Gospel Story Finder

When I was a teenager, I set the goal of getting a degree in sports. I prayed a lot, asking the Lord to make it so practices would be on Saturdays. However, my team’s practices were scheduled on Sundays. I had to make a choice: give up on my goal or skip church. Since both were important to me, I compromised. I would go to practices for two Sundays and then go to church on the third Sunday. Unfortunately, this little deviation from my faith led to sin, causing much suffering.
It did not take me long to realize my mistake. I asked to be on a different team. However, it was too late; the wrong had been done. I had half opened the door, and Satan had pushed it wide open. Eventually I gave up competitive sports.
I learned two valuable things. The first is that when we seek to compromise with the Lord, we are in great danger. The second is that I had made the mistake of believing my faith was strong enough that I could do without Sunday meetings. Our spirit needs nourishment just as our body does. If we were to eat only one meal and then skip the next two meals, we could not remain in good health.
I love Sundays now. The Lord has blessed me in my studies and my health above measure.

Of all the experiences I enjoyed as a mission president, one of the most exciting was the glorious sight of seeing the missionaries baptize converts to the Church. The elders felt the same way about that privilege. One of my fine missionaries had been very adventurous. He loved to rappel cliffs, hang glide, and parachute jump. When I asked him how he felt when he stood in the baptismal font with a convert, he replied, “It’s as exciting as jumping out of an airplane.”

Second, when we struggle with our own identity and lack of self-esteem, the “pleasing word of God” (Jacob 2:8) in the scriptures will help us know who we really are and give us strength beyond our own. Recognizing my identity as God’s child was one of the sweetest moments I have ever experienced. In my early teenage years, I did not know anything about the teachings of the Savior. When I first read the New Testament, the words of Christ truly healed my wounded soul. I realized I was not alone and that I am a child of God. As I recognized my true identity before God, I realized my infinite potential through Christ’s Atonement.

Before the doors of the Recife Brazil Temple open for another day of administering saving ordinances, 70-year-old María José de Araújo arises to prepare for another day of selfless service.

To get to the temple, María must travel an hour and a half on four separate buses from her home in Cabo de Santo Agostinho, south of Recife, on Brazil’s northeast coast. But before she can leave, she prepares food and other necessities for a blind cousin she cares for in her home.

“María is a good example of serving others,” says Cleto P. Oliveira, temple recorder. “Since the temple was dedicated in December 2000, she has volunteered to serve here every day the temple has been open. She even comes on holidays.”

From 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. every Tuesday through Saturday, María works in the temple cafeteria, washing dishes and making salads. She would work longer, she says, but with a long bus ride home, she must leave early enough to return before dark.

Brother Oliveira tells María she doesn’t need to come to the temple every day, but he admits that he would need two people to replace her. “She just smiles and says she has dedicated her life to the Lord,” he says.

For María, serving in the temple daily is a great privilege.

“My Father in Heaven has blessed me with good health, and my goal is to continue to come every day as long as my health permits,” she says. “I have made a covenant to dedicate all of my talents and abilities to serve the Lord. When I arrive home after serving in the temple, I don’t feel tired. The Lord has blessed me in that way.”

“The temple is my life,” María says. “People who don’t come to the temple are missing out on a great opportunity and blessing. By serving in the temple, we come to understand the real meaning and power of the temple.”

Every Christmas I learned to expect two kinds of gifts—those I wanted and those my parents wanted me to have.
I remember one Christmas in particular. I was an ordinary 15- or 16-year-old boy. I tried to act casual about my gifts, but inside I was crazy with anticipation. I was hoping for some new music, sports equipment, or maybe a movie. I pulled a small rectangular package from under the tree with my name on it. The size surprised me. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted that was that shape. Of course that didn’t stop me from happily ripping off the paper. Inside was a white box. The label glued to the top indicated a new set of scriptures. I didn’t think much of it. My parents often reused old boxes.
As I lifted the lid, I thought of the possibility that the label might be accurate. I hoped it wasn’t. I hoped against hope. I didn’t want new scriptures. I didn’t need them. I already had the set I received when I was baptized. Sure, they were getting old and the binding was falling apart, but for how much I used them, they worked just fine.
My heart sank. Inside the box was a beautiful compact set of maroon scriptures with my name embossed on the cover. I remember looking up to see my mom watching me. I’m sure she was nervous about my reaction. She said something like, “I know you didn’t ask for them and it isn’t the most exciting gift, but we thought you could use them.” I gave a polite smile, which I’m sure was completely transparent. I looked at the scriptures for a few minutes, trying to show appreciation, but eventually put them back in their box and gave my attention to my other gifts.
I tried not to think about all the things that I wanted more than new scriptures. I tried not to feel disappointed. I tried not to hypothesize about a way I could take them back without my parents knowing, but I didn’t try very hard.
I would love to report that later that Christmas day I opened those new scriptures and felt the great Spirit that comes through reading them. But I didn’t. In fact, I don’t believe I did anything with them other than put them in a corner of my room. I’d love to report that over the following weeks I gained a greater appreciation for my gift. I didn’t. About the only attention I gave them was during sacrament meeting, mindlessly separating the pages that were stuck together.
In all honesty, I don’t think I appreciated that gift for a long time. However, eventually I began to study them. I took them to church and to seminary. I began to read them on my own. They proved crucial to my decisions. At a time when I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to live what I thought was a more exciting lifestyle, like that of some of my school friends, I read Mosiah 2:41. I’m so grateful for that verse. I began to realize that only those who keep the commandments of God are truly happy.
Months later, my youth leaders challenged me to read the entire Book of Mormon before attending a summer camp. I agreed but procrastinated, and I soon fell behind. In a rush to catch up, I began to read for longer periods of time. I can still recall sitting on my porch reading for the better part of an hour. Before this, I was lucky to read for 10 minutes at a time. For the first time in my life, I lost myself in the scriptures. I realized that Alma the Younger was a real person. He wasn’t just a story my leaders taught me. He actually rebelled against his prophet father, and, through faith and the Atonement, was still able to change. I wondered what happened next. I had pieces of the story in my mind, but it hadn’t come together into a whole. I kept reading, watching him grow. For the first time I actually enjoyed what I read.
These experiences and many others began to build my small testimony. Yet, I still questioned. I questioned a lot. I decided to read the Book of Mormon daily and ask for confirmation that it was true. After many nights of reading and many prayers, I felt I received an answer from heaven. It was something I couldn’t create. There was no one else around to lead me to the feeling. I felt a warmth—almost like a light—in me. It somehow seemed to calm and excite me simultaneously. I felt that my Heavenly Father had heard my prayer. He sent a message through my thoughts that the Book of Mormon is true and the Church is His kingdom on earth. I also felt He wanted me to know that He had been answering my prayers continually throughout my life. I just hadn’t realized it. Where would my testimony be without the scriptures?
Later I read the same scriptures to calm my nerves on a plane to the mission field. I read them to inspire and motivate me through my college years. I read them to confirm if I should ask my wife to marry me. I read them for guidance in my career. I read them to find out how to be a better father. Every day I felt I learned and grew more. My testimony became stronger. I found the strength to trust in the Lord more and more.
The majority of my Christmas presents I received growing up were eventually packed in boxes, broken and discarded, or given to secondhand stores. But I still have those maroon scriptures with my name embossed on the cover. They are faded and worn. Some pages are torn, and the margins are filled with notes and quotes.
I cannot think of another Christmas gift that I have used more or one that has affected me more than what was in that little white box. Over time, it changed my life. It helped me come to my Savior Jesus Christ and learn to follow Him. It helped me gain a testimony of His gospel and motivated me to do my part in it. It has helped me become more like Him. What could be a more fitting Christmas gift? I thank my Heavenly Father that my parents gave me a gift I didn’t want.

1. Jonathan looked at the clock for the eighth time. “Is it time for family home evening?” he asked again.
2. “Yes, we can start now,” Dad said with a smile.
3. Jonathan and his sister, Michelle, were excited. They put paper, pencils, watercolors, and crayons on the table. Everyone sat down on their chairs and folded their arms.
4. After the prayer Dad picked up a letter and read it to them. It was from Uncle Eddie.
5. Uncle Eddie was a missionary in Central America. Jonathan liked to hear about the boys and girls there.
6. When Dad finished reading the letter, everyone began to draw a picture or write a letter to Uncle Eddie. Jonathan drew a picture of Uncle Eddie riding his bike. He drew a picture of him flying away in an airplane to Central America. Then he drew a picture of him teaching a family.
7. “When you are finished, fold your letters and drawings, and we’ll put them in this envelope,” Dad said.
8. Jonathan wrote an extra note before he folded his letter: “Please send more pictures!” Then he signed it,I love you,Jonathan

Denver says service is not the only opportunity weight lifting has given him: “Anywhere you excel, people are going to notice, and that will give you missionary opportunities.” Recently at a national meet, a world-class power lifter asked Denver why he wasn’t coming to the next meet. Denver told him about his mission, and the power lifter surprised him by encouraging him to put God first. Denver later told his mother, Tammy, “I could be known as Denver the weight lifter, but I’d rather be known as Elder Brown in Mexico.”

It was an early morning in 2008 when my mother woke me up to go to school. I was really happy that morning, but I didn’t know that it would turn into the worst day of my life or the last time I would be with her. I didn’t finish all my classes that day because a friend of our family picked me up and told me that my mom had killed herself. I was only 12 years old.
I thought, “How can I live without my mother?” She was my best friend.
I cried for months. I didn’t like going to school because the other children treated me differently and felt sorry for me. I had no clue what I was supposed to do; I only knew I had to be strong for everyone else.
One day, five or six months after my mom’s death, I was alone in my room by the window, crying, trying to understand what I was here for. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head: “You are my daughter; I won’t let you suffer.” I knew it was God. But it surprised me because I didn’t believe in Him anymore, especially since I felt that it was God who had taken my mother from me. Even though I didn’t know what He meant, I felt safe.
Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.
I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.
When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I’d had and how happy I’d felt during those three months going to Church activities. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and be baptized.
During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She’d been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.
Even though we’d never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.
Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.
I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

“I needed a personal second witness of Jesus Christ,” says Jodi Burr of Danville, Pennsylvania. “I wanted to know Christ. I had no doubt of his reality and atonement, but I wanted to come to a knowledge of him as a person and as a loving God. As I reread the Book of Mormon, no individual verse or story provided what I was looking for. However, my knowledge of Christ formed piece by piece as I studied about him in the various Book of Mormon settings.
“I bore my testimony in sacrament meeting, and my soul was flooded with the Holy Spirit as I received what I had longed for—a second witness of Jesus Christ. After church, one sentence kept repeating itself in my thoughts: ‘I know the Master; I know the Master.’ This testimony is priceless to me. What I was given that day was exactly what I had been searching for—‘and it came to pass’ through reading the Book of Mormon.”

Now, more than forty years later, Melvin J. Ballard was aboard a ship sailing for Buenos Aires, where he and his two companions, Elders Rulon G. Wells and Parley P. Pratt, were to open a mission for the South American people. As he walked along the windswept deck of the steamship Voltaire, he thought he finally understood the words of the inspired patriarch many years before, for he felt that the promise of his blessing was about to be fulfilled.
The steamship docked at Buenos Aires early on the morning of December 6, 1925, and that very afternoon the three elders met with twelve adults and four children who were interested in learning more about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
On December 12 Melvin recorded in his diary: “Just as the sun was going down, I baptized six people in the Rio de la Plata, the first in this generation in South America.” The next day the six were confirmed in a meeting, and at that meeting the sacrament was administered for the first time in South America.
Christmas night of that same year Melvin again wrote in his diary: “The sun came up at 4:41. We were up at 5. We arrived at Park 3 de Febrero at a place near the river in a grove of weeping willows at 7 A.M. We sang ‘The Morning Breaks.’ Brother Pratt read several passages from the Book of Mormon on promises of redemption of the Lamanites. Brother Wells read from the Bible. We all knelt under a weeping willow tree, and I offered prayer.”
Here is part of the prayer Elder Ballard offered:
We are grateful to come to this great land of South America to unlock the door for the preaching of the gospel. We thank thee for the few who have received us and for those we have had the joy of taking into the waters of baptism in this land. May they be the first fruits of a glorious harvest.

Then there’s Leonard Peters. One day he’s doing the Sasa, a Samoan slap dance about killing mosquitoes and flies, and on another he’s coming over from his safety position and picking off a quarterback’s pass.

Leonard is beginning his senior year at Kahuku High School in Hawaii. His team won the state championship last year and was rated by USA Today as one of the country’s best teams. He is also in his eighth year dancing at the cultural center.

"I’ve learned a lot about my heritage by working here," says Leonard, who came to Hawaii from Western Samoa when he was seven. "This job has given me a feel for what a mission will be like. I’ve been able to greet people, and visitors come and talk to me, wanting to learn more about the PCC and the Church. I’m glad I can share my talents."

Recently, I was privileged, along with a group of Primary children, to meet with President Russell M. Nelson in the replica of the Smith family home in Palmyra, New York. Listen as our beloved prophet teaches the children what they can do to step forward.
Sister Jones: “I’m curious to know if you might have a question that you would like to ask President Nelson. You’re sitting here with the prophet. Is there anything that you’ve always wanted to ask a prophet? Yes, Pearl.”
Pearl: “Is it hard to be a prophet? Are you, like, really busy?”
President Nelson: “Of course it’s hard. Everything to do with becoming more like the Savior is difficult. For example, when God wanted to give the Ten Commandments to Moses, where did He tell Moses to go? Up on top of a mountain, on the top of Mount Sinai. So Moses had to walk all the way up to the top of that mountain to get the Ten Commandments. Now, Heavenly Father could have said, ‘Moses, you start there, and I’ll start here, and I’ll meet you halfway.’ No, the Lord loves effort, because effort brings rewards that can’t come without it. For example, did you ever take piano lessons?”
Children: “Yes.”
Pearl: “I take violin.”
President Nelson: “And do you practice?”
Children: “Yes.”
President Nelson: “What happens if you don’t practice?”
Pearl: “You forget.”
President Nelson: “Yes, you don’t progress, do you? So the answer is yes, Pearl. It takes effort, a lot of hard work, a lot of study, and there’s never an end. That’s good! That’s good, because we’re always progressing. Even in the next life we’re making progress.”

Emma looked at the bright yellow rubber raft on top of the van and felt a little shiver run down her back. She’d never been rafting before, and she didn’t know what to expect.
“You’ll like the Big Eddy,” Dad was saying. He pulled their lifejackets out of the van and handed one to Emma. “It’s beautiful and exciting. Someone takes your picture right when your raft crashes through the Big Eddy.”
Emma didn’t like that word—crash.
“Let’s hurry, Dad,” her little brother Zachary said. He didn’t look nervous at all, but Emma’s stomach churned.
A raft passed them going down the river, and Emma could hear one of the men yelling over the rushing water.
“The guide in the back tells them when to paddle forward or backward, and when to stop so they won’t tip over,” Dad said.
Dad was going to be the guide in their family’s raft. She hoped he knew the right directions to tell them.
Mom and Dad put the raft into a calm place in the river and they all jumped in. The water was moving slowly for now, and Emma started to relax.
The raft bobbed around and up and down through the current. Everyone paddled when Dad said to paddle. A little water splashed up on them. Emma and Zachary laughed. Maybe this would be fun after all.
Suddenly the raft started going faster, and the sound of the water got louder. They were getting close to the Big Eddy!
Dad shouted instructions for them to go through the next rapid sideways. They paddled on the right side of the raft, but something went wrong. When the river curved, the current washed them to the other side. They tried to go back, but instead, the raft banged into a log on the riverbank.
Emma, Zachary, and Mom yelled as the water pushed against the raft. At first the water pushed them back into the river, but then another wave crashed them back against the log.
Dad tried so hard to get them out of the whirlpool that he fell overboard and the river swept him downstream toward the Big Eddy. The next surge of water tossed Mom out. Emma was terrified, but she felt prompted to grab Zachary and point to the log. Somehow they both scrambled onto it just before the raft flipped upside down and slipped out into the rapids again.
Another raft came down the river, and the guide had the people in the raft steer over until they were next to the log.
“Get in!” yelled the guide.
Zachary held back, his eyes wide. Emma was frozen in place. They both clung to the log, unable to move.
Then she remembered President Packer’s words from a conference talk she had taped to her closet door at home. He said that the Spirit will show us what to do so we don’t have to be afraid.
As she thought about those words, Emma felt less afraid. She thought that she should hold Zachary’s hand and they would make it to the raft safely. She gripped Zachary’s hand, and with the help of the guide, they scrambled into the bouncing raft. They huddled together until the guide got the raft to a calm pool of water where Mom and Dad were anxiously waiting. Dad’s arm had a cut on it, and both of Mom’s knees were scraped up, but they were OK.
They all hugged. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Dad said.
“I was really scared, but the Spirit helped me feel brave,” Emma said. “He told me what to do.”

“I come from a big family,” Céline, a Laurel in the Sarcelles Branch, Paris France East Stake, explains. “Maybe that’s why I care so much. And I come from a little neighborhood where everybody knows everybody, so we’re always trying to help each other.”
When she was younger, Céline would go to summer camp, as most French children do. “They would offer a week of training in first aid, and I would always sign up.” The classes were usually held at the local Red Cross. “At the end of the course, the monitors would always ask if anyone would like to attend some Red Cross meetings and see a little bit how it works,” Céline continues. “So I went for about two months, to see what it was like, and I joined. I started getting more and more training and passing more and more tests.”
Now she’s as qualified in first aid as the sapeurs-pompiers, the firemen French people generally call when there’s an emergency.
“My desire from the first was to be able to help other people, to bless Heavenly Father’s children, to be prepared in case of an accident,” Céline says. Her Personal Progress program helped her refine that desire. “I set the goal to learn first aid before I turned 19,” she says.
She met her goal but found she wanted to share what she was learning.
“I didn’t think of it as a talent until I got into it and saw that it comes quite naturally to me,” she continues. “Before, I had asked myself, What can I do to help others? For me, first aid is a way of doing that.”
Not only does she help by being trained herself; she is also training others. She has taught first aid at Mutual activities, Super Saturdays, youth conferences, and girls’ camps. She also mans a small Red Cross center in the basement of a local housing complex. There she teaches CPR, answers the phone, and attends to cuts and bruises of neighborhood children. They come to her as much for a hug as for a bandage.
“I’m in my final year of high school,” Céline says. “And first aid is helpful there, too. Even in school, people fall down, break a bone, or have some kind of sickness. Someone might even have epilepsy and go into a seizure. All around me are a lot of people who don’t know how to react. But me, I know what to do. I’ve developed my skills for exactly that reason.”

I want to tell you one more story about the military. I was on a train coming from La Grande, Oregon, to Salt Lake City, Utah. There were a number of officers just returning from the South Pacific, and something was said about Salt Lake City. One of those officers, a doctor, came out with a statement about Salt Lake and the Mormons that was the filthiest thing I have ever heard. Of course I did not want to take that, so when he got through, I returned to him and said, “Doctor, it may interest you to know that my home is in Salt Lake City, that I am a member of the Mormon Church, and that I know that you don’t know what you are talking about. I have here in my briefcase a magazine article from the Surgeon General’s Office. It tells about the immoral conditions of the men—married and unmarried—in the armed forces. I wouldn’t want to give you those statistics because I am ashamed of them.”
I continued, “I have another article here that is a letter from a hospital superintendent in Salt Lake indicating that they have given the Wassermann test, which is the test for impure blood, to 7,000 Mormon boys. There were only three who had any trace of impure blood. Doctor, I challenge you to duplicate that record anywhere in this world, outside of a Mormon community. You can’t do it, and you know you can’t.”
“Well,” he said, “I will have to say this: over in the Pacific everybody lets their hair down.” That was his way of saying, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” (See 1 Cor. 15:32.) “But,” he admitted, “there was one Mormon girl there from Salt Lake that no man could touch. She said, ‘I left my home clean, and I am going to return the way I left.’”
I do not know who that girl was, but in my heart I have asked God to bless her over and over again—and every other girl like her in all Israel.

Brethren, it is wonderful to be with you here this morning in this important work. I hope you made notes of what President Tanner has just said. I hope you have made notes of everything you heard President Romney say.
I was much impressed with what Sister Spafford told us and the film that we saw. One of the things that impressed me was the compassionate service of the sisters, the young sisters and the older sisters, who would go into the homes of those who were distressed and give them succor.
We have had many calamities in this past period. It seems that every day or two there is an earthquake or a flood or a tornado or distress that brings trouble to many people. I am grateful to see that our people and our leaders are beginning to catch the vision of their self-help.
Let me say that as a stake president long ago, we had a flood in the Duncan Valley in Arizona. As soon as we overcame the excitement of the first report of it, my counselors and I formulated a telegram and sent it to Salt Lake City and said, “Please send us $10,000 by return mail.” I found that I was learning about welfare programs when no $10,000 came. When President Lee, President Romney and President Moyle came down and took me back in my little office in my business place we sat down around the table and they said, “This isn’t a program of ‘give me.’ This is a program of ‘self-help.’” And so we learned much from those brethren.
The other stakes in Arizona over the weekend gathered many hundreds of dollars and the presidents of those stakes came rushing in and I remember Lorenzo Wright of the Maricopa Stake in Mesa pulling out of his pocket checks, and bills, and cash, and that was all given to us. After we got in gear and saw that the problem was ours and that we had plenty of people who hadn’t been distressed and plenty of people who had the means, we went to work. My office was on Main Street and every day I would see passing my office truckloads of hay and wire and posts going up to Duncan because the flood had washed out the valley fences, barns, and haystacks. It had torn down all the fences, and had left hills where there were hollows and vice versa. Then we got the county to let us use some of their big equipment and it wasn’t so very long until the land was leveled; the fences were built; the clothes had been cleaned that were hanging in the closets and covered with mud; and we had helped ourselves; and we had relieved the problems that had brought distress to so many people.
Now it would have been an easy thing, I think, for the Brethren to have sent us that $10,000 and it wouldn’t have been too hard to sit in my office and distribute it; but what a lot of good came to us as we had hundreds of men go to Duncan and build fences and haul the hay and level the ground and do all the things that needed doing. That is self-help.
Only a few days ago we received a telegram from a remote part of the Church where they asked again for a lump sum of money to take care of the needs of the people. And of course our program is self-help. There are always plenty of people who have been distressed that can stretch a little and can take care of the work.
Now I think the time is coming when there will be more distresses, when there may be more tornadoes and more floods, as we had up in the Portland area, more earthquakes as we had down in California, and elsewhere. I think they will be increasing probably as we come nearer to the end, and so we must be prepared for this.
Another thing, which has already been mentioned, is that of being more generous with our fast offerings. We do not have projects in all the world, as we are expanding so rapidly in the overseas areas. We haven’t established farms and other projects there as we have here, but there is no reason why the latest organized branch cannot take care of itself in large measure if we pay our fast offerings. Sometimes we have been a bit penurious and figured that we had for breakfast one egg and that cost so many cents and then we give that to the Lord. I think that when we are affluent, as many of us are, that we ought to be very, very generous.
I don’t know if you receive them, but every week, every mail, I receive two or three or a dozen applications for charity, from all over the world saying: “Please send us money to help these poor people that are starving and homeless.” Now then our work should go to our own people first, of course, and I have recently made up my mind. I just throw them into a pile and think, “Well, there is another $5.00 that could go to the fast offerings.” I think we should be very generous and give, instead of the amount we saved by our two meals of fasting, perhaps much, much more—ten times more where we are in a position to do it. I know there are some who couldn’t.
Something was said about gardens and about trees. I should say that in our little yard Sister Kimball is our farmer, and she nearly feeds us through the year from that little yard in the back. We have carrots, and we have apricots, and we have applesauce, and we have other things that help. Then she plants beans along the grillwork of our back porch, down among the roses, and they climb up over all this grillwork. I joke with her a lot of times about having done that so she can sit in her rocking chair and pick the beans, but we just almost live on beans and it is good food, very good food. The little gardens and the few trees are very valuable. I remember when the sisters used to say, “Well, but we could buy it at the store a lot cheaper than we can put it up.” But that isn’t quite the answer, is it, Sister Spafford? Because there will come a time when there isn’t a store. I remember long years ago that I asked a very prominent grocer who had a chain of grocery stores, “How long would your supply of groceries last if you did not have trucks to bring in new supplies?” And he said, “Maybe we could stretch it out two weeks from our storehouses and from our supplies.” People could get awfully hungry after two weeks were over.
There are so many things we should talk about in this great work. I would like to just say, “Bishops, don’t let yourselves be imposed upon.” President Romney mentioned one area. I mention another. I have talked to numerous people in these last years, many of whom have said, “My bishop is stingy. He will hardly give me anything.” Now, brethren, we must not have waste. These people, if they are in need, should earn, as it has been talked about. That is a little harder work for you, bishops, but that is your job. It isn’t an easy job. We knew that when we called you, but it is your job to give them what they actually need. Let them use such abilities as they have and time and effort to pay for it, if they can, in labor or otherwise. Don’t let this precious Welfare Program come to waste, but be generous in the sense of what they need.
Now may the Lord bless you. It is wonderful to be with you here this morning and see your great interest. I want to tell you, brethren, how we love you. We are so proud of you and every week when we pass upon new bishops, we just think there is another great man receiving his great opportunity, perhaps the greatest of his life.
God bless you. We pray for you and we ask his blessing upon you always, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

While working in the same building with A. W. White and Company, and also Wells, Fargo and Company (although I was not employed with bank work, except the collecting in the latter bank) I learned quite well, by assisting the bookkeepers and tellers, the banking business, which knowledge qualified me to accept a position as acting cashier of Zion’s Savings Bank and Trust Company, during the absence of my predecessor on a mission to Europe. Had I not been willing to sacrifice a portion of my unoccupied time while in White’s and Wells Fargo’s banks, I would not have been qualified to accept the position in Zion’s Savings Bank.

We are grateful for the beautiful publication the Liahona, which we eagerly receive each month and make the most of as a family. In the July 2006 issue, for example, we enjoyed great articles that helped us prepare our son for baptism and confirmation. The high-quality photography catches the attention of our little girl, who does not yet know how to read but can understand visual messages. On a Sunday afternoon we played “Sunday Box: Pencil Spin” and had a very good time. Family bonds were strengthened.Cazorla family, Spain

Immediately after young Tom Monson’s discharge from the navy following the conclusion of World War II, he was called to serve as a ward clerk. One evening he sat silently taking minutes while the bishopric agonized over the obvious lack of success with the young people in their ward, including challenges within the MIA program. Apparently the young clerk took it about as long as he could and then said, “Excuse me, brethren, but may I say something about the MIA and the youth challenges in this ward?” He then launched into a rapid-fire and profound summary of not only what was wrong with their ward youth program but what could rather quickly make it right. Then, realizing he may have been too bold and too presumptuous, he said, “Forgive me. I think I have said too much,” and excused himself from the room.
He was no sooner out the door than the bishopric looked at each other and said, “What are we waiting for?” They immediately called him back into the room, released him as ward clerk, and called him to be the superintendent of the MIA. In six months the 6–7th Ward combined program, with its totally committed young superintendent, was the example to which every other leader in the Temple View Stake looked for their own youth activities.

On a Monday evening not long ago, my wife, Lesa, and I stopped by the home of a young family in our neighborhood. While we were there, the family invited us to stay for family home evening, telling us their nine-year-old son had prepared the lesson. Of course we stayed!
Following the opening song, prayer, and family business, the nine-year-old began by reading an insightful question included in his handwritten lesson: “How does the Holy Ghost help you?” This question began a meaningful family discussion as everyone shared ideas and insights. I was impressed by our teacher’s lesson preparation and his very good question, which stirred in me over and over again.
Since then, I have continued to ask myself, “How does the Holy Ghost help you?”—a question especially relevant for Primary children turning eight and preparing for baptism and for those children who have recently been baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. It is also relevant for the thousands of recent converts.