Gospel Story Finder

In my last conference message, I related my devastating experience many years ago when, as a heart surgeon, I was not able to save the lives of two little sisters. With permission of their father, I would like to say more about that family.
Congenital heart disease afflicted three children born to Ruth and Jimmy Hatfield. Their first son, Jimmy Jr., died without a definitive diagnosis. I entered the picture when the parents sought help for their two daughters, Laural Ann and her younger sister, Gay Lynn. I was heartbroken when both girls died following their operations. Understandably, Ruth and Jimmy were spiritually shattered.
Over time, I learned that they harbored lingering resentment toward me and the Church. For almost six decades, I have been haunted by this situation and have grieved for the Hatfields. I tried several times to establish contact with them, without success.
Then one night last May, I was awakened by those two little girls from the other side of the veil. Though I did not see or hear them with my physical senses, I felt their presence. Spiritually, I heard their pleadings. Their message was brief and clear: “Brother Nelson, we are not sealed to anyone! Can you help us?” Soon thereafter, I learned that their mother had passed away, but their father and younger brother were still alive.
Emboldened by the pleadings of Laural Ann and Gay Lynn, I tried again to contact their father, who I learned was living with his son Shawn. This time they were willing to meet with me.
In June, I literally knelt in front of Jimmy, now 88 years old, and had a heart-to-heart talk with him. I spoke of his daughters’ pleadings and told him I would be honored to perform sealing ordinances for his family. I also explained that it would take time and much effort on his and Shawn’s part to be ready and worthy to enter the temple, as neither of them had ever been endowed.
The Spirit of the Lord was palpable throughout that meeting. And when Jimmy and Shawn each accepted my offer, I was overjoyed! They worked diligently with their stake president, bishop, home teachers, and ward mission leader, as well as with young missionaries and a senior missionary couple. And then, not long ago, in the Payson Utah Temple, I had the profound privilege of sealing Ruth to Jimmy and their four children to them. Wendy and I wept as we participated in that sublime experience. Many hearts were healed that day!
On reflection, I have marveled at Jimmy and Shawn and what they were willing to do. They have become heroes to me. If I could have the wish of my heart, it would be that each man and young man in this Church would demonstrate the courage, strength, and humility of this father and son. They were willing to forgive and let go of old hurts and habits. They were willing to submit to guidance from their priesthood leaders so that the Atonement of Jesus Christ could purify and magnify them. Each was willing to become a man who worthily bears the priesthood “after the holiest order of God.”
Are we willing to pray, fast, study, seek, worship, and serve as men of God so we can have that kind of priesthood power? Because two little girls were so eager to be sealed to their family, their father and brother were willing to pay the price to bear the holy Melchizedek Priesthood.

One of the most important parts of a successful home teaching visit is preparing and sharing a lesson. Every other month Brandon Stewart gives the lesson. Brandon has learned how to prepare a lesson by watching his senior companion, his father. Thanks to his dad’s good example, giving the lesson is Brandon’s favorite part of home teaching.
To prepare his lesson, Brandon starts by reading the First Presidency Message in the Ensign. He picks the parts he thinks may help the family he will be teaching. He then adds his personal experiences and feelings about the topic and concludes his lesson just as his father does, by bearing his testimony.

President Monson shares a story about a prisoner of war, a father, who taught some of life's greatest lessons in 25 words. And I quote:"In the 1960s, during the Vietnam War, Church member Jay Hess, an airman, was shot down over North Vietnam. For two years his family had no idea whether he was dead or alive. His captors in Hanoi eventually allowed him to write home but limited his message to less than 25 words. What would you and I say to our families if we were in the same situation--not having seen them for over two years and not knowing if we would ever see them again? Wanting to provide something his family could recognize as having come from him and also wanting to give them valuable counsel, Brother Hess wrote--and I quote: 'These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on, set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year.'"[9]

Summer means Summiteer outings. The culmination of the Campcrafter program offers young women a chance to face a new challenge. Summiteers in Bremerton, Washington, took to the water in canoes while the Summiteers in Colorado Springs, Colorado, climbed Pikes Peak.
The Colorado Springs Colorado Stake tackled the trail to the top of Pikes Peak. It was the first Summiteer trip ever attempted by the stake for Young Women. Although the young women were aware of the difficulties, they found the stamina and strength to make the top and received a great sense of accomplishment and love for nature.

As I spoke in general conference 25 years ago, I introduced a visual aid who stood beside me. It was my eldest grandson. He had recently received the Aaronic Priesthood and been ordained a deacon. I took the opportunity on that occasion to address my remarks to him on the importance of receiving the Aaronic Priesthood.
I said to my grandson:
“I am not overly pleased with worldly conditions that you and other young men are inheriting as you assume your role in moving toward manhood. While those of us who are older have been of an age and position to influence the world, I believe we’ve greatly failed you in what we have allowed the conditions in the world to become. This places you in a position where many of those with whom you must associate have not been reared with an understanding of or respect for traditional values. Thus, peer pressure becomes much more difficult and extreme.
“We have brought into our homes radios, record players, and television sets. While each has the potential of providing wholesome entertainment, so much of what has been produced for our listening and watching pleasure is not of the caliber to inspire and encourage young men. In fact, most of what is produced is degrading. The flip of a switch right in your own home has the potential of destroying within you a sense of what is right and what is wrong” (“I Confer the Priesthood of Aaron,” Ensign, Nov. 1985, 46).
I also taught my grandson Terry four lessons based on the story of Daniel in the Old Testament. I told him to (1) keep his body healthy and clean, (2) develop his mind and become wise, (3) be strong and resist temptation in a world filled with it, and (4) trust in the Lord, especially when you need His protection.
I closed my counsel to Terry with these words: “These stories in the scriptures will never grow old. They will be just as exciting for you when you are reading them as a deacon, a teacher, a priest, a missionary, a home teacher, an elders quorum president, or whatever the Lord calls on you to do. They will teach you to have faith, courage, love for your fellowmen, confidence, and trust in the Lord” (Ensign, Nov. 1985, 48).
I am happy to report that Terry has been faithful to the charge I gave him 25 years ago. He later received the Melchizedek Priesthood, served a faithful mission, currently serves as an elders quorum president, and of course is a father of a beautiful daughter.

I share just one tender experience. While President Monson was serving as a bishop, he learned that a member of his ward, Mary Watson, was in the hospital. As he went to visit her, he learned that she was staying in a large room with several other patients. When he approached Sister Watson, he noticed that the patient in a neighboring bed quickly covered her head.
After President Monson had visited with Sister Watson and given her a priesthood blessing, he shook her hand, said good-bye, and prepared to leave. Then a simple but amazing thing happened. I quote now from President Monson’s own recollection of this experience:
“I could not leave her side. It was as though an unseen hand [was] resting on my shoulder, and I felt within my soul that I was hearing these words: ‘Go over to the next bed where the little lady covered her face when you came in.’ I did so. …
“I approached the bedside of the other patient, gently tapped her shoulder and carefully pulled back the sheet which had covered her face. Lo and behold! She, too, was a member of my ward. I had not known she was a patient in the hospital. Her name was Kathleen McKee. When her eyes met mine, she exclaimed through her tears, ‘Oh, Bishop, when you entered that door, I felt you had come to see me and bless me in response to my prayers. I was rejoicing inside to think that you would know I was here, but when you stopped at the other bed, my heart sank, and I knew that you had not come to see me.’
“I said to [Sister] McKee: ‘It does not matter that I didn’t know you were here. It is important, however, that our Heavenly Father knew and that you had prayed silently for a priesthood blessing. It was He who prompted me to intrude on your privacy.’”

Many years ago a friend and teammate of mine asked me about where I was going to church, what I knew about baptism, and if I knew that there was a prophet of the Lord on the earth today. Of course I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about. But he talked to me for about two hours about his membership in the Church. This was one of our many bus rides in the minor leagues.

After we got off the bus, he said, "How do you feel, Dale, about the things we've talked about?" I said, "It was interesting. I feel good about it." He said, "Well that's good; I've got a couple of guys that I want you to meet with." I thought, "A couple of guys ”what does that mean?" It was a few days later and my friend Barry Bonell brought the missionaries over to my apartment in a small town of Greenwood, South Carolina. I was able to hear the gospel taught, and unfold, and feel the spirit of the restoration”and I knew that my life was going to change from that first discussion.

As I took those discussion back in South Carolina back in 1975, I remember feeling that spirit and knowing that my life was about to change. I'll be forever grateful for someone who asked me if I was interested. To those young missionaries” one from Los Angeles and one from Canada, who were called to South Carolina and taught me the gospel, I knew then and I know now with greater surety and understanding that the gospel has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that President Monson is our prophet, is the Lord's prophet here upon the earth today, and that the Lord lives, and that the atonement is real and has power and impact to change our lives, and gives us the chance and the opportunity to happy, and hopeful, and faithful in this life.

Anna was a poor peasant girl in long ago Salzburg, but she was a happy girl. An excellent seamstress, she loved to make beautiful clothes for her family.
The rich women of the town discovered the beautifully embroidered clothes Anna made and demanded that she make similar clothes for them. In return they paid her well.
One day the queen commanded Anna to make a dress for her because the prince, her son, was coming home. What happened to Anna and the women of Salzburg provides delightful reading. The beautifully colored and detailed illustrations make this book a treasure.

Clomp, clomp, clomp! Twenty-one pairs of feet walked across a wooden bridge. Twenty-one Primary children were about to travel back in history to a special place—and leave it better than they found it.
Primary children from the Billerica Ward, Nashua New Hampshire Stake, were having a service activity at the Minute Man National Historic Park in Concord, Massachusetts. The wooden bridge is a replica of the Old North Bridge, where the first battle of the American Revolution took place on April 19, 1775.
The children’s goal was to help clean up the park. Before they got started, a park ranger told them about the park’s history. Then their Primary president, Sister Stephanie Davis, reminded them how the founding of the United States helped prepare the way for the gospel to be restored.
The children knew they were in a place that deserves respect. They had fun without yelling or being rowdy. What does it mean to respect a place? Here’s what the children had to say:
“It means you want to take care of the place so that it’s kept special.” —Abby K., age 8
“It means you leave it looking the same or better than when you got there.” —Dallen H., age 9
“It’s like saying, ‘I appreciate you.’” —Taylor A., age 11
Then they put on rubber gloves and went to work, putting every piece of trash they could find into their garbage bags.
How did the children feel when they were finished? Good, because “this is a place where something really happened,” said Alden D., age 11. All the children agreed that it felt great to show their respect for an important place that’s right in their own backyard.

Another chapter in the Bensons’ life began a few years later when Elder Benson, with the encouragement of President David O. McKay, accepted an appointment as United States Secretary of Agriculture under President Eisenhower. Sister Benson cheerfully moved her family to the nation’s capital, focusing her time and energies on her family and shunning much of the Washington social scene.
But on one occasion, as a missionary effort, Sister Benson decided to give a luncheon for Mrs. Eisenhower and the other wives of the president’s advisers. As was common practice in the Benson household, no outside help was hired for the affair. She and her four daughters spent weeks carefully planning a menu, cleaning their home, preparing entertainment, and reviewing etiquette and protocol.
If Sister Benson worried that her guests would miss the coffee, cigarettes, and card playing which normally were part of such affairs, she needn’t have. The cocktails made from ginger ale and home-bottled apricot juice were a great success, as was the entertainment—a choir from Brigham Young University that was touring the east coast.
“The most exciting part was the beautiful letters we received afterward from the women, telling us what a thrill it was to experience a touch of ‘Mormonism’ and what wonderful youth the singers were,” Sister Benson remembers.

Family life is like a white-water rafting trip. As families don life jackets and helmets, parents are like the river guides who have passed through this way before. Children need us to warn them of strong currents or rocks ahead. If farther down the river there might be a devastating waterfall, would we warn our children about it? Would we instruct them how to row and where to steer to divert their route, or would we wait until after they’re dangling from the cliff to warn them?
As parents, we may be uncomfortable discussing a topic as unpleasant as suicide, but we can help protect and prepare our children before they have dangerous thoughts.
Parents can help children learn to become emotionally resilient and to know where they can turn when they need emotional help. Reyna I. Aburto, former Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught that “this may include becoming informed about emotional illnesses, finding resources that can help address these struggles, and ultimately bringing ourselves and others to Christ, who is the Master Healer.”
Some suicides happen without any obvious warning. For some there are only subtle signs, or sometimes the signs are unmistakable. We can’t know for certain what our children are thinking, so we need to prepare them young—in case thoughts of suicide take hold in their minds.
Sister Aburto affirmed, “It is important to talk about these issues with our children, families, and friends in our homes, wards, and communities.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Every one of us has family members, dear friends, or acquaintances who have experienced suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, or have taken their lives. … Many wards and stakes [and families] consider having a discussion about suicide prevention after someone has taken their own life. My question is—why wait? Why not do it now? Because someone in the ward or stake is having suicidal thoughts.”
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.
The Church’s resource guide for suicide prevention informs: “Talking about suicide will not make someone more likely to attempt suicide. In fact, talking openly about suicide is an effective way to help prevent suicide.”
According to John Ackerman, PhD, suicide prevention clinical manager at Nationwide Children’s Hospital, “Creating a safe space to talk about suicide can save a child’s life.” In fact, he adds, “if a child has been struggling with thoughts of suicide, knowing that a concerned adult is willing to have an open conversation is often a relief.”
“Talking about suicide in appropriate ways actually helps to prevent it rather than encourage it,” taught Sister Aburto. Her father died by suicide. For many years, she avoided talking about his death with her family. However, she has since learned the value in speaking about it honestly and plainly. “I have now openly discussed my father’s death with my children and witnessed the healing that the Savior can give on both sides of the veil.”
Open conversations about suicide can empower children to come to their parents and other trusted adults instead of trying to navigate suicidal thoughts on their own, should they ever arise.
Children as young as six or seven have reported suicidal thoughts. “It used to be that … therapists and researchers and parents didn’t believe that young kids under 10 or 11 even had thoughts of suicide,” Dr. Ackerman says. “We know that’s actually not true.” He indicates that even young children can connect suicidal ideation with feeling like a burden, being in emotional pain, or experiencing hopelessness.
Sister Aburto assured: “Knowing how to recognize signs and symptoms in ourselves and others can be helpful. We can also learn to detect inaccurate or unhealthy thinking patterns and how to replace them with more accurate and healthier ones.”
Globally, nearly one death by suicide occurs every 40 seconds, and it is the second leading cause of death in the world for people 15–24 years. In a recent study conducted among thousands of teens in Utah, USA, researchers from Brigham Young University discovered that approximately 12 percent of Latter-day Saint youth had seriously considered suicide, and 4 percent had made an attempt.
For context, in a group of 25 teens, 3 of those, statistically speaking, have seriously considered suicide, and one has made a suicide attempt.
If we can help our children find the support they need before they reach the point of crisis—when ideation turns into a plan—we may be able to help them divert course before it’s too late.
At a very young age, children can begin to comprehend feelings, but we can provide them with language to correctly describe their feelings. The first step may be helping a young child build his or her emotional vocabulary. We can teach children to understand the differences between mad, sad, frustrated, and so on. If the child can explain what he or she is feeling, we can work together from there. In an age-appropriate way, we can discuss their intense feelings with children as young as six and help them identify and address these feelings.
These early conversations will also help parents become familiar with their children’s typical range of emotions. Most children go through ups and downs in emotional well-being. This is normal. Having conversations early and often with young children can provide parents with an emotional thermometer to discern the differences between typical ups and downs of childhood and dangerous ideation.
Preventative conversations about suicide are like other preventative training parents provide. We can prepare children and youth for the possibility of experiencing suicidal ideation in the same way we might prepare them for how to drive a car and what to do in the event of an accident. “We want to prepare our kids to understand what can happen emotionally and what they might see in their friends,” says Dr. Ackerman.
As children age, the conversations we have with them will also mature. We can ask open-ended questions and then allow children to answer candidly. Encourage children to be honest with their difficult feelings. The research shows that addressing difficult emotions may reduce their intensity and duration.
Through open communication about depression, suicide, or feelings of discouragement, children learn that they can share their sincere thoughts and that they are emotionally safe with us. “They also get the unequivocal message that you care deeply about them, and their happiness and well-being matter to you,” says one mental health counselor.
Our love and support for our children can model the love Heavenly Father has for each of us. “Your Heavenly Father loves you—each of you,” taught President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). “That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve love. It is simply always there.”
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.
Some youth may fear that suicide is their only way out of their hopelessness. President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, assures: “However many mistakes you feel you have made … , or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”
In addition to talking to our young children, we can talk to youth following the model given by President Holland: “To any of our youth out there who are struggling, whatever your concerns or difficulties, death by suicide is manifestly not the answer. It will not relieve the pain you are feeling or that you think you are causing. In a world that so desperately needs all the light it can get, please do not minimize the eternal light God put in your soul before this world was. … Do not destroy a life that Christ gave His life to preserve. You can bear the struggles of this mortal life because we will help you bear them. You are stronger than you think. Help is available, from others and especially from God. You are loved and valued and needed. We need you!”
You and your spouse can discuss when it’s a good time to start talking about it—well before the crisis, if any, comes. You can prayerfully seek the Spirit to help guide both the timing and the words of the conversations with your children.
We are never responsible for someone else’s choice to end a life, but there are things we can do to help prevent it. As President Holland taught:
“The Only Begotten Son of God came to give us life by conquering death.
“We must commit ourselves fully to that gift of life and run to the aid of those who are at risk of giving up this sacred gift.”

I can remember from a really young age having a perpetual case of stage fright even when there was only an audience of one. I would like to share some of my experiences in running from this fear and finally learning how to deal with it.

As a 19-year-old convert to the Church, I was asked by an uncle, who was conducting the sacrament meeting, to give the closing prayer. I had never stood in front of such a large group of people before and even though I wanted to support my uncle I just sat their frozen to the chair until finally my uncle looked into my eyes and saw that I was absolutely terrified and quickly called someone else to give the closing prayer.

Some years later the opportunity to meet my wife for the first time had much more to do with my height than my bravado. We both attended a New Year's Eve dance right here in the Cannons Activity Center. I could see this tall statuesque women walking around the dance floor and it appeared to me that she was passing by guys and determining if they were taller than her. So as she came by me, I straightened myself up, lifted my head and bingo, she asked me to dance. At this point in my life this was an amazing accomplishment on my part.

I left for my mission from the BYU-Hawaii 10th ward. The Bishopric had scheduled my missionary farewell and asked me to give the closing remarks. Guess who didn't go to church that day. I felt terrible letting my Bishop down, but the fear of standing in front of so many people had got the better of me.

Finally, as a full-time missionary, I was totally uncomfortable with knocking on doors, I had a very patient trainer who knocked on all the doors at first to spare me the anxiety of confronting a complete stranger. However, one day as we approached a strange house, my companion looked me in the eye and said "Elder I don't care to knock on doors either, but it is an important part of being a missionary, it is how we get the opportunity to share the gospel, we are a team and right now you are not pulling your weight." He then stepped aside and I knocked on what was to be the first of many, many doors. An unshaven middle age man opened the door, took one look at us and promptly slammed the door in my face. At that point I was ready to knock more than just the door.

Those who know me today may be surprised to learn of these "stage fright" episodes in my life, and while they still exist to some degree, they have become much easier to deal with because I have persisted in doing them.

In a 1988 address to the Democratic National Convention, the Reverend Jesse Jackson told about his mother, “a working woman,” he said, who on “so many of the days . . . went to work early, with runs in her stockings.”14 He implied that others made fun of her because of the condition of her nylons. Although he does not elaborate, given the era and the coldheartedness of some human beings, one can imagine that some of her coworkers might well have whispered to one another behind her back, in tones just loud enough for her to hear, “Look at that dumb woman. She doesn’t even know enough to wear good stockings to work.” Apparently responding to such observations, Reverend Jackson stated, “She knew better, but she wore runs in her stockings so that my brother and I could have matching socks and not be laughed at at school.”15
A charitable act? Undoubtedly. And, I suggest, made more so by the fact that Reverend Jackson’s mother did indeed know what was proper work attire. Had she been completely unaware that wearing nylons with runs in them was not the style, her act, although still laudable, would not have been quite as selfless—not quite as charitable. Her knowledge of the way things were, though perhaps making her choice a bit more difficult, allowed her to exercise charity at a higher level than would have been possible had she been ignorant of the price she was being asked to pay.

I actually had a horse who helped me appreciate the amazing process of change. When our children were young, my wife and I looked for a gentle, well-broke children’s horse. Our neighbor had such a horse, but he would sell us kind and gentle Bob only if we also bought his other horse, Stubby. The names alone describe the horses. Eventually we decided to purchase both horses in order to acquire Bob.

Sure enough, Bob was wonderful, and Stubby ended up being, as expected, a stubborn, strong-willed, obnoxious animal who consistently acted up and caused trouble with the other horses. Because of our limited number of horses, I usually ended up riding Stubby during our family rides. He was defiant. When I tried to turn right, Stubby fought to go left. If I wanted to gallop, he would buck or crow-hop.

I decided to do all I could to help bring about a change in Stubby’s disposition. I gave him consequences for bad behavior and rewarded him for good behavior. I rode him side by side our well-behaved horses. I rode him frequently and groomed him often. Over time, after many rides—and somewhat to my surprise—Stubby began to soften. He submitted more readily to the saddle and bridle, and he was less determined to have his own way. He began allowing me to guide and control him without resistance. At times he even seemed to enjoy our time together.

As Stubby’s disposition improved, he surprisingly became my horse of choice. He was energetic and had good stamina. He was not at all hesitant or fearful in challenging situations, and in a group of other horses, he led out without needing to be urged on. Over a period of ten to fifteen years, Stubby developed into an exceptional lead horse. I was very grateful that I hadn’t given up on him during those earlier challenging years. In fact, Stubby made such a turnaround that we changed his name to Spinner.

When I walked to the pasture, Spinner was quick to come to me. He recognized me and seemed eager to please. He responded to the ­gentlest commands. I could ride him easily without a saddle or even a bit in his mouth. We spent many pleasurable hours together. He was very gentle and became a favorite horse of our grandchildren. He took care of our granddaughters, and he tolerated our grandsons. We would say, in horse lingo, that he was well broke. Spinner gave up his wild nature and aligned his will with his owner’s—or his master’s—will.

Spinner underwent a major change or transformation, but it took time, patience, and a lot of work. Through this process of change, Spinner’s life improved immensely, and so did mine! It broke my heart when he passed away this past spring. We buried him in a place of honor, marked with a hitching post and his halter.

A few years ago 345 homes were destroyed in the Waldo Canyon forest fire. Two years later, damage from the fire continued as erosion caused by the destruction of vegetation and dangerous floodwaters still provoked havoc. In response, nearly 100 young men and women from Colorado Springs reported to work for a six-hour youth conference project to revitalize the forest.
Armed with shovels, safety goggles, and hard hats, the youth prepared mulch, spread seed, and raked the ground to create a proper bed for new grass to grow. Audrie P., 14, admitted that she wasn’t excited about the project at first but soon changed her attitude. “I was surprised at how much fun it could be. Who knew spreading dirt would be so much fun?”
Jamison S., 16, remembered seeing endless piles of mulch. “We created an assembly line to fill buckets and passed them down, sometimes sprinting, to where they needed to be.” Joshua G., 17, acknowledged the power of 100 youth working together: “It could have been done without us, but it would have been a lot harder and taken a lot longer.”
By the end everyone was hot, tired, and covered in dirt. The work was difficult, but a good kind of difficult. Emily L., 16, recalled, “It was really hard but fun!” Mulch colored their faces, but they were happy, and bright smiles beamed through.
Anne B., 14, said, “The service project made me realize there is more to the world than the everyday things that we do. There are people who need our help, and serving others helps us too.” Zach A., 15, who remembers being evacuated from the fire, said, “It was really cool to see our Church directly correlated with something that affected me and my neighbors.”
In the end, a hard day’s work made a difference as the youth not only rebuilt the land but also rebuilt hope for others in their area.
Ashley S., Colorado, USA

President Kimball’s life has been one full of service to the Church. From 1914 to 1916 he served in the Central States Mission, after which he attended the University of Arizona. He served as clerk and counselor to the president of the St. Joseph Stake and as president of the Mt. Graham Stake. Then in July 1943 he received a phone call from Salt Lake City that stunned him and changed his life. When President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., informed President Kimball over the telephone of his call to the Council of the Twelve, he was so overwhelmed that he blurted out, “Not me, Brother Clark! You can’t mean that!”
When his son had told him there was a phone call from Salt Lake City, he had had a premonition it was about a high Church calling, but he didn’t think it would be the apostleship. Later he said of the experience, “My heart pounded fiercely. I was virtually speechless. I felt as though the sky had fallen in—this seemed utterly impossible.” The Lord had chosen him to be an apostle through his mouthpiece on the earth, President Heber J. Grant. President Kimball was ordained an apostle and set apart as a member of the Council of the Twelve October 7, 1943.
Speaking of that call President Kimball has said, “In these long weeks since July eighth, I can tell you that I have been overwhelmed and have felt that I was unable to carry on this great work; that I was unworthy; that I was incapable because of my weaknesses and my limitations. I have felt many times that I was up against a blank wall. And in that interim I have been out in the desert and in high mountains alone, apart, and have poured out my soul to God. I have taken courage, from one or two scriptures which constantly came to my mind and of which people continued to remind me. One was from Paul and as I felt so foolish, small, and weak, I remembered that he said: ‘Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men, after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called: But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise: and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; … that no flesh should glory in his presence.’ (1 Cor. 1:25–29.)
“When my feeling of incompetence wholly overwhelmed me, I remembered the words of Nephi when he said: ‘… I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commanded them.’ (1 Ne. 3:7.) I want to tell you that I lean heavily on these promises, that the Lord will strengthen and give me growth and fit and qualify me for this great work. I have seen the Lord qualify men. In my church experiences I have helped to make many bishops. I have seen them grow and prosper and become great and mighty men in the church; men who were weak and men who were foolish, and they became strong and confounded the wise, and so I rely upon that promise of the Lord that he will strengthen and empower me that I may be able to do this work to which I have been called.” (Improvement Era, November 1943, p. 702.)

One of her first experiences as a member of the Church was ridicule by her young acquaintances, and when the family decided to join with other Saints in Far West, Missouri, Bathsheba was disappointed that she couldn’t leave immediately with her married sister, Nancy. While pondering this disappointment, she seemed to hear a voice say, “Weep not. You will go this fall.” And her family did leave for Missouri that autumn.

1 While Joseph Smith was living in Fayette, New York, Jesus Christ told him that it was time for the true church to be on the earth again. On April 6, 1830, Joseph held a meeting. Oliver Cowdery, Hyrum Smith, Samuel H. Smith, David Whitmer, and Peter Whitmer, Jr., came to the meeting to help Joseph organize the Church. Other people were at the meeting too.
2 After an opening prayer Joseph was ordained as the first elder in the Church, and Oliver was ordained as the second elder.
3 Joseph and Oliver administered the sacrament to the men, then confirmed them members of the Church of Jesus Christ and gave them the gift of the Holy Ghost.
4 Joseph and Oliver ordained some of the other men at the meeting to the priesthood. The Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they joyfully testified of how much God had blessed them.
5 During the meeting Joseph Smith received a revelation in which Jesus said that Joseph was a prophet and that when a prophet speaks, he speaks for Jesus. Therefore, the members of the Church should listen to and obey the words of the prophet.
6 After the meeting several people were baptized, including Joseph Smith’s mother and father. April 6, 1830, was a wonderful day. The Church of Jesus Christ was again on the earth.

Soon after we left the Indian reservation, Sister Owens in the next wagon became ill, and we camped for several days.
Some of the braves rode over from the reservation to get help with their baskets. Papa didn’t have much straw left to give them, but they had already decided that bear grass would do just as well. Papa showed them how to do a braided edge around the top of their baskets. He took out a pocketknife to trim the ends, and a little Indian boy who had come with his father looked so pleased with the knife that Papa let him keep it. Later that day the boy’s father returned with a strange-looking three-pronged stick that he gave to Papa, explaining how he could use it to find water for digging a well.
“I can probably use this later,” Papa said as he fastened it securely to the wagon.

I was not feeling the Christmas spirit. It was December of my senior year in high school, and college applications and my final Laurel project loomed before me. I hoped to find a volunteer opportunity that would flesh out my college applications and double as my Laurel project. Luckily my student council adviser asked my friend Jessica and me if we would organize a school toy drive for a local charity.
I delegated most of the work to the project committee. I had them create a bulletin board featuring a large thermometer that indicated the number of toys donated. We thought that was enough advertising, and we spent each lunch period collecting donations. Students donated few toys, however, and the thermometer remained low.
Strangely, our adviser began setting aside some toys. When Jessica and I asked what she planned to do with them, she told us that a teacher at the school had recently been diagnosed with cancer. After struggling to teach while going through treatment, he had decided to take a leave from work. With the holidays approaching and medical bills piling up, his family wouldn’t have much of a Christmas. Our adviser suggested that we wrap the set-aside presents for them.
My heart was touched. I had been looking at my service project as a means to serve only myself, not others. I decided to triple our goal for donated toys and to start a monetary collection for the teacher and his family.
Jessica and I visited classrooms and championed our cause. The response was enormous. Teachers, staff, and students gave toys and money to help the family. We soon surpassed our toy goal, which amazed the charity. We also collected more than $1,000 for the family.
As we carefully wrapped the gifts we had collected and purchased, I realized that the testimony of service I was receiving was just as great as the gifts we were giving. I can’t express the thrill I felt as we secretly watched the family discover the gifts we had anonymously left on their porch.
A few months later, Jessica and I were asked to teach a seminar on service projects. We explained what we had done without mentioning the teacher’s name. A girl raised her hand and stood. Tears flowed as she spoke. The teacher was her uncle, and she described how much our service had meant to him. She said it was an answer to his prayers.
What a joy it was that holiday season to come together in heartfelt service and know we had made a difference.