Gospel Story Finder

In the Philippines, there are science high schools for academically gifted students. Students in these schools take more subjects, spend more hours in class, and devote more effort to schoolwork.
This kind of environment was toxic for me. I gave up so many things upon entering this school. I stopped learning how to play instruments. I almost never attended Church activities, and I would occasionally miss Church services on Sundays for interschool competitions. I struggled attending seminary, although the classes were conveniently offered during weekends.
One Saturday, my seminary teacher told us about how busy she was in high school, and yet she managed to still do her seminary assignments and study the scripture mastery scriptures. She challenged us to do the same.
Challenges enliven me, so I took this one. I carried my scripture mastery cards with me everywhere. I prayed for help to manage it with my school demands. I used every window of time I had. I memorized scriptures while commuting to school. I chatted less and would take the cards out of my pocket. My friends noticed; shuffling the scripture cards became our new activity during breaks and lunchtime. They enjoyed quizzing me. Some started to bring their scriptures—even those who belonged to other denominations. They shared about activities at their own churches. I felt the atmosphere around me change, and school felt lighter and better.
My three younger sisters followed that lead, and now my family reaps the blessings of the scriptures in our relationships at home. It was more than just memorizing words; my seminary teacher taught me the difference the scriptures would make in me and in the people around me. I know that whatever challenge or trial comes to my family and friends, we will always find strength, guidance, and repose in the words of our loving Savior.

President Russell M. Nelson is a wonderful example of spiritual poise. One time, while then-Dr. Nelson was performing a quadruple coronary artery bypass, the patient’s blood pressure dropped suddenly. Dr. Nelson calmly assessed the situation and identified that a clamp was accidentally removed by one of the team members. It was replaced immediately, and Dr. Nelson comforted the team member, saying, "I still love you," and then added jokingly, "Sometimes I love you more than other times!" He showed how an emergency should be handled—with poise, focused only on what matters most—addressing the emergency. President Nelson said: "It’s a matter of extreme self-discipline. Your natural reaction is, ‘Take me out, coach! I want to go home.’ But of course you can’t. A life is totally dependent on the whole surgical team. So you’ve got to stay just as calm and relaxed and sharp as you ever were."

In 2016, Jayne Kyprianou was serving in the stake Primary presidency of the Poole Stake. After hearing Elder Kearon’s April 2016 talk, “Refuge from the Storm”1, the Primary presidency wanted to do something to help refugee children who were arriving in their area.
After a lot of prayer and discussion, they ended up hosting an online auction and a cake sale. They beat their goal of raising £500, by raising almost £1,800.
The money raised was used to buy items for educational packs for the refugee children. These would be packed by stake Primary children in a forthcoming Primary conference.
During that time, the stake public affairs directors, Brother Roger Head and Sister Moira Head, began to have contact with Unity in Vision, Bournemouth, a voluntary group founded by members of ethnic minorities.
Unity in Vision was invited to attend the stake’s Primary conference, and this was the start of a great working relationship between the Church and Unity in Vision.

The day the Prophet Joseph ended his bondage in Liberty Jail, 6 April 1839, involved yet another significant event. Heber C. Kimball recorded in his journal that on that day
the following words came to my mind, and the Spirit said unto me, “write,” which I did by taking a piece of paper and writing on my knee as follows: . . . “Verily I say unto my servant Heber, thou art my son, in whom I am well pleased for thou art careful to hearken to my words, and not transgress my law, nor rebel against my servant Joseph Smith, for thou has a respect to the words of mine anointed, even from the least to the greatest of them; therefore thy name is written in heaven, no more to be blotted out for ever, because of these things.” [Words, p. 18]

Note how much importance the Lord attached to our being loyal to his servants! It is no different now.

Elder Dale G. Renlund recounted that he learned something at the dedication of the Helsinki Finland Temple in 2006. He explained that the country of Finland had been in conflict and war with Russia for centuries, but when the day came for the members of the church in Finland to receive a temple in their country, they set aside the first day of temple operations for the members who were visiting from Russia. The love of the members for our Heavenly Father and their fellow men was stronger than the conflict between these two countries.5

For instance, Elder Mabey tells of traveling a great distance through a rain forest in Nigeria to find a particular congregation. They arrived on a Saturday just as people were leaving a little village church, attached to which was a sign that read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Elder Mabey reported:

The pastor was very happy and excited to see us and ran out and rang the assembly bell. All the people came back and we held a meeting. The first thing this pastor did after [the meeting concluded], was to stand up with tears in his eyes and thank the Lord for answering their prayers. He said, “You know, today we were assembled here on Saturday because we were breaking a twenty-four hour fast, asking the Lord to send us missionaries. . . . We’ve listened to you for an hour and we all believe what you tell us is true and we want to be baptized!” [Rendell Mabey interview, p. 217]

In both Nigeria and Ghana the missionaries found hundreds who had testimonies of the Book of Mormon, the Prophet Joseph Smith, and the restoration of the gospel. All they needed was baptism. And so they were baptized! In one 24-hour period, 149 converts were baptized (see Mabey and Allred, Brother to Brother, p. 143). Within one year there were more than 1,700 members in 35 branches in West Africa (see Mabey and Allred, Brother to Brother, p. vii).

It’s 8:30 on a brisk Monday morning at the Harvard Business School. A wind that blows in off the Charles River hustles red, orange, and yellow leaves as they chase each other around the ivy-laden brick buildings. Students of all colors and sizes hurry to their classes, the difficulty of the material they studied the night before imprinted on their faces.
Once inside the classroom they place their name cards in front of them, arrange their notes, and chatter nervously. Who will be called on to open class, they wonder, hoping against hope that it won’t be them.
“Mr. Fullmer,” barks the teacher. “I believe it is your lucky day. You will open, please.”
Greg Fullmer leans forward, fingers his notes and begins. He is prepared. He should be. He was up until 2:00 A.M. poring over the text. Greg has to stay up studying a little later than most students because he has so many additional responsibilities. Last year he was elected to serve as the Harvard Business School’s student body president—the first Latter-day Saint to hold that position. School officials and students alike say he is one of the best they’ve ever had—that he did more in the first two months he was in office than most presidents ever do in an entire year. The six-foot-two, broad-shouldered former BYU student body president finishes his statement, and a number of hands shoot up. The discussion has begun.
Fifteen years ago, if you had told that 12-year-old farm boy from Rexburg, Idaho, that he would someday be a student body president of one of the most prestigious schools in the country, he probably would have smiled. Not laughed, mind you, because he always did believe that if your desires are righteous and if you’re willing to pay the price, you can accomplish what you want to. No, he would have smiled because you had just given him a new goal to work toward.
But then again, at that point in Greg’s life, you probably would have laughed right out loud when you tried to picture him as the handsome Harvard student who has a number of major corporations trying to recruit him. Greg was short, overweight, asthmatic, and not exactly what you’d call an academic standout. And although he was good-natured and had a positive disposition, he was no angel either.
“He was always teasing his sister and doing something to get you aggravated,” his grandmother, Loah Anderson will tell you. “I laugh with him now about it though, and tell him that if I had ever caught him, he wouldn’t be where he is today.”
His grade school bus driver would agree. Not long ago, he stopped Greg in church and said “You know, Greg, you’ve restored my faith in the youth of today.”
“How’s that?” asked Greg, flattered but slightly puzzled.
“You used to be the rottenest kid I knew,” the bus driver replied. “I just hated to see you get on that bus. But now I know that if you can make it, anyone can.”
Greg really wasn’t a troublemaker. He just liked to interact with people, and he was naturally curious. “We’d take him to a cafe,” his grandmother says, “and the kid would be up and out in a second. He wouldn’t sit at the table. He’d be over with the hostess, talking to the waitresses; then he’d go back into the kitchen to see what was cooking.”
Through most of Greg’s teenage years, he was six to eight inches shorter than his sister—his younger sister. She is 14 months his junior. In junior high school, he got along well with the other kids, but no one took him that seriously. “I ran for student body president in junior high and suffered a miserable defeat,” he said. “I didn’t even make it into the primaries, and that really hurt.”
So what motivated Greg to keep trying? How did he finally end up in the top student leadership position at Harvard Business School?
Well, you could say it was faith. Faith in the Lord, faith in himself, and the faith that his family showed in him.
Greg didn’t come from what most people would call the ideal, stereotypical family background. But he’ll tell you it was ideal for him. His parents were divorced before he was two, and he, along with his mother and his sister, moved in with his grandparents. Instead of lamenting the fact that he comes from a “broken home,” Greg makes the best of it. “I always felt like I had to excel to make up for not having a dad, so actually, it was kind of good for me,” he says. Besides, “it was like having the love and support of three parents, not just two.” His mother had to work during the day but made sure that when she came home she spent plenty of quality time with her children.
From his mother, Greg learned to listen to people, to understand their needs, and to try to help them. This became one of his greatest assets as he served in various student-government positions. From his grandmother he learned that you can achieve almost anything you want in life if you’re willing to work hard. He attributes his greatest achievements to that conviction, including funding his mission with the money he earned by opening a number of weight control centers in various parts of the country. From his grandfather, Greg learned patience and wisdom. “He didn’t have a formal education, so he’d get up early every morning and read books,” Greg relates. “He’s one of the most intelligent people I know.” Under that inspiration, Greg went from being an average student in junior high to being class valedictorian at BYU.
When Greg was 12, his family went through another change. After much deliberation, his mother decided to remarry, and although there was occasional strain, Greg adapted quite well to his new father, brothers, and sisters.
While other boys were out playing little league baseball, Greg spent a lot of time working on the family farm, milking and feeding cows, cleaning out the milk tank, you name it. He doesn’t regret the time spent—it taught him to work hard. But he won’t tell you he loved it either, although he did have a number of ways to make the long, tedious hours go by faster. He took great pride in trying to do the best job he possibly could. If he was working with others, he would talk to them, laugh with them, joke with them, and get to know them better. And then, when he had a spare second, he would dream about what he would try to accomplish in the future.
“I wasn’t the most athletic kid in the school, I wasn’t the most intelligent, and I certainly wasn’t the best looking, so I decided I’d try to be the friendliest,” he said. “One way to feel good about yourself is to make other people feel good about themselves.”
Included in his dreams was a desire to be a student body president. He got over his miserable junior high defeat and decided that he would run when he got to high school. But just a short time before he was to announce his candidacy, his best friend told him he’d decided to run and asked Greg to be his campaign manager. Greg complied and helped him win, deciding that he could run for the office when he got to Ricks College.
But when Greg got to Ricks, he decided to sacrifice his political ambitions in favor of serving a mission in Indonesia. “I had a lot of misconceptions about the mission field,” he admits. “When you hear missionaries come back and say those were the best two years of their lives, you think it’s going to be all roses, but it’s not. It’s the hardest thing you could possibly do, and that’s what makes it great. I really learned to appreciate things I had to work for and sacrifice for. I learned to accept, appreciate, and love people who were different from me.”
When Greg returned from his mission, he finished up at Ricks, then went on to BYU. He never had satisfied his dream of becoming a student body president, but the thought of presiding over BYU’s 27,000 students seemed overly ambitious to him. His sister Kristie was convinced he could do it though. She helped him find a running mate, served as his campaign manager, and after a lot of hard work, Greg was elected by one of the biggest margins in BYU history.
“That really helped prepare me for where I am now,” Greg says. And actually, he is quite surprised to be in this position at Harvard. He’d already satisfied his goal of serving as a student body president, and knowing how many hours he’d put into the position at BYU, he didn’t think he could handle it at graduate school. After much prayer and a lot of requests from fellow students, however, Greg decided to give it a try. A lot of hard work went into that election too, and it paid off.
Even though Greg has won a multitude of other awards and titles, he feels that some of his greatest satisfaction comes when his accomplishments put him in a position to answer questions about the Church. “I’m constantly being questioned about our beliefs,” he says with a smile. “And I’m always happy to talk with anyone.”
And they’re usually happy to listen. Fellow students scrutinize Greg a little closer than they do other classmates. Not only is he their president, but he’s also one of a handful of LDS people they might know.
Tomorrow he’ll probably be walking Wall Street, but today, on the brisk Monday afternoon, his class discussions are finished and he walks over to one of the numerous meetings he has each week. Many students call out to him, greeting him by name. Some glance at him with a mischievous look in their eyes and call out, “Hi, LARRY!” That’s Greg’s first name, but he hates to be called that and they know it. On the first day of class this year, the student body gave him a standing ovation and shouted out, “Larry! Larry! Larry!” It’s impossible to take yourself too seriously with classmates like that.
Still, many of them ask him how he’s accomplished what he has. “My theory of success,” he tells them, “requires two things—that you work hard, and that you pray hard.” Greg slides into his seat at the head of a large conference table, and the other student body officers begin to file in. He is prepared. He should be. He was up until 2 A.M. making use of his theory of success.

At school Austin sat in a circle with his class. His teacher taught them songs to sing. Austin sang as loud as he could.

During lunch Austin sat with his friends. They shared cookies. They ate sandwiches. They told jokes. Everyone was happy.

Except one boy did not look happy. Austin saw him sitting alone. The boy started to cry.

At home, Austin sat at the kitchen table while Dad chopped vegetables.

“How was school?” Dad asked.

“It was fun. But there was a new boy at school. I don’t think he had a great day,” Austin said.

“Why not?”

“He was sitting alone at lunch and crying.” Austin frowned.

“It sounds like he was pretty sad,” Dad said. “How could you help him?”

Austin rested his chin in his hands. Then he sat up straight. He had an idea. “Maybe I could talk to him at lunch! And I could ask him to sit with me and my friends.”

“That’s a good idea,” Dad said.

The next day Austin looked for the boy at lunch. The boy was sitting alone.

“Hi,” Austin said. “I’m Austin. What’s your name?”

“Hi,” said the boy. “I’m Max.”

“Want to sit with me and my friends?”

“Sure!” said Max.

Austin and Max sat with Austin’s friends. They shared cookies. They ate sandwiches. They told jokes. Everyone was happy, including Max.

Last week on a flight to New York I had a fascinating conversation with a fellow passenger. For much of the journey we were each pouring over the reading material we had brought with us. I was thinking about my remarks today and when he had finished the article he was reading I informed him that I was thinking about an idea and could use his help.

I asked him how he would define contention. He thought for a moment and then answered: "passionate disagreement." I responded: "Anything else?" He replied: "Heated but under control exchanges." He said that in the business world where he spent his hours, he hoped that contentious exchanges were kept professional.

I inquired if he thought there was more or less contention now than fifteen or twenty years ago. He sighed and responded that his sense was that there was more contention now, in part because of the development of technology. Today, there are more platforms through which people can express disagreement. Multiple media outlets and means of communication mean than our exchanges with others are ubiquitous and often impersonal because they are at a distance. He added that financial pressures in his world often contributed to contention and caused people to become cynical and to withhold trust.

Our conversation ranged widely. He suggested that people today often focus more on the noise surrounding what others are saying than on understanding the point someone is trying to make. We noted some of the many manifestations of contention - arguing, challenging, ascribing unflattering motives, road rage, and more. I suggested that we consider some pairs of contrasting terms:
Contention and harmonyCompetition and collaborationZero-sum exercises and win-win exercises
What is common to contention, competition, and zero-sum exercises is that they involve an effort to prevail, to defeat, and to exert superiority. What is common to harmony, collaboration, and win-win exercises is an effort to share, to work together, and to benefit and bless one another.

During the course of our conversation we each learned much. We were coming from different perspectives and different experiences. The longer we talked, the more we found that we had in common.

When the plane landed, I remarked that I wished we had begun our conversation even earlier and that the flight was all too short. I thanked him for what I had learned from him and noted that though we came from different backgrounds we shared much in common. He had been born in Puerto Rico and had come with his family to New York City as a child. We discussed how relations between the different races and ethnic groups in our nation's largest city had changed for the better during the course of his lifetime.

As we parted, I observed that during our entire conversation there had not been a single moment of contention. We had not argued or challenged, but we had listened carefully and in the process I had learned much. He smiled broadly and said that he felt the same way about our conversation and that he also had learned much. We exchanged addresses and I promised to honor his request to send him a copy of my remarks this morning. In doing so, I will also send him a copy of the Book of Mormon which is full of insights on the subject of contention and peace.

A book could be written about the many experiences of those coming to pageant this year. One lad walked 100 miles to be in it. Robert and Danielle Baird participated in the pageant for their honeymoon, having been married one week before. And Jane Whitesides of the San Leandro Second Ward in California had incurred a bad case of poison oak as a counselor at girls camp just a few days before pageant. It was the first such case in ten years. Aided by the prayers of all the girls in the camp and the blessing of two elders, Jane was healed in what a doctor termed “a miraculous time.” To Jane, it was an encouragement to put her all into pageant, since she knew that was what the Lord wanted her to do.

One important reason for her eagerness to serve is the spiritual motivation she has felt since joining the Church. She cites, for example, the manifestation that came to her in January of 1985, the day before she began her work in the temple. As she lay on her bed immediately after retiring, she saw the skeletons of many dead, and then saw an Indian woman, plainly from an earlier era, praying before a distinctive door. She lay awake for a time puzzling about what her experience might mean. But when she reported to the temple the following day, Sister Tintí was assigned to the baptistry where—she found that door!
“I believe I saw that woman so I would know who the people were who needed me,” says the 57-year-old temple worker.

I have to tell you about something that happened to me just last Tuesday afternoon when I was writing down this very idea of needing to see the good in the world. I stood up for a moment to take a break from my writing, and I looked out my fifth-floor window in the Tanner Building, which has a perfect view of the walkway that rises from Helaman Halls up past the Tanner Building. As I looked down, I saw a young man in a wheelchair who was wheeling himself up that long, steep walkway. And just as I started thinking about how much effort that must take, I saw another young man just slightly ahead on the walkway turn around and notice this young man in the wheelchair. I don’t know if they knew each other or if they were complete strangers, but in that moment the one young man walked quickly around and behind the wheelchair, and he pushed the other young man up the rest of that long walkway. In fact, he practically ran as he pushed him up that hill.
This simple moment in time—1:30 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon—witnessed to me again how much light and goodness are everywhere around us if we will just look.

In the spring of 2001, I was assigned to labor in the Switzerland Geneva Mission. While I was saying my goodbyes to family and friends, my father approached me to give me one last hug before I boarded my flight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. He handed it to me, telling me that this had belonged to my great-grandpa Tyler. My great-grandfather hadn’t been able to serve a mission, and it was my dad’s hope that by sending this handkerchief with me, I could serve my mission in memory of Grandpa Tyler.
I slid the hanky into the breast pocket of my suit coat, where it was quickly forgotten in the excitement of the adventure ahead of me.
Serving in the Switzerland Geneva Mission.
Eighteen months later, I found myself in a small chapel in Annemasse, France, on the border of Switzerland. We were in our Sunday Church meetings, and I was sitting in the chapel next to an older gentleman who began to sob uncontrollably during a sacrament meeting talk. I wanted to give him a tissue and started digging through my pockets. I found the long-lost handkerchief and handed it to the man. He graciously took it, and after the meeting was over, he approached me and promised to return it to me clean.
The following Tuesday was transfer day, and I was transferred to Clermont-Ferrand, France. I left on the four-hour train ride having forgotten to get the handkerchief back. Four months later, I received a transfer to Meyrin, Switzerland, on the opposite side of Geneva from Annemasse. But because of the horseshoe shape of the zone, I was back in the same zone I had left four months earlier.
Shortly after I arrived in Switzerland, my zone leaders gave me a call and told me of a situation that had arisen. They needed my help conducting a baptismal interview because every other missionary currently in the zone had taught this particular man, and according to mission rules, an elder who had not taught the missionary lessons to this man needed to do the interview. I was delighted because up until this point in my mission I had never conducted a baptismal interview.
A few days later, after exchanging companions, one of the zone leaders and I set out for the interview. A member drove us the hour and a half through a blizzard to Chamonix, where this man lived. Chamonix was part of the Annemasse Branch, where I had previously served.
When we arrived, the snow was so deep it towered over us. We worked our way through the maze of snow to the front door and knocked.
Upon answering the door, the lady of the house gasped and shut the door in our faces. I felt so bad. My thoughts quickly raced through my time in the Annemasse Branch. Had I offended this woman?
Then she opened the door again and handed me an envelope containing a hanky. “Is this yours?” she asked. My mind raced, and in one swoop it all came back to me: the Sunday branch meeting, the sobbing elderly gentleman, and the handkerchief. I said, “Yes, it is!”
The woman broke down in tears, threw her arms around me, and said, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She began by telling us how she had longed for her husband to join the Church over the years. She was so happy that after all this time she had held on to her faith, and now her husband wanted to be baptized.
Visiting the convert’s family on the day of his baptismal interview.
She related to me the following: “It all began that day in church when you gave my husband your handkerchief. My husband, being a man of his word, had promised to return your handkerchief. So the following week when he returned to give you the clean hanky and you weren’t there, he decided he would go to church with me the following week. He continued to come with me every week, and every week you weren’t there. He started listening to the talks and lessons and liked what he was hearing. He continued to attend, and as time went on, he accepted the missionary lessons and now wants to be baptized.”
I was here to do his baptismal interview! My heart was touched deeply, and I thanked my Heavenly Father for allowing me to be a part of something so special. I went into the kitchen with her husband, and we stood facing each other across the kitchen island. We spoke of the commitment and responsibilities required of a new member.
He cried as he spoke of the grief he felt he had caused his wife all these years and wanted to know if God would truly forgive “an old man” for his ignorance. His respect and humility were that of one truly converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
He was ready to be baptized and confirmed, and a short time later he became a new member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the Annemasse chapel.
My great-grandfather Dorus Harvey Tyler never served a full-time mission during his lifetime, but through his white handkerchief, he was able to help bring a soul unto Christ.

Recently I met an intelligent young man with great potential. He was undecided about a mission. He has decided not to attend a university now. In his free time he only does what he likes to do. He doesn’t work because he doesn’t have to, and it would take time from pleasure. He passed seminary classes without much thought of personally applying the knowledge gained. I noted: “You are making choices today that appear to give you what you want: an easy life, abundant enjoyment, and not much sacrifice. You can do that for a while, yet every decision you make narrows your future. You are eliminating possibilities and options. There will come a time, and it won’t be too distant, when you are going to spend the rest of your life doing things you don’t want to do, in places you don’t want to be, because you have not prepared yourself. You are not taking advantage of your opportunities.”
I mentioned how everything I treasure today began to mature in the mission field. Missionary service is not something we do for ourselves, yet great growth and preparation for the future are gained from a mission. Missionaries focus outside of themselves on other people. They draw close to the Lord and really learn His teachings. They find individuals who are interested in the message but not sure of its worth. Missionaries try with every capacity—prayer, fasting, and testifying—to help individuals embrace the truth. A mission teaches one to be led by the Spirit, to understand our purpose for being on earth and how to accomplish it. I gave him a blessing. As he left, I prayed earnestly that the Lord would help him choose the right priorities. Otherwise, he will fail in life’s purpose.

“I used to go to the pool and then go home before going to school,” Elizabeth remembers. Of course that was before she became a member of the Church. And it’s Heath’s, uh, fault Elizabeth added an extra hour to her already-busy schedule.
“You know how a lot of guys cuss?” Elizabeth asks. “Well, Heath wasn’t like that. And he was really nice to everyone. He was just different from any guy I’d ever met. But I didn’t know he was a Mormon at first.”
She soon found out. And before long, Heath was inviting Elizabeth to ward parties and dances. Then one Sunday Heath took Elizabeth to the Dutch Fork Ward sacrament meeting because his mother was singing. “I liked church a lot. I liked how members would bear their testimonies, and how the congregation would give the sermons. I eventually started going with him every Sunday,” Elizabeth says.
The more she heard and saw, the more interested she became. Eventually, Elizabeth requested that Heath arrange for her to be taught by the missionaries. After listening to the missionary discussions for several weeks, Elizabeth asked Heath, who had just been ordained a priest, if he would baptize her.
“When Elizabeth got baptized, it was probably the most spiritually uplifting experience I’ve ever had,” Heath says. “It was too great to describe when I baptized her. And I know Elizabeth knows this Church is true. It’s a great feeling to know I introduced her to the Church because of the way I acted.”

Christopher’s heart was heavy as he walked slowly to the family car after Primary. Why does everyone but me hear the still, small voice? he wondered.
In fast and testimony meeting, Brother Johnson told of an experience he’d had while driving across a lonely stretch of highway. The still, small voice had told him to take a different route home, one that would add about ten miles to his trip. Although he had been eager to get back home from his business trip, he obeyed the prompting. On his detour, he came across a rollover accident. A young family had been traveling a long way to visit relatives. When the father, who was driving the car, fell asleep, the car had drifted too close to the side of the road and had rolled off a steep embankment. Brother Johnson was able to help the young family by calling for help on the phone he carried in his car and by administering first-aid to the father, who had some serious cuts and bruises.
Bishop Benson told how he had been prompted by the Holy Ghost to check on Sister Henderson during the week. Sister Henderson was a widow who lived about two miles up a dirt road off the main highway into town. When the bishop went to see her, he found that her furnace had broken down. She didn’t have a telephone and was no longer able to drive, so she had prayed to Heavenly Father for help. The still, small voice had told her that all would be well.
Later, Christopher’s Primary teacher, Sister Woolett, had given a lesson about the Holy Ghost. She told about when the still, small voice had warned her to check on her sleeping child. When she did, it appeared that everything was all right. But as she turned to leave, the voice again told her to check on her boy. This time she went over to the crib and looked more closely at him. There, next to him, was a large, jagged piece of glass. A framed picture that had been hanging above the crib had somehow fallen. Most of the glass and the frame had fallen behind the crib, but the large, jagged piece had fallen next to her sleeping son.
Sister Woolett also related an incident from the lesson manual about one of the prophets being warned of danger by the still, small voice.
Why can everyone hear the still, small voice but me? Christopher wondered again. He knew that following his baptism almost two years ago, he was given the gift of the Holy Ghost when he was confirmed. So why doesn’t the Holy Ghost speak to me?
“How was Primary?” Mom asked as Christopher and his two younger sisters climbed into the car. Jill and Melinda excitedly started telling about their lessons and the songs they learned in singing time. Christopher just sadly stared at the floor of the car.
“What was your lesson about, Christopher?” Dad asked.
A tear rolled down Christopher’s cheek. “The Holy Ghost,” he replied softly. Sensing that something was wrong, Jill and Melinda quit chattering.
“Maybe we could talk about this a little more when we get in the house,” Mom said as the car turned into the driveway.
Later Mom and Dad invited Christopher to come to their room. “Christopher,” Mom said, “can you tell us what’s bothering you?”
Christopher looked down. He didn’t want his parents to know that the Holy Ghost didn’t talk to him. They probably heard the still, small voice all the time.
“Listen, Son,” Dad said, putting his arm around Christopher, “we can tell that you’re upset, and we’d like to help.”
Christopher felt tears ready to spill from his eyes. “Mom, Dad,” he said in a shaky voice, “why doesn’t the Holy Ghost speak to me? I’ve always tried to do what’s right. I know I make mistakes—like the time I spilled the red punch on the new carpet and said Jill did it so I wouldn’t get into trouble. But I did finally tell the truth. Do you have to be perfect like the bishop or Brother Johnson or Sister Woolett to have the Holy Ghost speak to you?”
Mom and Dad looked a little surprised. “Christopher,” Mom said, “the only perfect person who ever lived on the earth was Jesus Christ. Everyone makes mistakes. Why don’t you think the Holy Ghost speaks to you?”
“I’ve never heard the still, small voice,” Christopher replied.
“Hearing a voice isn’t the only way the Holy Ghost can communicate with you,” Mom said. “Often it’s what you feel, not what you hear. Don’t you remember that good feeling you had after you prayed and asked Heavenly Father to forgive you for blaming your sister for the carpet stain and after telling us the truth? That feeling was from the Holy Ghost.”
“It was?”
“Or how about the time when we were reading from the scriptures,” Dad added, “and you suddenly understood what Jesus Christ was really talking about in the parable about the wheat and the tares. That was the Holy Ghost teaching you.”
“Wow! I never thought about it that way before!”
“And,” said Mom, “remember when you got lost in the shopping mall last summer and you prayed for help? After you prayed, you felt calm and knew you should sit on the nearest bench and let us find you. That calm, reassuring feeling letting you know what to do was also the Holy Ghost.”
Christopher smiled. Now he understood. The Holy Ghost had been talking to him, even if he didn’t hear the still, small voice with his ears! Now he said excitedly, “What about last week when I gave my talk in Primary? I’d studied it really hard, but when I got up, I couldn’t remember it. Then I said a quick, little prayer, and suddenly my talk came back to me. That was the Holy Ghost, too, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Dad said. “Helping you remember things is also a part of the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
“Wow! Now I understand! All those times the Holy Ghost really was talking to me!”

Elizabeth headed the ball and skillfully let it drop near her feet. As she tried to pass off to her teammate, Central’s right-winger lost her balance and careened into Elizabeth, sending them both sprawling. For a moment Elizabeth couldn’t breathe. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled. There was only one person on the bench to replace her. Oh, no, she thought, not Kristen! She’s not ready yet. But Coach Fulton was already sending her in.
It didn’t take Central long to discover that they were dealing with a beginner. When the pass came, Kristen dribbled downfield. Central moved in and pressured her. She tensed, lost her concentration, and tripped over the ball. Central gained control and quickly scored the winning goal.
As the field cleared, Kristen slowly walked away, pulling a wad of crumpled paper from her pocket.
Elizabeth hadn’t known Kristen long. She wasn’t an easy person to get to know, but she seemed to need a friend. Elizabeth knew she was discouraged—maybe discouraged enough to quit. Even the practice sessions were tough for her. Perhaps that was because she didn’t have any friends to buddy practice with.
“Kristen, wait up,” Elizabeth called.
Kristen looked up, surprised. “Sorry about the game,” she said quietly, shoving the wad of paper into her pocket. “I guess I just wasn’t cut out for soccer. The team would be better off without me. I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She put her arm gently around Kristen’s shoulder, and they walked away together. It isn’t just soccer, Elizabeth thought. At school Kristen had a difficult time following directions. She couldn’t remember what their teacher, Mr. Kelly, told her to do. She often wrote numbers and letters backward. And she just couldn’t seem to pay attention, even though she tried very hard.
“A learning disability” was what Kristen’s special teacher, Mrs. O’Brien, called it. For some reason, Kristen’s brain wasn’t able to process information normally. The right messages didn’t always get through, just as a phone call doesn’t go through when the wires are jammed or broken. Because of her difficulties, Kristen spent a part of each school day with Mrs. O’Brien, who helped Kristen and other children like her.
Elizabeth had never met anyone like Kristen before. The more time she spent with her, the more she noticed all those wads of paper that Kristen always had in her pockets. She wanted to ask her about the paper, but the two of them were just becoming friends, and Elizabeth didn’t want to spoil it. Perhaps Mrs. O’Brien, who knew Kristen well, could help her understand Kristen better.
“Kristen is a very bright girl, as are many learning disabled children,” Mrs. O’Brien explained when Elizabeth stopped by the next day after school. “She’s making progress, but slowly. Unfortunately, she’s been hurt too often by thoughtless teasing. Many children just don’t understand. They never take the time to get to know her. That’s why she’s so shy about making friends.”
“Do you know why she always carries those little wads of crumpled paper?” asked Elizabeth.
“That’s something Kristen will have to tell you herself.”
I’ll ask her at soccer practice, Elizabeth decided as she hurried to the soccer field.
“Kristen,” she began slowly when practice was over, “I’ve been wondering why your pockets are always full of crumpled paper.”
“It’s nothing much, just doodles,” said Kristen.
“Really? May I see them?”
Reluctantly Kristen reached into her pocket and retrieved a wad of paper.
Elizabeth put it on her knee and smoothed it out carefully. “Kristen, this is me!” she said in surprise. “You’ve drawn a sketch of me!”
“Sometimes—especially when I’m feeling discouraged—I doodle. It helps me feel better,” Kristen explained nervously.
“This is terrific, Kristen! Do you have any more?”
Kristen emptied the contents of her pockets and handed them to Elizabeth. “I have lots more at home,” she added, feeling more confident.
There was a sketch of Kristen’s puppy chewing an old sneaker, a drawing of their teammates playing soccer, and a picture of E. T. Elizabeth was astonished. They were really good! “Has anyone else ever seen these?” she asked.
Kristen shook her head.
“Well, they should!” A smile spread across Elizabeth’s face. She knew what to do to help the other kids at school to look beyond Kristen’s difficulties and get to know her better. “I have an idea,” Elizabeth said. “Come with me.”
First they went to see Mr. Kelly, then they hurried to Kristen’s house, where they gathered all of her drawings and mounted them on construction paper.
When their classmates arrived at school the next morning, they found the walls of their room covered with Kristen’s artwork. “Hey, that’s me!” several of them shouted.
“Who drew these?” others asked.
“They’re terrific!” they all agreed as they milled around, trying to see all the pictures.
After they had settled down, Mr. Kelly announced, “The artist is someone you all know. It’s—”
“It’s Kristen!” Elizabeth blurted out before Mr. Kelly could finish. She began to applaud enthusiastically. And the whole room clapped with her.

Let me share briefly one of the great blessings of my life, which involved sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ with a good friend and colleague, John Chen, shortly after Margaret and I returned from presiding over the England London Mission. At that time, John and I were working together on a business school project in China.

As we were traveling and meeting with people in China, we had an open Saturday in Beijing, and John agreed to take me to the Great Wall of China. As I was leaving the hotel, I had the distinct impression that I should take with me my small red travel copy of the Book of Mormon and find an opportunity to share a gospel message with John. As we rode out to the Great Wall, I began asking John about religious beliefs in China and what he knew of Jesus Christ. I quickly learned that he had no Christian background but that he was concerned with providing his son Kenny, then age 10, a moral framework for life. He thought that religion might perhaps offer that. We had a wonderful discussion of the Savior and His teachings, and I presented John with my travel copy of the Book of Mormon and invited him to read and pray about it.

Upon our return to Boston, I invited John, his wife Wei, and his son Kenny to attend church with us. While everything was new, they enjoyed it enough to join us the following week for a broadcast session of General Conference at our ward building. Within a short time, John and Wei had agreed to meet weekly for a discussion. Because they lived in the same ward as the Boston Mission President, which was not our ward, I set it up so John and his family could have Margaret and me join the missionaries one week and the Mission President and his wife join the missionaries the next week. John was diligent in his efforts to study, discuss, and apply the gospel and within a few months was ready to be baptized. The teaching continued and some months later his wife Wei and his son Kenny were baptized as was his daughter Susan who had been away at university.

A year later, Margaret and I had the wonderful blessing of joining the Chen family at the temple, and I had the opportunity to perform the sealing for them. Let me share the two minute video of John’s testimony found on the Mormon.org website.

[Video]

The blessings of John and his family preparing their hearts to love the Savior and His gospel have only continued. A few years ago, their daughter Susan completed a master’s degree in accounting at BYU–Provo and met her eternal companion, and they were sealed in the Orlando, Florida temple. Six months ago, Kenny was called to serve in Paris, France as a Mandarin-speaking missionary.

What a blessing it has been that John and his family were willing to be taught by the missionaries and the Holy Ghost and to prepare their hearts to love the Lord and His gospel. And like each of us, they have continued to deepen their testimonies by continuing to learn, engage, and improve through their scripture study, prayer, faithful church service, and regular temple attendance.

In considering the testing that leads to a degree—or to the bigger goal of eternal life—we could get overwhelmed. I think Elder Hartman Rector, Jr., thought about this:
“I learned this lesson from my father at a very early age. My dad was smarter than I was when I was seven years old. Of course, I was smarter than he was when I was seventeen, but that changed later, too. He said to me one time, ‘You are not big enough to milk the cows.’
“Now, I knew I was. I was seven years old, and I knew I could milk the cows. So I proved to him that I could.
“My dad said, ‘You know, I believe you can milk. You’ve got the job.’
“For the next ten years I milked eight to twelve cows night and morning. You may rest assured I got to the place where I did not want to milk, and once I said to Dad, ‘Dad, I don’t want to milk.’ He said, ‘That’s all right. You don’t have to want to—as long as you do it.’” [8]

Hadley Peay is now seven years old. Hadley was born with a very serious hearing impairment requiring extensive surgery to bring even limited hearing. Her parents followed with tireless training to help her learn to speak. Hadley and her family have cheerfully adapted to the challenge of her deafness.

Once, when Hadley was four, she was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store with her mother. She looked behind her and saw a little boy sitting in a wheelchair. She noticed that the boy did not have legs.

Although Hadley had learned to speak, she had difficulty controlling the volume of her voice. In her louder voice, she asked her mother why the little boy did not have legs.

Her mother quietly and simply explained to Hadley that “Heavenly Father makes all of His children different.” “OK,” Hadley replied.

Then, unexpectedly, Hadley turned to the little boy and said, “Did you know that when Heavenly Father made me, my ears did not work? That makes me special. He made you with no legs, and that makes you special. When Jesus comes, I will be able to hear and you will get your legs. Jesus will make everything all right.”

“Except ye … become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”

Hadley knew enough.