Gospel Story Finder

One day I telephoned a lady who had investigated the Church for four years. Over the phone, she told me she didn’t need the Book of Mormon because she had found a “more beautiful book.” When we went to her house, my companion and I hoped we could convince her to give the Book of Mormon another chance. She showed us parts of her book dealing with charity and pride, and she looked at us as if to say, That isn’t written in your book, is it?

Fortunately, I had studied the Book of Mormon in seminary that year, and I knew of some scriptures on those subjects. I soon found them and started to read. I explained them to her in a way I had not known I was capable of.

When I finished, she had tears in her eyes. She said she had intended to give her copy of the Book of Mormon back to us, but now she had decided to try reading this most beautiful book—the Book of Mormon—again.

Her name was Maria, and she had lived in New York City for decades. She worked in a building a few blocks away from the towers. She told us that a few weeks before September 11, she had received a strong feeling that she should pray and ask if God was there. She said that up until that point in her life, she hadn’t prayed much and hadn’t really felt like she needed to. She didn’t feel an answer to her prayer until terrorists struck the towers on that fateful morning. Chaos and confusion ensued all around her, yet she suddenly felt calm. Maria told us that she felt this incredible peace and that, in spite of all the inexplicable destruction of the moment, she felt that God was there looking out for her.

Brother Ashton Garcia of the Port of Spain Trinidad Stake shared his experience of preparing line upon line. He said, when his wife was serving as Relief Society president, she received personal revelation after reading the words of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) to start a food storage.7 They learned valuable lessons of following the prophet, starting a kitchen garden, storing fruits and vegetables managing a budget and using resources wisely. He shared that “As we moved forward in faith and followed the Lord’s commandments, the Lord guided us with revelation line upon line on how to act and not be acted upon. We received peace from the Spirit by knowing we were prepared and keeping the commandments.”

Some months ago I was driving somewhere with my son Cameron. Cameron is 11 years old, and he likes to talk. In spite of wonderful Mormon ads on parental listening, unfortunately I am often more aware that Cameron is talking than I actually understand what he is saying. As I tried to refocus on what he was saying, he mentioned a name. I asked, "Who is that?" He replied with considerable emphasis and surprise, "He is my Primary teacher." I felt that I was thankful for this man’s help in teaching my son, yet I hadn’t revealed it by my behavior. How easy it would have been to have previously asked my son about his Primary class and learned his teacher’s name. I clearly failed the implicit quiz given to me by my son.

It is not always immediately apparent to us or to others what is in our hearts. There can be insensitivities even when our hearts are in the right place, not to mention those that are truly born of ingratitude. Neither are particularly pretty. As I reflected on which of these was correct regarding Cameron’s teacher, my mind was drawn to an experience that looms large in my early married life. When I was in graduate school, my wife, Sue, was in a fairly serious car accident. A young man stole his aunt’s car and drove it through a red light, hitting my wife and our two small daughters in our Volkswagen bug. My wife can verify that I was a little too anxious, after hearing that they were all well, to move on to inquire about the condition of the car, which was only a few years old. As it turned out, it was totaled.

Those who know me well are probably amused or even a little concerned at hearing this story, because I have always been a bit too captivated by machinery. Perhaps this is a legacy of my rural heritage. However, this experience gave me a vivid insight: one can build relationships by expressing love and gratitude or one can diminish them by silence or by expressing ingratitude.

I heard an attractive young lady, a recent convert to the Church, bear her testimony at a stake conference meeting. She had lived in more than a dozen foster homes in her short life and had been turned out from all of them as incapable of being helped. She said through her tears that no one had ever made her feel that she was worth anything. Then she had been given one more chance; an older couple who had provided a home for many foster children had accepted an invitation to try to help just one more.

Now, as she spoke, she radiated both joy and self-esteem. “I am valuable!” she said. “I am valuable! Jesus Christ died for me! I found out in my new family how much I am worth when I learned about Christ and how much he cared for me and was willing to suffer for me. He died for me! I am valuable!”

She is very fortunate. After a young lifetime of bad choices and trouble she is in a home where she is really valued and esteemed and where she has been taught by loving parents her relationship with the Savior. She has begun to know and appreciate him, to find meaning in life, and to develop a sense of responsibility. Her experience reminds me of a statement which hangs, framed, on my office wall: “Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem be born, if he is not born in thee thy soul is still forlorn.”

Tommy’s father was among those chosen to leave Garden Grove and go to Council Bluffs to build up a settlement there. It was early June. The rainy season was over, and the tall grass would open up just long enough to let the wagons pass and then close up behind them. When Tommy looked back, there was no sign of where they had been.
Betsy often picked berries along the way, and sometimes her father caught a wild turkey for their supper. It was a happy time. The wagon train finally camped on the banks of the great Missouri River.
The next day they moved up onto the bluff where Tommy could look straight down into the muddy Missouri River.
They could get good spring water near the tall cliff that rose straight up from the riverbed and then leveled off into the flat prairie country. It was here that the great explorers Lewis and Clark held their councils with the Indians. It was they who named it Council Bluffs.
Tommy and his father were assigned to build the ferry. Brigham Young wanted a group of men to cross the river and go to the valley to plow, plant, and build in preparation for the Saints’ arrival.
By the end of June the ferry was completed. Preparations were being made for the men to leave for the West when four United States soldiers rode into camp to talk with the leaders.
At noon Brigham Young called a public meeting and introduced Captain James Allen of the United States Army to the people. Captain Allen stepped forward and spoke. “The United States is at war with Mexico. The President has sent me to recruit five hundred men to join the army and march to California.” He had scarcely finished speaking when everyone started to talk at once.
Then Brigham Young arose and said: “If we want the privilege of going where we can worship God according to the dictates of our conscience, we must raise the battalion. I say that not one of those who enlist will fall at the hands of the nation’s foe. I will do my best to see that their families are cared for. I will feed them whenever I have anything to eat myself. The pay that the five hundred men receive will take their families to the valley. It is right for us to go, and I know you will.”
After Captain Allen left, the council held a meeting. Following this meeting, some of the brethren left for Pisgah to recruit volunteers.
Tommy looked at his father and his father looked at him. Neither spoke, but in his heart Tommy knew what his father was thinking. After a few minutes he stepped forward. The boy knew his father was to be one of the volunteers. Tommy’s mother knew it too, and she leaned over and whispered, “Don’t you think the flag your father gave you in Nauvoo should be flying from a tall pole rather than lying in the bottom of the wagon box?”
Tommy smiled and ran to get the flag. His father helped him hang it from a tall tree that had been stripped of its branches. When the Saints saw it unfurl in the gentle breeze, it was as if they had met an old friend who was dear to their hearts, one that had almost been forgotten. After a moment someone began to sing a patriotic song, and soon everyone was singing.
Tommy thought of his great-grandfather, who had died for his country many years before. When the song ended, Tommy’s father said, “It is good for us to remember we have a country. I pledge myself to honor, sustain, and uphold that country as long as I live.”

Heavenly Father wants us to serve others. My Primary teacher was a great example of service. When we came to Primary, Sister Antonietti always brought a chocolate cake. I hated chocolate cake! Everyone else liked it. But I never ate it.
One day she asked me, “Why don’t you try a little piece? This cake is made with a special ingredient.”
I agreed to try it. And guess what? I liked it!
Many years later my mom told me what Sister Antonietti’s secret ingredient was. “Sister Antonietti didn’t have much money,” my mom said. “Each week she had to choose between paying for a bus ride to Primary or buying the ingredients to make the chocolate cake for your class. She always chose the chocolate cake. So instead of riding the bus, she walked more than two miles [3 km], each way, regardless of the weather.”
Sister Antonietti’s secret ingredient was the love she had for others!

It’s near enough to Christmastime that I am reminded of two little stories I would like to tell you. While our youngest daughter was in school, she came home just before Christmas and said to her mother, “Do you know what they tell me at school?” Her mother said no, and my daughter said, “Well, those kids tell me there’s no Santa Claus.”
My wife said, “What did they say about the presents?”
“They say their fathers and mothers give them to them.”
“What did you say?”
“Well, you don’t know my dad and mother.”

A long time ago there lived a handsome king in a gorgeous hilltop palace in a beautiful green land. This king had many servants and costly clothes and delicious food to eat. His crown was covered with rare jewels that shone and twinkled as he turned his head from side to side when he rode in parades.
The king was a good man and a kind man, but because he had never been poor, he didn’t understand the problems that poor people have. He had never had to work hard in the fields or take care of sick children, so he didn’t know what it was like to be weary or very worried.
One day as the king was riding through the countryside in his carriage, a carriage wheel began to wobble. A poor laborer who was working nearby saw the carriage stop. He hurried over, bowed to the king, and offered his services. Pleased that the laborer helped so efficiently and willingly, the king removed his cloak and gave it to him. Now, the laborer needed food for his family, not a cloak that he would never wear, but he humbly bowed and thanked the king.
Another day, when some enemies from afar invaded the king’s land, he sent his ablest soldiers to fight them. His soldiers fought for three days and drove the enemy away. The king was so happy about it that upon the soldiers’ return, he had his entertainers put on a show for them. Now, what the soldiers really wanted was to go home and go to bed because they were exhausted. However, they didn’t wish to give offense, so they humbly bowed before the king and smiled as they watched the show.
One spring a sickness spread throughout the land, and many children became very ill. Mothers and fathers stayed up night after night, caring for their sick children and praying that they would get well.
During this troublous time the king, who had no children, decided to have a beautiful ball and to invite the whole kingdom. He had heard that many families had sick children, but he thought that a ball would cheer them up. The parents cried when they received their invitations because they knew that they must attend. They grieved at leaving their sick children, but the king had such a wonderful time at the ball that he didn’t notice that no one else did.
That night, after the king went to bed, a servant put a container of fireplace embers and ashes just outside the palace door. He had been too eager to get home to his children to dispose of the contents properly. Later, another servant was carrying paper decorations from the palace. He saw the container by the door and, not realizing that it contained smoldering coals, piled the decorations on top of the ashes.
Early the next morning a mother trying to comfort her sick child happened to look out the window and see the whole side of the palace on fire. She sounded the alarm immediately, and the king and the palace workers escaped with their lives. But except for the night clothes that they were wearing, they lost all their possessions. The palace and everything in it were destroyed!
The king stood a safe distance from his once-beautiful palace and watched it burn. His face was covered with soot, and he shivered in the crisp night air. One by one his servants slipped away to return to their families in the countryside. They were afraid to ask him to go home with them, because they knew that he was used to the finest of everything.
So the king crept closer to the charcoaled remains of his palace and sat there all night.
The next day his subjects wanted to take something to the king to let him know that they were sorry for his loss. They knew that whatever they took would have to be something splendid, something fit for a king.
The tinsmith and his wife decided to take a beautiful silver tray and pitcher. When they delivered it to the king, he thanked them kindly. But after they left, he wished that they had brought him some water and a loaf of bread instead, for he was hungry.
The tailor and his wife, forgetting that the king no longer had a bed, took him a pair of satin sheets trimmed with gold thread. The king quietly thanked them, but after they left, he thought that some warm clothes would have been more useful, for he was cold.
When a farmer came with a fine horse as his gift, the king was a little more pleased. At least now he could ride to the river and wash. The king humbly thanked the farmer, but still he wished again that the gift had been some food.
The king could have commanded the people to bring him whatever he wanted, but somehow, without a palace, fine clothes, his beautiful crown, and many servants, he didn’t feel much like a king anymore. He didn’t feel like giving commands.
He rode to the river, washed his face and hands, and drank his fill. Then, as he sat there and wondered and worried about what to do, the poor laborer who had repaired his carriage wheel approached him. The laborer bowed as he held out the cloak the king had given him. “This has never been worn by anyone, Your Majesty, since you gave it to me. I have no use for it.” The laborer was immediately embarrassed by his own words, for he thought that he sounded a bit ungrateful. But the king smiled at the laborer and took the cloak and wrapped it about himself. This man would have been more grateful for food, the king thought, just as I would be now.
The laborer had barely left when a group of musicians and dancers came by. There on the banks of the river they put on a show for the king. The king wanted to cry out, “Don’t bring me music and dance; bring me food and a warm place to stay.” Then he thought of his valiant soldiers, tired and dirty, who had had to sit through a palace show when what they had needed was food and rest.
And he thought of the tired and weary parents who had had to leave their sick children in order to attend his ball. What an inconsiderate and foolish ruler I have been, he thought. If only I could have back my palace, I would be truly kind and help my people according to their real needs.
A long time after the musicians and dancers had left, a shepherd boy approached from the hills. He saw a man, tired and with tears in his eyes, sitting by the river. Not knowing that the man was his king, the shepherd boy sat down beside him and shared his bread and cheese with him.
When the boy returned to his flock, the king mounted his horse and rode back toward the remains of his palace. He was astounded to see loyal subjects from throughout his kingdom hewing logs and shaping stones to rebuild his palace.
The king was grateful for the chance that they were giving him. And he vowed that he would be a much better, kinder ruler.
And he was.

In heaven’s economy, true maturity is the conversion of becoming childlike. With all the duties and responsibilities that weigh him down, I’d submit that our prophet President Thomas S. Monson is a prototypical example of maturing into this childlike ideal:
I reiterate that, as holders of the priesthood of God, it is our duty to live our lives in such a way that we may be examples of righteousness for others to follow. As I have pondered how we might best provide such examples, I have thought of an experience I had some years ago while attending a stake conference. During the general session, I observed a young boy sitting with his family on the front row of the stake center. I was seated on the stand. As the meeting progressed, I began to notice that if I crossed one leg over the other, the young boy would do the same thing. If I reversed the motion and crossed the other leg, he would follow suit. I would put my hands in my lap, and he would do the same. I rested my chin in my hand, and he also did so. Whatever I did, he would imitate my actions. This continued until the time approached for me to address the congregation. I decided to put him to the test. I looked squarely at him, certain I had his attention, and then I wiggled my ears. He made a vain attempt to do the same, but I had him! He just couldn’t quite get his ears to wiggle. He turned to his father, who was sitting next to him, and whispered something to him. He pointed to his ears and then to me. As his father looked in my direction, obviously to see my ears wiggle, I sat solemnly with my arms folded, not moving a muscle. The father glanced back skeptically at his son, who looked slightly defeated. He finally gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. [“Examples of Righteousness,” Ensign, May 2008, 66]

When I was a few months away from returning from my mission, I started thinking a great deal about my life after my mission. I thought heavily about what lay ahead, especially with regards to my education. I often got frightened whenever the thought came to mind because my family didn’t have the funds to send me to school and I wasn’t sure I would be successful. I knew BYU-Pathway Worldwide was an option, but I didn’t know how adequate it was. Nearing the completion of my mission, I got an email to consider BYU-Pathway. I registered for the semester that started a week before I would return home. I knew I would be able to do a make-up work as soon as I returned. Just a day after I got home, I went for my first Pathway in-person gathering.
During PathwayConnect, I realized it was an exceptional program. It is truly “an innovative approach to education—one unique to the Church Education System and to the world” as President Russell M. Nelson proclaimed.1 It increased my faith, gave me hope, sharpened my intellect, and prepared me for the responsibilities I have now and those to come. My mission drew me much closer to the Savior and increased my spiritual well-being. PathwayConnect, while also keeping me close to the Savior, increased my love for others, increased my desire to serve, and improved my temporal well-being.
It wasn’t always smooth. I took my first semester with my smartphone only while I was working a low-income job. It was very challenging, especially during the second semester. I couldn’t do it all with my phone anymore so I shared a laptop with a friend named Loveth Ngumah, but I could only use it at the chapel. I would go there every evening after work, wait for her to finish studying, and then I would take over. Sometimes it meant I get home at 11 PM, and some nights were spent at the chapel, but I never gave up. I knew it was going to change my life anyway, so it was worth it. Soon, I was blessed with a laptop scholarship.
PathwayConnect in itself and the challenges faced prepared me for the busy responsibilities of an assistant stake clerk and Pathway service missionary. Also, it helped me secure a job as a quality assurance specialist for the Family History Department of the Africa West Area Office after completing my first certificate from BYU-Idaho Online.
This has been life-changing! I always hoped to be a part of the Church workforce, but I never saw myself in that position any time soon! Every morning at work I look through my office window to see the Accra Ghana Temple and thank the Lord for such an opportunity to serve in and work for the Church.
I am a first-generation university student. I am almost finished with my second certificate, and then I will finish my associate’s and bachelor’s degree. With every certificate or milestone, my self-esteem increases and my fear of the future decreases because I feel I am one step closer to securing a better future. Because I know I am nothing without God and this inspired program, I have learned to be humble and kind. I have extended helping hands to many other PathwayConnect students to give back. I created a WhatsApp group for PathwayConnect students around the globe to help them through tips and video demonstrations each week. Now, whenever I think about what lies ahead, I can’t help but smile and be eternally grateful for an inspired program called PathwayConnect.

In the spring of 1945, I was on Okinawa as a frightened, barely adequate infantry replacement, concerned with victory to be sure, but very much concerned with selfish survival. Japanese artillery pieces had tried for several days without success to hit the little plateau our mortar squad was on. Then one evening they dropped three shells on us; they had finally found the range and we knew it, and they surely knew it. Since one of those shells fell just several feet from my foxhole, I was stimulated to intense prayer, full of promises. Strangely, no more shells fell near us that evening—at the very time when more shells should have been fired for effect. The Lord that night blessed me and others. But suppose He also told me to be of good cheer, for not only would I live, but one day (just a few ridges away) I would preach the gospel to an LDS chapel full of members! Could I have managed that perspective? Probably not. Yet that is what happened in 1973, 28 years later, as I was privileged to go back to that—for me—sacred spot. Sugar cane has since covered the little plateau but not my poignant memories of Okinawa, that bloodiest battle in the Pacific.

I have one final experience to share that is very recent and very tender. A few weeks ago, two members of our Provo young single adult ward lost their lives in a tragic car accident. These young women and their two other roommates were a tightknit group. Naturally, the surviving roommates were extremely shaken and mourned the loss of their friends. Upon learning of the deaths, the father of one of the surviving roommates immediately packed a bag and drove eight hours through the middle of the night to reach his daughter. He could have waited for daylight to leave, but he knew what she needed and ran to her as fast as he could.

This father emulated the very way that Christ succors us. Jesus Christ knows us. He knows what we need, and He comes rushing to rescue us in all circumstances. He sends friends, family, ward members, leaders, and special sacred experiences to help us know that He is near and that He loves us perfectly.

On Church assignment in Hawaii, Sister Wirthlin and I visited the island of Molokai. As we walked back to our car after laboring up a trail in the mountains, we came upon a young man headed toward the overlook. I offered a polite greeting. From his answer, I could tell he was from Germany.
His countenance bespoke a sincere heart and an approachable personality. I spoke his language and knew something of his culture, having served a German-speaking mission. The Spirit prompted me to introduce the gospel to him. However, other people around us interrupted our brief encounter without my having said a word about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I failed to be the missionary that every member of the Savior’s Church ought to be.
As we drove away, I had the disturbing feeling that I had failed in my duty to proclaim the gospel. I was troubled while we drove around the island to see Molokai’s beautiful waterfalls. As we got out of our car, another car drove up and stopped. The young man we had seen earlier stepped out, smiled, and gave me a warm handshake. As I grasped his outstretched hand, I thought to myself, This time I will do my duty.
We introduced ourselves, and I learned he was a university student in a small city south of Düsseldorf, Germany. We spoke of my fond memories of Germany and of my admiration for the German people. Speaking of my work in Europe gave me an ideal opportunity to explain some of the basics of the gospel. As we parted, I asked for his address and telephone number, which he gladly shared. I felt he was truly a newfound friend.
Upon my return to Salt Lake City, I wrote to the Germany Düsseldorf Mission and asked President John F. Charles to send missionaries to continue the gospel discussion. I don’t believe my wife and I met this young man twice by coincidence.
But the Lord doesn’t always give us a second chance to share the gospel. I failed to follow the Spirit the first time the still, small voice unmistakably spoke to my heart and mind. I may not have had another opportunity, but the Lord graciously gave it to me.
We must act when the Spirit speaks. When I did, the young man responded positively to my message. It wasn’t really my message. It was God’s, brought to my mind by the Spirit of the Lord. I was but an instrument in the Lord’s hands.

Following my graduation from law school I had a military commitment of three years. My wife and I left Utah and eventually ended up at a military installation in New York. Near the end of my three-year military obligation, as we were preparing to return to Utah, I was called as bishop of the Manhattan Ward in New York City.
At that time we had three of our four children. It was a completely unexpected and faith-testing call. I would have to take the New York bar exam in order to practice law in New York. We would have to move our children into a very congested New York City environment, which was a type of living foreign to us.
Nevertheless, having always been counseled to accept Church callings and feeling I should accept this one, I became bishop of a large ward of approximately 1,000 members.
After serving as bishop for nearly seven years, I was extremely concerned because we had now been married for ten years, we had a family of four children, and we were still living in a rented apartment. Thinking that we might be better served to start building equity in a home, we were contemplating a move from the city to a suburb.
The small two-bedroom apartment we were living in was in a large building in downtown New York City. At that time that building was converted from an apartment building to a “co-op” building, which meant the apartments became the equivalent of condominiums. The law provided that any occupant of an apartment could purchase the co-op apartment at less than market value and resell it at market value.
With the savings we had accumulated over the years, we purchased our co-op apartment and resold it. The profit on the sale was nearly equal to our monthly rental payments for the seven years we had lived there. As I discovered that fact, I remembered my concern about not having developed equity in a home during that long period of time. I realized that I could not have done a better job of managing my monies than the Lord had done. Our faithful service during those seven years was rewarded in a way we could not have envisioned.
I offer this testimony not to draw attention to our circumstances but to help you realize that the Lord knows you and He knows of your faithful service. Serve with enthusiasm, and He will bless your efforts.

We all remember President Hunter’s experience at this podium as Cody Judy rushed him and threatened him with a bomb. President Hunter would not flinch or read the message demanded by his attacker. The students began to sing “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” A doctor came up and took President Hunter’s pulse following this frightening incident. His pulse read seventy, which is normal. This is another good example of a man with a purpose who was not distracted from his sacred calling regardless of danger. He resumed his speech by saying, “Life has a fair number of challenges in it.” He stopped, looked over the audience, and added, “As demonstrated.”

Because joining the Church in Spain requires much sacrifice in breaking from established tradition, as it does in some other parts of the world, members in Spain are all the more dedicated. After Manuel and María Trancosco were visited by two missionaries in 1976, Manuel prayed about their message and studied the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. When a spiritual confirmation came to him while at his job as a mechanic, he ran home to ask the elders to baptize him immediately.

Since the family’s conversion, Manuel has devoted himself to serving in many different callings, despite a work schedule that starts at six in the morning and ends at ten at night. The family also had enough faith to drive their tiny car to the Swiss Temple, some 1,200 kilometers to the north. Their testimonies were strengthened as they traveled, for each time they stopped to ask directions, they found someone who spoke Spanish. Manuel and María were sealed to their four children and have now added four more to their eternal family.

In the ten years prior to being called to the Presiding Bishopric, I had the blessing and privilege of helping to identify and acquire sites for temples. When the First Presidency determined that a new temple was needed, one of the first actions was to determine if the Church owned an appropriate site, or if not, to find a site that could be considered and approved by them. Two years ago President Monson announced the Philadelphia Pennsylvania Temple. The Church owned a property on a main road in Philadelphia called Broad Street. After the announcement at general conference, we visited the site. We learned that it was surrounded by more industrial type buildings and was not well suited for design of a temple. We asked the First Presidency for permission to do a search of other properties. They gave permission and a search was started. A number of sites were identified, but two properties across the street from each other emerged as being highly desirable. We presented the properties and received direction to obtain them if we could. We proceeded forward and evaluated the properties and then made an offer. To my great surprise, the owner of the first property accepted the offer without negotiation. This was remarkable. It has been our experience that when a property owner finds out the buyer is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the price is often increased. To put this in perspective, the owner of the second property across the street responded with a price that was more than four times the price that was offered.

When I met with the owner of the first property, he shared that he had owned the property for almost 25 years and he could have developed it several times. But then he said he had always felt that the property had a "higher and better purpose." When we offered to buy it, it felt right. Well, we proceeded to contract for the property and started the studies needed to confirm development of the temple property. However, shortly thereafter the city of Philadelphia, through a city-controlled agency, filed a legal claim and action to stop the Church purchase. They wanted to take title to the property. This was a very serious matter. We did everything we could to meet with the agency and remove the claim. We were unsuccessful. This was a real problem and very discouraging. We had felt so good about the property and that it was the right place for the temple.

As a last step we determined to meet with the mayor. He was capable of changing the situation. We had spoken with him prior to the Church announcement of the temple and an appeal to him was the last resort. An appointment was made and the Church temple architect and I flew to Philadelphia. There we met before the scheduled meeting with several others including local legal counsel, an Area Seventy, and two local Church members. One of the local members was Vai Sikahema. Brother Sikahema was a very well-known local celebrity who had played football at Brigham Young University and then went on to play professional football for the Philadelphia Eagles. After retiring from football, he became a sports announcer on the local television station. In the pre-meeting we discussed the purposes for the meeting with the mayor and then knelt in prayer to seek the Lord's blessing upon us that day. We were on His errand.

We went to the meeting and sat around a large table. The mayor sat at the head of the table, with a city council member next to him, and then me, two more city staff, Vai Sikahema, more city staff, and then the Church architect. It was clear from the beginning that the mayor's mind had been set against the project. When we started to explain the project he stated that his staff had assured him this property was better suited for a commercial office building or a hotel that would benefit the city with jobs and tax revenue. We would need to look for another site. Brothers and sisters, in those situations when all appears lost, that is one of the times when we can and should pray with all of our heart that the Lord will help us. I know that each of us was pleading in our heart for help. What could we say or do that would help change the mayor's heart and mind?

I asked the mayor if the architect could show a simple drawing or two of how the temple might look. He looked at his watch (a sign that he wanted the meeting to end) and said, "Ok." The architect started to stand and then Brother Sikahema said, "Mr. Mayor, may I say something?" The mayor was acquainted with Brother Sikahema and said, "Of course."

Vai went on to say something like this in a very humble voice. "Mr. Mayor, many years ago as a young boy in Tonga, my father and mother and my brothers and sisters sold our home, we sold fruits and vegetables, and we sold everything we could to have enough money to travel to Hamilton, New Zealand, to be sealed as an eternal family in the temple. You need this temple. This temple will bless your city. This temple will bless your community. It will bless the people."

Then he sat down. We were all very quiet.

Then the Church architect stood and showed the mayor a few possible drawings of what a temple might look like. As he sat down, the non-member city councilman asked the mayor if he could speak. The mayor said, "Yes." This non-member then stood and said, "Mr. Mayor, I have spoken with the leaders in the community and neighbors of this property. We want this temple. We need this temple. It will bless our city. It will bless our community. It will bless the people."

As he spoke you could feel the Spirit come into the meeting. We were all touched. It was a sacred moment. After that, what was to have been a 30-minute meeting, went for 90 minutes. To my surprise, at the end of the meeting the mayor asked if I would offer a prayer in that setting. His heart had been changed. The temple would go forward on the site selected.

There are so many miracles here. The Lord knows the end from the beginning. He knew almost forty years before that Vai Sikahema would need to share his faith and testimony to help in His work.

After 11 exciting years of working at that job, I was in a meeting one night with those developing an essential part of the nuclear power plant. My secretary came in and said, “There’s a man on the phone who says if I tell you his name you’ll come to the phone.”

I said, “What’s his name?”

She said, “Harold B. Lee.”

I said, “He’s right.” I took the phone call. Elder Lee, who later became President of the Church, asked if he could see me that very night. He was in New York City, and I was in Washington, D.C. I flew up to meet him, and we had an interview that led to my call to be a mission president.

The head of the program I was working for was Admiral Hyman Rickover, a hard-working, demanding individual. I knew him well enough that I felt I needed to tell him as soon as possible that I was being called. As I explained the mission call to him and that it would mean I would have to quit my job, he became rather upset. He said some unrepeatable things, broke the paper tray on his desk, and in the comments that followed clearly established two points:
“Scott, what you are doing in this defense program is so vital that it will take a year to replace you, so you can’t go. Second, if you do go, you are a traitor to your country.”

I said, “I can train my replacement in the two remaining months, and there won’t be any risk to the country.”

There was more conversation, and he finally said, “I never will talk to you again. I don’t want to see you again. You are finished, not only here, but don’t ever plan to work in the nuclear field again.”

I responded, “Admiral, you can bar me from the office, but unless you prevent me, I am going to turn this assignment over to another individual.”

True to his word, the admiral ceased to speak to me. When critical decisions had to be made, he would send a messenger, or I would communicate through a third party. He assigned an individual to take my responsibility, and I trained him.

It wasn’t going to be hard for me to leave; I knew I had been called as a mission president by the Lord. But I knew that my decision would affect others. In the Idaho Falls, Idaho, area were many members of the Church whose jobs depended upon working in the nuclear program. I didn’t want to cause them harm. I didn’t know what to do. My heart kept saying, “Is this going to turn out all right, or will somebody be innocently hurt who depends on our program for livelihood?”

As I prayed and pondered about it, I had a feeling about the hymn “Do What Is Right.” A line from the hymn would come to mind: “Do what is right; let the consequence follow.” Other words from the hymn were reinforcing such as “God will protect you; then do what is right!” (Hymns, no. 237).

My last day in the office I asked for an appointment with the admiral. His secretary gasped. I went with a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hand. He looked at me and said, “Sit down, Scott, what do you have? I have tried every way I can to force you to change. What is it you have?” There followed a very interesting, quiet conversation. There was more listening this time.

He said he would read the Book of Mormon. Then something happened I never thought would occur. He added, “When you come back from the mission, I want you to call me. There will be a job for you.”

Dinah sat on the rug, excited for story time. It was her favorite part of the day.
She looked across the rug and saw a classmate named Felicity waving to her.
“Come here!” Felicity said.
Dinah scooted across the rug. “What’s up?”
“Your hair is different than mine,” said Felicity. “Why does your hair look like that?” She touched Dinah’s braids and giggled.
“My mom helped me do it,” Dinah said. She loved the color of her hair and how it felt under her fingers. She loved the neat rows of cute little plastic hair clips.
“Also, I want to see something,” Felicity said. “Show me your arm.”
Dinah held out her arm. “Well, what?” she asked as Felicity moved her own arm next to Dinah’s.
“Your arms are so brown!” said Felicity.
“Oh,” said Dinah, scooting back to the other side of the rug. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for the day to end.
At home, Dinah didn’t say much at dinner. When it was cleanup time, her sister, Aly, grabbed a towel to dry dishes and Dinah picked up the broom.
Mom started singing. Mom loved to sing while they cleaned.
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine …”
Dinah smiled a little. She hummed and sang along as she swept: “Let it shine, let it shine …”
The song ended. “My turn!” Aly said. She started a new song. Dinah tried to harmonize like Aly and Mom did, but it sounded flat. Like a boring gray color. Everyone burst out laughing.
“That was funny!” said Dinah. “Let me try again.”
Aly started the song again, and Dinah closed her eyes and joined in. This time, the different notes started to blend, like yellow and blue mixing into a bright green.
They sang almost the whole time they cleaned. When they were finishing, Dinah remembered what happened at school. She still felt uncomfortable about it.
“Mom, do you ever think about how people look different?” Dinah asked. “How everyone has different hair and skin and eyes?”
“Hmm, yes, I know what you mean,” said Mom. “Did something happen that made you think about that?”
Dinah told Mom about what Felicity said. “I felt weird. I didn’t like it. Why did she say that?”
“It sounds like Felicity was curious about you,” Mom said. “Everyone has their own unique skin color. And hair and eyes too. We’re all Heavenly Father’s children, and there’s no right or wrong way to look. But sometimes people need to get used to the beauty of different colors.”
“All peoples’ colors are beautiful?” Dinah asked.
“Definitely. Everyone’s color shows something special about their family and their history. The way you act represents our family to others. And who do we always say we follow in our family? Jesus Christ, right? So you also represent the Savior.”
Dinah nodded as Mom pulled her into a hug. Then she pulled Aly into the hug too.
“We can always feel good about who we are—especially when we’re following Jesus Christ,” she said quietly.
Dinah’s upset feelings began to settle down.
“Now,” Mom said with a smile, “time to get ready for bed. And then—dessert!”
“Yay!” Aly shrieked. “It’s gonna be pie, I just know it!” She zoomed upstairs.
Dinah followed Aly. She felt much better after talking with Mom. Her skin color was another part of who she was, like her family and her testimony were. She would keep being kind and set a good example at school. With God on her side, it would be a piece of cake.
Or even better, a piece of pie!