, and then the clouds and mist rolled in. The mist was very heavy, almost like rain. It was very cold at first. In the gloom we saw a single deer bound over the hill and out of sight. We also saw jaguar tracks. We crossed several streams. Tall grass about two or three feet high blocked our way. It was very wet and rough on our legs. Our path kept getting steeper and steeper. Eventually we passed from the tall grass into thicker vegetation. There were lots of prickly plants, seven-foot-tall ferns, and foot-tall carnivorous pitcher plants. The terrain continued to get steeper. From time to time the mist would break enough for us to see Cuquenan rearing up straight above us.
Soon we were slipping and sliding through a dark corridor cut out of a patch of dense rain forest. Moss hung everywhere from the giant fern trees. We finally stopped for lunch high on a rock point in the sun.
Soon we left the massive vegetation, and the terrain got rockier and steeper. Whenever we became thirsty we drank water from the pitcher plants. Then came the steep bouldering. It was very dangerous in parts, and we made slow progress. But finally we saw the top of the mountain, and our route lay clear before us. We scrambled onto the top at about 3:30 in the afternoon.
The top consisted of barren, dark-brown sandstone eroded into grotesque shapes. Here and there were stubby brown trees, about four feet tall, with reddish leaves. There were also some ferns, flowers, and grasses all growing from the bleak sandstone and pools of water. It was very misty and eerie. Through the clouds and mist we occasionally caught glimpses of the mountains below us where red and blue macaws flew above the jungle. We climbed up to some caves to make camp, then walked across the summit to the top of Cuquenan Falls. It was a beautiful view. Simply incredible!
On our way back to camp, I stopped and picked up some quartz crystals in a stream bed. For a moment I thought they were diamonds. Bernardo and I stayed to collect a few and maybe find some real diamonds. Brazilo was eager to get back to camp and build a fire. Bernardo and I didn’t pay any attention to the encroaching darkness because we kept our eyes on the creek bottom looking for diamonds. All of a sudden we looked up and found ourselves surrounded by darkness and misty fog. We were lost somewhere on top of Cuquenan Mountain!
We had built stone markers earlier to mark our trail, but we couldn’t see them now. The scape was all rock so we couldn’t follow our footprints. Bernardo panicked and began running wildly off into the night. I caught him, calmed him, and prayed. Suddenly it came to me that we just needed to follow the creek down to the edge of the mountain and then follow the edge around to where we had climbed up onto the summit earlier. There was some mud there and we could find our footprints. So that’s what we did. Bernardo was still scared, but I was calm inside. We found our footprints and followed them up to the cave where Brazilo was waiting. We arrived in time for spaghetti dinner and hugs and well wishes.

A true story of faith to become self-reliant that I find inspiring concerns a brother that I will call Didier (not his real name). Didier served in the Nigeria Calabar Mission at the time that I served there as mission president. When he completed his mission, Didier was serving as a zone leader. He was an obedient, quietly determined, and hard-working missionary. Both of Didier’s parents had passed away when he was young. At that point, he was taken into the custody of his maternal uncle, who raised him and introduced him to the Church. But before Didier completed his mission, his uncle was overcome by a terminal illness and passed away. Didier’s circumstances appeared bleak and desperate.

Returning home, and without any able members of his immediate family to turn to for help, Didier decided that he would continue to put his trust in the Lord who had sustained him up to that point. He decided to find out what he could do to move forward in his life. Through prayer, he got the impression to study what people who were self-reliant in his hometown were doing to sustain themselves. For several weeks, he walked the streets moving from shop to shop, observing the business that was going on, and how people were coming and going.

He reached the conclusion that he would likely live a reasonably good life as an electronics technician repairing TVs, radios, and other electronic equipment. The problem was that he had no skills, no money, and he did not know where to begin. Again, through prayer, he got the impression to ask the owner of one electronics repair shop, how he could get practical training to work as a technician. The man told Didier he could train him for about two years at a fee.

Excited, he contacted his ward self-reliance specialist and asked to be considered for a Perpetual Education Fund loan so he could get the money to pay the shop owner and obtain the training he believed would help him earn enough to meet his temporal needs. Then came his major disappointment. The specialist explained to him that PEF loans were only given for recognized training institutions, and loan money could only be paid directly to the bank account of the training institution. The shop owner was not a registered training institution and did not have a bank account. Didier was at a dead end.

But Didier had observed the goings on at the shop long enough to know that this was a good business if he would work hard. Moreover, he was drawn to the work and admired how a non-functioning TV could suddenly be brought back to life. In this moment of intense discouragement and apparent hopelessness, he again turned to the Lord in prayer. The impression came to go back to the shop owner, explain to him his situation, and offer to enter into an apprenticeship contract that he would pay for after he had completed his training and started working. He did not know how the shop owner would respond, but he decided to try. After deep reflection, the shop owner accepted his proposal on the condition that Didier provide a character reference, which he gladly did.

Two years later, Didier—now with his wife, another returned missionary, at his side—completed his practical apprenticeship as an electronics repair technician. He developed a strong relationship of trust with his trainer, who also became his mentor. Didier was a good student and an asset to the shop. The shop owner offered to hire him as an employee, which Didier gladly accepted. This gave him the opportunity to immediately start paying what he owed for his apprenticeship.

A year later, Didier felt that he knew enough to start his own business. With what he had saved from his employment earnings, he rented a small shed in another part of town. As he had become known to several good clients while working with his trainer and mentor, his business picked up steadily. After two years, he had saved enough money to buy a 40-foot container which was going for a bargain. He rented a plot where he placed the container and moved his repair shop to the new premises. In another year, he bought the plot on which his repair shop stood.

Didier was now his own man, feeling in full control of his life, and deeply grateful to the Lord for sustaining him as he waded through uncertain territory in his life.

My hope and invitation is that despite the gloom of the past 18 months, and of anything else the world might throw at you to try to destroy your hope, you will not let go of your faith. I hope that you will draw inspiration from the experience of Didier, a young man whom I came to know and who, under conditions that could have allowed despair to rule his life, decided to trust in the Lord and to go forward despite the overwhelming weight of his discouragements. Today, Didier serves as a stake high counsellor, and he and his family stand independent. He is confident that if he does his part, the Lord will see him through any challenge that he may face.

I missed seeing the first British Pageant as we live five hours from Chorley, and my husband isn’t keen on musicals. Although drama is my passion, I didn’t push him as I didn’t really know what the pageant was about. Our daughter signed up to be in the 2017 pageant, so I insisted that we went to support her as a family. It was so amazing. The size of the theatre, the expanse of the stage, and the number in the audience was breathtaking. Once the production began, I was captivated. The whole evening was inspiring, emotional, and so incredibly well presented that I went every night to see the pageant that week. We have since found early pioneers on both sides of our family and realise that the pageant stories are about our ancestors. This production touched our hearts so much and made us so grateful for the struggles of early pioneers so that we could have the gospel today, that it made us want to give something back. This year my husband and I, along with our three grandchildren, will all be appearing in the pageant family cast.

In addition to the strength they find in seminary, youth in Guyana fortify themselves from other sources as well. For example, 16-year-old Michael Ramgobin of the Demerara Branch says that For the Strength of Youth is a great help to him.
“Everyone should have this,” he says, holding up his copy of the pamphlet. “It really helps you make decisions that are right.” He recommends reading it over and over again, “because it seems like every time you do, you find something new to help you.”
The only member of the Church in his family, Michael says family members support his membership because they see such a difference in him since he became a Latter-day Saint. “I feel a lot more confident as I keep learning more and more about the gospel,” Michael says. He particularly enjoys listening to general conference and attending youth conferences. “I feel I have become part of something real.”
What else has strengthened Michael in the year since he joined the Church? “Reading the scriptures. As you read, the Holy Ghost helps you see things you didn’t see before. Then with the faith you have in Jesus Christ, you find your way. That’s why my testimony keeps building every day.”
The youth in the branch help each other, too. “We share our concerns and encourage each other,” Michael says. In fact, he feels similar encouragement from everyone in the branch, and was particularly impressed when some of the missionaries presented him with a white shirt and tie.
“When I walked into church the next Sunday, everyone said, ‘Wow, you look like a real missionary.’ I feel a difference when I’m dressed that way.” A full-time mission sounds exciting, he says. It would be a good way to continue the great day that dawned when he joined the Church.

Earlier this year I attended the funeral of an extraordinary ordinary man—my husband’s uncle Don. One of Uncle Don’s sons shared an experience he had as a small child, shortly after his parents had purchased their first home. Because there were five small children to feed and clothe, there was not enough money to fence the yard. Taking seriously one of his divine roles as the protector of his family, Uncle Don drove a few small wooden stakes into the ground, took some string, and tied the string from stake to stake all around the yard. He then called his children to him. He showed them the stakes and string and explained to them that if they would stay on the inside of that makeshift fence, they would be safe.
One day the visiting teachers watched in disbelief as they approached the house and saw five little children standing obediently at the edge of the string, looking longingly at a ball that had bounced beyond their boundaries and out into the street. One little child ran to get their daddy, who, in response, ran and retrieved the ball.
Later in the funeral, the oldest son tearfully expressed that all he had ever hoped in this life was to be like his beloved father.

New Era: Speaking of losses, when you have a real setback, like an interception, how do you keep from losing concentration or becoming discouraged?
Gifford: You’ve got to develop emotional stability. I went through some adverse situations in my high school career, and I would leave the field kicking my helmet and making an idiot of myself. At that time I decided that if I was going to participate in athletics, I would have to control my emotions. I couldn’t let athletics control me, and at that time athletics were controlling me. I said to myself, “Look, the main goal in this life is to gain eternal life, and nothing else is really vital. Having those kinds of eternal feelings really helps. I had an interview down in Florida, and one guy said, “I don’t see how your church helps you in athletics.” I said, “Well, I’ll tell you something. It just gives me a purpose in life. The most important thing in my life is to prove myself and return to my Father in heaven. The Church gives me an eternal perspective of the reason why I’m playing football. Football is a very big part of my life, but it’s not the most important thing in my life.” I think if you look at sports in that light, it will really help you in adverse situations.

When a girl in her Valiant class told a story about President Spencer W. Kimball,* Nina listened intently.
When the prophet had been waiting in an airport, he noticed a young, pregnant mother struggling to urge her child along in the line. She nudged the toddler along with her foot but didn’t pick her up. Other passengers whispered and pointed at her, but no one offered to help. President Kimball picked up the crying child and comforted her. The woman told him that because of orders from her doctor, she could not lift her child.
Only President Kimball had recognized that the young mother needed help. Only he had offered that help. Never once did he judge her, as the other passengers had.

Some years ago, one of our sons asked me why it wasn’t a good idea to try alcohol or tobacco to see what they were like. He knew about the Word of Wisdom, and he also knew the health effects of these substances, but he was questioning why he shouldn’t just try them out for himself. I replied that if he wanted to try something out, he ought to go to a barnyard and eat a little manure. He recoiled in horror. “Ooh, that’s sickening,” he reacted.
“I’m glad you think so,” I said, “but why don’t you just try it out so you will know for yourself? While you’re proposing to try one thing that you know is not good for you, why don’t you apply that principle to some others?” That illustration of the silliness of “trying it out for yourself” proved persuasive for one sixteen-year-old.

We can teach the importance of prayer to our children and grandchildren both by word and by example. I share with you a lesson in teaching by example as described in a mother’s letter to me relating to prayer. “Dear President Monson: Sometimes I wonder if I make a difference in my children’s lives. Especially as a single mother working two jobs to make ends meet, I sometimes come home to confusion, but I never give up hope.”

Her letter continues as she describes how she and her children were watching general conference, where I was speaking about prayer. Her son made the comment, “Mother, you’ve already taught us that.” She asked, “What do you mean?” Her son replied, “Well, you’ve taught us to pray and showed us how, but the other night I came to your room to ask something and found you on your knees praying to Heavenly Father. If He’s important to you, He’ll be important to me.” The letter concluded, “I guess you never know what kind of influence you’ll be until a child observes you doing yourself what you have tried to teach him to do.”

In L’viv, a city in western Ukraine, Yuri Voynarovich and his family started searching for truth when he was just 10 years old. For years they visited different churches. Then his uncle invited them to attend a branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Yuri’s parents were soon baptized and confirmed.
“I didn’t go at first,” Yuri says. “I kept searching on my own.”
But his parents, who knew the Church was true, didn’t give up on their son. They invited Yuri to English lessons and youth activities as well as Sunday meetings. Finally, the missionaries themselves invited him to English classes.
“I couldn’t say no to them,” Yuri says. So he went. Then he went to church. Eventually he too was baptized.
“Since that day I’ve had many more experiences that have built and molded my testimony and character into who I am today,” he says.
“I often see people who suffer from bad choices they’ve made,” he says. “I understand sometimes it’s hard because of temptations and peer pressure, but we shouldn’t give up. Later we can see the blessings that come from obedience.”
Yuri, now 17, serves as the branch mission leader and branch clerk in L’viv.
“I am so thankful for the Church and all it has done for me,” Yuri says. “I love this Church. I encourage everyone to hold to the iron rod and never let go.”

The importance of the Book of Mormon in the latter-day work cannot be overestimated. President David O. McKay once related a story about his father, Bishop David McKay, who, in 1881, was called to serve as a missionary in Scotland, his native land. He performed a great work and presided over the Glasgow District. In that year there was great persecution in the land, and whenever he tried to teach, it seemed that the people turned away. There was bitterness against anything relating to our faith and its origins. Antagonism seemed to arise at the very mention of the name of Joseph Smith. President McKay, speaking of his father, states:
“One day he concluded that the best way to reach these people would be to preach just the simple principles, the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, the first principles of the gospel, and not bear testimony of the restoration. In a month or so he became oppressed with a gloomy, downcast feeling, and he could not enter in the spirit of his work. He did not really know what was the matter, but his mind became obstructed; his spirit became depressed; he was oppressed and hampered; and that feeling of oppression continued until it weighed him down with such heaviness that he went to the Lord and said, ‘Unless I can get this feeling removed, I shall have to go home. I can’t continue having my work thus hampered.’
“The discouragement continued for some time after that, when, one morning before daylight, following a sleepless night, he decided to retire to a cave, near the ocean, where he knew he would be shut off from the world entirely, and there pour out his soul to God and ask why he was oppressed with this feeling, what he had done, and what he could do to throw it off and continue his work. He started out in the dark toward the cave. He became so eager to get to it that he started to run. … Something just seemed to drive him; he had to get relief. He entered the cave or sheltered opening, and said: ‘Oh, Father, what can I do to have this feeling removed? I must have it lifted or I cannot continue in this work;’ and he heard a voice, as distinct as the tone I am now uttering, say, ‘Testify that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.’ Remembering then what he tacitly had decided six weeks or more before, and becoming overwhelmed with the thought, the whole thing came to him in a realization that he was there for a special mission, and he had not given that special mission the attention it deserved. Then he cried in his heart, ‘Lord, it is enough,’ and went out from the cave.”
President McKay went on: “You who know him know the mission he performed” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, compiled by Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1976, pages 11–12).

Rebecca Swain Williams heard several Book of Mormon witnesses in Ohio beginning in 1830. She bore her testimony to her father and brothers: “I have heard the same story from several of the [Smith] family and from the three witnesses themselves. I heard them declare in public meeting that they saw a Holy Angel come down from heaven and brought the plates and laid them before their eyes.”

When her family members rejected her testimony, Rebecca did not cower. She continued to love them, pray for them, and value her father’s good counsel. She also continued to testify to him that the Book of Mormon witnesses told the truth: “They are men of good character and their word is believed. … They have seen an angel of God and conversed with him.”2

In the late 1830s, a period of widespread dissent in the Church, Rebecca remained faithful, choosing to abide by the precepts of the Book of Mormon.3

Illustration by Greg Stevenson
Shortly after I was hired as the assistant director of a large library, my team and I began an ambitious project to digitize 37,000 books. One day my supervisor called me into his office.
“Edouard,” he said, “I’ve been invited to present our book digitization project in the United States and to solicit some new acquisitions. I’ve been asked to bring a trusted co-worker with me. I have confidence in you but not in your church. If you renounce your faith, you can come with me.”
Before I could say anything, he told me to think about it and then dismissed me.
That evening, I shared with my wife what had happened. She encouraged me to have faith. The next day, I told my supervisor that I would keep my faith. He was angry and said he’d just travel alone.
A year later, I had an opportunity to travel to France to receive training in library funding, acquisitions, and management. I just needed my supervisor’s approval. He said he would approve only if I denounced my faith. I again declined. He then tore up the document and threw it in my face. Some time later my supervisor approached me again.
“I am about to leave on another trip,” he said. “You can come with me, but the condition remains the same. I will never travel with a member of your church.”
“I will not reject my faith,” I said. He left without saying a word. Soon he began to talk about me to my colleagues.
“I have offered him opportunities,” he’d say. “But he has exhausted them all because of his blind faith. He is a fool.”
From then on, I became the object of mockery and contempt at work. I felt beaten down. One evening, preoccupied with this problem, I opened the Bible and read, “If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell” (Matthew 5:29).
If the Lord says we should get rid of something in order to save ourselves, why was I hanging on to a job that had become a danger to my spiritual well-being? The next day, I handed in my resignation.
Today, I rejoice in this choice. With courage and faith in Jesus Christ, I faced humiliation at work and temporary unemployment. My new job now provides opportunities unavailable to me before. The Lord has blessed me, and I thank Him for His kindness and His love toward me.

The bed felt soft and warm. Melissa hoped her sister Shelly wasn’t asleep yet in her bed. As Melissa watched the shadows made by the moonlight streaming through the window and across the dressers and beds, they made curious gray shapes on the wall.
“I wonder what the sharpest thing in the world is,” Melissa said.
“Who cares about that?” responded Shelly, who thought Melissa was a nuisance when she asked so many questions.
“Well, it couldn’t be shadows,” Melissa said. “Even though they have corners, they’re very soft.”
“Oh, are they really?” Shelly declared sarcastically.
Melissa lay quietly for a moment, but she kept thinking. Soon she said, “If I wanted to find out what the sharpest thing in the world is, I’d start by letting every single horse bite me.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Shelly.
“Then I’d let every dog bite me.”
“What a dumb idea,” said Shelly. “You couldn’t do that.”
“Pins are very sharp,” Melissa continued, undeterred. “They can go through most anything. Or Mama’s best scissors might be the sharpest thing in the world. Remember how easily they cut my hair?”
“Go to sleep!” Shelly said crossly.
“Our sharpest knife cuts through a loaf of homemade bread in a second. But Daddy’s nails go through wood. Oh!” Melissa cried excitedly, “I think I know what the sharpest thing in the world is. Great-great grandpa Johnson’s sword! If you got poked with that it would really hurt.”
“Will you please be quiet, Melissa, so I can go to sleep!”
“If I could try all the horses and dogs and pins and scissors and knives and nails and swords, then I’d know what the sharpest thing in the world is.”
Shelly suddenly sat up in bed. “Melissa,” she shouted, “if you don’t be quiet, I’m going to tell Dad. I wish I had a bedroom of my own. I wish I didn’t have to share a bedroom with a sister who talks all night!” Then she lay down again, turned her back to Melissa, and pulled the covers over her shoulder.
Melissa was quiet for a long time. Finally, out of the darkness came a wistful voice. “I know what the sharpest thing in the world is.”
“Please, be quiet,” said Shelly.
“It’s words,” Melissa said quietly. “They hurt the most.”
Shelly turned over and looked at Melissa with a mixture of surprise and affection. “Oh, Melissa,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those things I said. I like sharing my bedroom with you. And I like having you for a sister.”
The girls were both silent for a few minutes thinking. Suddenly Melissa whispered, “Shelly.”
“What now?” Shelly asked laughingly.
“I know what the softest thing in the world is,” Melissa declared thoughtfully. “Softer than shadows and darkness and pillows and kittens and blankets and moonlight.”
“Tell me,” said Shelly good-naturedly. “What’s the softest thing in the world?”
“It’s words,” said Melissa.
Through the darkness she could almost see her sister smiling. And then she felt soft arms around her and Shelly whispered, “Oh, Melissa, I love you.”

For the first 12 years of my life, my father didn’t go to church. He and my mother had been married in the temple, but he had stopped going to church after that. My mother and I prayed for him, and almost every Sunday morning we went to the edge of his bed and said, “Please get up and go to church with us.” He was never upset or unkind to us about it, but he always had something else to do.

I was an only child until I was 12 years old. Then my mother was able to have another child, a little sister. The Sunday came to take her to church to be blessed. My mother said to my father, “Your little daughter is going to be blessed today.” I said, “Dad, please come with us to church. You can’t miss it.” A little while later, he came out of the bedroom dressed in a suit, a white shirt, and a tie.

We went to church and sat on the second row in the chapel. After the opening hymn and prayer, the bishop picked up my little sister and took her to the front of the chapel to be blessed. I sat close to my father on his left side, and during the blessing I felt his arm begin to quiver. I looked up, and tears were running down his cheeks. After the blessing, I asked him, “What’s wrong?” He said, “I’ll never let this happen again.” I asked him what he meant. He answered, “I’ll never let another man do what I ought to do.”

Three or four weeks later, our bishop called my father to be a counselor in the bishopric. A year and a half later, he was called to be a member of the stake presidency.

Heavenly Father answers prayers, and people can change. Be patient. The Spirit can help people you love to change bad habits.

“My mother is a unique person,” began Elder Paramore in tribute to his mother. “She has implicit, absolute faith in our Father in heaven. Through prayer and undeviating faith, she has been able to accomplish many things in her life. She prayed that my father would become active in the Church, and it happened; he became a very strong, faithful, and capable leader. She prayed to have more children, a thing that was especially difficult for her. Yet she was able to have six children, who mean so much to her. She set as fine example for all of us to follow.
“My father is special also. When I was young, he trained me to be a dental technician. We often sat side by side while I worked under his direction until I became quite proficient. He would show and tell me things about this skill and this went on for about five years. When I went into the service, they learned of my skills. I was taken out of basic training when I was only eighteen years old and put in charge of a dental laboratory with many workers. All this because of my dad’s training.
“We have some great progenitors on the Paramore side of my family,” Elder Paramore continued. “My grandmother left Denmark alone at the age of eight. Her mother put her on a boat with a tag around her neck addressed to a place in Utah. When she arrived in New York, some Mormon missionaries who had arranged to meet her there helped put her aboard the train that would take her to Ephraim, Utah. What an experience for an eight-year-old child! It makes me weep to think about it. I’m sure her mother thought that this was a wonderful chance for her daughter to be where the Church was strong.”
On the subject of children who are eight years of age, Elder Paramore added, “As a former bishop, I must have interviewed at least eighty children and watched them be baptized. In all those interviews, I never knew a time when I felt that the child wasn’t ready for baptism. Eight is the age of accountability and children do know right from wrong at this age. They don’t know all of the doctrines, of course, but they know how to make proper judgments. They know instinctively, by the light of Christ, what is right. Whether they do what is right is subject to the exercise of their free agency, but there’s no question in my mind regarding an eight-year-old child’s ability to choose the right. I’ve had that witness come to me many, many times.
“I would like the children of the world to know that the great message from our Heavenly Father is to trust in Him and to love their fellowmen. Keep the loving spirit you have at this age in your life. You are humble now and teachable. You have a marvelous ability and that is that you can forget—you don’t hold grudges and you can put problems out of your mind and go on loving someone who may have hurt you. Don’t build walls or barriers, just keep a loving heart. There is no substitute for love. Love means interest and concern. It means doing things for others. When there is a spirit of love between two people, it encourages a feeling of trust and self-worth. You can share any problem with each other and solve it together. Love breaks down barriers. President Kimball loves unconditionally.
“If you are remembered for only one thing, what would it be? Would you want to be remembered because you were steadfast in the things of the Lord? That you were honest? That you were trustworthy? All of these are cherished attributes, but wouldn’t it be wonderful to be remembered above all else for your love of people?
“I bear witness to the truth that loving the Lord and loving your fellowmen is the message of the Savior and that we must find and return this love if we are to have eternal life.”

One day I was waiting outside the First Presidency boardroom. I had been invited there to take part in a meeting to discuss temple matters. I sat quietly outside the room, alone. I thought the First Presidency was already meeting and that I would be invited to join them in a few minutes.
As I sat there, I could hear someone walking down the hall whistling. I thought to myself, “Someone doesn’t understand proper protocol. You don’t go walking around whistling outside the office of the President of the Church.”
A moment later the whistler walked around the corner—it was President Monson. He was happy, and he was positive. He greeted me warmly and said, “I guess we’ll start the meeting in a couple of minutes.”
Even with the weight of the whole Church on his shoulders, he is an example of happiness and he always has a positive attitude. We should be that way.

Recently my granddaughter Jennifer was invited to go with several of her school friends to a dinner and a movie. The girls all agreed on the movie they were going to see, and Jennifer was comfortable attending. However, the girl who left dinner to buy the movie tickets for the group returned with tickets to a different movie than was planned! She said, “It is a great show, and it’s R-rated.”

Jennifer, caught by surprise, couldn’t believe the situation had changed so quickly. But fortunately she had made up her mind before she ever found herself in this position that she would not watch R-rated movies. She was able to stand firm and say to her friends, “I can’t go see an R-rated movie. My parents would not approve.” To which the girls replied, “Oh, come on! Your parents will never know!” Confronted with this, Jennifer went on to say, “Well, actually it doesn’t matter whether my parents will know. I just don’t go to R-rated movies!”

Her friends were upset and tried to get her to relent. They told her she was ruining everything. When she would not give in, they threw the ticket and change in her face and deserted her for the R-rated movie. It wound up being a lonely night full of rejection from her friends. But it was a great moment for Jennifer and our family. She gained confidence, self-worth, and spiritual power.

Once, in company with Elder Gene R. Cook and the mission president, we traveled in a very remote region on the Altiplano, or high plain, in Bolivia. We had traveled much of the day in a four-wheel-drive vehicle. We had crossed an arm of Lake Titicaca on an ancient ferry. We followed mountain roads first built by the ancient Incan Indians.
Once, we had to build a stone ramp to emerge from a river bed which formed something of a road in the dry season. Lifting stones at an altitude of more than thirteen thousand feet is no small task.
We came eventually to our destination, Huacuyo. It is really not a village so much as houses scattered about the mountains, as high, I suppose, as men live anywhere on earth.
There we found what we were seeking—a little adobe and stone chapel. The few Saints in the region had built it themselves with no help from the Church.
The distance and forbidding terrain made this, I’m sure, as remote from Church headquarters as any place on earth.
The chapel had a dirt floor and rude hand-hewn benches. The interior walls had been whitewashed. Hanging on the front wall were three pictures: the President of the Church and his two counselors—the First Presidency.
I repeat the words of Paul:
“Continue thou in the things which thou hast learned, … knowing of whom thou hast learned them.” (2 Tim. 3:14; italics added.)
Even in that remote little branch the members could identify those who hold the keys of authority.

I saw something else on the wall of that little chapel in Huacuyo. It was a rudely printed poster. I could not hold back the tears as I read the heading “preparacion para ser estaca”—preparation for stakehood.
There followed a list of qualifications for a stake of Zion. A stake of Zion there in the remotest village atop the Andes Mountains? Oh, yes! That will be one day. And when it comes, one of us will be there to give authority to the leaders. When a stake of Zion is organized anywhere on earth, a man sitting on this stand must be there to confer the keys of presidency. Only from those who have the authority and it is known to the church that they have authority can they receive them. There is yet a further witness. Any seeking soul—any member—has the right to know by the gift of the Spirit about the call of our leaders.

A little rain didn’t dampen the spirits of the youth in the Springfield Fifth Ward, Eugene Oregon Stake, as they participated, as a ward, in Eugene’s annual Christmas parade. Taking their cues from the parade’s theme of “Home for the Holidays,” the youth called their float “Home for the Holy Days.” The youth wanted to convey a message about the true meaning of the holiday, so they created a family home evening-type scene on their float complete with children re-enacting the Nativity, a picture of the Savior, and a family reading the Christmas story from the Bible. The youth who weren’t actually on the float walked alongside singing Christmas carols.