Gospel Story Finder

Every day Papa put a bucket down the well, hoping to bring up water, but the best he could get was damp sand on the bottom of the bucket.
“Don’t try the well till I get there,” Ed called down from the loft to Papa, when he heard the door shut after milking.
“Me, too,” I yelled and scrambled down the ladder.
One day the bucket made a splash when it went down. “There’s water,” Papa announced and pulled quickly on the rope to bring up a dripping pailful.
“Water!” Ed shouted.
“Water!” I echoed.
It was a race to the house to tell Mama, and she was so excited she said, “Let’s celebrate. I’ll make pancakes for breakfast.”
“Hurry then,” Papa said. “We have to get the pipe and sucker rods in.”
“What are sucker rods?” Ed wanted to know.
“They’re wooden poles to suck the water out of the ground.”
“Where do you put them?” I asked.
“First, we put a big pipe down to the bottom of the well. Then we put the sucker rods, one at a time, inside the pipe and push them as far as they’ll go into the sand.”
“What if they aren’t long enough?” Ed asked.
“We’ll fasten another one onto the first. They’re made so they can be screwed together.”
“Then will the water come up?”
“Yes, as soon as we build a windmill to run the pump.”
“What if it pumps water all over and makes a mud hole?”
“It won’t. We’ll have it fixed so we can turn if off.”
“What if the wind doesn’t blow when we want water?”
“We’ll have a storage tank. The pump will fill it up when the wind’s blowing, and we’ll use the water when we need it. I saw a galvanized tank in the Sears Roebuck catalogue. I’d better send off for one right away.”
“Pancakes are ready,” Mama announced, and we sat up to the table to eat them.

“Wow, the dirt is orange!” My sister pointed to the crusty ground by the boardwalk we were standing on. A few feet away, an oval pool seemed to glow yellow and blue.
“Where do the colors come from?” I asked Dad as he stopped to take a picture. He handed me a pamphlet from the ranger station. “I think it talks about it in there.”
The pamphlet told about the history of Yellowstone National Park. It also had a map of where we were. Then I saw a section about geothermal pools.
“Whoa! The colors are caused by bacteria!” I told Dad. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
I started imagining what the bacteria looked like. I wished I could take some water to look at under a microscope, or at least touch it to see if it felt weird. I guess my sister had a similar idea, because pretty soon she tugged on Mom’s shirt.
“Mama, I want to touch it! Pleeeeeease?”
Mom and Dad gave each other a look—one of those “talk without saying anything” looks—and pulled my sisters and me to the side of the boardwalk.
“Remember what we talked about before we got out of the car?” Mom said. She didn’t even wait for us to answer. “Don’t touch anything off the boardwalk.”
“But why?” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Instead of just saying “Because I said so” like he sometimes does, Dad paused for a second and pointed to a sign nearby. It said, “Dangerous Ground.”
“The water might look nice and cool. But it’s actually very, very hot. If you touched it, you’d get badly burned. There’s even super-hot water just under the orange dirt there. But we can enjoy it all safely from the path.”
Dad pointed out that the sign was written in lots of different languages. “The warning is so important that they wanted to make sure everyone could understand it. They want everyone to stay on safe ground.”
I nodded, and even my little sisters seemed to understand. We kept walking along the boardwalk, listening to the steam hiss around us. Before, I had mostly been thinking about how awesome the scenery was. Now I was also watching my sisters and making sure they were safe.
After a while, we saw a geyser shoot into the air! I loved watching the wind blow the water droplets across the colorful ground.
Finally it was time to head back to the car. Mom walked up beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. “You know, the boardwalk is kind of like the commandments.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well,” said Mom, “Heavenly Father gave us a beautiful world to live in. And He gave us commandments to help us make safe and happy choices. He really loves us, and He wants us to have a wonderful experience here on earth.”
I thought about that for a bit as we passed the blue-and-yellow pool of water again.
“So I guess wanting to touch the water is kind of like temptation?”
Following the prophet helps us stay on a good path. Read a message from him here!
Mom nodded. “I think so. It’s easy to think that the pools of water won’t hurt us—that we’ll have more fun if we leave the gospel path—but that’s just not true. Listening to the prophets and following the commandments is like staying on the boardwalk. It helps us make good choices and enjoy our lives.”
Before I climbed into our van, I took one last look back at the boardwalk and made myself a promise: I was going to stay on safe ground, no matter what!

A week and a half ago, I had an experience that reminded me of that. I was walking out of the Kimball Building and passed someone I don’t know well and simply wished him a good weekend. At the time, I had a few things weighing heavily on me, but he could not have known that by the way I greeted him.

Later that day, he sent me a kindhearted email. He shared some nice things that his colleagues had said and expressed gratitude for some things he generously gave me credit for. It was only a two-paragraph email.

To be honest, I was surprised by the impact that such a short message had on me. Somehow, those things that had been weighing on me felt a little lighter. I felt more peace and even a small, but needed, boost of confidence. It was a simple, small act of kindness, but it made a difference.

It made me wonder: what if we acted on those impressions more often? What if, when we thought or heard something kind about someone, we simply told them?

What I experienced that day is part of something the scriptures describe as edification. When we edify, we lift and strengthen each other. Paul connected edifying directly to peacemaking when he taught, “Let us therefore follow after the things which make for peace, and things wherewith one may edify another.”[12] On several other occasions, Paul encouraged the saints to edify one another.

I am the second to youngest of five children in my family. When I was 13 years old, my sister Joyce, who was just 3 years older than me, and our neighbor who was her best friend were killed in a car accident on the way home from a high school football game. As you can imagine, it was devastating to my parents and to our family.

There are two things I vividly remember about that night. I remember the moment my father told my younger brother and me that Joyce had been in a car accident and that she had died. The next thing which has always stuck with me was watching my little brother clinging to my mother, crying, while she was trying to greet the many people who started coming to our home. The news of the accident had traveled quickly through the ward. My parents had barely made it home from the hospital and broken the news to my brother and me before people started to come to our home to express their sympathy. Someone that I did not know took my little brother and me down the hall to a bedroom. We sat alone, shut away in the bedroom with each other crying, and waited for what seemed a long time before the crowds cleared and our mother was able to come and comfort us.

As an adult, I recognize that the outpouring of sympathy and the bringing of food was my parents’ friends’ and neighbors’ way of reaching out to be of service to our family. And I am not unappreciative of all of the kindness that was shown. However, I have often wished that we could have had some time to ourselves as a family to cry and be together as we tried to grasp the tragedy that had just hit us.

I had another choice experience with impelling revelation a few months after I began my service at Brigham Young University. As a new and inexperienced president, I had many problems to analyze and many decisions to reach. I was very dependent on the Lord. One day in October I drove up Provo Canyon to ponder a particular problem. Although alone and without any interruption, I found myself unable to think of the problem at hand. Another pending issue I was not yet ready to consider kept thrusting itself into my mind: should we modify the University’s academic calendar to complete the fall semester before Christmas? After 10 or 15 minutes of unsuccessful efforts to exclude thoughts of this subject, I realized what was happening. The issue of the calendar did not seem timely to me, and I was certainly not seeking any guidance on it, but the Spirit was trying to communicate on that subject. I immediately turned my full attention to that question and began to record my thoughts on a piece of paper. Within a few minutes I had recorded the details of a three-semester calendar, with all of its powerful advantages.

Hurrying back to the campus, I reviewed this with my colleagues and found them enthusiastic. A few days later the Board of Trustees approved our proposed new calendar, and we published its dates, barely in time to make them effective in the fall of 1972. Since that time I have reread these words of the Prophet Joseph Smith and realized that I had had the experience he described:

“A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas … and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation” (J. F. Smith, editor, Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 151).

It was final exams week at my university. As I walked home, my last test loomed heavily on my mind. I just couldn’t wait to finish it, pack my things, say a tearful good-bye to friends, and drive home to be with my family again. Before I knew it, I would be entering the Missionary Training Center and flying across the ocean to serve in the England Manchester Mission—if I could just make it through this last exam.
I was met at the apartment door by my roommate frantically telling me our apartment manager would be coming soon for check-out inspections. My anxiety heightened when I realized that, to avoid fines, my tasks would have to be completed before I went to take my final exam.
“What are my responsibilities?” I asked. She shoved the signup sheet at me and scurried off, noticeably guilty that I had been left with the last and most dreaded of the cleaning jobs: defrosting the refrigerator.
“Well, how bad can it be?” I thought. With my work, school, and social schedule, I was practically never home. In fact, I don’t think I ever opened the freezer that semester. What I saw shocked me. Three inches of ice entombed a bag of frozen vegetables along with several other unidentifiable items. Inwardly I groaned, knowing I would have very little time to cram for my test.
Without time to let the refrigerator defrost correctly, I turned to more creative ways. I tried picking at it with silverware, but the ice was solid. I borrowed a screwdriver and began chopping at the ice, making some headway. Encouraged by my progress, I became a bit careless, and after chipping away a large piece, I heard a quiet “sssssssss” sound, like air seeping out of a tire. Upon closer examination, I discovered a small puncture to the plastic-covered piping at the back of the freezer. After a few attempts to repair the hole, I called the apartment manager, who soberly congratulated me on “buying” my first refrigerator.
The weight of his words on my mind equaled the weight of the refrigerator. In one careless moment, I had incurred a debt I couldn’t possibly hope to pay. My savings were for my mission, and even then, I had to rely heavily on my parents for financial help.
I called my mom and dad in my time of great need. I felt terrible. After all they had done for me, how could I ask them to buy a useless refrigerator? I will never forget the feelings of love and compassion my dad expressed, assuring me that he would find a way to pay for it on my behalf.
Though I greatly appreciated his help at the time, it wasn’t until I was on my mission, trying to teach someone about the Atonement that my mind turned back to my broken refrigerator experience.
Essentially, we all have a debt, a broken refrigerator so to speak, that we can’t possibly pay for. Because of Jesus Christ, we do not have to suffer and carry the burdens of sin if we choose to repent. He has paid the price for each of us. It is only in and through His love and grace that we are able to go on and progress toward exaltation.
I echo the words of the prophet Jacob: “Oh how great the plan of our God!” (2 Ne. 9:13). Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is so perfect, so complete. I am and will be eternally thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I know He loves me.
“For some reason, we think the Atonement of Christ applies only at the end of mortal life to redemption from the Fall, from spiritual death. It is much more than that. It is an ever-present power to call upon in everyday life. When we are racked or harrowed up or tormented by guilt or burdened with grief, He can heal us. While we do not fully understand how the Atonement of Christ was made, we can experience ‘the peace of God, which passeth all understanding’ (Philip. 4:7).”—President Boyd K. Packer, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Touch of the Master’s Hand,” Ensign, May 2001, 23.
These verses are good cross-references for the third article of faith: Mosiah 3:9, 17; D&C 84:20–22; D&C 130:20–21.
These articles in the Gospel Library at www.lds.org also talk about the Atonement: “The Light and Life of the World” (Ensign, Nov. 1987), by Elder Dallin H. Oaks; and “How Men Are Saved” (Ensign, Nov. 1974), by President Marion H. Romney.
Next month in this series, read about the first principles and ordinances of the gospel in a young woman’s conversion story.

As you may know, I attended a university which for many years had a religious requirement to graduate. Yes, BYU Provo has a religious requirement to graduate, but tonight I am thinking of Oxford University in England, where I did my graduate studies. Founded in 1096, Oxford is the oldest university in the English-speaking world.

As student lore tells it, over time, Oxford’s religious graduation requirement evolved into the same question each year: “Name the prophets of the Old Testament and say something about them.” Dutifully each year, just before the exam, Oxford students would memorize the prophets of the Old Testament and something about them.

But one year the exam question unexpectedly changed. Instead of “name the prophets of the Old Testament,” the exam asked, “Give a literary and religious analysis of the Sermon on the Mount.”

Many students were stumped. But, after taking a deep breath, one resourceful student wrote in his exam book, “Who am I, a mere mortal, to give a literary and religious analysis of the most beautiful sermon ever given? However, if you would allow, I could name the prophets of the Old Testament and say something about them.” Of course, he passed with high marks.

So, the next time you find yourself in a tight spot, take a deep breath, then begin with what you do know. This principle holds for spiritual things too. No one knows everything, but trust the Lord and what you do know. If there is something you don’t know, stay anchored in Jesus Christ, the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets and apostles. The Holy Ghost will help you, as I know He has in the past.

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.

After coming home from a Mutual activity one night, twins Garrett and Blake, 12, and older brother Trevor, 15, raced to see who could get on the computer first. But it wasn’t games or surfing the Internet they were after. All three of them wanted to work on the FamilySearch indexing they had just been trained to do at a local family history center.
“We all enjoyed doing it,” Garrett says. “It was like a game we could always do because our mom couldn’t get angry about it.”
FamilySearch indexing is a way to help with family history by using a computer to get names off of records and make them available online for those searching for ancestors to find.
Providing this service is something that will affect many people because it helps those looking for their ancestors’ information so that it can be submitted to the temple.
“I know that I’m helping to find people that maybe wouldn’t have had the chance to have their work done,” says Amanda Pace, 18. “It’s cool to know that even if I don’t go to the temple for them myself, I can help them get there.”
These youth and others from the Payson 20th Ward in the Payson Utah Mount Nebo Stake started indexing after their bishop challenged them to index 250 names each to qualify to go on a trip. He also extended the challenge to the leaders as well as the youth.
“We challenged them that we leaders could index more names than they could,” says Bishop Steven Pace. “The losers had to serve the winners dinner … and the leaders ended up serving the youth dinner.”
Four months after the challenge was issued, the youth had far surpassed the original goal of 250 names per person and had indexed more than 50,000 names altogether. The leaders realized the goal was too low and upped the challenge to 1,000 names, and they made the challenge not only between the leaders and youth, but also between the different quorums and classes.
“The priests quorum needs to pick it up,” says Kendall Little, 17, who has indexed more names than any of the other teens. “We don’t want to be one of the bottom two classes, because then we have to do dishes on the trip.”
The youth were originally motivated by the competition, but now they say they do indexing because it’s fun, and they know they are helping those who lived before.
“I like to think about the people we are doing this for and how much they must appreciate it,” says Miranda Hyer, 14. “When I first started indexing, I thought they were just old people who lived a long time ago, but they’re not that different from us.”
One of the big differences between the times of the people in the records and today is the writing style used. The youth said the only hard thing about indexing is trying to figure out how the names are spelled when the writing is hard to read.
“Some of the cursive writing is like hieroglyphics,” says Jason Trauntvein, 12. “My mom would have to come and help me.”
Being able to distinguish names that were difficult to read taught the youth that they were doing the work of the Lord and that He was helping them.
Amanda says there were times when she would think she knew what a name was while she was indexing and then just have a feeling that it was something else. “Then I’d look at it again and I’d see that it clearly said the name I was feeling,” she says. “Those were really good experiences.”
Having experiences helping those who lived in the past has also helped these youth strengthen their testimonies and live in the world today.
“Doing indexing helped show me the importance of temple work,” says Kendall. “I also know that God is willing to help us and give us the answers if we’ll just listen to Him.”
The willingness to provide this service is something that has changed them. And it’s also given them something worthwhile to do during their free time.
One time when Trevor had some extra time after taking a biology test in a class, he got on a computer and started indexing. Other students were on the computers playing games although the teacher told them not to. “The kids who were playing games got in trouble,” Trevor says, “but the teacher just told me to finish up my batch.”
The youth say being able to index names has been a satisfying endeavor, and counting the names they have indexed is way better than any score they could get on a computer or video game.
All of those names the youth indexed are real people who lived before, so there are thousands of Heavenly Father’s children being affected by their efforts with indexing, people Kendall says he hopes to meet one day.
“If you think about it, you’re kind of making lots of friends that you’re going to go meet eventually when you die,” he says. “Then they’ll all come and say, ‘Thanks for doing my name,’ because without you their work may have never been done.”
Receiving so many blessings has taught these youth and their leaders something many Church members have discovered: indexing is easy, fun, rewarding, and engrossing.

Most people don’t start thinking about Christmas until jolly songs play on the radio and festive decor fills the malls. But Rachel H. was thinking about it back in May of 2010. She wasn’t waiting for any physical present; instead, she was preparing to audition for and perform in Savior of the World: His Birth, a musical production depicting the birth of Jesus. When she auditioned for the stake production, she didn’t realize how much of a gift the experience would be.
When the cast list was posted a few weeks later, Rachel was excited to see that she had been given the part of Mary in one of the two casts. “I was so happy to have been chosen to play the part of Mary. I was excited but very nervous,” she recalls. Rachel was just one of nearly 300 youth who participated in the production.
Preparing for Savior of the World was a daunting task, especially with so many youth participating. The teens were grouped into two casts—the red cast and the blue cast—to allow more youth to participate. Each cast had over 40 assigned parts, a dance ensemble, and an angel choir with about 50 performers.
Rehearsals began in mid-August and continued until the show’s performances started in mid-November. Brie S. (Mary’s Mother, red cast) recalls her initial feelings on the amount of time they had to put into the production. “The four-hour practices every Saturday afternoon were not very appealing,” Brie says. “But whenever I chose to fulfill my promise of attending rehearsal, I was always blessed with a happy feeling. I’m so grateful for the opportunity I had to be in Savior of the World. I gained a stronger testimony of the divine truths our Savior has given us.”
Throughout the months of practice and especially on the days leading up to and during the six performances, the cast members relied heavily on prayer. “Before every performance, my counterpart and I would pray to perform with the Spirit and that we could help those in the audience feel the same Spirit we felt throughout all our rehearsals,” says Taylor H. (Zacharias, blue cast).
When problems arose, the cast members and production staff noticed many blessings that allowed them to perform the musical.
Shawn G. (Joseph, red cast) remembers how one of his props would malfunction whenever he prepared to go on stage. “Every time I would attempt to turn on my battery-powered candle, it would quickly turn off. No matter how many times I pushed the button and fidgeted with the batteries, the candle would not light backstage,” he says. “However, every single time I went out on stage, it always lit perfectly without fail.”
On the final night of the performance, one of the microphones wasn’t working. “With minutes to go until the start of the show, the directors still couldn’t get this person’s microphone to work. One of the backstage managers began to walk through the halls and ask everyone in sight to say a prayer, asking for help with the technical difficulty,” Brie recalls. “Before bowing my head, I looked around me to see every single cast member humbly bowing his or her head to pray in faith to our Father in Heaven. Sure enough, as we sang the opening number and started the show, all of the microphones were working perfectly.”
In addition to witnessing miracles, the cast members felt spiritually uplifted by the music of the show.
Jamie V. (Elizabeth, blue cast) shares her experience, saying, “I remember the music in particular and what a huge role it played in delivering the message of the Savior. When I performed my scene with music, I was so overcome with the Spirit and I knew that it was the Lord’s work we were doing.”
Catherine H. (Angel Choir, red cast) had similar feelings about the impact of the music: “Savior of the World brought on such a constant powerful and spiritual feeling every time we worked on it,” she says. “When we sang ‘Come Deliver Us,’ you could just feel the power of the music and the emotions of the song. I was so grateful to bear my testimony through song.”
Even after the production had finished, the cast members found strength and comfort in the music from the show. Lauren A. (Shepherd Jeshua, blue cast) talks about the testimony meeting that followed the final performance: “After we bore our testimonies, our leaders decided to close by singing one of the songs—‘Come, Lord Jesus.’ The second we stood up and began singing, the Spirit in the room was strengthened even more.”
For many of the youth, performing in Savior of the World had a profound effect on their testimonies of the gospel and of Jesus Christ.
Taylor recalls his experience as one of growth. “Savior of the World has forever changed how I will think about Christmas,” he says. “As I knelt as at the scene of Mary, Joseph, and the infant Savior, the Spirit testified to me that my Savior lives. The experience I had brought me more joy and happiness than I ever imagined. I now have a much deeper understanding for why Christ’s birth was heralded by angels and mortals alike.”
Daniel M. (Joseph, blue cast) says, “I felt so grateful to be a witness of this special moment that testifies to me that the Savior of this world did come to us in a humble stable to loving parents who knew of the sacredness of their calling. I now know so much more about my Savior’s birth and about how Mary and Joseph must have felt to be the ones chosen to raise this holy child.”
Rachel’s greatest Christmas gift was her strengthened testimony as a result of the production. “I grew so much closer to the Savior through prayers, scripture study, and pondering. He blessed me with a calm assurance that He cares about me. I was so worried, but when I just trusted in Him, He helped me to replace my fear with faith.”

I share with you an incident or two from the early life of President Marion G. Romney, best told in his own words:
“I’m a Mexican by birth. I was born in Colonia Juárez, Chihuahua, Mexico. My parents happened to be down there at the time. I was raised there until I was about fifteen years old. During the last two or three of those years, the Madero Revolution was in progress. The rebels and the federalists were chasing each other through the country; each taking everything we colonists had, by way of arms and ammunition and by way of supplies. Finally we were forced to leave. I came out of Mexico with the Mormon refugees in 1912.
“I remember I had a very thrilling experience on the way from where we lived to the railroad station about [13 kilometers] south of Colonia Juárez. We went in a wagon. … I was riding with my mother and her seven children and my uncle (her brother) and his family of about five or six children. … We had one trunk—that was all we were able to bring. I was seated on the trunk in the back of the wagon. … The Mexican rebel army was coming up the valley from the railroad station towards our town. They were not in formation. They were riding their saddle horses. Their guns were in the scabbards. Two of them stopped us and searched us. They said they were looking for guns. We didn’t have any guns or ammunition. They did find [20 pesos] on my uncle. … They took that and then waved us on. They went up the road about as far as from here to the back of this room, stopped, turned around, drew their guns from their scabbards, and pointed them down the road at me. As I looked up the barrels of those guns, they looked like cannons to me. They didn’t pull their triggers, however, as evidenced by the fact that I am here to tell the story. That was a very thrilling experience! One of my maturing experiences.
“The rebels blew up the railroad track after the train we were on passed over it. Later, Father and the rest of the men came out to El Paso, Texas, on horseback. We never returned nor did we recover any of our property while my father lived.
“Father and I went to work to earn a living for his large family. There were no welfare programs then. We had a difficult time making a living” (To Him That Asketh in the Spirit, Salt Lake Institute of Religion Devotional [18 October 1974] 2–3).
After he was married and his family was started, President Romney worked full time at the post office in order to provide for his family while he went through law school. In those difficult conditions his marks were high and his scholarship excellent; he was later admitted to the Order of the Coif, which admits only the most distinguished scholars. He practiced law and became a bishop, a stake president, one of the first Assistants to the Twelve, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, and a member of the First Presidency. He demonstrated his great love and compassion for people through his many years of guidance in the welfare program of the Church.

One day while serving in the Texas Fort Worth Mission, my companion and I finished visiting some investigators and then realized we didn’t have a dinner appointment. We decided to stop at one of the many nearby fast-food restaurants.
When I stepped to the cash register, an employee took my order and asked me my name so she could call me over the loudspeaker when my meal was ready. “Elder García,” I replied.
The woman did not seem to understand my English. Again she asked me my name. To avoid any further misunderstanding, I pointed to my name tag, which bore my name and the name of the Church in Spanish.
As I turned to sit with my companion and wait for my order, I happened to notice the name she had written. Instead of writing my name, she had written, “Jesucristo.” Maybe she made the mistake because the Savior’s name stands out on the Church’s logo. Or maybe she just wasn’t paying attention.
Each time I remember this simple experience, I feel a firm desire to have people think of Jesus Christ when they see me—not because of a name tag but because I am bearing His name by doing the things He taught us to do.

I was skeptical when the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. My first thought was that Joseph Smith, like many other so-called “prophets,” may have brought a false book into the world seeking to become wealthy, famous, or heroic.
I had no intention of reading the Book of Mormon. But over time the missionaries’ friendship and their enthusiasm for the gospel allowed my curiosity toward their message to grow.
As I read the verses the missionaries gave me in the Book of Mormon, I found Moroni’s invitation to ask God with a sincere heart, real intent, and faith in Christ if the Book of Mormon is true (see Moroni 10:4–5). I thought, “Who, knowing the book was fake, would dare challenge us to ask God with real intent and sincerity if the Book of Mormon is true?”
Then one day the missionaries explained that Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were martyred for their testimony. Suddenly, a thought came to me that they would never have given up their own lives for something they knew was false. At that moment, a warm feeling, like a burning fire, spread through me. It was a witness of the Holy Spirit confirming to my heart that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. With this witness, I was baptized and confirmed.

Long years ago a severe drought struck the Salt Lake Valley. The commodities at the storehouse on Welfare Square had not been their usual quality, nor were they found in abundance. Many products were missing, especially fresh fruit. As a young bishop, worrying about the needs of the many widows in my ward, I said a prayer one evening that is especially sacred to me. I pleaded that these widows, who were among the finest women I knew in mortality and whose needs were simple and conservative, had no resources on which they might rely.
The next morning I received a call from a ward member, a proprietor of a produce business situated in our ward. “Bishop,” he said, “I would like to send a semitrailer filled with oranges, grapefruit, and bananas to the bishops’ storehouse to be given to those in need. Could you make arrangements?” Could I make arrangements! The storehouse was alerted, and then each bishop was telephoned and the entire shipment distributed.
The wife of that generous businessman became a widow herself. I know the decision her husband and she made brought her sweet memories and comforting peace to her soul.

Sydney knows it’s important to have friends during times of trial, and she always strives to be that friend for people in times of need. When she heard of another young girl in the community who was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Sydney immediately reached out and met with her. The girl’s mother later told Sydney about the great influence she had on her daughter. The daughter had felt alone in her trial because no one else she knew had diabetes. But immediately after Sydney’s visit, she had a friend, and that made all the difference.

When I went on that first mission, President Anthon H. Lund spoke to us missionaries before we left and he told us that the people in the mission field would love us. But he said, “Don’t get lifted up in the pride of your hearts and think they love you because you are better than other people. They will love you because of what you bring to them.” I did not realize just what that meant at that time, but before I left Holland to come home, I knew what Brother Lund had meant. I shed many more tears bidding goodbye to my friends and converts there than I had when I bid farewell to my mother and father and brothers and sisters.

For instance, over in Amsterdam where I finished my mission, I went into the home of a short little woman, the mother of eight children, to say goodbye. Looking up into my face, the tears rolling down her cheeks and down the front of her apron, she said, “Brother Richards, it was hard to see my daughter leave for Zion a few months ago, but it is harder to see you go.” Then I thought I could understand what Brother Lund meant when he said that they would love us, because I was the first missionary that she had ever met, and her whole family had joined the Church. One of her boys returned from his second mission just a short time ago—but I had better not give you the history of the whole family.

Then I went to say goodbye to a man who stood erect in the uniform of his country—a tall man with a little Dutch beard. He got down on his knees, took my hand in his, and hugged it and kissed it and bathed it with his tears. Then I thought I could understand what Brother Lund had meant when he said that they would love us because of what we brought to them.

Look! There’s a honey bird. If we follow, it will lead us to honey,” exclaimed Kirmani to his young brother, Suku.
The two African boys, dressed in khaki shorts, were playing lion hunting on the edge of their village.
“Tye (Hurry)! Tye!” urged Suku.
Dropping their assegais (spears) they ran to their mother for gourds to gather the honey in. Then one of the boys lighted a torch from the cooking fire to smoke out the bees.
“Be sure to leave some honey for the bird,” called their mother as they ran off.
“Nidyo (Yes),” Suku answered while Kirmani laughed.
“Don’t you believe the old tale that you must leave a share of honey for the bird, or it will lead you into danger?” asked Suku.
“That is women’s and old men’s talk,” replied Kirmani scornfully.
“But what of Abu’s father who took all the honey from a hive. He was led on by the bird, so they say, and ended up in a leopard’s belly,” persisted Suku.
Kirmani didn’t argue. He picked up the assegais.
Suku carried the gourds and Kirmani the smoldering torch of grease-soaked moss tied to a long stick.
As they trotted across the veldt dotted with wait-a-bit thornbush, a little gray bird flew back and forth just as though it were making sure they would follow. After the bird led them into the forest, it disappeared into the dense foliage. Kirmani ran ahead, but Suku was thinking. Should I leave honey for the bird even though Kirmani won’t?
“Look! There’s the bird. It’s following the old animal trail,” Kirmani called excitedly.
When Suku caught up, the bird had settled on a branch of a moss-covered tree. Bees were streaming in and out through a small hole in the trunk. “The bird has guided us to honey!” cried Suku, clapping his hands.
Kirmani poked at the hole with his assegai. Rotting wood fell away, leaving a big opening. He thrust the torch inside and smoked out the angry bees.
Suku stood on Kirmani’s shoulders to reach a branch near the hole. He pulled himself up onto the branch and then peered inside. “There is much honey,” he called gleefully.
Kirmani scrambled up the tree and with sticks the boys scraped honey into their gourds. The bird hovered above them, crying plaintively.
When Suku had all the honey he could reach, he slid down the tree. Kirmani scraped out the last bit, licked his stick, then dropped to the ground.
“Nothing for the silly bird,” he said boldly.
The bird lit on the bee tree but soon flew off, calling anxiously.
“It’s coaxing us on,” said Kirmani. “It may guide us to another hive. Suku, you’re not afraid the bird will lead us into danger are you?” He ran ahead. “I dare you to follow it.”
Suku hesitated. We’re getting deeper into the jungle, he thought uneasily. We should have left the bird a share of honey. But he couldn’t ignore a dare. Reluctantly he started to follow.
Suddenly Suku heard a crack, a swoosh, and a frightened cry from Kirmani. He raced ahead and found his brother with his legs pinned beneath a heavy branch from a tree. He tried to lever the branch off Kirmani’s legs with his assegai, but the spear shaft broke.
“Ayah! Ayah! I am going to die,” moaned Kirmani. “The old tale is true. The bird is having its revenge.”
“I will go and tell father,” said Suku and thrusting an assegai into Kirmani’s hand, he ran off for help.
Kirmani groaned with pain. He could hardly move, and he was alone in the jungle with danger all around him. Maybe the honey birdwill bring a leopard to kill me, he thought despairingly. Nervously, he peered around. To his astonishment, the bird was perched on a branch overhead.
“It has not flown off to find a leopard,” he murmured half aloud. “It’s only eyeing my honey gourd.” Some of his fear left him.
Kirmani’s gourd was sitting on the ground nearby. With his assegai, he nudged it and spilled some honey. He kept still. Presently the bird flew down and began eating the amber treat.
As Kirmani watched, he remembered what Brother Andrew, his teacher, had said about the honey bird not wanting to seek revenge. The thought made him feel better.
Soon Suku returned with their father and a rescue party. They lifted the heavy branch off Kirmani’s leg, made a vine litter, and carried him home.
While Brother Andrew dressed his wounds, Kirmani told his story. “You must know now that the bird was guiding you to another bee tree because it was hungry,” Brother Andrew explained. “It cannot get the honey for itself and you left it nothing. Don’t you think the honey guide deserved a share?”
Kirmani felt ashamed. “Suku wanted to leave some for the honey bird, but I didn’t understand. From now on when the little bird guides me to honey, I won’t be greedy. I will always leave it a share.”

Heber served in Japan for two years but saw very few people baptized and never learned the language very well. One day when he was discouraged, he went into the woods to pray.
Heber: If it is Thy will, when my mission in Japan is finished, I would like to serve a mission in Europe.
Three days later, Heber was called home to Utah by President Joseph F. Smith.
President Smith: Welcome home, Elder Grant. But you won’t be here long—your next call is to serve as president of the European Mission.

My father worked long and hard practically every day of his life. I’m certain that on the Sabbath he would have enjoyed just being at home. Rather, he visited elderly family members and brought cheer into their lives.
One was his uncle, who was crippled by arthritis so severe that he could not walk or care for himself. On a Sunday afternoon Dad would say to me, “Come along, Tommy; let’s take Uncle Elias for a short drive.” Boarding the old 1928 Oldsmobile, we would proceed to Eighth West, where, at the home of Uncle Elias, I would wait in the car while Dad went inside. Soon he would emerge from the house, carrying his crippled uncle in his arms like a china doll. I then would open the door and watch how tenderly and with what affection my father would place Uncle Elias in the front seat so that he would have a fine view, while I occupied the rear seat.
The drive was brief and the conversation limited, but oh, what a legacy of love! Father never read to me from the Bible about the good Samaritan. Rather, he took me with him and Uncle Elias in that old 1928 Oldsmobile along the road to Jericho.

Steve Pollei, a young Latter-day Saint from Salt Lake City, Utah, has been elected National President of the Explorer Council at a Washington, D.C., convention to which he lead some 152 post presidents from the Great Salt Lake Council.
But Steve’s finest moment wasn’t found among the cheering delegates in the nation’s capital. The new president reports that the highlight of the experience came upon his return to Salt Lake when he had the opportunity of meeting and talking with President Harold B. Lee and his counselors about the gospel and the Explorer program.
The honor was earned with a lot of hard work. Campaign strategy was planned, a platform prepared, and preparations for good floor demonstrations mapped out long before the convention met.
On the second day of the convention Steve was elected Chairman of the Western Region. This was a critical step in becoming president, because the six regional chairmen become the candidates for National President.
The prospects didn’t always look promising. For example, when the candidates drew for speaking order, Steve drew the last number and had to speak to the convention at a very late hour.
But he was sustained by a very well organized campaign. An official who had been present at the National Republican Convention said that Steve’s floor demonstration was bigger and better organized than President Nixon’s in 1968.
The primaries were held, and Steve was swept into the finals by a solid vote. His opponent was a young lady named Beth Caruso. Steve’s organization made a great effort to get everyone out to vote in the final election, regardless of whom they supported.
Steve was elected by a fairly close vote, and he gives a lot of the credit for his victory to the approximately five hundred Mormon delegates at the convention.
Steve will have many challenges and opportunities as president of the National Explorer Council. He will travel over 50,000 miles in the U.S. and overseas with his adviser. He will direct his cabinet (made up of the regional chairmen) in leading the Explorer program. He will also work with the executive committee of the Boy Scouts of America to develop programs and activities for Cub Scouting, Boy Scouting, and Exploring.
Steve feels that his biggest challenges will be to involve the young people from ages fourteen through twenty-one in the Explorer programs and to iron out the bugs in some of the existing programs. He would especially like to see some advances made in the area of inner-city Exploring.
His personal goal is to set an example as a Latter-day Saint, to show the spirit of the Lord in all that he does so that the Lord will be pleased.