Gospel Story Finder

In 1888 the Relief Society and the young women’s organizations of the Church became charter members of the National Council of Women and of the International Council. These two organizations were established primarily to promote women’s suffrage and to improve the lot of women and children everywhere.
During those years our delegates had their good days and their bad, depending upon circumstances, the leadership, and their attitude toward the Mormons.
In April of 1945 Belle Smith Spafford became the president of the Relief Society. Only a week or two after she had been sustained a letter came from the National Council of Women, announcing their annual meeting to be held in New York City.
Sister Spafford had attended those meetings before, and in view of her previous experience, she and her counselors carefully considered the invitation for several weeks.
They decided to recommend to the President of the Church that the Relief Society terminate its membership in those councils. They prepared a statement of recommendation, listing all of the reasons for so doing.
Trembling and uncertain, Sister Spafford placed the paper on the desk of President George Albert Smith, saying, “The Relief Society Presidency wishes to recommend that the General Board terminate its membership in the National Council and in the International Council of Women, for the reasons listed on this paper.”
President Smith carefully read the paper. Had they not held membership for well over half a century? he inquired.
Sister Spafford explained how costly it was to go to New York, the time it took, and described the humiliation they occasionally experienced. She recommended that they withdraw because “we don’t get a thing from these councils.”
This wise, old prophet tipped back in his chair and looked at her with a disturbed expression. “You want to withdraw because you don’t get anything out of it?” he questioned.
“That is our feeling,” she replied.
“Tell me,” he said, “what is it that you are putting into it?
“Sister Spafford,” he continued, “you surprise me. Do you always think in terms of what you get? Don’t you think also in terms of what you have to give?”
He returned that paper to her and extended his hand. With considerable firmness he said, “You continue your membership in these councils and make your influence felt.”
And so they did! Sister Spafford took the gentle correction from that wise prophet, and the day came that she was president of that organization.

Every December since I can remember my family has bought a nativity set, and every year we give it away. As a family we decide who we will give it to. Usually we choose someone in our ward or neighborhood who does not have family in the area, or someone who may feel lonely over the Christmas season.
Twelve days before Christmas we begin delivering our gifts. Each night we secretly deliver one piece of the nativity set with a poem attached, starting with the camel. On Christmas Eve, we deliver the baby Jesus. We do not run and hide when we deliver this last gift as we do with the others. Instead we deliver this last piece with some goodies in person.
The best Christmas gift I get every year is seeing the happiness of the people when we give them the baby Jesus—the piece to complete their set. I always get a wonderful feeling inside when I deliver the nativity set with my family. I know the Lord is pleased with what I am doing.
My brother is on a mission right now, and last Christmas we sent him a nativity set so he could carry on the tradition even while he was serving. I really enjoy this family tradition. It is something that I plan to continue when I get married. I thank my parents for starting this tradition that helps us focus on the Savior and His birth.

Illustration by Ben Simonsen
I grew up in the Church. My family and I went to church every Sunday, and when I turned 12, I started going to Mutual every week. Even though I was active in the Church, I still relied mostly on my family’s testimonies. I liked going to the activities, but I mostly went out of habit. Sometimes I wondered why I went at all.
One Mutual activity very clearly answered that question. We went to a local food bank and started by sorting through giant bins of food that had been donated. After a little while we divided up into groups to deliver food to different families in need.
We all chatted as we drove from one place to another. The families had big smiles on their faces when we gave them the food. At one point we all got out of the car to deliver the food together. The air was crisp as we walked toward the building. We crowded into a small staircase of a rundown apartment building.
We knocked on the door and waited for a bit, shivering, until the door opened just a crack. I could see a woman’s eyes peeking out. Someone in our group said a few words but stopped when the woman almost closed the door. We stepped forward with a box of food. She told us to wait and closed the door. The other girls and I stared at each other, wondering what was happening.
We waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, a man came to the door, the little woman right behind him with a baby wrapped in a big blanket in her arms. Tears of gratitude were in her eyes as we gave the food to her husband. Warmth started in my heart and filled my entire body, and I started to cry. I looked at the little family, and I didn’t know what was happening. I’d never felt anything like it.
Walking away from that humble apartment, my heart still felt so full. The snow on the ground looked more beautiful than before. I was more grateful for my family. I felt like I was going to burst with love.
When we got back in the car, I was quiet, thinking about how I didn’t even know those people, but I was so happy and full of love. I sat there bewildered until it hit me like a stampede—it was the Spirit giving me that warmth and love. The words of King Benjamin came to my mind: “And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
My mouth nearly dropped open with the realization of how much God loves His children. He had just allowed me to feel a little bit of that love. He is aware of His children’s needs. He has a plan for us. It is a plan that I’d learned about since I was a little girl. It means that He loves me! In that moment the Spirit burned within me. I knew that I was supposed to be at Mutual that night so that I could learn that lesson of God’s love. And I didn’t have to rely on anyone else for that testimony.

Robert Sorhaïtz is just such a man. Reared in the Pyrenees Mountains near the Spanish border, he is proud of his Basque heritage. But family traditions made gaining a testimony a challenge. “It was difficult for me to develop a testimony,” he says. “I gave my wife flowers when she was baptized, but the gospel was not for me. We attended church and prayed together for three years.

“Then one day we attended the baptism of a young man. I had been preparing, and I decided I wanted to be baptized, but I thought I would surprise my wife. So I left her side and found the bishop. He gave me an interview, I put on the wet clothes of the young man who had just been baptized, and I went forward. My wife cried with joy when she realized what was happening.” Since that time, Brother Sorhaïtz has been devoted to the gospel and has served as president of the Bayonne Branch three times.

One of the earliest influences in my life, or someone who has “seen me through,” is a person who was like a second father to me. His name is John Preston Woolf, my high school choir director.

His choirs were always known for their high quality and I think that’s important because it drew people together and made the choir more appealing. The ensembles had a beautiful sound, and he ran rehearsals very efficiently. Everyone enjoyed being a part of something that represented excellence.

I estimate I spent over a 1000 of my hours of high school with him in regular rehearsals, school musicals, tours, and choir performances for all kinds of events, including missionary farewells of former students.

Because of all the time spent together, I felt I knew him pretty well. He would often compliment me on my playing or tell me I was smart. Several years ago, I went to a high school reunion just for choir and I came to find that every single person I ran into also had personal stories to tell about him, how he made them feel they were worth something, or that they were talented or had a great voice. Most could attribute at least a part of their success today back to the way he treated them, and the way they felt after being part of such a successful organization. To the best of his ability, he lived a very Christ-like life and it made a difference to all of us who associated with him. He passed away shortly after my high school graduation, but when it was time for the funeral, there were hundreds of people in attendance. They had hard time finding a place big enough to hold the service, and they settled on, what was then, the Provo Tabernacle.

Then, there are other times when you wonder if He is ever going to answer. About twenty-two years ago our fourth daughter was born. After she was born, the doctor told my wife that she shouldn’t have any more children. We talked about it, and she said, “I feel that there is another child for us.” We talked to the doctor, and he said, “No, you can’t.” My wife told him, “Well, I think I can,” but he persisted in telling her no. Doctors just don’t know what my wife knows. She is motivated by other things, I suppose. So we decided, of course, that we were going to have this baby.

Well, a year went by, and the baby didn’t come; and two years went by, and finally one of the girls said to me, “Are you sure we’re supposed to have another baby?” My wife had said that she knew we could have one, and they said, “Mother said we were going to have one, so where’s the baby?” I replied, “Well let’s go ask her.” So we went and collectively asked her, “Are you sure we’re going to have a baby?” She said, “Yes, but we haven’t prayed long enough; we haven’t prayed hard enough.” So we prayed for another year and still no baby came. Then we asked the question again, “Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?” “Yes,” was her reply. So we prayed and prayed and prayed for one and two and three and four and five and six and seven and eight years! And then one day at the table she said, “Guess what? We’re going to have a baby.” And there she is, right on this front row. Prayers, you see, are sometimes answered quickly, but other times you pray a long, long time before you get what you want.

I went to the movies with some friends of mine from church. When we entered the mall, we were given a ticket for the parking lot. After the movie ended, we realized that we had lost the parking ticket. At first we thought we could just pay for the ticket, but none of us had the 180 pesos needed for the fine.
The consequence of not paying for parking was leaving the car at the mall to get towed, which would be even more expensive. Despair overcame my friends, especially the one who was driving since the car belonged to his father. I stepped away to say a prayer. I asked Heavenly Father with all my faith and humility to provide us a way to resolve our problem and return safely to our homes. I will never forget what happened just seconds after I finished my prayer.
As I was walking back toward the car, someone behind me started calling my name. It was Francisco, a friend from high school. He asked what I was doing, and I told him what had happened. Without hesitation, he got out his wallet and gave me enough money to pay for the lost ticket. This act of kindness was an immediate response to my supplications to Heavenly Father.
Francisco may never know what a great help he was, but I know that I will be deeply grateful for the rest of my life.

Not many years ago, Elder Robert D. Hales gave a powerful illustration of this principle. He said,
When I was a boy, I used to ride my bicycle home from basketball practice at night. I would connect a small pear-shaped generator to my bicycle tire. Then as I pedaled, the tire would turn a tiny rotor, which produced electricity and emitted a single, welcome beam of light. It was a simple but effective mechanism. But I had to pedal to make it work! I learned quickly that if I stopped pedaling my bicycle, the light would go out. I also learned that when I was “anxiously engaged” in pedaling, the light would become brighter and the darkness in front of me would be dispelled.
The generation of spiritual light comes from daily spiritual pedaling. It comes from praying, studying the scriptures, fasting, and serving—from living the gospel and obeying the commandments.
Sometimes people ask, “Why do I have to go to sacrament meeting?” or “Why do I have to live the Word of Wisdom, pay tithing? Why can’t I have one foot in Babylon?” May I tell you why? Because spiritual pedaling takes both feet! Unless you are fully engaged in living the gospel—living it with all of your “heart, might, mind and strength”—you cannot generate enough spiritual light to push back the darkness.

In closing, I want to share a poignant example of advocacy from my own life. I did not get married until I was forty-six years old. I had reached the age when I thought that if I ever did get married, it would be a marriage of convenience—to someone I was comfortable with, nothing more, nothing less. Some close friends—Lois Jean Spencer, who is here today, and Marcie Lenio—introduced me to one of their other close friends who was a widower: Ferril Sorenson, a kind, faithful, wonderful man. They advocated for him with me and for me with him, and they were very effective advocates! We fell in love with each other—an all-encompassing love, nothing “convenient” about it.

We got married, and, as I continue to say, life became much better, but it did not become easier. I was working outside Philadelphia and Ferril was working outside San Francisco. Commuting coast to coast; merging two households; realizing I was no longer the only one whose opinion mattered with respect to setting the thermostat; figuring out my roles as wife, mother, and grandmother; and so forth was fun but demanding.

I have met some people who have been interested and puzzled why a young man would do what I do. I spend most of my time cleaning the headstones, so that I can read them and take photos, or hacking my way through overgrown grass and weeds. One time I found a small headstone beside a big tree near a footpath, that had been lost in the undergrowth, and completely hidden from view. I cleaned it up and removed the holly bush, other weeds and grass that were hiding it. It was a grave of a five-week-old baby boy, Tony Hamilton, lost from view and forgotten. Now, since I cleared it, someone has mowed around the tree and the grave, so hopefully he will not be lost again.

As bishop of our ward, I encouraged parents to give their children opportunities to teach in family home evening. My wife and I decided to do as I had said.
Our son taught first, and we enjoyed his lesson on prayer. The next Monday was our daughter’s turn. She had been baptized only a few months before. Her topic was God’s creation. She asked a series of questions, which we answered in turn. She then bore her testimony and concluded.
My son exclaimed, “You’ve not taught us yet; you were only asking questions.” But I told my family that I had been moved when my wife, answering one of the questions, said that she is grateful to God for creating family units and giving her a wonderful family with a loving husband. I told them that my heart was full of gratitude when my youngest daughter answered the question “Who created the world?” by exclaiming, “Jesus.” I found many other answers overwhelming in their insightfulness.
So even though my daughter did not “teach” as my son expected, her lesson—and others my children have taught—are my favorite family home evenings.
Richard Ikpegbu, Nigeria

Amanda had many friends who watched video movies after school. Some of the videos had scenes that Amanda wasn’t sure Heavenly Father and her parents would like, and she wondered if she should watch them.
___Being with her friends was fun. The videos weren’t that bad, and she would be a part of the group. If she didn’t watch the videos, she might not have anything at all to do after school.
___Amanda chose to watch the videos with her friends.
___She prayed to know if her decision was right. Amanda felt uncomfortable about her decision to watch the videos.

Nineteen-year-old Emily Rowland takes a deep breath. The task ahead of her seems nearly impossible. A trickle of sweat slowly makes its way down her face to drip off her chin, and her face becomes flushed, but she won’t give up.
Emily knows she must persevere, not only for herself, but for others who will follow. Her heart pounds and her muscles beg her to stop, but she knows it will be worth it.
This is Relief Society Homemaking meeting.
Of course, it’s not always this much of an ordeal—but this particular Homemaking night finds Emily and some of the other women in her ward—the University Ward near the University of Nevada at Las Vegas—working to improve their health and fitness, and that means working up a sweat doing aerobics. Other times Homemaking might mean learning about how to manage finances (not a bad skill for a college freshman like Emily), or how to look for a job, or maybe even how to change a flat tire.
What, no recipes, no baby quilts?
“Sure, cooking and sewing are important too,” says Emily. “It always amazes me how well Relief Society can adjust to individual needs. It’s a lot of fun.”
Emily and two of her friends, Aubrey VanDrimmelen and Charlotte Ballard, say that leaving Young Women behind was hard, and maybe even a little frightening. But it’s also something they all agree it was time to do.
“I really loved Young Women,” says Charlotte. “And Relief Society is different from Young Women. For one thing, there are a lot of people who are older than you. But after you’ve gone a few times, you realize how nice everyone is, how much they want to be your friend.”
Emily points out that going from Young Women to Relief Society happens at a time when most girls are headed off to college, entering the work force, preparing for missions, or getting married.
“Those are big changes,” she says. “Relief Society is a big change, too, but it helps you cope with all the other new things in life.”
Part of making the change into Relief Society means learning new skills. Probably one of the most important things all three girls learned right away was how to be a good visiting teacher—something none of them had done before.
“The first time I went visiting teaching, I had no clue what I was doing,” says Aubrey. “It was sort of hard to think of things to say, but now I really like it. It’s great to get to know people and help them out.”
Unlike some student wards, the University Ward in Las Vegas has a mix of single and married people. A few couples even have children, so the younger women in the ward have to step out of their comfort zone to help the others.
Emily and her partner (who is also 19) go visiting teaching to the married, has-a-master’s-degree, has-a-baby Relief Society president (gulp). But, as with most other things, Emily takes it in stride and has even learned to enjoy it.
“Getting the call to be her visiting teacher was a little intimidating, I have to admit,” she says. “Since I didn’t know what it was like to be married or have a baby, I just had to ask her. Since I was forced to ask a lot of questions, I’ve come to know more about her. I really admire her, and I have learned so much from being her visiting teacher. And I hope maybe she’s learned a little something from me.”
“Last week, our lesson on Sunday was titled ‘Aging Is Part of God’s Plan,’” says Aubrey. “I looked at that and thought, How on earth is that going to apply to someone like me? I mean, no one in my ward is exactly getting old.”
Even though there is only one lesson in the Relief Society curriculum about aging, there are lots of lessons on family and social relationships. Does that mean that someone who is young and single can’t get anything from them?
“No way!” says Emily, who serves as a Spiritual Living teacher in her ward. “I work on my lesson all week, reading it so many times I practically know it by heart. Every lesson has something that is valuable, whether you’re 19, 29, or 79.”
Charlotte says that the age differences in Relief Society actually add to her experience.
“You can always learn things from people who are older than you,” she says. “You may not need to know those things right at the moment you learn them, but lots of them come in handy later on. There’s always a great spirit in Relief Society because people share their own experiences.”
Of course, one thing that doesn’t change whether you’re in Young Women or Relief Society is the chance to learn about the Savior and how to become more like him.
“I know with a surety that my Savior lives,” says Emily. “Sometimes you start to doubt things, but if you listen to the lessons in Relief Society you learn and grow so much because you’re doing the right thing. Relief Society helps you stay close to the gospel.”
And along with that closeness to the Savior and the gospel come a closeness and friendship with each other that the girls say is hard to duplicate anywhere else.
“There’s a lot of love in our Relief Society,” says Charlotte. “You can tell when you’re there that people are willing to help each other. There are opportunities to serve and teach everywhere.”
This year, young women all over the Church will be taking the plunge into Relief Society. With a little less than a year of Relief Society under their belts, Emily, Aubrey, and Charlotte know what that initial plunge feels like: exciting, scary, and possibly (for the newcomer) a little intimidating. They also know what it feels like to keep coming: rewarding, uplifting, and a smooth transition to a lot of fun, where age differences don’t matter much.
“Everyone in Relief Society wants you to know you are accepted and to make you feel good about being there. What could be better?” says Emily.
Aubrey agrees.
“It’s a little like reading the scriptures,” she says. “Every time you go, you learn something different. And the longer you do it, the more you learn.”
Friendship, love, skill training, and spiritual growth—it’s a good deal no matter what age you are and no matter what your needs are. And who knows? The first time you go, they might even serve a delicious, fancy dessert—with the recipe, of course. After all, this is Relief Society.
Feeling left out because there’s not a student or singles’ ward in your area? Well, whether you live hundreds of miles away from the nearest Church member your age, or just a few minutes from Church headquarters, your home ward is still a great place for you to be—including Relief Society!
Christy Pimper, another 19-year-old college student from Las Vegas, has chosen to attend her home ward. Here are some of her tips on finding a way to fit in:
Mentally prepare to make the move. “I really liked Young Women, but when I turned 18, I felt ready to leave. I was older than everyone and my needs were different. When it’s time to move on, don’t hesitate!”
Take the opportunity to develop your testimony. “The lessons in Relief Society are great. You learn things you never knew before, and you understand things you’ve known all your life much better than before.”
Make friends. “Even though everyone in my ward is older than me, I don’t feel left out. All the women go out of their way to make me feel welcome.”
Keep an open mind. “Relief Society is different from Young Women, but unless you give it a try, you’ll never really know for yourself what it’s like.”

Several years ago, President Henry B. Eyring foresaw what could happen at BYU. He shared with me in a very sacred setting that there would eventually be a spiritual quality on this campus that we previously thought only possible in the very strongest areas of the Church of Jesus Christ. He said that this would happen only as we turn to the Savior and let the Savior change us.
As President Reese described earlier today, our exit survey measures whether BYU positively impacts students’ faith in Jesus Christ.38 Looking at this data from the last three years, the aggregate response has increased from 78 percent to 87 percent—a nearly ten-point gain. Of course this is only one measure of the spiritual strength of the university. But as someone who tracks institutional data closely across the Church Educational System, this is remarkable progress. It is an outward expression of the spiritual quality that President Eyring believed was possible.

It was nighttime, and the usual noise of the Missionary Training Center was hushed now. I huddled deeper into the blanket I had wrapped around me and continued my reading.
I had to catch up. If I was going to reach my goal, I would have to finish reading the remaining two-thirds of the book by the end of the week. It was a challenge I eagerly accepted, even though I had already read the Book of Mormon before. My copy was well marked, and I recognized each story as I read. But never had the messages meant more to me than now. Perhaps that was why the MTC president issued us the challenge to read the entire Book of Mormon during our three weeks of training there.
I read for a long time. The longer I read that quiet night, the more those stories became real to me. I was almost surprised at the fascinating newfound power of the book. It had me enthralled. I felt that the Book of Mormon was speaking directly to me, and now I was able to listen as I had never done before.
I was in the book of Alma, rediscovering the story of how Alma and Amulek were delivered from their enemies as the power of God brought down the prison walls that held them captive. It was what led up to their imprisonment that had such a powerful effect on me. I read how some of the more soft-hearted people believed their words and began to pray to God for forgiveness. But most of the people rejected everything they had been taught. The hostile unbelievers bound Alma and Amulek and planned to kill them and everyone who accepted and believed their teachings. Every man who believed was chased out of the land, stoned, and spit upon. Then the wicked men took the wives and children of the believers with Alma and Amulek to a large, raging fire.
As I read, I could see and feel the whole scene. I saw the wicked tie up Alma and Amulek and make them watch what happened. They burned their scriptures, trying to destroy the word of God they had rejected. Then, with no shame or empathy, they took the crying women and children and, one by one, threw them into the deadly blaze.
I sat there with my Book of Mormon, my heart literally burning with sympathy inside me. I think I understood to some tiny degree how Alma and Amulek must have felt as they watched the repentant martyrs die, for I had witnessed the same scene as I read, and I knew that it really happened. And because I knew this account was real, I knew and finally understood that the book I was reading was true. Tears spilled from my newly-opened eyes as I realized that I had taken the truth for granted for so long. But now I had gained a testimony. Though I had believed before, now I knew.
With my face wet with tears, I looked up from my Book of Mormon and out at the falling snow. I was no longer cold. I felt indescribable warmth wrapped completely around me. Never have I felt so moved to pray as at that moment. I knelt and prayed a sincere prayer of thanks. I lost track of time as I knelt there and poured out my soul in gratitude. The tears came unashamedly now as I thanked my Heavenly Father for giving me the Book of Mormon, and for the powerful yet peaceful witness I had received that it was true.
Now each time I read the stories of young Nephi or old King Benjamin, of Samuel the Lamanite or Alma the great missionary, the familiar feelings come back strongly and unmistakably. Joy and light swell in my heart again and again as I read, and tears flow when I remember that winter night in the Missionary Training Center.

Louis ran shouting down the hall. “Mommy! Mommy! Guess what!”
“What?” Mommy bent down and hugged him.
“I’m supposed to give a talk next week in Primary. Just like the big boys and girls!”
“Your very first talk!” Mommy said. “You certainly are growing up!”
“Let’s work on it today, OK?” Louis asked.
“OK.”
When lunch was over and the dishes were washed, Mommy and Louis sat down at the table.
“What do you want to talk about?” Mommy asked.
Louis thought hard. He remembered some of the things that he learned in Primary. He remembered some of the stories that Mommy told him. “I know!” he said. “I’ll talk about the prophet Abinadi warning the people and about wicked King Noah.”
“That would be a good story to tell the other Primary children,” Mommy said. “Let’s read the story again, and maybe we can draw a picture for you to show the children while you tell the story.”
“Yes! Let’s do,” Louis said happily.
After they read the story in Mosiah in the Book of Mormon, Mommy got a large piece of paper and the crayons. She and Louis drew a picture of the brave prophet Abinadi standing before King Noah. Louis used lots of red and blue, his favorite colors.
“There!” he said when he had finished.
“That’s a good picture,” Mommy told him. She propped it up on the windowsill, where Louis could see it every day.
Louis practiced telling the story of Abinadi all week long. On Saturday he stood straight and tall in the living room and held up the picture, as if he were already giving his talk in Primary. Mommy sat in front of him on a chair, pretending to be all the Primary children.
Louis used a good, loud voice. He held the picture high. He told the whole story, and he remembered to say “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen” when he finished.
Mommy kissed him. “That was wonderful!”
On Sunday Louis sat up in front in Primary because he was giving a talk. He held his picture carefully. Mommy sat in the back row. She had come to Primary especially to hear him.
Finally it was his turn. Louis got off his chair and stood up. He held up his picture, just as he’d practiced at home. He looked at all the boys and girls. They all looked back at him. Louis looked at the picture. Then he looked at the boys and girls again. He opened his mouth but couldn’t remember how the story began.
“Louis!” someone whispered. It was Mommy. She gave him a big smile. Louis smiled back. He held the picture up again so that everyone could see it, and he talked in a loud voice so that everyone could hear him. He told the whole story exactly right.
When he finished and sat down, the Primary president stood up and said, “Thank you, Louis. That was an excellent talk.”

I want to share with you one such experience. As an 11 year old scout, I learned a great lesson from an assistant scout master who took us into the woods to give us a lesson in AX SAFETY. After speaking for a few minutes and giving us a lecture on how to care for an ax and to be careful with it, the Assistant Scout Master said: "I will now teach you how to safely use an ax when chopping down a tree." He identified a young tree to chop down. We gathered around to watch. He showed us how to grip the handle. He took a swing at the tree. The ax glanced off the trunk of the tree and hit him squarely in the knee, splitting his knee wide open.

It was the best lesson on AX SAFETY that a group of 11 year old scouts could have ever received! We all went home that day with a deep understanding of the importance of Ax Safety.

In the same way, if we are wise we will learn from the mistakes of others. The more vivid the mistake, perhaps the more lasting and important the lesson. I have never looked at an ax since that day without having a sense of respect for the ax and an understanding of what can go wrong. I learned the lesson taught by the Assistant Scout Master. I want you to know, I STRONGLY believe in Ax Safety.

While my husband and I were eating lunch at a local sandwich shop, a man walked in looking disheveled, lost, and confused. When he walked toward our table, I was surprised he didn’t ask for money. He only asked for directions to Flagstaff, Arizona. My husband and I gave him directions. He thanked us and left.
After lunch we started for home. Soon I saw the man walking toward a gas station. I had a strong impression to help him and asked my husband to pull into the gas station. I found the man and introduced myself. He had sad and tired eyes. His face seemed etched with deep lines from a hard life.
I asked how he planned to get to Flagstaff. He said he was going to walk. I knew that would be impossible since Flagstaff was more than 120 miles (193 km) away. I gave him some money and told him he could go to a nearby fast food restaurant to get some food and that I would return to take him to the bus depot and buy him a ticket to Flagstaff.
I returned to the truck and told my husband what had happened. Because of his health issues, I called a friend and asked her to go back with me. She agreed. We gathered some supplies, food, and water. Then we drove to the restaurant and picked the man up.
As we headed to the bus depot, this poor man began repeating, “I want to go home.” I asked if Flagstaff was his home. It wasn’t, but his daughter, whom he hadn’t spoken to for several years, lived there. He explained that he had been released from prison two weeks earlier. He and another released prisoner had been dropped off at the bus depot and each given a ticket. The other prisoner had stolen his ticket and what little money he had. He had been wandering the streets since. Nobody would help him.
“I want to go home,” he said again.
We arrived at the bus depot. I purchased his ticket and gave him some money and the supplies we had gathered. He thanked us and sat down. As we drove away, this man’s words repeated in my mind: “I want to go home.”

A second time the vision was given to a student as well, young Alfred Kelly. He was scheduled to give a commencement address and to also encourage the sale of the upper campus so the school’s debts could be paid. He was troubled by the assignment and had written and discarded a number of speeches-dev. The following is an account of Kelly’s experience as recorded by B. F. Larsen, who was president of the graduating class at the time Kelly gave the speech.

Finally one morning with a feeling of desperation he walked toward Temple Hill. He stopped to rest and think when he reached the hill top. . . .

He partially closed his eyes and was startled. He stood as if transformed. The advancing sunlight suddenly assumed the appearance of people. The trees, the bushes, the ripples on the surface of Utah Lake, everything in the valley disappeared. Only people were there, young people moving toward Temple Hill. Hundreds of people, thousands of young people came into view advancing with the warm sunlight to the place where this campus is now built. . . .

. . . The whole of the present campus was illumined beyond the power of description and Kelly saw buildings here, not homes but temples of learning, large buildings, beautiful buildings, buildings which covered the top of this hill.6

At the commencement Kelly shared his experience. The message was so powerful that Jesse Knight, touched by the Spirit, came forward and offered his resources to save the campus.7

In conclusion, I want to relate one recent experience, that could have happened at any of our BYUs, that I had which convinced me that your generation is certainly up to the task of moving the kingdom to much higher ground—that the best is yet to come. This fall, the BYU Honor Code Office invited me to watch a presentation on the Honor Code by some upperclassmen to the freshman in Freshman Orientation. I was quite impressed by the upperclassmen’s skill and humor in setting forth the expectations for the new students with masterful presentations through skits, film, and music. By the end, they seemed to have convinced everyone that not only was living the Honor Code the right thing to do, it was also the fun thing to do. As I looked over this freshman crowd of about 4,000 in the Marriott Center, I realized that while they came from all over the country and even from some foreign countries, they were all bound together, united in a common testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. At the end of the program, this diverse group of freshmen was asked to sing a medley of those great youth anthems—“Army of Helaman” and “As Sisters in Zion.” There was no practice time and no handouts with the words to the hymns. Notwithstanding this, the freshmen gave a seamless and inspiring rendition that was worthy of any choir. As they sang, the spirit impressed upon me that this was indeed a royal and chosen generation, unique and remarkable in all the world, fully capable of accelerating the Lord’s work in these latter days.