Gospel Story Finder

I will begin with Ruth May Fox, who was a Young Women general president many years ago. She served in that calling until she was 84 years old. Sister Fox was born in England, and when she was 13, she walked almost every step to the Salt Lake Valley with a group of pioneers. Her mother died when she was a baby, so she spent the first dozen years of her life living with a number of different families. She must have been a difficult child to manage, because her grandmother called her a “bad maid” and refused to take care of her.
Eventually, Ruth married and had 12 children. She shared her firm testimony with her children and taught gospel lessons while she worked beside them, but she admitted that her older children sometimes received harsh discipline because she had a quick temper and she did not always “count [to] ten” when she was provoked. She worked hard to master this weakness and came to be known for her kind heart and service to others.
Sister Fox lived to be 104 years old. In her long life she experienced great joys and difficult trials, and she taught that “life brings some hard lessons. The sturdiest plants are not grown under glass, and strength of character is not derived from the avoidance of problems.”
Last year I climbed Independence Rock in Wyoming to find where Sister Fox had carved her name at age 13 when she was on her journey to the Salt Lake Valley. The weather from the last 140 years has almost erased it, but I was able to just make out “Ruth May 1867.” I wanted to know more about this great leader and disciple of Jesus Christ who worked all her life to improve herself and whose motto was “the Kingdom of God or nothing”!
Sister Fox said that the gospel was her “mantle of protection against temptation, [her] consolation in sorrow, [her] joy and glory throughout all [her] days, and [her] hope of eternal life.” She took as her motto “the Kingdom of God or nothing” because she knew that by embracing the gospel with her whole heart, she could receive the promise the Savior gave to us all: “Whoso repenteth and is baptized in my name shall be filled; and if he endureth to the end, behold, him will I hold guiltless before my Father at that day when I shall stand to judge the world.”

Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.

In 1878 President John Taylor called Saints to settle in the southern part of the state of Colorado in the United States. Early in the 1900s, Pa moved our family to that desolate land.
Our new farm was littered with rocks. Before we could till the ground, we had to clear the rocks away. Ma and I hauled the small rocks away in a wheelbarrow, but there was only one way to remove the boulders—blow them up with dynamite.
When all the small rocks were gone and it was time to start on the big ones, Pa dug under each one as far as he could and placed the dynamite underneath. He carefully set the dynamite in just the right places so the blast would tear the boulders completely apart.
Finally everything was ready for Pa to light the fuse. Mama made sure we children were out of danger.
Boom!
The first boulder exploded into hundreds of fragments and a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, the boulder had disappeared. All that was left was a hole in the ground and many smaller rocks. Now it was my job to pick up the pieces of rock and fill the hole with dirt.
We repeated the process; Pa lit the dynamite and I cleared away the shattered rock. After the third explosion, I was growing tired of picking up rocks and wanted to do the “real” work—lighting the dynamite. I took a few steps toward Pa.
“Willard, stay back!” my mother called. I scowled. At nine, I was the oldest child and believed I was old enough to help.
As I started back to the house, I was filled with a sense of danger. A whispering in my heart warned me that something was wrong.
I didn’t understand. I wasn’t in any danger. I was far away from the blasting. Certain that I had imagined the warning, I concentrated on what Pa was doing. Maybe he would see that I was nearly grown and ready to work alongside him.
The feeling of danger grew.
I recalled the promise my father had made when he confirmed me a member of the Church: “I bless you with the power of discernment. Listen to the Spirit. It will guide you and protect you from harm.”
I tried to ignore the voice, but it wouldn’t be still. I could no longer pretend I didn’t hear the insistent whisper.
I bless you with the power of discernment.
The words were as clear now as they had been when Pa pronounced the blessing more than a year earlier. If I wasn’t in danger, maybe the voice was telling me that someone else was. Ma was hanging clothes on the line, my little sister pulling at her skirt. Then I realized I couldn’t see three-year-old Hyrum.
“Hyrum!” I shouted. “Hyrum!” Shading my eyes from the sun, I squinted into the distance. Then I saw him—heading toward the field, his chubby legs going as fast as he could make them.
I ran after him, praying and shouting all at the same time. “Pa!” I screamed, waving my arms to attract his attention.
His back was turned to me, and Pa couldn’t see or hear my warning—and he couldn’t see Hyrum toddling toward disaster.
I reached Hyrum just as the boulder exploded. Throwing my body over his, I shielded him the best I could. Sharp rock fragments rained down on me, hitting my head, back, and legs.
Hyrum began to squirm. “Heavy,” he said. “Get up.”
I rolled off. My body screamed with pain, but I didn’t care. Gently, I ran my hands over my little brother.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
He wiggled away from me and stood. His chin wobbled and his eyes filled with tears, but he wasn’t hurt. “Scared,” he said.
“I was scared too,” I said as I hugged him.
By then Pa had reached us. Tears tracked through the dirt and grime on his face. His big arms circled us, squeezing tight. “How did you know your brother was in danger?” he asked me.
I hesitated, not sure how to explain. “A voice told me something was wrong,” I said. “I didn’t pay attention at first, but it kept poking at me until I had to listen.” Then I confessed the part that stung my conscience. “If I had listened the first time, Hyrum wouldn’t have wandered away. He would never have been in danger.”
Pa laid his big hand on my shoulder. “But you did listen. That’s the important thing.” Pa took a deep breath. “That was a brave thing you did, Willard.”
“I prayed, Pa. I was praying so hard the words nearly choked me,” I told him.
“So was I. So was I.”
Ma and my little sister came running. Laughing and crying at the same time, Ma hugged me and Hyrum. Soon all of us were hugging and crying.
A sweet feeling of peace settled around my heart as I knelt by my bed that night. My prayers took longer than usual as I thanked Heavenly Father for the whisperings of the Spirit in my heart.

Scripture study has helped a lot, both personally and in my family. When our children were young, like all families with young children, it was not easy to get the attention of our children. We had to be very creative. Fortunately, Sister Villanueva was very talented at teaching our little ones. For example, when we were learning about the Word of Wisdom, she would have us cut out different pictures from magazines, such as pictures of fruits, vegetables, boxes of cereal or some other nutritious foods. Also, she would ask us to cut out advertisements of alcohol, tobacco, coffee, etc. After reading some scriptures and explaining the Word of Wisdom, she asked our children to throw away those things that affected our bodies badly. This process kept the little ones entertained. It did not stop them from being restless and noisy, but they did learn.

Many of us can relate to feelings of inadequacy, or that we of ourselves do not have a meaningful voice due to the consequences of personal choices that have not been in line with the commandments of the Lord. In my teens and early 20’s I found myself lost, inactive in the church, and putting my attention to things of the world that had little to no redeeming value. When I decided to return to full church activity in my late 20’s, I felt that I had strayed so far and lost so much that my offering did not have anything that could make any positive impact on anyone. I knew the Lord loved me, but I fashioned in my mind a love more of pity for a soul who would always be too broken to be of much value, one that needed to simply remain quiet, listen, and obey. But as Brother Brian Schow reminded us in his devotional address last week: “. . . the Savior has an expectation that we will use the gift of the Holy Ghost to do something.” In that season of change, I knew that I wanted to become a better man, and the Spirit whispered to me that if I were to do so, I would not be able to do so quietly.

One sentence in my patriarchal blessing thrilled me: “You will be called to preach the gospel in the world.” I had a lifelong desire to serve a mission, and so when I heard that sentence, I felt that I would have that opportunity.

When it was time for me to serve a mission, the United States was involved in a war and only a few young men were actually allowed to serve missions. The rest were expected to serve their country in the war if they were drafted.

At that time, all prospective missionaries were interviewed by General Authorities as well as by their local Church leaders. I went through the interview process and, because of that sentence in my patriarchal blessing, thought that I would be called on a mission. I was terribly disappointed when I was notified that I was required to serve my country, instead.

I often thought about that sentence in my patriarchal blessing. When and how will I be called to preach the gospel? I asked myself. Today, of course, as a General Authority, I am preaching the gospel all over the world. I can see now how that promise is being fulfilled. But when I was younger, I often wondered.

Once in the long ago when all the animals lived in villages and talked together, a time came when no rain fell for many days, and the animals suffered greatly from thirst.
When the dry time was over, the lion called the animals together. “We must make a plan,” he said, “so we will never again have to suffer or die from thirst.”
“We could move to a different country,” suggested the ape.
“Too far! Too far!” complained the smaller ones. “We cannot travel that far with our short legs.”
Then the snake spoke. “We could try to sleep through the dryness and—”
“That would never suit us,” chimed in the other animals, plainly irritated.
So the jackal and the hyena talked together. “Let us dig a deep pool to hold water from the rainy times,” they said. “Then in the dry days we would have water to drink.”
“A good plan,” the lion agreed, nodding his head. “Let’s begin to dig at once. And since the hyena and the jackal thought of the plan, the hyena may dig first and the jackal will dig last.”
After the hyena dug his share, each of the other animals dug in turn. At last the big hole was almost finished. “Now it’s the jackal’s turn,” said the animals. But the jackal was nowhere to be seen. Since they couldn’t find him, the other animals quickly finished the digging.
The rains came and filled the big pool with sweet, clear water. “No one but those who have dug may drink from this pool,” declared the lion, and all of the other animals agreed.
All this while the jackal had been hiding near the pool, and he heard what the diggers said. So when the long dry season came again, the jackal wakened very early each morning and went to drink from the clear pool. And because no one ever saw him, he became even bolder and went into the water to swim. This made the water muddy. When the animals came to drink later in the morning, they were angry. “Who did this?” they demanded. “Who muddied the water?” But no one knew.
Then the tortoise responded, “If you’ll cover my shell with sticky beeswax, I’ll watch by the pool all night and catch the rascal who muddied our water.” So, with sticky wax smeared all over his dark shell, the tortoise settled at the edge of the pool to watch through the night.
In the morning the jackal came to drink. “Ah! A nice stepping stone,” he said, and he put his two front paws on the shell and bent his head to drink. But when he tried to leave he found that his paws were stuck fast in the wax on the tortoise’s shell. “Let me go!” he cried. “You can’t play tricks on me!”
The tortoise began to move.
“Let me go or I’ll kick your shell to pieces with my strong hind legs,” cried the jackal.
“Do as you please,” replied the tortoise.
The jackal kicked hard, and then both of his hind paws were also stuck fast to the tortoise’s shell. “If you don’t let me go I’ll bite you into little pieces,” cried the jackal.
“Try it!” the tortoise answered.
The jackal bit at the shell and his jaws, too, stuck fast in the wax. Then the tortoise slowly crawled along to the lion’s house with the jackal stuck fast to his shell.
When the animals learned who had muddied the water and who had been drinking without having done his share of the work on the pool, they were angry.
“Tomorrow he must die!” they shouted. The lion nodded. “But we will allow him to choose the way of his death.”
All night long the jackal tried to think of a way he could escape. When morning came he said, “I have seen a monkey kill a rat by swinging him by the tail and dashing him against a tree. I choose to be killed this way.”
“If that is your wish,” said the lion, “the hyena will swing you by the tail around and around and dash you against a tree!”
Now it happened that the wily jackal saved all the fat from the meat he had been given for his last meal, and with it he greased his tail to the very tip. So when the hyena grasped him by the tail and began to swing him around and around, he could not hold tightly. The jackal’s slippery tail went right through the hyena’s paws, and the jackal landed on the ground and went streaking away as fast as he could go.
The hyena and the other animals were so surprised that they didn’t have wits enough to spring after the jackal and give chase until after he had disappeared. The jackal never came back, and many years passed, with the pool always holding clear water for the animals to drink in dry times.
But the tortoise never forgot how the jackal had troubled the water. Even to this day it is said that tortoises can be found guarding the pools of Africa from intruders.

Everyone was doing something special for Mother’s Day.
Daddy was making Mother a wooden sewing cabinet. Jenny’s big sister, Chris, was painting a picture of their house.
“Everyone has something special to give,” sighed Jenny. “Everyone but me.”
“Jenny,” Mother called. “Your friends are at the door. When you are dressed, you may go out and play.”
Jenny picked up her shoes and carried them downstairs. Except for tying her shoes, she could get dressed by herself.
Mother was at the sink, washing the dishes.
“Will you tie my shoes, please?” asked Jenny.
Mother dried her hands. “Oh, Jenny,” she said, making the laces into bows, “I’ll be so happy when you can do this all by yourself. That will be a very special day, won’t it?” Mother asked, giving Jenny a hug.
Jenny nodded her head and smiled. “Thank you,” she said and ran outside.
“Let’s race!” she called to her friends.
The four of them took off, running almost as fast as the wind. But a moment later Jenny tripped and fell. And off came her left shoe.
“Oh no!” Jenny cried.
Luckily Chris was in the yard. “I’ll tie it,” she said.
While Chris was tying her shoe, Jenny thought of Mother’s words: “I’ll be so happy when you can do this all by yourself.”
Jenny looked at Chris. “Now I know,” she laughed. “I know what I can give to Mother.”
“And what’s that?” asked Chris.
“If you’ll help me, I can learn to tie my shoes all by myself,” said Jenny.
“That’s a good idea,” Chris agreed. “We’ll practice every night after supper until you can do it by yourself. Daddy will be surprised too.”
That night after supper, Jenny ran into Chris’s room.
“Close the door,” Chris said. “We want to keep your surprise a secret.”
Jenny closed the door and sat down. She untied her shoes.
“First,” said Chris, “you cross one lace over the other and put the bottom lace around and down through the hole—like this.”
Jenny watched closely and then she tried it.
“Good,” Chris said. “Now comes the hard part. Make a loop with one end of the lace, wrap the other end around it, and pull its loop through.”
“That looks easy,” Jenny said. “I can do that.” But when she tried, her fingers and thumbs got all mixed up in the laces. When she pulled one of the laces through, there was no bow!
“I’ll never learn!” Jenny said, pushing her shoes away. “It’s too hard.”
Chris picked up her little sister’s shoe. “Yes, you will,” she said, “if you try again and again. It’s not easy to learn and you’ll have to have a lot of patience and practice, but you can do it.”
So Jenny tried again. And again. And again.
Soon it was time for her to go to bed, but still her fingers hadn’t learned to tie her shoes.
“Don’t worry,” said Chris, putting her arm around Jenny. “You have plenty of time.”
Even though Jenny practiced every night for the next few days, she still couldn’t tie her shoes. But now her fingers and thumbs weren’t quite so clumsy.
Two days before Mother’s Day, Jenny was practicing by herself. I have to learn soon, she thought. What other present can I give Mommy? “Over and through,” she repeated. “Loop, over, around, and pull.” She tried to do it like Chris did, but it still didn’t come out right. Over and over she tried. Each time she thought that she was doing it right, but each time something went wrong.
“Over and through,” she said, trying again. “Loop, over, around, and pull.”
Jenny stared at her laces, wide-eyed. “I did it!” she cried. “I tied my shoes!”
She danced and hopped and skipped all over the room. Her shoe didn’t come off. She had tied it just as tightly as Chris and Mother could.
“What’s going on up there?” Mother called from the kitchen.
Jenny laughed. “I’m skipping because I’m happy,” she answered. She wanted to tell her secret now, but she knew she had to save it.
Mother’s Day finally came. Chris helped Jenny polish her shoes. “This polish will make them look nice for Sunday,” she told Jenny.
On Mother’s Day, Chris and Daddy gave their presents to Mother first. Jenny saved her surprise for last. She sat down on the floor between Mother and Daddy and untied her shoes.
“What are you doing?” Mother asked.
Jenny didn’t answer, but only grinned as she started to tie her laces. “Over and through. Loop, over, around, and pull.”
“Jenny,” cried Mother, “you can tie your shoes! What a wonderful, wonderful present! Thank you.” And she gave Jenny a great big hug.

A young man once told me of his experience of praying about a girl he was dating and being convinced that she was the one he should marry. The next time he went out with her, he told her of his experience. Her response was that it could not be true because she had planned to break up with him that night. Naturally, he was devastated and wondered where he had gone wrong. One of his mistakes was to think that his inspiration could hold her captive.

The youth planned camp to include service projects, a testimony meeting, and activities designed to build spiritual strength and group unity—important things for leading any group, class, or quorum. For example, the youth replaced worn-out picnic tables at the camp so the young men and young women could work and serve together. Stephanie T. learned that leadership includes helping others use and develop their talents: “We put together new tables without power tools. We learned to let the ones with know-how lead and to include the others by having them measure and then stain the tables. It was a humbling experience and changed me for the better.”

To Joseph Fielding Smith, “family is the most important organization in time or in eternity.”7 He was raised in a family governed by love, faith, high moral standards, and diligent work ethic, and he sought consistently to bring those same principles into his own family. (See chapters 4, 15, and 16 of Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Fielding Fielding Smith.)
He married Louie Emily Shurtliff in the Salt Lake Temple in 1898. One year later he was called on a mission to Great Britain for two years and was loyally supported by his wife. Upon his return, the two resumed their lives together and were blessed with the births of two daughters. Sadly, during a difficult third pregnancy Louie passed away.
In his sorrow Joseph prayed, “Help me, I pray Thee, to so live that I shall be worthy to meet her in eternal glory, to be united again with her, never again to be separated. … Help me to rear my precious babies that they shall remain pure and spotless throughout their lives.”8
At the urging of his father, the bereaved father of two prayerfully sought for a wife and a mother for his young children. His righteous desires were blessed in having Ethel Georgina Reynolds brought into his life. They were married in November 1908 in the Salt Lake Temple. This marvelous woman became the mother of Joseph’s first two daughters and later gave birth to nine additional children.

I would like share one experience that I had about motivation and wanting something very badly. I believe that this experience has some similarities to our journey on earth. I grew up working on a cattle and sheep ranch for the first 18 years of my life. It was a family business, and we had several thousand head of sheep, and in addition, we had a few hundred head of beef cattle. It was a totally different culture than I live in now, but it was a great time in my life, and I had a lot of adventures and experiences during those years, and they have taught me many valuable lessons. I was looking for a few head of stray cattle in one of our cattle ranges near Chama, New Mexico. On this day, I was riding one of our best horses named Red.

Red had a lot of stamina, a fast walk, and he had a lot of attitude. He a very spirited horse, and he was so confident that it seemed that could blow fire from his mouth like something you would see in a Lord of Rings movie.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was just coming up; there was a strong aroma of sage brush as it had just rained the night before. I had just graduated from high school and I had a scholarship to play basketball at Ricks College. I was healthy, and my saddle bags full of jerky, sunflower seeds, and drinks. I remember thinking how good life was and that it could not get better than this.

After searching the vast, rugged country side for a good part of the morning, I came to the edge of a small canyon, and there I found the lost cattle. Red and I found a way down into this canyon and attempted to cross the stream. This picture was taken last August, but in June there is usually much more water in the stream. Experience taught me that some places of the stream and can be very sticky with mud. Therefore, I was careful to select where we crossed. I decided on a location which I thought was safe and I rode Red to the edge of the stream. Oddly, Red stopped put head down and with his ears pointing forward, he sniffed the stream, snorted and quickly backed away as if to say, “No way. I’m not crossing here!” Being impatient, I again took him to the edge and I made it clear to him that this is where we were to cross and nudged him to move forward. But, instead of just walking across the stream, Red decided to jump! I did not know he was going to jump, and it just about threw me off. I realized later he did that because he did not like the sinking sensation of mud and was trying to avoid walking through it. I don’t know what he was thinking because he was not even close! We landed right directly in the middle of that stream.

The mud was very sticky, and because of the gravity of him falling from the jump, Red sunk into the mud up to his knees, making his anxieties of mud much worse. He panicked and was fighting desperately to get free. I had jumped off to alleviate the weight thinking that would help him get out, but to no avail. After fighting it for some time, Red just stopped. He ended up laying on his side, exhausted. After a while, his neck was beginning to get tired and he began to slowly lower his head in the water where, after he submerged, air bubbles began coming from his nose. It was as though Red was saying, “I just can’t fight this anymore; I’m giving up, and I’m going to die here today.” I immediately grabbed his head held it out of the water so he wouldn’t drown.

It was a surreal experience, and as I stood there holding his head, I remember thinking vividly that I was in biggest mess that I’ve ever been in. It was hard to believe that just a couple of hours earlier, I was at the peak of life. Now, I was alone; miles from anyone; stuck in the bottom of a dirty, muddy stream in a canyon in what seemed to be the lowest, most desolate place on the earth. I was so desperate and calling upon the Lord’s help to get Red and me out of this situation. In that moment, I felt a calm feeling come over me, and I started thinking more clearly. As I assessed the situation, I could see that Red was not in as bad of a situation as it first seemed. He was so close to the edge of the bank, and I knew that with just a little effort on his part, he could get out; therefore, I continued to yank on the reigns, yell, and do all I could to get him out. Then from out of nowhere, Red somewhere found this strength to just bolt out of the stream as though he was never stuck. I was pulling so hard on the reigns at the time, that when he exploded out of the water, I fell backwards, and he ran right over the top of me.

I laid there on the bank, wet, in shock, and not believing what had just happened to me, but most of all thankful to my Heavenly Father that Red and I were free from mud. I looked up and saw this once magnificent horse standing a few feet from me. He was completely covered with mud and was shaking, as was I. I did my best to clean Red up, gave a few pats on the neck, scratched his head, and I spoke to him in a soothing voice for a while, just to let him know it was okay. After we both gained our composure, we were on our way again and finished the job that we set out to do.

In my desperation to get out of my predicament, my eyes were awakened in that muddy stream, and I was humbled. I had never repented and prayed so hard in my life. It made me realize that I was vulnerable, made me reflect on my life, and it motivated me to be a better person.

The fact that he wrote every day makes clear to me that he knew his ordinary life was historic because it was part of the building of Zion in the latter days. The few entries which record his testimony seem to appear when death took a child. His testimony is to me more powerful because he offered it when his soul was tried.

Here is his record of one of those times. His daughter Elizabeth died in his arms. He reported her burial and the location of her grave in a few lines. But then, the next day, November fourth of 1863, this is the entire entry:

“Wednesday. Repairing up the stable my little children [chattering] around me but I miss my dear Lizzy. I pray the Lord to help me to endure faithful to his cause to the end of my days, that I may be worthy to receive my children back into the family circle, who have fallen asleep in Christ in the days of their innocence[:] Ann, Moroni, Esther Ellen & Elizabeth, blessed & happy are they because of the atonement of Jesus Christ.” …
He taught the truth. He testified that it was true. He lived consistent with his testimony and prayed that he might endure faithful until he could be united with his dear family. I feel his love and a desire to be included in that circle. …
I know that we can live together in families in eternal life, the greatest of all the gifts of God.

Before basketball games, there is always a sense of excitement as adrenalin starts to flow. When I was in junior high playing for a local team, the feeling was no different. Everybody in the locker room would be riled up and excited, ready to play the game. But before we would head out onto the court, I made it a habit of going to a corner of the locker room by myself and kneeling in prayer.
Then one day things were different. Instead of praying alone, I was joined by two of my teammates who had asked me where I was going. When I told them, they asked if they could participate with me. Before long, word had spread and all my teammates knew about the prayer I had before every game. It was then we decided to have a prayer together as a team. When we asked Coach Thompson to join us, he obliged as long as he didn’t have to offer the prayer. That day in that huddle of young men there was a spirit that cannot be described.
At our next game, we were playing horribly and nothing was going right. In the middle of the second quarter, Coach Thompson called time-out and told everybody to drop down to one knee. He was going to offer a prayer. Though there were vocabulary words not often heard in prayers, the Spirit was felt.
By the end of the year I received some awards for the season I had played. However the most meaningful award for me was when I saw old rough-and-tough Coach Thompson, humble and in tears, talking about the basketball team that taught him how to pray again.

He was taught well by his parents, but as a teenage farm boy he desired his own personal witness of the reality of God and his work.
“One day in my youth I was hunting cattle. While climbing a steep hill, I stopped to let my horse rest, and there, once again, an intense desire came over me to receive a manifestation of the truth of the Restored Gospel. I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith. I am sure that I prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster.
“At the conclusion of the prayer, I arose from my knees, threw the reins over my faithful pony’s head, and got into the saddle. As I started along the trail again, I remember saying to myself: ‘No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same “old boy” that I was before I prayed.’”
He had learned a great lesson. A young Latter-day Saint does not get conviction merely by asking the Lord, but by combining that asking with work, service, sacrifice, and obedience to God’s commandments.

When I turned 18 and had graduated high school, I had an experience that strengthened my testimony of the Lord guiding me with His hand. I had also just graduated from seminary and was a little excited that I didn’t have to wake up early in the morning anymore. My bishop called me to his office and extended a calling for me to be an early-morning seminary teacher. I remember telling the bishop that I was too young for such a calling, I would be teaching my church friends that were almost my age. I felt inadequate, but I accepted the calling to serve. That meant I would have to wake up at 4:30 in the morning, prepare my lesson, and pick up some youth for seminary because they lived far from the chapel.

During that same time, one of the airlines in Brazil was hiring, and I wanted to apply so I could have the benefits to travel the world. Again, I was 18 and I had never stepped foot on an airplane before. One of the requirements for the job was to speak fluent English, and my English was not that great; it was really bad. I had never taken any classes besides the basic English classes in high school. There was no Duolingo or EnglishConnect at that time, but someone gave me some cassette tapes for a course to learn English.

As I prepared for the job interview and English tests required for the job, I would listen to those tapes all day long on my headphones and even in my sleep. I was determined I could learn something in my sleep. I remember praying to Heavenly Father to help me to learn the language so I could pass the written and listening tests and the face-to-face interview in English.

I decided I wasn’t going to apply to be a flight attendant because of the difficult work schedule, but instead I applied for an eight-to-five job at the airline’s ticket office so I could continue teaching seminary and attending college to continue my studies. Somehow, by some amazing miracle, I passed the test after studying for only a couple of weeks, and I was able to answer all the questions and hold a conversation in English during my face-to-face interview.

I got the job at the airline and started working there immediately after high school. This job would later have a great impact on my life. I worked full time at the airline during the day and attended industrial design classes at night. But after one semester, I realized that waking at 4:30 a.m. to teach seminary and getting home after midnight by city bus after my university classes wasn’t sustainable. Financially, this arrangement was also very hard because what I made working full-time was barely enough to pay for my college tuition. I was burned out, and I had to make a decision.

I had to either stop teaching seminary or quit school. Again, I offered a sincere prayer and asked Heavenly Father for His help and guidance. Going to college was one of my dreams, but I had a strong impression that I had to quit school so I could continue teaching seminary and working full-time.

I have experienced these compensating blessings throughout my life, but especially while working for the airline. It gave me the opportunity to travel to many countries. Some of my favorite places to visit were Asia and the Pacific. These travels, that I normally did on my own, allowed me to meet amazing people. They also allowed me to learn about so many cultures and traditions, especially in the Polynesian Islands, and I developed a tremendous love for these places. One of the very first trips I took was coming to Hawaii. I was so impressed by the incredible people I met here, and I remember driving through the North Shore and seeing the beautiful Laie Hawaii Temple. I was so fascinated and remember thinking that one day I would like to get married in this temple. I went to the temple distribution center to buy some temple clothes, and the worker there was a very nice lady. She found out it was my first time in Hawaii, and she told me I must go visit the BYU–Hawaii campus and the Polynesian Cultural Center. I knew about BYU in Provo, but I had no idea there was such a thing as BYU–Hawaii, and I had never heard about the Polynesian Culture Center. She told me her son worked at PCC, and he would get me discounted employee tickets to go. I met the incredible students working at the PCC and saw the bright light they had in their eyes and smiles. I knew for sure that this was a special place.

Then I came to BYU–Hawaii and I felt something different. I felt such a special spirit on this campus. I had a strong impression that I needed to come back to attend school here.

I knew that my parents couldn’t help me financially to go to school at BYU–Hawaii, but I went back home and worked at the airlines for five years, saving up as much as I could with the hope I could come back someday and attend school here. I also continued to teaching seminary classes for those five years, and I have to say that I never felt as close to Heavenly Father and to my Savior as I felt during those years that I prayed and studied the scriptures in depth to teach my friends at seminary.

After five years of saving money to come to school at BYU–Hawaii, I quit my job at the airlines and used my last standby ticket to come to school here. I also brought my younger sister with me to school, and we worked together as tour guides at the PCC until she left for her mission.

On my way here, I went to Utah to prepare and to take the TOEFL English proficiency test, which was one of the things I was missing for my college application. It was there that I met my eternal companion, and he followed me here. After two years of dating, we were married in the Laie Hawaii temple. After I graduated, he started his studies and also graduated from BYU–Hawaii. Now my two older kids are also students at BYU–Hawaii. One is on his mission in Brazil at the moment, but he will be back this Fall.

When I look back, brothers and sisters, I recognize these miracles, I see the Lord's Hands in my life. I know He was blessing me by getting that job that would literally bring me here and would help finance my education, helping me to learn English, and preparing me spiritually by teaching seminary and strengthening my testimony of the gospel and of my dear Savior Jesus Christ.

Recently I visited with the family of a young mother who died while giving birth to her fifth child. I expected anguish but found hope and determination. Her husband cherished the time they had together. Their children understood the plan of salvation and knew they could be with their mother again, forever. She had never been too busy for those most dear to her. At her young age, this sister had served as a Relief Society president, always putting her marriage and family first.
As I visited with the mother of the deceased woman, she remarked that her highest priority was to raise her daughters to be righteous women. Even though her daughter’s life was cut short, this daughter created a tapestry of righteous gospel living in her home.
Together your general Relief Society presidency, under the direction of our priesthood leaders, created a declaration for our Relief Society sisters around the world. The declaration reminds us who we are; and home, family, and personal enrichment night has been set aside to develop these skills.
Do we recognize in our own lives the opportunities for creation that are there? Do we prize the gifts, talent, and choice spirits that God has given us? Do we share the creations of our hearts, minds, and hands with others?
Another mother and counselor in a stake Relief Society, though tremendous health problems threatened her, created a remarkable service project in her stake. Through fasting and prayer, miracles occurred, and the sisters of one stake created something extraordinary for others who were cold, hungry, and sick.
Who knows how many lives have been blessed because one woman refused to dwell on her afflictions and instead created the tapestry of service, a monument to the compassion and nobility of the human spirit.
This story is repeated by tens of thousands of faithful members each year. In July of last year, the Presiding Bishopric distributed a letter suggesting that any who wanted to contribute to the relief of the suffering of the refugees in Kosovo could make quilts and send them to the Latter-day Saint Humanitarian Center for distribution. Our intent was to collect and ship 30,000 quilts.
We have received more than 125,000 quilts. These quilts have been sent not only to those suffering in Kosovo, but to disaster victims in Turkey, Venezuela, Mexico, and other countries, including Mozambique and Zimbabwe.
During this past year I was privileged to travel to Kosovo, where I personally wrapped many of these quilts around babies and women grateful and teary-eyed. We have found that because of this great organization, we can create in our own homes, teaching family, friends, and neighbors to serve and assist others clear across the world. In the name of the Relief Society and humanitarian services of the Church, we can be creators. Isn’t that exciting?

I used to think my mom didn’t understand me. It seemed all she cared about were her rules. How could she understand me? She had never done anything wrong in her life.
I decided I could do better without her rules, so I started to define myself in opposition to her. She always wore nice skirts and dresses; I always wore big, shabby jeans. She followed rules of etiquette meticulously; I ignored them. She did everything she could to invite the Spirit into our home; I listened to counterculture music. She worked to avoid even the appearance of evil; I hung out with kids who were in trouble. Even though I wasn’t participating in serious transgressions, Mom knew I was on the edge.
Mom spent many rough nights worrying about me. One night she got up to check on me and found under my covers a pile of pillows shaped like a sleeping form. She spent a long night calling my friends, the police, and anyone else she could think of. When I got home, she told me I was grounded until further notice.
Soon after, feeling angry and rebellious, I found myself in the principal’s office at school. Knowing I could identify the culprits of a recent prank, he explained to me that if I didn’t tell him who the guilty parties were, he would suspend me instead of them. I defiantly kept silent. So he called my mom and told her I would be staying home the next day.
This time she was really angry. As she considered appropriate punishments while waiting for me to come home, she went to get a box out of our unfinished attic. Distracted, she took a wrong step between the beams and suddenly came crashing through the insulation, drywall, and plaster of the ceiling, landing on the floor below. Still gathering her bearings in that painful pile of rubble, she had the thought come to her: Your relationship with Michelle right now is as fragile as the ceiling. One wrong step and the relationship will collapse from under you and will be permanently damaged.
When I got home from school, I expected a lecture. Instead, when Mom greeted me, she explained what had happened and gently expressed her love for me. She said she had been prompted to take special care of our relationship and needed my help. I looked at her legs, black and blue from the ankles up and covered with some bad scrapes. All I could think was how amazing it was that as the ceiling gave way beneath her, her first thought was for me. Even I was humbled. We prayed together for help in learning to love and accept.
It wasn’t easy. I really had to work to change my attitude. Looking back, I realize that all along Mom had my welfare in mind. I eventually discovered she was really fun to be with. We looked for ways to spend time together in positive situations, doing things we both enjoyed. I learned to see her as something other than a disciplinarian. And most importantly, I changed my perspective. Instead of being embarrassed by our “old-fashioned” home, I came to love bringing friends over. I finally realized that I was equally responsible for the success of our relationship.
I guess I’m the one who should have fallen through the ceiling, but I doubt I would have heard the Spirit at that crucial moment. I’ll always be grateful for a mother willing to love me even while I learned to love her.

When Joseph Fielding Smith was ten years old, his mother woke him in the middle of the night.
Mother: Sister Thomas is having her baby, Joseph. I need you to take me to her quickly!
Joseph readied their mare and hitched her to the buggy.
Joseph: Come on, Old Meg.
Joseph: Too many babies are born on cold winter nights, Mother.
Mother: Try to make Old Meg go faster, son!
When they arrived, Joseph waited for hours while his mother helped Sister Thomas.
But when the baby came, the midnight journey and long wait seemed worthwhile.
Mother: Isn’t she beautiful, Joseph?
Sister Thomas: Thank you, Joseph. Thank you for bringing your mother.
Mother: Joseph, I still remember when you were born. I’m so proud of the hard-working boy you’ve become.
Joseph: Thanks, Mother. I’m proud, too … proud that I wasn’t born on a cold winter night!

Early in my assignment as a bishop I was approached by a ward member who came to make a suggestion. “The ward is too mechanical,” he said. “You have done much to organize and staff the auxiliaries, but you seem to be too busy to care about individuals.” I was shocked. It had never occurred to me that, in our anxiety to staff the ward auxiliaries, the bishopric was conveying the message that we were too busy to be helpful to our members. The kindly given information was discussed at length during the bishopric meetings that followed, and it proved most useful.