Gospel Story Finder

Journey with Joseph started out as a single song. It was written by Kurt Metzger, a member of the ward, to be sung by the youth. The song was written as a tribute to the Prophet, titled “Great Shall Be the Memory of Your Name,” and was sung at a youth conference. End of story.

Well, not exactly. The youth sang it again in a church meeting a few weeks later, and the bishop soon called Brother Metzger to write an entire presentation. And so Brother Metzger got to work. As the weeks flew by, ward members busily sewed costumes, painted scenery, and choreographed dances. The youth spent hours and hours learning lyrics by heart, then moving on to the next song, which was sometimes still in various stages of composition as they learned it. For some people, the idea of getting a full-length presentation written and produced in six months would seem crazy. But the youth had the energy, the leaders had the creativity, and they all had the dedication to make it work.

It wasn’t easy, but Jon Kirkham, who plays the part of Hyrum Smith in the presentation, says that sometimes the things that require the most sacrifice also become the most valuable.

“I’m so busy with school and everything that lately things have just been nuts. Last week I came home from my job and discovered neither of the cars were home, so I had to ride my bike to the church. It’s about half an hour by bike, but once I got there I didn’t care how tired I was. It’s just incredible being there with everyone and learning about the Prophet and the Church,” says Jon.

Seventeen-year-old Mindy Coon plays Lucy Mack Smith. “I tried to really understand how much love Joseph’s mother had for him,” she says. “She was one of the first people to recognize that what Joseph was saying was true. Learning about her so that I could portray her was really a humbling experience.”

Eighteen-year-old Nate Brian, who plays Joseph Smith, also feels that he has gained insight from being in the production. “Being able to, in a very small way, live the life of Joseph Smith has been so incredible. I’ve realized so many things, and it strengthens me to know that even though we’re human, if we live righteously, we can achieve great things.”

And it goes on and on. Through the long hours of practice and the stress of learning new things rapidly, the youth also come to understand much better what the early Saints went through to get the Church and its programs up and running. It’s all about sacrifice, loving others as yourself, enduring heartache and illness, and having enough faith in the Lord to carry you through.

But it isn’t just about hardship; it is also about living the gospel. It is about the happiness and blessings that come as a result of obedience. And it is about sharing the gospel message with others. Lots of things have changed for missionaries since Joseph Smith was a prophet—they ride bikes instead of buggies, and they don’t wear all that cumbersome clothing. But no matter what they wear or where they are, their message has remained the same. And, if you know where to look, you just might find member missionaries who are so excited about the gospel, they’ll even sing about it.

Elder Sipos and Elder Damiano were among the missionaries who loaded their cars with books and took them to the other cities. One of the last stops on their trip was Debrecen, a city in eastern Hungary, where they stayed for Church meetings on Sunday, 22 December. “I’ll never forget the reaction in the Debrecen Branch,” says Elder Sipos.
Elder István Berente—a Hungarian who had escaped from the country during the Communist regime, had been baptized, and had returned to his homeland as a missionary—made the announcement. Sister Carina Ragozzine, a missionary in Debrecen at the time, remembers that he started giving a talk about the importance of prophets, especially President Ezra Taft Benson. He emphasized President Benson’s message to read the Book of Mormon and said, “To help you do this, we have a little something for you.” Then the missionaries started handing out copies of the Hungarian Book of Mormon.
“The reaction was amazing,” says Elder Sipos. “Some people were crying, some people started laughing, others started clapping.”
Sister Ragozzine remembers everyone being quiet and making comments about how beautiful the book was. “So many people had joined the Church without seeing it. Finally seeing it made it an even more beautiful book to look at,” she says.
For the next couple of hours the members of the Debrecen Branch wouldn’t leave the room. They were pouring over stories they had heard about from missionaries but had never been able to read for themselves. And they were signing their names and testimonies in other people’s copies of the new Hungarian Book of Mormon.
“It is inexpressible the happiness that fills this day,” wrote Sister Králik Ida2 in Sister Ragozzine’s copy. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”
In Elder Sipos’ copy, Sister Fegyverneki Ágnes wrote, “I am so happy. … This was the greatest Christmas present I’ve received. Please don’t ever forget what this Christmas means for us.”
“It was definitely the best Christmas present of the season,” says Sister Ragozzine.

In my 18th year of life, I was approaching the time that young men in the Church are expected to serve full-time missions. I had grown up in an active LDS family, and I had heard the President of the Church, then Spencer W. Kimball, declare that every young man should serve a mission. Yet, as the time of my serving a mission approached, I was uncertain whether I should serve. I simply could not say for myself that the Church was true, and if I could not say it for myself, I did not feel I should say it to others.

One evening, I was sitting in my bedroom pondering my circumstances. I had recently finished reading the Book of Mormon for the first time, but doing so had not caused me to feel any differently about the Church. As I sat pondering in my bedroom my desire to know whether the Church was true, a thought came to me: "Read the Joseph Smith story."

Responding to the thought, I opened the Joseph Smith story and read it earnestly for the first time. I read of a young man, not much different from me in age, who found himself in a state of confusion on the subject of religion. He described a "war of words and tumult of opinions" among the religionists of his day, which left him uncertain on which of all the parties was right. "What is to be done?" I read him asking himself. "Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together? If any one of them be right, which is it, and how shall I know it?." As I read Joseph's description of his circumstances, I felt that Joseph's story was my story. I too was confused and uncertain on the subject of religion, and how to act I did not know.

I continued to read that Joseph came upon a verse in the Bible inviting him to pray. "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally ... and it shall be given him." I read how Joseph said that this verse penetrated his heart with great force, and finally moved him to do as directed, that is ask God. I read how Joseph retired to a quiet wood near his home, knelt down, and offered up the desires of his heart to God. And I read how in response, God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to Joseph and answered his heart-felt prayer.

After reading Joseph's account, I knew that I needed to do the same thing that Joseph had done. I needed to pray. I did not have a quiet wood to go to. I had only the quiet of my bedroom. I therefore closed the door, knelt at my bedside, and began to offer up the desires of my heart to God, not knowing what the outcome might be. I had prayed before, but not like this. As Joseph had described his prayer in the Sacred Grove, this was my first vocal prayer on a subject of intense and personal interest to me. On this occasion, my prayer went something like this: "Heavenly Father, if you are really there, and if Jesus is really your Son and the Savior of the world, and if Joseph Smith really saw the two of you, would you please, please tell me?"

Almost immediately, I had a feeling come over me that was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life up to that point. It was a feeling of love that entered into my heart and consumed my entire being. With it came an assurance to my mind that infused my whole being with a profound peace. So overwhelmed was I that I began to weep -- not out of fear, but out of joy. In this moment, the intense feelings of love and peace that were filling my soul delivered to me knowledge and intelligence that are more deep and enduring than can be obtained through the physical senses alone. Without seeing, touching, or hearing, I knew that there is a God in heaven, that He is my Father, that Jesus Christ is His Son and the Savior of mankind, and that Joseph Smith saw them both, just as he reported.

As the intensity of this experience abated, I wiped the tears from my eyes, and sat myself on my bed to reflect on what had happened. God the Father had answered my prayer. He loved me. I now had a witness from Him regarding fundamental truth claims of the Church. I felt such profound gratitude for having this witness, and I felt a great responsibility to act on that witness. Thereafter, I served a full-time mission. I married in the temple. And I have tried to remain true to this witness from that moment to the present hour.

Years later I began dating a woman named Rubí. She was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, though she was not active. We were together for three years when she began to feel the desire to go to church. She would ask me to go with her, but I always refused.
One day the missionaries came to our door. They gave me a Book of Mormon and left me with reading assignments. I read what they requested but felt nothing. I also attended church but was always skeptical. Even so, I felt I needed to keep reading the Book of Mormon. God was calling me again.
As I continued reading, I started to feel that the book was true. My faith was growing. When I reached 3 Nephi 13:9–13 and read the Lord’s Prayer, the Spirit flooded over me. I broke into sobs. God was calling me a third time. This time I listened.
My faith in God grew. I wanted to know more. In a short time, I read all the standard works. I continued attending church, and after Rubí and I married, I was baptized. I will never forget the joy I felt when I was confirmed a member of the Church.

But the most important change for the future, agree Dominican members, has taken place in the home. After Rafael and Miledy Dilone’s family of five joined the Church “even the neighbors congratulated us because of the new closeness they saw in our family,” says Rafael, a high councilor who works as a shoemaker at home and enjoys spending the days near his family. For Miledy, her family’s baptism and a noticeable improvement in her marriage strengthened their family life: “We were such a crazy family before. Now we know how to love each other.”

I once saw how this kind of learning can take place. One of our children was in great difficulty in his fourth-grade class. He needed to complete a certain project by the next day, or he would face disaster. After dinner, my wife, Marie, told me that she had thought of a way she could help him. I ushered our other children out of the kitchen, and the handicraft project began.
I periodically heard outbursts from our fourth-grader, who kept insisting that he wouldn’t do another thing on the project. At one point, I offered to send him to his room and tell him to forget it, but Marie calmly urged me to let her proceed with the plan.
After about three hours, as I was tucking the other children into bed, our son and his mother entered the bedroom. Carrying his project as proudly as if it were a birthday cake, he invited the other children to see it.
He had made every part of it himself. He placed it on a counter and started for his bed. Then he looked back at his mother with a broad, boyish grin. He ran across the room, threw his arms around her waist, and hugged her close. The two of them exchanged glances that carried great meaning. He went to bed, and we left the room.
“What happened?” I asked my wife. “How did you do it?”
Marie replied that she had made up her mind that no matter what he said or did, she wouldn’t raise her voice or lose her patience. She had also decided that leaving him was not an alternative, even if the project took all night. Then she made this significant observation: “I didn’t know I had it in me to do it.”
She had discovered within herself a reservoir of patience and endurance she never would have found without the deep commitment that grew from a sense of real belonging. Belonging is for thick and thin, and this was one of the thin times! Exerting such immovable loyalty to another person teaches us how to love—indeed, how to be more like the Savior.

“Aw, Mom, it’s just not fair!” Sarah heard Ben say as she neared the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks, a wave of guilt sweeping over her. She knew what he was referring to.
“I know it isn’t, Ben,” Mother replied in a soothing tone “but you’ve got to remember that it’s not Sarah’s fault. She knows she shouldn’t be afraid of dogs, but when that little dog bit her on the lip when she was just a toddler, he left more than just a scar on her face. The scar in her mind is a deeper one.”
“I’m not blaming her, Mom,” Ben sighed. “But you know how much I’ve wanted a dog.”
Sarah silently tiptoed away from the kitchen, not wanting her mother and brother to know she’d overheard. She trudged upstairs to her bedroom and flopped on the bed. Why do I have to be such a baby? she berated herself, unconsciously tracing the scar on her lip with her finger. Ben really wants a dog, but whenever I get near one I’m scared out of my mind!
Sighing, Sarah got up and mechanically prepared for bed. After calling goodnight to everyone and saying her prayers, she climbed under the covers. But she couldn’t go to sleep.
The sudden, far-off howling of a dog broke the stillness. Sarah sat upright in bed, shivers running up her spine. I must be imagining things, she thought disgustedly. The sound’s not coming from the direction of the Johnson’s farm, and they’re the only ones with a dog around here. She lay back down and tried to make her mind a blank. Again she heard the faint but piercing cry. Thinking of Ben, tears welled up in her eyes, and she said out loud to the blackness, “But I can’t help it!” Then, burying her head under her pillow, she fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day was a busy one, for there was a lot to do on their farm. The events of the night before were forgotten until lunchtime. As everyone trooped into the kitchen, Sarah lagged behind, exulting in the freshness of the air and the stillness of the countryside when the noise of the tractor was stilled. Suddenly she heard the unmistakable barking of a dog.
“Ben, Ben!” Sarah called, running after her brother. “Did you hear that dog barking?”
Ben frowned and glared at his sister. “That’s not funny, Sarah, and I’ll thank you not to joke about it.”
“I’m not joking, Ben! I heard it last night and again just now—a dog barking and howling, but it sounds like he’s far away. Don’t you hear it?”
They both stood still for a moment. Then Ben shook his head and said, “Sorry, Sarah, but I don’t hear anything—except my stomach growling! Let’s go in and eat. Your mind must be playing tricks on you.”
Sarah tried to forget what she’d heard until that night when she lay in bed again. However, she was so exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before that she soon fell asleep.
The next morning as she climbed into the truck to go to church, Sarah thought she heard the phantom dog again. Her dad declared it must be the Johnson’s dog, but Sarah had an uneasy feeling that he was wrong. When she heard the dog again late Sunday evening, she tiptoed into her brother’s room and shook his shoulder gently.
“What is it?” Ben asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
“Ben, you’ve got to listen. I keep hearing that dog and I’m not imagining it! I’m sure it isn’t the Johnson’s dog. Please, just listen for a minute.”
After a few moments of silence, the unmistakable yowl of a dog came drifting faintly on the night air. “You’re right, Sarah!” Ben whispered excitedly. “It’s a dog in trouble, all right, and it isn’t Shep. We’d better go see if we can find it.”
“Right now?” Sarah asked. “You know we could never find anything in the dark!”
“You’re right,” Ben admitted reluctantly. “Let’s get up early and start looking as soon as it’s light. We can split up so we can cover more ground before school.”
“But Ben,” Sarah’s voice quivered a little, “can’t I go with you? What’ll I do if I find him? You know that I …”
“If you find him, you can come and get me, OK? Don’t worry. Now go back to bed and get some sleep.”
The next morning as soon as the horizon began to glow, Ben and Sarah were up and out looking for the dog. After nearly an hour they still hadn’t found anything, so they decided to try again after school. As soon as they got home that afternoon, they each grabbed a couple of cookies and headed out the door.
“You may want to take your poncho, Sarah,” Ben said, glancing up at the sky. “It looks like it might storm.”
Sarah grabbed her poncho off the nail on the back porch and headed toward the cornfields. “Why don’t you try over by the south boundary of the farm, Sarah?” Ben suggested. “Dad covered a lot of ground plowing Saturday, but he didn’t make it down that far. I’ll go the other way.”
Sarah had been looking around for about twenty minutes when she heard the mournful wail again. I’m getting close, she thought apprehensively. “Where are you?” she called, hoping the dog would bark at the sound of her voice. It did. Feeling a few drops of rain, she pulled her poncho over her head and set off in the direction of the sound, calling again as she went. The dog responded each time she called, even though she could tell from its tone that it was getting weaker with each bark.
Coming to the edge of a large irrigation canal, Sarah stopped and sharply drew in her breath at what she saw. The dog was caught in the partly flattened end of a pipe—probably crushed by a tractor, Sarah surmised. He must have gotten stuck chasing a rabbit or something. I’ve got to go get Ben so he can help get him out. Sarah turned to go, but the dog’s pleading whimper brought her back again. Rain was beginning to pelt down harder now. She looked back into the ditch and realized that if the rainwater were to swell the water level of the canal, the dog would drown. The way this storm is increasing, by the time Ben gets here it willbe too late! Sarah thought.
For a minute she panicked. “I can’t! I just can’t go near him!” she cried. Then the words seemed to enter her mind, You’ve got to, or he’ll drown! She looked again at the stricken animal and took a few faltering steps. Oh, help me! She silently prayed, then plunged headlong down the bank.
She stopped a few feet from the dog and looked at him. When the dog saw her, he whined plaintively and stared at Sarah with the most incredible look of relief and joy that Sarah had ever seen. Why, that look is almost human, Sarah thought, surprised. Impulsively, she fell to her knees and stroked the dog’s head. “You poor thing!” she murmured.
She began to tug at the dog’s shoulders in an effort to free him. The water was already beginning to collect in the canal. I’ve got to work fast, she determined. The dog was too weak to help, but he licked her hand with his tongue as she tried to lubricate the end of the pipe with a little mud and water. Days of going without food had helped to make the animal a little thinner. Before long she had him free.
“You’re going to be OK,” she said over and over as she stroked his muddy fur. Then suddenly it hit her. Why, Sarah Blackhurst, you’re petting a dog! And you’re not scared at all! The thought took her breath away. The years of fear had been forgotten in the love and pity she felt for the suffering animal.
The dog was too weak to walk, so Sarah, already muddy and wet, bundled him up in her poncho and carried him out of the gully toward home. The dog never quit looking at her, even when Ben took him out of her arms at the door to the kitchen.
“Sarah! Where did you find him? I was beginning to worry about you!” Ben cried breathlessly. “I was about to …” Suddenly Ben stopped and turned, staring into Sarah’s eyes. “Why, Sarah, you’ve been holding a dog!”
“I know,” Sarah grinned sheepishly. “I know.”
Later that evening after the dog had been fed and given a warm bath, the family sat around the fireplace talking. The dog lay curled on a blanket in front of the hearth. “You know, Sarah, I don’t think that dog’s taken his eyes off you since you found him!” Father said.
“I’ve never seen such a look of love and devotion in my whole life,” Mother commented.
“From Sarah or the dog!” Ben said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Where do you think he came from, Dad?” Sarah asked. “Do you think we can keep him?”
“Well, I think we should advertise in the paper that we’ve found him,” Dad responded, “but I doubt anyone will come for him. He’s probably a stray, abandoned in the country by somebody who wanted to get rid of him.”
“I hope we can keep him,” Sarah murmured.
“I never thought I’d ever hear you say something like that!” Ben teased. Then after a minute he said, “Hey, I thought I was supposed to be the one who got a dog!” But he winked at Sarah as he said it.

The day after I learned that Brent had been killed, one of my former bishops gave me a blessing that changed my perspective. In his blessing, he said that my purpose as a wife, mother, and daughter of God had not changed. Then he promised that Brent’s purpose as my husband and our children’s father had not changed either.
After the blessing, I remember chanting in my mind: “My purpose has not changed. My purpose has not changed.”
The next morning, as I repeated those words to myself, a phrase came into my mind: “Only the details have changed.” And as I tried to accept the fact that the details of my life had changed from what I thought they would be, another impression came: “God is in the details.”
The Lord was giving me line-upon-line revelation. When He does this, it’s not because He is keeping secrets from us. It’s because He is going at our pace.
In the months after Brent died, I was anxious about what would come next. But I knew that I could take one step forward at a time and that I could trust that the Lord would give me one line of revelation at a time. It might not be the line I thought He was going to give me, so I had to keep making a conscious choice to trust Him with the details of my life.

Dr. Bulane, a staff physician at the Makoanyane Military Hospital in Maseru, Lesotho, deals daily with a shortage of trained medical personnel and supplies. The people of Lesotho, a landlocked country in southern Africa, suffer from an HIV/AIDS infection rate of nearly 30 percent, a 34.4-year life expectancy, recurring drought, poverty, and a high infant mortality rate.
Because of his concern for infant mortality, Dr. Bulane registered for a training program in neonatal resuscitation conducted in his community by the Humanitarian Services Division of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Soon after participating in the June 2006 training session, Dr. Bulane saved a newborn baby boy by implementing his new techniques. “Through neonatal resuscitation techniques, the baby was saved,” he explained. “He is doing great now. … The training puts everything else in perspective. As far as I am concerned, it instills confidence. I now know exactly what to do. There is no panic.”

“Finished!” Mom said as she put the last of nine candles on the cake.
Tomorrow Maren’s friends were coming for her birthday party. There would be pizza, games, and best of all, presents!
“I can’t wait for the party,” Maren said. “Ella said she might get me a computer game, and Kisha told me I would love her present.”
Mom looked at Maren. “There is something you can do at your party that will be even better than opening gifts.”
Better than getting presents? Maren thought. What would that be?
“In family home evening we’ve been learning about Jesus and how He treated others,” Mom said. “Can you remember some things He did?”
“He was kind to others,” Maren said. “He healed them and took care of them. And He loved them all, even when they made mistakes.”
“That’s right,” Mom told her. “And if Jesus came to the party tomorrow, what do you think He might do?”
Maren thought for a minute. “Well, He would probably pay attention to everyone, not just some people. And I think He would try to help everyone have a good time.”
Mom smiled. “I think you’re exactly right,” she said. “And I think He would like being kind to everyone more than getting lots of presents.”
Maren nodded her head slowly. “Maybe.”
Mom gave her a hug. “Why don’t you try it and see for yourself?”
The next day was sunny and beautiful, just right for a party. Soon Maren’s friends arrived. Maren tried to do what Mom had said. She helped serve the pizza, and she held her baby brother for a while without complaining until Mom could take care of him. She thought that was what Jesus would have done.
After they ate, it was time to open presents. Maren was excited to get the new computer game and other fun things. She remembered to thank each of her friends. Then she noticed Riley sitting very quietly and looking at the floor. She realized Riley hadn’t brought a gift.
After all the gifts were opened, it was time to go outside for a candy hunt. The girls each grabbed a small bag and raced outside. But Riley stayed back and looked sad.
“Are you OK?” Maren asked, sitting next to Riley.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you a present,” Riley said quietly. “My family doesn’t have enough money right now.” Riley looked like she might cry.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter!” Maren said quickly. “I’m just glad you could come to my party, and I want you to have fun!”
Riley looked up. “Are you sure?”
“Of course!” Maren said as she put her arm around Riley. “Friends are way better than presents. Now let’s go find some candy!”
Riley smiled. “OK!” She and Maren grabbed their bags and ran to join their friends.
Maren felt good inside. She thought she had done what Jesus would do.
“That was a fun party,” Maren told Mom after her friends left.
“What was your favorite part?” Mom asked.
Maren thought for a minute. Then she said, “I really liked getting all my presents. But when I helped Riley feel better and made her smile, I felt so happy! That was the best birthday present of all.”

When I first started my academic career I had occasional contact with a very driven professional colleague. He had finished a Ph.D. at the University of Michigan in economics with an emphasis in public finance. Soon he was in high demand to discuss public finance with public and private officials all over the US. He was in demand because he could explain terms like revenue elasticity or dead-weight loss in a manner that people and groups could understand. He was also an accomplished analyst. When he spoke people understood and his observations were generally on target and devoid of rhetoric. He was respected by fellow academics and his work was published in the best academic journals in his field.

Early in his career he discovered the concept of frequent flyer miles. He not only discovered them he embraced them. Frequent flyer miles became an obsession to him. Frequent flyer miles were placed on his vertical axis and on his horizontal axis was time and he wanted the line to be increasing at an increasing rate. His obsession was so strong that if he was going to Austin, Texas he would not take a direct flight but would take a series of flights, Chicago to New York to Miami and Miami to Austin. Such a route would allow him to accumulate thousands of extra miles on each trip. I found out this practice when I had a chance meeting with him in a New York airport and he was on his way to Austin via Miami.

He learned that he could be very productive on an airplane. He could write papers on the plane, he could edit papers on the plane, he could prepare lectures, and he could even correct student exams on an airplane. Travel provided him with credits to his frequent flyer accounts and the freedom to produce academic work without interruption from the phone, colleagues or students.

After several years he was offered a position that took him away from his current posting in a Midwestern University to a University located in the Northeast. As part of his bargaining with his new employers he sought additional salary because he thought the new position would not allow him to travel as much and he felt he needed to be rewarded for the potential reduction in his frequent flyer account. He thought the new position would reduce his rate of accumulation of miles. Or the rate of change on the vertical axis would slow. The account might grow but not as fast as he was used to or wanted.

His new employer agreed and granted him a boost in his compensation. There was no need to do so. He actually now traveled more than he ever had. The miles now accumulated on not one but multiple airlines. Not thousands, not hundreds of thousands but millions of miles. He had, at least in his mind a graph for each airline and they were increasing.

Did he use the miles? Did he take a vacation and travel around the world? No! Flying on an airplane for him would be like a bus driver going for a ride on his or her day off, or a postman going for a walk on his day off. The miles just kept accumulating.

Again he was offered a new position with a prominent think tank. This time the location was Washington, DC. Once again he used the argument that the new position would reduce his ability to accumulate frequent flyer miles and again the new employer agreed to his request. About this time Eastern Europe was being transformed from governments based on socialism to democratic governments. These governments now needed to understand how to develop efficient processes to fund their operations. Governments in Eastern Europe wanted him to help them design their tax systems. The same processes began to occur in countries in Asia. And he was off to Asia. And the travel continued to increase at an ever increasing rate. He continued to accumulate millions of miles on multiple airlines and as far as anyone could tell he never used them.

But a cruel reality occurred in this life. One day he noticed a small sore inside his mouth that would not heal. After a series of medical tests it was determined that he had an aggressive form of throat cancer. Within a year this disease imposed a heavy toll on his life. His last months were consumed by surgeries, chemo therapy, and radiation.

He spent most of the time in hospital gowns and hospital rooms. He spent no time using his frequent flyer miles. You might wonder how important the frequent flyer miles were to him. After he passed away the speakers at his memorial service almost universally commented on the millions of miles he had accumulated. Millions of miles that did him absolutely no good. He had found a way to kept score on the vertical axis but the score he accumulated was meaningless.

The danger is the same with wealth or power or status. It can become a measure that consumes us. But in consuming us it consumes everyone associated with us. This is the most important point from this story as the miles accumulated and as they consumed him they also consumed his family, his students, and his associates.

If you are accumulating "things"  at an increasing rate make certain that they are things that matter in the eternity. In other words if I asked to plot over time your relationship with your family I hope it is increasing at an increasing rate. Now think about what really matters to you? And if you decide that what you are accumulating does not make any sense for the eternities then following a model of decreasing at an increasing rate would be appropriate.

Watch, in this next example, how one missionary moved because of his personal honesty from going through gospel motions to discovering the truest of the gospel's emotions. He writes: "When I began my mission, I was unsure of my testimony, but was caught up in trying to understand what missionaries did. . . . Yet I yearned to say 'I know', not 'I believe.' As time went on, I had experiences in which I saw for myself how the Spirit literally changed the lives of our investigators, members, and other missionaries. After several months, I found myself saying with complete integrity that the Lord had influenced my life. I discovered that for me a testimony is a gradual, growing thing rather than a sudden yes or no event. Through all of this, I never changed my conviction about being honest with myself. Because of that honesty, the spiritual experiences I did have meant more to me, because I knew they were real. "I could trace my development through the verses in Alma 32, which became a source of great comfort and understanding for me. As Alma put it, 'For ye know that the word . . . hath sprouted up . . . that your understanding doth begin to be enlightened, and your mind doth begin to expand. O then is not this real? I say unto you, Yea.'[4] Real people come to know why they do what they do and their actions are consistent with what they feel in their hearts.

Washington, D.C. is a city of monuments. Every building seems to have historical significance. Statues and memorials are so abundant that it becomes difficult to keep track of them all. And yet there are places in the city that, like the men or events or ideals that inspired their edification, can never be forgotten. Places like the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Capitol, the Supreme Court Building, the White House, the Smithsonian Castle, the museums and galleries, and more.
For Americans, a drive through Washington is at once a lesson in history and in patriotism. For thousands of tourists from other lands, Washington fosters a kinship that increases respect for a great nation and initiates memories that may last a lifetime.
But especially for those who live near the capital, a sightseeing visit to the downtown area is a feast. Often those who dwell in the suburbs forget the heritage that lingers nearby. Rushing on business, hustling off to school, or becoming involved in their smaller residential areas, many Washingtonians neglect the legacy in their own backyards.
But not the Fairbanks family.
The Fairbanks live in Bethesda, Maryland, just a stone’s throw from downtown Washington D.C. And the Fairbanks love to ride bicycles. As a family, they have benefited from the exercise and recreation cycling has given them. But they have also found their bikes to be a key means of access to the city. “There’s a bike path all the way into town,” explained 18-year-old David, the oldest son. “It follows the old Chesapeake and Ohio Canal route along the banks of the Potomac River, down into Georgetown, and eventually out onto the Mall.” (The Mall is the large, grass-covered rectangle running two miles from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol.)
From Bethesda, the route is mostly downhill, shady, and picturesque. “We’ll ride into town sometimes for exercise or fun, and then mom will come pick us in the station wagon,” Lisa, 16, added. “But if she can’t come, then we have to ride uphill all the way home.”
Sometimes the entire crew (half a dozen in all) makes a Saturday excursion to the landmarks in town. “I remember dad showing us the statue of Abraham Lincoln and telling us how he fought against slavery,” eight-year-old Galen said.
“Do you remember how many times you wanted to stop for ice cream on the way there?” Jeff, who is 14, kidded him. Washington in summer is a humid, sweltering steambath, and bicyclists soon learn to carry water with them or to stop at concession stands that line the Mall.
“A lot of times we’ll stop at a fountain or a pool to cool off, too,” Lisa said. There are fans of water outside the National Art Museum that mist the air with chilled vapor, and the Reflection Pool down the hill from the Washington Monument offers another site where the sun-soaked cyclists can escape the heat.
On special occasions some of the family members may take a few minutes out from a pedaling excursion to ride the elevator to the top of the Washington Monument. From the observation deck of the 555-foot pillar, it’s possible on a clear day to see all the way to Kensington, Maryland, where the Washington Temple raises its spires in solitude through the trees. “Lots of people know where the temple is,” Jeff said. “It’s really becoming a landmark, too. A lot of people have found out about the Church because of the missionary work members have done inviting people to the visitors’ center.
“The temple symbolizes a lot of things to me,” David said. “The way it rises out ot the woods reminds me of the goals the gospel puts into our lives, things like going on a mission. A goal like that towers over things that might seem important without the influence of the Church.”
The Church plays a major role in the family’s life. They are members of the Chevy Chase Ward, Washington D.C. Stake, where Jeff is teachers quorum secretary; Lisa (the only Laurel in the ward) was recently released from the Mia Maid presidency; David works regularly with the full-time missionaries; and Galen is a sterling Sunday School student. Both Brother and Sister Fairbanks are active in Church callings as well.
But Church involvement doesn’t stop when the Fairbanks step out the chapel door. They are a missionary family that doesn’t cease sharing the gospel. One of their primary means for so doing is the Fairbanks Family Band, a bluegrass ensemble that includes everyone from Galen on up.
“We’ve performed for other churches’ social gatherings, for community family weeks, even for a program honoring the family that was held in the President’s Park just behind the White House,” Brother Fairbanks explained. “We got a thank-you certificate from the President for that show.”
“We feel it’s our way of doing some missionary work,” Sister Fairbanks joined in. “We always make it a point to tell our audiences how important families are and we explain about the family home evening program of the Church.”
When the Fairbanks aren’t cycling or playing music, you can still usually find them together. When David graduated from high school, his friends came over for a celebration dinner. Brother Fairbanks served as waiter, and the rest of the family helped prepare the meal.
Our friends always want come visit us at home,” Lisa said. “It’s probably because we make them part of the family when they come.” It might also be because of the ice cream everyone’s helping to churn on the back porch, or the fresh rolls Lisa and her mother just pulled from the oven, or because of the friendly warmth that pervades the entire household. Even when they chop wood or do housework, the Fairbanks do it together.
In a city full of monuments, they are building a living monument that shines—a family full of love.

Kari’s family knelt by the couch for family prayer. Everyone reverently folded their arms. Papa asked Kari’s little sister, Liv, to pray.
“Don’t forget to thank Heavenly Father for our many blessings,” Papa reminded her.
“And don’t forget to pray for Erik,” Mama added. Mama always reminded them to pray for Erik.
Erik was Kari’s older brother. Before he left for university, he and Kari were best friends. She really missed all the fun things they used to do together.
Then a few months ago, Erik told Mama and Papa that he didn’t want to be a member of the Church anymore.
Kari and her family were surprised and sad. They started praying for Erik every night. Sometimes they prayed that he would feel the Holy Ghost and want to go back to church. Papa prayed that Erik’s mind would be clear to make good choices. Mama often prayed that somebody he trusted could help him find the right path. After all of their prayers, Kari couldn’t help feeling a little angry. Why hadn’t Heavenly Father brought Erik back to church?
Finally, just as Liv had opened her mouth to pray, Kari couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why hasn’t Heavenly Father answered our prayers?” she blurted out. Everyone looked at Kari in surprise, but she was too upset to care. For a minute nobody said anything.
“Kari,” said Papa, “when you got home from school today, did you put your backpack away?”
“Huh?” Kari asked, confused. What did her backpack have to do with anything? She glanced at the front door and saw her backpack thrown against the wall instead of hung up beside Liv’s. “No … sorry.”
“Didn’t Mama remind you to hang it up?”
“Yes,” Kari answered. She looked down at her knees.
“Doesn’t Mama often remind you to hang up your backpack?”
“Yes,” Kari muttered. She still didn’t know what this had to do with anything. Wasn’t Papa taking her question seriously?
“I know that when we pray for Erik, Heavenly Father does answer our prayers—every time. The problem is that Erik may not be listening right now. Erik gets to choose whether he listens to the Holy Ghost, just like you choose whether to listen to Mama about your backpack. But do you think that you will always ignore Mama when she asks you to hang up your backpack?”
“No, I guess not,” said Kari.
“Someday she’ll listen!” Mama said, winking at Kari. Kari smiled.
“So maybe someday Erik will listen too?” Kari asked.
“Absolutely,” said Mama. “Listening to the Holy Ghost is a skill you have to develop. Maybe Erik hasn’t learned that skill yet.” Kari began to feel a little better.
They all bowed their heads while Liv said the prayer. She prayed that Erik would learn to listen to the Holy Ghost. While Liv was praying, Kari felt peaceful and warm. She knew that Heavenly Father was hearing their prayers. As Liv listed some of the ways their family had been blessed, Kari thought of another blessing to add to the list—she understood more about prayer now!
As the prayer ended, Kari knew that Heavenly Father hadn’t forgotten Erik. And Heavenly Father would never forget her either.

Everyone likes to feel the support of friends and loved ones, and bishops are no exception. When Bishop Robert Stevens of the Mountain View 11th Ward, West Jordan Utah Mountain View Stake, faced his first Sunday at church sporting a new “hairdo”—he had lost his hair because of chemotherapy he is undergoing—the deacons and teachers decided to show their support in an unusual way.
“We shaved our heads so that my dad wouldn’t feel out of place,” says Jonathan Stevens, the bishop’s 13-year-old son. “We wanted it to be a surprise, so we all had to hide from him until Sunday at church. I could tell it made him feel really good, and we all felt great too.”
The bishop is expecting a full recovery.

Illustration by Matt Smith
Liza stared out the window as the rain drizzled against the glass. She felt as glum as the dark clouds outside. She pictured the warm beach near her grandparents’ house and how she and her cousins always went swimming in the ocean on Thanksgiving—it was their tradition. She thought about her aunts’ pies lined up on the kitchen counter, ready to be eaten. She thought about her grandparents’ big smiles when her family pulled into the driveway.
Liza squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying not to cry. This year there wouldn’t be any of those fun things. Dad had been out of work, and even though he had just started a new job, they couldn’t afford to make the drive to Grandma and Grandpa’s. Liza’s family would be spending Thanksgiving on their own.
“Time for dinner, everyone!” Mom’s cheerful voice called out.
Liza turned away from the window and trudged to the dining room. She got there as Dad set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. Her brothers, Mike and Justin, slid into their chairs.
“Smells great!” Mike said.
“Yeah, those potatoes look awesome!” Justin added.
The delicious smells of Thanksgiving dinner didn’t tempt Liza’s nose. “I don’t see what they have to be so happy about,” she grumbled to herself.
“Liza, are you all right?” Mom asked.
Liza shrugged. “Sure.”
“Even though we can’t be at Grandma and Grandpa’s this year, I’m grateful we can still be together as a family,” Dad said.
Everyone smiled—everyone except Liza.
Dad said a prayer, and they passed the food. Justin and Mike eagerly began eating the turkey, potatoes, and stuffing they had piled onto their plates, but Liza nibbled at her yams and thought about her cousins having fun without her.
Dad cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking we should start a new tradition, since it’s just us this year,” he said.
I bet it’s not as good a tradition as swimming in the ocean, Liza thought.
“Let’s go around the table and each say something we’re thankful for,” Dad continued.
Liza couldn’t think of anything she was thankful for right then.
“I’m thankful I was able to find a new job,” Dad said. “I’m glad I can provide for our family. How about you, Justin?”
Justin stopped eating his mashed potatoes long enough to say, “I’m thankful for good food!”
Everyone laughed, and even Liza managed a small smile.
Mom said, “I’m grateful that we all have healthy bodies and that we are able to do so many things.”
Liza started to feel a little less gloomy, but she still couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I’m glad I can go to college next year,” Mike said.
Now it was Liza’s turn. She squirmed in her chair. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
During dinner Liza thought about what everyone had said. She was glad that Dad had found a new job and didn’t look worried anymore. She was grateful for the good food Mom cooked for them. She was happy that her body could run and dance and swim. And even though she would miss Mike when he went to college, she was glad he could go. Liza’s heart felt lighter. She missed being with her grandparents and cousins, and she missed the traditions they had together. But maybe new traditions were good too.
“I’m thankful for all of you,” Liza finally said.
“We all have wonderful things to be thankful for,” Dad said.
“Maybe we could go around the table again,” Justin said, spooning up some more mashed potatoes. “We can always have seconds on gratitude!”

When the young man in my story bought my company, part of the sale was some mentoring from me to ensure a successful transition. On his first day, I told him to meet me for his first "lesson." He brought a notebook and was eager to listen. I looked at him and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yep," he replied.

I then said: "Lesson one: Dye your hair back to its normal color, get a pair of pants that fits you, and put the stock tires back on your truck. You will be working with millionaires and billionaires and asking them to trust you with their projects and their money. You will need to look the part. You can't look like a kid. Class dismissed."

This young man was a good-looking and normal 20-something. He had bleach-frosted spiked hair, wore designer jeans that were cooler than anything I own but tended to fall off his backside, and he had tricked out his pickup truck.

The next day, he came to meet me for lesson two, and I was impressed. His hair was back to its brown, normal color, and the spike was tamed. He had on a pair of Carhartt work pants, and he had put the stock tires back on his truck.

Many young people would have been put out by this first lesson, thinking, "This is what I paid for? Don't tell me what to do." He was teachable and prepared to receive this counsel. If he couldn't look the part, we couldn't transfer trust our clients had in me to trust we wanted them to have in him.

His positive attitude of seeing everything as an opportunity made teaching him easy, and his past experience with BYU-Idaho Dress and Grooming standards, mission rules, and For the Strength of Youth principles made this a non-issue as he was prepared to accept it.

“Water rushed over Greg’s face and he panicked. I tried to help him, but he fought me because he was scared. We gave him a board to hang onto, but it gave away. I grabbed him, but he pulled me under with him. When we came up, I grabbed his hair and started for shore, but he threw his arms around my neck and wouldn’t let go.
“Finally I broke the hold and again started working him to shore. He struggled all the way. I was tired, but I knew I had to keep trying. The water was deep—I never touched bottom in the middle. Just as I reached shore, a cramp set in my leg and I couldn’t move. But we had made it, and were both okay.”
What may sound like a passage from a pioneer journal describing the crossing of the Mississippi is actually 17-year-old Daniel Kite’s description of how he rescued a sixth-grader from the Weber River near Ogden, Utah. Dan, a member of Troop 38, Hooper First Ward, Hooper Utah Stake, was awarded a Certificate for Heroism by the Boy Scouts of America.
But Dan wasn’t alone in receiving the honor. When the National Court of Honor announced recipients of recognition for heroic action last October, there were ten Latter-day Saint Scouts and leaders among the 216 honored.
Ten-year-old Kristin E. Hofmeister received the highest award of any of the LDS Scouts. He was awarded an Honor Medal, which is given for “unusual heroism in saving or attempting to save life at the risk of [his] own.” Kristin rescued his cousin, who had fallen through ice into six feet of chilling water. He remembered the importance of lying flat on the ice so it would not crack as he worked his way to the edge of the water.
“I feel the Lord gave me more strength than I usually have so I could pull him out,” Kristin said. “He is the same age I am, but he seemed to come out easily, although I normally couldn’t have lifted him like that.” Kristin is in Pack 108, Honeyville Ward, Brigham City Utah North Stake.
Several other Latter-day Saints received Medals of Merit, awarded to “Scouts who perform an outstanding service of an exceptional character, practicing Scout skills and ideals, but not necessarily involving risk of life.”
A. Kenneth Crockett, a Scoutmaster, administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a 60-year-old man who collapsed in a bank lobby. Thanks to Brother Crockett’s efforts, the man began breathing again before the ambulance arrived. “Any one of the 20 people in the bank at the time could have done what I did,” Brother Crockett said, “but they were waiting for someone else to act.” He is a member of the Globe First Ward, Globe Arizona Stake, and was at the time Scoutmaster of Troop 3. He has since been released and is presently serving on the stake high council.
Craig Galbasini, 11, saved his one-year-old brother Ryan from drowning when Ryan tipped his walker upside down into a swimming pool. “I assume the Lord was watching out for Ryan, and I was there to help him,” Craig said. Active in the Scottsdale Fourth Ward, Scottsdale Arizona Stake, Craig is a member of Pack 418.
Lee W. Johnson, who was at the time Cubmaster of Pack 218, rescued his brother from underneath a fallen haystack. “My brother was covered by a haystack four feet deep and about 20 feet square. Where do you dig? In my mind a voice said, ‘Over here.’ I dug to within six inches of my unconscious brother, and the voice said, ‘Throw the pitch fork away.’ And there he was. You have to give somebody besides myself credit for something like that.” Brother Johnson is in the Benson Ward, Benson Utah Stake.
Michael P. Poppleton, 10, saved his brother Chris’s life by holding the youngster’s arm and head above swift-flowing water in an irrigation culvert until additional help came. “My little brother’s life was in my hands,” Mike said. “I did what I had to to save him.” Mike is in Pack 221 and is a member of the Wellsville Third Ward, Logan Utah Stake.
Michael J. Parry, 17, of Orem, Utah, applied direct pressure to a laceration on his sister’s arm, controlling bleeding until paramedics came. “It was frightening to see my sister lying hurt and to know she could die. I kept praying she would be all right, and when I heard the ambulance, I had a burning sensation in my heart that told me she would be okay. I think the Lord was directing me the whole time in order to save her life.” Mike is in the Orem 47th Ward, Orem Utah Windsor Stake, and is a member of Post 1447.
Timothy Stewart, 14, rescued his brother when he fell through ice on a pond. “I got down on the ice and crawled about nine feet from the shore. The ice broke under me just as I reached him. I got him out, but broke through the ice two more times before we got to shore,” Tim said. Tim is a member of the Newton Branch, Wichita Kansas Stake, and belongs to Troop 328.
Brent Robinson rescued a woman’s son who was stranded on a cliff. “A lady knocked at our door and said her son was trapped. We got a rope, and I climbed to where he was stranded. I couldn’t get him down from below the cliff, so I came down to him from above and then pulled him up with the rope,” Brent said. Brent, 16, is from Post 363, Kanab Third Ward, Kanab Utah Stake.
David Worthington, 11, saved a friend who was drowning. A member of the Washington Second Ward, St. George Utah East Stake, and (at the time) of Pack 416, David reacted mostly on instinct reinforced with good Scout training. “I knew I was supposed to help someone in trouble,” he said. He is now a Tenderfoot in Troop 416.
In addition to the LDS recipients, there was at least one Scout recognized who came from an LDS-sponsored troop but who is not a member of the Church. John C. Eisenhart received a Medal of Merit for saving his grandfather’s life when the grandfather fell from a six-foot ladder and fractured his skull. John used a handkerchief compress to stop the bleeding, and then called an emergency squad. The wound required 61 stitches. “I was glad that I had had my Boy Scout first aid training,” John said. He is senior patrol leader of Troop 51, Newark Ward, Columbus Ohio East Stake.
All of the Scouts had advice to offer to others who might find themselves in emergencies. “I would never have thought it would happen to me,” Mike Parry said. “I think people should be ready for things like this and get proper training in advance because things like this will happen.”
Brent advised hikers to always travel with a partner and not to take shortcuts. “Stay on the trail or you’ll get in trouble,” he said. Daniel warned swimmers to know the water they’re swimming in and not to swim in conditions beyond their capability. Kristin advised everyone to learn how to swim and to become familiar with lifesaving techniques. Brother Crockett advised those who find themselves in an emergency to do something, rather than just watch, which complemented Brother Johnson’s advice to “be quick and alert, but think things out before you act. Keep calm and don’t panic. Move as quickly as possible and listen for guidance from the Lord.” Mike Poppleton said Scouts should pay attention during classes on lifesaving techniques so that when an emergency does arise, they’ll be able to think of what to do. And the entire group agreed that proper training is vital and that people should be careful about what they do if they have had no training.
Most of the group agreed that their rescue efforts had been a spiritual experience for them. “At the time I acted only on instinct, but since then I have thought how great it is that I was able to save one of Heavenly Father’s sons,” Kristin said. Dan said he felt the Lord helped him “keep a straight head,” and gave him that “additional strength needed to get to shore before the cramp set in.”
“I found the experience to be very humbling,” Brother Crockett said. “I feel that through the Church programs the Lord provides for us, including Scouting, that I was prepared to act in this emergency.” Mike Parry said, “It strengthened my testimony to know that the Lord helped me to be in the right place at the right time.”
But perhaps it was Brother Johnson who summed up the most common sentiment: “It was a spiritual experience,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want another one of this kind.”
Editor’s note: Since the 1978 awards, the New Era has learned of one additional LDS Scout who has received national attention for his heroism. Eleven-year-old Roger Walters, a member of Troop 839, which is sponsored by the Union 18th Ward, Sandy Utah Willow Creek Stake, was cited for saving the life of his five-year-old sister Tanya, who fell into deep water at a reservoir. He was awarded the Medal for Heroism, an award similar to those mentioned above.

Then take your children to tithing settlement with you, just as President Howard W. Hunter’s grandson was taken with his father several years ago. In that experience the bishop indicated his pleasure in young Brother Hunter’s wanting to pay a full tithing. In the process of receiving the coins, he asked the lad if he thought the gospel were true. As the boy handed over his full tithing of 14 cents, this seven-year-old said he guessed the gospel was true but “it sure costs a lot of money.” Well, the buildings, programs, and materials I have mentioned do have an attached cost. That is not an unimportant lesson for our children to learn in their youth.

Sister Linda K. Burton shared a story that I have always loved. The story is about Elder D. Todd Christofferson’s grandfather. I would like to read the story to you.
One evening a man called his five sheep to come into the shelter for the night. His family watched with great interest as he simply called, “Come on,” and immediately all five heads lifted and turned in his direction. Four sheep broke into a run toward him. With loving-kindness he gently patted each of the four on the head. The sheep knew his voice and loved him.
But the fifth sheep didn’t come running. She was a large ewe that a few weeks earlier had been given away by her owner, who reported that she was wild, wayward, and always leading the other sheep astray. The new owner accepted the sheep and staked her in his own field for a few days so she would learn to stay put. He patiently taught her to love him and the other sheep until eventually she had only a short rope around her neck but was no longer staked down.
That evening as his family watched, the man approached the ewe, which stood at the edge of the field, and again he gently said, “Come on. You aren’t tied down anymore. You are free.” Then lovingly he reached out, placed his hand on her head, and walked back with her and the other sheep toward the shelter. [17]