Gospel Story Finder

While firefighters were battling roaring forest fires in the West recently, two grandmothers—Altha Clark, from Texas, and Hazel Stills, from Florida—kindled countless spiritual flames by creating new “interest of people who [had] investigated the Church for years, but who needed a firm, loving nudge to accept baptism,” and with caring fellowshipping, reached out to the less-active members.

“They don’t take no for an answer,” the second counselor in the Altamont Utah Stake presidency said, “and they [teach] without offending anyone.” They combine the Spirit with hard work.

A rancher said the two sisters “have kept us so busy I don’t have time to get my hay in. We … keep them [booked with people] to teach. In this stake, the full-time missionaries teach very few discussions without a stake missionary or fellowshipper going along.”

The two grandmothers travel about one hundred miles a day on unpaved country roads, and the dust and ruts don’t slow them down.

While visiting a member’s home, these remarkable missionaries asked if she knew someone they could teach.

The sister replied, “my husband.”

Directed by the Spirit how to approach this husband, they taught him the gospel and rejoiced with his wife at his baptism.

Fourteen families have now become active and will go to the temple this year because of the efforts of these full-time grandmother missionaries coordinating with the stake missionaries and properly following a plan in fellowshipping new members. A change has come about in the whole stake that has influenced the less active as well as nonmembers. (See Church News, 10 Sept. 1988, pp. 8, 9, 12.)

Aaron watched the snowy scenery whiz by the car window. His family was returning home after spending Thanksgiving with their grandparents and cousins. Soon he fell asleep in the backseat, along with his two sisters.
Suddenly the car swerved, and Aaron jerked awake. The car rolled over once and then came to a stop with a jolt.
“What happened?” Aaron asked.
“I fell asleep at the wheel,” Dad said in a shaky voice. He reached out to touch Mom’s cheek. “Are you all right?”
Mom nodded and turned to look at Aaron and his sisters.
“We’re all right, Mom,” Aaron said. He was grateful his parents always insisted that everyone wear seat belts and that Kaitlyn was in her car seat.
Nicole reached for his hand. Aaron squeezed her hand in return.
The family sat huddled in the car, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
When the paramedics arrived, they examined everyone. “It’s a miracle that your family came through alive,” one of the paramedics said.
“It is a miracle,” Mom said.
The ambulance took Aaron’s family to the nearest hospital. Mom got six stitches on her cheek, but no one else needed treatment.
Then they took their car to a service station to have it checked out. The car was safe to drive, so Aaron’s family resumed their trip. When they finally got home, it was just before midnight. Everyone felt tired and shaken.
“There is something we need to do,” Mom said.
They all knelt on the living room floor. Dad paused a few moments. Then he began, “Father, we come to thee in thanksgiving.”
After the prayer, everyone remained on their knees. Then Mom got up and headed to the kitchen. “I think we all need something to eat,” she said. She pulled meat and bread from the refrigerator and started making sandwiches.
Aaron thought it was funny that they were having dinner at midnight. Then he realized they hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “Is this like a second Thanksgiving?” he asked.
Dad smiled for the first time since the accident. “That’s right, Aaron. We have more than usual to thank Heavenly Father for.”

I had an appointment scheduled a few days later with a neurologist, but that January morning, my older sister, Kylie, felt prompted that my family should take me to the emergency room at a nearby hospital. Doctors quickly ordered a computed tomography (CT) scan and the first of several spinal taps to reduce cerebrospinal fluid pressure. The next day, I had two MRIs (magnetic resonance imaging). Then an ophthalmologist examined me.

“How many fingers can you see?” he asked, holding up several fingers right in from of my face. I couldn’t see anything.

After his examination, he concluded that I had symptoms of both pseudotumor cerebri and optic neuritis. Neither condition on its own seemed fully responsible. He explained that with the severity of my vision loss, recovery could take over a year and that my vision might not fully return. He recommended a high dose of intravenous steroids and other medication.

After he left, I started crying. My mother reassured me, “If you can’t hold on to your faith right now, you can rely on ours.”

Mission preparation should definitely include learning about the gospel, but you don’t have to know everything before you go. For example, as a young man, Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was worried he wasn’t prepared to serve a mission. He said, “I remember praying, ‘Heavenly Father, how can I serve a mission when I know so little?’ I believed in the Church, but I felt my spiritual knowledge was very limited. As I prayed, the feeling came: ‘You don’t know everything, but you know enough!’”1

I should like to spend the few minutes I stand before you today to salute a group of people who have developed what I believe to be a Christlike characteristic, and that is the ability to “hang on.” At this very moment, there is a man, a good member of the Church, who hovers between life and death in a nearby hospital. In the last few weeks he has withstood crisis after crisis; and yet to the amazement of all, he still hangs on. I know not whether the Lord will ordain that he should ultimately live or die at this time, but I do know there is something noble about his tenacious fight for life and the desire to hang on. In the lives of each of us come these trials—trials of all kinds which shake us to the very core and cause us to explore to the very depths our ability to hang on.
I think of the person who, in the quiet of night, could not be persuaded to compromise virtue and decides instead to hang on, though the temptation is great.
I think of those who have withstood the test of many years, some of whom are confined and bedridden and who, in spite of the infirmities that age brings, will not give up. I see etched in the faces of these wonderful older people something of our pioneer heritage—lives so filled with determination and faith, lives so filled with the overcoming of adversity and trial that by their nature they simply can’t let go.
It reminds me of two trees that were close to my home when I was growing up. The one was a Russian olive and grew right in our yard. It was watered every time the lawn was watered, and in that kind of protected environment it grew to be a beautiful tree. Yet one night a tremendous wind came up. Trees all over town were blown down, and with them went our Russian olive. We had watered it so well that the roots did not have to reach down into the soil; and because they were so close to the surface, the tree toppled over.
The second tree withstood the gale. It was a tremendous cottonwood, which still stands in the lane just half a block from where I was born. This tree was in the fullness of its growth when I was a child. It has always stood by itself, completely exposed to the elements, with nothing but a ditch running by, which most of the time is dry. It is gnarled and tough, and its roots have had to sink deep in order to drink of the water of life; but because its roots were forced downward, it lives. I was out home the other day and noticed that most of the trees around this cottonwood are gone. But in all of its power and majesty, it still hangs on.
I see in many people this same kind of beauty. Adversity and trial have driven the roots of faith and testimony deep in order to tap the reservoir of spiritual strength that comes from such experiences. By nature they know how to stand and fight and hang on.
One person who has sunken deep the roots of faith and testimony because of the trials and affliction of years is the man whom we will sustain tomorrow as prophet, seer, and revelator. His branches can offer shade because his roots are deep.
My own mother and mother-in-law are characteristic of these kinds of people. One suffered a broken hip and the other underwent a severe sickness. But they have both fought back and, like so many others, are enjoying active, useful lives. When we as a family are with them, we draw strength from them and their ability to hang on in severe crises.
A few years ago, while on a mission tour in Europe, I was asked to interview a young man who was recently out and wanted to go home. He had not been away from home before in his life and he was homesick and in despair in a strange country. He had actually run away once, but had come back.
I had quite a conversation with this young man, and from my own missionary experience I knew something of the despair that can come into the life of a missionary when he first goes into the field and begins to make that initial adjustment. If he can just hang on through those early trials, then gradually he will get into the spirit of his mission and find the peace and joy that every missionary has a right to experience.
At first he was adamant in his desire to return home, but gradually the spirit of the conversation began to change. We talked about his call from a prophet. We talked about the love of his parents and their desire for him to stay and succeed. We talked about those he had been called among to teach, and finally I asked, “Elder, do your father and mother want you home?”
His answer was, “No.”
“Well, do your brothers and sisters want you home?”
And he said, “No.”
Then I said, “Does your girl friend really want you home?”
And he said, “I guess not.”
I then said, “Elder, does anyone want you home right now?”
He said, “I guess not,” and then he said with a new determination, “Brother Dunn, I think maybe I better try to stay.” He had made a vitally important decision in his life—he had decided to hang on.
The months passed and one day my secretary asked if I could take a minute to see a recently returned missionary. As I walked out of my office, there was this same missionary. I didn’t recognize him at first, he seemed taller because he was standing straight. Unlike the first time, he looked me right in the eye, and his whole countenance was smiling. I can’t remember what we talked about, but I shall never forget his image. He was going home now, a servant of the Lord, having completed an honorable mission. His roots were reaching downward; and although there will be the usual trials ahead, he knows something of what it means to hang on for a while longer when everything looks its darkest.
I don’t know all the reasons the Lord tries us in this life, but there are two or three that come to mind. First, I think he wants to know whom he can trust. The Lord found he could trust Abraham because he was willing to offer his own son as a sacrifice if that was what the Lord wanted. Many thought that Zion’s Camp was a tragic waste of time, until it was later demonstrated that the Lord used this ordeal to find whom he could trust. He wanted to know who had roots of faith and testimony that reached deep into the ground and who had such shallow roots that the first wind of adversity would blow them over.
Secondly, the Lord tells us in the Doctrine and Covenants section 122 that adversity came to Joseph Smith to give him experience. There is something about the eternal purpose of life that requires us to meet and experience trial and sorrow as we seek to overcome, for the Lord has told us also, “… for if they never should have bitter they could not know the sweet. …” (D&C 29:39.)
Thirdly, I believe that only through such experiences can a person develop true charity. And I mean by charity the pure love of Christ.
Let me read the following from Moroni in the Book of Mormon: “… if a man be meek and lowly in heart, and confesses by the power of the Holy Ghost that Jesus is the Christ, he must needs have charity; for if he have not charity he is nothing; wherefore he must needs have charity.
“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.
“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail—
“But charity is the pure love of Christ. …” (Moro. 7:44–47. Italics added.)
May I say then to those who are now or will be facing deep trials: May the Lord bless you that you may continue to hang on. There is purpose in it all, and he has promised us that the severity of it all will not be greater than we can endure, for as the words of the song tell us:
“When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply.
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.”
(“How Firm a Foundation,” LDS Hymns, no. 66.)
And finally this promise from the Master: “And again, be patient in tribulation until I come; and, behold, I come quickly, and my reward is with me, and they who have sought me early shall find rest to their souls. …” (D&C 54:10.) In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Illustrations by Elise Black
The front door closed behind Thomas with a swoosh and a click as he hurried to check the family calendar.
“I was right!” he called loudly. “It is my turn to teach the lesson in family home evening.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Honey, I’m so sorry we didn’t plan your lesson last night! I thought it was my turn to teach.”
Thomas shook his head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know what to do.” Normally she helped him prepare the day before. But he was 10 years old now. He could plan a lesson by himself.
Mom smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure? You don’t need any help?”
“Yup, I’ve got this.”
Later that night Thomas pulled out his copy of the Friend. He opened it to an article he’d read called “The Ten Commandments Teach Me to Love God and His Children” (Sept. 2012). As Thomas read it out loud to his family, he noticed Mom looking very proud of him.
After the lesson it was time for the activity on the next page. Thomas had already cut out the labels that read, “Honoring God,” “Respecting Parents and Family,” and “Respecting Others.”
As part of the activity, they took turns sharing examples of how they’d kept commandments the past week.
“I said my prayers last night,” said his big sister Ella.
“What group do we think that falls in?” asked Thomas. After discussing, they picked “Honoring God.”
After the lesson Ella served some tasty cookies she’d baked. Then they delivered some of the extras to friends.
Thomas felt so happy he could help out. That was one of his favorite family home evenings ever!

When Ana finished her mission, she returned to her home in Ecuador’s capital city, Quito.
But she still wanted to serve. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “I want to keep serving, and I need to find a job. Please help me know how I can work and still help people.”
One day Ana’s prayer was answered. A man named Brother Mesa came to her house. He worked for the Church Educational System.
“Ana,” he said, “the Church needs volunteers to teach people how to read. Are you willing to help?”
“Yes!” Ana said. “Where do you need me to serve?”
He smiled. “Back in Otavalo!”
Ana smiled as she imagined being back in the villages she loved. She was grateful for the gifts Heavenly Father had given her to share—the gift of reading and the gift of the gospel. Both were miracles.

Some members of the Church have said to me, “Why should we keep a store of food on hand? If a real emergency came in this lawless world, a neighbor would simply come with his gun and take it from us. What would you do if a person came and demanded your food?” I replied that I would share whatever I had with him, and he wouldn’t have to use a gun to obtain that assistance either.

“I wouldn’t,” replied one man. “I have a gun, and I wouldn’t hesitate to use it to defend my family. Anyone would have to kill me first in order to get food away from me! After all, they bring their own misery on themselves by not being prepared!”

“Alex, it’s time to go to speech therapy,” Miss Jenkins said.
Alex ducked his head. Speech therapy was a special class he went to. He had trouble saying some words and sounds. So he had to practice them in speech class a few times a week. Every time he left his regular class, he felt so embarrassed!
He looked up at his teacher. “Could I skip it?” he whispered. “Just for today?”
Today, Mr. Timmons was coming to Alex’s class to talk about dinosaurs. Mr. Timmons worked at a museum with lots of cool dinosaur bones. He was even going to bring a bone that was thousands of years old! Alex didn’t want to miss out.
Miss Jenkins smiled. “You still need to go to your speech class. But you might get back in time for the last part of Mr. Timmons’s talk.”
Alex tried to smile back, but he couldn’t. He slowly walked to the speech therapy classroom. In class they practiced saying the same sound over and over. Learning about dinosaurs would have been more fun.
“I hate saying these stupid sounds,” he told his speech therapy teacher. “I feel like such a baby.”
“You’re not a baby at all,” she said. “We all need a little extra help sometimes. Did you know that I went to speech therapy when I was your age?”
That made Alex feel a little better. He worked hard for the rest of the class to practice his sounds.
When Alex got back to Miss Jenkins’s classroom, he saw his friend Courtney leaving.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Courtney looked down. “I’m having trouble with reading. I have to go to a special reading class.” Courtney looked embarrassed.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Alex said. “I just got back from my speech class. I spent the whole time making the same sound over and over.” He scrunched up his nose.
“You did?”
He nodded. “I’ve been going to speech therapy for the last two years.”
“How come I didn’t know?” she asked.
Alex shrugged. “I never told anyone. I was afraid they would make fun of me.”
“I would never make fun of you,” Courtney said. “I’m glad you made it back in time to see the dinosaur bone. It’s really cool!” She waved. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”
Soon Alex found out that he and Courtney weren’t the only ones who went to other classes. Tommy went to a class to help him learn better social skills. And Bekah worked with a special teacher to help her arm get stronger after she hurt it.
Now Alex didn’t feel so bad about his speech class. He wanted to help the other kids feel better too. He practiced reading with Courtney and talked to Tommy at lunch. Everyone needed a little extra help sometimes, and that was OK!
This story took place in the USA.

As a young stake president, I met many of the General Authorities when they came to speak at our stake conference. What a wonderful experience! President Hugh B. Brown came to one of our stake conferences just a week before he was called and sustained as a member of the Council of the Twelve. We enjoyed his warm spirit and his good humor. As I helped him put his coat on and walked out to his car with him, I said, “Elder Brown, do you have any personal advice for me?”
His answer was, “Yes. Follow the Brethren.” He did not choose to elaborate or explain, but he left that powerful message: Have the simple faith to follow the Brethren.

I grew up with friends who were members of the Church, and I became excited to be baptized and become a member myself. When I moved across the country for college, I began taking lessons from the missionaries. Unfortunately, pressure from my new peers made it difficult to follow the standards of the gospel. My fellow freshmen spent a lot of time at parties drinking alcohol. I had never tried alcohol before, but my new friends were constantly pressuring me to drink it.
I knew the gospel was true, but the temptation from my peers was difficult to resist.
I began to pray to Heavenly Father for the strength to make the right decision. I hadn’t lowered my standards yet, but I was afraid I wouldn’t have the strength to turn down the alcohol the next time it was offered. I missed my friends who shared the same values.
One Saturday night I went to a party with the people in my dorm. Immediately all of my friends were drinking and encouraging me to try my first taste of alcohol.
I was tempted. I took the cup of beer that was handed to me. I pulled it toward my mouth, uncomfortable but pleased to have the attention of my friends. Then Nick, a boy notorious for drinking, walked up to our circle.
“You didn’t drink that, did you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I replied.
“If you do,” Nick said, “you will regret it every day for the rest of your life.”
I was shocked. I knew he was right. I didn’t want to drink. I wanted to join the Church. I handed the cup back and left the party, grateful that I hadn’t made a bad decision.
The next morning I went to church, found the missionaries, and set a date for my baptism. From that day on I stayed away from parties with alcohol. I made new friends at church who shared my values and standards. I was still friends with the people in my dorm, but I made my standards clear. When they learned how important my values were to me, they respected them and stopped pressuring me. They noticed and respected it when I left the room when they watched inappropriate movies or listened to inappropriate music.
My testimony was strengthened by this experience, and I will strive to never lower my standards because of peer pressure. I also know that the best way to face difficult decisions is to know your standards and hold firmly to them from the start.
I know that Heavenly Father answered my prayers for strength to resist temptation. I am grateful that the Holy Ghost encouraged me to make the right decision. I know that the standards of the Church are there to protect us, and I am grateful that choosing to follow them helped me choose to join the Church.

One of the greatest lessons in devotion came when George T. Benson received a mission call. “I was about 13 years of age when father received a call to go on a mission. He went, leaving mother at home with seven children. The eighth was born four months after he arrived in the field.

“Mother was a stalwart. Never did we hear a murmur from her lips. The letters we received from Father were indeed a blessing. They seemed to us children to come halfway around the world, but they were only from Cedar Rapids, Marshall Town, Iowa; Chicago, Springfield, Illinois; etc. There came into our home, as a result, a spirit of missionary work that has never left it.

“Father returned home and while we were sitting in the yard on one-legged milking stools, milking cows the ‘armstrong method,’ he would sing over and over again, ‘Ye Elders of Israel,’ ‘Israel, Israel, God Is Calling,’ ‘Come All Ye Sons of God,’ ‘Ye Who Are Called to Labor,’ until I learned every word of these great missionary songs. Today I don’t need a songbook when we sing these great songs that Father sang to us morning and evening.”

Some years ago I was in Monroe, Louisiana, attending a regional conference. It was a beautiful occasion. At the airport on my way home, I was approached by a lovely African-American woman—a member of the Church—who said, smiling broadly, “President Monson, before I joined the Church and became a member of Relief Society, I could not read nor write. None of my family could. You see, we were all poor sharecroppers. President, my white Relief Society sisters—they taught me to read. They taught me to write. Now I help teach my white sisters how to read and how to write.” I reflected on the supreme joy she must have felt when she opened her Bible and read for the first time the words of the Lord:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
That day in Monroe, Louisiana, I received a confirmation by the Spirit of the exalted objective of the Relief Society to help eliminate illiteracy.

Early Saints who crossed the plains to the Salt Lake Valley aren’t the only pioneers in the Church. All members who help strengthen the Church and prepare the way for others are pioneers.
As one of only two Czech children in the Prague First Branch, Lukás Kroutil, age 7, is a pioneer. By his obedience and example, he is preparing the way for other Czech children who will eventually join the Church.
Lukás’s mother’s name is Helena Kroutilová (ová added to a name shows that it is a woman’s married name). She has been a member of the Church for a year, and Lukás is eagerly awaiting his own baptism. He says: “Being baptized means that you are a member of the Church. You make a covenant that you will keep Heavenly Father’s commandments. If you’re a kid, listening to your parents is a very important commandment.”
Lukás rides a tram with his mother to church. Meetings are held in a large house that also contains the Czech Prague Mission offices and the mission president’s home. Some of the rooms have been converted into a lovely new chapel, where the two Prague branches hold their sacrament meetings.
Primary is in English because most of the other children in Lukás’s Primary are from the United States and speak English. Missionaries translate opening exercises and Sharing Time for Lukás and Anita, the other Czech child in the branch. Lukás loves to sing. His favorite hymns are “Come, Ye Children of the Lord,” “Love One Another,” and “I Am a Child of God.” The Primary children learn songs in both English and Czech. Every fast Sunday they sing the prelude music for sacrament meeting. Most of the songs are in English, but they always sing at least one song in Czech. Whenever a song is translated into Czech and published in the Liahona, the quarterly Church magazine in Czech, all the children learn it.
When the Primary separates into classes, the Czech children have their own class taught by Sister Eva Cadová and the missionaries. Lukás loves to learn in Primary. During class he and his teachers read Book of Mormon and other scripture stories and articles from the Little Star section of the Liahona.
Sacrament meetings are in Czech. English-speaking members wear headphones, and a missionary assigned to the branch translates for them. But when it is time to sing, the headphones come off and everyone sings praises to their Heavenly Father in Czech. One of Lukás’s jobs in the branch is to hand out the hymnbooks before sacrament meeting, then put them away after the meeting. “I like to help people at church. I pray for those who are sick, and I help my mom with her calling.”
Lukás walks to school. He enjoys studying math and science, exercising and playing sports, and learning poems by heart. He likes to write but dislikes dictation (his teacher reads a sentence, and the students write it down). It isn’t that he can’t remember all the letters in the words. He can. What makes Czech words extra difficult to spell are the diacritical marks over the letters (there are two in Lukás’s name), and he has a hard time remembering where they all go.
None of the members of his branch live near him, so he is also a pioneer at his school. He tries hard to be a good example for his friends by helping them to choose the right. “Kids like to tattle and tell stories about each other. Sometimes my friends use bad language or want to tell things that aren’t true. I tell them not to do these things.”
Studying hard is important to him because he wants to become an architect and build houses when he grows up. At home after schoolwork is finished, he watches television, rides his bike, or plays hide-and-seek or computer games with his friends. Playing softball with the missionaries on their preparation day is his favorite sport. He is the goalie on his soccer team, and he plays tennis well.
Lukás cares for a sleepy little hamster named Kikina. He feeds his pet seeds, carrots, potatoes, apples, oranges, and nuts and keeps the hamster house clean so the small animal will stay healthy. When Kikina is awake, Lukás talks to him. He used to put Kikina in a toy car and pull him around the room. That was until Kikina jumped out of the car window one day. Lukás has decided the hamster doesn’t like riding in the car.
When his grandmother goes grocery shopping, Lukás carries the bags home. He helps clean the house, dry the dishes, and take out the garbage. One day he cleaned the entire house as a surprise for his mother. His favorite things to do with his mom are read the Book of Mormon and have family home evening. Treats like French fries or Tatranky (a wafer cookie covered with chocolate) make family home evening even more fun.
He loves being around the full-time missionaries. One day he was playing softball with them, and an elder accidentally hit him in the head with a big metal baseball bat. The elders wanted to take Lukás to the hospital, but he refused and said he just wanted to go home. He felt certain that if he prayed, Heavenly Father would make him better. As soon as he prayed for help, his head stopped hurting. He knew Heavenly Father had answered his prayer.
He is looking forward to becoming a full-time missionary. He knows that he may have to learn another language. However, he will happily go wherever the Lord sends him. He looks forward to telling people about Jesus Christ and the Church and teaching them how to pray.
Until then, he will continue to be a pioneer in his own country and in his own branch by being a faithful member, setting a good example, and following the prophet. And if any of his friends like to read and they believe in God, he will give them a Book of Mormon and tell them to read it. Then he will tell them his favorite scripture story—the story of Joseph Smith and the First Vision.

Shawn is excited because his relatives are coming for dinner. Mom said that she could make one each of three kinds of pies: pumpkin, banana cream, custard, blueberry, pecan, mincemeat, cherry, chocolate, lemon meringue. The problem is:
—Uncle Bart is allergic to chocolate.
—Dad does not like blueberries.
—Grandpa’s doctor said that custard pie is not good for him.
—Shawn does not like lemon meringue pie.
—Shawn’s cousin, Sally, does not like pumpkin pie.
—Aunt Eugenia says that pecan pie is too fattening.
What three kinds of pies did Mom bake that everyone would eat?
Answers:

Near the end of the testimony meeting, when there were a few moments for me to speak, I asked the young lady who had brought her child up to be blessed if she would come up and stand by me, which she did. In the meantime, while the testimony meeting was going on, I asked the bishop, whispering into his ear, “Where is her husband?”

The bishop said, “He’s in jail.”

I asked, “What is her name?” and he told me her name.

She came up and stood by my side, carrying the little baby. As we were standing at the pulpit, I looked down at this little precious baby, only a few days old, and this mother—the mother of that little daughter, who had brought her to receive a blessing at the hands of the priesthood. As I looked at the mother and looked at that precious little child, I wondered what she might become or what she could be. I spoke to the audience and to this young mother about the proclamation that was issued five years ago by the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve—a proclamation on the family—and of our responsibility to our children, and the children’s responsibility to their parents, and the parents’ responsibility to each other. That marvelous document brings together the scriptural direction that we have received that has guided the lives of God’s children from the time of Adam and Eve and will continue to guide us until the final winding-up scene.

As we talked about it and as I looked at that beautiful little baby, I thought of last summer. Ruby and I were up in Idaho for a short visit, and we met some people from Mountain Home, Idaho—the Goodrich family. Sister Goodrich had come to see us and had brought her daughter Chelsea with her. In part of the conversation that we were having, Sister Goodrich said Chelsea had memorized the proclamation on the family.

To Chelsea, who is now 15 years old, I said, “Chelsea, is that right?”

She said, “Yes.”

I said, “How long did it take you to do that?”

She said, “When we were young, my mother started a program in our house to help us memorize. We would memorize scripture passages and sacrament meeting songs and other types of things that would be helpful to us. So we learned how to memorize, and it became easier for us.”

I said, “Then you can give it all?”

She said, “Yes, I can give it all.”

I said, “You learned that when you were 12 years old; you’re now 15. Pretty soon you’ll start dating. Tell me about it. What has it done for you?”

Chelsea said, “As I think of the statements in that proclamation, and as I understand more of our responsibility as a family and our responsibility for the way we live and the way we should conduct our lives, the proclamation becomes a new guideline for me. As I associate with other people and when I start dating, I can think of those phrases and those sentences in the proclamation on the family. It will give me a yardstick which will help guide me. It will give me the strength that I need.”

Now go back again with me in your thoughts to the church building about which we spoke earlier with its sign of “Spiritual Fuel Available—No Rationing—No Stamps—No Quotas—Come and Prepare.” Each one of us undoubtedly has a different building in mind. Perhaps yours is the one you attend most frequently—your own ward or branch.
The one I have in mind today is the Masterton Ward in the Wellington New Zealand Stake. We had the opportunity of dedicating this choice house of worship in February. Never have I been in a building so immaculately clean. It looked new. It smelled new. It was beautiful in its appropriate simplicity. It was worthy in appearance to be dedicated to the Lord. It was built by our people.
It was paid for by our people. It was polished to a fine finish by hands that took pride. It was tastefully landscaped and structurally sound. According to the town mayor, a nonmember, it was built by people who are happy. Three weeks before our arrival it was predicted by some that it couldn’t possibly be ready for dedication. Those so inclined to doubt didn’t know this good bishop and his ward family—people of humble circumstances but powerfully committed. Walls were painted, floors waxed, and so on by parents when their children had been put to sleep for the night. Young boys, appropriately encouraged, carried buckets of water to make the lawns green and the flowers bloom around the chapel, because New Zealand had been long without rain. It was not only completed, it was shining! Here was a group of people accumulating oil for their lamps a drop at a time through sacrifice, preparation, cooperation, faith, and works. As these ward members worked together to meet the midnight hour, their love for each other was nurtured. They, too, shined in their triumph.

Real Missionaries
Many years ago I was with my companion at the missionary training center when I heard the voice of a child say, “Grandma, are those real missionaries?” I turned to see a young girl holding her grandmother’s hand and pointing at me and my companion. I smiled, extended my hand, looked her square in the eye, and said, “Hello, I am Elder Richardson, and we are real missionaries.” Her face beamed as she looked at me, thrilled that she was in the company of genuine missionaries. I walked away from that experience with renewed dedication. I wanted to be the type of missionary that the Savior, my family, and this young girl expected me to be. For the next two years, I worked hard to look like, think like, act like, and especially to teach like a real missionary.
Upon my return home, it became increasingly apparent that even though I had left my mission, my mission didn’t leave me. In fact, even after all these years, I still feel that my mission was the best two years for my life.
Matthew O. Richardson, second counselor in the Sunday School general presidency

On May 20 of last year a massive tornado pummeled the suburbs of Oklahoma City, in the heartland of America, carving a trail more than a mile (1.6 km) wide and 17 miles (27 km) long. This storm, an onslaught of devastating tornadoes, altered the landscape and the lives of the people in its path.
Just a week after the massive storm struck, I was assigned to visit the area where homes and belongings were strewn across the flattened, ravaged neighborhoods.
Before I left, I spoke with our beloved prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, who relishes such errands for the Lord. With respect borne not only of his office but also of his goodness, I asked, “What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?”
He tenderly took my hand, as he would have done with each one of the victims and each of those helping with the devastation had he been there, and said:
“First, tell them I love them.
“Second, tell them I am praying for them.
“Third, please thank all those who are helping.”
I had learned from our dear prophet what the storm-tossed people needed—love, prayers, and appreciation for helping hands.

New Era: Have you had any special experiences in baseball because of your membership in the Church?
Brother Killibrew: All of us have plenty of opportunities to tell someone about it. I remember one day, just after I joined the Church, that I was playing first base and happened to be hitting pretty well at the time. In fact, I was in a hot streak. One player on another team was really struggling and having a tough time hitting. Well, he finally got to first base and said, “Say, what church was that you just joined? I’ll join myself, if it can help me hit the ball like you do!”
New Era: Even before you were a Latter-day Saint, you were well-respected and had a good-guy image. Has your life really changed very much since you joined the Church?
Brother Killibrew: I think my life has undergone a complete change since I joined the Church. It really has. And I’m very thankful for the gospel in my life and for the closeness of our family.
New Era: Besides the change in your life, has the gospel had an influence on your baseball career?
Brother Killibrew: Yes, in many ways. One of the most dramatic was demonstrated when I ruptured the hamstring muscle in my left leg in an all-star game. There was a real question as to whether I would ever play again. I was using crutches. Two bearers of the priesthood administered to me. After that I no longer needed the crutches, and my leg healed up very nicely. The next year was the year I got the Most Valuable Player award.
New Era: How about the Word of Wisdom as a factor for the athlete?
Brother Killibrew: There is no question that it has helped me to keep playing, even with minor injuries. With the rugged schedules that we follow, if a player does not take care of himself in all ways, it’s very difficult for him to do his best day after day. I have a strong personal testimony that the Word of Wisdom is a true teaching and that it has been a definite help to me.
New Era: How do you feel about working on Sundays?
Brother Killibrew: I wish I didn’t have to do it, but it is part of my business and there is nothing I can do about it. I try to attend priesthood meeting on Sunday morning whenever I can. During the off-season, I try extra hard to be active in my elders quorum and all the other programs of the Church.
New Era: How did it feel to win the Player of the Year award?
Brother Killibrew: Good! It felt great! But let’s put this kind of thing in perspective. Being chosen player of the year can’t even compare with the great feeling I had when I went to the temple with my family. That was a wonderful and special experience. It means so much to me to know that we will always be together as a family.
New Era: What advice would you give to Latter-day Saint youth?
Brother Killibrew: Stay close to the Church. If they do that while they’re young, they’ll have a good chance of staying with the Church throughout their whole lives.
I’ve learned that no one ever has to be ashamed of the gospel. People respect you for your beliefs. Sure, I get a little kidding once in a while, but on the whole, people seem to respect me for the principles I follow. I wish all of our Latter-day Saint youth knew this—you don’t have to go along with the crowd when the crowd is wrong. Self-respect and the respect of others will come to the person who stays close to the gospel.