Gospel Story Finder

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

Perhaps an oft-repeated scene will bring closer to home your personal opportunity to reach out to rescue. Let us look in on a family with a lad named Jack. Throughout Jack’s early life, he and his father had many serious arguments. One day, when Jack was seventeen, they had a particularly violent quarrel. Jack said to his father, “This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I’m leaving home, and I will never return!” So declaring, he went to his room and packed a bag. His mother begged him to stay, but he was too angry to listen. He left her crying at the doorway.

Leaving the yard, Jack was about to pass through the gate when he heard his father call to him: “Jack, I know that a large share of the blame for your leaving rests with me. For this I am truly sorry. I want you to know that if you should ever wish to return home, you’ll always be welcome. And I’ll try to be a better father to you. I want you to know that I’ll always love you.” Jack said nothing, but went to the bus station and bought a ticket to a distant point. As he sat in the bus watching the miles go by, he thought about the words of his father. He realized how much love it had required for his father to do what he had done. Dad had apologized. He had invited him back and had left the words ringing in the summer air, “I love you.”

It was then that Jack understood that the next move was up to him. He knew that the only way he could ever find peace with himself was to demonstrate to his father the same kind of maturity, goodness, and love that Dad had shown toward him. Jack got off the bus, bought a return ticket to home, and went back.

He arrived shortly after midnight, entered the house, and turned on the light. There in the rocking chair sat his father, his head bowed. As the father looked up and saw Jack, he rose from the chair, and they rushed into each other’s arms. Jack often said, “Those last years that I was home were among the happiest of my life.”

Here was a boy who overnight became a man. Here was a father who, suppressing passion and bridling pride, reached out to rescue his son before he became one of that vast “lost battalion” resulting from fractured families and shattered homes. Love was the binding band, the healing balm. Love—so often felt, so seldom expressed.

I remember being impressed one time with the need to teach obedience. I was on a new job working long hours, and I guess I was somewhat neglectful of my family. My son seemed to crave more time and attention. He was finding all sorts of ways to attract my attention. One day when I came home, his mother had him prepared to take me downstairs to see what mischief he had recently created. As we descended the stairs, he sheepishly opened the door to our food storage room. There I found he had been using his dart set to practice his marksmanship on our food storage. He caught my attention all right, and made me realize he was looking for the metes and bounds we expected of him in our family government. When they were outlined, and when I gave him the proper attention, then he was very obedient. How important it is that we teach obedience early in the lives of our children, especially to the commandments of the Lord!

One snowy night in January when I was in high school, I was at a friend’s birthday party. Giggling girls were sprawled all over the living room, chatting and eating cake. I sat in the middle of the group with my back against the couch.
“My sister moved out of the side house this week,” one girl remarked with a grin. “From now on it’s going to be the perfect spot for the weekend! I think our class would become so much closer if we all partied together. Like Jeremy Roberts. He is so much fun to be around when he’s drunk.”
I stared at the girl, shocked to hear those words come out of her mouth. To my great surprise, everyone else joined in, offering names of other people it would be fun to party with. I looked around in disbelief. An icy feeling crept into my heart. Already? My friends? Drinking? I had known that some in my group of friends drank, but all of a sudden everyone seemed to be in on it. I lowered my head, feeling isolated among my best friends.
“Of course I’ll be there,” said a friend between bites of cake. “But I think I’ll just be the designated driver. I don’t really want to drink.” She smiled at me. “Gillian, you can come too. We’ll keep each other company!”
I relaxed a little. That sounded OK. “I could go,” I thought. “I could make sure all of my friends got home safely. I could just be there and not drink or do anything wrong. I could still be included.”
“Sounds great!” I heard myself say. “Sure! I’ll be there. We’ll get everyone home safe and sound.” Everyone nodded enthusiastically, and the conversation shifted to other subjects.
The next evening I attended a stake youth fireside. The stake president spoke. “My young brothers and sisters,” he began, “you are at a stage in your life where you are under tremendous pressure to succumb to temptation. My best advice to you is this: Don’t even come close to the edge. Don’t go to the party and say you won’t drink. Don’t go to the party as a designated driver. Don’t even put yourself in that situation. Once you walk in the door, you are vulnerable. I have never counseled with someone who suddenly became an alcoholic or suddenly had a huge morality problem. It comes bit by bit, step by step. Don’t take the first step. I guarantee that you will never have a problem with the Word of Wisdom if you never put yourself in a situation where you might be tempted to take your first drink.”
I sat stunned by his words. He had spoken directly to my problem. Then I knew that it was not enough to go to a party and say I wouldn’t drink. That evening I decided I would never set foot in a party where alcohol was being served.
Through this experience, I learned that the Lord understands our problems and that one of the ways He guides us is through our leaders. Perhaps if I had gone to parties without partaking of alcohol, I still would have made it through high school OK. But I know the Lord blesses us when we keep His commandments, and I was able to follow His guidelines by staying away from the edge.

I express gratitude for a living prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. Last November he visited many South American countries, including Chile. That same week Chile hosted an important summit meeting for all nations of Latin America. There were presidents and dignitaries from 16 different countries. Streets in the areas where they stayed and met were barricaded. Day and night, sirens wailed and red lights flashed to make way for those men as they traveled back and forth from their meetings. In the midst of all the commotion, President Hinckley arrived. There was no fanfare and no special welcome, recognition, or privilege extended to him. Two vans left the airport and maneuvered through the streets of Santiago, one carrying the Lord’s living prophet. At the hotel there were police and guards to protect the summit visitors, while President Hinckley, with his family and others, entered unnoticed.

The next day, as President Hinckley spoke to over 50,000 Saints and testified of Christ and of His Church, one could feel his conviction. He told all present that he wanted them to remember that they had heard Gordon B. Hinckley say that God lives and Jesus is the Christ. He counseled the Saints to put their lives in order, to teach their children the ways of the Lord, and to form eternal families by being sealed in the temple. At the conclusion of the conference, with tears in their eyes and a testimony in their hearts that here, truly, was a prophet of God on earth, the vast congregation stood and waved white handkerchiefs in farewell. President Hinckley took his handkerchief from his pocket and with love returned their farewell. I know, as those many Saints in Chile and throughout the world know, that President Gordon B. Hinckley is the living prophet of God on earth. I am grateful for him and for his example.

I wanted to read the Bible from the time I was about 11 years old. But in the home where I was raised, the Bible was considered so sacred it was kept in a closet under lock and key. When I was 13 and my brother was 12, we went to live in the beautiful country of Canada. Between the ages of 16 and 20, I attended two Christian churches. They used the Bible to teach correct principles, but as I was investigating, I learned something about the members—that they didn’t get along with each other very well. I stopped going to these churches for three years.
When I was 23, I met a young man at a discotheque. A few months later I married him, and shortly afterwards we had our first baby. Everything was going well in our home. He worked hard, always came home from work early, and helped me with the housework. I was very happy and peaceful in my home, and I completely forgot about God.
But without any warning, one day my husband started going out to discotheques with his friends. These friends also wanted to go to bars. So in just a few months my husband had become a drunk and a carouser. Eventually I resigned from my job and left him. Soon after our separation I learned that I was expecting my second child. I felt so sad and distressed I couldn’t find peace. I would go to sleep crying and wake up crying. But thanks to a woman who was a great friend to me, I started attending a Christian church again.
This time I took the things of God more seriously. I even set a goal to investigate more churches. Before I would go to church, I would kneel down and ask Heavenly Father to give me more wisdom so that I would be able to choose good and reject evil.
I began to visit other churches in addition to the Christian church I attended, but I often felt confused by their different doctrines. The more confused I got, the more I prayed. It seemed that every time I visited a church, I felt something was missing, but I didn’t realize what it was. That’s why I set a goal to keep investigating other churches and not rest until I found the truth.
One day I was visiting my brother and sister-in-law, and it got dark before I left. I had quite a distance to walk to reach the bus stop. This was March 1992, and it was very cold with a strong wind. My baby was squirming as I carried him. I walked backwards many times so the wind would hit me and not my baby.
I became sad as I thought about how I was freezing, walking with my baby, while my ex-husband had our car. I started thinking about how cruel life had been to me and felt a great weight in my heart. I started to cry like a child. I looked around and saw I was alone, so I cried to God out loud, “Heavenly Father, help me find the light.”
Finally I arrived at the bus stop, and when the bus came I sat in the front seat as I always did. When I looked to my left, I saw two young men in white shirts and ties. One of them came up to me and said to me in Spanish that was quite limited, “You too speak Spanish?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
“You desire to receive the gospel of Jesus Christ?” he asked.
These words were wonderful to me. The gospel of Jesus Christ. I had investigated several churches, and in none of them had I heard this beautiful turn of phrase. I had always heard the word, the gospel, or the good news. So I very happily gave them my address and phone number.
I started taking the discussions from the missionaries, and in June 1992 I was baptized and confirmed. I will never forget that very special day. Before entering the waters of baptism I could feel a great weight, as if I were walking with feet of lead. But when I came out of the water, I felt like I was flying in the air. And when the missionaries placed their hands on my head and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost, a warm feeling entered my body, and I was filled with a peace I had never felt before. The tears began to roll down my cheeks. To my surprise I realized I was crying not from pain or sadness but for the great joy and peace in my heart.
Some months after my baptism I was called to serve in the nursery and then as a Primary teacher. A year later I received my endowment. I also met a great man at church. In September 1994 we were sealed in the Toronto Canada Temple. Three years later we were blessed with a beautiful son.
I continue to serve in Church callings, and I share my testimony of the gospel with all my loved ones. I know that the gospel of Jesus Christ comes from the heavens in all its glory and that through this gospel we can be transformed if we are obedient to the Lord’s commandments.

While in New York City, the choir performed a musical fireside in the newly dedicated Latter-day Saint meetinghouse in Harlem.
“Performing at Carnegie is such an accomplishment and a great feather to put in the hat of our music department,” said Justin Smith, the coordinator for the university’s performance tours. “But when we did the Harlem fireside with the newly formed BYU–Hawaii Alumni Chapter of New York, that became my tour highlight.”
Brother Smith continued: “Before the tour, the fireside seemed like just another ‘appointment’ on the itinerary—it kind of flew under the radar. That’s probably why it was so incredible, because it was an unexpected moment on the tour that really struck a chord. Carnegie was commendable. Harlem was the highlight.”

On 26 January 1880, everything was ready.
Elizabeth M. Decker wrote of the first wagons to go down through “the Hole”: “Coming down the hole in the rock to get to the river … is almost strait down, the cliffs on each side are five hundred ft. [about 155 meters] high and there is just room enough for a wagon to go down. It nearly scared me to death. The first wagon I saw go down they put the brake on and … [chained the rear wheels together so they slid as a unit instead of rolled] and had a big rope fastened to the wagon and about ten men holding back on it and they went down like they would smash everything. I’ll never forget that day.”

Scottie’s Everything Box was special! Inside were many exciting things—useful things, pretty things, things Scottie found all around the neighborhood.
One morning as Scottie skipped down the sidewalk, he saw something sparkle by the edge of the road. He stooped over and picked up a bottle opener! Scottie didn’t have a bottle opener in his Everything Box. This one was only a little bit rusty, so he put it in his pocket.
Just as Scottie started skipping down the sidewalk again, a gust of wind blew some dry leaves across his path.
What’s that tumbling in the leaves, he wondered. It’s not red and yellow like the other leaves.
He bent down to catch whatever it was in his cupped hands. It was a blue feather. Scottie stroked his cheek with the feather. It felt soft and even tickled a little!
Scottie didn’t have a feather in his Everything Box, so he carefully put it in his pocket.
As Scottie skipped on down the sidewalk, he smiled as he thought of the bottle opener and feather he could add to his Everything Box.
The wind blew a pine cone off a tree. Scottie picked up the cone and smelled it. It reminded him of Christmas. He liked the prickly way the cone felt against his upper lip.
Scottie didn’t have a pine cone in his Everything Box, so he carefully put it in his pocket.
Scottie began to skip a little faster down the walk, wondering what he’d find next.
Soon he saw Mr. Anderson walking toward him. Just then the wind blew Mr. Anderson’s hat right off his head. It rolled along on its rim like a wheel. Scottie hurried to catch it.
“Here’s your hat, Mr. Anderson,” he said.
“Thank you, Scottie. And where are you going on this windy day?” Mr. Anderson asked.
“I’m looking for things to put in my Everything Box,” Scottie answered.
“I’ve never heard of an Everything Box before. Tell me about it,” said Mr. Anderson.
“Well, it’s a box of things I collect,” Scottie answered. “My dad collects stamps and I collect things.”
Mr. Anderson smiled. He reached in his pocket and took out a ballpoint pen.
“How would you like this pen?” he asked. “Let me show you how it works.”
Mr. Anderson turned the screw at the bottom of the pen and a black tip came out. He turned the screw again. The black tip disappeared and a green tip came out. When he turned it a third time, a red tip appeared.
“Wow!” Scottie exclaimed. “Three colors in one pen. Thanks a lot.”
Scottie had never seen a pen like that before. He slipped it into his pocket and started home.
The wind was getting colder and it was beginning to snow. The flakes quickly disappeared as they touched his tongue.
Scottie laughed. Here was something he couldn’t put in his pocket and take home for his Everything Box.
“Hi, Mom,” he called as he ran in the house. “Guess what I found today—a bottle opener, a feather, and a pine cone. And Mr. Anderson gave me a very special ball-point pen.”
Scottie stopped to catch his breath. He had been lucky to find so many new treasures for his Everything Box.
Scottie thought about the fun he’d had collecting things for his own very special Everything Box, but it was even more exciting to think about snowflakes and all the other things the world had in its Everything Box—wonderful things just waiting for Scottie to discover.

I was visiting a patriarch a while ago. He told about a blessing he gave to a woman who came to him from one of the missions. Among other things he told her that her progenitors had made a great contribution to the bringing forth of the gospel in these latter days. And after the blessing was given she said, “I’m afraid you made a mistake this time. I am a convert to the Church; I am the first one in my family to join the Church.”
“Well,” the patriarch said, “I don’t know anything about it. All I know is that I felt prompted to say that to you.” And when he told me the story, she had just been in the genealogical library and had found that some of her relatives—her grandparents or her great-grandparents—had made great sacrifices in the early days of the Church. A part of the family had drifted up into the East and had been converted. She found that she was descended from some of the early pioneers. The patriarch did not know of it himself. He had spoken by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

All eight of my great-grandparents joined the Church in Europe. They were very faithful in the Church. After that, some of my ancestors didn’t keep living the gospel. Because of this, my parents didn’t go to church very much when I was a child.
I loved my parents. They taught me very important lessons. I can’t thank them enough for our happy home. But even as a boy, I knew I was missing something because our family didn’t go to church very much. One day I rode a streetcar to a bookstore to find a book about the Church. I loved learning about the gospel.
When I learned about the Word of Wisdom, I realized my parents weren’t living the way it teaches us to live. But I wanted them to! So one day, I broke every bottle of alcohol in my home on the concrete floor! I thought my father would punish me, but he never said anything to me about it.
As I got older, I kept learning about the gospel. I began to understand Heavenly Father’s beautiful plan. I got baptized when I was 16 years old. At Christmastime, I often said to myself, “I don’t want one more Christmas present! I just want to be sealed to my parents in the temple.” I waited many years for that dream to come true. When my parents were over 80 years old, we were finally sealed as a family! I felt great joy that day. Each day, I still feel so happy that they were sealed together and that I was sealed to them.
“Pour out your heart to your Heavenly Father. Turn to Him for answers and for comfort.” —President Russell M. Nelson
See Primary manual, page 91.

When I was 12, the bishop asked me to help him deliver Christmas baskets to the widows of the ward. It was snowing on the day we made the deliveries. The baskets we delivered contained grapefruit and oranges. This was during World War II, when grapefruit and oranges were scarce, so they were quite a treat. The bishop waited in the car while I took a basket up to the door and said, “The bishop asked me to deliver this to you. It is a Christmas basket from the ward.”
Soon we had delivered all the baskets but one. The bishop took me home, and before I got out of the car, he handed me the last basket and said, “This is for your mother.” Then he drove away.
I stood in front of our house, holding the basket and thinking. We had been delivering baskets to widows, and I hadn’t thought of my mother as a widow. I had never heard her refer to herself as one. That was the first time it occurred to me that somebody thought of her as a widow.
I realized that Mother handled that circumstance with a great deal of faith. She taught us that we had a father and she had a husband and that we would always be a family because of her and my father’s temple marriage. I knew other kids had dads who took them hunting and fishing, and I grieved that I had no father to do this for me. But those were war years, so I thought of myself as a boy whose father was away in the war. I felt my father was away because the Lord had called him to another work. It hurt me that he wasn’t there, but I knew that someday we would be together again. Since that time, my testimony of the importance of temple marriage has strengthened. How grateful I am for temple marriage and for the blessing of being sealed together as an eternal family!

In May, prior to her entering the Miss Utah Pageant contest, Sally found time to enjoy a two-week foreign language tour in Mexico.
There an older Mexican friend, charmed by the stunning blonde with an Acapulco tan, exclaimed, “You seem so happy all of the time. How can I be as happy as you?” Sally answered him without hesitation, “I am happy because I know that I am a daughter of God. And you are my brother. You can be happy too if you will become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

One reason I desired to serve a mission was that I had seen the impact that serving a mission had on my father and mother. Many times in our family home evenings Dad would mention his mission. He told us about his call. He had a desire to serve a mission, but when he expressed that desire to his father, his father discouraged him from going. My dad grew up on a chicken farm in American Fork, Utah. Because of failing health, his father didn’t feel that he would be able to maintain the farm, and there would be no money to finance a mission.
Bishop Melvin Grant came to discuss the matter with my dad’s family. When Dad’s father told the bishop that his son couldn’t go, Dad’s mother stood right up from her chair and said, “I’ll take care of the chickens. My son George is going on a mission.”
And so he went to England. My dad told me that a few months into his mission he received a letter from his mother that said, “I think the chickens know where you are, because they’ve never laid as many eggs as they are laying now.”

As I filled out the papers for my mission, I felt very excited. I had great desires to serve. At the same time, however, I had another feeling—an undefinable one. It was a calm but unusual prompting. Not knowing what to make of it, I paid it little attention.
When I received the call to labor in my own country, in the Mexico Mérida Mission, I felt the approval of the Lord. That other prompting also returned, but this time I felt that I knew what it meant. I sensed somehow that when I returned from my mission, one of my loved ones might not be there. I felt that this prompting was from the Lord because I felt calm and had no fear.
My father, my mother, and my nephew Israel went with me to the Missionary Training Center. As we said goodbye, I gave my father a warm hug. As we embraced, I felt his love for me—and at that moment, I felt again the prompting I had felt before.
From the beginning of my mission, I felt the Lord’s love for me. And from time to time thereafter I continued to receive the prompting that my father might not be there to greet me when I returned home. I never felt afraid, only willing that the Lord’s will be done.
On Mother’s Day in 1993 I was given the opportunity to make a telephone call to my mother. As we talked, I heard a sadness in her voice that she couldn’t hide.
“Mom, what is going on?” I asked.
“Nothing, son. Just keep working hard.”
“I will. But I want to know what’s happening.”
Then she told me, “Your father is very sick. He can no longer walk, and the doctors have diagnosed a tumor in his head. You must be strong, no matter what happens.”
My father asked to speak with me and was brought to the telephone. In a failing voice, he said, “Son, your calling came from the Lord. Do not worry, and do not stop working. Keep preaching the gospel.” I told him I would, but his energy had failed and he was no longer listening.
Three weeks later, he died. When I received the news, all the experiences we had shared together passed through my mind. Because of his faithfulness and good example, I had come to treasure him with all my heart.
Heavenly Father continued to console me throughout my mission. When I returned home, my great friend and teacher was not there to greet me. But I was strengthened by my faith in the Savior’s atonement and resurrection. I am grateful that I was able to be sealed to my parents the day before I entered the Missionary Training Center. I know that the day will come when I will see my father again and embrace him with eternal love.

Richard’s life, before joining the Church, was one of welfare checks, food stamps, social worker interviews, public health clinics, and unpaid medical and utility bills. Neither Richard nor his wife knew how to handle even small amounts of money. Richard experienced a marvelous conversion to the Church but came in with many personal deficiencies. He had great difficulty in holding a job. He was referred by his bishop to Deseret Industries for employment. For the first time in his adult life, he began earning a regular paycheck. As Richard worked at Deseret Industries, he began to develop pride in himself. He no longer humped over when he spoke. His wife and children began to develop respect for him as patriarch in the home.
The Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator worked closely with Richard as did his bishop. A checking account was established in his name. A workable family budget was outlined and agreed to. Doctor bills that had remained unpaid for over a year were paid. A two-and-a-half-month-old electric bill was paid the day the power was to be shut off. All other bills were slowly brought up to date and handled properly.
Richard’s life was changing. He felt self-worth and direction. Early in July of this year, the general manager of a large laundry-linen business came to the Deseret Industries. He was looking for good employees. Richard was to be given the chance to interview for a job. He expressed great anxiety about the interview. Richard and the Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator practiced interviewing over and over. Richard passed the interview and was hired. A new life-style was about to begin.
When Richard left Deseret Industries, a luncheon was held in his honor, during which the following was recorded:
“Brothers and sisters, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have found a job in the labor market which will pay me more money than I have ever made before. For the first time in my life, I will be able to provide for my family in the way our Heavenly Father wants me to. I am progressing, which is what this life is all about. The bad news, or I should say the sad news, is that I will be leaving all of you. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I am grateful for what Deseret Industries has done for me. I pray that you will all find the happiness I have experienced in working at Deseret Industries. I especially want to thank both Jim Wilson and my bishop who have done so much for me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Richard surpassed his own and his new employer’s expectations. He has recently been promoted and given a handsome increase in salary. A soul, a human life, has been blessed—probably nothing else could have done what a bishop and a Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator did.

When I was a young man, a mere boy of 11, I received a patriarchal blessing from a man I had never seen before and never saw thereafter. It is a remarkable document, a prophetic document. It is personal, and I will not read extensively from it. However, it contains this statement: “The nations of the earth shall hear thy voice and be brought to a knowledge of the truth by the wonderful testimony which thou shalt bear.”

When I was released from my mission in England, I took a short trip on the continent. I had borne my testimony in London; I did so in Berlin and again in Paris and later in Washington, D.C. I said to myself that I had borne my testimony in these great capitals of the world and had fulfilled that part of my blessing.

That proved to be a mere scratching of the surface. Since then I have lifted my voice on every continent, in cities large and small, all up and down from north to south and east to west across this broad world—from Cape Town to Stockholm, from Moscow to Tokyo to Montreal, in every great capital of the world. It is all a miracle.

When I was eleven, my family had to leave East Germany. We moved to Frankfurt, West Germany. Until my father could find a job like he had had before, he and my mother ran a laundry to make a living, and I was the laundry delivery boy. I saw some shiny red bicycles, and I wished I could have one to make my deliveries. But I needed a heavy-duty bicycle to pull the cart with the laundry on it. I rode around pulling that heavy laundry cart before school and after school. It was hard to see the other children play, especially during the winter months. But everyone in our family had to work hard, and I was an important part of the family business. I felt needed and valued.

As I grew older, I learned not only the value of hard work but also about the blessings of doing things that at the time you don’t realize are important and good for you. During World War II, when I was very little, I came down with a lung disease, but no one knew it at the time. I knew that I was easily out of breath when I rode the delivery bicycle. I thought that it was because the cart was heavy. Later, when I joined the air force, I learned that because of that hard work, somehow my body had healed itself. I had built up endurance. I had built up immunity to disease. I had built up strength. When the doctors saw those spots on my lungs, they asked me about them. They said that the disease took care of itself and that I passed my physical. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pilot. I have been a pilot for thirty-five years, and I was a chief pilot for Lufthansa German Air Lines.

In 1951 and 1952, I attended the Frankfurt branch, which was not as big as the one in Zwickau. The Frankfurt meetinghouse was small, and we had classes in the basement. The missionaries taught us important gospel principles. One missionary, Elder Stringham, impressed me very much with his lessons on the Pearl of Great Price, especially where Moses is being taught that he is a Son of God. Elder Stringham also taught me the scripture that says, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Rom. 8:31). This gave me comfort and courage, because at that time, the future looked bleak in Germany. The city of Frankfurt was in ruins with bombed-out buildings. That teaching has stayed with me throughout my life. It taught me that I need to be on the Lord’s side. I cannot afford not to be on the Lord’s side.

As a pilot, I flew all over the world. In all those thirty-five years, I never tired of looking at the stars, the clouds, the landscapes. I saw the beauty of the different countries with their different cultures. I know from going to those places and seeing the people, and seeing the Church in those different places, that the gospel is for everyone, no matter what nation you live in or what your traditions are. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ. The word of God, whether it is written in the scriptures or spoken by the living prophets, whether we read it in Church magazines or hear it at general conferences, is for everyone.

I challenge you children to follow the words of the prophets. When you do, you will find the answers to your questions, whether you are six, nine, eleven, nineteen, or, like me, fifty-seven years old.

Ben is a great example of helping others and being a blessing in their lives. He looks out for people who are not as popular or don’t feel as involved. He thinks of others more than himself. When Kelon moved into Ben’s ward, Kelon described his life as “nothing but a party” that was going in the wrong direction. He felt empty inside. But because of the examples of his Latter-day Saint friends and particularly that of his best friend, Ben, he saw there was a better way. Ben invited Kelon to participate in Church activities. At those activities Kelon noticed there was something different about the young men there. He wanted to be like them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted it. He wanted to be happy like they were.
He prayed to God and knew that he needed to join the Church. Ben baptized his best friend when they were 16. Kelon said of his baptism, “I had finally found peace, and I felt the loving arms of the Savior as I came out of the font. I’m grateful for good friends who live what they believe.”

President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency: “As our youngest son, Clark, was approaching his 12th birthday, he and I were leaving the Church Administration Building when President Harold B. Lee approached and greeted us. I mentioned that Clark would soon be 12, whereupon President Lee turned to him and asked, ‘What happens to you when you turn 12?’

“… Clark, without hesitation, said to President Lee, ‘I will be ordained a deacon!’

“The answer was the one President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, ‘Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.’”