Gospel Story Finder

Emma jumped over the cracks in the stone sidewalk. It was a bright, sunny day. She and Mama were walking to the grocery store.
“Mama, how far away is the sun?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mama said.
Emma squinted up at the sky. “Do you think a rocket will ever go to the sun? Do you think it’s hotter than lightning? Do you think …”
Mama laughed. “Your questions are getting harder and harder!”
Emma laughed too. She had lots of questions. Mama always did her best to answer them. That was one reason why Emma liked going on walks with Mama.
Emma looked around her neighborhood. Taxis drove down the stone street. People rode by on bikes. Lots of people were out walking too.
Then Emma looked across the street. A little girl was sitting on the steps outside an apartment building. It looked like she was crying.
Emma slowed down. Should she stop to help? Maybe the girl wanted to be left alone. Sometimes Emma wanted to be left alone when she was sad.
Emma stopped walking. Most of the time Emma wanted someone to talk to when she needed help. And maybe she could help!
She grabbed Mama’s hand. “Look, Mama. I think that girl needs some help.”
Mama looked across the street. “I think you’re right.”
Emma held Mama’s hand as they crossed the street. She walked up the steps to where the girl was sitting.
“Hi,” Emma said. “Do you need help?”
The little girl sniffed and looked up at them. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and her eyes were red and puffy.
“I … I’m locked out of my apartment.” She took a deep breath. Her voice was shaky and quiet. Emma knelt down next to her to hear her better.
“I can’t read,” the girl said. “I don’t know what button to push to get back in.”
Emma looked at the wall outside the apartment building. There were lots of little buttons. Each button had a name on it. Next to the buttons was a speaker.
“What’s your last name?” Emma asked.
“Schneider,” the little girl said.
Mama read through all the buttons until she found one that said “Schneider.” She pushed it.
Buzz!
The button made a loud sound. Then a voice crackled through the speaker.
“This is the Schneiders. How may I help you?”
Mama spoke into the speaker. “Hi! My daughter and I are outside with a little girl who says she got locked out.”
The girl stood up fast and ran over to the speaker. “Mama,” she said, “I couldn’t read the button to get back in, and these people helped me!”
The voice on the speaker sounded surprised. “Leni! I thought you were in your room! Don’t worry. I’m coming down there right now.”
After a few seconds, a lady came running outside. The girl ran up and gave her a hug.
The lady turned to Emma. “Thank you for helping my little Leni!”
Emma smiled. “It was easy to help.”
They waved goodbye and walked back down the stairs. Emma’s whole body felt warm. She thought of one more question for Mama.
“Helping that girl was easy. Why do I feel so happy about it?”
Mama squeezed Emma’s hand. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that you made a good choice.”
Emma smiled. She was glad she stopped to help.

I remember the smile of Sister Ruby Haight. She was the wife of Elder David B. Haight, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. As a young man he served as the president of the Palo Alto stake in California. He prayed over, and worried about, the girls in the Mia Maid class in his own ward.

So President Haight was inspired to ask the bishop to call Ruby Haight to teach those young girls. He knew she would be a witness of God who would lift, comfort, and love the girls in that class.

Sister Haight was at least 30 years older than the girls she taught. Yet 40 years after she taught them, each time she would meet my wife, who had been one of the girls in her class, she would put out her hand, smile, and say to Kathy, “Oh! My Mia Maid.” I saw more than her smile. I felt her deep love for a sister she still cared for as if she were her own daughter. Her smile and warm greeting came from seeing that a sister and daughter of God was still on the covenant path home.

There’s always been something about islands that draws me in. Maybe it’s having been raised on a dry dusty ranch and makes me want to be surrounded by water, but whatever it is, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

For decades, I’ve been fascinated with survival stories – especially sailing adventures gone bad. That seems to be my favorite genre. I’ve always wondered what would happen if I were marooned on an island. Could I survive? Six years ago, Cheryl got tired of hearing me talk about these things and said something like “If this is your mid-life crisis, go ahead and get it over with.”

So in 2009, I looked on Google Earth, found some suitably remote islands among the Marshall chain in the central Pacific, and went about planning to maroon myself. I decided I would just take a few essentials: a machete to open coconuts, a mask, fins, snorkel, a Hawaiian sling to spear fish, a magnifying glass to start a fire, a hammock, and a manual desalinator pump to make fresh water. That was about it. Now, I realize that for many of the Pacific Islanders here today, this doesn’t sound too exotic, but it does to a kid from Snowflake.

After flying from Arizona to Hawaii to Majuro to Kwajalein, I was dropped off on an uninhabited island called Jabonwod, consisting of 25 acres of sand, coral, and coconut trees. I experienced many sensations during my week there. Chief among these were fear – after more than a few close encounters with sharks; hunger – you can only eat so much fish and coconut; thirst – the coconut water craze is so over for me.

But most of all, it was the sensation of loneliness that about did me in. Nothing compares to being and feeling alone, completely alone. I had no volleyball to talk to, so I resorted to numbering hermit crabs that wandered through my camp with a sharpie pen that had been given to me on Kwajalein. By the end of the week, I’d numbered 126 crabs. I still miss #73.

I returned to the Marshall Islands two years ago with our two teenage boys, who are still at home, for a similar survival experience, and last year, I took a Democratic senator and a camera crew from the Discovery Channel to film what they called “Rival Survival.” We proved once and for all, as Steven Colbert described it, that “Republicans and Democrats can get along when death is the only option.”

There’s an old English poem that proclaims, “No man is an island.” If my lonely island adventures have taught me anything, it is that this concept is true. We need each other. We rely on each other. Life is worth living because of the interactions we have with one another, and our happiness depends on the lives we lead and the examples we set for each other.

In England, Elder Woodruff learned that a large group of people called the United Brethren had gathered to worship and to ask God for more knowledge of truth.
Elder Woodruff: John, this is inspired! The Lord sent me to Hereford to teach these people.
Elder Woodruff’s success with the United Brethren was even more astounding than his boyhood success with fishing. In two days he baptized six hundred people!
Constable: I have been ordered to arrest you, Elder Woodruff, for preaching to the people.
Elder Woodruff: But I have a license to preach the gospel, sir. If you will sit in this chair until the meeting is over, we will talk about this misunderstanding and get it settled.
By the end of the meeting, there was nothing left to settle.
Constable: I, too, wish to be baptized, Elder Woodruff.
Four ministers: So do we.

Another time—it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, about 1943—I went to priesthood meeting. There was a large framed board. It had the pictures of all the young men serving in the military. Priests who had been at the sacrament table a few months earlier were now in the war. Each week it would be updated. Those who were killed in action had a gold star by their picture; those who had been wounded, a red star; and those missing in action, a white star. Every week, as a 12-year-old deacon, I checked to see who had been killed or wounded.

In quorum meeting that morning, the member of the bishopric said, “This Thursday is Thanksgiving. We ought to all have family prayer in our homes.” Then he said, “Let’s put on the blackboard the things we are grateful for.” We did, and he said, “Include these things in your Thanksgiving prayer.” I got sick to my stomach, as we never had a prayer or blessing.

That night at 6:30 we went to sacrament meeting. At the end of the meeting, the bishop stood up and was very tender. He told about the young men from our ward who had been killed and wounded. He talked about our liberty, our freedom, our flag, and this great country, and our blessings. Then he said, “I’d hope every single family would kneel and have family prayer on Thanksgiving Day and thank God for His blessings.”

My heart ached. I thought, “How can we have family prayer?” I wanted to be obedient. I hardly slept all Sunday night. I wanted to have a prayer for Thanksgiving. I even thought I would say it if someone asked me, but I was too shy to volunteer. I worried all day Monday, and all day Tuesday, and Wednesday at school.

Dad did not come home on Wednesday until early in the morning. Thursday we all got up. There were five boys and two sisters. We skipped breakfast so we would have a real appetite for Thanksgiving dinner. To work up an appetite, we went to a nearby field and dug a hole six feet deep and six feet wide. We made a trench to it as a hideout. I remember with every shovelful of dirt, I thought, “Please, Heavenly Father, let us have a prayer.”

Finally at 2:30, my mother called us to come and eat. We cleaned up and sat at the table. Somehow Mom had managed to have a turkey with all the trimmings. She put all the food on the table, including the turkey. I thought my heart would burst. Time was running out. I looked at my father, then my mother. I thought, “Please, now, someone, anyone, please can’t we have a prayer.” I was almost panicky; then all of a sudden everyone started to eat. I had worked hard all morning and afternoon to work up an appetite, but I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to pray more than anything else in this world, and it was too late.

“Nice pants,” a girl giggled as she walked past me into class. I stood in the hallway of my new junior high school, confused by her sarcasm.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I whispered to myself.
It didn’t take me long to figure it out. In this school, designer clothes were the standard, and my jeans didn’t have the right label. I just didn’t fit in.
As the unkind comments grew, so did my feelings of inferiority. Along with my schoolwork, I started studying the other students’ styles. Time and new clothes helped end the teasing. Yet I still spent hours worrying that I didn’t measure up.
My craving to feel accepted continued into high school, where luxury cars in the student parking lot were a common sight. I would rather have been seen careening through the halls in a baby buggy than caught driving our family car. It was a minivan, old and turquoise. A recent accident supplied the final touch—a white hood. The van reminded me of a blue-and-white suede loafer, so I named it Old Blue Shoe.
Since I walked to school, Old Blue Shoe didn’t concern me much—that is, until my parents bought a new car and offered me the ancient vehicle. Was I grateful for something to drive? Hardly—I’d rather walk.
A short time later in history class, my teacher assigned a joint research project. Instead of the usual disappointment, though, I was overjoyed—my teacher had announced that Rick and I would be in the same group. Not only was Rick one of the smart kids, but he was also seminary president and an athlete. This was my chance to impress him, to prove that I could fit in with the popular kids. Before class ended, we’d agreed to do our work at the university library. Then I walked home, smiling the whole way.
That night, my parents dropped me off at the library so I wouldn’t have to drive the van. But I cringed when my parents said, “Get a ride home from one of your friends, okay?”
The library research time flew by, and I felt relieved when Rick offered to take me home. We walked down the library stairs and outside, talking about school. As we reached the parking lot, my insecure feelings poked at me, and I felt the need to explain why I was reduced to begging for rides. “My parents bought a new car and offered me their van,” I said, “but it was this ugly dinosaur, and, you know …” I shrugged, hoping to suggest I was too stylish to ride in a car like that.
I wondered why Rick got so quiet. He pulled out his keys and stopped in front of his car. The reason for his silence hit like Old Blue Shoe’s ghost on a rampage. It was a blue minivan—a newer model, but otherwise identical to the car I’d just ridiculed.
My stomach dropped. I opened the car door and slid into the seat, wishing I could hide in the glove box instead. I wanted to apologize, explain that his car was nice, in much better shape than my parent’s van. Yet I was too mortified to say a single word.
Rick didn’t speak either, except to ask for directions to my house. He pulled up to my curb, then left with a simple “Bye.”
My face burned with humiliation as I walked to my front door. Worse, I knew I deserved every bit of my embarrassment. I went inside and sank onto the couch to think. Until that night, I’d thought self-confidence came from appearance. Although my comment bothered Rick, driving that car didn’t. He had an assurance based not on looks, but an internal quality I lacked.
I realized I’d wasted years studying the “in” crowd, when I should have been working on what was inside. I wanted to change, to be more like Rick—a person who could have a “bad car day” without letting it ruin my feelings of self-worth.
I made a goal to stop just following others and try to become more like our Savior, Jesus Christ. As I looked to Him, I began to gain a confidence based not on how I looked, but how I served.
I learned a secret I wish I’d known before Rick gave me that ride home. I was much happier when I spent my time thinking of others instead of worrying about what they thought of me.

Many know Elder Clark G. Gilbert as president of BYU–Pathway Worldwide and as past president of Brigham Young University–Idaho. Many also know him for his innovative development of online higher education programs at both institutions.
Elder Clark credits meaningful Church service—helping young men in inner-city Boston, Massachusetts, USA—for preparing him to take educational opportunities to larger audiences. That service opportunity came as he was busy with graduate school and caring for a young family.
“Those young men didn’t always have a lot of support. They became a part of our lives, and we grew to love them,” he said. “I learned to listen to the Lord and knew He was in their lives. I could hear Him telling me what I needed to do for them.”
Elder Gilbert said the Lord taught him about the needs of other people. “It wasn’t just that He was preparing me for education, but He was showing me what He could do in the lives of people at a deep, personal level.”

A number of years ago in general conference, Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles told the story of Joseph Millett, a little-known member of the Church.
He lived in the early days of the Church and came across the plains with other faithful members to tame a desert and to find a new home. In those first years, food was often scarce. Winters were particularly difficult, and often the days stretched further than the food that was stored.
Joseph Millett wrote in his journal: “One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’”
That night Joseph Millett recorded a remarkable sentence in his journal: “You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett” (Diary of Joseph Millett, holograph, Historical Department Archives, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; cited in Boyd K. Packer, “A Tribute to the Rank and File of the Church,” Ensign, May 1980, 63).

In my life, there have been a multitude of times that the Lord has prepared ways for me to accomplish the things He has inspired me to do. The one that I would like to share with you today is how the Lord guided me to become a math teacher. It started with a tender mercy given me when I was a senior in high school. Through an unusual confluence of circumstances I was given the opportunity to teach an algebra class for six weeks while the regular teacher recovered from surgery. I was pretty stressed out as I prepared for the first class period, and very nervous as I walked in the door to the classroom. The students had been warned what was coming, but still were very kind to me. They were not quite sure about having a fellow student be their teacher, but we became good friends and accomplished all of the learning objectives for the class over our weeks together. At the end of each class, I was exhausted and wondered how I would make it through the rest of the day. I had no idea the work involved in teaching, but as I continued, I came to love the experience working with the students.

Even though I loved being a teacher, I knew how much school teachers made. I was much more interested in money than in fulfillment. My priests quorum advisor was a computer scientist and told me that if I majored in computer science and math, I could make a lot of money. So, I started at BYU, declaring myself as a computer science major.

I went to a year at BYU before serving my mission, and I enjoyed my classes and did reasonably well in them. I was feeling good about my choice of major and the big house and nice cars I would have after I graduated. However, when I returned from my mission, I had not yet learned to go to the advising center to get help with choosing my classes, and I was absolutely terrified to go to a teacher and ask for advice. Ignorance and fear do not usually lead to wise decisions, and I chose very poorly. I was not prepared for the classes I enrolled in that first semester back from my mission. I failed one of my math classes and barely passed the rest.

That semester was an unhappy one for other reasons. Between missions, marriage, and internships, my close friends were no longer available to hang out with me. I did not make friends easily, so I spent the semester feeling very alone. I did not adjust well to the spiritual transition from mission life and quit my habits of frequent sincere prayer and gospel study. So I struggled spiritually. It was not a good semester.

Despite the fact that I would never want to relive that semester, the Lord used my difficulties to help guide me away from the path I had chosen and towards the path He was preparing for me. My experience was similar to how the recession in 2008 caused Brother Tanner, who spoke in devotional last week, to change from a thriving career as an artist to his current career as an educator. Like the challenges the recession caused Brother Tanner, my failures in my math and computer science classes made me reevaluate my choice of major. After consulting with advisors, parents, and teachers and a lot of prayer and fasting, I felt impressed to change from computer science to secondary education and pursue a career in teaching math.

I still had more math classes to struggle through, and student teaching was so stressful that I developed stomach problems, but I knew that I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do and I received many tender mercies—some of them truly miraculous—that made it so I could succeed in the career path He had revealed to me. I testify that when we follow the revelation we receive from the Lord, He does prepare a way for us to accomplish whatever He asks us to do.

If you don’t know that you are of great worth, I encourage you to do what I did after I began to grasp this absolute truth. I was in my 40s. (But don’t wait as long as I did to do this.) As it says in Moroni 10:4, I asked God “with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ” if he really loved me and if I had worth, even after some of the crazy things I had done. The experience I had after that prayerful encounter is what keeps me going whenever I doubt. I felt his love encircle me completely and with incredible warmth and compassion. I have never forgotten that feeling. For some of you, asking God these questions will be a leap of faith because you only know what the world has told you. You may feel you are not of worth and that you are beyond help. You may have settled into pleasurable or addictive behaviors that you’d rather not or think you cannot change. It will have to be for you, as Malcolm Muggeridge tells us, “faith that bridges the chasm between what our minds can know and what our souls aspire after” (Jesus: The Man Who Lives [New York: Harper and Row, 1975], p. 20). I encourage all of you to take that leap of faith and ask our Heavenly Father. He loves each of us enough to catch and steady our jump.

Sister Ardeth Kapp related the story of an experience while she was serving with her husband as he presided over a mission in Canada. Following a Zone Conference, a few of the sister missionaries gathered around to visit with her while the president was conducting interviews. These missionaries, I’m sure thinking about this important decision they would eventually make in finding a worthy husband, commented, “Sister Kapp, your husband is so wonderful. Where did you find a man like that?” Her response was classic. She said, “Well, he wasn’t like that when I found him.” The implication is that you don’t find a perfect spouse. You pray about it, you make a choice, you marry someone who has the potential of becoming perfect and then work together throughout life to make it happen.

Let me tell you of a season of my life when I came to appreciate, just a bit the blessings that come when we start seeking for eternal things of our own free will. This happened about 41 years ago, after I had returned from my mission. I found myself in the Army, having been given a choice between being drafted for a longer period or enlisting for a shorter one. I enlisted. Part of the time I was assigned to a company full of men who also entered the army by choice — only in their case it was a choice a judge gave them either to go into the army or go to prison. You can imagine having to deal with the hostilities of men who were offended by the sight of a barracks mate kneeling in prayer by his bed and carrying the scriptures around with him. And to top it off, part of the time I was extremely ill with a staff infection throughout my body. Yet I count my time in the Army as one of the great seasons of my life, even when the surrounding conditions got ugly. For I was caught up day and night in the scriptures. I would plan each weekend to leave the base when I could get off duty and absorb myself completely in what some people might think a very strange project. The project was to arrange the scriptures by topic according to a scheme I had worked out in my mind, beginning with the creation and the placing of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. No one had assigned me to do this or even suggested it. I did it because of my hunger to learn.

In those days we had no computers or even copy machines. If you wanted a copy of something, you typed it or wrote it out by hand. How was I to get copies of the many, many pages of scripture I wanted to arrange? I didn’t even have a typewriter. I purchased several paperback copies of the scriptures, cut the passages out that I wanted — with two copies I could get both sides of the page — and then pasted them on sheets in the desired order.

Where could I work on such a project? Each weekend that I could leave the base I rented an inexpensive hotel room, pushed the bed into a corner, stacked the other furniture on the bed, and laid out all the cut-up passages on the floor. I would work for hours, late at night and then early in the morning, stopping to go to Church.

It would be hard to describe the excitement I felt during these studious hours. The further I got into the project, the faster the insights came, and the more on fire I felt. I discovered that after I had studied for a while my appetite for spiritual things did not diminish, the way physical appetite does after we have eaten a certain amount. It grew. I hungered for the things of God more than ever before in my life. And I felt the Lord’s Spirit with me. It daily accompanied me into very difficult circumstances, guiding and protecting me.

For Nepali families, drinking tea with milk first thing in the morning is an ingrained tradition. In every home and every tiny shop along every narrow street, small stoves brew tea. To begin to follow the Word of Wisdom has been difficult for many of these young converts.
When Deepak Shrestha’s older brother, who was the first missionary to serve from Nepal, told him the Church was the greatest thing in the world, Deepak was interested. Then his brother challenged him to live the Word of Wisdom. Deepak quickly felt the wisdom of this advice because “it affects the future.” The result of that decision has been the start of Deepak’s strong and continually growing testimony of the gospel.

When I was a child, my dad made decisions that hurt our family. After years of prayer, counseling with church leaders, and other resources, my mom filed for divorce.
Despite her struggles, my mom remained faithful in the gospel, and three years after her divorce, she remarried in the temple to my stepdad. They are two of the most Christlike people I have ever known, and I was lucky to be raised by them.
Growing up with divorced parents was difficult. My dad remarried, and I enjoyed spending time with my stepmom and her kids. But even in the best of times, I carried the weight of my family’s situation.
I worried about my future family. I was afraid my marriage would fail and cause me so much pain. This fear made me extra careful when I started dating in high school. I didn’t want my heart broken, which made it impossible to open myself up to people, even to my good friends. When I went to college, I guarded my heart. I was extremely cautious and most of the time never made it past a first date because I was terrified. I thought I would never get married.
My fears about commitment took another bad turn when my dad got divorced a second time.
I was heartbroken by the news. I had suppressed my feelings about my parents’ divorce for most of my life out of love for my dad, but this news made all my anger, sadness, resentment, abandonment, and pain come out.
As I prepared to leave on my mission soon after, I counseled with Heavenly Father to help me let go of the hurt and have hope for a future marriage. I learned that healing takes time and continually seeking the Savior.
I carried that hope of healing with me throughout my mission, and I was blessed to meet people from all walks of life who could empathize with my struggles. These people helped strengthen my faith to trust in what the Savior could do for me.
But then I had a companion I struggled to get along with. After a hard day of disagreements, I wondered if the contention I had with my companion was a sneak peek at my future marriage.
“If she got tired of me in just a few short months, will my future husband dislike me too after marriage?” I thought.
Shortly after coming home from my mission, I remembered what I learned from the wonderful people on my mission. I was hesitant at first, but I relied on the Savior to help me overcome my fears and start dating again. It took some time, but I eventually got engaged to my best friend from high school. He knew everything about me, including my fears and my experiences, and I was overjoyed to be with him.
But I was terrified. He was one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I knew, but I still worried that my marriage would fail as my parents’ did. My faith in an eternal marriage was faltering.
With these thoughts swirling around in my head, I turned to prayer and was prompted to talk to my mom about her experiences. I asked her why it was worth getting married when I could avoid the potential pain by not getting married.
That’s when my mom bore her powerful testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. She reminded me that no matter how we struggle in life, the Savior is always there to buoy us up. If we trust in Him, then we have no reason to fear for the future.
My mom’s advice brought Doctrine and Covenants 6:36 into my mind, which says, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”
If we live in fear of what could happen, we will never get to experience anything, good or bad. The whole point of being here on earth is to have a body and to be tested, but the Lord also wants us to experience the great joys that He has in store for us.
A few months later as I focused on Christ and pressed forward with faith, my husband and I were sealed in the temple. Even though we have our challenges, we focus on Christ. Keeping Him at the center of my life and my marriage has made all the difference, and I have experienced more joy than I thought possible. My life has gotten better every time that I’ve put my trust in the Lord over my fears.
President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, recently taught: “There is hope in the Lord Jesus Christ. There is hope for all in this life. There is hope to overcome our mistakes, our sorrows, our struggles, and our trials and our troubles. There is hope in repentance and being forgiven and in forgiving others. I testify that there is hope and peace in Christ.”1
As we keep our covenants and strengthen our faith in Him, I know that He will bless us. I am so thankful for His Atonement, which has allowed me to heal from my trials and my past, and has given me the strength to experience courage, hope, and anticipate miracles in my future. When we keep Him as our focus, regardless of our fears, we can always have hope for our eternal relationships.

I also remember attending a meeting near Bancroft, Idaho, years ago. It was sponsored in part by the extension service of the University. We’d had a wonderful meeting, and after it was over, I was greeting some of the wonderful farmers who were there, and among them was a man by the name of Brother Yost, and I said, “Brother Yost, how are things out on the farm?” Brother Yost said, “Oh, things are fine, Brother Benson, but I’m about 20 thousand dollars worse off than I was three days ago.” I said, “What’s the matter—another frost?” He said, “Yes, it hit the wheat just in the dough stage, and you know what that means.” He said, “We’re starting the mowing machines in the morning, but everything’s all right. We’ve still got a little wheat in the bin, and we’ve got at least part of our year’s supply laid away. We’re not going to starve, and there’ll be another crop.” As we left him, I said to my wife, “What a wonderful spirit.”
We drove on down to Logan. We had our children with us, and we stopped on Main Street to go into a grocery store to pick up a few cookies for the kiddies. And who should I meet on the sidewalk but Brother Yost. I said, “Well, what are you doing way down here?” He said, “Brother Benson, it’s our day to go to the temple.” And I said, “Well, reverses don’t dampen your spirit any, do they?” Then he taught me a lesson. He said, “Brother Benson, when reverses come we need the temple all the more.”

Some of the first forks were brought to Europe from Byzantium, a rich and powerful empire to the east. About a thousand years ago a Byzantine princess came to live in Venice, a city in Italy. She ate with a fork. The priests thought her way of eating was so fancy that it was sinful. They scolded her. They preached against her in church. Soon afterward, the princess caught a terrible disease and died. Many people believed that she was punished for using her fork.

Sometimes we have so many ideas and thoughts to share that we give in to the temptation to tell a lot of stories that have nothing in common. While they may all be effective if given at the proper time, their value is lost when given with many other unrelated stories. This results in the following situation:
A Nebraska farmer stepped into the town hall to hear the visiting speaker. The talk went on so long, however, that he sauntered outside for a bit of fresh air. A neighbor passing by asked, “Jim, what is he talkin’ about?”
“I don’t know,” came the reply. “He ain’t said.”

I sat in my motel room on a snowy January night, deeply discouraged. I had recently finished serving more than 34 years in prison for some serious crimes and injuries, and I was contemplating doing something that would have sent me straight back to where I had just been. My plans since my release had fallen apart—and as I had few resources and my prayers seemed to be going unanswered, my options felt limited.
A sound outside caught my attention. Looking out my window, I spotted the motel owner shoveling snow in the parking lot by himself. “Oh, that’s not right,” I thought, so I joined him. I didn’t think much of my act of service that night. But to my surprise, the next day the owner reduced the cost of my room. And while I stayed there over the following five weeks, he never asked me to pay full price.
His generosity was more than a financial blessing that I deeply needed. His kindness was also an answer to my prayer when I was losing hope. Through him, I understood that God was aware of me—and that I needed to take some steps to return to Him.

Chen Shun Chun, former president of the Hua Lien district, recently drew a diagram to illustrate the far-reaching results of his baptism in 1973. Starting with his name and his wife’s name in the center, he wrote down dozens of interconnected family members and others who have joined the Church, received the priesthood, received the temple endowment, served missions and converted others, and been sealed in the temple. One special area of the diagram lists deceased people whose ordinance work has been done vicariously. President Chen estimates that a whole ward has resulted from his baptism 26 years ago.

I lived in a ward where one woman was like a beacon of righteousness. Jessica (name has been changed) radiated love and goodness every week in our meetings. She went from person to person, greeting them and loving them—especially those who were “hanging on the edges” of the ward. She invited the lonely to her home, talked to the shy ones, and went out of her way to spread her commitment to Christ and His gospel. It impacted the entire ward for good.