Gospel Story Finder

Kim Ho Jik was the first Korean to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was born April 16, 1905, to Confucian* parents in P’yöngyang Province. As a young boy, he yearned to find the true religion, and he began attending many different church services. He joined the Presbyterian Church in 1925 and was very active, but something still seemed to be missing from his life.

Ho Jik wanted to learn about many things, so in 1950 he went to Cornell University in New York State to study nutrition. There he met Oliver Wayman, a fellow student and a Church member. Ho Jik was impressed by Brother Wayman’s clean lifestyle—he didn’t smoke, drink, or do other bad things.

When Oliver gave him a copy of The Articles of Faith by James E. Talmage, Ho Jik read it within a week and eagerly asked for more information. Soon he had finished the Book of Mormon, too, and believed it to be the word of God. He started attending Church meetings with Oliver; he also continued to attend Presbyterian services.

On the day Oliver left the university, he stopped his Korean friend in a hallway. “I then bore my testimony of the gospel and told him that it was my opinion that the Lord had moved upon him to come to America … that he might receive the gospel and take it back to his people.” He also told Ho Jik that “if he refused to do the work the Lord had for him to do, another would be raised up in his place.”

Those words had a powerful effect upon Kim Ho Jik. He read the Book of Mormon again, and the Spirit again told him it was true. In July of 1951 he was baptized in the quiet waters of the Susquehanna River, near the place where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery had been baptized. As he came up out of the water, a voice said to him, “Feed My sheep. Feed My sheep.”

Brother Kim graduated from Cornell a short time later—getting the degree that entitled him to be called doctor—and returned home to South Korea, which was at war. Amid the violence and destruction, he felt the quiet peace of the Holy Ghost as he attended Church services with LDS servicemen from the United States.

Dr. Kim was given many important responsibilities by his country. He was a professor at various universities and president or dean of several colleges, and he later became vice-minister of education and president of the Seoul City Board of Education. He was also a well-known expert on the nutritional content of the soybean. In spite of his many duties, he faithfully obeyed the Lord’s command to feed His sheep.

In 1955, President Joseph Fielding Smith of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Dr. Kim, and several servicemen traveled to one of the hills that overlooked Seoul, the South Korean capital. There, in a quiet, private place, President Smith dedicated the land for missionary work.

Soon Dr. Kim was president of the Korea District of the Church’s Northern Far East Mission. He helped the Church gain legal recognition in South Korea so that missionaries could serve there, and he even rented a house where they could stay. Members and investigators met there often to discuss the gospel with the elders.

Dr. Kim translated the Articles of Faith, the sacrament prayers, hymns, and other Church materials into Korean. He served as a branch president, and he donated much of his money to the missionary effort and the poor. His example led many to investigate the Church.

Dr. Kim passed away suddenly on August 31, 1959, at the age of 54, just eight years after his baptism. But he had tried hard to feed the Lord’s sheep, preparing the way for tens of thousands of Koreans to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Many years ago when our family was young and we lived in Rexburg, our seven children were sometimes almost too "active in the Church." I would often remember the words of our bishop from a few years earlier. He would shake his head and smile at our lively little crowd trying to hold still on a Church bench and say, "the Hafen children - curtain climbers, rug rats, and house apes!" Your family might seem that way sometimes. We can't help seeing each other at our worst, and our best, in the closeness of family life. In the worst moments, we may wonder how we can keep living with each other. But in the best moments, we can't really imagine living without each other.

In the basement of our Rexburg home on the night before our oldest son, Jon, left for his mission, we pulled together "the family slide show," the best and funniest pictures of our family over twenty years. At the end of the show, we knelt in prayer together, and spontaneous tears flowed. No more curtain climbers and rug rats-just imperfect young men and women, and their imperfect parents, who felt an honest love for each other. And those feelings have kept growing, as the constant stretching from family reality toward family ideals gives each of us the desire to live worthy of belonging to each other in time and in eternity.

This story happened in South Korea.
Jayne took one last bite of her noodles. Mmmm. Delicious!
“Let’s play Yut Nori!” Uncle Ji-Ho said.
It was that time of year again! Her family was celebrating Chuseok, Korean Thanksgiving. Today Jayne’s family had gathered to eat lots of food and play Yut Nori together. Yut Nori was Jayne’s favorite game.
Everyone sat in a circle on the floor. Jayne looked around. What team did she want to be on? She scooted over to sit next to Uncle Ji-Ho. “I want to be on your team!” she said. “We’re going to be the big winners!”
Uncle Ji-Ho laughed. “With you on our team, we sure have a good chance!”
Jayne’s mom set the game board in the middle of the circle. Jayne helped her set out the pieces. They passed the four sticks to the team that would go first.
Jayne’s cousin Ana took the first turn. She threw the sticks into the air. The way the sticks landed showed how many spaces that team could move on the game board. All four sticks were facing down, which meant that Ana got a Yut! She got to move her team’s piece forward four spaces and got an extra turn.
But Ana was not on Jayne’s team.
Jayne folded her arms and frowned. “I was hoping she wouldn’t have a good throw,” she whispered to Uncle Ji-Ho.
“Cheer up!” Uncle Ji-Ho said. “The game just started.” He gave her an encouraging smile.
After Ana’s second turn, Jayne’s team threw the sticks. But they didn’t get to move their pieces as far as Ana’s team did.
With every turn, Jayne’s family members cheered and laughed. Jayne watched the game pieces move around the board. Everyone was having fun.
Everyone but Jayne. Her team was still losing.
Finally it was Jayne’s turn. She threw the sticks in the air, but only one landed face down. Her team’s piece moved forward only one space.
Jayne folded her arms. “I quit!” she yelled. “I wanted us to win.”
Suddenly, everyone was quiet. When she looked up, her family was staring at her. They seemed surprised that she was so angry.
Jayne’s face felt hot. She felt bad that she wasn’t happy for her family. She didn’t usually get so mad. She stood up to leave the circle.
Uncle Ji-Ho put a hand out. “You don’t have to leave,” he said. “Winning isn’t everything. Just try to have fun.”
“OK.” Jayne sat back down. She wanted to have fun like everyone else. She took a deep breath and watched her cousin Ben toss the sticks.
“Nice turn, Ben!” Uncle Ji-Ho said. He sounded happy.
Jayne looked at Uncle Ji-Ho with wide eyes. He was cheering for the other team! Maybe that was why he was having so much fun.
As the next turn began, Jayne decided to cheer for everyone on both teams. Uncle Ji-Ho was right. Winning wasn’t everything. Jesus could help her be happy for her family members even if she lost.
When it was Ana’s turn again, Jayne smiled at her. “Good luck! You’ve got this.”
From across the circle, Ana smiled back. Jayne felt warm inside. She was having more fun already!

My three-year-old granddaughter illustrated the power of innocence and humility to connect us with God. She went with her family to the open house of the Brigham City Temple in Utah. In one of the rooms of that beautiful building, she looked around and asked, “Mommy, where is Jesus?” Her mother explained that she would not see Jesus in the temple, but she would be able to feel His influence in her heart. Eliza carefully considered her mother’s response and then seemed satisfied and said, “Oh, Jesus is gone helping someone,” she concluded.
No pavilion obscured Eliza’s understanding or obstructed her view of reality. God is close to her, and she feels close to Him. She knew that the temple is the house of the Lord but also understood that the resurrected and glorified Jesus Christ has a body and can only be in one place at a time.3 If He was not at His house, she recognized that He must be in another place. And from what she knows of the Savior, she knew that He would be somewhere doing good for His Father’s children. It was clear that she had hoped to see Jesus, not for a confirming miracle of His existence but simply because she loved Him.
The Spirit could reveal to her childlike mind and heart the comfort all of us need and want. Jesus Christ lives, knows us, watches over us, and cares for us. In moments of pain, loneliness, or confusion, we do not need to see Jesus Christ to know that He is aware of our circumstances and that His mission is to bless.

When my great-great grandparents joined the Church in Sweden over one hundred years ago they were faced with a long ocean voyage to America, a train trip from New York to Omaha, and then a trek by wagon to Salt Lake City. But when they boarded the train in New York, they discovered that they were to ride in stock cars that had been used to haul hogs to market—and the cars were filthy and filled with parasitic insects that live on hogs.
Grandmother accepted the inconvenience, but the humiliation was almost more than grandfather could bear. “To think we are no better than hogs,” he complained. Unwillingly he made the trip anyway.
Grandmother was expecting another child, and when they reached Omaha to begin their long trek west, grandfather was concerned about her health and the safety of the baby. The person in charge of the wagon train assured him that there were competent women trained to deliver babies available and that everything would be all right, so they began their journey.
Somewhere on the plains of Nebraska, a healthy baby was born. But a few days later, the three-year-old son got cholera. In the middle of the night, grandfather went to a neighboring wagon to borrow a candle, but was told they couldn’t spare one. This angered him, and he was angry as he sat in the dark with his son’s drooping, feverish body in his arms. The boy died that night.
The next morning the wagon master said they would hold a short funeral service and bury the boy in a shallow grave, apologetically explaining that they were in a dangerous Indian country and didn’t have time to do anything more. But grandfather couldn’t accept this, and insisted on staying behind and digging a grave deep enough so the animals couldn’t get the body.
Throughout the day and into the night he worked, building a strong wood coffin and digging a grave 1 1/2 meters deep in the hard soil. Finally, very tired and sobbing, he buried his son and then walked all night to catch up with the wagon train. He was heartbroken and he was angry—angry at the wagon master for not waiting to give his son a proper burial, and angry at God for “allowing” his son to die. When he arrived at his wagon and expressed his feelings to his wife, she spoke to him tenderly:
“Father, we have to make the best of it. The baby and I are all right and, thank the Lord, the rest of us are well. If we get to our journey’s end without any more trouble, we must be very thankful to our Heavenly Father. We have joined the Mormon Church because we believed it was the only true one and I have faith that it is. We are not the only ones that are having sorrow and trouble on this trip” (from the history of Hakan Hanson).
This wasn’t the end of their difficulties; they continued to suffer serious hardships and adversities throughout their lives. But although they both went through identical experiences, each was affected differently by them. Grandfather became withdrawn, ill-natured, and bitter. He stopped going to Church and found fault with Church leaders. He became trapped in his own miseries, and the light of Christ grew dimmer and dimmer in his life.
On the other hand, grandmother’s faith increased. Each new problem seemed to make her stronger. She became an angel of mercy—filled with empathy, compassion, and charity. She was a light to those around her. Her family moved toward her and looked to her as their leader.

I know all of this for myself. While recovering from surgery to remove two sizeable brain tumors, I experienced periods of melancholy and dismay from the emotional and mental impact of it all. I discovered that I was not as invincible as I once thought I was. Medication did not help, and a relapse or two brought additional despondency. I began to feel sorry for myself.

Then some wonderful things began to happen. Good friends and trusted Church leaders offered their support and understanding, and I began to listen to their counsel and accept their encouragement. Late one night as I shared my gloomy feelings with our youngest son, he said, “Well, Dad, I have always thought that happiness is a decision.” He is right.

I found myself increasingly expressing gratitude for all the blessings I still enjoyed. I discovered for myself that “this kind [of trial] goeth not out but by prayer and fasting” (Matthew 17:21).

I felt the strength, refreshing power, and love of the Savior. With Paul, I came to rejoice in the knowledge that tribulation, distress, and peril could not separate me from the love of Christ (see Romans 8:35).

Allie peered over the ship’s bow out across the endless blue ocean.
“Are we there yet?” her brother, Morris, asked. He was only five, and he seemed to think their three-week journey would never end.
“Not quite!” Allie said. She was seven, and she thought this was a great adventure. “Father told me it’s over 3,000 miles from Utah to the Sandwich Islands.” The Sandwich Islands was another name for Hawaii, the island kingdom that would soon be Allie’s new home.
Morris went back to sit with their mother, who was watching them from the deck. Allie looked back at the sea. Only a few weeks ago, she and her family had been living in Utah, just waiting for winter to end. But everything had changed when Father was called to serve a mission.
Allie turned from the sea and sat with Mother and Morris. “Tell me a story,” she said.
“Hmm, a story,” Mother said. “Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Alice Armeda Snow Young, but her family called her Allie.”
Allie grinned. She loved hearing stories about herself and her family!
“Her grandfather on her father’s side was Brigham Young. He helped lead the Saints to the West after the Prophet Joseph Smith was killed.” Allie nodded. Grandpa Young was a brave man with a powerful testimony.
“Her grandfather on her mother’s side was Lorenzo Snow, an Apostle. After Grandpa Snow joined the Church, he served several missions in the United States before crossing the ocean to preach the gospel in England.”
“Where he even gave a Book of Mormon to Queen Victoria!” Allie added. She loved hearing Grandpa Snow’s stories.
Allie leaned her head against Mother. Both of her grandfathers were special to her.
“And now you get to carry on their legacy of faith,” Mother said. “Many families have to stay behind while husbands and fathers go on missions—”
“But we get to go with Father on his mission to Hawaii!” Allie said.
Father had served a mission in Hawaii as a young man. Allie loved hearing his stories about the faraway land ruled by a king. Now they would all live near the mission house on the island of Oahu while Father traveled the islands to preach and strengthen the Saints.
As the ship moved through the dark sea, Allie kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. She imagined her new home with its white beaches, emerald trees, and crystal skies. She couldn’t wait to see what adventures this mission would hold!
To be continued …

After a number of students dropped out following our freshman year, my dental school classes became even more competitive. Everyone worked hard to be at the top of the class. As the competition increased, some students decided that the way to succeed was by cheating. This troubled me greatly. Every day I prayed that I would be blessed to learn the assigned material and remember what I studied. I knew I couldn’t ask the Lord to bless me if I cheated. I felt strongly that if I did my part, the Lord would grant me this blessing.
During summer break, I went to visit a dentist who had graduated from my school. I talked to him about cheating. He said he had encountered the same problem.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“What could I do?” he replied. “I had no choice but to cheat occasionally.”
I pondered his answer. Here he was, a successful dentist, and he had cheated to get his degree. But I knew I couldn’t cheat. I wanted to be right with God even more than I wanted to become a dentist.
My junior year, I was offered a copy of an upcoming test in a crucial class. Obviously that meant some of my classmates would have the test questions ahead of time. I declined the offer. When the corrected test papers were returned, the class average was extremely high, making my score low in comparison. The professor asked to speak to me.
“Roy,” he said, “you usually do well on tests. What happened?”
“Sir,” I told my professor, “on the next exam, if you give a test that you have never given before, I believe you will find that I do very well.” There was no reply.
We had another test in the same class. As the test was handed out, there were audible groans. It was a test the teacher had never given before. When our graded tests were handed back, I had received one of the highest grades in the class. From then on, all the tests were new.
That was not the end of the Lord’s blessings to me. At the end of their senior year, all dental students have to take practical tests—performing procedures on patients while professors watch and grade their performance. If you don’t do well on these practical tests, you don’t graduate. In the early winter of my senior year, I slipped on a patch of ice and broke my right arm. Immediately I felt grateful that it was only January, assuming the cast would come off in six weeks. But I was informed I had broken the scaphoid in my wrist, one of the most difficult bones to heal. I would be in a cast for six months. In despair, I realized I couldn’t work on patients with a cast on my right arm.
I asked for a priesthood blessing. In that blessing I was told not to fear, all would be well. After some weeks I discovered that my fingers were perfectly agile, even with the cast on. When I arrived at the testing area, the professors shook their heads, insisting there was no possibility I could perform the necessary procedures. I asked them to let me try, and if they were not satisfied I would withdraw. Each patient looked surprised upon seeing my cast, but I was able to perform the procedures to the complete approval of the examining professors. I graduated in the top of my class.
I know the Lord blessed me for my commitment to be honest. I learned that when we do what the Lord asks, He is a powerful ally for our success. With Him, we can accomplish more than we could possibly do on our own.

I read with interest your June article “There’s a Lot of Dough in This Business.” I initiated a similar venture in our former location in California. In fact, my “bread route” even became a valuable missionary tool. At Christmastime I gave my nonmember customers copies of the Book of Mormon. My business came to an abrupt end, however, when I was notified by state officials that it was illegal. I have since checked with the states of California and Utah, and here are the facts for those two states:
1. According to federal, state, county, and city statutes, it is a violation of both business and health codes to sell products that have been baked in a private residence.
2. Church or community groups who sponsor occasional bazaars or bake sales are exempt.
3. An individual may engage in a food business from his home if—
His kitchen facility is separate from his personal kitchen and is inspected and approved by the State Health Department.
He has obtained a business license (the legal requirements can be obtained from the State Board of Equalization).
Perhaps this home-baking arrangement is not illegal in Michigan, but most states prohibit it. Although my bread selling was certainly successful, it was nonetheless in violation of the law. I would encourage anyone interested in such projects to check with local authorities first to save embarrassment and possible legal penalties.
Nancy T. WudelOrem, Utah

Earlier this year, Isabela A., age 16, of Vila Velha, Espírito Santo, Brazil, traveled with her mother and sister to the temple; the last day of the trip was the one-year anniversary of her grandmother’s death. Isabela was baptized for her grandmother, and her mother did the other temple ordinances for her.
“I felt during this trip that I needed to do something good,” explained Isabela. “I wanted to learn to index, and I received help from Brother José Moscão.
“Then, when I was being baptized for my grandmother, the Spirit touched me deeply. I realized there were many people beyond the veil waiting endlessly, and they needed my help. I realized I could give a bit of my time to serve and that I could do a lot for these people. Indexing is a labor of love.”

Why can’t I tell?” Ryan asked as he tiptoed behind Samantha to the big willow tree by the creek.
“‘Cause it’s a secret,” his friend Samantha whispered. “Nobody’s supposed to know about it except you and me and Grandpa.” Very carefully she lifted the leafy branch so that Ryan could see. “Don’t touch—just look.”
“Wow!” Ryan exclaimed as he looked at the four tiny white eggs in the nest. “How did you find it?”
“Grandpa showed it to me,” Samantha said proudly. “He says that if we don’t disturb it, pretty soon we’ll see the baby birds when they’re hatched. It’s a secret ’cause if lots of kids start coming around, the mother will abandon the nest.”
“Wow!” Ryan said again as he put the branch back in place to hide the nest. “I never saw a bird’s nest with real eggs in it before. I won’t tell anyone else.”
“We’ll come back on Saturday,” Samantha said as they started home. “Grandpa says that the eggs should be hatched by then.”
Ryan remembered the nature study lesson their second grade class had just had. “I have an idea,” he said. “If we’re careful not to disturb the mother, maybe we can watch her feed the babies and see them learn to fly.”
“Great idea!” Samantha agreed.
Ryan felt proud that Samantha trusted him with the secret. He wished he felt the same way about the secret Joey had told him last week. That secret made Ryan feel scared because Joey had said that Ryan would be in big trouble if he told anyone, and Joey was a big bully.
When Mom called him for lunch, Ryan was still thinking about Joey’s secret.
“Aren’t you hungry today?” Mom asked when she saw him pushing his macaroni around the plate with his fork.
“Not very.” Macaroni was his favorite, but today it didn’t taste so good. “Mom, is it OK for a kid to tell a secret if someone told him not to?”
“That depends,” Mom said. “If it’s a secret that makes you feel unhappy or upset, you should always tell a grown-up you can trust. But if the secret makes you feel happy, then it’s a good secret and you should keep it.”
Ryan liked what Mom said, and she was a grown-up he could trust. “Mom, Joey told me a secret about how easy it is to snitch stuff from Mr. Sonny’s store.”
“Did you feel happy when he told you?” Mom asked.
“No, but he said I’d be in big trouble if I told, and I’m scared of him.”
Mom smiled. “You won’t be in any big trouble. I’m pleased that you didn’t like Joey’s secret. I’ll speak to Mr. Sonny, and he can deal with Joey.”
Suddenly the macaroni tasted wonderful. Ryan knew that the secret he shared with Samantha was one he would keep. It was a good one. Soon he would see four fluffy baby birds in the nest, and that made him happy.

I will never forget hearing my baby’s heart beat for the very first time. It was a life-changing moment I can only describe as pure ecstasy. It was his heart I was hearing, but it was my heart that was exploding! Exploding with a feeling of love and joy like nothing I had ever experienced before! I walked—or better said, I floated out of the doctor’s office in a state of absolute euphoria, and I didn’t come down out of the clouds for days.

Like most new parents, I didn’t know it was even possible to feel that kind of love—a love so pure, so perfect, and so sacred. I was experiencing, as President Nelson has described, “what is sometimes called the Spirit of Elijah—a manifestation of the Holy Ghost bearing witness of the divine nature of the family.” [1] My heart was turned to my child, and his heart was turned to mine. Our hearts truly were “knit together in . . . love.” [2]

Illustration by J. Beth Jepson
I’d finally made it: I was a high-school senior. Now I had to prepare for the next step in my life: college. I knew that I wanted to major in music education with an emphasis in strings. While looking for colleges, I started to search local universities and found one that had a very good music education program.
My uncle was a professor at a public university, so I sought advice from him. I told him about the university and its excellent music program. His answer startled me: “Will that university support you spiritually? Will you graduate from that university with a stronger or weaker testimony than you have now?” He then shared a scripture with me that says that we are to “seek learning, even by study and also by faith” (D&C 88:118).
With these new ideas floating around in my head, I looked up the institute programs that the local universities had to offer. They were basically nonexistent. I would have been in a vast academic jungle of knowledge but in a spiritual desert. This was frustrating for me because deadlines were approaching and I needed to pick universities to apply to. I prayed and fasted as I searched for a school that would be right for me.
One Sunday in sacrament meeting, a sister talked about a music school out of state. Leaving the state had never crossed my mind before. I went home and excitedly looked up this new school. I also looked into their institute program, and they had a lot of students in their institute program at that university. They also had a strong music program. This felt right.
To my astonishment, I’d found the college for me! This experience showed me that prayers are answered—but on Heavenly Father’s time. Sometimes we have to wait for an answer.
I know that it’s important to seek learning by both study and faith. I’m grateful that my uncle reminded me of the importance of growing spiritually in college as well as academically. I’m excited about my college choice and can’t wait to see what the experience brings!

After meeting the missionaries, my family investigated the Church for three years. It was very important to my parents that we be baptized as a family. They knew that if we joined the Church, it would often be difficult for us to choose the right. But they believed that if we all decided to follow Jesus Christ, we could help each other when the times grew difficult.
When we joined the Church, my parents committed our family to sacrifice and service. I did not really know what sacrifice was, but I knew that my parents would give all they had to the Church. I saw that helping other people made my mom and dad happy. My parents were always serving, so I followed them around and tried to help, too. I was often too young to do much, but my parents’ example of service inspired in me a lifelong desire to serve.

It was a Friday night much like any other. My closest friends and I were sitting in my apartment after watching a movie, periodically chatting quietly and then laughing loudly. A sense of genuine contentment filled the air, and I couldn’t help smiling as stories and ideas swirled through the room. Some of the people I had met only a month before; some I had known all my 25 years.
At one point one of these longtime friends and I got to sharing memories about some of our college friends from a few years earlier. As we talked, I thought of how I missed these friends, of how much fun we had had, and how close we had been. Now we had graduated and moved to places all over the world, finding ourselves in situations we never could have predicted. I sighed with momentary feelings of loss, then glanced around the room at the laughing faces surrounding me at that moment and was struck by the sudden thought: good things keep on coming.
That simple thought was actually quite profound for me, especially since I have always had a hard time facing change and am hesitant to let go of good things. I miss the past even while it is still the present, desperate to enjoy fully moments in which I consciously and determinedly live. I know when I have a good thing, and I want to hold on and never let go; this lazy and happy Friday night was one of those good moments. Usually when I realize how good things are, I instantly begin thinking of how everything is fleeting, that it will eventually be lost to time or circumstance.
But this night the internal regret didn’t come. Sitting quietly, surrounded by people I loved, I knew that even though some good things must naturally come to an end and that there would undoubtedly be many hard things in the future, the good things would keep on coming. And they always would—as long as I let them. Even as those I love moved on, voids would be filled with new and amazing people and experiences I had never even imagined.

I recently had the opportunity to travel with Elder Donald L. Hallstrom to visit five cities in the great central area of the United States. In each city we visited, we would hold a meeting with the full-time missionaries, followed by a meeting with the stake and ward leaders regarding missionary work. Between each of the two meetings, the stake Relief Society would prepare a light dinner for us to afford us time to meet with the stake presidents. When we reached Milwaukee, Wisconsin, two young families appealed to the Relief Society to let them prepare and serve the dinner. The two husbands manned the kitchen. The two mothers supervised the table arrangements and the serving of the food. Three young children handled the table setting and the serving of the food under the supervision of their mothers. This was an opportunity for the mothers to have a teaching opportunity with their children. It was very special to watch the children respond to every detail as they were taught by their mothers. They carried out their assignments completely and fully.

In the spring of 2001, the First Presidency invited me to dedicate a building on the beautiful campus of Southern Utah State University in Cedar City, Utah. At the time, I was puzzled as to why I would receive this assignment. I am not an educator by experience or training. I was not a graduate of that institution, nor had I any previous association with the University. Nevertheless, I went ahead with the assignment.

Sister Sorensen and I were having breakfast with Brother and Sister Bennion, who, some of you may remember, was president of this institution not so many years ago. The experience I am about to tell you was spoken of by Sister Marjorie Bennion here on this campus several years ago. I have collaborated with her and she has given me permission to make reference to some of the following incidents: While at breakfast at the Southern Utah State University, Sister Bennion said to me, “I understand you are the Executive Director of the Temple Department and there is consideration being given to rebuild the Nauvoo Temple.” Before I could answer, Sister Bennion continued, “I visit teach a less-active sister whose great grandfather was the architect of the Nauvoo Temple. His name was William Weeks. Would you be interested in talking to her? I think she could be helpful. She would very much appreciate making contact with an official from the Temple Department of the Church.

I was delighted and excited. I explained to Sister Bennion that the Church had a few limited drawings and plans from the original Nauvoo Temple. They came to the Church in a rather unusual way. Let me explain.

In 1948, Elder Vern C. Thackery and Elder Frank Gifford knocked on the door of Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Griffith in the…town of Boron, California located in the Mohave Desert. It turned out that the Griffiths were descendants of William Weeks. They were not members of the Church at the time.

Their great grandfather, Brother William Weeks, had a misunderstanding with Brigham Young regarding the design of the Salt Lake Temple. President Young insisted Brother Weeks yield to the inspiration of the President of the Church. Brother Weeks left President Young’s office – never to return again. He took the plans of the Nauvoo Temple with him.

So, going forward all those years, the missionaries tracted into the Griffiths in 1948, who happened to be descendants of Brother Weeks, and miracle of miracles, had possession of some of the original plans of the Nauvoo Temple. According to Elder Thackery, he was driving an old Ford with a rumble seat, which is a seat that can be hidden. They gave Elder Thackery the documents and he put them in the rumble seat, closed it and forgot them.

Sometime later, after the Elder was home in Heber City, Utah, he remembered the documents and delivered them to the Historical Department of the Church.

Now we turn to 2001 in Cedar City, Utah with President and Sister Bennion. Remember she said, “I am visiting teaching the great-granddaughter of William Weeks. I think she has some plans of the Nauvoo Temple. Would you please go and visit with her? Better still, why don’t I go and bring her here? You can have lunch with her.”

She promptly left to retrieve the good sister and the architectural drawing. She came right back with both of them. Sister Griffiths had in her hands the actual drawings of the Nauvoo Temple – drawings the Church did not have. We quickly made arrangements for her to go to Salt Lake City and present the last pieces of the puzzle, restoring all as it was at first.

Since the Church was driven from Nauvoo, think how many places those Nauvoo Temple drawings must have been. Think of how many old trunks and covered wagons they were in, as they crossed half a continent. Imagine them passing through the generations of the Weeks family. Finally, 100 years later, consider two missionaries knocking on a remote door in the middle of the Mohave Desert.

All along Heavenly Father knew where those plans were. They weren’t lost to Him. His vigilant eye was watching over them until the time came to restore them for His great purpose of rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple in our day.

Before he was called as a General Authority, Marion G. Romney was a state legislator and a prominent member of the Democratic Party in Utah. As the 1936 election neared, it was viewed by both parties as a referendum on the record of the administration of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Roosevelt's opponents pressed him to declare himself willing to abide by the decisions of the Supreme Court. When he would not do that, the Deseret News published an unattributed front-page editorial the Saturday before the election (without mentioning Roosevelt by name) saying that the record of one of the candidates could be construed to indicate he would press for unconstitutional legislation. The editorial urged Church members to vote to protect the Constitution.

President Romney's biographer records that, when the editorial appeared, Romney was stunned. As a Democratic politician working on the re-election committee of the democratic governor of Utah, he felt that his political life had collapsed around him. It was only an editorial, and some would argue it was a legal matter and not an ecclesiastical one, but it was on the front page of the newspaper considered the voice of the Church.

He began to fast. He went to his law office, locked the door, and when he left after three hours of anguished prayer, he had received an assurance that the editorial was inspired and had been written by the Church President. He believed he had no choice but to resign from the governor's committee, which he did, and then spent his efforts from that time until the election trying to dissuade his friends from voting for Franklin Roosevelt. The election was a landslide. Democratic party candidates were swept into power at all levels of government. President Romney soon realized he'd made a costly political decision, but he believed he had done the right thing and that was enough for him.

I was attending a religious conference with my sister when she asked me to climb a tree and get a bunch of coconuts for the conference. As I was collecting the coconuts at the top of the tree, I suddenly blacked out and fell. I landed hard on my back and could no longer feel my legs.
I was taken to the hospital, where the doctors stabilized the bones in my back. For three months, I lay on my back in the hospital, unable to even sit up. It was an emotional and depressing time. I would just lie there and wonder what was going to happen to me and what I was going to do next.
After the three months, I was told to go to New Zealand for an operation for my back. The operation made it so that I could sit instead of only lie down. While in the hospital in New Zealand, I met a girl who was working there. She asked me, “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
We started chatting. She shared the gospel of Jesus Christ and gave me a Book of Mormon. At first, I didn’t read it. I left it untouched beside my bed. One day, however, I was alone and there was nothing interesting to watch on television. Then I saw the Book of Mormon on my table. I opened it and began to read and read.
As I read, I had the feeling that there was something different about the Book of Mormon and that it must contain the true gospel of Jesus Christ. The girl in the hospital had marked several verses, one of which was Alma 37:37: “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good.”
Those words jumped out at me and made me think. To know if The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true Church, I knew I needed to counsel with the Lord. I also wanted to go see this church for myself.
When I got home from New Zealand, I invited the missionaries to teach me. As I learned, I gained a testimony that this is Christ’s Church. I am grateful to the missionaries who taught me. At my baptism, they had the strength to carry me into the water—one holding me in his arms while the other performed my baptism.
With my baptism, all the feelings of depression and hopelessness I had endured were washed away. I knew I had a purpose in life and that God loved me.

They first met the Prophet as he was chopping wood with his brothers-in-law in the forest behind Newell K. Whitney’s store, where Joseph and Emma were then living. To find a prophet thus employed assured much more than it surprised a hardworking man like Brigham. The visitors were invited to stay for supper and for a gathering of some of the brethren that evening. Heber much later remembered that they “had a glorious time; during which brother Brigham spoke in tongues before brother Joseph, it being the first time he had heard any one speak in tongues. We had a precious season and returned with a blessing in our souls.”4 Brigham himself recalled, “We tarried about one week in Kirtland, held meetings nearly every night, and the blessings of the Lord were extensively upon us. I baptized one man while in Kirtland, by the name of Gibson Smith, the father of Newell K. Whitney’s wife, who had just come from Connecticut to learn the things that were being revealed. Being convinced of the truth of the work, he requested me to go into the waters with him.”5