Gospel Story Finder

The third thought that needs thinking is this: If you do not respond properly to a challenge, maybe no one will. My mind flashes back to Granite High School and a young lady there who had a number of problems. Economically speaking, she was very poor. She could not dress like the other students, and she was insecure and frightened. But there was a young man who knew her and who would say, “Hi, how ya doin’?” One day they were to take a test in history, and he said to her, “Let’s sit down and study together.” They did, and she could tell that she had value—not romantic value, but value as a fellow human being.

The weeks came and went, and then one day she confessed to that young man that he had saved her life. “What do you mean, I’ve saved 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 made fun of the way I dressed and the things I said and the way I looked. But you cared, and because of that I’m still alive.”

Incidentally, I saw that woman several years ago. She is a nurse now in Salt Lake City and is doing well, ministering to the needs of others. She is alive because someone who sat in class with her cared. Brothers and sisters, there are people that need you.

During my stay at the MTC, my parents went on vacation. When they returned home, my mom wrote a letter to me. Most of the letter described their trip home. As they were driving, they passed two teenagers standing by a car on the side of the highway. Dad immediately turned around and went back to see if they needed help. He recognized the problem quickly. They had a flat, and a regular lug wrench would not fit the car’s custom wheels. Dad pulled a spark plug wrench out of his trunk and solved the problem.
But he didn’t stop at that. He discovered that two of the car’s passengers had walked to the nearest town to find help, and that neither of the teenagers who were left behind knew how to drive the car, which had a manual transmission. So Dad drove them into the town and helped them find their friends.
After showing them how to repair their next flat tire, Dad and Mom went on their way without accepting any kind of compensation.
I was not surprised to read about Dad’s kind act. He did, and still does, that kind of thing all the time. As I tried to finish reading the letter, tears blurred my vision. I began to understand that the Lord had blessed my family in ways I had always chosen to ignore. Perhaps Dad didn’t perform all the outward actions of an “active” Latter-day Saint, but long ago he had been converted to many core principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It was through his example that I learned about true service, charity, and love. I realized that while I was preaching the gospel in a strange place, my dad would quietly live it at home.

A lot of teenagers today don’t even carry a handkerchief. But when I was a young man, having a handkerchief ready for an emergency (like someone crying, for example) was considered important. At least, my mother certainly thought so.
I was going on one of my first dates and was halfway out the door when I heard my mother’s voice calling my name. I went back inside to find her with a white handkerchief in her hand.
“Do you have a clean handkerchief?” she asked. “Mom,” I said in that special voice reserved for mothers by exasperated sons. I took the handkerchief because I was anxious to be on my way. I stuffed it into my pocket, and I was out the door and into the car without thinking more about it.
Today, a white handkerchief is probably the farthest thing from anyone’s mind before a date. Time tends to change many of our styles and customs, but the courtesy and respect that my mother taught me should exist in dating relationships are just as important today as they have ever been.
I don’t remember much about that date, but I do remember asking my mother afterward why a clean handkerchief was such a big deal. This led to a conversation between us that taught me a lot about establishing good relationships with young women.
Now, I don’t mean that I treated girls like they were just one of the guys; but I had a lot to learn. My mother explained, for example, that as a sign of courtesy young men should (1) walk ahead of a date in a darkened theater or room, (2) walk on the outside of the sidewalk, next to the road, (3) stand when a girl the same age or a woman enters the room and stand when she leaves, (4) stand until all women have been seated and help them be seated before seating themselves, and (5) take a young lady back to her seat and thank her after a dance. I did know, without my mom telling me, that opening car doors and helping girls out are also signs of respect.
At first I suspected my mother’s suggestions that all young men should obey the rules of etiquette might be a female conspiracy transmitted from generation to generation in order to control men. Later, as I listened to my wife make suggestions to our sons, I realized there were some time-honored ways for young men to act, and that young women usually like to be treated in those ways.
After I dismissed the conspiracy theory I selfishly thought that if men did all those nice things for women, we would be the only ones doing all the nice things. “What are they doing for us?” I thought. Girls usually don’t have to ask for dates and risk being turned down, and they don’t have to keep standing all the time, or help seat boys at the table.
Because of my suspicions and selfishness I was undecided about whether I wanted to try all of my mother’s ideas. But I soon learned that when people go on dates there are doors, cars, dances, meals, rooms to stand in, introductions, and movie theaters. There are times during each of these situations when someone needs to do something, and if no one does there is a silent awkwardness which makes you feel like a true klutz. I know.
I was at one of my first dances and somehow I’d gathered the courage to remove myself from the wall to ask someone to dance with me. The young lady I asked said, “Yes,” and suddenly I found myself out on the dance floor feeling rather uncomfortable. Fortunately, however, some of my friends had found partners also and joined us. As we danced, my friends and I made comments to one another and before I knew it, our talking had turned into a full-fledged conversation that excluded our partners. Immersed in the discussion, I became oblivious to the young lady I was dancing with and somehow drifted off of the dance floor without even realizing it. Back at the wall again I glanced out at those still dancing and, to my embarrassment, saw my partner out on the floor, alone. An uncomfortable feeling settled itself in my stomach. I wanted to do something, but I didn’t know what or how to even go about it in an awkward situation like this. So I did nothing. That night I decided that some of my mother’s ideas might be worth trying.
As I did so, the first thing that happened was unexpected. Girls I dated began to think I knew what I was doing and relaxed around me. The nervousness I sometimes felt disappeared too, and I started having more fun. The more we relaxed, the easier it was to talk. Talking comfortably might not seem very important, but it is the way friendships and liking begin and continue. By communicating well, I also began to get to know girls better.
I’ll admit that when I first started dating, I wanted to be seen with girls who wouldn’t tarnish the social image I thought I had to protect. However, after spending time with some young women, having long talks with them and my mother about many things, I found out that girls could be friends (without worrying about all the romantic stuff). In fact, some of the dates I enjoyed most were with girls who were fun and were not worried about trying to make boys like them.
I soon found, though, that I felt better around and preferred the company of some young women over others. After talking about it, my mother suggested that I needed to learn how and why I got along better with some than with others because it would help me when it came time to get more serious about finding someone to marry. So I learned to be observant on a date, to think about why I did or did not feel comfortable.
I began to look at those I dated for the characteristics I thought important, like how well they communicated, their sense of humor, what they believed about religion and what they thought about themselves. I didn’t think much about it then, but I know I was storing up ideas. More important, I also found out that most girls start out wanting to have genuine, fun friendships because they are evaluating young men too. What’s more, as we evaluate others, we’re also evaluating ourselves. Most people feel complimented by genuine interest and questions that give them an opportunity to talk about themselves.
My willingness to treat a young woman with genuine interest and to stop trying too hard to impress her helped me discover that I was often guilty of prejudging. I found after talking to some girls that what I had thought about them at first was later proven untrue.
My mother also taught me that courtesy and acceptance are ways of showing respect, not only toward girls, women, and even toward other men, but also for myself. This knowledge and skill has helped me many times because it has increased my confidence around others. I believe I am less afraid to meet new people, enter new situations, speak in public, and carry on private conversations because manners help me know what to do. Manners have helped me, and many men, overcome a natural shyness.
Women deserve the respect of men. Both men and women are warmed by it and helped to feel secure. In an age when there is much concern about equality of the sexes, some women are receiving unequal amounts of rudeness and disrespect. Many men are using the idea of female equality as an excuse to neglect courtesy.
My mother helped me to learn and show respect for her, and consequently taught me that all girls and women are deserving of it. No one benefits by demeaning or rejecting another person. When young women are ennobled by the respect young men show them, both are elevated.
It never occurred to me as a young man that if a boy treats a girl like a queen, he is raising himself to a higher level too. All men and boys can learn an honest courtesy. And all young men can be known as “good dates,” not because of their social standing or good looks, but because of the respect and kindness they show to those they date.

Image from Getty Images
Christmas wasn’t Christmas. Although I tried to be merry with carols playing in the background, I pulled out the storage bins with a heavy heart. The snowman cookie jar only reminded me that there was no one to bake with. The Santa figurine seemed to say that there was little reason to hang stockings, and the peppermint-striped wrapping paper reminded me that morning wouldn’t bring the voices of excited children.
This year our youngest had left for college, and our house felt lonely and quiet. I chose only the non-Santa type decorations and placed everything else back in their boxes.
With my husband out of town, I decorated the tree alone. My daughter-in-law posted pictures online of my grandchildren hanging ornaments on their tree, and my heart yearned for yesterday. I wondered how time had slipped by so quickly. How had my children grow so fast? Lost in my thoughts, I looked down at the light bulb in my hand. It was a single red bulb.
I examined the color, a deep red. Crimson. I looked around at the simplicity of what was left of the decorations: a few nativities, a manger built from popsicle sticks, and a decoration that spelled out NOEL in gold letters. My eyes were wet. The bulb was red—red like the atoning blood of the Savior.
I thought about how I had always equated decorations, cookie cutouts, and children’s glee on Christmas morning with what made me happy at Christmastime. Then I thought about my children and their eternal families. I thought about all the joy I had in my family and the joy they had in their own. I pondered how the babe lying in the manger made that possible. A sweetness of warmth sprung in my heart as I contemplated the gift of the Savior—not just for me but for all mankind.
“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people” (Luke 2:10; emphasis added).
As I continued decorating the tree, I meditated on the humble birth and life of Jesus Christ. He came to mend the broken, build the downtrodden, comfort the lonely, bring peace in imperfection, and give compassion for suffering. He was born and died that we might live with Him in our Father’s kingdom once more. He came that man might know true happiness. My heart swelled and I found joy in Christ because Christ is Christmas.

Perhaps the nature of the stewardship changes from locality to locality. Perhaps our stewardship is simply caring, having a respect for life. A simple form of stewardship is expressed in the life-styles of two men I remember who used to live along the Yukon River. George McGregor, a prospector and trapper, was already an old man when I first met him. He is dead now, but for many years he lived alone in a log cabin he had built at the foot of a falcon crag. Every year the falcons came to nest on the rocks above his cabin. They were not disturbed by him, because he was a quiet man who blended serenely and unobtrusively into his surroundings and was a part of the land just as much as the falcons, the river, and the spruce tree. Once, George saw a female falcon swoop out of the air and strike a marauding raven dead in midair over the river in front of his cabin, and his old eyes used to brighten when he told about it. He had never read Walden, but I am sure he instinctively understood the meaning of stewardship.

An acquaintance recalls that when he was a young boy, an electrician came to do some wiring. It was necessary to string some wires in a little crawl space under the house. Since the space was too small to accommodate an adult, the electrician asked the boy if he would go in and pull the wires through. When the boy had done it, the man handed him a quarter, and the proud boy went to show it to his mother. Her response was, “Oh, a quarter is too much. Go back and tell him that a dime is plenty.”
No doubt the mother was only trying to be fair to the electrician, but the fact that the man remembered the incident after thirty years seems quite significant.
How much better it would have been for the mother to have said, “A quarter is a lot of money. He must have thought you did a real good job.” Or she might have used the experience to teach him about service and help him realize the good feeling that comes from service offered freely. Such an approach would contribute to the child’s self-esteem instead of lowering it.

Years ago, when our six children were young, we decided we wanted to make general conference more meaningful to us. We talked about how important it is to watch conference with clear minds and rested bodies. Conference is an important time to receive instruction from our current prophets. So we set a goal not to plan anything extra for a few days before conference or during conference weekend. We blocked out those days on our calendar, and each of us committed not to schedule extra activities on those days.
If you choose to take a similar approach, it will be unique to your family and your situation, but our family defined “extra activities” as attending school activities, having neighborhood children come over, doing things with friends away from the house, having parties or dinners with friends or relatives, doing projects or yard work in between or during conference sessions, saving school projects until the last minute, and accepting extra assignments at work.
When the week before general conference arrived, it was sometimes hard to say no to these activities, but most of the time our family members cheerfully made the right choices to meet our goal. We found that our younger children wanted to be part of general conference. I think it was because we talked about the importance of conference over and over throughout the week before.
I am happy to report that keeping our schedule simple the days before and during general conference completely changed our family’s experience. Our hearts and minds were prepared for conference. Our time was not cluttered with extra activities, so we could feel the Spirit as we sat and listened to the words of counsel from our leaders.
We have stuck to our goal conference after conference because it fills our home with peace. Though several of our children no longer live at home, we encourage them to still clear their calendar the few days before and during conference, as we do at home. We also try to schedule a time to watch a session of conference together as an entire family. I am hoping that as our children marry and have children of their own, they will continue to place a high importance on protecting their conference experience by clearing their calendars.

A few months ago, I set out to paint lines at Laie Park for a new sport called Pickleball. Within minutes of laying out the masking tape and pulling out my yellow traffic paint and paint rollers, I had 15 kids under the age of ten saying, “Hey uncle, I like try.” Based on their level of fascination with the painting process, I doubt a single one of them had ever used a paint roller in his life, but due to their eagerness to help and their willingness to learn, I chose to change my focus from painting Pickleball lines to helping children learn. I quickly realized it was more important to validate and encourage the children’s innate desire to serve and to learn than it was to paint perfect Pickleball lines. The kids were great. They very dutifully lined up and one-by-one and took turns dipping the rollers in the paint and rolling out the lines. Kids are naturally born with a love for learning. If you feel you have lost that love for learning, seek to regain it by trying something totally new in a safe, loving environment. If I could express one hope in my new responsibilities in the Center for Learning and Teaching, it would be that each of our classrooms become a safe and loving environment but also an environment that challenges each of us to live up to our potential.

Two parallel episodes related by his eternal companion, Ruth, are especially illustrative.
The first concerns his initial call in 1972 to be a General Authority: “We had a special family home evening, including the only grandchild back then. Jim went around the circle and told the children what was unique about them and how they were special individually. Then he told them about his call, stressing that if he were not a good father, he could not succeed as a General Authority, adding, ‘I am never going to be released from my calling as a father or a grandfather.’”
In the second episode, when he was called to be in the First Presidency, President Faust did the very same thing! In 1995 the teaching involved 22 grandchildren and ended with President Faust’s saying again how very important they all were to him and that he couldn’t succeed as a member of the First Presidency if he wasn’t a good father. Sister Faust further observed, “This is the kind of person he has been all of his life. Family and loved ones have come first!”

When Elder Wirthlin was young, he loved to go fishing with his father, Joseph L. Wirthlin, who would later become the Presiding Bishop of the Church.
“When I was a boy, I spent a lot of time with my father and loved to be with him. One time we went on a fishing trip on the upper part of the Provo River, southeast of Heber City, Utah. We were walking through a meadow, and I was some distance behind him. Father disappeared over a rise in the meadow, and he fell into a deep pond of water!
“When I came over the rise, there was his hat floating on the surface of the water. He finally came up gasping for air, and I reached down and helped him get out of the pond so that he didn’t drown.
“Even though I was young and very small, I learned in a dramatic way that there are many things that we can do to help our parents on a daily basis, or even in a lifesaving situation. We should always be willing to reach out to help our loved ones, regardless of the situation.”

One Sunday morning, we were sitting on the veranda when my oldest daughter, who was three years old, asked me a question that caught me by surprise. She saw some of her friends going to church in their nice clothes. “How come we don’t go to church?” she asked. At that time we weren’t attending church because my wife and I belonged to different churches and neither wanted to join the other’s church.
My daughter’s question really made me think. I was troubled because before I was married, I always went to church. That night I was inspired to kneel and seek divine guidance. I recall even saying that I would offer my life to serve the Lord.
A few days later, two young men knocked at our door and introduced themselves as messengers of the Lord. When I saw their calling cards, I remembered some things I knew about their church. When I was young, I used to read western novels that referred to Mormon pioneers and settlements. I had also read about some members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in American magazines. When we started talking about the doctrines of the Church, I was surprised to find that I already believed most of its teachings. I had read the Bible and knew that God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost were three separate beings, and I felt that there must be prophets and revelation.
The elders continued to teach me for several months, but somehow I could not gain a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. I had read the passages in the Book of Mormon that the missionaries marked for me, but I had trouble accepting their challenge to read the whole book.
I enjoyed having them in our home, but I had the feeling that they were getting discouraged with me. One day when they challenged me to read and pray, I felt that it would be the last challenge. I didn’t want them to stop their visits, so I decided to read. This time before starting, I prayed with a real desire to know if the book was true. A miracle happened: instead of getting bored as usual, I was so interested that I couldn’t stop reading.
That night, after reading many chapters, I knew that this was the word of God. Now that I had a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, it was very easy for me to accept Joseph Smith as a prophet. When the missionaries returned and asked me if I wanted to be baptized, I said yes. I was baptized in November 1964. I felt the Spirit of the Lord so strongly during my baptism that I really felt reborn. Besides the covenant of baptism, I made a private covenant that I would serve the Lord all my life.
I am very grateful to be a member of the Church. I hope that you children of the Church will learn through prayer and study that the gospel and the Book of Mormon are true. My wife and I have eight children whom we have raised in the gospel. I am grateful my oldest daughter, when she was a small child, asked me that important question. Because of her, I began to seek the truth and to serve the Lord and others. You can help your parents and families remember the Lord, as my daughter helped me.

The Wolfgramms took their Polynesian show on the road and traveled all over the United States and Canada. When they got a full-time offer from a Hawaiian hotel chain in Minneapolis, Minnesota, they packed their bags and moved. Minneapolis was about as far removed from Tonga as it could possibly be, but the Wolfgramms liked it there and contributed to the local ward as well as to the local entertainment industry.
They were devastated when the hotel chain they were working with went out of business. For several months the family of fifteen lived in the hotel owners’ basement. They decided that it would be more profitable to switch from Polynesian to popular music, and they began traveling in an old, uninsulated van, to whatever playing engagements they could arrange. “The van didn’t have any seats,” Leroy recalls, “and we sat in chairs against the sides. Sometimes we traveled in temperatures forty degrees below freezing, and there would be ice on the roof—on the inside.”
Finally, however, their efforts and dedication paid off. Don Powell, an entertainment industry expert who had managed some leading performing groups in the 1960s and 70s, heard them play. He had retired from entertainment because the industry had become “so bizarre,” but when he heard the Wolfgramms, he became interested again.
“The reason I reentered this business was literally because of this family,” says Don, who had had very little contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints before he met the Wolfgramms. “The whole family is so loving and bright, and talented, I couldn’t help getting involved. And we’ll never have problems with drugs or alcohol or anything like that, as you do with so many entertainers. It’s absolute heaven to manage them.”
With the resultant success, every minute of every day is packed full of performances, personal appearances, interviews, recording and photography sessions, but a Monday doesn’t go by without a family home evening. If they happen to be on the road on any given Monday, the stage crew is invited, and a lot of missionary work is done at these times.

One inspiring story about leadership in the home is about a mother named Katie Davis Majors, a young woman from Tennessee who had always dreamed of traveling the world and doing something meaningful with her life. So, at the age of 18, she decided to take a gap year and volunteer at an orphanage in Uganda.

During her year in Uganda, Katie fell in love with the children she was caring for and with the country itself. She decided to stay in Uganda permanently, and she eventually founded a non-profit organization that helps provide education and healthcare to children in need.

But even more than her work in Uganda, Katie is known for her leadership in her own home. She and her husband have 13 adopted children, many of whom have special needs. Katie is a devoted mother who has created a warm and loving home for her children, despite the many challenges they face. Katie’s leadership in her home is characterized by patience, kindness, and selflessness—three additional qualities on our Top 10 list. Katie has taught her children the importance of hard work, perseverance, and compassion, and she leads by example, putting their needs before her own.

Katie’s story is a powerful reminder that leadership isn’t just about what you do outside the home—it’s also about how you lead within your own family. Her example shows that the qualities of a great leader can have a transformative effect on those around you.

About five months into serving my mission in Scottsdale, Arizona, USA, I began to experience panic attacks and anxiety that controlled my every thought. After many conversations with my mission president, my parents, and a counselor, I made the hard decision to return home.
I was devastated.
I had been so excited to serve on the front lines of the greatest army. Why was this happening to me? I couldn’t understand what the Lord was trying to teach me.
It wasn’t until a sacrament meeting months later that I really started to understand. For the closing hymn, we sang “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go” (Hymns, no. 270). The second line reads, “It may not be at the battle’s front my Lord will have need of me.” I imagined my missionary self on the battlefront and realized that Heavenly Father did not need me in Arizona. He needed me here.
I know that the Lord has a plan for me. That knowledge brings me enough peace and strength to endure. I’m not sure I will ever fully know why I needed to come home early, but I am now able to carry on with these words ingrained in my heart: “I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord … ; I’ll be what you want me to be.”
Kate B., Utah, USA

Let me tell you about a young Laurel president who explained it this way: “‘You see,’ she said, ‘I was called to be a class president of 17 girls, and the bishop said I was responsible for them. I was scared to death. I didn’t even know for sure where they were. Then he told me to decide on my counselors and reminded me of the need to pray and ask the Lord. I wondered how it worked—how would I know who the Lord wanted?’ …
“‘I wrote 17 names on a piece of paper. Then I prayed about those names. … I kept thinking and praying and [crossing off names] until the third day. With only two names remaining, I had a strong feeling that I knew who Heavenly Father wanted. That’s how it works’” (Ardeth G. Kapp, “Yes, You Are Old Enough, Girls,” New Era, May 1974, p. 14).

When I think about connecting with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, an experience I had a while ago comes to mind.
I was looking out my window at a rainstorm, waiting for the sound of it to bring me feelings of peace. Usually when I concentrate on listening to the drops of water hitting the ground, everything else I’m feeling gets washed away for a few precious moments.
Feelings of peace did come, but not nearly as much as I needed. Most of my thoughts were still stuck on the chaos of life. I didn’t understand why this wasn’t helping me feel better.
After a few minutes, a thought hit me. You’re not letting the rain in. With that, I tugged my window open and let the sound wash over me. There was the peace I was seeking. All the rest of my swirling thoughts faded away as I listened to the gentle rain.
I stood there a while before a question came to my mind: Am I letting God and the Savior into my life?
This caught me off guard. It wasn’t something I had thought about before. But the more I pondered that thought, the more it made sense. Letting the rain in brought me peace, and letting my Heavenly Father and my Savior into my life could bring me even more.
Letting the Savior and Heavenly Father in was only the first step. I still had to open my heart to Them. When I first listened to the rain through the window, it was muffled and didn’t provide me the ultimate peace I wanted. And if I hadn’t opened the window to let the sound in, I wouldn’t have felt what I did.
The same goes for all the “windows” of my life. If I have them all shut and locked, how can I truly accept Deity and establish a relationship with Them? How can I feel the Spirit and the peace of Their love wash over me?
Saying that I need to open all my windows is easier than actually doing so. I’ve realized that when I feel disconnected from the Spirit, I have to figure out what is keeping me cut off. Most of the time it’s small things like always being attached to my phone. Or not reading my scriptures as much as I should. Or deciding to follow my own will rather than seeking to know Theirs. Or even getting caught up in all my trials and distancing myself from Them because I think Heavenly Father is not answering my prayers.
Once I determine what’s keeping me from feeling the Spirit, I can choose to stop doing those things, one at a time. I can inch my windows open little by little, inviting Heavenly Father and the Savior in until I can feel Their love surround me.
Loneliness can seem dark and never-ending at times, especially during Christmastime. In those moments when we want to give up, we have to remind ourselves: We are not alone. We just have to be willing to let Them in.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. His solitary journey brought great company for our little version of that path.”1
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always there for us. They are reaching out, patiently waiting for us to open our hearts and lives to Them—whether at Christmas or any other time.

Heavenly Father, I need $20 to buy a Web pet. It would take forever to earn that much. Please help me!
I found twenty dollars! The answer to my prayer!
Is it OK to keep this money if it’s an answer to prayer?
But what if somebody’s praying to get it back and I’m part of the answer to that prayer?
Wait! I’m just looking for an excuse to do the wrong thing. Heavenly Father would never want me to steal. It’s not my money, and I won’t take it!
You’re an honest girl, Mandy. A lot of people would have been tempted to keep this.
I know. I’m one of them, but I wanted to be honest.

We can all recall times when we have pushed on and prayed again—and blessings resulted. The experiences of Michael and Marian Holmes illustrate these principles. Michael and I served together as Area Seventies. I was always thrilled whenever he was called on to pray in our meetings because his deep spirituality was readily apparent; he knew how to speak with God. I loved to hear him pray. Early in their marriage, though, Michael and Marian were not praying or attending church. They were busy with three little children and a successful construction company. Michael did not feel that he was a religious man. One evening, their bishop came to their home and encouraged them to begin praying.

After the bishop left, Michael and Marian decided that they would try to pray. Before going to bed, they knelt at their bedside and, uncomfortably, Michael began. After a few awkward words of prayer, Michael abruptly stopped, saying, “Marian, I can’t do this.” As he stood and began walking away, Marian grabbed him by the hand, dragged him back to his knees, and said, “Mike, you can do this. Try again!” With this encouragement, Michael finished a short prayer.

The Holmeses began to pray regularly. They accepted a neighbor’s invitation to attend church. As they walked into the chapel and heard the opening hymn, the Spirit whispered to them, “This is true.” Later, unseen and unasked, Michael helped haul some trash from the meetinghouse. As he did, he felt a distinct impression, “This is My house.”

Michael and Marian accepted Church callings and served in their ward and stake. They were sealed to each other, and their 3 children were sealed to them. More children followed, bringing the total to 12. The Holmeses served as mission president and companion—twice.

The first clunky prayer was a small but faith-filled action that triggered the blessings of heaven. The Holmeses fed the flames of faith by attending church and serving. Their dedicated discipleship over the years has led to a raging inferno that inspires to this day.

Let me share with you a personal example. I was baptized when I was a young adult, the first one in my family to join the Church. After my conversion, the Holy Ghost helped me recognize some of my weaknesses. In response to my question "What lack I yet?" the Spirit told me I needed to overcome my fiery temper.

I was overly competitive when playing basketball or racquetball or anything where someone was keeping score. I had embarrassed myself a few times by losing my temper over a ballgame. I asked the Lord to help me overcome this weakness, and He heard my prayers.

Gradually, I was blessed with more patience in all areas of my life. I knew I was making progress when my mother said one day, "You have really changed ever since you joined the Mormon church. You won't even argue with me anymore." I considered that a great compliment. If you should find yourself challenged in the same way, if you find you could use more patience--why not ask? Patience is a spiritual gift.

Ten-year-old Ellen Pucell refused to move another step. For endless days and endless kilometers she’d been dragging herself over snowy, frigid ground. Now, with the merciless cold biting through her ragged clothes, the pain in her feet had grown unbearable, and Ellen, or Nellie as everyone called her, sat down shivering and couldn’t go on. Her older sister, Maggie, coaxed her to get up. But while her weary friends trudged on ahead, struggling to pull handcarts through the snow, Nellie still sat, unable to move her stiffened legs.
Maggie again pleaded with her young sister to walk with her before the pioneer company left them behind. As their hope of catching up faded, a horse-drawn carriage approached them. The driver, one of the leaders lucky enough to have a wagon, stopped to ask about the young girls. When Maggie explained the situation, Nellie was lifted into the back of the wagon, where her feet dangled over the edge as they hurried to catch the others.
Nellie’s family had sailed from Liverpool, England, in May of 1856 with a large group of Latter-day Saints. After a safe voyage on the ship Horizon, they docked in Boston, then traveled by train to Iowa. From there Nellie had set out with her parents, her sister, Maggie, and more than five hundred other pioneers. They were bound for peace and new homes in the Salt Lake Valley. Too poor to afford wagons or the animals to pull them, the great majority chose to build smaller, two-wheeled wagons called handcarts, which they would pull themselves. Only the most necessary provisions could be carried. Extra bedding, clothing, household supplies, and even extra food had to remain behind.
For the first few weeks the handcart company enjoyed good weather, but in October early snowstorms and bitter cold slowed down the pioneers.
Nellie’s family suffered along with the rest. Her mother became ill and had to be pulled for some distance in their cart. Nellie’s father slipped into the waters of one of the rivers they crossed, and because there was no dry clothing or warm shelter, he was bitterly cold. The family’s food supply grew scarce, and the snow hid any fuel that they might have gathered for a fire.
Nellie’s father died on October 22, 1856, from hunger and exposure to the cold. Five days later her mother died too. Graves could be dug only in the snow because the early winter had frozen the ground. Nellie and Maggie wearily and sadly walked on alone. They watched as more of the company died and the weather’s cold fierceness strengthened.
One day as Nellie and her sister made their way at the head of the group, two men appeared and motioned for them to come closer. At first the girls refused but soon decided that the men meant no harm. The men gave Nellie some money and instructed her to buy something to put on her feet at the trappers’ trading post they were nearing. Nellie gratefully accepted the money and the chance to cover her bare feet, which had long since grown numb with cold.
In Salt Lake City, President Brigham Young had called for volunteers to meet the handcart company on the plains. When the volunteers finally reached the company, near Laramie, Wyoming, they found the pitiful group nearly buried by the snow. Nellie’s feet were badly frozen. The rescue party gathered her and the remaining members of the company into their wagons and returned to Salt Lake, arriving on November 30.
Nearly everyone in the handcart company had endured painfully frozen feet, hands, and ears and had witnessed the deaths of family members and friends. The doctor had to amputate Nellie’s feet. There was no skin to cushion the bone, so she was left with throbbing sores that never healed.
Nellie and her sister eventually moved south from the Salt Lake Valley to Cedar City. Here Nellie married William Unthank and reared their six children. With a leather apron slid under her damaged legs, Nellie crawled about their small home on her knees, keeping it spotless.
Nellie willingly worked at whatever she could to help provide for her family. Along with other jobs, she took in other people’s clothes to wash, and made articles to sell to add to the family income. If anyone offered food or assistance, she insisted on repaying the favor. As a way of showing gratitude, she gathered her children once a year to clean the church meetinghouse. While the boys carried water, the girls washed windows, and Nellie scrubbed the floors.
William carved wooden “cup feet” for Nellie, but they only irritated her never-healing stumps. Later, through donations, wooden legs were given to Nellie, but these she only wore on special occasions, because they added to her constant pain.
Despite poverty and pain, Nellie rarely complained. She had come to know her Heavenly Father in her sufferings. From the shoes provided for her bare feet, the carriage sent when she couldn’t go on, help given to her through a lifetime of affliction, Nellie Pucell Unthank knew she could count on the Lord.