Gospel Story Finder

When my grandson Andrew was seven, his Primary teacher challenged his class to read the scriptures for 100 days in a row.
Andrew started reading and made it to 20 days when he missed a day. So he started over. Then he made it to 25. But he missed a day again.
Here’s what Andrew wrote to me:
“I was a little mad, but I tried really hard the next time. I got into the habit of reading my scriptures every night. I picked them up without thinking about it. Then I got to 100 days. When I was done, I thought, now I can stop. But my mom said I should keep reading. So I did, and I got good at it.
“My brother decided he would start too. I was happy that he started so he would get this good habit. He finished the Book of Mormon before he was baptized. My cousin also started reading the scriptures. I was happy that he did and that he is still doing it.
“I’m still reading my scriptures and haven’t missed a day yet since. Now I’m 12, and I’ve been reading scriptures for over four years.”
But the story doesn’t end there.
Andrew and his cousin came to talk to the missionaries while I was on an assignment at the Missionary Training Center in Guatemala. They shared their story about reading the scriptures. The missionaries were impressed by Andrew and his cousin’s commitment.
I am grateful for Andrew’s example. Not only did he inspire his brother and cousins, but he also touched the hearts of the missionaries. Imagine how many others were inspired as a result of the missionaries who followed Andrew’s example.

It isn’t your typical activity at the Byrd Springs Ward cultural hall. Two hundred young men and women from all over the Huntsville Alabama Stake have gathered here on a Saturday afternoon, but they’re not attending a dance or a youth conference, not playing sports or putting on road shows. They’re tying quilts, more than two dozen of them. The quilts will be donated to a center for children whose parents are in jail or otherwise absent. The massive quilting bee is Tyler Williams’ Eagle Scout project.
Tyler got his idea of holding a massive quilting bee by talking with the stake Young Women presidency. “They came to me, actually,” he explains. “Of course, my mother is in the presidency, and she knew I was looking for a project!” But he quickly realized that providing the quilts could do what he hoped to do—he could organize a lot of people (including some non-LDS friends he had helped with their projects), he could help the community, and he could let some lonely children know they were loved.
He learned quickly that other things were required, too. “You can’t just crash it through,” he says. “You’ve got to have a plan. You have to be organized. You have to delegate; you’ve got to have it mapped out mentally and be assertive, so people know what to do.” With donated yarn and fabric, fliers and announcements throughout the stake, and half a dozen borrowed quilting frames, the project, from start to finish, was completed in about one month. “And that,” he says, “was rushing it.” His advice to others: “Get it done before you’re about to turn 18.”

While growing up, I saw how hard my father worked to provide for our family. He was a very thrifty person. We didn’t own a home until my father could pay cash for it, and because he didn’t believe in buying on credit, we simply walked everywhere until he could afford to buy a car for our family. He owned a retail furniture store in Cedar City, Utah, and we were expected to work there. The only problem was that my father didn’t pay us to work in his store. When we were kids, I thought the reason was because he was a tightwad. It was only later that I realized that he wanted us to learn about the value of work.

“You could use a canoe,” Brother Wright Akeman said. “You can paddle down the Arkansas River to its mouth and walk from there to Memphis.” Brother Akeman was one of the few Church members in Arkansas.
“It’s a fine idea,” Wilford said.
“Except we don’t have a canoe,” Henry said.
“See that big cottonwood tree?” Brother Akeman said. “I’ll fetch my tools, and in two days we will have a canoe.”
The men cut down the tree and sawed a log about 12 feet long. Then they chipped out the inside of the log and shaped the ends. After two days they had a sturdy dugout canoe.
They shook hands with Brother Akeman and picked up the oars they had made. “It’s not a Jaredite boat,” Wilford said, “but it will get us where the Lord wants us to go.”
When Wilford and his companion reached the mouth of the river, they had to walk through a swamp. The mud and water were knee deep, and every step was hard. Wilford was worried because his knee hurt a lot.
In the middle of the swamp, Wilford sat down on a log. “I can’t walk anymore,” he said.
“I can’t wait,” Henry said. “The sooner I get through this swamp, the sooner I can get to Memphis and take a steamboat home.”
“Aren’t you going to preach the gospel in Tennessee?” Wilford asked.
“No,” Henry said. “I miss my family, and I am worried about them.”
Henry walked away. Wilford sat on the log and watched his companion disappear into the trees. He was alone in the middle of an alligator-infested swamp, and he could not walk. So he prayed.
Wilford asked the Lord to heal his knee. Then he stood up and began to walk. His knee felt fine. With every step, he rejoiced and thanked Heavenly Father for healing his knee.
Finally Wilford arrived in Memphis. Tired and dirty, he went to an inn.
“I am a minister, traveling without purse or scrip,” he told the innkeeper. “I would be happy to preach in exchange for food and a bed.”
“You don’t look like a minister,” the innkeeper said. “This man says he’s a preacher!” he called out to the men nearby. The men laughed and gathered around. Wilford looked at them. He had never preached to so many people. They looked more frightening than a bear or a pack of wolves.
Wilford said a silent prayer. The Lord had protected and provided for him and healed his knee. Surely he could teach these men. “Do you want to hear what the Lord has to tell you?” he asked.
“Bring it on, preacher!” they jeered. Wilford knelt and prayed aloud. He asked the Lord to tell him what those men needed to hear. Then he gave a talk and told the men to repent. When he finished speaking, the room was quiet.
“You’ve earned a bath, a meal, and a bed, preacher,” the innkeeper said. “Anytime you’re in Memphis, you can stay here, but that’s enough preaching.”
Wilford knew he had taught with the Spirit. He had arrived in his mission field prepared.
Wilford received a new companion and continued serving honorably. His mission ended in October of 1836.
In 1839 Wilford Woodruff was called to be an Apostle. He served several other missions, including one in England, where he baptized about 600 people. In 1889 he became President of the Church. All his life he loved missionary work.

I didn’t think that tithing settlement was such a big deal, but Brother Jacobs, our home teacher, seemed pretty excited about it. He and his son Brian were over and, like always, they asked for my dad’s permission to have a prayer. My dad grunted yes and Brother Jacobs gave the prayer. As he prayed, something he said caught my attention. Brother Jacobs said, “And bless Brother Johnson that he will respond to our message.”
My dad is really a good man, but he didn’t go to church or even want to talk about it. It had taken almost a year of the home teachers knocking on our door for my dad to let them in the house, but I’m glad he did.
I wondered what Dad would do. It was rare that he would even stay in the room when the home teachers were there, but he did nothing. Brother Jacobs was pretty brave to say what he did with my dad listening. He was lucky Dad didn’t leave the room.
Dad was his usual self. He was willing to talk about most things—sports, his yard, the weather—but not about the Church. We were talking about Dad’s favorite football team when Brother Jacobs blurted out, “Brother Johnson, we want you to come to tithing settlement.”
I thought Brother Jacobs had made a big mistake because Dad got very quiet and looked uncomfortable. Finally he said, “Why should I come to tithing settlement? I don’t pay tithing.”
Now I got quiet and felt uncomfortable. How was Brother Jacobs going to answer Dad’s question?
Brother Jacobs said, “Because the Lord loves you.” Brother Jacobs said the bishop had asked all the home teachers to go to every member and invite them to tithing settlement. He told Dad that he wanted him to go because he wanted our family to have the blessing of going. My dad got quiet again.
Brother Jacobs told Dad that tithing settlement was a simple way for the Lord to bless our lives. If we paid tithing or not the Lord would bless us for going to tithing settlement. Tithing settlement only takes a few minutes, he said, and the bishop does not make anyone feel ashamed or guilty. Brother Jacobs also promised that if Dad took his family to tithing settlement, he would have a happier home and each one of his family would become a better person.
Dad didn’t say much. He really loves us and wants to do what is right for us. When Brother Jacobs asked if he would go to tithing settlement, Dad said yes.
The end of the month came, and my Dad took us to tithing settlement. Just before the bishop called us in, I wondered what Dad was thinking. He was awfully fidgety. I think he didn’t want to be there. I remembered Brother Jacob’s promise and wondered if our lives would change.
When the bishop asked us in, he greeted Dad like his best friend. I don’t know if that made Dad feel at ease or more uncomfortable. The bishop talked to us briefly, then asked my youngest sister, Suzie, if she knew what tithing was.
Suzie said yes, tithing was when you get ten coins, you give one to the bishop. The bishop said that was true, but it was the Lord’s money and he, as the bishop, received it for Him. The bishop asked Suzie if she had received any money this year. Suzie said she had gotten some money for her allowance. The bishop asked Suzie if she paid a full tithing. She said yes.
The bishop then asked Maggie, my older sister, if she was a full-tithe payer. Maggie said yes like she was Joan of Arc going off to be burned. She said every bit of money she got was tithed and she was a full-tithe payer. Maggie was always too dramatic.
Now it was my turn to say if I was a full-tithe payer. I was about to say yes, but then I remembered that I had done some yard work last summer and hadn’t tithed the money I got for it. I had to tell the bishop no, I wasn’t a full-tithe payer.
The bishop asked me if I wanted to be a full-tithe payer. I said yes, I guess so. Then he asked if I had the money now. I pulled out my wallet and gave him what I had. It still wasn’t enough. Then I felt some pressed into my hand. It was my dad giving me the money needed to pay a full tithing. I looked at my dad and he said I could pay him back later. I gave the bishop the rest of my tithing, and he wrote down that I was a full-tithe payer. It was a pretty good feeling.
The bishop then asked my mom if she paid a full tithe. She said yes. She had tithed the money she got for watching the neighbor’s children.
It was Dad’s turn to declare. He is a proud man, and I knew he hadn’t paid any tithing this year, so I was surprised that he had come at all. What really surprised me was when my dad pulled an envelope out of his pocket and gave it to the bishop. Dad said it wasn’t a full tithing but it was a start.
The bishop became quiet. He just stared at my dad. After what seemed to be forever, the bishop told my dad he was glad that my father had set a good example for his family and as long as my father kept his promise, the Lord would keep his.
We were all pretty quiet on the way back home. I wondered what the bishop meant about promises. My dad looked pretty surprised when the bishop said it. I didn’t find out what the bishop meant until three months later, but I did find out that Brother Jacobs was right almost right away. Two weeks after tithing settlement Dad came to church for the first time in years. And he has kept going. Just last fast Sunday I found out what had happened.
It was a real spiritual meeting. Even I got up to bear my testimony. And before I was able to sit down, Dad got up to bear his testimony. He told how five years ago he had got out of the habit of going to church. Back in November he began thinking seriously about his children and how the world would affect them as they were growing up. He saw how his children’s friends were influencing them to start to do things that he knew would lead to trouble. This is what he was thinking when the home teachers came over. When Brother Jacobs promised Dad that his family would be better people if he took them to tithing settlement, he knew he had to take the opportunity.
As the time for tithing settlement got close, my dad began to think about why he didn’t pay tithing. He used to pay it and didn’t miss it at all. He only stopped paying because he stopped going to church. My dad thought that if he could believe going to tithing settlement would help his family, then he could believe that paying tithing would also help. My dad said a silent prayer where he promised the Lord that he would start paying tithing and he expected the Lord to keep his promise. Right at that moment, my dad began to change.
My dad then told the ward that when he met with the bishop, it really felt good to give, even though it wasn’t a full tithing. He learned that starting was the important part. He also told the ward that when the bishop had told him the Lord would keep his promise, my dad knew the Lord had answered his prayer. He also found out what Brother Jacobs had said about tithing settlement was true. My dad said that if he hadn’t gone to tithing settlement he would not be in church today. After going to tithing settlement my dad began to think where he was headed. He realized that it wasn’t too late to change his life, so he started by coming to church.
He told everyone that tithing was a true principle that had changed his life. And, you know something, he’s right.

Illustration by David Malan/Malan Creative
When our first child, Caden, was 10 months old, my husband, David, and I left him in the care of my parents for the first time. We went out for dinner and then went to a movie theater. Once we got our popcorn and sat down, my mother called.
Our baby wasn’t breathing, and an ambulance was on the way!
We drove home in a panic and ran inside to see Caden in my mother’s arms, smiling at the paramedics. He was fine, but he had experienced a seizure.
Doctors couldn’t determine the cause of the seizure or two subsequent seizures, but they prescribed medication to help. As a first-time mother, I was devastated. Caden seemed OK, but the experience shook my faith. I became consumed with stress and worry.
Two years later a neurologist recommended performing an electroencephalogram (EEG) on Caden, a test that would measure his brain activity while he was asleep. If the results looked good, he could stop taking seizure medication.
I worried about the test because Caden had stopped taking naps a year earlier. How would we get him to sleep in a busy doctor’s office with electrodes all over his head?
The night before the test, David gave Caden a priesthood blessing. As the blessing began, I felt the strong presence of the Spirit. I knew everything would be OK. It was the first time since his first seizure that I felt peace.
The next day doctors attached electrodes to Caden’s head. Then we laid him on the exam table and turned off the lights.
He was asleep in minutes. This may not seem like a miracle, but he hadn’t taken a nap on his own for over a year.
Heavenly Father hadn’t forgotten us. His Spirit was there in that doctor’s office, calming Caden and comforting me. My attitude toward trials and priesthood blessings shifted that day. I know that the power of the priesthood is real.
Caden is now a young adult. He hasn’t had a seizure since he was a baby. He has faced other challenges but has overcome most of them. I know that the Lord continues to watch out for him and calm my fears (see Luke 8:50).

“I used to go to the pool and then go home before going to school,” Elizabeth remembers. Of course that was before she became a member of the Church. And it’s Heath’s, uh, fault Elizabeth added an extra hour to her already-busy schedule.
“You know how a lot of guys cuss?” Elizabeth asks. “Well, Heath wasn’t like that. And he was really nice to everyone. He was just different from any guy I’d ever met. But I didn’t know he was a Mormon at first.”
She soon found out. And before long, Heath was inviting Elizabeth to ward parties and dances. Then one Sunday Heath took Elizabeth to the Dutch Fork Ward sacrament meeting because his mother was singing. “I liked church a lot. I liked how members would bear their testimonies, and how the congregation would give the sermons. I eventually started going with him every Sunday,” Elizabeth says.
The more she heard and saw, the more interested she became. Eventually, Elizabeth requested that Heath arrange for her to be taught by the missionaries. After listening to the missionary discussions for several weeks, Elizabeth asked Heath, who had just been ordained a priest, if he would baptize her.
“When Elizabeth got baptized, it was probably the most spiritually uplifting experience I’ve ever had,” Heath says. “It was too great to describe when I baptized her. And I know Elizabeth knows this Church is true. It’s a great feeling to know I introduced her to the Church because of the way I acted.”

Parley P. Pratt told of the suffering of his family in those first months in the valley. He wrote of the invasion of insects, of the drought, and of how he and his family worked constantly to encourage their gardens to grow. He also wrote that many of the people had to go with bare feet for several months, keeping their moccasins for only special occasions. Sometimes they had only a little flour and some cheese.
“In this way,” he wrote, “we lived and raised our first crop in these valleys. And how great was our joy in partaking of the first fruits of our industry … to redeem the desert … and to make her hitherto unknown solitudes blossom as the rose.”

One busy Sunday with the meetinghouse hallway crowded with people, a bishop noticed a little boy sitting on the floor crying. Disregarding his busy schedule, the bishop immediately focused his attention on the weeping child. He sat right down on the floor and held the little boy close until the crying subsided and the boy was able to explain what was wrong. Then, comforted, the child went off down the hall holding the hand of his earthly ministering angel.
I sense that the Savior would have done that too.

But even on a winning team, there are lessons to be learned about defeat. Angie Harris, the team center, hyperextended her knee during the second quarter of the first game of the record-breaking season, and was sidelined for the rest of the year. At least two surgeries have been necessary to get her back on her feet, and she’ll probably never play school ball again. Many players might be bitter over this, but not Angie. She reads the scriptures faithfully every day, and from them she’s learned that “the Lord isn’t going to give you challenges that you can’t handle. This injury wasn’t that bad. I played on the state championship team last year. This keeps it from going to my head.”

As a young father, sealed in the temple and with my heart turned to my wife and a young family, I met President Joseph Fielding Smith for the first time. In the First Presidency council room, where I had been invited, came an absolutely sure witness to me as President Harold B. Lee asked me, indicating President Smith, who was sitting next to him, “Do you believe that this man could be the prophet of God?”
President Smith had just entered the room and had not yet spoken a word. I am eternally grateful that I was able to answer because of what came down into my heart, “I know he is,” and I knew it as surely as I knew the sun was shining that he held the priesthood sealing power for all the earth.
That experience gave his words great power for me and my wife when, in a conference session on April 6, 1972, President Joseph Fielding Smith gave the following counsel: “It is the will of the Lord to strengthen and preserve the family unit. We plead with fathers to take their rightful place as the head of the house. We ask mothers to sustain and support their husbands and to be lights to their children.”9

Illustration by Allen Garns
One Christmas years ago I had too much on my mind to savor the season. My husband, Andy, had developed a cough that, following medical tests, briskly evolved into lung damage, surgery, reconstruction of his esophagus, and biopsies—“just to be safe.” His surgery occurred a week before we moved to a new home.
A few weeks before Christmas, I visited with my neighbor Janae. She asked if I was ready for Christmas. I managed to reply that I was as ready as I would be. I mentioned that we’d always made Christmas cookies with my grandma just before Christmas, and that I’d wanted to make aprons for the girls but probably wouldn’t get around to it.
A week later I settled in the overstuffed chair beside our Christmas tree. The girls were in bed, and Andy was working in his office when I heard the doorbell. I opened the door to find Janae on my doorstep, holding three packages as snowflakes fell behind her.
“Come in,” I said, certain that she could sense my surprise.
“Thanks, but I need to get back,” she said. “These are for your girls.”
Janae handed me the packages.
“They’re aprons,” she said. “They’re not the best, but I was able to finish them tonight.”
In a moment of humbled astonishment, I breathed a thank-you. We hugged, and I watched her make her way home.
As I sat again in my chair, I carefully unfastened the white satin ribbon of one box. Upon opening it, I found a homemade apron fashioned from Christmas fabric. I ran a seam between my thumb and forefinger as I thought about Janae. She had four small children, including twins who were just over a year old. She taught piano, and she held a busy and important calling in our ward.
I tried to figure out when she would have had time to make aprons, and I knew at once that she didn’t have time. She made time.
Tears fell as I felt the love of Heavenly Father extended through Janae—a measure of warmth and comfort as I was encircled about “in the arms of [His] love” (D&C 6:20).
It has been many years since we received the aprons. My daughters have long since outgrown them, but I keep them in my pantry, hanging by their strings from a polished hook underneath newer ones. Each time I see Janae’s gifts, I’m reminded of the comfort and love I felt that night. They remind me of what I want to be—a disciple of Jesus Christ worthy of revelation and willing to give service.

But Te Oranoa M., age 17, from New Zealand has a different take on things. "What inspires me about this scripture," she says, "is that it doesn't say they are lost forever."

What an incredible insight! And it's one that comes from personal experience. "I, myself, fell away from the Church," she says, "but I have been able to come back."

Te Oranoa grew up in the Church and talks about gaining her own testimony and even setting spiritual goals. "But that testimony grew cold," she says.

In some ways, she found common ground with Amulek, particularly in the way he described himself to the people of Ammonihah: "I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know" (Alma 10:6).

For Te Oranoa, that scripture hits close to home. "Just like Amulek, I knew all these spiritual things, and the Spirit was telling me to do certain things, but because I was being a bit stubborn and a bit prideful, I wouldn't do them. Afterward, my testimony kind of faded away."

In the end, Amulek's story would become more than merely familiar to Te Oranoa. It would also become a turning point on the road back.

Even during the time when her faith had grown cold, she could still remember sweet experiences from before. Te Oranoa never forgot how she'd felt when attending the temple with her youth group or going to a youth conference.

"There was a pattern," she says. "I'd feel really good when I came to church, but I didn't feel good when I missed church."

There finally came a day when Te Oranoa decided to see if she could connect with those good feelings again. The first thing she did was to read through recent general conference addresses.

An October 2016 general conference address, "Learn from Alma and Amulek," by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, woke something in Te Oranoa's soul. She recognized a lot of her own life and feelings as President Uchtdorf described how Amulek's faith had faded. She also remembered more strongly than ever the happiness she had enjoyed when her faith was stronger. Instantly, she wanted to make some changes.

"I was hoping to find something to reignite that fire of my testimony," she explains, "so I read President Uchtdorf's talk, and yes, I felt on fire!"

Te Oranoa's path back to faith hasn't always been easy, but there is a particular light at the end of the tunnel that keeps her going: the hope of an eternal family.

"Families can be together forever," she says. "That's my biggest dream, my biggest hope in life. Whenever I want to learn about something, or I find a doctrine hard to understand, I try and relate it back to eternal families. For example, why is Jesus Christ's Atonement important to me? For one thing, I need His Atonement in my life so I can be worthy to enter the temple and be sealed to my family for all eternity."

It's perhaps worth remembering that the people in Lehi's vision who fell away after tasting the fruit did, in fact, still taste it. They must have known of its goodness, even if only briefly. And they can discover it again. That's the hope Te Oranoa clings to, for herself and for others.

"You don't have to keep going down those forbidden paths for the rest of your life," she says. "You can turn back to the Lord whenever you want."

When the Second World War erupted, all American missionaries had to return home. Local Swedish men were then asked to serve as missionaries. C. Fritz Johansson, who had joined the Church in 1931, was called as the new mission president. One year before the war, he sold his grocery store business and became a missionary with his wife and three children. When the war was over, President Johansson and seven missionaries from Sweden were called to reopen missionary work in Finland, which had stopped because of the war.

In the Philippines today we have more than 55,000 members of the Church. We have sixteen strong stakes and four missions. It is one of the more productive proselyting areas in the world. When the history of the work in the Philippines is written, it must include the story of Sister Maxine Grimm, a girl from Tooele, Utah, who served with the Red Cross in the Pacific campaign of the Second World War. She married an American army officer, and after the war they established their home in Manila. She did much to teach the gospel to others; she pleaded that missionaries be sent. Her husband had legal work done and did many other things to make it possible for the missionaries to come. It would have been much easier for them to have simply gone along their way, making money and enjoying the fruits of it; but Sister Grimm was unceasing in her efforts and pleas.

At the time, I had responsibility for the work in Asia and I carried her pleas to the First Presidency, who, in 1961, authorized the extension of formal missionary work to that land. In May 1961 we held a meeting in the Philippines to begin the work. We had no place to meet and received permission from the American Embassy to do so at the American Military Cemetery on the outskirts of Manila.

There, where are solemnly remembered the sacrifices of more than 50,000 men who gave their lives in the cause of freedom, we gathered together at 6:30 in the morning. Sister Grimm played a little portable organ she had carried through the campaigns of the Pacific War, and we sang the songs of Zion in a strange land. We bore testimony together and invoked the blessings of heaven on what we were to begin there. Present was one native Filipino member of the Church.

That was the beginning of something marvelous, the commencement of a miracle. The rest is history, discouraging at times and glorious at others. I was there for the area conference held several years ago with President Spencer W. Kimball and others. Some 18,000 members of the Church were assembled in the great Aranetta Coliseum, the largest meeting place in all the Republic.

I wept as I thought of the earlier years, and I remembered with appreciation the woman who largely forgot her own interests as she relentlessly pursued her dream of the day when the Church would be strong in the land which she then lived, bringing happiness of a kind previously unknown to thousands of wonderful people.

I explained to Kami that we definitely had been chosen because we would not seek such a challenging assignment. This was reinforced just a few days later when Sister Brough and I were assigned to travel to India for a missionary conference. The flight from Hong Kong to New Delhi, India, was a late-night flight that arrived in New Delhi at about two o’clock in the morning. Even at that late hour, there were hundreds of taxi drivers who wanted to provide our transportation. After selecting a driver, we began our journey of about 40 kilometers to the hotel. Even though it was late, the roads were crowded with animals, people, and other vehicles. As we were going through an intersection, the taxi’s motor quit. I watched with increasing anxiety as the driver fruitlessly attempted to start the motor. Finally, in obvious frustration, the driver turned to me and in his very best English said, “Push taxi!” It was three o’clock in the morning, and my wife and I were very tired. I got out of the taxi and tried to push it across the intersection but was not able to do so. The driver then said to my wife, “Push taxi.” Lanette got out of the car and began to help me push the taxi through the intersection. As we were struggling to get the taxi through the traffic, I said to my wife, “There were a few things we didn’t understand when we were given this assignment.”

I shall never forget the experience we had in June of 1993 at a special meeting in Beijing, China, with couples who were then teaching English in North Vietnam and Mongolia. After two days of training and inspiration, we closed with this familiar song:
It may not be on the mountain height
Or over the stormy sea,
It may not be at the battle’s front
My Lord will have need of me.
(“I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go,” Hymns, no. 270)
As we were singing, my wife leaned over and whispered in my ear: “But it might be ‘on the mountain height,’ or it might be ‘over the stormy sea,’ or it might be ‘at the battle’s front.’” The Lord surely had need for these beautiful people serving in this interesting area of the world. These wonderful missionary couples did not choose to come to these countries. Yet as we now look at the results of their service, I know that they were chosen by the Lord for their special calling.
On four different occasions, Sister Brough and I and our family have excitedly opened the envelope containing the mission call and assignment for one of our children. Each time, we have contemplated with excitement the various possibilities for their service. While preferences were expressed, the moment their eyes saw the words “You are hereby assigned to serve in the (blank) mission,” without exception a wonderful feeling of good and right came over each family member. We each knew that a prophet had guided a divine selection process to which four of our children have gladly responded. Tens of thousands of returned missionaries can also testify of this process and the divine inspiration of their own missionary calling.
I never completely satisfied little Kami’s question that night. Over the years, we have recalled that challenging evening when a small child was a bit overwhelmed with life. We have explored other scriptures and many other stories since that time. We have received the wonderful promise to those the Savior had chosen “that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it [to] you” (John 15:16).
That promise—of answer to our prayers—is directed even to a small child. This was reaffirmed recently when I heard Kami, now 15 years old, respond to a question directed to her by an adult friend: “How come you were so lucky to live in Hong Kong when you were a child?” She looked directly at me as she gave her answer to our friend: “It wasn’t luck; we ‘were chosen.’”
That personal and prophetic revelation is the foundation upon which our Church service is firmly based is my witness, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One of my most insightful spiritual experiences occurred when I was thirteen or fourteen years old.
I grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah, and the Church was a large part of my life. One day the Aaronic Priesthood boys in our ward went to Welfare Square for a service project.
We were assigned to unload a large railcar full of lump coal. We were to climb up on the load and throw lumps of coal off to either side of the track.
At first, it was fun, a new adventure. It was fairly easy to toss the coal off.
However, as we worked our way down into the railcar, it became necessary to pick up the lumps, raise them over our heads, and throw them over the side. By then we were getting tired and very dirty. The lumps of coal seemed heavier and heavier. It became a difficult task.
I remember going home that night and taking a bath. I had coal dust all over me. It was in my throat and nose. I could taste it and smell it. I felt terrible and decided that I would avoid doing anything like that again.
A few weeks later my family celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday. Under my parents’ guidance, we had prepared little boxes of food for the widows in our neighborhood. My sister and I made popcorn balls and wrapped them in waxed paper. My mother made cookies. We also added fruit and some candies to the boxes. We took these gifts to the homes of five or six widows.
No lights were burning in the last home. We knocked and waited, but no one came to the door. Just as we were about to leave, we saw a light appear at the end of the long hall. Then we heard the footsteps of this elderly sister, who lived alone. She opened the door, greeted us, and invited us in.
As we walked down that long hallway, I felt the cold. There was no heat at all in the house except in the small room at the end of the hall, where she invited us to sit down. A fire was burning in the small fireplace there.
We presented the elderly sister with our gift, sang some Thanksgiving songs, then began to talk about the things for which we were grateful. When it was our hostess’s turn, she said, “One of the things I am grateful for is that you came tonight instead of last night. This afternoon I received a delivery of lump coal from Welfare Square, and so we are able to all sit here and enjoy this fire.” I realized that I had helped make the coal available to her.
That was an impressive experience for me. I sensed as never before the importance of the gospel principle of caring for others. I saw the earlier experience of unloading that coal in an entirely different light and with an entirely different spirit. That Thanksgiving experience has affected me the rest of my life.

“Cassie,” Dad called, “will you please see if the morning newspaper is here yet?”
Cassie walked slowly to the front door. She stopped a moment, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Please, please let there be a story about a circus or a football game on the front page.”
She opened the door and glanced at the paper resting on the porch. “War Escalates” shouted the big, black headline. She quickly rolled up the paper with the headline out of sight and ran to give it to Dad.
That morning was the time for Cassie’s class to talk about current events. All of the students brought newspaper articles to share. Jason brought the story about the war. Miranda brought an article about a hurricane. Cassie’s clipping was about a dog who could water-ski. Cassie’s teacher reminded her that a story about a dog was not exactly a current event, but Cassie didn’t care. The entire current events bulletin board was covered with stories about wars, disasters, and crime. Cassie pinned her cute picture of the dog where she could see it easily.
Cassie was glad to get home after school. She did her homework and helped Mom with the dinner dishes. Dad invited her to tell him about her day while he watched the news on television. Just as she started telling her dad about the funny article she had taken for current events, the television showed pictures of children who had been hurt when a bomb exploded.
Cassie ran to her room and closed the door. She threw herself on the bed and covered her head with pillows. Her throat was tight, and her stomach felt sick. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
After a long time, Cassie heard a soft knock on the door. “May I come in, Cassie?” her mother asked quietly.
“I guess so.” Cassie’s voice was muffled by her pillows.
“Honey, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad day at school?” Mom asked.
“Not exactly,” Cassie mumbled through the pillows.
“Would you like to talk about whatever is bothering you? I can come back later if you want to be alone for now.” Mom sat down on the edge of the bed.
Cassie rolled over onto her back, and the pillows slid to the floor. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then finally said, “Mom, does Heavenly Father love everyone the same?”
“Yes, He does.”
“Then why are there wars where people get hurt and die? Why are so many people in the world unhappy? If He loves us, why doesn’t He stop the fighting?”
Mom thought for a moment. “Those are good questions. Let’s see if we can find some answers. Do you remember a few months ago in family home evening when we talked about our life before we came to earth? We learned about an important meeting at which Heavenly Father presented His plan for us.”
“I remember,” said Cassie. “Satan wanted to make everyone choose the right so we would all return to Heavenly Father.”
“That’s right,” Mom replied. “Why wasn’t his idea a good one?”
“Because we would lose the right to choose for ourselves.”
“Yes—Heavenly Father knew it was better to let us choose to follow His commandments, even though He knew some of us would choose to disobey and many would not be able to return to live with Him. He also knew that some people would choose to hurt other people, even good people and children. He knew Satan would work very hard to get us to hurt each other, because Satan doesn’t want us to live with Heavenly Father again. He wants us to be unhappy, like he is.”
Cassie rolled onto her side and looked at her mother. She had an important question to ask, but she was afraid to hear the answer. “What if a war starts here? I’m afraid someone in our family will be hurt or killed.”
Mom gathered Cassie into her arms. “Oh, I wish I could promise you that nothing bad will ever happen to any of us. There may never be a war here in our town, but as the world turns more and more to wickedness, there will be more dangers and trials for us to face.”
Cassie began to cry again. “I can’t stand it, Mom. Everywhere I look people are sad. I wish I had been born some other time.”
“There has always been suffering in the world, Cassie, but I think I know how you feel—sometimes it’s overwhelming. Did you know Heavenly Father saved you to come to earth now? You were strong in the premortal existence, and you had just the qualities Heavenly Father knew you would need to be able to handle temptations and hardship.”
“Really?” Cassie thought for a moment. “Then why am I so afraid?”
“Because the world is a scary place for an 11-year-old. But I have several ideas I think will help you. First, when you say your prayers, ask for peace to come to your heart. The Holy Ghost is a comforter, and He can help you feel better. He can’t take away the bad things that happen, but He can make it easier for you to deal with such problems. Second, perhaps you could ask Dad for a father’s blessing.”
Cassie remembered how much better she had felt after her father’s blessing just before school started. “That’s a good idea. I always feel better after a blessing.”
“Me, too,” Mom said. “Another thing I think will help is to try to look for good things. Heavenly Father wants us to be happy. Even though we live in a wicked time, we can still find joy. You can enjoy looking at a beautiful sunset or playing with your brother and sister. Let Dad and me do some of your worrying for you, at least until you’re older.”
“OK,” Cassie sighed happily. “It’s a deal.”
“I know one other thing I hope will help you, but it’s a surprise.”
“When will I find out what it is?” Cassie loved surprises.
“Give me a few days,” Mom answered, smiling mysteriously.
All week Cassie tried hard to do as her mother had suggested. She did feel better after her father’s blessing, and she tried hard to enjoy every day.
A few days later, when she walked into her bedroom after school, she noticed something new. There on the wall, right where she would see it first thing every morning, was an embroidered picture. There were birds and flowers and butterflies on it, and right in the middle were the words of the Savior found in John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

President Harold B. Lee had a marked influence on Sister Monson and me and our three children. On rather brief occasions he commented to each of our children in a tone which reflected deep spirituality, genuine interest, and inspired counsel.
Our youngest son, Clark, was about to turn twelve when we chanced to meet Brother Lee in the parking lot of the Church Office Building. He asked Clark how old he was. Clark answered, “Soon to be twelve.”
Came the question: “What happens to you when you turn twelve?”
The response: “I’ll receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon.”
With a warm smile and the clasp of his hand, Brother Lee said, “Bless you, my boy.”
Our daughter, Ann, as a young teenager was with her mother and me when we encountered Brother Lee, and proper introductions were made. Brother Lee took our daughter’s hand in his and, with a lovely smile, said to her, “You, my dear one, are beautiful inside as well as outside. What a choice young lady you are.”
In a more solemn setting, Brother Lee met me one evening on the steps of the LDS Hospital in Salt Lake City. By appointment we were to give a blessing to my eldest son, Tom, who was then in his later teens. Surgery awaited which could be of a most serious nature. Brother Lee took my hand before we ascended the stairs and, looking me straight in the eye, said, “Tom, there is no place I would rather be at this moment than by your side to participate with you in providing a sacred priesthood blessing to your son.”
We then went to the room, where he said to Tom, “We are about to give you a blessing, even to provide a priesthood ordinance. We approach this privilege in humility, for we remember the counsel of the Prophet Joseph Smith, who said that when those who hold the priesthood place their hands on the head of a person in this sacred ordinance, it is as though the hands of the Lord are placed thereon.” The blessing was given; the surgery turned out to be minor. But lessons were learned, spirituality of a great leader was observed, and a model to follow was provided.

Michelle stood up in front of the entire Primary, not sure if she was ready to do this. In Primary during the month of April, they were talking about Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Michelle had been excited when it was her class’s turn to give the talk and say the prayer in opening exercises. She had asked if she could give the talk, knowing just what she would talk about.
But now she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach was feeling funny, and her mouth was dry. Then she saw her mom and dad in the back of the room and remembered the prayer they had together that morning. Now she didn’t feel quite so scared anymore.
Michelle took a deep breath and held up a picture of a tiny baby. “This is my brother. His name is David Alan, and he would have been three years old this year. But when he was born, he couldn’t breathe very well. He stayed alive in the hospital long enough to have a blessing, and then he died. I never got to see my brother, and sometimes I’m really sad about that.”
Then Michelle held up a picture of Jesus. “But because of the Atonement and Resurrection, I don’t have to be sad all the time. When Jesus died and came back to life, He made it possible for my little brother to one day have a perfect body. That will happen when Jesus comes back to earth and people are resurrected. I can hardly wait, because then I will see my little brother again.”
Michelle held up her brother’s picture again. “I know sometimes people have to die. My family still gets sad sometimes when we think of David Alan. But we know that Jesus suffered for our sins, died for us, and was resurrected so that we can be resurrected too.
“I’m glad I’ll be able to see my little brother and that he will be healthy. I’m also glad that Heavenly Father and Jesus loved us enough to make the Atonement happen so we can see the people we love again. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Michelle stepped down from the podium. When she went to the back of the room, she gave her mom and dad a big hug.
“You did a wonderful job,” Mom whispered.
“We love you so much,” Dad said.
Michelle felt happy after her talk because Heavenly Father put a good feeling in her heart. She knew He loved her too.