Gospel Story Finder

During my freshman year in high school, I decided to join the track team. This choice required a lot of commitment because we practiced running every day for two hours after school. We also had to give up weekends to attend track meets. It was a tough but invigorating and rewarding sport.
One Wednesday after school we traveled two hours on the bus to attend a track meet. I had packed all my things but felt uneasy. Had I eaten right? Did I have good form? Should I do something to help me run better today? Questions and uncertainty filled my mind. My friend, Hayley, and I were in the first event. We were both nervous. Quickly we went to our coach and asked, “Is there anything we can do right now to make us better?” He smiled and replied, “You should have asked me that on Monday.”
Being a good track runner requires preparation, and we felt foolish for not having asked this question before the big day came.

May and Ann sat by each other in Primary. They drew pictures of Jesus and of their families. They glued them in paper chains to make necklaces.
Sister Gardner asked how their families showed love.
“I ride bikes with my dad!” Ben said.
“We go to church together,” Leo said.
“My sister helps me with homework,” Ann said.
May felt sad. She didn’t ride bikes with her dad. She went to church with only her grandma. Sometimes she fought with her sister.
“How does your family show love, May?” Sister Gardner asked.
May put her head down on the table. “I don’t know,” she said.
Ann looked at May. She picked up a crayon. She started drawing again. Then she held up a picture. It was a girl with long hair. It looked just like May!
“May, I drew a picture of you. It’s for my necklace. I’m going to put you between Jesus and me. I love you. And Jesus loves you too.”
May lifted up her head. The picture made her smile. She felt happy that Ann was nice to her. And she knew that Jesus loved her.
May ran over and gave Ann a hug. “Thank you!” she said. “Can I draw you for my necklace too?”
Ann smiled big. “Yes!” she said. “And let’s draw Jesus too.”
When Primary was over, May ran to show her necklace to Grandma. “Guess what!” May said. “Jesus loves me.”

Some years ago, I met a remarkable family. Each member of the family had an unshakable testimony of the reality of the Resurrection. Each of the children had been born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy. The only daughter, Shanna, was then five years old. All of the children were intelligent and faith-filled.
We visited for a while, and the special spirit of that family filled my office and my heart. Then the parents asked if little Shanna could sing for me. She sang of a brighter future:
On a beautiful day that I dream about
In a world I would love to see,
Is a beautiful place where the sun comes out
And it shines in the sky for me.
On this beautiful winter’s morning,
If my wish could come true somehow,
Then the beautiful day that I dream about
Would be here and now.1
Eventually, Shanna passed away at age 14. At the funeral services, I spoke of the lovely song Shanna sang. I concluded with the thought: “Because our Savior died on Calvary, death has no hold upon any one of us. Shanna lives, whole and well, and for her that beautiful day she sang about is here and now.”

In 1982 my father and mother submitted their papers to serve a mission. When the call came, it was a shock to my mother. They were called to serve in the Philippines Davao Mission. When my mother saw where they were going, she exclaimed, "No! You've got to call them and tell them we can't go to the Philippines. Don't they know you have asthma? And I don't want to deal with all those lizards and bugs."

My father reminded my mother that she had always encouraged him never to turn down a call from the Lord. She knew that was true, but that didn't make her feel any better. One night a few days later she woke my dad up at about 2:30 a.m.

She said, "Did you hear that voice?"
"No, I didn't hear any voice."
"Well, I have heard the same voice three times tonight. It said, "Why are you worrying? Don't you know that I know he has asthma? I will take care of him and you. Get yourself ready to serve in the Philippines."

My mother and father went forward with faith in the Lord and had a marvelous experience in the Philippines. My father served as the first counselor in the mission presidency, and he and my mother trained hundreds of missionaries and thousands of faithful Latter-day Saints in preparation for the coming of wards and stakes on the island of Mindanao.

An experience I had as a missionary brought this lesson home to me. It was a Saturday morning in Laredo during August. We were expecting the mission president’s first counselor the following day to conduct a district conference. I went out early to do some cleanup in front of our chapel. (I had to do this work early to avoid the heat later in the day.) My companion was working inside on some reports. Two other missionaries chose to sleep in. At about 6:30 a car drove up, and out stepped not the president’s counselor whom we expected the next day but the mission president himself! He had come unannounced to look at some property we were buying. In subsequent weeks he went around the mission speaking about the Second Coming and likening it to his visit to Laredo when he found two elders working and two sleeping. (I’m grateful I hadn’t decided to sleep in on that particular morning!)

Stepping inside for a drink, I noticed Pa’s picture on the easel by the bay window where Ma had always kept it. He still presided over the family even though he had been gone for years. I thought of Pa’s goodness and my mind reached backward. I remembered how I’d spread myself wide—couldn’t have been more than ten—trying to keep up with his long legs striding through the cane fields at irrigating time.
One day as we watched the water shimmering like quicksilver through the furrows, I had slipped my hand into Pa’s and looked up into his smiling eyes and asked, “Pa, are we rich?”
He chuckled. “Yes, son, we’re rich in all that matters.”
“What matters?”
He tousled my hair. “Loving the Lord and putting your trust in Him matters, and loving your family and neighbors.” Dropping to one knee he gave me a hug that almost knocked the breath out of me. Then he said, “Son, you matter.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and his hearty laugh mattered too.

In the summer of 1921, at age twenty-one, Ezra received a letter from President Heber J. Grant calling him on a mission to Great Britain. July 14, 1921, he went through the Logan Temple with his parents, and two days later, he said good-bye to his parents and girlfriend and started on his way to England (see Ezra Taft Benson, p. 50). Elder Benson studied and worked hard but didn’t feel like he was doing too well and wrote in his journal that he was disgusted with his “‘frail attempt at speaking.’” But as he matured spiritually, he was invited to speak at the South Shields Branch. He was assigned to speak on the Apostasy, but instead he “‘gave a strong and impressive discourse of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.’” He later said, “‘I spoke with a freedom I had never experienced. Afterwards, I couldn’t recall what I had said, but several nonmembers surrounded me and said, “Tonight, we received a witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and we are ready for baptism.” It was the experience of a lifetime. … It was the first experience of that kind I’d had, where I knew that the Lord was with me’” (Ezra Taft Benson, p. 55).

Sometimes we don’t do good things to the "least of these my brethren," because we judge them. We put a label on them and then rationalize our misbehavior or our non-behavior toward them. Years ago, we moved in next door to an older couple who yelled so loud at each other, I was first disturbed, then disgusted by what sounded like constant quarreling. My resentment of the couple for all this noise kept me from making their acquaintance. "Little wonder no one visits them," I thought. As time went on, however, I suspected that they must be lonely. I was not aware of any family coming to see them. After many months, I mentioned this to another neighbor and wondered if I should visit them. This neighbor said, "I think it would be a great idea, but when you visit them, you’ll have to yell because they are both nearly deaf."

At the end of 2013, two young men wearing white shirts and ties began to visit my sister twice a week. I knew right away they were from a church. For me, being part of a church wasn’t in my plans, so I decided not to talk to them.
With each of their visits, I made sure not to be home when they arrived. Something in particular, however, caught my attention. They always carried a blue book. I had never seen it before, and it seemed strange to me.
One day in the living room, my sister began telling me about the book. Suddenly, the two young men arrived. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hide from them. They saw us with the blue book—the Book of Mormon—and started asking what I knew about Jesus Christ.
As I listened to the missionaries from that day on, I was impressed by how they connected their teachings to the Book of Mormon. As a result, the blue book became less strange to me.
I still had serious doubts about it, but I started reading it. I came to understand that the Book of Mormon was not a substitute for the Bible but was desirable to change my life and bring me closer to Jesus Christ. I learned that the Book of Mormon is centered on the Savior. Its teachings helped me know who He is and who Heavenly Father is.
The Book of Mormon soon helped me become a better person, a true disciple of Jesus Christ. It also helped me improve my attitude as I faced daily challenges. From my experience studying it, I know it helps people come unto Christ and live the gospel (see Moroni 10:32). It encourages us to follow Christ’s teachings and apply them in our daily life. It gives us the knowledge that we are sons and daughters of God. It brings peace.
After several weeks of meeting with the missionaries and reading the Book of Mormon, I was baptized. I bear my testimony with all my heart that the Book of Mormon is true and that reading it brings hope and light in the darkest moments, helping us feel the Lord’s love and protection. I am grateful to have the Book of Mormon in my life.

Now let me share with you a testimony spoken by a man once poor in his childhood and now prosperous in his old age. He stood before the congregation and said,
“When I was a boy, on a summer’s day I would lie out in the alfalfa patch and chew on twigs and look up at the sky and wonder where the windows of heaven were that my parents had spoken of. I couldn’t see them in the clouds, and I thought they must be somewhere in the blue sky. I wondered how the windows could be opened so I could get a Boy Scout uniform and a pony and a bicycle. I never got these things, but I have come to see how the windows of heaven are opened as I have received the kindness of good and generous neighbors and friends in this ward in which we live.”

When I was about to enter fifth grade, my parents decided to move to Salt Lake City. My mother wanted me to have the opportunities a big city could provide. Suddenly my whole way of life changed, for things were very different in the city. There were lots of different choices to be made, and I saw that people who didn’t always choose the right could still be popular, could still be thought of as “neat” and “cool” because they were going along with the crowd. However, I had the steady influence of my parents. They taught me, through example as well as through words, that it is always important to choose the right. That is the way to true happiness.

I saw it in New Mexico as a young man. For generations the prophets have told us that we must help the missionaries find and teach the honest in heart and then love those who come into the kingdom.

I have seen for myself what faithful priesthood leaders and members can do. In 1955 I became an officer in the United States Air Force. My bishop at home gave me a blessing just before I left for my first station, which was in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

In his blessing he said that my time in the air force would be missionary service. I arrived in church on my first Sunday at the Albuquerque First Branch. A man walked up to me, introduced himself as the district president, and told me that he was going to call me to serve as a district missionary.

I told him that I would be there for training for only a few weeks and then I would be assigned somewhere else in the world. He said, “I don’t know about that, but we are to call you to serve.” In the middle of my military training, by what appeared to be chance, I was chosen from hundreds of officers being trained to take the place in headquarters of an officer who had died suddenly.

So, for the two years I was there, I worked in my office. On most evenings and every weekend, I taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to people the members brought to us.

My companions and I averaged more than 40 hours a month in our missionary service without once having to knock on doors to find someone to teach. The members filled our plates so full that we often taught two families in an evening. I saw for myself the power and the blessing in the repeated call of prophets for every member to be a missionary.

On the last Sunday before I left Albuquerque, the first stake was organized in that city. There is now a sacred temple there, a house of the Lord, in a city where we once met in a single chapel with Saints who brought friends to us to be taught and to feel the witness of the Spirit. Those friends felt a welcoming home in the Lord’s true Church.

Sitting in the courtyard of her high school, Aimee J. noticed that something was missing. Unlike other high schools, hers didn’t have a statue of the school’s mascot. She thought this was something she could probably change, having sculpted since she was young. All she needed was funding for materials and casting, as well as the permission and support of her school.
So Aimee drew up a proposal and presented it to the school principal. It was eventually approved, and Aimee started work on a model of the school’s mascot, a thunderbird. Her model was later cast in bronze to become a six-foot monument to her high school, dedicated to her senior class.
How did you feel while working on the sculpture? Sculpting the thunderbird was one of my Personal Progress value projects. I did the sculpting in May of my senior year, so I missed out on a lot of barbecues and parties. It was a service for all of my fellow seniors, and it took a lot of long hours being all alone in that sculpting room, but it was worth it.

One cold, rainy October day, Mette Hansen, a young mother in Copenhagen, Denmark, was riding her bicycle home from work when a car hit her. Her husband was out of the country on an assignment, and for five hours she lay in a hospital, unable to contact her two small children, who were at a day-care center. She pleaded with the Lord to let her children know she was all right and to give them peace and protection.
After Sister Hansen was treated, she arrived home at 10:15 P.M. to find that her tired children had walked home when she hadn’t picked them up. Because they didn’t have a key to get into the apartment, they had knelt on the doormat and said a prayer, then sat without talking for a little while.
“And then a nice thing happened to me,” her son said. “I felt a big, warm hand touching the top of my head, and I heard a friendly voice saying, ‘Your mother is well. … It will be a while before she comes home, and it will be dark outside, but just stay calm.’”
Over the years since that occurrence, Sister Hansen and her family have known that their Heavenly Father is only a prayer away. (See Tambuli, February 1988, page 12.)

It began as an ordinary day, for the most part. Dad, who was a professor at Texas Tech University, was coming home from California, where he had been for a conference. He called Mother to come and pick him up at the airport. So she loaded my two littlest brothers and me into the little Volkswagen and headed to the airport. It was about a half-hour drive, so it didn’t take us very long to get there.
Once we were there, Mother sent me in to find Daddy. She gave me specific instructions as to where my father would be. But being ten years old, my mind was on other things, and I didn’t listen very well. I went into the airport searching very diligently for the walking sidewalk my friend had told me was there. Of course I wanted to see my father, but how often do you get to ride a walking sidewalk? After about 15 minutes, I decided I had better find Daddy so Mother wouldn’t be angry; I abandoned the walking sidewalk. My memory did not come to my rescue, and I couldn’t remember where Mother had said to find Daddy. I looked and looked but all to no avail, no Daddy. I returned to the car to tell Mother of my bad fortune, which she was not very happy about. She gave me a quarter and told me to go call home to see if Daddy had gone home in a cab. I let the phone ring about three times, and then I spotted him. I ran to him calling, “Daddy-ye-ye-ye-ye-ye!” He picked me up and twirled me around. I told him about all the things that had gone on while he had been away. When we got to the car, we faced a not so happy mother, who had waited for an hour in the passenger loading zone and did not feel very well. Daddy was an even-tempered man, and as we drove home he tried to settle Mother down enough to talk. Meanwhile, I felt very responsible for starting the whole thing. I began to say something, but I never finished my sentence. I was interrupted by Mother’s scream, and I turned to see a car headed straight for ours.
I woke to find myself covered with blood, sitting in two or three inches of broken glass. David and Russell were trying to awaken my parents. I warned them not to shake them, as I was afraid they would be injured further. The scene was too much for me to handle and I passed out.
I don’t remember how I got out of the car. One side was smashed in, and the windows were too little for me to fit through. I sat in the middle of the street with my brothers standing by my side and what seemed like a hundred people gathered around me. People trying to stop the bleeding, people trying to calm us down, people taking pictures, and people just standing there watching us. All of this was very annoying to me. Where were my parents? Who was helping them?
Before long two ambulances arrived. I was put into the front seat, and the attendant tried to console me. That ride to the hospital was the longest ride I had ever made. When we finally got to the hospital, I had lost a great amount of blood and I passed out going through the emergency doors.
I was living a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up. I kept wanting to shut off the T.V. or change the channel. I couldn’t make sense of the whole situation. I didn’t understand what was happening to me.
I lay in a bed for three days, quietly wondering if I was going to live. I constantly asked about my parents, but no one seemed to know how they were. I had several visitors, including my grandparents and my dad’s sister from California. I wondered why they had all come. How serious was the accident? Then I realized they had come for a reason. The reason wasn’t me but my parents. Finally, I pulled as much courage together as I could and asked about my parents one more time. This time, I got my answer.
My grandparents were in my room when I asked, and instead of the pause I usually received after the question, they began to cry. Slowly and carefully they told me that my parents were dead. They had been warned not to tell me because of my serious physical condition. Any word about the death might have had a great impact on me psychologically. I cried very quietly, for I think I had known long before it was verbalized.
I missed the funeral in Texas because my condition was too unstable for the doctor to allow my release. My grandmother and I flew to Utah for the final services and burial. The doctor had released me on condition I would be very careful in my activities. My relatives made sure I was very careful. I missed several outings and I felt very alone.
When things finally began to settle, we all had to take a step back and look at our lives. Five children without parents. We all wondered how we would survive the terrible ordeal. We had so many questions and so few answers. We were lost without our guides. Even our loving grandparents could not take away the pain. It was something we would have to deal with each in our own way.
As I look back, I realize my life has gone in stages: first of living without them, then of anger towards my Heavenly Father, then of accepting their death, then of coping by myself without looking continually to them. I look at it, not so much as a very tragic time in my life but as a learning time.
I have learned that I am loved by my Heavenly Father, for he has given me many blessings in my life. Even the death of my parents has been a blessing in a way. I had never realized how much I really loved them until they were gone. Now I try to be appreciative of the things I have instead of waiting until I don’t have them.
I live each day of my life wondering if I am good enough to be with them again. So I strive for excellence, as though it were possible. Then maybe someday I will be able to run to my dad calling, “Daddy-ye-ye-ye-ye!”

As young women, you have the privilege of working on projects as part of the Young Womanhood Recognition Award. Anna Nichols of Centerville, Utah, writes about a special experience she has had:
“I did a Laurel project last year that has brought me closer to my grandma who[m] I never knew. She passed away when my mom was about five years old from a severe type of cancer. My mom has a collection of old slides and letters that she had kept. I went through these and picked out pictures of her and her family and letters that she had written to her sister sharing her feelings and thoughts before she died.
“I put all these in a scrapbook in memory of her and I gave it to my grandpa. To watch his face as he turned each page was the most awesome feeling as he told me the stories of each picture. We cried together. I could tell that he misses her so much and how with this book she is partly back into his life again.
“Because of this book I have a personal relationship with my grandma. I feel her spirit with me. I know she has protected me and helped me when I am in need. Now when I go and visit my grandpa we always talk about her and share stories. I always look forward to this time I get to spend with him.”

John’s a senior in high school, and he’s worried. He’s worried because it’s time to make some important decisions, and he doesn’t know yet what he wants to do for a living. He doesn’t know if he should go to college or trade school or get into the service, or maybe just grab the first job he can find after his mission and hang onto it. He really doesn’t know for sure what his goals in life are, but he knows he’s got to start preparing himself right now one way or the other. So he takes his dad’s advice and prays about it.
No answer.
And yet he has consulted the best career counselor who ever lived. Nobody’s a nobody. The Lord has prepared everybody to do something in an excellent way. It’s our responsibility to find out what that something is. A man’s occupation is an important part of his foreordained mission in life, and he owes it to himself to seek the Lord’s help in choosing a career.
But too often we ask the Lord to tell us what he’s already told us. Like John we expect to receive a neat typewritten answer without ever studying what’s already been given to us. When Oliver Cowdrey asked why he was unable to translate the Book of Mormon plates, the Lord told him:
“… you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.”
“But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” (D&C 9:7–8.)
The Lord has already revealed a great deal about our individual missions in life. We each receive a patriarchal blessing that helps clarify our future. When we are confirmed, ordained, set apart, administered to, given a father’s blessing, or otherwise blessed by the power of the priesthood, we often receive instruction and advice that help illuminate our callings. We have received inspired counsel from parents, friends, and Church leaders from time to time, and each of us has enjoyed personal impressions through the Spirit. All these guideposts have been given to us so that through prayerful consideration we can understand God’s plan for us. Our likes, dislikes, and talents are also aids that we should use in reaching a decision. Our talents are given to us for a reason, and we are expected to use them.
Here is an exercise that may help you study out in your own mind what the Lord would have you do with your life, based on these sources of revelation. Fill out a chart according to the directions. When you reach a plan that feels good to you, pray about it. If it continues to grow and feel good during your best spiritual moments—then you will have some faithful goals and plans for your life.
The next step will be to start preparing for the future you’ve chosen. It may take some courage—courage to change your plans, to earn less money than you could expect from another field, to work hard, to disappoint some people who had different dreams for you, or even to create a whole new profession to fit your destiny. But if you know it’s right, do it.
Column 1:
Things I Love to DoList everything you really love to do. (Examples: tennis, paint, build things, music, play with kids.)
Column 2:
Things That Really CountIf you knew you had a week to live, how would you spend your time? List the things that you think are really important.
Column 3:
Things I Do WellList things you feel you do well or others tell you that you do well. (Examples: sing, smile, “way with kids.”)
Column 4:
Talents I HaveFrom your patriarchal blessing and other blessings you have received (when you were blessed as a baby, confirmed a member of the Church, etc.), list those things that might have been mentioned by way of gifts or talents. (Examples: mother, teacher, missionary, leader of people.) List any of these things you feel inside, whether or not they have been mentioned elsewhere.
Column 5:
My Missions or Callings in LifeAlso from blessings, counsel, or personal impressions, list any missions or callings you feel might be in store for you. (Examples: missionary, father, friend to needy.)
Column 6:
Warnings: Things to Watch Out ForFrom your blessing or elsewhere, list those things that you really need to be careful of. (Examples: humility, material things, pride.)
Column 7:
?Head this column any way you want, with things that might help you see your life better. (Examples: strengths, things I don’t like, unusual weaknesses.) Many times unusual weaknesses are signs of potential strength. Many great public speakers got that way by working on their speaking because they were so frightened and did so poorly when they began.
Column 8:
BrainstormJust jot down any idea that comes into your head that might fit a pattern you see in the information you have just collected. For instance, if you really love the outdoors, your family really counts, and you have a talent for writing, a brainstorming idea might be to be a park ranger and do free lance writing about wildlife, and spend time with your family.
The brainstorming session is the cutting edge of the system. It’s through carefully and spiritually pondering the alternatives arrived at in this session that you’ll evolve an inspired plan that you can take before the Lord for his approval. So be creative and prayerful in finding alternatives that fit the guidelines you jotted down on the chart. Remember that while the job itself need not provide all the opportunities you want, it should at least allow them and, hopefully, facilitate them.
For instance, if you love to write, have a strong interest in science, and have been inspired to do genealogical research, you could perhaps plan to be science editor of a newspaper in an area where there is a genealogical library. If you also like children, you might choose instead to teach science in school and do freelance writing as well as keep up your research. You might even choose to be a professional genealogical researcher, do volunteer work with retarded children, and keep writing and science as hobbies.
I once asked a man in a fireside group what he would like to do more than anything else if he could just do whatever he wanted. His face lit up, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands came to life, and he told me that he’d just love to have a whole room full of power tools and bring all the kids in the neighborhood in to help them build birdhouses, playhouses, chicken coops, or anything in the whole world they wanted to build. He loved kids; he loved tools; he loved building things; his whole face was aglow with it. I asked him what he was studying at school; the light went out, and he told me he was studying to be a civil engineer. Why? Because his father was one, it paid good money, and so on. I knew he had the capability of being a good civil engineer, but I asked him, “Have you ever thought about teaching shop instead and spending all day working with power tools and teaching kids how to build things?” He just about fell off his chair. His mouth hung open. His eyes lit up again. It had simply never occurred to him to take stock of what he really liked to do, of what really mattered to him in choosing a career. He had never stopped to think that his wonderful love for young people might be there for that kind of a purpose. He had decided the biggest part of the rest of his life with his eyes closed.
It’s a mistake we can’t afford to make. Pray, study, ponder, choose, and pray some more. And then do it all over again if necessary. If we plan our lives and professions in harmony with the Lord’s wisdom and our own deepest and truest values, we will have a much better chance of doing what we were sent here to do.
Remember, this is just a way to learn to “study it out” and find out more about you and your life. Try; don’t be afraid to dream and ponder. The Lord will help you find that which you can be happy doing, and do it in a special way.

In the fall of 1920, 21-year-old Ezra Taft Benson traveled from his family’s farm in Whitney, Idaho, USA, to Logan, Utah, where he enrolled at the Utah Agricultural College (now Utah State University). One day when he was with some friends on the school’s campus, a young woman stole his attention. He later recalled:
“We were out by the dairy barns when a young woman—very attractive and beautiful—drove by in her little car on her way to the dairy to get some milk. As the boys waved at her, she waved back. I said, ‘Who is that girl?’ They said ‘That’s Flora Amussen.’
“I told them, ‘You know, I’ve just had the impression I’m going to marry her.’”
Ezra’s friends were amused by this announcement. They said, “She’s too popular for a farm boy.” His response? “That makes it all the more interesting.”3
Ezra’s friends couldn’t have been more wrong in their judgment of Flora Amussen. Since her teenage years, she had seen something special in men who worked the land. One day when her mother, Barbara, told her “that she could not attain the highest degree of glory without celestial marriage, Flora replied, perhaps naively but with some insight, ‘Then I want to marry a poor man materially, but rich spiritually, so we can get what we get together.’ After a pause she added, ‘I’d like to marry a farmer.’”4
Flora and Ezra met later in 1920, and their friendship soon became courtship. In Ezra Taft Benson, Flora found a young man who had begun to accumulate the spiritual riches she valued so much. And as she must have expected, the roots of his spiritual strength went deep into the soil of his family’s farm.
To read about how farm life shaped Ezra Taft Benson’s character, see Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Ezra Taft Benson, pages 2–5.
Just when Flora and Ezra were beginning to grow closer to each other, they learned that they would be separated for two years. Ezra received a call to serve in the British Mission. He and Flora were excited about his opportunity to serve, and they “talked about their relationship. They wanted their friendship to continue, but they also recognized the need for Ezra to be a devoted missionary. ‘Before I left, Flora and I had decided to write [letters] only once a month,’ he said. ‘We also decided that our letters would be of encouragement, confidence and news. We did just that.’”5
In approaching the mission call this way, they exemplified a truth Ezra would teach the Saints many years later: “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.”6
As Ezra approached the end of his mission, he and Flora looked forward to seeing each other. But Flora “did more than anticipate the immediate prospect of spending time with him. She truly looked forward—to his future and his potential. … She was happy with Ezra’s apparent desire to settle on the family farm in Whitney, Idaho. However, she felt that he needed to finish his education first.”7 In her effort to help him do so, she joined him in putting God first. Less than a year after he returned from his mission, she surprised him by telling him that she was going to serve a mission herself. To learn more about her decision, see pages 10–11.
To read accounts of Ezra Taft Benson’s service as a full-time missionary, see pages 9–10 and 103–4 in the manual. To read about his service in post–World War II Europe during his apostleship, see pages 17–21, 54–55, 69–70, 264, and 268.
Flora and Ezra were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple on September 10, 1926. Despite Ezra’s innate goodness and his success in school, “some people continued to question Flora’s judgment. They did not understand why someone so accomplished, wealthy, and popular would settle for a farm boy. But she continued to say that she had ‘always wanted to marry a farmer.’ Ezra ‘was practical, sensible and solid,’ she said. And, she observed, ‘He was sweet to his parents, and I knew if he respected them, he’d respect me.’ She recognized that he was ‘a diamond in the rough,’ and she said, ‘I am going to do all within my power to help him be known and felt for good, not only in this little community but for the entire world to know him.’”8
With this vision of her husband’s potential, Flora happily went wherever they needed to go to provide for their children and serve the Church, their community, and their nation. This sometimes required her to live a simpler life than she had been accustomed to, but she embraced the challenge.
For example, on their wedding day, “the only festivity … was a breakfast for family and friends. After the breakfast, the new couple left immediately in their Model T Ford pickup truck for Ames, Iowa,” where Ezra would pursue a master’s degree in agricultural economics. “Along the way, they spent eight nights in a leaky tent. When they arrived in Ames, they rented an apartment one block from the college campus. The apartment was small, and the Bensons shared the space with a large family of cockroaches, but Ezra said that ‘it soon looked like the coziest little cottage one could ever imagine.’”9
As Ezra became more “diamond” and less “rough,” he became increasingly more involved in service outside the home. This led to a refining process for Flora as well. When he was away she sometimes struggled with loneliness and discouragement. But she loved being a wife and mother, and she expressed gratitude for her husband’s goodness and for his devotion to the family. To learn more about Flora and Ezra’s early marriage and parenthood, see pages 12–15.
Flora and Ezra enjoying a day with their six children.
On July 27, 1943, Flora received a phone call from her husband. He was in Salt Lake City, Utah, preparing to return from a business trip with their son Reed. She was at their home near Washington, D.C., about 2,000 miles (3,200 km) away. After a sleepless night full of prayer and tears, he telephoned to let her know that the previous day he had been called to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
The news did not surprise Flora. She “had had a strong impression that something of magnitude would happen on [her husband’s] trip.”10 She expressed confidence in Ezra, and her words had a calming effect on him. He later recalled: “It was reassuring to talk to her. She has always shown more faith in me than I have myself.”11
Even though Flora had confidence in her husband, she knew he could not fulfill his calling alone—he needed support from his family and strength from heaven. At one general conference, a whispered message demonstrated Flora’s love for her husband and her understanding of his reliance on the Lord (see pages 48–49).
Flora received another life-changing phone call from her husband on November 24, 1952. This time he was visiting the Washington, D.C., area, and she was at their home in Salt Lake City. Dwight D. Eisenhower, who would soon begin his service as president of the United States, had just asked Elder Benson to serve as his secretary of agriculture, a high-ranking position that would require great sacrifice and dedication. Elder Benson accepted the position, having been counseled to do so by the President of the Church, David O. McKay (1873–1970).
When Elder Benson told Flora that President-Elect Eisenhower had offered him a position and that he had accepted, she replied, “I knew he would. And I knew you would accept.” She acknowledged that it would be difficult for the family but added, “It seems to be God’s will.”12
Elder Benson served as secretary of agriculture for eight years. During that time, the family endured periods of separation, and Elder Benson had to deal with the criticism and adulation that often accompany public service. The Bensons received great opportunities. For example, Elder Benson once took Flora and their daughters Beverly and Bonnie on a four-week trip in which he worked to establish trade relations with 12 different countries (see pages 181–82). An invitation from a news reporter led to a unique missionary experience for the family (see page 24).
Elder Ezra Taft Benson served as United States secretary of agriculture for eight years while he was also serving as an Apostle. To read how he fulfilled these responsibilities, see pages 21–25 and 47–48.
Like all Presidents of the Church, Ezra Taft Benson was foreordained for his calling. But on his own he could not have fulfilled that foreordination or served with such strength. Certainly no other person influenced him as much as Flora did. In the Church and in their family, they worked side by side as powerful instruments in the Lord’s hands.
Just as President and Sister Benson kneeled together when they learned that he would preside over the Church, they worked together to “move the work forward in the earth.”13 As she had hoped when she was a teenager, they got what they wanted—together.14
From the pulpit, President Benson exhorted Latter-day Saints to flood the earth and their lives with the Book of Mormon (see chapters 9–10). At home, Flora read the Book of Mormon to him every day, and then they discussed what they had read.15 From the pulpit, President Benson urged the Saints to regularly serve and worship in the temple (see chapter 13). Privately, Flora and Ezra Benson attended the temple every Friday morning when they were able to do so.16 From the pulpit, President Benson warned of the sin of pride and the “applause of the world.”17 But even though Flora had succeeded in helping “the entire world to know him,”18 they were content, together, with the quiet “applause of heaven.”19
President Ezra Taft Benson delivered hundreds of sermons as an Apostle and President of the Church. It is difficult to imagine any of those sermons without the influence of that three-word sermon he delivered on November 11, 1985: “Flora and I.”

When I was young, my brothers and I liked to sleep outside during the summer. We would spread our sleeping bags on the porch, then find constellations in the stars and listen to crickets as we fell asleep.
One night my older brother Larry and I were out on the porch. We stretched out and looked up at the stars. Larry wasn’t usually very talkative, but that night he said he wanted to tell me some stories. He told me stories from the Book of Mormon, starting with Lehi and his family leaving Jerusalem.
I had heard stories from the Book of Mormon in Primary before, but when Larry told them, it was different. It felt more real. As I looked up at the stars and listened to my brother, I felt very warm and happy inside. Though I didn’t know it then, I was feeling the Holy Ghost telling me the Book of Mormon was true.
A few months later, I found a book of illustrated stories from the Book of Mormon at our house. When I started reading, I got the same warm, comforting feeling that I’d had when Larry told me the same stories.
Years later, when I was trying to decide if I had a testimony, I was a little disappointed that I had never had a big or strong answer. Did this mean I didn’t have a testimony? Then I remembered how I felt when my brother told me stories from the Book of Mormon, and I knew that I did know the Church was true.

Now the other personal report concerns my effort over the past year to improve my humility. I’ve had a couple of recent experiences that have greatly contributed to that effort, and I need to report them to you.

Some of you may conclude that I’ve taken a slight bit of license with that first story, but I assure you that this second one occurred exactly as I tell it. At last spring’s Blue/White football game, I noticed that one of the freshman running backs was from Eagar, Arizona, a neighboring town to the one in which I grew up. After the game was over, I went down to the field, sought him out, and said, “I understand you’re from Eagar. That’s interesting, because I’m from St. John’s.” His response was, “Oh yeah, and who are you?”