Gospel Story Finder

From my infancy I had heard the Word of Wisdom stories about tea and coffee and tobacco, etc. Nearly every Sunday School day and Primary day we sang lustily, I with the other boys:
That the children may live long,
And be beautiful and strong,
Tea and coffee and tobacco they despise,
Drink no liquor, and they eat
But a very little meat;
They are seeking to be great and good and wise.
(Sing with Me, B-24)

We sang it time and time again until it became an established part of my vocabulary and my song themes, but more especially my life’s plan. Occasionally some respected speaker said he had never tasted the forbidden things we sang against and then I made up my mind. Never would I use these forbidden things the prophets preached against. That decision was firm and unalterable. I would not and did not deviate.

In 1937 my wife and I were touring in Europe. In France I sat at a banquet table of the Rotary International Convention in a fashionable hotel. The large, spacious banquet room held hundreds of people. The many waiters moved about the tables, and at every place besides plenteous silver, linen, and fancy serving dishes were seven wine glasses. No one was watching me. The temptation nudged me: Shall I drink it or at least sip it? No one who cares will know. Here was quite a temptation. Shall I or shall I not?

Then the thought came: But I made a firm resolution when a boy that I would never touch the forbidden things. I had already lived a third of a century firm and resolute. I would not break my record now.

Remember, O youth of a noble birthright, that “wickedness never was happiness.” The unrighteous may pretend to be happy and may seek to entice others into such a way of life because misery loves company, as you know, but you will never see a happy sinner. Even the discontent of good people is traceable to such shortcomings as they have.

A casual observer may feel that an unrighteous person “has it made,” and for a fleeting moment it may even seem so. But gross sin produces a deep emptiness. Thus the wicked seem to do more of the same in order to reassure themselves and to try to fill the void. When you see a life filled with desperation, there is transgression in it. We may pity such people, but it is wrong and naive to envy them!

John Rowe Moyle was a convert to the Church who left his home in England and traveled to the Salt Lake Valley as part of a handcart company. He built a home for his family in a small town a valley away from Salt Lake City. John was an accomplished stonecutter and, because of this skill, was asked to work on the Salt Lake Temple.
Every Monday John left home at two o’clock in the morning and walked six hours in order to be at his post on time. On Friday he would leave his work at five o’clock in the evening and walk almost until midnight before arriving home.
One day, while he was doing his chores at home, a cow kicked him in the leg, causing a compound fracture. With limited medical resources, the only option was to amputate the broken leg.
Once John could sit up in bed, he began carving a wooden leg with an ingenious joint that served as an ankle to an artificial foot. Walking on this device was extremely painful, but John did not give up, building up his endurance until he could make the 22-mile (35-km) journey to the Salt Lake Temple each week, where he continued his work.
His hands carved the words “Holiness to the Lord” that stand today as a golden marker to all who visit the Salt Lake Temple.
John did not do this for the praise of man. Neither did he shirk his duty, even though he had every reason to do so. He knew what the Lord expected him to do.
Years later, John’s grandson Henry D. Moyle was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve and eventually served in the First Presidency of the Church. President Moyle’s service in these callings was honorable, but his grandfather John’s service is just as pleasing to the Lord. John’s legacy of sacrifice serves as a banner of faithfulness.

As a boy Elder Hales loved baseball. In high school he became the pitcher for the school’s baseball team. Once he lost three games in a row, one to nothing. One of the games was a no-hitter. The school newspaper had an article called “Hard-Luck Hales Loses Again.”
Robert told his coach he was going to quit. His coach told him that he just needed to stop wearing out his arm. He was pitching fastballs before the games to show off. Robert listened. The next game he pitched so well that the other team never scored a single run. Because he listened to his coach, he was able to play better. Robert learned that listening to Heavenly Father is like that too. When we listen to Heavenly Father, we can do well.

Years ago my adventurous son Jeff and I found ourselves on an old bus bouncing along on a dirt road in Central America at 1:00 a.m. We took the early, early bus because it was the only bus that day. A half hour later, the driver stopped for two missionaries. When they got on, we asked them where in the world they were going so early. Zone conference! And they were determined to do whatever it took to get there. At 2:00 a.m. two more elders boarded the bus and enthusiastically hugged their fellow missionaries. This scene repeated itself every half hour as the bus climbed the remote mountain road. By 5:00 a.m. we had 16 of the Lord’s finest as fellow passengers and were basking in the Spirit they brought on board.
Suddenly we screeched to a halt. A massive mud slide had buried the road. Jeff said, “What do we do now, Dad?” Our friends Stan, Eric, and Allan had the same concern. Just then the zone leader shouted, “Let’s go, elders. Nothing is going to stop us!” And they scrambled off the bus! We looked at each other and said, “Follow the elders,” and we all sloshed through the mud slide, trying to keep up with the missionaries. There happened to be a truck on the other side, so we all hopped aboard. After a mile we were stopped by yet another mud slide. Once again the elders plowed through, with the rest of us close behind. But this time there was no truck. Boldly the zone leader said, “We will be where we are supposed to be even if we have to walk the rest of the way.” Years later, Jeff told me how those missionaries and this photo inspired and motivated him tremendously as he served the Lord in Argentina.
Although we overcame the mud slides, we were all spotted with mud. The missionaries were somewhat nervous about standing before their president on zone conference day when he and his wife would be carefully checking their appearance.
As you and I slosh through the mud slides of life, we can’t help getting a few mud spots on us along the way either. And we don’t want to stand before the Lord looking muddy.
When the Savior appeared in ancient America, He said, “Repent, all ye ends of the earth, and come unto me and be baptized in my name, that ye may be sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost, that ye may stand spotless before me at the last day” (3 Nephi 27:20).
Alma warns us about some of the ways we become spotted with mud: “For our words will condemn us, yea, all our works will condemn us; we shall not be found spotless; and our thoughts will also condemn us” (Alma 12:14).
Alma also said:
“Ye cannot be saved; for there can no man be saved except his garments are washed white; yea, his garments must be purified until they are cleansed from all stain. …
“… How will any of you feel, if ye shall stand before the bar of God, having your garments stained with blood and all manner of filthiness?” (Alma 5:21–22).
He also tells us about “all the holy prophets, whose garments are cleansed and are spotless, pure and white” (Alma 5:24).
He then asks us how we are doing as we cross through the mud slides of life: “Have ye walked, keeping yourselves blameless before God? Could ye say, if ye were called to die at this time, … that your garments have been cleansed and made white through the blood of Christ?” (Alma 5:27).
Because of repentance and the Atonement of Jesus Christ, our garments can be spotless, pure, fair, and white. Moroni pleads, “O then ye unbelieving, turn ye unto the Lord; cry mightily unto the Father in the name of Jesus, that perhaps ye may be found spotless, pure, fair, and white, having been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, at that great and last day” (Mormon 9:6).
In 1 Samuel we read, “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; … for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
The Nephites were looking on the outward appearance of the Lamanites, for Jacob declared, “Wherefore, a commandment I give unto you, which is the word of God, that ye revile no more against them because of the darkness of their skins” (Jacob 3:9).
Our Father knows and loves His children all over the world, from Boston to Okinawa, from San Antonio to Spain, from Italy to Costa Rica. In Ghana, President Gordon B. Hinckley recently thanked the Lord “for the brotherhood that exists among us, that neither color of skin nor land of birth can separate us as Thy sons and daughters” (Accra Ghana Temple dedicatory prayer, in “Brotherhood Exists,” Church News, Jan. 17, 2004, 11).
We invite men and women everywhere, whatever language or culture, to “come unto [Christ] and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; … [for] all are alike unto God” (2 Nephi 26:33).
We come to this world in many colors, shapes, sizes, and circumstances. We don’t have to be rich, tall, thin, brilliant, or beautiful to be saved in the kingdom of God—only pure. We need to be obedient to the Lord Jesus Christ and keep His commandments. And we can all choose to do that regardless of where we live or what we look like.
When the four sons of Mosiah taught the gospel to the wild, ferocious Lamanites, a mighty change of heart occurred:
“As many of the Lamanites as believed in their preaching, and were converted unto the Lord, never did fall away.
“For they became a righteous people; they did lay down the weapons of their rebellion, that they did not fight against God any more, neither against any of their brethren” (Alma 23:6–7).
Today many of their descendants are reading about this in their own copies of the Book of Mormon and are choosing to follow Christ. I love meeting the children of Lehi in spotless white in the numerous temples in the Mexico South Area, where I am currently serving. I feel as President Gordon B. Hinckley did at the dedication of the Guatemala City temple:
“Thou kind and gracious Father, our hearts swell with gratitude for thy remembrance of the sons and daughters of Lehi, the many generations of our fathers and mothers who suffered so greatly and who walked for so long in darkness. Thou hast heard their cries and seen their tears. Now there will be opened to them the gates of salvation and eternal life” (Guatemala City Guatemala Temple dedicatory prayer, in “Their Cries Heard, Their Tears Seen,” Church News, Dec. 23, 1984, 4).
I have seen humble descendants of Lehi come down from the mountains to that temple and openly weep as they stood there in awe. One gave me an abrazo and asked me to take that hug of love, appreciation, and brotherhood back to all those beloved missionaries who brought them the gospel and to all the Saints whose tithing faithfulness has brought temple blessings within reach. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can all stand spotless, pure, and white before the Lord.
With great gratitude I lift my voice with Nephi: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children [and our grandchildren] may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins” (2 Nephi 25:26).
My wife and I love this scripture so much that she painted it on a wall in our living room, below a beautiful white porcelain Christus. They are a constant reminder for us to live Christ-centered lives.
One day our son was reading the scriptures with his family. Our seven-year-old grandson Clatie read, “‘And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ’—Hey, that’s what Granny and Grandpa have on their wall!” Now that’s one of his favorite scriptures.
On another occasion we were at the visitors’ center on Temple Square with these same grandchildren. Two-year-old Ashley was tired and wanted to leave. Sister Mask asked her if she wanted to see a big Jesus like the one on our wall. She asked, “Is He as big as me?” “Even bigger,” Sister Mask replied. When that tiny, little girl looked up at the majestic Christus, she ran and stood at the feet and gazed up reverently for several minutes. When her father indicated it was time to go, she said, “No, no, Daddy. He loves me and wants to give me hugs!”
The road of life is strewn with spiritual mud slides. Whatever our sins and imperfections, may we attack them with the same missionary zeal that those elders attacked their mud slides. And may we thank our Father daily for sending us His Son, Jesus Christ, to forgive us our mud spots so that we may stand spotless before Him. Ashley was right. He does love us and will say to us at that great day, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: … enter thou into the joy of thy lord” (Matthew 25:21).
I bear witness that He lives and He loves us. He is our Savior and our Redeemer. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I have a lifelong friend whose teenage tampering with pornography evolved into a deadly addiction, and for years it has ruled him and ravaged his marriage. Frankly, I had lost hope that he would ever really change.

And then, a year ago, a remarkable sequence of events began to unfold. He began to study the scriptures for the first time since his mission. The word of God pierced his heart, and he knew he had to repent—which involved heart-wrenching confessions and subsequent excommunication. Now he is working his way back by immersing himself in the gospel as never before.

He wrote me this recently:

It was when I began to study the gospel that I realized I had been under Satan’s power for years. When I finally got on my knees, pleaded for help to change, and surrendered my sins to the Lord, my world turned upside down. This past year has been a crash course in the ways of God and His Son. It has been the most difficult but wonderful year of my life. I wish I could tell everyone who is in a situation like I was to not be afraid to surrender to the Lord. They will find joy like never before in His Atonement. They will feel the Father wrap His arms around them. They will discover there is power in the gospel to really change.

Some may be skeptical about this man’s transformation, believing that “once addicted, always addicted.” But that is not true. The gospel has the power to cleanse and make new, because the word “is quick and powerful,” it “divide[s] asunder all the cunning . . . of the devil,” and it “lead[s] the man of Christ” home (Helaman 3:29). The Atonement is real. My friend is evidence of that. His great change is the change that comes with conversion.

Dad’s dependable ranch hand, Dick, had already disappeared with the snowplow behind the thick curtain of moving snow when Ellie Ford went outside. The low hay sled was loaded with timothy hay, and two teams were hitched to it.

“Come on, Sis!” Ellie’s ten-year-old brother, Wes, called. “I’ll help you up!”

Wes scrambled to the top of the hay and reached down a hand to Ellie. He laughed as she struggled up the ladder of the rack. Wes’s round, freckled face between the earflaps of his red woolen cap beamed cheerfully.

How can he be so cheerful? Ellie wondered. It’s Christmas Day, and we’re stuck here on the ranch playing nursemaids to a bunch of silly cattle instead of being at Grandmother’s.

Wes moved the teams expertly out of the barnyard and down the lane between the sapling maple trees.

It was the Ford family’s first year at ranching, and Ellie thought again of the changes that had been made in their lives. In the city they had been surrounded by friends and relatives. But here in the sandhills, their nearest neighbor lived ten miles away.

The snowstorm had begun two days ago when they were dismissed from school for Christmas vacation. The wind-driven pellets had made a pinging sound against the school bus as it chugged along toward the crossroads where Ellie and Wes were the last to get off. By the time they had reached home, the corn snow had turned into huge fluffy flakes.

Ellie had known that something was wrong when her father came in from the living room that night at suppertime looking anxiously at first one member of his family and then another. Finally he announced to them after the blessing was said, “There’s a blizzard predicted for the sandhills, and I’ve decided I’d better stay here on the ranch.”

The announcement was greeted with gasps and exclamations.

“But that doesn’t mean that the rest of you can’t go!” he hurried to say. “It’s just that Dick will need help so the trails can be kept open to the feed shelters. Those cattle mean a lot to our future.”

“I’ll stay too!” Wes cried, not hesitating an instant.

“You’ll need someone to stay and cook for you,” Mother told them. “But Ellie can still go down to Grandmother’s tomorrow on the train from Cody. She’s been planning on it since Thanksgiving.”

Ellie knew that they had all been planning on it. She knew, too, that no matter how badly she wanted to go, she just couldn’t. “Maybe I can help somehow,” she finally managed to say, fighting the hard lump in her throat.

“That’s what I hoped for!” Father had exclaimed approvingly. “A solid front! And I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

But Ellie didn’t see how he could make up for a spoiled Christmas.

Now as the feed shelter loomed in front of them through the falling snow, Ellie asked, “Wes, do you think we’ll be snowed in?”

Wes grinned and guided the teams under the shelter before he answered, “I hope so!”

“Why, Wes Ford! Do you mean you’d rather be here than at Grandmother’s?”

“I would rather be at Grandmother’s, Ellie,” Wes replied, “but Christmas can be Christmas wherever you are.”

Though he was just a year older than Ellie, Wes sounded quite grownup. His words made Ellie feel a quick shame for her complaining thoughts. They had just picked up their pitchforks when Wes suddenly frowned. “Sis, some of the cattle are missing!” he declared.

“Could they be at the other shelters?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe. But maybe they’re not. Do you remember what Dick and Dad said about the river fence?” Wes asked thoughtfully.

Ellie shook her head.

“They said that it was strong enough for ordinary weather, but if those cattle got lost in a blinding snowstorm, they could go right through it and end up in White River!”

“We’re not going over to the river to see if they’re there!” Ellie protested.

“I’m going,” Wes told her. “Dick can’t leave that snowplow, and Dad’s on the other wagon with the concentrate.”

“Well, I’ll go with you then,” Ellie recanted.

When the hay had been pitched off into the feeders, they started out on foot. Ellie’s feet soon grew numb from the bitter cold, and her legs began to protest against the constant effort to push onward up another hill. There was no horizon, only the dull white sky and the white earth and the eternal falling of the snow.

There were no trees to use as guideposts, only the rise and fall of the blanketed hills. “Just a little farther, Sis,” Wes encouraged her, beating his arms against his body.

Now and then, Wes looked anxiously at the sky, and Ellie was sure that despite his cheerfulness, he realized the danger of being lost. But the thought of the cattle in danger kept him going.

They had reached the top of another rise, and Ellie was telling herself that she just could not go up another hill when Wes shouted with relief, “There’s the river!”

He rushed down the hill, and Ellie tried to hurry after him. “There they are! And look, Sis, they’re hugging that fence!”

There were more than twenty head reluctant to leave the protection of the trees. Ellie remembered apprehensively that they were range cattle and that they were used to men on horseback. She held back her fright as she helped Wes start them moving.

When they finally reached the shelter again, Ellie flung herself down on the hay sled and decided that she had never been so tired and cold in her life. Only after the cattle were safe and munching hay did Wes suggest they drink the hot chocolate their mother had put in a thermos bottle.

“Let’s hurry home, Wes,” Ellie said. “It’s nearly two o’clock.”

But Wes was looking down the hill toward the road. “Sis,” he said, “there’s a car down there. Looks like it’s in trouble.”

When they had finished their chocolate, the car was still there. “I’m going down and see if I can give them a hand,” Wes declared.

“Oh, Wes,” moaned Ellie. “We’ve already ruined our Christmas. The snowplow will come along soon …”

Wes didn’t answer, but Ellie saw the determined look in his blue eyes as he started away. Feeling sorry for herself, she reluctantly waded after him. The figures in the road had been trying to dig out their car when Wes and Ellie reached the fence.

“Hi, there!” the man shouted, looking up and waving his arm.

“Why, it’s Dr. Davis, Wes! And his nurse Mary!” Ellie exclaimed in surprise.

Wes and Ellie climbed over the fence.

“Hello, Wes. Hello, Ellie,” Mary said. “I thought we’d never see civilization again. Dr. Davis’s car doesn’t like snow.”

“Well,” Wes offered, “I’m not a mechanic, but I have a sled and teams up there at the shelter—”

Mary didn’t let him finish. She grabbed Ellie’s arm and they started for the fence.

Dr. Davis chuckled as he locked the car. “We’ve been over at the Anderson ranch since last night. They have a new six-pound girl. And we were trying to get home for Christmas dinner.”

Ellie heard Dr. Davis as she helped Mary over the fence. Her eyes caught sight of the gold bars on the turned-up collar of Mary’s heavy navy blue cape.

Suddenly Ellie thought of all the other people in the world who, like Dr. Davis and Mary, could not always be just where they wanted to be at Christmastime. But that didn’t mean that Christmas was lost! It couldn’t be, as long as people carry the spirit of Christmas in their hearts.

And Ellie understood now what that spirit was. Wes had taught her today, here in the snow-covered sandhills, much about loving and unselfish concern for others.

I’m going to give Mary the knitted bed cape I made for Grandmother! Ellie decided as the teams and hay sled headed for the ranch house a few minutes later. I’m sure Grandmother will understand!

In the Book of Mormon, Lehi gives a blessing to each of his sons before he passes away that helps them to see their strengths and eternal potential. I am the youngest of eight children, and this past year I have been the only child at home for the first time. Not having my siblings close by and not always having someone to talk to has been hard for me. There have been nights when I have felt very lonely. I’m grateful for my parents, who have tried their best to help me. An example of this is when my dad offered to give me a priesthood blessing of comfort during a particularly challenging time. After his blessing, things didn’t change right away, but I was able to feel peace and love from my Heavenly Father and from my dad. I feel blessed to have a worthy father who can provide priesthood blessings whenever I need them and who helps me to see my strengths and eternal potential, just as Lehi did when he blessed his children.

One branch agricultural project has put a parcel of Church property adjacent to a chapel under cultivation to provide fresh produce. The lot had been filled with weeds until the local priesthood leaders, using agriculture missionaries as resources, initiated this project to assist branch members with severe nutritional problems.
Even the children participated and learned as the ground was prepared for planting. The members learned and practiced sound agricultural techniques relating to moisture and nutrient requirements of the soil and now have a corn yield many times greater than they had previously obtained in their own farms and gardens.

As Brigham Young left his bed on the morning of 17 February 1847, illness seized him so suddenly that he “fainted away, apparently dead.” 13 Only those who die and go through the veil could know how he felt, he said two weeks later, adding that “I know I went to the world of spirits.” However, it was not given him to remember immediately the details of what he saw there: “All that I know, is what my wife told me about it since. She said that I said, I had been where Joseph & Hyrum was” and that “it is hard coming back to life again.” 14

Once revived, Brigham Young fell asleep and dreamed, and when he awoke, he recorded what he had seen. “In my dream I went to see Joseph,” he wrote. Finding Joseph sitting by a large window looking “perfectly natural,” Brigham took him by the hand, kissed his cheeks, and asked him why they could not be together as before. Joseph arose from his chair, looked at Brigham, and spoke in his usual way: “It is all right.” Brigham protested, but Joseph replied: “You will have to do things without me a while and then we shall be together again.”

Brigham then addressed Joseph as his mentor and asked for counsel. The advice was direct and simple: “Be sure to tell the people to keep the spirit of the Lord.” 15 Brigham then turned and saw Joseph in the light, “but where I had to go was as midnight darkness.” Because Joseph insisted, Brigham “went back in the darkness” and awoke. 16

Though Brigham Young spoke frequently of this in the weeks before heading for the Rockies, he did not elaborate on its meaning. Undoubtedly, it buoyed his spirits and provided still more evidence that he was on the Lord’s (and Joseph’s) errand. Though still burdened by the demands of leadership and the magnitude of the challenge, he was at peace.

Recently, I was planning to move from Mtwivilla Street into a new apartment in Ikonongo, few blocks away in my home country of Tanzania. A few days after I paid for the first month’s rent, I started hearing stories about thieves. The lady next door told me about how her cell phone had been stolen few days ago. The stories made me feel uncomfortable and I thought maybe it was not a good idea for me to move. Thoughts of fear kept on ringing in my mind, to the extent that they interrupted and ruined my daily scripture study.
After battling with this for some days, I chose to keep up with my schedule and continue with my study of the Doctrine and Covenants. While reading section three, my mind was caught up to verses 7 and 8 where the Lord admonished Joseph Smith after he gave the 116 manuscript pages to Martin Harris, and the pages were subsequently lost. We know that Joseph Smith greatly relied upon the assistance of his friend Martin Harris, and he was thus eager to meet his friend’s request. However, the Lord told Joseph Smith: “For behold, you should not have feared man more than God . . .

“You should have been faithful; and he would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble.”2
That assurance melted all my fears and I realized that I had wasted much of my precious time trying to think about what thieves can do to me in the new place instead of trusting in what the Lord can do for me. The clear thought came to me that all I needed was to do my part in locking the windows and the door at night, and then keep the Lord’s commandments and He would provide peace and protection in my new place.
I am glad I chose to read my scriptures. The solution to my concern was there waiting for me: to just act on the prophet’s invitation to read the scriptures every day. I am very grateful for the companionship of the Holy Ghost that enlightened my mind to understand that precious truth from the Doctrine and Covenants.
I finally moved, and all has been well as I have continued to do my part and let the Lord do His. The peace, calm and comfort that I receive from my daily scripture study keep me going and increase my faith in Heavenly Father and in His Son Jesus Christ.

When my mom and I were shopping, she said I could buy something with my own money. I had 10 dimes. I found a bottle of bubbles and was excited to buy it. When we got to the checkout my mom paid for everything, even the bubbles. I didn’t give the dimes to my mom, and she didn’t ask for them. Later that week my mom asked me to do some extra chores. I did them, and my mom gave me two quarters for doing a good job. When I went to put away my new quarters, I saw the 10 dimes. I took them out of my bank and gave them to my mom. I told her they were for my bubbles she bought at the store. I felt good inside for choosing the right by being honest, and doing what Jesus would want me to do.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I am reminded, as we all should be, that Thanksgiving Day, as such,
Began with that little band of Pilgrims who in 1621 expressed their thanks to God in a great harvest feast. History tells us that of the 102 immigrants who landed on the bleak, rocky coast of Cape Cod, nearly half died before their first winter was over. In December, 6 died; in January, 8 more passed away; in February, 17; in March, 13; a total of 44 in four months.
Today in our comfortable homes surrounded with plenty it is well for us to pause and remember with deep appreciation the sufferings of the survivors. One account tells us that most of these brave people were not used to hardships; among them were delicately nurtured and elite men and women, who during that first year built more caskets for the dead than homes for the living. Notwithstanding all their trials and hardships, these brave founders of a great and glorious nation had so much to be thankful for that they had to appoint “an especial day on which to give thanks,” thanks to God for all of his mercies and blessings to them, thanks to God for things that count. [Earl Nightingale; emphasis added]

During the two weeks, I checked in with the students to find out how they were doing. One student related by email the following experience she had. This is an excerpt from the email she sent me:

On May 30th, I was saying my morning prayers and asked Heavenly Father to inspire me to know who He needed me to minister to that day. While I was reading my scriptures, I had a distinct impression from the Spirit I needed to send a postcard to my great-aunt in Washington. At first, I questioned the idea. No one sends postcards anymore, and I haven't talked to my great-aunt in years. Questions like, "What if she doesn't remember me? What if she thinks it’s weird to get a postcard with pictures of a religious school for a church she is not even a member of?" crossed my mind immediately after I felt the impression. Once the doubt subsided, I realized that was the answer I received to my prayer and knew I needed to act on it—no matter how odd it sounded. I knew it had to be the Spirit because I would have never thought of my great-aunt or a postcard of all things. That day I bought a postcard at the bookstore and was able to get her address from a relative. On the back of the postcard, I didn't write anything profound. I just wrote about how I felt I needed to let her know I was thinking of her and wanted to let her know I loved her. I reminded her of the time I visited her a few years ago and my memories of the beautiful trees by her house. I told her I hoped she was doing well. With a leap of faith, [I] sent the postcard in the mail. Four days later, I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. I picked up the phone, surprised to hear my great-aunt’s voice. She told me she was having a rough day. She informed me that she had just had surgery on both of her feet a few days previous. She said she was feeling so low all day until her husband came in with the mail. In the mail was the postcard I sent to her. She said it was just what she needed in that moment. She said it really lifted her spirits and made her day to know someone was thinking about her.

She concludes:

I had no idea she was having surgery on both her feet, but I know Heavenly Father did. I know that He knows my aunt individually and is aware of her circumstances. I am grateful I felt that prompting from the Spirit and chose to act immediately. I was able to see that I was an instrument in the Lord’s hands that day and [I] was able to make a difference in the life of my aunt. I learned that we can minister to those we don't know very well and that it doesn't have to be anything big. It can be as simple as a postcard. I also learned the importance of listening to the Spirit and then acting on those promptings no matter how silly we think we will feel. I know that Heavenly Father is aware of all His children and He will help us be an answer to the prayers of others if we are willing to obey.

And I remember hearing in New Zealand the testimony of a man from the far side of Australia who, having been previously sealed by civil authority and then joined the Church with his wife and children, had traveled all the way across that wide continent, then across the Tasman Sea to Auckland, and down to the temple in the beautiful valley of the Waikata. As I remember his words, he said, “We could not afford to come. Our worldly possessions consisted of an old car, our furniture, and our dishes. I said to my family, ‘We cannot afford to go.’ Then I looked into the faces of my beautiful wife and our beautiful children, and I said, ‘We cannot afford not to go. If the Lord will give me strength, I can work and earn enough for another car and furniture and dishes, but if I should lose these my loved ones, I would be poor indeed in both life and in eternity.’”

My father and mother believed firmly in the principle of work, and they saw to it that their six boys had plenty to do.
Although I was the youngest in our family, I had my share of jobs around the house and yard. To make sure I wouldn’t run out of work and to help me develop a sense of responsibility, Father had some chicken coops and runs built in our back yard. He filled these with a flock of about fifty chickens, and my responsibility was to feed and water the chickens, keep the coops clean, and gather eggs.
In the summer I gathered lawn clippings and put them to dry on the roof of the chicken coop. When they were dry, I put them in bags. Then in the winter I emptied these clippings into pans, poured hot water over them, and fed them to the chickens.
By giving the chickens such good care, we had more than enough eggs to supply the needs of our family. Father told me I could have the extra eggs to sell and could use the money for my own needs.
I found the neighbors were glad to have good fresh eggs, and I soon established an egg route with regular customers. These customers became my good friends. This was the beginning of many happy associations that have lasted for years.
Although I was only a young boy when I started in the egg business, I felt pretty grown up having my own money to spend. I also earned some extra money by doing errands and odd jobs for people in the neighborhood, and Father paid me for helping on the ranch in the summer. So I began to save what seemed to me to be a lot of money.
My parents had taught me about tithing. They told me that tithing is giving to the Lord one penny out of every dime I earn, or one dime out of every dollar. They also taught me that tithing is a commandment of our Father in heaven, and paying tithing is a good way for us to show our love for Him and our appreciation for all the blessings He gives us.
At the end of the year I took my tithing in a big envelope filled with nickels, dimes, and small bills to the bishop for tithing settlement. I still have the tithing receipt (it was then called a Bishop’s Store House receipt) that was given to me when I was eight years old. It was for $7.50 and was dated December 31, 1908.
I am grateful that I had a father and mother who taught me as a young boy the joy of work and the importance of paying tithing. I am sure that many of the blessings I have enjoyed throughout my life have come to me because I have been obedient to the law of tithing.

I decided to enroll in early-morning seminary, and I was eager to learn. Every morning I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to get ready for school, and then I drove to the seminary building. I was amazed at how much I enjoyed early-morning seminary.
Halfway into my early-morning seminary experience, I grew tired of my usual music collection and decided to turn on the radio. I didn’t listen to the radio often, so I turned the station to a popular one that I knew my friends listened to. The station streamed fast-paced, popular music that I recognized from school dances. I decided it couldn’t be too bad, and I left it there for weeks. I wasn’t really listening to the music—it was mostly just background music while I focused on driving and thought about school. If I ever heard a bad word, I immediately turned the volume down and waited until the song was over before turning the volume back up and listening to a different song.
A gradual change started happening in me. I found that I didn’t want to go to Mutual activities and struggled to focus in church. I became increasingly irritated with my family. I didn’t want to go home, and I argued with my parents over things that didn’t really matter. I was frequently in a bad mood and I had no idea why.
One morning I was running late, and when I started my car, the radio blared with a popular song streaming through the speakers. I was getting tired of the song, so I started rummaging through my music collection, looking for music that I hadn’t listened to in a while. I had trouble finding something, and I kept thinking, “Just leave it, you’re already going to be late!” Still, I kept looking and settled on the soundtrack of a fun animated movie I enjoyed.
My mood changed. For one week I left that soundtrack playing in my car, and my mood immediately took a turn for the better. I focused on church more, eager to feel the Spirit and become closer to my Heavenly Father. Then one day, as I drove to seminary, I thought about what could have been the cause of my sudden sour mood and what had fixed it. I offered a prayer in my heart for the answer so I could prevent it from happening again.
Then it hit me: even though I hadn’t been listening to the messages of the lyrics, the songs played on the radio station I’d been listening to didn’t have an uplifting spirit to them. Even when the message wasn’t bad, the sound of the music was dark. The music, which I’d only left on for background music, had started affecting my spirit, without my even realizing it.
I’m not saying all popular music is bad, but I learned that day that it isn’t just the lyrics we need to focus on when choosing good music but also the feel of the music as well. I started asking, “If I just listen to the sound of it, how does it make me feel?” I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for teaching me this lesson. Music is a very powerful thing. Wholesome, spiritual music can bring us almost as close to our Heavenly Father as prayer does, but music that doesn’t possess these qualities can drive us dangerously far away from Him. I love music, but I love my Heavenly Father more, and I’m grateful He has provided music that brings us closer to Him.

Illustrations by Craig Phillips
While talking in history class about different religious denominations, my friend asked me about my CTR ring. Without hesitating, I explained that CTR meant “choose the right” and that my parents gave it to me for my birthday. He asked which church I belong to, and I told him I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or a Mormon. Until then I hadn’t realized that people don’t actually know much about the Church, but he seemed sincerely interested to learn more and asked me if I was an altar boy. I had no idea what that was, so he explained, and then I told him we had something similar called deacons.
We proceeded to ask each other questions, including, “Can your bishops marry?” and “Who is your archbishop?” He also asked, “You use the Bible, right?” To that, I explained our beliefs in the Bible and the Book of Mormon, which complement each other. The next day, I offered him a copy of the Book of Mormon. Inside the cover, I told him where he could get a CTR ring, because he was interested in getting one. My friend carried that Book of Mormon to school for about a week and said he couldn’t put it down. Though he never came to church with me, I’ve learned that a great way to share the gospel with others is to find common ground and to be interested in their beliefs as well. Throughout this experience, I learned a lot about what my friend believes, while he learned what I believe, and we’ve come to respect each other’s beliefs. I know one of the best ways to share the gospel is just to open our mouths and talk to our friends.

When the one-year anniversary of Joe’s baptism was approaching, he started asking about going to the temple. Again, my reaction was, “Whoa! Slow down! I’m not ready for that.”
So my patient husband waited. Every now and then, he would slip something into the conversation like, “Honey, I read a great article about the temple. Do you want to read it?” or “Hey, babe, I saw a wonderful video about the temple. Do you want to watch it with me?” His enthusiasm was endearing, but it wasn’t getting me any closer to being ready to go to the temple. Finally, one day he asked me directly what made me feel unprepared.
“You know I had some issues with the Church growing up,” I said. “But I loved going to the temple. Baptism trips were my favorite. I loved the way I felt in the temple, so calm and peaceful. But I don’t know about the rest of the temple. What if someone says or does something that bothers me? What if that ruins going to the temple for me? What would be the point of being a member of the Church if you can’t go to the temple? So I don’t want to go until I’m sure nothing will shake me.”
I found solutions to most of my issues, but I was still struggling with one: how could I be part of a church I didn’t always agree with? This led me to the final step of learning from my journal. I realized I needed to try to understand why other people believe what they believe and say what they say. I needed to know why God had directed the Church to be the way it is today.
I found solutions to most of my issues, but I was still struggling with one: how could I be part of a church I didn’t always agree with?
I found my answer through my husband. When he first started reading the Book of Mormon, a line from the title page stood out to him: “And now, if there are faults they are the mistakes of men; wherefore, condemn not the things of God.” Joe had quoted this over and over, but now it meant something more to me.
I realized that the Church exists in an imperfect world populated by imperfect people. And that includes me. We all have times when we get things wrong before we get them right. I realized I needed to stop judging others, just as I wouldn’t want them to judge me. We are all on a path of learning and growth.
I also realized that the Church is the Lord’s. It is in His hands. Yes, He works through imperfect people, but He directs His work. He knows what is needed, and when.
After this, I felt ready to go to the temple. I was pleased to find that it felt just as good on that day as it had years before when I had done baptisms. On our third wedding anniversary, my husband and I went to the temple again to be sealed together and have our son sealed to us. It was so sweet and such a happy day. I kept thinking that this was what all families are meant to be—eternal. And I had yet another realization: though there might be policies or doctrines that might take me time to sort out, there are also rare and beautiful truths in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. One is that each of us can actually talk to Heavenly Father and receive answers. Another is that through living prophets, He gives guidance for our day.

Jason:
I’ve been a member my whole life, but after my mission, there were a couple of years when I was less active. I started reactivating myself two years ago. During this time, I met my wife, Jackie, at a young single adult conference a month after she got baptized. She changed my life because I felt that I needed to be a better example.

After his mission, Jason was less active for a couple of years. While returning to Church activity, he met Jackie, a recent convert, at a young single adult conference. “She changed my life,” he says, “because I felt that I needed to be a better example.”

President Lee often told another story of when his mother had saved him from serious injury: Louisa had been making soap one day and had a large pan of lye on a high shelf so that the younger children would not get into it. She asked Harold to help her get the pan down. Suddenly the pan slipped from their grip, and the burning lye spilled over Harold’s face, head, and arms. Louisa grabbed Harold so that he couldn’t run away, then kicked off the lid from a barrel of pickles that she had just made. Scooping up the vinegar in her hand, she washed the lye off her son. The vinegar helped neutralize the lye, thus saving Harold from being badly scarred.