Gospel Story Finder

Now, just one final thought. I sat in a class in Sunday School in my own ward one day, and the teacher was the son of a patriarch. He said he used to take down the blessings of his father, and he noticed that his father gave what he called “iffy” blessings. He would give a blessing, but it was predicated on “if you will not do this” or “if you will cease doing that.” And he said, “I watched these men to whom my father gave the ‘iffy’ blessings, and I saw that many of them did not heed the warning that my father as a patriarch had given, and the blessings were never received because they did not comply.”
You know, this started me thinking. I went back into the Doctrine and Covenants and began to read the “iffy” revelations that have been given to the various brethren in the Church. If you want to have an exercise in something that will startle you, read some of the warnings that were given through the Prophet Joseph Smith to Thomas B. Marsh, Martin Harris, some of the Whitmer brothers, William E. McLellin—warnings which, had they heeded, some would not have fallen by the wayside. But because they did not heed, and they didn’t clear up their lives, they fell by the wayside, and some had to be dropped from membership in the Church.

For many New Caledonian young adults, their missions help prepare them for a lifetime of Church service. Syoelanne (Syo) Ulivaka received a call to serve as second counselor in the bishopric only a week after being released from his full-time mission. “I had just finished my mission,” Syo says. “I was tired, and I had told myself, now I’m going to rest.” But he still accepted the call. “I realized I’ll go where the Lord wants me to go. I’m in His service—not just for two years, but for life.”
Since he served in the bishopric, Syo has now gotten married, has a child, and has moved to a different ward. But he continues to serve and fulfill his Church callings.
Elder Earl C. Tingey, emeritus General Authority Seventy, told young adults: “A Church calling is one of the most wonderful blessings you can enjoy at your stage of life. You have so much to contribute to the ward or branch where you live. Your talents and skills are necessary to a growing Church.”3 Syo isn’t the only young adult on the island whose skills have been put to use to help the growing Church—other young adults serve in almost every capacity at the ward and stake level. Syo says, “We try to bring back the things we’ve learned on our missions to strengthen our stake and our wards.” These young adults make many sacrifices in order to strengthen the kingdom in their home country, but as Syo remarks, “what we sacrifice is mostly our time.”
Some young adults have two or even three callings. “That can be a blessing for them, but it can also be a burden,” says Syo, as many struggle to balance the demands of young adulthood with their Church responsibilities. “It’s hard to do everything at the same time.” But Syo found that when he put the Lord first, the rest was easy to accomplish. He says, “The Lord has helped with everything else—school, finding a wife—it was all in the Lord’s hands.”
Syo recognizes that, when it comes to serving the Lord, “We are His tools.” In these times of Church growth, the Lord will call upon the Saints of all ages, everywhere, to accept responsibilities to build and strengthen His kingdom. Are we ready to answer that call?

When I was a mission president in northern Germany, I had a very difficult problem. I had searched in vain for an answer for many weeks. One morning I was reading in the Book of Mormon where Nephi was commanded to build a ship: “And I, Nephi, did go into the mount oft, and I did pray oft unto the Lord; wherefore the Lord showed unto me great things” (1 Nephi 18:3). As I read that small passage, the impression came to me, “That is what I need to do.” I pondered and prayed, and finally the answer came, and I knew what I needed to do. I am grateful for that little window of inspiration that came—as I was searching the scriptures. As I received my answer, I felt that I was “standing in a holy place.” I know that you too can have similar experiences as you search, ponder, and pray about the scriptures.

It was just an old board Kristen and I had found—maybe ten feet long and just wide enough to sit on. The desert sun had already started to turn the board gray, but even faded it was the perfect addition to our makeshift playground. In fact, other than a lot of sand and a few Tonka trucks, it was the only thing in our playground. Laid across a big rock sticking up in the backyard, that old board became a teeter-totter, kind of like the one at the park by Grandma’s house. Of course, our teeter-totter didn’t go as high as the one at the park. But it was ours.
One day we were teetering and tottering when a couple of men came to visit. I didn’t know what they wanted, but they talked to Mom in the kitchen for a while. Kristen, who was a year older than I was, said they were from church—the new one we had just started going to. One of them was young, and the other had white hair and a white beard. He was the oldest man I’d ever seen. As they were leaving, the old man walked over to us and watched as we went up and down on the teeter-totter.
“That’s a nice looking board you have there,” he said. “Would you mind if I took it with me for a while? I could sure use a board like that.”
We both looked at Mom, who was standing by the kitchen door. She told us to give the man the board. So Kristen and I got off our teeter-totter, and the man put the board in his truck. They said good-bye and drove away.
“Mom, what were those men doing here?” I grumbled.
“They’re our home teachers; the church we went to on Sunday sent them to make sure we’re okay.”
“I’m okay, but I was better when I had my teeter-totter.”
Mom ran her fingers through my hair. “I know, honey. It’s almost dinnertime. Go inside and wash up.”
Most kids would have probably put up a fuss when someone took their favorite toy, but we knew if Mom said it, we should do it.
That night, Mom said the old man’s name was Brother Andelin. My four-year-old mouth had to work to get his name right. Mom said Brother Andelin lived on the other side of town, but would come and visit again.
A few days later, I was on the porch when Brother Andelin’s truck came rattling up the drive.
“Hello, Bobby. Would you like to see what I built out of that board you gave me?” he said, getting out of his truck.
I ran behind him to the back of his truck where he pulled out the board, now painted green with a seat and handle at each end. In the middle on the other side were some steel rings. Also in the truck was a big, wooden, pyramid-shaped box, painted the same color as the board.
“Is your sister here?” Brother Andelin asked. “Run and get her while I set this up in the yard.”
I ran into the kitchen and down the hall. “Kristen,” I yelled, gasping for air. “Brother Andelin brought our board. But he, he—come see.”
Mom followed as Kristen and I ran outside. Brother Andelin had fastened the board on top of the box.
“It’s a real teeter-totter,” Kristen whispered to me. “Is it for us?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“You ask him.”
“Brother Andelin,” I said, stepping closer, “is this for us? For keeps?”
“It’s your board, isn’t it?” he said. “Besides, what am I gonna do with a seesaw? My kids have all grown up.”
Kristen and I climbed on the new teeter-totter. It wasn’t like before. When we went up, we went off the ground way up in the air. Brother Andelin laughed as we played, his teeth smiling from behind his long, white beard.

Missionaries can teach people in the same town and some accept the truth and others reject it. I noticed a couple of passages in my great-grandfather’s missionary journals that showed the difference in people’s reactions to the truth. He went back to his native England in the 1880s to serve a mission. He tells a story of preaching in a meeting of another faith to a congregation of about 200 people. He explained:

"I spoak (sic) for more than an hour on the literal fulfillment of prophecy, and restoration of the Everlasting Gospel to the prophet Joseph Smith, concluded by baring (sic) a strong testimony to the Truth of the work of God. Some of the people were very much interested and wished me to come again, others wiggled in their seats a good deal, when I bore testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the living God."

He had another experience that was more extreme. He was speaking in a town hall to a large group of people. Things were going well until they were just ready to close the meeting. Then an apostate and a group of agitators from a neighboring town came into the meeting. The apostate began speaking to the people and telling them lies about missionaries and the church. In my great-grandfather’s words:

"He continued to tell the blackest and foulest lies that ever was (sic) uttered by fiends from the lower region and called on the people of Ginnislake, to drive us out to drown us, that we were worthy of death. There was tremendous excitement and uproar in the meeting and the mob kept pinching us and pulling our hair and insulting us by the most foul insinuations. I finally got upon the table and asked the people to listen to me for a short time. The place was densely packed and more than 500 people present by this time a good many of whom wanted to hear me."

"He keep shaking his fist in my face and saying \"You are a Liar” “You are a liar\" \"You’re a liar\" \"If I had you in America I would shoot you\" \"I would kill you\" \"I would put my little pop gun against your head\" & c & c. He repeated those sayings a great many times and great many people heard him say it. I got on the table 3 or 4 times during the evening and defended our cause and ourselves as best I could and there was the greatest possible confusion. The police had come into the meeting soon after the row began and we placed ourselves under their protection and I must say the police did the best to preserve the peace, but their efforts were not of much avail for there was the greatest excitement for about 1 3/4 hours."

"The Police thought they could conduct us to Bro Jackman’s house in safety, but no sooner had we got outside the rabble laid hold of us, but we each laid hold of a Policeman and hung on with all the power we had, but we and the Policeman had great difficulty in keeping our feet, the policeman using their sticks pretty freely. We finally got through the mob who followed us and threw stones and tufts of grass and other things at us. The police did their uttermost to drive them back all the time. I was struck pretty hard on the shoulder by a stone and one of the Policemen and another friend were also struck. We arrived at our destination, however, all safe without serious injury."

Some years ago 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 to President Lee that Clark would soon be 12, whereupon President Lee turned to him and asked, “What happens to you when you turn 12?”
This was one of those times when a father prays that a son will be inspired to give a proper response. Clark, without hesitation, said to President Lee, “I will be ordained a deacon!”
The answer was the one for which I had prayed and which President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, “Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.”

I remember going into his office when I had experienced a series of very bad days following a big disappointment. I was seriously discouraged. I couldn’t shake the sadness I felt. I had done all the things I could think of. I had prayed and fasted and been to the temple. I had looked for answers in the scriptures. And still I couldn’t bounce back. Finally, I thought perhaps the President could help me.
I had watched so many people file into his office with heads down and leave with light in their eyes, renewed hope and a brighter countenance. So I sat down in his office and began to tell him my story. I was maybe two sentences into the account, hadn’t gotten to the really bad part, when he suddenly leapt to his feet, put his hand in the air like he does in Conference when he is reinforcing a point, when he wants us to pay attention, and he said, “Heidi, trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not on thine own understanding. I knew the scripture. I knew it was close to his heart and that he knew it was true. Trust the Lord, he was saying.
And so he is saying to all of you. You are disappointed that you aren’t married yet; you didn’t get the job; you have too many commitments and not enough time; you bombed a test. You are carrying a weight of guilt or a hardened heart for something someone did to you. Life isn’t working out the way you planned. It isn’t working for you. President Monson would tell you, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding.”

Emma K. came from Midvale, Utah, to interview Sister Cheryl C. Lant, Primary general president. Emma and Sister Lant talked about the purpose of Primary while they toured the Relief Society Building. The Relief Society Building is where the offices of the general presidencies of the Primary, Young Women, and Relief Society are. It has beautiful displays about the purpose and history of these organizations.
Emma: “What good things are the children of the Church doing?”
Sister Lant: “One of the best things they are doing is learning from their scriptures. Every Sunday, we see children bring their scriptures to Primary. They open them, they read them, and they’re learning directly from the words of the Lord about what He wants them to do.”
Emma: “What do you hope they can learn to do more often?”
Sister Lant: “We need to be more kind to our brothers and sisters, to our parents, to our friends, and to everybody around the world.”
Sister Lant had a question for Emma. She showed Emma a painting of Jesus with children. “Can you think why that’s my favorite thing to look at every day when I come into my office?”
Emma: “Maybe because it shows the love Jesus has for children.”
Sister Lant: “That’s right. In Primary, the most important thing that we want to teach the children is that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love them. All the children in this picture come from different places, so they represent all the children around the world. Heavenly Father and Jesus love all of us, no matter where we live. We’re all His children.”

In my earlier years of marriage, I found myself asking these questions and was discouraged by what I perceived to be the answers. Although my husband was an excellent father, I often felt irritated and angry. I wanted him to fit the image of what I thought he should be. I had certain ideals and goals that I wanted implanted in him.

One day, I turned to my father for advice. Because of his training as a psychiatrist, I knew he wouldn’t be too critical of his son-in-law. His first words were like a bucket of cold water over me: “Martha, if you continue like this, you could drive your husband away.”

My jaw dropped. “What do you mean by that?” I asked. This wasn’t going at all as I had expected.

He held up his hand to ward off my indignation. “Just let me explain. Not long ago, I counseled a Latter-day Saint woman who had left a basically good marriage. She felt her husband wasn’t living all the Church standards. Years of nagging and pleading hadn’t changed him. She thought that if she left him, he would change his ways in order to win her back. She never suspected that he would find someone else who loved and respected him as he was. He remarried happily after their divorce, and she was devastated.”

Why am I getting this lecture? I wondered. I had never considered leaving my husband. “Are you saying I should just quit being assertive and forget my own ideals?” I asked defensively.

“No, I’m saying lead but don’t drive. Be gentle in your persuasion while recognizing his strengths and achievements. Be an example without criticizing. In your rush to achieve your goals, you may be sending a silent message that he’s not good enough for you. He’s a good man, Martha, and he needs to know that you think so, too.”

I sat, unable to speak as tears welled in my eyes. I was torn. I understood my father’s words, but I expected my husband to be what I had always dreamed of.

My father tried a different approach. “Have you heard the story about the farmer who hitched two mice to his wagon? His neighbor saw him climbing into the wagon and laughed at the farmer. ‘You don’t really expect those two little mice to pull that wagon, do you?’ he asked. The farmer replied, ‘Why not? I have a whip.’”

I laughed in spite of myself. The image of me in the wagon was clear. I had been using anger and resentment as my whip, with just about the same chance for success.

“Okay, I guess I am being too pushy,” I said. “But I see other men who lead the way I want to be led. Is it wrong to expect that?”

Dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “You are going about this with the wrong attitude. One of the most treacherous developments in any marriage is when partners wonder if they made the right choice. The marriage begins to fall apart because they quit working at it.”

“Dad,” I interrupted, “it’s because I love him that I get discouraged. I want him to reach his full potential.”

“It’s all a matter of loyalty. Do you realize that disloyalty begins with your thoughts—that you are actually being disloyal when you compare your husband to others?”

I was losing my argument fast, and I knew it. I tried one more time: “My commitment to him is eternal. The day-to-day choices he makes as the priesthood leader affect the family eternally.”

“Patience and love are eternal, too.” He opened his scriptures and read: “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;

“By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile” (D&C 121:41–42).

I knew these verses. They were written for priesthood holders about exercising unrighteous dominion. Why was he reading them to me?

“These two verses,” he explained, “contain the elements for success in any relationship—and especially the relationship between husband and wife. One of the great challenges in marriage is to accept all the differences in personality, background, and motivation—and to work toward being one in purpose. That’s no easy task, and it may take a lifetime. But as you pointed out, marriage is an eternal commitment.”

Then he told me about a farmer he had known when he was a boy. The man used to catch wild horses in northern Arizona. They were free and available to anyone who wanted to catch them, but they were difficult to tame and train. Late at night, he would round up part of the herd into a temporary corral near the watering hole. Then he would select the best one and tie one end of a cotton rope around its neck and the other end to his strong white mule, leaving just enough space for them to travel side by side. Then he would leave them in the desert to work out their own compromises.

The mule knew the way home and would gladly travel in that direction. If the horse tried to go another way, the mule would stand firm and not go. If the mule got off track, the horse would be unwilling to move. So it went until they had worked through their differences. Within two weeks, the two would come trotting home to food and shelter. The horse would be ready for training, and it and the mule would behave as though they had been together all their lives. Dad added, “I almost left out the most important part: that rope around their necks was a very soft rope.”

I began to see the connection between the story and the scripture he had quoted—and I knew it wasn’t about being as stubborn as a mule. Marriage commits us in purpose as surely as that rope between the mule and the horse. Even though we recognize our ultimate destination, we don’t always travel in the same direction or at the same pace to get there. The soft strands of the rope that tie us together—representing love, patience, commitment, and faith—should prevent the rope from chafing. If the rope material is too rough, one of the partners might decide to cut it rather than endure pain and suffering.

I had misunderstood. Was I really willing to have a dynamic, take-charge leader for a husband and stand in his shadow, being pulled toward a goal or ideal? On the other hand, I wondered how much my husband appreciated being dragged along by my unwavering zeal.

I have studied the last six verses of Doctrine and Covenants 121 with new understanding. The principles they teach have strengthened and enriched my marriage. When one partner is less enthusiastic about the path they are following, it’s easy to blame the other partner—and that is what I had been doing.

I’m grateful to my father for a gentle reminder that made such a difference in my life. The deep love and respect my husband and I enjoy in our seventeen-year marriage is a product of my father’s advice. Each time I’m tempted to be domineering, I hear my father’s words: “He’s a good man, Martha, and he needs to know that you think so, too.”

Thanks, Dad. You’re so right.

“Look, Dad,” Clay called. “Aunt Pat gave me seeds.”
Clay held up a small envelope that rattled when he shook it. The word Zucchini was printed on it above a picture of a long green vegetable that looked a lot like a cucumber. “Aunt Pat says I should have a garden.”
Dad smiled. “But it will be good old Dad who does the digging.”
True to his word, Dad helped Clay dig out a patch of grass next to the fence. Then they loosened up the soil, planted the zucchini seeds, and watered them well.
For several weeks they watched and waited and wondered if anything was happening. It was. After a rainy day followed by three sunny days, tiny plants peeked out of the soil. From then on, the growing didn’t stop. A jungle of vines soon fought for the small space. Big spiky leaves tangled through the fence in one direction and sprawled across the grass in the other. Clay worried that the giant plants would take over the whole backyard.
Soon golden blossoms opened up and jiggled in the summer breeze as if they were laughing at a secret joke. The blossoms turned into little green pickles that seemed to explode overnight into long, pudgy zucchini. The zucchini hid shyly beneath the prickly leaves. Clay learned to scout them out.
Zucchini poured from the garden in a tidal wave. Awash in the big green vegetable, Clay’s mother learned many zucchini recipes. She cooked zucchini with onions, tomatoes, and sour cream. She filled zucchini with cheese and stuffed it with ground beef. She baked zucchini bread with raisins and mixed grated zucchini with chocolate to make cookies and brownies.
“I’d better watch out,” Clay said the night Mom served bowls of zucchini soup. “Next I’ll be eating zucchini cereal for breakfast.”
“Actually, I thought we might try zucchini-oatmeal muffins tomorrow morning,” Mom said.
“I’ve created a monster,” Clay thought. “I’ve got to find a way to get rid of some zucchini.”
“Tell Aunt Pat to come get some of this stuff,” Dad joked.
That gave Clay an idea. He could give other people a chance to enjoy his zucchini!
Early the next morning, he fought his way through the zucchini jungle, hunting for the elusive vegetables. He filled four brown paper bags and carried them quietly out of the yard.
The Wagners next door surely needed some zucchini. Clay looked around. The front door was closed. The curtains were drawn. He didn’t want to be thanked for his gift, so he tiptoed onto the porch, set one of the sacks beside the door, and hurried down the sidewalk.
At the next house, a newspaper still lay on the step. Expecting someone to come out for it at any moment, Clay dropped a sack beside the paper and scurried away.
Scarcely pausing, he made two more deliveries. Soon he was strolling home zucchini-free.
A few days later, Clay picked his crop again, packed four more brown bags, and made quick stops at the same four houses. All went well.
The third time Clay made his secret deliveries, a surprise waited for him. At the third house, right where he always set the bag, lay a white envelope. Large letters printed on it read, “To the Zucchini Bandit.”
Clay set down a bag of zucchini, picked up the note, and ran home, the fourth bag still clutched in his hand.
He dashed into the house. Mom was sitting at the table sipping orange juice and yawning. “Good morning,” she said. “You were out in the yard early again. What do you have in the bag?”
“Um, zucchini.” Clay plunked the bag down on the table.
“Oh good,” Mom said. “We haven’t had any for several days now.”
“Be back in a minute.” Clay hurried into his room, closed the door, and leaned against it. “Oh no,” he thought, staring at the envelope crumpled in his sweaty hand. “They’ve probably seen me and are warning me to stay away or they’ll call the police.” He straightened out the envelope, unstuck the flap, and pulled out a sheet of paper.
Dear Robin Hood of Vegetables,
Thank you for sharing your wealth with me. I haven’t had such fresh zucchini in a long time. It still has morning dew on it when I bring it in.
Sincerely,Your Grateful Friend
“Robin Hood of Vegetables,” Clay read aloud. He smiled. For the first time since they had started growing, he hoped he wouldn’t run out of zucchini.

I would like to use my own family as an illustration of what I have in mind. Mother and I were filling a mission together over in Holland when we had a little girl born to us, and after we had been home a few years she passed away. When she was born, my wife has told me over and over again that she felt she saw an angel bring that spirit to her. And yet she is gone. Then I think of her four sisters. You voted here today to sustain one of them as a counselor in the general presidency of the Relief Society. Her other three sisters are just as noble and wonderful, although their talents may be just a little different.

When I think of this little one that we laid away when she was three-and-a-half years old, I thank God I have the faith to believe that God reigns in the heavens above and in the earth beneath and that this little one will ultimately enter into her glory and be equal to any of her four sisters who have tarried here upon this earth and raised their families. I thank God for the statement of the apostle Paul when he said that “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.” (1 Cor. 15:19.) In this brief period of mortality, it would not be possible for God to accomplish for all of his children all that he has in mind for them, the ones that are true and faithful.

I think of the statement of Moses as recorded in the Pearl of Great Price: “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” (Moses 1:39.) I wonder sometimes if we ever stop to analyze that statement. I think we can understand what “to bring to pass immortality” is, that we will never die after we come forth in the resurrection, as President Romney pointed out this morning. But what about eternal life? As I interpret this, I find in it the feeling that all that God has ultimately planned for his children who are faithful and true shall come to them in his own due time.

We read in the Book of Mormon that we are not all born at the same time (and that doesn’t matter) and that we don’t all die at the same time. (See Alma 40:8.) I think of the words of Abraham when he saw the placing of the spirits here upon this earth, that the Lord would prove them to see if they would do all things whatsoever he had commanded them. Then he adds: “And they who keep their first estate shall be added upon.” (Abr. 3:26.) That was in the spirit life before we came to mortality. “They who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.” (Abr. 3:26.) This little girl of ours kept her second estate as far as she could at her age.

Then I think of the statement of the Lord to the Prophet Joseph Smith when he said: “The works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught.” (D&C 3:1.) In other words, no one can stand in the way of God achieving what he has decreed for his children. Then a further statement in the Doctrine & Covenants where the Lord said: “His purposes fail not, neither are there any who can stay his hand. From eternity to eternity he is the same.” (D&C 76:3–4.)

Then there are the words of the Lord to the prophet Nephi when he said: “For my work is not yet finished; neither shall it be until the end of man, neither from that time henceforth and forever.” (2 Ne. 29:9.) Now that should enable us to comprehend and realize that there will never be a time when God will cease to do his work to bring to pass, as we read in the Pearl of Great Price, the glory that will be added upon their heads forever and ever.

Coming back to our family, we had four daughters before we got a boy and he grew into beautiful young manhood; we lost him in an accident down at the beach in California while I was the president of the stake there. He was just turning 16 and he stood as tall as his father, and to think now of his own brothers who are here: they have their families, and one of them has just been serving as one of the Regional Representatives of the Twelve. I can’t believe that boy will come out any less exalted in the eternities that are to come than his brothers who have lived here in mortality. When he died, the principal of the high school came to our home (and he was not a member of the Church) and told Sister Richards that our son was the best boy he had ever had in his school, and we felt that, too, as he grew into manhood.

Jennette Evans McKay, mother of our ninth prophet, David Oman McKay, had sacrificed a great deal to make it possible for her husband to go on a mission. When the mission call arrived in the mail, Jennette and David had three living children, and a fourth—Annie—was to be born very soon. They owned a large farm that required a lot of work, and they had just saved up enough money to remodel their home and add on more bedrooms.
David was hesitant to leave his wife with so much responsibility, but Jennette said, “Of course you will go! David O. and I will manage quite nicely.”
After her husband left for Scotland, Jennette McKay had the ward priesthood quorums do her spring planting, and she spent a lot of time teaching her young children how to run the farm. They milked the cows, fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and helped harvest their precious crops. And after swearing everyone who knew about it to secrecy, Jennette had their home remodeled without telling her husband in any of her letters to him. She made the kitchen and dining room larger and added several new bedrooms. She was especially proud of the new indoor staircase, which led to the children’s bedrooms upstairs. Now she would no longer have to wrap up warmly on cold winter nights, go outside, climb a ladder, and crawl through a window to tuck her children in bed at night.
When Jennette’s husband returned from his mission, he could not believe his eyes as he toured the home and saw the many improvements. The farm, the home, and, of course, the children had been well taken care of by Jennette McKay.

“Go outside and play,” the hired girl said. “You know your mother needs to rest.” So Leta, Sina, Nilla, and Clyde followed the flagstone path out the back door and past the pretty tulips. The gate led to the field, and at one end of the field was a big root cellar. The parts of the cellar that were not filled with potatoes or other root crops were like a playhouse for the four children.

“Let’s get ready for dinner,” Leta said in a special voice that meant she was pretending to be Mother. “Sina, help me tie my apron.” She pretended to pull an apron out of a drawer and put her head through the part that went over the shoulders.

Sina pretended to make a bow in the back, hurrying to finish so she could play the part of big sister. “I will set the table,” she said, turning over a wooden crate and draping it with an old dish towel that they had used in their playhouse before.

“Nilla,” Leta ordered again, “you go back to the house and find us some food to eat.”

Nilla was happy to have an important part to play in this game. She was almost back to the house before she remembered that the hired girl had sent them away and might not let her go into the house again. She looked around carefully until she saw the girl talking to a boy who had ridden up on a horse.

Nilla went to the kitchen. The cupboard doors were open, but they smelled of cleaning soap and nothing was inside. Boxes and bottles of various sizes and shapes were on the table and chairs.

One bottle with a worn, red-and-white label caught Nilla’s eye. She did not know that the picture of the skull and crossbones on it meant “poison.” The label was loose, so she tore it off and threw it down on the floor. Then she proudly took the bottle back to her sisters and brother, who were waiting in the playhouse.

Leta opened the bottle and looked at the white crystals inside it. “Yes, this looks very good,” she said, closing it up again. “It will take a little while for dinner to be ready, so don’t sit up to the table yet.”

Leta pretended to be busy cooking over the stove, then sweeping the floor. She scolded the children from time to time when they were impatient waiting for their food. Finally she announced that it was time for dinner.

When the children took their places at the table, Leta poured a little pile of the crystals in front of each of them. Clyde licked his finger, ready to eat right away, but Leta stopped him. “No food until after the prayer. And I will say it.”

This time, she reminded everyone of their father as she prayed. “Our Father who art in heaven,” she began, “we thank Thee for this food, and for …” Her voice rose and fell as she prayed on and on, and her words were mumbled much of the time so that no one was quite sure what all she had said. The others did hear her say, “Bless this food to our use” and “Bless the missionaries in the field.” Just when Sina, Nilla, and Clyde thought that the prayer would end and the feast would start, Leta thought of the name of a ward member she could mention in the prayer and the prayer continued.

In the house, Mother, sick and weak, awoke with such a feeling of concern for her children that she found herself standing beside her bed even before she was fully awake. Making her way slowly out of the bedroom, she saw the hired girl asleep on the couch.

The kitchen was spotlessly clean, except for a faded red label that startled her as a breeze blew it across the floor. A picture of a skull and crossbones was on it, and the word strychnine. Mother hurried outside as fast as she was able. She saw no sign of her children in the yard, so she went straight to their playhouse in the cellar.

Leta had just said, “amen,” and each child was raising a freshly licked finger in the air over the “food” to pick up the powder and eat it, when Mother’s shadow appeared in the doorway.

Mother had found the children in time! In her heart, she said her own prayer of thanks for the lives of her little children. She did not doubt for a moment that the Spirit of the Lord had awakened her and led her to the children who were in danger.

That evening at suppertime, the children waited patiently through the rising and falling tones of their father’s long blessing on the food. It wasn’t hard to remember their own blessing on the play “food” they had almost eaten in the root cellar.

While they were eating, Nilla whispered to Leta, “Heavenly Father really does hear and understand each prayer, doesn’t He?”

“Yes, He really does,” Leta whispered back.

Sister Bednar and I are acquainted with a returned missionary who had dated a special young woman for a period of time. He cared for her very much, and he was desirous of making his relationship with her more serious. He was considering and hoping for engagement and marriage. This relationship was developing during the time that President Hinckley counseled the Relief Society sisters and young women of the Church to wear only one earring in each ear.

The young man waited patiently over a period of time for the young woman to remove her extra earrings, but she did not take them out. This was a valuable piece of information for this young man, and he felt unsettled about her nonresponsiveness to a prophet’s pleading. For this and other reasons, he ultimately stopped dating the young woman, because he was looking for an eternal companion who had the courage to promptly and quietly obey the counsel of the prophet in all things and at all times. The young man was quick to observe that the young woman was not quick to observe.

I presume that some of you might have difficulty with my last example. You may believe the young man was too judgmental or that basing an eternally important decision, even in part, upon such a supposedly minor issue is silly or fanatical. Perhaps you are bothered because the example focuses upon a young woman who failed to respond to prophetic counsel instead of upon a young man. I simply invite you to consider and ponder the power of being quick to observe and what was actually observed in the case I just described. The issue was not earrings!

Thomas Carlyle lived from 1795 until 1881. He was a Scot essayist and historian. During his lifetime he became one of the world's greatest writers. But he was a human, and humans make mistakes.

On October 17, 1826, Carlyle married his secretary Jane Welsh. She was an intelligent, attractive, and somewhat temperamental daughter of a well-to-do doctor. They had their quarrels and misunderstandings, but still loved each other dearly. After their marriage, Jane continued to serve as his secretary. After several years of marriage, Jane became ill. Being a hard worker, Carlyle became so absorbed in his writings that he let Jane continue working for several weeks after she became ill. She had cancer, and it was one of the slow growing kind. Finally, she became confined to her bed. Although Carlyle loved her dearly, he very seldom found time to stay with her long. He was busy with his work.

When Jane died they carried her to the cemetery for the service. The day was a miserable day. It was raining hard, and the mud was deep. Following the funeral Carlyle went back to his home. He was taking it pretty hard. He went up the stairs to Jane's room and sat down in the chair next to her bed. He sat there thinking about how little time he had spent with her and wishing so much he had a chance to do it differently. Noticing her diary on a table beside the bed, he picked it up and began to read in it.

Suddenly he seemed shocked. He saw it. There, on one page, she had written a single line. "Yesterday he spent an hour with me and it was like heaven; I love him so." Something dawned on him that he had not noticed before. He had been too busy to notice that he meant so much to her. He thought of all the times he had gone about his work without thinking about and noticing her.

Then Carlyle turned the page in the diary. There he noticed written some words that broke his heart. "I have listened all day to hear his steps in the hall, but now it is late and I guess he won't come today." Carlyle read a little more in the book. Then he threw it down and ran out of the house. Some of his friends found him at the grave, his face buried in the mud. His eyes were red from weeping. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He kept repeating over and over again, "If I had only known, if I had only known." But it was too late for Carlyle. She was dead. (11)

Perhaps it was this experience that motivated Thomas Carlyle to write the phrase, "The greatest of faults is to be conscious of none." We would, indeed, be foolish if we saw no need to improve ourselves to strengthen our marriages.

A year ago, a man in our ward was diagnosed with cancer. By the time the cancer was detected, the tumor had grown around the bone and nerves in a way that made it inoperable. Randy was given 10 months to live. He began chemotherapy treatments, and his family and the ward began fasting and praying for him and others in the ward with serious health problems. At nine months, on Randy’s last visit to his doctor, the doctor sat at the desk and shook his head. Nine months before, Randy was given no chance of survival; that day, the tests showed no signs of a tumor.

God answers prayers and performs miracles today. But why did God perform a miracle by sparing Randy’s life when another man in our ward died from cancer just a few weeks later? The other man’s family and the ward prayed and fasted for him as well. In both cases, there were lessons to be learned—for the individuals involved, for their families, and for the ward. Faith was tested, people became stronger, and a ward grew closer together.

One bishop’s wife commented, “When my husband became bishop I had a hard time, suddenly realizing I had all the yard work to do—plus all the housework. He wasn’t around and I had to do it.” Her husband agreed. “It puts a lot of strain on my wife. But that also puts an important responsibility on me. I’ve got to remember that when I get home and the dishes from last night’s dinner are still in the sink and the living room is a mess and the lawn needs mowing I can never, never complain. Instead, I must begin to work and help—and get some of the children to work, too. My wife never complains about what I do; why should I complain about what she does?”

World War II had just ended, and most people in Germany had very little food or money. My birthday was coming up just a few weeks before Christmas. I did not expect to receive any Christmas or birthday presents, knowing quite well—even as a young girl—that our parents were struggling to meet our basic needs. In our big city, hunger was always present. It was a sad and dark time.
On the day of my birthday, to my surprise and delight, a wonderful present—just for me—was placed on the kitchen table. It was the most beautiful present I could have imagined: a tiny little Weihnachtsbaum, a Christmas tree, just one foot (30 cm) tall, covered with delicate handmade ornaments of tinfoil. The tinfoil reflected the light of our living room in an enchanting way. As I inspected the tinfoil ornaments, I realized with amazement that they were filled with small pieces of caramelized sugar. It was like a miracle. Where did my mother get the tiny evergreen tree, the tinfoil, and the rarity of sugar?
To this day, I do not know how she made this miracle happen at a time when none of those precious things was available. It remains in my heart as a symbol of my parents’ deep love for me, as a symbol of hope, love, and the true meaning of Christmas.
During the Christmas season, we still have in our home a Christmas tree, now decorated with electrical lights and ornaments of every variety. When we are together with our children and grandchildren, the beauty of the tree and the sparkling lights warm my heart and bring back sweet memories of a happy family moment that came from a tiny tree with shiny tinfoil ornaments.

Illustrating the faith of his mother, Elder Uchtdorf retold an experience his family encountered as refugees from Czechoslovakia during World War II. During a brief stop, his mom left the train to look for food. Upon returning, she could not locate the train and prayed for help. After the prayer she noticed her family and the train on a parallel track.
“Some of my memories of these days are of darkness and cold, but with the help of God, we were moved into days where a light was shining forth to all who came out of that darkness and coldness and were willing to accept the Savior,” he said.

But at least as numerous as the stories of those who faltered are the stories of the quiet heroes who did not. Though not mentioned by name in the Doctrine and Covenants, Polly Knight, mother of the family who so faithfully stood by the Prophet, became the first Latter-day Saint laid to rest in Missouri and earned her place in Church history. Traveling to settle in Missouri, she became so ill that her son, Newel, was dispatched from the riverboat to buy lumber for her coffin. Despite her illness, she insisted on completing the journey and died soon after reaching the gathering place.
After burying his wife in Missouri, Joseph Knight recorded the following: “She was Burried in the woods a spot Chosen out By our selves. I was along By where she was Buried a few Days after and I found the pigs had Began to root where she was Burried. I Being verry unwell But I took my ax the next Day and went and Bilt a pen around it. It was the Last I done for her.”10 Her faithful sacrifice bears the Lord’s benediction. Soon after her death, the Lord told Joseph Smith, “Those that die shall rest from all their labors, and their works shall follow them; and they shall receive a crown in the mansions of my Father, which I have prepared for them” (D&C 59:2).