Gospel Story Finder

I always looked forward to Primary activity day because it meant exciting activities, great games, and tasty treats. Sometimes the activities were serious and spiritual, and I liked those, too, because I learned so much. But of all the great activities I went to, I remember one more than any other.
At 10:00 on the dot that Saturday, I showed up at church, along with the rest of the Primary-age children in my ward. After an opening prayer, a song, and a few instructions, we split into groups. I followed my group into a classroom and was surprised to find a large piece of green-and-white-checked fabric and a piece of solid green fabric, with a layer of fluffy stuff in between. It was all stretched out and tacked to some boards. Nearby were yarn and big needles. “A quilt,” I thought. “Who would be tying a quilt right in the middle of our Primary activity?”
“We are all going to help tie this quilt for someone in the ward who isn’t feeling well,” one of our Primary leaders explained. “After it’s finished, we’ll give it to her.”
“What a great idea!” I thought. When I’m having a hard time, I enjoy wrapping up in a nice warm blanket. But I wondered how well it would turn out since I had never tied a quilt and was pretty sure the rest of the Primary hadn’t either.
Then the Primary president announced who would receive the quilt—my own lucky mom! I was even more excited to try my hardest so the quilt would look nice.
My mom had been very ill all month. In fact, Grandma had to stay with us for a while because Mom was so sick she couldn’t take care of us. She had to be released from her Primary calling, too. Even though Mom’s illness wasn’t easy for our family, something good was going to happen. I would have a baby brother!
With the help of our leaders, we set to work. Even though I wondered if we could really do it, we tied that quilt. Everyone made a stitch or two. Then we each wrote a message, signed our name, or drew a picture in a book that went along with the quilt. I knew what we were doing would mean a lot to Mom because she told me how much she loved and missed all the children in Primary. And the person who bought the fabric must have been inspired, because green is Mom’s favorite color.
Tying the quilt wasn’t hard, but keeping quiet about it sure was. A few weeks later, the secret was finally revealed. On a sunny Sunday morning during singing time, we all walked a block from the church and around the corner to my backyard. We sat on the lawn and waited while one of our leaders knocked on the door.
You can probably guess that when Mom stepped outside and saw all the children gathered, she cried. She cried even more when we sang some of our favorite Primary songs in our best voices. Then the Primary president presented the finished quilt and the book of messages.
“Your singing was beautiful,” Mom said through her tears. “This is one of the nicest things that has ever happened to me.” I knew she meant it. She smiled and cried some more and said that she was going to go inside, wrap up in the quilt, and read every message we had written.
Mom still has that quilt, and I know she always will. It has a few extra-long loops of yarn on the back where some of the stitches weren’t pulled all the way through. Mom says that makes it even more special. To this day, when someone in the family is sick or has a bad day, nothing makes us feel better than wrapping up in the memories and warmth of what we affectionately call the “Primary quilt.”

“Put your foot inside this shoe,” seminary teacher Tatyana Mutilina said, holding out a boot nearly large enough for Goliath. Her student Anzhelika Kovalova timidly placed her foot inside.
“Now,” the teacher said, “put it here on the table where everyone can see.”
That got the class’s attention.
“Don’t go on a journey wearing shoes that don’t fit,” Sister Mutilina said. Then she taught the Kharkovsky Branch youth a powerful lesson from the seminary manual, reading scriptures, discussing questions, and bearing her testimony of how important it is to be prepared when the Lord calls upon you.
The point? “That the future of the Church in Ukraine will require youth like us to step forward,” Anzhelika says. “We need to be ready for the challenge.”

President Hunter was born November 14, 1907, in Boise, Idaho. He was not baptized at age eight. His father was not a member and felt that Howard should wait until he was older to decide about getting baptized.
President Hunter said, “I did have a testimony though. My mother had taught me to pray and to thank Heavenly Father for the beauty of the earth and for the wonderful times that I had at the ranch and by the river and with the Scouts. I also learned to ask Him for the things that I wanted or needed.” When he was twelve years old, he pleaded with his father to let him be baptized and was overjoyed when his father gave him permission.

—Someone else was impressed with the lost money, too—the girl who lost it. She had been encouraged by her LDS friends to join them at Chiemsee and was dismayed when her funds for the entire activity disappeared. Her roommates helped her to search, had prayed with her, and had come to the desk to see if the clerk could offer any suggestions.
“Twenty dollars?” he said, trying to hide his grin. “Why, yes, someone turned it in just five minutes ago. …”
“... and the young lady’s money was returned to her,” the article implies, but the full resolution is not present in the provided text.

Two such faithful members, James Ewudzie and Frederick Antwi, assisted me one day in the Accra Ghana Temple. Several years before Latter-day Saint missionaries arrived in Ghana, James had been part of a group of about 1,000 people who used the Book of Mormon and other Church materials in their church services. They prayed for the day that the Church would come to Ghana. He joined with other young men traveling around Ghana and teaching the gospel as found in our materials. Once missionaries arrived in 1978, he was baptized on the first day that Latter-day Saint baptisms were performed in Ghana.

Fred Antwi, a pioneer member of the Church in Ghana

Early in Fred’s time as a member, he attended the funeral of a relative who was a tribal chief. There he found out that the family plan was to make him the new chief. Knowing that such a position would cause him to do things contrary to his gospel beliefs, he sped away after the burial and turned his back on a position that would have brought him prominence and wealth.

Once the Accra Temple was dedicated, both James and Fred traveled over four hours, one way, every week so that they could be temple workers. As I performed ordinances with them, I was overcome with the sense of history that surrounded me. Realizing the Church history in Africa that the two of them represented, I felt like it was akin to having John Taylor or Wilford Woodruff or other early members of the Church with me doing those ordinances.

In 1952 I returned to San Diego, California, from a Korean campaign during which I had been baptized at the mission home in Tokyo, Japan. As a new convert I was sure that everyone, everywhere, was looking for the gospel of Jesus Christ, which I had found. I had it, and I was going to give it to them whether they wanted it or not.
I became a member of a car pool that operated between my home in Chula Vista, California, and North Island, where I worked. There were four other navy men in that car pool—all nonmembers. Three of them were lieutenants (which was also my rank), and one was an enlisted man, a first class ordinance man, whose name was George Whitehead. I was elated with the prospects of converting these four car pool mates. I was sure it would be a cinch. It was a 45-minute trip in each direction, and they couldn’t get out of the car—they had to listen. I decided I would convert these four, and then move into a new car pool and convert them, and then move to another. Why, I could convert a whole ward in no time at all!
I went to work on my four comrades. Three of them (the lieutenants) obviously never listened to a word I said, or if they did, you couldn’t tell it; my words were like so much water off a duck’s back. But the enlisted man, George Whitehead, he dared not turn me off. I could tell that George was interested; so when it was my turn to drive, I would take the lieutenants home first and then sit and preach to George in front of his house for an hour before I would let him out of the car.
I kept trying to commit George to come to church, but he resisted for a period of about four weeks. Finally, he agreed to attend with me and said his wife, Lucille, would also attend. I was so excited. I remember on the Saturday night before George and Lucille were to attend their first Mormon Sunday School, I went to the chapel, and I washed the back door of the chapel; it was the door I always used to enter the building. I enlisted the aid of a young man who thought I must be slightly psycho. He said, “Why are you washing the back door of the church? Nobody washes the back door of a church!” I assured him that I was washing the back door because it needed to be washed; and besides, tomorrow morning George and Lucille Whitehead were coming through this door. And everything must be perfect for them, so they would see the Lord’s church in its true light.
I presume that no one looks at the Church more critically than does a missionary who is bringing a contact for the first time. How important it is that all the babies be quiet and that the music be beautiful. It would also be nice if everyone sitting on the stand would stay awake, but I guess that is too much to expect.
George and Lucille came to Sunday School, and I was there to meet them. We had a great Sunday School class that day. (I was teaching the class.) George was obviously impressed. He looked for all the world like a sponge, soaking up every word. But his wife, Lucille, sitting beside him, looked like the Sphinx. I couldn’t tell if she had heard a word I had said. I was concerned. I could hardly wait to speak to her after the class.
As we walked out of the chapel, through that clean back door, I said, “Lucille, what did you think of that service this morning?” She said, without a smile, “I was born a Methodist, and I expect to die one.” At that time I had not heard LeGrand Richards’ story about the Englishman and the Scotsman, where the Englishman said, “I was born an Englishman, raised an Englishman, and expect to die an Englishman.” The Scotsman said, “Have ye no ambition?”
I could have used that retort, I presume; but instead I said, “Lucille, I promise you that to be a Latter-day Saint you will never have to give up anything true that you have learned as a Methodist. We have no quarrels with other churches or religious beliefs. We do not write tracts against other churches and we never will, because we are not in the business of tearing down other people’s faith, but, on the contrary, our purpose is to build it up. To our Protestant friends who believe that salvation is by ‘grace through faith’ we say, ‘We believe it too—does not the scripture declare, “… Without faith it is impossible to please him [God]”?’ (Heb. 1:6.) We just wish to add to their faith. So, to our Protestant friends we say, ‘Come let us share with you the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We will take no truth from you but will merely add certain works and priesthood authority to what you have.’”
This is essentially what I told Lucille that day. She made no further comment whatsoever. That episode took place in 1952.
In 1958 I was in Washington, D.C., still in the navy, and I received orders to go to the University of Southern California to attend a special course of instruction on aviation safety. While I was in Los Angeles, I was able to spend much time in the Los Angeles Temple. As I recall, I did the work for all of my grandparents and great grandparents. The women who acted as proxy for two of my grandmothers and my own mother (who had subsequently died not having accepted the gospel) was this same Lucille Whitehead who was, as she said, “born a Methodist and expected to die one.” She had not quite made it—in fact, she was ready for baptism just three weeks after she had made that statement to me that Sunday morning in San Diego, California. Why? Because the Holy Ghost had touched her heart, and she knew the gospel was true.
Surely the Lord moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. How could I know that sharing the gospel with a member of my car pool would result in making eternal life possible to my own mother?
There are so many things we don’t know, but our Heavenly Father knows. It behooves us to follow his directions to us, for surely we will be eternally blessed for so doing.

Gary and Tommy were building a bridge. It had rained that day, and the rain had made a little brook through Gary’s backyard.

“I’m going to be an engineer when I grow up,” declared Gary. “I’m going to build bridges just like the ones my daddy builds.”

“I’m going to be a truck driver,” announced Tommy. “I’m going to drive a great big trailer truck. I’ll bet my truck will be the biggest in the whole world!”

“It better not be too big,” said Gary, “or it can’t go under or over some bridges.” Then he ran over to the garage to get another board. His family had just moved in, and there were plenty of boards from the empty furniture crates. Gary’s toys hadn’t come yet, so the boys were playing with Tommy’s big blue truck.

“I’m going to load my truck with rocks,” Tommy said, “and drive it over the bridge.”

“The bridge isn’t ready yet,” said Gary. “Wait till I get this board in place.”

But Tommy wouldn’t wait. “Here I come,” he said, and started his truck along the road toward the bridge. It was a muddy road, but Tommy pushed and pushed till he got his truck up onto the narrow bridge. Then one wheel went off the edge, and the whole truck with its load of stones fell into the brook.

“I’ll help you pick them up,” said Gary.

“You leave them alone,” said Tommy. “They’re my rocks. If you’d built your old bridge better, my truck wouldn’t have gone off the edge.”

Tommy started picking his rocks out of the water. When he turned around, Gary was backing the truck down so he could help put the rocks back in. Tommy dropped the rocks and grabbed his truck. “That’s my truck!” Tommy said. And away he ran, leaving Gary all by himself.

Gary looked puzzled, but after a minute he began to work on the bridge again. “It’s going to be a four-lane bridge,” he said to himself, “just like the one Daddy is building.”

Tommy ran into the kitchen as soon as he got home. “Mom,” he called, “Gary pushed my truck into the water.”

“That’s too bad,” Tommy’s mother said. “How did it happen?”

“We were building a bridge, and Gary didn’t make it wide enough, and my truck fell off into the water and got all wet.”

“Oh,” said Tommy’s mother. “I thought you said Gary pushed it.”

Tommy didn’t say anything for a minute. His mother took a pan of cookies out of the oven. Reluctantly Tommy said, “I guess he didn’t really push it. But it’s my truck and Gary didn’t have any right to play with it.”

“Whose bridge were you driving it over?” asked Tommy’s mother.

“Well,” said Tommy finally, “we both started to build it, but I guess the boards were Gary’s.” Then he turned and started to go back outdoors. “I don’t care,” he said. “He can’t have my truck. I’m going to play in my sandbox!” Tommy slammed the door.

Tommy made a road in his sandbox, but when he tried to run his truck on it, the road wasn’t big enough for the truck to turn the corners. He looked for some boards to make a bridge up to the sandbox, but he couldn’t find any. Tommy tried pushing two trucks to make believe he was two truck drivers, but that wasn’t much fun. He sat down on the back steps to think.

At last Tommy got up and went slowly into the kitchen. “Mom,” he asked, “may I go back over to Gary’s yard to play?”

“What would you play with?” asked his mother.

“I’ll take Gary one of my trucks,” said Tommy. “Then we’ll each have one.”

Tommy’s mother smiled. “Would you like to load some cookies onto your trucks? I’ll wrap them in waxed paper for you.”

“Thanks, Mom!” said Tommy.

Two minutes later Tommy was back in Gary’s yard, holding a truck carefully in each hand so as not to spill the cookies. “Gary!” he called. “I brought you a truck.”

“That’s neat,” said Gary. “See, I’ve built the bridge wide enough so that we can both go over it at the same time.”

“That’ll be fun,” said Tommy. “I guess bridge builders and truck drivers have to work together.”

“I guess ’most everybody does,” said Gary.

I don’t suppose many of those who were there would still recollect that event without being reminded of it. It might have slipped from my memory, too, if it hadn’t been for another incident a few years later, one that taught me something else about being out of step.
Kent and Colleen Ockey were definitely different from other families I had met while selling photography. Not only were they genuinely friendly to me, but they showed great love to each other as well. I remember how happy they seemed, how comfortable and at peace I felt in their home even though I couldn’t find an ashtray. These people seemed completely out of step with others I had encountered in my work.
On a side table in their living room, I noticed a large copy of the Book of Mormon. I had read a few chapters of it earlier in my life, and now it attracted my attention again. The Ockeys answered my questions freely, and invited me back. They introduced me to the missionaries. I began studying, praying, and searching. Twenty-three days later, I was baptized. I finally felt that I was in step, and I’ve tried to keep in step with the Lord and guidance from his appointed leaders ever since.

Recently, while giving a lesson in my ward, I asked for a show of hands of those who wanted to hear words of counsel from the Lord’s prophet. Everyone raised their hands. Then I said, “The best way to receive counsel from our President and the other Brethren and to bring their messages into our homes is to subscribe to the Liahona (Spanish).”
Now I am the ward magazine representative! I am very happy to have this calling, and the Lord blesses me as I respond to the call.
Marcelo Imaldo Castillo NavarreteAlmirante La Torre Ward, Los Angeles Chile Stake

The Resurrection and the Atonement of the Savior can be a constant fortifying influence in our lives as illustrated by the account of Elizabeth Jackson, a pioneer in the Martin Handcart Company. She tells of the death of her husband, Aaron, on the Wyoming plains in 1856 in these moving words:
“About nine o’clock I retired. Bedding had become very scarce so I did not disrobe. I slept until, as it appeared to me, about midnight. I was extremely cold. The weather was bitter. I listened to hear if my husband breathed, he lay so still. I could not hear him. I became alarmed. I put my hand on his body, when to my horror I discovered that my worst fears were confirmed. My husband was dead. I called for help to the other inmates of the tent. They could render me no aid; and there was no alternative but to remain alone by the side of the corpse till morning. Oh, how the dreary hours drew their tedious length along. When daylight came, some of the male part of the company prepared the body for burial. And oh, such a burial and funeral service. They did not remove his clothing—he had but little. They wrapped him in a blanket and placed him in a pile with thirteen others who had died, and then covered him up with snow. The ground was frozen so hard that they could not dig a grave. He was left there to sleep in peace until the trump of God shall sound, and the dead in Christ shall awake and come forth in the morning of the first resurrection. We shall then again unite our hearts and lives, and eternity will furnish us with life forever more.”

Joseph Smith is not generally remembered as a general, mayor, architect, editor, or presidential candidate. We remember him as the prophet of the Restoration, a man committed to the love of God and the furthering of His work. The Prophet Joseph was an everyday Christian. He was concerned about the small things, the daily tasks of service and caring for others. As a thirteen-year-old boy, Lyman O. Littlefield accompanied the camp of Zion, which went up to Missouri. He later narrated this incident of a small yet personally significant act of service in the life of the Prophet:
“The journey was extremely toilsome for all, and the physical suffering, coupled with the knowledge of the persecutions endured by our brethren whom we were traveling to succor, caused me to lapse one day into a state of melancholy. As the camp was making ready to depart I sat tired and brooding by the roadside. The Prophet was the busiest man of the camp; and yet when he saw me, he turned from the great press of other duties to say a word of comfort to a child. Placing his hand upon my head, he said, ‘Is there no place for you, my boy? If not, we must make one.’ This circumstance made an impression upon my mind which long lapse of time and cares of [later] years have not effaced.” (In George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1986, p. 344.)
On another occasion, Sheriff Thomas King of Adams County and several others were sent as a posse to arrest the Prophet and deliver him to the emissaries of Governor Boggs of Missouri. Sheriff King became deathly ill, and the Prophet took the sheriff to his home in Nauvoo and nursed him like a brother for four days. (Cannon, p. 372.) Small, kind, and yet significant acts of service were not occasional for the Prophet.
Writing about the opening of the store in Nauvoo, Elder George Q. Cannon recorded:
“The Prophet himself did not hesitate to engage in mercantile and industrial pursuits; the gospel which he preached was one of temporal salvation as well as spiritual exaltation; and he was willing to perform his share of the practical labor. This he did with no thought of personal gain.” (Cannon, p. 385.)
And in a letter, the Prophet wrote:
“The store has been filled to overflowing and I have stood behind the counter all day, distributing goods as steadily as any clerk you ever saw, to oblige those who were compelled to go without their Christmas and New Year’s dinners for the want of a little sugar, molasses, raisins, etc.; and to please myself also, for I love to wait upon the Saints and to be a servant to all, hoping that I may be exalted in the due time of the Lord.” (Cannon, p. 386.)

About the time we began meeting with the missionaries, Monina’s energy began to decrease, and strange bumps started appearing all over her body. Her arthritis flared up as it never had before. We sought medical help, but none of the tests gave us any answers. As the months passed, her health deteriorated to the point that she needed additional medical attention. In December, Monina flew to the Philippines to meet with doctors there. I stayed in Saipan so I could continue to work and care for our teenage son.

Before she left, Monina told me that she wanted to be baptized when she returned to Saipan. She also asked me to continue meeting with the missionaries even though she would be missing some of the lessons. I promised her that Mark and I would do so.

During her time in the Philippines, we talked regularly so that I could hear about her doctor visits and she could hear what we were learning about the gospel. My wife reported that she was feeling less and less pain every day, and I was glad that the medical attention was working. In early January 2008, I purchased a plane ticket so I could go visit her, but she felt certain that she would be back in Saipan soon and that there was no need to waste money on the trip. She told me she loved and missed our son and me but assured me everything would be all right.

Three days later she died suddenly. The cause: undetected leukemia. Mark and I were stunned—and heartbroken. We immediately traveled to the Philippines for the funeral and then returned to Saipan. This was the most difficult time of our lives.

The sorrow I felt was profound, so much so that I found it hard to get out of bed each morning. One particularly difficult day, Mark reminded me of something the missionaries had taught our family. He said, "Dad, don’t cry too much. Mom is in a place of God. She is in the spirit world." How grateful I felt that a just God had provided a way for Monina to continue to learn about the gospel, that everyone who has ever lived will have a chance to either accept or reject the gospel of Jesus Christ—either in this life or the next.

As I continued to learn the teachings of Jesus Christ, I realized that Heavenly Father had provided much more than that: He also made it possible for her to receive essential ordinances like baptism. Before my wife left for the Philippines, she and I had started talking about being baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even though she wasn’t able to be baptized in this life, Heavenly Father had not left us without hope.

Although some of the rules of good etiquette change over the years, there are some that will likely always endure simply because of their practicality and effectiveness. Do you know what they are—and why they are important? Priest adviser Steve Stewart from the Monument Park 12th Ward, Salt Lake Monument Park Stake, decided his quorum should be able to answer “Yes!” to both questions. Remembering his feelings of inadequacy at a dinner at the home of his mission president, he wanted to give his quorum the opportunity to learn, discuss, and practice some of the more universal aspects of etiquette.
“It was New Year’s Day and I was serving as a missionary in the Central Atlantic States Mission,” he recalled. “The mission president and his wife had invited some of us over for dinner. It was delicious, but my enjoyment of it was hampered some when I realized I lacked knowledge of formal etiquette. For example, I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to stand or even when it was appropriate to take my napkin. It’s not that the procedures were difficult, they were just unfamiliar to me.”
Brother Stewart’s desire to help his priests avoid similar situations was greeted enthusiastically by the quorum. His approach included a quiz on the young men’s existing knowledge of etiquette, with a discussion afterward, and a formal dinner for the priests and Laurels. The class exercise was well received, and the dinner turned out to be one of the best-attended activities of the year. “I thought the dinner would be fun but that I wouldn’t really learn anything new,” admitted Buster Child, first assistant to the president of the priests quorum. “But I was wrong. I really have learned a lot.”
Printed invitations were sent to each of the priests and Laurels in the ward, and the priests were assigned to escort the Laurels. As a result, shortly before 7:30 on a calm, clear, spring night, the Stewart sidewalk began filling up with beautiful young women in long, colorful dresses and handsome priests in coats and ties. Inside, several tables had been covered with fine cloths and set with china, silver, and goblets. Placecards indicated where each guest was to sit, and the tantalizing aroma of baked ham and scalloped potatoes floated into the dining room from the adjoining kitchen.
The young people spent the first part of the evening mingling, talking, and eating hors d’oeuvres of sausage-filled mushrooms and chips with dips. Such whispered comments as “I ate before I came so I wouldn’t stuff myself when I got here” and “Is it all right to pick up a mushroom with my fingers?” could be heard amidst talk of school, ward activities, and the approaching summer vacation.
Soon, however, it was time for dinner to begin. After a short welcome and a blessing on the food, Brother Stewart encouraged his guests to feel comfortable and to ask as many questions as they wanted. And they did. Throughout the evening the room buzzed with questions. “How do I butter my roll?” asked one, and from someone else, “Do I pass the food to my left or to my right?” Brother Stewart also brought up some points for discussion. Some of the answers were obvious: “Should you leave some food on your spoon or fork to be waved about during conversation?” brought spontaneous laughter from the group. But the answer to another question, “Is it considered proper to butter a whole ear of corn at once?” (the answer is no; butter and eat only a few rows at a time) was greeted with disbelief, and the consensus was that perhaps this is one area that should be left up to personal taste.
When the evening was over, however, the group generally agreed that understanding etiquette and practicing good manners are just as important today as ever before. “Once you learn the basics, you can relax and enjoy yourself without wondering if you are going to make a big mistake,” said Mike Bonnelli. And Sharon Matsen added, “It’s being courteous, but it’s more than that, too. It’s a way of showing others you want them to feel comfortable. For example, I really like my date to open the car door for me. Even though it might be considered a little thing, it makes me feel that he thinks I’m someone special.”
And that’s what etiquette is really all about—showing our friends, family members, and associates that they are special to us and that we want to treat them in the very best way possible. As well as passing the beans in the right direction and not blowing your nose at the dinner table, good manners mean returning everything you borrow and following through on everything you say you will do. It is being patient when the clerk at the grocery store charges you too much, cheerful when you have to do the dishes twice in a row because your sister is sick, and appreciative when your father takes your paper route so you can go to Scout camp. It is helping a stranger who has slipped on the ice and offering the last piece of pie to your Uncle Harvey when you really wanted to eat it yourself. The following quiz includes true-false questions covering a variety of different situations. See how many you can get right:
1. If there are more than eight persons seated at one table, it is all right to begin eating as soon as you are served.
True. Otherwise the hot food could begin to get cold and the cold food could begin to get warm.
2. Used silverware should be left on the table with the tips resting on the side of the dinner plate.
False. Only unused silverware should be left on the table. Lay your used utensils crosswise across the plate so that when it is removed, the silverware won’t fall off.
3. At a formal dinner party you should take your napkin as soon as you are seated.
False. Take your napkin when your hostess takes hers.
4. If you always add salt to your food, it is all right to salt and pepper it before you taste it.
False. Wait until you taste it to avoid offending the cook—or ruining the flavor!
5. When you are passed the butter plate, you should take however much you need and place it on your plate rather than directly onto your roll, corn, potato, etc.
True. This keeps the butter moving around the table and also keeps the butter knife from touching any food.
6. If you take a bite of a piece of gristle or something else that you do nor want to eat, you should swallow it anyway.
False. Roll it with your tongue onto your fork or spoon and place it back onto your plate.
7. If you feel a sneeze coming and haven’t time to reach for a handkerchief, you should pinch your nose with your fingers and turn your head away from the table.
False. Cover your nose and mouth with your napkin instead.
8. The most correct way to eat spaghetti is to wind it around your fork.
True. Many chefs do not like their guests to cut the pasta!
9. If someone burps at the table, spills his water glass, or does something equally unacceptable, you should stop talking and stare at him so he will know he blew it.
False. One of the most important rules of etiquette is to keep from adding to the embarrassment of others.
1. It is best to keep your date waiting at least five minutes but not more than ten.
False. There may be times when you are unavoidably delayed, but these should always be exceptions.
2. It is still important for a boy to help a girl with her coat, open doors for her, guide her down dark theater aisles, or do any other such things.
True. Such respectful attention will never be out-of-date. It makes both the boy and the girl feel good about themselves and each other.
3. If your date wants to see an R-rated or other unacceptable movie, you should accept his suggestion, especially if he is paying.
False. He wants you to have an enjoyable time, too, and you won’t if you are doing something you know you shouldn’t. Pleasantly say that you would prefer not to see that particular show and suggest an alternate plan. Good manners don’t include going along with everything your friends may want to do.
4. A proper way to ask a girl for a date is to say, “What are you doing Saturday night?”
False. Instead describe what you have planned and ask her if she would like to go with you.
1. If you are invited to a party and cannot attend, there is no need to respond. They’ll know you can’t make it when you don’t show up.
False. It is very difficult for a hostess to plan refreshments and entertainment when she doesn’t know how many will be attending.
2. After dialing a wrong number on the telephone, it is all right to ask, “What number is this?”
False. Instead say something like, “Is this 333-3333?” If it is not, you will know you have simply misdialed and can try again.
3. Even if you thank someone verbally, you should still send a written thank-you note for a gift.
True. It shows you appreciate the time they took to remember you and that you are willing to do the same.
4. It is all right to leave a meeting just before the closing prayer.
False. President David O. McKay once said, “It is the height of rudeness, excepting in an emergency, to leave a worshiping assembly before dismissal.”
5. If you call someone on the phone and don’t recognize the voice that answers, you should say, “Who is this, please?”
False. Since you have invited yourself into their home by calling them, you should identify yourself to whomever answers the phone, and ask to speak to the person you wanted to talk to.
6. If someone cuts in front of you in line, you are justified in glaring at them.
False. Why be rude just because someone else is rude?
7. When speaking to children or those younger than ourselves, there is no real need to say “please” when asking them to hand us something, bring in the mail, or help in other ways.
False. What better way to develop good feelings between all ages and create harmony in your home than by treating everyone, equally, with respect?
Well, how did you do? Did you learn anything? We hope so. And by the way, if you are still wondering which way the vegetables should be passed, they should usually be passed to the right. Have fun.

Other traditions I grew up with that have continued in my own family today are family prayer and scripture study. Although we were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was a boy, my parents had strong Christian roots and taught us good values.
Our regular prayer and scripture study prepared us for when the missionaries knocked on our door. I was 20 years old at the time. We immediately recognized the truths the missionaries were teaching as we learned about modern prophets, the Book of Mormon, and the Restoration of the gospel. As I read the Book of Mormon, from the very first verse I knew it was true. Our entire family was soon baptized.

A tender letter came to me while I was serving in the Salt Lake Temple. It was from a young man not many years older than most of you here today. He was in a foreign prison. He indicated he could be there for a long time. His purpose in writing was to ask that his name be included in the prayers of the temple. At the end of his letter, at what seemed almost an after thought, he asked, “How did I lose my way?”
I don’t know the answer as to how this particular young man lost his way–exactly when or where he drifted from the path to happiness, but now in his sorrow, he recognizes his great loss.

I’ll share another personal reflection. Many years ago when I was a young intern, we had a wonderful neighbor lady named Netta Davis. She had a serious heart condition—a diseased mitral valve—destroyed in her youth by the ravages of rheumatic fever. Her husband, Don, was a fellow physician. Because he and I were usually at the hospital, Netta and my sweetheart, Dantzel, became very close friends. Sadly, as the years went by, Netta’s strength ebbed. Her congestive heart failure worsened. Her little body finally died because of this malfunctioning valve.

This was long before the advent of surgical repairs within the heart. Such was hardly dreamed of in those days. But Netta’s passing changed my life. I determined that her death was not to have been in vain.

Then I joined forces with a small team of researchers at a well-known university. Together we embarked on a project to develop an artificial heart-lung machine, as I mentioned earlier. The ultimate purpose of this effort was to allow repairs to be made within the empty heart while the circulation of the patient’s blood was temporarily maintained by the apparatus we were developing.

To make connectors for tubing, I learned quite a bit about glassblowing. And I learned how to operate lathes, drill presses, and other machines required to make pumps, valves, and cylinders. With my associates, I also had to learn the physiological requirements for oxygenation of the blood and the requirements for blood flow to and oxygen consumption of the tissues. We had to learn how to anticoagulate the blood and then reverse the anticoagulation so normal clotting could again be restored. And we learned the hard way that bacterial contamination could destroy an otherwise successful experiment. Incidentally, the conquering of that problem was the project for my Ph.D. thesis.

Long years elapsed before we were able to graduate from the laboratory to practical application in the operating room of a hospital. But finally it happened in 1951. The human heart could be opened. In the years that followed, thanks also to research in laboratories and clinics at many other universities, defective valves and other components could be repaired. The pioneering road was long and rugged. More than eight years elapsed from the time I received my doctor of medicine degree before I performed the first successful open-heart operation in Utah in 1955.

Netta Davis did not die in vain. Her desperate need motivated me as nothing else could. I thought of her the day I operated upon the heart of President Spencer W. Kimball. In a real sense, it was partially because of Netta that I was able to perform that operation President Kimball needed.

We had a great season, even though we lost more games than we won. At the end of the season, the whole team was invited to a team member’s birthday party. They were going to have a barbecue and go swimming. It was going to be the last time I would see the kids on my baseball team, because we weren’t in the same grades and went to different schools. I was really excited about going until I realized that it was on a Sunday.
My parents didn’t think a birthday party was an appropriate activity for Sunday, but they told me I was old enough to make my own choice. I really, really wanted to go. The party was three weeks away. I prayed and I prayed about it. I decided to go to the party, even though I didn’t feel completely right about it.
A few days later I was reading the Book of Mormon and came across 2 Nephi 28:8, which says, “Eat, drink, and be merry; nevertheless, fear God—he will justify in committing a little sin.” [2 Ne. 28:8] I excitedly told Mom that I found my answer—it was OK for me to go to the party!
She told me to reread the verse and include the verses that came before and after it. After I read a few more verses, I realized that the scriptures were telling us that saying it is OK to commit a little sin is false and foolish doctrine. No amount of sin is OK. I knew then what I should do, but I still hadn’t made my decision.
I continued to pray about it for the next week. Finally I decided that I shouldn’t go. I felt really good about my decision. My mom called my friend’s mom and told her I wouldn’t be going to the party. On the day of the party, while on the way home from church, we dropped off a present to my friend and said hi to everyone and then went home.
I’m glad I did what I felt Jesus Christ would want me to do, and I’m glad I chose the right.

After graduating from college and breaking away from these friends, I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to work and live. I also began taking part-time graduate classes to determine what I wanted to study in graduate school and which school I might want to attend. As part of this process, I met with one of my professors to discuss graduate school options, and he suggested that I consider schools in Utah. I was not sure why my professor suggested Utah, but I did look at schools there and eventually decided to attend Utah State University. I can still remember landing at the Salt Lake City airport and driving to Logan for graduate school interviews. It felt good to be in Utah. After meeting with faculty and students there, I knew I wanted to move to Utah to attend graduate school. I did not realize it at the time, but I was again feeling the call of the Lord, this time to move to Utah and to begin my new life as a graduate student.

I will never forget the day I decided to go on a mission. My mother and I were the first in our family to join the Church. The missionaries came to our home and taught us many great things that we didn’t know before: about the Lord’s true Church, prophets, the priesthood, and how it was restored again after a great apostasy. Their teachings and invitation to come and see how the Church was organized made us feel the Spirit as we had never felt before. Eventually my mother and I decided to join the Church.
We were so happy, every Sunday attending sacrament meeting and seeing the love the members of the Church showed us. My mom and I waited for my father who was working in Dubai to come and be baptized, and my brother was studying in Vijayawada where there is no Church. Fortunately, a home group was started in Vijayawada and missionaries from Rajahmundry went there and taught him. I baptized him. The day came that my father arrived from his work the missionaries met him, taught him, and invited him to be baptized, but he had an issue with the Word of Wisdom. Finally, he overcame it with the help of the missionaries and he also joined the Church. My brother baptized him. Now all four members in our family have joined the Church and have seen many miracles in our lives.
I was baptized when I was 18 years old and I never thought about serving a mission. Missionaries and members of the Church use to ask me about it whenever we met. I used to say, “I will think about it, let me finish my studies.” I finished my studies. The members continued to ask, “When are you going to serve a mission?” I would answer, “Let me make some money then I will think about it.” Every time, I used to give excuses for not serving a mission.
One day I sat on the rooftop, thinking about what I should do, wondering why God had given me challenges. Just one thought came into my mind: “Go on a mission.” A few days later I watched general conference with lots of questions. The main one was about my mission. I was waiting for the answers, when I heard President Dieter F. Uchtdorf say, “Those who love and serve God and fellowmen and humbly and actively participate in His work will see wondrous things happen in their lives and in the lives of those they love”1. I felt very strongly that it was the perfect answer from Him that I needed. The next moment I spoke to my mom. She did not want me to serve a mission. She had said many times, “I can’t live two years without you.” That day I thought she might say no, but she said, “I am happy to send you on a mission.”
I submitted my papers and waited for my call letter for almost one year. Meanwhile I went on exchanges with missionaries and learned a lot from them. This preparation helped me to gain a strong testimony to never give up on my mission and taught me how important it is to serve the Lord. Eventually the wait was over. The call letter came. When I opened it and saw that I was called to serve in the India New Delhi Mission, I was shocked. I read the letter again and saw at the bottom, “your purpose will be to invite others to come unto Christ.” I felt joy and happiness. I was prepared to leave my home, family, and friends.
There is no other place I would rather be than in the India New Delhi Mission where I have come to know who I am and why God sent me here. Because of Jesus Christ, I have the power to deal with the burdens, obstacles, and temptations. He had delivered me from physical and spiritual danger. The mission field is like a washing machine where we, like a dirty cloth, can be put in it, to be twisted, spun and knocked around and come out brighter, cleaner and better than before.
The Lord demands our whole soul on the sacrificial altar. That is the price we must pay, and when we do, we become instruments in his hands. We are all answerable to Him in this life, and in the next, we will be held accountable when we are called before Him to make our report. When that time comes, I will stand before Him to give an account of my stewardship. I pray that I may be able to do so without embarrassment, apology, or excuse. I am not perfect, I do have my weaknesses, but I can say that I have tried to do what the Lord would have me do as his servant disciple.

We called upon the only native Filipino member we had been able to locate. He recounted a story which I remember as follows:
When he was a boy he found in a garbage can an old, tattered copy of the Reader’s Digest. It contained a condensation of a book giving the story of the Mormon people. It spoke of Joseph Smith and described him as a prophet. The word prophet did something to that boy. Could there actually be a prophet upon the earth? he wondered. The magazine was lost, but concern over the presence of a living prophet never left him during the long, dark years of war and oppression when the Philippines were occupied. Finally the forces of liberation came, and with them the reopening of Clark Air Base. David Lagman found employment there. His supervisor, he learned, was a Mormon, an Air Force officer. He wanted to ask him if he believed in a prophet, but was afraid to do so. Finally, after much inner turmoil, he mustered the courage to inquire.
“Are you a Mormon, sir?” the young man asked.
“Yes, I am,” was the forthright reply.
“Do you believe in a prophet? Do you have a prophet in your church?” came the anxious question.
“We do have a prophet, a living prophet, who presides in this church and who teaches the will of the Lord.”
David asked the officer to tell him more, and out of that teaching came his baptism. He was the first native elder ordained in the Philippines.