Gospel Story Finder

I have been persuaded to tell a story that involves my experience. Perhaps the lesson I learned from it might be of some help to you.
In the fateful war year of 1942, I was inducted into the United States Army Air Corps with the rank of private. One cold night at Chanute Field, Illinois, I was given all-night guard duty. As I walked around my post, shivering and at the same time trying to stay awake, I meditated and pondered the whole miserable, long night through. By morning I had come to some firm conclusions.
I was engaged to be married and knew that I could not support a wife on a private’s pay. I felt I needed to become an officer. In a day or two following my all-night vigil, I filed my application for Officer’s Candidate School. Shortly thereafter, on the appointed day, I was summoned, along with some others, before the board of inquiry, whose job it was to look into my qualifications and aptitude. My qualifications were few, but I had had two years of college and had served a mission for the Church in South America. I was twenty-two years of age and in good physical health. Possessing only these few qualifications, I was grateful to be able to put on my application that I had been a missionary for the Church.
The questions asked of me at the officers’ board of inquiry took a very surprising turn. Practically all of the questions centered on my missionary service and my beliefs. “Do you smoke?” “Do you drink?” “What do you think of others who smoke and drink?” I had no trouble answering these questions.
“Do you pray?” “Do you believe that an officer should pray?” The officer asking these last questions was a hardened career soldier. He did not look like he had prayed very often. I pondered, Would I give him offense if I answered as I truly believed? Should I give a noncontroversial answer and simply say that prayer is a personal matter? I wanted to be an officer very much so that I would not have to do all-night guard duty and kitchen duty, but mostly so my sweetheart and I could afford to be married.
I decided not to equivocate and responded that I did pray and that I felt officers might seek divine guidance, as some truly great generals had done. I added that officers at appropriate times should be prepared to lead their men in all appropriate activities, including prayer, if the occasion requires.
More interesting questions came from my examiners. “In times of war should not the moral code be relaxed?” one high-ranking officer asked. “Does not the stress of battle justify men in doing things that they would not do when at home in normal situations?”
Here was a chance to equivocate, to make a good impression by being really broad-minded. I knew perfectly well that the men who were asking me this question did not live by the standards that I had been taught, had tried to live by, and had taught to others. I thought to myself, Here go my chances to become an officer. The thought flashed through my mind that perhaps I could still be faithful to my beliefs and respond by saying that I had my own beliefs on the subject of morality but did not wish to impose my views on others. But there seemed to flash before my mind the faces of the many people to whom I had taught the law of chastity as a missionary. I knew perfectly well what the scriptures say about fornication and adultery.
I could not delay my answer any longer and responded to the question simply by saying, “I do not believe there is a double standard of morality.”
There were a few more questions testing, I think, whether or not I was trying to live and behave as we of our faith represent to the world. I left the hearing resigned to the fact that the officers who had asked these questions concerning our beliefs would not like the answers I had given and would surely score me very low. A few days later when the scores were posted, to my complete astonishment the score opposite my name read “95 percent.” I was amazed. I was in the first group taken for Officer’s Candidate School and was promoted to the rank of corporal to get into the school. I graduated, became a second lieutenant, married my sweetheart, and we “lived happily ever after.”

Shinnah B. from Nairobi, Kenya, knows that Heavenly Father loves her. But she didn’t really know it until a couple of years ago, when she first heard about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from her aunt.
“The missionaries taught me things I didn’t know. They taught me that Heavenly Father loves me, and how to pray,” Shinnah says. After she was baptized, a few experiences helped her better understand God’s love for her. Now she strives to show her love for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

At Chetham’s, surrounded by people whose values and standards differ from her own, Fleur is determined to keep her Young Women values. Although students aren’t allowed to smoke or drink at school, some of them do so when they go out to Manchester, a nearby city.

Fleur explains: “When they say, ‘Come to the pub with us,’ I just say, ‘No, thanks. I don’t drink.’” Now that Fleur’s fellow students know her standards, they respect her for not drinking or smoking.

When she goes out, Fleur spends time with friends who don’t drink, or she goes shopping or to the cinema. “I make my own sort of fun,” she says.

While serving a mission in Britain, Elder Durham made two decisions that affected the rest of his life.
The other meaningful event that took place on his mission was meeting the young daughter of Elder John A. Widtsoe, then president of the European Mission. After his mission, Elder Durham married Eudora Widtsoe, and they had two daughters, Carolyn and Doralee, and a son, George.

When we visited Suriname, we met most of the members and learned that the missionary couple serving there, Elder and Sister Limburg, had taught them the gospel using a series of simple teaching and learning methods. They had no momentous or spectacular events or activities, only daily spiritual experiences resulting from their sensitive response to the promptings of the Spirit.
A new missionary couple, Brother and Sister Don Rapier, arrived in Suriname one day ahead of Elder Didier and me, so they met the Saints for the first time along with us. We held four sacrament meetings in homes of the Saints on the Sunday we were there. Elder Rapier shared his feelings about blessing the sacrament in the humble home of one of our new converts. He said:
“This was the most humble circumstance that I had ever been in in my life. The house was made of mostly short pieces of lumber. No electricity, no running water. The roof was corrugated sheets. The house and the yard were clean. The place where we held our sacrament meeting was under the overhang in front of the house. The members and the Brethren sat on wooden boards that were laid on bricks. The sacrament table was a small wooden stand that was set on top of a piece of linoleum covering the dirt floor. The sacrament cloths were very simple and very clean.
“As I knelt down to bless the sacrament, I was overwhelmed with the spirit of love that I had quickly developed for this people. I thought surely our Savior was pleased that He was being remembered in such humble circumstances. I thought of our chapels at home. I could never have appreciated the sacrament there like I can now after this special experience. I also observed that it might take several years before these sweet, humble members would fully realize the significance of having two General Authorities, one an Apostle, in their home, blessing them and their family.”
Brother Rapier’s experience touched deeply each one of us who was there. After the fourth sacrament meeting, my mind reflected upon the words of the Lord: “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

“Daddy, wherever did you find him?” cried Becky as she came up the path from the school bus.
On the lawn in front of her dad was a beautiful Canada goose, his one good wing flailing around while the other dragged on the ground.
“I found him by the pond,” replied Dad, “but he’s badly wounded.”
Becky’s mother came hurrying from the house to see the injured honker.
“He looks more dead than alive!” she exclaimed. “And he’s so handsome,” she added as she knelt and stroked the battered bird.
Becky’s heart went out to the poor wild creature. His lean and elegant body was covered with black, gray, and white feathers that shimmered in the sunlight. But his once proud strut was hampered by the dragging wing.
“Look how lopsided he walks,” said Mother sympathetically. “Shall we feed him some chicken mash?”
Dad nodded his head as he picked up the big, wounded goose.
“Becky, get some chicken feed,” directed Mother. “Your dad can carry him to the woodshed.”
A little later Becky watched as the honker ate hungrily. “Can he be mine?” she asked. “I’ll take care of him.”
“I guess so,” replied her dad. “But be sure to see that he has food and water every day.”
“I’m going to call him Sir Richard,” declared Becky, “because he’s so dignified and brave looking.”
“Sir Richard, the lopsided?” teased her dad.
“He is very handsome and he must be courageous too,” defended her mother. “I think Sir Richard is a good name for him.”
Becky often sat by the wild gander as he ate, and every day he seemed to grow a little stronger. In about six weeks Sir Richard was strong enough to walk, but he still looked and walked a little lopsided.
He followed Becky about, frequently drawing his long neck against her overalls to show his affection for her. Then he’d shove his bill into her hand, pretending to bite.
Sir Richard seemed to like the farmyard animals. The baby chicks used him for shade from the sun, and he acted as a mother to the baby kittens when their own mother wasn’t around.
The other barnyard geese trailed after the handsome stranger, trying to get him to notice them. How they preened and fluttered their feathers before him! But Sir Richard ignored all their feminine ways, and if they came too near, he’d give them a whack with his bill.
Becky grew to love her wild friend, though he would often get in her way as she did her chores. She would sometimes sit outside with the gander’s beautiful neck stretched across her legs and stroke his soft feathered body.
One day Sir Richard was nowhere to be seen. Becky called and called, then headed toward the pond. Perhaps he has gone to the pond to swim, she thought, so her eyes opened wide with surprise when Sir Richard suddenly flew into the barnyard and landed with a thump at her feet. His wing appeared to be completely healed.
The goose seemed almost as surprised as Becky, and shook his head in astonishment at what he had done. He looked at the wounded wing and gabbled excitedly. Then he raised both wings and danced about the barnyard. Running back to Becky, he pulled at her overalls and thrust his bill into her hand.
That evening at supper Becky told Mother and Dad about Sir Richard. They looked at each other and then at Becky.
“Becky, dear,” said her mother, “now that summer is nearly over and Sir Richard’s wing is healed, he’ll want his freedom.”
“That’s right,” Dad agreed. “Instinctively, now that he’s well, Sir Richard will want to travel freely with his own kind. It’s all part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”
Becky’s eyes went quickly from her mother to her father and she read in their expressions the awful truth.
When school started, she hurried home each day to see if Sir Richard were still at the farm.
“Do people ever clip the wings of geese to keep them from flying?” she asked Dad hopefully one night.
“Sometimes they do,” he replied, aware of the sadness in Becky’s voice.
Each day she scanned the sky. Then one crisp fall Saturday the first flight of wild geese flew south over the farm. When Sir Richard heard them his regal body trembled, and Becky’s heartbeat doubled. A lump seemed to catch in her throat, and a loneliness began to fill her heart.
She looked at Sir Richard and then at the sky, from which came the clear, shrill call of his wild friends. A moment later Sir Richard took a running start and rose into the air, answering the natural urge that filled his untamed heart. Becky watched until he was only a speck in the sky.
Her solitary, drooping figure made a lonely picture as she walked toward the house. But soon Becky’s face broke into a smile when she remembered with pride how her once-crippled friend had risen so grandly skyward. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up at the heavens where he had disappeared.
“Good-bye, Sir Richard,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”

On a Sunday in July last year, the Hmong ward in Sacramento, California, gathered for a special celebration. Five boys from the Nong Shala Ward (Hmong), Troop 338, and one from Oroville met with friends and family to celebrate their new wings. All six earned their Eagle awards over the summer.
These Scouts’ Eagle projects were varied and reached into their community. At a local school, volunteers painted volleyball courts, basketball courts, and murals; others cleaned and refurbished the school’s garden areas. At another school, they painted bathrooms and offices. Several of the boys had projects that took on tasks suggested by the city to build benches for the old cemetery. Another project included installing directional signs, clearing trails, and general clean up for the Church’s girls’ camp facility.
These 6 young men are the latest in a series of 21 to receive the award since Troop 338 was chartered in 1993. Since then, 11 of the Eagle Scouts have gone on to serve full-time missions.

I knew that it would be challenging to learn a second language, but I also knew it was possible if I worked hard enough. I studied at the Brigham Young University English Language Center and spent up to 10 hours a day in the library. One of my teachers suggested we pray for the gift of tongues, so every night I prayed and asked Heavenly Father for this gift. He certainly helped me.

“We won’t have any openings for months, and if you work here, you would have to work on Sundays.” The manager of the first store to which I applied for a job sent me on my way.
It was the summer before my senior year in high school, and I had been driving all over town filling out applications. My plan was to save up enough money to be able to attend college when I graduated. On each application, I indicated I could not work on Sundays. I was firm in my commitment to keep the Sabbath day holy.
A few days later, I handed a completed application to the manager of another store. He quickly scanned the paper and in disbelief asked, “You can’t work on Sundays?”
Without hesitation, I answered, “No.”
He laughed derisively and replied, “You’ll never get a job in this town!”
Feeling deflated, I left the store and climbed into my car. I said a quick prayer out loud, “Heavenly Father, what am I going to do?”
The unmistakable feeling from the Spirit came, and I knew everything would be all right. The prompting was so strong that I responded out loud, “OK.”
About one week later, I received a telephone call. It was the manager from the first store. He said that some of their young cashiers had been stealing money from the registers and that he had fired them. He asked me if I would like to come work for him, adding that I would only have to work on Sundays if there was an emergency. I worked at that store for about one year and only worked one Sunday.
When I began my job search, I decided I would simply have to find a position that did not require Sunday work. I know now that the Lord had a hand in helping me find that job. I have a sure testimony, just as Nephi, that “the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).

A friend of mine once told me about his experience in coming to know and understand the gift of the Holy Ghost. He had prayed often and longed to know the truth of the gospel.
Although he felt at peace with his beliefs, he had never received the certain knowledge for which he hungered. He had reconciled himself to the fact that he might be one of those who would have to walk through this life relying upon the faith of others.
One morning, while pondering the scriptures, he felt something surge through his body from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. “I was immersed in a feeling of such intense love and pure joy,” he explained. “I cannot describe the measure of what I felt at that time other than to say I was enveloped in joy so profound there was no room in me for any other sensation.”
Even as he felt this outpouring of the Holy Ghost, he wondered if possibly he was just imagining what was happening. “The more I wondered,” he said, “the more intense the feelings became until it was all I could do to tearfully say, ‘It is enough.’”

When President Russell M. Nelson was introduced to the media as prophet and President of the Church in January 2018, a colleague of mine at the time, who was not a member of the Church, spoke to me about the age of our new president. “Don’t worry,” I told her. After all, she couldn’t have known that he was still attending to his ecclesiastical duties every day, travelled all over the world as part of his calling, was learning Chinese at an advanced age and, at a youthful 93, was still eagerly whipping down Utah’s ski slopes.
However, her words also contained subtle criticism, which we tend to hear from a variety of worldly voices: How can you, in a modern society, blindly follow one person? Such a statement demonstrates that the world does not yet understand the role of a prophet. Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles declared: “The most important role of the Lord’s prophet is to teach us of the Savior and lead us to Him. …
“A prophet does not stand between [us] and the Savior. Rather, he stands beside [us] and points the way to the Savior.”1

It was the evening of a Friday, pay day, at the U.S. Eighth Army Headquarters in Seoul, Korea. I had been on duty during the day, so I had a free evening to read, write letters, and enjoy some time to myself.
Pay day was always welcome, except that the extra cash available to the soldiers was used unwisely by some of them at the club. About bedtime that particular evening, three soldiers, obviously under the influence of alcohol, noisily came into the barracks.
The peace and quiet of our bare army accommodations built by the Japanese occupational army before World War II was shattered when these soldiers entered the room. I turned my head away from the noisy intruders and continued reading, determined to ignore the change in mood.
Despite these efforts to remain peacefully alone and by myself, one tall, handsome young man seemed determined to bring me into the party. He staggered over to my bunk. “What are you reading?” he said. “The biography of John Stuart Mill,” I replied. Looking up, I instantly recognized Alma Anderson (fictitious name) of our small but close-knit Seoul Korea church group. I could tell that Alma also recognized me.
Deeply embarrassed and distressed, he turned around and started to leave, then fell on my bunk. “I recognize you from our group meeting a few months ago, Alma,” I said.
“Yes, I remember you,” he replied without too much enthusiasm. By now he was in deep distress. “Do you know the Doctrine and Covenants?” he asked suddenly. “Would you read me the Word of Wisdom?”
I took out the Doctrine and Covenants, opened to section 89, and slowly read aloud every word of the revelation known as the Word of Wisdom, including the phrase “strong drinks are not for the belly” (D&C 89:7).
“This isn’t the worst thing I have done,” he said. “You know, my mother thinks I am going on a mission. I can’t go now.”
At this point I interrupted: “Alma, you can still go on a mission. Would you like to know how to do it?”
“Do you really think I could go in spite of what I’ve done? I have done just about everything I shouldn’t do. I think it’s too late for a mission.”
I knew what he meant when he said he had done everything. I watched as many of my army colleagues failed to show up at camp during the night. Their interests were elsewhere. Alma’s pattern of behavior was all too much like his friends’, but on the whole, members of our church group basically were free of these nighttime excursions.
Alma was going home next week. But, nevertheless, knowing of the probable sins he had committed and also knowing the gospel plan of salvation, without which we are all lost, I stated confidently, “Yes, you can go, but it isn’t going to be easy.”
We opened to Doctrine and Covenants 58:42–43 [D&C 58:42–43] and read about repentance. We talked of the need to confess serious sins to his priesthood leader. I suggested he go immediately to his bishop in California when he arrived home. There he could continue the repentance process we had started that evening. I also urged that he commit right then and there to forsake the grave sins of sexual transgression and never again repeat them. I urged that he be patient because time would be required. I suggested that he read Alma 39 to understand how serious his sins were in the eyes of the Lord. Finally, I explained that as a part of his repentance he must plan to serve his fellowmen for the rest of his life. We talked of the Savior, his mercy, and his atonement. I helped Alma understand that, though his sins were serious, he was not lost. “We have all sinned and are lost without the great mission of the Savior,” were my words of comfort. “But we must repent of those sins to be cleansed by the blood of Christ.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday, Alma. Let’s spend the evening together. Then if you would like to go to church services with me on Sunday be here about 8 A.M.” He promised he would be there both days and he was. On Sunday he was very quiet but he stayed with me all day. We enjoyed a spiritual feast, and Alma began to show signs that hope was returning. As our beautiful day of rest from army life came to an end, he returned to his unit.
On Monday, he came to say good-bye. Then he proceeded to the Inchon Harbor and the waiting troop ship, which took him back across the Pacific Ocean to the United States and his proud family. I often wondered what happened to him once he got home. Then one day, this letter arrived:
“Dear John:
“Perhaps you will remember me. Although our associations were short, they will have and have had a lasting affect on my life. I have often wondered what made me talk to you that night, but I was very grateful that I did. Our conversation was a turning point in my life. From then on my life changed for the better.
“I learned the hard way which was the best way to live and am at present very happy with the Latter-day Saint life. Upon my return to California I had a talk with my bishop. Several months later I was interviewed for a mission by [Elder] Hugh B. Brown [of the Council of the Twelve] and he made it quite clear that he expected a lot of me to make up for my past mistakes. The interview ended with a positive decision on my part. I received my mission call Saturday and I enter the mission home soon. I’m not even going out of my home state, but I am very pleased with the call.
“I am very thankful to you for your encouragement and advice given that night. Although I didn’t feel very well I remember your words. Perhaps our meeting was meant to be. I think so. At any rate I send you deepest appreciation for your help and wish you the best of luck throughout your life.
“Please write and tell me how you are and what you are doing. I will be very happy to hear from you.
“With love,“A brother in the gospel.”
As I read these words, I realized that I had been in precisely the right place at the right time to help Alma begin the process of repentance. The Lord’s work is always accomplished through men and women—his sons and daughters. A moment of pure joy was my reward.
The next (and last) time I saw Alma was on a day in the Los Angeles Temple when I was waiting the start of an endowment session. Alma came into the waiting room, and we embraced as old army friends and, more importantly, as eternal friends. He briefly reported on a successful mission. It hadn’t been easy, but he felt a sense of pride and joy in having completed his full-time missionary service. Indeed, although he had thought it was too late for a mission, it was not too late.

A few years ago, I began to notice that things around me were beginning to darken. It troubled me because simple things like reading the print in my scriptures were becoming more difficult. I wondered what had happened to the quality of the lightbulbs and wondered why manufacturers today couldn’t make things like they had in years past.

I replaced the bulbs with brighter ones. They too became dim. I blamed the poor design of the lamps and bulbs. I even questioned whether the brightness of the sun was fading before the thought occurred to me that the problem might not be with the amount of light in the room—the problem might be with my own eyes.

Shortly thereafter, I went to an ophthalmologist who assured me that the world was not going dark at all. A cataract on my eye was the reason the light seemed to be fading. This certainly gives you my age. I placed my faith in the capable hands of this trained specialist, the cataract was removed, and behold, light again flooded my life! The light had never diminished; only my capacity to see the light had been lessened.

This taught me a profound truth. Often when the world seems dark, when the heavens seem distant, we seek to blame everything around us, when the real cause of the darkness may be a lack of faith within ourselves.

At the community pool I looked in the lost and found for a missing piece to my goggles. I didn’t find the piece, but I saw a mermaid doll. I thought it was mine, so I took it. When I got home I found another mermaid doll in my room. I knew the one I had found at the pool was not mine. I could have kept both, but I wanted the person who had lost the doll to find it. We returned the extra doll to the pool. I know that I chose the right thing to do, and it made me feel happy to help someone else.

For example, my dad and I have gone for ice cream after every general priesthood meeting since I became a deacon. We are going again tonight. Now, ice cream isn’t absolutely necessary to enjoy priesthood meeting—but it helps. I also remember my father telling me a few weeks before I was ordained a deacon that he hoped whenever I prepared, blessed, or passed the sacrament I would always wear a white shirt and a tie. I’m sure I had heard the same advice from a Sunday School teacher or had read it in some manual, but it wasn’t until my father said it that I intended to do it. By responding to my father’s suggestion I have shown respect for the sacred ordinance of the sacrament. And that small word of advice also helped me understand that priesthood ordinances are not just work or assignments, but they are priceless privileges that I’m grateful to take part in.

Natalie
Natalie, 20, has been a nanny for nearly three years. She has found some good families that she has enjoyed working for, but she has also found some difficult jobs and hard times.
“Girls have no concept of what they are coming out to. They think it’s going to be all wonderful.
“I left for my first job three days after I graduated from high school. The family was wonderful on the phone. They said they had a gorgeous home with a swimming pool in the backyard. They told me I would be up with the children in the morning to help them get ready for school. I would have minor housework, just picking up after the children, and be responsible for them when they got home.
“I found out they lied to me. There was nothing but a kiddy pool in the backyard. Besides getting the children off to school, I had to scrub down the house literally every day, including washing the cars, yard work, doing their laundry, changing sheets, cleaning bathrooms, cleaning out the cupboards every day—besides watching the children.
“I was not allowed to shower between 7:00 A.M. and 9:00 P.M. because that was my time to work for them. I was not allowed to do my laundry on their time. I was put downstairs in the basement and the door was locked so I couldn’t come upstairs during the night. I worked six days a week for $60.
“They fired me after three weeks. They said I disrupted the family. I found out later that they were having family problems. They fired me at 10:00 P.M. and were sending me home the next morning. I applied for another job and started a week later because I love children and I like being around them.
“There aren’t many Mormon guys out here, so you start getting involved with nonmembers. You try to be an example, but you get caught up in a different lifestyle. We would stay out until three in the morning, and we wouldn’t want to get up for Sunday. We would think, it’s our only day off, so let’s go have fun.
“I dated a guy for over a year. I got caught up in how he lived. I broke up with him because there was something missing in my life. It occurred to me to go to church. I felt the Spirit, and I felt good, but it’s so hard to come back. I’ve seen nannies slip right into what I was in. I want to stand up and warn them, ‘Don’t be stupid like I was.’ But you can’t really tell them. It might take them 20 years to come back.
“I’ve lived in six homes out here. Four of them haven’t worked, and two have. A lot of employers expect to treat you as their employee. That attitude can’t work because you live in their house. They need to treat you as one of the family. If they don’t, you’re not happy. It’s got to be give and take on both sides.”

There is a way to know when we have learned a doctrine or principle of the gospel. It is when we are able to teach the doctrine or principle in a way that a child can understand it. A valuable resource to teach children to understand the Atonement is an analogy that is found in a Primary lesson. Perhaps this can help us as we teach our own children, grandchildren, or friends of other faiths who desire to understand this essential doctrine.
“A [woman] walking along a road fell into a pit so deep [she] could not climb out. No matter what [she] did, [she] could not get out by [herself]. The [woman] called for help and rejoiced when a kind passerby heard [her] and lowered a ladder down into the pit. This allowed [her] to climb out of the pit and regain [her] freedom.
“We are like the [woman] in the pit. Sinning is like falling into the pit, and we can’t get out by ourselves. Just as the kind passerby heard the [woman’s] cry for help, Heavenly Father sent his Only Begotten Son to provide the means of escape. Jesus Christ’s atonement could be compared to lowering a ladder into the pit; it gives us the means to climb out.” But the Savior does more than lower the ladder, He “comes down into the pit and makes it possible for us to use the ladder to escape.” “Just as the [woman] in the pit had to climb up the ladder, we must repent of our sins and obey the gospel principles and ordinances to climb out of our pit and make the Atonement work in our lives. Thus, after all we can do, the Atonement makes it possible for us to become worthy to return to Heavenly Father’s presence.”

The first “ensnaring” poem I remember was a section from “The Walrus and the Carpenter” in Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass. Long before I was aware of literary allusions or the implications of poetic style, I had fallen in love with this nonsense verse:
“‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.’”
The word patterns and sense (or lack of it) bounced with a liveliness that made me smile just at the fun of hearing the words run over each other.
Several years later I discovered the same delight in the writings of a very different sort of poet, Robert Frost:
“Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.”
from “Bereft”
Frost talked about his views of life in ways that particularly struck me. I associated with what he said, and that is an important key to enjoying poetry.
“And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.”
from “Birches”
In a very somber way I was emotionally conscious that the poet was often dealing with the opposition I sometimes felt.
The fact that each poet in these contrasting moods wrote words to the heart of something silly or a dilemma of personal growth brought their works into my life in a significant way.

One day on the way home from school, “T” took exception to the way his cousin George was treating Joe, “T’s” younger brother.
“I finally said, ‘If you do that once more, I’ll hit you one that you’ll remember.’ He went ahead and as a result we had a real fist fight. During the encounter, I brought blood from George’s nose, and we had quite a struggle in the dirt.
“It finally ended, and George went home as we did. When I arrived home Mother noticed the blood on my hands and on my shirt and asked what had happened. Of course, I explained. She didn’t chastise me for defending my younger and smaller brother, but she did say, ‘T,’ I’m right out of yeast. I want you to go over to Aunt Lulu’s (George’s mother) and get a start of yeast.’ I said, ‘Mother, don’t ask me to do that after I’ve had this encounter with George.’ She said, ‘That makes no difference. I need the yeast and I want you to go through the field and get the start.’”
Needless to say, “T” learned more about settling disputes than a lecture could have taught him.

I will forever remember President Thomas S. Monson’s kindness as he extended my call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. At the conclusion of our interview, he opened his arms to embrace me. President Monson is a tall man. As he wrapped his long arms around me and pulled me close, I felt like a little boy being held in the protective arms of a loving father.