Gospel Story Finder

On July 24, Pioneer Day, the Utah Boys decided to help the campers celebrate. With good-humored exaggeration Zeb wrote of their fun:
“We were up at daylight and called out the ‘National Guard’ [the boys] which fired a volley of musketry, and any kind of guns that were handy. Then the ‘Martial Band’ struck up ‘Hail Columbia’ (the band was composed of tin pails, pans, bake-kettle lids, bells, and various instruments of music); then there was another volley by the Guard; and at sunrise, the firing of cannon (which was about 3 inches in length), and concluded the morning performance with an Indian jig.”
That night the boys held a “grand ball” at the “Bachelors Hall,” meaning a square dance in front of their tents.

Katie sat up in bed and took a deep breath. It was Sunday morning again.
As she picked out the dress she would wear for church, Katie could hear her parents in the kitchen. But she knew they weren’t busy getting ready for church.
“Katie, turn the light off. I’m trying to sleep!” Katie’s sister mumbled, pulling the covers over her head.
“Sorry!” Katie said and quickly snapped the light off. She grabbed a dress from the closet, put it on, and hurried out of the room to let her sister sleep.
Katie could remember when her parents used to take her family to church, but that hadn’t happened in a while. She could tell her house felt different since they had stopped going.
Her mom stood at the counter in a bathrobe, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Morning, Katie,” she said with a smile. “Is Sister Chang giving you a ride to church?”
“Yup.” Every Saturday night Katie called her Primary teacher and asked for a ride to church. Sister Chang always said yes.
Katie heard her dad’s mug clink as he set it on the table. “Looks like the game’s on at noon,” he mumbled from behind the Sunday paper.
Knock, knock.
Katie looked at the door and grinned. Sister Chang was here.
“See you all later!” Katie said. She rushed to the door and threw it open.
Sister Chang smiled. “Are you ready to go to church, Katie?”
Katie nodded and smiled back. “Yes!” she said. She closed the front door and walked with Sister Chang to the car.
At church Katie took the sacrament and sat reverently while it was passed. She listened to the talks in sacrament meeting. She listened to her Primary lessons and learned about Alma the Younger in the Book of Mormon. Although she didn’t understand everything that was said, she knew that the peaceful feeling she had inside was something she didn’t feel anywhere else.
As she and Sister Chang drove home after Primary, Sister Chang asked if she’d enjoyed church.
Katie nodded. “I always love going.”
“I admire that about you, Katie. Not everyone would go to church if their parents didn’t go. I know it’s not easy for you, but you are making the right decision.”
“I know it’s the right decision,” Katie said, “because I feel happy at church. I love that feeling.”
As Katie walked inside after being dropped off, she saw her family watching TV, talking on the phone, and cleaning the house. She loved them no matter what.
Katie went to her quiet bedroom and sat on her bed. She said a prayer to Heavenly Father asking for the spirit she felt at church to stay with her for the rest of the week. She also asked Heavenly Father to help her family want to live the gospel and go to church so they could feel what she felt. Then she opened her scriptures and began to read.

As an undergraduate, I was assigned to read Walt Whitman’s poem “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking.” As I read the somewhat lengthy poem (those of you who have read Whitman know he can get a bit verbose), I realized that while I only understood about a third of the poem, I was enthralled with the language, the unique arrangement of words. And in my excitement, I felt in a way that I had never felt before that my Savior was reading alongside me, rejoicing in the words that I was rejoicing in.

I believe that both God and His Son are poets, but in this instance, it was less a matter of them loving poetry and more a matter that we were loving the experience together. In this relationship building moment, I learned that God and Christ cared about my fascination with words. Since then, on more than a few occasions, I have felt their pleasure as I read and write.

Family home evening is a time you can learn as a family and have fun! Jayden C. from Texas, USA, says, “One time we shot Nerf bows and arrows at each other for a family home evening activity. Dodging the arrows taught us about avoiding the fiery darts of the adversary. Now that I’ve been hit by Nerf arrows, I understand that the fiery darts of the adversary are not something you want to run into. These activities helped my siblings and me grow closer to our Heavenly Father and our family.”

A defining moment of Elder Von G. Keetch’s life came as he was completing a judicial clerkship with Chief Justice Warren E. Burger and Justice Antonin Scalia of the United States Supreme Court and preparing to enter full-time law practice.
He could have worked in any city in the United States for a multitude of big law firms. Instead, he and his wife, Bernice Pymm Keetch, prayed for inspiration to know what they should do. After a period of searching, the couple returned to Salt Lake City, Utah, where he went to work for the law firm of Kirton McConkie.
At the time, Elder Keetch thought he might be sacrificing his ability to work on cutting-edge legal cases in order to be near family. Instead, as the chief outside legal counsel for the Church, Elder Keetch argued constitutional issues and precedent-setting cases on religious liberty. He has represented almost every major religious denomination in the country. “I have loved being able to work for such a great client and being able to work on such great issues,” he said.

Amber stared up at the movie theater marquee and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her stomach twisted this way and that. Why does this have to happen to me now that I’m finally making friends here? she wondered. Trish, Sarah, and Kristin are so popular that I’m lucky they invited a new kid like me.
There were several people ahead of them in the ticket line. Amber knew that she had only a few minutes to make one of the toughest decisions of her twelve-year-old life.
She ran her fingers through her hair and pinched her lips together as she looked around at the girls with her. Their eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Only Trish could have come up with such a great plan!” exclaimed Sarah.
Trish, a tall, thin girl, laughed. “Well, since Bambi and TeenAgent are playing here together, why not take advantage of it?”
“I’m not sure my parents would let me go to a PG-13 movie if I asked them,” said Kristin, shoving her hands down into the back pockets of her jeans.
“But what parent would say no to good old Bambi!” Trish observed with a mischievous giggle. “Bambi—what a bore! It’s OK for five-year-olds, but we’re almost thirteen. Why shouldn’t we go to a PG-13 movie?”
Sarah moved a few steps closer to the ticket office. “It’ll be perfect. We see the other movie, and our parents think we’re at the kid show. Amber, you’re going to love TeenAgent. My older sister saw it, and she said it was great. The only reason it’s rated PG-13 is the bad language and a little bit of violence.”
“But it’s nothing we haven’t already heard at school,” Trish put in. “And what’s the big deal about a little violence? I can handle it, can’t you?” she asked Amber. Turning to the other two girls she continued, “TeenAgent will run longer than Bambi, so we’ll have to really hurry over to the pizza parlor afterward. If we’re still eating when my parents come, we’ll just tell them that the restaurant was really busy and it took a long time to get our pizza.” With a crooked smile, she added, “They’ll believe us.”
Amber’s stomach twisted into another knot as she looked at Trish and thought, Why didn’t you tell me the truth when you invited me? Why are you putting me in this awful—she couldn’t think of a right word for a second—situation. The word triggered a memory in Amber’s troubled mind. “You’re going to be put in situations that will test your spiritual strength.” She could picture Sister Hansen, her last Primary teacher, saying those words. “You may find yourself in situations that demand that you lower your standards. Unless you have a firm testimony of Jesus Christ and His Church, your spiritual strength may give way under peer pressure.” Spiritual strength. Testimony. The words echoed in Amber’s mind.
Sarah was buying her ticket now.
Which is more important to me right now: following our prophet, or my new friends? Amber’s mind raced as she watched Trish step up to buy her ticket. Do I really, truly believe?
“Amber, it’s your turn,” Kristin whispered after she’d bought her own ticket. Trish and Sarah were standing to the side of the ticket booth, watching her.
Stepping up to the booth, Amber said in a confident tone, “One ticket for Bambi, please.”
Sarah gasped. Trish’s look of surprise quickly turned into a smug glare. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said as Amber joined them. “We’re all going to the other movie. What’s the big deal? Don’t you think you can handle a little blood and bad language?”
“I’d rather see Bambi,” Amber answered in a firm voice.
“Your parents won’t find out that you …” Sarah faltered.
Amber shook her head. “It’s not their decision. It’s mine. And I just don’t want to see the other movie.”
“But what about going for pizza afterward?” asked Kristin, now standing next to Trish.
Amber turned to Kristin. She could see worry in her kind eyes. “Bambi gets out a lot earlier, so I’ll just call my parents to come get me. Maybe we can all go for pizza another—”
“Come on,” Trish interrupted, taking Sarah’s arm. “I guess I made a big mistake inviting her.”
Amber thought she saw a glimmer of understanding in Sarah’s eyes as she was whisked away by Trish. After two or three hurried steps, Trish turned and called, “Come on, Kristin, or we won’t get good seats.”
“I think I’ll go to Bambi, too,” Kristin said, her voice sounding apologetic. Turning to Amber, she added, “If that’s OK with you.”
“Great—just great!” grumbled Trish as she and Sarah disappeared into the theater.
“OK? It’s wonderful! But are you sure? They looked pretty upset,” Amber said.
Kristin shrugged her shoulders. “I’d rather see Bambi, too, but I was afraid to say so. Trish can be pretty persuasive sometimes. Let’s go exchange my ticket.”
Standing in line again, Kristin asked, “Why didn’t you want to go to the other movie? Were you afraid your parents would find out and ground you or something?”
“I’m sure they’d be hurt to know that I lied to them. But even if I had asked to go to a PG-13 movie, they would’ve said it was my decision. Then they would have had faith in me to make the correct choice.” Amber found it a relief to talk about it now. “I just didn’t want to see a movie with bad language and violence in it.”
“Why not?”
“Because our prophet, the leader of our Church, has counseled us not to go to movies that go against the teachings of Jesus Christ.”
“Boy, you must really believe your prophet and your Church,” said Kristin.
“I do, but I didn’t realize how much until today.”
Kristin shook her head a little. “I wish I could be strong like you. My family doesn’t believe in anything, and sometimes I feel so empty.”
All through the movie, Amber thought about Kristin’s words and the look in her eyes when she had said them. As the movie ended and the lights came up, she said, “Kristin, let’s call my parents to come get us. We can go to my house for some of my mom’s famous chocolate chip cookies. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted them!”
“Do you think it would be OK with your parents?” asked Kristin.
“I’m sure it would. Mom always says, ‘When you have five kids, what’s one more?’ Besides, I’d really like you to meet my family. I have a feeling that we’re going to be good friends.”

There was only one thing that could really make me feel Christmas cheer that year, and there it was, sitting in the mailbox. A note from the mailman, stating that there were packages from the United States waiting for me in the post office.
Now expensive presents don’t mean that much to me. But that year, even a paper clip from home made me want to dance around and sing Christmas carols at the top of my lungs. Because of a mail strike, I hadn’t heard a thing from my family in the two months since I’d arrived in the mission field, and I was dying to hear how they were doing.
As for me, I wasn’t doing so well. The mission field hadn’t quite turned out to be what I’d expected. I’d studied Spanish in college and had even taken classes in Mexico, so I pictured myself reeling off the most spiritual discussions with perfect grammar and accent. Instead, my first assignment was in an area where they speak a unique dialect called “Valenciano.” Even my native Spanish companion couldn’t understand it.
The cold didn’t help either. When I received my mission call to southern Spain, I pictured sundrenched beaches and orange blossoms, not the waist-high snow drifts that confronted us daily.
All that wouldn’t have made much difference if the work had been going well, but the fact was that there hadn’t been a baptism in that particular town for more than a year, and as hard as we tried, we weren’t getting in many doors.
What I needed more than anything was to know that someone back home still loved me, and I was ecstatic to find that there, in the post office just a few blocks away from my apartment, lay tangible proof that they did. Since the post office was already closed for the day, we decided we’d go out early the next morning, make the visits we’d planned, then return a bit earlier than usual to pick up the packages. We had to do it before noon, since the post office closed at noon on December 24th and would remain closed until the 26th.
It wasn’t even difficult the next morning to crawl from under my six blankets and emerge into the subfreezing temperatures of our basement apartment. I sang as I fixed breakfast, then proceeded to dress myself in everything I’d packed in my suitcase. It took a lot to battle the wind and the sleet. Although I’d lost about five pounds, I looked like I’d gained thirty thanks to my mega-layers of clothing. And instead of feeling frustrated when I looked in the mirror, I started giggling.
My companion and I set out, and the warmth that radiated from the thought of those packages sitting in the post office seemed to keep me toasty despite the chilly weather. As we knocked on the doors, I flashed a genuine smile that I saw reflected time and time again in the faces of those we visited. People were actually inviting us in! They were sharing their bars of turron, an incredible Spanish almond holiday treat, with us, and better still, they were listening to the message of the Savior that we wanted so much to give them that day.
We were down to the last house on our list—it belonged to a couple who seldom attended church but were very nice about referring us to their friends and often invited us in to warm up and dry off. Sister Boluda always had a smile and words of encouragement for us, and that was why we were stunned to see her answer the door on one of the happiest days of the year with red-swollen eyes and tears running down her cheeks.
“Oh sisters!” she cried. “How wonderful for you to come to visit me today. I’m always so lonely at Christmas. Won’t you come in and cheer me up?”
We entered her apartment and held her hands as she tearfully poured out the reason for her loneliness. She had a loving husband, but they’d never been able to have children of their own, and Christmastime seemed to emphasize the absence of little ones. Could we please stay and share a bite to eat with her? She would feel so much better if we could.
We agreed without hesitation, and a little while later, after we’d eaten, read the Christmas story in the Book of Mormon, and sang a number of Christmas carols, we left her house. Sister Boluda was smiling again, and she seemed to glow with the warmth of the season.
It wasn’t until we looked at our watches on the way home that we realized the post office was probably closed. It was past noon, but we ran back to the post office anyway, thinking that perhaps it would be so busy that they would have to stay open a few extra hours.
No such luck. Alcoy was a small town, and it would have been hard to muster up enough business to keep the place open for an extra 15 minutes, let alone a full two hours. Whatever my family had to say to me, whatever they had to send to me, would have to wait until the day after Christmas.
The sky seemed to grow even darker as we trudged through the snow. I bowed my head to shield my face from the wind and tried to brush back the hair that had fallen in my eyes. That was a mistake. My blond curls had frozen into spikey icicles, and they broke off in jagged hunks when I touched them.
Back in our dreary little apartment there would be no Christmas cheer to greet us. Everything that usually put me in the Christmas mood—lights, trees, brightly wrapped presents, stockings, small children—would be only vague memories within the cold, dark walls of our flat.
But you know what? I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t even a little annoyed. By not getting my family’s gifts on time, I received something far greater—it would change me for the rest of my mission and for the rest of my life.
I realized that happiness comes from the warmth within your heart and has nothing to do with the temperature outside. I also learned that when you carry that warmth within, it radiates outward to all those you meet and gives them something to glow on.
That Christmas Eve I realized that my first mission assignment was not to a mean, freezing little city, but a beautiful, expectant little town, just waiting for the warmth the light of the gospel can bring. It was my attitude, not the temperature, that needed to be raised.
Still, I was grateful for the packages with gloves, hat, and thermal underwear I opened the day after Christmas.

My older sister, Aurelia, and I took a jazz dance class this past school year. It was fun, and we were really looking forward to our costumes and doing the recital. Then the schedule came out, and our class had been scheduled for the Sunday performance instead of the one on Saturday. We decided to choose the right and e-mailed the dance teacher that we wouldn’t be able to be in the show so we could keep the Sabbath day holy. It took courage! The next time we went to our dance class we got a surprise. The teacher said that she didn’t want us to not be able to participate, and that we could do a special duet of our dance on Saturday instead. We did, and everyone said it was great. We felt happy that we had chosen the right.

While serving as a mission leader in Japan some years ago, I attended a weekend conference in a rural city in one of the far corners of our mission. The district president had arranged for me to conduct an interview with a man who had joined the Church a year earlier and was seeking to receive a temple recommend. He hoped to receive his own endowment on or close to the one-year anniversary of his baptism.
During our conversation, this new member described how deeply grateful he was for the bounteous blessings he had received in the year since he was baptized. He enjoyed attending weekly sacrament and other meetings. He became deeply involved in the activities of his branch. To me, he exuded a covenant confidence resulting from understanding his gospel purpose, which was now an integral part of him. He was a converted disciple of Christ who had experienced a mighty change of heart (see Mosiah 5:2).
The rest of our conversation followed a hopeful pattern. We discussed the ordinances and covenants that would be part of his temple experience. He affirmatively answered each of the standard questions associated with receiving a temple recommend.
Following the interview, I recall commenting to the district president how grateful I was to meet such an outstanding man. I told him how impressed I was that the missionaries and members had found, and spiritually nurtured, someone of such caliber and promise.
I was stunned when the district president shared that when this man began receiving lessons from the missionaries and attending church over a year earlier, he was homeless and in exceedingly difficult—near hopeless—circumstances. The district president then described how this brother’s study of the gospel and his conversion over a period of months led to his miraculous change, putting him on a path of both spiritual and temporal self-reliance and giving him a sense of purpose and joy.
I end where I began, recalling my experience years ago with a recent convert in Japan. Through his diligence and the diligence of missionaries and members, he found the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. In finding the gospel, he also discovered his purpose, which expanded his vision. He also found the great plan of happiness. Obedience to the plan’s gospel covenants brought him blessings and joy, lifting him temporally and spiritually.
His journey leading to membership in the Church of Jesus Christ allowed him to become a witness of Jesus Christ. Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has described the joy that follows:
“Because of the loving plan of our Heavenly Father for each of His children, and because of the redeeming life and mission of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, we can—and should—be the most joyful people on earth! Even as the storms of life in an often-troubled world pound upon us, we can cultivate a growing and abiding sense of joy and inner peace because of our hope in Christ and our understanding of our own place in the beautiful plan of happiness.”

The shrieks of delight told me the party had started. Needing a break from studying my Gospel Doctrine lesson for the next day, I went to the living room and looked in. There they were, most of my daughter’s track team, eager to celebrate “taking state.” They had just come from the meet, and some were still dressed in their uniforms.
The ten o’clock news announced the sports, and every eye was turned toward the TV. Yes, there was the announcement that they were now number one. What a pleasure to see our school’s name flash across the screen!
After the news, the coach brought out his part of the evening’s entertainment, a video of the track meet. I watched for a few minutes and then went back to my studies. I could hear the enthusiasm of the team members as they watched the video of the meet. “Look at her go! Run! Run!” “Why did you drop the baton?” “She catches it! Go. go!” “Turn it back, and let’s see that again.” “Wow! You really do know how to pour it on.” “She wins!” “Boy, that looks terrific on color TV.”
I closed my bedroom door, so I’d be able to concentrate. Some time later I suddenly noticed how quiet the house had become. Again I went to the living room and looked in. The track meet video was over, and two of my daughter’s teammates were adjusting another video, this time a movie.
I had picked up my studies once again when Kate burst into my room and closed the door behind her. Her quick, agitated movements told me that something was not right.
“Hello, Kate. How’s the party going? It sounds like fun.”
“Okay, I guess. I’m not at the party anymore.” An apologetic sadness came over her face as she looked away.
“So tell me why you’re not at the party anymore. It is rather late and quiet. Have they gone home?”
“They’re still here. The party’s no good anymore. I’m going to my room to study.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“What happened? You’re the hostess. This is your party. Why are you going to study now?”
“Mother, I can’t stay in there. They’re showing a video movie rated R. How can I stay there? I have never seen an R-rated movie and never want to. How can I stay there?” she demanded.
Whatever answer I gave I would be responsible for. While her father was out of town I was the head of the family, and I needed help. Should I ask them all to leave? Or should I tolerate this movie in our home? Either way, what would be the implications for my Kate? What should I do?
Stalling for time, I began to question her. “Are you sure that it’s R rated?”
“They told me it is.”
“Do they know that you left? Did you tell them you would not stay and watch?
“Yes, I told them. They didn’t seem to care. No one even asked me to stay or tried to talk me into staying.” More tears welled up. “What shall we do? What do you think Dad would do?”
I agreed that it was a good and heavy question. I said a silent prayer.
“They already know I’m not staying to watch. I’ll just study, and when they’re through they can take their old movie and go home.” Kate seemed decisive.
Voices came from the living room. “‘Bye, Julie. See you Monday.” Kate went to tell her best friend good-bye. I followed her, thinking I should tell them to leave and wishing her father were home.
Then someone began playing the piano. A few voices took up the melody, and then more voices joined in. From the door Julie saw the coach disconnecting the video machine, and she and Kate walked back into the living room.
We sang and told stories and laughed. The track party was a success.
I later asked why Julie had started for home. Kate replied, “Julie said that when I wouldn’t watch the R-rated movie, she decided that she wouldn’t watch it either. She said that when I had the courage to leave, she also found the courage to leave. That’s what made them change their minds about watching the R-rated video. I guess that this was a time when just one person could influence the crowd for good. And, Mother,” Kate cried jubilantly, “I was the one—and I did!”

My mother loved that scripture and lived its principle. The greatest affliction of her life was the death of her husband, our father, after only 11 years of marriage. This changed her life and imposed great hardships as she proceeded to earn a living and raise her three little children alone. Nevertheless, I often heard her say that the Lord consecrated that affliction for her gain because her husband’s death compelled her to develop her talents and serve and become something that she could never have become without that seeming tragedy. Our mother was a spiritual giant, strong and fully worthy of the loving tribute her three children inscribed on her headstone: “Her Faith Strengthened All.”

I am currently serving as a missionary. Four years ago I was an inactive college student. I would like to share an experience from then and now with you. One day in college I was in the LDS institute of religion just seething with rebellion. I picked up a copy of the New Era, glanced through it, and discarded it as having no relevance to me. Boy, was I ever wrong! Just the other day in an old stack of New Eras I found the exact same issue. Out of curiosity I sat down to read it. Amazingly, I found an article that really helped me find an answer to a problem I wondered about. In fact, I read the whole magazine and found it fascinating. The gospel changes lives, and I’m grateful for it.
Elder Robin WilliamsIowa Des Moines Mission

Before Eleanor Sayers Harman died, she gave all of her funds to her daughter Edith and counseled her to go to America.
Edith had been cast out by her husband when she joined the Church. She and eight-year-old Nellie left England with the flimsy assurance that a missionary thought his family in Idaho might take them in until they could be located.
Nellie was my wife’s mother; Edith, her grandmother. I knew them well. They were women of special nobility.

One stake enrichment meeting focused on building faith in Jesus Christ with a sharing of testimonies. Stephanie Wilkey, stake Relief Society president, writes: “We had felt inspired to have a home, family, and personal enrichment meeting based on one of the principles of charity: kindness. It took every bit of faith we had to follow the promptings we had received as a presidency to carry through with this idea. My counselors assured me that the sisters would come and that they would stand and speak to us of the things of the heart. Oh, did they come! Close to 350 sisters poured into the chapel on a windy, rainy evening. They stood and poured their hearts out to each other in magnificent testimonies of applying the principle of kindness in their lives. As the sisters left the building an hour and a half later, they expressed with words and tears that they had felt the love of the Lord and were so very grateful they had come.”

Our ward had just been divided, so when the bishop asked to see me, I was sure I would receive a calling in the new ward. I had been working with the young women and loved them. They were so receptive to the gospel and such a joy to teach. Surely the Lord would allow me to continue teaching them.
To my surprise, the bishop said the Lord wanted me to teach in Primary instead. Surely he was mistaken! He assured me, however, that he had fasted and prayed and felt strongly about my calling. I loved children, but what did I know about teaching them?
For 15 years of marriage the only sadness my husband and I shared was that the Lord had not blessed us with children. Our efforts to adopt had also been fruitless because of our medical challenges.
Trusting the bishop, I accepted the call to teach in the Primary, but in my heart I struggled. I was angry with the Lord for leaving me childless, and I resented this new calling.
“Why, Lord, art Thou asking this of me?” I wondered. “In Thy wisdom, I have been deprived of children of my own. Why should I be asked to teach other people’s children?”
I prayed and struggled and wrestled with the Lord, pleading through my tears for understanding. Finally I decided that since I had accepted the calling, I had better stop feeling sorry for myself and do the best I could.
That is when the blessings came. I quickly learned to love the children, and they learned to love me. I found that their love was great enough to help me fill the emptiness in my life. Soon I couldn’t go down the hall at church without at least two children holding onto my hands and others stopping for a hug as I passed by. In turn, my husband was called as a Scout leader. Before long our home was full of children and teens.

A few months ago we took our grandchildren on an escorted tour of the Church printing facilities. There, all of us saw the missionary edition of the Book of Mormon coming off the delivery line—printed, bound, and trimmed, ready for reading. I said to a young grandson, “The operator says that you can remove one copy of the Book of Mormon to be your very own. You select the copy, and it will then be yours.”

Removing one finished copy of the book, he clutched it to his breast and said with sincerity, “I love the Book of Mormon. This is my book.”

I really don’t remember other events of that day, but none of us who was there will ever forget the honest expression from the heart of a child.

We also learned a beautiful lesson about consecration from one of the assistants to the president in our mission. A decision had been made that one of our missionaries needed to be sent home early from his mission. He had been disobedient on several occasions despite counseling, contracts, and repeated warnings. The airplane ticket had been purchased, and the appropriate approvals were obtained from the South America South Area Presidency and the Missionary Department to send this missionary home.

When the assistants brought the missionary in for his final interview, he protested loudly and tearfully that he did not want to go home. He promised to improve and said he would sign yet another contract. In desperation, President Oveson called the two assistants and Sister Oveson into his office and asked the elder to wait outside while the possible courses of action were discussed. Sister Oveson, somewhat out of patience with the situation, believed that sending him home was the only reasonable thing to do. “If he is allowed to stay,” she maintained, “the other missionaries might think that obedience is not important.”

One of the assistants said, “I have to agree with Hermana Oveson. I don’t think we really have a choice.”

When President Oveson asked the other assistant for his opinion, the assistant said, “I see much good in this elder. President, if you will let me go back out into the field, I will take him for my companion for the rest of my mission. I will take responsibility for him and help him to become a loving and obedient missionary.”

We all had tears in our eyes by the time this elder finished his remarks. We could not believe that anyone could be so loving and caring, especially a 20-year-old missionary. The decision was made to do as he requested. He found it exceedingly difficult at first, but slowly his junior companion learned a great deal from him and became a trustworthy missionary. When the senior companion went home, his companion stayed to finish his mission, becoming in time a senior companion and a trainer before he was honorably released. The follow-up to this true experience is that this once-wayward elder has since married and been sealed in the temple. He and his wife now have a son. They are active in the Church and are helping to build the kingdom. What a difference a consecrated, Christlike person made in the life of this missionary and his future family!

Many years later, in pursuit of my business career, I was invited by a client to provide insurance coverage for a new venture he was launching. When I arrived at the location, I learned that it was to be a nightclub.
As we passed through reception, entering the main area, I was impressed by the decor. The furnishings and fittings, curtains and carpeting were well coordinated, providing a most pleasing setting. This was not what I had expected to find after having been told the purpose for which the venue was to be used. As I sat with the proprietor, noting the necessary information, an employee approached and asked if he could test the systems.
My client gave his approval. Suddenly the serene setting was transformed as the room lighting faded to be replaced by flashing lights of multiple colors and excessively loud music. The scene of tranquility was immediately shattered.
It was impossible to communicate under such circumstances, so we walked back to the reception area. Following further discussion and because of what I had experienced, I did not feel comfortable to proceed, so I referred my client to a specialist in this field of insurance. To this day I vividly recall the dramatic transformation that occurred with shafts of light and the pulsating beat of loud music penetrating the darkened room.
I learned a lasting lesson from these experiences. Our surroundings can have a significant impact on how we feel and the way we behave.

President Harold B. Lee was the kind of person who so knew the Savior and had been a servant for such a long period of time that he knew instinctively what the Savior would say or do in any given situation.
For example, shortly after becoming President of the Church, President Lee held his first press conference as the new prophet of the Church. The reporters posed for President Lee what could have been a difficult question: “What is your position with regard to the Vietnam war?” You recall that at that time the war was underway, and there were those who supported it and those who were against our involvement.
If President Lee said, “I am in favor of our government’s position,” the reporters could say, “How strange—a spiritual leader in favor of war?” If he answered, “I am against our government’s involvement,” the reporters could also raise doubts by saying, “How unusual—a religious leader who pretends to support his government, but does not?”
When the people of the press presented the question, President Lee responded as a servant of the Savior would, knowing how to use the very words of the Lord in an inspired manner. His answer disarmed them, impressed them. As I remember, he said, “We, together with the entire Christian world, abhor war.” And he went on, “The Savior said, ‘In the world ye shall have tribulations.’ But He also said, ‘In me ye might have peace’.” (See John 16:33.) Continuing, President Lee quoted from John 14: “‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I [peace] unto you.’” (Verse 27.)
And then President Lee taught a great principle. And he said to them: “The Savior was not speaking of the kind of peace which is won with armies or navies or force; nor was He speaking of the kind of peace which can be negotiated in the halls of congresses. He was speaking of the kind of peace we each can have in our hearts only when we live His commandments to such a degree that we know He is pleased with us.” President Lee, speaking as a true servant of the Prince of Peace, had answered them with inspiration.

Even the committee’s biggest worry—where to house everyone—was resolved in laughter. Member homes are scarce in Fairbanks, and some are only rustic log houses.
“It was really funny,” chuckled one girl on the steering committee. “Some families were called and asked to take youths, and they would say, ‘Well, I can, but all we have is a honey bucket, and I don’t think girls would want to stay here.’” Everyone was finally given a place to stay, although it was real Alaska frontier-style for some—no running water, electricity, or telephone, but clouds of mosquitoes.