Gospel Story Finder

That same high school choir once traveled to California, USA, to compete in a music festival. I became ill just before departure, and my sore throat meant that I wouldn’t be able to sing with my choir in the festival—or if I did, I would sing poorly, accompanied by pain. I asked my father for a priesthood blessing and spent the next day praying for recovery.

Perhaps I didn’t fully understand then, as I sang “Amazing Grace” with a fully mended throat at the festival, that I was singing about the very power that had healed me just the day before. The Savior’s Atonement had blessed me that day; His grace was the source of my healing.

Working with horses also taught me to be patient and never to give up. Progress comes a little at a time. Once I had a colt named Planchet. Someone said, “That horse is weak. He will never be worth anything.” But someone else told me if I would be patient and exercise my colt’s muscles, he would someday be a good horse. I fed Planchet and took care of him and loved him. For one whole year, I walked him to strengthen his muscles. I worked and worked with him. And, sure enough, this weak colt won the Brazilian championship in a three-day competition.

A couple of years ago, international broadcasts and world fame were the furthest things from her mind. She was an attractive young Denver Mormon girl who liked to sing and who wanted to try her luck where there were a lot of attractive young Mormon men and maybe some new job opportunities. So naturally she packed up her pots and pans and sheet music and headed for Salt Lake City, singing all the way. And when she got a job restoring books and documents for the Church Historical Department, she went right on singing and humming to herself as she worked.
It just so happened that a fellow employee who heard her spontaneous snatches of song was a member of the choir and suggested that she audition. She laughed it off at first and went on singing to herself. “I was frightened,” she recalls. “I really didn’t believe in myself that much.” But the suggestion kept creeping back into her mind each time she started to hum, and before long she decided, “Well, I’ll never know unless I try.”
Richard Condie, then director of the choir, was impressed with her audition, but as is usually the case in real life, it wasn’t to be a perfect Cinderella story. She still needed some work, so she arranged for private voice lessons. Seven months of hard work later, she was ready, and she took her place in what Eugene Ormandy of the Philadelphia Orchestra has called “the world’s greatest choir.”
Every voice in the Tabernacle Choir is a gem, including Janeece’s. But there is no artistic arrogance. Janeece says of her fellow choir members, “They’re very humble and spiritual people. It’s a warm and wonderful experience working with them, and we have a very rewarding friendship. They provide me with a constant challenge to improve and grow, not only in my voice, but also in my personal life.
“I’ve learned a lot,” she continues, “just by listening to the people next to me, but I think that 90 percent of my growth has come in self-confidence.” To the young people of the Church she counsels, “If you have a dream, it can become a reality. If something is unreal to you—if it’s just ‘way out there somewhere’—you have no way of grasping it, but if you can put it into perspective and realize that it’s real, then you’re on your way. If there’s something you really want in life, you should go after it and not limit yourself. It’s true that we each have limits, but we seldom reach them. We limit ourselves too much because of fear. Believe in yourself. Don’t let fear stand in your way. One moment of decision can sometimes make a lifetime of difference. It just took one moment for me to decide to call Brother Condie and go for an audition, and if I had let fear override that moment, I would never have had the experience that I have today.”

Scripture study has helped a lot, both personally and in my family. When our children were young, like all families with young children, it was not easy to get the attention of our children. We had to be very creative. Fortunately, Sister Villanueva was very talented at teaching our little ones. For example, when we were learning about the Word of Wisdom, she would have us cut out different pictures from magazines, such as pictures of fruits, vegetables, boxes of cereal or some other nutritious foods. Also, she would ask us to cut out advertisements of alcohol, tobacco, coffee, etc. After reading some scriptures and explaining the Word of Wisdom, she asked our children to throw away those things that affected our bodies badly. This process kept the little ones entertained. It did not stop them from being restless and noisy, but they did learn.

One of my favorite comic strips involved Lucy. As I remember it, Charlie Brown’s baseball team was in an important game—Lucy was playing right field, and a high fly ball was hit to her. The bases were loaded, and it was the last of the ninth inning. If Lucy caught the ball, her team would win. If Lucy dropped the ball, the other team would win.
As could happen only in a comic strip, the entire team surrounded Lucy as the ball came down. Lucy was thinking, “If I catch the ball, I will be the hero; if I don’t, I will be the goat.”
The ball came down, and as her teammates eagerly looked on, Lucy dropped the ball. Charlie Brown threw his glove to the ground in disgust. Lucy then looked at her teammates, put her hands on her hips, and said, “How do you expect me to catch the ball when I am worried about our country’s foreign policy?”
This was one of many fly balls Lucy dropped through the years, and she had a new excuse each time.2 While always humorous, Lucy’s excuses were rationalizations; they were untrue reasons for her failure to catch the ball.

LaRae is Gene’s wife and the mother of two teenage children. She usually gets very tired before the day is over but on her perfect day she felt very invigorated. She was able to accomplish many of the things she wanted to do. “But,” she added, “by trying to keep a day perfect, I realized some of the habits I had gotten into. For instance, I would suddenly get mad at Gene for some silly, insignificant reason. It was just a habit with me. Now I’m working on correcting it.”

I have also always remembered his mission stories. Even though he was married and had a child, Grandpa was called to serve as a missionary in Mexico City—just as the Mexican Revolution broke out. One time, federal soldiers accused him and his companion of being spies and threatened to shoot them on the spot. Remembering the story of Abinadi, Grandpa said, “You can’t kill us because we haven’t delivered our message yet. Take us to the president.” He and his companion were taken to the presidential palace, where they gave the president a Book of Mormon and taught him for two hours. The president discovered that my grandpa was from his hometown and asked, “Do you know Francisco González?” Grandpa replied, “Yes, he’s my father.” The president said, “He was my teacher when I was a little boy! Now that I know who you are, is there anything I can do to help you in your work?” The missionaries asked for a letter with the presidential seal and signature, stating that they had permission to preach. The president gladly gave them the letter, and they were able to continue their missionary work.

“I can’t take another day of the rowdiness and disrespect of those young people on our tour!” The American woman introduced herself as she sat down across the table from me.
“I don’t know what has happened to this younger generation. They have absolutely no regard for the beautiful or the sacred. We have some teenagers in our group who sit in the back of the bus smoking, drinking, and disrupting our whole tour with their rowdiness.”
We arose and walked through the rose garden behind the hotel, viewing the Holy City across the Kidron Valley. She continued: “Only yesterday in Bethlehem the obscenity and vulgarism of their language was a desecration of those sacred shrines.”
As she spoke, I thought of the eight young people who made up nearly a fourth of our tour group.
“What do you do with all those teenagers you have with you?” she asked. “I noticed that you have quite a number of them with your group. How do you control them?”
I thought of the way Melvin Bushman and Bonnie May Hiatt had been so concerned about Mrs. Foster as we all ascended the narrow, age-polished stone steps to the “Upper Room,” which tradition identifies as the site of the Last Supper. And wasn’t it Carolyn Bushman and her cousin Virnell Bushman who had made sure that Mrs. Turley wouldn’t miss the view from the minaret? Diane Hess was the very essence of sunshine and cheerfulness, always a bright spot in our group. And Shelley Crane, quiet and somewhat shy, was always concerned for others before herself.
Then there were Jerome and John Horowitz. Jerome was a typical 17-year-old and as typically unpredictable. I was a little annoyed when he appeared so zealous to board the plane that day when we didn’t have seat assignments, but a few moments later I realized that he was trying to reserve seats for some of the older members of our group.
“What do you do about them when you are visiting these sacred sites?” she asked.
“We take them with us, or rather they take us, and we share in their enthusiasm. You see, we’re Mormons, and—”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard about your church and the marvelous programs you have for young people,” she interrupted. “You have some sort of youth activity program, don’t you?”
I explained that the quality of our young people is the result of more than just activities and programs; the gospel is a whole way of life. It is the influence of the gospel of Jesus Christ and his priesthood in the lives of Mormon young people that makes the difference. Because of their own feelings for their Savior, their own spiritual strength and testimonies, and in many cases, their own sacrifices, this journey to the Holy Land meant as much to the young people of our tour group as it did to the adults.
My conversation with this lady came back many times during the subsequent events of our tour, events that vindicated my defense of LDS youth.

I started working for my Gospel in Action Award when I was nine years old, including learning the Articles of Faith. I earned the Award just after my tenth birthday.
My Primary leader tested me, and my dad, who is the bishop of our ward, tested me, too, to make sure that I knew the Articles of Faith well. I received my certificate and my pendant in sacrament meeting, and I wear it every Sunday.
The Primary presidency has given me a special assignment—to help teach the younger children in Primary the Articles of Faith. I am grateful for the opportunity to help others achieve their awards. I look forward to helping them each week.

“Grrrr,” I scowled as I stormed into the house a few weeks later.
“What’s your problem?” Jason yelled from the kitchen.
“Annemarie,” I growled back, flopping onto the couch. My brother quickly slurped down his orange juice and then sat next to me, all too eager for me to beg his advice. His mission enthusiasm had not worn off in the two months he had been home, and I wondered if he considered himself my part-time psychiatrist.
“How can I help?”
“Baptize my friend,” I pouted.
“Oh … what has Annemarie done?”
The day after we first talked on the football field, I gave Annemarie a Book of Mormon, which she still hadn’t admitted to cracking open. And that very day, she had reluctantly agreed to attend early-morning seminary. It was nothing short of disaster. Annemarie challenged nearly every point covered in the lesson until, finally, unsatisfied with my teacher’s diplomatic answers, she recoiled into a shell of silent disapproval and doubt. At the end of class, she thanked me for inviting her, but politely let me know she wouldn’t be back.
After sharing the incident with my brother, I wailed, “What else can I do? I’m so frustrated! I thought as long as I did all the right things—you know, like not going to drinking parties, keeping the Sabbath day holy, bearing my testimony—as long as I was a good example for her, then she would eventually want to understand the Church. Annemarie still doesn’t care.”
“Do you care about her?” Jason returned.
“What kind of question is that?” I snapped. “She’s my best friend.”
“From Annemarie’s perspective, she may think you only care about your own church and getting another convert. The Savior loved completely. Exemplify that love in the way you treat her, no matter how she apparently feels about your church.”
“She knows I love her,” I argued. “We’ve been friends since ninth grade. And she thanks me all the time for being one of the few friends she can actually count on. I only thought it was time to start encouraging her to investigate the Church since she hasn’t exactly taken the initiative herself.”
“Okay, I have another question. Do you love Jesus Christ?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Why?”
“Really think about it,” he said quietly. “Do you love Jesus Christ? Do you love our Heavenly Father? Are you obedient to the commandments because you love them or because you are more concerned with Annemarie watching you?”
I was surprised. Meekly I questioned, “Isn’t one way of showing love for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ by sharing the gospel with others?”
“Yes,” Jason agreed. “But sometimes a testimony shines through your actions because Christ has changed your heart to one of charity. It’s charity and service that touch people. Remember Ammon? His first concern was to be the king’s servant before he shared what he knew.”
I thought about that for several moments. “Are you suggesting I concentrate only on myself? Work on becoming more charitable?”
“I’m not telling you to give up,” he smiled. “But you have no control over what Annemarie decides. Maybe if you concentrate on coming unto the Savior with all of your heart, being truly meek and penitent before Him, others will follow. If not, you will have gained the charity to feel love and acceptance for Annemarie and patience about her decisions.”
I knitted my brow in thought, stewing over all he had suggested.
“One more thing,” he added before hopping off the couch. “Don’t forget that Annemarie has already chosen the plan. That’s why she’s here. Her Father in Heaven knows how she can best be touched. In the meantime …”
“In the meantime, what?”
“I’ll be eating leftover pizza. I’m starving.” He disappeared back into the kitchen.
I began serving Annemarie by praying for her nightly. I introduced her to my circle of LDS friends, where she was warmly welcomed. We shared the gospel with Annemarie when she seemed most receptive, but I couldn’t help wondering if our friendship would bring about anything more than memories to cherish. During the remaining year and a half of high school, Annemarie did not show any more interest in the Church. On the other hand, my testimony grew in ways I never could have imagined. I had always known the Church was true, but now I loved it with all of my heart. Annemarie helped me more than she ever knew.

In L’viv, a city in western Ukraine, Yuri Voynarovich and his family started searching for truth when he was just 10 years old. For years they visited different churches. Then his uncle invited them to attend a branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Yuri’s parents were soon baptized and confirmed.
“I didn’t go at first,” Yuri says. “I kept searching on my own.”
But his parents, who knew the Church was true, didn’t give up on their son. They invited Yuri to English lessons and youth activities as well as Sunday meetings. Finally, the missionaries themselves invited him to English classes.
“I couldn’t say no to them,” Yuri says. So he went. Then he went to church. Eventually he too was baptized.
“Since that day I’ve had many more experiences that have built and molded my testimony and character into who I am today,” he says.
“I often see people who suffer from bad choices they’ve made,” he says. “I understand sometimes it’s hard because of temptations and peer pressure, but we shouldn’t give up. Later we can see the blessings that come from obedience.”
Yuri, now 17, serves as the branch mission leader and branch clerk in L’viv.
“I am so thankful for the Church and all it has done for me,” Yuri says. “I love this Church. I encourage everyone to hold to the iron rod and never let go.”

Every day we make choices. Some aren’t a big deal—what color backpack we carry, for example. Other choices are a big deal—for instance, how we treat other people or whether we obey a commandment. Read the story below and pretend that you are the main character. What choices would you make?
Your mom says that you may invite two friends over after school tomorrow. First you call Julie, who lives a few miles away. She is in your Primary class as well as in your class at school. Her parents say yes! She will walk home with you; her parents will pick her up before supper.
Next you call Tasha, a nonmember who lives just a few houses away. She can come too. Before she hangs up the phone, though, she asks if anyone else is coming. When you tell her that Julie is also coming, Tasha says, “Yuk! Then I don’t want to come, after all.”
If you say, “Julie is my friend too. Why don’t you come and get to know her better?” go to A. If you say, “OK, I’ll tell Julie that something came up with my mom and that I can’t have anybody over,” go to F.
A. Tasha says, “Well, I guess I’ll still come, but don’t expect me to make friends with Julie.” After school, Tasha and Julie walk home with you. When Julie stoops to tie her shoelace, Tasha makes an ugly face at her behind her back.
If you say, “Julie, Tasha’s making faces at you. She didn’t want you to come,” go to J. If you say nothing but give Tasha a look of disappointment, go to E.
E. When you get to your house, punch and cookies are on the table. They turn out to be the favorite treats of both Tasha and Julie. As the afternoon goes on, you see that Tasha is actually being friendly with Julie. Tasha says, “Hey, Julie, I didn’t know you were such fun! You never say anything in school.”
If you suddenly feel jealous and try to discourage their growing friendship, go to B. If you try to help them become better friends, go to I.
I. You suggest that you all play on the tire swing. Tasha has the first turn swinging. As Julie climbs on the tire for her turn, a car full of teenagers zips by. One of them flips a cigarette on the curb. Tasha runs to pick it up. “It’s still lit!” She turns to you and says, “I dare you to try it!”
If you say, “No, I don’t do that kind of stuff, and I hope you don’t either, ‘cause it’s bad for you,” go to D. If you say, “Well, maybe just one puff—but you’d better not tell anyone!” go to H.
D. Tasha hides the cigarette as her mother drives past, then starts to put it in her mouth. You yell, “Stop! It really is bad for you.” She says, “Once won’t hurt. I want to know what it tastes like.” She takes a puff and starts to cough. When she throws the cigarette down, you stomp on it and say, “I wish you hadn’t done that. Heavenly Father doesn’t want us to hurt our bodies.” Tasha asks, “Is Heavenly Father the same person as God? How do you know that He doesn’t want us to smoke?”
If you say, “I just do, that’s all. Come on—it’s Julie’s turn on the swing,” go to C. If you say, “Because he told us so in a scripture we call the Word of Wisdom,” go to G.
C. You all three go back to the tire swing and have a lot of fun. After a while, Julie’s mom picks her up and Tasha walks home. You’re glad that she and Julie have become friends too.
This is the end of the story—unless you want to do a little more missionary work. If you do, go to G.

Kids from Cairns, Townsville, Charters Towers, and Mackay in Australia flocked to the famous Harbour as part of a big youth conference held recently.
Debra Croucher reports they played volleyball and softball and barbecued burgers on the beach. Then the groups gathered around a fire for a sing-along under the stars. Next day they bussed to Eungella National Park and had workshop discussion groups, a dance, and competitive sports events. Sunday’s testimony meeting put a memorable touch on a great gathering.

In 1982, Preben Klitgaard, a Church member in Aalborg, wrote a book on square dancing. Since then, Brother Klitgaard and his wife, Henny, have devoted themselves to teaching and performing square dancing. For them, it has become a missionary tool, as the dance room of their home fills up four nights a week with stomping, clapping, and whooping.

Their children, Susanne, Elisabeth, and Jimmy, also love to participate. It became a family pastime and then much more. “The interest in square dance was so strong,” explains Sister Klitgaard, “that Preben and I began offering classes in an evening school. When the crowds later outgrew our rented room, we built this new wing onto our home to accommodate the growth.”

Often, after an evening of square dancing, she explains, people will stay and talk to the Klitgaards about their way of life. “To us, that’s an open invitation to bear our testimony, because it’s the gospel that has given our lives purpose. Dancing has opened many people’s hearts to the gospel.”

“When I prayed about serving a mission, I wrote down promptings I received from talks, music, or friends. When I felt discouraged while preparing for my mission, I would go back and read the things the Spirit had told me. I turned in my papers and trusted in the Lord. When you move forward with faith, you don’t know how it’s going to work out, but you will notice God’s hand in your decision making!”
Bryanna M., 19, Oregon, USA

“I didn’t feel good about the first person I picked, so after praying, I chose Natalie. She just moved here from France, and she’s still learning about America. Since the Church of Jesus Christ was restored here in America, I thought it would be easy to talk to her about it.
“I invited Natalie over and we looked through my photo albums. Natalie poured over each picture and asked zillions of questions. Pretty soon she came to the photos we took at the Joseph Smith monument.
“‘What’s that?’ she asked.
“I had my answer all ready. ‘It’s a special place in the state of Vermont where Joseph Smith was born.’
“‘Who’s Joseph Smith?’
“‘An American prophet.’
“Natalie stared at me. ‘An American prophet? How is that possible?’
“I told her about the First Vision and the restoration of the Church. Natalie set down the album and concentrated fiercely on every word I spoke. ‘Are you certain? Do you truly believe that? How? Why?’ By dinnertime my voice was hoarse and my brain felt numb.
“‘Could I borrow something to read about your church?’ Natalie asked before she left.
“‘Sure!’ I was ecstatic.
“The next day at school, though, Natalie cornered me in the hallway. ‘Annlouise,’ she said, handing me the books I’d lent her, ‘I’m sorry, but my parents disapprove of anything to do with the Mormons. They don’t want me to talk, read, or even think about Mormons.’
“I felt awful. I hadn’t wanted to get Natalie in trouble at home!
“‘We won’t talk about it then,’ I said.
“She avoided me for most of the week, and I was afraid she’d never speak to me again. But on Friday she sat next to me in the cafeteria, so I guess we’re still friends. Whew! For a while, I was scared. Sometimes being a missionary can cause problems.”
“We have to respect the rights of parents,” Sister Searle explained. “But you’ve planted seeds, and some day they’ll bear fruit.”
“Maybe if my family are good neighbors to Natalie’s family, they’ll think more positively about the Church,” Annlouise suggested.

A few years ago my rugby team participated in a weeklong tournament. This meant seven days away from home, parents, and Church leaders. Because we attend a Church school, everyone on my team was a member of the Church. Almost every evening that week, the other teams in our hotel would party in their rooms with loud music, dancing, drinking, smoking, and screaming harsh words at each other. Our team gathered in a room for our tradition of scripture study and evening devotionals. It felt good to do the right thing without being instructed by our parents. After the other teams observed us with surprise, we gained their respect. They were silent when they knew we were having evening devotionals. They seemed to be interested in what we were doing, and some even joined with us to read the scriptures and pray together.
We didn’t win the tournament that week, but we won in another way. We were able to shine our light, and through our examples, change hearts and minds.
Elisara E., 20, Samoa

As Bishop Johnny Morante in Guayaquil, Ecuador, looked out at members of his ward, his heart grew heavy. Too many of the families struggled to have even the barest necessities of life. He wanted to help them, so he consulted with ward leaders and took the matter to the Lord.
Since job opportunities in the area were scarce, he began to work with a group of 11 sisters, encouraging them to pursue the possibility of a small-business opportunity. These sisters noticed that there was a need for quality, low-cost household-cleaning supplies, and they wondered if they could produce and sell them in their community. But how would they learn to make these supplies?
At this time, Bishop Morante became aware of an unemployed sister in his ward who had worked as a pharmaceutical chemist. When the 11 sisters asked her if she would help, she was delighted to teach them how to make safe, quality supplies.
They created a business plan, mapped out areas in the community that each sister would cover, chose the products they would make, and designed the packaging and labels.
In a few months, they had built a customer base and were bringing in sufficient revenues to alleviate their poverty and help provide for the needs of their families.
When managers of a local pharmaceutical company learned about this enterprise, they became intrigued by the story of the unemployed pharmaceutical chemist. They eventually interviewed and hired her to head their own manufacturing.

William Lee came from the old sod in 1745. He must have had an unexplained urge, because he could not know really why he came. He might think it was to better his condition. He fought in the American Revolution and was wounded. Many of us have ancestors who are reported to have fought in the Revolution, but few of them were wounded. This man was left for dead in the battle of Guilford County Courthouse in the Carolinas in March 1781. Thanks to good nursing he recovered and as in all good endings, married his nurse. Four sons came to him, one of whom was Samuel, who was the youngest.
Samuel’s sons, Francis, Alfred, and Eli, and their families joined the Church in 1832, about the time that my great-grandfather joined. They suffered through all the vicissitudes and the troubles and persecutions and mobbings of Jackson County, Far West, and Nauvoo, and finally came west. At Winter Quarters their father joined them. He had not joined the Church until this time but joined shortly afterward. Francis married a young woman by the name of Jane Vail Johnson. I shall speak of her later.
They all came to Utah and settled in Tooele County. They were just getting settled and making things go when they were called by President Brigham Young to St. George, and they went, like all good Latter-day Saints did in those days. But they had not been in St. George very long when they were called to settle in Meadow Valley. That is a place you folks probably have not heard about. It is now known as Panaca, in what they thought was southwestern Utah, but which actually later came to be Nevada. These people, obeying the call, again without question, were the first family to move to Meadow Valley, and they made a dugout house. Sister Young said that you may not know what a dugout house is. I replied that most of the folks would know: One digs a cubical hole in a hillside and covers it with a roof of wooden poles topped with clay.
Troubles of the few settlers with the Indians caused the authorities in St. George to give them permission to abandon the project, but Sister Jane Johnson Lee refused to leave. She said she was there to stay, and stay they did. Later two Indians came into her dugout home, and one of them, seeing a rifle in one corner of the room, demanded it. Sister Lee refused to give it to him. He started for the gun, but she struck him so hard with a piece of stove wood, it knocked him down. He staggered to his feet and drew his bow, aiming the arrow at her. She let him have another piece of wood, which smashed the bow and arrow. Both Indians departed.
Two sons of this brave couple married sisters. Samuel Marion Lee married Margaret McMurrin, and Francis Lee, Jr., married Mary McMurrin. The McMurrins were converts from Scotland who had crossed the plains with the hand-cart companies. Brother McMurrin, a cooper, which is a man who makes barrels and bends wood, repaired many a handcart wheel en route, which helped get the carts to the valley but delayed him and his family. They also settled in Tooele. Each of the Lee brothers took his bride to Meadow Valley.
I speak of Margaret’s bravery.
Eleven times she placed
Her life upon the block
And offered it that
Children might be born.
No sterile chamber
Where the doctor waits,
The anesthetic cone
And nurse in readiness,
Could be her lot.
The cabin walls absorbed
The agonizing cries,
With Death close by.
He did not claim her life.
Instead he took each child—
Each little one to heaven—
All eleven.
Then came the twelfth.
For her the light burned
Dim, then flickered low,
And out—
But she had filled her life, and
Given all that she could give.
Her mission was performed;
A son was born.
The only child to live.
He was named his father’s name—Samuel Lee.
Mary McMurrin Lee took the child and let him nurse along with her own child, but after a time the strain was too great, so they took the baby to Salt Lake City to Grandmother McMurrin.
“I’ll give him one last nursing,” she said, and then laying him in his crib, she went back to Meadow Valley.
Under his grandmother’s care the baby Samuel grew into a stalwart boy, and when sixteen went to Clifton, Idaho, in Cache Valley, where he worked on a farm and there later met Louisa Bingham.
The Bingham family, stalwart in the faith, were pioneers. They endured the hardships of the plains and the difficulties of conquering the new land. They were among the early settlers of Clifton.
Out on the farm
Louisa Bingham
Grew and blossomed
Into girlish womanhood.
Her eyes
Caught the color of the
Somber hills in spring,
And in the fall they
Danced with joy
At autumn’s coloring.
At home she learned
To wash and cook and sew.
And winter
Saw her
Skating, sledding, and
Riding the bobsleigh
Through the snow.
Then Samuel Lee, now
Working on this nearby farm,
Watched her grow,
Saw with his heart
As well as with his eyes
The slow unfolding
Of her girlish charm,
The bloom of girlhood
High upon her cheeks,
A budding woman,
Gentle, soft, and warm.
And she saw him,
The young, strong, steady hands,
The head well set,
The shoulders square
And broad,
The muscles strong
And firm.
A good young man.
She knew his story well—
The twelfth and only child
Which lived.
And so they came together,
Drawn by a magnet
Neither one could see,
To be the parents of a
Man of destiny.
And so, in good time, and in his turn, there came into the family circle on a windy day in late March 1899 a son. They named him Harold Bingham Lee.
It is fitting this day that we speak briefly of this heritage. The Lord prepared the lineage through which President Lee came that he might inherit their bravery, their loyalty, their integrity, and their devotion to the truth.
Twenty-five hundred and seventy-two years ago, give or take a year, a prophet accepted of the Lord began to write his history: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents. …” And then he went on to say, “I make a record of my proceedings in my days.” (1 Ne. 1:1.)
And so the first prophet of our times might have said the same words: “I, Joseph Smith, having been born of goodly parents … make my record.”
And now, so it is today. Beginning his work as the prophet of the Lord, this modern seer and revelator may thus also begin his history: “I, Harold Bingham Lee, having been born of goodly parents, begin my work.”
Prophets are born of goodly parents. Before the earth was formed the heavenly hosts gave shouts of joy, both because they could come to the earth and that their leaders were chosen and recognized. …
Said the Lord: “Abraham, thou art one of them; thou wast chosen before thou wast born.” (Abr. 3:23.) And the Lord designated the others who have been chosen. I do not presume; rather, I am sure, President Lee, thou wast chosen before thou wast born.
I pray that the whisperings of the Spirit, the visions of eternity, the mighty words of Christ our Lord will come to and be with you, even as they were with Nephi and with Joseph Smith. And I pray too that the disloyal and the disobedient will lose their power to hurt or make afraid.
I know that President Lee is a prophet and a seer and a revelator. I have seen with my own eyes the mantle fall upon him and have had a witness borne into my soul that the Lord has chosen him and sustains him.
God our Father, through his Son, Jesus Christ, directs the work of this the true and living church established by the Lord Jesus Christ on the earth. I know it, and bear witness of it, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Elder Stobbs grew up in Worcester Ward, Cheltenham Stake. He has been serving as a full-time missionary in the South Africa Johannesburg Mission since October 2021. Here he shares the story of his conversion to the gospel of Jesus Christ:
“Gaining a testimony was very hard for me. I grew up through Primary knowing that the Church was true because, I reasoned, my parents were always right. The first time I realised my parents didn’t know everything and that there was a possibility that the Church wasn’t true, was when I was about 10 or 11.
“I spent most of my time in Young Men sitting on the fence; I wasn’t sure if the Church was true. I had spiritual experiences and answers to my prayers, but I found, to my frustration, that I was quick to forget or discount them. In Alma 46:8, we read, ‘Thus we see how quick the children of men do forget the Lord their God, yea, how quick to do iniquity, and to be led away by the evil one.’
“As I was doing my scripture study one day, I read 3 Nephi 23, where the Saviour chastises the Nephites for not writing down sacred events. I realised that this is what the Lord wanted me to do as well. At the end of every day, I wrote down how I had seen the hand of the Lord in that day. As I did this. I recognised miracles that I had not seen during the day. I also wrote down experiences of feeling the Spirit or having my prayers answered. These experiences formed a wall of faith that I could turn to if I ever felt my testimony wavering.
“Since then, my gratitude for God has grown, and my testimony has been strengthened immensely. I am grateful for the chance to serve His children in South Africa. I know that God lives and is always mindful of us. Jesus Christ is the Saviour of the world, and this is his Church again restored to the earth. Because of him we can live with Heavenly Father and our families forever in a state of never-ending happiness.”