Gospel Story Finder

Until last month, Heath Edwards had one killer of a schedule. Each weekday morning during the school year Heath’s alarm would go off at 4:30 A.M. That’s 4:30 in the morning. The sun isn’t even close to being up at 4:30, school isn’t for another three hours, and the temptation to push the snooze bar is a real one. That is unless you happen to be a world-class swimmer with designs on making the 1996 United States Olympic team. If you want to swim in the Olympics, you don’t stay under the covers.
So Heath, a 17-year-old from Columbia, South Carolina, would leap—okay, he’d roll—out of bed and get ready for another trip to the pool. Harbison Recreation Center, located about a mile from the Edwards’s home, has been kind of Heath’s home away from home for the last five years. If he wasn’t at his parents’ house, the first place you’d want to check is at Harbison, where there is a better-than-average chance you’d find Heath either in the swimming pool or in the weight room.
Thirty minutes after getting up to another dark morning, Heath, his close friend Elizabeth Peake, and the rest of the Harbison Aquatic Team members would jump in the pool, and that’s how each weekday would begin.
After the 90-minute workout, Heath and Elizabeth would go to the Dutch Fork Ward building for their 6:45 seminary class. There’s no need to call it early-morning seminary. If 6:45 is early morning, what does that make 4:30? Brother James Daves’s class would end around 7:30, and Heath and Elizabeth would go their separate ways. Heath would hop in the family’s Plymouth Horizon, run home, knock down some breakfast, and then head to Irmo High. Meanwhile, Elizabeth would go across town to Lexington High. The just-completed 1993–94 school year was the fourth year Heath had this schedule. It was Elizabeth’s first.
“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.”
That’s how Elizabeth came to add an extra hour to her morning routine, a routine that ended for Heath last month when he graduated from both Irmo High and from seminary.
Next month, Elizabeth will begin her senior year of high school, but it will be different. She’ll have her usual 4:30-in-the-morning routine. She just won’t have Heath there with her. In August, Heath will leave Columbia for his freshman year at the University of Georgia. He’s accepted a swimming scholarship at the Athens, Georgia, school, and is a prized addition to the Bulldog swimming program. How valuable is this guy? Last year, Heath had the fastest 200-yard butterfly time in the United States for his age group (17–18), and he also recorded the third fastest 100-yard butterfly time.
He was the 200 butterfly national champion in 1993, and finished second in 1992. He’s competed in the United States Olympic Festival, and he was recruited by several different universities. A lot of college swimming coaches wanted Heath to swim at their schools, and he had a huge decision to make when it came to choosing a college to attend. In the next two years, he’ll be making a few more decisions.
In November of 1993, Heath signed his letter of intent to attend Georgia, and he’s already committed to swimming for the Bulldogs through the 1995–96 season—his sophomore year. If things work out according to plan, he’ll be competing in the 1996 Summer Olympics in nearby Atlanta, Georgia. After that, he wants to go on a mission, whether he makes the Olympics or not.
“I’m definitely planning on going on a mission. Right after my sophomore year, depending on how close or how far I am from making the Olympic team, I’ll talk to my parents about what I’m going to do about a mission,” Heath explains.
Although a full-time mission is still a few years away, Heath’s current timetable hasn’t stopped him from sharing the gospel anyway. Elizabeth is an example of that, and so is Elizabeth’s mother, Sandy. Fourteen months after Elizabeth’s September 1992 baptism, Heath baptized Sandy.
“I knew Sister Peake felt the Spirit. She would always come to church with Elizabeth or when my mom invited her. Then she came to me one day and told me she wanted to get baptized. Nobody else knew,” Heath says. “She wanted to surprise Elizabeth and everybody else.”

Many years ago when I served as a bishop, I presided over a large ward with over 1,000 members, including 87 widows. On one occasion I was visiting, along with one of my counselors, a widow and her mature handicapped daughter. As we left their apartment, a lady from the apartment across the hall was standing outside her door and stopped us. She spoke with a foreign accent and asked if I were a bishop; I replied that I was. She told me that she noticed I often visited with others. Then she said, “No one visits me or my bedfast husband. Do you have time to come in and visit with us, even though we are not members of your church?”
As we entered her apartment, we noticed that she and her husband were listening to the Tabernacle Choir on the radio. We talked with the couple for a while, then provided a blessing to the husband.
Following that initial visit I stopped by as often as I could. The couple eventually met with the missionaries, and the wife, Angela Anastor, was baptized. Sometime later her husband passed away, and I had the privilege of conducting and speaking at his funeral services. Sister Anastor, with her knowledge of the Greek language, later was to translate the widely used pamphlet Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story into the Greek language.

A second reason we share the First Vision early in our missionary conversations is that honest truth-seekers can relate to and find inspiration from Joseph Smith’s search for Christ’s true church. My wife had an experience shortly before we were married that illustrates this powerfully.
She was working at a part-time job at Brigham Young University and met a student who was the only Church member in her family. When my wife asked about her conversion story, she explained:
“When I was about 14 or 15 years old, I began to wonder which church was true and felt compelled to find it. I attended all of the different denominations in my area, but none of them ever felt quite right. I even researched some non-Christian religions, but again I didn’t feel right, and as time went by, I almost gave up. One day I was on the internet, when I remembered that I had a friend who was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, so I searched online and found the Church’s website. Through a link on that site, I was led to the account of the First Vision found in Joseph Smith—History. As I read it, a feeling came into my heart that let me know that Joseph’s story was my story, and he had found the answer I was seeking. In that moment, I knew that I had found the true Church of Jesus Christ.”
Shortly after, she followed Joseph Smith’s example, asked God, and received further confirmation.

Years ago, when I was serving as a new bishop in Bountiful, Utah, I received some wonderful advice from a good friend and experienced priesthood leader. I shall quote him as best as I remember it.

“When I was a new bishop,” he said, “I used to sit on the stand in sacrament meeting and look out over my congregation. I would notice a new family sitting near the back and think to myself, ‘Oh, that must be the Jones family who just moved in by the Browns. I wonder what we could call them to do.’ But after I had been a bishop for a year or so,” he went on, “I would sit on the stand and look out and see a new family, and say to myself, ‘Oh, a new family. I wonder what problems they have?”

At first I thought his statement was a bit of an exaggeration. When he said that everyone had “problems,” I thought he was talking about “spiritual problems.” But as my service as a bishop continued, I quickly learned something. I could drive through my ward and point to virtually any house and name a problem that family, or individuals in that family, were facing. Aging parents; wayward children; some kind of health crisis; depression or anxiety; mental health challenges; a crumbling marriage; family members struggling with addiction; loss of employment and the resulting financial crisis; The list of possibilities is virtually endless.

One experience stands out in my mind. We prepared and prayed before going to visit one of our sisters. As we approached her house, we realized we had actually driven to a different sister’s house! We were assigned to visit this sister, a less-active mother of two young children, but had not planned to visit her that day. Because we were there, we knocked, but nobody answered.
We decided to be persistent and wait. The sister, Monica, eventually came and told us she was busy. We noticed she was tired and almost in tears. When we said we were there to help, she allowed us to enter. Her baby was crying, so we told her to take care of her baby and we would wait. When Monica went upstairs with the baby, we got to work, cleaning several rooms and folding all the clothes we could see.
When Monica saw how nice her house looked, she started crying, opened her heart to us, and shared some of her challenges. We promised to help her, and we talked to the Relief Society president about her challenges. The following Sunday, Monica was in church.
Monica became an active, happy sister, and we continued to minister to her with love and care. She still had the same challenges, but she was able to deal with them with more faith and courage because of her activity in the Church.
I’m so grateful for Graça’s example as we served together. We had prayed for guidance, and God had led us to Monica.

At 8:00 A.M. on my 18th birthday, my mother and stepfather asked me to leave their home, and I joined the Church one week later. I moved in with the Bulleigh family and used the $9,000 I had saved by working between the ages of 16 and 18 to support myself until I graduated from high school seven months later. I read the entire Book of Mormon after being baptized and learned of a prophet named Alma who had also persecuted the Church of God. He spent the rest of his life preaching the gospel to amend for his past transgressions. I decided also to serve a mission.

I’m from Guadalajara, Mexico. I love eating traditional Mexican food, especially tlayudas (large tortillas with yummy toppings), and celebrating Mexican Independence Day and the Day of the Dead.
Recently, my parents got divorced. At first, I felt like it was my fault, but I now know it wasn’t. If you are going through something similar, please know it’s not your fault either. I’ve learned that reading the scriptures helps and that it’s good to consider seeing a psychologist or trying new things like baking, drawing, or exercising.
Though this experience has been very difficult, I’m not worried anymore. Going to church, listening to God, and keeping His commandments have helped me increase my faith.
Sometimes when you are going through something hard, it’s easy to distance yourself from God. But as I’ve fasted and prayed fervently, I’ve stayed on the right path. I know God loves me.

“Let me take just a moment to mention a little incident that made an impression upon me when I was a boy. …

“It was on a summer day early in the morning. I was standing near the window. The curtains obstructed me from two little creatures out on the lawn. One was a large bird and the other a little bird, obviously just out of the nest. I saw the larger bird hop out on the lawn, then thump his feet and cock his head. He drew a big fat worm out of the lawn and came hopping back. The little bird opened its bill wide, but the big bird swallowed the worm.

“Then I saw the big bird fly up into a tree. He pecked at the bark for a little while and came back with a big bug in his mouth. The little bird opened his beak wide, but the big bird swallowed the bug. There was squawking in protest.

“The big bird flew away, and I didn’t see it again, but I watched the little bird. After a while, the little bird hopped out on the lawn, thumped its feet, cocked its head, and pulled a big worm out of the lawn.

“God bless the good people who teach our children and our youth” (“A Teacher,” Ensign, July 1972, 85).

Soon after young Gordon was ordained a deacon, his father took him to stake priesthood meeting. To open the meeting, the men sang “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, number 27), a wonderful song about the Prophet Joseph Smith. Of that experience, President Hinckley said: “Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. There came into my boyish heart a knowledge, placed there by the Holy Spirit, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of the Almighty” (“Joseph the Seer,” Ensign, May 1977, 66). Throughout his life, Gordon B. Hinckley has borne powerful testimony of Joseph Smith.

When I was eight, my two cousins and I were sent to a nearby town to get groceries. Looking back, I am amazed how much confidence my grandmother and my aunt and uncle had in us. The morning skies were bright and clear as we left on our three horses.
In the middle of the prairie, we decided to get off our horses and play marbles. We were so interested in our game that we did not look up to see the dark clouds covering the sky. By the time we realized that a storm was coming, we didn’t even have time to get on our horses. Heavy rain and hail hit us so hard that all we could do was unsaddle the horses and take cover under the saddle blankets. Then our horses ran away.
Horseless, wet, and cold, we started walking as fast as we could toward a nearby town. It was late when we found a home and knocked on the door. The family there dried us off, fed us delicious bean burritos, and then put us to bed in a room with a dirt floor.
My cousins and I woke up in the morning to a bright sun and beautiful sky. A man knocked on the door looking for three lost boys. I will never forget what we saw on our way home—a crowd of people who had been looking for us all night. In front of them all were my loving grandmother and my uncle and aunt. They hugged us and cried, happy they had found their lost children.

During my junior year of high school, my life began to get off track. I went to church only to pacify my parents, not because I wanted to. Toward the end of the year, nothing was going right—not at school, not at work, and especially not at home.
One day I went to my sister’s house. At that time her husband, Gerry, was in the bishopric. I began to tell them all the things that were going wrong in my life. After patiently listening, Gerry suggested I start reading the Book of Mormon 30 minutes a day. I had tried everything else, and nothing had worked, so I decided to give it a try. Gerry promised me if I truly tried to read for 30 minutes a day for a whole month, things would start to change for the better.
I started reading that very night. I think it was the longest half hour of my life. The next day was just a day; nothing great or horrible happened.
But change takes time. The next week was not an easy one. I missed the extra half hour of sleep, but I kept reading. Soon I started to notice that little things were working out better.
Then I received one of the biggest blessings I had ever had, although I didn’t recognize it at first. I had the opportunity to go to Ireland to work for the summer. I was already two weeks into my month of reading when I left, so I decided to continue the Book of Mormon test in Ireland and read every day.
My life began to change dramatically. I began to love the things I had detested. I looked forward to going to church at my little branch in Ireland. I gained a more positive outlook on life, and my testimony began to grow by leaps and bounds.
One day I wrote in my journal: Today was the most wonderful day. I woke up and went to church at 10:30. Today was our branch conference. It was the most spiritual meeting I have ever attended! I don’t think I have ever felt the Spirit so strongly before. The people here in Galway are the friendliest, most generous, most righteous people I have ever met. They give me strength. They are so firmly rooted in the gospel; I learn so much just by their examples. I think today is the first time I have ever known or felt absolutely positive that the gospel is right and true.
Reading the Book of Mormon was no longer a chore. It was something I began to look forward to every day.
My time in Ireland was soon up, and I had to return home. I knew that facing my home life and my old friends was going to be a great challenge.
When I got home, though, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. My mom and I actually saw eye to eye on a lot of things, and I grew to love her with all my heart. As the wrinkles in my home life began to iron out, so did the situation with my friends. I stopped hanging out with some of my old friends and started associating with a different group of girls. This change was hard, but I had a lot of support. My life took a complete turn.
Throughout this whole process, I had the scriptures and my sister to help me. My sister always knew when things were getting rough, and she wrote notes of encouragement. She gave me a compass to remind me of the changes I had made in my life and to encourage me to keep going in the right direction.
A few months later, time became harder to find, and scripture study became shorter and shorter. I found that my compass had grown cloudy.
My sister wrote me this note: You know, Trish, I feel that you are in a major war for your soul, and as much as I would like to be with you on the daily battlefront and as much as I talk about fighting for you, I realized last night that you are the only one who can win your war. You are the only one who can put on your armor every day by reading the Book of Mormon.
Once again I turned to the scriptures, increasing my reading to 30 minutes a day. And again, things turned around.
I know there is a battle raging each day for our souls. Satan wants to have us, but we have the tools to fight back. I know from experience that reading the Book of Mormon every day will keep us headed in the right direction. I know it helped me. I have a testimony of the power of the scriptures and all they can do for each of us. Take the challenge and find out for yourself.

There weren’t many Latter-day Saints in the small town of Princeton, New Jersey, where I spent my childhood. Mine was the only Latter-day Saint family in the town when I was growing up. As a result, my friends didn’t know much about the Church. Most of my classmates were Christians, however, and each morning our teacher would have us take turns reading out loud from the Bible—something that isn’t done in public schools in the United States today.
When my turn came, I always chose to read the 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians [1 Cor. 13], which is about charity, the pure love of Christ. I had had a special experience as a little boy that impressed me that the scripture was true and was for me. Every time I read it, I had a strong feeling about my future, including my future family. It was a feeling of kindness and love for them. That seemed like a strange thing for a little boy to feel, so I didn’t tell anyone about it. I didn’t tell my brothers; they probably would have laughed at me. I didn’t tell my parents, either.
When I was 11, I received a special blessing from my uncle, a patriarch, whom I had never met. In the blessing, I was promised the very things I’d hoped for but had kept hidden in my heart—that I would have the home and family I had always dreamed about. The promises in that blessing have since been fulfilled. I have an absolute testimony of priesthood blessings, and I know that those who are worthy to give blessings are inspired by God.

“During [a] busy season of my life, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin extended a call to me to serve as stake president.
“During my interview with him, many thoughts raced through my mind, not the least of which was the unsettling worry that I might not have the time this calling would require. Although I felt humbled and honored by the call, I briefly wondered if I could accept it. But it was only a fleeting thought because I knew that Elder Wirthlin was called of God and that he was doing the Lord’s work. What could I do but accept?
“There are times when we have to step into the darkness in faith, confident that God will place solid ground beneath our feet once we do. And so I accepted gladly, knowing that God would provide.”
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, “The Why of Priesthood Service,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2012, 59.

My mom and I went to the mall to buy my grandma’s birthday present. While we were walking through the mall, I saw a big picture of a woman wearing clothing that did not cover very much of her body. I looked away the whole time we were walking by it. President Hinckley has asked us to be clean. I can keep my mind clean by not looking at bad pictures.
My mom and dad gave me the “great plate” (a special plate to honor someone who has been good that day) at dinner because my mom saw me look away from the picture all by myself. I know that if I keep my mind clean and pure like the prophet asks us to, I will be happy.

Jason remembered how his foot had tingled when it went to sleep that night as he stood motionless by the kitchen door, listening. The big folks were in the living room, discussing Grandpa! Mom had sent him off to watch TV, but when he went to get a drink, he couldn’t help overhearing them. Then he just stayed there.
There was no mistaking Aunt Madge’s high-pitched, nervous voice. She always seemed to talk too fast. She and Uncle Bill had flown in from Texas the day before Grandma’s funeral. Jason could hear Aunt Madge say that there was no way that Grandpa could live alone now that Grandma wasn’t there to take care of him. And that it was impossible for him to live at their house.
Aunt Edith said that she was sorry, but she didn’t have room for him in her little apartment. Aunt Sherma and Uncle Dick traveled a lot; besides, Aunt Sherma said, they just didn’t have an extra bedroom either.
Jason’s mom had spoken up quickly. “We can move the TV into the living room and give Grandpa the TV room. We’d be happy to have him live here with us.”
Jason was delighted!
Grandpa moved in with them at the first of the year. It had been hard for him to leave his home. The movers brought his bed and dresser, a lounge chair, and some boxes of his personal things, but that was all.
He and Jason soon became good buddies. Grandpa was a great storyteller, and Jason loved to listen to his stories. Grandpa talked a lot about his boyhood, the time he’d spent overseas during the war, the early days of his law practice, and the years that he sat behind a big podium as a judge in a black robe. But he was old and frail now, and it was hard for Jason to picture him as a little boy, a soldier, a lawyer, or a judge.
Grandpa helped fill the empty spot in Jason’s heart. Jason had never known his own father—he’d been only two at the time of the car accident. “Did Daddy look like me when he was six?” he asked Grandpa one day.
“You’re a dead-ringer for my Joe when he was your age,” Grandpa told him. “Your dad’s hair was darker than yours, but he had your same nose and that same cleft in his chin.” Grandpa smiled and started talking about all four of his children—Madge and Edith and Sherma and Joe.
Later Jason pushed Grandpa’s wheelchair out onto the front porch to try to escape the hot, humid house. The cool, fresh breezes from the sycamores brought a refreshing change. Jason threw his leg across the brick-bordered porch, pulled a leaf from the lilac tree, folded it, and put it to his lips. As he blew softly, out came a low, clear whistle.
Grandpa stopped, then said, “If you’d like to see the seashell, I still have it. Would you go get the brown shoe box in the back corner of my bottom dresser drawer, please?”
Jason returned a few moments later with the shoe box. Grandpa opened it and took out a small white and coral seashell, beautifully formed and with black and gray striations. “I want you to have this, Jason,” he said, placing it in Jason’s hands. “If you listen to it often, it will help you remember another Voice that is always there to guide you and help you make right decisions.”
Jason placed the seashell next to his ear and listened for a moment. “Thank you, Grandpa, for telling me about Dad,” he said softly. “And thank you for sharing your treasure with me. It will always remind me of the Holy Ghost, Dad, and you.”

It is related of Spinola and Richardet, the ambassadors sent by the king of Spain to negotiate a treaty at the Hague in 1608, that one day they saw some eight or ten persons land from a little boat and, sitting down upon the grass, proceed to make a meal of bread, cheese, and drink.
“Who are those travelers?” asked the ambassadors of a peasant.
“These are our worshipped masters, the deputies from the state,” was his reply.
Spinola at once whispered, “These are not men to be conquered.” (From Happy Homes and the Hearts That Make Them by Samuel Smiles.)

“Hey, Mike! Can you take the lady in the hallway back to her room on the third floor?” the radiology tech asked.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “You just love to keep me busy, don’t you?”
“You know what they say. We’re supposed to run the candy stripers into the ground with work,” he shot back.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said to an older woman in a wheelchair, “I’m here to take you back up to your room.”
“Tell me,” she said, “when did they start employing doctors in their teens?”
“Oh no,” I said with a laugh. “I’m only a volunteer. I come here to help out.” I didn’t add, And to gain experience that will help me get into a decent college.
“Well that’s very sweet of you,” she replied.
“So how are you doing?” I asked, not really because I cared, but because I was supposed to be nice and foster a pleasant atmosphere for the patients.
“I could be better,” she said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you get better.” We chatted as I wheeled her to her room. At the same time, I was thinking about how many more people I would need to bring to their rooms before the end of the day. “Hey, I never got your name. I’m Michael.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Michael,” she said sincerely. “I’m Rebecca.”
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you as well,” I said. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
“Thank you, Michael,” the woman replied.
I wasn’t too affected by the experience. I took people from the Radiology Department to some designated area in the hospital every day. It was my assignment. After saying good-bye, I went downstairs to attend to some more people in wheelchairs.
Later in the afternoon I received a call from the Intensive Coronary Care Unit. I was shocked. Teenagers weren’t allowed in ICCU.
“Hello? This is Michael Brodeur,” I said into the phone.
“Oh, you’re the one! You’re the boy who was so nice,” a nurse said. “Could you come up to ICCU for a little while?”
“Okay, ma’am, I’ll be there right away,” I said, not quite knowing what to expect. I was curious as to why I had been called, but soon, thoughts of schoolwork, the upcoming football game, and food replaced my curiosity.
“Right this way,” a nurse pointed when I arrived. “It’s the door right in the middle of all the others.”
I knocked at the door. “Hello? This is Michael,” I said.
“Please come in,” a weak voice responded.
It was the woman I had wheeled to her room earlier that day. “What’s wrong?” I immediately asked, sensing something was terribly wrong.
“I just found out my cancer has progressed to a very bad stage,” she said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Well, I just wanted to talk to you,” she replied. “You were so kind to me this morning, and, well, I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Of course! I’d love to do that,” I answered.
“You remind me so much of my grandson. You have the hair, the eyes, the face. He looks so much like you,” she said.
“So where does your grandson live?” I asked.
We talked for about 30 minutes. I learned about her grandchildren. I learned that she used to win beauty pageants. I learned that her husband of 42 years had died just under a year ago. I learned a lot.
That’s when it hit me: these are lives I’m touching. Why have I been so casual about people’s lives?
I found out that after she was told about her condition, she had asked for the “boy who had been so nice to her.” The boy who had been so nice? I hadn’t been mean, but I certainly hadn’t been the most sincere person around. After all, for me this volunteer work was just a way to get into college. I resolved to change. Never again would I so lightly consider these people I was serving. I redoubled my efforts as a volunteer and started to take pride in my work.
I was only 17 years old. But I could make a difference.

Heavenly Father has given us all talents and gifts that can help us provide for ourselves and our families. Learning to recognize our talents and gifts—and interests—is an important first step in career preparation. President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, learned from his father, Henry Eyring, to choose a career that complemented his interests.

Because of his love for science, Professor Henry Eyring encouraged his sons to major in physics as preparation for a career in science. While President Eyring was studying physics at the University of Utah, he had an exchange with his father that changed his career direction. He asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem. “My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” President Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’”

A little chagrined, President Eyring admitted he had not. President Eyring recalls his father’s response: “When I told him no, my father paused. It was really a very tender and poignant moment, because I knew how much he loved me and how much he wanted me to be a scientist. Then he said, ‘Hal, I think you’d better get out of physics. You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.’”2

A son wrote a tender letter to his parents in the mission field: “Your service sets an example for our children. As a result, they are more willing to serve in their callings in the Church. It teaches us all to be more charitable as we exchange letters and send packages. When we receive letters and news from you, it strengthens our testimonies. Even though you retired from your profession and should have been happy by all the world’s standards, by going on your mission you have shown us a new way to be happy. You have found happiness money can’t buy. We have seen you overcome medical and other types of adversities and have seen you blessed for your willingness to go and leave your children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. We love you dearly!”
Another couple reports: “One of our grandsons wrote to us while we were in Thailand and told us that he hadn’t decided for sure that he wanted to fill a mission, but we had set the example for him and now he knew he wanted to serve. He is now serving a mission.”
My own father and mother served a mission in England. As I visited them one day in their small flat, I watched my mother, with a shawl wrapped snugly around her shoulders, putting shillings in the gas meter to keep warm. I asked, “Why did you come on a mission, Mother?” Mother said simply, “Because I have 11 grandsons. I want them to know that Grandma and Grandpa served.”

Kathy Giusti’s work at the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF) illustrates how using these principles of power through help people and their organizations grow and prosper. In 1996, Giusti was diagnosed with multiple myeloma (MM), a cancer of blood plasma cells. All the available evidence suggested she had three to four years to live. In researching her illness, Giusti found that MM received relatively little research funding, few scientists were doing research on the disease, and there was little communication among the scientists who were. No new medicines had been approved in many years.

Giusti and her identical twin sister, Karen Andrews, created the MMRF to fund research and create communication networks to accelerate the development of new therapies. Giusti became a quintessential power-through leader at MMRF. She built a core team of experts in the disease and in clinical trials, and she created a network of partners—donors, doctors, and scientists.39 All these people were inspired by Giusti, herself an MM patient, and were committed to her vision of what MMRF could do: “accelerate a cure for each and every multiple myeloma patient.”40

Over time, Giusti and her team provided funding for research, established connections between patients and doctors, and built a tissue bank and a longitudinal database with genetic information and clinical data about patients at different stages of the disease. Giusti activated the power that was in her core team and in the scientists and doctors in the network with remarkable results. By 2024, MMRF had raised more than $600 million for research, helped fifteen new drugs through clinical trials to FDA approval, and increased the five-year survival rate for MM patients from 20 percent to 60 percent.41 And Kathy Giusti? She survived MM and breast cancer and continues to pursue her dream of curing MM and other cancers.