Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of 17 small islands in the South Pacific. One day a member told me that if I would be at a certain harbor on a particular island at sunset the next day, a family would meet me there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! I was working alone at the time but quickly found four members who were experienced sailors and who agreed to take me to this island.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. A nice breeze moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but then the wind began to slow and soon quit, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean. I suggested that we pray. We pleaded with the Lord three times to send some wind, but still the sails hung limp and listless.
I thought, All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t the Lord send it? It’s a righteous desire.
A faithful older brother unlashed the tiny lifeboat and softly said, “Get in. I am going to row you to shore.”
I was astonished. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. He said, “We have an assignment from the Lord. Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen. Get in the boat.”
We got into the boat; the old man bent his back and began to row. He did not look up, rest, or talk. Hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed, fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family who wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun slipped below the horizon, the lifeboat touched shore. A family was waiting. I went to their home and taught them the gospel. The family believed and eventually was baptized.
How often do we quit because we pray for wind and none comes? Instead, we need to listen for the Lord’s answer when we pray and then act upon his answer. On the boat, five men prayed, but only one heard and acted. God gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when we do what He asks.

“I’m bored!” sighed Angie. “Why can’t we play a video game?”
Once again Mother patiently explained. “You know that Dad and I talked about it and decided that you were spending too much time playing those things. You need to get outside and use your imagination.”
Angelina had heard all this before, but what was she supposed to do outside? She was reminded of camping last summer. There was no TV, no computer, no video games. It seemed that her parents expected her to play with pinecones or something.
The doorbell rang, and Robin, one of Angie’s third-grade classmates, bounced in. “Angie, they have a new video game at the arcade. I’m dying to try it! Would your mom take us there?”
“I don’t know, Robin. She’s kind of down on video games right now. But maybe if I ask her while you’re here, she’ll say yes.”
The girls found Mom in the backyard. “Mom,” Angie began tentatively, “would you take Robin and me to the video arcade?”
“No, but I’ll take you to the park on Willow Street on my way to the store.”
“No!” yelled Angie. Then she turned in astonishment as she heard Robin yell, “OK!” at the same time. Angie looked at her friend. “You mean you want to go to the park? What would we do? It’s boring!”
“We can be anything we want there,” Robin explained. “Those orange trees have neat rooms underneath their branches. They could be our fort. Or we could be rich ladies in a fancy apartment, or famous veterinarians looking for rare birds to cure. Use your imagination.”
That word again! Angie didn’t think imagination sounded all that great, but the park would be better than being bored at home.
She thought that the park “fort” could have used a TV, but it was kind of fun imagining you were a famous movie star living in a mansion. Now, how did they walk and talk? Angie wasn’t very good at it, so Robin coached her. She was amazed to discover that three hours passed swiftly, and she and Robin laughed all the way home.
The next Saturday, Mother again refused to take them to the video arcade.
“Then let’s go to the park again,” Angie suggested, remembering the fun they’d had the week before.
“We can’t,” Robin told her. “It’s closed for repairs.”
“Oh, fudgits,” Angie whined, flopping down on her bed. “Another boring day.”
“Come on, Angie. Let’s go collect pop cans. Maybe we can make enough money to buy something fun.”
Several hours later the girls returned with their treasures. They hadn’t made enough money to buy the exotic colored birds they’d looked at in the pet store window, but they’d each purchased a goldfish. Now they were hunting for a large glass container to put them in.
“Let’s name them Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” Robin suggested.
“Or Punch and Judy.”
They finally settled on Hansel and Gretel and vowed that their fish would be best friends forever, just as they were.
The following Saturday, Robin went to visit her grandmother. Angie was dreading the day. Mother was still being unreasonable about video-game playing, and the park wouldn’t be any fun alone. Angie shuffled to their new refrigerator. Same old food, she noticed. Then, turning away, she saw something that made her exclaim aloud, “Wow!”
The refrigerator box was still outside by the trash. She could make a playhouse in the backyard, and when Robin returned, they could play lots of games there! They might even decorate it like a real house and put their fish in it. Hey—this imagination stuff isn’t so hard, after all!
Mother gladly helped Angie find a little table, two chairs, and some curtains for the window they cut out. Angie could hardly wait for Robin to come over. They’d have such fun!
Monday was a holiday, and it was bright and sunny. After rushing through breakfast and chores, the girls met to inspect the new playhouse.
“Angie, this is great!” Robin exclaimed, jumping up and down. “I wish I had a doll so we could play house.”
Angie thought for a second. Her dolls were all china and were locked in a glass case. She never played with them. Then she remembered—there was an old doll in the bottom of the toy chest. But she hadn’t played with it in months, and its hair was a mess, and it had no clothes.
“Robin,” Angie began, “I know a poor, starving orphan with no clothes that we can adopt and take care of.” She ran to find the doll.
“What a great idea, Angie!” Robin said. “You’re beginning to have a terrific imagination.”
“Just wait until you hear what this baby will be when she grows up,” Angie went on. “I have it all figured out.”
At that moment Angie’s older brother, Marco, poked his head in the playhouse window. “Hey, Angie, Mom says that she’ll take us to the video arcade. Come on!”
Angie and Robin looked at each other for a moment, then laughed. “No, thanks, Marco.” Angie told him. “We’d rather stay here and sew clothes for the lost princess of Matagambi.”

His contribution to the Reader’s Digest, where he casts himself as the sailor, reads in part:
“The Right Time at Home:
“One evening in Albany, New York, I asked a sailor what time it was. He pulled out a huge watch and replied, ‘It’s 7:20.’ I knew it was later. ‘Your watch has stopped, hasn’t it?’ I asked.
“‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m still on Mountain Standard Time. I’m from southern Utah. When I joined the Navy, Pa gave me this watch. He said it’d help me remember home.
“‘When my watch says 5 a.m. I know Dad is rollin’ out to milk the cows. And any night when it says 7:30 I know the whole family’s around a well-spread table, and Dad’s thankin’ God for what’s on it and askin’ Him to watch over me … ,’ he concluded. ‘I can find out what time it is where I am easy enough. What I want to know is what time it is in Utah.’”

As I have traveled far and wide throughout the world fulfilling the responsibilities of my calling, I have come to know many things—not the least of which is that sadness and suffering are universal. I cannot begin to measure all of the heartache and sorrow I have witnessed as I have visited with those who are dealing with grief, experiencing illness, facing divorce, struggling with a wayward son or daughter, or suffering the consequences of sin. The list could go on and on, for there are countless problems which can befall us. To single out one example is difficult, and yet whenever I think of challenges, my thoughts turn to Brother Brems, one of my boyhood Sunday School teachers. He was a faithful member of the Church, a man with a heart of gold. He and his wife, Sadie, had eight children, many of whom were the same ages as those in our family.
After Frances and I were married and moved from the ward, we saw Brother and Sister Brems and members of their family at weddings and funerals, as well as at ward reunions.
In 1968, Brother Brems lost his wife, Sadie. Two of his eight children also passed away as the years went by.
One day nearly 13 years ago, Brother Brems’s oldest granddaughter telephoned me. She explained that her grandfather had reached his 105th birthday. She said, “He lives in a small care center but meets with his entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a gospel lesson.” She continued, “This past Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson. He will know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I had not seen him for a while. I could not speak to him, for he had lost his hearing. I could not write a message for him to read, because he had lost his sight. I was told that the family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting. Any message had to be conveyed in this same way. I followed the procedure by taking his finger and spelling T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N, the name by which he had always known me. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands in gratitude. Although he had not heard the blessing we had given him, the Spirit was strong, and I believe he was inspired to know we had provided the blessing which he needed. This sweet man could no longer see. He could no longer hear. He was confined night and day to a small room in a care center. And yet the smile on his face and the words he spoke touched my heart. “Thank you,” he said. “My Heavenly Father has been so good to me.”
Within a week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. Never did he dwell on what he was lacking; rather, he was always deeply grateful for his many blessings.

I grew up in a Latter-day Saint home with loving parents and a sister and brothers whom I adored. I was generally happy, but there were times when I struggled, not knowing who I was and questioning my purpose in life. During my late junior high years I had few friends at school and wondered if anyone really loved me.
One Sunday evening during this time, a youth fireside was held specifically for young women and their fathers. Throughout the meeting I thought about my life. I dreaded the coming week of school and couldn’t find one thing to look forward to. Consumed with my own thoughts, I was only half listening to the fireside speakers. I didn’t even realize the speakers had finished until the congregation began singing the closing song.
The words were familiar, but I had never paid attention to their meaning before. Walk tall, you’re a daughter, a child of God. I straightened up in my seat. I was a daughter of God. Be strong—please remember who you are. Why had I been questioning who I was? The answer was clear in the teachings of the gospel I had learned throughout my life. Try to understand, you’re part of His great plan. I was part of His plan. He had a mission for me if I would but follow His teachings and live righteously. He’s closer than you know—reach up, He’ll take your hand. I had felt alone in the world when all along my Father in Heaven was there beside me, waiting for me to reach up for His hand (see New Era, Jan. 1996, 10–11).
As I sang those words I was comforted by the knowledge that I was important. I was part of Heavenly Father’s plan, and He was by my side, ready and willing to help me every step of the way. I had known this my entire life but had somehow forgotten. The answer I was searching for and the lesson I needed to learn came to me through the words of a song.

Some years ago, Zulma—my wife, my better half, my best part—received some difficult news just two weeks before the wedding of one of our children. She had a tumor in her parotid gland, and it was growing rapidly. Her face began swelling, and she was to immediately undergo a delicate operation. Many thoughts ran through her mind and weighed on her heart. Was the tumor malignant? How would her body recover? Would her face become paralyzed? How intense would the pain be? Would her face be permanently scarred? Would the tumor return once removed? Would she be able to attend the wedding of our son? As she lay in the operating room, she felt broken.
In that very important moment, the Spirit whispered to her that she had to accept the will of the Father. She then decided to place her trust in God. She strongly felt that whatever the result, His will would be the best for her. Soon she drifted into surgical sleep.
Later, she wrote poetically in her diary: “On the surgeon’s table I bowed before Thee, and surrendering to Thy will, I fell asleep. I knew I could trust Thee, knowing that nothing bad can come from Thee.”
She found strength and comfort from surrendering her will to that of the Father. That day, God blessed her greatly.

Dan’s missions fulfilled Joseph Smith’s last recorded prophecy. The night before the Prophet Joseph Smith was killed, he heard gunfire outside the window of Carthage Jail, so he chose to sleep on the floor. Near him was Dan Jones. The Prophet asked Dan if he was afraid to die. He replied, “Has that time come, think you? Engaged in such a cause I do not think that death would have many terrors.” Then Joseph prophesied, “You will yet see Wales, and fulfill the mission appointed you before you die.”2
The Prophet’s promise was fulfilled in 1845, when Dan and his wife, Jane, were called to serve in Wales. Dan used his talent for speaking to teach the gospel with great conviction. He was fluent in Welsh and English, and witnesses recorded that he spoke so captivatingly that he could hold his audience’s attention in either language for hours.
While in Wales, Dan published Latter-day Saint periodicals, tracts, and books in Welsh. Under Dan Jones’s direction, missionaries in Wales established 29 branches and baptized nearly 1,000 people each year of his first mission. He was called on a second mission to Wales in 1852, and despite growing persecution of the Church, some 2,000 people were baptized in four years.
Upon his return to Utah, Dan helped bring many Welsh converts to Utah. When he died at age 51, he had helped bring an estimated 5,000 people to the western United States.

Gradually and painfully Peter became more stable. His arms and legs were tied up to prevent bleeding, and his eyes were bandaged. The doctor explained to him what had happened in the accident: he had dislocated an arm and a leg; had broken three ribs, seven or eight fingers, and his jaw; had received a serious concussion; had lost 50 percent of his skin; and had received first- and second-degree burns over another 40 percent. But Peter had one big question. Since the gas splashed into his eyes, would he ever see again?
I could hear the doctor leaving. He hadn’t answered my big question. I got my arm swinging. I must have caught his attention because he came by me and asked, “What is it, Peter?” I could only say, “My eyes, my eyes, my eyes.” He just squeezed my arm and didn’t answer. He knew what I meant. There was just the unsaid answer that there was no chance I would see again. He started to weep a little, and I could tell that things were very serious.
Peter spent months in the hospital slowly recovering. In fact, he would spend one year as a full-time patient and many more months in and out of the hospital as he underwent dozens of operations. One of the many operations to be performed was to remove the scar tissue from his eyes. Following the operation, while he was in the recovery room, Peter knew that the moment of truth would come that following morning. Then the bandages would be removed and his eyes tested.
Awake and alone in the middle of the night, Peter thought about what was to come.
I couldn’t handle the thought of that scene when my eyes would be uncovered. On the one hand, if I could see, what a grand moment it would be! But on the other hand, what if I were blind? All hope would be gone.
Awkwardly, because his hands were wrapped in bandages, Peter started to remove the wrappings from his eyes. He managed to maneuver a pan from beside the bed onto his chest. His plan was to reflect the light from his overhead bed lamp into his eyes. He flipped the switch, and the light exploded in his eyes. He could see! As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he lifted the shiny, metal pan once more.
There, in all my excitement, was this horrid face. Because my family had been told that I didn’t have a chance to live, they hadn’t told me about some other things. They hadn’t told me that I had lost most of one ear and all my eyelids and all my facial features. My nose was gone; all mymouth was gone. In my excitement to see, I hadn’t thought about what I would see. I couldn’t handle it emotionally. I let out a big yell.
Now faced with new dilemmas, Peter spent all night talking with a sympathetic nurse, asking her about what could be done. What plans had been made? What was going to happen to him once he got out of the hospital? What was it going to be like going to a store? What about going to a dance? What if he wanted to dance with a girl? What if he liked a girl? What if he wanted to give her a kiss? Abruptly, he started to laugh. The nurse, puzzled by this sudden change in emotion, wanted to know what was so funny.
All of a sudden something flashed through my mind. I was reminded of another time when I had looked into a mirror, concerned about the way I looked.
When I was a junior in high school, I had an opportunity to go to the junior-senior prom. This was the first time I had ever worn a tuxedo. It was exciting! I had just turned 16 and had asked a special girl to go with me. It was the first time I was to take a girl out to dinner. I was so concerned I would be late that I started getting my tuxedo on at 2:00 in the afternoon. Just as I was putting on the cummerbund and the bow tie, I noticed something happening on my chin. No, not now! I hurried to the mirror. Right there on the left side was a blemish just starting to appear. I remember how angry I got. Why today? Why not tomorrow? Any day but today! Pictures will be taken. In my attempt to correct the problem, I made it bright red.
When I went to pick up my girl friend, I was so embarrassed at the way I looked that I positioned myself at her front door so that the right side of my face was toward her and the left side faced away. Throughout the dance she kept asking who I was looking at. To top it all off, when we went to the restaurant, I asked to be seated at a large table for 10 so that I could sit on her left side and she wouldn’t be able to see my blemish. I had been so embarrassed by the way I looked then.
Now, here I was in the hospital, remembering how silly and immature I had been about that blemish. Here I was, having fought for my very life, for everything I had. And even though my face didn’t look very good, that didn’t seem so important when I thought of the miracle that had taken place. There really had been no chance that I would see again; yet now I could see! I took a little moment to say a prayer of thanks to my Father in Heaven because he had answered that prayer.

This brings me to my second “ship,” or relationship: courtship. Friendship should play a key role in courtship and marriage. I see friendship as the foundation in the courtship pyramid. A little story will help to illustrate this point.
It is the story of Isaac and Rebecca. This is not the biblical account, however. It is about our daughter Rebecca and her suitor Isaac. Our Rebecca was not persuaded to marry her Isaac nearly as easily as was the Old Testament Rebekah. Nor was she readily willing to give up her lifestyle and immediately leave her family to be part of another’s life.
Our Becky was 21. She had signed up to do a summer internship through Brigham Young University in Mozambique, Africa. She wasn’t sure if she should serve a mission, but she had at least started the paperwork by getting dental and doctor appointments. She was also thinking about applying for a master’s program in her field. In short, she was trying to decide what to do with the next phase of her life. We all wondered which would win out of the three Ms—Mozambique, mission, or master’s.
Meanwhile, Isaac came along in pursuit and soon offered a choice of a fourth M—marriage. He was headed for medical school in a few months, and he did not want to go without Becky. He later told us that he had his own three Ms that he hoped she would choose—marriage, medical school, and eventually motherhood. “If she did not,” he said, “I knew I would be the fourth M—miserable.”
Becky was a woman of the 21st century. The world and its many glamorous opportunities were available to her, and it was hard for her to set aside some of her dreams. What finally won her over were Isaac’s intrinsic goodness and his kindness to her. He did the romantic things too, like sending beautiful bouquets of flowers, taking her on nice dates, and so on.
But those things would not have won her over on their own. What was most winning to her was how he continually put her feelings and her needs above his own. He did little thoughtful things, the kind that one friend would do for another. For example, when he learned that her watch was too big for her wrist, he removed a couple of links from it and made it perfect for her. Another time she found her car spotless and sparkling inside and out because he had washed it, a deed unsolicited by her. Another time she found a little list he had made of ways to improve himself; many of his goals were service oriented. These kindnesses promised an enduring friendship; they expressed qualities of character that would last even when physical beauties eventually faded.
Becky realized that he had the qualities that would endure through good and bad times, the very qualities she would seek out in a good friend. So she did marry Isaac. And now she reflects that she was right about his great strengths being a wonderful asset to their relationship. She feels she is married to her best friend. And this is what marriage should be.

“In one week,” recalls Dave Nielsen, 19, “I contracted Bell’s palsy, I blew out my knee, and two of my friends died. I was feeling really low.” Dave decided to go to the temple. “It was like taking a breather from the trials of life,” he says. “Doing temple work pulled me out of the dark feeling that had come over me. There’s a power in the temple. It helps you see what’s really important in life.”

Illustration by Yevhenia Haidamaka
It was a regular day. I was getting my bike from the bike rack after school when I saw a girl around my age at the other end of the rack. I said, “Hi, my name is Mindy. What’s yours?”
“Hi, Mindy. My name is Madison,” she said. Madison had straight brown hair and dark red glasses. She was sitting next to her bike. As I talked to her, she said a swear word, and I automatically said, “Please don’t say that.”
“OK, I’ll just say, ‘Oh my peanut butter,’ because me and my brother have an obsession with peanut butter,” Madison said.
“That seems OK,” I said.
Somehow our conversation got around to religion. She told me she wasn’t a member of the Church. Madison told me that she lived with her mom and her mom’s boyfriend. Eventually I said, “Would you like a copy of the Friend?”
“What’s the Friend?” she asked, and I told her what it was. The next day I brought her a copy. After she read it, she told me she liked it, and I gave her the New Era. Madison read that, and we continued to meet. She told me that she wants to get baptized.
Someday I’ll give her the Book of Mormon and the Ensign. I hope that Madison will get baptized and, when she’s old enough, go on a mission and get married in the temple.

There are those who are ready now, but there are not enough. I know of one lovely woman who is ready. She had been injured in the accident which took her husband’s life, leaving her a widow for the second time in her young life. She had not fully recovered from the mishap and had a family of young children to raise. Yet she paid tithing on the insurance settlement for her husband’s death. The clerk said to the bishop, “Sister So-and-so needs this money much more than the Church does. Don’t you think we should return it?”
The bishop asked me. I answered his question with a question: “What does Sister So-and-so need more than the blessings that come from paying tithing?” Imagine how the Lord will open the windows of heaven for this young mother because of her faith and devotion.

Prophets have charge for the whole earth, not just for members of the Church. I can report from my own experience how personally and devotedly the First Presidency takes that charge. As needs grow, the First Presidency has charged us to increase our humanitarian outreach in a significant way. They are interested in the largest trends and the smallest details.

Recently, we brought to them one of the protective medical gowns that Beehive Clothing sewed for hospitals to use during the pandemic. As a medical doctor, President Russell M. Nelson was highly interested. He didn’t want to just see it. He wanted to try it on—check the cuffs and the length and the way it tied in the back. He told us later, with emotion in his voice, “When you meet with people on your assignments, thank them for their fasting, their offerings, and their ministering in the name of the Lord.”

Along with the blessings, however, I have known some difficult challenges and heartaches. I am grateful for the lessons learned in these adversities. As a young man, I lived through the Great Depression, when banks failed and so many lost their jobs and homes and went hungry. I was fortunate to have a job at a canning factory that paid 25 cents an hour. That may have been all I was worth! But it helped me get my education. I served three long years in the military in World War II. One time when we were in peril of our ship capsizing in a horrendous storm in the Pacific, I put myself in the Lord’s hands and fervently promised Him that if I survived I would try to serve Him all of the days of my life.
At times I have stumbled and been less than I should have been. All of us experience those wrenching, defining, difficult decisions that move us to a higher level of spirituality. They are the Gethsemanes of our lives that bring with them great pain and anguish. Sometimes they are too sacred to be shared publicly. They are the watershed experiences that help purge us of our unrighteous desires for the things of the world. As the scales of worldliness are taken from our eyes, we see more clearly who we are and what our responsibilities are concerning our divine destiny.
I humbly acknowledge that these many experiences have nurtured a sure knowledge that Jesus is our Savior and Redeemer. I have heard His voice and felt His influence and presence. They have been as a warm, spiritual cloak. The wonder of it is that all who conscientiously strive to keep the commandments and sustain their leaders can receive this same knowledge in some measure. The privilege of serving in the cause of the Master can bring great satisfaction and inner peace.
The united testimonies and faith of the early Church members brought them from Palmyra to Kirtland, and from Nauvoo to the Salt Lake Valley. Eventually that faith will establish this work all over the world. That strength of testimony and faith moves the work of God forward in such a marvelous way. The power of the Lord is in this work, as evidenced in the wonderful happenings of our time.
President Gordon B. Hinckley presides over what is possibly the greatest number of faithful people who have ever lived upon the face of the earth. I testify that he is a truly great prophet. He needs faithful followers. The great strength of this Church comes from our collective and individual testimonies, born of our own trials and faithfulness. The faithfulness of the Saints has permitted this great Conference Center to be built and dedicated in the name of the Lord on this historic day. It is unique in all the world. So wondrous and great are the works of the Lord in our time. As a people, we are not as yet what we ought to be—far from it. However, I hope we will strive harder to become a more righteous people, worthy to continue to receive the blessings of heaven.
The acceleration of temple building in our time has been marvelous. Through the prophetic vision of President Hinckley, we now have many temples that dot many lands on the earth. This remarkable achievement has been made possible because of faithful tithe payers. This in turn has caused the Lord to redeem His promise spoken through Malachi: “And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” All of these exquisite holy edifices are a testimony of our belief that the Savior broke the bonds of death and opened up the way for us to enter into covenants which will be binding in another world.
Like Alma, I can testify, “All things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator.”
In a revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith that I know to be true, the Savior testified of Himself in these words:
“I am the true light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world;
“… I am in the Father, and the Father in me, and the Father and I are one.”
The Lord has promised that “every soul who forsaketh his sins and cometh unto me, and calleth on my name, and obeyeth my voice, and keepeth my commandments, shall see my face and know that I am.”
When I was called to the holy apostleship many years ago, my sure witness prompted me to testify on that occasion in these words: “I understand that a chief requirement for the holy apostleship is to be a personal witness of Jesus as the Christ and the Divine Redeemer. Perhaps on that basis alone, I can qualify. This truth has been made known to me by the unspeakable peace and power of the Spirit of God.”
Since accepting that call many years ago, my certain witness has been greatly magnified. This is because of my undeniable testimony that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.
My greatest desire is to be true and faithful to the end of my days on this earth. That we may all do so, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

President Joseph F. Smith was five years old when his father, Hyrum, was killed in Carthage Jail. Later, Joseph crossed the plains with his widowed mother.
At age 15 he was called on a mission to Hawaii. He felt lost and alone and said: “I was very much oppressed. … I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look [anyone] in the face.”
While pondering his plight one night, young Joseph dreamed he was on a journey, rushing as fast as he possibly could. He carried with him a small bundle. Finally, he came to a wonderful mansion, which was his destination. As he approached, he saw a sign which read, “Bath.” He quickly went in and washed himself. He opened his little bundle and found clean white clothing—“a thing,” he said, “I had not seen for a long time.” He put them on and rushed to the door of the mansion.
“I knocked,” he said, “and the door opened, and the man who stood there was the Prophet Joseph Smith. He looked at me a little reprovingly, and the first words he said [were]: ‘Joseph, you are late.’ Yet I took confidence and said:
“‘Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!’”8

“I don’t want to take piano lessons anymore,” I told my mother. I had been taking lessons for several years and was tired of all the practicing. I was ready to quit. I wasn’t very good anyway. Because I suffer from moderate hearing loss and wear hearing aids, I have never considered myself a person with musical talent. It always took a lot of practice to learn the tune of a song.
My mother didn’t say much but simply told me that I should keep taking lessons until I could play the hymns. After much complaining on my part and much encouragement from my parents, I decided not to quit.
Fast forward several years and thousands of miles to a chapel in the mountains of central Guatemala. As a missionary, I was attending a district conference. I had arrived early and found a piano there, so I sat down and started playing hymns. Most of the wards and branches had small electric keyboards that were hard to play, so I was very excited to play a real piano. I ended up being asked to accompany the congregation for the conference.
What changed my attitude between my younger years and my time as a missionary? I felt the power of the Spirit through music.
While serving a mission, I had many opportunities to use the musical skills that I had learned. I relished the many opportunities to sing and play the piano and played nearly every week in sacrament meeting. I will always remember listening to those faithful Guatemalan members singing the hymns. I taught members new hymns that they weren’t familiar with. I taught some basic piano lessons. My companions and I would sing to the people we were teaching. Even if we sang off-key, the Spirit was always there to touch the hearts of the people.
I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what your talents are; you can still learn to develop musical abilities. I’ll never be a world-class pianist, and many of the members in Guatemala will never be in the Tabernacle Choir. But it didn’t matter. We could still enjoy feeling the Spirit through music. I’m so grateful that my parents encouraged me to keep taking piano lessons, and I’m grateful that I kept practicing.

The children called the Prophet “Brother Joseph,” and he always had a smile for them. Once a group of children were playing in a home where the Prophet was hiding from wicked men who wanted to kill him. They overheard the older people tell of the Prophet’s danger, and one seven-year-old girl said, “I know what we can do. We can pray and ask our Father in heaven to keep Brother Joseph safe from harm.”
A few minutes later the Prophet went past a bedroom door in time to see the children kneeling together and to hear their simple prayer for his safety. Tears filled his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks as the children rose from their knees and one of them said, “I know Brother Joseph will be safe now.”
Then the Prophet returned to the room where his older friends had come to guard him through the night and told them that they could go to their own homes. He said he knew that the prayers of the children would be heard and answered and that he could sleep in peace that night. And he did!

The crowd erupts into cheers as Travis, wearing a classy suit, and Amanda, in a beautiful black dress, link arms at the archway decorated with white lights and streamers. Travis and Amanda, prom king and queen, proudly walk through and take their place on the dance floor, joining the rapidly growing circle of teens. Then another young man and young woman walk through, also joining arms. They are prom king and queen, too. In one big way, this dance is different. Everybody is prom queen and king for the evening.

I picked up my husband’s memoirs and read, once again, his account of finding the Church more than half a century ago:
“As a 20-year-old in 1951, I was at the school of sergeants at the Kronborg Castle [in Denmark]. On Christmas night I was on guard duty on the embankment that surrounds the castle. At one point I stopped, looked up to the stars, and felt that there was more between the sky and the earth than I had thus far thought. In other words, I began to believe that there was a God, which I had never really believed before. My parents were absolutely not religious, and they and I came to church only for baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and funerals.
“When months later I became a sergeant, I got my own troop: 44 new recruits—or more exactly, 43 plus 1. This one was very different, and when I asked him what it was that made him different from the others, he said he would tell me in the evening inside my quarters.
“There he told me about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for five evenings in a row. On the sixth day, Sunday, I went to church. And with that my new life began.
“The Church involved me completely. Little by little I became acquainted with the members of the Church. I found out that my recruit was not so much different than the overall membership.
“I became convinced that the Church was true, that it was the Lord’s Church—and I was baptized. A truly magnificent day.”
I am grateful that my husband, Orla, who died in 1998, included these words in his personal history. That long-ago Christmas night, when my husband first sensed that God truly did exist, and his conversations with the new recruit are responsible for our meeting each other, being sealed in the temple, and having five children—who have now brought grandchildren and great-grandchildren into our family. We have had a rich life in the Church and many blessings. I am grateful for that Christmas night and for the new recruit in Denmark those many years ago.

Early in my professional life, Sister Homer and I were asked to accept a change in job assignment. At the time, it seemed to us a huge decision. We studied, we fasted, and we prayed, but an answer was slow to come. Eventually, we made a decision and pressed forward. As we did, we felt settled and soon learned that it was one of the best decisions we had ever made.
As a result, we have learned that answers are sometimes slow to come. This can be because it is not the right time, because an answer is not needed, or because God trusts us to make the decision ourselves. Elder Richard G. Scott once taught that we should be grateful for such times and made this promise: “When you are living worthily and your choice is consistent with the Savior’s teachings and you need to act, proceed with trust. … God will not let you proceed too far without a warning impression if you have made the wrong decision.”