Gospel Story Finder

I have spent much of my life either on a construction site building or teaching about construction processes. I come from four generations of builders. As a young boy I remember my grandfather, who was a retired builder, coming to our home early in the morning to take me along with him to visit construction sites. We would sit together on the tailgate of grandpa's pickup truck watching some of the big buildings in Salt Lake being built. Just like a big-screen action movie, we watched together the heavy machinery digging and lifting and the workers moving up higher and higher, week after week. My father, also a builder, took me along at an early age to clean up job sites and then to work along with his construction crews. I grew up loving construction.

But Rei was no nature-loving recluse. He loved his fellowmen as well. Shortly after his marriage a close relative died. Rei and his new bride accepted the responsibility of becoming the parents of the orphans. Some years later his wife caught typhoid while nursing a sick child after a disastrous flood and died.
Eventually Rei remarried; his new wife was a shy, beautiful young Maori widow. She became a warm and loving mother to her instant family of ten children. Together, she and Rei had four more children, in addition to foster children. To date, the Hamons have been parents to thirty-one children, many of them orphans.

Another faithful missionary was Carl A. Carlquist, born near Vänersborg in 1857. At age 17, he felt a strong desire to preach the gospel and was called to distribute Church tracts around Jönköping. He was poor, so members of his branch, seven widows and their children, obtained a suit coat and boots for him. Carl didn’t own an overcoat when the winter season came, but he was allowed to borrow one a few hours every day from some of the members when they didn’t need theirs.5

Carl later emigrated to Utah and married Hulda Östergren, a Swedish immigrant. He returned to Sweden two more times on missions, including as mission president of the Scandinavian Mission. Much of his last mission was spent correcting false reports published about the Church by Reverend P. E. Åslev, a pastor who had lived in Salt Lake City and was hired to promote anti-Mormon sentiment in Sweden. For instance, in 1912, Åslev wrote an article in the newspaper Svenska Dagbladet in which he claimed that Brother Carlquist was a polygamist.6 Carl’s efforts included meeting with King Gustaf V and refuting Åslev’s claims in public meetings.7

Katie, a Primary-age girl, taught us as we saw her influence on her family. She attended Primary and was drawn to the teachings of the gospel. With growing faith and testimony, Katie left a note on her parents’ pillow. She wrote that the gospel truths had found a “home in her heart.” She shared her longing to be close to her Heavenly Father, to be obedient to His commandments, and to have their family sealed in the temple. The simple testimony of their sweet daughter touched her parents’ hearts in a powerful way. Katie and her family did receive sacred temple ordinances that bound their family together forever. Katie’s believing heart and example of faith helped bring eternal blessings to her family. Could her sincere testimony and desire to follow the Lord’s plan lead us to see more clearly what really matters most?

I had the privilege of playing Basketball for Ricks College, and in November 1989 I was playing one of the most intense basketball games of my life. We were playing an undefeated team who was a powerhouse: a team that had a long tradition of great basketball and many national titles to their credit. On this particular night, I was playing against one of the best centers in the conference. He was a far more superior athlete than I was, and for the first couple of minutes playing against him, this guy was just physically destroying and outplaying me! To make matters worse, he began trash talking and rubbing it in. At one point, he looked and me and said, “You can’t stop me.” But during all this, there was a one fortunate shining moment for me that began to change the momentum: I blocked one of his shots. When I blocked his shot, the ball hit his head, and I’m sure I saw the word “Spalding” imprinted backwards on his forehead. He was not too happy with me, and he began to stare me down—I’m 6’9” and he was 6’8 ½”—and I stared back with a look that said, “Bring it on, shorty!” Now, I respected this player. He was good, but I realized that he was not invincible and that I needed to step up my game. The game resumed, and it was a hard-fought battle between the two of us. I honestly gave it everything I had and ended up having one of my better games of my college basketball career. Despite this success, we lost a very close game by missing a last-second shot that could have won the game; nevertheless, as a team, we felt confident that we could beat these guys!
Two months later, we ended up beating this undefeated team by a last-second shot. As an individual and as a team, we overcame the odds, and it was a such a great victory!

A ribbon of black asphalt wends its way through the mountains of northern Utah into the valley of the Great Salt Lake, then meanders southward on its appointed course. Interstate Highway 15 is its official name. This super-freeway carries the output of factories, the products of commerce, and masses of humanity toward appointed destinations.
I remember a time when driving to my home years ago, I approached the entrance to Interstate 15. At the on-ramp I noticed three hitchhikers, each one of whom carried a homemade sign that announced his desired destination. One sign read “Los Angeles, California,” while a second carried the designation “Boise, Idaho.” However, it was the third sign that not only caught my attention, but also caused me to reflect and ponder its message. The hitchhiker had lettered not Los Angeles, nor Boise, on the cardboard sign he held aloft. Rather, his sign consisted of but one word and read simply “Anywhere.”
Here was one who was content to travel in any direction, according to the whim of the driver who stopped to give him a free ride. What an enormous price to pay for such a ride! No plan. No objective. No goal. The road to anywhere is the road to nowhere, and the road to nowhere leads to dreams sacrificed, opportunities squandered, and a life unfulfilled.

On a particularly busy day during the Christmas season, a woman in my neighborhood—Marion, a mother of 12—was in line in a local specialty food store picking up five smoked turkeys for her family gathering. Chatting with the woman behind her in line, Marion mentioned the size of her order. The other woman quickly suggested that since she had only one turkey to pick up and she was in such a hurry, couldn’t she just step ahead with her order? My friend smiled and motioned the bustling shopper ahead.

The next woman in line then said, “I am in a huge hurry as well, and I have a long way to go. Since you are picking up so much more than I am, couldn’t I just pick up my order, too?”

My friend nodded again. When she finally reached the counter, the clerks looked at her and said, “We watched what happened and how you handled it. We want to give you these turkeys at half price.” In Romans we read, “Be likeminded one toward another according to Christ Jesus” (Romans 15:5).

Gladys Guerrero, 16, was the only Latter-day Saint attending a military high school in Maracaibo. During the first week of school, she was forced to stand in front of all 500 students and explain why she wouldn’t drink coffee. Although many students ridiculed Gladys for her lifestyle, others started watching her closely. “When they saw that I didn’t do certain things, such as drink alcohol or go to some parties, some of them became interested in the gospel,” she says. “The missionaries passed by the school one day, and I called to them. I introduced them to some of the students, and they got many referrals.” Ten of Gladys’s classmates were baptized during the next several months.

Howard moved to California. At a Church dance he met Clara May Jeffs, a former fashion model who was working as a personnel manager of a large Los Angeles department store. Soon after meeting Clara May, Howard realized that his days as a musician were numbered. A musician’s hours were not conducive to the type of family life he wanted. So, before he took Clara to Salt Lake City to be married in the temple, he packed away his instruments for good.
Howard and Clara were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 10, 1931. The newlyweds returned to California where Howard went to work in a bank.

My dad is not a member of the Church. I love spending time with him, but it was hard to keep the Sabbath day holy when I was with him. I never wanted to hurt his feelings by not going to a movie or shopping with him on Sundays, so for a while I ignored the matter.
When I got a little older, I realized that what I was doing wasn’t right. I finally sat down and told my dad how I felt. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind. He was understanding enough to help me with the problem.
Talking to someone about your beliefs isn’t always easy, but it isn’t as scary as it seems. Let people know how you feel. For me, it worked out in the end.

Two weeks after Sage was burned, the Volkmans were offered the more specialized care available to burned children at a special hospital in Galveston, Texas. Sage was flown the 1,500 kilometers to Galveston on November 6. She was still in a coma.
Among the hospital staff were two Latter-day Saints. Jonathan Brough and Rob Durrans had seen burn victims before, but this case was different. “I had always been able to recognize what part of the patient I was looking at,” Rob wrote in his journal, a copy of which he later sent to the Volkmans.
“When Sage arrived, the doctors were not very optimistic for her future,” he observed. “‘If she makes it through the night, and that’s a big if,’ they emphasized, ‘we are expecting brain damage, loss of vision, chronic lung problems, inability to walk, and probably a major loss of hearing. Anything short of that will be a miracle.’”
In an entry he made in his journal, Jonathan describes what happened next: “Rob and I were asked to give Sage a blessing. We entered the little girl’s room, robed as if for surgery. We approached the bed to find an unresponsive, motionless figure. The respirator was pumping next to the bed, and tubes—for her lungs, for pumping her stomach, and for giving nourishment—entered every opening of her face. She was severely disfigured. Only her small feet were recognizable as those of a formerly beautiful child. If ever I wanted to give a blessing of release from this life it was then. I envisioned the unsurmountable challenges this girl would have to face, as well as the sacrifices her parents would have to make in order to nurse her back to any degree of independence.
“Rob anointed the frail remnant of that little girl’s body and then we both placed our hands on her head to seal the anointing. Few times have I felt the Spirit speak as powerfully through me as it did at that time. To my surprise I heard myself bless her with the strength to overcome the destruction that her body had sustained.”
Both Rob and Jonathan were shocked at the blessing they had just given, especially the promise of full recovery. “Yet we had both been instantaneously told that everything would be all right,” Rob wrote. “As we closed the blessing, I let my fingers linger for a moment on her head—there was a feeling that she was drawing upon my strength, and when I lifted my hands I felt completely drained.”
During the next few days Sage hovered between life and death. Bleeding ulcers set back plans for surgery, and her coma continued. Donations from friends had allowed Ruth DeBuck to come to Galveston to be with Denise, and the two would often stroke Sage’s feet and tell her stories or sing her hymns, hoping that something would get through to the dream world she was in.
Then one day Denise was lying on the bed with Sage. She looked into her daughter’s ruined face and said, “Oh, I love you, Sage.”
And Sage whispered back, “I love you, too.”

Contrast these events with an incident which happened to me when I was a young man in my early twenties. While serving in the Air Force, one of the pilots in my squadron crashed on a training mission and was killed. I was assigned to accompany my fallen comrade on his final journey home to be buried in Brooklyn. I had the honor of standing by his family during the viewing and funeral services and of representing our government in presenting the flag to his grieving widow at the graveside. The funeral service was dark and dismal. No mention was made of his goodness or his accomplishments. His name was never mentioned. At the conclusion of the services, his widow turned to me and asked, “Bob, what is really going to happen to Don?” I was then able to give her the sweet doctrine of the Resurrection and the reality that, if baptized and sealed in the temple for time and all eternity, they could be together eternally. The clergyman standing next to her said, “That is the most beautiful doctrine I have ever heard.”

A true story from the USA.
Edith listened to the pitter-patter of rain against the window. Drip, drip, drip.
She frowned. It had rained all day, and the sky was gray. It was cold and sad outside. Kind of like her.
She sat on a bench in a quiet corner, tugging on her itchy black dress. Her shiny new shoes were black too. She wished she was home instead of at the funeral place.
Her older cousin, Savannah, sat down next to her. “How are you doing?” Savannah asked. All her family had traveled to be at the funeral this morning. Everyone wore black clothes and looked sad.
Edith shrugged. “OK, I guess.” She didn’t really want to talk. Her dad had died a few days ago in an accident. She felt all twisted up inside thinking about it. She missed him so much.
Savannah reached an arm around her, and Edith leaned in. She was grateful for her cousin. But why did God have to take her dad away from them?
“Is God mad at me?” Edith asked.
Savannah frowned. “Why do you think that?”
Edith looked at her shoes. “He took my daddy away.”
Edith felt tears in her eyes. She looked up to see Savannah wiping away a few tears of her own.
“Edith,” Savannah said, “Heavenly Father isn’t mad at you at all. He loves you and your family so much. Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand, but He always loves us.”
“Really?” Edith asked.
Savannah nodded. “Really. It can help to remember that you’ll see your dad again! Because Jesus Christ was resurrected, we’ll all be resurrected too.” She smiled. “And we can try to remember all of the things we love about your dad to keep him close.”
Edith thought about her dad. He loved talking about Jesus. He had the best smile and the funniest laugh. He gave the best hugs. And he always cheered her up when she was feeling sad. Suddenly, she felt warm, like she was getting a hug right from her dad.
She looked up. “That helps a little. But I’m still sad.”
“It’s OK to be sad. I’m really sad too,” Savannah said. “We all miss your dad a lot.”
Edith thought about something she had learned in Primary. “Heavenly Father can help us when we’re sad,” she said. “Can we say a prayer right now?”
Savannah nodded, and they folded their arms.
“Heavenly Father, thank Thee for Jesus and His Resurrection,” Edith said. “Thank Thee for always loving us. Please take care of my dad. Please help us to remember him and keep him close in our hearts. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Edith opened her eyes and took a deep breath.
When they walked out of the building, it was still cold and rainy. But now there was a tiny ray of sunshine peeking out through the gray clouds. It still seemed sad outside, but now, it felt just a little bit hopeful too. Kind of like her.

Sara slipped into the long, soft, blue robe that she was to wear in the Christmas program. Pulling the matching hood over her brown curls, she turned to Jennie. “Do I look like Mary now?”
Jennie grinned. “You sure do, except for your size. It won’t matter, though, because Joseph is only eight too.”
Sara giggled at Jennie’s joke, then sobered. “I really wanted to be Mary in the program, but now that it’s time, I’m kind of scared.”
Jennie reached out to straighten the folds on Sara’s robe. “You’ll do just fine. Everything went well at rehearsal this morning.”
Sara’s stomach gave a little lurch when she heard the organ begin playing “Silent Night.” That was her cue to go on stage.
Sister Perkins came over and smiled at both girls. Looking at Sara, she said, “The curtains will be opening soon. It’s time for you to take your place.”
Sara hurried to her spot and sat down on a bale of straw. Eric, who was playing Joseph, was already there beside the manger. As Sara bent to arrange the blankets around the doll representing Baby Jesus, she heard the music change and the gentle strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” swell.
The curtains slowly opened on the quiet scene. A single spotlight highlighted Mary and Joseph admiring the Baby Jesus. Neither Mary nor Joseph had to say anything. Brother Egger stood out of sight with a microphone and told about the events of Jesus’ birth as they were silently portrayed on stage. The organ played softly while he spoke: “And it came to pass in those days, …”
Sara was distracted by something moving just below the stage. She moved her eyes carefully, trying not to turn her head and spoil the scene. There, climbing the stairs to the stage was her four-year-old sister, Katie.
Sara’s heart sank as Katie came toward her. What shall I do? she wondered. Why isn’t Katie sitting with Mom and Dad? Sara sneaked a peek at her parents. Her mother wore a stricken, helpless look. Sara felt Katie brush against her knees as she bent to look into the manger. Katie’s going to ruin the Christmas program! Why did she have to do this?
Sara was startled out of her thoughts by Katie’s awed “Oh! He’s beautiful!”
As Katie continued to just stand and intently watch the doll in the manger, Sara swallowed and felt calm. There was something about the spell around Katie that Sara couldn’t bring herself to break. I think the best thing to do is just let her stay, Sara decided. She’s being quiet.
So Sara reached out and slipped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and nestled Katie next to her on the bale of straw. Katie relaxed against Sara, still gazing lovingly at the Baby Jesus.
Katie sat watching quietly as the shepherds came. The organist played “The First Noel,” and Brother Egger read from the Bible about the shepherds coming to see Jesus. Even after the shepherds had left and the Wise Men had entered, Katie leaned against Sara, enraptured.
Katie really loves Baby Jesus, Sara thought. I don’t blame her for wanting to get close and see better. She gave Katie a little squeeze. I’m really glad now that she came.
When the curtains closed, Sara gently whispered into Katie’s ear, “It’s time for the next scene, so you must go back to Mommy and Daddy.”
Katie looked at her sister. “OK.” She started to leave, then paused and turned. “Thanks, Sara. I liked looking at Baby Jesus with you.”
Sara smiled. “I’m glad.” She led Katie to the side stage door. “Now go back to Mom.”
After the program the students looked through the crowd for their families. Just as Sara found her parents, she overheard an elderly man speaking to her mother. “I’m so glad I came. Because of your girls, I caught a glimpse of the Savior tonight that I’d never seen before. Thanks.”
Nobody at home said anything about Katie’s unexpected appearance in the program until Mother tucked Sara into bed. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Katie,” Mother said, “but I’m really sorry she barged in on your program. She’d slipped off Dad’s lap, and by the time we realized what she was doing, she was up in front, and it was too late to stop her.” Mother sat down beside Sara on her bed. “I hope it didn’t ruin things for you.”
“No. It was fine, Mother.” Sara squeezed her mother’s hand.
“I really admire the way you handled it,” Mother continued. “It’s hard to know what to do at times like that. What you did was beautiful. Usually people giggle when something unplanned happens, but people got especially quiet after Katie said how beautiful the baby was.”
“At first I was really worried,” Sara admitted. “I didn’t know what to do. Then I realized that the real Mary would have wanted her sister, as well as shepherds and Wise Men, to see her baby. Anyway, there was something special about Katie tonight. It was as though she really understood about Baby Jesus somehow.”
“You’re right, Sara.” Mother’s voice was soft. “Several people came up to me afterward and said the same thing. Even though Katie’s part in the program wasn’t planned, I think it touched people’s hearts. I think a lot of people will never forget tonight’s program.”
Sara settled back on her pillow. “I’m glad.”
Mother bent to kiss Sara. “I think you’re really special too. You taught us older folks a lot in the kind way you treated your sister. I’m sure Jesus was pleased with how you represented His mother tonight.”

My brother-in-law, Taylor, works in Washington, D.C., for the United States Department of Agriculture. As part of his job, he is expected to attend a number of social functions. These functions almost always have alcohol served to the guests. The people who work with Taylor know of his religious beliefs and commitment to abstain from all alcoholic beverages, and they will often thoughtfully provide something else to drink in their place.
At one particular function, someone had brought a few beverages that claimed to be alcohol free. Taylor was offered one of these drinks, but since the brand and type of drink were unfamiliar to him, he said in a friendly manner, “I’ll have to check that label first.”
Taylor read the fine print on the bottle, and sure enough, the drink contained a small amount of alcohol. “Look,” Taylor said, “it has alcohol in it.”
The person who had offered the drink said, “Let me see that!” After looking for a minute, he turned to Taylor and pointed at the label. “Taylor, it has only 1% alcohol. Can’t you even drink that?”
Not wanting to offend his friend, yet not willing to compromise his standards, Taylor replied, “Well, when you’re 100% committed, 99% just isn’t good enough.” He thanked them for trying to accommodate him but turned down the drink.

I lived this exact experience while deciding whether to accept a job offer here at BYU–Hawaii.

BYU–Hawaii Job Offer
In 2006, I was invited to be the university budget director. Most people think that is a job only an accountant can do. But I am not an accountant! I had a few accounting classes and worked in the BYU Budget Office in Provo for six years, but I am not a trained accountant.

While I loved my experience at BYU in Provo, I had left BYU and the Church Educational System two years earlier to work in private industry as an international sales and marketing manager. Part of the reason I left BYU is because I was regularly being approached with job offers to be the “controller of this” or the “chief financial officer of that” – jobs that typically require accounting expertise. I realized the longer I stayed, the more I would be limited to accounting related roles.

When I received the invitation to work at BYU–Hawaii and return to the Church Educational System I was eager because I love the mission so much, but also concerned what this might do to my career path. Surely anyone looking at my resume would presume that my efforts in sales and marketing had been unsuccessful and I was back where I belonged – in “accounting.”

Laurie and I prayed fervently, fasted often, and went to the temple multiple times trying to receive guidance. None came. The heavens seemed completely sealed.

I agonized over this decision. I was invited to visit the campus with my wife so that we could “feel the spirit of the place” and help us make our decision. This only made things more confusing.

I did feel the spirit of BYU–Hawaii and loved the thought of being here, but I also realized how very far away it was from everyone and everything I was familiar with.

Upon returning home, I had an unusual experience at work and another one at a ward function that I interpreted as God directing me not to accept the job. Absent any other direction from heaven, I decided to decline the offer.

While I was typing the email to announce my decision, a clear message came into my mind: “Don’t worry about your career. Do what is best for your family.” I stopped typing. After some additional thought and discussion with Laurie about what would be best for our family, I deleted what I had typed and replaced it with a message accepting the position.

Our experience at BYU–Hawaii has been life changing and I am so grateful God directed us here. My career has been fulfilling and I have had opportunities and experiences both at work and outside of work that I could not possibly have anticipated. I am so very grateful that God allowed me to exercise my agency, but also provided guidance when I was about to make an unfortunate choice.

There is one important lesson beyond the one Elder Scott described so accurately. Notice the divine directive that came into my mind was not, “Accept the job at BYU–Hawaii.” It was “Don’t worry about your career. Do what is best for your family.” God did not tell me how to respond to the job offer. He required me to exercise my agency to decide what was best for our family. But He also provided additional perspective and the comfort I needed to make the right choice for our family.

A few years ago, my mother was diagnosed as having a malignant brain tumor. Despite the crushing news, my father, a firm believer in miracles, insisted that she could recover if our family exerted the necessary faith. We prayed fervently, and Mother received many priesthood blessings. But her condition grew steadily worse.
Desperate yet undaunted, Father continued to attend the temple daily. As I stood at the window and watched him leave for the temple early one morning, I remembered a day many years earlier, when my little brother was thrown from a horse. Thinking he had suffered only a little bruising and a bloody nose, I was devastated when he died late that night. My world caved in, and for months I mulled over the painful question, Why hadn’t Heavenly Father sent a miracle to save my brother’s life?
I turned away from the window, thinking about miracles: Who is entitled to them? Are they granted strictly by faith? How, exactly, do you measure a miracle? Then I thought of my mother. Now she seemed to be slipping away—dying from a second brain tumor some thirty-five years after her first one had been removed. She had lived happily and productively—a full life—and I wondered if there could be another miracle in store for her.
When I kissed her for what would be the last time in this life, I told her I loved her. The serene look on her face as she passed away convinced me that I had witnessed one of the greatest miracles of all. Because of the reality of the gospel and of Christ’s resurrection, I knew she was smiling again, embracing all those loved ones who had gone on before.
I still don’t know how to measure a miracle, but it no longer matters. Miracles happen with every breath we take. And sometimes the best miracles are not in living, but in going home.

Although the path to eternal marriage has been just as straight for Vynohradars’kyi Ward members Petr and Adalina Mikhailenko, the road has been much longer. The Mikhailenkos were among the first families to join the Church in Ukraine, having been baptized in 1993—just two years after the first branch was established in Kyiv.
Despite this, distance from a temple and other factors kept the couple from being sealed for many years. Undeterred, they remained committed to each other and to their dream of an eternal marriage.
“I waited patiently for the temple,” Brother Mikhailenko says. “There was never a thought to leave the Church. The path has always been clear.”
After President Thomas S. Monson dedicated the temple in August 2010, the couple’s eagerness to be sealed couldn’t be contained. “We came so early on the day we were to be sealed that the temple was not open yet,” Sister Mikhailenko says.
The couple wasn’t alone. Many fellow ward members came to the temple that day as well, excited to share in the Mikhailenkos’ joy.
“The sealing was wonderful,” Sister Mikhailenko says. “There was a feeling like you never really loved your spouse like you love him at that moment.”
The feeling of love has persisted since that day. “There is an absolute difference in our relationship,” Brother Mikhailenko says. “We have been married for a long time, but there is now a different feeling. We want to do more for each other, and we do it with more love.”

Twenty-one years later in the spring of 1876 Dr. Maeser, who had immigrated to the United States, was teaching school in the 20th Ward schoolhouse in Salt Lake City when a blast destroyed the building. Reporting the explosion to President Brigham Young, Karl said the school would have to be closed.
“That is exactly right, Brother Maeser,” President Young replied, “for I have another mission for you.” And that is how Karl G. Maeser was told of his call to establish the Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.

Elder Clate Wheeler Mask Jr. knows that nothing happens by chance.
As a young boy in El Paso, Texas, Elder Mask was affected by the service of his father, Clate Wheeler Mask Sr., in World War II. It was a trying time.
That’s when his mother, Marva Gonzalez Mask, taught him to really pray. His father was not a member of the Church. “Our family prayed my dad would join the Church and come home safely,” he says. “As a little boy praying at my mother’s side, I just knew God was there.”
With his father away, Elder Mask spent many hours with his maternal grandparents. “I would sit at my grandmother’s knee as she told Book of Mormon stories. My grandfather would tell about his mission to Mexico,” Elder Mask recalls. “That set the course of my life.”
His father did join the Church and return safely. From that time, Elder Mask’s testimony was firm.
He eventually served a mission to Central America, and just before coming home he was assigned to write a report on some missionaries he had worked with. “One sister was just tremendous in every way, and I realized she was the kind of person I wanted to marry someday,” Elder Mask says.
Following military service, Elder Mask attended Brigham Young University, and there he became reacquainted with that same sister missionary, Paula Carol Garns. They married in 1965 in the Los Angeles California Temple and reared six children.
Elder Mask graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English and Spanish and has had a 30-year career with the Church Educational System. He has served as a mission president, bishop, bishop’s counselor, stake Sunday School president, high councilor, and branch president.
Elder Mask, age 60, was born on 20 August 1942. He knows his new calling as a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy will be as life changing as the other not-by-chance events of his life. “Everything that has happened to him has prepared him for this calling,” says Sister Mask.