Gospel Story Finder

We know this because over 30 years later, a Methodist minister, Hiram McKee, who had been Brigham’s friend in Oswego, wrote reminding him of the times when Brigham had been his friend and fellow seeker after truth there in Western New York: “I have not forgotten your advice, counsel, prayers. My confidence was great in you, in view of your deep piety, and faith in God. You was one of my early spiritual friends, and guides.”

Reverend McKee went on to wonder, on the basis of the scandalous reports in Eastern papers he had been reading, “if Brigham enjoyed as much piety now as then, or whether ambition, and love of power, and distinction did not hold some sway in that mind that was once so humble, contrite and devoted. … O, my brother how is it? How sweet was our communion in Old Oswego, how encouraging our prayers, and enlivening our songs we used to sing. … Now Brother Brigham, before the all-seeing God, who in the judgement will judge us, can you lay your hand on your heart and say that your hope of heaven is as good as then?”19

Brigham assured the good Reverend that he was “as honest a seeker after truth as I was during our acquaintance in Oswego.”20 He and Miriam, as a young married couple, had apparently joined with McKee in a little group of independent “seekers,” and may have done so in the other towns where they lived. We know they did with Brigham’s brothers and father when they moved to Mendon in 1829. Phineas Young, who was the leader of the group, described it thus: “We … opened a house for preaching, and commenced teaching the people according to the light we had; a reformation commenced, and we soon had a good society organized, and the Lord blessed our labors.”21

After a few years of marriage, Sandra and I had our third child, a little boy named Stephen who was born just three days before Christmas. When he was born, he could not inflate his lungs. He had a valiant little spirit about him. He fought for life, but the doctors said it wasn’t likely he would live. Our bishop invited the ward to join their prayers with ours for our son.
The greatest gift that special Christmas Eve was being able to give him a blessing. After the blessing, I felt prompted to go to Sandra’s hospital room and tell her Stephen was going to be just fine and that she shouldn’t worry. On Christmas morning, the doctors told us Stephen was going to be OK. They had no idea what had happened. It was a miracle. I’m so grateful for the power of the priesthood. We consider Stephen’s survival to be one of our family’s greatest Christmas gifts.

A father or a bishop or a senior home teaching companion who shows that he trusts a young priesthood holder can change his life. My father was once asked by a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to write a short paper on science and religion. My father was a famous scientist and a faithful priesthood holder. But I can still remember the moment he handed me the paper he had written and said, “Here, before I send this to the Twelve, I want you to read it. You will know if it is right.” He was 32 years older than me and immeasurably more wise and intelligent.

I still am strengthened by that trust from a great father and priesthood man. I knew that his trust was not in me but that God could and would tell me what was true. You seasoned companions can bless a young priesthood holder in preparation whenever you can show him that kind of trust. It will help him trust the gentle feeling of inspiration for himself when it comes as he someday places his hands to seal the blessing to heal a child the doctors say will die. That trust has helped me more than once.

I often looked at the picture of the Oakland Temple hanging from the wall in my room, mostly because I loved to lie on my bed and dream of going there someday with my future companion.
My fiancé had already been through the temple before his mission. Now he and I were preparing to go through together a few days before our wedding.
I know the temple is a holy place, and only worthy members holding temple recommends can enter. I had made an appointment to see my bishop and would also have to see the stake president for a temple interview. I realized, however, that there’s more to an interview than just making the appointment and answering the questions. I had to be prepared and feel worthy. I wanted to be able to tell my bishop and stake president that without a doubt I felt worthy to attend the temple.
How does one go about getting a feeling of worthiness? I felt like I had been living a good life, and I was striving to keep the commandments and follow the counsel of my Church leaders. But I had to be sure I was forgiven of my sins and could therefore worthily enter the temple. In contemplating all these things I decided to set aside a day for fasting and prayer.
At my parents’ farm there are many places for privacy where I could fast and pray undisturbed. I chose a spot on the root cellar, shaded by a large pepper tree, where I would go to my Heavenly Father in study and prayer. I began my fast on Monday. Early Tuesday morning, with scriptures in hand, I went to the tree. I looked forward to some moments of quiet prayer, gospel study, and meditation as I sought an answer from my Father in Heaven. I began reading, and as I did, I would often stop to pray. I felt the Spirit very strongly a few times, but I had not yet approached Heavenly Father with my question of worthiness. I decided to get off the cellar and kneel on the ground.
The sun was coming up and the rays were filtering through the rows of crops. It was beautiful. The light seemed to warm my soul, and I felt the Spirit very strongly. Suddenly, the good feelings went away and I felt confused. I knew I had felt the Spirit, but I had not yet received an answer to my question: Am I worthy to attend the temple? I felt that I was, but I had to be sure.
I continued to pray, but that strong spiritual feeling I had before didn’t come again. I wanted to go back to the house, but I knew I couldn’t leave until I felt good. I decided to continue reading my scriptures. I turned to Doctrine and Covenants 50:34 [D&C 50:34], which says, “He that receiveth of God, let him account it of God; and let him rejoice that he is accounted of God worthy to receive.”
A beautiful and joyful feeling came over me, for I knew I had felt the Spirit, and in that verse it said that if you receive of God, rejoice that you are worthy to receive it! I felt so good as the tears streamed down my face. Finally, I knew I could answer before my Church leaders. But more important, I knew I could answer before my God that I was indeed worthy to enter into his holy house.

Making the extra effort to get an edge over their competition means extra study. One girl was overheard saying, “I studied every minute I could this week in between classes at school.” Since seminary is either held early-mornings or taken by home-study, it’s hard to get together with your team to review. Chris and Brad Hammock of the Noble Ward recruited their mother and sister to give them clues about things they studied in seminary and read in the New Era.
Competition is fun for these students, and, as Lana Lazenby, Norman Second Ward, put it, “It makes everyone study harder.”
The competition, held at the stake center, is split between two rooms. Home-study seminary students first compete in scripture chase while the early-morning students are holding a seminary bowl. The bowl competition consists of three teams of four with substitutes coming in and out between questions at each captain’s discretion. On the table in front of each student is a box with a button and a light. A quick tap on the button sounds a buzzer and lights the light. The first one to hit his button gets to answer the question. If he is wrong, then the buttons are reactivated and the other teams are given a second chance to answer.
The director asks a toss-up question. The team member that pushes the first button must answer the question without any help from team members. If the answer is correct, then the team is given a bonus question and the team may confer before giving the answer.
As each team seemed to gain momentum, the questions and answers flew fast and furious. “What project were the youth of the Bountiful Stake working on in the New Era article entitled ‘Captains of Ten’?” “Who became leader of the Israelites after Moses?” “What was the theme of the message by Elder Thomas Monson in the New Era article called ‘Crisis at the Crossroads’?” “Name the first five books of the Old Testament.” With good-natured groans at answers that just missed the mark and cheers with correct responses, the competition was exciting. After competing for her team, Marcia Garrett, Shawnee Ward, said, “I think this is great. But I read everything that they didn’t ask.” And Sandra Johnson, also of the Shawnee Ward, was plagued by a problem that many experience when under pressure. “With all these questions, my mind went blank.”
One team that did well had prepared. “We were hot,” said Melissa LeBlanc, Noble Ward. “We’ve been practicing on questions for the past few weeks.”
Although Danny Ellis’s Noble Ward team didn’t win the bowl competition, he summed up the feeling of many of the participants. “We got beat,” said Danny, “but we didn’t lose.” There are no losers when students are learning about the gospel.
At the Norman Oklahoma Stake Super Saturdays, competition is good-natured and fun. It’s a chance to review seminary lessons and get to know other members of the stake.

This year marks the 175th anniversary of the arrival of the early pioneers to the Salt Lake Valley, which has caused me to reflect on my ancestors, some of whom walked from Nauvoo to the Salt Lake Valley. I have great-grandparents who walked the plains in their youth. Henry Ballard was 20 years old; Margaret McNeil was 13; and Joseph F. Smith, who later became the sixth President of the Church, was just 9 when he arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.
They faced deprivations of every kind along the trail, such as cold winters, illness, and lack of adequate food and clothing. For instance, when Henry Ballard entered the Salt Lake Valley, he rejoiced in seeing the “Promised Land” but lived in fear that someone might see him because the clothing he was wearing was so worn out that it did not completely cover his body. He hid himself behind bushes all day until after dark. He then went to a house and begged for clothing so that he could continue his journey and locate his parents. He was thankful to God that he had reached his future home in safety.

As the parents of four sons, my husband and I always seek ways to help our children feel the Spirit and gain a testimony. We had a breakthrough in understanding in an unusual way. I was standing in a store when the prompting came.
Our oldest son’s grades in his social studies class were declining. We had talked with him about it, encouraging him to study harder, but there was still no improvement. We had been praying for ideas to help him. One day in a bookstore, I had a strong impression to buy a book from a pile of books that were on sale.
The book was about how each of us has distinct learning styles. Many people are visual learners, meaning they learn best by what they see. These learners often love art and reading. Some learn best aurally. They process information most effectively when they hear it. These people often love music. Finally, some learners are kinesthetic learners. They learn best when there is motion or activity involved. These learners sometimes struggle in school when teachers insist on them sitting still. They learn best when they’re moving around.
There was the answer! Our son was obviously an aural learner—he loved music and talking! We discovered that he was often being pulled out of class for other activities during social studies and was then told by the teacher to go home and read the material. He was struggling because he wasn’t hearing the class discussion. Once we understood this, we encouraged him to read his assigned material aloud and then discuss it with us. His grades shot back up.
But our understanding of learning styles didn’t stop there. We realized as we studied this more and observed our children that the Holy Ghost often teaches our children in the ways they learn best. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that the Spirit talks to us in our language and in ways we can understand. The Holy Ghost adapts His language to be understood by all, even little children. “Our Heavenly Father is always available to us. He adapts to our level of understanding. ‘If He comes to a little child, He will adapt himself to the language and capacity of a little child’ (Joseph Smith, in History of the Church, 3:392).”1
Knowing that the Spirit adapts His communication for our understanding can encourage parents to create opportunities for their children to hear teachings from the Holy Ghost in ways they will understand best. “All thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children” (Isaiah 54:13).
As I mentioned, our oldest son’s primary method of learning was aural. Both he and our third son love music, so in our home we often played beautiful music by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as well as classical music. They felt the Spirit deeply in this environment. We also had many lively discussions regarding the gospel, and this helped them learn truths that were reinforced by the Spirit as they heard them.

How exact is scientific research and exploration? We often think of it as being very precise and correct, yet in the first stages of most new discoveries this is not always the case. A good example is the unusual discovery made by astronomer Charles Kowal of the Hale Observatories on Palomar Mountain in California on October 18, 1977. On that date Mr. Kowal spotted an object on a photograph taken with the 48-inch Schmidt telescope. He determined that the object was orbiting the sun much like the other planets of the solar system.
After alerting other astronomers of his finding, events moved quickly. The very next day Mr. Kowal located the object again on another photograph. Shortly thereafter an astronomer at the University of Arizona found the object in photographs made October 11 and 12, after which a student at the California Institute of Technology photographed the same object November 3 and 4.
A quick calculation of its orbit then helped Mr. Kowal to locate the object on a photograph taken in 1952, while two other scientists identified it on photographs taken in 1943, 1941, 1936, and 1895. Indeed, on the 1941 photograph the object was even singled out and marked with an arrow. However, since it was Mr. Kowal who determined that the object was circling the sun, he was the one who earned the recognition of being its “discoverer.”
But how does this relate to the correctness of scientific discoveries? For one thing, when it was first discovered the object was thought to be circling the sun in an orbit located between Earth and Venus. Later investigations, however, proved it to be located between Saturn and Uranus. The time it takes the object to circle the sun was initially thought to be about nine months, so the object was given the name “Fast-Moving Object Kowal.” Subsequent data showed the correct time to be more like 50 years, so its name had to be changed to “Slow-Moving Object Kowal.” Also, early estimates of its size put its diameter at less than one mile; but now it is believed to have a diameter that may exceed 200 miles.
But to return to Object Kowal, what exactly is it? For various reasons scientists are tending to rule out its being a comet or an asteroid, and it is obviously not a moon of any planet. One possible classification is that of a “planetoid” or small planet. Leaning toward this designation, Mr. Kowal has suggested a more permanent name for his “object.” He proposes to call it “Chiron,” after one of the centaurs of Greek mythology. He also feels that there may be even more such objects in orbit about the sun, and that the classification “Centaurian planets” would be appropriate for all of them.

I’ve always asked a lot of myself, especially in high school. And I often fell short because I tried to accomplish so many things at once to prove that I was good enough. One year I decided to learn ballroom dancing, take music lessons, and join an ensemble. I thought I needed to do as much as I could to develop and perfect my talents. But at a certain point, I had to give everything up because it was all just too much for me to handle. I was so hard on myself. I felt like a failure, and failing was one of my biggest fears.

I know I’m not the only person who struggles with perfectionism. So many of us are trying our best every day and feeling discouraged when we don’t accomplish everything perfectly. But despite our efforts, none of us will ever be completely perfect here on the earth. So how can we strive for perfection when all efforts seem so futile? Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shares an answer: “Be ye therefore perfect—eventually.”1

Striving for perfection is a good thing, but it can become negative if we let it overwhelm us. With everything this life asks of us physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually, it’s important that we don’t burn ourselves out by settling for nothing less than perfection. And it’s even more important to think about what Heavenly Father asks of us. He doesn’t want us to be burnt out from trying to do too much.

The Lord taught in Doctrine and Covenants 10:4, “Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided to enable you to translate; but be diligent unto the end.” We can apply that to our lives. Heavenly Father wants us to be happy, and we will be if we do what He tells us to do in the best way we can. Even if our efforts are not quite perfect yet.

The word perfect originally comes from the Latin word perficere, which breaks down into per- (“completely”) and facere (“do”). So perfection actually means “complete.” And we cannot be complete without Jesus Christ (see Moroni 10:30). I think many of us often think we aren’t good enough. And, well, we aren’t! That is, without Christ we aren’t. As Ammon said: “I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12).

With Jesus Christ, we can always strive to become better, even so much that we will become perfect and complete one day because He will make up for our imperfections. “Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ” (Moroni 10:32).

Over the years I’ve realized I didn’t fully understand and comprehend what the Savior’s Atonement means for and to me. I thought I needed to have a flawless performance here on earth and that I was left alone to figure out how to fulfill this task. But now I know that we are never alone. If we strive to focus on Jesus Christ and keep Him in our hearts and in our minds, our weaknesses will change into strengths—just like how my struggle with perfectionism is changing. I know I’m not perfect. But Christ can help us overcome any weaknesses, sins, challenges, or fears. He understands us and knows how to succor us. I hope we may all enjoy His infinite love. And realize that although we aren’t perfect now, if we strive to follow Him, we will be one day.

I’ll never forget the man on the airplane who seemed very interested as I explained family home evening, the missionary system, etc., until we reached an issue on which he vigorously disagreed with me. Following Joseph Smith’s counsel, I avoided a vain dispute and changed the subject. As the plane began circling to land, I felt his agitation at our “small talk,” and finally he burst out, “Could two of those young men you told me about call on my family?” He smiled at my surprise and added, “I’m sure you thought you’d lost me, but I am impressed with your certainty on this matter. I want that for my family.”

Disagreement is encouraging. Don’t be put off by solid objections. Such objections usually indicate a real interest and that your friend is thinking in stride with you. So just lengthen your stride and hold fast to the truth. It is a firm, sure foundation. Remember the man on the airplane. It was my assurance that interested him.

My first area in Zimbabwe was Chikanga Mutare. Eager to find the family of the missionary who had baptized me, I studied the area book with my companion. Many names matched his family name. We prayed, made our best decision on where to go, and ventured out.
At the first door we knocked we found my missionary’s family. Our joy was instant. We wept and hugged like family. While flipping through the family’s photo albums, I found pictures of my family at our baptism.
I returned home after my mission to discover that circumstances had not improved for my family. My father was still unemployed. Two cousins invited me to live with them in Kibera—the toughest area in Nairobi. There, I created a spot to call home.
Gangs ruled in Kibera, but I stayed clear of crime-ridden areas. I felt out of place, but my cousins helped protect me, making sure others knew I was religious and was to be respected.
Food in the slums amounted to water and a chocolate paste that formed something of a doughnut. I chose to eat at night. Every morning, I woke up hungry. In church, I did my best to smile and be happy so members would not know of my hunger.
During this time, I served as elders quorum president in the Langata Branch and attended school when possible. On Sunday afternoons, I walked with the branch president to visit members, aware that our white shirts made us easy targets for gangs. But we felt heaven as we served others, and my cousins watched over us as we walked the dusty streets.
Despite difficult times, says Brother Omondi, “with prayer, I felt sustained and did not lose hope. That hope was rewarded.”
This was a difficult time, but with prayer, I felt sustained and did not lose hope. That hope was rewarded.
A little later, I was granted an interview for a job. I competed for the position against a dozen others who were more qualified with degrees and certifications. But I had been on a mission, and I had faith and confidence the Lord would bless me. I said a prayer and then walked before a review panel.
At the end of my interview, I blurted out, “When do I start?” Two weeks later, I was one of two who were hired. I soon distinguished myself as a top salesman, which opened doors to advancement, including a call from a chief executive officer to join his large company. Today, I have the blessing of being a husband and a father and of serving as the bishop of the Langata Ward.
“Today, I have the blessing of being a husband and a father and of serving as a bishop.”
I look back on the Christmas of 2009 and subsequent struggles as a memorable lesson—a time when our struggles became our blessings and the Lord extended tender mercies to us in rich measure because of our faith.

Many years later, Paul C. Child, then of the Priesthood Welfare Committee, and I attended a stake conference together. At the priesthood leadership session, when it was his turn to speak, he took his scriptures in hand and walked from the stand into the congregation. Knowing President Child as I did, I knew what he was going to do. He quoted from the Doctrine and Covenants, including section 18 concerning the worth of a soul, indicating that we should labor all our days to bring souls unto the Lord. He then turned to one elders quorum president and asked, “What is the worth of a soul?”
The stunned quorum president hesitated as he formulated his reply. I had a prayer in my heart that he would be able to answer the question. He finally responded, “The worth of a soul is its capacity to become as God.”
Brother Child closed his scriptures, walked solemnly and quietly up the aisle and back to the stand. As he passed by me, he said, “A most profound reply.”

The next day Kipp and I rode out to Carlos’s place again. He was working in his garden. Kipp and I gave him a hand. He told us stories of when he was a young man. He had left home when he was twelve years old to work as a ranch hand, first in Mexico and finally in Arizona. At noon we went into his little house and ate beans and tortillas again.
Kipp and I made at least one visit a day to Carlos’s place. Sometimes we’d help him work around his house. Other times we’d just sit in the shade and he’d talk. Two days before Christmas, I asked him, “What are you doing for Christmas?”
“I’m too old for Christmas. It is for children and families.”
Kipp and I were quiet as we rode Bill back to the barn. As we stripped off the bridle and saddle, I said, “Carlos can’t spend Christmas alone.”
Kipp nodded. “We thought things were rough for us. He doesn’t have anybody. And he won’t have any presents.”
“Aunt Clara,” I asked as we burst through the front door, “do you suppose we could invite Carlos over for Christmas?”
Aunt Clara sighed. “We used to invite him every year, but the last few years he hasn’t come. He says he doesn’t care for Christmas anymore.”
“Can’t we try?” Kipp pleaded. “Spending Christmas in that little hut can’t be any fun. Christmas is for everybody. This year we can be his family, and he can be ours.”
Uncle Hank thought our idea was a good one, so the next morning we went to Tucson. It took us most of the day, but when we had finished, we had two blankets, a pair of work boots, a new hat, and a basket of fruit and nuts for Carlos.
“Now, how are we going to get him to celebrate with us?” Uncle Hank asked as we drove down the dirt road to the ranch.
“Kipp and I will worry about that,” I said with a grin.
It was turning dark, but there was a bright, full moon when Kipp and I saddled old Bill and headed for Carlos’s place. As we rode up, we saw a little light from his two windows. When he opened his door, we shouted, “Merry Christmas, Carlos!” I added, “Grab a jacket—we’re going to be late.”
“Late? Late for what?”
“It’s Christmas Eve. The party’s ready to start.”
“I thought I told you that I don’t celebrate Christmas anymore.”
Kipp said, “But we can’t celebrate Christmas without you. This year we don’t have family except you, Uncle Hank, and Aunt Clara. You have to come! You can ride old Bill. We’ll walk.”
Kipp and I had to do some more fast talking, but we finally got Carlos out of his house and onto Bill; then the three of us left for the ranch house.
Aunt Clara had a stocking for each of us, bulging with candy and nuts. We sang Christmas carols, read the Christmas story from the Bible, and snacked on popcorn, candy, and apple cider. Toward the end of the evening, we gave him our gifts.
Carlos was like a little kid! He admired the blankets and fruit basket. Then he tried on his new shoes and hat and marched around the house, studying himself in the hall mirror. Big, happy tears trickled down his cheeks.
When Kipp and I took Carlos back to his place, he paused in the doorway and said, “Maybe I am still a child, because Christmas feels good tonight. Or maybe it is because I was with family.” He grinned. “Feliz Navidad, muchachos. Y muchas gracias! (Merry Christmas, boys. And many thanks!)”
Kipp and I rode Bill back to the ranch house in silence. “You know, Jacob,” Kipp said quietly, “a week ago we thought that this was going to be our worst Christmas ever.”
“Yeah,” I answered, “but this Christmas was special, and I’m going to remember it more than any other.”

Remembering some of her experiences in Primary and Sunday School, Sister Smith said, “One time after I had given a two-and-a-half minute talk, I thought I had done quite well. But a certain brother said, ‘I was really disappointed in you.’ I felt crushed and asked, ‘What didn’t I do?’
“He said, ‘You didn’t smile.’
“I think that made me realize that you need to smile often if you want people to feel comfortable with you. Now that I’ve learned how to genuinely smile at people, it has made a big difference in my life. Smiling is a signal of friendship. Heavenly Father has told us that one of our purposes here is to experience joy. I think that smiling is one way to reach that goal.”

Here we imagine a young couple representative of those living in this secular world. David and Michelle knew this article of faith long before they knew each other. Even so, they deal with concerns facing many participating in this broadcast. You see, David and Michelle are in their mid-to-late twenties. They have known one another for some time, they “hang out” together, and they are in love. Nevertheless, they are indecisive about marriage and family. Should they postpone marriage until they have completed their schooling, until they have more money, until some of their personal ambitions are realized?

They also wonder about the escalating trends of divorce, the wars and tumults around the world, and overpopulation. Would their marriage survive? Should they bring children into such a world?

Oh, David and Michelle, exercise your faith! Remember: “Marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God.”16 “What . . . God hath joined together, let not man put asunder” (Matthew 19:6; see also D&C 132:19–20). “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3). “The earth is full, . . . there is enough and to spare” (D&C 104:17).

Act upon what you know to be true and your righteous works will perfect your faith. Your lives will be full and wonderful. Follow the good example of your parents. They could not afford to get married, but they did. They too worried about war and tumult, but they exercised their faith and had you! The demands of marriage and family did not deter their education; they enriched it. As for their personal ambitions, they are completely and happily entwined in the well-being of each other and of you, your brothers and sisters, and the grandchildren.

Life was not easy for your parents. They had to scrimp and save, make do with what they had. They too faced questions and circumstances they could not answer, but they knew that the pathway ordained by Almighty God decreed that they move ahead. And you are so much “richer” because of it.

From the stories they have told you over and over again, you know that everything for them has been uphill, “both ways.” But their works have sanctified their faith.

They are older, to be sure. Their step is not as spry, their manner not as intense, their appearance not something advertisers typically clamor for. But their love for God and for each other reflects deep reverence and adoration. The scars of life have afforded them wisdom, patience, and gratitude. In small but important ways they have become “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1)—things they could not see earlier in life. But they obeyed. Exercising their faith, they were sealed in the temple, were blessed with children, and now know the true sources of happiness. The benchmark shows: Obedience calls forth the blessings of heaven—it did so for your parents and it will do so for you.

I volunteered for service in the United States Marine Corps during the Vietnam War. Soon after my arrival in Quantico, Virginia, for basic training, I found myself standing at attention in front of my barrack’s bunk along with 54 other Marine Corps recruits. I met my drill instructor, a battle-hardened veteran, when he kicked open the door to the barracks and entered while screaming words laced with profanity.
After this terrifying introduction, he started at one end of the barracks and confronted each recruit with questions. Without exception, the drill instructor methodically found something about each recruit to ridicule with loud, vulgar language. Down the row he came, with each marine shouting back his answer as commanded: “Yes” or “No, Sergeant Instructor.” I could not see exactly what he was doing, because we had been ordered to stand at attention with our eyes looking straight ahead. When it was my turn, I could tell he grabbed my duffel bag and emptied the contents onto my mattress behind me. He looked through my belongings, then walked back to face me. I braced myself for his attack. In his hand was my Book of Mormon. I expected that he would yell at me; instead, he moved close to me and whispered, “Are you a Mormon?”
As commanded, I yelled, “Yes, Sergeant Instructor.”
Again I expected the worst. Instead, he paused and raised his hand that held my Book of Mormon and in a very quiet voice said, “Do you believe in this book?”
Again I shouted, “Yes, Sergeant Instructor.”
At this point I was sure he would scream disparaging words about Mormons and the Book of Mormon, but he just stood there in silence. After a moment he walked back to my bunk and carefully laid down my Book of Mormon. He then proceeded to walk by me without stopping and went on to ridicule and disparage with profane language all remaining recruits.
I have often wondered why that tough Marine Corps sergeant spared me that day. But I am grateful I was able to say without hesitation, “Yes, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” and “Yes, I know the Book of Mormon is true.” This testimony is a precious gift given to me through the Holy Ghost with the help of two missionaries and a priests quorum adviser.

Jason dipped a rag into the quart of dark walnut stain and slid it across the unfinished top of his new oak desk. The wood jumped to life, the grain standing out like a picture coming into focus.
“That looks great!” Jason’s foster father, Jim Spence, was standing in the garage doorway, beaming. “I’m glad we could finally get you a desk of your own.”
Before Jason had come to live with Jim and Anna Spence, he’d been in and out of foster homes all his life. He’d never felt wanted—until now.
And until now, Jason had never called any of his foster parents Mom and Dad. The next day was Father’s Day, and Jason wanted to give Dad something special.
After he finished the desk, Jason washed up and changed his clothes. As he was tucking in his shirt, Dad and Mom knocked at the door and came in. Their faces looked serious.
“We just got a call from the welfare people,” Dad said. “They want us to take another boy, a ten year old. His name’s Rob. After his mother died last year, he had several scrapes with the law and has been in three foster homes. He can’t seem to adjust. You know the story.”
A sick feeling churned in Jason’s stomach. He knew the story all right. It was like his own. Every time he’d gotten into trouble, he’d been moved to another foster home. Nobody really cared. Until the Spences! If another kid comes, they won’t have time for me, Jason thought. Maybe they’ll even like him better!
He stared at the floor, unable to say anything.
“It will be like having a younger brother. You can play baseball with him and teach him your pickoff move to first base,” Dad said.
“I don’t want a brother,” Jason croaked, his voice a whisper. “Why can’t things stay the way they are?”
Mom sighed and looked hurt. “This boy needs our help—Jim’s, yours, and mine. We’re counting on you.”
Dad glanced at his watch.
“He’ll be here in a little while. We’d like your help—will you at least pray about it?”
Without answering, Jason pushed past them and headed for the front door.
“Where are you off to?” Mom asked.
Jason grunted something and left. He didn’t know where he was going, or even if he was coming back. He needed to figure things out. He started running and found himself heading toward town.
He passed people and didn’t see them. Someone said hello, but Jason didn’t notice who it was. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he’d finally found a caring home, and now some new kid was going to ruin it.
Soon he was on the other side of town. It reminded him of places that he’d lived in before. He could tell that the people who lived here had a hard time making enough money to live on, and a lot of the kids here probably learned to grow up hating others.
He passed a flashing video arcade. Both younger kids and teenagers drifted in and out, drinking sodas, leaning against the brick walls, and wandering back inside again. Some of them stared at him and laughed. Jason felt out of place—he’d changed a lot since the Spences had taken him in.
He’d been pretty hostile toward Anna and Jim at first. But it had been impossible to not warm up to them. Dad had found out that Jason played baseball and gotten him into Little League the very first week he was with them. Then he and Mom had come to almost every game. And could they yell! It made Jason feel as if he really were their son.
“Why can’t things stay like that?” Jason thought aloud. “Why’d some new kid have to show up and spoil it?”
As he wandered past a drugstore, he thought of Father’s Day cards. It made a lump grow in his throat. He’d really looked forward to buying one this year.
Just then, three boys spilled out the store’s door and burst into laughter.
“That guy’s so dumb,” one boy said.
“He has an IQ below freezing,” another boy chortled. He held up three packages of bubble gum. “Look what I swiped from right under his nose!”
They ran off with no idea as to where they were headed. But Jason knew. He knew all too well. And if it hadn’t been for Jim Spence, he himself might be headed for a juvenile detention center by now.
Who’s going to help these kids? he prayed silently.
Then he asked himself, Who’s going to help Rob?
Jason felt selfish for wanting all his foster parents’ love for himself when so many kids needed to be loved.
He knew that the Spences loved him. Everything they did for him proved that. Like buying him a desk. They’d saved for quite a while to be able to get it. And all he’d done to show his thanks was to run away!
He hurried into the drugstore and bought a Father’s Day card—the first one he’d ever bought—then hurried home. He still didn’t know what to give Dad for Father’s Day, but he was going home, and that was all that seemed to matter.
He thought of the kids back at the store, ripping off other people and not knowing that they were really ripping off their own happiness. Jason would never have known that if it hadn’t been for Dad. The world needed more fathers like him.
Suddenly he knew what to give him for Father’s Day.
Jason tried to act cool as he strode up the walk and into the house, but it wasn’t easy. He was so glad to be home again! After apologizing to his worried foster parents, he met Rob, a boy with long blond hair, who was leaning against the door casing, trying to look tough.
Jason smiled at Dad and handed him the card, adding, “I know this is a day early, but it’s the right time to give it to you. And there’s something else I want to give you, Dad.” He tilted his head slightly in Rob’s direction. “I want to help.”
Dad gave him a bear hug that would have bruised another bear! “Thanks, Jason.”
Smiling proudly, Mom suggested, “Why don’t you and Rob take a walk and get acquainted while we fix supper.”
“Want to?” Jason asked.
Rob shrugged. “Where?”
Jason thought, then said, “The unfinished-furniture store.”
Rob looked at him as if he’d just jumped off a spaceship.
Jason had to laugh. “We can look at the desks,” he explained. He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “They’re big on desks.”

Paul was helping Dad plant a garden. He wished his brother Eric was here to help. But Eric was far away on a mission.
“I’ll never be big like Eric,” Paul said. “How can I go on a mission like him?”
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “You’ll grow.”
Dad handed Paul some pumpkin seeds. He helped Paul plant them.
“These little seeds will grow into big pumpkins?” Paul asked.
“If you take good care of them,” Dad said.
Paul came out to look at the garden every day. He watered it, and soon tiny sprouts came up. The leaves got bigger. Paul carefully pulled up weeds.
By fall his pumpkin plants had grown. And there were big orange pumpkins!
Paul grabbed Dad to show him. “You took great care of your pumpkin plants!” Dad said.
“Yup! And I’ll take good care of me, so I can get big too.” Paul grinned. “And when I’m big, I can go on a mission just like Eric!”

I thought at first that my wife, Eva, had nudged me. But as I turned over, I could see that she was still asleep. As I sat up, I had the distinct impression that I needed to go to the living room. I slipped out of bed and headed down the hallway. Checking the children as I passed their bedrooms, I could see that they were sleeping soundly.
In the living room, a comforting warmth radiated from our coal-burning stove, which was burning the evening’s load of coal. The damper was set correctly, and the furnace seemed to be working properly. Everything looked normal. Even our dog was sleeping, oblivious to my presence. Outside, I saw only motionless shadows lying across a snow-covered yard.
As I again looked around the room, I was perplexed. The impression I had was real. So why was I standing alone in the living room at 3:00 a.m.? I lingered for a few minutes but finally decided to return to bed.
Just as I started for the bedroom, I heard a metallic swoosh sound behind me. I quickly turned around to see smoke and hot cinders billowing from the back of the stove! A rivet on the stovepipe had suddenly snapped, and a section of the pipe had slid down into another section, leaving a gaping hole in the pipe.
I called to Eva for help. Then I quickly donned a pair of heavy leather gloves that I kept near the stove and squeezed the stovepipe seam back together. After reconnecting the pipe piece, I joined Eva in clearing the smoke from the living room. We then surveyed the damage.
Cinders and soot had burned only a small section of carpet. Had I not been there when the pipe rivet snapped, the whole living room would have been quickly engulfed in flames. The likely destruction of our home and the possible loss of our lives had been averted—thanks to a gentle but indelible impression from the Holy Ghost.
Returning to bed, I was grateful that a loving Heavenly Father, who is over all things, would warn me about a small metal rivet that would fail on that cold winter night.

Another early leader of the Church, Brigham Young felt that the saints in Hawaii needed a gathering place, a safe haven of refuge. After a bad experience on the island of Lanai, church leaders came searching for something better. Brigham Young miraculously appeared to William Cluff and affirmed to him that Laie was that place. Brother Cluff related:
“I retired to a dense thicket . . . between the house and the beach and knelt down in secret prayer. I then strolled along a path in a mood of reverie, when suddenly and to my astonishment, President Brigham Young came walking up the path and met me face to face. . . He then referred to the beautiful landscape before us . . . and said, this is a most delightful place.
“He then rose to his feet and silently casting his eyes over the surrounding country, turned to me, and in his pleasant and familiar manner, said: ‘Brother William, this is the place we want to secure as headquarters for this mission.’
“The interview then terminated and I was alone. The meeting and the interview had all seemed so real and matter-of-fact that when I found myself alone, I was filled with, wonder and amazement . . . it could not have seemed more real. Had I been in a vision? . . .I knew I had not been dreaming. No matter what the bodily condition might have been at the time, the apparent meeting was in the open air and in the broad light of day. It was as real to me as any fact of life. Ever afterwards that place, [Laie] appeared to me the best place on the Islands for the gathering of the Saints.” [7]