Gospel Story Finder

Rachel ran through the living room and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom. She and her best friend, Becca, were going to the park to try out Becca’s new rollerblades.
As Rachel was pulling her own rollerblades out from under her bed, Mom came into the room. “I’m going over to Sister Heaton’s for a few hours, and I need you to stay with David.”
“But Becca and I are going to the park right now!”
“I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Rachel, but Sister Heaton still isn’t feeling well after her operation, and I promised to help take care of her today. David will be up from his nap in about half an hour, and then you two can play for a while until Dad gets home.”
“But I don’t want to play with David—I want to go to the park!”
“I know you do, but today you need to stay home and take care of your little brother. You can go to the park tomorrow. I’m sorry, but Sister Heaton needs me, and I need you to help me.”
As Rachel watched Mom going down the street, she was so angry that she almost cried. Why did she have to take care of David? It wasn’t fair that she had to give up a trip to the park just so her mom could take care of somebody.
She called Becca to tell her the bad news, and as she hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. It was Aunt Pearl, her mom’s younger sister.
“Hi, Aunt Pearl. Mom’s not here.”
“That’s OK—I can’t stay. I just came to return your mom’s sewing machine. Mine is fixed now, so I don’t need hers anymore. And I thought that maybe I’d spend a few minutes with my favorite niece!”
Rachel gave her a weak smile and tried to seem happy, but Aunt Pearl noticed Rachel wasn’t really feeling happy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I was going to go to the park with Becca, but Mom told me I had to stay and take care of David so she could help a woman in our ward.”
“That’s too bad. If it were any other day but today, I’d stay so you could be with your friend. But I have a doctor’s appointment, and I can’t reschedule it.”
“I guess I’ll be OK. It’s just that I really wanted to go to the park today.”
“You know, there might be something I could do.”
“What?”
“Sit down with me, and I’ll tell you a story.”
Rachel wasn’t sure a story would fix things—a story couldn’t baby-sit for her. But Aunt Pearl usually knew what she was talking about, so Rachel followed her to the couch.
Aunt Pearl began: “When your great-great-grandmother Emily Burk left Nauvoo to come west, she had an old hen she wanted to bring with her. It had been doing something rather unusual—sitting on a nest of duck eggs—and Emily just couldn’t leave her behind. So she set up a box in the wagon for the nest. Soon the ducklings hatched, and every night when the wagon train stopped, Emily filled a washtub with water and let the little ducks swim. Everyone in camp came to watch them.
“You see, Rachel, part of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is helping others. There’s even a scripture in the Book of Mormon that tells us how important it is to ‘bear one another’s burdens’ [Mosiah 18:8]. Heavenly Father wants us to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.”
“You mean just like Emily took care of the chicken and like the chicken took care of the ducks?”
“And just like the Lord took care of the pioneers and how He still takes care of all of us. He wants us to be happy, so He watches over us.”
“Why doesn’t He take care of Sister Heaton instead of having Mom do it?”
“That’s how He is taking care of Sister Heaton—through your mother. Most of the time Heavenly Father answers our prayers through someone else.”
“So Mom is Heavenly Father’s answer to Sister Heaton’s prayers?”
“Probably. Your mother is helping Sister Heaton rest and get her mind off her troubles, sort of like those ducklings helping the tired pioneers find a little bit of enjoyment at the end of their long days.”
“But why do I have to baby-sit?”
“So your mom can help Sister Heaton. The ducks wouldn’t have been able to bring some enjoyment to the pioneers if the chicken hadn’t cared for them. Your mom wouldn’t be able to help Sister Heaton if she didn’t know you would take good care of your brother while she’s gone.”
“So, in a way, I’m helping Sister Heaton too?”
“In a very big way.”
“Then I guess I don’t feel so bad about waiting until tomorrow to go to the park.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
As Aunt Pearl left, Rachel heard David waking up. On her way upstairs to get him, she thought more about what Aunt Pearl had said. Rachel was still a bit disappointed to miss out on the trip to the park, but it helped to know that taking care of David helped Heavenly Father take care of Sister Heaton.

A good example of compassion and service making a difference is the example of Don and Marian Summers, which represents the experiences of many other missionary couples. While serving in England, they were asked to serve the last six months of their mission in the Swindon Branch to teach and assist in activating members. For eighty years Swindon had been a branch with a faithful few and with many good members becoming less active.
Don and Marian recently wrote me, recalling the following:
“Our first visit to Swindon Branch was a bit disheartening as we met with the Saints in a cold, rented hall. The congregation numbered seventeen, including President and Sister Hales and four missionaries. Still wearing our winter coats, we all huddled around a small, inadequate heater while we listened to a Sunday School lesson.”
The letter continued:
“A branch member approached me one day: ‘Elder Summers, can I give you a bit of advice? Never mention the word tithing to the Swindon members; they really don’t believe in it, and all you will do is upset them.’”
Brother Summers said, “We did teach tithing and all the other gospel principles. With example and the encouragement of a branch president, there was a change of heart, and faith and activity started to increase. The membership records were completely updated as we visited every member’s home. When the leaders started caring, the members began to respond, and a whole new spirit pervaded the branch. The members became excited again about the gospel and helping one another.
“Firesides were held in our homes, and we worked closely with stake and other proselyting missionaries. We made a promise to the Lord that we would not let one new or reactivated member fall into inactivity while we were in Swindon.
“One young couple had a difficult adjustment to make as their customs, manners, and dress were different. They became offended at suggestions for changes. The couple twice wrote to the bishop [since by then it was a ward] and asked to have their names removed from the Church records. In the last letter they forbade any of the members to visit them, so Marian and I went to the florist and purchased a beautiful plant of chrysanthemums and had it delivered to the young couple. It was a simple note: ‘We love you; we miss you; we need you. Please come back.’ Signed, Swindon Ward.
“The next Sunday was fast and testimony meeting and our last Sunday in Swindon. There were 103 members in attendance compared to seventeen six months before. The young couple was there and, in bearing his testimony, the husband thanked the Swindon Ward for not giving up on them.”

As a young man, I had many questions about the Church. Some of my questions were sincere. Others were not and reflected the doubts of others.
I often discussed my questions with my mother. I am sure that she could sense that many of my questions were sincere and from my heart. I think she was a little disappointed in those questions that were less sincere and more argumentative. However, she never put me down for having questions. She would listen and try to answer them. When she sensed that she had said all that she could and that I still had questions, she would say something like this: “David, that is a good question. While you are searching and reading and praying for the answer, why don’t you do the things you know you should and not do the things you know you should not?” This became the pattern for my search for truth. Through study, prayer, and keeping the commandments, I found that there are answers to all of my important questions. I also found that for some questions, continuing faith, patience, and revelation are needed.2
Mom put the responsibility of developing faith and finding answers on me. She knew that the important answers would come from my seeking truth the way that Heavenly Father has prescribed. She knew that I needed to find the truth. She knew that I needed to be sincere in my questions and be willing to act on what I already knew to be true. She knew that I needed to study and pray and that I needed to develop greater patience as I sought answers from the Lord. Willingness to be patient is part of our search for truth and part of the Lord’s pattern of revealing truth.3
Over time I came to know that my mother was teaching me Heavenly Father’s pattern for seeking truth. Faith grew, answers began to come, and I accepted a mission call.

We shouldn’t try to force spiritual things.71 If we try to, we may rely on emotions that mimic spiritual promptings but are not. These emotions may include sentimentality, awe, empathy, excitement—or raging hormones.

Similarly, it is an advanced spiritual skill to know that revelation has not been received and to be prompted not to act. I know a Relief Society president, Sister Jones,72 whose first counselor moved out of the ward and needed to be released. Sister Jones felt inspired to recommend that her second counselor be called as her first counselor but didn’t feel prompted to recommend a new second counselor. The bishop encouraged her to consider several qualified sisters. She gave prayerful consideration, but affirmative confirmation didn’t come, and she knew it. So she waited, and she knew that she should wait.

Two weeks later, a relatively new convert, Sister Brown,73 moved into the ward. Sister Jones now felt a prompting to recommend that Sister Brown be interviewed by the bishop and, if he felt a spiritual confirmation, that she be called as the second counselor.

Sister Brown was called and served for several years as a counselor to Sister Jones—not only helping significantly but learning from Sister Jones and the experienced first counselor. Upon Sister Jones’s release, Sister Brown was called to be the new ward Relief Society president. I am grateful that Sister Jones did not force a conclusion prematurely and instead had become sufficiently spiritually mature to know that revelation hadn’t been received and that she had been prompted to wait on the Lord.

The Prophet experienced at least one face-to-face spiritual encounter with Satan at Far West, Missouri, which is worth recounting. Heber C. Kimball related the incident:

One of his children was taken very sick; he laid his hands upon the child, [but] when it got better; as soon as he went out of doors, the child was taken sick again; he again laid his hands upon it, so that is again recovered. This occurred several times, when Joseph inquired of the Lord what it all meant; . . . he had an open vision, and saw the devil in person, who contended with Joseph, face to face, for some time. He said it was his house, it belonged to him, and Joseph had no right there. Then Joseph rebuked Satan in the name of the Lord, and he departed and touched the child no more.

I sat down with my own children several years ago after a tragedy occurred locally. I felt compelled to share with them that through Jesus Christ, there is always a way forward. There is nothing they could do, or fail to do, that would make suicide the answer. At their tender age, I had no reason to think they were at risk, but I knew there was more I could be doing to prepare my children for handling dangerous, potentially suicidal thoughts.
Immediately after I discussed suicide with my own children, my nine-year-old son asked if he could speak to me privately. He told me about times he had imagined taking his own life, complete with how he would do it. I never could have dreamed he was having these thoughts. I hugged him, thanked him for his bravery in telling me, and told him that no matter what he ever did or ever thought, he was treasured and needed in our family. And I committed to myself to watch him for any further signs of suicidal ideation or mental illness.

I had just started a new job and was trying to save money to serve a mission. As time went on, new employees were hired, and I was assigned to train a young woman about my age.
Maria (name has been changed), my new co-worker, was obviously concerned with her appearance. She conformed to the popular trend of wearing short skirts, dark makeup, and bold hairstyles, and she also had developed some bad habits, such as smoking. Despite our differences, Maria and I worked well together. She was pleasant to talk with, and time passed quickly when we were together.
One day at work she asked, “Raquel, do you ever go dancing?” I told her I attended dances at my church. She asked which church it was, and I explained that it is called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that its members are often called Mormons. Maria told me she had heard of the Mormons, but she didn’t know any of our beliefs. I was excited to share more about the Church with her, and I offered her a copy of the Book of Mormon, which she was happy to accept.
In time I invited her to attend the branch closest to her home. I was quite surprised when she accepted my invitation. We decided to meet at the train station the following Sunday so we could go to the meetings together.
Sunday arrived, and as my train approached the station where we were to meet, I peered out the window, looking for the Maria I knew from work. To my surprise, I saw instead a young lady whose skirt was modest and whose hair and makeup were all that could be asked of a Latter-day Saint young woman. But it was Maria!
I confess that I had doubted she would be there waiting for me, and I also doubted that the gospel would produce any changes in her life—inside or out.
We greeted each other and walked the 15 minutes to church. We went to Relief Society first, where Maria wanted to answer the questions and participate in everything the teacher asked us to do. She also enjoyed Sunday School and sacrament meeting. I introduced her to the sister missionaries, who invited her to hear the lessons, and Maria readily agreed.
A short time later we lost contact because she didn’t continue with her job. But it wasn’t long before I received an invitation to her baptism. I was disappointed I couldn’t attend, and again we lost contact.
After serving for nine months in the Argentina Mendoza Mission, I read in the local pages of the Liahona that Maria was serving in the Argentina Resistencia Mission. I started jumping for joy and immediately wrote to her.
In her reply she told me about her mission preparation. Her parents had not supported her desire to join the Church. Yet she had attended church and institute classes and had sacrificed much in order to serve a mission.
Many years have now passed, and Maria and I have seen each other again. She is a temple worker in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple and is enjoying the love of her husband and children. She lives the gospel and radiates its light. Today her appearance reflects all that is in her heart, and although she does not know it, she has not only given me a special memory but has taught me a great principle—the gospel is for everyone. As members of the Church, we should not refrain from sharing our testimonies just because, in our judgment, a person’s appearance indicates he or she might reject our message.
Now, whenever I think about Maria, 1 Samuel 16:7 comes to mind: “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; … for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” Heavenly Father knows the hearts of His children, and to Him the heart is what matters.

I shouted for joy. My whole high school must have heard. Other students stared at me, wondering what had made me shout, but I could not contain my delight when I saw my name on the list of students admitted to the Philippines’ premier university. I truly felt blessed.

When people learned that I would be attending the university, they looked at me in awe. In moments of reflection, I couldn’t help smiling. My future was set. I was very grateful to the Lord for helping me succeed in the qualifying examinations.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. There is so much for me here. Let me continue my studies. After I get my degree, I will go and proclaim Thy gospel.

“I need to continue studying, Father. I need this for my future.

“Thou knowest that I have tried to persuade the department head to grant me a leave of absence for two years. She would not allow it. She told me I had to apply for an honorable dismissal from the university if I choose to go.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. I need this for my future.”

My heart was heavy as I approached the office door of the college secretary. He would tell me that I was out of my mind, that I would be sacrificing a promising future. How could I explain to him that the Lord had called me?

“I am here to see the college secretary.”

“It is about applying for an honorable dismissal.”

“No, I am in good academic standing.”

“No, I have not been involved in any criminal offense.”

“The reason? I have received a call from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to serve a full-time proselytizing mission. I need to give up my studies at the university to serve the Lord.”

“No, the mission cannot be postponed, and I will serve for two years.”

“I know that means I cannot return.”

“What? I can apply for a leave of absence? My department head said that I had to leave the university because a leave of absence can be granted for only one year.”

“The university policy was recently changed? She must not have known that, nor did I.”

“Thank you very much.”

After I served in the Philippines Ilagan Mission from 2000 to 2002, I resumed my studies at the University of the Philippines in Quezon City and then transferred to Brigham Young University–Hawaii. I look forward to marrying and raising a family in the gospel.

“I’m home!” Daddy called. He was home early for Wyatt’s birthday. Wyatt turned five today!
Wyatt ran to him. Daddy gave him a big hug. “After lunch, you and I will go to the park,” Daddy said.
“Just us?” Wyatt asked. He loved his mom and his little sister, Maria, but sometimes he wanted to do things with just Daddy.
“Just us,” Daddy said.
Mommy made a lunch with all of Wyatt’s favorites. She also made a crown out of gold paper and glitter.
“Is that for me?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide.
“It is,” Mommy said.
It was a special birthday!
Wyatt wore the crown to the park. It kept slipping off his head, but he didn’t mind. “Daddy, does my birthday crown make me special?” he asked.
Daddy smiled. “A birthday crown is fun, but it’s not what makes you special. You are special because you are a child of God! And so is everyone else. That means everyone is special too.”
Daddy and Wyatt played on the playground. Wyatt went down the slide.
“Do you think I can go down the slide too?” Daddy asked.
Wyatt giggled. “You’re too big.”
Wyatt climbed up the ladder to go down the slide again. A girl was in front of him. She was afraid to go down. Wyatt thought about how everyone was special to Heavenly Father.
“You can do it!” he said.
She slid down the slide. So did Wyatt.
“Good job!” Wyatt said. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
Being kind made Wyatt happy! He knew everyone was special, whether they had a birthday crown or not.

In my enthusiasm and excitement on my first day of service as a mission president, I asked the zone leaders I had invited to my home, “How much of a typical day in missionary service are you normally under the vibrating, powerful influence of the Spirit?”
They obviously did not know what to say. They acted like I had caught them by surprise. Having been converted to the Church as an adult and not having served as a young, full-time missionary, I assumed it was natural that a missionary would be always under the influence of the Spirit. How surprised I was when no missionary was saying anything.
Finally, one of them spoke up. “Last Thursday night, while we were teaching the Lehman family, we were feeling the Spirit.”
I remember my immediate response was, “That was it? How about the rest of the day?”
As soon as I asked my zone leaders what they experience when they are under the influence of the Spirit, they were all participating, describing the different effects the Spirit has in our lives. They agreed that being under the influence of the Spirit fills us with satisfying joy. It enhances our ability to make necessary adjustments, even in the most difficult circumstances. This Spirit helps us develop our intellectual capabilities and even delivers the motivation to use them. The zone leaders agreed that under the influence of the Spirit, some things that can seem uncomfortable, like hard work, getting up on time, going the extra mile, overcoming homesickness, overcoming flaws of character, and other personal sacrifices, become easier.
It became clear that, under the influence of the Spirit, we are empowered to act in wisdom. We see the complexity of a problem in its simple parts and see possible solutions unfolding in front of our eyes, to our own surprise. In other words, our creativity is developed and multiplied. That which is a burden without it becomes a privilege when we are under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
Many times in our lives it happens that the gifts of the Spirit rest dormant in us. We are not even aware of the full extent of their existence, as it was with my missionaries. Did they not have the Spirit? Of course they did. They had even passed the test of forsaking their own self-centered plans to become sacred witnesses for the Lord Jesus Christ. Still they had not fully understood the workings of the Spirit.
Why did the one elder feel the Spirit as he was teaching the Lehman family? Because at that time he and his companion were completely focused in their search for divine guidance. Too often we are not aware of the powerful gift which rests dormant in us. We cannot be grateful for that of which we are not aware, nor can we activate its power.

On Sunday morning of the Auckland Papatoetoe Stake April 2021 conference, while the chapel was still fairly empty, members of the Massey Park Ward filled the seats behind the pulpit to prepare for our final choir practice. In less than half an hour, we were going to perform the prelude song, to invite the Holy Spirit and to set the tone for our last session of conference.
At the piano, I waited for my cue. Our conductor, Brother Moroni Westerlund, readied our singers then waved in our choir’s first note—and my heart sank. We had practiced for months, but still, this song had not come together the way it should have.
Over my piano accompaniment, I could hear so many unsure voices. I heard parts fading out as sections gave in to their insecurity, and in my mind, I prayed: “But Heavenly Father, we tried so hard.”
As we proceeded with our last run through, I reflected on all our preparation for this day. Our bishop had eagerly accepted this stake choral assignment, with complete faith in his ward. Our music coordinator, Sister Benjy Maugatai, recruited her conductor and pianist, and then organised our music and called all our practices. We chose hymn arrangements that were beautiful but simple, because we knew that only a handful in our ward could read notes, and many had never even sung in a choir before.
But they showed up. Despite their many other commitments, our choir eventually got so big, they could barely fit on the stand and we had so many practices.
It was clear from early on we weren’t going to be a very polished choir, but for Brother Westerlund, as long as our singers were happy and trying their best, “Just let them sing,” he would say.
We completed our discouraging final rehearsal, and I looked at Brother Westerlund. He just smiled then addressed the choir one last time.
“We’re performing this music not to show off our skills,” he said, “but to share our testimony. While you sing, remember that someone in the congregation needs to feel your spirit and your faith. That is our true assignment here today.”
It wasn’t long before the chapel was packed, right to the back of the hall. While stake and area leaders took their seats, Brother Westerlund gestured for our choir to stand.
I started the piano introduction for our prelude hymn, and when the choir’s first note rang out, I could not believe my ears. It was a full, bold, harmonious sound! I looked up from my sheet music in awe. “Who is singing?”
Sure enough, it was our same group of beaming, faithful ward members, but as clear as the ray of sunshine that slipped through the chapel’s curtains just then, I also heard a host of unseen, accomplished singers bolstering the choir. Our prelude was beautiful. Our next two songs were just as lovely, and so was the sweet spirit that permeated our entire meeting.
I wasn’t the only one who recognized a miracle that day. Desmond Maugatai—one of our tenors—later said to me, “I can testify, when we started singing, I heard two new voices, one near my left shoulder, one on my right, and they were not anyone I know in our choir.”
Twelve-year-old Kayla Tagavaitau relayed a similar experience to her mother. It had been her first time in a ward choir, and after the conference she said, “Mum, it felt like when we were singing, the angels were singing with us.”
I’ve been a part of many church choirs over the years, but this one confirmed to me a pattern I have often noticed. When we do our best to learn the music, when we try our hardest to commit to practices, when we don’t give, up even through setbacks and frustrations, when we labour diligently, despite our weaknesses and, “after all we can do,” (2 Nephi 25:23), Heavenly Father can make up for our shortcomings, “that by his grace [we] may be perfect in Christ” (Moroni 10:32).
He can even send His angels to sing with us.

Brother Connell was a recent convert to the Church and was called to be the teachers quorum adviser. I was fourteen and a new member of the quorum. I was called as the president, even though I was having a great deal of trouble learning to control my temper.
The young men of the ward went on a cave exploration trip to a cave in Indiana, about two hundred miles from home. This trip was taken in the cool of October. I became very angry over a situation and said I was going to walk home. I started out on my long journey. After I had walked a short distance, all the cars in our party went past me and did not even slow down. My jaw dropped and I thought, “Oh, no, they’re leaving me.” Then I turned around and saw Brother Connell following me. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I stopped and waited for him to catch up. He told me he would not let me walk home alone and would join me. We walked for about five miles. Brother Connell helped me understand my feelings and straighten them out. By prior arrangement, one of the cars returned and picked us up. This was the beginning of a great friendship between Brother Connell and me. During the time that Brother Connell was my adviser, he helped me to control my temper and use my energy in constructive ways. He had me come and help him put a new roof on his house. He has had me babysit his children. Brother Connell has helped me learn more about the gospel and how to care about other people.

When my parents suggested I use the For the Strength of Youth booklet to study for my next oral Spanish exam, I was surprised. It did make sense, especially since the examiner would be asking me about my stances on moral issues, but I didn’t think it would be as helpful as they thought it would be.
My father downloaded a copy of Para la Fortaleza de la Juventud from LDS.org, and for the next few weeks, I cross-referenced my English copy with my Spanish one. I looked up interesting words and useful phrases, and it also helped me get a deeper understanding of the doctrine.
When the morning for the exam came, the language came to me as I needed it, and I was able to talk with confidence about morality, music, abstinence from alcohol, the importance of families, and clean living. I was able to testify of the truthfulness of my beliefs, and I actually enjoyed it.
Studying Para la Fortaleza de la Juventud did help me speak better Spanish, but what I didn’t expect was how close it brought me to the Spirit. As I answered the questions that day, the Spirit brought so much back to my remembrance. I know now that as long as I do what it takes to have the Spirit in my life, I don’t have to be afraid.

Frequently the heavenly virtue of patience is required. As a bishop I felt prompted one day to call on a man whose wife was somewhat active, as were the children. This man, however, had never responded. It was a hot summer’s day when I knocked on the screen door of Harold G. Gallacher. I could see Brother Gallacher sitting in his chair reading the newspaper. “Who is it?” he queried without looking up.

“Your bishop,” I replied. “I’ve come to get acquainted and to urge your attendance with your family at our meetings.”

“No, I’m too busy,” came the disdainful response. He never looked up. I thanked him for listening and departed the doorstep.

The Gallacher family moved to California shortly thereafter. The years went by. Then, as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I was working in my office one day when my secretary called, saying: “A Brother Gallacher who once lived in your ward would like to talk to you. He’s here in my office.”

I responded, “Ask him if his name is Harold G. Gallacher, who, with his family, lived at Vissing Place on West Temple and Fifth South.”

She said, “He is the man.”

I asked her to send him in. We had a pleasant conversation together concerning his family. He told me, “I’ve come to apologize for not getting out of my chair and letting you in the door that summer day long years ago.” I asked him if he was active in the Church. With a wry smile, he replied: “I’m now second counselor in my ward bishopric. Your invitation to come out to church, and my negative response, so haunted me that I determined to do something about it.”

Harold and I visited together on numerous occasions before he passed away. The Gallachers and their children filled many callings in the Church. One of the youngest grandchildren is now serving a full-time mission.

“Stephen, will you come here, please?” Stephen’s mother called from the living room.
“Sure, Mom,” Stephen said. He put down the video game controller. “I’ll be right back, Josh,” he said to his little brother.
In the living room, Stephen was surprised to see a police officer talking to Mom. What surprised him even more was that the police officer was holding the blue bike Stephen had gotten for Christmas last year!
“Is this your bike, Son?” the officer asked.
“It looks like mine,” Stephen said. “I think I left it down at the end of the block.”
“That’s where I found it,” the officer said. “Someone started a fire near where your bike was, and some neighbors said they saw you playing in that area. Would you mind telling me what you were doing there? Were you playing with fire?”
“No,” Stephen said. “I rode my bike there to play with my friends. We played tag for a while, and then some older boys came around. They looked kind of mean, so we left. I must have left my bike there. Then I came home and played video games with my brother. I didn’t start any fires.”
The officer folded his arms and looked stern. Stephen felt his cheeks getting hot. What if the police officer didn’t believe him?
The officer turned to Stephen’s mother. “Does Stephen tell the truth?” he asked.
“Stephen has never lied to me,” Mom said. “If he says he didn’t start the fire, he didn’t start it.”
The police officer asked a few more questions and then thanked Mom and Stephen for talking to him. Before he left, he told Stephen to take better care of his bike.
A few hours later, Stephen and his mother learned that the police officer found the older boys Stephen had seen, and they admitted to starting the fire.
“I’m glad you believed me when I said I didn’t start the fire,” Stephen told Mom.
“I knew you didn’t do it,” Mom said. “You have always told me the truth, even when it might get you in trouble. I always know I can trust you.”
Stephen smiled and gave his mom a hug. It felt good to be trusted. It was a feeling he always wanted to have.

President McKay’s initial experience with the Albany Crescent stone can help us learn how to accomplish the vision articulated by President Tanner. After reading the words on the stone, President McKay related. As I rejoined my companion and told him what I had read, do you know what came to my mind first? The custodian at the University of Utah, from which school I had just graduated. I realized then that I had just as great a respect for that man as I had for any professor in whose class I had sat. He acted well his part. I recalled how he helped us with the football suits, how he helped us with some of our lessons. He was unassuming, unostentatious, but did his duty well. To this day I hold respect for him. (McKay, D. O., 1959, The Improvement Era, 62 (October), pp. 726-727, 770-771).

As a boy I sought happiness as the world measures it. I wanted acceptance, position, fame (particularly as an athlete), and wealth. I had none of these. I was very unhappy. I thought happiness was as elusive as a shadow.
It was not until I was called on a mission that I discovered the real key to happiness. To my surprise, despite the discouragement, the disappointments, and the plain hard work associated with my missionary labors, I was happy. It was then I learned that happiness is really a by-product of service. As I forgot my own desires, my own weaknesses and frailties in my missionary service, I began to understand King Benjamin’s profound counsel to his people. “And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” (Mosiah 2:17.)
That is why a missionary can return from the toughest experiences of his life and report, “These have been the happiest two years of my life!”

Now, as life would have it—as it sometimes heartbreakingly insists—I needed to put these five principles to the test recently in a situation I never could have imagined. On May 11, my dear and closest friend, Elder W. Mark Bassett, stepped unexpectedly through the veil. For more than a decade, we spoke weekly, even when we served in different countries. We sat next to each other in every meeting we were in together—the last time just in front of President Meredith in our temple meeting in Salt Lake just days before Mark passed. His friendship was steady, familiar, and deep. I miss my friend, but the Lord knew in November, when I received this assignment, what I would need in May.

In the days that followed, I did the only things I could do when life changes suddenly and hearts break. I anchored my hope in Christ, the One who has already descended below all things. I sought solace in the covenants that bind earth to heaven. I prayed with importunity for his wife, Angie, and for their precious children and sweet grandchildren. I reflected on my own family story and on Mark’s, seeing in both the unmistakable fingerprints of a God who keeps His promises. And I tried, however imperfectly, to reach outward to others who were in mourning with me.

And I testify that heaven did not remain silent. There came peace. There came comfort. Not the erasing of loss, but an abundance of hope, a quiet assurance that death is not destruction, separation is not abandonment, and loss is certainly not permanent. It was the kind of comfort that does not deny sorrow but guides you through it.

A third thought that needs to be thought about is this: If you do not respond properly to a challenge, maybe no one will. I remember a young lady at my high school who had a number of problems. She was very poor. She could not dress like the other students, and she was insecure and frightened. But a young man who knew her would take time to greet her when he saw her. One day they were to take a test in history, and he said to her, “Let’s sit down and study together.” They did; she could tell that he knew she had value as a fellow human being.

The weeks came and went. One day she told that young man that he had saved her life. “What do you mean, I’ve save your life?” he asked.

“Do you remember the day we had that history test?”

“Yes.”

“I was going to take my life that day. I knew no one cared, that no one loved me. People ridiculed the way I dressed, the things I said, and the way I looked. But you cared, and because of that I’m still alive.” She is now a nurse, ministering to the needs of others.

I had gone to escape the painful realities of my life, I told him. Nine years earlier my brother had died. The following year my parents were killed in a car accident. A year later to the day, my grandmother died. Within a short time, I had lost several of the most important people in my life. I was devastated.
I inherited a large sum of money upon my parents’ death, and I used it to try to escape my grief. I spent it on expensive clothes, cars, drugs, and trips to faraway places.
On my most recent trip I climbed a pyramid in Tikal, Guatemala. There, even though I was physically on a high place, I remember feeling the lowest I’d felt in a long time. I couldn’t live the way I’d been living anymore. “God,” I said, “if You’re there, I need You to change my life.” I stood there for several minutes, silently pleading for help from a being I wasn’t sure was real. When I climbed back down the pyramid, I felt at peace. Nothing had changed in my life, but somehow I felt that things were going to be all right.