Gospel Story Finder

Performing in public started when Candice was three in her hometown of Arcadia, California, where she and her family still live. The stake president called Sherma, Candice’s mother, to ask if three-year-old Candice would speak in stake conference. It was to be a tribute to grandparents. Her mother wondered if she had heard right. Surely the stake president didn’t want Candice. He must have meant nine-year-old Tasha who was well-known for her public speaking abilities. But no, he asked for three-year-old Candice.

Sherma remembers Candice’s first public performance. “She learned her talk and prepared to sing ‘In My Grandmother’s Old-Fashioned Garden.’ She always had a good memory if she could sing it. The day of stake conference came. It was a huge crowd stretching all the way to the back of the hall. Candice got scared. When it was her turn, she climbed onto the stool in front of the podium. She put her hands beside her eyes like blinders, so she wouldn’t see the people. She just froze. I stood beside her to help, but it was no use. Finally, I said, ‘Just sing your song.’ As soon as the music started, she put her hands down and sang.”

Candice soon got over any stage fright. She joined a group of little girls that performed in the stake. “I love dancing and singing,” said Candice. “It always came easy to me, and I like it.” And people love watching her perform.

Jamie opened his bank, and out tumbled a small pile of pennies and nickles and dimes and quarters onto his bed. He had been working very hard the past several months to earn enough money to add to his spacemen collection. Mrs. Bunday had paid him to carry her garbage cans to the street. He had run errands for his grandma. He had walked the neighbor’s dog. He had helped his dad wash the car, and he had collected and sold empty pop bottles and cans.
But tomorrow was Mother’s Day. I’d rather get something for Mom, Jamie decided, picking up his money and putting it into his pocket.
Let’s see, he thought. What can I get—a big box of chocolates? I’ll get caramel centers because they’re my favorite! Or maybe I’ll treat Mom to lunch at my favorite hamburger place! Or we could go to the pizza place—I love all the video games there!
But those things seemed a little selfish. Jamie thought of all the nice things that his mother did for him, such as mending his shirt when he tore it playing ball, making chocolate chip cookies just because he liked them so much, bandaging his cuts and scratches, and tucking him into bed at night and hearing his prayers.
Then Jamie remembered the special verse he had learned in Primary. He read it again from the bulletin board where he had tacked it: “God first, others second, myself third.” That gave Jamie an idea. “Hey, Dad!” he called. “Will you drive me to a flower shop?”
Later, while Dad waited in the car, Jamie went into the flower shop, laid his money on the counter, and said, “I want a big bunch of flowers for my mom for Mother’s Day.”
The lady counted the money and shook her head. “I’m afraid that there isn’t enough money for a large bouquet,” she said. “How about a small one?”
Jamie shook his head. “I want a big, big, BIG bouquet!”
The clerk thought a moment, then leaned over and quietly suggested something to him. Jamie nodded, paid his money, and walked out with a very small sack.
Later, in his room, Jamie dumped out the contents of his sack; then he went outside to complete his Mother’s Day present.
When Jamie woke up the next morning, he got out of bed quickly, grabbed his present, and ran to the kitchen. His dad and mom were sitting at the kitchen table, talking. “Happy Mother’s Day!” Jamie exclaimed, dumping four little parcels onto her lap.
Jamie’s mother was surprised and declared, “I wonder what these could be!” She opened the first tiny present—it was a package of sweet pea seeds. She opened the second present—it was a package of pansy seeds. She opened the third present—it was a package of carnation seeds. And the fourth package held daisy seeds.
“Now come with me,” Jamie said, taking her hand. “There’s more.” Jamie took his mom to the backyard. He proudly pointed to a piece of ground that he had weeded and dug up yesterday. “That’s where I’ll plant your flower seeds for you tomorrow. Then this summer you will have a big, big, BIG, bouquet!”

In 1959, not long after I began my service as president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, I met N. Eldon Tanner, a prominent Canadian who just months later would be called as an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, then to the Quorum of the Twelve, and then as a counselor to four Presidents of the Church.
At the time I met him, President Tanner was president of the vast Trans-Canada Pipelines, Ltd., and president of the Canada Calgary Stake. He was known as “Mr. Integrity” in Canada. During that first meeting, we discussed, among other subjects, the cold Canadian winters, where storms rage, temperatures can linger well below freezing for weeks at a time, and where icy winds lower those temperatures even further. I asked President Tanner why the roads and highways in western Canada basically remained intact during such winters, showing little or no signs of cracking or breaking, while the road surfaces in many areas where winters are less cold and less severe developed cracks and breaks and potholes.
Said he, “The answer is in the depth of the base of the paving materials. In order for them to remain strong and unbroken, it is necessary to go very deep with the foundation layers. When the foundations are not deep enough, the surfaces cannot withstand the extremes of weather.”
Over the years I have thought often of this conversation and of President Tanner’s explanation, for I recognize in his words a profound application for our lives. Stated simply, if we do not have a deep foundation of faith and a solid testimony of truth, we may have difficulty withstanding the harsh storms and icy winds of adversity which inevitably come to each of us.
Mortality is a period of testing, a time to prove ourselves worthy to return to the presence of our Heavenly Father. In order for us to be tested, we must face challenges and difficulties. These can break us, and the surface of our souls may crack and crumble—that is, if our foundations of faith, our testimonies of truth are not deeply embedded within us.
We can rely on the faith and testimony of others only so long. Eventually we must have our own strong and deeply placed foundation, or we will be unable to withstand the storms of life, which will come. Such storms come in a variety of forms. We may be faced with the sorrow and heartbreak of a wayward child who chooses to turn from the pathway leading to eternal truth and rather travel the slippery slopes of error and disillusionment. Sickness may strike us or a loved one, bringing suffering and sometimes death. Accidents may leave their cruel marks of remembrance or may snuff out life. Death comes to the aged as they walk on faltering feet. Its summons is heard by those who have scarcely reached midway in life’s journey, and often it hushes the laughter of little children.
At times there appears to be no light at the tunnel’s end, no dawn to break the night’s darkness. We feel surrounded by the pain of broken hearts, the disappointment of shattered dreams, and the despair of vanished hopes. We join in uttering the biblical plea, “Is there no balm in Gilead?” (Jeremiah 8:22). We are inclined to view our own personal misfortunes through the distorted prism of pessimism. We feel abandoned, heartbroken, alone.
How can we build a foundation strong enough to withstand such vicissitudes of life? How can we maintain the faith and testimony which will be required, that we might experience the joy promised to the faithful? Constant, steady effort is necessary. Most of us have experienced inspiration so strong that it brings tears to our eyes and a determination to ever remain faithful. I have heard the statement, “If I could just keep these feelings with me always, I would never have trouble doing what I should.” Such feelings, however, can be fleeting. The inspiration we feel during these conference sessions may diminish and fade as Monday comes and we face the routines of work, of school, of managing our homes and families. Such can easily take our minds from the holy to the mundane, from that which uplifts to that which, if we allow it, will chip away at our testimonies, our strong foundations.
Of course we do not live in a world where we experience nothing but the spiritual, but we can fortify our foundations of faith, our testimonies of truth, so that we will not falter, we will not fail. How, you may ask, can we most effectively gain and maintain the foundation needed to survive spiritually in the world in which we live?
May I offer three guidelines to help us in our quest.
First, fortify your foundation through prayer. “Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, uttered or unexpressed” (“Prayer Is the Soul’s Sincere Desire,” Hymns, no. 145).
As we pray, let us really communicate with our Father in Heaven. It is easy to let our prayers become repetitious, expressing words with little or no thought behind them. When we remember that each of us is literally a spirit son or daughter of God, we will not find it difficult to approach Him in prayer. He knows us; He loves us; He wants what is best for us. Let us pray with sincerity and meaning, offering our thanks and asking for those things we feel we need. Let us listen for His answers, that we may recognize them when they come. As we do, we will be strengthened and blessed. We will come to know Him and His desires for our lives. By knowing Him, by trusting His will, our foundations of faith will be strengthened. If any one of us has been slow to hearken to the counsel to pray always, there is no finer hour to begin than now. William Cowper declared, “Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon his knees” (in William Neil, comp., Concise Dictionary of Religious Quotations [1974], 144).
Let us not neglect our family prayers. Such is an effective deterrent to sin, and thence a most beneficent provider of joy and happiness. That old saying is yet true: “The family that prays together stays together.” By providing an example of prayer to our children, we will also be helping them to begin their own deep foundations of faith and testimonies which they will need throughout their lives.
My second guideline: Let us study the scriptures and “meditate therein day and night,” as counseled by the Lord in the book of Joshua (1:8).
In 2005, hundreds of thousands of Latter-day Saints accepted President Gordon B. Hinckley’s challenge to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year. I do believe December of 2005 would set an all-time record for hours devoted to meeting the challenge on time. We were blessed when we completed the task; our testimonies were strengthened, our knowledge increased. I would encourage all of us to continue to read and study the scriptures, that we might understand them and apply in our lives the lessons we find there. I paraphrase the poet James Phinney Baxter:
Who learns and learns but never knows
Is like the one who plows and plows but never sows.
(“The Baxter Collection,” Baxter Memorial Library, Gorham, Maine)
Spending time each day in scripture study will, without doubt, strengthen our foundations of faith and our testimonies of truth.
Recall with me the joy Alma experienced as he was journeying from the land of Gideon southward to the land of Manti and met the sons of Mosiah. Alma had not seen them for some time, and he was overjoyed to discover that they were “still his brethren in the Lord; yea, and they had waxed strong in the knowledge of the truth; for they were men of a sound understanding and they had searched the scriptures diligently, that they might know the word of God” (see Alma 17:1–2).
May we also know the word of God and conduct our lives accordingly.
My third guideline for building a strong foundation of faith and testimony involves service.
While driving to the office one morning, I passed a dry-cleaning establishment which had a sign in the window. It read, “It’s the Service That Counts.” The sign’s message simply would not leave my mind. Suddenly I realized why. In actual fact it is the service that counts—the Lord’s service.
In the Book of Mormon we read of noble King Benjamin. In the true humility of an inspired leader, he recounted his desire to serve his people and lead them in paths of righteousness. He then declared to them:
“Because I said unto you that I had spent my days in your service, I do not desire to boast, for I have only been in the service of God.
“And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:16–17).
This is the service that counts, the service to which all of us have been called: the service of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Along your pathway of life you will observe that you are not the only traveler. There are others who need your help. There are feet to steady, hands to grasp, minds to encourage, hearts to inspire, and souls to save.
Thirteen years ago it was my privilege to provide a blessing to a beautiful 12-year-old young lady, Jami Palmer. She had just been diagnosed with cancer and was frightened and bewildered. She subsequently underwent surgery and painful chemotherapy. Today she is cancer-free and is a bright, beautiful 26-year-old who has accomplished much in her life. Some time ago, I learned that in her darkest hour, when any future appeared somewhat grim, she learned that her leg where the cancer was situated would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up a rugged trail to Timpanogos Cave—located in the Wasatch Mountains about 40 miles south of Salt Lake City, Utah—was out of the question, she thought. Jami told her friends they would have to undertake the hike without her. I’m confident there was a catch in her voice and disappointment in her heart. But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”
“But I can’t walk,” came the anguished reply.
“Then, Jami, we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.
Today, the hike is a memory, but in reality it is much more. James Barrie, the Scottish poet, declared, “God gave us memories, that we might have June roses in the December of our lives” (paraphrasing James Barrie, in Laurence J. Peter, comp., Peter’s Quotations: Ideas for Our Time [1977], 335). None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.
As He enlists us to His cause, He invites us to draw close to Him, and we feel His spirit in our lives.
As we establish a firm foundation for our lives, let us each one remember His precious promise:
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.
(“How Firm a Foundation,” Hymns, no. 85)
May each of us qualify for this blessing, I humbly pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior, amen.

After my parents were married, one of Dad’s first callings was to teach a family history class. During this time he became personally committed to doing family history work. His law office calendar had many afternoons blocked off to go to the Los Angeles public library to do genealogical research. He started preparing six-foot-long (1.8 m) family group sheets, which he bound in sturdy ledgers.
Dad would also gather data and connect with our relatives. He sent hundreds of letters to his relatives as he discovered who they were. He peppered our family vacations with visits to cousins, aunts, and uncles. From this I learned of the good that can be done when you sacrifice a pleasant day of vacationing.

In 1834, Polly heard about the plight of the Saints who had been driven out of Jackson County, Missouri, USA, by mob violence. Through a revelation to Joseph Smith, the Lord asked Church members to donate money to help the suffering Saints redeem Zion (see Doctrine and Covenants 103:22–23). Polly didn’t have much, but she had faith in the Lord’s promise that if the Saints would relieve the suffering of others, great blessings would follow (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:35; 39:8–9). Acting on that conviction, Polly sent $150 to Kirtland, Ohio, USA, in 1834 to help supply the Camp of Israel expedition (later known as Zion’s Camp).3
One hundred fifty dollars was a lot of money for anyone—but especially for Polly, who was now 54 years old. The highest-paid women workers in the textile industry of Lowell, Massachusetts, made only about $3 per week, so $150 may have been about a year’s worth of wages for Polly.4
The day before Joseph Smith received Polly’s money, he had told Wilford Woodruff and others that the Church did not have enough resources for the Zion’s Camp expedition. But Joseph wasn’t worried. “I am going to have some money soon,” he told the group. And sure enough, the next morning, Polly’s donation arrived. Her $150 provided the means to purchase equipment and supplies for Zion’s Camp.5

At 53, Elizabeth seized another learning opportunity. She and her daughter Jessie were walking down the street in Bendigo when a man in a black coat and top hat introduced himself as a missionary from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He offered them a book and said it would teach them God’s plan for His children. Elizabeth always eagerly accepted free books, but this one would change their lives.
All through that night, Jessie read The Book of Mormon to her mother, and the Holy Spirit affirmed to them this book was true.
Elizabeth and three of her children were baptized on 2 February 1902. A couple years later, her two grandsons were baptized.

I hated school. There was too much homework. It was too hard, and my grades were bad. I thought dropping out was the best thing to do, so I did.
With no high school diploma or GED, I couldn’t get a job. I couldn’t get into the armed forces. I was really having a hard time.
I decided to get my GED, and it took me seven years. Now I know that dropping out was a stupid idea.
Finish school. You’ll be glad you did.
Blake Combe, 25Orofino, Idaho

It was then that I moved to Kinshasa to commence my studies in law. Once I arrived in 2007, I enrolled at the University of Kinshasa. In my first year in 2008, we experienced a total strike at the University of Kinshasa. During the strike, I left the neighborhood where I lived to go to the commune of Masina to stay with my older brother.
And once in Masina, during the strike, I discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the neighborhood where I lived with my older brother.
I made the decision to go to a meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on a Sunday. When I arrived at the building, a brother greeted me at the door and invited me to come inside. I then participated in the Sunday service and afterwards I was placed in contact with the full-time missionaries.
I took the missionary lessons for two weeks. After being taught, I had a strong desire to be baptized.
However, this was the beginning of strong opposition from within my family and my older brother who was like a guardian to me. He told the village to inform everyone that I wanted to become a member, that it is a bad church, and that no one should support me or contribute money to support my academic studies.
Consequently, I dropped out of law school and began preparing for a full-time mission. Thanks to Bishop Mutambay’s advice and direction, I remained a member of the Church despite opposition and began preparing for my full-time mission. I served in the Lubumbashi DR Congo from June 2013 to June 2015.
After serving as a full-time missionary, I came home and was fortunate to find the Church’s inspired Perpetual Education Fund program which allowed me to achieve my goals in completing my law studies through this program instituted by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008).
Today, I am a lawyer. My wife, Mireille, and I are parents of four children: Ross Power Kongo Kongo, Ron Cross Kongo Munemeka, Blacke Prestones Kongo Ibula, and Brian Lesser Congo. I accepted adversity by relying on my faith without knowing what was going to happen to me when I was abandoned for having chosen the restored Church.
I know that God is our Heavenly Father and despite difficulties and opposition He is there to help us. I will never be disappointed with the path I took and my decision to join His church.
I know this was the best decision I ever made. I will be forever grateful. Joseph Smith is the prophet of the Restoration, and I am grateful to be in the Church of Jesus Christ.

My wife and I had the great joy of rearing our five children near the magnificent city of Paris. During those years we wanted to offer them rich opportunities to discover the marvelous things of this world. Each summer, our family took long trips to visit the most significant monuments, historic sites, and natural wonders of Europe. Finally, after spending 22 years in the Paris area, we were getting ready to move. I still remember the day when my children came to me and said, “Dad, it’s absolutely shameful! We’ve lived here all our lives, and we have never been to the Eiffel Tower!”
There are so many wonders in this world. However, sometimes when we have them constantly before our eyes, we take them for granted. We look, but we don’t really see; we hear, but we don’t really listen.
During His earthly ministry, Jesus said to His disciples:
“Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see:
“For I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them; and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them.”
I have often wondered what it would have been like to live at the time of our Savior. Can you imagine sitting at His feet? feeling His embrace? witnessing as He ministered to others? And yet so many who met Him failed to recognize—to “see”—that the very Son of God was living among them.
We too are privileged to live in an exceptional time. The prophets of old saw the work of the Restoration as “a marvelous work … , yea, a marvelous work and a wonder.” In no previous dispensation have so many missionaries been called, so many nations been opened for the gospel message, and so many temples been built throughout the world.
For us, as Latter-day Saints, wonders also occur in our individual lives. They include our own personal conversion, the answers we receive to our prayers, and the tender blessings God showers upon us daily.
To marvel at the wonders of the gospel is a sign of faith. It is to recognize the hand of the Lord in our lives and in everything around us. Our amazement also produces spiritual strength. It gives us the energy to remain anchored in our faith and to engage ourselves in the work of salvation.
But let us beware. Our ability to marvel is fragile. Over the long term, such things as casual commandment keeping, apathy, or even weariness may set in and make us insensitive to even the most remarkable signs and miracles of the gospel.
The Book of Mormon describes a period, very similar to our own, that preceded the coming of the Messiah to the Americas. Suddenly the signs of His birth appeared in the heavens. The people were so stricken with astonishment that they humbled themselves, and nearly all were converted. However, only a short four years later, “the people began to forget those signs and wonders which they had heard, and began to be less and less astonished at a sign or a wonder from heaven, … and began to disbelieve all which they had heard and seen.”
My brothers and sisters, is the gospel still wonderful to you? Can you yet see, hear, feel, and marvel? Or have your spiritual sensors gone into standby mode? Whatever your personal situation, I invite you to do three things.
First, never tire of discovering or rediscovering the truths of the gospel. The writer Marcel Proust said, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Do you remember the first time you read a verse of scripture and felt as if the Lord was speaking to you personally? Can you recall the first time you felt the sweet influence of the Holy Ghost come over you, perhaps before you even realized it was the Holy Ghost? Weren’t these sacred, special moments?
We should hunger and thirst every day after spiritual knowledge. This personal practice is founded on study, meditation, and prayer. Sometimes we might be tempted to think, “I don’t need to study the scriptures today; I’ve read them all before” or “I don’t need to go to church today; there’s nothing new there.”
But the gospel is a fountain of knowledge that never runs dry. There is always something new to learn and feel each Sunday, in every meeting, and in every verse of scripture. In faith we hold to the promise that if we “seek, … [we] shall find.”
Second, anchor your faith in the plain and simple truths of the gospel. Our amazement should be rooted in the core principles of our faith, in the purity of our covenants and ordinances, and in our most simple acts of worship.
A sister missionary told the story of three men she met during a district conference in Africa. They came from an isolated village far away in the bush where the Church had not yet been organized but where there were 15 faithful members and almost 20 investigators. For over two weeks these men had walked on foot, traveling more than 300 miles (480 km) over paths rendered muddy by the rainy season, so they could attend the conference and bring the tithes from the members of their group. They planned to stay for an entire week so they could enjoy the privilege of partaking of the sacrament the following Sunday and then hoped to set out on the return trip carrying boxes filled with copies of the Book of Mormon on their heads to give to the people of their village.
The missionary testified how touched she was by the sense of wonder these brethren displayed and by their wholehearted sacrifices to obtain things that for her had always been readily available.
She wondered: “If I got up one Sunday morning in Arizona and found that my car wasn’t working, would I walk to my church only a few blocks away from home? Or would I just stay home because it was too far or because it was raining?” These are good questions for all of us to consider.
Finally, I invite you to seek and cherish the companionship of the Holy Ghost. Most wonders of the gospel cannot be perceived by our natural senses. They are the things that the “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, … the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”
When we have the Spirit with us, our spiritual senses are sharpened and our memory is kindled so we cannot forget the miracles and signs we have witnessed. That may be why, knowing Jesus was about to leave them, His Nephite disciples prayed fervently “for that which they most desired; and they desired that the Holy Ghost should be given unto them.”
Although they had seen the Savior with their own eyes and had touched His wounds with their own hands, they knew that their testimonies might dwindle without being constantly renewed by the power of the Spirit of God. My brothers and sisters, never do anything to risk the loss of this precious and marvelous gift—the companionship of the Holy Ghost. Seek it through fervent prayer and righteous living.
I testify that the work in which we are engaged is “a marvelous work and a wonder.” As we follow Jesus Christ, God bears witness to us “with signs and wonders, and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to his own will.” On this special day, I bear witness that the wonders and marvels of the gospel are anchored in the greatest of all of God’s gifts—the Savior’s Atonement. This is the perfect gift of love that the Father and the Son, united in purpose, have offered to each one of us. With you, “I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me. … Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!”
That we may always have eyes that see, ears that hear, and hearts that perceive the wonders of this marvelous gospel is my prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

It was April 1992—summer in the Philippines. Our family was spending a vacation at a beach resort in Bagac, on the Bataan Peninsula. As soon as we arrived, my brothers and sisters ran down to the beach and jumped into the ocean. My parents went to look for a cottage to rent.
Confined to a wheelchair, I waited in the shade of some coconut palms, feeling the cool breeze caress my skin. I inhaled deeply and felt my face break into a grin. I turned my gaze to the seemingly endless sea and watched the sun blazing in the sky, a brilliant ball of fire.
On the beach, people were enjoying the warm sand; their laughter was audible even from a distance. In the water, swimmers were engaged in all kinds of activities. I watched my younger brothers practice their strokes. Elsewhere, some young people were riding jet skis or propelling paddle boats.
I thought, How lucky these people are to have the freedom to fully enjoy the beauties of the earth!
And then a wave of self-pity washed over me. I could not do the same. I will live all my life in a wheelchair. A feeling of gloom settled on me. I felt as though an actual force was trying to destroy my faith in Heavenly Father.
I began to pray. I prayed with all the fervor of my soul for this feeling of depression to leave. Into my mind came words I had read in the Bible. At some happy day in the future, it said, “the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart [deer], and the tongue of the dumb sing” (Isa. 35:5–6). A familiar yearning welled up deep inside me. My fondest desire is to walk, but doing so is beyond my abilities.
I was startled from my thoughts by the laughter of young children. They were filled with the excitement of discovery as they searched the wet sand for seashells. Suddenly my spirits lifted, and peace filled my heart. Someday I would walk. Someday I would even “leap as an hart.” In the meantime, my physical disabilities did not prevent me from feasting my senses on the beauties of the earth, pondering my blessings, and praising the Lord for them. Bowing my head, I uttered a silent prayer of thanks for the privileges I enjoy.

As he was growing up, Douglas L. Callister often accompanied his father and grandfather as they fulfilled Church assignments such as visiting members, presiding at meetings, or speaking at firesides. “They wanted their posterity to see them in the context of honoring the priesthood,” says Elder Callister, “and as we drove to and from their assignments, they would always share their experience and testimony with me.”
That caring tutelage has played an important role in preparing Elder Callister to serve in the Second Quorum of the Seventy. “A life-altering experience for me,” says Elder Callister, “was that training that came from those generations of family members who were willing to teach me.” Elder Callister continues to teach his own posterity just as his own father and grandfather taught him.

“No. Mine!” Eli said loudly and pushed his little fist into my shoulder, hard. “Susie is my bear,” I shouted back. “Grandma gave her to me for my birthday!” I turned away from Eli so he could not grab the bear from me. Then I yelled for Mom.
“Susie, mine! No Hannah!” Eli told Mom with a frown.
“Hannah, I know Susie is your bear,” Mom said. “But Eli doesn’t understand. Could you at least let him hold her today, since it’s his birthday?”
That didn’t sound fair to me. When Susie was new, Eli was just a baby. I let him carry her around and sleep with her in his bed. Pretty soon Eli thought that Susie was his own special bear. He wouldn’t share her with me anymore—not ever.
“Mom, Eli is two years old now,” I said. “He should know how to take turns.”
“We’re going to have to think about this,” Mom said. Then she put Susie up high in the closet so we wouldn’t keep fighting.
That afternoon, when Eli was taking his nap, Mom and I had a good idea. “This means that when you want to play with Susie, you will have to ask Eli,” Mom reminded me.
“I know,” I said. Mom gave me a hug. Then we went down to the basement and found some tissue paper and a bag. Mom let me decorate the bag with markers. “This is going to be so fun for Eli,” I said.
When Eli woke up, we brought him into the living room. “Hannah has a special surprise for you, Eli,” Mom said.
I handed him the bag and he pulled out the tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag he found Susie.
“Susie. Hannah. Me!” Eli said. He smiled and laughed and did his happy dance. He hugged Susie again and again.
“Susie is your bear now,” I told him. “Happy birthday.”
That night Mom and I watched Eli fall asleep with Susie in his arms. Mom squeezed my hand and I felt warm inside. But I wondered how long it would be until Eli would let me play with Susie again.

My younger brother was going on his first date. I had called home from college to talk to Mom, and she told me that Chris was preparing to leave soon. I insisted on talking to him, and Chris and I visited for a few minutes. I told him I loved him and was very proud of him, and we said good-bye.
That was the last time I spoke to my brother. Less than two weeks later, I received the news that Chris had died in a car accident, and I needed to come home.
A flood of memories washed over me as I made the long journey of more than 3,200 kilometers home.
As I settled into my seat on the airplane, I remembered fondly the day we picked up my mother and baby Chris from the hospital. I was only three and a half years old, but I remember that moment clearly. Mom had wrapped him in a yellow blanket she had made for him, and he was with her in the front seat as we drove home in our old station wagon. I was sitting in the backseat with the rest of my family, but I couldn’t help leaning as far forward as I could to see my new baby brother.
I remembered the time one of my older brothers and I wrapped five-year-old Chris in bathroom tissue until he looked like an Egyptian mummy. His blond hair was barely visible through the white tissue covering his entire body.
About a year later, Chris fell and broke his arm because he was following my lead and jumping on and off Mom and Dad’s bed. Mom quickly let me know that it was my fault, too, for being such a bad example. I felt so bad for him that I decided right then that I would try to be a better sister to my younger brother. And I was. Chris really looked up to me, Mom said.
Before long I was looking up to him. When I came home for Christmas after my first semester at college, I was surprised to find that Chris had outgrown me by a couple of inches. I looked up to him, but not just because of his height. Chris had turned into an impressive young man.
He often shared his spiritual experiences with me. One night when I was in high school, Chris and I were outside on the driveway looking at the stars. It was a beautiful, clear night, and we were reluctant to go inside. We started to talk about the beauty of the earth and all of God’s creations. Chris bore his testimony to me, and I remember thinking how proud I was of him.
Chris and I were friends, and although we didn’t always get along, we were always glad to be brother and sister. I took my job as older sister very seriously. I taught him how to dance, how to drive a car with a manual transmission, and how to be a gentleman. Every year after I got my driver’s license, we would go shopping for Christmas gifts together and talk about anything and everything.
As the memories flooded my mind, I wished with all my heart that I could have had one more chance to hug my little brother and tell him how much I loved him. Tears streamed down my face as I heard an answer to my heartfelt desire. “You will,” a clear voice spoke comfort to my mind. “You will.”
I knew it would be a long time before I would see Chris again, but the sweet peace of the Comforter had now filled me with hope. I knew with certainty that Chris’s spirit was not dead. Because of the Savior, I could someday see Chris again. Jesus Christ died for us that we might live, that through our faithfulness we might return to our Heavenly Father, that families might be together forever. I could be with my younger brother again because Jesus Christ had provided the way!
As I stared out the airplane window at the clouds and sky, I prayed that both Chris and the Savior would know how much I missed and loved them. And I prayed for strength to do what is right so that I might be able to be with them again.
When the airplane landed for refueling, I wiped away my tears. I knew that the rest of the journey home to my family would be difficult, but with the Lord’s help, I would make it. And I know, too, that with the Savior’s help I can make it home to my Father in Heaven to be with my family and loved ones there.

I remember a prisoner whom I talked to on one occasion. This prisoner was deeply embarrassed about being in prison. I talked to him about repentance; and, not knowing what he was there for, I said, “My good brother, are you in here for stealing?”
“Oh, no. My mother taught me not to steal. I wouldn’t steal anything from anybody. I am in here for forgery.” Well, rationalization can do some odd things to people.

History provides us a vivid example of the importance of the Lord’s servants being in tune with the Spirit. The young Prophet Joseph Smith could not translate when he was angry or upset.
David Whitmer recalled: “One morning when he was getting ready to continue the translation, something went wrong about the house and he was put out about it. Something that Emma, his wife, had done. Oliver and I went up stairs, and Joseph came up soon after to continue the translation, but he could not do anything. He could not translate a single syllable. He went down stairs, out into the orchard and made supplication to the Lord; was gone about an hour—came back to the house, asked Emma’s forgiveness and then came up stairs where we were and the translation went on all right. He could do nothing save he was humble and faithful.”1

“We’re number one!” shouted the cheerleader at a high school football game. I admired her straight teeth and perfect smile. I watched as she laughed and talked to the girls and flirted with the boys.
“It must be glorious to be her,” I thought, reflecting on my own loneliness. My father’s job required us to move every three to five years, so it was hard for my sister and me to form lasting friendships.
The cheerleader had a reputation for dressing immodestly and going to drinking parties. Watching her, I began to ache for the popularity that I thought she represented. I wanted friends so badly that for one fleeting moment I wondered if I should lower my standards to become like her.
While my sister and I drove home, I was wallowing in self-pity, and I prayed in my heart to Heavenly Father. I asked Him to tell me the secret that would take away my loneliness and insecurity. Although I wasn’t a Church member at this time, I had a strong faith in God.
Immediately came into my mind the idea, “Stop thinking about yourself.”
“That’s the secret?” I thought disappointedly. “How can that help me to become popular?”
Later that week, I read about charity in 1 Corinthians 13. It helped me understand that Heavenly Father was trying to teach me to have charity toward others rather than focus on how they were treating me. I took the characteristics of charity listed there and put them to work. When I did this, I found that my whole school experience changed. Here are some of the valuable things I learned.

In 1915 President Joseph F. Smith asked Church members to have family home evening. My father said we would do what the President asked, and we held home evenings in our parlor.
We were miserable performers as children. We could do all kinds of things together while playing, but for one of us to try to sing a solo before the others was like asking ice cream to stay hard on the kitchen stove. In the beginning, we would laugh and make cute remarks about one another’s performance. But our parents persisted. We sang together. We prayed together. We listened quietly while Mother read Bible and Book of Mormon stories. Father told us stories out of his memory.
Out of those simple meetings in our home came something indescribable. Our love for our parents, brothers, and sisters was enhanced. Our love for the Lord increased. An appreciation for goodness grew in our hearts. I learned that wonderful things came about because our parents followed the counsel of the President of the Church.

I flipped through the pages of the Young Women lesson I was going to give the following Sunday. The General Authority quotes it included were important and applicable, but they were old.
For example, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was President of the Church when I was baptized. I valued his words, which filled the manual, but I worried that the young women wouldn’t connect to the words of leaders they didn’t know.
I prayed for guidance and felt prompted to try something new. I updated some of the stories and included quotes from the most recent general conference, quoting President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). The results were overwhelming. We had a special lesson with a lot of participation. From then on, I used the lesson manual as a guide to prepare my lessons.
Such preparation took extra work. I had to study more, I had to get to know the young women better, and I had to think about the experiences they were having. Then I would look for examples and words from living Church leaders I could use to relate to their lives. I was happy to go the extra mile for the young women because of my love for them.
My leaders eventually noticed what I was doing. I feared they might reprimand me for being rebellious, but they encouraged me to continue.

Of course the gospel brings a sense of peace too, a comfort and reassurance the youth of Huntsville want to share with their friends. So when Amanda and the rest of the youth in her ward wanted to know how to be better missionaries, they called in some experts—the elders serving in their area! And since ward members already take turns inviting the missionaries to dinner, the youth promised to feed their guests before hearing from them.
“It was a lot of fun,” says Jared Mayfield, 13, who craves almost anything associated with cheese and pepperoni. All of the youth helped in making, baking—or at least eating—the pizzas. After dinner, the elders gave advice about how to prepare for a mission and told how they felt when their own calls came. They suggested ways to bring the gospel into everyday conversations and discussed how to tell if people are interested in what you have to say.
But most of all they bore testimony of the Restoration of the gospel and the change it can bring in the lives of those who embrace the truth. And they encouraged the youth to do their part in sharing the gospel right now and in preparing themselves for future missionary service.

I first learned the importance of the First Presidency as a boy growing up in western Canada. When I would go to Grandma and Grandpa Walker’s home, I was greeted in the entry by a framed photo of the First Presidency of the Church. I remember it well. It seemed that they stood as sentinels, greeting all who entered.
The beautiful color photo was of President George Albert Smith, with his counselors J. Reuben Clark Jr. and David O. McKay. The photo showed them standing together by a large world globe. I loved the picture. They were such handsome and dignified men; I knew them as the prophet of God and his counselors.
That picture hanging in the front foyer of my grandparents’ home had a powerful influence on me. I lived in the small prairie town of Raymond, where my grandparents lived. I could walk to their home, so I visited often. I remember frequently standing quietly alone in the foyer, reverently looking at that picture of the First Presidency. I remember thinking about why my grandparents thought it was so important to honor the First Presidency and have that picture prominently displayed in their home. All who entered would see it. Perhaps most importantly, for their children and grandchildren it was a constant reminder of what was deeply important in the hearts and lives of Grandma and Grandpa.
Years later I concluded that displaying the picture of the First Presidency was equivalent to Joshua’s beautiful expression: “Choose you this day whom ye will serve; … as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15).
All who entered the home of James and Fannye Walker knew that written upon their hearts were the words “As for us and our house, we will serve the Lord.” As their grandson, I knew it, and I have never forgotten it.