Gospel Story Finder

In 2007 the University of Washington invited me to a banquet honoring its female athletes. I had played tennis at the university 44 years earlier, and my tennis partner and I had won the Northwest championship in doubles. At the banquet I would be recognized for my achievement.
On our way to the dinner, my husband and I picked up Lynda, a friend from our days as students. She was also the one who introduced me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was 33. Together we enjoyed seeing our former campus and old friends.
However, when I went to pick up a packet and name tag prior to the banquet, I was disappointed to discover that printed on them was the name “Sharon Krull,” not Sherry Krull. “Oh, well,” I thought, and I crossed out Sharon and wrote Sherry instead. But the mistake continued through the night. Later in the evening, when the host introduced me as an award recipient, he called me “Sharon.” The plaque he handed me also included the error.
It wasn’t a huge problem; I was grateful to have been invited to the banquet, and the people in charge of the event promised to replace the plaque with one bearing the correct name.
The next day was Easter Sunday. My husband and I had spent Good Friday at the temple and had spent much time during the week pondering the Savior’s last days on earth. But the most powerful part of Easter that year came during sacrament meeting, when our bishop made this statement: “How grateful I am that the Lord knows my name.”
I felt a great joy come over me. As much as I had enjoyed the previous evening, the happiness I felt at this truth far outweighed anything I felt from receiving “the honors of men.”
I too am grateful that the Lord knows my name, but more important, I am glad that at age 33, I came to know His. I am eternally grateful that when two missionaries asked Lynda if she knew of anyone they might visit, she wasn’t afraid of offending me by giving them my name.
I came to know the reality of the Savior by reading the Book of Mormon, which testifies of Him. And as I came to know the Savior and joined His Church, I became a new person in Him.
My life changed then, at my baptism and confirmation, and it changed again that powerful Easter morning when I received the witness that Heavenly Father and the Savior really do know our names. I cannot fully express the joy that it is to know Heavenly Father and the Savior—and to know that They know me.

As a young man I came across a Mormonad that really struck me: “Adversity can make you strong.” I never imagined I would later find in this phrase the strength to go forward during challenges of my mission.
The town in the Argentina Buenos Aires North Mission where my companion and I were working was filled with people who viewed two boys in white shirts and ties with distrust. We knocked on many doors, with no result.
On one particularly hot and difficult day, when our tired bodies felt like they could go no further, it began to rain. Mud developed and stuck to our shoes, making tracting even more difficult.
We wanted to return home, but then I remembered the phrase from the magazine and told my companion, “Come on, Elder. All this adversity is going to make us strong.”
We offered a prayer and felt we should look up an old referral we had never been able to find.
We arrived at the house, and again the woman was not there. But another woman, Anita, was. We gave her a Book of Mormon, and she promised to read it. We felt great happiness because we knew the Spirit had led us to her.
As we began to teach Anita, she accepted all the principles. However, when it was time for the fourth discussion, she told us she didn’t want to be baptized and asked us to leave. My companion and I were disappointed, but we were prepared for opposition. We invited Anita to ask Heavenly Father if she should be baptized, and trusted she would receive an answer.
When we went back the next day, Anita had indeed received an undeniable answer of peace in her heart. Ten days later, she was baptized.
I have since learned that one year later, Anita made covenants in the temple and became a source of referrals for the missionaries and a great example to the members of her community.
I value the opposition we had because that was how we found the strength to serve the Lord in the best way we could. Even now that I’ve returned home to Chile, I don’t become discouraged with problems because I now know how adversity can strengthen us.

Diane’s love of the spotlight was quickly matched by her gymnastic ability, and the two made a championship combination. She started training when she was fourteen and a half years old, a late start by competitive standards, but within a year she was competing against the best in the country. She was the Junior Olympic National Champion in high school, and in college she led the University of Utah’s women’s gymnastics team to their first national victory.
After she was no longer eligible for college competition, she decided to go on a national professional tour. Diane knew her gymnastics career was mostly over, but she just wanted to hold on to the thrill of the spotlight and the fun of the sport for as long as she could.
During training for the tour Diane was practicing a vault she’d done thousands of times. She ran toward the vault just like she had done every other time. She jumped on the springboard like all the other times and flew up and over the vault—just like all the other times. But this time was different. This time she turned her body just a little too far. This time when she landed, she broke her neck. The accident put her in the hospital for almost six months and in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
That was on December 15, 1981. Diane spent that Christmas and the next five months in the hospital, trying to imagine her life without gymnastics. After so many years of loving the sport, it was difficult for Diane to adjust.
“I hated being in the hospital, and I felt like I was in prison,” says Diane. For one month of the five she was in the hospital, she was in traction and couldn’t move at all except when the nurses came in and turned her a few centimeters every two hours. Diane had no idea she’d be in the hospital for so long. “In fact, when I was first injured I thought for sure that in a month I’d be back on the tour. I thought, ‘If I have enough faith and believe in God and in myself, I’ll be okay.’ And I just knew it.”
Recovery wasn’t quite so easy though, and things seemed to get worse. “I was a horrible patient,” says Diane. “In the hospital I was really miserable because I was so restless. I was really impatient with people.” Finally Diane came to a turning point.
“One day I was in the depths of despair. I just felt like I couldn’t bear it anymore,” Diane says. She asked for a priesthood blessing. She knew the power to heal her was present, “but I only wanted that to happen if it was Heavenly Father’s will. I had this blessing and I felt the greatest sense of peace. It was like I knew that no matter what happened it would be okay. If I didn’t walk away from the hospital there would be a reason for it. I knew that I had always tried my best to live the gospel and do what I was supposed to do, so if anybody was worthy to have that blessing, I was. But from that point on I was a different person. I was totally comforted.”
Ironically, one of the biggest aids to her recovery was gymnastics. “I don’t know if I could’ve gotten up again if I hadn’t had that training in gymnastics,” she says. “I had a lot of serious injuries when I was a gymnast that I just had to deal with. It was always down, up, down, up in gymnastics and this was just one more down I had to get up from. Gymnastics taught me to get back up so I could be a champion again.”
On the day she finally realized she would never walk again, Diane made the decision to return to school to work for her degree. She was lying on her bed with all her scrapbooks filled with souvenirs and photos of her performances. Tears dripped down her face and splashed on the scrapbook pages. “I just realized right then that things weren’t going to get any better. As I lay there crying I thought, ‘I can either give up or get on with my life’ and that’s when I decided to go back to school and get my degree.”
Now Diane teaches a class full of seven-year-olds who are just the right height to look her in the eye. “The kids will do anything for her,” says Marie. “They just love her.”
Her students aren’t her only fans. Diane also gives fireside talks to teenagers who listen intently as she tells her story. And her message is one of hope and perseverance, without bitterness for what has happened.
Her personality hasn’t changed at all. Just listen to her speak and you’ll hear the exuberant, happy girl who used to charm arenas full of people. Now her charm is just aimed at another audience. Her voice seems to smile at every person in the room and her own laughter frequently interrupts her stories.
“I think telling my gymnastics stories and sharing my experiences opens up the communication between us. They soon forget that I’m in a wheelchair. When they do that, the youth can see that I’m just a regular person and we have a lot in common, even though, in a wheelchair, I look a lot different than they do,” Diane says.
Her main message is one for potential champions: don’t give up, no matter what happens. “When I was a young gymnast I met a girl, an athlete named Nancy Thies. Nancy was a member of the U.S. Olympic team and one of the finest gymnasts in the country. I have never forgotten some very important things that Nancy taught me. I remember the first thing she said was, ‘Don’t be afraid to lose.’ She said, ‘If you fall down and you stay down, you’re a quitter and a loser and you will never win. But if you get back up and you try one more time, it will be your turn to be the champion, so just don’t give up.’” Diane says she made a promise to herself that she would remember that advice and never give up, no matter how many times she fell.
Once she faced the hardest fall of her life, not giving up was difficult, especially because of her wheelchair. The entire time she was a gymnast, whether she was swinging high above the uneven parallel bars of just doing handstands for fun, her only fear was of being blind or paralyzed. “I had such uneasy feelings about wheelchairs that I would never talk to anybody in a wheelchair or go near a wheelchair. I would avoid people in wheelchairs. I was afraid that I’d end up in a wheelchair if I got too close to one. It was almost like having thought about it so much somehow prepared me for a wheelchair,” she says.
It was probably Diane’s unconquerable spirit that prepared her more than anything else. It’s a spirit that is evident in both her funny stories and her powerfully quiet testimony about the importance of an eternal perspective and God’s love for each of his children. It’s a spirit that Diane has always had. “I’ve never met anyone, except my father, who has a stronger testimony than she does,” says Marie. “There’s no doubt in her mind that what she’s doing is right and that the Church is true. She has always been a great example.”
The lights are turned down in the room as she finishes her message, and a slide show featuring Diane, the fun-lover and gymnast, lashes on the screen in time to some fast, contemporary music. When the presentation is over, young people surround her excitedly.
Diane says, “It makes me feel really good when people tell me they’re going to try harder after they’ve heard my talk. One girl came to me once and told me she’d heard me speak four different times. The first time, she decided not to commit suicide. The second time, she decided that she didn’t have to drop out of school. The third time, she made a goal to become one of the best students in her class, and the last time she was on her way to that goal.”
Diane just shrugs her shoulders and laughs a little when someone tells her she’s wonderful. She even looks a little embarrassed, which is rare for this experienced performer. “People always think, ‘You’re so amazing, you’re so incredible,’ but I’m not. People will say, ‘If that happened to me I could never handle the situation,’ and the thing I have to say is, ‘Either you handle the situation or you die.’ You have to take whatever life gives you and deal with it, even if you might not want to. You know, if somebody dies in your family, you have to live with it. If you break your neck you have to live with it, but you just learn and that’s what’s so great about time and the healing process. You don’t have to be miraculous.”
You just have to be as willing as Diane was to get up again, so that someday it will be your turn to be the champion. For Diane, the victory is especially sweet, because she has won back what she thought she’d lost.
She is a champion again.

Doing what comes naturally brought top honors to Tracey Keogh, 17, and Brenda Richmond, 18, of Dublin, Ireland. Their school year was spent working to improve themselves and the community, and they received the country’s prestigious President’s Award.
Requirements for the award said they had to spend a certain number of hours each week working on community projects, a personal skill, and a special project. Tracey visited an elderly lady, recycled, and learned to use a personal computer. Brenda volunteered at a hospital, acted in a school play, and ran a small company.
Their projects went hand-in-hand with the Young Women Personal Progress program. Brenda said she couldn’t have done all she did that year without the Church in her life. “The Church, its principles, and its leaders have taught me a lot,” she said.

He gave much of this service while he and Susan were raising three young sons and he was making a remarkable contribution in his work at the University of Arkansas. Doyle Z. Williams, dean of the College of Business at the University of Arkansas, describes Elder Bednar’s contributions not in terms of offices held or honors received—of which there were many—but in terms of personal influence: “David Bednar was part of our leadership team. He sharpened our vision. He always exuded enthusiasm for students and a passion to help his fellowman. To all our discussions he brought reason and compassion. He inspired his colleagues and students by his example and was held in the highest esteem.”

Dean Williams, who is not a member of the Church, saw a power to influence others that was also observed by Jerry Abram, President Bednar’s counselor in a far-flung Arkansas stake. Brother Abram describes his impressions this way: “We traveled an average of 2,000 miles [3,200 km] per month together, so I got to know him very well. He called my wife to be the stake Relief Society president, and he set my daughter apart when she departed for England to serve her mission. He spoke at her twin sister’s funeral with such power and compassion. Our daughter was 17 years old when she and two of her girlfriends died in a tragic automobile accident. The funeral was tender, but Elder Bednar helped make it bearable. He stood behind our family during our darkest hour. After the funeral I wrote in my journal that he was the most spiritual and compassionate man I had ever met.”

“Mormons aren’t Christians.”
The statement from one of my high school classmates caught me off guard.
“Of course we are,” I said.
“Then why do you read the Book of Mormon?” he said as he walked away, leaving me no chance to reply.
I thought about his question a lot. The answer is, of course, that Mormons are Christians and the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. We read it along with the Bible to learn even more about the Savior.
I had read the Book of Mormon before. I knew it was true. But because of my classmate’s question, I felt prompted to study it in a new way, keeping track of how often it mentions Jesus Christ. As I did, I was amazed.
I had hardly opened the book when I read on the title page that the Book of Mormon is written to convince readers “that Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God, manifesting himself unto all nations.”
In the introduction to the Book of Mormon, I read, “The crowning event recorded in the Book of Mormon is the personal ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ among the Nephites soon after His resurrection.” It said that those who gain a witness from the Holy Ghost that the record is true “will also come to know by the same power that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world.”
I turned to “he Testimony of Three Witnesses,” who said that an angel showed them the plates from which the Book of Mormon was translated, and that “we know that it is by the grace of God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, that we beheld and bear record that these things are true.”
Next, “The Testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith” told of the visit of angel Moroni, who said the Book of Mormon contains the fulness of the everlasting gospel “as delivered by the Savior to the ancient inhabitants” of America.
The Converting Power of the Book of Mormon, by Ben Sowards
I hadn’t even made it to 1 Nephi, and already I had found a lot!
My search continued. In 1 Nephi, I found that Lehi knew about the coming of the Messiah (see 1 Nephi 1:19). I read his prophecies about the Redeemer, “who should take away the sins of the world” (1 Nephi 10:10; see verses 4–10). I read Nephi’s description of the birth of Jesus Christ, His ministry, death, Resurrection, and future visit to ancient America (see 1 Nephi 10–12).
I read prophesies that the Book of Mormon would affirm Bible truths that “the Lamb of God is the Son of the Eternal Father, and the Savior of the world; and that all men must come unto him” (1 Nephi 13:40). And I read Nephi’s testimony that “all nations, kindreds, tongues, and people shall dwell safely in the Holy One of Israel if it so be that they will repent” (1 Nephi 22:28).
After one day, I was on page 53. I had finished just one of the books in the Book of Mormon, but what powerful witnesses I had already received!
In the weeks that followed, I found page after page of testimonies of Jesus Christ, visions in which He appeared to prophets, and the detailed description of His ministry among the ancient Americans. I concluded my reading with Moroni’s powerful testimony of Jesus Christ (see Moroni 9); his challenge to, “ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if [the Book of Mormon is] true” (Moroni 10:4; emphasis added); and, on the last page, his tender and compelling invitation to “come unto Christ” (Moroni 10:30, 32).
I found that the Book of Mormon refuted my classmate’s statement completely. If a Christian is someone who believes in Jesus Christ, then page after page in the Book of Mormon says, “We believe!”
Eventually, I saw my friend again. I told him about my experience and invited him to read the Book of Mormon. He politely declined but said he was happy that I accept Jesus Christ as my Savior. And after our discussion, I think he understood better what I mean when I say, “Of course we are Christians.”

Some years ago Elder Marion D. Hanks told about a group of Boy Scouts who went cave exploring. The narrow trail was marked with white stones and lighted in sections as they went. After about an hour they came to a huge, high dome. Below it lay an area called the Bottomless Pit, so called because the floor of the cave had collapsed into a deep, gaping hole. It was hard not to jostle each other on that narrow path. Pretty soon, one of the bigger boys accidentally pushed a smaller boy into a muddy area away from the light. Terrified as he lost his footing, he screamed in the darkness. The ranger heard his cry of terror and came quickly. The boy let out another cry as the beam of the ranger’s light showed that he was right on the very edge of the pit. (See Improvement Era, June 1957, 444–51.)
In this story, the boy was rescued. But this does not always happen. So many times young people go to the very edge or even beyond it. With only a precarious toehold, it is easy to be seriously injured or even die.

Matthew gingerly fingered a few pages into the little book, stopped, and began to read aloud: “March 18. Our Conestoga left without Ma’s piano. There just wasn’t any room, and the oxen were put upon enough as it was. Baby Jess nearly took a joyful fit when a butterfly lit on her cradle in the back of the wagon.”
The boy turned a few more pages. “March 29. Saw some Indians not too far from our camp today. Brother Ezekiel said they were Crows. They didn’t look as though they meant us any harm, but Ma took on fearful and then became prayerful. Pa tried to comfort Ma and told her not to worry because God would see to it that all of us got to the valley in one piece.”
Digging into the diary a little deeper, Matthew read: “April 3. It rained some today. Old Sister Weber died this morning. Found me a real arrowhead in the skull of a dead coyote. Brother Beacon’s boy said he’d give me his gold watch for it but I’d rather keep the arrowhead. Baby Jess has taken to coughing something fierce.”
More pages were turned. “April 19. We only made about a mile today. Pa took time out to bury Baby Jess. Didn’t see Pa cry but he put his arms round Ma in the holdingest kind of way. Then he walked off somewhere by himself for the rest of the day. Once I thought I heard someone crying off aways. Maybe it was just the wind coming down off the butte.”
“April 20. Brother Ezekiel shot a wild pig that came into a place where Sister Gunnerson was digging some Indian Soapweed. The pig was acting crazy and bubbling at the jaws like he had a devil in him. And before it was killed it horned a place across Ma’s leg—just a scratch but there’s some folks looking unusually mournful. Pa and Nephi Cole administered to Ma. Flora Clanton found some berries and said she’s going to work up something special for the one that sings the loudest tonight at the camp sing.”
Matthew fingered ahead. “May 2. They had to tie Ma down in the wagon today.”
“May 3. Ma died this morning. Just before the end she told us good-bye. I think I heard her tell me to be strong and to praise God.”
On another page Matthew read: “May 4. Cold all day—colder than ever before. We found some little wild flowers to put on Ma’s grave.”
Matthew rubbed his arms, looked up at the snow falling against the little attic window, then he flipped the page. “May 6. We’ve been trying to catch up with the rest of the wagons. Pa told me to try to stop looking so stretchy-faced over Ma being gone. He says we’ll all get to the valley, only we’ll have to take Ma and Baby Jess with us in our hearts. He said they’ll live forever because things eternal never die. And maybe it’s so.”
Matthew turned one more page. “May 7. The wind is most howly and wild today, guess that’s why Pa’s been holding me tighter than I can ever remember.”

During a recent virtual mission reunion. Stuart and Sheryl McReynolds invited their returned missionaries to continue one of their mission traditions—their annual ‘EMM-athon’. During their time presiding over the England Manchester Mission, the McReynolds had established this custom when they challenged their missionaries to get up on time for the three days over Christmas, getting out of their accommodation each day to run or walk for exercise. They also invited them to record and share a short video greeting for the other missionaries while they were out.
The McReynolds thought it would be fun to continue the EMM-athon tradition in some form with returned-missionary colleagues from around the world. This year’s invitation was to get out sometime over the Christmas period to run, walk or cycle and share a photo or short video on their mission alumni Facebook group, thereby hoping to connect with missionaries during this special time of year. They also issued a challenge to donate for every mile covered to Barnabus, a Manchester Charity caring for the city’s homeless. They thought this was a good way for them to stay connected to their mission area and continue giving in some small way.
They established a fundraising page with Barnabus and pushed ahead with the challenge. More than seventy returned missionaries, young and senior, from 13 countries covered 562 miles during the Christmas week, including one young returned missionary running 27 miles on Christmas Eve! Their combined fundraising efforts resulted in a £879 donation for the charity, providing much-needed help and support to Manchester’s homeless.
Alex Simpson, a representative of the Barnabus Charity contacted the McReynolds to thank them and all who were involved with the fundraising efforts, and in recognition of those efforts a certificate of thanks was sent by the charity. Alex added that the charity was grateful for the money that had been raised to help change the lives of people experiencing homelessness.
This was a wonderful idea and act by Stuart and Sheryl McReynolds and their returned-missionary colleagues. They plan to do the same thing annually as they look to identify other charities within the England Manchester Mission boundary that they could support.

On April 14, 2006, my 11-year-old sister, Alexandra, died in a car accident. A few weeks later, my mom was reading to me and she started crying because she missed my sister. I hugged her and told her not to cry, that my sister would want us to be happy because she was in a happy place. Several months later, Mom began to cry again. I put my arms around her. I comforted her and told her not to cry, and that everything would be OK.
When I was baptized, my mom reminded me that I made a covenant with Heavenly Father. In Mosiah 18:8–9 it says we need to be “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” I’m grateful I was baptized and could be there to comfort and help my mom.

About four years ago my husband, David, and I bought an old house in Clarksville, Tennessee. We tore out all of the insides, ripped up some of the floors, replaced the wiring and plumbing, and added more rooms. It was a major undertaking! And we stayed in the house the whole time.
We lived in a genuine construction site. At night before falling into bed, I’d rake the sawdust, sheetrock, chips of wood, and other debris from the covers. I used a large shovel, instead of a broom to clean the floors. Lumber and sheets of plywood were stacked in the living room. Cans of paint, boxes of nails, ladders, and other tools were scattered throughout the rooms.
During the remodeling, I was pregnant with our second child. Two weeks before my due date, we stained the floors and painted the new rooms. That night, the baby started coming. We rushed to the hospital, leaving behind a house with no heating system, no windows in the front room, and no place for an infant to sleep.
My mother and father came that afternoon, driving from their country farm 90 kilometers away. I was apprehensive about Mama coming. She and I hadn’t been on good terms since I joined the Church in 1976. But she knew I needed help, with a new baby and with the house all torn apart.
Before going home, Mama stopped by our construction site. Overwhelmed—and a little dismayed at the living conditions her new grandchild would be brought into—she made plans to clean the house the next afternoon before I came home from the hospital.
Mama came as planned, wearing workclothes, with a shovel, rake, and bucket in hand. To her surprise, the construction site was spotless. Lumber, plywood, paint, and tools were all neatly stacked in one room. Clean sheets were on the bed. A bassinet with a new mattress and new sheets waited for the baby. The dirty laundry was missing. Lunch for David was in the refrigerator. And a wrapped package of baby clothes and a large bag of diapers sat near the front door. The card attached read, “Congratulations! With Love, from your visiting teachers, Carol and Barbara.”
I hardly knew these sisters—they had been called to be my visiting teachers only the month before. But when I came home from the hospital the next day, Carol brought the freshly washed laundry. Barbara brought supper.
But something else had happened.
Mama had taken the missionary discussions years before while I was on my mission. She had even read the four standard works and Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith. But her heart did not begin to soften until she saw the gospel in action.
Mama and I had a long talk later that week. We hugged each other for the first time in years. Tears fell as we talked long into the night, and we again felt a closeness as mother and daughter.
Now, with three daughters, my husband and I live in the western United States, some three thousand kilometers apart from Mama, and I look forward to her telephone calls and letters. For that blessing in my life I have to thank Carol and Barbara, my visiting teachers. They had come to clean a house and cook a meal. But they had no way of knowing that they were mending hearts and healing wounds and putting a family relationship back together again.

On the first day of history class, the teacher started telling some jokes. I laughed at first, but after a while, some of the jokes he told were kind of offensive and inappropriate. He also kept taking the Lord’s name in vain. I started to feel uncomfortable. I knew that I wanted to stand up for what was right, but I had never done anything like that before.
After class, my heart was pounding as I started toward the teacher’s desk. I had never been more anxious in my life. I finally mustered the courage to speak. “Hey, I was wondering if you would mind not taking the Lord’s name in vain. I would really appreciate it.” I anxiously awaited his response.
“OK. What does it mean to take the Lord’s name in vain?” he asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.
My mind went blank. But suddenly words came out of my mouth that weren’t my own: “Taking the Lord’s name in vain is when you use His name causally in conversation. His name is sacred, so we should respect it.”
He looked at me for a while, then simply said, “OK.” I felt so happy and peaceful inside. I was so grateful Heavenly Father helped me to say what I needed to say. I’m glad that I stood up for what I believed.
Mosiah M., Utah, USA

Sometimes the administering elder is inspired to reveal important information. This was so in the case of President George Albert Smith. When he was thirteen years old, he was very ill, and the family felt that if he lived very long at all, he would be a sickly person. At this time a family friend, Zebedee Coltrin, who happened to be a patriarch in another stake, came to visit. He gave a blessing to Brother Smith. This was not a patriarchal blessing, but it was recorded by his mother, and when recently discovered it was turned over to the Church Historian’s Office. Some marvelous statements were made concerning his future.

“… and thou shalt be wrapt in the visions of the heavens, and thou shalt be clothed with salvation as with a garment, for thou are destined to become a mighty man before the Lord, for thou shalt become a mighty apostle in the Church and kingdom of God upon the Earth, for none of thy father’s family shall have more power with God than thou shalt have, for none shall excel thee.”

Now this was a remarkable promise, and a daring thing for a man to say to young George—unless he were speaking under inspiration. You see, the father of this sickly child was John Henry Smith, second counselor to President Joseph F. Smith. George’s grandfather was George A. Smith who had been first counselor in the first presidency to Brigham Young. So if this blessing were to be fulfilled, George Albert Smith would have to become president of the Church someday long after that blessing was given. And we all know that the day came when indeed he was sustained as president and prophet of the Church.

Not long ago I had the opportunity to return with Sister Wirthlin to the place where I began my mission. My assignment was to organize the Salzburg Austria Stake. In a way it was a coming home for me. I remembered the days that I walked those cobblestone streets and wondered if there ever would be enough members to form a small ward. And here I was, years later, organizing a stake. My heart filled to overflowing as I looked over that congregation of faithful members and as I remembered the time I spent there.
As I look back on it now, I wonder if those times of trial and loneliness weren’t instrumental in strengthening my character and heightening my desire to succeed. Those times of seeming failure may have been some of the most instrumental of my life, because they prepared me for greater things to come.
While there, I traveled with my wife to Oberndorf. We walked the same road my companion and I had walked so many years before. And there, before the majestic mountains and pristine beauty of that small Bavarian village, I related to her once again of the silent night when I described to my companion the woman I would marry.
The resolutions I made on that holy night in Oberndorf, Austria, have been a guiding force throughout my life. Although I still have much to learn and to accomplish, I’ve done my best to have faith in God; I’ve done my best to focus on the things that are important in life; I’ve done my best to work hard at righteous tasks; I’ve done my best to magnify the callings I’ve received in the Church; and I’ve done my best to enjoy the journey.
May you do the same as you create of your lives something worthy of your divine heritage.
I testify that the purpose of my mission in far-off Europe is the same now as it was then: to testify that we have a loving Heavenly Father and also His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, who gave us the great Atonement. I testify that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God who received the fulness of the everlasting gospel and who established the Lord’s Church on the earth in these latter days. I bear witness that Gordon B. Hinckley is our prophet, seer, and revelator today.
As you pursue righteous desires, the Lord will be with you and will direct your paths. He wants you to be happy and successful. He wants you to come unto Him. May you find peace and joy in your journey throughout life.

From a missionary I received an unforgettable letter. He wrote: “I still am not certain why it was that I was [afflicted] with [cancer], particularly during the time I was serving the Lord on a mission, but I can say with all honesty and sincerity that I am eternally grateful to our gracious Heavenly Father for allowing me to have that experience. … Not a day goes by,” he continued, “that I don’t think about the days I spent lying in the hospital suffering through chemotherapy or grimacing with the pain from another operation. … Not a day passes when I don’t think of the days I spent studying the scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon, and remembering the overwhelming feelings of comfort and peace which I felt. I often think of the nights when I would retire to bed and pour out my soul to my Heavenly Father and thank Him for preserving my life.” Then the elder shared this wonderful news: “I returned to the doctor this week … and … he found no evidence of any disease in my body.” I love such faithful missionaries!

A young man said that while playing on his soccer and basketball teams, he had to tell his coaches that he would not be able to play on Sundays. This was hard to do as he felt a commitment to the team, but his coaches were very impressed with his commitment to his religion. Later, he invited his soccer team to visit the church meetinghouse. All the players and the parents were impressed with the beauty of the church and had lots of questions about the pictures inside.

“When he was older and wanted to join a baseball team, … the other [boys laughed] at him, … calling him a ‘sissy’ because he could not throw the ball between the bases. His teammates teased him so much that … he … made up his mind that he was going to play with the nine who would win the championship of the Territory of Utah. He purchased a baseball and practiced hour after hour, throwing at a neighbor’s old barn. Often his arm would ache so much he could hardly … sleep at night. He kept on practicing and … improving and advancing from one team to another until he finally [succeeded] in playing [on the team that] won the [territorial] championship!”

Recently, my mom and I chose to fast on a weekday. We were fasting for my dad and that his heart would be softened towards the gospel of Jesus Christ.
This was the first time I’d ever fasted on a day other than Sunday, and I thought it would be really hard. It was actually the most spiritual fast I’ve ever had! As I tried to focus on my love for both my earthly father and my Heavenly Father, all thoughts of my rumbling stomach disappeared from my mind and I completely forgot my physical needs. I felt the Spirit testify to me that everything would be all right.
Not eating is sometimes hard because I love food! However, I’ve learned that if I simply get down on my knees and tell Heavenly Father, “I’m going to fast now, but I can’t do this on my own,” then His grace and Spirit can help me make it through the rest of the fast. Miracles do happen, and I can testify that I have never, ever come to the end of a fast and regretted it.
Merili R., 18, Minnesota, USA

“Are we going to make this marriage work, or not?” he asked.
Seven months married, six months pregnant, I sat on the bed, tears streaming down my cheeks and spotting my nightgown. I couldn’t give my husband an answer!
Jim, a nonmember, and a lieutenant junior grade aboard a U.S. destroyer, sailed out of San Diego, California, harbor every other week. He loved his duty, his friends aboard ship, and coming home to his sweetheart. But I was miserable! Because I was alone every other week and living in a strange city with no friends, no family, and (since I was inactive) no Church affiliation, I sank often into a state of despondency. Morning sickness, nausea, and a growing waistline did not improve my attitude. I felt trapped!
At the end of each “out to sea” week, Jim would return, ever the optimistic, expecting to find a happy, smiling wife. But after too many days of lonely vigilance, I was anything but sunshine. A dark gloomy cloud settled over our little rented bungalow. Doubts assailed me. I wasn’t sure I loved him. He didn’t seem to understand me or my needs. Was this what wedded bliss was supposed to be like? We had tried to talk it out before, but each time we satisfied only surface deficiencies, never the real problem.
Now we sat facing each other across the bed, our relationship teetering seriously. What were we going to do? The word divorce arose. Is that what we wanted? It carried a sound of finality, of permanency, and made us involuntarily shudder. But how could we change?
We sat in silence, pondering. Then Jim looked up. “Judith,” he said, “I think our problem is one of selfishness. Are you willing to make an honest effort to try an experiment? For the next thirty days, I’ll think only of you and your needs, and you think only of me and my needs. If at the end of that time our marriage has not improved, then we’ll talk about … about another solution.”
I agreed. I wanted—hungered for—happiness.
“But we must guard against one thing,” Jim warned. “We must not predetermine each other’s actions judging them against what we would like. Our wants may be out of proportion to what we receive, and disappointment may occur. This is to be a total concentration of what we can do for each other.”
The next morning I slipped out of bed early, fighting nausea and bleary eyes. Jim loved large hot breakfasts; I preferred sleeping later, with a light morning snack. Nevertheless, I cooked a large breakfast for him. Jim smelled the food and came into the kitchen smiling. So much for sleeping in! Even though every morning I still fought nausea, I cooked special breakfasts.
“Honey, I can hardly wait to get up in the morning just to see what exciting menu is on the table,” Jim said. “You’re a marvelous cook and I love it!” With this encouragement, my breakfasts continued to improve—and so did my willingness to prepare them.
The second big change came during those week-long assignments when Jim was out to sea. I took walks every day, started conversations with the local grocer and his wife, immersed myself in uplifting books and music, and shut every thought of self-pity out of my mind. Fridays required long preparation. I knew his optimism envisioned me running out the door and into his arms—so I ran! And then I led him back into the house to a carefully prepared meal. Romance blossomed again!
One night he said, “I feel like seeing a movie. Would you like to go?” Actually, I was tired and thinking about retiring early, but I remembered the commitment and grabbed my coat. Perhaps the hardest part is doing what you don’t feel like doing, without minding. The key, I’ve found, is attitude. Discomfort becomes insignificant when you have a genuine desire to please each other.
Of course I didn’t do all the changing in our marriage. Jim, too, kept his part of the commitment—and he did it in ways he knew would be most meaningful to me. His largest contribution was personalized attention. Five-minute rubdowns to my aching limbs and back expanded to an hour, soothing my nerves as well as my body. He provided more opportunities for talk and relaxation—taking me away from our four walls on weekends into the sunshine, to the beach, or to the park for archery or picnics. And he listened more attentively to what I was feeling and going through. He perceived how easily my feelings of confidence could fail, and so he reminded me of my positive traits during those periods to bolster my ego.
Even though he was only twenty-three years old, Jim commanded one hundred men aboard ship—men who saluted and followed his orders daily. Sometimes I had suspected he unconsciously desired the same behavior from me. But, happily, during our thirty day experiment, that harsh edge disappeared. In a matter of two weeks, I began to feel cherished, appreciated, and loved.
Our “extreme” commitment meant keeping each other’s needs always in the background of our thoughts; it meant asking ourselves each day “What can I do for him/her? How can I show I care?” It meant—for both of us—literally eliminating the feelings and thought of “I demand!” and “What about me?” and “Why doesn’t he/she … ?”
At first changes in our marriage were changes of attitude, but they were based upon the true principle of unselfishness, and our understanding and acceptance of the principle dictated our actions. We paid the price to please each other, and in that process discovered the beginnings of true love. All it took was to give instead of take; to be thoughtful instead of thoughtless; to desire to please rather than be pleased.

The Prophet Joseph was allowed to see the Nauvoo Temple in vision. Concerning its appearance, he recorded this experience: “In the afternoon, Elder William Weeks (whom I had employed as architect of the Temple), came in for instruction. I instructed him in relation to the circular windows designed to light the offices in the dead work of the arch between stories. He said that round windows in the broad side of a building were a violation of all the known rules of architecture, and contended that they should be semicircular—that the building was too low for round windows. I told him I would have the circles, if I had to make the Temple ten feet higher than it was originally calculated; that one light at the centre of each circular window would be sufficient to light the whole room; that when the whole building was thus illuminated, the effect would be remarkably grand. ‘I wish you to carry out my designs. I have seen in vision the splendid appearance of that building illuminated, and will have it built according to the pattern shown me.’” (N. B. Lundwall, Temples of the Most High [Lundwall, 1941], pp. 51–52.)