Gospel Story Finder

When my husband and I got married, I quickly learned that we needed to change some of the ways we communicated. The communication styles that had worked in my family were not the same ones my husband had learned, and those differences led to misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and a sometimes strained relationship.

My husband and I still have a lot to learn. But as we’ve tried to implement these ideas, we’ve come to understand, respect, and love each other so much more. I know that all our relationships can improve as we learn a healthier, holier, more Christlike way of communicating.

A few years ago I invited several colleagues from various universities to come to BYU for a multiday workshop in Scandinavian studies, my specialty. The work was going to be intense, so I suggested they pack good shoes so that one evening we could take a break and go for a quick hike up our unparalleled Rock Canyon.
A professor who taught at a large public university on the West Coast took advantage of this downtime to ask me questions about BYU, about the Church, and even about my personal faith and convictions. She did so somewhat sheepishly and excused herself for asking questions that to a native Scandinavian are deeply personal and rarely discussed except with close friends or family in a sauna. I assured her that I really didn’t mind; in fact, as a returned missionary from Sweden, I found it refreshing for a Scandinavian to ask me questions about religion. My colleague expressed how impressed she was with the beautiful buildings on campus, the capable students, the generous support for our research project, and the clear commitment the university and the Church had to education. She confided in me that she had grown up in a devout religious home and that she recognized many things in our BYU community that reminded her of her own upbringing.

“But,” she said, “there is one significant difference that I just cannot wrap my head around. When I finished gymnasium [the Danish equivalent of high school], I had a burning desire to continue my formal education at a university—something my parents and faith community strictly forbade.”
She continued: “I was forced to make a choice between my faith community and my education. But here at BYU, faith and learning seem to coexist. They do not just tolerate each other but seem to embrace each other.”
Since that time I have thought a lot about her comments. There are two important interrelated lessons that I have taken away from this conversation: (1) how distinctive a BYU education is and (2) how education and learning fit into God’s plans for all of us.

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Saturday morning at the Cooper house
Don’t tell me Matt and Dad are still sleeping. I thought I was the lazy one on Saturdays.
Oh, they’ve already had breakfast and left. They went to see Matt’s new friend, Franco.
He has a new friend already? That’s not fair. I haven’t found any new friends yet. I wish we hadn’t moved!
We’ve only been here a week. Just give it time. You made lots of friends at your old school. You’ll make friends here too.
Remember, if you want to have a friend …
I know, I know. If you want to have a friend, be a friend.
Meanwhile, at Franco’s house …
Hi, I’m Josh Cooper.
I’m Hector Delgado.
Some of these rocks are really cool. What’s this one?
That’s a geode. Lots of them are hollow, and some have awesome crystals inside. My dad says geodes are like some people—not much to look at on the outside, but pretty cool inside.
If they’re like people, are any of these rocks musical?
What do you mean?
Because then we could have a rock concert!

I gazed at the girl sitting alone at the table across from mine. Her long hair hid her face, but I could sense her loneliness as she idly scooted food around her tray. I couldn’t help but feel selfish watching her eat by herself when I was surrounded by friends.
One of my friends suddenly elbowed me. “Sierra! I’m talking to you. Wake up!” My focus snapped back to the conversation at our lunch table.
“Oh, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. Hey, do you guys see that girl sitting over there?” I nodded toward the young woman eating alone. “Do you know her name?”
My friends shrugged and returned to their conversation. Their laughter muddled into the noise of the cafeteria while my mind wandered back to the girl at the table. The thought came that I should do something to help her. “But what if she thinks I’m weird or if she’s waiting for her other friends?” I silently objected. But the thought returned, and I knew what I needed to do.
I shuffled nervously toward her, and she glanced up when I reached her table.
“Do you want to sit with us?” I asked.
She half nodded, gathered her belongings, and followed me as my friends scooted over to give her room to sit.
“I have two classes with you,” I said, “but I don’t think I’ve met you before. What’s your name?”
“Kelsey,”* she said. Her reply was barely audible.
For the rest of lunch, my friends and I asked about her interests and school schedule, trying to help her feel welcome. I could tell she was relieved not to be sitting alone. When lunch was over, a warm, light feeling filled my heart.
In the following weeks, Kelsey continued to sit with us at lunch. While her face always made it seem like she was fine, I could see pain in her eyes. She didn’t talk much about her background, but I could sense that there was a lot of stuff she was trying to keep hidden or forget about.
Months flew by, and I grew to love Kelsey. We enjoyed each other’s friendship. I was amazed by her lofty dreams and loving personality.
One day in our computer class, the teacher moved me next to Kelsey, who seemed to be struggling with some of the material. We spent hours working together, and I watched happily as her grade inched up to an A. For one assignment, we created time lines that included 10 major events in our lives. When Kelsey completed hers, she tapped me on the shoulder.
“Do you want to see my time line?” She grinned.
“Yeah, sure!” I looked over at her computer. Stifling a gasp, I read some of the sad events that had filled Kelsey’s life. My surprise reached its peak, however, when I read the final event on her time line: I met Sierra.
Stunned, I hugged her and whispered, “Oh, Kelsey. Thank you.”
Toward the end of the school year, Kelsey suddenly moved to California. About a year after that, Mrs. Cummings,* who worked at my school, told me she wanted to talk with me. She hesitantly explained that Kelsey had passed away over the weekend. Tears started pouring down my cheeks. Mrs. Cummings didn’t know—or at least couldn’t tell me—how it happened, but she did tell me some things about Kelsey that I hadn’t known before. Her life on earth was challenging. I cried for several days, but even through my tears, I was comforted because of the plan of salvation.
Back in that lunchroom, when I saw a girl sitting alone, Heavenly Father knew she was a daughter of His who needed a friend. He knows our needs and knows how we can meet the needs of others. Though it’s easy to ignore the promptings of the Spirit at times, I will forever be glad for the day I listened to the Spirit at lunch.

By September 1951 the Korean War had reached a stalemate, so Dr. Kim returned to Korea. He had a strong desire to preach the restored gospel. He attended church in a U.S. military camp in Busan, where he taught the Gospel Doctrine class and shared his testimony with Korean visitors. U.S. soldiers taught the gospel in English to the youth, and Dr. Kim kindly interpreted for them. This was an effective way to share the gospel, and because Koreans trusted Dr. Kim, his example influenced many.
After suffering much from the Korean War, the people eagerly welcomed the gospel of Jesus Christ. Dr. Kim’s devotion finally bore fruit on August 3, 1952, when the first four people were baptized in Busan, Korea.
Dr. Kim later told a group of Saints, “I wouldn’t care if I had to give up my life, or my money, or my title, as long as I could be with my Savior.”3 His life evidenced this commitment to serving God.

During a religion class at Ricks College, I was teaching from section 25 of the Doctrine and Covenants, in which Emma Smith is told she should give her time “to writing, and to learning much” (D&C 25:8). About three rows back in the class sat a blond woman whose brow wrinkled as I urged diligence in developing writing skills. She raised her hand and said, “That doesn’t seem reasonable to me. All I’ll ever write are letters to my children.” That brought laughter.

Then a young man stood up, near the back. He had said little during the term. He was older than the other students, and he was shy. He asked if he could speak, then told in a quiet voice of being a soldier in Vietnam. One day he had left his rifle and walked across his fortified compound to mail call. Just as he got a letter in his hand, he heard a bugle blow and rifle fire coming in ahead of the swarming enemy. He fought his way back to his rifle, using his hands as weapons. With the men who survived, he drove the enemy out. The wounded were evacuated. Then he sat down among the living, and some of the dead, and opened the letter.

It was from his mother. She wrote that she’d had a spiritual experience that assured her he would live to come home if he would remain righteous. To my class, the boy said quietly, “That letter was scripture to me. I kept it.” And he sat down.

The night before Christmas had always been filled with wonder for my sister Phyllis and me. We spent hours guessing what surprises would await us in the morning. There were always two Christmas surprises that were the same—one for me and one for Phyllis.
“Ellie, do you remember how excited we were the year we found the baby dolls sitting in twin high chairs?” Phyllis asked. We were sitting in the bedroom we shared, too excited to sleep.
“Yours was wearing the blue outfit, mine was in pink,” I said.
“And wasn’t it fun the year we got those matching doll beds?” she asked.
What would our surprises be this year? Roller skates? Play dishes? Fancy dresses? We giggled with excitement.
“Listen!” Phyllis suddenly exclaimed. “I hear Dad’s car pulling into the driveway!”
We dashed to the window, pressed our faces against the cold glass, and peeked out into the darkness of Christmas Eve. From our second-story window we looked down onto the driveway and saw something in the back of Dad’s car. Something pink.
“Is it something for us?” Phyllis whispered.
“Well, something pink wouldn’t be for any of our brothers!” I said. We covered our mouths, trying to quiet our laughter.
“Then the something in the car has to be for us!” Phyllis said. “Our two somethings!”
We scurried back to bed and snuggled beneath our blankets, wrapped in warmth and anticipation. We scarcely slept all night.
When morning finally arrived, Phyllis and I, our three brothers, and our older sister lined up to go into the living room. When Mother gave the signal, we rushed in, then stood dazzled by the glowing tree. It sparkled with its colored lights, shimmering icicles, our homemade paper chains, and loved ornaments.
Phyllis and I stood entranced, ready to burst with excitement. At the same time, our eyes fell on the Something Pink. It was a dresser, about four feet high. We gazed at the piece of furniture, with its mirror and still smelling of pine and fresh paint. We loved it!
Then, slowly, our awe turned to puzzlement. We whispered to each other, “Where’s the other dresser? Which one of us is this for?”
Mother took us aside and gently told us, “Girls, there were two—one for each of you. But last night your father thought of a widow and her family. They don’t have much, and she has two daughters. Your father wondered what kind of Christmas they would have. He took the other dresser to their home last night. This one is for you girls to share.”* * *
That Christmas was long ago. Phyllis and I shared and loved that pink dresser through childhood until each of us married. The dresser went from holding mittens and pretty rocks to holding dance programs and our marriage announcements.
Now, with daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters of our own, our Christmas surprise has been lovingly moved from one home to another and shared by many girls. Mothers have told their daughters the story of the pink dresser, and they have told their daughters.
If our little, worn pink treasure could speak, it might say that many girls have grown closer together because of a present two sisters shared, and a present they never received.

Growing up in a small village in Côte d’Ivoire, Elder D. Martin Goury dreamed of becoming a clergyman and serving others.
In October 1992, while in London, England, learning English and getting an education, he met Latter-day Saint missionaries. The missionaries, one of whom was the only native French-speaking missionary in London, gave Elder Goury a copy of the Book of Mormon in French.
He started reading the book and soon received a witness of its truthfulness. When a new pair of missionaries came to his apartment a few months later, he joined the Church. “I remember being very happy,” he said.
His joy increased as the missionaries taught him about the priesthood. “They explained the meaning of the priesthood and how I could use that to serve other people. For me, that was my dream coming true,” Elder Goury said. “I was delighted.”

My wife and I traveled to Osorno Chile to pick up our son when he completed his mission. As we traveled around the mission with him, we took many pictures and the memory in our camera was getting full. So one evening we left the cottage where we were staying and went to an internet café so we could download the pictures onto a thumb drive. We were only gone a short time but when we returned, we found our cottage had been broken into and we had been robbed. We called the police and by the time they completed their investigation and let us go, it was about 3:00 int the morning. Because that cottage was a mess from the dusting for fingerprints and everything else the police had done, they moved us to a different cottage and we went to sleep but we had to wake up at 6:00 in the morning for a scheduled hike with a group to the top of an active volcano.

Rather than sleep in, we chose to get up and take the hike and created a wonderful memory with our son. We never did get any of our items returned to us. My son could have been very upset because he had lost so many memories from his mission including his missionary bag containing his scriptures, but instead, he simply said that he hoped the robbers would read his scriptures and join the church.

What would have happened if we had just gotten angry at the situation and decided to just sleep through the hike the next morning? In that case, our trial would have taken control of our lives and we would have been miserable. Instead, we chose to be happy, to climb the volcano and we had a wonderful time with our son and the rest of the group. President Gordon B. Hinckley often taught that, “Things work out. It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us. ...If we will put our trust in Him, if we will pray to Him, if we will live worthy of His blessings, He will hear our prayers.”

This quote is now printed over the top of a picture that I took of the volcano in Chile that we climbed that day and it sits in my office as a reminder of how we can find joy even in the midst of trial and adversity if we choose to be happy.

Anna’s heart sank as she walked into the room and saw the Christmas tree. The water heater in their house had burst, and water was all over the floor. Dad was still trying to clean up the mess. The few presents under the tree were completely soaked.
Anna and her little brothers grabbed some towels and tried to dry the presents. But it didn’t really work. They were a soggy mess.
Anna’s family was going through a hard time. Her dad didn’t have a job right now. Her mom was going to have a baby soon, and she felt sick a lot. And now they wouldn’t have any presents for Christmas.
That night as Anna got ready for bed, she could hear Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked. It sounded like she was crying. “We don’t have enough money for the house payment, and now we don’t even have presents for the kids.” Anna had an empty, twisty feeling in her stomach.
“We’ll figure something out,” Dad said.
Anna walked into the kitchen. Mom reached out and gave her a big hug. With her arms around Mom’s tummy, Anna felt the baby move. She smiled. “We have a new baby coming. You always say that a baby is a miracle.”
Mom smiled back. “That’s right. We have a lot to be grateful for.”
“We have each other,” Dad said. He kissed the top of Anna’s head. “It’ll be OK.”
On the way to her room, Anna heard her brothers crying. She sat down on David’s bed.
“Everyone is so sad,” David said quietly.
“And we won’t have any presents,” Robbie said, sniffling.
“It’ll be OK,” Anna said again. “You’ll see.”
Before she got into bed, Anna knelt and asked Heavenly Father what she could do for her family. She didn’t have any money to buy presents, but she still had a warm, comforting feeling in her heart.
The next morning, she stayed in bed thinking for a few minutes before getting ready for school. Then an idea came to her! That afternoon she hurried home and did her chores and homework. Then she found some paper and string and a few markers and stickers she had gotten for her birthday. She took them all to her room and closed the door.
Anna almost laughed when she thought about how surprised her family would be. First she folded the paper and tied it together with string to make four booklets. She chose a star sticker to put on Mom’s booklet and a planet for Dad’s. She put a dog for David’s booklet and a rocket for Robbie’s.
Then Anna started drawing. For Mom she drew a picture of herself sweeping the floor. She drew a picture of herself cooking dinner with Dad, one of her playing soccer with David, and one of her reading a book to Robbie. It took her several days to fill each booklet with pictures.
Finally it was Christmas Eve, and Anna carefully placed her booklets under the tree.
The next morning, she gave each person in her family a booklet. “I like these pictures,” David said. “I like playing soccer.”
“They’re not just pictures,” Anna said with a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re coupons! The pictures all show things I’ll do for you.”
“This is the nicest gift you could have given us,” Mom said as she looked through her booklet. Anna was thankful that Heavenly Father helped her think of making Christmas coupons. A new baby was coming, and with Heavenly Father’s help, everything really would be OK.

I joined the Church at age 16 and at 17, against all odds, left England for America to escape a life of poverty. I was completely alone and frightened, but I was determined. I had one plan: to become rich and famous. A few years before, I had seen a documentary about orphanages in Romania that deeply impacted my young, fierce heart. I was no stranger to childhood trauma, so I set a goal to get enough money to fund an orphanage and truly make a difference in the world.
I couldn’t have known then how different my life would turn out. I got married at age 25, and my husband soon joined the Church. By then I had managed to become quite successful, but I was still looking for true “success” (or at least what I thought was success at the time: fame and fortune). I longed to make a big difference. Strangely enough, I didn’t want to get pregnant, but I had a strong feeling that we shouldn’t do anything to prevent pregnancy. It turned out that my feeling was right because after about a year, nothing had happened.
Growing up, I always loved children, even though my plans didn’t include having more than one or two of my own in the far distant future. I didn’t think I’d be too disappointed if I couldn’t have children at all, but when suddenly faced with that very real possibility, I was devastated.
Over the next two years, I became angry, resentful, and desperate. Ironically, “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” came out around the time I got married, and that message increasingly affected me in a negative way because I felt like I couldn’t fulfill my duty to have children. When my husband and I visited doctors, they couldn’t find any reason for the infertility. It seemed so unfair. I wondered why God had done this to me. Little did I know, my heart was changing. I had always been hyper-focused on success, but now, for the first time in my life, my heart wanted a baby more than anything else.
As time marched on, I felt more and more forgotten, desperate, alone … abandoned by God. I pasted on a cheerful smile, but no one understood what my husband and I were really going through. One day, I spoke to my husband’s grandmother, who was very wise and spiritual. As I shared my feelings with her, she said, “You know, there are many other ways to be a mother.” I felt her words penetrate my heart to its core. I was humbled. I knew this was an answer from Heavenly Father. I had only been fixated on having a baby through my own body. A glimmer of hope emerged as we considered other options. We became foster parents.
Soon our first foster baby, Benjamin, came to us. My bond with him was overwhelming, but I felt faint promptings that he wouldn’t be with us forever. I was heartbroken at the thought of him leaving us. And I was desperate for a baby I could keep. The Church’s Family Services was helping couples with adoptions at the time, so I went to my bishop to get information. The next week I got a call from a social worker who was looking to place a baby in a foster/adoption home. This was music to my ears. Despite the possibility of the baby having developmental issues, we felt the Lord’s hand directing us and we had faith to go forward. I’m not going to lie—I was scared. But it felt right, and baby Daniel was delivered to our home that very night.
Within days he became gravely ill, was hospitalized, and given a 50 percent chance to live. I sat by his crib for 11 days alternately praying and crying over him. I never once left the hospital. When Daniel’s birth parents came to see him (the adoption wasn’t final yet), there I was, looking like a complete disaster! But they seemed disconnected and showed no emotion whatsoever when they saw him.
This was a huge “aha” moment for me. I realized then that I really was Daniel’s mother! It didn’t matter that I hadn’t given birth to him—he was meant to be mine. I learned a lot about motherhood in those 11 days. I would have done anything for him.
Daniel’s life was spared. Benjamin returned to his biological family. But the Lord stayed by our side. Since then, we have adopted six more children and have miraculously had two of our own. I could shout from the rooftops about the miracles I’ve witnessed in my life. I have such a testimony of Heavenly Father’s promise to us that we can have the blessings we desire, even in ways we might not have originally expected or when we expect them (see 2 Nephi 10:17; Alma 37:17).
Having nine kids is hard at times. It’s nonstop laundry, it’s different personalities, and each child comes with different issues. But I know they were all heaven-sent. Honestly, it feels like my dream of making a difference and owning my own orphanage has come true after all!
My trial of infertility led me to my greatest blessings. I feel like I had to be truly humbled so I could submit to God’s will instead of my own. I experienced that “mighty change of heart” (see Alma 5:13). And through this kind of submission, He has guided me. He has blessed me with dreams, visions, and miracles that have led me to each child. He always had a plan for me! Even when I felt forgotten, He was there.
Infertility can be very dark and lonely. I think back on those days when it was hard to go to church without children—when the family proclamation held a bitter sting. I couldn’t see then what I see now. The loving words in the proclamation always applied to me. Regardless of our circumstances, we do each have a place in Heavenly Father’s eternal plan.

Bright and early on the last day of camp, about 30 young men chose to compete in the “Iron Warrior Competition.” Participants swam one mile in Lake Allatoona and then ran two miles through the woods. Like other activities at camp, this one could be used to fulfill both Scouting and Duty to God requirements.
At the beginning of the year the boys received the challenge to read the Book of Mormon. If a young man completed both the Iron Warrior Competition and read the entire Book of Mormon by the end of Scout camp, he received the Captain Moroni award—a five-foot high metal sculpture of a man in armor. “It was taller than I am!” says Max Carter, a deacon from the Mars Hill Ward who earned the Captain Moroni award. “The Iron Warrior Competition was hard. I was just happy to accomplish it.”

James Lee, 18, and his younger brother Christopher sat near the front of the chapel furiously taking notes. They live in Spokane, Washington, and though they knew they were living in an area of high employment, both of them needed summer jobs.
Luckily for the Lees and hundreds of other young Latter-day Saints like them, the local stake leaders with the help of Brother Ronald Buchanan, manager of the Church’s Spokane Employment Center, had organized a one-day career fair for all of the young people in the Spokane area.
The career fair started with talks from some of the local leaders about general gospel principles and how they relate to the work ethic. As the day progressed the information became much more specific, and the participants learned about developing careers, preparing resumes, creative job searching, and interviewing.
“A good resume is probably the most effective job hunting tool for a young person,” said Bill Steen, a professional teacher and consultant on preparing resumes. “Of course a resume is needed for professional, career-oriented job seekers, but very few young people use them. So when you do, it really sets you apart from the rest of the job-hunting crowd.
“Do not depend on an application and then wait at home by the phone for someone to call,” he continued, “because it rarely happens. Few people understand what most job application forms are really designed to accomplish. They are designed by an employer to reveal as many weaknesses as possible and eliminate you from the competition for that job. And this is the tool that most of us use to try to get a job—a tool that is designed to screen us out.”
The young people learned some fascinating ways to find job openings and even to create them if they are not there to begin with. John Munson, 14, is working on the details for his own summer business. He is gong to specialize in selling fresh hot sausages (either on a bun or a stick) to the vacationers at Lake Coeur d’ Alene. John is going to hire two kids to operate other stands which he also owns. He is working on the forms for his health department clearance and business license and has bids from suppliers for his sausages.
A Washington State employment placement specialist, Sister Carole Hankal gave a delightful workshop on the creative job search. “Once you have prepared a good resume, you might feel it’s the best resume in the world. You should remember that for every person hired there are 1,470 resumes sent out. So the resume isn’t going to get the job for you. It is important, but it works better if it is combined with a personal contact. It is just like missionary work: when a person is referred to the missionaries by a close friend or relative, the chances of his being baptized are much greater than if he was tracted out by the missionaries. If you have a family friend or relative that has a business and hires people, don’t abuse the situation. Don’t go up to Uncle Harry and say, ‘Hey, do you know of any job openings?’ This is not what you want to do. However, if your Uncle Dan works in the bank personnel department and you would like a job in a bank you might say, ‘Hello, Uncle Dan, this is Karen. I just graduated from high school, got straight A’s in mathematics and A’s in English, and I type 60 words a minute with very few errors. I would really love to work in the banking institution. Do you know of any openings or anyone who might be aware of some openings and would you mind introducing me to some of your associates?’”
After Sister Hankal gave the above example, she explained that a good percentage of jobs are filled by those who have some kind of personal contact with the employer. She added, “Don’t be discouraged if you feel you have done everything right and still don’t get a job. Be prepared for up to ten interviews. It often takes ten or more in order for you to be successful in getting that job that is just right for you.”
It was now late afternoon, and the young people had sat about as long as they could absorbing the career information. When their appetites for food began to overshadow their appetites for summer work, dozens of Relief Society sisters and their husbands appeared out of nowhere and promptly began serving hundreds of delicious box lunches that had been prepared earlier for the entire group.
The high point of the career fair for most of the young people was the next two-hour block when they were able to talk to individual career specialists. Seventy-eight specialists had set up booths in the cultural hall while the young people were eating. There were representatives from education, health services, community services, government and military, construction, communications, retailing, sales, business, engineering, and a host of other fields of employment. Each representative had handouts giving specific information about the educational requirements, the expected salary ranges, and pros and cons of the job.
There were also 11 colleges and universities represented in classrooms near the cultural hall. Each representative was delighted to talk to the young people about entrance requirements, costs, and financial aids.
The fair was carefully organized to accomplish several different objectives. “We wanted to (1) prepare our youth so they would be the best prepared to enter both the summer and permanent job markets and be the first to apply when an opportunity arises; (2) help them to identify career areas they would like to work in and to match their summer employment with their career goals; (3) create the opportunity for them to visit with more than 75 career specialists; and (4) give them the chance to talk to representatives from local colleges as well as BYU and Ricks,” said Brother Buchanan.
“It took us six months to plan and develop the fair. One hundred and fifty people helped put all the details together. I know that Sister Carole Krohn, chairman of the career specialists, made 300 telephone calls herself. But we wanted the youth to be taught about self-reliance and self-sufficiency. What these young people have learned here today should improve their income potential, job satisfaction, self-esteem, and their ability to serve in the Church,” he added.
James and Christopher left the career fair with new confidence in themselves and determination to use the knowledge they had gained to get their summer jobs.
James got the job he wanted working at a grocery store in Deer Park, Washington. He first talked to the manager, and then he followed up by submitting an application. The manager noted that James would not work on Sunday and so he did not hire him. Yet James kept in touch with the store, and after a few days he was asked to work for two days on a trial basis. The owner of the store interviewed James and asked him why he would not work on Sunday. James told him it was part of the teachings of his church and he had made a personal commitment to try to keep the Sabbath holy. The owner was impressed, and James was hired—to work every day but Sunday.
Christopher found his job using another technique he learned in the workshops at the fair. He applied for a job, but at the time there were no openings. When he followed up a few days later he said, “I know that it costs you something to train new employees. I will volunteer to come in and learn whatever you would like me to learn on my own time and then if you think I can do the job to your satisfaction I will be trained and ready to go to work when you have an opening.” This initiative impressed his employer enough that he interviewed him and hired him on the spot. Although the restaurant is open on Sunday, Christopher’s employer respects his beliefs and has not required that he come in and work on that day.
Both of the Lee boys felt they got the jobs they wanted because of what they learned at the career fair, including proper dress for a job interview, cultivating qualities that an employer would look for like grammar and manners, what to expect in applying for a job, and the kinds of questions an employer would hope a job applicant would ask to show that he is really interested in working for him.
James and Christopher Lee are only two out of hundreds of success stories from those who attended the career fair. More than half of the 850 young people who attended got jobs after the fair. Others who couldn’t get work or didn’t want to work for someone else have started their own businesses, and still others actually are involved in their long-range careers, thanks to the stake leaders and the Church Employment System, who sponsored the 1984 Spokane Career Fair.

Grandpa rolled down the window of the car and called, “Take good care of Casper for us while we’re gone, Chadwick.”
“I will,” Chadwick promised.
He waved as Grandpa and Grandma drove away. He scratched Casper’s neck. “See you later, boy. I’ve got to go to school now.”
Chadwick shut the gate and hurried off to school. When he reached home that afternoon, Chadwick went next door to his grandparents’ house to feed Casper. After the dog finished eating they played “chase the stick” until they were both panting.
“Chadwick,” Mom called. “Suppertime.”
Chadwick ruffled Casper’s fur. “I’ll come back to say goodnight,” he promised.
He ran up the steps and into the kitchen. “Casper and I have been having a lot of fun together! He likes me.”
Mom smiled. “Hurry and wash for supper,” she said. “We’re waiting for you.”
After supper Chadwick watched his favorite TV program. When it ended, he jumped up quickly. “I better check on Casper,” he declared.
“You played with him a long time,” Mom said. “It’s almost bedtime.”
“I promised Casper I’d see him before I went to bed,” Chadwick insisted.
Mom sighed. “All right, but be back in ten minutes,” she said firmly.
Chadwick raced down the sidewalk and into Grandma’s yard. Casper wagged his tail happily.
Chadwick checked the water dish. Then they both flopped down beside the doghouse. They were too tired to play and it was awfully dark by now.
Chadwick put his arm around Casper’s neck and gazed into the darkness at his grandparents’ house. “I better go,” Chadwick told the dog. “I’ll be over with your breakfast in the morning.”
After carefully shutting the gate behind him, Chadwick glanced up at the house. He gasped! Then he bounded toward home, opened the back door, and ran through the kitchen.
“What in the world’s the matter?” Mom asked in alarm.
“Grandma has a ghost,” he choked.
Mom stared. “Did you hear someone?”
He shook his head. “It didn’t make any noise but it was watching me from the window.”
Dad came into the kitchen carrying the evening paper. “What’s this about a ghost?”
“I saw it, honest.” Chadwick gulped. His throat was so dry he could hardly talk.
Dad looked puzzled. “Couldn’t be a prowler. Casper would alarm the whole town if a stranger tried to go in there. But maybe I’d better check anyway.”
“It’s not a man, Dad, at least not a real one,” Chadwick insisted.
Dad just smiled and went out the door.
Soon he was back. “Nothing seems to be disturbed. The doors are all locked and the windows are closed,” he said.
“You think I only imagined it,” Chadwick muttered.
Dad patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Grandma and Grandpa have never mentioned a ghost. Maybe it stays out of the way when they’re home. It could be a caretaker-type ghost when they go away.”
Chadwick knew Dad was teasing him. Chadwick smiled at Mom and Dad. He didn’t feel quite so scared now. Maybe he had let his imagination play tricks on him.
The next morning he felt foolish when Dad asked, “Want me to take Casper his breakfast?”
Chadwick shook his head. “Ghosts don’t come out in the daytime, do they?” he asked.
“Well, none that I’ve ever known,” Dad answered. “But then, I haven’t known many ghosts.”
Chadwick looked up at the window before he opened the gate, but he saw nothing there. He gave Casper fresh water and food. The dog was too busy eating when Chadwick left to even look up.
That afternoon whenever Chadwick went to see Casper, he looked at the window half expecting to see something there. But each time the window was empty.
Just before bedtime that night, he walked slowly toward the door. “I have to say goodnight to Casper,” he explained.
“I’m sure the dog is all right,” Mom said kindly. “You don’t have to go unless you really want to.”
Chadwick shook his head. “I promised to take good care of him. It’s my responsibility.”
“If you hurry you can probably catch up with Dad. He went to check the house just a minute ago.”
Chadwick ran down the sidewalk, but Dad was out of sight. He walked slowly around the house. When he reached the gate he peeked up at the window. There was something there! Just then Dad turned on the light in the kitchen. The ghost began to twitch and wiggle.
Chadwick screamed and ran toward the back door. “Dad, Dad,” he shouted.
Dad opened the door wide. “Chadwick! What’s wrong?”
“I saw it again, Dad. The ghost was going right toward you,” Chadwick cried frantically.
Dad sighed. “Let’s turn on every light in the house. Maybe we can find this ghost of yours.”
Chadwick trembled in fear. He followed closely behind his father. They went through the house, turning on the lights as they went.
Chadwick jingled the windchimes hanging from a curtain rod. “Funny place for Grandma to put her windchimes,” he said.
Dad glanced at them. “They could probably be broken on the porch if the wind started blowing very hard. I suppose she thought of them as she went out the door.”
They turned off the lights and went back outside. Dad locked the door. Chadwick checked Casper’s water dish. Then they turned toward home.
Chadwick glanced back over his shoulder. He clutched his father’s arm tightly. “There it is again!” he whispered. Then he began to laugh. “The windchimes! It’s nothing but those crazy windchimes with the streetlights shining on them.”
Dad chuckled. “And so another ghost is laid to rest.”
“You knew all the time that there wasn’t any ghost, didn’t you, Dad?” Chadwick asked.
Dad put his arm around Chadwick’s shoulders. “Well, let’s just say I had some mighty strong doubts. But everyone should meet a ghost at least once in his lifetime!”

It was the first time I’d been able to drive my family’s car to work in weeks. When I pulled into the parking lot, I failed to notice how inappropriately fast I was driving. I thought a one-handed parking job would be rather impressive.
Crunch!
I was wrong.
The car next to me jolted from the impact.
“You just hit that car!” I yelled at myself.
My forehead sunk to the dashboard in despair. I felt like such an idiot.
Had anyone seen? I looked around but didn’t spot anybody. My heart was thumping in my chest. I threw open the door and ran around the front of my car to survey the damage. I examined the front bumper and right panel carefully but saw no sign anything had happened.
Then I turned and looked at the new Toyota Camry I had hit. On the left, back panel there was a small dent where some of the shiny green paint had come off.
I scanned the parking lot again. No one was around. I’d heard kids at school talking about dinging cars and just taking off. It happens to everyone.
“I could just leave, and no one would ever know,” I thought. “If it ends up costing very much I won’t have enough money to take my vacation to Europe in a couple of months. These people probably have tons of money anyway, and I’ve been waiting my whole life for this trip.”
I clutched my wad of keys and gave my predicament a little more thought. I could see my forehead wrinkled with indecision in the reflection of the car window. I took a deep breath and knew it didn’t matter that no one would know. I would know. I could take off and avoid having to pay for the damage I had caused, but I wouldn’t be able to escape denting my soul.
I took out my planner and a pen and wrote a note to stick on the car’s windshield.
“I’m sorry I hit your car. Here’s my name, number, and e-mail address. Please contact me so I can pay for the damage.”
I walked into work feeling sick to my stomach. If I’d done the right thing, why did I feel so awful?
The owners of the car called me that night. I felt embarrassed and angry at myself and almost choked when they told me it was going to cost $800 to get the panel replaced. How was that possible? It took me months to make that much money at my part-time job. I knew I could kiss my vacation plans good-bye.
Even though I felt horrible about what had happened, I never regretted my decision. It felt good to know my integrity was worth more to me than $800 and a little embarrassment.
I learned that honesty is sometimes just between Heavenly Father and me. Honesty is about doing the right thing when nobody is watching and then facing the uncomfortable consequences afterward. I could have escaped the monetary consequences of my mistake but not without cheapening my integrity. I know Heavenly Father is proud of me for keeping my soul dent-free.
By Allyson Taylor

He married Louie Emily Shurtliff in the Salt Lake Temple in 1898. One year later he was called on a mission to Great Britain for two years and was loyally supported by his wife. Upon his return, the two resumed their lives together and were blessed with the births of two daughters. Sadly, during a difficult third pregnancy Louie passed away.

In his sorrow Joseph prayed, “Help me, I pray Thee, to so live that I shall be worthy to meet her in eternal glory, to be united again with her, never again to be separated. … Help me to rear my precious babies that they shall remain pure and spotless throughout their lives.”8

At the urging of his father, the bereaved father of two prayerfully sought for a wife and a mother for his young children. His righteous desires were blessed in having Ethel Georgina Reynolds brought into his life. They were married in November 1908 in the Salt Lake Temple. This marvelous woman became the mother of Joseph’s first two daughters and later gave birth to nine additional children.

On one occasion, his wife’s burdens weighed heavily on the Apostle’s mind as he traveled to a stake conference. He wrote her a letter in which he said: “I am thinking of you and wish I could be with you constantly for the next few weeks, to help take care of you. I will help you all I can as it is, and hope you will be able to feel my influence. Tell the children to be kind to you and to each other.”9 He then shared with her the deep feelings of his heart in the form of a poem, which later became one of our hymns, “Does the Journey Seem Long?” (no. 127).

Sadly, Ethel passed away in 1937. At the time of her death, there were five unmarried children in the home. Elder Smith felt impressed to seek another wife and companion. In 1938 he married Jessie Evans Smith in the Salt Lake Temple.

From the day I was baptized until I graduated from high school, I was the only member of the Church in my school. My classmates would say, “You don’t smoke? You don’t drink? You aren’t a man; you’re a sissy!”
At the end of the school year when I was in 11th or 12th grade, some of my classmates brought alcohol to a party. They grabbed me, held me down, and tried to pour champagne in my mouth. They didn’t want to hurt me; they just wanted to make fun of me. Luckily, I was able to get away. I never regretted keeping the Word of Wisdom. Some of my classmates have since passed away, but I’m thankful to still be alive, healthy, and trying to serve the Lord.

“ZOOM! ZOOM!” Bobby flew into the room with his arms outstretched, almost knocking the lamp over.
“Please be careful, Bobby,” his mother reminded him.
“I’m not Bobby, I’m a jet plane flying around the world.”
“Well then, Jet Plane, please fly carefully so you don’t crash,” Mother suggested.
Bobby flew out of the back door, zooming loudly.
A few minutes later, Mother was putting a casserole into the oven when she almost tripped over Bobby. He was crawling on the floor, growling and snapping his teeth.
“My goodness, Jet Plane, you startled me. What’s the matter, did you crash?” Mother asked.
“I’m not a jet plane, anymore. I’m an alligator and I’m looking for people to eat. CRUNCH! CRUNCH! You might taste good.”
“Oh, no, Alligator,” Mother said, picking up her broom and sweeping the “alligator” into the living room. “I’m too tough and mean to eat.” She heard the make-believe alligator crunch and grrrr his way across the room.
“Sue, please come and set the table,” Mother called.
Bobby, dwarfed by Daddy’s hat and shirt and stumbling in Daddy’s enormous shoes, came into the kitchen with Sue.
“Where’s the paper?” he asked in a deep voice.
“Alligators don’t read papers, do they?” Mother asked.
“I’m not an alligator. I’m Daddy.” Bobby said, sitting back in Daddy’s chair, with the newspaper completely covering him.
“Daddy, would you ask everyone to come and eat,” Mother said a few minutes later. When Bobby didn’t answer, she looked behind the newspaper. There was Daddy’s hat, shirt, and shoes on the chair but no Bobby.
As Father came in from the backyard Mother went looking for Bobby. She found him out on the sidewalk on his hands and knees, barking at the cars.
“Please come in and eat, Bobby,” Mother said.
“I’m not Bobby. Can’t you see I’m a mean dog scaring the robbers away?”
“Well, Doggie, come on in and eat,” Mother said.
Bobby barked and romped to the table. Sitting on his “hind legs” and panting, he started lapping up his soup.
“Now, just a minute. We don’t allow dogs at the table, Mother,” Father said. “Please take the dog out back and give him some dog food to eat.”
“But I’m not a dog anymore,” Bobby wailed.
“Well, I’m afraid we don’t allow alligators and jet planes at the table, either,” said Mother.
“I’m not a jet plane or an alligator now.”
“Then who are you?”
“I’m Bobby.”
“Oh, Bobby,” Mother said, giving him a big hug, “We’re so glad to see you! There have been too many strange things and people around here today. And I’ve missed my Bobby.”
Bobby began to laugh. “It’s fun to be a jet plane and a dog and an alligator,” he said. “But I like best being just your Bobby.”

At times the performance of duty, the response to a divine call, or the reaction to a spiritual prompting is not overwhelming. On occasion, however, the duty to respond is downright overpowering. I experienced such a situation prior to the general conference of April 1966. That’s 35 years ago, but I remember it vividly.
I had received my assignment to speak at one of the conference sessions and had prepared and committed to memory a message entitled “Meeting Your Goliath.” This was based on the account of the famous battle waged by David and Goliath of olden times.
Then I received a telephone call from President David O. McKay. The conversation went about like this: “Brother Monson, this is President McKay calling. How are you?”
I took a deep breath and answered, “Oh, I’m fine, President, and looking forward to conference.”
“That’s why I’m calling, Brother Monson. The Saturday morning session will be rebroadcast on Sunday as our Easter message to the world. I will be speaking to an Easter theme and would like you to join me and speak during that important session to that type of theme.”
“Of course, President. I will be happy to do so.”
That’s when the extent of this brief conversation really dawned on me. All of a sudden “Meeting Your Goliath” didn’t quite measure up to an Easter message. I knew I must begin to prepare all over again. There was so little time. Indeed, my “Goliath” stood before me.
That night I cleared the kitchen table and placed my typewriter on the tabletop along with a ream of bond paper, with a trusty wastepaper basket by my side to hold all the false starts that accompany such an assignment of preparation. I began at about 7:00 p.m. and had not written a satisfactory line by 1:00 a.m. The wastebasket was filled, but my mind certainly was not. What was I to do? The clock was running—indeed, it was racing. I paused to pray.
Soon thereafter there came to my mind the sadness of my neighbors Mark and Wilma Shumway in the recent loss of their youngest child. I thought to myself, “Perhaps I could speak directly to them and peripherally to all others, for who hasn’t lost a dear one and had occasion to grieve?” My fingers raced over the typewriter keyboard but could barely keep up with my thoughts.
As the first dim light of morning peered through our kitchen window, I had finished the message. The task remained to learn it and then deliver it to the world. Rarely have I struggled so hard to fill a prophetic assignment. However, Heavenly Father had heard my prayer. I shall never forget the experience.

Brother Misalucha told about sharing the gospel with a friend, Larry Yumul. “He asked me why I became a Latter-day Saint,” Brother Misalucha said. “I told him that I had been looking for a church with more answers, a church that practiced what it preached, a church that could teach us things we hadn’t known before.”
Two and one-half months later, Brother Yumul joined the Church. He had a neighbor who used to profane, gamble, and dump his trash in front of the Yumul’s house. Brother Yumul’s attitude toward him changed. “He began treating him like a good neighbor and tried to be a good Christian to him,” Brother Misaluchas explained. “The formerly lousy neighbor cleaned up his act and joined the Church! Now he’s shared the gospel with another family and they’ve been baptized, and they’ve helped introduce the missionaries to another family that also joined the Church!”