Gospel Story Finder

For a brief period many years ago, President Hinckley was a Seminary teacher. Currently, he serves as chairman of the Executive Committee of the Combined Board of Education and Brigham Young University Board of Trustees—and has so led for several years during a period when the Seminary and Institute program has expanded in a remarkable way around the world. President Hinckley, who received the University of Utah Distinguished Alumni Award in 1971 and an Honorary Doctor of Humanities from Brigham Young University in 1979, possesses a broad perspective about education.

Consequently, returned missionaries provide valuable leadership in the Church, especially in the developing countries of the world.

Recently my wife and I were in Colombia. I interviewed some men, hoping that the Lord would reveal who might be the new stake president. The man called was a returned missionary, less than thirty years of age. With those few years, he was long in spirit and experience. He had served a mission. He had been a mission leader. He was prepared to serve and to lead.

We enjoy spending time as a family. Every Saturday we go to the beach near our home. We eat shrimp—our favorite food—and tacos and tortas (a kind of sandwich). We walk along the Malecón, or waterfront street. We make sandcastles and play in the ocean.

Including Everyone
Several girls who aren’t members of the Church have joined in and become great friends! One of them loves what she’s learned so much that she wants to be baptized. When they visited the Mesa Temple visitors’ center, this friend said, “I’m going to go inside that temple someday.”

Photographs by Christina Smith
For violinist Claire Z. of Idaho, USA, music has always been important. “It just makes everything better,” she says. “It gives you something to focus on and enjoy and share with others.” Music also gives Claire a way to share her beliefs. “I’m not very outgoing. Music is a way to bear my testimony.”
Growing up, Claire loved playing the violin and thought about studying it in college. But a four-wheeling accident almost changed her path forever.
When Claire was 13, she and her friend were riding a four-wheeler together near Claire’s house. At a curve in the road, Claire lost control of the vehicle and it flipped. Claire’s friend was unharmed, but Claire’s left hand—the hand she most needed to play the violin—was crushed underneath a metal bar. Claire and her friend crawled out from under the vehicle and walked home, singing hymns and Primary songs to keep up their spirits.
It took several surgeries and a year of physical therapy before Claire could even think about playing the violin again. At first it seemed impossible because the fingers of her left hand were weak and most of her ring finger had been amputated. Between surgeries, Claire found comfort playing the piano with her right hand.
Claire struggled with feeling angry and sad at the beginning of her trial. She remembers one night when she was having a hard time. “I felt like I was suffocating,” Claire says, “like something really heavy was lying on my chest, and I couldn’t breathe. Finally, I just knelt down and prayed, ‘Heavenly Father, please help me to get through this and be OK.’ And immediately that weight, that pressure just lifted, and I felt like I could do it. That was a really amazing experience. You can get through hard things with Heavenly Father.”
Before the accident, Claire had been the youngest member of her city’s symphony. After the accident, she was worried she would never play the violin again.
Claire’s violin teacher started to research how to build a backward violin that could be held with the right hand instead of the left. Everything on and inside the violin had to be moved around. Other music teachers and professional musicians said it was impossible, but Claire, her mother, and her violin teacher knew it could be done and eventually found someone who would make the violin.
Once the new violin was ready, it was very frustrating for Claire to learn to play with her right hand. She’d spent years training her left hand and fingers to move quickly across violin strings. Now she had to start over and teach her right hand to do it all. She felt discouraged by her memories of playing, because she was now unable to play as well as she had before. But with time, practice, and prayer, she did improve.
After six months of daily practice, Claire eventually earned a spot back in the symphony with her friends. She also put on a piano and violin recital with her friends at the hospital where she’d been treated. Those who know her think of her as an inspiration and have learned from her example of hard work, determination, and faith in the Lord.
Claire has learned a lot from her trial, but she thinks the most important lesson is to stay positive. “Don’t let your anger control you,” she says. “You have to get negative feelings out because they’re all in there, but make sure you’re focusing on the good in your situation and finding the positive after you have those moments. You have to make yourself think positively and find the good things, however few or little you think they may be.”
Claire says that good support also helped her stay positive. “I have great family, friends, and neighbors who were just happy, visited me, and brought me lots of treats.”
Claire’s life is very different from the life she may have imagined a few years ago, but she says, “I don’t think I’d ever want it to change. I’ve met so many amazing people.” With the Lord’s help, hard work, determination, and a positive attitude, Claire can once again follow her dream and continue playing the violin.

A few weeks after their marriage, “T” felt they needed some recreation and suggested a tennis game. “I tell you, I never was beaten so badly in my life at anything,” President Benson laughs. “I said, ‘Where did you learn to play like that?’ Flora replied, ‘Oh, I won the women’s singles championship at Utah State Agricultural College.’ I hadn’t known that.”

A momentous event for the Church occurred on February 23 when Elder Rasband dedicated the BYU-Pathway Worldwide GEC housed at the Lahug Stake meetinghouse within the Cebu Philippines Temple Complex. Joining Elder Rasband at the event was Brother Matt Eyring, Vice President for Advancement at BYU–Pathway Worldwide.
The center will serve as a hub for students enrolled in BYU–Pathway Worldwide, an online higher education institution sponsored by the Church. Moreover, the center is the first of its kind in Asia and one of only four operating worldwide.
“We ask a special blessing on the students who will come here to learn and grow,” Elder Rasband implored in his dedicatory prayer, “to become more self-reliant, and to prepare to accomplish the responsibilities and challenges they will face in their lives.”
Students happily showed the Apostle the different features of the facility, which includes career preparation stations, interview practice rooms, remote workstations, English language classrooms, and collaborative study spaces.
“How grateful we are that faithful students in the Philippines can receive an advanced education because of these centers,” Elder Rasband expressed online later. “This center will not only bless BYU-Pathway Worldwide students—but also their families and the broader community.”
Seventeen-year-old attendee Haydin Valerie Porlage of Kamputhaw Ward, Cebu City Stake is one of the Latter-day Saint beneficiaries of BYU- Pathway Worldwide GEC. “I see the importance of education in our lives,” she emphasizes, “and how it helps us to manage our intellectual and spiritual skills.”

But in addition to the blessings, life for the Pitakpongs has had its traumas, too. Some seven years ago, President Pitakpong was out of town on business when an intruder in his home struck Sister Pitakpong with a wrench and stole a gold necklace she was wearing. “My son, Wuthikrai, went to his mother’s aid, and he, too, was hit, as was my wife’s mother. The man ran away as my daughter screamed for help.
“My wife had to be hospitalized, and she still suffers from severe headaches that make it difficult for her to concentrate.”
But the family finds comfort in living the gospel of Jesus Christ. “Being sealed together in the temple brought a special spirit into our family,” says President Pitakpong. “It strengthened our individual testimonies. Now, not only does our sixteen-year-old son want to go on a mission, but his two younger sisters want to go, too.”

I remember the story of Emma Smith trying to escape the persecution in Missouri. The Mississippi River was only partially frozen—not enough that a wagon with people and their possessions could travel on it. It is a wide river, and it was dangerous to cross. Emma had a six-year-old child holding onto one side of her skirt, an eight-year-old on the other side, a two-year-old in this arm, and an infant in that arm.

The sister-in-law of one of Joseph’s scribes had sewn cotton bags that buttoned around the waist. In those bags under her skirt, Emma carried the only copy of Joseph’s translation of the Bible, which he had been working on for months. With the documents and with her children, she took one step after another across that frozen river, hoping she wouldn’t fall in.

To me, that is the consummate signal of courage and faith—that when you need to do something for what you believe, you just move forward, one foot in front of the other.

Reassurance from others is an important step towards faith. For example, there is the comfort given by parents to children afraid of the dark, or a wife to a husband about to change his place of work. I remember during my Royal Air Force service in India and Burma during World War II, one of our colleagues was always imagining a twisted stick to be a snake. We had to reassure him on numerous occasions to allay his fears. As Theseus remarked in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, “Or in the night, imagining some fear, how easy is a bush supposed a bear” (act 5, sc. 1, lines 21–22).

The summer after my junior year in high school, my friend Barbara found out that the Methodist church around the corner from my house was a Japanese congregation and that they held Saturday classes in Japanese culture for the elementary school children. Barbara, my sister Carol, and I thought it would be fun to learn to write those beautiful Japanese characters and to make a kimono, so we asked if we could enroll. We had fun using the brush and ink to make the strokes for ka, ki, ku, ke, ko, ga, gi, gu, ge, go. We learned to recognize and write our names and to sing the famous song “Sakura.”
We were just about finished with our kimonos when we learned that the church was having a bazaar, so we decided to go see the children perform their songs and display their calligraphy. While we sat waiting for the performance to start, we studied the program and found that we could recognize one or two Japanese words: the name of one of the songs, “Sakura,” and next to it our names—Barbara, Jean, and Carol. We looked at each other in dismay. How dare they put us on the program. We weren’t little children. We were not going to get up, three grown-up girls, and sing a silly little song in front of all those strangers.
We continued to fuss about it indignantly. I turned to the seven-year-old girl behind me just to verify that those were the symbols for our names. “Yes,” she smiled, and then she patted my arm and said, “Do it with grace.”
I turned in my seat much abashed to have been put in my place by a little child. I saw then that to get up and simply sing the song would be much less conspicuous than to sit and fuss and protest about our dignity and rights. And I understand now that to simply have done it would not have been enough. The child said, “Do it with grace.” I see that it is more than doing it and more than doing it well: it is something about attitude, willingness. It means being gracious, like a princess, like a queen.
Who did I think I was that I would disrupt and spoil their program? Who did I think they were, the little children and the old pastor and his bent little wife?

Several times during the trip, the pioneers talked with mountain men. Jim Bridger discouraged them from moving all the Saints to the Salt Lake Valley until they knew if grain could be grown there. He was so convinced that grain could not be grown that he offered (US) $1,000 for their first bushel of corn. But God was leading the Saints. President Young told Bridger, “Wait a little, and we will show you.”

The words in one line of the chorus originally read, “Teach me all that I must know.” After the song was written, President Spencer W. Kimball attended a conference where a Primary children’s chorus sang the song. He later asked if Sister Randall would agree to change “Teach me all that I must know” to “Teach me all that I must do,” and so the line reads today.
“To know isn’t enough,” President Kimball said. “The devils know and tremble; the devils know everything. We have to do something” (“New Verse Is Written for Popular Song,” Church News, April 1, 1978, 16).

Kathy Preece: “I was a captain of ten. I learned one thing and that was the responsibility of it all. We had some problems in our cabin, and I was called on as captain to kind of bear them and to try and work them out, and it was a good experience. When everybody is working and sharing together, it’s so beautiful!”

Tillie could hardly contain her excitement. She crunched through the brightly colored autumn leaves with her bare toes, clutching Papa’s hand tightly. “Soon I’ll have some new shoes to jump in the leaves with,” Tillie thought happily.
Fall had come early this year, and the tanner, Brother Marshall, did not have any leather to make shoes. So when Papa heard that a man had come from Salt Lake City to sell shoes, he was determined to get Tillie and her little sister, Lucy, a new pair for the winter months.
Papa led Tillie and Lucy into the small tent where the man was selling the shoes. Tillie gasped when she looked at the beautiful leather shoes stacked side by side.
Little Lucy clapped her hands as the kind man slipped smooth brown shoes on her feet and tied the laces for her. They were soft on her toes and squeaked a little when she danced around in the tent.
Tillie looked hopefully at the shoe seller, but he shook his head sadly.
“I’m sorry, miss, but I’m afraid I don’t have any shoes in your size,” he said.
Papa paid the man for Lucy’s shoes and thanked him, then led Tillie and Lucy outside.
Tillie choked back tears as she held Papa’s hand, trying not to be envious as Lucy ran ahead, stirring up little clouds of dust with the heels of her new leather shoes. She was happy that Lucy had new shoes, but Tillie knew she needed shoes before winter. The days were already growing chilly, and it wouldn’t be long until snow came.
When they reached the house, Lucy ran to help Mama with the milking. Papa sat down in his favorite chair and began to untie his tall leather boots. Tillie gasped as Papa picked up a knife and began slicing leather off the tops of his boots. She knew that Papa’s boots protected his feet when he worked.
When he finished, Papa handed her the strips of leather.
“Now,” he said, smiling, “run over to Brother Marshall’s and ask him to make you a pair of shoes.”
Tillie threw her arms around Papa’s neck and hugged him tightly. Then she dashed out of the house. She reached Brother Marshall’s shop and handed him the leather.
“Could you please make me a new pair of shoes?” she asked.
Brother Marshall pulled a stool over for Tillie to sit on and carefully measured her feet.
“All right, Tillie, come back on Friday and your shoes will be ready,” he said.
Tillie thanked him and ran back home, scattering leaves happily along her way.
That Friday, Papa and Tillie went to Brother Marshall’s shop to get her shoes. She slipped them on, delighted at how warm her toes felt. They looked just like Lucy’s shoes, and they even squeaked a little when she walked.
As they thanked Brother Marshall and left the shop, Tillie held Papa’s hand and looked at her new shoes. Then she looked at Papa’s boots, tied together now so they wouldn’t fall down. Tillie felt warm inside. She knew Papa loved her very much.
When they got home, Tillie grabbed Lucy and led her outside. There was a big pile of crunchy leaves that was perfect for jumping into.

He learned that Grandpa Barnes took ballroom dance classes. Grandma Barnes loved to memorize words and make scrapbooks. Grandma White used to be scared of singing in front of people. But later she sang at her high school graduation. Grandpa White learned how to make model airplanes when he was little, and he still liked to make them.

When business meetings brought me to my childhood hometown of Mansfield, Massachusetts, I looked up the Web page of my old middle school. At the end of a list of current faculty members was Mrs. Christine Pfeil, my eighth-grade English teacher who was a truly influential person in my life.
When I was in eighth grade, difficulties at home left me angry and distracted from school responsibilities. Other teachers didn’t pay attention to my altered attitude and slipping grades, but Mrs. Pfeil took a personal interest. She would never accept less than my best. Often she would write on my assignments, “You can do better—try again.” Grudgingly, I would redo the assignment, thinking, “OK, you want something better? I’ll give you something better!” In her class, I felt intelligent and appreciated. When I left Qualters Middle School after eighth grade, I knew I could succeed scholastically because of Mrs. Pfeil’s belief in me.
As I looked at her name on the Web page that day, it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly important to tell her as soon as possible how she had influenced my life. I determined to find her, so at noon the next day, I excused myself from a business meeting and sped to Qualters.
I had just tried her locked classroom door when I saw Mrs. Pfeil walking down the hallway. “Carl Nelson!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in 25 years! What are you doing here?”
Impelled to deliver my message, I began abruptly. “I feel I need to tell you personally how important you were in my life. In eighth grade I was going through difficult times, but you expected my best. Precious few demanded that much from me then. As far as I can tell, your faith in me was the major reason I began trusting in my own abilities. I don’t know what my life would have been like without a teacher like you.”
As I spoke, Mrs. Pfeil’s eyes became wet. “I have to tell you a story,” she said. “I have always wanted to be a writer, even though I felt God wanted me to teach. Last night I was feeling hurt that I had never received any appreciation for my work. I told God that unless I received some thanks the very next day, I was going to retire from teaching and work on my writing. And now here you come after all this time to thank me on this particular day—this blessing is almost too much!”
Mrs. Pfeil and I were unable to talk longer. Her students began arriving, and I left, humbled that Heavenly Father let me share in helping one of His children. Reflecting upon my brief experience with Mrs. Pfeil, I remained impressed that no matter who we are or what church we belong to, our loving Father works in our lives to answer our prayers.

The Lord continued to reveal temple ordinances to the Prophet. In 1842, with the Nauvoo Temple still unfinished, Joseph Smith gathered Church leaders, including Newel, in the upper floor of his Red Brick Store and administered the endowment ordinance. When part of the temple—the attic—was dedicated, both Ann and Newel administered the endowment to other Saints before they left for the Salt Lake Valley.

During the first part of September, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles met with Saints in England, Germany (where he served as a full-time missionary nearly 40 years ago), and Denmark. In each setting, Elder Bednar taught the doctrine of Christ and emphasized the power of the Atonement. He also continued to teach the principle of moral agency and our individual responsibility to act. “Moral agency is the power and capacity of independent action,” he said. “And as we act appropriately and in accordance with the teachings of Jesus Christ, our very natures are changed through His Atonement and by the power of the Holy Ghost.”

In 1895, Joseph Alma Ott, my great-uncle, became the first missionary called from the small southern Utah town of Tropic. He was the third son of David Benton Ott and Hannah Normington, sturdy pioneers who helped transform the southern Utah deserts into farms and cattle ranges.
The mission call to Germany came just a few weeks after twenty-four-year-old Joseph was married to Elizabeth Jolley in the St. George (Utah) Temple. Like many others of his generation, Joseph left behind everything he knew and loved and set off on his long journey to Europe.
Unfortunately, tragedy was Elder Ott’s first and only missionary companion. While disembarking from the ship in Germany, he slipped and fell into the cold water. He became ill from exposure to the water and frigid winter weather. His condition worsened, and, within a month of his arrival in the mission field, Joseph died. He was buried at Dresden, a beautiful city now located in the German Democratic Republic. His only possession of value sent home by the local authorities was a gold watch that later was carried by my grandfather and then my father on their missions.
The news of Elder Ott’s death devastated the family. Joseph was dead, his life wasted, his body buried in a distant land. Elizabeth, who weeks before had danced gaily as a new bride, was a grief-stricken young widow. Joseph’s father mourned even as Jacob of old mourned when his Joseph was presumed dead at the hands of savage beasts.
Although time and their faith eventually softened the blow, the story of his ill-fated mission was passed from generation to generation.