Gospel Story Finder

In September of 1997, President James E. Faust, second counselor in the First Presidency, came to this campus to dedicate the John Taylor Building. Elder Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the Commissioner of Church Education was President Faust’s companion for that assignment.

Elder Eyring arrived in Rexburg one day early to review several university issues with me and to ensure that everything was in order for President Faust. When I picked up Elder Eyring at the airport, I learned that he had just returned from a two-week assignment in South America. He obviously was tired from his travels, and I was anxious to get him to our home so he could rest.

As we drove to our home, I asked Elder Eyring if he was interested in quickly walking through the completed Taylor Building. He answered that he was interested, and we spent approximately 15 minutes inspecting the classrooms and other facilities.

Our last stop was the Taylor Chapel, where Elder Eyring stood near the pulpit on the stand and gazed into the audience area for quite a long time. After a few minutes, I asked him: “Elder Eyring, what are you thinking about?”

He answered with this profound and penetrating observation: “I am thinking about how much we do for so few and how little we do for so many.” He then continued, “The tithing of the people I just visited in South America and from good people all over the world paid for this facility. And most of the people who have made this beautiful facility possible will never see or step foot in a building like this. That is what I am thinking about.”

That experience influenced me in an important way during the time I served here at Brigham Young University-Idaho. And now as a colleague of Elder Eyring in the Quorum of the Twelve, I understand more completely what he meant.

The Balancing Girl and Margaret’s Moves Margaret always needs money. In The Balancing Girl, her booth at the school carnival brings in more money for her school than any other. In Margaret’s Moves, she needs money for a sportsmodel wheelchair so that she can move as fast as her brother. By the end of summer, she has earned only $33.30 (the chair costs $1,000) and has learned that even if she had the chair, she still couldn’t keep up with her brother. But in a surprising way, things work out.

I started doing drugs when I was 12. That was the same time the alcohol, tobacco, and social problems began as well. It led to a life that saw me lie, cheat, steal, and fight with people. I also got in trouble with the law, did poorly in school, and didn’t get along with my family and friends. I am now seeing a drug and alcohol abuse counselor, and I’m trying to quit smoking. One day when I was really down on myself, I got home and saw the New Era. Even though I felt like the stories didn’t relate to my life-style, when I finished I felt loved. I prayed to Heavenly Father for help, and asked for strength to lift me out of my depression. I don’t think I would be alive today if it wasn’t for the New Era and a close friend who has been supporting me through all this.
J. B.Canada

An example of that happy, optimistic spirit is a 13-year-old girl I know named Elsa, whose family is moving to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 1,800 miles (2,900 km) away from her friends. It’s not very easy when you are 13 to move to a new place. Elsa was understandably unsure about the move, so her dad gave her a blessing. At the very moment of the blessing, her mom’s phone chimed with a text. The young women who live in Louisiana had sent this picture with the caption “Please move into our ward!”10
These young women were optimistic they would like Elsa without even meeting her. Their enthusiasm created optimism in Elsa about the upcoming move and answered her prayer about whether everything would be all right.

I looked in the mirror at the scraped skin under my nose and on my chin. Carefully, I wiped away some tiny flecks of gravel. Yep, it totally looked like a mustache and beard. A road-rash goatee!
Just minutes earlier, I had learned a very important lesson about riding a bicycle: staying upright is really hard unless you are moving forward! Instead of pedaling, I had hesitated for too long, slammed on the brakes, and toppled over.

When I received the invitation to respond to this question there immediately flashed through my mind the recollection of a teenage experience of many years ago. In the stake where I lived, the young people were planning a week-long camping trip that would extend through a Monday holiday. This involved being in the mountains on Sunday. The general policy guideline was for Church groups to avoid Sunday camping, but those responsible for the planning of this camping trip felt that by carefully working out a program to include the regular Sunday meetings at the campsite they could overcome any objections that might be raised. Approval to go forward was sought from the stake president. The young lady serving as the spokesman for the group explained what was being planned and concluded by saying, “We feel that by getting close to nature we can get closer to the Lord and can increase our spirituality.”
The stake president listened patiently and then in a kindly tone replied, “I agree with you that these things can happen, but my observation is that they usually don’t. I have no concern about the outcome of the Church meetings being planned. It’s what happens before and after. The minute church is out, the young folks are back in their grubbies and ready for play.”
The stake president was identifying a problem common to many of us, where we rationalize that attendance at church qualifies us for Sabbath day observance, and that this can be followed with activities not always in keeping with the spirit of the Sabbath.

A man in Ecuador met some missionaries on the street near his home and invited them in. They left tracts, pamphlets, and a copy of the Book of Mormon. He read them and liked them and later said of the missionaries:
“I liked their teachings. They taught me things my own church had never taught. I realized I had to live the commandments they told me about. The Word of Wisdom has given me a new life. I know it is of the Lord not to use tobacco, tea, coffee, or liquor. When the elders were teaching me, I knew I had to live it if I were to have a good life. The elders told me to pray about it; then they had to teach me how to pray.”

In Finland a woman, lost and lonely following the death of her husband, was found by missionaries who answered some of her questions. She said:
“I was amazed at their answers. They talked about a reunion with my husband. We had had a wonderful marriage, and I just couldn’t think that it would end just like that. My minister had given me no answers, but those young missionaries told me a beautiful concept of eternal life. I listened in tears and wanted to hear more.”
She studied and read the Book of Mormon, received a testimony, and was baptized.
A convert in England tells his story. Bitter over the death of an infant who had died without baptism and was therefore denied burial in the church cemetery, he was ready for the missionaries his wife had invited to his home. His first question was about the Church’s teaching on infant baptism.
The elders cited a passage from the Book of Mormon which teaches that infants are incapable of sin and that they have no need of baptism because they are saved.
Then he made this comment: “It was the kind of doctrine Christ would teach. I simply couldn’t see how a loving God could feel any other way about children. Then the elders gave me a lesson in obtaining a witness to gain a testimony. I put it to the test, prayed, and received a witness. I felt the burning in my bosom just as the scriptures described. I knew it was true.”
He made this further comment: “One of the most joyous principles to me is celestial marriage. I feel that if people could understand this and really love their husband or wife, they would join the Church on this alone. It’s a wonderful principle.”
Finally, I will deal briefly with the conversion of a Protestant minister, who after much tribulation and persecution by ministers and friends when he decided to convert, gave the following testimony:
“I have written this in order to show that as in the Bible, when a man finds a ‘pearl of great price,’ he will sell all that he has if necessary in order to obtain it [see Matt. 13:46]. I have found that peace and truth within the Mormon church for which I had been seeking for over twelve years.
“I have not quite completed my first reading of the Book of Mormon, but already the riches of its truths as set down by the Prophet Joseph Smith have become a vital part of our family’s spiritual life. No man could have written this book except through the power of God. We accept the test of hatred through which we have passed as God’s test of our sincerity in our seeking.
“My prayer is that others will not continue to willfully blind their eyes, refusing even to read the Book of Mormon in order to learn. No man can read this book and not have his life changed. I have not overnight become an expert on the Mormon faith, but I am an eager student and am not afraid to learn what the Holy Spirit would teach through those to whom He has given the authority.
“My personal tragedy as a Protestant minister was that I wasted a good deal of valuable time trying to keep going an organization and institution which no longer, with any stretch of imagination, can be shown to be doing Christ’s work.”
May I invite you all to study the scriptures, wherein are found the words of eternal life and the way to exaltation.
Jesus said, “This is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39).
This is so important, that he gave his life for us that we may be resurrected, and he gave us the plan of life and salvation by which this may be accomplished. Read the Bible and the Book of Mormon, which testify of the things which I have told you this day.
If you are searching for happiness in this life and eternal life with God the Father and his Son Jesus Christ hereafter, then I would exhort all of you to find the way, the truth, and the life, which is in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A few years ago, my wife and I purchased groceries at a local market in our home town of Kailua. Upon returning home, I reviewed the receipt and found that the cashier had made a mistake and only charged us for one item when in fact we had purchased two of the same item. The dollar amount was not significant but I did walk out of that store without having paid for the item. A discussion ensued in our home regarding what we should do about this seemingly small matter. All agreed that the item should be taken back to the market and that we should identify the error and pay for this second item. I returned to the store with the item in hand and sought out the cashier who had helped us minutes before. I showed her the receipt and the uncharged item and said that I was here to make good on the oversight. To my disappointment, the cashier said to me, "Oh, it's no big deal, you didn't need to come back just for that." I responded by telling her that my integrity was worth more than the price of the item and that I would settle the matter even though small.

The boys in the back of the bus chanted mean words as Amanda and her brother Hyrum stood to leave. The chanting wasn’t loud enough for the bus driver to hear, but the other kids heard and started to laugh and point.
Amanda’s face reddened. She could feel the anger rise within her. Those older boys were always making trouble. She turned around and told them to stop it, but they laughed and continued saying mean things. Hyrum nudged her to keep moving toward the exit.
When Amanda and her brother finally got off the bus, Amanda thought the teasing would stop. Instead the older boys kept yelling through the windows. Amanda wanted to yell mean things back, but Hyrum whispered, “Just keep walking.”
When the bus was finally out of sight, Amanda turned to her brother and exploded. “Didn’t those boys make you mad?”
“Of course they made me mad,” Hyrum said. “But they act worse if we show how much it bugs us.”
“It does bug me. We should tell Mom and Dad,” Amanda said.
“We will as soon as we get home,” promised her brother. “Did you know this sort of thing happened to me last year? When I was in middle school and you were still in fourth grade, some boys at school were saying rude things to me. Mom told me to hear the hidden message.”
Amanda wrinkled her face. “What hidden message?”
“Those boys are saying one thing with their mouths and hands, but Mom says the real message they’re sending is they don’t feel good about themselves. So they try to feel more powerful by being mean to others. My teacher said the same thing. She said people who bully others are really insecure.”
“I guess those guys are really, really insecure then!”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Hyrum said. “They announced it to the whole bus!”
Amanda thought about Hyrum’s words as they turned onto their street. Hearing the hidden message may not have changed the situation, but it helped her not feel so angry about it. “Come on, I’ll race you to the house!” she challenged her brother, and she sprinted down the sidewalk. She wasn’t going to let the boys ruin the rest of her day.

I try to be like Jesus Christ by helping other people. When I went to Kibben-Kuster School, some of the children in my class had special needs. I helped them by talking to them and giving them hugs when they felt left out—I even learned some sign language. One of the children got hurt at recess, and I went to him and took him to the nurse. Another child lost something she had brought to class, and I helped her to find it. Now I go to a different school, but I still remember my friends from Kibben-Kuster.

Hannah P., a Laurel from Illinois, USA, thought she had a handle on what it means to accept and fulfill a calling. After all, she’d already served as Mia Maid class president and later as second counselor in the Laurel class presidency. But then she was given a ward calling she never expected: family history consultant.

“This came as a shock,” Hannah says. “This wasn’t a calling for a 16-year-old. It was a calling for older, wiser people!”

Shock notwithstanding, Hannah accepted the calling and rolled up her sleeves, so to speak. Soon she realized she really could make a difference. “It doesn’t matter what age you are. Anyone can do family history,” she says.

Hannah spends one evening a week at the local family history center working on FamilySearch (see FamilySearch.org) and teaching others to do the same. “Not only do I have the opportunity to feel the Spirit of Elijah myself,” she says, “but I can also help others feel it.” She loves helping people find a family name they’ve been trying to find for months. “They’re thrilled!” she says about such moments.

Their eldest son, Michael, first met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in primary school. At that time, schools held religious instruction from different denominations and Michael would come home excited to tell the family how much he enjoyed these classes.
The missionaries soon visited the McIlwaines and taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to the whole family. Betty remembers feeling the power of the Holy Spirit at her very first meeting with the Whyalla Branch, especially during the sacrament service.
The McIlwaine family was baptised in the Whyalla sea on 29 December 1962. On Christmas Day of 1967, the whole family flew to New Zealand to be sealed for time and all eternity in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple. After that first visit, Betty and Bill fell in love with the temple and returned as often as they could afford it.

After his baptism, Jorge had to forgo many social customs associated with his budding banking career. At first he was the target of teasing and jokes from co-workers who were curious to see how long he could go without a drink or a cigarette. But Jorge remained faithful to his covenants, and his critics eventually became his greatest protectors from those who tried to pressure him into disregarding the Word of Wisdom.

March 23, 2024 was one of the busiest days of the Open House with more than 11,000 visitors. The guests were waiting in line under the unforgiving sun.
“But their patience and understanding were commendable,” volunteer Dino Santos noted. “You could see their excitement.”
He continued, “Many prayed for the clouds to cover the sun, and voila! The sun was indeed covered! It was a miracle, a prayer instantly answered!”

I saw that miracle of revelation in the aftermath of the breaking of the Teton Dam in Idaho in 1976. Many of you know the story of what happened. But the example of continuing revelation that was passed through a stake president could bless all of us in the days ahead.

Thousands of people were evacuated as their homes were destroyed. Directing the relief efforts fell to a local stake president, a farmer. I was in a classroom at Ricks College just a few days after the disaster. A leader from the federal disaster agency had arrived. He and his chief assistants came to the large room where the stake president had assembled bishops and even some ministers of other local religions. I was there because many of the survivors were being cared for and housed on the campus of the college where I was the president.

As the meeting began, the representative from the federal disaster agency stood and began to say with the voice of authority what needed to be done. After he listed each of the five or six tasks he said were essential, the stake president responded quietly, “We’ve already done that.”

After a few minutes, the man from the federal disaster agency said, “I think that I will just sit down and watch for a while.” He and his deputies then listened as bishops and elders quorum presidents reported what they had done. They described what direction they had received and followed from their leaders. They talked as well about what they had been inspired to do as they carried out the instructions to find families and to help them. It was late that day. They were all too tired to show much emotion except their love of the people.

The stake president gave a few final directions to the bishops, and then he announced a time for the next report meeting, early the following morning.

The next morning the leader of the federal team arrived 20 minutes before the report and assignment meeting was scheduled to begin. I stood nearby. I heard him say quietly to the stake president, “President, what would you like me and the members of my team to do?”

What that man saw I have seen in times of distress and testing all over the world. President Packer was right. Continuing revelation comes to stake presidents to lift them above their own wisdom and capacities. And, beyond that, the Lord gives to those whom the president leads a confirming witness that his commands come from God through the Holy Ghost to an imperfect human being.

Tanya had an uncle problem. Her mom had brothers but no sisters. Her new dad had brothers but no sisters. She couldn’t remember her other dad, who had died when she was very young, but he had brothers and no sisters too.
There were Uncle Max, Uncle Al, and Uncle Ed. There were Uncle Gerry and Uncle Bob. There were Uncle Vince, Uncle Rick, and Uncle Tony. Not one of her uncles was married, so there were no aunts for Tanya to visit and no cousins for her to play with.
Tanya’s uncles always made a fuss over her. Uncle Max played football with Tanya, Uncle Al read her stories, and Uncle Ed made her carvings out of soap. Uncle Gerry helped Tanya with her schoolwork, and Uncle Bob helped her with her stamp collection. Uncle Vince sang with Tanya, Uncle Rick played his guitar, and Uncle Tony told Tanya jokes. It was never boring when her uncles were around.
At school concerts, Tanya’s mom and dad sat in the front seats. Next to them sat all her uncles. They took up the whole row. They didn’t just clap when Tanya’s class was on stage—they stomped and whistled and cheered.
“There are Tanya’s uncles,” everyone said. Sometimes it embarrassed Tanya a little bit.
At picnics in the park, her uncles played football, baseball, and tag with Tanya. They raced each other across the park and whooped and hollered and laughed.
“There are Tanya’s uncles,” everyone said. And Tanya would blush.
At Halloween her uncles dressed Tanya up as the front part of a dragon and gave her two flashlights to use for its eyes. Behind her was a lumpy, bumpy, green garbage-bag dragon with eight pairs of uncle legs. The back end of the dragon thumped and bumped and giggled.
“There are Tanya’s uncles,” everyone said. Tanya wished that her uncles wouldn’t be so noisy.
One day Tanya asked her mother, “Can we have just one uncle visit at a time?”
“Why, honey?” Mother asked. “Don’t you think it’s fun when we’re all together?”
“Well, there are so many of them that sometimes it seems noisy and confusing,” Tanya said.
“You’re lucky to have so many uncles, Tanya. Lots of kids don’t have any relatives nearby,” Mother reminded her. “Besides, which ones would we leave out?”
Tanya thought for a moment. She loved all her uncles. “I guess we couldn’t choose just one,” she said with a sigh.
One day Dad came home from work looking worried. “Our company’s closing down here,” he said. “We have a choice—we can move to a city where the company has a job for me, or we can stay here and look for other work.”
“There probably aren’t any other jobs in this area in your field,” said Mom.
“I know,” Dad replied, “but how can we move away? All our relatives are here.”
“I think it would be fun to live in a different place,” said Tanya. “Can we, Dad? Please?”
Tanya and her mom and dad talked it over. The uncles came and talked it over too. Finally they all decided that it would be best for Tanya’s family to move. Tanya could hardly wait.
When moving day came, Uncle Max, Uncle Al, and Uncle Ed carried boxes outside. Uncle Gerry and Uncle Bob helped Dad carry furniture. Uncle Vince, Uncle Rick, and Uncle Tony packed everything carefully into the rented truck. The uncles did not sing or whistle or laugh. One by one they quietly hugged Tanya and Mom and Dad good-bye.
Tanya sat in the cab of the truck between Mom and Dad. Her uncles stood in the driveway and waved as the truck pulled away.
Tanya didn’t sniffle like Mom or look miserable like Dad. She was too excited thinking about the trip to her new home more than a thousand miles away.
Soon they were all settled in their new house. Dad thought that his new job was even better than the one that he had left. Mom loved their new house and neighbors. Tanya liked everything about the new city, especially her new friends at school and at church.
But at school concerts Mom and Dad sat in the front row next to people that they didn’t know. Nobody stomped or whistled or cheered when Tanya’s class was on stage. The audience just clapped politely for every class.
At picnics in the park Tanya’s new friends played football, baseball, and tag with her. They raced each other across the park and whooped and hollered and laughed. But it wasn’t the same as the picnics she remembered.
When Halloween came, Tanya made her own costume; it was just for her. Afterward there was homemade pizza at her home. She and her friends played spooky games together. And though they laughed and yelled together, somehow it seemed too quiet.
“I wonder what the uncles are doing,” said Tanya one day.
“They keep pretty busy,” Mom answered. “Someday we’ll visit them, Tanya, but we have to save the money. It costs a lot to go that far.”
“I know,” Tanya said, sighing a bit wistfully.
The first year there was not enough holiday or vacation time to make the big trip to see the uncles. The next year Mom was sick for a while, and they had to pay medical bills. The third year their old car broke down, and they had to get a new one.
“I guess we’ll have to wait another year, Tanya,” Dad said. “I’m sorry.”
That week there was a public speaking contest at school. Tanya had never entered one before, but the prize was five hundred dollars, so she signed up just before the deadline. The local service organizations that were sponsoring the contest had chosen “Peace in Our World” as the topic.
The day of the contest came, and Mom and Dad sat in the front row. All the other contestants had written careful notes. Their speeches were clear and confident. They talked about world affairs, strong armies, and good government. The audience clapped enthusiastically after each one.
Tanya spoke last. She had not written any notes. She talked about the lumpy, bumpy Halloween dragon. She talked about soap carvings, stamp collecting, singing, and picnics in the park. Most of all she talked about her uncles.
“People all over the world can love each other, look after each other, and have fun together,” she said, “just like families. That’s what peace is all about.”
Tanya sat down, and the audience was quiet. At first she was afraid that everyone thought that her speech was dumb. Then they began to clap—and they kept on clapping! The judges had no trouble making their decision: Tanya was the winner!
“What will you do with all that prize money?” one of the judges asked.
“Buy some plane tickets,” Tanya replied happily, hugging Mom and Dad.
That summer when the three of them left the plane and entered the airport waiting area, there were Uncle Max, Uncle Al, and Uncle Ed … and Uncle Gerry and Uncle Bob … and Uncle Vince, Uncle Rick, and Uncle Tony! They were stomping and whistling and cheering. They were hollering and whooping and laughing. They were thumping and bumping and giggling.
But Tanya didn’t care if they were being noisy. “There are my uncles!” she squealed, running happily toward eight pairs of outstretched uncle arms.

During trips to Newcastle, 17-year-old Aidan and his mother went to see various shows. One of these was the Book of Mormon musical.
After leaving the show, they encountered some real missionaries standing outside. Curious to know more of the Church, Aidan set up an appointment for him to meet with them another day. Aidan has always believed in God, been interested in hearing about different religions and has been curious to find and meet with missionaries.
When the missionaries spoke of the plan of salvation, the restoration, and the Book of Mormon, Aiden felt that this was exactly what he had been waiting for all this time. It immediately made sense to him. In between the lessons, Aidan also did his own research into the beliefs of the Church. He quickly decided to be baptised.
Aidan’s mother has been very supportive of her son’s decision to join. From the beginning, she attended church with him in Alnwick, Northumberland to support his wishes. One local member said, “It has been great to watch them attend church together, and you can only admire the mother with the way she both protects and supports him”.
As the months have gone by, Aidan’s mother also decided she wanted to be baptised.
As people embrace their curiosity, seek out authentic sources, and explore their faith together, miracles can occur.

When the stranger with bloody feet asked to come in, Father questioned the “new” religion the stranger talked about. But Father read Brother Reed’s Book of Mormon and was willing to hear Brigham Young preach. It was Mary Ann’s best friend, Betsy, who called Brother Reed and Brigham Young fakes!
Just as Mary Ann returned to sit with her family at the meeting, Brigham Young was getting up to speak again. He told of the need to have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. After testifying that the Savior lived and spoke to a prophet today, Brother Young told them to repent and to be baptized.
One old man from the back called, “I’ve been baptized. Why do I need to be baptized again?”
Brother Young told them about the authority brought to earth by John the Baptist to Joseph Smith. Joseph gave that authority to him and to Brother Reed. Brigham Young asked if any wanted to be baptized.
Mary Ann’s mother stood up. Then her father stood up, and Nathan and Mary Ann did too. No one else in the whole congregation did. Brother Reed beamed at them. They sat back down, and Brother Young closed the meeting. As Mary Ann walked by, Betsy turned her face away.
Mary Ann touched her arm. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. It’s just that I believe what these men are telling me. I know it’s true, and I want you to know it too.”

We were newlyweds. Our marriage covenants, solemnized in the Los Angeles Temple, were not a year and a half old. But we came here neither as honeymooners nor as students. I was an Army officer—a lieutenant of infantry. Having only just completed the Army’s Ranger course, I was assigned as a rifle platoon leader in an infantry battalion of the 25th Infantry Division, stationed at Schofield Barracks. We had rented a small duplex apartment on the beach, literally, on the beach, at Waialua.

How wrong we were. My anticipated “three years in Eden” turned out to be much shorter, a charming prelude to a tour of duty in the Inferno. Our battalion shipped out to Vietnam six months after our arrival and my sweetheart was left here by herself. Our dream was shattered, our future fraught with uncertainty. Ten months after that departure I was returned here to Tripler Army Hospital for surgery and convalescence for wounds received in combat. What had begun as a tour of duty in “paradise” became one of the most trying seasons of our lives.

But if it was trying, it was also defining. As I wander my hall of memories today, and when I think of the dark shadows through which we passed in that challenging season of our lives, it is not the beach and the palm trees that come first to mind. It is not the “picture postcard” Hawaii that we thought we would experience when we stepped off the ship a near half-century ago.

Rather, it is the Koolau Mountains, those rugged, volcanic green peaks that run down the spine of Oahu and that are situated a stone’s throw behind this campus, that come to mind. Those steep ridgelines were to become for me a training ground that has profoundly influenced my entire life. It is an experience in the Koolaus that captures the message I wish to leave with you. I have entitled this address, The Parable of the Foxholes.

In October of that year, 1965, just a few months after our arrival, our battalion received a new commander, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas U. Greer– “Tug” Greer, as his peers called him. Tug Greer was a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point, Class of 1951. In 1951, the Korean War was raging. Most of the West Point class that year was assigned immediately to the combat zone. Many of Tug Greer’s classmates died on the rugged slopes of that land. But Tug had survived and remained in the Army. And now, 14 years later, he was assigned to command our battalion.

No sooner did he assume command, than Col. Greer took the battalion on a week-long training exercise in the Kahuku Training Area at the northern end of the Koolau Mountains. The Army still maintains a training area there. As many of you know, the Koolaus are made up of steep slopes of volcanic rock with little topsoil and covered with thick, green vegetation. For five days, we struggled up and down those slopes in one infantry maneuver after another. Finally, it was Saturday morning, the last day of the exercise. All of us looked forward to returning early to our battalion headquarters, turning in our equipment and hitting the beach. After all, we were young, and what was the point of being stationed here in Hawaii if you could not go to the beach! You know what I mean! I remember gazing down early that morning from my perch on the side of one of those steep ridgelines at the shimmering sand and sparkling ocean. Below me I could see green pasture land with cows peacefully grazing. Beyond the pasture ran the black ribbon of Kam Highway that circles the island. And beyond the highway lay the white sands of the beach and the ocean gleaming like a sapphire. I could hardly wait!

About that time, my reverie was interrupted as Col. Greer came to our rifle company’s position. To our company commander, Captain Jim Andrus, he said, “As the last exercise of this training, I would like Charlie Company, that was us– “C” Company, to establish defensive positions.” Now, among other things, establishing defensive positions meant digging foxholes. You know what a foxhole is. It is a hole in the ground where a soldier can seek shelter from enemy fire. But this was volcanic rock! And we were only equipped with those little folding shovels which the Army calls “entrenching tools.” So, as Capt. Andrus gathered us platoon leaders around to give us the orders for establishing defensive positions, he said, “Since we want to get this over with quickly, we won’t actually dig foxholes. Instead, we will simply do ‘simulated foxholes’– we will just mark out on the ground where we would put the foxholes.”

So, that is what we did. A little while later, Col. Greer came around to inspect our “defensive positions.” I remember it like it was yesterday! As he came to the first of these “simulated foxholes,” he asked Capt. Andrus, “What are those?” Clearing his throat a little nervously, Capt. Andrus responded, “Well, sir, those are simulated foxholes.” “ Simulated foxholes!!” roared Col. Greer, and then he said a few other things. “I ordered this company to prepare defensive positions, and that means digging foxholes! This company is going to stay out here and dig until it learns how to dig foxholes that look like they came out of the training manual!” And so, as the rest of the battalion packed up weapons and equipment and headed back to the base and an afternoon at the beach, Charlie Company remained out on that hillside. And we dug, and we dug, and we dug. Col. Greer’s name was on everyone’s lips that afternoon, and I can tell you that he was not winning any popularity contests that day! I seem to recall that there was even some speculation on his genealogy! But by evening, we had foxholes that really looked just like they came out of the training manual.

However, you see, there was something that we did not know that beautiful Hawaiian Saturday. When Col. Greer had been given his orders assigning him as our battalion commander, he had also received some other orders that he could not share with us– top secret orders, orders sending our battalion to Vietnam. We did not know it at the time, but this would be our last training exercise. And Col. Tug Greer, with his vivid memories of his fallen classmates on the rugged hillsides of Korea was determined to do all that he could to preserve the lives of those men entrusted to his care. That training exercise up into the rugged Koolaus was the moment, the final moment, for polishing those combat skills that could save our lives—even including something as pedestrian as digging a proper foxhole. Vietnam would be too late.

A few weeks later the battalion deployed to Vietnam. Upon arrival, it reached the spot in the division’s defensive perimeter assigned to us late in an afternoon. Col. Greer’s order again went out: “Establish defensive positions.” Our men dug in because that is what you did in Tug Greer’s battalion. Another battalion next to ours, arriving at the same time, only scooped out some shallow cavities in the ground, not unlike our Hawaiian “simulated foxholes,” planning to dig real foxholes the next day. But that night, the Viet Cong enemy launched a ferocious mortar barrage into the green troops. Our men were safe and secure in their foxholes, but the men of that neighboring battalion were not so fortunate. The next morning Tug Greer’s name was again on everyone’s lips—but this time with reverence and respect. I still regard him as one of the great men I have known. From him I learned one of life’s most powerful lessons: There is indeed a “time for every purpose under heaven”—even a time to learn to dig a foxhole. Thus, is the Parable of the Foxholes.

I loved Christmas because we got to be together as a family. For example, we always went caroling on Christmas Eve. The year I remember best was the year my siblings scattered after we had sung at just a few houses. They had plans and other things they had to do, leaving just my parents, my brother Jeff, and me to finish the caroling. I was upset that we wouldn’t all be together as we had been in years past.
Still, caroling was fun, even with our smaller group. We were heading home when Jeff begged Dad to stop at the home of an older sister who used to be in our ward. But when we saw her dark house, Dad said, “Looks like no one is home.”
“I see a light on downstairs,” said Jeff as he jumped out of the car. Jeff rang the doorbell, pounded on the door, and then started rapping on the downstairs windows. My dad, certain that the neighbors would be suspicious, told Jeff to give up. Just then, the door opened, and there stood Jeff’s friend. Jeff ran up with a plate of goodies and gave her a hug.
The rest of us got out of the car. We hadn’t decided the songs to sing, so we asked her about her holiday plans. She said she was alone, but her youngest daughter was coming the next day. A smile spread across her face and she said, “Will you sing for me?”
“Sure,” we responded. Then my dad’s voice led out with “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” As we sang, I thought about the words, how Christ had saved us, and the comfort and joy of that thought.
“Thank you,” she said with tears in her eyes. “This is the best Christmas present I’ve received yet.” As we walked to the car, we could all feel the warmth of the Spirit. Jeff mentioned that this woman had been struggling lately, and he thanked my dad for picking out that song.
“It just came into my mind that it was the right song to sing,” said Dad. “Even though it’s not one we usually do.”
It was a testimony to me that the Lord knows each one of us and our problems, that we are not forgotten. By acting on the Spirit’s promptings, not only were we able to share the love the Savior has for her, but I was filled with his gift of love for me.