Gospel Story Finder

I remember vividly an experience I had as a small boy. One day while playing with my friends, I accidentally broke a window in a store near our home. As the glass shattered and the security alarm blared, a paralyzing fear filled my heart and mind. I realized immediately I was doomed to spend the remainder of my life in prison. My parents eventually coaxed me out from a hiding place under my bed and helped me to make amends with the store owner. Fortunately, my jail sentence was commuted.
The fear I felt that day was overwhelming and real. You undoubtedly have experienced much greater feelings of dread after learning about a personal health challenge, discovering a family member in difficulty or danger, or observing disturbing world events. In such instances, the distressing emotion of fear arises because of impending danger, uncertainty, or pain and through experiences that are unexpected, sometimes sudden, and likely to produce a negative outcome.

Katie rummaged through the storage box, carefully looking through the crumpled packing paper. She still couldn’t find what she was looking for.
She put everything back in the box and went to find Mom.
Katie had looked behind the piano, under the couch, even in Thomas’s crib. It was lost. She had to tell Mom.
“Mommy, the baby Jesus is lost.”
Katie led Mom to the nativity set in the living room. Joseph and Mary and the shepherds were there. The Wise Men–even a camel and a donkey—were there. All of the figures were gathered around the empty manger.
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?” Mom said.
“Yes, I can’t find Him anywhere. I looked and looked.” The nativity would be ruined without the baby Jesus.
Mom went to the bookshelf. “He isn’t lost,” she said as she reached up and took something from the top shelf.
Katie sighed in relief. “There He is!” she said. “I’ll go put Him in the manger.”
She reached for the figurine, but Mom put it back on the shelf. “This year we’re going to put the baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas morning,” Mom said. “It’s a tradition Dad learned in France.”
“Why? Everyone looks so sad.”
“I don’t know if they’re sad.” Mom said. “To me, it looks more like they’re waiting.”
Katie examined the figures. She could see the empty place in the manger where baby Jesus belonged. Some of the figurines were reaching out to the spot.
“I guess so,” Katie said.
“Remember before Thomas was born how excited you were for him to come?” Mom asked.
Katie smiled at her baby brother, who was playing on a blanket. “Yes, it felt like forever.”
“Did you know that prophets waited for thousands of years for Jesus to come to help us return to live with Heavenly Father?”
Katie remembered seeing a picture in Primary of a prophet writing about the Savior’s birth. “I think so,” she said.
“Prophets like Isaiah thought about and wrote about what the Savior would do when He came,” Mom said. “They spent their whole lives waiting for Him to be born. That’s one of the reasons we set up the nativity like this, to remind us that many people waited a long time for the Savior to come.”
“I would get tired of waiting my whole life,” Katie said, looking at the shepherds who were waiting for Jesus.
“But there’s also another reason we do this,” Mom said.
“What?”
“Do you remember in family home evening when we talked about the Second Coming?”
Katie thought for a minute. “Isn’t that when Jesus comes again?
“That’s right,” Mom said.
“When will that happen?”
“Well, we don’t know. But we’re waiting for Jesus to come, just like the shepherds in the nativity and just like the ancient prophets. That’s the other reason we’re waiting until Christmas to put the baby Jesus in the nativity—to remind us that we’re waiting for Jesus too.”
“Will He come to a manger again?” Katie asked.
“No, He won’t be a baby again. The next time Jesus comes He’ll be resurrected. But the empty manger in the nativity reminds us that just like you’re waiting for Christmas morning, and just like people waited for Jesus to come to earth, now we’re waiting for Him to come back. We didn’t lose the baby Jesus. This is part of the way our family remembers Him.”
“We just need to wait,” Katie said with a smile.
“That’s right,” Mom said.
“While we’re waiting, can we make some sugar cookies?”

Eugene Till, our mission president in Seoul, Korea, and Brent Anderson, one of our Latter-day Saint chaplains, were my companions as we traveled from the demilitarized zone to Pusan to visit our military bases. Meeting after meeting we talked to our servicemen, looked into their faces, shook their hands, and listened to their comments about their homes, their loved ones, and their home wards. Increasingly I began to feel some of the loneliness in their hearts. As I asked, “Are you hearing from your elders quorum? Does your family write often and encourage you to live the principles of the gospel?” the disappointment on their faces—and sometimes a cynical smile—gave me my answer. To the question “Does your bishop know you are here?” the reply was, “I don’t even think he cares. He is too busy to be concerned about me.” Of all those who attended our meetings—can you imagine—only one said he knew his ward leaders did care.
As we drove from base to base, a kaleidoscope of these disappointed faces kept crossing my mind. “Feed the flock of God which is among you,” Peter admonished. (1 Pet. 5:2.) A clear impression came to me that I was witnessing a needless neglect and that I must tell this story. This lack of interest at home for these young men is not the Lord’s plan, not the way he has taught us. Many of us are not responding to the Church direction, not responding to our charge to “[teach] them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” (Matt. 28:20.) This responsibility to teach and to encourage does not cease because they are out of sight; in fact, our interest must be intensified. Our concern is not for the career military Church member who, with his family, adds great strength to local Church units, but for the young men—mostly single, lonely, exposed to the evil enticements and temptations that can be part of military life.
There is a growing number without benefit of a mission or college disappearing into the military. The Selective Service has been discontinued. However, the armed forces are successful in recruiting. Your stake reports indicate we now have more in the military than in the mission field. Nearly 20,000 of your sons—and some daughters—are in the military service. President Kimball is asking for more full-time missionaries. Why shouldn’t parents, bishops, and elders presidents treat these 20,000 in the military as missionaries? You know they are—whether for good or not. You are their Church leaders and should be continually encouraging them. What a glorious opportunity. But you might say, “Oh, there is a difference!” Do you recall a modern prophet saying, “Every member a missionary”? Shouldn’t you give your son in the military this same attention? You have the obligation. Many thrilling missionary stories have involved our men in the military. At a base in Thailand, out of 18 members at our meeting, 11 had recently joined the Church, and two had converted their wives back home. These stories go on and on. Unfortunately, there are two sides.
A chaplain reported: “There is a universal absence of mail from home—from parents, from priesthood leaders. Parents, particularly of inactive young people, do not keep in touch with their sons or daughters.” The chaplain continued, “Nobody seems to care but the Latter-day Saint chaplains and the prostitutes, and, sir, that makes competition pretty tough.”
A number of Latter-day Saint girls are joining the military. Bishops, counsel our young women concerning the grave dangers and pitfalls because of the lack of moral guidance. A Latter-day Saint chaplain responsible for women on a large base said: “They are painfully alone, many struggling with repentance versus the world and desperately needing to feel support from parents and the Church. Otherwise, they find understanding elsewhere.”
Many of the single men are floundering on the cutting edge of sin. They are saying, “Please help me.” There is no hometown moral support that goes unappreciated.
How important is a letter? At a testimony meeting far from home, a young man said: “The devil had me convinced that I was a forgotten soul. Why not sin a little? Then a letter from Mom, one from my bishop, and a letter from our ward’s executive secretary finally caught up with me—one, two, three. I’d prayed for reassurance, but never had I felt such a sense of being important! Three letters to prove it. All in one mail call! I thank God for those few who care.”
Just to know that someone cares is sometimes enough to turn the tide. All too often young people enter military service because they feel unwanted or unloved, and they can become completely demoralized in this new environment when there is little or no encouragement to hold high the standards and goals of their lives. One bishop writing to a young man admitted, “While praying for our servicemen, I suddenly realized my prayers were useless without some action.” Then, in a letter, he expressed his love for this boy and asked, “How can I help you?” The young serviceman, with tears, said, “My bishop cares.”
A Latter-day Saint chaplain, whose office was near the mailroom, reported, “Daily, brokenhearted men and boys poured out their sorrow to me after they had looked again and again in their empty mailboxes. Some, in the depths of their hurt, swore they would never write another letter, and some of them, I’m sad to report, kept that unwise threat and watched their family ties disintegrate. Others would say that ‘no mail’ was proof of ‘no love or concern’ and that they were therefore justified in seeking affection from professional lovers. The old saying ‘We live or die at the mailroom’ never was truer than in the military.”
Another serviceman said, “During my 13 months in Southeast Asia, I heard from my sweetheart every day. During her busy days caring for our five children and attending school, she completed every day by writing me a letter. Think of it! Almost 400 days without a single miss!”
One of your sons, who had received a tape from home, wrote, “I was holding my one-man sacrament meeting as usual—out under a tree—listening to Church tapes. Bruce R. McConkie’s voice was never this interesting back home. I’ve played him 50 times.”
We challenge parents, home teachers, elders quorum presidents, and bishops that from today you show your concern for these young people. Flood them with affection, letters, tapes, cards, packages, birthday and holiday greetings of all types. Give your Young Adults, teenagers, and others in your ward a stimulating project. Sixteen-year-old Debbie Trujillo wrote a serviceman, “Hi. My name is Debbie Trujillo, and I’ve just been baptized in the Church. I don’t know much about you, but our class is doing this project, and I think it’s neat.” The serviceman said, “I hope my reply can be as sweet and uplifting as her letter.”
The Church can be proud of our chaplains, who bring hope and goodness to men of all faiths. After one of our chaplains had helped a member change his life, the man brought to the chaplain’s office a hand-sculptured model of a sheep and said that he felt as if he had been the one sheep for which we had left the ninety-and-nine. The chaplain writes, “I keep this little sheep on my desk as a reminder that in the military when we leave the 99, we always find more than one.”
The Savior’s analogy of the lost sheep vividly portrays the concern he has for all, but especially those that might stray. The Savior’s mission is to try to save all. The shepherd leaves the ninety-and-nine pastured safely and goes into the mountains to seek that one that has strayed. “When he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.” (Luke 15:5–6.) Can’t you somehow feel the Savior’s concern to account for everyone.
He follows this parable with a similar one, “the Lost Coin.” Whereas the sheep had strayed—wandered away—the coin, as the result of carelessness on the part of the woman, is dropped and lost. She sweeps previously unswept corners, even lights a candle. By her diligence it is recovered. “And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one … that repenteth.” (Luke 15:9–10.)
Members of your family can be part of a real “lost battalion” in urgent need of our help. They hunger for what only you can give them. When you don’t supply it, they accept some devastating substitutes.
I pray that as you close the drapes on each day, you will rest peacefully knowing, “The wind still whips the leaves, but the roots are down.” In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Less well known but equally courageous was Reverend Frederick Vining Fisher, pastor of the First Methodist Church in Ogden, Utah. In the early 1900s, Utah and the Church were the objects of considerable and often scurrilous articles in the print media. In 1911, a series of magazine articles attacked the Church for “polygamy, deception, bigotry, and the seeking of political power.” Reverend Fisher felt inclined to respond.

Writing in a New York journal, The Outlook, he wrote that “with a personal knowledge of conditions twenty years ago, now, after some months of personal contact with that Church and its leaders . . . I am at least in as much a position to speak as magazine writers who have spent from two days to a month in the State seeking material to prove a predetermined prejudice.” Writing that “Utah deserves some fair play at the hands of the press,” Reverend Fisher described the Church as “half a million praying, Bible-reading, law-abiding, thrifty, God-fearing men and women. America has no more strong, genuine, devoted Christians than some of the First Presidency, apostles, and leaders of the Mormon Church.”

To be sure, Reverend Fisher differed with the Church on points of doctrine and beliefs. But these differences caused no discord. What Utah needed, concluded Reverend Fisher, “is not a fight on Mormonism, but a common fight of Mormon and Methodist, Protest and Catholic, on sin; not bitterness, but brotherhood; . . . not a chasm between Gentile and Mormon, but a union of the strongest leaders of both types of Christianity on earth” (see Frederick Vining Fisher, “A Methodist Minister’s View of Mormonism,” The Outlook, 29 July 1911, pp. 726–28).

I do not know why Reverend Fisher held such positive views of his Mormon neighbors, but we can be grateful for his courage in countering the articles that criticized Church members and leaders.

The second example is from the life of Willard Bean, a remarkable man who became known as the “fighting parson.” In the spring of 1915, Willard and his new bride, Rebecca, were called by President Joseph F. Smith to serve a mission for “five years or longer” in Palmyra, New York (Vicki Bean Topliff, Willard Bean: “The Fighting Parson” [Huntington Beach, Calif.: n.p., 1989], p. 87; for the account of their life in Palmyra, see pp. 86–131). Their task was to occupy the recently acquired Joseph Smith home and farm and to reestablish the Church in the hostile environment which still existed at the time in Palmyra.
The Beans were rebuffed on every front as they settled into the Smith home. The townspeople would not speak to them or wait on them in their stores. Passersby would pause in front of the home and shout obscenities. Their children were assigned to sit in the back corners of the schoolroom and were shunned by the other children in class.
Willard, who was an accomplished athlete and had been a prize-winning boxer, decided to improve public relations by putting on a boxing exhibition in Palmyra. A ring was set up in an old opera house, and the “fighting parson” challenged all comers to a boxing match.
When the night of the exhibition arrived, the toughest men in Palmyra sat in the first few rows. One by one they entered the ring, only to be carried out again in a matter of seconds! This continued until the seventh challenger was similarly disposed.
Brother Bean’s fighting abilities were more spontaneously employed on another occasion as he walked along the unfriendly streets of Palmyra. A man watering his front lawn one afternoon suddenly turned the hose on Willard and taunted, “I understand you people believe in baptism by immersion.” The spry, athletic Willard reportedly vaulted over the fence separating them and replied, “Yes, and we also believe in the laying on of hands” (Willard Bean: “The Fighting Parson,” p. 14).
Although Brother Bean’s methods were a little unorthodox and definitely not compatible with the current approved missionary program of the Church, they were nonetheless effective. The people of Palmyra began begrudgingly to yield and to accept the Beans as the good people they were. In time, they were invited to participate in local churches and to join the civic organizations of the day. They established a branch of the Church and helped acquire the Hill Cumorah and the Martin Harris and Peter Whitmer farms. The “five years or longer” mission to which the prophet had called them stretched to nearly twenty-five years before it concluded. During that time, the attitude of the people of Palmyra had changed from hostility toward the Beans to toleration, then admiration, and finally to love. The power of good lives is truly great.

I will begin with Ruth May Fox, who was a Young Women general president many years ago. She served in that calling until she was 84 years old. Sister Fox was born in England, and when she was 13, she walked almost every step to the Salt Lake Valley with a group of pioneers. Her mother died when she was a baby, so she spent the first dozen years of her life living with a number of different families. She must have been a difficult child to manage, because her grandmother called her a “bad maid” and refused to take care of her.
Eventually, Ruth married and had 12 children. She shared her firm testimony with her children and taught gospel lessons while she worked beside them, but she admitted that her older children sometimes received harsh discipline because she had a quick temper and she did not always “count [to] ten” when she was provoked. She worked hard to master this weakness and came to be known for her kind heart and service to others.
Sister Fox lived to be 104 years old. In her long life she experienced great joys and difficult trials, and she taught that “life brings some hard lessons. The sturdiest plants are not grown under glass, and strength of character is not derived from the avoidance of problems.”
Last year I climbed Independence Rock in Wyoming to find where Sister Fox had carved her name at age 13 when she was on her journey to the Salt Lake Valley. The weather from the last 140 years has almost erased it, but I was able to just make out “Ruth May 1867.” I wanted to know more about this great leader and disciple of Jesus Christ who worked all her life to improve herself and whose motto was “the Kingdom of God or nothing”!
Sister Fox said that the gospel was her “mantle of protection against temptation, [her] consolation in sorrow, [her] joy and glory throughout all [her] days, and [her] hope of eternal life.” She took as her motto “the Kingdom of God or nothing” because she knew that by embracing the gospel with her whole heart, she could receive the promise the Savior gave to us all: “Whoso repenteth and is baptized in my name shall be filled; and if he endureth to the end, behold, him will I hold guiltless before my Father at that day when I shall stand to judge the world.”

Our daughter, Emily, describes the darkness of an unanswered request for guidance as being in the middle of a room where there is no glimmer of light. She knows there is a light switch, but its whereabouts are a mystery. She is tempted to stay safely rooted where she is, but choosing safety means never finding the light. So she moves tentatively forward feeling carefully for each step determined to find a wall, because light switches are usually on walls.

I watched Emily apply this metaphor when she neared college graduation; interestingly as she felt her way in the dark, she seemed to develop an internal flashlight whose beam was just bright enough to illuminate her next step. She learned to trust, not just in Heavenly Father, but in her own tuition. This type of strength could not occur if Heavenly Father had laid out her steps in bright LED lights.

A short Japanese man wanders everywhere, offering advice, spotting for tumblers, cheerfully shouting encouragement. He is assistant coach Makoto Sakamoto, himself a former U.S. Olympic gymnast and seven-time U.S. national champion. The team members call him “Mako.”
Mako remembers ten years ago when Peter tried out for his youth gymnastic club. He’s trained and taught him ever since. In 1982, when Peter was named gymnast of the year by the U.S. Gymnastics Federation, Mako was named coach of the year.

Sandra was a student in my advanced English class. Several weeks into the year, she hadn’t done any of the homework or projects. She just daydreamed at her desk. She made up excuses for why she hadn’t completed her assignments, and she demonstrated neither the attitude nor the work necessary for success in such a demanding course.
Her counselor and I decided to schedule a conference with Sandra, her father, and some of her other teachers to determine what direction she should take: should she drop her advanced courses and take standard ones instead? Most substantial was the unspoken question weighing on all of our minds: could we find a way to help Sandra succeed?
Believing that Sandra had been given many chances to succeed but instead had chosen to fail, I went into the meeting feeling very discouraged. Secretly I hoped she would decide to drop my class so that I wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. I felt I had done all I could and that it was already too late.
In the meeting, Sandra’s body language revealed that she too doubted her ability to succeed. She stared at the table as I recounted her failure in English class. As her history teacher confirmed that Sandra was failing his class as well, her body slumped lower in her chair and I could see tears streaming down her face.
Mustering compassion, I explained to her and her father that if Sandra wanted to succeed in these challenging courses, she was going to have to change the behavior that had gotten her so deeply into this hole and that it was going to be very difficult.
The counselor then turned to Sandra’s father, a man with little education who seemed uncomfortable in the school setting. The counselor asked him if he had any questions for the teachers. He said he didn’t and thanked us for what we had done for Sandra. But then he said he had something to say to his daughter.
My heart tightened. I had been a part of some parent-teacher conferences where the parents had verbally rebuked their children in front of teachers and counselors, berating them for their laziness, inattentiveness, and lack of motivation. I braced myself to hear it again.
What I heard instead surprised me. Sandra’s humble father turned to his tearful 16-year-old daughter who was weighed down by shame and regret and said to her, “It’s not too late. It’s not too late for you to succeed. It really is not too late.”
I left that meeting grateful for his loving reaction but concerned that he had no idea what it would take for his daughter to pass at this point. It seemed impossible. Word came later that she had decided to drop her history class but not my English class.
Sandra, with motivation to start again, made slow but significant changes. The transformation was not easy—it required daily effort to overcome her bad habits—but she saw the rewards of her efforts as her grade gradually improved.

In a recent general conference message, President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, spoke about the perilous times in the world: “The Apostle Paul wrote to Timothy, ‘This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come’ (2 Timothy 3:1).
“… And so it will become more difficult, not easier, to honor the covenants we must make and keep to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.”1
As I heard these words, I felt anxious. I was already dealing with challenges in my home in Venezuela. So questions like, “How can I stay optimistic when the world is so dark?” and “How can I look forward to a bright future in such a blackened present?” were in my heart at the time.
But President Eyring offered the solution. He quoted Helaman 5:12, which speaks about building our foundation “upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ.”
I have always believed that this scripture was true, but building my foundation on the Savior seemed a lot easier said than done. Nonetheless, as I have drawn closer to Christ, I have seen that everything works for your good when your faith is firm in Him (see Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).
A couple of months ago, I received devastating news from my family. My world seemed to be crumbling in front of me. I felt numb, confused, and so anxious that I even got sick!
I did not understand why we were facing such hardships when I was trying to be faithful. I wondered if I’d done something wrong. The future looked bleak, and I felt abandoned by Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
In the middle of my affliction, I talked to a good friend. He told me something I will never forget: “I think this situation is a good opportunity for you to ponder on your personal relationship with the Lord. No matter what happens, it is up to you to turn to Him for help. If you do, He will provide you with the love and relief you need right now.”
Those words changed my perspective. I was angry and hurt and confused by my circumstances, but I had a choice. No matter what we’re going through, what fears we have, or what difficulties we are facing, Jesus Christ is always right beside us. We have the choice to turn toward Him with faith, not away from Him, in troubling times.
That is how we strengthen our foundation of faith in Him and withstand the hardship in the world. By choosing Him.
As Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “In the midst of this refiner’s fire, rather than get angry with God, get close to God. Call upon the Father in the name of the Son. Walk with Them in the Spirit, day by day. Allow Them over time to manifest Their fidelity to you. Come truly to know Them and truly to know yourself.”2
Christ was waiting for me to turn to Him for help. That didn’t mean He would make all my problems go away or fix everything in my life and family instantly, but He helped me become better, find joy, and become more refined.
And over time, as I sought the Savior through prayer, scripture study, and faith, He helped me forgive my family members and invite joy into my life again, even though some challenges are still not solved.

After high school graduation David couldn’t wait to turn 19 and send in his mission papers. His doctor attached a note verifying he was totally independent.
But it was not to be. Instead of a calling, David’s letter informed him he could not serve a full-time proselyting mission.
“I was crushed,” says David. “I had worked so hard, and it seemed it was all taken away from me in just a matter of seconds.” But David didn’t quit. In an interview at Church headquarters, he was assured there was a mission for him.
One week later he was called to serve a welfare mission at the Deseret Industries (D.I.) in St. George, Utah, while living at home with his parents. David was not prepared for such a call. “To tell the truth, I was disappointed again,” he says. But he kept thinking of the words to a Primary song: “I will go; I will do” (“Nephi’s Courage,” Children’s Songbook, 120–21). He realized the Lord wanted him to serve at Deseret Industries, a Church-owned thrift store and job-training facility. At D.I. David would help those who were working to gain and improve their job skills.
“I look back now and think how foolish I was. I had no clue what a blessing this mission would be,” David says.
Not only has David been blessed, but his sense of humor and positive attitude touched more than 250 people he worked with through D.I.’s self-sufficiency and missionary programs. “Whenever we were having a bad day, we would just come and find Elder Eves,” says Debbie Kelly, a trainee. “When we saw how happy and positive he was, even in a wheelchair, we would ask ourselves, ‘What are we complaining about?’”

Recently I visited two of my sons in California. On Saturday night I was sitting in the car with a sleeping grandchild while they took care of some Church business. While I sat there right in front of the ward, I watched a few people walk into the building. I knew a single-adult fireside would begin in about forty-five minutes, so I assumed these early arrivals were in charge of the meeting. A young man walked in alone, and about ten minutes later he walked back out. He had his hands stuffed in his pants pockets and looked very alone. I called to him, “Hey, are you leaving before the meeting starts?”
He looked quite directly at me and responded, “Does it matter?”
“Well, yes, it does. I know you’ve got some guest speakers, and I think you’d enjoy hearing them,” I said. I knew that two Relief Society representatives would be speaking at that meeting. I encouraged him to stay and listen to them. “Have you ever heard Sister Okazaki or Sister Clark speak?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “And I won’t tonight, either.”
My heart dropped as he walked off. How I wished he could have joined me for a few minutes so I could have learned more of him. How I wished he had felt at home.

Among those who were in dire circumstances on the plains was my wife’s great-grandmother. She was part of the Hunt wagon company.
Today, my wife’s gravesite in the Salt Lake City Cemetery looks down at the gravesite of her great-grandmother, Mary Penfold Goble, who died in the arms of her daughter as she was entering this valley on December 11, 1856. She was buried the next day. She had lost three of her children on that long journey. The feet of a surviving daughter were terribly frozen.

I was living at home and commuting to Brigham Young University every day, but I still didn’t have as much time with my family as I thought I would have. Between school, work, and my Church calling, I rarely found time at home to help around the house, or be with my Mom and my three younger sisters. As a single parent, my mom was constantly finding new and ingenious jobs for us girls to help out around the house. It was her way of keeping on top of things and to get us to work together with “cheerful” attitudes.
One Friday afternoon, after I came home from school completely exhausted, my mother announced that we were all going to bottle at least five jars of tomatoes each before we could do anything else that night. I had already made plans for the evening. Although my mother noticed my annoyance, she quickly told me that all my sisters had plans too, and nobody was getting out of it. Upset glances from my sisters let me know that they were feeling the same way as I was right about then. Knowing that I wasn’t getting out of anything without an ugly scene, I accepted my fate and decided to get to work quickly.
“Hey Sally,” I shouted to my sister across the room, “put on some music, would you? We might as well have some tunes while we resign ourselves to our Friday night doom,” I muttered under my breath. With the music playing, I tied on an apron and seated myself at the kitchen counter. Anger continued to boil as I started peeling the tomatoes. What right did my mom have to tell me I couldn’t see my friends until I had bottled some dumb tomatoes anyway? I was the one who needed to relax after such a crazy school week! The negative thoughts continued coming as I sliced and peeled more tomatoes. The dirty work seemed endless.
Suddenly I heard my sister Katherine start to sing. Out of nowhere she began to belt along with the music and even added her own dance moves as she continued bottling tomatoes. Livvy, the youngest, began giggling and soon joined in. Sally, always one for lighthearted fun, quickly gave up her bad attitude and began to add dance moves of her own. I sat and watched as these girls, whom I loved so much, began laughing and singing together. They acted as if they were having the time of their lives. It occurred to me that I wasn’t spending the quality time with these girls as I should have been. Was I just the older sister with a bad attitude? I suddenly felt an incredible need to be with my sisters more, and to feel the amazing energy they had to offer to our family. It dawned on me that I wasn’t setting the example. I knew that in order for change to happen, I needed to change.
Without another thought, I joined in the chorus. With prune fingers, I began dancing alongside Sally, adding my own harmony to the music. I began laughing and felt the horrible evening of bottling tomatoes suddenly turn into a fun-filled tomato dance party!
Moments later I spotted my mother with a video camera. Even she felt that she needed to document this hilarious moment! I couldn’t believe my sudden change of attitude. I suddenly felt free from my burdens during the week. I was surprised that doing one of my most dreaded chores could be so much fun! It was then that I realized how important family time was and the incredible influence I had on my own family, as well as the influence they had on me. Although I still have my very busy schedule, I have now found that my first priority has become my family. Who knew that bottling tomatoes could teach me so much about life?

My parents investigated the Church in Germany during World War I, even though no missionaries were allowed in the country at that time. My mother first heard about the gospel from a cousin of mine, older than I, who was disowned by her family because she had joined the Church. Father permitted mother to attend meetings, taking my brother and me with her, but he would have nothing to do with Church himself. Then a fellow worker gave him a Book of Mormon and told him about the Church. Father read the book, studied the gospel, and began attending church with us.
When the branch president suggested baptism to my mother, she told him that she and the children were ready, but she wanted to wait for her husband. Father said, “I am ready, too.” But mother told him he wasn’t ready because he still smoked a pipe. Father broke his pipe into three pieces and threw it into the fire. As a jeweler and watchmaker he had been accustomed to working at a high table, smoking a long pipe that reached to the floor, so it really was an effort for him to give it up.
Since baptisms were illegal at the time, we arranged to meet some Saints at a street car depot at night and go to the river for the baptismal ceremony. On the appointed day, I came home from school so ill I could not eat my supper. When the time came to leave, I felt worse, and mother said I should wait and be baptized later. I insisted that I wanted baptism now and would not wait any longer. We rode the street car for about an hour to get to the Chemitz River, then walked through the park to where the baptism would take place.
By the time we got off the street car I was feeling so bad that I could not talk or walk. My father and some of the brethren took turns carrying me. When we arrived, we found a policeman on guard, but he was sitting against a tree, asleep. Barbed wire was strung across the path leading to the river, but some of the brethren held the wire apart while we crept through. We found the river frozen over, but the brethren broke the ice, and then I was asked if I still wanted to be baptized that night. It was about midnight. I nodded, for I still couldn’t talk, and I was the first of eleven people (three children and eight adults) to be baptized. It must have been the impact of the cold water, but when I was immersed, I felt as if a thick shell was being peeled off me. I was able to climb up the embankment by myself and I felt well again. Mother and some sisters helped me dry and dress. Afterward, I sat on a little folding stool to be confirmed.
Following the baptisms, we returned as we had come, along the narrow path and through the barbed wire fence, past the policeman who was still asleep. A big bright moon made the night seem almost day, and as we walked back to the street car depot we sang hymns of praise to our Father in Heaven.
Sometime after the war was over, the missionaries returned to Germany, and one Sunday morning a new missionary from America who couldn’t speak our language came to our home for dinner. My parents spoke some English, since they had lived in Liverpool, England, for four years. In the evening we all went to sacrament meeting, and the new elder was asked to speak. I remember feeling sorry for him, knowing that he knew no German, and I wondered what be would say. He didn’t have time to copy a talk from one of the other elders who had been there awhile.
But he spoke for over an hour. He told the Saints to go to America because another world war would come which would be worse than the one we had just been through. This was a terrible thing to hear, because the suffering of the recent war was still vivid in our memories. On the way home from the meeting I asked my parents what language the missionary spoke. I knew it wasn’t German and I knew it wasn’t English, although I didn’t understand English; yet I understood every word he said. My father said I should never forget that experience for I probably would never hear anything like that again. This elder had spoken in tongues.
From that day my parents spoke of little else but plans for emigrating to America. My father went first, and about a year later he sent for my mother, my brother, and me. My mother was at first denied permission to leave Germany, because she had heart trouble, but she insisted my brother and I go; six months later she was permitted to join us.
Everything the missionary had predicted came to pass. My sister, who did not accept the gospel and who still lives in Germany, told us about the events there that transpired as the elder had prophesied.

During the past two years, Sister Maynes and I have been assigned to serve in the Philippines. We have come across many examples of Filipino families and individuals who understand and keep the covenants they have made with the Lord. Let me share with you an experience that we have had with one of these families.
A few months ago I was assigned to preside at the Talisay Philippines Stake conference. During the Sunday general session, I began my talk by thanking the congregation for their reverence. While speaking, I looked down to my left and saw a very large family sitting a couple of rows back from the front of the chapel. I was impressed to point them out and use them as an example of a family who understood and lived the principle of reverence. The parents were sitting there surrounded by many, many reverent children.
Upon the completion of the meeting, we had the wonderful opportunity to meet the Abasanta family. The more I learned about them, the more I was impressed with the fact that they truly understood what it meant to keep covenants and live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Brother Lani and Sister Irenea Abasanta joined the Church 22 years ago. Together, they have had 17 children. Among the 17 children is one set of triplets. We all know that raising a family is not an easy task anywhere in the world, and the Philippines is no exception. The Abasanta family is a living example that it can be done, and it can be done in the right way.
The successes they have enjoyed raising their children in the Church are made manifest in many ways. A family of 19 sitting reverently through Church meetings is just one example.
Another example is illustrated by how they work hard and how they work together to meet their everyday financial needs. Brother Abasanta works as an electrician. Sister Abasanta, with the help of her daughters, makes and sells jewelry out of their home. Together, they have succeeded in providing the necessities of life for their family.
Even more important than their example in supporting their large family financially is how they teach their children to live the gospel of Jesus Christ. Their regular family home evenings play an essential part in the teaching of their family. Referring to their family home evenings, Brother Abasanta explained, “First we discuss any problems we might have in the family and how we can become more united; then there is a spiritual thought or lesson; then we play games.”
At a recent family home evening, Brother Abasanta used the Liahona magazine as a tool to help him teach his children not to spend so much time watching television but instead to use that time doing something of greater worth, like homework or reading the scriptures. Over the years during family home evenings the children have been taught to practice being reverent. Because their children have been taught to be reverent in their home, it is easier for them to demonstrate reverence at church on Sunday.
Another example of living the gospel and keeping their covenants is the priority they have given in teaching their children the importance of paying an honest and full tithing. Brother Abasanta stated: “We teach our children that the food we have is a direct result of paying tithing. When our kids have their own work, we make sure to tell them that they need to pay their tithing. It’s hard to provide for so many children, but when I pay my tithing faithfully and honestly, it’s not hard at all. We just trust in the Lord 100 percent that if we pay an honest tithing, we’ll be able to eat daily.”
Remember that I mentioned that Brother and Sister Abasanta have 17 children. Now, let me tell you about the triplets. They happen to be all boys. They happen to be 19 years old. Their names are Ammon, Omni, and Omner. Yes, you guessed it. All three are serving the Lord as faithful and hard-working full-time missionaries. Ammon is serving in the Philippines Baguio Mission, Omni is serving in the Philippines Davao Mission, and Omner is serving in the Philippines Manila Mission.
Now I do not want you to get the impression that the Abasanta family is perfect. None of us are perfect. However, by trying their best to live the commandments and keep their covenants, the Abasanta family is able to enjoy the blessings of the Lord in their lives.

I've stood at the bedside with many great teachers of medicine. I was commended by a few and corrected by many. I was deeply influenced during a family medicine rotation many years ago. He was quite possibly the smartest physician I have met. He loved to teach in those few moments between and during patient visits. When we would walk to lunch, during our brief break, he would say something like, "Mike, what should I teach you about today? I think I'll tell you about acid-base balance." He proceeded to explain more about the physiology of acid-base regulation in the body than I had learned--or at least understood--the previous year. And this was all on our walk to the lunch counter. Years later I have forgotten the information but not the impression of his concern for me or his bright teaching.

Illustration by Carolyn Vibbert
I was left half-blind when a truck knocked me off my bike. A little over four years later, during the Christmas season in 2011, I felt prompted to ask a brother I had known in a previous ward for a priesthood blessing. I saw this brother only from time to time, so I didn’t understand why I should ask him. I knew there were other worthy priesthood holders I could ask instead.
In the weeks that followed, the feeling that I needed a blessing became stronger. I was serving as a temple worker in the Frankfurt Germany Temple, so I decided to ask one of the brethren there for a blessing.
After I made this decision, the brother I had been impressed to ask entered the temple. I immediately knew this wasn’t a coincidence—Heavenly Father wanted me to ask this brother specifically. I worked up my courage and asked to talk with him after his session. He agreed.
Later, I explained that I didn’t know why, but I felt I needed a blessing from him. He said he would be happy to help. He invited another brother into the room and then began giving me a blessing. As he finished, I was confused. The blessing was nice, but there was nothing particularly special about it.
Then I opened my eyes.
When I opened my eyes, I could see the whole room almost clearly. I couldn’t believe it! I asked the brother if he knew why he was the one who needed to give me this blessing. His response humbled me.
“I don’t think this blessing was only for you,” he said. “It was for me too. I’m giving my niece a blessing tomorrow because she is getting baptized. Our family is not active in the Church, and she is the first family member to be baptized in almost 20 years. Many in our family will attend the baptism, and I wasn’t sure my faith was strong enough to give the blessing. Now I know I can do it.”
In the days that followed, my vision improved enough that I no longer needed my white cane. I wrapped it and gave it as a Christmas gift to this brother along with a letter. “I know this is not the staff of Moses,” I wrote, “but I hope it reminds you of the priesthood power that you hold.”
Heavenly Father loves us and delights to bless us. This blessing at Christmas not only restored my sight but also gave a humble priesthood holder confidence in his priesthood service.

One Friday night I went to do temple baptisms for the first time. I thought the temple would be a spotless place where I could feel the Spirit. I was not disappointed. When I first arrived, I saw my Papa Skip. He was working in the baptistry that night. He was dressed all in white. White tie, white jacket, white everything!
I was going to be baptized for a special ancestor with a fun name. His name was Abraham Abraham. I had never heard of anyone who had the same first and last names. I felt really good when I was baptized for him. I felt like he was happy to finally have a chance to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Before I was confirmed for Abraham Abraham, Papa Skip talked to me about the importance of being part of the Church. Temples provide opportunities for all of God’s children to become members of His Church. When we’re confirmed, we receive one of the best gifts in the whole world. When we are worthy, we get to have the Spirit with us! This means when we have choices to make, we should listen for the Spirit to help us make wise choices. It means I must listen for the Spirit to lead me instead of letting the world lead me.
I want to live my life so that someday I will get to shake Abraham Abraham’s hand and tell him how happy it made me to help him become a member of the Church.
When I left the temple, my mom asked me my thoughts about the temple. I said, “It was a great experience, and I want to go back again!”

Excited by their newfound religion, Jaanus and his friend Urmas Raavk decided they must spread the gospel. They spoke with at least 50 people on the streets and knocked on 20 doors. They tried to talk like missionaries, explaining the story of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. The missionaries later asked Jaanus, “Why did you do that? Who gave you the authority to act as a missionary?”
“We know from reading in the Bible that everybody must be a missionary,” Jaanus answered. “I already have a strong desire to serve. It is hard to wait until I get a mission call.”
The elders smiled. “In opening this new mission, we need to be very careful and work only through referrals to members’ friends,” they explained. President Steven R. Mecham of the Finland Helsinki East Mission said that this proved to be important in getting the Church accepted by the government. Proselyting needed to be handled carefully, so as not to offend. From then on, Jaanus and Urmas worked with the missionaries.