Gospel Story Finder

Right after I was married, I was called as home teacher to four families. The father of one was active but not spiritually converted. The young husband in another wasn’t a member of the Church and wouldn’t attend with his new bride, who was a member. The third couple was inactive—even though the husband was formerly in a stake presidency and the wife had been a stake Primary president. The fourth family, the Smiths, was happily very active in the Church: the father was on the stake high council, and the mother was the ward Relief Society president.
As my home teaching companion and I considered our assignment, our immediate reaction was to concentrate on the three families that needed obvious encouragement and fellowshipping. The Smiths, we reasoned, would get along fine with just a short social visit from us once a month.
But after our initial visit with each family, and after praying about how to be effective home teachers, we began to realize that every family needs—and deserves—a great home teacher, and that the Smiths needed just as much attention, prayerful consideration, and love as any of the other families.
During the first year, we tried to develop a good rapport with the Smiths. Devoting part of every month’s visit directly to the three children, we became fully aware of their progress in Primary, Scouting, Aaronic Priesthood, and school. When the boy received his (highest award a boy can earn in scouting in the U.S.), I was asked to be the speaker at the meeting where he received his award.
Sometimes we went out for ice cream with them. At ward parties, we socialized with every member of the family.
The friendship worked both ways. For example, when our first baby was born no one was more excited than the Smiths. In fact, Sister Smith gave a party for my wife.
One day Brother Smith called to tell me that he was going to be operated on shortly: the doctor had just found a tumor. I helped administer to him.
The surgery was successful—the cancer was removed. We felt that our role was to encourage the family during their father’s recuperation.
About a year later, another tumor appeared. Again the Smiths needed spiritual strength and support, and again the cancer was removed.
However, several months later they found another tumor. We appreciated many times the comforting power of the Spirit as blessings were pronounced in Brother Smith’s behalf. As home teachers, we discussed with the family the importance of combining faith with submissiveness to the Lord’s will.
When this last tumor appeared, it was so extensive that the doctors couldn’t operate. We were all disheartened—yet we still hoped that Brother Smith would live.
I frequently stopped to spend some time with him on my way home from work. Many times he was in so much pain—his pain relievers were ineffective by then—that he would ask me for a blessing. Those experiences became a highlight of my life. Each day I tried to live so that I could receive inspiration that would encourage my ailing friend.
One Saturday morning, as my wife and I were leaving home to do some shopping, I said to her, “I have a feeling that we should go see how Brother Smith endured the night.” We had seen him the night before, and everything seemed fine.
“All right,” she said. “If you feel we should go over, let’s do it.”
We found him in bed—doing about the same as the night before; there had been no major decline in his strength during the past week. I couldn’t help wondering why I had felt impressed to visit them that morning. So I decided that maybe we should share some faith-promoting experiences with them. The children sat around the bed and listened, and the Spirit of the Lord was there in rich abundance. Suddenly, as we talked, Brother Smith died in the arms of his wife.
My wife took the children into another bedroom and spent the next little while talking to them and answering their questions. She indicated to them that their father would be a source of strength to them all their lives and that someday, because of the Savior’s atonement and resurrection, they could have a beautiful reunion with him.
I helped by calling the doctor, the bishop, and the mortician. Later during the day we ran errands for Sister Smith.
The funeral was the following Monday. When the bishop was making the arrangements, Sister Smith indicated that her husband had planned the funeral in great detail, and that I, his home teacher, was to give the spiritual message.
I was overwhelmed. Brother Smith was close to many stake and general leaders in the Church, but instead, he had asked for me to speak at his funeral. And the printed program was to indicate that I was his home teacher.
Afterward, we did what we could to help the family adjust. We arranged for an accountant in our ward to help set up a budget for them and to get the family finances back in order. We asked another ward member, a carpenter/handyman, to help us inspect the house to determine what needed to be done to maintain the value of the home. The priesthood quorums in the ward then came in and did the needed work to get the home back to its normal condition.
We also helped Sister Smith evaluate various job opportunities. And we tried to be even closer to the children.

Early last year, Elder Allistair B. Odgers asked stake presidents to set a goal for the number of full-time teaching missionaries we would have serving in December 2022.
After much prayer and fasting, I set a goal that would stretch us as a stake; a goal that would require great faith and bring spiritual experiences and miracles to members’ lives. I knew the number of currently serving missionaries, and the prospective missionaries we were working with, would guarantee 10-12 missionaries serving in December. I felt inspired to offer 25 as our stake goal.
Immediately I began meeting with our bishops, branch presidents, high council and stake council members. We invited all to unite and find those additional 10-15 missionaries we were not currently working with. Shortly afterwards, during April general conference, President Russell M. Nelson again invited all young men, and young women who desired, to serve a full-time mission. President Nelson encouraged all to seek and expect miracles as we increase our spiritual momentum.1
Elder Odgers asked the stake presidents in our coordinating council, to invite bishops and branch presidents to invite two young men to serve a mission every week. Believing in miracles, I encouraged our leaders again to renew efforts to find missionaries, emphasizing we would have spiritual experiences and miracles as we sought inspiration and guidance about whom to invite.
At our next stake high council meeting, a brother told us he had two sons eligible to serve missions. One had a desire to serve the Lord, the other did not. This son, Sione, had been living in the States, had a girlfriend, and said he had not received an answer to his prayers as to whether he should serve a mission.
In the same spirit as Alma, and with tears in his eyes, this father asked if we would pray for Sione to receive an answer from the Lord.
Like everyone, I continued to pray, and to fast for this young man.
I awoke early one Saturday morning and lay pondering when I had a most amazing and humbling experience. A vision of Sione came to my mind. I was instructed to visit with him the next day, after my daily duties were completed. The vision unfolded and I was given specific questions to ask Sione. And I heard what his answers would be, and how I was to respond to him. The message was clear and specific.
That evening, I opened my fast and prayed everything in the vision would remain clear so I could complete the assignment I had been given.
I attended a ward conference the following day, conducted some interviews then headed to my car. As I drove from the chapel, the Spirit reminded me of my assignment. In a strange but spiritual way, I saw again the vision I had received the day before.
Arriving at the family’s home, I knocked on the door and was told their dad was overseas, but that Mum was home. When Mum came to the door, I asked if I could meet with her and Sione. He was busy cooking dinner. Mum invited me in and the three of us sat in the lounge and talked.
I asked Sione to offer a prayer and immediately the vision unfolded as clearly as it had the previous day.
I asked Sione what he thought about serving a mission? Word for word, he answered as I saw in the vision. He explained he wasn’t sure if he should serve a mission; that he had pondered and prayed but didn’t think he’d received an answer. I enquired if he had a patriarchal blessing. He said, “yes”. I asked, “What does your patriarchal blessing say?” He replied, “I will serve a mission”.
Exactly as I had been instructed, I inquired, “How does the Lord answer prayers?” Sione struggled, but then shared his thoughts. Strengthened by the Spirit and in an emotional and humble attitude, I said, “I have been instructed by the Lord, Jesus Christ, through revelation, to come and visit with you today. I testify to you that prayers are answered by feelings, impressions, reading the scriptures and many other ways. Today I am here on behalf of the Saviour, Jesus Christ, in answer to your prayer and to remove all confusion and doubt. Sione, the Saviour invites you to serve a mission. He has a work for you to do and it is a work that only Elder Hala can do as there is someone special waiting for you to invite into the waters of baptism”. This is where the vision ended.
I asked how he felt. He bowed his head and cried, “My prayer has been answered and I want to serve a mission”.
Brother Hala will soon complete his medical and dental checks then submit his mission application. Modern miracles really do happen when we put our trust in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Aaron’s mother came through the door, a bag of groceries in her arms.
“Mom!” Aaron jumped up and gave her a hug. He took the groceries and set them on the kitchen counter.
Aaron was home alone in their apartment after school while his mother worked. It was only for a couple of hours, but it was the loneliest time of the day.
“Hey, Buddy,” she said, “got your homework done?”
“Yep. What’s for supper?” he asked as he showed her his notebook.
Aaron’s mother sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just sit down for a few minutes before I get us something to eat.” She sat down in her “resting chair.”
Aaron’s mom was usually tired after work. His dad didn’t live there anymore, so it was just the two of them.
Aaron hid a small disappointed sigh. His mom put her head back on the chair and closed her eyes.
A few minutes later the phone rang. “Hello,” Aaron answered politely, “Jackson residence.”
“Hi, sugar. How’s my boy?” a familiar voice asked.
“Grandma! I’m just fine. What’s up?”
“I just called to wish your mom a happy birthday. Is she home yet?”
“Yes,” he answered, “but she’s asleep. I didn’t know it was Mom’s birthday. I’ll go wake her up.”
“No, child,” his grandma said quickly. “Don’t bother her while she’s resting. I’ll call back later tonight. Take care, sweetie!” And she hung up.
Aaron put the receiver back down. Hmmm, Mom’s birthday. …
He remembered his own birthday a few months ago. The cake and ice cream were great, and so was his present—a blue remote-control race car! Oh, how he had wanted one! His mom had said that it was too expensive, but somehow she’d managed to get one for him.
“I’ll have a party for Mom!” he said out loud. Oops! I’ll have to be quiet—and hurry! But what can I do? I don’t have any money, and I can’t go out alone, anyway. I’ll have to make something, instead—I know!
He went to his mother’s jewelry box. She had broken her favorite necklace a few weeks ago. It was made of beads from Africa and had belonged to Aaron’s great-grandmother. Aaron had helped his mom pick up all the beads when it broke, but she hadn’t had time to string them back together. He found some new string and carefully threaded it through the beads one by one. He couldn’t remember the exact pattern but came as close to it as he could.
The new string was a little shorter than the first one, but it would still fit over her head. There were a few beads left over, so he put them back into the jewelry box.
He tiptoed past his mother into the kitchen, wrapped the necklace in a blue paper napkin from the table, and found a piece of yarn for a bow. It made a nice present. But it looked kind of small all alone on the table.
I need a cake, he thought. He looked through the kitchen cabinets and spotted the peanut butter.
I know—I’ll make a peanut-butter-and-jelly cake! I hope we have some jelly.
Aaron got out bread, peanut butter, and jelly, put a slice of bread on a plate, and covered the top with peanut butter, then jelly. He put a second slice of bread on top of that and spread it with peanut butter and jelly too. A third piece of bread went on top of that. For the frosting he just spread a third layer of peanut butter. Carefully he wrote Happy Birthday in the peanut butter with a knife. It looked a little plain, so he put dots of jelly here and there for decoration. Perfect! He found two of the candles from his own birthday cake and put them on top. He wasn’t allowed to use matches, so his mom would have to light them.
Aaron heard her stirring in the next room. Please don’t wake up now—I’m not ready! he thought.
Finding a large yellow envelope in the trash, he cut off all the writing until he had a small piece of plain yellow paper. With a colored pen he wrote, “You’re the best, Mom!” After folding the card and putting it next to the present and cake, he hurried to put away the groceries that she had brought home. Then he even swept the kitchen floor.
Everything looked great! Aaron felt good about his hard work. Now he could hardly wait for his mother to wake up. He crouched down behind the table and fidgeted.
Finally he heard Mom get up and say, “Goodness! I’d better get supper on. I wonder what Aaron’s doing.” She walked into the kitchen. “Well, what’s all this?”
Aaron jumped up. “Surprise! Happy Birthday, Mom!” he shouted.
“Why, Aaron, did you do all this?”
“I sure did!”
Aaron couldn’t remember seeing his mom smile so much. She grabbed him up for a big hug. “This is the best kind of birthday!” she exclaimed happily. They laughed and danced around the kitchen.
“Here,” Aaron said. “Open your present!”
She opened the blue paper napkin. “Oh, honey, you fixed Grandmother’s necklace for me. It’s so beautiful. Strong too. And a card!”
She read the card. She looked at everything for a long time. “Buddy,” she said with tears in her eyes, “you’ve made today the most special day for me.” She held Aaron close. “I love you so much.”
“Aw, Mom,” he said, pulling away. But he did feel pretty special.
After a supper of soup and salad, they cut into Aaron’s cake and ate every bite!
Later, as Aaron’s mom was tucking him into bed, the phone rang. “That’s Grandma,” he said. “She called while you were asleep.”
Mom kissed him on the forehead. “Thanks for a wonderful birthday, Aaron. Sweet dreams.”
Aaron listened as Mom told Grandma all about the special birthday. She laughed as she talked, and sounded happy.
Aaron felt happy too. Yes, this was the best kind of birthday.

“Why don’t we choose service as our goal?” suggested Kim, her blue eyes sparkling.
“We could do things for older people, little children, our parents, and each other!” added Jeri excitedly.
The rest of the second-year Beehives of the Bountiful 42nd Ward, Bountiful East Stake, chimed in with their ideas and comments about the different kinds of projects we could do. When a talent show was suggested, each of the girls committed herself to performing at least one number. Rehearsals were set for the following week, and the first performance was scheduled for three weeks later at a nursing home for the elderly. When the big night came, the girls were as nervous as if they were performing on Broadway! Their numbers went very well, however, and afterwards they visited with their new friends. The project was truly one of love, and thus it became known as our “Love Program.”
During the coming year we presented the “Love Program” several times—once to a 12-year-old bedridden girl—and in February we had a very special Valentine party for our grandmothers. The girls sent invitations, made special cards, prepared a buffet dinner, decorated the room with streamers and hearts and made candy hearts of dipped chocolate as favors.
Each time the program was given, the girls seemed to enjoy it more. “Before our program, I didn’t know I could write poems,” shared Jeri. “But when I saw others enjoying the poems I had written, it gave me confidence to write more. I even wrote one for my dad.”
“At first I didn’t want to play my guitar,” admitted Marti. “But when everyone else got so excited, I got excited, too. I’m glad I was kind of pushed into doing it.”
Our last performance of the “Love Program” was for the girls’ parents. The Mutual year was ending and we wanted them to know of some of the good accomplished. In addition to this, however, the girls also performed acts of service in other ways throughout the year. At Christmas, our Mutual provided gifts for a family and our class was assigned a two-year-old boy. For several weeks the girls baked cookies, brownies, cakes, and candies to raise money for our “Christmas boy.” When the girls weren’t doing this, they were making surprises for a “secret sister” in our class. What seemed to matter most to them was that they were doing something for someone else.
At the year’s end, Lynnette summed up the feelings of all the girls when she said, “I liked our year of service and I know that I am a better person for helping. I like knowing I can make people a little bit happier.”

Last summer my Primary teacher taught us that we should be getting ready to be baptized. She gave us each a paper to take home. It said that after I am baptized, if I try to be good, repent when I make mistakes, and remember Jesus Christ, that Heavenly Father will forgive me when I do something wrong. I put the paper on our fridge so that I would remember.
One day I wanted to climb the trees in my front yard. Mom and Dad asked me to wait for their help so that I wouldn’t get hurt. I didn’t want to wait, so I climbed up by myself. It was fun until I fell out of the tree. I was hurt, but I didn’t want to tell Mom and Dad that I hadn’t waited for them, so I lied. I told them that I fell off a little fence in our yard. They asked if that were true, and I said, “Yes.”
When I went in to eat lunch, I saw the paper on the fridge. I felt bad that I had lied. I told Mom that I had really fallen out of the tree. I also said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to forgive me for lying and said that I would do better. I felt good inside after that.

15-year-old Nicole Luz’s voice isn’t the only thing that made an impact when she was on the Brazilian reality show The Voice Kids in 2016. People noticed the necklace she wore every time she performed—her Young Women medallion.
Nicole grew up in a musical family, surrounded by music since birth. “My parents have beautiful voices,” she says. “They inspired me to be a singer.” Since performing on The Voice Kids, Nicole has continued performing and recently placed second in an international talent competition. She still sets an example with her personal values and gospel standards.
“Music inspires me to strengthen my testimony. Through music, I can share my feelings with others and help them strengthen their testimonies, too.”

I was 20 years old and had spent most of my life as a member of my parents’ church. But for three years I had not gone to church because I was considering other religious and moral philosophies—although none of them felt right to me.
One day when I arrived at my parents’ house, my brother and my best friend were there. They said some young women had come to visit and had left a book with my brother. My brother had asked my best friend to be at the house when they came back. He wanted him to be the one to tell them not to come anymore.
But when the missionaries returned, my friend said, “Come back in three days because I want to hear the discussions.”
My brother was furious. I asked my friend what he had been thinking, and he just said, “Well, they are very beautiful, and they have a nice way of talking about Jesus Christ.”
“Well, I will get rid of them,” I replied arrogantly.
Two weeks went by without my being able to do so. They were now visiting my brother and my sister and many of my friends. They were surrounding me on all sides, and I didn’t even know who was responsible for what felt like an ambush.
The following week, my brother told me that two of my friends had already been baptized and that another was going to be baptized that Sunday. I agreed to go to church on Sunday just to see my friend’s baptism. “But this is crazy,” I said to myself.
That Sunday I finally met the two missionaries who had been giving me so many headaches. At the end of the baptismal service they came up to me, gave me a Book of Mormon, and invited me to hear the first discussion. On the inside I was resisting and shouting, “No!” But on the outside I was crying, and I said, “Yes,” to all their invitations.
A week later, there I was watching another of my friends be baptized. And on the following Sunday, my best friend and I also entered the waters of baptism.
Almost a month went by. I felt a need not just to believe, but to know for sure that these things were true. One Sunday morning I decided not to go to church but to go somewhere else and pray. I headed toward a hill about six miles (9 km) from the city. When I got there I found a place off the beaten path where I could be at peace. After almost an hour of reading the Book of Mormon, pondering, praying for an answer, and intending to stay there until I received one, something strange started happening. I felt a desire to go to church. My heart was beating rapidly. That was my answer.
Almost in spite of myself, I got on my bicycle, returned to the city, and got to the meetinghouse as quickly as I could. To my great surprise, the meetings were just starting.
Ever since then I have known that this is the true gospel of Jesus Christ and that this is His Church. It’s a message I shared as a full-time missionary, trying to be the same kind of missionary as those sisters I couldn’t get rid of.

It was the last week of high school. Among the seniors there was a feeling of celebration and yet also sadness, because what they’d shared was coming to an end.
Dark-eyed, raven-haired Whitney Brown, the only member of the Church in her Minnesota high school class of 547, would be going to Ricks College in the fall. She played first chair French horn in the high school band.
Next to her in the French horn section was Steve Dunn, also a senior, a boy she’d known since first grade.
The last week of school the seniors were excused from rehearsals while the rest of the band practiced the songs they would play for baccalaureate and commencement. Mr. Richards, the band director, asked the seniors to help sort and file music. And so each day, Steve and Whitney would meet during band period and sort through music in a practice room. By Tuesday the other seniors had vanished, having better things to do than that.
While Steve and Whitney worked they talked. They’d been talking to each other once a day during band for the past six years, going clear back to seventh grade band.
Steve was a little on the shy side. Band had been his only activity in school. His father had an auto body shop, and Steve worked there after school and on Saturdays.
Through the years Steve had listened to Whitney’s chronicle of life, hectic but always interesting. She had always talked to him openly about the guys she was interested in because he was her friend and seemed interested in her and never talked to anyone else about what she said.
Steve’s plan after high school was to study auto body work at a regional vocational training center and then come back and work for his father. Fixing dented cars was what he loved to do.
Whitney thought that someday she might like to be a high school drama teacher. She’d been in nearly every play in school. Steve had come to see her perform in most of them.
On Friday they had nearly finished sorting and filing the sheet music. “I guess this is the last time we’ll be together,” Steve said.
“Oh, not really. We’ll see each other at commencement.”
“Sure, but you have your friends.” He paused. “And I have mine. Besides I bet it’ll be really crowded. I just wanted to say I’ve really enjoyed knowing you,” he said, his gaze fixed on the music he was working on, not daring to look at her directly.
“I’ve enjoyed you too, Steve. You’re really a nice guy. If I ever bang up my car, you’re the first person I’ll think of.”
“I can hardly wait.”
They both smiled. They had a comfortable kind of humor between them.
“I’ve kind of been watching you through the years,” he said.
She laughed. “You poor guy.”
“No, it’s been great. I always looked forward to band each day because I knew I’d see you.” He stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry for spouting off. I’m not all that important to you, right?”
“You are, Steve. You’re one of my friends from high school I’ll always remember.”
“I was always hoping you’d open up more to me.”
“Steve, I’ve told you practically everything that ever happened to me. I told you about the time I was waiting for my date for prom and I was so hungry I took a bite of my brother’s hot dog and spilled mustard on my prom dress just before my date came and had to pin the corsage over the stain. I told you about sneaking into school and turning around all the desks in Mrs. Halvorson’s class. I’ve told you a lot of things.”
He looked at her like he’d been betrayed. “Do you care what happens to me?”
“Of course I do.”
“What’s the most important thing in the world to you?” he asked.
She didn’t say anything.
“Whitney?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Just tell me what it is you value above anything else in the world?”
She paused and then said, “My family I guess.”
“What else is important to you?”
“I’m glad I get to go to college in the fall.”
“Is going to college the most important thing in your life?”
“No.”
“Then what is?”
She paused. “I’m glad I’ve learned to set and achieve goals.”
“Is that the most important thing in your life?” he asked.
“No.”
“Nobody in school really knows you very well, do they?”
She turned away from his stare.
“I’ve always been fascinated by you,” he said. “You had fun but you had a way of avoiding things that weren’t good for you. I could never figure out how you could be so smart. It was like you had some hidden compass that helped you make decisions. And then someone told me you were a Mormon.”
“You didn’t know that?”
“No, not really. Maybe you mentioned it in passing once. I can’t remember. You never said much about it. Is being a Mormon important to you?”
“Yes it is.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me then? We were friends, but you never once talked about what you believe. Why not? Are you ashamed of your beliefs?”
“I didn’t want to offend you.”
“Why would I be offended if you told me something that was important to you?”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Maybe I wasn’t at first, but I’ve spent all this time with you. I know we’ll probably never see each other after we graduate. I’m really going to miss that.” He sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I want to have friends like you all my life.”
“Can I tell you now about what I believe?” she asked.
“I’d like that.”
And so as the band rehearsed the commencement processional music that would lead the 547 seniors out of high school into adult life, with the French horn section noticeably lacking its two best players, Whitney started in.
She talked about her beliefs in Jesus Christ, in the Book of Mormon, and in the plan of salvation. She told him what it meant to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Steve listened, and when she finished, he said he had never heard anything like that before. He told her that he wanted to know more and asked if she would give him a Book of Mormon.
She did. In the weeks that followed, he read it. He asked questions. Whitney answered as best she could, and she also introduced him to the missionaries.
Before long Steve decided he wanted to be baptized. Whitney was there when he was baptized, and later, when he was confirmed a member of the Church, she was there too.
The friendship that had grown through years of band practice continued, but now it had a new dimension. Steve said he was grateful that Whitney had been willing to share what mattered most to her, because it had changed his life.

A few years ago, Sister Monson and I were in the city of Toronto, where we once lived when I was the mission president. Olive Davies, the wife of the first stake president in Toronto, was gravely ill and preparing to pass from this life. Her illness required her to leave her cherished home and enter a hospital which could provide the care she needed. Her only child lived with her own family far away in the West.

I attempted to comfort Sister Davies, but she had present with her the comfort she longed to have. A stalwart grandson sat silently next to his grandmother. I learned he had spent most of the summer away from his university studies, that he might serve his grandmother’s needs. I said to him, “Shawn, you will never regret your decision. Your grandmother feels you are heaven-sent, an answer to her prayers.”

He replied, “I chose to come because I love her and know this is what my Heavenly Father would have me do.”

Tears were near the surface. Grandmother told us how she enjoyed being helped by her grandson and introducing him to each employee and every patient in the hospital. Hand in hand, they walked the halls, and during the night he was close by.

Olive Davies has passed on to her reward, there to meet her faithful husband and together continue an eternal journey. In a grandson’s heart there will ever remain those words, “Choose the right when a choice is placed before you. In the right the Holy Spirit guides” (Hymns, no. 239).

When Elder Rasband got his mission call to the Eastern States Mission, he was disappointed. He had wanted to go to Germany, like his father and brother had. He prayed to feel OK about his mission call. After his prayer, he opened his scriptures and started reading. The scriptures he read (D&C 100:2–3, 5) let him know that his mission was exactly where Heavenly Father wanted him to go. After that, he was excited to serve a mission! He also learned that the scriptures could answer his questions.

Suddenly he remembered a cold winter evening not long after he’d received his sight. He and his father had been trapped in a mountain snowstorm. They could not see the road. Their oxen were frightened and did not know the way home.
“Son,” his father had said, “we have done all we can to find our way. Now we must ask the Lord for help.”
They then knelt in the snow and prayed. Afterward, they steered the oxen in the direction they thought was right, and the animals, without hesitation, led them home.

In recent years another man built his cabin by a falcon cliff not far downriver from George’s crumbling home. He was a loud man, exploiting nature, cutting down trees with a noisy power saw, and keeping a pack of howling sled dogs chained up at the base of the cliff. He also operated a large, creaking fish-wheel right in front of the rocks where the river runs deep and the salmon swim up. No falcons nested on the cliffs after this man built his cabin, nor have they returned now that he is gone. It will take nature some years yet to repair the scar he left.

For years I had sent out packages of clothing at Christmas time to families whose need I had read about in a New York newspaper. I had also included some spiritually oriented reading material.
One holiday season my husband, Will, stopped to watch my preparations. “You’re spending a lot of money on postage,” he noted. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea if I drove into the city with the packages? Our station wagon would hold a lot of them.”
I was excited at the idea! If he did that, I could send heavy winter clothing, too expensive to mail, and also food. Happily I went about gathering all I could, while Will got maps of Manhattan, the Bronx, and Brooklyn, and began to locate and schedule the stops on his route.
Early the day before Christmas, Will and our teenage boys loaded the station wagon, packing it to the roof. The day was cold and grey, but the only concession to the weather Will would make was to wear a cap. He held an office job and rarely spent time out of doors, yet he was confident that he’d be warm enough.
As I watched him back the loaded car out of the driveway, I was assailed by sudden doubts. What if the car broke down? What if he got lost? Or chilled? He was going into some of the most crime-ridden sections of the city—what if he were assaulted?
Turning back toward the house, I noticed that snow was lazily drifting down—an added worry. I went into the house and knelt down to pray for Will’s safe journey. “Dear Heavenly Father,” I began, “Will has gone on an errand for me—.” Then I stopped. I had the sudden impression that I had said something wrong. The thought came, “No, he has gone on an errand for Me.”
I was taken back by the thought. I had been thinking too highly of myself in assuming that Will had gone just for me, and that his safety depended on my prayers. At that moment, I realized that delivering the packages was his service to God, and he would be protected.
I got up, determined not to worry about Will any more, and went on with my holiday preparations. The snow that had begun so lazily in the morning was a blizzard by lunch time. In the afternoon I tried to walk to a nearby store but had to turn back because of the drifts. If they were impassable here, what must the roads be like in the city?
Dinner time came. Still no word from Will. He had said that he’d call me. My resolve not to worry was getting harder and harder to maintain. In the evening, when our sons came in from shoveling snow, one of them asked, “Isn’t dad home yet? Where can he be?”
“Mom,” said the other, “he can’t still be delivering packages at this hour. No one would let him in. I don’t want to worry you, but—.”
“He’ll be all right,” I assured the boys, but I was beginning to panic in spite of myself. Resolutely I worked at wrapping gifts, trying to ignore the kitchen clock which was now creeping toward eleven P.M.
Then one of the boys yelled with relief, “Mom, dad’s car is turning into the driveway!”
Excitedly, I grabbed a coat and went to meet him. As Will got out of the car, I noticed that he wasn’t cold and exhausted as I had pictured he would be. He looked as though he had been outdoors for a pleasant half-hour, instead of just having spent fifteen hours on snow-clogged streets, driving around abandoned cars and lugging packages up unshoveled walks.
“I didn’t have a bit of trouble,” he assured me, “and I found every family.”
That evening I gave thanks for my husband’s safe journey and for my increased understanding of the Lord’s ways.

A mother overheard her son, four, tell his brother, six, “I don’t believe in Jesus.” The brother responded, “You have really hurt my feelings.” Sensing a need, the mother reinforced the younger boy’s understanding of the Savior. She placed a picture of the Redeemer in his room and continued to teach all of her children more about the Master. Sometime later, the younger son commented, “Mom, you’re my best friend—next to Jesus.”

The second lesson was learned several years later when we were more financially secure. Our wedding anniversary was approaching, and I wanted to buy Mary a fancy coat to show my love and appreciation for our many happy years together. When I asked what she thought of the coat I had in mind, she replied with words that again penetrated my heart and mind. “Where would I wear it?” she asked. (At the time she was a ward Relief Society president helping to minister to needy families.)
Then she taught me an unforgettable lesson. She looked me in the eyes and sweetly asked, “Are you buying this for me or for you?” In other words, she was asking, “Is the purpose of this gift to show your love for me or to show me that you are a good provider or to prove something to the world?” I pondered her question and realized I was thinking less about her and our family and more about me.
After that, we had a serious, life-changing discussion about provident living, and both of us agreed that our money would be better spent in paying down our home mortgage and adding to our children’s education fund.

Our ward had just been divided, so when the bishop asked to see me, I was sure I would receive a calling in the new ward. I had been working with the young women and loved them. They were so receptive to the gospel and such a joy to teach. Surely the Lord would allow me to continue teaching them.
To my surprise, the bishop said the Lord wanted me to teach in Primary instead. Surely he was mistaken! He assured me, however, that he had fasted and prayed and felt strongly about my calling. I loved children, but what did I know about teaching them?
For 15 years of marriage the only sadness my husband and I shared was that the Lord had not blessed us with children. Our efforts to adopt had also been fruitless because of our medical challenges.
Trusting the bishop, I accepted the call to teach in the Primary, but in my heart I struggled. I was angry with the Lord for leaving me childless, and I resented this new calling.
“Why, Lord, art Thou asking this of me?” I wondered. “In Thy wisdom, I have been deprived of children of my own. Why should I be asked to teach other people’s children?”
I prayed and struggled and wrestled with the Lord, pleading through my tears for understanding. Finally I decided that since I had accepted the calling, I had better stop feeling sorry for myself and do the best I could.
That is when the blessings came. I quickly learned to love the children, and they learned to love me. I found that their love was great enough to help me fill the emptiness in my life. Soon I couldn’t go down the hall at church without at least two children holding onto my hands and others stopping for a hug as I passed by. In turn, my husband was called as a Scout leader. Before long our home was full of children and teens.

Years ago while serving as a mission president, I received a phone call from the parents of one of our beloved missionaries informing me about the death of his sister. I remember, in the tenderness of that moment, that missionary and I discussed God’s marvelous plan of salvation for His children and how this knowledge would comfort him.

Although he was stunned and saddened by that adversity, this missionary—through his tears and with faith in God—rejoiced in his sister’s life. He expressed unwavering confidence in the tender mercies of the Lord. Resolutely, he told me that he would continue to serve his mission with all faith and diligence in order to be worthy of the promises that God had for him and his family. In this time of need, that faithful missionary turned his heart to God, placed all of his trust in Him, and renewed his commitment to serve the Lord with faith and with all diligence.

This is the case of a 17-year-old unwed mother. This young lady came from a good, active Mormon family. The lines of communication had broken down between parents and daughter. She was in serious trouble from a pregnancy and was on the verge of compounding the problem in such a way as to further jeopardize any possibility of a happy, successful life when one of the dedicated staff workers became involved. Through extra effort and wise counseling, he was instrumental in saving her from falling off the precipice. He helped open the channel of communication between mother and daughter, and now, a few years later, this same young woman, through repentance and forgiveness and wise counsel, is happily married to a fine husband and is doing her part to help her neighbors. Instead of failure, she is now experiencing joy and peace of mind through living a worthwhile, fulfilling life.

Bitter consequences are seen in the lives of children who need but do not have a father who loves them, teaches them, protects them, and leads them along the path of life by example and precept. Let me recount for you something I heard about two years ago in this tabernacle. The occasion was a great gathering of single men and women. Elder Marion D. Hanks conducted a panel discussion. Included in that panel was an attractive and able young woman, divorced, the mother of seven children then ranging in ages from five to sixteen. She said that one evening she went across the street to deliver something to a neighbor. Listen to her words as I recall them:
“As I turned around to walk back home, I could see my house lighted up. I could hear echoes of my children as I had walked out of the door a few minutes earlier: ‘Mom, what are we going to have for dinner?’ ‘Can you take me to the library?’ ‘I have to get some poster paper tonight.’ Tired and weary, I looked at that house and saw the light on in each of the rooms. I thought of all of those children who were home waiting for me to come and meet their needs. My burdens felt very heavy on my shoulders.
“I remember looking through tears toward the sky, and I said, ‘Oh, my Father, I just can’t do it tonight. I’m too tired. I can’t face it. I can’t go home and take care of all those children alone. Could I just come to You and stay with You for just one night? I’ll come back in the morning.’
“I didn’t really hear the words of reply, but I heard them in my mind. The answer was, ‘No, little one, you can’t come to me now. You would never wish to come back. But I can come to you.’”

For her master’s thesis, she organized and wrote a curriculum guide to teach outdoor skills. This became the basis for her national best-selling book, Roughing It Easy. But getting the book published was also an exercise in perseverance. She approached BYU Press to take on the job, but they turned it down. She kept working with an editor until the press reconsidered the project and agreed to publish the book. To promote the sale of her book, she started a series of lectures combined with local television, newspaper, and radio interviews. She prepared herself to go after opportunities. She made proposals to companies about how she could help them with product promotion. She became a favorite of the television talk show circuit not only because of what she talked about but by the force of her personality. Now she is a popular lecturer crisscrossing the nation regularly, talking to businessmen in Alaska one week and a group of teachers in Pennsylvania the next. She attributes her success to preparation. “I would watch for opportunities and be prepared. Sometimes I’ll think and work on a proposal for months before approaching a company.”