Gospel Story Finder

Fourteen-year-old Matt Anderson from Bountiful, Utah, is one tough character to shake. Matt was diagnosed with diabetes on a Saturday. He spoke in church the next day. His mom explains, “When the bishop called and asked if Matt still wanted to speak, Matt’s reply was, ‘Sure, Bishop, it’s already written!’” Matt’s talk was on gratitude.
Matt’s positive attitude and strong testimony of the gospel are anchors in his life. “Now I’m just thankful for every day,” he says. “I’m thankful for the power of prayer.”
After receiving a blessing in the hospital, he remembers waking up during the night. “The hospital was all quiet, and I felt this real peace come over me. A true peace. And I wasn’t scared.” Matt says the priesthood blessing gave him strength to give himself shots and to start testing his blood-sugar level.
“This trial has been a blessing in my life,” Matt says. “It has made me conscious of the gospel more than ever. It has brought me closer to my mom and dad and my sister. I play sports just as much as I did before, and I’m still really close to my friends. I know we have trials for a reason.”

Once I find the names of family members who need their temple work done, I reserve the ordinances, print the sheet with their information, and then use it to print their ordinance cards off at the temple. In order to do the baptisms for the family members I have found, I usually go to the temple every week. I also attend our youth temple nights, where everyone there helps complete the baptisms and confirmations. Then, I give the names to extended family members, who have helped me complete a lot of temple ordinances for my ancestors. I also make sure that I get all of the cards back for my own records.
I have found so many names of ancestors without ordinances that my effort to do their temple work has become a ward effort. The adults in my ward come and get stacks of cards from me and take them to ward temple night after the baptisms and confirmations are complete. The bishop has told me that the numbers at our ward temple nights have increased in anticipation of helping me with this work. It has been amazing to see the excitement that this work has brought to others in the ward. Family history has affected so many more people than just me. I never would have imagined this would happen when I sat down at the computer that first day.

“When I was 10 years old, my family became refugees in a new land. I had always been a good student in school—that is, until we arrived in West Germany. …
“Because so much of the curriculum was new and strange to me, I fell behind. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder if I was simply not smart enough for school.
“Fortunately I had a teacher who taught me to be patient. He taught me that steady and consistent work—patient persistence—would help me to learn.
“Over time, difficult subjects became clearer—even English. Slowly I began to see that if I applied myself consistently, I could learn. It didn’t come quickly, but with patience, it did come.”
“Continue in Patience,” Liahona, May 2010, 57.

It’s early Saturday morning. You have lots to do—go to the mall, hang out with friends, maybe catch up on your homework. This is definitely going to be a long and enjoyable day. Then the phone rings and you remember that this Saturday is your ward’s youth serve-a-thon. You groan and think about getting in one more hour of sleep, right?
Of course not. Getting up is as easy as counting to ten, especially if you’re in the Richmond (Virginia) Ward and today you get to join the missionaries for a day of service. Besides, you’ll be meeting a lot of new people, since much of the service will be for those who aren’t members of the Church.
This Saturday morning, youth from the Richmond Ward are spread out in five different locations around the city. The first stop is a small house in the middle of Richmond. Fourteen-year-old Zack Harton and his friend Will Jones are stationed here, raking leaves, pulling weeds, and having fun.
Zack doesn’t personally know the family his group is helping, but he does know that this family is investigating the Church. Therefore, he knows that he’s also setting an example. “It makes me feel good, because I’m helping someone in need—just as I would help my own brother and sister if they needed help,” Zack says.
His friend Will is also investigating the Church and is glad that Zack invited him to come along today. Will has already caught on to the wonderful feeling that comes from service. “I feel that I have an obligation toward other people,” Will says. “I started coming with Zack to Scouts and never knew it was going to get into this. But I just think it’s wonderful that somebody would care enough to do this. While we were working in the yard, everyone would just help one another. You didn’t even have to ask. I could just feel God around me.”
Will’s enthusiasm for service touches Cary Fleming as she, too, helps to clean up at this stop. “The house looked pretty bad when we got there,” Cary says. “I wondered how we were going to clean all this. But then Will started singing nonstop, and I kept on pulling weeds, and we had a blast.”
Cary found out that what her mom said last night was right. “I did not want to go, but she told me it would strengthen my testimony if I really prayed about going and asked to have a good time. So I knelt down and I prayed, and I’ve had the best time.”
A couple of miles away, Charity Holderness is cleaning bedrooms and bathrooms for a part-member family in the Richmond Ward. For Charity, this is a little out of the ordinary. “When I clean my own room, my mom thinks I’m sick,” she says.
Today she’s feeling something different. “I can’t even explain this feeling. I know that I haven’t done even a fraction of the work some people do. But I feel so much better knowing that I can keep doing small things. Maybe I’ll sweep the kitchen floor when I get home.”
Thirteen-year-old Caity Ingles is also here. She is a nonmember and came with her friend April Lacy. April invited Caity because “I want her to know that I like to serve and help other people.”
The two missionaries at this station like April’s idea about setting an example. Elder Jeffrey Mortensen, from Visalia, California, says, “We’re just the missionaries serving in this area for a short time. But when a ward member can make a connection with a nonmember, that is awesome.”
Building relationships—as well as cutting down some unwanted trees—is in full swing where a third group of youth are stationed. Todd Swenson, 17, is here, and he’s a little tired from pulling up roots and clearing leaves. But his attitude is not the least bit worn. “This is my first time doing anything like this, but I want to do it again. I think it makes the people we are helping feel like they have friends, that someone is looking out for them,” Todd says.
Ben Mullins, 14, agrees. “I hope it makes them feel that the Church likes to help other people. It also gives me a better attitude about serving.”
Besides, according to Heather Swenson, there’s not much else to do on a Saturday. “I can spare one. I’ve got a lot of time left in my life to help other people. I need to use that time.”
Across town at a less-active ward member’s home, Chris Odell knows all about using his time well. “I know this is the best thing I could do today,” Chris says. “When I serve, I feel so close to heaven.”
Lindsay Lansing, 14, nods in agreement and says, “Service shows that you love and respect others.” She helps the sister missionaries here gather leaves and stuff them into a garbage bag. This is not the first time she has joined them to provide service for her neighbors and less-active ward members. “I do this whenever I get the chance.”
Lindsay, Chris, and the rest of the group here finish quickly, but they don’t want to quit yet. So each of them jumps into a leader’s van to find another group that may need some extra hands.
By lunchtime, the last group of Richmond Ward youth are putting finishing touches on a wall at Svetlana Iskiyayev’s Village Shoe Shop. They have spent the morning tidying and painting the back room of the shop.
Svetlana and her husband left careers as a doctor and a lawyer when they came to Virginia from Russia several years ago. Now they are building their dreams here. And Helen Capehart, 16, is happy she can help them. She has invited two nonmember friends to help her today and hopes that they, as well as the Iskiyayevs, will see the light of the gospel through her service.
After all, examples of service are what drew Helen to the gospel herself just a short time ago. She says, “I’m so grateful that the Lord led me to this church, and for the awesome examples my friends here have been to me. My biggest example now is Jesus Christ, and I find so much joy in serving him. I hope I always have this feeling in me.”
Most likely, that feeling will stay with Helen because she has found an important key to sharing the gospel—service.
As youth from the Richmond Ward close their day of service with a testimony meeting, Helen once again captures the essence of this activity. “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt the Spirit so strong in my life as when I am serving the Lord,” Helen says. “Look at all those magazines with beautiful people on the covers. The world says that’s beauty. But when I was working today, I got paint and dirt all over me. And I think that is the Lord’s true definition of beauty.”
She is probably right. What could be more beautiful than a child of God who has found the way to happiness by following the example set by a friend?

I’d just gotten home from a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Jerusalem. I’d walked where Jesus had walked, I’d learned of prophets of old and seen where they had lived, and I’d spent two and a half weeks learning of, talking of, and rejoicing in Christ (see 2 Nephi 25:26).
Now I was back home, about to start my senior year of high school. And I missed the feeling that had surrounded me when I was in the Holy Land.
During the next few weeks, I felt like I wasn’t having the same kinds of significant spiritual experiences I’d been having in Jerusalem. But I remembered this quote by President Russell M. Nelson: “The temple lies at the center of strengthening our faith and spiritual fortitude because the Savior and His doctrine are the very heart of the temple. Everything taught in the temple, through instruction and through the Spirit, increases our understanding of Jesus Christ.”
So, with this counsel, I decided to try and do baptisms at the temple every week for the next year. I missed a week here or there, but I went many times and established a consistent habit. It was at the temple that I could feel the spiritual boost I was seeking.

Life has some strange turns. When I was a young man I thought I would serve a mission. I graduated from high school in June 1950. Thousands of miles away, one week after that high school graduation, a North Korean army crossed the 38th parallel, and our country was at war. I was 17 years old, but as a member of the Utah National Guard I was soon under orders to prepare for mobilization and active service. Suddenly, for me and for many other young men of my generation, the full-time mission we had planned was not to be.
Another example: After I served as president of Brigham Young University for nine years, I was released. A few months later the governor of the state of Utah appointed me to a 10-year term on the supreme court of this state. I was then 48 years old. My wife June and I tried to plan the rest of our lives. We wanted to serve the full-time mission neither of us had been privileged to serve. We planned that I would serve 20 years on the state supreme court. Then, at the end of two 10-year terms, when I would be nearly 69 years old, I would retire from the supreme court, and we would submit our missionary papers and serve a mission as a couple.
Four years after we made that plan I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—something we never dreamed would happen. Realizing then that the Lord had different plans and different timing than we had assumed, I resigned as a justice of the supreme court. But this was not the end of the important differences. When I was 66, my wife June died of cancer. Two years later I married Kristen McMain, the eternal companion who now stands at my side.
How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan! My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord—to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do—has carried me through these changes of eternal importance.

The best-known of Brittany’s creative service may be a sock monkey project she started—a project one of her friends has now dubbed “The Secret Ninja Monkey Operation.” Why sock monkeys, you might ask?
Well, the project started as just a fun activity to do with a pair of knee socks. As Brittany worked on the first sock monkey, however, she thought of friends who were going through surgeries. She decided to make sock monkeys for those experiencing hard times, including patients who are frequently in the hospital. “Really, my sock monkeys are for anyone who needs a pick-me-up,” she says.
She even customizes some of the sock monkeys with medical equipment so that patients uncomfortable about getting new tubes or surgeries will have “a buddy with them who has the same thing.” She and her friends have sent over 400 sock monkey “buddies” to patients all over the world.

We had Mrs. Jacobson over for Christmas dinner last year. I now have someone to visit with when I feel depressed, like the other day when I went out with Dave and I spilled spaghetti all over and felt like climbing under the table. I told Mrs. Jacobson about that, and she told me about how once when she was dating her husband, he came to visit her one evening. She thought he was coming a half hour later than he did. He came to the door while she was in her room. Mrs. Jacobson’s sister invited him in to sit down and started to go up the stairs to announce that he was there. Mrs. Jacobson came out of her bedroom door, intending to go downstairs and borrow a necklace. She started singing a song and was halfway down the stairs when she saw the young man grinning up at her. I guess everybody does things like that sometimes.

“This time you’re racing the clock.” The P.E. instructor held up his stopwatch. I lined up with the rest of the class on the university track. I tucked my standard, authorized T-shirt into my standard, authorized gym trunks, attempting to camouflage the spare tire around my waist, that although unauthorized, had become quite standard.
“Ready!” the instructor called.
The semester was just beginning. This was a pretest—11 laps equaling a mile-and-a-half run to assess our present fitness levels.
“Get set!” Again the voice sounded. I leaned forward. When this fitness appraisal is finished, I thought to myself, I just hope I’m still fit enough to stand up.
“Go!” The whistle blew.
Like a herd of animals scared by the sound, our group lurched forward and stampeded down the track. After only one lap the herd sorted itself into two distinct groups: them and me.
After two more laps I was so far behind I appeared to be leading the pack. “Just keep plugging, Brad,” I psyched myself. “Remember tortoise and the hare—tortoise and the hare—tortoise and the hare.”
The group whizzed by me again. I noticed the lead runner. He was good. I admired his form. I studied his stride. I reflected on his reflexes. I wanted to trip him. Runners like Ken Williams make coaches proud and tortoises envious.
I staggered ahead. By lap six, Ken was finished and probably showering. By lap eight the rest of the herd had completed the run and were headed to the watering trough as well. The instructor might have forgotten I was still running except for the sounds of wheezing and gasping he heard as I endured to the end. Oh, the indignity of it all, I thought. I wished I were a tortoise with a shell to hide under.
Lap nine: My rubbery legs were protesting.
Lap ten: My stomach was threatening a revolutionary uprising.
Lap eleven: This class was supposed to be teaching me fitness for life, but right then, death looked like an enticing alternative. I crossed the finish line. My heart sank into my left tennis shoe, partly because of the ordeal, but mostly because of the embarrassing time announced too loudly by the instructor.
“You’ve got a lot of work to do this semester,” the bored teacher proclaimed as he walked away.
He was right. In the 12 weeks that followed I ran almost every day, and the only thing that kept me from being as bored as he, was memorization. It was an idea Dad gave me to keep my mind off my tortured legs and sagging arches. So with each of my daily 11 laps I memorized the corresponding article of faith. (Just don’t ask me to recite numbers 12 and 13. Shortly I moved into the scriptures. You know, “Run and not be weary …”
The semester passed. “We’ll have our final run next Tuesday,” the instructor declared. “Final next Tuesday,” I wrote in my notes. “Wait!” I was horrified. “I’ll be in Nevada next Tuesday!”
After class I tried to explain. “I’m in this play, see … this musical, and we’ll be performing in Las Vegas on Monday night.”
“So?” the instructor intoned. “It doesn’t matter where you are on Monday night as long as you are here on Tuesday morning.” He seemed as mechanical and cold as the stopwatch hanging from his neck. “If you want a grade, you’ll be here.” Discussion ended.
Tuesday morning came. Sure enough, I was there—physically, at least. I left Las Vegas immediately after the curtain call and drove all night long. I arrived in town with only minutes to change into track clothes. My body screamed, “You should be in bed!”
“No,” my mind replied, “You should be in a mental institution for not being in bed.” My spirit was unwilling and my flesh was weak. But there I was.
“We’ll run in two groups,” the instructor shouted.” So everybody gets a partner to count your laps and record your time.” Williams, the name next to Wilcox on the roll, became my partner.
“Great,” I thought sarcastically, “the tortoise and the hare.” Remembering his performance during the pretest months ago, I already knew it would be easy to count Ken’s laps. My partner lined up with the first group.
“Good luck,” I muttered through a near yawn. The whistle blew. Just as the other partners did for their runners, I kept track of Ken’s laps. Just as the other partners did for their runners, I held up a corresponding number of fingers as he passed. Just as the other partners did for their runners, I yelled encouraging words. Then, well ahead of other partners and their runners, I recorded Ken’s amazing time.
Hardly pausing, Ken circled the track for a leisurely cool-down. He breathed heavily. His muscled frame gleamed with sweat.
“Second group to your mark!” the instructor shouted. Some of the “jocks” who had already finished running began slipping out. They had just completed the last requirement of the semester and certainly didn’t plan to spend any extra time following up on this “partner” business.
Ken came toward me. I suggested, “Hey, you don’t have to stay. I can count my own laps.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“Don’t feel obliged,” I tried again. “Some of the others are leaving and the instructor doesn’t care. Just go ahead and shower.”
“No,” Ken flopped on some nearby bleachers, “I’m kind of tired. I’ll just sit here for a minute and count your laps.”
“I’m afraid it’ll take more than a minute,” I warned.
“Second group ready!” the instructor called. “Get set,” the whistle blew.
We charged forward. Now’s your chance to prove you’ve worked hard during the semester, I reminded myself. Now’s the time to make those hours and laps pay off. Come on now. “We believe in God the Eternal Father …” I recited silently as I ran. It helped.
Lap two passed. Lap three passed. Already I was wavering.
You’re pacing yourself too fast, I panicked. But this is the pace I’d kept for weeks.
Lap four: “We believe the first four principles and ordinances of the gospel are … are … are what?” My head started spinning. The long night’s drive was showing up. I was slowing up.
“Adrenaline!” I demanded of my body. “Sorry,” my sleepless self yawned. “You left it in Las Vegas.”
I swayed and tottered like a sleepwalker. I was exhausted.
Lap five: “We believe … we believe …” I can’t do it, I thought. My head throbbed in rhythm with my pounding heart. My strength was gone.
Just as the other partners did for their runners, Ken held up his fifth finger as I passed. Just as the other partners did for their runners, Ken yelled, “You can do it!” or some such nonsense. Then, noticing my distress, Ken Williams did something very unlike all the other partners on the sidelines. Ken started to run and caught up with me. Loping along at my right, he offered the tail of his T-shirt.
“What’re you doing?” I gasped.
Again Ken extended the shirttail. Without further question I reached over into his lane and grabbed it. Then Ken began to run, forcing me to keep up. He was still sweating from his own final test, and now he was exerting himself again.
“By love serve ye one another” (Gal. 5:13). It was one of the scriptures I had memorized while running on that very track.
Lap six: “Come on,” he urged.
Lap seven: “Run, Brad, keep it up.” He wasn’t shouting from the sidelines. He was encouraging me step for step.
Lap eight, nine, and ten: Ken didn’t just pace me for a while. He ran with me to the end. He gave me the shirt off his back and went the extra mile, literally.
My drained body finally drooped across the finish line. I wanted a gold medal. Under the circumstances my time wasn’t that much better than the pretest taken months earlier, but I wanted a gold medal. I wanted it for Ken.
Mosiah 4:15: “Teach them to love one another and to serve one another.” I had memorized that one, too. I memorized it; Ken lived it.
“Thanks,” I coughed, when I finally felt that I could talk at all.
“No problem,” Ken panted.
Still leaning heavily on his shoulder, I clutched my aching side. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he said.
“Verily I say unto you, insomuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40). I memorized that or I had learned it in Mutual activities when we used to clean widows’ yards and go to the stake welfare farm because our advisers insisted. We quoted it in seminary, also, when we subbed for Santa and donated money to help foreign seminary students because we knew we should.
“Ken,” my chest was heaving. “I’d never have made it without you. Thanks.”
“It’s okay,” he smiled. “I wanted to help.”
No adviser insisted. No seminary teacher told him he should. I wasn’t a welfare assignment. I wasn’t a home teaching obligation. There was no space on the elders quorum roll where Ken could report his extra-mile laps and get the credit he deserved. Ken helped me because he wanted to.
“Want to”—“have to.” On paper the difference between these two phrases is minimal. Each one even has the same number of letters. But on a fieldhouse track, in a ward, neighborhood, school, or elsewhere, the difference between “want to” and “have to” is continents wide.
It was quite a lesson Ken taught me a few semesters back as we ran together on the fieldhouse track. He probably doesn’t remember now. He probably didn’t even realize it then, but the exercise he showed me, this exercise called willing service, has been particularly good for my heart.

The last child we have is named Benjamin. When he was young, we had a family tradition on the day after Thanksgiving. We would load all of our bikes in the back of the truck, get everyone into the minivan, and then drive up to a mountain trail near the San Gabriel River in Southern California. We would go on a bike ride there and then have a picnic at a park at the end. We did this every year.

When Benjamin was three or four, we piled out of our van, got our bikes out of the truck, put our helmets on, got on our bikes, and just started riding—everybody knew the drill. Benjamin was the second to last to get on his bike, and I was the last. When Benjamin got on his bike, he immediately swerved terribly to the left, overcorrected all the way to the right, and then fell on the ground.

I called out to everybody to stop, and then I asked, “Didn’t anyone teach Benjamin how to ride a bike?”

None of us had! I looked at Natalie; she looked at Taylor and then me—I guess it was my job. The funniest thing was that Benjamin didn’t even know that he needed someone to teach him. He just saw everybody get on their bike and go, so he did too!

So I did what dads do: I held the back of the bike seat steady and ran alongside him. Then after about ten yards I launched him, knowing there would be enough angular momentum to keep him vertical. And shazam! He learned how to ride a bike. Sink or swim, I guess. That’s what happens sometimes to the youngest.

Benjamin, I love you. The worth of your soul is so, so great in the sight of God, me, and your mother (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:10).

Elder Henry B. Eyring has told a story about his father, Dr. Henry Eyring, a renowned chemist and university professor who in his late seventies contracted bone cancer, which made movement difficult. As the senior high councilor in his stake, he was responsible for the welfare farm. Dr. Eyring and his group worked a long, full day to complete the job of weeding a field of onions.

The man weeding the row next to Dr. Eyring watched as this great university chemist pulled himself along on his stomach with his elbows, wrenching up the unruly weeds as he went. It was an awkward process and obviously painful; the cancer in his hips made it impossible for him to kneel. Yet as he dragged himself he smiled, laughed, and talked happily with his fellow members as they worked in that row of onions.

Near the end of the day, after all the onions were weeded, someone exclaimed, “Henry, good heavens! You didn’t pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway.” Dr. Eyring laughed at the error that would have brought fury to many people’s lips.

When Dr. Eyring told his son the story, Elder Eyring looked at his aging father and asked, “How could you take it so pleasantly?”

At that point Dr. Eyring said something that his apostle son will never forget. He said, “I wasn’t there for the weeds.” (See Henry B. Eyring, “Waiting upon the Lord,” BYU 1990–91 Devotional and Fireside Speeches [Provo: Brigham Young University, 1991], pp. 21–22.)

Sometimes it will be hard to see where you are going or you may find yourself in the wrong row of the onions, but remember this: You didn’t come for the weeds. They’re merely what you are doing while you learn true patience.

When I was eight years old, our family went on a vacation to the state of New York. I learned that many important events in Church history took place there.
My parents had taught us about Joseph Smith and his prayer to seek wisdom from God. They taught us about Joseph’s experience in the Sacred Grove. They also taught us about the gold plates that were buried in the Hill Cumorah. We had heard these stories many times before in family home evening, in Primary, and in our church meetings.
When we got to New York, we visited the site where Joseph Smith lived with his parents and brothers and sisters. We were reminded that the Smith family loved the Bible and often read from it and prayed together. Then we went down the lane to the grove of trees where Joseph went to ask Heavenly Father which church was His true church.
As our family walked into the Sacred Grove, my heart began to pound. There was a peaceful, wonderful feeling there. I felt something very special as I thought about Joseph Smith and his prayer for wisdom. He actually saw our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I knew it was true. My parents later explained that the special feeling I felt was the Holy Ghost.
Since that time, my testimony of the truthfulness of this event has grown much stronger. As a missionary in Germany, I had the opportunity to tell many people about Joseph Smith, the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. Each time I testified of the truthfulness of these important events, the Holy Ghost would bear witness to my heart that Joseph Smith really did see God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.
When we hear something that is true and will be for our benefit, the Holy Ghost will tell us it is true by a special feeling of peace or a voice in our minds or in our hearts. We will have a quiet assurance that what we are hearing or experiencing is true.
From these and many other experiences, I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I know God lives, and I know He answers our prayers.

Contrast these events with an incident which happened to me when I was a young man in my early twenties. While serving in the Air Force, one of the pilots in my squadron crashed on a training mission and was killed. I was assigned to accompany my fallen comrade on his final journey home to be buried in Brooklyn. I had the honor of standing by his family during the viewing and funeral services and of representing our government in presenting the flag to his grieving widow at the graveside. The funeral service was dark and dismal. No mention was made of his goodness or his accomplishments. His name was never mentioned. At the conclusion of the services, his widow turned to me and asked, “Bob, what is really going to happen to Don?” I was then able to give her the sweet doctrine of the Resurrection and the reality that, if baptized and sealed in the temple for time and all eternity, they could be together eternally. The clergyman standing next to her said, “That is the most beautiful doctrine I have ever heard.”

In 1 Kings 3:9, King Solomon asks for 'an understanding heart.' This is a gift and virtue that is comes with much effort and time. A few years ago my wife Ligia asked us if would please, please clean up the kitchen while she was at Relief Society. We readily agreed and away she went content that she would come home to a spotless kitchen; dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor swept and if she was lucky maybe even mopped. As I prepared the dishwater my daughter yells out that a particular movie had just came on. We had both read the book and had a high interest in this movie. We hit upon a plan: since mom would be gone at least two hours we would wash the dishes during the long commercial breaks. In two hours we would have the kitchen finished, the movie watched and a happy mommy.

For whatever the reasons, that now escape me, something went wrong. We were only half way through the dishes when we saw the headlights coming on to the driveway Liz and I looked at each other like the proverbial "deer in the headlights." I think she said something like "we're toast." We made a mad dash to finish up the dishes and were fully engaged when she walked in. We were full of feeble excuses but they could not wash away the look of disappointment on her face. We still had not finished the dishes at 10:00pm that night. In one of my brighter and more insightful moments I said, "You're not upset about a few dirty dishes are you?" And with tender eyes she said, "It is not about the dishes."

Proverbs 2:2: "So that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom and apply thine heart to understanding." In another incident a few years ago while I was driving, I complained to my daughter that she had changed all of the radio stations in the car. She had removed my favorite station that played all the old songs. She mocked my music and ridiculed its simplicity. I finally found the station and we started to listen, I told here this particular song came out when she was in kindergarten, the next song came out when I was dating her mother, and the next song came out when I graduated from college. I admitted the songs were dumb, but I told her, it's not about the songs.

It is not only what it is but what it means. It is not about dirty dishes but respecting and honoring the requests of a love one. It is not about the simple little songs but what they mean to me as audible milestones in my life. And the meanings come from the heart. When you come to comprehend the meaning, you understand the heart and you grow in learning and wisdom.

Recently my granddaughter Jennifer was invited to go with several of her school friends to a dinner and a movie. The girls all agreed on the movie they were going to see, and Jennifer was comfortable attending. However, the girl who left dinner to buy the movie tickets for the group returned with tickets to a different movie than was planned! She said, “It is a great show, and it’s R-rated.”

Jennifer, caught by surprise, couldn’t believe the situation had changed so quickly. But fortunately she had made up her mind before she ever found herself in this position that she would not watch R-rated movies. She was able to stand firm and say to her friends, “I can’t go see an R-rated movie. My parents would not approve.” To which the girls replied, “Oh, come on! Your parents will never know!” Confronted with this, Jennifer went on to say, “Well, actually it doesn’t matter whether my parents will know. I just don’t go to R-rated movies!”

Her friends were upset and tried to get her to relent. They told her she “was ruining everything.” When she would not give in, they threw the ticket and change in her face and deserted her for the R-rated movie. It wound up being a lonely night full of rejection from her friends. But it was a great moment for Jennifer and our family. She gained confidence, self-worth, and spiritual power.

The only girl in her Primary class, Corissa was a missionary in the Purdue Mission at the Primary quarterly activity. After the Primary, missionaries put on their name tags, they played “Name That Missionary” by guessing who the “missionaries of the past” were in slides that were shown.
Next, the Primary missionaries learned the importance of scriptures by having a scripture chase: They were divided into teams, and each participant was given a picture. At a signal, each Primary missionary raced to the other end of the cultural hall and found the scripture that the picture illustrated.
Then Corissa learned about food preparation as her missionary district made graham cracker bars. From the kitchen, she returned to the cultural hall, where she raced to put on missionary clothes—shoes, jacket, hat, and tie or scarf—and carry a set of scriptures while she “knocked on doors.”
Finally she got her “missionary picture,” which was made by getting her whole body traced; then she colored the tracing.

Just for the fun of it, the youth of the Knox Ward in Melbourne decided to show their appreciation for their parents by treating them to dinner. They organized a special evening they called, “The Fabulous Fifties and the Surging Sixties.”
A youth committee selected a menu that would fit the theme; then a large group prepared and served a three-course meal. They played music from the appropriate decades, and parents and kids alike were encouraged to dance. For the adults, it brought back fond memories. For the kids, it made new ones.

Siblings Suvarna and Sarala Katuka joined the Church in 1984 and later served missions.

Suvarna had joined the Church in Rajahmundry. He, along with five brothers and one sister, was baptized in 1984. On the day of his baptism, Suvarna was ordained a priest and set apart as the second counselor in the branch presidency. He was also promised in a blessing that if he remained faithful, he would be a “pillar of the Church in India.”

Suvarna’s sister Sarala also served a mission. Before she left, she introduced the gospel to her friend Swarupa. When Suvarna returned from his mission, he was blessed by his sister’s missionary work and married Swarupa. That small branch in Rajahmundry has now become a stake. Many returned missionaries from Rajahmundry have become leaders within the Church throughout India.

I met the children of Suvarna and Swarupa Katuka while teaching at BYU in 2014. Josh Katuka had recently finished serving a mission in Bangalore, India, and his sister Timnah had just received her call to the same mission. When I asked Timnah and Josh if they knew Raj Kumar, they said, “Yes, he’s our uncle!” Raj Kumar had married Sarala.

I am grateful to the Katukas for introducing me to several other pioneers as they helped me travel in India. Many of them trace their pioneer trail back to the love and example of the Katuka family. At one point, Suvarna and Swarupa had the opportunity to emigrate to Canada. But they turned it down because they felt that the Lord needed them to stay in India and build the kingdom of God there. Their devoted service has truly made them pillars of the Church.

During a family vacation, the Bart and LeAnne Dahneke family of the Grandview Fifth Ward, Provo Utah Grandview Stake, shared an unusual experience.
“My husband and I decided to take our children for a walk along the beach in search of shells,” says Sister Dahneke. “While walking we met a nice couple. Bart struck up a conversation with them, and we became quick friends.
“The next day we had dinner together and discovered that this couple was soon going to be married by a local minister. They had no family with them, so they invited us to serve as witnesses. We agreed.
“The wedding was held on a beautiful beach as the sun was setting over a calm, clear ocean. The bride and groom were radiant as they held hands and made the promise to love, honor, and respect each other. My children were happy for our new friends, but they had a lot of questions about the wedding ceremony. So our next family home evening was on eternal marriage.
“We talked about the importance of eternal marriage as found in D&C 132:15, 19. We taught our children about the importance of living their lives so they are worthy to go to the temple to be sealed for eternity. We felt the inspiration of the Holy Ghost as we talked about the beauty of a temple marriage and its eternal sealing power, compared to an earthly wedding and its ‘until death do us part’ promise.
“Drawing upon this shared experience provided a powerful foundation to teach the gospel principles surrounding eternal marriage. Our children were receptive because they had experienced firsthand the wedding on the beach. We were motivated because we know firsthand the joys of temple marriage. The result was a powerful family home evening.”

My neighbor came across the street and said, “Hey, guess what we’re doing for youth conference? We get to build two barns.”
I grunted. “Two barns? Thrill city. Whoever came up with that dumb idea? Youth conferences are supposed to be fun.”
“We’ll have fun working.”
“Get real,” I told him. “I have a hard time cleaning my room.”
Maybe the adults thought I was Laman or Lemuel at the next stake dance committee meeting. I asked them, “Whatever happened to white river rafting for youth conference? Do you really expect us to get up at 5:00 A.M. on the first three days of our summer vacation?” One of the girls on the committee decided she wouldn’t go as she’d wreck her fingernails. She threatened to organize something for her own ward. None of our complaining did any good. The stake youth leaders stuck to their plan.
A fierce hailstorm pelted Duvall, Washington, the night before the conference. “Bummer, now they’ll have to cancel our exciting barn building extravaganza,” I said sarcastically.
Miraculously, the weather cleared, and I found myself standing with 180 kids in carpenter aprons, pockets full of nails and wearing a T-shirt that read, “You Love Who You Serve.”
We were given the choice of helping to build a barn/shed or a barn/house. I picked the barn/shed. It sounded easier. We banged nails. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t awful. Ward Roney, the to-be-owner of the barn/shed was a sturdy man, weathered by long hours on the tractor. He told me his favorite sound was the belch a cow makes when she’s in a warm shed eating hay. His old shed blew down in a bad storm, and the insurance wouldn’t pay to replace it. He was either brave or foolish to let a bunch of teenagers build his shed. Surely he realized we’d never finish the huge thing. If we could do it, one observer noted, it’d be an Amish barn raising by Mormons for Catholics.
Brother Beecham, the builder in charge of our shed, held the American Homes world record for the fastest home framed. The old record stood at 36 hours, and Beecham’s crew accomplished it in four. I got a kick out of watching him stroll across thin high timbers like they were sidewalks. With the construction boom in Seattle, I knew Brother Beecham was passing up a lot of money to teach us.
Normally, when I work I look at my watch every five minutes. Before I knew it, the walls were up, and we were ready for a crane to position the giant trusses of the roof. But there was no crane. Instead of machine power, we’d use muscle power, and some of the muscles were mine. The ground crew strained to position one truss. Then three of us on the roof pulled up the point with a rope as the ground crew hoisted. We cheered when the truss was securely nailed into place. What a team. Up there, 30 feet off the ground, a great sense of brotherhood developed between the “roof crew.” It was great up there. It was fun. I really developed a closeness to all of them as we worked and sweat and hammered our thumbs hour after hour.
The first day some of the girls were afraid to hit the nails on the head. By the second day they were mean. They’d developed aim and aggression in their hammering. Unfortunately, the girls used their new skills on the boys at the pie eating contest, which turned into a pie throwing war.
Meanwhile the people at the barn/house site made decent progress on the first floor. They were laboring for an LDS family of eight who’d used their savings to drill a well that turned out to be dry. The Dazey family was packed into a small trailer. They’d obtained a small, portable sawmill and cut logs into lumber. Building their barn/house was a dream come true. One of my friends who worked on the site said, “We were digging a ditch for the septic system. After a few hours, it got to where I started taking pride in the ditch and I thought the straight sides were kind of pretty. I’ve never felt that way about a ditch before.”