Gospel Story Finder

When I was growing up, I had a fantastic life. I remember thinking that life was perfect and nothing could ever go wrong. We were a happy family, and we lived the teachings of the gospel. I never thought anything bad would happen.
But then when I was 11 years old, it felt like disaster had struck. My dad brought us all into his bedroom and announced that my mom was having another baby, the eighth. I was so excited! But then he proceeded to tell us that he had just been diagnosed with a terminal cancer that may someday end his life.
It was hard to understand, and I really didn’t know what to do. Since then my dad has gone through many painful treatments and is now in remission. Through these difficult times, the Lord has helped and comforted me and my family countless times.
I also became closer to my dad through notes, calls, and walks. I used to leave little notes for my dad in his lunch box and on his desk. These little pieces of paper helped me more than I could ever dream. Now I call my dad almost every day during lunch and just talk. We also go on walks and talk about our day and our likes and dislikes. I’ve gotten to know my dad a lot better now, and I love to talk to him. He’s always interested in what I have to say.
My dad is not cured, and he probably never will be. But the simple gestures like little notes, a quick call, or a walk around the block have helped me understand, at least in part, why my family is going through this. I know that I’ve become closer to my dad, and so has my entire family. I love my Heavenly Father, and I know that He knows what’s best. My family’s love for the Savior has made me understand that I can keep going and that my family will be together forever. I know that this Church is true with all my heart.

President and Sister Kasue and their children, along with many others, fasted and prayed that the Church would be officially recognized in Kenya. “Sometimes in family prayer I would forget to pray for the registration of the Church in Kenya,” President Kasue remembers. “My children would remind me and say, ‘Oh, Dad, you didn’t pray for the registration of the Church.’ My children had strong faith.” When official recognition was finally received on 25 February 1991, many wept, prayed, and fasted as an expression of gratitude.

Those who follow the game of rugby know that the New Zealand All Blacks, a name given because of the color of their uniform, is the most celebrated rugby team ever. To be selected for the All Blacks in New Zealand would be comparable to playing for a football Super Bowl team or a World Cup soccer team.
In 1961, at age 18 and holding the Aaronic Priesthood, Sidney Going was becoming a star in New Zealand rugby. Because of his remarkable abilities, many thought he would be chosen the very next year for the national All Blacks rugby team.
At age 19, in this critical moment of his ascending rugby career, Sid declared that he would forgo rugby to serve a mission. Some called him crazy. Others called him foolish. They protested that his opportunity in rugby might never come again.
For Sid it was not what he was leaving behind—it was the opportunity and responsibility ahead. He had a priesthood duty to offer two years of his life to declare the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and His restored gospel. Nothing—not even a chance to play on the national team, with all the acclaim it would bring—would deter him from that duty.
He was called by a prophet of God to serve in the Western Canadian Mission. Forty-eight years ago this month, 19-year-old Elder Sidney Going left New Zealand to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
A mission instead of a place on the New Zealand All Blacks team? Sid responded, “The blessing of [bringing others] into the gospel far outweighs anything [you] will ever sacrifice.”

Lucas L., age 9, Argentina
The booklet Faith in God has helped me progress in keeping the commandments of Heavenly Father. I encourage all children to complete the booklet and develop their talents by serving in the Church. I set a goal and played the violin in a duet with my brother at church. I have a brother who is serving a mission—he is a great example for me, as are all the members of my family!

Indeed, sometime not long after 9/11, a missionary asked me in all honesty and full of faith, “Elder Holland, are these the last days?” I saw the earnestness in his face and some of the fear in his eyes. I said, “Yes, Elder, we are in the last days, but there is really nothing new about that. The promised Second Coming of the Savior began with the First Vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1820. We can be certain that we are in the last days—years and years of them.” I gave him a friendly shake of the hand and sent him on his way. He smiled, seemed more reassured to put all this in some context, and held his head a little higher as he left me.
I hasten to say that I do know what this young man was really asking. What he really meant was “Will I finish my mission? Is there any point in getting an education? Can I hope for a marriage? Do I have a future? Is there any happiness ahead for me?” And I say to you what I said to him, “Yes, certainly—to all those questions.”

The work and privation were intensified for the entire family when Brigham’s mother died of tuberculosis in his 14th year. The father soon after moved to a new homestead on 100 acres of timber 15 miles from any settlement and was sometimes away working or getting supplies in the nearest towns. At these times the children were left to clear land and care for the maple trees by themselves. Brigham’s younger brother, who was named after the great Methodist preacher, Lorenzo Dow, recalls that one time when he and Brigham were left alone for a few days while their father went for food, they were famished from living only on the insubstantial maple sugar. Brigham finally shot a robin that lit near the house, and while it was cooking, they managed to thump a few spoonfuls of flour out of the cracks of the empty flour barrel and thus “thickened the broth.”7 The grimness of such an existence was intensified by the father’s continuing insistence that the children not indulge in any amusements. Brigham remembers that his brother Joseph, older by four years, seemed never to smile “during some four or five years.”8

During my freshman year of college, my eyes were opened to the fact that my life as a student would not be as sheltered as before. Nor would what I held dear be accepted.
I found that I stuck out like a sore thumb when I refused to engage in activities that I knew would harm me physically or harm my relationship with Heavenly Father. However, I feared criticism for being a member of the Church and therefore avoided the topic.
One day in an afternoon class, the professor was leading a discussion on how youth develop amid constant discrimination. A girl behind me replied that the discussion made her think of Mormons. I cringed because when the Church was brought up in a class, inappropriate comments usually followed.
As I braced myself for derogatory statements, the teacher asked if any Latter-day Saints were in the class. Stunned at the inquiry, I scanned the room only to find everyone else doing the same. Before I could think twice, my hand was rising from its comfortable position on the desk. I heard an eruption of whispers from across the room.
“One,” the teacher said. The word rang in my ears. After a long silence, I was asked to respond to the debate regarding whether Latter-day Saints are Christians. I was no stranger to the question and was prepared to answer.
“‘We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, [and] we preach of Christ’” (2 Nephi 25:26), I confidently replied. “We are indeed Christian.”
The whispering ceased, but I felt everyone staring at me. I thought I would feel alone. Instead, I felt as if the Savior had sat down next to me and put His hand in mine. Nothing else mattered, for I was filled with joy that strengthened my testimony of Him. I had defended my faith.
I shared more with the class about why Latter-day Saints are Christians. Then I thought of the time President Thomas S. Monson shared the gospel on a bus ride. From this experience he encouraged members to “be courageous and prepared to stand for what we believe.”1 As I thought of his words, I realized I had done the thing I was most afraid to do.
I do not know whether the things I said changed anybody’s opinion of the Church, but we need not fear to stand up and share the gospel—wherever we are. Even if we do not bless anybody else, we will always strengthen our testimony and our relationship with Heavenly Father.

When I was a boy, we had a horse named Junie. She was one of the most intelligent animals I ever saw. She seemed almost human in her ability. I couldn’t keep her locked in the barn because she would continually undo the strap on the door of her stall. I used to put the strap connected to the half-door of the stall over the top of the post, but she would simply lift it off with her nose and teeth. Then she would go out in the yard.
There was a water tap in the yard used for filling the water trough for our animals. Junie would turn this on with her teeth and then leave the water running. My father would get after me because I couldn’t keep that horse in the barn. She never ran away; she just turned on the water and then walked around the yard or over the lawn or through the garden. In the middle of the night, I would hear the water running and then I would have to get up and shut if off and lock Junie up again.
My father suggested that the horse seemed smarter than I was. One day he decided that he would lock her in so that she couldn’t get out. He took the strap that usually looped over the top of the post and buckled it around the post and under a crossbar, and then he said, “Young lady, let’s see you get out of there now!” My father and I left the barn and started to walk back to the house; and before we reached it, Junie was at our side. She then went over and turned the water on again.
I suggested that now, perhaps, she was about as smart as either one of us. We just couldn’t keep Junie from getting out of her stall. But that doesn’t mean she was bad, because she wasn’t. Father wasn’t about to sell or trade her, because she had so many other good qualities that made up for this one little fault.
The horse was as reliable and dependable at pulling our buggy as she was adept at getting out of the stall. And this was important, because Mother was a licensed midwife. When she would get called to a confinement somewhere in the valley, usually in the middle of the night, I would have to get up, take a lantern out to the barn, and hitch Junie up to the buggy.
I was only about ten or eleven years old at the time; and that horse had to be gentle and yet strong enough to take me and Mother all over the valley, in all kinds of weather. One thing I never could understand, however, was why most of the babies had to be born at night and so many of them in winter.
Often I would wait in the buggy for Mother, and then it was nice to have the company of gentle old Junie. This experience with this horse was very good for me, because early in life I had to learn to love and appreciate her for herself. She was a wonderful horse with only a couple of bad habits. People are a lot the same way. None of us is perfect; yet each of us is trying to become perfect, even as our Father in heaven. We need to appreciate and love people for themselves.
Maybe you need to remember this when you evaluate your parents or teachers or ward and stake leaders or friends—or brothers and sisters. This lesson has always stayed with me—to see the good in people even though we are trying to help them overcome one or two bad habits.

In fact, many LDS youth here look at music as a worthwhile way to employ their time. For example, Sara Williams, 16, her brother, Tyler, 18, and Rebecca Howell, 15, all members of the Byrd Springs Ward, are among 10 Latter-day Saints in the award-winning Virgil I. Grissom High School marching band.
“Through band, you learn to appreciate all kinds of music,” Sara says. “But band teaches you a lot of other things, too.”
“It teaches teamwork, especially marching band, because you can’t march a solo,” she says. “You gain good friends in the band, because you work so hard together.”
And yet, in some ways, Sara is familiar with the all-alone routine. It’s an experience born of standing up for her standards.
“Someone would say, ‘We want to watch this movie.’ And I’d say, ‘What’s it rated?’ At first they’d say, ‘Oh, come on.’ But now they know I will not watch an R-rated movie. And they know I don’t come out on Sundays and go places with them, because it’s the Sabbath. They respect me a lot for what I believe.”
And the respect is mutual. “The kids in the band all have pretty good standards, to where you’re not the only one who is saying, ‘No, I will not drink or smoke,’ or ‘No, I will not have sex before marriage.’ Like it says in For the Strength of Youth, they’re a good influence, so I enjoy hanging out with them.”

“One memory that I have of my grandmother painting comes from when I was about 9 or 10 years old. For a while some of my cousins and siblings and I would go to my grandma’s studio each week to work on drawing, painting and sketching with her. During this time, she was painting a depiction of Christ and the Samaritan woman at the well. I remember whenever I saw her painting, every brush stroke was very careful and very intentional— though I was young and often didn’t really notice the difference that each individual brush stroke made. Each week we returned to her studio, and you could start seeing the difference and the changes and that it was closer and closer to being the beautiful, finished product that it is today. In some way I can’t help but think that is how the Lord can help us to one day become complete.”

Peter Brooks and Donald Willis were both five years old. They had always been next-door neighbors and number-one buddies. With Donald’s Dalmation, Pokey, at their side, the tireless twosome kept law and order on the “prairies” of the corner vacant lot.
“What those two don’t think up!” Donald’s mom laughed one day as she and Peter’s mom watched the boys zoom past.
“They’re two of a kind,” Peter’s mom agreed. “They always have big plans!”
One day the two pals decided to spend an afternoon exploring new territory—Donald’s garage.
“Just be careful,” Donald’s mom cautioned.
“OK!” the eager boys yelled as they scrambled to raise the heavy garage door.
Inside, Peter and Donald found piles of wonderful stuff: garden supplies, old lumber, carpentry tools, broken appliances. Why, even the walls were covered with fan belts, bicycle tires and chains, camping gear, and kites. But the greatest find of the afternoon was perched high on a dusty shelf. It was a violin case.
Peter steadied a stepladder while Donald climbed carefully up—Mother had said to be careful—and lifted the case down from the shelf.
“Wow!” exclaimed Peter, opening it and removing the instrument. “Look at this old, scratched-up violin.”
With its worn body, loose tuning pegs, and cracked bow, the violin seemed useless to the five-year-olds.
“Hey, look! It doesn’t have strings anymore,” Donald said, giggling. “It can’t even make music.”
The boys’ imagination went right to work. Perching himself high on top of the stepladder, Donald became an orchestra conductor while, below, Peter moved the broken bow across the imaginary strings of the violin.
“I have a better idea,” Donald said. “Let’s chop up this old piece of junk with my dad’s hatchet.”
“Are you sure it’s OK?” Peter asked.
“I—I think so,” Donald stammered.
Without thinking further, the boys took the hatchet from the workbench, and soon the woodchips were flying. Chopping with a hatchet was great fun, but the boys grew silent when they saw the old violin in splinters at their feet.
“Boy, I don’t feel very good,” Peter confided as he looked at the remains of the violin.
“Me either,” Donald said softly.
Just then the garage door swung open, and Donald’s mother walked in. “Hey, you two,” she said, “what’s all the racket out here?”
Looking down, she saw what was left of the violin, and her smile faded. “That was my mother’s violin!” she wailed. “I was going to have it refinished for you one day, Donald. It was one of my greatest treasures.”
Looking very sad, she took Donald by the hand and walked back to the house.
Peter watched with a big knot in his throat. His eyes stung with tears. Donald’s in big trouble, he thought. And it’s my fault too!
Telling his own mom and dad about the violin didn’t make Peter feel any better. “Repenting is more than just feeling bad about the mistake you’ve made,” his dad explained. “When you repent, Peter, you must do all that you can to right the wrong.”
Peter thought about that. I can’t bring the violin back, he decided, but I can tell Mrs. Willis how sorry I am. And I could earn some money to help buy her a new violin. He figured that a new violin would cost at least a dollar.
Peter set out to earn the dollar. He emptied garbage cans, washed dishes, cleaned bathrooms, and dusted. With every dime he earned, Peter felt happier.
After two weeks of hard work, Peter had enough money to pay his tithing and to give Mrs. Willis a dollar.
Peter’s mother helped him write a special note to Mrs. Willis: “I’m sorry for wrecking your treasure. I like you very much, and I’m going to be kinder and think before I do things. I earned this dollar so that you can buy a new violin.” He slid the money into an envelope with the note and left it on the Willises’ doorstep.
“Do you think Mrs. Willis will ever forgive Donald and me for chopping up her violin?” Peter asked his mother that night.
“I hope that she will,” Mother said, smiling gently. “You have done all that you can do right now to make it right.”
The next morning Peter was surprised to find a letter for him on the kitchen table. It said:
Dear Peter,
I got your note and the money. You must have worked very hard to earn a dollar. I realize how sorry you are for your part in destroying my mother’s violin, and I forgive you. I want you to know that I love you very much.
Your friend,
Mrs. Willis
Peter had never before felt such joy or relief. He knew that he had truly repented and that he had learned an important lesson from the precious violin.

“Josh, what’s the matter? You’ve been muttering to yourself ever since you sat down for breakfast. It’s the first day of summer vacation. You should be jumping for joy.”
I sighed. “Money, Mom. I need a job to earn money.”
She laughed. “How much? Fifty cents?”
“No. Lots. Fifty dollars would be nice.”
“That’s a lot. I can’t give you that much.”
“That’s OK—I want to earn it. It’s really important.”
“But why, honey? What for?”
“Mrs. Emery said that if the class can earn enough money, we can help Jenny Wong. She has to go to Boston for eye tests and a special pair of glasses. They cost a lot, and Jenny really needs them.”
“That’s a super idea, Josh. But what do you think you might do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to think of something all week. The whole project’s a secret. We want to surprise Jenny and her mother. Mrs. Wong’s been saving money for a year, Mrs. Emery told us, but still needs a lot more.”
“Is Jenny the girl you read aloud to sometimes?”
“Yes. We take turns. Her mother told the school nurse about these special glasses, and the nurse told Mrs. Emery. The class voted to make it our summer project.”
I went out and sat on the front steps to think. Across the street, Mr. Zelinsky was cutting his lawn. Back and forth he went, changing his lawn from a sea of dandelions to a smooth green carpet.
“These pesky weeds look like gold pieces from there, don’t they, Josh?” he called across to me. “My wife loves them. I hate them, but I’m teaching this bunch a lesson. The only trouble is that they’ll be right back up.”
Gold pieces, I thought idly. Up and down the street every lawn but ours shown brightly with “gold pieces.” My dad digs them out with a forked tool. “It’s the only way to beat a dandelion,” he tells my mother. “It’s tough on my back—but worth it.”
POW! The idea hit me. I scrambled to my feet and raced to my room, fished a big piece of cardboard from under my bed, grabbed a black marker, and began lettering like mad. In minutes it was done:
LION HUNTER WANTS WORK!
No lawn too big or too small
2¢ per lion dug
Call DIGGER JOSH, 555-3996
Now for a test. I carried my poster across the street and showed it to Mr. Zelinsky. “Will people hire me?” I asked. “I can do a good job.”
“Will they!” he snorted. “And I’m first. Josh, you’re hired right now. I want every pesky dandelion in this front lawn dug. Just tell me how many when you’re done.”
That was my start. Later that afternoon I finished—score: 187 dandelions, $3.74, an aching back, and joy in my heart! Zillions of dandelions to dig! All summer to work! I’d get all the other kids to go into business in their neighborhoods.
After a bit of R&R—rest and refreshments—I started out with my sign. By suppertime I’d helped seven classmates make their own signs and begin getting people lined up. Tomorrow I’ll tackle the biggest lawn on our street. It’s good for at least six dollars—if my back holds out.
Bed sure felt good when I tumbled in tonight. I know I’ll dream about dandelions, dollars, and eye glasses. Jenny’ll get her glasses for sure. How can a classful of lion hunters miss?

During the past two years, Sister Maynes and I have been assigned to serve in the Philippines. We have come across many examples of Filipino families and individuals who understand and keep the covenants they have made with the Lord. Let me share with you an experience that we have had with one of these families.
A few months ago I was assigned to preside at the Talisay Philippines Stake conference. During the Sunday general session, I began my talk by thanking the congregation for their reverence. While speaking, I looked down to my left and saw a very large family sitting a couple of rows back from the front of the chapel. I was impressed to point them out and use them as an example of a family who understood and lived the principle of reverence. The parents were sitting there surrounded by many, many reverent children.
Upon the completion of the meeting, we had the wonderful opportunity to meet the Abasanta family. The more I learned about them, the more I was impressed with the fact that they truly understood what it meant to keep covenants and live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Brother Lani and Sister Irenea Abasanta joined the Church 22 years ago. Together, they have had 17 children. Among the 17 children is one set of triplets. We all know that raising a family is not an easy task anywhere in the world, and the Philippines is no exception. The Abasanta family is a living example that it can be done, and it can be done in the right way.
The successes they have enjoyed raising their children in the Church are made manifest in many ways. A family of 19 sitting reverently through Church meetings is just one example.
Another example is illustrated by how they work hard and how they work together to meet their everyday financial needs. Brother Abasanta works as an electrician. Sister Abasanta, with the help of her daughters, makes and sells jewelry out of their home. Together, they have succeeded in providing the necessities of life for their family.
Even more important than their example in supporting their large family financially is how they teach their children to live the gospel of Jesus Christ. Their regular family home evenings play an essential part in the teaching of their family. Referring to their family home evenings, Brother Abasanta explained, “First we discuss any problems we might have in the family and how we can become more united; then there is a spiritual thought or lesson; then we play games.”
At a recent family home evening, Brother Abasanta used the Liahona magazine as a tool to help him teach his children not to spend so much time watching television but instead to use that time doing something of greater worth, like homework or reading the scriptures. Over the years during family home evenings the children have been taught to practice being reverent. Because their children have been taught to be reverent in their home, it is easier for them to demonstrate reverence at church on Sunday.
Another example of living the gospel and keeping their covenants is the priority they have given in teaching their children the importance of paying an honest and full tithing. Brother Abasanta stated: “We teach our children that the food we have is a direct result of paying tithing. When our kids have their own work, we make sure to tell them that they need to pay their tithing. It’s hard to provide for so many children, but when I pay my tithing faithfully and honestly, it’s not hard at all. We just trust in the Lord 100 percent that if we pay an honest tithing, we’ll be able to eat daily.”
Remember that I mentioned that Brother and Sister Abasanta have 17 children. Now, let me tell you about the triplets. They happen to be all boys. They happen to be 19 years old. Their names are Ammon, Omni, and Omner. Yes, you guessed it. All three are serving the Lord as faithful and hard-working full-time missionaries. Ammon is serving in the Philippines Baguio Mission, Omni is serving in the Philippines Davao Mission, and Omner is serving in the Philippines Manila Mission.
Now I do not want you to get the impression that the Abasanta family is perfect. None of us are perfect. However, by trying their best to live the commandments and keep their covenants, the Abasanta family is able to enjoy the blessings of the Lord in their lives.

Being brought up in the Church, I was always told by my friends and family that this was the true church. But I never really bothered to find out for myself. I just assumed it was true because everything pretty much made sense and my parents seemed so sincere about it.
I had always planned to go on a mission, partially because I felt I was expected to and also because I felt I needed to. After I received my mission call, I really began to wonder about the truthfulness of the Church. But I had never prayed about it, and now that I was close to going on my mission I didn’t have the courage to ask.
While at the Missionary Training Center, I was in high spirits. I was enjoying the knowledge I was gaining. Still, in the back of my mind the thought still lingered. I needed to know for myself if the gospel was true, but I continued to push the thought away.
One day my teacher finished giving a great lesson. He then bore his testimony and challenged each of us to find out for ourselves that the Church was true. I felt the lesson was aimed specifically at me. That night, I asked Heavenly Father to help me know that what I was doing was right and that the Church was true.
I finished my prayer and waited and waited. Feeling nothing, I became discouraged and went to bed.
A couple of days later, I was studying the scriptures when I read: “Verily I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good; and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (D&C 98:1–3).
These verses helped me understand the need for patience. A few days later at a fireside, we were talking about our prophets. I’ll never forget that night. It was the first time I had ever felt the Spirit so strongly. Toward the conclusion, we stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” I was overwhelmed. I knew the Holy Ghost was testifying to me; I also knew that the current prophet was leading the true church.
I recently returned from serving in the Tucson Arizona Mission. I am grateful for that special day in the MTC. I learned it’s never too late or too early to pray about the truth. The Lord always answers our prayers.

When I was married for only a short time and we had our first child, I had just finished three wonderful years doing a show “It’s a Miracle” for Janice Kapp Perry and Joy Lundberg. I found myself working two somewhat part-time jobs to get by while I looked for more permanent work in my field. I was in serious conversations with several different employers over the span of more than a year, including BYU, the Church, and a large drugstore chain in California. All were very serious about hiring me and had wonderful jobs for me that seemed exactly what I wanted to do. It seemed only a matter of time before I was back to a job I was suited for.

Then the strangest things started to happen. One position was frozen, just minutes before the manager, who had flown out from California to Salt Lake to make me an offer, met with me. Another was given to a different person when I was already temporarily hired and the new position created using me as the template and the managers assuming I would get the job automatically. The third job just kept stringing the offer out, promising a decision at some future date, but assuring me they really wanted to hire me, but not just yet.

I was looking heavenward, wondering what I had done to offend God that this was happening to me. I remember my wife asking me if I had done something wrong to bring the wrath of heaven down on our family. I felt like the Prophet Joseph in Liberty Jail, asking God where He is hiding. What was going on? Why were these perfectly matched jobs slipping through my fingers? Why were my prayers going seemingly unanswered? I’d been good.

During the later part of this, a slight acquaintance of mine working in the Northeast called my apartment and told my wife of a job at Virginia Tech he had heard, and thought of me. I ignored this, because who wants to move across the country and work for a strange university that I knew absolutely nothing about on the recommendation of someone I barely knew? And besides, these other jobs were going to happen at any moment.

My wife wouldn’t let it go and asked me repeatedly over several months if I had applied. Finally in late spring one day, I grabbed an old résumé—those were the days you had to type them on a typewriter, get them printed on nice paper costing a small fortune, and handwrite the cover letter—put them in an envelope right in front of her, licked a stamp, and asked her if she now was happy and to get off my back. In the mail—end of story. Nothing will ever come of it.

Years later I found out the other side of my story. Virginia Tech had this All-American musical-performing group of 22 singers, a 12-piece show band, a full technical crew of 25, and lots of equipment, sets, and costumes, doing about 25 shows a school year around the eastern United States. They had suddenly lost their Technical Director and for about half a year had conducted two national searches and countless interviews, finding no one that fit what they wanted, someone who fit what they were trying to portray: the All-American image, “Mom, Home, Apple Pie.” They had given up hope when my résumé and hand-written cover letter showed up. Mormon, BYU graduate, can do all technical things required. They opened another official search, accepted only my application, closed the search, and made a phone call.

I had just decided I would quit the daytime job, even if I starved when the phone rang at work. Some lady in a thick Southern accent tried to get me to fly across the US for three days that weekend to consider this job. I really thought someone was playing a joke on me or I was on Candid Camera. It took three times for me to really understand what was happening. I ended up going three days later to Virginia. While there watching the show group at a performance, I received a very powerful witness that I was to move there and take the job.

My wife almost wouldn’t believe me when I called to tell her the news. They hadn’t even made me an offer yet, and the pageant committee at the Church was mad because they found out I was interviewing for another job. Monday morning the offer came, and Wednesday I left Provo for Blacksburg for 13 wonderful years. Thirty years later I realized, while cleaning out a stack of rejection letters from that time period, that while seeking heaven’s will and help in my employment, that we must abide heaven’s timing as well. Although I was being considered for many good jobs that fit me, Heavenly Father knew the best job was still in the future, not quite ready for me yet. And sometimes he speaks through my wife!

It must have been the feeling of rhythm and strength in my stride that comforted me as I ran along the beach of Puget Sound. Troy, my big retriever, caught my sense of abandon and bounded first ahead, then back, stopping to investigate a shell or seaweed along his way. Out of breath now, I threw a stick out into the swells past the breaking waves and stopped to watch Troy leap after it. I threw the stick again and again as I continued down the beach. Each time Troy would find it in the waves and bring it to me with an expectant look. Finally the sun made work of the game, and I flopped down on the sand.
“Stay away from me,” I warned as the big dog shook salt water all over me. I grabbed his wet head and held it tightly. “You’re still my friend, old boy, even if I don’t spend much time with you anymore either,” I said half to him and half to myself. I needed to sort things out. My interview with Bishop Jenkins the day before had turned my recent vague uneasiness into a knot in my stomach.
“I feel like being able to dance is a gift from God, a talent I must express. I can’t explain it, but I cannot ignore it,” I told the bishop. “I really do want to come to church, but my practices for Young Entertainers are all day Sunday.”
“And you felt that a chance to tour and perform all summer was worth the price of your church meetings,” Bishop Jenkins guessed.
“Yes, I was so sure it was right,” I answered, “and that my dancing is more important. I love the energy on stage. I feel special and important. But, bishop, I feel confused.”
I sat back and tried to organize my fragmented thoughts. “I am compromising so much for my dancing. I feel engulfed in it. I’m too busy for old friends and my family. My new friends in the group think my faith is narrow-minded and naive. Their dancing is their religion. I don’t know what to do. To be a Young Entertainer is a dream come true. Do we dream our dreams and then let them go before they can be realized?”
Bishop Jenkins paused thoughtfully. “Let me share an idea from a talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer,” he finally said.
“‘There are many who struggle and climb and finally reach the top of the ladder, only to find that it is leaning against the wrong wall’” (Ensign, Aug. 1976, p. 61).
Thinking about it now, he didn’t really answer my question, but certainly the part about the person climbing the ladder applied to me.
“Heavenly Father, am I climbing the wrong wall?” I asked silently. “Is that why my life is so out of balance?”
Stirring from my introspection, I looked around for Troy but saw no sign of him. I stood up and searched up and down the beach. Still no dog. Shading my eyes from the glare on the water I thought I saw Troy’s head bob, then disappear under the water. Yes, there it was again. I dashed down to the chilling waves and dove in. The cold water took my breath away, but my concern was for my obviously drowning dog.
As I neared him, he was so exhausted his head barely broke the surface as he struggled. “What is holding onto him?” I swam almost to him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Troy’s jaws were tightly clenched on a bulb of seaweed! It was evidently still attached to the rocks below the water. He was paddling back and forth trying to free it and bring it to shore. I grabbed his jaws and forced him off the bulb. I half dragged him to shore and we both plopped down totally spent, gasping for breath.
My thoughts were tumbling. Why would Troy hold on to that seaweed until he nearly drowned? Why didn’t he let go and swim to shore if he was in danger?
Suddenly I stopped. How like my own struggle. My dog was working so hard to get something, he didn’t realize the danger he was in. My situation began to appear much clearer. I had been so caught up with my dancing that I hadn’t realized that I was in danger of losing the other things that mattered in my life.
With this revelation came a new agony—what to do. Could I put my ladder against the right wall, keep balance in my life, and still participate in the dance group, or did I need to “let go” and swim for safety now. Mentally tallying the list of compromises I needed to make for the dance group, I determined that my answer was to let it go. A sense of peace and comfort helped soothe the wrenching feeling in my heart and helped me to realize that it was the right decision.
“I can still dream my dreams,” I told Troy, “and perform and prepare so that my climb up the ladder will be on the right wall. Come on, Troy, let’s go home.”

To illustrate this I would like to tell you of a struggle one family, who is dear to me, has experienced. This family has chosen to seek the light rather than let the darkness and evil of the world overcome their hearts.

Eric a senior at the local high school loved music. He played the piano, guitar and the cello. His home was often filled with the sound of him playing one of these instruments. He gave of himself to others with kind words and helping hands. He shared the talents and light that he had with everyone. Every day when he came home and before he went to bed, he would tell his mother he loved her. One spring day, Eric and his sister came home from school for lunch and interrupted a burglary in progress. Eric was shot and killed.

When the family was finally able to return to their home after this tragic event, some of the family members were reluctant to use the room where his death had occurred. Eric's mother told the family, "We can either think of this as the spot where Eric was shot, or we can think of this as holy ground, and we are going to think of it as holy ground."

Since that day, the family has remembered the lives Eric saved through his organ donation. They have celebrated Eric's love of music by awarding an annual music scholarship at his former high school. This past month over fifty family members and friends just finished participating in the 19th Annual Victory Over Violence Walk/Run with all proceeds being given to anti-violence programs in the community.

I quote from an address given by Eric's mother in Sacrament meeting on Easter 2013:

"Three years ago I stood at this podium and spoke to the ward. As I was speaking, I remember looking over and seeing my son Eric and his father sitting at the sacrament table. For some reason, that really touched me. In fact, I believe it was the only time they blessed the sacrament together. I remember thinking how lucky I was to be part of such a wonderful family. The following day, my daughter and Eric went home for lunch. Intruders were in our home. Luckily, my daughter escaped, but Eric did not."

This good mother continued by quoting from her favorite hymn, "I Know That My Redeemer Lives."

"'He lives to silence all my fears.'He lives to wipe away my tears.'He lives to calm my troubled heart.'He lives all blessings to impart.'[15]

"In my hour of deepest sorrow, I found peace from the words of the angel that first Easter morning: 'He is not here: for he is risen.'[16] Without this knowledge of the resurrection and without the knowledge that we can be reunited in the next life, I could not have born the loss.

"I know that my Redeemer lives. As President Monson said, 'This is the knowledge that sustains. This is the truth that comforts. This is the assurance that guides those who are bowed down with grief—out of the shadows and into the light.'"[17]

Forty-seven years ago this general conference, I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. At the time, I had been serving on one of the general priesthood committees of the Church, and so before my name was presented, I sat with my fellow members of that priesthood committee, as was expected of me. My wife, however, had no idea where to go and no one with whom she could sit and, in fact, was unable to find a seat anywhere in the Tabernacle. A dear friend of ours, who was a member of one of the general auxiliary boards and who was sitting in the area designated for the board members, asked Sister Monson to sit with her. This woman knew nothing of my call—which would be announced shortly—but she spotted Sister Monson, recognized her consternation, and graciously offered her a seat. My dear wife was relieved and grateful for this kind gesture. Sitting down, however, she heard loud whispering behind her as one of the board members expressed her annoyance to those around her that one of her fellow board members would have the audacity to invite an “outsider” to sit in this area reserved only for them. There was no excuse for her unkind behavior, regardless of who might have been invited to sit there. However, I can only imagine how that woman felt when she learned that the “intruder” was the wife of the newest Apostle.

I was five years old when our grandmother died back in 1892. We children stayed upstairs while all the neighbors gathered in the parlor below for the funeral.
“My little sister and I pressed our noses against the windowpane, and we saw horses and carriages and wagons up and down the whole lane.
“Then we saw the two black velvet horses come, pulling the shiny black hearse toward the house. The horses had gold fringes on their necks, and the high-wheeled hearse had windows on the sides with gold drapes and gold fringes.
“The horses walked slowly, and they looked sad. I was sad too because we loved our grandmother and I didn’t understand, but I did know she would not be in our house anymore.
“My mama cried, and her sister, Aunt Emily, came, and she held her little baby and cried. I felt sorry for them, but I didn’t cry.
“Mama told me grandmother was old and needed to rest, so I didn’t cry.
“It was two weeks afterward that I did cry. Just a few days after the funeral, Aunt Emily’s little baby took pneumonia. Maybe because she had been moved from her own house over in Emporia. We tiptoed around the house, my little sister Becca and I. We tiptoed, and we didn’t ask for anything. But the little baby died.
“We were back upstairs, and the carriages were again up and down the lane. This time a little white hearse came, drawn by two little white ponies.
“Now,” continued our grandmother, as the tape circled around her words. “Now we have sealed them all in the temple of the Lord, and they are together again. They didn’t know while they were on this earth that they could be together. Missionaries never came to our countryside homes.”

With covenants, obedience to gospel principles becomes rooted in our very soul. I am familiar with a couple where, at the time of their marriage, the wife was not active in the Church and the husband had never been a member of the Church. I will refer to them as Mary and John, not their real names. As children began to enter the picture, Mary felt keenly the need to raise them, as the scripture says, “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” John was supportive. Mary made some important sacrifices to be at home to teach the gospel on a consistent basis. She ensured that the family took full advantage of Church worship and activity. Mary and John became exemplary parents, and their children (all energetic boys) grew in faith and devotion to gospel principles and standards.

John’s parents, the boys’ grandparents, were pleased with the wholesome lives and achievements of their grandsons, but because of some antagonism toward the Church, they wanted to attribute this success exclusively to the parenting skills of John and Mary. John, although not a member of the Church, did not let that assessment go unchallenged. He insisted that they were witnessing the fruits of gospel teachings—what his sons were experiencing in church as well as what was happening at home.

John himself was being influenced by the Spirit, by the love and example of his wife, and by the urgings of his sons. In due course, he was baptized, much to the joy of ward members and friends.

While life has not been without challenges for them and their sons, Mary and John wholeheartedly affirm that it is in fact the gospel covenant that is at the root of their blessings. They have seen the Lord’s words to Jeremiah fulfilled in the lives of their children as well as their own: “I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be my people.”