Gospel Story Finder

“Last year,” announced the oldest girl, trying hard to be sophisticated in an ill-fitting sheath and high heels much too large, “I was to a party in the Linen Makers’ Hall. Hundreds of us there was, and a tree 30 feet high.”
“Was it grand, but?” asked a slightly envious voice.
“It wasn’t, for no one had time to talk with us like these good ladies are doing.”
I thought then that I had learned something about giving, but I was shortly to learn more.
The sophisticate I noticed, had traded her beads for the clay, the clay for a toy car, the toy car for the baby’s picture book.
“Sure it’ll do,” she said, trying to rewrap it. The used cellophane tape wouldn’t stick.
“And would you have a bit of string, Missus? And a pencil, please?” I produced them, wondering.
She tied the parcel awkwardly, and in large uneven letters she printed on it “TOMMY.”
She saw me looking and she explained: “Tis me wee brother, Missus. Nobody invited him to a party, and we can’t afford him no present.”
Ragged, messy little girl in your run-over, outsized high heels, I seem to remember that you are beautiful.

Illustrations by Jana Christy
Abby stared at the words on the TV screen: HURRICANE KATRINA HITS NEW ORLEANS. There were pictures of houses flooded clear to the roof. Her eyes widened. “Mom, have you seen this?”
“Yes.” Mom sat down. She looked sad. “So many people lost their homes.”
Abby slumped back on the couch. “I wish I could do something!”
“You can always be a friend.”
Abby looked up. “How?”
“A lot of the people who lost their homes are coming to Texas. Maybe some will come to your school.”
Mom was right. A few weeks later, Abby spotted a new girl sitting in the corner, staring down at her desk. Her hair was really short, and she wore long earrings that almost touched her shoulders. Abby thought they looked nice on her. But it was definitely a different style than she was used to seeing.
“This is Jasmine,” Mrs. Franklin said. “She’s from New Orleans. Let’s all make her feel welcome, OK?”
“Yeah, right,” someone whispered. Abby turned to see Isabella and her friends giggle behind their hands. Abby caught Isabella’s eye and looked away. Isabella always made her nervous.
The next day at lunch, Abby saw Jasmine sitting alone, picking at her food. Isabella sat nearby with friends. “She’s so weird!” said one of the boys sitting by Isabella. Everyone laughed. Jasmine just stared down at her tray.
Abby felt like she should sit with Jasmine, but she didn’t want to be teased too.
Then she remembered what Mom said. How would Abby feel if she lost her home and had to move someplace where she didn’t know anyone? She knew what Jesus would want her to do.
“Can I sit here?” Abby asked. Jasmine looked up and nodded.
“I’m Abby. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Cool earrings!”
Jasmine gave a small smile. “Thanks.” Abby sat by Jasmine every day that week. Jasmine never said anything about Isabella, but she always looked sad whenever Isabella and her friends laughed. Abby wished she could do something to make Jasmine feel better.
One day after school Mom poked her head into Abby’s room. “Wanna go to the mall?”
“Sure!”
Abby’s favorite store was selling surprise bags filled with mystery items like jewelry and nail polish. She bought one and pulled out a pair of long feather earrings that weren’t really her style. She remembered Jasmine’s long earrings. Maybe Jasmine would like them?
The next day Jasmine beamed as she put them on. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me!”
Abby smiled back. “They look so great on you!” Then she saw Isabella watching from across the room, and her smile faded.
In gym class Abby and Jasmine were on the same dodgeball team. Isabella and her friends stalked over with their hands on their hips.
“Hand over those earrings,” Isabella demanded. Jasmine shrank back.
Abby’s heart was thumping. But she wanted to stand up for Jasmine. “Leave her alone.”
Isabella crossed her arms. “You should’ve given those earrings to me. Why her?”
Jasmine flinched. Abby swallowed and stood up tall. “Because she’s my friend.”
Isabella glared. “Whatever.” She turned and left.
Jasmine threw her arms around Abby.
“Thank you!” Jasmine said over and over. “Thank you! Thank you!”
Abby was glad she had stood up for Jasmine. She had chosen to be brave and kind, like Jesus. And now she had a new friend!

Opportunities for Christian acts of service do not always come at convenient times. Approximately two or three years ago I was in southern California. I had reorganized a stake. Just as I was getting ready to go out to the airport where I could relax and just let down, a woman approached me. She was in her mature years and she said, “Elder Featherstone, are you going back to Salt Lake today?” I said, “Yes.” She continued, “Are you going on that four o’clock flight?” I responded that I was. Then she said, “Would you mind doing a favor for me?” I quickly thought about the schedule I had just been through, and the flesh was begging for a little break. I assumed she wanted me to hand carry something to her relatives. I never check baggage unless I absolutely have to. I wondered if I would have to check what it was I assumed she wanted me to bring back. I thought about waiting at the baggage claim for the item; then I wondered where it would need to be delivered. Only a moment’s pondering and as always, the spirit thrust aside all empty excuses and responded as a service-oriented leader should.
I said, “I will be glad to help in whatever way possible.” Then the woman said, “My grandson Phillip has been down here with me for a couple of weeks. How would you like to baby-sit him home to Salt Lake? He is two-and-a-half years old. His mother will be waiting for him at the airport.” We arranged to meet at the Los Angeles Airport, where the grandmother introduced me to Phillip. Before we boarded the plane she said, “Here is an envelope. Will you wait until you are on the plane to open it?” I found out why she made that request later.
Phillip and I boarded the plane. We sat on the row behind the bulkhead.
I reached into my pocket and opened the letter from the grandmother. It went something like this:
“Dear Elder Featherstone, Thank you for taking Phillip back to Salt Lake and baby-sitting him for us. We appreciate it. His mother will be there at the airport to meet you; but if she is not there, then here is what you do.”
Then she had written, “The reason I did not dare have you open the letter before you were on board the plane is that I did not have enough courage to ask you to do another favor for us. Phillip’s brother Ricky is in the University of Utah Hospital. He has had constant seizures, many a day. The doctors do not know what else to do. They have done all they know, and he still has the problem. Do you think you could possibly find time to go by the hospital and give him a blessing?”
When we arrived in Salt Lake, there was no one to meet us at the gate. We walked the length of the terminal. Still no one recognized Phillip. We went down the escalator, past the baggage claim, and out to the curb. I have done some unusual things in our marriage, but I wondered what my wife would say when I came home from a stake conference with a two-and-a-half-year-old boy.
I looked around and stood with Phillip for a moment, and then the mother pulled up along the curb. She had been delayed coming to the airport. The sweet mother was very kind, and she loaded a happy Phillip and all his gear into the car.
A short while later I was standing in one of the pediatric wards at the University of Utah Hospital. There were about six children in cribs. An attendant was mopping the floor, and then he left the room. I was all alone in the hospital room with these six beautiful children.
I found out which was Ricky’s bed and went over to him. I said, “My name is Vaughn Featherstone. Do you know who I just left?” He said, “No,” and I said, “I came back from Los Angeles today, and I brought your brother Phillip home. I told him I was coming here to see you.” Ricky was only four, but tears came to his eyes. He missed his little brother.
Then I said to him, “Ricky, I am a friend of President Spencer W. Kimball, and he loves you. President Kimball is a prophet. Your grandmother asked me if I would give you a blessing. Do you know what it means when someone lays his hands on your head and gives you a blessing?” He said, “Yes.” And then I said, “Ricky, do you believe in Jesus?” He said, “Yes.” “Do you know that Jesus loves you? Do you know that Jesus can heal you?” He answered, “Yes.” Then I asked, “Would you like me to give you a blessing so you can be healed?” “Yes,” he said.
I laid my hands upon his head and gave Ricky a blessing. An interesting thing happened in the little pediatric ward. The other children stopped playing or crying and seemed to listen.
When I finished the blessing I reached in my pocket and pulled out a beautifully polished rock with my name on it that someone had given me. I gave it to Ricky, so that when his mother came she would know that I had been there.
Two years later I was in the Kingsport Tennessee Stake and a sweet young mother came up to me after conference. She told me it was her mother that had asked me to baby-sit Phillip and bless Ricky and then she said, “Have you ever had any feedback on your blessing?” I told her I had not. Then she shared with me the great miracle, “Ricky has not had another seizure since you gave him the blessing.”
It was not opportune to take Phillip home, nor was it convenient to drop by the University of Utah Medical Center; but it was what Jesus would have done. Our service must always lead us to ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Lance Reynolds can understand that feeling. Football had become an important part of his life at an early age, beginning with children’s football teams. He played for the team at Granite High School in Salt Lake City and was chosen to be on the team of top players of the region when he was 16 years old. He was selected to the top team in the state and again to the top team of the region.
The year Lance entered Brigham Young University was the first year that first year students were allowed to play on the first (top) team representing a university, and he played with the varsity football team enough to win a school letter. His second year he was on the starting team, and his third year promised to be a great one—he would have been the only player in his position on the team returning. But it was time for Lance to go on his mission, and although he had always planned to go, the final decision was a difficult one to make.
“At the time,” he remembers, “leaving on a mission seemed like the end of all hopes for a football career.” It seemed like a choice between football and a mission. He chose the mission.
Five years and a professional contract later, Lance no longer feels that you have to make a choice. “Why not do both?” he asks. “Young students and athletes don’t have to ‘give up’ things to go on a mission—only postpone them for two years.”
And he should know. Having kept himself in good physical condition during his mission by exercising during personal time (before 6:30 A.M.) and watching his weight, Lance was able on his return to slip back into his uniform and the game with ease. Within two weeks he felt at home on the field. The following season he was on the starting team at BYU. His fourth year he was honored by the Western Athletic Conference, received All-American honorable mention, and was chosen by the Pittsburgh Steelers, a top professional football team. He is now playing with the Philadelphia Eagles football team.
Lance feels he gained in intensity, concentration, and self-control. And all three felt an increased confidence upon returning to their sport.
Although some missionaries do return and do not continue in sports, it is usually due to a change in interests rather than inability. Ed, Mark, and Lance are convinced that any athlete who serves a mission will be able to regain his previous ability upon diligently applying himself.
And even if that were not the case, Lance wouldn’t have missed his mission for anything. “I would trade all of my athletic experiences for the opportunity of going on a mission,” he insists.

CHARLES W. NIBLEY (Born 1849, Hunterfield, Scotland; died 1925, Salt Lake City; Presiding Bishop of Church; second counselor in First Presidency.) Father was coal miner and branch president. Poverty prevented emigration until 1855. Worked five more years in eastern USA for funds to get to Utah. Once in Utah, Charles gleaned wheat, herded sheep, became wealthy. Lacked formal education but attained self-taught brilliance. Traveling companion to President Joseph F. Smith to military training camps during World War I. Had nine sons, eight daughters, scores of grandchildren.

My sister and I are the only members of the Church in our school. People notice we are different and always ask questions. At first I was nervous to talk to them, but I prayed to be able to say the right thing, and they have listened and respected my choices.
Ruben, Norway

May I add my mite to the mass of evidence upon this all-important theme? Fifty years ago, or something less, I was a young missionary in the state of Pennsylvania. I had been praying for a testimony of the truth but beyond that had not displayed much zeal in missionary labor. My companion, a veteran in the cause, chided me for my lack of diligence in this direction. “You ought to be studying the books of the Church,” said he; “you were sent out to preach the gospel, not to write for the newspapers”—for that was what I was doing at the time.

I knew he was right, but I still kept on, fascinated by the discovery that I could wield a pen and preferring that to any other occupation except the [theater], my early ambition, which I had laid upon the altar when, as a youth of 21, I accepted a call to the mission field.

One night I dreamed—if dream it may be called—that I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. I saw Him as plainly as I see this congregation. I stood behind a tree in the foreground, where I could see without being seen. Jesus, with Peter, James, and John, came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, He passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed. It was the same prayer with which we are all familiar: “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt” ([see] Matthew 26:36–44; Mark 14:32–41; Luke 22:42).

As He prayed the tears streamed down His face, which was toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I wept also, out of pure sympathy with His great sorrow. My whole heart went out to Him. I loved Him with all my soul and longed to be with Him as I longed for nothing else.

Presently He arose and walked to where the Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least suggestion of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. There He was, with the weight of the world’s sin upon His shoulders, with the pangs of every man, woman, and child shooting through His sensitive soul—and they could not watch with Him one poor hour!

Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened, until I was perfectly familiar with His appearance—face, form, and movements. He was of noble stature and of majestic mien—not at all the weak, effeminate being that some painters have portrayed—a very God among men, yet as meek and lowly as a little child.

All at once the circumstance seemed to change, the scene remaining just the same. Instead of before, it was after the Crucifixion, and the Savior, with those three Apostles, now stood together in a group at my left. They were about to depart and ascend into heaven. I could endure it no longer. I ran out from behind the tree, fell at His feet, clasped Him around the knees, and begged Him to take me with Him.

I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stooped and raised me up and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real, that I felt the very warmth of His bosom against which I rested. Then He said: “No, my son; these have finished their work, and they may go with me, but you must stay and finish yours.” Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought Him most earnestly: “Well, promise me that I will come to You at the last.” He smiled sweetly and tenderly and replied: “That will depend entirely upon yourself.” I awoke with a sob in my throat, and it was morning.

“That’s from God,” said my companion (Elder A. M. Musser), when I had related it to him. “I don’t need to be told that,” was my reply. I saw the moral clearly. I had never thought that I would be an Apostle or hold any other office in the Church; and it did not occur to me even then. Yet I knew that those sleeping Apostles meant me. I was asleep at my post—as any man is, or any woman, who, having been divinely appointed to do one thing, does another.

But from that hour all was changed—I was a different man. I did not give up writing, for President Brigham Young [1801–77], having noticed some of my contributions in the home papers, wrote advising me to cultivate what he called my “gift for writing” so that I might use it in future years “for the establishment of truth and righteousness upon the earth.” This was his last word of counsel to me. He died the same year, while I was still in the mission field, though laboring then in the state of Ohio. I continued to write, but it was for the Church and kingdom of God. I held that first and foremost; all else was secondary.

Then came the divine illumination, which is greater than all dreams, visions, and other manifestations combined. By the light of God’s candle—the gift of the Holy Ghost—I saw what till then I had never seen, I learned what till then I had never known, I loved the Lord as I had never loved Him before. My soul was satisfied, my joy was full, for I had a testimony of the truth, and it has remained with me to this day.

As an “active nonmember,” as everyone called me, I learned to have patience and hope that one day I would become a member of the Church. I knew it was a test of my faith and patience. I wondered how long it would take to be cleansed and start a new life.
That day came almost seven years after my friend took me to church on that cold February morning in 2000. I was baptized at 21 at the mission home in Sofia. My baptism day was one of the happiest days of my life. At that moment I felt the great redeeming love Heavenly Father has for me. I felt that even more when I partook of the sacrament the next day. I couldn’t hold back the tears. The Spirit burning inside me was telling me it was worth waiting for. I could finally enjoy the gift of the Holy Ghost and other blessings of being a member of the Church.

Vocational training broadens our perspectives and helps us to see people and problems from a much broader and wiser view. Brigham Young said that we must use our hands as well as our heads in accomplishing our tasks:
“Let me take twenty years to come in which to build cities, temples, tabernacles, halls, dwellings, etc., with my mental organization, and not put forth my hands, or use any manual labor, to perform any of this work, do you not perceive that my body would not have labored during all this period, and that my mind would have labored to excess, even to the overcoming of the tabernacle. Again, let me build house after house, hall after hall, temple after temple, etc., my mind would have something to rest upon, and my body being weary with labor, I could lie down, and both would rest together.”
Then he added: “Let the body work with the mind, and let them both labor fairly together, and with but few exceptions, you will have a strongminded, athletic individual, powerful both physically and mentally.”

When I was 16, a patriarch who had never seen me before and knew nothing of my background gave me my patriarchal blessing. In it the Lord answered specific questions I held in my heart related to some personal challenges. My thoughts about them seemed too intimate to share. One challenge concerned whether I would find a loving woman courageous enough to marry me in spite of my prominent birth defect—one our children might inherit. The answer was yes. I did marry Marie, and we had five beloved children.

The Lord’s answers in that blessing respected my concerns and my privacy. They were phrased so that only I would fully understand their meaning. From that day, I have had a firm personal witness that my Heavenly Father knows me intimately.

Like all good parents, my own parents desired a bright future for their children. My father was not a member, and because of unusual circumstances that existed at that time, my parents determined that my brothers and sisters and I should leave our island home of American Samoa, in the South Pacific, and travel to the United States in order to go to school.
The decision to be separated from us was a difficult one for my parents, especially my mother. They knew that there would be unknown challenges as we were put into new surroundings. However, with faith and determination, they pressed forward with their plan.
Because of her Latter-day Saint upbringing, my mother was familiar with the principles of fasting and prayer, and both of my parents felt that they needed the blessings of heaven to help their children. In that spirit they began to set aside a day every week to fast and pray for us. Their vision was to prepare their children for a bright future. They acted on this vision as they exercised their faith by seeking the Lord’s blessings. Through fasting and prayer, they received the assurance, comfort, and peace that all would be well.
I know that as we gain a vision of ourselves as the Savior sees us and as we act on that vision, our lives will be blessed in unexpected ways. Because of the vision of my parents, not only was my life blessed by educational experiences, but I was placed in circumstances where I found and embraced the gospel. More important, I learned the significance of good and faithful parents. Simply put, my life was changed forever.
Just as vision led my parents to fast and pray for their children’s welfare and as the early Apostles’ vision led them to follow the Savior, that same vision is available to inspire and help us to act. Brothers and sisters, we are a people with a history of vision and the faith and courage to do. Look at where we have come and the blessings we have received! Believe that He can bless you with vision in your life and the courage to act.

Of course, returning home after such an experience is a challenge. I met a good brother coming out of the Mormon Handicraft store just before Christmas. He had been in buying his wife a Christmas present. As I was coming down the street, he ran up to me and said, “Don’t you remember me?” I had to be prompted a little. When we last met, it was in the mission field. Living conditions were certainly not like home. But there was a radiance about him and his wife as we had opportunity to be with them for a day and witness their work.

I said to him, “It must be great to be back home.” He hesitated a minute, and then said, “You know, I’ve had a difficult time adjusting. I feel that we should be back among the Saints in the Philippines. They needed us so much. I don’t find that same need here. Can’t you send us back on another mission?”

David looked proudly at his project. He had worked very hard to make it perfect for Mommy. He had even stayed in at recess to finish it instead of play dodgeball with the rest of his first-grade class.
He had started out with a large sheet of plain white paper. Then he had carefully cut out bright yellow flowers, curly red flowers, and big orange flowers with long petals. Next, he had carefully glued them one by one onto his paper. With green crayons of two different shades, he had drawn tall stems and wavy leaves on all the flowers. In the very center of the largest yellow flower, he carefully spelled out “I love you.”
“What a beautiful garden, David,” said his teacher. “Your mother will be very pleased.”
“Thank you,” David answered politely. “I made it big so it would be special.”
After school, he went to the back of the room to get his jacket. He set his lunch box and the picture on the floor while he put on his jacket. When he reached down to pick up his picture, he heard an awful tearing sound. His foot had been on the edge of the paper, and a big piece tore completely off. Sadly, David threw the piece away. The rest was still big enough to be special, but not as big as he had wanted it to be.
He started walking home, holding Mommy’s picture carefully in one hand and his lunch box in the other. As he passed Mrs. Johnson’s house, the picture caught on a branch of her rosebush. One whole corner was ripped into shreds. He tore it off and threw it into a nearby dumpster. He hoped Mommy would like what was left of her picture, even though it wasn’t very big anymore.
A sudden gust of wind tore the paper from his grasp at the corner of his block. He chased it down the sidewalk and finally caught up with it, but not before it had landed partway in a puddle. Nearly everything that was left of Mommy’s garden picture was soggy.
As David entered his own yard, he tossed the damaged part into the big trash can near the gate, saving only the yellow flower that said “I love you.” He trudged into the house. “I have something for you, Mommy,” he called.
“What is it, honey?” she asked, coming to give him a big welcome-home hug.
“It’s a flower. It was a whole garden, and it was special because it was big, but this is all there is left.” He held the yellow flower out to her.
“Why, David, this is perfect!” exclaimed Mommy, taking the flower and giving him another big hug. “And it’s just the right size!”
She went over to the table, picked up her purse, and took out her new wallet. “Look,” she said. “It fits into the last empty window in my wallet. I can take my special flower with me everywhere I go, and it will remind me of the special boy who made it for me!”
David grinned a big, happy, “I love you” grin.

A true story of faith to become self-reliant that I find inspiring concerns a brother that I will call Didier (not his real name). Didier served in the Nigeria Calabar Mission at the time that I served there as mission president. When he completed his mission, Didier was serving as a zone leader. He was an obedient, quietly determined, and hard-working missionary. Both of Didier’s parents had passed away when he was young. At that point, he was taken into the custody of his maternal uncle, who raised him and introduced him to the Church. But before Didier completed his mission, his uncle was overcome by a terminal illness and passed away. Didier’s circumstances appeared bleak and desperate.

Returning home, and without any able members of his immediate family to turn to for help, Didier decided that he would continue to put his trust in the Lord who had sustained him up to that point. He decided to find out what he could do to move forward in his life. Through prayer, he got the impression to study what people who were self-reliant in his hometown were doing to sustain themselves. For several weeks, he walked the streets moving from shop to shop, observing the business that was going on, and how people were coming and going.

He reached the conclusion that he would likely live a reasonably good life as an electronics technician repairing TVs, radios, and other electronic equipment. The problem was that he had no skills, no money, and he did not know where to begin. Again, through prayer, he got the impression to ask the owner of one electronics repair shop, how he could get practical training to work as a technician. The man told Didier he could train him for about two years at a fee.

Excited, he contacted his ward self-reliance specialist and asked to be considered for a Perpetual Education Fund loan so he could get the money to pay the shop owner and obtain the training he believed would help him earn enough to meet his temporal needs. Then came his major disappointment. The specialist explained to him that PEF loans were only given for recognized training institutions, and loan money could only be paid directly to the bank account of the training institution. The shop owner was not a registered training institution and did not have a bank account. Didier was at a dead end.

But Didier had observed the goings on at the shop long enough to know that this was a good business if he would work hard. Moreover, he was drawn to the work and admired how a non-functioning TV could suddenly be brought back to life. In this moment of intense discouragement and apparent hopelessness, he again turned to the Lord in prayer. The impression came to go back to the shop owner, explain to him his situation, and offer to enter into an apprenticeship contract that he would pay for after he had completed his training and started working. He did not know how the shop owner would respond, but he decided to try. After deep reflection, the shop owner accepted his proposal on the condition that Didier provide a character reference, which he gladly did.

Two years later, Didier—now with his wife, another returned missionary, at his side—completed his practical apprenticeship as an electronics repair technician. He developed a strong relationship of trust with his trainer, who also became his mentor. Didier was a good student and an asset to the shop. The shop owner offered to hire him as an employee, which Didier gladly accepted. This gave him the opportunity to immediately start paying what he owed for his apprenticeship.

A year later, Didier felt that he knew enough to start his own business. With what he had saved from his employment earnings, he rented a small shed in another part of town. As he had become known to several good clients while working with his trainer and mentor, his business picked up steadily. After two years, he had saved enough money to buy a 40-foot container which was going for a bargain. He rented a plot where he placed the container and moved his repair shop to the new premises. In another year, he bought the plot on which his repair shop stood.

Didier was now his own man, feeling in full control of his life, and deeply grateful to the Lord for sustaining him as he waded through uncertain territory in his life.

My hope and invitation is that despite the gloom of the past 18 months, and of anything else the world might throw at you to try to destroy your hope, you will not let go of your faith. I hope that you will draw inspiration from the experience of Didier, a young man whom I came to know and who, under conditions that could have allowed despair to rule his life, decided to trust in the Lord and to go forward despite the overwhelming weight of his discouragements. Today, Didier serves as a stake high counsellor, and he and his family stand independent. He is confident that if he does his part, the Lord will see him through any challenge that he may face.

Whenever I attend a temple dedication, I think of Brother and Sister Gustav and Margarete Wacker of Kingston, Ontario. He was once the branch president of the Kingston Branch. He was from the old country. He spoke English with a thick accent. He never owned or drove a car. He plied the trade of a barber. He made but little money cutting hair near an army base at Kingston. How he loved the missionaries! The highlight of his day would be when he had the privilege to cut the hair of a missionary. Never would there be a charge. When they would make a feeble attempt to pay him, he would say, “Oh, no; it is a joy to cut the hair of a servant of the Lord.” Indeed, he would reach deep into his pockets and give the missionaries all of his tips for the day. If it were raining, as it often does in Kingston, President Wacker would call a taxi and send the missionaries to their apartment by cab, while he, himself, at day’s end would lock the small shop and walk home—alone in the driving rain.

I first met Gustav Wacker when I noticed that his tithing was far in excess of that expected from his potential income. My efforts to explain to him that the Lord required no more than a tenth fell on attentive but unconvinced ears. He simply responded that he loved to pay all he could to the Lord. It amounted to about a third of his income. His dear wife felt exactly as he did. Their unique manner of tithing payment continued.

Gustav and Margarete Wacker established a home that was a heaven. They were not blessed with children but mothered and fathered their many Church visitors. A sophisticated and learned Church leader from Ottawa told me, “I like to visit the Wacker home. I come away refreshed in spirit and determined to ever live close to the Lord.”

Did our Heavenly Father honor such abiding faith? The branch prospered. The membership outgrew the rented Slovakian Hall where they met and moved into a modern and lovely chapel of their own to which the branch members had contributed their share and more, that it might grace the city of Kingston. President and Sister Wacker had their prayers answered by serving a proselyting mission to their native Germany and later a temple mission to that beautiful temple in Washington, D.C. Then, in 1983, his mission in mortality concluded, Gustav Wacker peacefully passed away while being held in the loving arms of his eternal companion, dressed in his white temple suit, there in the Washington Temple.

Alph and Lucette Passeraub of Lausanne, Switzerland, love to go walking together. One of their favorite strolls is along the shore of Lake Geneva, where the Alps tower over the inland sea. A couple of years ago on such a walk, the Passeraubs spent the evening reminiscing.
“Even as an adolescent, I was searching for the truth,” Alph, 78, said. “I always said to myself, If God exists, He must have a living prophet on the earth. I was preoccupied with that thought all the time.”
As Alph began his post–high school studies, a friend encouraged him to attend a free English class taught by LDS missionaries. After one of the classes, the missionaries invited him to church.
“The first time I attended, the Sunday School lesson was about the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost as three distinct beings,” Alph recalled. “The teacher said we know much about God thanks to the teachings of a modern-day prophet, Joseph Smith, and that there are living prophets today. I was amazed. They were talking about what had been in my heart for so long.” He soon joined the Church, “and every day since then, I rejoice that there are prophets on the earth.”
Lucette, 80, grew up as a child of World War II. “I had to go to work at 14 and never got to complete my education,” she says. “But I found that the Church gave me opportunities to keep learning.” After serving a full-time mission, she started dating Alph. They married in the temple, raised a family, and now look back at their journey that includes Lucette’s 14 years as ward Primary president, Alph’s 32 years on the stake high council, regular trips to the temple, visits with children and grandchildren, and always, always, gratitude for the truth they embraced when they were young.
“We have been blessed to walk side by side,” Lucette says. “And with each step, our faith has grown stronger.”

One little boy, whose parents’ teachings helped him, later became a truly great man and president of the United States, where he was loved and respected by almost everyone who knew him. Many books have been written about this man, but they only tell of his life when he was an adult. Almost nothing has been mentioned about his boyhood.
Then a retired army general and patriot by the name of William H. Wilbur decided to find out if something in the famous man’s childhood was responsible for his greatness. Mr. Wilbur spent years searching for such information. He discovered that the boy came from a good home where he was taught and guided carefully by his parents. They taught the boy to have faith in the Lord and how to pray. They gave him certain rules to memorize and keep so that he could live a wholesome and righteous life of service.
The rules helped the boy to develop character, consideration, modesty, compassion, respect, proper conduct and manners, and he tried hard to live by them. When he was older, the boy added some rules of his own, making 110 in all. Here are just a few of them:
Keep company only with good people.
Accept corrections thankfully.
Speak not evil of the absent.
When you speak of God, do so reverently.
Honor and obey your parents.
Let your recreations be manful, not sinful.
Do not reprove or correct another when you are angry.
Do not swear or revile anyone.
Speak not injurious words even in fun.
Be attentive when others speak.
Be modest in your apparel (clothes).
Do not try to show off.
Do not fuss with your clothing in public.
Do not brag about your accomplishments.
Laugh not loudly or at all without occasion.
When a person does the best he can, yet doesn’t succeed, do not blame him.
Do not express joy before one who is sick or in pain.
Do not show yourself glad at another’s misfortune.
If anyone comes to speak to you while you are sitting, stand up.
When your superiors or older people are talking, do not speak or laugh.
Do not laugh at your own jokes.
Do not give advice unless you are asked.
Do not eat in the streets.
Point not with thy finger.
Serve guests first.
Do not eat with your knife.
Sit up straight while eating.
Do not put too much in your mouth at one time.
Do not talk with food in the mouth.
As he became a man, this boy’s letters and deeds showed that he followed these rules all his life. From the New England Primer he was once asked to learn the following by heart:
I will fear God. …
I will honour my Father and Mother.
I will obey my superiors.
I will submit to my elders.
I will love my friends.
I will hate no man.
I will forgive my enemies and pray to God for them.
I will … keep all [of] God’s Holy commandments.
Have you guessed the name of this great man? It is George Washington, the first president of the United States, who some call “the father of his country.” He was a big man—physically, mentally, morally, and spiritually. He was a modest man, a humble man, a man always considerate of others. General Wilbur, who wrote the book, The Making of George Washington—which I hope all of you will read some day—said Washington “had an almost Godlike capacity for leadership.” He was also a man of courage and stood for whatever was right.

My mother taught me how to pray before I can remember. Every night I offered a prayer that many children around the world who aren’t members of the Church learn to say:
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
I would follow this verse with a list of things that I wanted. When I prayed, I knew that I was talking to my Heavenly Father. I loved Him. But because I was not a member of the Church at that time, I didn’t approach our Father in Heaven through the Savior. I didn’t close my prayers in the name of Jesus Christ. I just said “Amen” at the end.
When I became a member of the Church as an adult, I learned about the great gifts that the Savior gave to me and to all others. I came to understand the example, the atoning sacrifice, and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Now I try to live as the Savior did and follow His example. I know that I can have the gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ if I am valiant.
Now, the Savior has a place in my life that He did not occupy when I was a child. My prayers have become quite different, even though the Heavenly Father that I loved and prayed to as a child is the same Heavenly Father I know today.
I have also learned that instead of only asking for things in my prayers, as I did when I was a child, I need to thank Him for the blessings that I enjoy—for health, for my family, for freedom from want, for the opportunity to live in a land of peace and plenty, for the gospel, for the opportunity to serve the Lord, and, above all, for my Savior, Jesus Christ.

As a group, the Beehives teach neighborhood hygiene classes that have resulted in requests for discussions from the missionaries and eventually baptism.

Her mother, Kathie, remembers seeing her go down a run for the first time. She says, “It’s nerve-racking when you watch your daughter go by, and she’s going so fast. I wondered, ‘What have we gotten into?’ The coaches don’t know how she does it. She can have a bad start, but as soon as she is through the first curve, she’s leading everyone because she’s settling in and relaxing and just feeling the curves.”