Gospel Story Finder

“Stick close to me, girls. I don’t want to lose you!” Lexie said. Stacey and her friend Amanda hurried a little faster to keep up.
Stacey had been so excited when Amanda invited her to come shopping with her older sister, Lexie. Stacey wished that she could be as stylish as Lexie—Lexie always dressed like she just walked out of a fashion magazine. Stacey had saved up money so she could buy a shirt on their shopping trip. Maybe Lexie would help her pick out something really cute.
The girls walked into a clothing store and began browsing a wall lined with colorful shirts. Stacey ran her hand across the racks, feeling the soft fabrics.
“You should try that one on,” Lexie said, pointing to one of the shirts. “It would look way cute on you.”
“Really?” Stacey asked. She felt flattered that Lexie was paying attention to her. The shirt was orange—her favorite color—and it was the right price. There was only one problem.
“She can’t get that one, Lexie,” Amanda said. “It has spaghetti straps, and it’s really short.”
Stacey felt her heart drop. How could she be cool like Lexie now?
Lexie casually waved her hand. “It’s not a big deal. I mean, that modesty rule only really matters when you’re older.”
Stacey began to feel a little hopeful. Maybe Lexie was right. It wasn’t like it was that immodest. Besides, the wall of shirts she stood in front of had only a few modest shirts, and none of them were very cute. It would take more time to find a shirt that looked good and had sleeves.
Stacey was about to pick up the shirt to try it on when she noticed she felt uncomfortable. She knew what she was about to do wasn’t right and that the Holy Ghost was warning her not to do it. She knew that dressing modestly was an important way of respecting her body and being a good example.
She looked at Lexie and swallowed. She wanted to be as cool as Lexie was, but after taking one look at Amanda, Stacey knew what she had to do.
“I actually don’t want to wear this,” she said, turning away from the shirt.
Lexie shrugged. “OK, that’s fine. Hey, let’s look at that section over there.”
As Lexie walked away, Amanda looked at Stacey and smiled. “I’m glad you decided not to try on that shirt, Stacey.”
“I wanted to,” Stacey confessed. “But I knew it wasn’t right.”
“Well, come on,” Amanda said. “Let’s go find you a shirt that is right.”
They went to join Lexie, leaving the orange shirt hanging on the wall.

I move from these three doctrinal ideas to a personal story that illustrates a time in my life when I learned of the inadequacy of my spiritual mindedness.

I was a freshman at Brigham Young University. My friend Ken and I had built a simple two-man kayak out of plywood ribs and covered it with canvas that we then waterproofed. It was a crude affair, but it worked, and it matched our level of knowledge concerning river running. We didn't know much.

We decided that spring to run the Provo River from the mouth of the canyon to Utah Lake. As we put in, there seemed to be plenty of water, maybe too much, I thought , but, of course, didn't want to say so. A ways down the river, we hit a shallow spot. Our kayak hung up on the bottom. We turned sideways and started to roll. We did manage to get out, but in the process I dropped my paddle. It floated away, and we never found it.

We were stuck. I held the boat against the powerful cold current about knee deep while Ken, using his paddle to steady himself explored all around us to see if we could get to shore.

As he explored down stream, I though it would be great fun and a way to relive tension to pick a rock from the bottom on the river with the hand that wasn't holding the kayak, throw it at Ken and splash him. After the first splash he tried to swing and hit the water back at me with the paddle. I pick up another rock and since he was in a baseball like swinging stance, I threw him a strike. He swung and hit it. The rock didn't go anywhere, but half the paddle did. We had broken the other paddle. We were, literally, up the creek without a paddle.

To our credit perhaps, we bowed in prayer and offered a petition for help. We were stuck, and we knew it.

I pause in this narrative to tell you a little about my mental state. I had been in some tight places rock climbing, but not what I would call real trouble. It seemed that every year people drowned in Provo River. The spring run off was very cold and the pressure of its flow against us very strong. We couldn't stand against it long and we were in an out-of-the-way part of the river. Not many people came there. One or both of us could easily fall prey to the power of the river.

I consciously remember saying in my mind, "I know that I should have faith in Jesus Christ. He could help me. Help us get out of here, help us to transform our fear into action. And I don't have that kind of relationship with him. I lack faith. I have never needed him like I need him now, and I am afraid." It was clear that we were in trouble with the river, but I realized as I never had before that I was in trouble with my spiritual preparedness. I was weighed in the balance of the swift current, and I was found wanting. And I sensed keenly my spiritual inadequacy. I wanted to be able to call upon the powers of heaven and receive comfort and deliverance.

It seemed that we were left alone long enough to get really scared and sense our dependence on Heavenly Father.

A young man came along the road skirting the river, fishing pole in hand. He was puzzled to see us standing in the middle of the river with a kayak but with no paddles. On each end of the kayak we had a rope for tying up; we took the one off and tied it to the other rope. The fisherman cast us his line; we hooked the line to the end of the rope. By moving the craft as close as we could toward the shore into the deep, fast water, he could grab the end of the rope. Hanging precariously close to the river, he held on. We held on to the side of the boat, and the current swung us against the shore where we scrambled up and drew the kayak after us.

I doubt that when that young man, who I think I recall said he was a BYU student, set out fishing that day, he thought about being spiritually minded, but I am glad he came along that road at that time. I believe he was led.

Hi! I’m Hilary, and I’m 11. If you’ve ever been bowling, you know you have to roll a ball down a long lane and try to knock down the pins at the end. You also have to wear funny-looking shoes. When you knock down all the pins at once, you get a strike. But that’s not as easy as it sounds.
The first time I went bowling was for my friend Meg’s birthday a couple of years ago. Meg invited a bunch of girls from Primary and school. I was excited to go, but I was a little nervous too. I always worried about trying new things.
We walked into the bowling alley and heard the loud crash of balls hitting the pins. We all jumped and giggled at the sound.
“OK, girls,” Meg’s mom said. “Go over to the counter and get your bowling shoes.”
Bowling shoes? I didn’t know I would have to wear different shoes. The girls started telling the worker their shoe size, but I shrunk to the back of the group. I had really long feet, and there was no way I could shout out my shoe size like everyone else. I was afraid they’d laugh and make fun of my big feet. I walked back to our lanes and sat down.
“Don’t you want to bowl, Hilary?” Meg’s mom asked.
“I think I’ll just watch for now,” I said.
The girls came back and plopped down to put their shoes on. Everyone laughed and talked, and I smiled with them. Maybe I would get some shoes later.
But as I watched my friends bowl, I started worrying about how I would look. I was taller than my friends, and I had long arms and legs. I wasn’t very good at sports, either. I thought I looked like an off-balance windmill when I tried to do sporty things—awkward!
“Hey, Hilary,” Meg called. “Do you want to try with my ball? You can take off your shoes and bowl in your socks.”
I really wanted to, but I was too worried about everything. (I told you I worried a lot!)
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’m having fun watching.”
It wasn’t a lie. I was having fun watching my friends. But I knew I would be having a lot more fun if I could just stop worrying and bowl with them. So I sat watching by myself.
After that day, I promised myself that I would be braver about trying new things. A few months later I was back at the bowling alley again. It was McCall’s birthday this time. I blushed when I had to say my shoe size out loud, but then I looked around and saw that no one had even noticed. That made me feel a little better.
When it was my turn, I made myself pick up a bowling ball. Then I shuffled slowly up to the lane. I felt like everyone was watching me as I tried to make my body move as gracefully as possible. The ball rolled down the lane a little crooked and a little slow, but it hit three pins!
“Nice job!” Erin said.
McCall gave me a high five. I grinned so hard I thought my cheeks would break. This wasn’t so bad after all! I kept bowling and had a great time for the rest of the party.
Now I try not to worry about what I’ll look like or what other people will think when I try new things. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel awkward, but take my advice—don’t let worrying or being scared stop you from doing something new. There’s a good chance you’ll love it! I’m still not a very good bowler, but I have fun learning. Maybe someday I’ll even get a strike!

This new position that I play on the Lord’s team reminds me of a selection I read a short time ago that I would like to share with you. It comes from Sports Illustrated (5 April 1971). Before going into college baseball coaching, Dick Schultz, the head coach at the University of Iowa, was a minor league baseball catcher. He once had a manager, so the report goes, who was given to eccentric lineup changes: that is, before each game he would change the lineup, not paying much attention to the positions the players were accustomed to. Schultz tells of a very interesting thing that happened one night. (Perhaps you have heard this.) The manager decided to put a rookie third baseman at first base. Picture this, if you will, in your own mind. This was a position he had never played before. The inevitable happened. The left-handed batter drilled a grounder to the terrified first baseman, who grabbed the ball. Instead of stepping on the base for the out, he reflexively began to throw, quite as if he were playing third base. But halfway through the throwing motion he realized where he was and fell into a series of contortions in an effort to keep from throwing the ball away. The runner was so startled by all of this that he stopped on the baseline. The first baseman finally fired the ball back to home plate, where catcher Schultz made a very startled grab. “I didn’t want the ball,” he said, “so I threw it back to him.” Although the runner had stopped, the first baseman still did not think to step on first. Instead, he did what any good third baseman would do. He cut him off and started a run-down play. The runner, by now as confused as anyone, fell into the act as the first baseman and Schultz began throwing the ball back and forth. Finally the runner made his break back to his last base, which happened to be home plate. Schultz grabbed the ball, made the tag, and the umpire bellowed, “You’re out.” Well, Schultz had only one question. He turned to the umpire and inquired rather innocently, “What would you have done if he’d been safe?”

We sometimes get into peculiar situations when we play a new position.

Latter-day Saint Charities, a humanitarian arm of the Church, worked with another charitable organization to help restore a fishing boat that returned 27 fishermen in Banda Aceh, Indonesia, to the seas, allowing them to provide for their families.
Because of the tsunami in 2004, the fishing boat Bolivia was damaged and sank in the Krueng Aceh River. After the boat had been submerged for two months, the United States Army and the Australian army helped to pull it from the water. There the boat remained untouched for a year.
Latter-day Saint Charities and Austin International Rescue and Relief Operations (AIRO) initiated a restoration project of the large fishing boat. The restoration was completed in November 2006.
Following a short ceremony held at the waterfront, the boat was officially launched.
The original owner of the boat and his spouse perished during the tsunami. Their three children survived and will now receive 50 percent of the profits from the fishing boat.

On a quiet morning last week I left my office in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and walked over to the Sao Paulo Temple site. There was a soft morning mist beginning to clear away. As I walked up the gentle rise in the street onto the site, I noted with great interest and pleasure brush being cleared away and the new pegs recently driven into the ground. These pegs in the ground mark the dimensions of a new temple soon to be erected for the glory of God and the endless blessing of his children in South America. This temple will be different from any other building now standing in South America.
As I stood where the entrance of the temple will be, I recalled how thirty-six years ago my companions and I landed by ship in Santos after twenty-one days at sea and went by train to Sao Paulo. There were other missionaries on the same vessel going to Argentina and Uruguay, which were the two other relatively new missions on the continent.
In all of South America there was but a mere handful of members of the Church, mostly emigrants from Europe, many of whom were converted in Europe. As I stood last week on this site where this new, special, multimillion-dollar building will stand, I recalled how difficult and unpromising the future of the Church appeared in South America thirty-six years ago. In all of our mission we had only three baptisms in one year, despite the conscientious labors of over seventy missionaries. We did not have the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, or the Book of Mormon translated into Portuguese. We held our meetings in rooms that were small and unfit for the lofty message we were trying to teach. We often had to sweep out these rooms before meeting to remove the empty bottles and trash from the revelry of the night before. It was always difficult and often discouraging.
In comparison, last year in South America there were over 8,000 convert baptisms. There are now twenty-two stakes and seventeen missions of the Church with over 152,000 members on that vast continent; and the work has only begun. Our great first generation of South American Regional Representatives and stake and mission presidents are men of affairs, including bankers, businessmen, factory owners, and professional men. They are men of great ability and faith.
I marveled at how through the Spirit of God this has all come about. Surely it is a fulfillment of what Jesus said to his early apostles: “And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 16:19.) Having seen it all from close range, I cannot doubt that this is the work of God.
What has happened in Brazil has also happened in the other countries as well. The day I was at the temple site, President McAllister of the Bolivia La Paz Mission wrote, “We are still amazed at the growth of the Church since we were here before. When we left in 1967 there were fewer than 300 members compared to our current 8,500.” President Bradford, sustained yesterday as a General Authority, writes from Chile, “For as young as the Church is in Chile, I marvel at the strength and ability of many local leaders.” Surely the keys of the kingdom have been given to our present prophet and to the modern apostles, even as these were given by the Savior anciently.
Last week at the temple site, after much brooding and pondering, I stepped farther back to where the inner rooms of the temple will be. The morning mist had now cleared so that in the distance I could see part of the great city of Sao Paulo. I recalled how as a young missionary I presided over the work in that city, with thirteen missionaries and about 300 members. There are now four stakes of the Church and about 100 missionaries laboring in that city. There are also neighboring stakes in Campinas and Santos.
This great progress in South America has come about largely through the sacrifice and dedication of hundreds of missionaries and their families, as well as dedicated mission presidents from the United States and Canada. This is changing. In the Brazil Porto Alegre Mission there are now 136 missionaries of which fifty-eight, or 43 percent, are native-born Brazilians. All of the four mission presidents in Argentina are native South Americans. How can anyone who has seen what I have deny that this is the work of God.
That morning last week I walked farther on the holy templegrounds. I tried to establish from the ground pegs where the sealings will be. Already it seems to be hallowed ground. In my mind’s eye I could see young couples clean and pure, hand in hand, and with smiles on their faces, many with brown skins handsomely contrasting their white clothing, who will come to this sacred spot to be married under the power of the holy priesthood of God for time and for all eternity. It was easy to imagine the great joy of whole families who will come to that spot to be sealed and bound together under the same authority into an eternal family association through their worthiness. They will come from elevated passes and high plains of the Andes; they will come from the sea coast; they will come from the great cities. On that spot the doors will also be opened to the kingdom for those who died without an opportunity to accept the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ on this earth. In addition, worthy members will receive the ordinances relating to mankind’s eternal journey and to the endless potential and development of each human soul. This has been provided by a gracious, just, and loving Father for all of mankind, and permits those who have participated in these enlightening ordinances to raise themselves to their highest potential in this life and for all eternity, with an endless association with their families in the presence of their Creator.
With this in mind and with eyes wet with tears, I remembered being told by one of our great South American stake presidents that when he comes to general conference in Salt Lake, he and his wife will have to decide which two of their five children they will bring to be sealed to them in the Salt Lake Temple. It takes forty-three soles to make one dollar. Now their plans have changed. They are planning to take all five children to the first temple in South America. His brother stake president in the same city has never had the privilege of being endowed and of being sealed to his wife and family in a temple.
That morning a week ago on the Sao Paulo Temple site, I walked farther back, still inside of where the temple will be. Having looked at these plans many times, I knew where I was. I have had goose pimples and felt tears almost every time I have looked at those plans. I was now standing where the baptistry will be. Thanks to President Kimball, as in all other temples since Nauvoo it will be a font borne on the back of twelve lifelike oxen representing the twelve tribes of Israel. Here will come the children, full of the mirth and excitement of youth, to perform the sacred ordinances of vicarious baptism for those who have not had that opportunity in their lifetime. It was easy to imagine the pleasure of those coming to be baptized and the great joy of those who have waited so long for this saving ordinance in their eternal journey. I was grateful that Jesus had said to his apostles: “And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” Contemplating all of this I could not doubt that this is the work of God upon the earth.
It was now time to walk on the outside of the pegs in the ground marking the dimensions of that long-awaited temple. I tried to imagine how high the front spire will be. At the same time I tried to contemplate the time when the short, stoic Indians from Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, and Paraguay will also come to that spot and gaze up at the same spire. I wondered if some of the men might not admire the fine craftsmanship in the building and compare it with the quality of the workmanship in the walls of the sacred buildings of their forbears, still standing in Cuzco, and Machu Picchu, and many other places in South America. They had their temples also.
These descendants of the Lamanites and others are people with a great past, and with the enlightening power of the gospel of Jesus Christ, they are people with a great future. One of them was sustained yesterday as a General Authority of this church. Recently there were over 8,000 of them assembled in the Plaza de Armas in Cuzco, Peru, to hear the Lamanite Generation from Brigham Young University. Their day is coming soon.
What does this new temple soon to be built in South America mean to the people there? It means great and endless blessings. It also means great sacrifice. President Kimball said recently in Tokyo as he announced the building of the first temple in the Far East, “No temple has ever yet been built that did not require sacrifice and hard work.” (Unpublished, untitled talk delivered by President Kimball, Aug. 9, 1975, p. 12) It takes many pesos, escudos, soles, and cruzeiros, to make one dollar. For instance, last month the faithful members in Chile raised 1,902,178 escudos toward the construction of the Sao Paulo Temple, which is $387.90.
The Spirit of God has been distilled and has rested mightily upon the countries in South America since the time of my youth when missionary work there was so difficult. How does the work of God go there now? Problems—there are many; challenges—they are great, but the progress is almost unbelievable. What I have said about South America can be said of many other parts of the whole world. This is a great worldwide Church, and so far we have only seen the beginning. Having seen what I have seen in South America, I cannot deny that this is the work of God. I invite any who may have doubts, but who are sincere and honest in heart, to inquire further as to what is the generating force behind this great movement. It is the power of love—the love of God, the love of family, and the love of our fellowmen. And because Jesus has again given the keys of the kingdom to a living prophet and modern apostles, this love of family and others can be as eternal as the human soul. Said Jesus to his apostles of old: “And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” (Matt. 16:19.)
I testify that it is by these same keys and these same powers that this marvelous work goes forward throughout all of the earth, in the sacred name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Elder Stanley Gareld Ellis knew that no one could prove the existence of God through scientific means, but at Harvard University he learned that he could prove God by testing His promises. Halfway through his freshman year, he ran out of money and secured a job to help pay his expenses. Although he doubted that he could pay tithing and still cover all of his costs, he decided to “prove” the Lord (see Malachi 3:10).
“I paid my tithing first, and a miracle happened,” said Elder Ellis, recently called from the Second Quorum of the Seventy to the First Quorum. “I made it to the next paycheck. And that happened every two weeks for the entire semester. By proving the Lord, I solidified my testimony that He is real and that He keeps His promises.”

Recently I read the true account of a dramatic manifestation concerning these promises. A faithful member of the Church, John A. Larsen, served during World War II in the United States Coast Guard on the ship USS Cambria. During a battle in the Philippines, word came of an approaching squadron of bombers and kamikaze fighter planes. Orders were given for immediate evacuation. Since the USS Cambria was already gone, John and three companions gathered their gear and hurried to the beach, hoping for a lift out to one of the departing ships. Fortunately, a landing craft picked them up and sped toward the last ship leaving the bay. The men on that departing ship, in an effort to evacuate as quickly as possible, were busy on deck and had time only to throw ropes to the four men, that they might hopefully be able to climb to the deck.
John, with a heavy radio strapped to his back, found himself dangling at the end of a 40-foot (12 m) rope, at the side of a ship headed out to the open sea. He began pulling himself up, hand over hand, knowing that if he lost his grip, he would almost certainly perish. After climbing only a third of the way, he felt his arms burning with pain. He had become so weak that he felt he could no longer hold on.
With his strength depleted, as he grimly contemplated his fate, John silently cried unto God, telling Him that he had always kept the Word of Wisdom and had lived a clean life—and he now desperately needed the promised blessings.
John later said that as he finished his prayer, he felt a great surge of strength. He began climbing once again and fairly flew up the rope. When he reached the deck, his breathing was normal and not the least bit labored. The blessings of added health and stamina promised in the Word of Wisdom had been his. He gave thanks to his Heavenly Father then, and throughout the remainder of his life, for the answer to his desperate prayer for help.

Some years ago I attended one of our worship services in Toronto, Canada. A 14-year-old girl was the speaker. She said that she had been discussing religion with one of her friends at school. Her friend said to her, “What religion do you belong to?”
She replied, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormons.”
Her friend replied, “I know that church, and I know it’s not true.”
“How do you know?” came the reply.
“Because,” said her friend, “I have researched it.”
“Have you read the Book of Mormon?”
“No,” came the answer. “I haven’t.”
Then this sweet young girl responded, “Then you haven’t researched my church, because I have read every page of the Book of Mormon and I know it’s true.”

While serving as Secretary of Agriculture of the United States in the Cabinet of President Dwight D. Eisenhower, I was invited to give the keynote address at the annual convention of the World Food and Agriculture Organization at Rome, Italy. Between sixty and seventy nations were represented at the great international conference.
Following the morning session, which included the address, an impressive luncheon was given in my honor in the International Banquet Hall, which was decorated with flags of many nations.
The customary cocktail hour preceded the luncheon. I noticed as the men held glasses in their hands that there was apparently no liquor being served but only soft drinks and fruit juices. I mentioned this to my host, Dr. Sen of India, and said, “Surely many of these men are used to their liquor, which is customary during the cocktail hour.” He said, “No, Mr. Secretary, today we honor you and respect your standards.”
Following the period of fellowship, we took our places at the banquet table. Here I was even more surprised to find that there was no coffee being served but again only soft drinks and fruit juices. I said to Dr. Sen, “Surely the men attending the luncheon expect to have their usual coffee.” He smiled very graciously and said, “No. Mr. Secretary, I am the host. You are the honored guest, and at this luncheon we honor you and respect your standards.”
And so it was at a luncheon attended by distinguished leaders from many nations. No member of the Church will ever have cause to be embarrassed by real men or women because of his or her standards. Again, it is rewarding to maintain the standards of the Church.

While my dear wife and I were serving as mission leaders in Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar, we witnessed firsthand the power of God that comes to those who make and keep sacred covenants in the temple. The Temple Patron Assistance Fund made it possible for many Saints in these three countries to attend the temple after doing all they could through personal sacrifice and preparation. I recall meeting a group of 20 faithful Saints from Laos at an airport in Bangkok, Thailand, to help them transfer to another airport in Bangkok to catch their flight to Hong Kong. These members were brimming with excitement to finally be traveling to the house of the Lord.

When we met these good Saints upon their return, the added gospel maturity and associated power resulting from receiving their temple endowment and entering into covenants with God were evident. These Saints clearly went forth from the temple “armed with [His] power.” This power to do more than they could do themselves gave them strength to endure the challenges of Church membership in their home country and to go forth bearing “exceedingly great and glorious tidings, in truth,” as they continue building the Lord’s kingdom in Laos.

I have recently been given the challenge of teaching the teenagers in combined courses 17 and 18 in the Sunday School. The other day as I walked past my home business office, my eyes were drawn like a magnet to the January-February 1982 New Era atop my desk. I let myself be interrupted from what I was doing that Saturday morning and settled myself in a comfortable chair with the New Era.
Perhaps it’s a good thing that Feedback appears in the very front of this choice, choice magazine. I carefully read the contents of each letter. As my mind dwelled on the contents of Sister Lesley Burton’s letter, the words I was intended to find sprang from the printed page: “How important it is to prepare ourselves spiritually for the tests of life.” My theme sign for weekly use with my Sunday School class throughout the year will read “Prepare yourself spiritually for the tests of life.”
When I read Sister Burton’s words, I knew through the promptings of the Holy Ghost that I had discovered just what I needed for my teaching efforts. Needless to say, I shall make time to continue reading all the contents of this New Era in the very near future.
Sue H. BaileyOrangewood, California

Marcela Endrek, a native of Córdoba, Argentina, was sick and sad. It weighed heavily on her. In the midst of feeling there was no way out, she heard a conference talk that spoke of prayer. The thought came directly to her heart to pray earnestly about her troubles.
She began praying regularly for relief. Praying brought her peace and comfort even though her health didn’t improve. In fact, her condition worsened until she could no longer work. Now she had the additional stress of not being able to afford medical expenses.
Out of necessity, she started to investigate how she might cope with her health problems some other way. She felt prompted to focus on changing some eating habits and was surprised at how much it helped. Her recovery was so impressive that she began studying nutrition in depth.
Sometime later, she met a young woman named Evelyn in the same condition as Marcela had been—sick, sad, and desperate for answers. Marcela saw herself in her new friend. She shared some of what she had been learning about food choices and nutrition. She also shared with Evelyn her witness of the power of prayer. She invited Evelyn to pray so that she would also feel God’s love and know that He was aware of her.
A few days later, Marcela was thrilled to see Evelyn again. A change was already apparent physically and spiritually. Evelyn let her know that her life was changing and that she could feel God’s love for her.
From her trials and challenges, Marcela gained both compassion and information she needed to help others.

“Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna to God and the Lamb. Amen, Amen, and Amen.” Louisa was shouting as loudly as she could, but she couldn’t hear herself above the roar of forty thousand other Saints calling out the praises. Most of the Saints were excitedly waving white handkerchiefs; some were dabbing at tears rolling down their cheeks.
Just like Louisa, many of these people had waited their whole lives for this day. The building of the Salt Lake Temple was almost complete!
Families, dressed in their finest clothes, gathered to enjoy the moment. American flags draped the podium, where Joseph F. Smith had given a beautiful prayer. The Saints had watched carefully as President Wilford Woodruff pushed a button at the podium to swing the capstone onto the tallest spire. The capstone was the very last stone to go on the temple.
When the capstone was in place, the outside of the temple was finally finished. The crowd broke into beautiful song. Louisa was so thrilled and full of the Spirit that she had goose bumps.
She was proud of her papa and grandfather, who had spent many long, hard days hauling granite from the mountains to build this temple. She had never seen a more beautiful building.
“Get your handkerchiefs and wraps. It’s time to go,” Mama announced.
“Oh, Papa, please let me stay and watch what they do next,” Louisa pleaded.
“I will stay with you for a while longer, Louisa,” he said.
Most of the Saints left when Mama left, to get ready for their long trips back to their homes in Wyoming, Idaho, and southern Utah.
Louisa was glad that Papa let her stay. Even though she was only eight, she felt older and important. She was proud to have just been baptized into the Church that now had such a beautiful temple.
A few people stayed to fold flags and take down the podium. But Louisa was more interested in watching the workmen go back up onto the temple to place a huge statue of the angel Moroni. It took them a long time to get the large statue to the highest spire. “Do you think the angel Moroni could fall off the temple, Papa?”
“No, honey. The Lord has protected this temple for thirty-nine years. He will protect the angel, too.”
After the workmen finished placing the statue, Papa gathered his coat to leave for home. But Louisa saw a few people making their way to the corner of the temple. She tugged at Papa’s hand. “Oh, Papa, can we follow them?”
Silently Papa took Louisa’s hand and led her up to the temple. They followed the small group through the side door of the temple and up a corner staircase. At the top of the stairs, they went through a door onto the roof of the temple. Papa helped Louisa onto a wooden platform surrounding the spires. The platform was the scaffolding that the workmen had used when they built the spires. Louisa and Papa steadied themselves against it so that they wouldn’t fall.
Louisa couldn’t believe she was standing above the temple! The sun had just gone down, but it was still light enough to see the whole valley. Louisa could see for miles. She could see the road her family would take tomorrow back to their home in northern Utah. She could see the Tabernacle that was so close to the temple. She could see the mountains where the granite had come from to build the temple. She could see people below, and they looked very tiny.
Louisa grabbed Papa’s arm and hugged it, she was so happy. They inched along the scaffolding until they reached the tallest spire. On top of it was a ball. The top half of this ball was the capstone they had seen President Woodruff place earlier in the day. Standing on top of the ball was the statue of Moroni.
“Papa, I know that this is the Lord’s House, but do you think He would care if I touched the angel Moroni?”
“I think it would be all right.”
“I want to get married here when I’m older, and I want to be able to look up at the angel and remember this day.”
Papa smiled at her, then knelt for Louisa to put her foot into his hands. He lifted her off the scaffolding floor toward the Moroni statue. Louisa reached over the capstone and up as far as she could. She was so excited that she was shaking. She ran her hand across Moroni’s foot. The statue felt warm and smooth.
“Oh, Papa, the temple is wonderful! I’m going to come back after it is dedicated and I am old enough to go inside.”
“That will be another special day, Louisa. Let’s go home now and tell Mama what an exciting time we had here.”
Louisa was true to her promise. Ten years and four days later, on April 10, 1902, she returned to the Salt Lake Temple to marry George Campbell Miller. The ceremony was performed by President Joseph F. Smith. As she left the temple, she looked up at Moroni and remembered that earlier wonderful day with Papa.

Years ago our young family moved into a home on what was then the edge of development in our community, which afforded a view of the mountains to the east. One Monday morning, just as I finished dressing and was ready to rush out the door to work, our six-year-old son, Craig, came bringing his four-year-old brother, Andrew, into the room by the hand. With determination Craig looked up at me and said, “Dad, yesterday in Primary my teacher told us that if you hold the priesthood, you can move mountains. I told Andy this, and he doesn’t believe me. You hold the priesthood, right, Dad?” Then turning his little body and pointing out the window, he looked back at me and said, “See those mountains over there? Show him, Dad!”
What followed was a sweet experience. How grateful I was for young sons who were beginning a lifetime of learning about the priesthood.

As I have pondered how we might best provide such examples, I have thought of an experience I had some years ago while attending a stake conference. During the general session, I observed a young boy sitting with his family on the front row of the stake center. I was seated on the stand. As the meeting progressed, I began to notice that if I crossed one leg over the other, the young boy would do the same thing. If I reversed the motion and crossed the other leg, he would follow suit. I would put my hands in my lap, and he would do the same. I rested my chin in my hand, and he also did so. Whatever I did, he would imitate my actions. This continued until the time approached for me to address the congregation. I decided to put him to the test. I looked squarely at him, certain I had his attention, and then I wiggled my ears. He made a vain attempt to do the same, but I had him! He just couldn’t quite get his ears to wiggle. He turned to his father, who was sitting next to him, and whispered something to him. He pointed to his ears and then to me. As his father looked in my direction, obviously to see my ears wiggle, I sat solemnly with my arms folded, not moving a muscle. The father glanced back skeptically at his son, who looked slightly defeated. He finally gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders.
I have thought about that experience over the years as I’ve contemplated how, particularly when we’re young, we tend to imitate the example of our parents, our leaders, our peers. The prophet Brigham Young said: “We should never permit ourselves to do anything that we are not willing to see our children do. We should set them an example that we wish them to imitate.”
To you who are fathers of boys or who are leaders of boys, I say, strive to be the kind of example the boys need. The father, of course, should be the prime example, and the boy who is blessed with a worthy father is fortunate indeed. Even an exemplary family, however, with diligent and faithful father and mother, can use all the supportive help they can get from good men who genuinely care. There is also the boy who has no father or whose father is not currently providing the type of example needed. For that boy, the Lord has provided a network of helpers within the Church—bishops, advisers, teachers, Scoutmasters, home teachers. When the Lord’s program is in effect and properly working, no young man in the Church should be without the influence of good men in his life.
The effectiveness of an inspired bishop, adviser, or teacher has very little to do with the outward trappings of power or an abundance of this world’s goods. The leaders who have the most influence are usually those who set hearts afire with devotion to the truth, who make obedience to duty seem the essence of manhood, who transform some ordinary routine occurrence so that it becomes a vista where we see the person we aspire to be.
Not to be overlooked—and in fact our primary example—is our Savior, Jesus Christ. His birth was foretold by prophets; angels heralded the announcement of His earthly ministry. He “grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon him.”
Baptized of John in the river known as Jordan, He commenced His official ministry to men. To the sophistry of Satan, Jesus turned His back. To the duty designated by His Father, He turned His face, pledged His heart, and gave His life. And what a sinless, selfless, noble, and divine life it was. Jesus labored. Jesus loved. Jesus served. Jesus testified. What finer example could we strive to emulate? Let us begin now, this very night, to do so. Cast off forever will be the old self and with it defeat, despair, doubt, and disbelief. To a newness of life we come—a life of faith, hope, courage, and joy. No task looms too large; no responsibility weighs too heavily; no duty is a burden. All things become possible.

Melanie Gapiz of the Pasay First Ward, Pasay Philippines Stake, has firsthand knowledge of this principle. The daughter of Elder Ruben G. Gapiz, an Area Authority Seventy, Melanie is a successful freelance producer of television commercials. For several years she worked as head of the production department for a prominent television commercial production company in Manila. In that position she faced a difficult dilemma when she found out some employees were embezzling. “I discovered some irregularities involving some of the employees,” she says. “People were making money unethically within the company.”
She talked with her immediate boss and learned he was part of it. “So I went to the president. He wasn’t involved, but he somehow knew what was going on, and he couldn’t have cared less,” she says. This reaction left Melanie with a dilemma. She could turn her back and pretend the problem did not exist. But she knew if she kept working there, people might think she too was involved. “It was difficult,” she admits, “because I was earning monthly compensation and benefits.” But she knew what she had to do. After counseling with her parents—who reminded her of Church standards but told her it was her decision—she left the company and began working freelance.
“I left on good terms,” she explains. “Actually, when I talked with the president, he told me he admired my principles, but he couldn’t feed his people with principles.” She has never regretted her decision, and the Lord has blessed her in her work.
“I’ve always believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ,” says Sister Gapiz. “The law of tithing has helped me a lot. Fasting and prayer have helped. Every time there’s an important decision to make, I fast and pray about it, and I receive help.”

A few years ago, I became active in the Church again after six months of inactivity. My spiritual thirst was unbelievable, for I was once again on the right path. After just a few months, I felt the desire to serve the Lord as a missionary. I had interviews with my bishop, who helped me prepare. I had to wait to be truly ready, and in the meantime the bishop advised me to tell my parents of my plans.
My parents are members of the Church, but they had been less active for more than nine years. From the day I spoke with them about my desire, the opposition became real. I agreed with my family that if I passed the competitive examination from the school I had been accepted to, they would let me go on a mission in one year.
That year ended up being the most difficult of my life. My mother thought I would forget about my desire to go on a mission. However, after I had attended a few months of school, she realized I was truly preparing for a mission. So she cut off my financial support. It was then that my prayers became great blessings.
My Heavenly Father inspired me to look for a job, which I did. After finding three good openings, I wrote my letters of application and pleaded with the Lord to let me receive at least one positive response, for I had done all that He had commanded me.
A response came only three days later. I was called in for an interview with one of the companies. Following the interview, I got the job that day. The only problem was that I was still not earning enough money to cover all my expenses. After praying to God, I felt inspired to trust Him and not to fear. So I paid my tithing without fear.
A few weeks later my landlord asked to see me. “Most likely to talk about rent,” I thought. What he said was, “You will not need to pay your rent until you finish school!”
I could not believe it. This blessing enabled me to pay for what I needed, and most important, it helped me prepare financially for my mission. Miracles were taking place in my life at just the right time.
I have now completed my mission. I feel such gratitude for the ability to pray to our Father in Heaven. I am so happy to know with a certainty that He lives and He loves His children. If we listen to Him, we will see many miracles in our lives.

While sitting in my police car watching for speeders one afternoon in June 1996, I heard on my radio a report of an argument between a convenience store clerk and some customers. Two junior officers were being sent to the store. I wasn’t seeing many speeders, so I decided to drive to the store to offer help. I felt impressed to drive along a seldom-used road.
Before long I heard on the radio that the first officer to arrive on the scene was Ben. I was concerned because he was a newly hired officer with little experience.
As I continued on the back road, I heard the dispatcher report that the customers at the store were drunk and becoming combative. I was somewhat relieved when I heard that the second officer, Rocky, who was a little more experienced, had arrived at the scene.
Then came a report that the customers, four of them, had just left in a blue compact car. Still driving toward the scene, I heard another police jurisdiction broadcast a description of the car and its occupants and request officers to look for it. Rocky’s voice came on the radio, giving the direction the car was last seen traveling.
Moments later, I saw the car speeding toward me. My heart sank when I heard someone advise that an officer had been assaulted. I guessed that Ben, the rookie officer who was first on the scene, had been attacked.
I quickly turned around and began to follow the car, which then pulled over and stopped as if waiting for me to pass. Believing that the people in the car had just assaulted a police officer, I followed different tactics than I might have otherwise, and all my senses were on alert. I turned on my emergency lights and stopped my car some distance behind the vehicle. After informing the dispatcher that I had the car stopped, I drew my gun and waited for backup. About a minute later Rocky arrived to assist me.
We began to call each person out of the car at gunpoint, one at a time. Rocky interviewed each person. In the meantime our sergeant arrived with an off-duty officer who, it turned out, had been assaulted only verbally by two of the men in the blue car. Ben was uninjured and was still at the store interviewing witnesses.
The four men were arrested. Inside their car was a semiautomatic assault rifle and several boxes of ammunition. Later we discovered that the rifle had been modified to function like a machine gun. We also learned that one of the men arrested was a gang member with a long history of violence, especially against the police.
After our police reports were finished, we conducted a debriefing, during which I recounted the events as I remembered them. I told the others I had heard that the people in the blue car had assaulted a police officer. The room grew quiet for a moment, and then the sergeant said that no one on any of the radio frequencies had said anything about a police officer being assaulted. I looked around the room, and all agreed that no one had said anything about an officer being assaulted. I told them I had definitely heard someone report it.
Ultimately I concluded that the Holy Ghost had spoken to me in such a way that I would listen at a critical time. Had I not heard that an officer had been assaulted, I might have been less cautious—and I might even have lost my life.
I am deeply grateful for the voice of inspiration that put me on alert that day.

Just as his star seemed to be shining brightest at the start of his senior season, Devin began to experience tremendous back pains that persisted for several weeks. Then tragedy struck. While going up for a slam dunk in his first league game, Devin came down hard and grimaced in pain. After some moments of silent concern, he slowly got up. Holding his hands on the small part of his back, he was barely able to leave the floor on his own power.
As I watched him sit on the bench during the remainder of the game, I thought to myself, “All the desire to be a winner and all the ability in the world is no good to a man with a back that cannot bear the stress and strain of competitive basketball.”
After the game I walked with him to the waiting bus. Even though he was in pain, he was happier than I thought he could be. His positive winning spirit left no room for discouragement. He sensed my concern and said, “Pop, don’t worry. I’ll be all right.” But I did worry. Only a father knows how I worried.
After arriving home I retired, but I was not able to sleep. I arose and sat alone in a dark front room, sometimes thinking and sometimes praying.
For the next several days, Devin’s back was in my every prayer and in his own. He asked for and I gave him a father’s blessing. With the faith of a winner and a strong back brace, Devin was again able to play and play and play.