Gospel Story Finder

“By the time I reached the house knew something dreadful had happened. I raced through the front door and almost collided head-on with my dad. I looked up into a ghostly white, tear-streaked face, a face I had never seen before. He was trembling all over and could only mutter, ‘She’s gone, your mother’s passed away.’
“Oh, how I loved her! I was stunned. I turned and I began to run. I ran and ran and ran and my tears mixed with the rain. I ran until I was exhausted, but I did not stop. My face was swollen and my head hurt. Still I ran. Then, suddenly I saw from the opposite direction someone coming toward me. I paused and wiped my eyes. Could it be? One of those four Mutual girls, the girls who truly cared about me. One of those girls was running through the rain for me. I began to run again and when we met I threw my arms around that girl and we both collapsed to the ground. I sat there crying, and she cried with me.
“In the years that followed, I became [very close to those] girls. I learned to care, really care about others and to give of myself. I found that by helping others my own problems diminished.
“When the most important day of my life came, I knelt across the altar from my sweetheart and in the reflection of mirrors were those four Mutual girls, standing, with tears running down their cheeks.
“I’ll never know why I had been so important to them. Me, a nobody. I can only thank my Father in Heaven for those girls and pray with all my heart that there are many more like them in his Church.”
The speaker in this story, the first one related in Others by Blaine and Brenton Yorgason, was an inactive member who was failing school and heading for trouble with the law. Then one day, the four girls in her Mutual class appeared on her doorway and invited her to Mutual. She didn’t go, but for months and months afterward the girls visited her weekly, brought her a birthday cake, and visited her every day for three weeks when she was in the hospital. Because they didn’t give up, she eventually began to realize that they really did care about her, and this realization led to her reactivation in the gospel and a total change of life.

When I was growing up, my body struggled with gamma globulin anemia. I had a hard time fighting off germs, so I got sick a lot.
One night I woke up with painful earaches. They hurt so badly that I thought my head was going to explode! I remember my mother and father coming into my room. My mother sat on the side of the bed and cradled me in her arms. Then my father placed his hands on my head and gave me a priesthood blessing. In that blessing, He told me that my Father in Heaven knew me. He was aware of my pain. He would bless me to sleep through the rest of the night.
I soon relaxed, fell asleep, and slept through the night and late into the morning. When I woke up, my ears felt better. But it still took several years before I was completely healed from my illness.
Over the next several years, my father continued to give me priesthood blessings to give me strength. He taught me that those blessings were opportunities for Heavenly Father to speak to me. My sickness became a way for Heavenly Father to help my faith to grow.

When my grandma was sick a few years ago, I would stay with her several nights a week. After giving her medicine and tucking her into bed, I would get in my car and drive through a dark canyon to get home. I would play this same song on repeat and cry and cry. I would beg Heavenly Father to give me more patience. To be kinder. To be softer. But most of all, I begged Him to know how I could fix her.
Then, about two years ago, a friend of mine died by suicide. The phone call I received that delivered the news will be etched in my mind for the rest of my life. I beat myself up for months, wondering what more I could have done for this person. How I could have been a better friend. How I could have called more. How I could have invited this person more. I had so many thoughts of regret and self-blame that went on and on.
And finally, I recently hit a point of exhaustion I’d never felt before. My friends, family members, and even coworkers had been opening up to me about their current challenges, and the more they opened up to me, the more I would try to take on what they were struggling with. I was hyperfocused on that idea of “fixing,” and I felt powerless to do so.
So when that song came on at work, tears instantly flooded my eyes as I stopped typing and listened to the music. It was all I could do to mutter a small prayer: “Heavenly Father … I’m exhausted.”
Then God, in His loving grace, answered my prayer by patiently teaching me. These words instantly came to my mind: “You’re exhausted because you’re trying to be the fixer. And that is what I sent my Son to do.”
I felt incredibly humbled in that moment. I’d been trying to do a job that was never mine to do in the first place.
As Sister Reyna I. Aburto, Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught: “Sometimes, the natural man or woman in us makes us think that we have been called to ‘fix’ other people. We have not been called to be ‘fixers’ of others, and we have not been called to lecture or to scorn. We have been called to inspire, to lift, to invite others, to be fishers of people, fishers of souls so they receive the opportunity to be spiritually healed by Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer.”1
I’ve learned that because of the world we live in, we will constantly be with people, including ourselves, who are imperfect. And living in an imperfect world means that we will all experience challenges in this life, including difficult things that are beyond our control. That’s why God sent Jesus Christ—so He could help us.
Heavenly Father reminded me that day in my office that it wasn’t my job to heal my grandma. I wasn’t to blame for my friend’s death by suicide. And it certainly wasn’t my role to take on all the burdens and weaknesses of those around me.
Let us remember the Savior “descended below” all things (Doctrine and Covenants 122:8) because He is the Master Healer.
That’s a truth I’m continually learning to hold on to when I feel that need to solve everyone’s problems. I now strive to allow the Savior to guide and teach me.
Our simple mandate from Him is to “bear one another’s burdens” (Mosiah 18:8), which entails loving, supporting, listening, comforting, praying, fasting, forgiving, and serving. We can do that as we turn to follow the Savior. And as we let Him offer His healing hand to us and to those we love, our burdens will truly become light.

During his mission and afterward, Sipho’s pioneering spirit motivated other African young men to accept mission calls and to serve the Lord. In fact, during one of Elder Khomo’s Christmas phone calls from England, the township boys all gathered with his family to hear of his missionary experiences. The enthusiasm from that telephone call was contagious, and shortly afterward, those same township boys submitted missionary paperwork and received calls from the prophet to serve in the mission field themselves.

I was very sick when I was pregnant with my youngest child. But one afternoon, my daughter wanted to go hiking. My husband told her I was too sick to go. My daughter prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me feel better and promptly got ready to go. Minutes later, my husband was surprised to see me awake. He told me about our daughter’s prayer, and her sincere faith inspired me to try to hike. Somehow, I made it to the top of the mountain.

Two sister missionaries in the Texas Houston Mission felt prompted to teach a lesson about the purpose of the temple. During the lesson the man they were teaching mentioned that his brother had died several years before. Having already felt the Spirit concerning Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, when he realized he could provide saving ordinances for his brother, he accepted the missionaries’ invitation to be baptized. Later, as a new member, he was baptized for his deceased brother in the Houston Texas Temple.

This experience was a wake-up call. As I spent the next few years contemplating what I could do if I lost Barry, I did volunteer work, attended workshops, and applied for several part-time jobs. But I had no marketable skills, and no one would hire me.
We live on a farm, with pastureland for a few animals, so I began to research farming as a living. One day an idea came to me: flowers. After researching flower farming, I decided to give it a try. I went to a conference for flower growers and prepared to transition from pastureland to row crops. Then, in November 2016, I signed up for a Self-Reliance Services class on how to start and grow my own business.
The 12-week course was exactly what I needed. I had a basic business plan and lots of fun ideas, but I lacked organization. Ideas came up in class that I hadn’t considered before. I acted on each one. As I worked that first year growing and selling flowers, the suggestions and principles I learned in the class came into play:
I found a low-interest business loan.
I expanded my market to include farmers markets and flower shops.
I booked several events on our farm as an expansion of my services.
In late 2017, after my first year of farming, I realized that selling to flower shops was taking too much time. “What if I opened my own flower shop?” I wondered. The local flower shop had closed, and the building had become an eyesore. So my husband and I bought it, fixed it up, and opened a flower shop that also sells art and local crafts. In addition, I opened a plant rental and interior plant design business.
I sell my flowers through our shop and at coffee shops, boutique stores, and a kiosk at the local airport. Each day, I harvest what I need.
I have a testimony that the Lord cares about my business. He has helped me create financial security for myself and part-time jobs for several women who want to work flexible hours and for students working their way through school. One of our daughters manages the flower farm, and two of our sons do much of the farm work, including helping to build a greenhouse. Barry helps in the evenings and on weekends, doing the heavy lifting.
We all support each other and work together. It has been a blessing for everyone involved. I keep busy but still have time for my family, Church callings, ministering duties, and volunteer work.
Working from the time I plant a seed or a bulb to when I present a flower to a customer gives me a tremendous sense of accomplishment. I have no doubt that the Lord has enlarged my abilities and made much more of me than I would have become on my own.

In December 1996 I found myself serving a full-time mission in the Mexico Monterrey North Mission. My companion was a young sister from Utah. It was my first Christmas away from home without my children and grandchildren, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what my children were doing and who was preparing dinner, since I wasn’t there to do it.
I was quieter than usual, so my companion gave me a hug and said, “I’m going to make a delicious dinner for you.” I looked at her lovely face and into her beautiful blue eyes that were looking back at me with so much love, the way my children and grandchildren look at me. I smiled at her.
The dinner she prepared was just a warm cinnamon drink, but for me it was a great delicacy. I was 46 years old, and she was only 21. Always I was concerned about giving, and I didn’t think about receiving. As missionaries we did not have any money to give, so we gave love and service instead. Without my companion knowing it, I had bought a pair of gloves and a scarf to protect her from the cold. That was my gift to her. But she gave me something that couldn’t be bought with all the gold in the world: love and service.
That night her gift taught me that Christmas is for giving the most beautiful part of ourselves, the feelings of our hearts. Very shyly I took out my gifts for my dear companion. I felt so humble to give her what I had bought, compared with her great love.
Every Christmas after returning home from my mission, I have shared with my children and grandchildren that wonderful Christmas. I will always be grateful to my Heavenly Father and to Jesus Christ for the holy season of Christmas and to my companion for her example of love.

Several years ago, my family and I hiked a mountain trail in Iceland to see a famous waterfall. We had never been on this mountain, we were uncertain about the trail, and we are not experienced hikers.
We watched others start up the trail and followed. Soon, they were out of sight and so was the trail! We looked carefully and noticed piles of intentionally placed rocks, called cairns, marking the path to the waterfall. We also noticed patches of ground near the trail that had white, fluffy cotton grass.1 Stepping into that grass always left us with muddy, water-filled shoes.
We learned that the cotton grass grew in marshes and marked a path we did not want to follow. We became confident that following the cairns would lead us to the waterfall.
The trail was not easy, but we persisted, carefully following the cairns and avoiding the cotton grass. Finally, we reached the magnificent waterfall and enjoyed the view from the mountaintop and the refreshment of the water.
As we trekked down the mountain, we saw that the cairns had helped us avoid deep pools of water and steep cliffs we had not seen before. We were grateful that those cairns led us safely.
On our hike, my family and I were free to choose a different path to the top of the mountain, but a different path might not have, and likely would not have, led to the waterfall. We probably would have gotten stuck in the mud, stopped by dangerous cliffs, or given up out of tiredness. Staying on the path provided the most direct and sure route to our destination.

Wayne Bennett, a junior high instructor in Ventura, California, noted that he has been turned down for house insurance because of his deafness. The former deaf missionary also told about a deaf friend who worked in a supermarket. “When the boss needed his attention, he would throw an orange at him. Finally, one day my friend, with a watermelon in his hand, went up to the man and said, ‘The next time you throw an orange at me, you get a watermelon in the head.’ The young man, who was six feet tall and weighed 200 pounds, had no further trouble.”

Illustration by Katelyn Budge
I kind of have this face where, if I’m not smiling, I look like I’m angry. People would ask, “Why are you frowning? What’s your problem?” And I’d say, “I’m not frowning.” But their questions actually did make me angry.
My dad was worried about me. He called me to his room and said, “You know, you can’t keep having this angry attitude. What’s bothering you?” I decided I wanted to change.
I prayed and cried for Heavenly Father to help me. Over time, I started to feel different. I get less angry, I smile more often, and I love others more. Everybody said, “You are changing.” I know deep down that it isn’t by my own strength. It’s by the enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
It’s hard to become the person you want to be. I can’t say I’m there yet, but I’m striving to get there. Our journey is supposed to be with Jesus Christ. We should invite Him along with us.
Victoria E., age 16, Lagos, Nigeria
Likes playing sports, reading, singing, doing hair, and learning new things.

Remembering an example of love demonstrated, the Cooks’ second son, Joe, recalls that his father was uneasy about Joe’s driving back to San Francisco after finishing his first-semester exams at Brigham Young University. It would be late December, the roads might be snowbound, and he would be tired. At the end of the semester Joe answered a knock on the door of his dormitory to see his father standing there, having flown up from the Bay Area to be his son’s driving companion for the trip home. Joe says that was not only a powerful manifestation of his dad’s love for him but the talk time they had on the trip home—filled with discussions of various gospel principles and repeated testimonies of the Savior—became one of the truly formative moments in young Joe’s vision of what he wanted by way of testimony and for his own future fatherhood.

Sometime after the collapse of the Teton Dam and the ensuing flooding disaster which affected several counties in eastern Idaho, while serving as the area welfare leader, I was asked to speak on behalf of the Church to a group of people who were responsible for civil defense and disaster relief. They included representatives from city, county, state, and federal organizations as well as a number of religious, volunteer, and service groups. The requested topic was how the LDS Church is prepared to respond to emergency crises.
I realized that they had already observed the response of the Church to the flood. They saw firsthand how the bishops’ storehouse system was almost immediately prepared to ship in truckloads of supplies and then stood by to fill the requests of the local priesthood leaders. They saw the Deseret Industries help bring order out of chaos. Large mountains of clothing were donated from many parts of the country and placed in large, unsorted piles. There were party dresses with work shoes, small sizes with large, men’s with women’s, and clean with soiled. In a very short time the Deseret Industries had these much-needed articles of clothing cleaned, pressed, sized, and placed on racks from which those in need could choose for their particular needs.
They saw how the LDS Social Services was available to help the people in their social and emotional needs as emotional tolerances were pressed to the limit. Many jobs were lost due to the flood, and many new ones were created. LDS employment program was busy as employees and employers were matched together. They saw, as did people from all over the world, the many thousands of volunteers who came, at their own expense, to help in the cleanup effort.
There was a need in the early days of the flood cleanup for heavy equipment. A request was made for tractors and front-end loaders from stakes both near and far. We thought in terms of 5 or 6 outfits. Soon after the request was made, the area welfare leader from Soda Springs, approximately 165 miles away, called and said, “President, I understand that you need some tractors and front-end loaders. We are ready and prepared to bring 150.” I told him that 20 would be marvelous.
There was a need for electricians to restore power to the homes that lost it because of the flood. We estimated that 150 would be a great response. The call went out. We didn’t get just 150. More than 450 licensed electricians and helpers responded to that call. This same type of devotion and dedication was shown many, many times over as a variety of needs was fulfilled.
It was evident to this group to whom I would speak, as well as to others, what had happened in this major crisis, but were they aware of those who are helped every day on an individual basis—for example, the young girl who found love, understanding, and kind assistance from LDS Social Services when she was confronted with a major crisis in her life? Because of wise counsel, she did not compound an already serious problem with a graver tragedy when she found that there is an alternative to the accepted worldly philosophy of abortion.
They did not know of the many other services of LDS Social Services, the childless marriages with loving homes who are blessed with the opportunity to adopt a little infant, the Lamanite program, professional counseling, foster homes, and others.
I was sure that most of them did not totally understand the Deseret Industries; and most certainly did not understand that it is a living example of the principle of consecration, wherein each of us has the opportunity to give freely of our surpluses, and then those great people who are not willing to be spectators in the arena of life are given the opportunity to maintain their dignity by enjoying the blessing of work. Perhaps they were not even aware that Deseret Industries is open for all to make purchases which are so helpful in meeting the pressures of an inflated economy. Shopping at Deseret Industries is like shopping at an exclusive store. There are many items that are one of a kind, and with shipments arriving daily we have an opportunity to make new choices every day.
On one occasion when I had arrived early at Deseret Industries prior to our monthly meeting of the local operating committee, I made a tour of the well-organized displays and racks of commodities. My eyes were drawn to the area of overcoats. One particularly appealed to me. It was a fine, all-wool, English-tailored coat. I thought, “If it fits, I’ll buy it.” I looked at the price: four dollars and seventy-five cents! At that price, I knew it fit. I bought it and I paid cash for it. I took it home and, when I modeled it for my wife, I put my hands in the pockets, and there were a number of rare, one-cent postage stamps. I guess the stamps themselves were worth probably about as much as I had paid for the coat. And I suspect that I was probably the only person who made a purchase at Deseret Industries who not only made an excellent buy but also received stamps!
This group of people to whom I would speak certainly had no way of knowing about the father who found himself with his loving bishop exclaiming, “Bishop, tragedy has struck our family. I have lost my job. I need welfare.” That knowledgeable bishop replied, “Brother, you don’t need welfare. What you need is a job, and you have come to the right place.” That wise bishop had just taught the great principle of work. The bishop’s comment was not an idle remark, because he had available to him, as a part of the great storehouse system, a ward employment specialist, who has access not only to the employers within the ward and stake but also, through the employment center, to those throughout the entire area. If a job could not be found in the open market, that same employment specialist would become a resource to the bishop to help find meaningful work opportunities for the needy brother within the Lord’s plan, thus allowing that father the joy of maintaining his dignity by working for the commodities received. This same employment system serves the needs of all members as they seek employment and seek to upgrade their opportunities.
This group of interested people that I would speak to wanted to know what we as the Church can do in a major disaster, but that is not all. There are heartaches, hurts, problems—yes, even disasters—which occur in every life at some time. And, in the individual’s life, those personal disasters are just as real and just as deserving of our help as the disaster of those involved in the flood in eastern Idaho, or the earthquake in Guatemala, or the flooding in California.
I wanted this group to know that in the Church not only are we prepared to deal with major disasters which involve many, but the Lord’s plan provides for the loving care of each of his children on an individual, one-on-one basis.

In the spring of 1840 in Lanark County, Ontario, Canada, Latter-day Saint missionaries taught 24-year-old John Borrowman the gospel of Jesus Christ. He knew it was true as soon as he heard it. But with his testimony came his first of many significant sacrifices for the gospel.
John sought his father’s advice about joining the Church. William Borrowman was unyielding in his determination to prevent his son from seeking baptism. After more than two full days of discussion, William said that if John chose to join with the Latter-day Saints, he would lose his inheritance—the family farm. As the oldest living son, John was the rightful heir to this farm where he had worked side by side with his family all his life. Worse than that, John knew he would lose his father’s companionship as well—a devastating thought to a 24-year-old who loved his family.
But even facing this difficult decision, John remained thrilled with his new religion. For him the light of the gospel had burst on the world like a sunrise, revealing that all men could find salvation. So in spite of the sorrow he felt because of his father’s opposition and the loss of a valuable inheritance, John was baptized on 7 June 1840. Like the merchant in Matthew 13:45–46 [Matt. 13:45–46] who sold all he had to buy the pearl of great price, John gave up all he had to become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He moved in with the family of one of his older sisters and stayed there until 1843, when he immigrated to Nauvoo, Illinois, to join the main body of the Saints.

We hope that young people will be willing to sacrifice the pomp and show and pageantry of the civil weddings so that they and generally their parents with them can go to the holy temple for their marriages. Often the cost of a reception or a holiday or expensive gifts would more than pay for a temple wedding. When Sister Kimball and I were married, we had no ring nor costly reception. Eight years later I bought her a small diamond. She was content to wait until then.

Just the other night we had the opportunity to attend a baptismal service in the ward meetinghouse where Rachel, a great-granddaughter, was baptized. A few nights before that, Richard, a great-grandson, had been baptized. I had the opportunity to look at them and talk to them and squeeze them and see that sparkle in their eye and of the light of the gospel that seemed to fill their heart and soul. They were so excited about the idea of being baptized to become official members of the Church. Their families had taught them true gospel principles. I remember when I said, “Richard,” as we shook hands, “give me a real missionary handshake.” And with that little eight-year-old hand he almost squeezed my fingers off. As he did it, I said, “Richard, you’ll be a great missionary, just as little Rachel will be a great member of the Church in her right.”
On that same occasion we had an opportunity to stand in the circle and to have young Peter Jr. receive the Aaronic Priesthood and to hear his father give him the blessings of the priesthood. And those of us who were older had the chance to stand in the circle and to sense the meaning of the occasion and to feel of it and to know that all present were part of our family.

In April 1973, my parents and I traveled from our native Argentina to be sealed in the temple. Since there were no temples in all of Latin America at the time, we flew more than 6,000 miles (9,700 km) each way to be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Although I was just two years of age at the time and do not recall the entirety of that special experience, three very distinct images from that trip were fixed in my mind and have remained ever since.

First, I recall being placed close to the airplane’s window and seeing the white clouds below.

Those beautiful, bright clouds endure in my mind as if they had been gigantic cotton balls.

Another image that has remained in my mind is that of a few funny-looking characters at an amusement park in the Los Angeles area. Those characters are hard to forget.

But of much greater importance is this brilliant and unforgettable image:
I clearly remember being in a sacred room of the Salt Lake Temple where sealings of couples and of families are performed for time and for all eternity. I remember the beautiful altar of the temple and recall the bright sunlight shining through the room’s exterior window. I felt then, and have continued to feel since, the warmth, safety, and solace of the gospel light of truth and love.

“I wish I could ride my bike, now that you took off the training wheels,” I said as he was putting the vacuum cleaner away.
“Come on, I’ll help you practice.”
First he showed me how to stop and get off. Then he gave me some good starts, and I began to get the hang of it.
A week passed. I practiced every day riding my bicycle in the driveway. I had a skinned elbow, a bruised knee, and a scraped ankle, but I finally mastered the bike.
I was proudly riding it when Janie came by to model her beautiful blue dress for me.
“You look great, Janie,” Jack said as he came down the sidewalk. Then he grinned and waved a geometry test paper with a 94 on it!
How can wishes come true? Figure it out—I did!

Sissy was crying again. She didn’t want to cry, but the warm, wet tears kept sliding down her cheeks. Ever since Pa had died last winter, she found herself crying almost every time she was alone.
Today she had run home from the little pioneer church and climbed into the hayloft. It was the Sunday before Easter, and her Primary lesson had been about the Resurrection. Sister Nelson had reminded the class that when people we love die, we can be comforted knowing that they will live again and that we can be with them at some future time. Sissy knew that Sister Nelson was speaking especially to her and was trying to be kind, but her teacher just didn’t understand! What good is it to think about resurrection when I need Pa right now? she thought.
Sissy had been very close to her father. Pa had always said that she was special. He called her his “own little angel right from heaven.” The tears rolled down her cheeks, and she cried, “Oh, Pa, why did you have to die? How can I ever be happy again?”
Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother Joe’s husky voice calling her from the barn door. “Sissy! Sissy, are you in here?”
“I’m coming, Joe,” Sissy said slowly as she dried her tears and began to climb down.
Joe stood at the bottom of the ladder; he lifted her off the rungs, swung her around, and gently set her down. “What’s the matter, Sis?” he asked as he bent his tall frame over and looked into her reddened eyes. “Has it been raining in the hayloft again?”
Sissy gave him a little smile and held his hand as they left the barn. She loved Joe. He was kind and gentle, like Pa, and Sissy knew he understood her sorrow and loneliness. She wondered if he still missed Pa too. She hadn’t thought about that before. Joe always seemed so strong and sure of everything.
“Joe,” Sissy said, stopping suddenly, “what do you do when you feel sad and lonely without Pa around?”
Joe walked slowly over to a tree and sat down. Sissy sat down beside him. He was quiet for a moment and seemed to be studying the daffodils that Pa and Sissy had planted last spring. Then he looked up into Sissy’s eyes and spoke softly. “Missing Pa is natural and will probably last all our lives, Sissy. But when I’m sad, I try to get busy doing something that I know would make Pa happy. You see, I know that someday I’m going to see Pa again, and I want to be the kind of man he always wanted me to grow up to be. Somehow that seems to take my mind off my sad thoughts and put it on the happy thoughts of how proud I can make Pa when I see him again.”
Sissy thought about Joe’s words as he got up and headed toward the woodpile. She knew that Pa would be sad to think that the only thing she did when she thought of him was cry. Maybe if she tried Joe’s plan, it would work for her too. She wrinkled her forehead as she tried to think of something to do that would make Pa happy and proud of her.
In a minute Sissy was on her feet, running to catch up with her brother. “Joe,” she asked, filling her arms with kindling, “do you think we could take some daffodils over to Sister Harding this afternoon? I noticed she wasn’t at church today, so maybe she would like a little visit. We could take over some of those good molasses cookies too!”
Joe gave her a quick smile and a gentle squeeze and nodded his head. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” he said.
Later, as Sissy gathered the flowers, she found herself thinking about Pa and smiling for the first time in a long while. She could almost see Pa smiling too!

One of those I would like to mention this morning was President David O. McKay, who came into my life as the first prophet to teach and influence me personally.
I was called to be a stake president in California just before President McKay was sustained in a solemn assembly as the President of the Church and as our prophet. My wife, Ruby, and I drove to Salt Lake to be in attendance at that conference. I felt of that spirit, of that leadership, and of the direction that President McKay gave to the Church at that time. Later on I invited him to come to California to dedicate a Church building that we had just finished. That was in the days when we would raise half the money to buy the land and half the money to pay for a building—not like it is today, but where we felt a real ownership in the Church property and in buildings. President McKay came as a result of my invitation, which surprised me. We met him at the train and were pleased to have him in our home. That gave me a new vision of the magnitude and the breadth and the importance of the mission that we have here upon the earth to fulfill.