Gospel Story Finder

On the day that Robin and I were sealed together, in the Salt Lake City temple, I awoke with a fever that tipped the thermometer at 104 degrees. Physically, I felt terrible. Emotionally, I was on cloud nine. The most beautiful girl in my world had agreed to be sealed to me and I was not going to let a fever, or how I felt physically, keep me from that temple appointment.

At the time we were married, it was not uncommon to have couples kneel at the altar while the sealer delivered counsel prior to performing the actual sealing ceremony. On our special day, I don’t know how long we had been kneeling at the altar, but it was long enough for me to know that I was not going to make it through his instruction in an upright position. As the room around me began to spin, I could hear my father say, “catch him, he’s going . . .,” and then I lost consciousness.

When I came to, I was lying on the floor, with a group of concerned faces hovering over me. To my horror, I realized that I was not just lightheaded, but sick to my stomach. My father, seeing what was happening, told me to stop trying to hold it in and that I needed to let it go. But I was determined not to be sick, in that way, in the temple. In that moment, my brother ran over to my mother, grabbed her purse, emptied it into her lap, and ran it over to me. I was forever grateful for that kind act and for the sacrifice of my mother. As I regained strength and got to where I could sit in a chair, I began to search the room for Robin. She was still kneeling at the altar, and she was quickly turning as white as her beautiful dress. Before I could get any words out of my mouth, she slipped to the floor. The heat, the kneeling, the situation, all collided together causing her, too, to pass out.

Well, we did get sealed that day. I did regain my health. And we have now been married for almost 44 years. Our wedding day was not what either of us thought it would be. But we came to appreciate from a very real experience that it was not the dress or the tuxedo that mattered. It was not the flowers, the cake, or the reception hall that made the wedding day special. It was that on that day, as messy as it was for us, we received the sacred sealing ordinance binding us together for eternity. We were able to show our Heavenly Father that we knew what it meant to love another, besides Him, with all our heart. And I think He smiled. It brings joy to Him when we learn how to choose Him and to love others. Perhaps especially, the one we give ourselves to in the temple.

A few months ago, I was browsing through the Church Media Library and saw a link to a collection of short videos called Restoration Conversations with President Russell M. Nelson. The title of one of the short videos in the list caught my attention and made me smile. It is called “Scriptures Are God’s Recipes for Happy Living.” I immediately clicked on that two-minute video and watched President Nelson teach a group of Primary kids a simple and powerful message about how to be happy. He taught: “If you’re making a cake, you follow the directions, don’t you? And you’ll get a good result every time, won’t you?”
He continued, speaking about turning 95 years old soon: “People say, ‘What do you eat? What’s your secret?’” He replied, “The secret’s called the scriptures. You might read them and try them.”
Well, there we have it. The simple secret for happy living is to just follow God’s recipe as detailed in the scriptures. I call it the “Good News Recipe.”
What do you do if something goes wrong when following the recipe? Well, embedded in the Good News Recipe is the “secret ingredient” to ensure you always get it right in the end. The answer is always Jesus Christ.
I think we all have moments when we feel our ingredients are not good enough, or we struggle to follow the directions, or perhaps we do something out of order, or something happens that is out of our control, and so on.
What’s the remedy? It’s simply to add more of what invites Jesus Christ into your life.
So, what might it look like to add more Jesus Christ into your life?
While serving as mission president, I had the pleasure of meeting personally with each of our young missionaries every six weeks. During the one-on-one meeting, it was common for missionaries to seek guidance on how to improve the effectiveness of their companionships.
On one occasion, a missionary came into his personal interview and sat down. I could tell from his body language that something was weighing heavily on his mind. I asked, “Elder, what would you like to discuss today?” He went on to describe some of the challenges he was having with his companion and how it was affecting their ability to do missionary work. With tears in his eyes, he looked at me and asked, “President, what should I do?”
In that instance, I honestly didn’t know how to respond. After a brief moment, I asked him if it was OK for us to kneel together in prayer for guidance from the Spirit. He agreed, and we knelt together and prayed for inspiration.
After the prayer, we continued kneeling for a short time and then sat in our chairs facing each other. I asked if we could read a scripture together. As we opened our scriptures, I paused and told him, “Elder, as we read this scripture, please ask yourself the following question: If I live these attributes, will it improve my companionship and our missionary work?”
Then we opened Moroni 7:45 and read out loud: “And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”
The elder then looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Yes, President, but that is hard to do.” I agreed and reminded him that he is a son of God with divine potential to do it together with the Lord.
Then we briefly discussed the parable of the slope taught by Elder Clark G. Gilbert of the Seventy, which reminded us that we need to start where we are and, together with the Lord, move forward and upward in a positive direction. I could tell that he was still feeling a bit overwhelmed with the next steps, so I asked him to describe his understanding of the scripture “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.” He went on to describe the concept that by doing small and simple things, great things can happen. I asked him to take a minute and identify two small and simple things he could do to be kind to his companion.
After a few moments, he shared his thoughts. Then I asked him to take a minute and identify two small and simple things he could do to be patient with his companion. He almost immediately shared his two thoughts. It was clear that he had already been pondering this before our meeting. I invited him to take those few items to God in prayer and to ask for confirmation, direction, and inspiration on how to execute his plan with real intent. He agreed. As we concluded, I asked him to provide a brief update in his weekly letter.
As the next few weeks went by, I could see in his weekly letters that things were improving. Not only could I see that improvement in his weekly letters, but I could also see it in the weekly letters of his companion. During our next in-person interview, I saw a night-and-day difference in his countenance and spirit. I asked him, “So, Elder, is it true that ‘charity never faileth?’” He responded with a big smile, “Yes, and by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.”
As you follow the Good News Recipe for happy living, remember President Nelson’s teaching: “Whatever questions or problems you have, the answer is always found in the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. Learn more about His Atonement, His love, His mercy, His doctrine, and His restored gospel of healing and progression. Turn to Him! Follow Him!”
When you need to “hear Him” and know how to invite Jesus Christ into your life, consider following the steps President Nelson taught us about personal revelation:
“Find a quiet place where you can regularly go. Humble yourself before God. Pour out your heart to your Heavenly Father. Turn to Him for answers and for comfort.
“Pray in the name of Jesus Christ about your concerns, your fears, your weaknesses—yes, the very longings of your heart. And then listen! Write the thoughts that come to your mind. Record your feelings and follow through with actions that you are prompted to take. As you repeat this process day after day, month after month, year after year, you will ‘grow into the principle of revelation.’”
I testify that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer. He has “accomplished everything we need to be able to return to [our] Heavenly Father.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

C. S. Lewis wrote The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, a fantasy story for children. The story refers to Eustace, who hides in a dead dragon's cave to escape a sudden downpour. The dragon's treasure arouses his greed. He fills his pockets with gold and jewels, but as he sleeps, he is transformed into a dragon. As a dragon, he becomes aware of how bad his previous behavior was. He attempts to shed his dragon skin without success. It is only with the help of Aslan, the lion, who actually pulls off the thick, dark, knobbly-looking dragon skin, that he is able to become human again, though the process is painful.
Eustace says, "The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.... And there was I--smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been."

Picture this: You sit down to dinner and look around. Gasp! You’re alone at a table with a half dozen of your past and present school teachers. Sitting next to you is Mr. Randal, your fourth period science teacher, and he’s staring right at you. He wants to chat.
Cringing already? Hey, I am, and they aren’t even my teachers.
There’s just something about teachers that makes most of us nervous (even those of us who no longer have to face their pop quizzes and long-essay finals). In fact, they make us so uneasy that the majority of us go through our junior and senior high years without ever getting to know what our teachers are really like, and most of us never even get to say thank you for all they do.
Two groups of LDS youth in the Boston area are doing something to fix that problem. It’s June 1990, and these New England LDS students are inviting their school teachers to “Appreciation Nights” at their local ward houses. The youth are spending an evening eating with, getting to know, and then saluting their teachers. They hope the time together will straighten out some long-standing misconceptions.
The youth of Nashua, New Hampshire, invite me to watch them set up for the following evening’s teacher appreciation dinner, which sounds about as exciting as watching 18 holes of TV golf. But I put some thought into it: a group of kids who would give up a night of summer fun to set up tables and cook for their teachers can’t be all bad.
I’m right.
Dave Eberhard, 17, a tall guy wearing a little black hat that seems too small for his head, says he’s the master of ceremonies for the big night. He looks like he might be a wise guy, but talk to him for a minute and you’ll find he’s articulate and bright—full of positive energy.
He says this is Nashua’s second year in hosting an appreciation night. “Last year’s dinner changed my relationship with my teachers,” he says. “They had always seen me as a class clown, but after they saw I appreciated them they began to notice how hard I really was trying. They looked at me from a different perspective.”
Dave adds that he learned more about his teachers as well. “I found out more about what really goes on after they get out of school. It’s a one-on-one relationship, and it’s not really school related or church related. It’s just you and the teachers out on the night.”
And according to Dave, the teachers loved the attention. “Some actually cried,” he says.
Elizabeth Davis, 16, sits on the front porch of her Pepperell, Massachusetts, home, her blue-rimmed glasses and baggy sweatshirt set against an old New England backdrop—1990 meets 1790. Elizabeth is talking about teachers. She has definite opinions. She loves her teachers, enough to help organize her ward’s own teacher appreciation night.
“Teachers don’t get a lot of respect,” she says. “That really annoys me. Most of my friends don’t think of teachers as people who are there to help them learn so they can get a good job, do something with their lives. The kids can be really mean.”
But Elizabeth says most of her teachers will go out of their way to help a student in need. She says that one of her teachers goes to a student’s house if that student is sick, to teach the day’s lesson (another scary thought, but kind of nice).
“All I hope is that after this night our teachers say, ‘Wow, our students really think of us.’”
It’s Tuesday night in Nashua. Sixty teachers and their spouses begin arriving at the appreciation night. They’re talking with their students, and the youth are relaxing.
I stop 14-year-old Cyndie Munk and ask her how it’s going. Three or four of her teachers are already here. “The teachers are just so impressed that we want to honor them,” she says, grinning. She sees her vice principal walk in and waves in his direction. “He never gets to do anything,” she tells me. “I gave him his invitation and told him what it was for and he absolutely beamed. Every time I saw him around school he just started smiling, asking if he was still supposed to come.”
The meal is served and Dave, the MC, sits with one of his teachers—Mrs. Rogers. Dave looks uncomfortable, but he gets over it. They chat. It’s fun to watch.
After the meal the bishop gives a “rah-rah” education speech and then the youth hand out certificates of appreciation to their teachers. My hometown newspaper would have written, “And a good time was had by all.”
The teachers are filing out and Cyndie sums up the Nashua evening for me. “My teachers said they’ve never had anyone do anything like this for them,” she says. “But I think they work hard. They give up a lot of their own time for us. I think they deserved this.”
“Two years ago I wouldn’t have done this, invited my teachers,” Jason Hunter, 16, tells me at the Pepperell dinner on Friday. Two of his teachers are here. “I’ve learned some things, though. If I am responsible, if I get my homework done, my teachers treat me differently. I’m sure that if I were a teacher and had a student who wasn’t trying, I’d get mad. The past two years I’ve made an effort in class, and now I think my teachers like me. I make the extra effort to think of them, to say good-bye when class is over, or tell them when I’m interested in something.”
Jason’s friend, Mike Bruneau, joins him. Mike’s 15 and feels lucky to be one of eight LDS students in a high school of 1,200—many of the youth in this area are the only member in their school. Mike says he tries to set an example, do the right things at school, and show respect for his teachers.
“I invited my French teacher, who gave me a lot of help earlier this year,” Mike says. “She just kept saying, ‘Thank you, thank you,’ when I gave her the invitation. I think it really touched her to see that someone cared about the good job she was doing.”
The Pepperell youth take a different approach than at Nashua. The students choose to entertain their teachers with a play and music before they hand out certificates. The play, a comedy about a class who is given a robot teacher to substitute for a human teacher, is a big hit. “Super Teacher,” written by Rebecah Davis, 15, illustrates that for the students, there is no substitute for the individual technique, enthusiasm, and humor of their teachers.
Rebecah says that most of the kids in her ward were skeptical of the appreciation night idea, but the teachers were so excited when they received their invitations that the youth lost their anxiety. “We couldn’t believe how excited our teachers were,” she adds. “Nobody had ever done anything like this for them before.”
“This is what it’s all about,” one teacher says to me, leaning close like he’s sharing a secret. “Knowing that you made enough of a difference for someone to say thank you.”
He returns to a group of other teachers who are standing around, talking with their students. They are laughing about something I can’t hear, but I don’t move closer. There’s something happening there, something kind of nice.
Hints from the New England youth on hosting successful teacher appreciation nights:
Hold the event at a time of year when both teachers and students are not very busy. (Christmas or the end of the school year can be bad times.)
Get the support of your leaders and bishopric before organizing anything. They should have some good ideas, or at least be able to help with the planning.
Invite all your teachers, not just your favorites. If word gets around (and it probably will) that you didn’t invite certain teachers, their feelings could be hurt.
Eating with your teachers, instead of serving them, is a nice way to get to know each other.
Make your program short and focused on the goal of honoring your teachers. (Make them laugh or cry, but stick to the theme.)
Give your teachers a certificate or some other memento of the evening.

As a deacon I felt keenly that need. I lived in a tiny branch of the Church in New Jersey, on the East Coast of the United States. I was the only deacon in the branch—not just the only one attending but the only one on the records. My older brother, Ted, was the only teacher. He is here tonight.
While I was still a deacon, my family moved to Utah. There I found three wonderful things in place to speed my growth in the priesthood. The first was a president who knew how to sit in council with the members of his quorum. The second was great faith in Jesus Christ that led to the great love we have heard of—love for each other. And the third was a shared conviction that our overarching priesthood purpose was to labor for the salvation of men.
It wasn’t the well-established ward that made the difference. What was there in that ward could be anywhere, in whatever unit of the Church you are in.
These three things may be so much a part of your experience in the priesthood that you hardly notice them. For others, you may not feel the need for growth, so these helps may be invisible to you. Either way, I pray that the Spirit will help me make them clear and attractive to you.
My purpose in speaking of these three aids to growing in the priesthood is to urge you to value them and to use them. If you do, your service will be transformed for the better. And if it is magnified, your priesthood service will bless Heavenly Father’s children more than you can now imagine is possible.
I found the first when I was welcomed into a priests quorum, with the bishop as our president. That may seem a small, unremarkable thing to you, but it gave me a sense of power in the priesthood that has changed my service in the priesthood ever since. It began by the way he led us.
As near as I could tell, he treated the opinions of young priests as if we were the wisest men in the world. He waited until all who would speak had spoken. He listened. And when he decided what should be done, it seemed to me that the Spirit confirmed the decisions to us and to him.
I realize now I had felt what the scripture means when it says that the president is to sit in council with the members of his quorum. And years later as I was a bishop with my priests quorum, both they and I were taught by what I had learned as a young priest.
Twenty years later as a bishop, I had the opportunity to see the effectiveness of a council not just in the meetinghouse but also in the mountains. During a Saturday activity, a member of our quorum had been lost in the forest overnight. As far as we knew, he was alone and without warm clothes, food, or shelter. We searched for him without success.
My memory is that we prayed together, the priests quorum and I, and I then asked each to speak. I listened intently, and it seemed to me that they did too, to each other. After a while, a feeling of peace settled on us. I felt that our lost quorum member was safe and dry somewhere.
It became clear to me what the quorum was to do and not to do. When the people who found him described the place in the woods where he had gone for safety, I felt that I recognized it. But the larger miracle for me was to see a united priesthood council’s faith in Jesus Christ bringing revelation to the man with the priesthood keys. We all grew that day in the power of the priesthood.
The second key to increased learning is to have love for each other that comes from great faith. I am not sure which comes first, but both always seem to be there whenever there is great and rapid learning in the priesthood. Joseph Smith taught that to us by example.
In the early days of the Church in this dispensation, he received a command from God to build strength in the priesthood. He was directed to create schools for priesthood holders. The Lord set the requirement that there be love for each other among those who were to teach and to be taught. Here are the words of the Lord about creating a place of priesthood learning and what it was like for those who were to learn in it:
“Organize yourselves; … establish a house … of learning, … a house of order. …
“Appoint among yourselves a teacher, and let not all be spokesmen at once; but let one speak at a time and let all listen unto his sayings, that when all have spoken that all may be edified of all, and that every man may have an equal privilege.”
The Lord is describing what we have already seen is the strength of a priesthood council or a class to bring revelation by the Spirit. Revelation is the only way we can come to know that Jesus is the Christ. That great faith is the first rung on the ladder we climb to learn the principles of the gospel.
In section 88 of the Doctrine and Covenants, in verses 123 and 124, the Lord stressed love for each other and not finding fault with each other. Each gained entry into the priesthood school established by the Lord’s prophet by making a covenant with uplifted hands to be a “friend and brother … in the bonds of love.”
Now, we do not follow that practice today, but wherever I have seen remarkable learning in the priesthood, there are those bonds of love. Again I have seen it as both a cause and an effect of learning gospel truths. Love invites the Holy Ghost to be present to confirm truth. And the joy of learning divine truths creates love in the hearts of people who shared the experience of learning.
The reverse is true as well. Discord or jealousy inhibits the ability of the Holy Ghost to teach us and inhibits our ability to receive light and truth. And the feelings of disappointment that invariably follow are the seeds of greater discord and faultfinding among those who expected a learning experience that did not come.
The priesthood holders who learn well together always seem to me to have great peacemakers among them. You see peacemaking in priesthood classes and in councils. It is the gift to help people find common ground when others are seeing differences. It is the peacemaker’s gift to help people see that what someone else said was a contribution rather than a correction.
With enough of the pure love of Christ and a desire to be peacemakers, unity is possible in priesthood councils and in classes. It takes patience and humility, but I have seen it happen even when issues are difficult and the people in councils or classes come from vastly different backgrounds.
It is possible to rise to the lofty standard set by the Lord for priesthood holders in making decisions in quorums. It is possible when there is great faith and love and the absence of contention. Here is the Lord’s requirement for His endorsement of our decisions: “And every decision made by either of these quorums must be by the unanimous voice of the same; that is, every member in each quorum must be agreed to its decisions, in order to make their decisions of the same power or validity one with the other.”
The third aid to learning in the priesthood comes with a shared conviction about why the Lord blesses and trusts us to hold and to exercise His priesthood. It is to labor for the salvation of men. This shared conviction brings unity in quorums. We can begin to learn about this from the scriptural account of how we spirit sons were prepared before birth for this rare honor of holding the priesthood.
Concerning those given great priesthood trust in this life, the Lord revealed that “even before they were born, they, with many others, received their first lessons in the world of spirits and were prepared to come forth in the due time of the Lord to labor in his vineyard for the salvation of the souls of men.”
In the priesthood we share the sacred duty to labor for the souls of men. We must do more than learn that this is our duty. It must go down into our hearts so deeply that neither the many demands on our efforts in the bloom of life nor the trials that come with age can turn us from that purpose.
Not long ago I visited a high priest in his home. He is no longer able to come to our quorum meetings. He lives alone. His beautiful wife died, and his children live far away from him. Time and illness limit his ability to serve. He still lifts weights to keep what he can of his once-powerful strength.
When I walked into his home, he stood up from his walker to greet me. He invited me to sit in a chair near him. We talked of our happy associations in the priesthood.
Then with great intensity he said to me, “Why am I still living? Why am I still here? I can’t do anything.”
I told him that he was doing something for me. He was lifting me with his faith and his love. Even in our short visit, he made me want to be better. His example of determination to do something that mattered had inspired me to try harder to serve others and the Lord.
But from the sad sound of his voice and the look in his eyes, I could sense that I had not answered his questions. He still wondered why God let him live with such limitations on his ability to serve.
In his usual generous way, he thanked me for coming to see him. As I got up to leave, the nurse who comes to his home a few hours every day walked in from another room. During our private conversation, he had told me a little about her. He said she was wonderful. She had lived among the Latter-day Saints most of her life but was still not a member.
She walked up to show me to the door. He motioned toward her and said with a smile, “See, I can’t seem to do anything. I have been trying to get her baptized into the Church, but it hasn’t worked.” She smiled back at him and at me. I walked outside and turned toward my home nearby.
I realized then that the answers to his questions were planted long ago in his heart. That valiant high priest was trying to do his duty, taught to him through decades in the priesthood.
He knew that the only way that young woman could have the blessing of salvation through the gospel of Jesus Christ was to make a covenant by being baptized. He had been taught according to the covenants by every president of every quorum from the deacons to the high priests.
He remembered and felt his own oath and covenant in the priesthood. He was still keeping it.
He was a witness and a missionary for the Savior wherever life would take him. It was already in his heart. The desire of his heart was that her heart could be changed through the Atonement of Jesus Christ by keeping sacred covenants.
His time in the school of the priesthood in this life will be relatively brief compared to eternity. But even in that short span, he has mastered the eternal curriculum. He will carry with him, wherever the Lord will call, priesthood lessons of eternal worth.
Not only should you be eager to learn your priesthood lessons in this life, but you should be optimistic about what is possible. A few of us may limit in our minds our possibilities to learn what the Lord sets before us in His service.
One young man left his little Welsh village in the early 1840s, heard the Apostles of God, and came into the kingdom of God on earth. He sailed with the Saints to America and drove a wagon west across the plains. He was in the next company after Brigham Young coming into this valley. His priesthood service included clearing and breaking ground for a farm.
He sold the farm for pennies on the dollar to go on a mission for the Lord in the deserts of what is now Nevada to take care of sheep. He was called from that to another mission across the ocean in the very village he had left in his poverty to follow the Lord.
Through it all, he found a way to learn with his priesthood brethren. Bold missionary that he was, he walked down the lane in Wales to the summer estate of a man who was four times the prime minister of England to offer him the gospel of Jesus Christ.
The great man let him into his mansion. He was a graduate of Eton College and of Oxford University. The missionary talked with him about the origins of man, the central role of Jesus Christ in the history of the world, and even the fate of nations.
At the end of their discussion, the host declined the offer to accept baptism. But as they parted, that leader of one of the great empires of the world asked the humble missionary, “Where did you get your education?” His answer: “In the priesthood of God.”
You may have thought at one time how much better your life would have been if only you had been admitted to study in some fine school. I pray that you will see the greatness of God’s love for you and of the opportunity He has given you to enter His priesthood school.
If you will be diligent and obedient in the priesthood, treasures of spiritual knowledge will be poured out upon you. You will grow in your power to resist evil and to proclaim the truth that leads to salvation. You will find joy in the happiness of those you lead toward exaltation. Your family will become a place of learning.
I testify that the keys of the priesthood have been restored. President Thomas S. Monson holds and exercises those keys. God lives and knows you perfectly. Jesus Christ lives. You were chosen for the honor of holding the sacred priesthood. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Kathryn Marrett of the Camp Hill Ward, Brisbane Australia Stake, discovered the power of storytelling. “As a mum with small children, I found it a challenge to keep them interested in family home evening,” writes Sister Marrett. “After praying for inspiration, I decided to focus on a different value every month. I chose honesty as the first topic. Soon ideas began to flow, and the children and I began making up stories together about honesty. We made up imaginary children and used them in every story. It was fun to create different situations and explore the results of good and bad choices.
“Now when something needs to be dealt with, such as a bike left in the rain or bad language, we talk about the appropriate value and make up stories featuring the same imaginary children. Of course, these stories are only one way we teach good values. The scriptures and other Church materials provide the foundation for our gospel teachings.”

(Bill) Magnify our Callings President Gordon B. Hinckley declared that every new member of the Church needs three things: a friend, a responsibility, and constant nourishment “by the good word of God” (Moroni 6:4).
We were given a responsibility, a calling, when we first joined the church and we have continued to have opportunities to serve ever since. In fact, we still remember our very first calling as co-editors of the ward newsletter, a calling in which we served shortly after our baptism.
Soon after joining the church, we also participated in a request that each member of the church submit pedigree charts listing four generations of their ancestors. We were impressed how many life-long members had generations going back 5, 6, 8 or even more! As new and the only members in our family, it was a challenge for us to complete even four generations on ours.
Struggling to find her ancestors, you can imagine Dianna’s surprise when the bishop called her to be the ward family history consultant. Except for that exercise, she had little experience in compiling family history information. Though her background was limited, yet she was expected to help others, and herself included, to know how to do the research for locating ancestors and to prepare names for the temple.
However, we learned that many blessings come from serving in Church callings to those who walk with faith to fulfill callings for which they feel unqualified, even discovering new talents while prayerfully going about fulfilling their calling.
From that calling has come growth, and a continuing passion to research her family history and she has been teaching family history on campus for the past 12 years. Later we were also called to serve as the directors of the Laie Family History Center. Family history has become a real avocation for us. In fact, maybe perhaps too much in our children’s minds, since most of our family trips included visits to libraries and cemeteries. Consequently, they now request pictures of the living along with our pictures of burial plots when we return from one of our trips!

My wife and I had our first daughter at BYU, and we decided that we would both continue to go to school. . . . And I don’t know if we could have done that at many other schools, but I remember a couple of examples of how BYU helped us. I guess it positively contributed to our family. We had tried to work out schedules so . . . one of us would watch our daughter while the other one was in class. There were a couple of times when that didn’t work out. One time my wife had to take a quiz, but she had to have our daughter with her. And our daughter was one month old. Our baby started crying during the middle of that Russian quiz. The teacher went over, picked our daughter up, took her outside, and rocked her to sleep. Anyway, this teacher is one of the most world-renowned guys as far as Russian studies go . . . , and I cannot get that out of my mind, thinking that he was taking care of my daughter so my wife could learn. I think he really had the good picture, realizing that family and education don’t have to conflict with each other—they can help each other.

I was in my fifth year of studying humanities when I received a lesson about the worth of an example. Every time our teacher entered the classroom, he found a picture of himself—drawn by some of my classmates—on the blackboard. And every time, the professor would ask us to wipe away the drawing. However, he never said anything else about it.
I was very impressed with our professor’s wise and humble way of being, and I became curious about which church he belonged to. I found out that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I decided to receive the missionary discussions, and I was baptized on September 10, 2000. The man who had shown me an example through his way of living turned out to be my branch president.

Few feelings compare with the tender emotions of becoming a parent. There is nothing sweeter than receiving a precious baby, direct from heaven. One of my brothers experienced this feeling in an especially poignant way. His first little son was born prematurely and weighed only 2 pounds 14 ounces (1.3 kg). Hunter spent his first two months of life in the neonatal intensive care unit of the hospital. Those months were a tender time for all the family as we hoped and petitioned the Lord for His help.
Little Hunter was so dependent. He struggled to gain the strength necessary to live. The strong hand of his loving father often reached for his son’s tiny hand to encourage his vulnerable little child.
And so it is for all of God’s children. Our Father in Heaven reaches out for each of us with His infinite love. He has power over all things and desires to help us learn, grow, and return to Him. This defines our Father’s purpose: “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
As we develop greater faith and trust in the Lord, we can access His power to bless and deliver us.
The Book of Mormon weaves this beautiful theme of the Lord’s power to deliver His children throughout its pages. Nephi introduced it in the very first chapter of the book. In verse 20, we read, “Behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance.”
Many years ago I came to know in a very personal way the truths expressed in this verse. I came to know just how near our Father in Heaven really is and just how much He desires to help us.
One evening as night was falling, I was driving with my children when I noticed a boy walking along a lonely road. After passing him, I had a distinct impression I should go back and help him. But worried it could frighten him to have a stranger pull up beside him at night, I continued driving. The strong impression came again with the words in my mind: “Go help that boy!”
I drove back to him and asked, “Do you need some help? I had a feeling I should help you.”
He turned toward us and with tears streaming down his cheeks said, “Would you? I’ve been praying someone would help me.”
His prayer for help was answered with the inspiration that came to me. This experience of receiving such clear direction from the Spirit left an unforgettable imprint that is still in my heart.
And now after 25 years and through a tender mercy, I connected again with this boy for the first time just a few months ago. I discovered that the experience isn’t just my story—it is his story too. Deric Nance is now a father with a family of his own. He too has never forgotten this experience. It helped us lay a foundation of faith that God hears and answers our prayers. Both of us have used it to teach our children that God is watching over us. We are not alone.
On that night, Deric had stayed after school for an activity and had missed the last bus. As a young teenager, he felt confident he could make it home, so he started walking.
An hour and a half had passed as he walked the lonely road. Still miles from home and with no houses in sight, he was scared. In despair, he walked behind a pile of gravel, got on his knees, and asked Heavenly Father for help. Just minutes after Deric returned to the road, I stopped to provide the help he prayed for.
And now these many years later, Deric reflects: “The Lord was mindful of me, a skinny, shortsighted boy. And despite everything else going on in the world, He was aware of my situation and loved me enough to send help. The Lord has answered my prayers many times since that abandoned roadside. His answers aren’t always as immediate and clear, but His awareness of me is just as evident today as it was that lonely night. Whenever the dark shadows of life blanket my world, I know He always has a plan to see me safely home again.”
As Deric expressed, not every prayer is answered so quickly. But truly our Father knows us and hears the pleadings of our hearts. He accomplishes His miracles one prayer at a time, one person at a time.
We can trust that He will help us, not necessarily in the way we want but in the way that will best help us to grow. Submitting our will to His may be difficult, but it is essential to becoming like Him and finding the peace He offers us.
We can come to feel, as C. S. Lewis described: “I pray because I can’t help myself. … I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God. It changes me.”
There are many accounts in the scriptures of those who have put their trust in the Lord and who have been helped and delivered by Him. Think of young David, who escaped certain death at the hand of the mighty Goliath by relying on the Lord. Consider Nephi, whose pleadings to God in faith brought deliverance from his brothers who sought to take his life. Remember young Joseph Smith, who prayerfully sought the Lord’s help. He was delivered from the power of darkness and received a miraculous answer. Each faced real and difficult challenges. Each acted in faith and put his trust in the Lord. Each received His help. And still in our day, God’s power and love are manifest in the lives of His children.
I have seen it recently in the lives of faith-filled Saints in Zimbabwe and Botswana. In a fast and testimony meeting in a small branch, I was humbled and inspired by the testimonies shared by many—children, youth, and adults alike. Each conveyed a powerful expression of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. With challenges and difficult circumstances surrounding them, they live each day by putting their trust in God. They acknowledge His hand in their lives and often express it with the phrase “I am so much grateful to God.”
A few years ago a faithful family exemplified for members of our ward that same trust in the Lord. Arn and Venita Gatrell were living a happy life when Arn was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. The prognosis was devastating—he had just a few weeks to live. The family wanted to be together one last time. So all the children gathered, some from distant locations. They had only 48 precious hours to spend together. The Gatrells carefully chose what mattered most to them—a family picture, a family dinner, and a session in the Salt Lake Temple. Venita said, “When we walked out of the temple doors, it was the last time we would ever be together in this life.”
But they left with the assurance that there is so much more for them than just this life. Because of sacred temple covenants, they have hope in God’s promises. They can be together forever.
The next two months were filled with blessings too numerous to recount. Arn and Venita’s faith and trust in the Lord were growing, as evidenced in Venita’s words: “I was carried. I learned that you can feel peace in the midst of turmoil. I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”
One of their daughters added: “We watched our parents and saw their example. We saw their faith and how they handled it. I would never have asked for this trial, but I would never give it away. We were surrounded with God’s love.”
Of course, Arn’s passing was not the outcome the Gatrells had hoped for. But their crisis was not a crisis of faith. The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a checklist of things to do; rather, it lives in our hearts. The gospel “is not weight; it is wings.” It carries us. It carried the Gatrells. They felt peace in the midst of the storm. They held fast to each other and to temple covenants they had made and kept. They grew in their ability to trust in the Lord and were strengthened by their faith in Jesus Christ and in His atoning power.
Wherever we find ourselves on the path of discipleship, whatever our worries and challenges may be, we are not alone. You are not forgotten. Like Deric, the Saints of Africa, and the Gatrell family, we can choose to reach for God’s hand in our need. We can face our challenges with prayer and trust in the Lord. And in the process we become more like Him.
Speaking to each of us, the Lord says, “Fear … not; … I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; … I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”
I share my humble but certain witness that God our Father knows us personally and reaches out to help us. Through His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, we may overcome the challenges of this world and be safely delivered home. May we have faith to trust in Him, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

After my wife and I were baptized in January 1951, many of our neighbors shunned us, sometimes crossing over the street so they would not meet us face to face. This did not affect our attitude, however, and we would greet them normally. It was not long before they would come to us and say, “We have a child who is ill, would you pray for her?” Or, “I have a problem. Would you please give me some counsel and advice?” There is never any need to fear opposition, criticism, or persecution, for we know what will be the outcome. The Lord’s work goes forward even more strongly, for “the works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught.
“Remember, remember that it is not the work of God that is frustrated, but the work of men” (D&C 3:1, 3).

A few years ago I was momentarily between primary callings having just finished my time as primary chorister. I must add that I am not a singer, but I do love the songs. I got a phone call asking me to substitute teach in a primary class. I agreed and volunteered my daughter, Morgan, to teach with me.
The lesson was about the ten lepers. I love this story in the New Testament. The opportunity to talk about gratitude both for others and for the Lord excited me. Jesus's life was so short—only 33 years—and his ministry was even shorter—just three years. Luke recorded and preserved a few precious stories and teachings. I believe that this event with the ten lepers is included in Luke's record not just because gratitude is nice, but because developing a spirit of gratitude is vital to our salvation. Christ's teachings are focused on what we must do to truly become whole.
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, "How blessed we are if we recognize God's handiwork in the marvelous tapestry of life. Gratitude to our Father in Heaven broadens our perception and clears our vision. It inspires humility and fosters empathy toward our fellowmen and all of God's creation. Gratitude is a catalyst to all Christlike attributes! A thankful heart is the parent of all virtues!"[1] I knew all of the children in this Primary class from singing time. And although they were an older class they would always gleefully ask to sing action songs like "Once There Was a Snowman"[2] or "Do As I'm Doing."[3] My daughter and I settled on an active plan to teach the lesson where we would first convey the idea of leprosy. I have changed the children's names to protect the innocent and the wiggly.
After the opening prayer we talked with the children about what it is like to be sick. Sarah said, "My mom sits by me and reads me stories." Sam said, "When I was in the hospital my dad gave me a blessing and I felt better."
"We are going to pretend to be in the time when Jesus lived on earth," I told them. "I would like you to think about what it would be like to be sick with a disease called leprosy. Would anyone like to volunteer to help me?" Every hand shot into the air. Nathan stepped forward when I called his name.
"Nathan, I am so sorry you have leprosy," I said. "It has affected the whole left side of your face. You need bandages."
Morgan wrapped half of Nathan's head in clean toilet paper blocking his vision and covering one ear while the rest of the class giggled. Nathan turned and grinned at them then tried to return to his chair. I stopped him and said, "Oh Nathan, you can't sit by the other kids anymore. They are still clean. Lepers are dirty and will make everyone sick." I moved him to the corner and had him sit on the floor.
One by one the children had parts of their bodies bandaged and sat in the corner of the primary room on the floor. Sam asked, "Can I get a drink?"
"No," I answered, "lepers can't use the drinking fountain. That is for healthy people. You are unclean."
Rachel raised her bandaged hand and asked, "Who took care of the lepers?"
"No one took care of them but the other lepers," I explained. "The lepers were taken from their families. Their moms and dads didn't sit by their beds to help them. All of their friends abandoned them. People would run away if they saw a leper coming towards them." Morgan continued, "Lepers had to ring a bell if they were coming close to people and call out 'Leper! Outcast! Unclean!' to warn everyone they were near."
"How would you feel if you were a leper?" I asked. The children were quiet and thoughtful for a few minutes then responded:
"I would miss my mom and my dad.""I would feel sad.""Couldn't they ever go back to their families?""No," I answered, "not unless they were cured.""Were very many cured?" Joseph asked.
"No, not then. Today there is medicine that helps when people are sick, but the lepers in Jesus's time didn't have any hope," I responded. The tissue bandages slipped down around necks, wrists, and legs. Some of the children leaned against one another. A few pulled their knees to their chests and put their heads down.
"I would want my mom," Rachel said."I would too," Morgan answered softly. "Now, imagine that you have heard some exciting news," I told them. "There is a man who heals people. He healed someone who was blind. He healed someone who couldn't walk. This man is coming near where you live with the other lepers. Maybe he can heal you. What do you think this man's name is?"
"Jesus!" cried the children."I would go to him and ask him to help me," said Nathan.
I explained that is just what the lepers in Jesus's time did. Their whole world was filled with hope again. Maybe they would get to be with their families again. They went to Jesus and begged him to heal them. And Jesus did heal them. Morgan and I removed all the tissue bandages and the children returned to their seats.
"How do you think the lepers that were healed felt now?" I asked. The children cheered and even danced around a little.
"I would run to find my dad!" Sam said."Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sarah said.
"I'm so glad you remembered to say thank you," I said. "Do you know only one leper said thank you to Jesus?"Sarah looked surprised, "But he had given them their whole life back."
We finished the lesson by reading the scriptures in Luke, talking about gratitude, and making thank you cards. Morgan and I got hugs and lots of "thank yous" as they left.
I came home from church tired but proud that the lesson had gone so well with the children. I felt like I had set a good example of teaching primary for my daughter. I settled down for my well-deserved Sunday nap.
My dream began with the primary lesson I had just taught. But as the children left the classroom instead of pride at a well-taught lesson I felt an aching sadness. In my dream I could feel the Savior's rebuke that I had missed the most important part of the lesson of the lepers. I could see myself diseased, bruised, and hurting but I looked normal on the outside. No one that looked at me could see the wounds that I carried. I could see that the others around me had unnoticeable secret wounds as well. I yearned to be healed and to be clean. I wanted to be with my family but knew I could not find them. I was utterly hopeless.
I startled awake with cold regret washing over me. I would not teach these children again next week. The primary class was not mine, I was just a substitute. I would not get to tell them that the story of the ten lepers was not just about gratitude and thank you notes, it was about the Atonement; that each of us walks around in life with wounds, and sores, and missing parts. For some of us the wounds are visible, but for most of us the wounds are not on our physical bodies. Our spirits are wounded and bruised, sometimes from our own actions and choices. Sometimes our bruises come from the actions and choices of others. Like the lepers there is no hope for us, there is no medicine or procedure to cure us, even with all the fabulous modern methods that we have now, there is no hope for us to be with our families again except through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

Even when we have the right perspective, waiting can be hard. But I have learned that patience is more than just waiting. I have learned this from my brother Andrew and his wife, Brianna, as they have dealt with being unable to have children. Although their hopes were crushed when they learned they wouldn’t be able to have children, they found new hope through the prospect of adoption—but that still meant more waiting.
I hesitate to use the word wait when referring to them because that word often has very passive connotations. For them, waiting doesn’t mean biding their time until a child comes—patience is so much more than that.
Andrew said, “So much of adoption is in the Lord’s hands, not ours. But it makes us feel good to have something we can do to work toward our goal of having children in our family.” Whether it’s through blogging, sharing their contact information with friends and family, or getting involved with local groups of adoptive parents, they try to “do all things that lie in [their] power” (D&C 123:17), and then they put their trust in the Lord.
After years of waiting and praying, they were able to adopt a beautiful baby girl named Jessica. As they held her in their arms, years’ worth of disappointment and discouragement faded away. For them, she was and is a miracle.
Five years have now passed since they adopted Jessica, and for the last four years, they have been trying to adopt another child. The waiting has begun again. Brianna told me, “People often remind us that whenever a child is meant to come to our family, it will come. We know they are right, but we also know we can’t just sit still as we wait. We have to have faith that it will happen but also move forward, live our lives, make plans for our future, have fun, and enjoy being together.”
Waiting is hard, but Andrew and Brianna have taught me to choose to be happy today. It’s so easy to think, “I will be happy when __________,” but we miss out on so much of what life has to offer by postponing our happiness. Even though we sometimes have to put our desires aside to submit to the will of our Father, that doesn’t mean we have to also put our happiness aside. His love can provide strength, fill voids, and instill hope.

My wife, Everjoyce, and I are from the small town of Mutare, on the eastern border of Zimbabwe. Soon after we were baptized and confirmed, we became excited about doing missionary work. We read that “the field is white already to harvest” (D&C 33:7), and even though we didn’t know a lot about how to be missionaries, we decided we needed to “thrust in [our] sickles, and reap with all [our] might, mind, and strength.”
We were members of the newly created Dangamvura Branch located in one of the townships of Mutare. At that time, 1991, the branch had 25 members. Soon we were called as branch missionaries. We learned a lot from a senior missionary couple serving in our area. One suggestion they made was that we set goals.
We wanted to share the gospel with everyone, so we set the goal of sharing it with 100 people during the first year we were branch missionaries. Maybe we were naïve, but it seemed realistic to us. We trusted that the Lord would help us.
By singing hymns at Church meetings, we discovered that we had a hidden talent for music. We decided to use our talents, so we started singing for—and with—people who showed interest in the gospel as we met to teach them. The Spirit accompanied us as we sang sacred music, and He touched the hearts of those we were teaching. So did the message of the restored gospel. We encouraged everyone to join our branch choir, and many did, whether they were Latter-day Saints or not. As more people learned about the gospel, many entered the waters of baptism.
As we continued our missionary efforts, we continued to fast and pray for the families who had joined the Church. We felt that others in the community were witnessing these families’ righteous examples. We received more and more invitations to teach families, and our teaching pool filled with prospective members.
As a result of learning and living the gospel, newly baptized couples became closer and more loving. Parents were able to leave behind traditions that were not compatible with gospel culture. They abstained from alcohol and tobacco. They taught their children correct principles. Many who had been overly absorbed in worldly things in the past were now able to accept callings in the Church. They became a blessing to their branch and their community. The hand of the Lord brought a mighty change to their lives.
With the Lord’s help, we ended up sharing the gospel with many more than our original goal. Because we were willing to look for ways we could reach out to others, we were able to witness a mighty change in the lives of many in our whole community.

Some years ago I received the appointment to attend stake conference in Grand Junction, Colorado. As the plane circled the airport amidst heavy snow, the pilot’s voice announced that it appeared our landing would not be possible, and Grand Junction would of necessity be overflown. I knew that I had been assigned to this conference by a prophet, and prayed that the weather would permit a landing. Suddenly the pilot said, “There is an opening in the cover. We’ll attempt a landing.” That phrase is always a bit frightening to any air traveler.
Our landing was accomplished safely, and the entire conference went without incident. I wondered why I in particular had been assigned there. Before I left Grand Junction, the stake president asked if I would meet with a distraught mother and father who were grieving over a son’s decision to leave his mission field after having just arrived there. When the conference throng had left, we knelt quietly in a private place—mother, father, stake president, and I. As I prayed in behalf of all, I could hear the muffled sobs of a sorrowing mother and disappointed father.
When we arose, the father said, “Brother Monson, do you really think our Heavenly Father can alter our son’s announced decision to return home before completing his mission? Why is it that now, when I am trying so hard to do what is right, my prayers are not heard?”
I responded, “Where is your son serving?” He replied,
“In Dusseldorf, Germany.”
I placed my arm around the mother and father and said to them, “Your prayers have been heard and will be answered. With more than 38 stake conferences being held this day attended by General Authorities, I was assigned to your stake. Of all the Brethren, I am the only one who has the assignment to meet with the missionaries in the Germany Dusseldorf Mission this very Thursday.”
Their petition had been honored by the Lord. I was able to meet with their son. He responded to their pleadings. He remained and completed a highly successful mission.

In a stake in Chile the young women did this at camp by keeping a book of each other’s virtuous qualities. Each day they got better acquainted and wrote down the intrinsic good they were learning about each person there. At the end of the camp, they shared their thoughts, helping each person to see more of the divinity within herself. Their leader said, “We were literally basking in this wonderful spirit of kindness and goodwill. I can honestly say that I never heard a word of complaint from the girls! They were flourishing in a sweet spirit of mutual acceptance that is not often present among teenage girls. There was no competition, no contention. Our camp had become a little bit of heaven” (personal correspondence). The girls recognized and reaffirmed the divine natures of each other, and the Spirit filled the camp as these virtuous thoughts were expressed.

When I was a student in dental school, the financial outlook of our local economy was not very encouraging. Inflation dramatically decreased the value of currency from one day to the next.
I remember the year when I was to enroll in surgery practices; I needed to have all the necessary surgical equipment before enrolling that semester. My parents saved the needed funds. But one night something dramatic happened. We went to buy the equipment, only to discover that the amount of money we had to buy all the equipment now was sufficient to buy only a pair of surgical tweezers—and nothing else. We returned home with empty hands and with heavy hearts at the thought of my losing a semester of college. Suddenly, however, my mother said, “Taylor, come with me; let’s go out.”
We went downtown where there were many places that buy and sell jewelry. When we arrived at one store, my mother took out of her purse a small blue velvet bag containing a beautiful gold bracelet with an inscription that read, “To my dear daughter from your father.” It was a bracelet that my grandfather had given her on one of her birthdays. Then, before my eyes, she sold it.
When she received the money, she told me, “If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that you are going to be a dentist. Go and buy all the equipment you need.” Now, can you imagine what kind of student I became from that moment on? I wanted to be the best and finish my studies soon because I knew the high cost of the sacrifice she was making.

Eleven-year-old Rebecca stared out the bus window but didn’t really see the houses passing by. The after-school bus commotion raged around her but didn’t interrupt her troubled thoughts.
If I don’t get an A on the final history report, I won’t get an A in history. That means no honor roll. It’s not fair. I’ve worked hard all year long to get on the honor roll, and now, all because of this stupid assignment, I might not make it this last quarter. History, yuck!
The bus lurched to a stop but couldn’t jolt Rebecca’s thoughts from her history assignment. I have only a week to write about someone who made a contribution to the United States’ growth and progress. It would be simple if Mrs. Langley would just let us write about someone famous, but no, it has to be about some unfamous dead person. Dead person—of course! The Woman of the Dead! Rebecca smiled as she worked out a plan.
In a few minutes she was hurrying up the front walk of a small brick house. “The Woman of the Dead,” she chuckled as she rang the door bell. That’s what the kids called her aunt because it seemed like all she ever talked about was “the dead.” Aunt Hattie spent all her time doing family history for herself and for others.
Aunt Hattie’s wrinkled face lit up with a big smile when she saw Rebecca at the door. “Come in, come in,” she urged. As always, stray curls were poking up here and there. A pencil nestled above one ear. Bifocals were perched on her long straight nose. Her eyes danced as she led Rebecca into the living room. “Sit down and tell me what brings you here.”
“Aunt Hattie, I got an awesome history assignment today that I thought you might be able to help me with.”
As she explained her assignment, Aunt Hattie listened, smiled, and nodded. “Sounds like quite a task. Do you have any ideas whom you would like to write about?”
“None. I sort of hoped that you could help me find someone.”
“How about someone in our own family?”
“We don’t have anyone in our family that did anything great or important—do we?” Rebecca asked sheepishly, realizing that she knew very little about her own family’s history.
“Well, let’s see what we can find.” Aunt Hattie chuckled again as she moved quickly to her computer. “Now, the first thing we need to do is pull up your pedigree chart.”
“Pedigree chart?” asked Rebecca, sitting next to Aunt Hattie and looking at the computer screen.
“A pedigree chart is a chart of your family tree. But it starts with you, instead of your ancestors, and goes backward with names, dates of births, marriages, and deaths. See, here’s your mother’s chart.” Aunt Hattie pointed to the screen.
Rebecca saw “Mary Helen Farmer Hughes” on the screen with other names and dates.
“Do you have everyone’s pedigree chart right here in your house?”
Aunt Hattie laughed. “Almost everyone who’s ever taken my family history class—which is about everyone in town!—has been good enough to share what he’s found with me. Now let’s see whom we have that might be of interest for your report. How far back do you want to go?”
“Way back, I guess. Was there anyone in our family here before the Revolutionary War?”
“Your earliest ancestor that we have record of came to America about 1750 from Germany—”
“Germany! I didn’t know that!” Rebecca peered closer at the screen. “This is like a time machine!” she exclaimed as Aunt Hattie scrolled down the computer screen.
“Wait, I think I passed a good one for you,” Aunt Hattie said, scrolling back up the screen and pointing to a name. “Gideon Burdick was General George Washington’s drummer boy in the Revolutionary War.”
“My great-great-whatever-grandfather, knew George Washington?”
“Yes, but there’s more to Gideon Burdick’s story. And his daughter, Rebecca Burdick Winters, has an interesting story of her own. In fact, I believe that you were named after your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Rebecca Burdick Winters.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Well now, I’d hate to give you any wrong information, especially since this is a school assignment. But if you’re free Saturday morning, maybe we can take a trip to the Family History Library right here in Salt Lake City to do some research,” Aunt Hattie suggested.
“Wow, I can’t believe it—I actually have some neat ancestors!”
On Saturday morning Rebecca and Aunt Hattie went to the Family History Library across the street from Temple Square.
“Where do we start?” Rebecca asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the rows of equipment and books in the first room they entered.
“Each person whom the library has information about is listed by name in the Library Catalog here,” Aunt Hattie said, walking to a microfiche file. “You look in it for the person’s last name.”
“I want to start with Gideon Burdick,” Rebecca told her. “Here he is. ‘Gideon Burdick, born 6 November 1762, Died 5 April 1846,’” she read. “Look! It says that there’s a book called The Descendants of Robert Burdick of Rhode Island. Gideon must be in this book, right?”
Aunt Hattie smiled and nodded. “And since Rebecca Burdick Winters is Gideon’s daughter, she should be in the book too.”
It only took a few minutes to find the book. It felt strange but wonderful to be holding part of her very own family’s history in her hands. She quickly found a place to sit down and work.
“I’ll let you see what you can find,” said Aunt Hattie. “I have some work to do too. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Suddenly many-great-grandfather Gideon became a real person to Rebecca—someone she liked. But although the page on Gideon was interesting, it didn’t say anything about his being General Washington’s drummer boy.
There has to be more, Rebecca thought, looking up from the book. She couldn’t see Aunt Hattie to ask for more help. I’ll just go on to Rebecca Burdick Winters till Aunt Hattie comes back.
“Find anything interesting?” Aunt Hattie asked, sitting down across from Rebecca.
“I can’t believe it. I had no idea that I was named for such a strong and courageous woman. I wish I could find out more about her.”
“And Gideon? Did you find out all you need to know about him?”
“No. The book didn’t say anything about his being a drummer boy. Where can I find out about that?” asked Rebecca.
“Goodness! It sounds as if you are getting hooked on the dead,” chuckled Aunt Hattie. “It seems to me that there was a newspaper article on Rebecca. Let’s see what we can find under Salt Lake City in the Locality File.”
She showed Rebecca the Locality File and explained how to use it. “I’ll leave you to your search now. Here are some quarters to photocopy anything you might want. I’ll be back in a while.”
“Did you find enough material to write your report?” asked Aunt Hattie, sitting down as Rebecca finished the article.
Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes, but not on Gideon. I’m going to make photocopies of all this information and write on Rebecca Burdick Winters. I think she contributed a lot to the United States’ growth and progress.”
Rebecca was hard at work on her paper that night when Aunt Hattie rushed in. “I have some more information for you. I’ve been writing to a cousin in Ogden, Utah, to see if she had any family history to share—and by the way, now that you’re hooked yourself, on family history, the first thing you should do is write to your older relatives on both sides of your family for whatever help they can give you. Anyway, Cousin Myrna sent me a copy of a June 30, 1975, Ogden Standard Examiner article that tells about Gideon Burdick being the drummer boy, and even mentions his daughter Rebecca. Here.”
“Wow! Thanks, Aunt Hattie!” Rebecca could hardly wait to turn her paper in.
Mrs. Langley was so pleased with Rebecca’s report that she read it to the class. “Pioneers such as Rebecca Burdick Winters,” she told them, “were among the courageous people who helped the country expand in the West.”
Rebecca could hardly wait to show her A+ honor-roll paper to Aunt Hattie.

I met Natalie on the first day of sixth grade. I noticed that she wouldn’t hang out on Sundays and that she carried her scriptures around at school. One day I was at a carnival with Natalie, and I said, “I want to join your Church.” I’m not sure what Natalie was thinking at the time, because it came out of nowhere. But from that point on she began sharing more of her faith with me.
Later that year, I went with Natalie to a youth conference. One of the last activities at the youth conference was a testimony meeting. Natalie shared a special testimony that motivated me to want to learn more.
As I studied the gospel, I prayed to Heavenly Father to gain a testimony. Soon, I knew what I had been learning was true. That summer, I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.