Gospel Story Finder

Another Mormon boy was sent east to an officers training school. A new commanding officer came into the camp, and they put on a banquet to honor him. There, by every plate, was a cocktail glass. When the proper time came, every one of those potential officers stood up with his cocktail glass to toast that incoming officer. All but one boy, and he raised a glass of milk. It would take a lot of courage, wouldn’t you think, to stand there with all those officers, and see all of those cocktail glasses come up, and stand and raise a glass of milk!
Well, the officer saw it. He made a beeline for that boy after the entertainment was over, and he said, “Why did you toast me with a glass of milk?”
“Well, officer,” he said, “I’ve never touched liquor in my life. I don’t want to touch it; my parents wouldn’t want me to touch it; and I didn’t think you would want me to either. And I wanted to toast you, so I thought you would be satisfied if I toasted you with what I am accustomed to drinking.”
The officer said, “You report at headquarters in the morning,” and told him what time.
I suppose that boy spent a sleepless night, but when he went into the officer’s quarters the next morning, you know what happened? The officer assigned him a place on his staff with this explanation: “I want to surround myself with men who have the courage to do what they think is right regardless of what anybody else thinks about it.” Isn’t that wonderful! He was an uncommon boy, wasn’t he? I hope you are all uncommon. I hope that if you are ever in a situation like that you will make the proper decision.

Elder Haight’s family and the Church were important to him, even more so after an experience he had while serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II. One night, while flying over the Pacific Ocean on his way from California to Hawaii, he looked out the plane’s window and saw flames coming out of an engine. “It was spewing so much fire that I thought the plane was on fire, which caused me great concern. I wondered about my family, whether I would see them again,” he recalled.

David couldn’t sleep that night, so he prayed. “I made a commitment to the Lord that if I got out of the war alive and back with my family, the Church would always come first in my life. … Before then it seemed to me that I didn’t have my priorities in proper order. That night I reappraised my life and recommitted myself to the Lord.”5

The plane arrived safely, and Elder Haight kept his commitment to the end of his life.

During the period 1959 to 1962, I had the privilege to preside over the Canadian Mission, with headquarters in Toronto, Canada. There Sister Monson and I had the wonderful opportunity of working with 450 of the finest young men and young women in all the world. From that particular experience I should like to relate an experience that came to Sister Monson that had far-reaching significance. One Sunday she was the only person in a usually very busy mission home. The telephone rang, and the person who was on the other end of the line spoke with a Dutch accent and asked the question, “Is this the headquarters of the Mormon Church?” Sister Monson assured her that it was as far as Toronto was concerned, and then she said, “May I help you?” The party on the line said: “Yes. We have come from our native Holland, where we’ve had an opportunity to learn something about the Mormons. We’d like to know more.” Sister Monson, being a good missionary, said, “We can help you.” Then the lovely lady who had called said, “We have chicken pox in our home; and if you could wait until the children are better, we’d love to have the missionaries call.” Sister Monson said that she would arrange this, and that terminated the conversation.
Excitedly she told the two missionaries on our staff, “Here is a golden referral,” and the missionaries agreed. Then, as some missionaries do, they procrastinated calling upon the family. Days became weeks, and the weeks became several. Sister Monson would say, “Are you going to call on that Dutch family tonight, elders?” And they would respond, “Well, we’re too busy tonight, but we’re going to get around to it.” After a few more days Sister Monson would say, “What about my Dutch family? Are you going to call on them tonight?” Again the reply, “Well, we’re too busy tonight, but we’re going to work it into our schedule.” Finally Sister Monson said, “If you aren’t able to call on the Dutch family tonight, my husband and I are going to call on the family,” and the elders replied, “Well, we’ll work it into our schedule tonight.”
And thus they called on a lovely family. They taught them the gospel. Each person in the family became a member of the Church. The family was the Jacob de Jager family. Brother de Jager became the president of an elders quorum. His employer, the gigantic Phillips Company, then transferred him to Mexico, where he served the Church with distinction. Later he became the counselor to several mission presidents in Holland; he then became a Regional Representative of the Twelve; he then became a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, serving as the executive administrator of the work in Southeast Asia.
I ask the question: Was it an important decision that was made on the part of the missionaries to call on the de Jagers? Was it an important decision for Sister Monson to say, “Tonight is the night or else!” Was it an important decision for the de Jagers to telephone mission headquarters in Toronto, Canada, and say, “Could we have the missionaries come to our home?” I bear testimony that these decisions had eternal consequences, not only for the de Jagers, but for many other people as well, for here is a man who can teach the gospel in English, in Dutch, in German, in Spanish, and in Indonesian, and he now is learning to preach the gospel in Chinese. I ask the question, “What will be our faith?”

Every Saturday my bishop works his way down our street edging people’s lawns. What a tremendous image it provides for us to see this good, humble man serving his neighbors in this way. I didn’t ask him to do our lawn. He just showed up one day and did it. At first I was embarrassed to see him working in my front yard. He’s a very busy man with much to do, and I hadn’t edged our lawn since the 1980s. But receiving his service has been a blessing far beyond the appearance of our yard. And the beautiful, straight edge of our lawn is a reminder of a service freely rendered and gladly received.

I remember the first thing that was ever put into my testimony box.

When I was eight years old, I was baptized. I was baptized on my eighth birthday. My dad baptized me. I don’t remember much, but I do remember a few things. I remember how the water pressure made the baptism jumper stick to my body like glue. I remember how diligently I had practiced where I put my hand so that when my dad put his arm out, I wouldn’t fumble but could confidently put my hand out. I had practiced in the bathtub for many weeks holding my breath so that I could stay underwater the whole time. I walked into the font with confidence. I put my hand out for my dad, who lovingly touched it and guided it into place. I was nervous. I remember closing my eyes so that I would be the most reverent I had ever been. The next thing I heard was “Jesus Christ,” and then I was lowered under the water. The water was warm and washed over me.

When I stood up and wiped my eyes, I saw my dad standing next to me. He hugged me. I felt different, and I felt the same. I felt both new and old. But I knew that I just made a promise that made God happy. I was so proud of myself. Soon after, I was given the gift of the Holy Ghost and knew I felt different. This experience was the first thing I put in my testimony box; I feel safe when I follow God’s direction. I feel loved, and I feel whole. Baptism was essential for me.

In a little Mormon town like Whitney, religion was in the very air everyone breathed. It was the center of the community’s existence. “Father and Mother taught their family complete devotion to the Church and full integrity in the payment of their tithes and offerings,” President Benson declares. He often recounts the time when his father had to choose between paying his tithing or a $50 debt. He paid the tithing, and almost immediately received an unexpected offer of $50 for a hay derrick he had built.

Our commitment to the Lord begins with our focus on Him. We were recently in a stake conference in Nauvoo, Illinois. The choir music was exceptional. The director, who is a professional musician and teaches at a local university, was a master at captivating the choir and congregation. Every movement of his body was intrinsically linked to the music. We wanted to sing exactly as he was leading. All eyes were on him. I thought of the Savior. He has challenged us to be as He is. If we would give Him the rapt attention we were giving Brother Nelson, we would quickly be transformed into the Savior’s image.

The transformation as we were singing was momentary. We were where we needed to be, and all had a great desire to follow. If we find ourselves in the places we should be, with the fervent desire to follow the Lord, He will touch our lives and cleanse us that we may live in His presence permanently. There was no coercion by the director to get us to sing, just connection. Real repentance comes with that connection to the Savior. Let us consider our personal prayers and everyday thoughts. We all have work to do to make the connection the Lord requires.

I asked Brother Nelson how he could draw so much out of us. He humbly replied, “Because their hearts are pure.”

“What else?” I asked.
He answered, “It is through the Spirit. That is the only way we can communicate at that level.”

Although I am from Kingsley, Western Australia, I recently spent a year in Thailand as an exchange student, and it was there that I gained an appreciation for the scriptures in my life. Before I went there, if I ever had problems or a decision to make, I would go to my parents for their counsel and advice. Suddenly my parents weren’t there to tell me what to do, and for the first time in my life I was really on my own.
I attended a large girls’ school with 4,000 Thai students. Thailand is a Buddhist country, and about 95 percent of the population are of that faith. Being the foreign guest at the school, I was expected to participate in all of the cultural activities and learning experiences. This meant attending meditation and religious classes with the monks and praying to the large Buddha statue at the front entrance to the school. As every girl walked through the gate she was expected to pay her respect to the Buddha. As she did so, teachers standing beside the statue would inspect her uniform, hairstyle, etc.
The school was very strict, and any girl not paying respect to Buddha would be punished. My teacher informed me of this the first day and told me that even though I was Christian, there was no harm in paying respect to Lord Buddha. The continual use of the phrase “paying respect” made it difficult to decide whether or not I should honor this statue. My Buddhist friends insisted they were not worshipping the statue, but remembering their religious leader and the principles he stood for. I had always been taught to respect the beliefs of others, and by paying respect to the Buddha I would be doing this. All it required was for me to wai the statue. To wai is to put your hands together in a prayer-like gesture in front of your chest and bow your head briefly. I figured that if I did wai but did not pray, it would not be classified as worshipping. So I gave the statue a brief wai every morning as I entered the school gates.
After one week I still felt uneasy doing this, so I decided to seek help from the scriptures. In 1 Corinthians 10:14 [1 Cor. 10:14] I read: “Wherefore, my dearly beloved brethren, flee from idolatry.” And in 1 Jn. 5:21 I read, “Little children, keep yourselves from idols.”
These two very short and simple scriptures gave me immediate inspiration. Though my Buddhist classmates were doing something they considered dignified and right, for me to do it would be wrong. I knew without a doubt that I must not give the impression that I was anything other than a Christian. Even though I had great respect for my classmates, their culture, and their religion, I felt I should not wai to the Buddha.
At first my actions were not looked upon favorably, but my teacher soon realized my devotion to the principles of my own religion. It was difficult to continually explain to people why I was not participating in such activities, as past exchange students had done so and were all “Christians.” I knew I was doing the right thing, however, and I would be blessed for it. It also gave me the opportunity to tell others about my religion.
This was just one of many experiences where I was given direct answers to my prayers through the scriptures. The scriptures are true. They are a source of comfort and inspiration in times of sorrow, depression, or uncertainty. And I have learned to love them.

Basketball season for the Academia Juarez varsity girls began just like any other season: a winning season was their goal. The Church-owned school in Colonia Juárez, Chihuahua, Mexico, is unique in that the majority of the sports programs require the players to travel internationally to play their games. Another interesting fact is that the entire 2010–11 varsity girls’ team, the Lobas, are all active Latter-day Saint young women. They stand out because they are just as united off the court as they are on the court.
And they did have a successful season, winning the majority of their games and taking first place in two tournaments. To end their season, they decided to go to the temple together as a team and do baptisms for the dead. Their coach, Bishop Russell Robinson, made the arrangements. He says, “Never have I seen a group of girls who love each other and love the Lord like these girls do.”
As Colonia Juárez Chihuahua Mexico Temple president Robert Whetten met them at the doors of the temple, he said, “I don’t know of anywhere in the world where a competitive sports team makes coming to the temple a priority to cap off their season. This truly is a great group of young women.”

I recently learned a valuable lesson about seeing deeply from a young woman named Rozlyn.
The story was shared with me by my friend who was devastated when her husband of 20 years moved out. With her children splitting time between parents, the prospect of attending church alone seemed daunting. She recounts:
“In a church where the family is of paramount importance, sitting solo can be painful. That first Sunday I walked in praying no one would speak to me. I was barely holding it together, and tears were on the brink. I sat in my typical spot, hoping no one would notice how empty the bench seemed.
“A young woman in our ward turned and looked at me. I pretended to smile. She smiled back. I could see the concern in her face. I silently pleaded that she wouldn’t come to talk to me—I had nothing positive to say and knew I would cry. I looked back down at my lap and avoided eye contact.
“During the next hour, I noticed her looking back at me occasionally. As soon as the meeting ended, she made a beeline for me. ‘Hi, Rozlyn,’ I whispered. She wrapped me in her arms and said, ‘Sister Smith, I can tell today is a bad day for you. I’m so sorry. I love you.’ As predicted, the tears came as she hugged me again. But as I walked away, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I can do this after all.’
“That sweet 16-year-old young woman, less than half my age, found me every Sunday for the rest of that year to give me a hug and ask, ‘How are you?’ It made such a difference in how I felt about coming to church. The truth is I started to rely on those hugs. Someone noticed me. Someone knew I was there. Someone cared.”
As with all gifts the Father so willingly offers, seeing deeply requires us to ask Him—and then act. Ask to see others as He does—as His true sons and daughters with infinite and divine potential. Then act by loving, serving, and affirming their worth and potential as prompted. As this becomes the pattern of our lives, we will find ourselves becoming “true followers of … Jesus Christ.” Others will be able to trust our hearts with theirs. And in this pattern we will also discover our own true identity and purpose.
My friend recalled another experience while sitting in that same empty pew, alone, wondering if 20 years of effort to live the gospel in her home was all for naught. She needed more than calming reassurance; she needed vision. She felt a question pierce her heart: “Why did you do those things? Did you do them for the reward, the praise of others, or the desired outcome?” She hesitated for a moment, searched her heart, and was then able to answer confidently, “I did them because I love the Savior. And I love His gospel.” The Lord opened her eyes to help her see. This simple but powerful change of vision helped her continue to press on with faith in Christ, despite her circumstances.

I often think of the time President Spencer W. Kimball, a few years ago, called me to the temple. I was busy as an Assistant to the Twelve at that time, and he telephoned me to meet him at the fourth floor of the temple. He said, “David, can you come right now?” And I said, “Yes, President.” And he said, “Right now.” And as I walked to the temple, my heart was beating fast, not knowing, of course, what President Kimball was calling me there for.
But he took me into a room that I hadn’t been in before, and there President Kimball interviewed me regarding my worthiness. And, of course, I was amazed because of his speaking to me that way, because I didn’t have any idea why I was there. And then he motioned for us to stand, and as I was standing with that wonderful man and he’s holding my hands, he said to me, “With all the love that I possess, I’m calling you to fill the vacancy in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.” And when he said that, I thought I would collapse with the shock, the astonishment that came into my mind!
And so, as I had sleepless nights after that call, I mulled that in my mind and I have thought of it time and time again. He did not say, “As the President of the Church” or “As the prophet” or “By my authority.” He said, in that humble, humble way of his, “With all the love that I possess.” He was teaching me that love is essential—the love that the Savior hopes that we will acquire—that we must show, that we must demonstrate, we must feel in our hearts and souls in order to teach the gospel properly.

One day my mother, Linnie P. Gold, related an experience to me that has shaped my life ever since.
She said that after World War II Church members were asked to donate clothing for the destitute people in Germany. My mother was therefore collecting from our drawers and cupboards well-worn discarded clothing that was too good to throw away. Suddenly she heard a voice say, “Is this what you would give to Me?”
“Oh no,” was her immediate cry. And she quickly began gathering the best clothes in the house. As editor of the ward newspaper to be printed the next day, she quickly penned a poetic appeal for clothes. Readers were deeply touched by the appeal and responded in abundance.
I know now why my mother gives so very freely and is always doing things for others. She gives to Him.

When it seems that events conspire to prevent us from going to the temple, we can remember Jesus Christ’s assurance: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). As we persevere and attend the temple despite stumbling blocks, we’ll have the Savior’s help to overcome the world in which we live. One time as my husband and I were preparing to leave for the temple, one problem after another cropped up. Finally, as we were nearly out the door, we had a strained “marital moment.” As the two of us walked silently to the car, we could hear our oldest daughter reassure her sister, “Don’t worry; they always come home happy from the temple.” And she was right!

Let me tell you a story of something that happened in my life in the last few months which illustrates, to a degree, the difficulty men sometimes have in looking for short-run pleasures versus long-run joys. (Sometimes long-run means only a few hours in contrast to the moment.)

This last Thanksgiving there was quite a snowstorm here in Utah. I don’t know how much snow fell in Provo, but there was a lot where I live in Bountiful. I as an individual don’t especially enjoy the snow—particularly when it’s in my driveway. That doesn’t impress me at all. That morning I looked out the window and saw about a foot of snow in our driveway. I gathered up two of my boys, Troy and Travis, who were seven and five, and convinced these boys how happy they were going to be to help their dad shovel all that snow. As you know, that takes some doing, but you can make work fun because that does happen to be one of the real sources of joy: employment, a good job, doing something of worth. I took them outside with me and we shoveled the entire walk.

After we finished we were cold, and I was ready to go in. But I saw a teaching moment, and so I said to these two boys, “I wonder if we shouldn’t go shovel Phil’s walk.” (Phil is our neighbor next door.)

I was pleased as one boy said, “That sounds good, Dad.” The other boy said, “I’m cold.”

I looked again for that moment to teach and said, “I wonder how Phil would feel as he awakened this morning if he opened his door and saw his entire walk all finished.” Then the other boy caught the spirit of it and said, “Well, I think, Dad, that he would really be happy, wouldn’t he?”

I took that as the moment to say, “Well, what do you think, Troy, that Heavenly Father would have us do?”

He said, “Well, I think we had better shovel the walk.” We went over and we shoveled the entire walk. By that time we were tired, and the youngest boy said, “Let’s ring the doorbell now and tell Phil what we’ve done.” He was going for some short-run pleasure, wasn’t he? Again there was a great teaching moment as I was able to say, “No, Travis, I think it would be best if we didn’t tell him and left it a surprise. Heavenly Father likes us to do things anonymously.” I had to tell him what that meant—that we do things without anyone’s knowing that we’re doing them. The next thing I knew my other boy had caught the spirit of it and said, “Well, what about the Jackmans’ walk?” Before we finished that morning we had done three other walks. There was great joy later in the day as we had some phone calls come to the house. These boys saw the joy that comes to the heart of one who was attempting to do good anonymously and thereafter was found out.

Elder Orson Hyde, who became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, wrote:
“I attended the Saints’ meeting in Kirtland, Sunday, October 30, 1831, and offered myself a candidate for baptism, which was administered to me by the hands of Elder Sidney Rigdon; was confirmed and ordained an elder in the Church on the same day under the hands of Joseph Smith, the Prophet, and Sidney Rigdon. Not until about three days after did I receive any internal evidence of the special approbation of Heaven of the course I had taken. When one evening behind the counter, the Spirit of the Lord came upon me in so powerful a manner, that I felt like waiting upon no one, and withdrew in private to enjoy the feast alone. This, to me, was a precious season, long to be remembered” (Millennial Star, 26 [1864]: 761).

This is a net, a fisherman’s net that my father, Kanenori Nishimura, made in Hawaii many years ago. It has been mine since he died thirty years ago, and I have cherished it for his sake. For me, that moment of casting the net is a supremely beautiful one. I loved seeing my father standing on a rocky point on the beach, the net close-gathered in his hands, then with a strong, graceful gesture, like a dancer, flinging the net up and out. It would unfold in flight, opening like a fan or an umbrella, then fall over the fish that were darting like silver arrows through the surf. The lead sinkers around the edge of the net would make it sink gently to the bottom, completely enclosing the fish.

Then my father would jump down into the water and gather the net from the bottom, pulling the outer edges into his hands, until he had scooped it up like a bag. He would walk up on the beach holding the dripping net full of twisting fish in his arms, spread it out, quickly pick out the first for our supper and for the next day—very often a fish or two for several of our neighbors—then release the rest into the sea.

The first story took place during late spring in the Cascade Mountains. Rodney and Micki, my two sons, and I had decided to do some early mountain climbing. We had been climbing through spotty snow fields and clumps of evergreen trees when we heard the unmistakable roar of large boulders bounding down the mountainside. From the noise they were making as they struck trees and undergrowth and ricocheted off larger rocks, we could tell they were headed our way. Barely in time, we jumped behind a large, old snag as the first of several boulders roared by, barely missing our old protective tree. After the roar stopped as a result of the rocks piling into a snowfield, I poked my head out from behind the tree and looked in the direction from which the boulders had come. I soon detected the cause of our problem; looking like several small busy ants, a group of boys were rolling rocks down the mountainside. At first I yelled and waved my coat, and then we all yelled and waved our coats, but to no avail. Was our weekend hiking trip about to come to an early end, or would it be worth the risk to continue climbing while the youths above rolled rocks down the mountain?
How did these three misadventures turn out? In the first story, we yelled many times together without any luck. Then Micki said, “Daddy, I bet if I blew my whistle, they would hear it!” So he did and they did! We were then able to communicate, after which no more rocks were rolled down the mountain, and we were able to continue our climb.

“I’ve never had it easy,” says Dahvana Daneisha Shanika Providence from Saint Vincent.
After attending different schools due to constant changes in her earlier education and having health issues during her secondary education, she felt the need to achieve her dreams.
Having obtained second place on her first pageant, she decided to pursue her dreams in the textile world.
Being persistent in that dream has gotten Dahvana a scholarship in New York to study fashion after winning Miss Venus Model Caribbean 2018.

The Primary children in the Willow Creek First Ward, Sandy Utah Willow Creek Stake, learned about the pioneers when they performed in a play for their ward. They acted out scenes from the building of the Kirtland, Nauvoo, and Salt Lake Temples, and some things that happened in between. It took them all summer to plan and to learn their parts, but on the night of the big pageant, they were ready.
Before the curtain opened, two children dressed as Joseph Smith and Brigham Young stood onstage and talked about building the Kirtland Temple. “The Lord has made it perfectly clear,” Joseph said to the audience. “He has commanded us to build a temple here in Kirtland.”
These early Church members donated their time, talents, and money to follow the Lord’s commandments. “I think they had to sacrifice a lot to build the temple,” says Kyle Esplin, 9, one of the narrators. “I’m paying my tithing now to help build up the Church.” When Kyle pays his tithing, he tries to remember the sacrifices the pioneers made.
The Latter-day Saints lived in Kirtland, Ohio, for eight years before they were forced to leave. They moved soon after they completed and dedicated the Kirtland Temple. When they arrived in Nauvoo, Illinois, they started to build another house of the Lord. Nauvoo became a large, prosperous city, and the people were happy there for some time. But soon they began to be persecuted, so the Nauvoo leaders formed a band of young men called the “whistling and whittling brigade.” The young men in the brigade looked for any suspicious-looking strangers and followed them, whittling sticks and whistling.
Jesse Fackrell, 10, one of the narrators, enjoyed watching the brigade on stage. “I thought it was neat that the boys went around and watched for troublemakers and protected the people,” he says.
Another sacrifice the early Church members in Nauvoo made was donating pennies to the temple fund. “I think they really felt good about giving something up for something else really important. It might have only been a little, but they felt thankful to be able to give their money,” says Mary Garbett, 10. One of Mary’s parts was being a harvester in the fields. In her role, she sold the vegetables she gathered so she could have money to donate to the temple.
Mary and other children in the ward also went to their stake center for the dedication of the new Nauvoo Temple in June 2002. Seeing the dedication helped the children better understand the sacrifices made by the pioneers for the original Nauvoo Temple.
After working hard to build the Nauvoo Temple, the people had to leave it behind after the Prophet Joseph was killed. Mobs forced many of them out of Nauvoo in the dead of winter. Brigham Young led them to a new home in the West.
Though life was very hard for the pioneers, and they really did walk and walk, they also managed to dance and sing during their trek west. The children in the play performed a quilt dance and had a hoedown with real fiddlers to show the audience that the journey was joyful at times. Many of the pioneer children had great adventures on their way to the Salt Lake Valley. They saw buffalo and mountains, and they preferred to walk a lot of the time because riding in the wagon was so bumpy.
Jeffrey Yee, 11, and his younger brother Ryan, 6, performed the parts of James and Joseph Kirkwood. James was one of the young heroes of the pioneer trek. He, his mother, and his three brothers had come from Scotland, and they set out together to cross the plains with their handcart. James took care of his four-year-old brother, Joseph. When Joseph was too tired to walk any farther on Rocky Ridge, James carried him. When they finally got to the camp, James set his little brother down safely by the campfire. James died beside the fire from the cold and exhaustion.
“I think that he was very responsible and brave. His little brother must have been grateful for a brother to look up to,” Jeff says about his character. “Because he was kind to his little brother, he helps me know it’s not nice to make fun of my little brother. He usually needs help because he is so young, so I try to help him.”
Though getting there was difficult, the Saints finally made it to the Salt Lake Valley, where Brigham Young dug his cane into the soil and said, “Here we will build the temple of our God.”
Davis Esplin, 11, learned a lot from performing the part of Brother Brigham. “I have a new respect for Brigham Young because I didn’t know how hard it was to build the temple.”
After dedicating the cornerstone, it took 40 years to complete the Salt Lake Temple. By that time, Wilford Woodruff had become President of the Church. He dedicated the temple on 6 April 1893. There was even a special dedication session for children under eight so that more Primary children could attend.
The Saints spent years building each of the three temples, suffering setbacks along the way. But they never gave up. Why did they do it? Zach Fackrell, 12, says it was because “they had faith and they knew it was important to get it done so they could do what the Lord wanted them to do.” Zach’s brother Jed, 10, says the temple is really important to him because “that’s where you can do baptisms for the dead, and that’s where you can get married so you can live with Heavenly Father again.”
Some children long ago had the right idea. After the Salt Lake Temple was completed, two boys brought their younger brothers to the temple so they could touch the walls. “We want them to know how great the temple is,” one of the older brothers says in the play.
“Yes,” the other boy says, “so they’ll want to go inside when they get big!”
Those children knew the importance of building temples, even though it required so much. They knew that just as they could touch the temple, the Spirit inside the temple could touch them, too. That was why they walked, and walked, and walked. …

In general conference those long years ago, as I related this account, I mentioned that I had lost track of Mrs. Patton but that I wanted to once more answer her question “Will Arthur live again?”
And now, my brothers and sisters, I share with you the rest of this account. I delivered my message on April 6, 1969. Again, I had little or no hope that Mrs. Patton would actually hear the talk. I had no reason to think she would listen to general conference. As I have mentioned, she was not a member of the Church. And then I learned that something akin to a miracle had taken place. Having no idea whatsoever who would be speaking at conference or what subjects they might speak about, Latter-day Saint neighbors of Mrs. Terese Patton in California, where she had moved, invited her to their home to listen to a session of conference with them. She accepted their invitation and thus was listening to the very session where I directed my remarks to her personally.
During the first week of May 1969, to my astonishment and joy, I received a letter postmarked Pomona, California, and dated April 29, 1969. It was from Mrs. Terese Patton. I share with you a part of that letter:
“Dear Tommy,
“I hope you don’t mind my calling you Tommy, as I always think of you that way. I don’t know how to thank you for the comforting talk you gave.
“Arthur was 15 years old when he enlisted in the navy. He was killed one month before his 19th birthday on July 5, 1944.
“It was wonderful of you to think of us. I don’t know how to thank you for your comforting words, both when Arthur died and again in your talk. I have had many questions over the years, and you have answered them. I am now at peace concerning Arthur. … God bless and keep you always.
“Love,
“Terese Patton”15
My brothers and sisters, I do not believe it was a coincidence that I was impressed to give that particular message at the April 1969 general conference. Nor do I believe it was a coincidence that Mrs. Terese Patton was invited by neighbors to join them in their home for that particular session of conference. I am certain our Heavenly Father was mindful of her needs and wanted her to hear the comforting truths of the gospel.