Gospel Story Finder

I married young, and while my marriage has always been a healthy and a happy one, it made me face my weaker traits. On top of that, my husband and I decided to have children right away, and my first pregnancy was the most harrowing experience I’d ever had. I faced physical challenges I never imagined. My mood was unstable, and depression became a very real and very new struggle.
I tried to be a good wife, good mother, and good student, but I never quite measured up to my own standards. In time, scolding myself became my first reaction.
I understood that the two great commandments say to “love the Lord thy God” and to “love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matthew 22:37, 39; emphasis added), which implies that we should love ourselves. But I felt unworthy of love.
I thought, “If I sin and love myself anyway, isn’t that giving myself permission to keep doing wrong? After all, we’re supposed to offer up a broken heart and a contrite spirit, so aren’t we supposed to be miserable until we’re better?”
At the time I would have answered “yes,” but the truth is a resounding “no.”
Elder S. Gifford Nielsen of the Seventy taught: “Our Heavenly Father wants us to love ourselves … to see ourselves as He sees us: we are His cherished children. When this truth sinks deep into our hearts, our love for God grows.”1 And when my love for God grows, I become better. When I love God, I recognize my Savior’s gift that makes it possible for me to be forgiven of my sins and to overcome my shortcomings. When I love God, it’s easier to love myself.
Berating others doesn’t help them progress; it only discourages them. Along with correction, they also need encouragement. So why was I any different? How could I offer myself the same compassion?
When I confided in my husband about this struggle, I felt pathetic. I was more comfortable continuing my habit of negative self-talk, so I had to be brave and vulnerable to admit my weaknesses out loud. But articulating my problem to another person helped me find more clarity and solutions.
I’ve educated myself with uplifting resources to understand my thought patterns and how to improve. I’ve also learned that regular exercise makes a huge difference. In the past I exercised because I hated my body and wanted to change it. Now I exercise because I love to feel good and have more energy.
My changes were more effective because I acknowledged the Savior was supporting me rather than condemning me. Before, my scripture study, prayer, and temple attendance had been full of shame and had limited my spiritual growth. Now my prayers are more genuine and honest because I’m not hiding myself from the Lord.
I also had to decide what mattered and who to listen to. Our world, our neighborhoods, and our social media platforms have so many expectations on how to act, look, parent, talk, and so on. It is simply impossible to achieve universal approval.
But you know who else faced disapproval? Jesus Christ. He was kind, compassionate, and perfect, but He didn’t win any popularity contests. In fact, choosing to show His love for certain people often cost Him the respect of others. I have had to accept that I cannot please everyone and should instead strive to please God.
The goal with self-love is never to justify omission, rationalize sin, or slip into complacency. I recognize that certain negative feelings can help me, such as godly sorrow—but I shouldn’t wallow in it, because that’s not progression.
Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said:
“Guilt has an important role as it awakens us to changes we need to make, but there are limits to how far guilt will help us.
“Guilt is like a battery in a gasoline-powered car. It can light up the car, start the engine, and power the headlights, but it will not provide the fuel for the long journey ahead. The battery, by itself, is not sufficient. And neither is guilt.”2 I must be intentional not to slip into negative thinking patterns and should instead focus on loving Christ and myself.
It’s been a process to lay this burden at my Savior’s feet, but it’s working. The small changes I have made, many of them inside my own head, are making a huge difference because of the Savior’s grace.
I’m grateful that the heart of the gospel revolves around love. The love of God, love of others, and love for myself.

Almost five centuries ago a creative genius named Leonardo da Vinci lived and worked in Italy. While we remember him most today for such paintings as the Mona Lisa, he was also a fascinating debater, a polished orator, and a storyteller of great imagination. One of his fables, simply titled “The Wolf,” I would like to share with you.
“Carefully, warily, the wolf came down out of the forest one night, attracted by the smell of a flock of sheep. With slow steps he drew near to the sheepfold, placing his feet with the utmost caution so as not to make the slightest sound which might disturb the sleeping dog.
“But one careless paw stepped on a board; the board creaked and woke the dog. The wolf had to run away, unfed and hungry. And so, because of one careless foot, the whole animal suffered.” (Adapted from Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, “Fantastic Tales,” Bestiary, no. 1225.)

One Sunday I was substituting in a Primary class of particularly rambunctious five-year-olds. The lesson was about love. We began by singing the song “Jesus Said Love Everyone.”
Afterward I commented, “Jesus loves everyone, and we must do that, too.”
Robbie challenged me. “Oh, no, he doesn’t love everyone—he doesn’t love the bad people!”
“Yes, Robbie, he loves everyone.”
“He doesn’t love the robbers.”
“Even the robbers.”
Robbie thought a minute and said, “I know some people he didn’t love—he didn’t love the men who killed him!”
At that point I told Robbie about the Crucifixion.
“When Jesus hung on the cross,” Robbie interrupted me, “did they really put nails in his hands and feet?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, that must have hurt.”
“Yes, it did. Even after that happened, as Jesus hung on the cross in great pain, he said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’ (Luke 23:34.) Jesus was speaking about the men who had placed him on the cross. He asked Heavenly Father to forgive them. Yes, Robbie, Jesus even loved these people, and he forgave them.”
Robbie looked at me, furrowed his brow, and said, “I’m going to ask my dad if Jesus really did say that.”
After class was over, I was walking into sacrament meeting with my family, and I felt a tug on my dress. It was Robbie.
“Sister Wright, my dad says you’re right.”
The tenderness of this experience was that Robbie went from challenging the idea that Jesus could love everyone to a sweet trust of Christ’s unconditional love.

Jenny Archer, Author When Jenny writes the story of her life for a school assignment, she tells about her birth on the banks of the Amazon. She exposes her great-grandfather as a bloodthirsty pirate. She reveals the dark secrets of Great-Great-Grandmother Buffalo Belle Archer, the notorious stagecoach robber and opera star. And she unmasks Horrible Hortense, her evil twin sister. It is clearly an A+ effort. So why does her teacher send a note home to her parents?

When I served as a mission president in Scotland, two of our fine missionary sisters taught and baptized a man in his eighties. In a testimony meeting soon afterward, he stood and gave thanks that he now had purpose in life. “I was waiting to die when the sisters knocked on my door,” he said tearfully. Before long he was called as counselor in the ward Sunday School presidency, and later as Sunday School president. He had great joy and happiness in his church service and made many new friends. A year or so passed and he came over to Salt Lake City for a visit, made more friends and gained more experiences, and especially, was able to go to the temple for the first time. When he did step from this life a few months after his return to Scotland, what a full and purposeful life he had—and all within two years!

I close with another example of a family relationship. At a stake conference in the Midwest about 10 years ago, I met a sister who told me that her nonmember husband had been accompanying her to church for 12 years but had never joined the Church. What should she do? she asked. I counseled her to keep doing all the right things and to be patient and kind with her husband.

About a month later she wrote me as follows: “Well, I thought that the 12 years was a good show of patience, but I didn’t know if I was being very kind about it. So, I practiced real hard for over a month, and he got baptized.”

Kindness is powerful, especially in a family setting. Her letter continued, “I am even trying to be kinder now because we are working on a temple sealing this year!”

Six years later she wrote me another letter: “My husband was [just] called and set apart as the bishop [of our ward].”2

Another pioneer game was last couple out. Caroline was chosen to be the leader, and the other children each chose a partner. They lined up side by side behind Caroline. Henry and Charles were partners, and they were the last couple lined up behind Caroline. When Caroline yelled, “Last couple out!” Henry and Charles separated. Henry ran forward along the right side of the line, and Charles along the left side. The two boys tried to clasp hands in front of Caroline before she could tag either of them. But Caroline tagged Charles, so she became Henry’s new partner. They took their place at the front of the line behind Charles, the new leader, and the game began again.

Just before he died, Charles Sheldon wrote a small sequel to his book entitled In His Steps Today. It tells of Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Ward and their four children. Their two oldest children, George and Alice, attended college while their two youngest, John and Mary, were in high school. Mr. Ward was an official in a railroad office, and Mrs. Ward was prominent in the social, church, and literary life of the city.
One morning as the family was eating breakfast, Mr. Ward told of coming across a book in the library which he and Mrs. Ward had read some twenty-five years earlier, just before their marriage. It was entitled In His Steps, or What Would Jesus Do?
He wondered if the plan were practical, if it really worked. He knew of a large number of people who had taken the pledge to try to act as Jesus who had had some interesting experiences. He knew the children were eager to try experiments in the chemical laboratory and in other fields and wondered if they would be willing to conduct an experiment in the world of conduct.
He asked them if just for that day, for example, they would be willing to do nothing without first asking, “What would Jesus do?” and then try to do the same.
There was embarrassing silence around the table. They were a Christian family, but the subject was unusual. Finally, the silence was broken by John, “the irrepressible,” as the others called him: “If we take the pledge, what’s the matter with you and mother taking it too? You were talking to us yesterday about the bad example the old people set to the young generation. How about you and mother, Dad?”
The father agreed. Mrs. Ward said she would join in the pledge with the understanding that each one would give it an honest and sincere trial.
Perhaps the members of their family did not know it, but this event was to make history for all of them. The pledge was to run until ten o’clock that night. Then they were to meet at that time to share their experiences of the day, holding back nothing.
I wish I had time to tell you all of their experiences. Let me quote the parents, tell what happened to the younger ones, and consider the final question raised by Mr. Ward.
First, let’s hear from Mr. Ward:
“My first experience came to me as I went into my office this morning, and . . . saw Crawford of the auditing department. He was very much put out yesterday when he accused me of backing into his car out in front of the office, and bending a fender. I told him he had parked his car at such an angle that I couldn’t get out without hitting it. We both became angry. This morning I went in, asked his pardon, and offered to buy him a new fender. It did us both good. . . .
“This afternoon out at the golf course, while I was putting my things back into my locker, two of the members of the club came in and took flasks out of their lockers, drank, and offered some to the rest of us. This has been going on for a long time against the rules of the club and the laws of the state, but no one has ever enforced them. It seemed to me that if Jesus saw a crime being committed, he would consider it his duty as a good citizen to prevent it. I went to the chairman of the House Committee and reported the breaking of the rules, which has raised a storm.
“Several of the members came to me this evening down at the literary club, and threatened to blackball at me the next election for directors if I did not withdraw my charges against the drinkers. More will come from this. But what would Jesus do? It has been an interesting day.”
Now let’s hear from Mrs. Ward:
“I really did not know what following Jesus might mean, but my story has to do with the action of our women’s Board of Directors in renting a part of our building to certain parties who are allowing dancing of a questionable nature to go on, together with card games that are practically nothing but gambling.
“I have known of this for some time as all the women do, but did not want to be unpopular by objecting. At the directors’ meeting today, however, I expressed my opinion and objection. The club is in debt, and the amusement concessions bring in big rent. I am the only member of the board to file a protest. It will mean—“Mrs. Ward paused, and there was a moment of silence.
Finally, let’s hear from the younger ones, John and Mary, with Mary leading out:
“We went to an entertainment this evening. A lot of the girls at the high school had been to see it, and they told John and me that it was grand. But I’d rather John told what happened.”
John seemed to be unusually reluctant to relate their experiences. Finally he spoke in a subdued tone that was unlike his usual loud and assertive manner.
“Well, after it began,” he said, “I thought it was one of those foolish things that was just for—well, just entertainment. Then I remembered what you said one day, Mother, about not wanting Mary and me to go to any entertainment that we wouldn’t invite you or father to see. Well, it got pretty vulgar, and—”
Another silence was around the table. Mrs. Ward looked at the boy with a new expression, as if some very rare experience were being related—as indeed it was.
The boy went on slowly: “Just then Mary nudged me and whispered, ‘Let’s get up and go out!’ Honest, I thought it would be a [strange] thing to do, but then when I asked ‘What would Jesus do?’ it seemed all right. So we got up, treading on a lot of feet in the row where we had been sitting.”
“On our way out,” broke in Mary, “I said to John, ‘Let’s do one more thing. Let’s tell the manager why we are going out.’ John said, ‘All right, and let’s tell him to give us our money back because we did not pay for that kind of entertainment.’ You never will see a more surprised man than Mr. Rondus when we told him how we felt!”
“Surprised isn’t the word,” interrupted John. “He was flabbergasted! When I told him we thought he ought to refund our money, he didn’t say a word, but forked the money right over. Do you think we did what Jesus would do?”
Mrs. Ward had a tear in her eye. She reached over and stroked the boy’s head. “A thing like that never happened in this town before. Well, we certainly have had some new experiences.”
“Worthwhile, don’t you think? But can we keep it up?” questioned Mr. Ward.
The question provoked a discussion around the Ward table that lasted into the next morning.
What do you think? [Charles M. Sheldon, In His Steps Today (Litchfield, Ill.: Sunshine Press, 1948), pp. 22–24, 29–31]

“You both know Elder Kempter, don’t you?” I asked. “I received a letter from him a little while ago, and among other things he said, ‘Have I got a story for you.’ It went something like this:
“‘Last night after holding a family home evening, we were getting ready to leave when this one girl came out to the truck and asked me if I wanted a goat. I told her it was probably too small to eat and I didn’t have any place to keep it. Now, I don’t know if you are aware of what offering a goat means, but afterwards I found out. Offering a goat is a way of proposing marriage for a young lady! I almost fell over with surprise when I found that out—but don’t worry, President, there is no attraction on my part!’

As bad as things were at school, they were worse at home. With Dad gone and Mom working so many hours, my brothers and I were left in charge of the house, inside and out. To my horror, even though we were doing our best, we got anonymous notes about what a mess our yard was and what a disgrace we were to the neighborhood. I had to agree. Our home and yard did not look as good as the others. I was ashamed to invite friends over.

When I started early-morning seminary, things changed. They got better. I was introduced to someone I could relate to—someone who had problems worse than mine. The difference was that while I felt sorry for myself, he stayed close to the Lord and refused to complain. The person I’m talking about is Nephi.

Sister Mortensen, my seminary teacher, pointed out that no one escapes heartbreak or pain in life—not even Nephi. What made Nephi great was that he never lost hope or his testimony while he battled one problem after another. Nephi helped me realize that my biggest problem in life was not my parents’ divorce or my bright pants or things and people beyond my control. My biggest problem was my attitude, something I have complete control over.

Nephi’s family had their world turned upside down. Unhappy that their dad led them away from their home and possessions, Nephi’s brothers began to murmur and complain. Nephi, on the other hand, prayed for understanding.

Nephi’s brothers took a lot of their frustrations out on him. They hit him with a rod, bound him with cords, and even plotted to kill him. Hearing how violent they were toward Nephi made me realize how insignificant Mike and the bullies in my life were. What’s amazing is that while I felt nothing but contempt for those who were unkind to me, Nephi was patient and loving and “did frankly forgive them all that they had done” (1 Ne. 7:21).

While most of my friends didn’t say much about my family situation, one friend called to say her mother no longer wanted her to be friends with me. Her mom said people like me who came from families with problems were a bad influence. I burst into tears and after that spent many nights crying myself to sleep.

Nephi also admits to crying himself to sleep. He said, “Mine eyes water my pillow by night” (2 Ne. 33:3). The difference was that Nephi, during the day, continually prayed for his family, something that hadn’t occurred to me because I was too busy wallowing in my tears.

While Nephi came from a family with many problems, he remained true. His way of dealing with pain and anguish was to lean upon Heavenly Father.

Nephi never fell into Satan’s trap of thinking Heavenly Father’s love could be measured by how well things were going for him. Nephi proved that while we don’t always have a choice about the bad things that happen to us, we always have a choice about how we respond to these problems.

Nephi explained, “I did liken all scriptures unto us, that it might be for our profit and learning” (1 Ne. 19:23).

Another memory from my boyhood was learning how to work. We had a big yard because my dad wanted to teach us how to work in it. So we all had assignments—mowing the lawn, weeding the vegetable and flower gardens, trimming the hedges, and so forth. My favorite job was working in our strawberry patch, because I’d eat the strawberries almost as fast as I picked them!
One job I had was mowing the lawn with our old push mower. My dad wouldn’t make me do it when I didn’t want to, but he would warn me, “It’s your job, and if you don’t do it today, the grass will only be longer tomorrow, and it’ll be harder to push the mower.” I remember procrastinating three or four days past the time when I should have mowed the lawn. Trying to push that mower through the long grass was really hard. I learned never to put off what you’re supposed to do, because it just gets harder the longer you wait. One of the happiest days of my youth was when my dad finally bought a power lawn mower!

On March 27, 1993, when I was 13 years old, I was baptized. I have been receiving the New Era ever since, but for two years I had never read it all the way through. When my family moved from California to West Virginia, I was happy about the move but sad to leave my friends and ward behind. On my second day in our new home, my parents gave me two issues of the New Era. That night I decided to let the magazine become my friend. When I turned to “Some Friendly Advice” (Mar. 1995), I almost cried because I found the answer to my problem. I thought, Wow, this is perfect. I put the advice to use and I made a lot of friends at school. Since that night, I have faithfully read the New Era cover to cover.
Stephanie AdamsBuckhannon, West Virginia

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

I will not forget the night when a fine, mature, successful, affluent man stood in a large congregation and bore his witness. It was a witness that testified to me what the 32nd chapter of Alma also testifies and what my own experience has testified: that testimony and conviction and assurance and confidence about the truth can come with earnest search and the living of the life at whatever age.

The man told of his little boy who at age eight came to his bedside with a message. The man had been for 17 years a cynical, critical, quite heartless critic of his wife and children, who were members of the Church. His business partner was a Latter-day Saint bishop who found his life somewhat difficult because of this man’s attitude. The man went on in his criticism through the years while his wife, in spite of his problem behavior, dedicated herself and her children to the Church. But the time came when this man, having suffered a broken back in an automobile accident, lay in bed for months. His little boy came and announced that he was going to be baptized and said, “Daddy, I wish you could be with me.” The man had mellowed a little under the circumstances of his recent experience. He said, “I wish I could too, son, but you come and tell me about it when you get home.”

The little boy came back. He said, “Daddy, I have been wanting to talk to you for a long time, and I’m going to do it now. I have just been baptized into the Church. You are a wonderful daddy, and I love you very much, but this is what I want to say to you: I have only been on this earth eight years, and I have a testimony of the gospel. You’ve been here 45 years, and you don’t know that it is true yet, and the reason is that you don’t really want to. You won’t read the books Mother has tried to get you to read; you won’t listen to the missionaries or the teachers. You could know, but you just don’t want to.” The little boy went on his way, and this mature, successful, influential citizen lay and wept and, according to his own account, acknowledged the charge. When he got on his feet again he continued to do what he had started to do while in bed, to pay the price of learning. He “searched diligently,” and he stood before us as an active stake missionary with some very successful adventures in service to testify through tears and great emotion that he did now know the gospel was true.

He was still only a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, but Grandpa (Lorenzo Snow) was president of the Salt Lake Temple, so Chauncey was ordained an elder and received his endowments. He also participated in baptisms for the dead. He enjoyed almost a unique opportunity to examine the interior of the Temple:
“We started to see the interior of the Temple at one o’clock and went in the six towers as far as we could safely get. We went almost to the top of the west, middle tower, up past the last strait projection. I never care to be in a nicer place than the Temple. When we came back down, I sat in the chair made for the President of the Temple (my Grandpa). It was as soft and easy as life could wish to rest upon. I walked over the top of the Temple. We came out after 3 hours of walking and seeing. I went through as thoroughly as anybody and more than visitors and workers.”
The next day, too, he spent time looking through the Temple, “and enjoyed myself very much under its holy roof.”

A man of Christ stood on October 1, 1959, before a crowd of 1,500 people in a church within the shadow of the Kremlin and boldly referred to Jesus as the great Redeemer. He said in an emotion-filled voice:
“I believe very firmly in prayer. … It is possible to reach out and tap that Unseen Power which gives us such strength and such an anchor in time of need. … Be unafraid, keep His commandments, love one another, pray for peace and all will be well. … Truth will endure. Time is on the side of truth” (Ezra Taft Benson, Cross Fire: The Eight Years with Eisenhower [Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday and Co., 1962], pp. 486–87).
People wept openly on that occasion, including newsmen who had reluctantly attended the worship service. One newsman, a former marine, ranked the experience as one of the two most spiritual and memorable of his life.
There was a man in that cathedral in Russia on that special day. His name, Ezra Taft Benson—he who now presides as the President, prophet of the Church.

It happened every Sunday in church. No matter how hard Jeremy tried, he always got the wiggle-waggles. He tried very hard to sit still during Primary. He kept his arms folded as long as he could and sang all the Primary songs. Jeremy listened to the lesson in his class and tried to answer questions. But sometimes, even when he tried his very hardest to sit still, they still came—those bothersome wiggle-waggles!
It usually happened toward the end of Primary and carried on through sacrament meeting. Jeremy would start to fidget, then he’d play with his tie. He’d rattle his papers from Primary, then twist around in his seat. He tried talking to his best friend, Thomas, but Thomas would put a finger to his lips to tell Jeremy to be quiet. Thomas never seemed to get the wiggle-waggles.
Sometimes Jeremy would untie his shoes. When the wiggle-waggles were really bad, he would slip off his shoes and kick his stocking feet back and forth.
“Sit still, Jeremy,” his Primary teacher whispered to him.
“Shhh, Jeremy, I want to listen to Sister Bernard,” Thomas said quietly when Jeremy tried to tell him about his new toy dump truck.
“Put your feet down,” his mother cautioned in sacrament meeting.
“Leave your shoes on, son,” his dad told him.
Jeremy tried to sit reverently and quietly. He really did! But he still had those wiggle-waggles every Sunday.
One night at family home evening, Jeremy’s mother brought up the wiggle-waggle problem.
“I try to sit still, Mom. I really do!” Jeremy exclaimed.
“It seems to me that we need to figure out a way to stop those wiggle-waggles from bothering Jeremy,” Dad said thoughtfully. “Let’s all think about it, and maybe we’ll come up with a solution.”
On Sunday morning, just before the family left for church, Jeremy’s mother gave him a piece of paper and a pencil. Then she said, “Jeremy, I want you to write down a sentence about your lesson in Primary, and a sentence about the talks that you hear in sacrament meeting. Do you think you could do that?”
Jeremy nodded enthusiastically.
“We’ll talk about what you wrote on your paper for family home evening,” his mother added.
All through Primary, Jeremy sat very still. He listened carefully to the talks and scripture and wrote down the scripture reference. Jeremy sang with his best voice during singing time, and even wrote down a verse to one of the Primary songs. Then he wrote a sentence about sharing time. Jeremy didn’t talk to Thomas once. During the walk to their class, Thomas commented on how reverent Jeremy was. During his Primary class, Jeremy quietly wrote down a sentence about the lesson. Before he knew it, Primary was over.
“I didn’t get the wiggle-waggles once!” Jeremy proudly reported to his parents as they sat down for sacrament meeting.
During the next hour, Jeremy tried very hard to sit quietly. But after a while, he started to feel the wiggle-waggles creeping up on him. He glanced down at his paper and read the words of the Primary song he had written down: “It shouldn’t be hard to sit very still and think about Jesus, his cross on the hill, and all that he suffered and did for me; it shouldn’t be hard to sit quietly.”*
Jeremy thought about the song. That was the secret! He should think about Jesus. Jeremy knew that Jesus would want him to sit quietly and listen.
Jeremy listened as Elder Vasquez, one of the missionaries serving in his ward, related an experience about a 10-year-old girl who had recently been baptized. He listened when Elder Brown, the other missionary, told the congregation that he was from England and had been on his mission for only three months. As Jeremy listened to the missionaries, he decided that he would like to be a missionary, too.
Jeremy was surprised when the closing hymn was announced. He looked down at his paper and noticed that he hadn’t written anything about the missionaries. He had been too busy listening to them! And the wiggle-waggles hadn’t bothered him once!
As they were leaving the church after sacrament meeting, Jeremy’s parents told him how happy they were that he’d been so reverent. Jeremy told them how the Primary song had taught him to think about Jesus and what He wanted him to do.
Just then, Sister Harper came up to Jeremy’s parents and said, “Jeremy is so quiet! I wish my Kerry would learn how to be quiet and reverent like Jeremy. She gets so wiggly!”
Jeremy’s mother winked at him.
“It looks like the wiggle-waggles found someone else to bother,” she said.
“Yes.” Jeremy smiled and held up his piece of paper. “And I know just what she can do to fix it!”

My parents’ lives together began in an unusual way. It was 1936. They were dating seriously and were planning to marry, when my dad received a letter inviting him to serve as a full-time missionary in South Africa. The letter said that if he was worthy and willing to serve, he was to contact his bishop. You can quickly see that the process of being called as a missionary was very different in those days! Dad showed the letter to his sweetheart, Helen, and they determined without question he would serve.

For two weeks before he left, Mom met Dad each day for a picnic lunch in Memory Grove near downtown Salt Lake City. During one of their lunches, having sought direction through fasting and prayer, Mother told her dear Claron that if he still wanted to, she would marry him before he left. In the early days of the Church, men were sometimes called to missionary service and left wives and families at home. So it was with my mother and dad. With the approval of his priesthood leaders, they decided to be married before he departed for his mission.

In the Salt Lake Temple, Mother received her endowment, and then they were married for time and all eternity by President David O. McKay. Theirs was a humble beginning. There were no photographs, no beautiful wedding dress, no flowers, and no reception to celebrate the occasion. Their clear focus was on the temple and their covenants. For them, the covenants were everything. After only six days of marriage and with a tearful good-bye, my dad left for South Africa.

But their marriage was more than just the deep love they had for each other. They also had a love of the Lord and a desire to serve Him. The sacred temple covenants they had made gave them strength and power to carry them through the two years of separation. They had an eternal perspective of life’s purpose and of promised blessings that come to those who are faithful to their covenants. All these blessings transcended their short-term sacrifice and separation.

While it certainly wasn’t an easy way to begin married life, it proved to be an ideal way to lay a foundation for an eternal family. As children came along, we knew what mattered most to our parents. It was their love for the Lord and their unwavering commitment to keeping the covenants they had made. Though my parents have both passed away, their pattern of righteousness is blessing our family still.

The example of their lives is reflected in the words of Sister Linda K. Burton: “The best way to strengthen a home, current or future, is to keep covenants.”

Their season of hardship and trial was not over. Three years after Dad returned from his mission, World War II was raging, and like so many others, he enlisted in the military. He was away from home for another four years as he served in the navy aboard battleships in the Pacific.

It was a difficult time for my parents to be separated again. But for my mother, those days of loneliness, worry, and uncertainty were also marked by whisperings of the Spirit that spoke of eternal promises, of comfort and peace amid the storm.

Despite her challenges, my mother lived a rich life, full of happiness, joy, love, and service. Her love of the Savior was reflected in the way she lived her life. She had a remarkable connection to heaven and a gift and capacity to love and bless everyone around her. Her faith in God and hope in His promises are reflected in President Thomas S. Monson’s words about the temple when he said, “No sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings.”

In all the seasons of her life, Mother was strengthened and blessed by her love of the Lord and by the covenants she faithfully made and kept.

In October 2005, President Gordon B. Hinckley gave a masterful sermon on forgiveness. He recounted the experience of Victoria Ruvolo.7 One of the people listening that day was Chris Williams. Chris later said:

I sat there in that conference and I asked myself the question, “Could I do that? . . .” And I didn’t know. . . . That was an incredibly powerful exercise to go through, to “fore-give” people, to walk through life with that kind of attitude.8

That is fore—f-o-r-e, as in before—giveness. Asking ourselves, “Is that something I could do?” and deciding that it is something we want to be able to do prepares us to be better able to forgive other people.

Not even a year and a half later, an intoxicated seventeen-year-old driver crashed into the car Chris was driving, killing Chris’s wife, Michelle, their unborn child she was carrying, and two of their other children, Ben and Anna. Yet somehow, in his extreme grief and shock, Chris, as he was still sitting in his crushed car, knew he had to let go and forgive this unknown driver of the other car.

Chris later learned that the driver was Cameron White. Chris met with Cameron at a juvenile detention facility, and Chris and Cameron talked about how the deaths of Chris’s family members had affected Chris and the rest of his family.

Cameron . . . looked directly into [Chris’s] eyes and asked, “After all that I’ve done to your family, how is it that you were able to forgive me?”

[Chris] leaned forward and said, “If there is anything you have seen me do, or heard me say, or have read about me regarding forgiveness, you should know that it was merely the Savior working through me.”9

Chris Williams also offered to Cameron White this divine gift of forgiving, and he identified the true source of its light, Jesus Christ. Christ’s light helped heal both Chris and Cameron.

Chris’s family and Cameron’s family are bound together in love and continue to stay in touch. Cameron married in 2012 and has two beautiful daughters. Cameron has let it go; he is forgiving himself daily and is thriving.

In late summer of 1968 my missionary companion, Elder Ken Heaton, and I visited a part-member family in Kuopio, Finland. The mother and daughter were members of the Church, but the father was not.
At the wife’s request, we taught her and her daughter the discussions—loudly enough for the husband to hear from where he was in an adjacent room. When we tried to get him to join us, he said he didn’t have time. On one occasion his excuse was that he had a pile of lumber in the backyard that needed to be cut and stacked for winter.
“If the lumber were all cut and stacked, would you let us teach you?” we asked.
“Yes,” he replied. But there was so much wood, he added, that it would take him a long time before he could complete the job.
Several days later, after waiting for the father to leave for work, my companion and I returned to the home. With the wife’s permission, we spent the entire day cutting and stacking wood. We finished at 5:00 p.m., just before he returned home. We couldn’t wait to see his face, but we scurried away before he caught us. After riding our bicycles home and cleaning up, we pedaled back to the home at about 7:00 p.m.
“OK, the wood is cut!” we proclaimed. “Now will you let us teach you?”
He could only smile, nod his head, and join us in the front room. Several weeks later, after hearing the missionary discussions, this good brother was baptized and confirmed.