Gospel Story Finder

“Alex, it’s time to go to speech therapy,” Miss Jenkins said.
Alex ducked his head. Speech therapy was a special class he went to. He had trouble saying some words and sounds. So he had to practice them in speech class a few times a week. Every time he left his regular class, he felt so embarrassed!
He looked up at his teacher. “Could I skip it?” he whispered. “Just for today?”
Today, Mr. Timmons was coming to Alex’s class to talk about dinosaurs. Mr. Timmons worked at a museum with lots of cool dinosaur bones. He was even going to bring a bone that was thousands of years old! Alex didn’t want to miss out.
Miss Jenkins smiled. “You still need to go to your speech class. But you might get back in time for the last part of Mr. Timmons’s talk.”
Alex tried to smile back, but he couldn’t. He slowly walked to the speech therapy classroom. In class they practiced saying the same sound over and over. Learning about dinosaurs would have been more fun.
“I hate saying these stupid sounds,” he told his speech therapy teacher. “I feel like such a baby.”
“You’re not a baby at all,” she said. “We all need a little extra help sometimes. Did you know that I went to speech therapy when I was your age?”
That made Alex feel a little better. He worked hard for the rest of the class to practice his sounds.
When Alex got back to Miss Jenkins’s classroom, he saw his friend Courtney leaving.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Courtney looked down. “I’m having trouble with reading. I have to go to a special reading class.” Courtney looked embarrassed.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Alex said. “I just got back from my speech class. I spent the whole time making the same sound over and over.” He scrunched up his nose.
“You did?”
He nodded. “I’ve been going to speech therapy for the last two years.”
“How come I didn’t know?” she asked.
Alex shrugged. “I never told anyone. I was afraid they would make fun of me.”
“I would never make fun of you,” Courtney said. “I’m glad you made it back in time to see the dinosaur bone. It’s really cool!” She waved. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”
Soon Alex found out that he and Courtney weren’t the only ones who went to other classes. Tommy went to a class to help him learn better social skills. And Bekah worked with a special teacher to help her arm get stronger after she hurt it.
Now Alex didn’t feel so bad about his speech class. He wanted to help the other kids feel better too. He practiced reading with Courtney and talked to Tommy at lunch. Everyone needed a little extra help sometimes, and that was OK!
This story took place in the USA.

Wolfe wrote about a train engineer who drove the same line for 20 years. At a certain crossing he had to blow the whistle, and then, just ahead, every day a woman stepped out of her cottage and waved to him with a high, happy hand. He looked forward to that distant encounter every day. Soon the woman came to wave with a child by her side, then, over the years, the little girl grew bigger until now she was a grown woman, too.

The cottage where the woman lived was neat and tidy with flowers growing around it. The woman waved summer or winter, sunny days or gray, and the man promised himself that someday he would go meet the woman who had been such a bright spot in his life.

Finally the day came. Retired from responsibility, he got off the train at the little town one day and walked the country road to where the woman lived. He was shocked to find that it was all unfamiliar, not at all as he had imagined it. In fact, when he got up enough courage to knock at the door, he found the woman who greeted him at the door was not beautiful, not free. Life’s hardships had made her pinched and sullen and ugly. After struggling to explain why he was there, he left disappointed, beaten, and sad.

Later in the evening, everyone in Tyler’s family, except Gena, who was away at college, gathered in the living room.
“Whose turn is it to read from the Book of Mormon tonight?” asked Dad.
Mom said, “We left off with Cherie reading from Mosiah last night. How about if Tyler starts tonight?”
Everyone took a turn reading, with Jason reading last. “The scriptures show what can be accomplished when you have the Lord’s help,” he said. “I mean, look at Tyler. He’s come a long way toward learning to walk, and he couldn’t have done it all by himself.”
Tyler smiled at Jason. “I’m glad I have the help of so many others.”
After Teri (9), one of Tyler’s other sisters, had said the prayer, Tyler hugged everyone, then Jason carried him to their room. “You’re doing great, little brother. And don’t worry—you’ll be playing ball before you know it.”
“Thanks. I just hope it’s soon.” Mom came, helped Tyler change into his pajamas, and kissed him good night. He soon drifted off to sleep.

When I was a deacon, the ominous signs of the Great Depression began to appear. Tens of thousands lost their jobs. Money was scarce. Families had to do without.
My parents were hardworking. They made every penny stretch as far as possible. That was probably the major reason everything they gave me was always two or three sizes too large.
I was 12 years old when I received my first pair of ice skates, so large that I had to stuff a third of the toe space with cotton.
When I took them out of the box, I looked up and said, “Mother, I can’t skate with these.”
“Be grateful for what you have, Joseph,” she’d say. And then, the phrase I had become so accustomed to hearing, “Don’t worry; you’ll grow into them.”
A year later, what I wanted more than anything else was football shoulder pads and a helmet. On Christmas morning, I opened my packages and there they were, shoulder pads and a helmet, except they were sized to fit Goliath—who, by the way, was six cubits or about nine feet tall.
“Mother, they’re too big,” I said.
“Be grateful for what you have, Joseph,” she said again. “Don’t worry; you’ll grow into them.”
I think back on those days with some tenderness. Curiously enough, I also look back with tenderness to my dear mother’s encouraging words, “Don’t worry, Joseph; you’ll grow into them.”
In a similar way, we all need to learn how to “grow into” our responsibilities. The Lord has His eye upon you. He loves you. He knows you. He knows your triumphs and your trials, your successes and your heartaches.
He knows that at times you may look at the challenges you may face and may think they’re too big to handle. He is, however, willing and ready to help you as you grow into the men and women you are to become.
I would like to share with you five principles that, if lived and incorporated into your lives while you are young, will assure happiness and peace throughout your lives, no matter what trials and temptations come your way.
It is essential that you know and understand that our Heavenly Father loves you like a son or daughter, because He is the Father of your spirit. That makes you His literal child, spiritually begotten of Him.
As such, you have inherited the potential to become like Him. His greatest desire is that you grow in this life line upon line, becoming more like Him so that one day you can return to His presence.
God’s love is complete and without limit for you and for all mankind (see John 3:16). He is perfectly just and merciful. He is perfectly kind and understands your circumstances and condition. He knows you better than you know yourself.
God’s commandments are not given to limit or punish us. They are exercises that create character and sanctify souls. If we disregard them, we become spiritually flabby and weak and without defense. If we keep them, we can become spiritual giants, strong and bold in righteousness.
Day-to-day obedience to God’s commandments is indispensable.
We can come unto Christ as we learn to love Him and as we study the scriptures diligently. How do we show our love for the Savior? He gave us the answer: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
Every one of you can read something in the scriptures each day. You should spend some time pondering and studying the scriptures. It is better to read and ponder even one verse than none at all. I challenge each of you to read something in the scriptures every day for the rest of your lives. Few things you do will bring you greater dividends.
Learn of your Savior. Jesus Christ suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane more than you can comprehend. He suffered similarly on the cross, where He gave His life to pay the penalty for our sins if we will repent. And then in His ultimate triumph, He was resurrected and broke the bands of death, making the Resurrection available to all.
The more you understand the Atonement and what it means, the less likely you will be to fall prey to temptations of the adversary. No other doctrine will bring greater results in improving behavior and strengthening character than the doctrine of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It is central to God’s plan and is preeminent in the restored gospel.
The gift of the Holy Ghost is one of the most precious gifts you can receive in mortality. The principal mission of the Holy Ghost is to testify of our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ. If you are careful in keeping the commandments, the Holy Ghost will help you learn more about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
The promptings of the Holy Ghost may come to you in a still, small voice. You cannot grow spiritually unless you first rise above the things of the world that clamor for your attention. Some of the world’s music is degrading, vulgar, and inappropriate and will drown out the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Avoid objectionable television shows and movies, evil Internet sites, and all forms of entertainment that portray or encourage immorality and violence. Shun pornography like a deadly, contagious sin and disease. Bringing into your body substances forbidden by the Lord in the Word of Wisdom will prevent you from feeling and recognizing the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
Since my youth, I have always been impressed by the fact that our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, would answer the heartfelt prayers of a 14-year-old boy who was searching for the truth. Just as He answered Joseph Smith’s prayer, our Heavenly Father will answer your prayers in His own time and in His own way.
The more I know of the Prophet Joseph, the more I love him, the more I yearn to follow his example, the more I appreciate what our Father in Heaven and His Son have done in restoring this gospel that is destined to fill the earth in these, the latter days.
President Gordon B. Hinckley is the successor and guardian of those priesthood keys that were first restored to the Prophet Joseph Smith. In mortality, only one man at a time holds and exercises all of the priesthood keys; today that man is President Gordon B. Hinckley.
Follow the teachings of our modern-day prophet. He is inspired of the Lord to teach us those things that are necessary for us to live happily and righteously.
You are a chosen generation. You have been raised up by the Lord to carry His Church and kingdom into the 21st century. You have been chosen by the Lord to come forth on the earth when wickedness and evil are very powerful. But you are up to the challenge.
That does not mean you will not face your share of heartaches, challenges, and trials. Since the days when I first stuffed cotton into my ice skates and put on oversized shoulder pads and helmet, my life has been filled with experiences and challenges that seemed at the time too big for me.
But every day I try to put Heavenly Father first in my life, I try to come unto Christ and follow Him as my Savior and Redeemer, I nurture the companionship of the Holy Ghost, love and revere the Prophet Joseph, and listen to and follow God’s prophet today. As I do those things, I am confident the Lord will bless me.
Even after all these years, I can still hear the voice of my mother: “Be grateful for what you have, Joseph. Don’t worry; you’ll grow into it.”
It is my prayer that we may all grow as our Heavenly Father wants us to.

The last rays of the sun dipped behind the mountain. I was miles from home, sitting on a cot in a faded green tent, wondering how I was going to solve the dilemma I was in.
It was the end of the first day of my summer job as a forest ranger in eastern Utah. That morning, I had met the two women I would be working and camping with. I was only 19; they were both in their 30s. But our differences were deeper than age. On the hike to base camp, I had hung back and listened to them talk about how strange they thought members of the Church were.
Now it was night, and my co-workers were both slipping into their sleeping bags. “Are you ready to turn the lantern off?” one of them asked me.
I had a decision to make. I hadn’t done my scripture reading for the day. But I also knew how the two women felt about members of the Church. I didn’t want them to laugh at me.
I silenced my conscience and nodded my assent. The light was extinguished, and soon the even breathing of my co-workers told me they were asleep.
But sleep evaded me. After tossing and turning, I grabbed a flashlight and my Book of Mormon and headed down to a meadow just below our campsite. “This is the perfect solution,” I said to myself. “I can read my scriptures without being made fun of.”
Happy with my plan, I turned to Mormon 8. The contentment I felt ended when I reached verse 38 and read, “Why are ye ashamed to take upon you the name of Christ? Why do ye not think that greater is the value of an endless happiness than that misery which never dies—because of the praise of the world?”
That night, as I sat under the brilliant stars in a mountain meadow, I knew the Lord was speaking to me. I had been too afraid of ridicule to show my co-workers what I believed, and the Lord was disappointed in me. Armed with this knowledge, I resolved I would change.
The next night, when my co-worker asked if I was ready to put out the lantern, my answer was different. I cleared my throat and said, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to read the Book of Mormon for a few minutes.”
I steeled myself for her laughter, but it never came. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said. “Just turn the light off when you’re done.”
I’ve never forgotten the lesson I learned that night. For the first time, I understood how relentlessly Satan tries to make us feel that we won’t fit in if we do what we’re supposed to. Often, the ridicule we are so afraid of hearing never comes. We can never be examples for good unless we let the things we believe show through our actions.

Once, when I was trying to develop a habit of getting to bed early, a ward member heard me talk one Sunday about my hope to get more sleep that week. He asked me what I was going to do to make it happen. I committed to go to bed by my desired time at least one night that week. “I’ll ask you about it next week,” he said. I believed he would, so I kept my commitment.

Sure enough, the next week at church he asked if I had met my goal (I had!), and he asked if I would do it again the next week. I knew he would follow up, so I did it. The next week, he encouraged me to meet my goal twice that week. And the next week? He committed me to three nights. He kept encouraging me each week until my plan was a real habit.

Years later, I told that story to another friend at church because I had fallen out of my good habit and knew I needed to start again. “I’ll help you be accountable,” she said. So each week she followed up with me until I developed a habit of good sleep again. Over the years, family and close friends have helped me with goals to get enough sleep, but the two times it has been most effective were when ward members—with whom I wasn’t especially close—helped me set and keep a goal and then followed up with me in an encouraging way.

At home Tom Monson came under the influence of parents whose sturdy roots extended into Scandinavia and Great Britain. The father was of Swedish and English descent; the mother, Scottish. They taught him charity and hard work, among other virtues. Because the Terrace was not far from the railroad tracks, transients often knocked at the Monsons’ back door and asked for food. Gladys Monson never turned one away. Moreover, she would invite them into her kitchen to sit at the table while she prepared a sandwich, served with a glass of milk. President Monson also remembers taking plates of hot food his mother had prepared to a lonely neighbor fondly called “Old Bob.” “God bless you, my boy,” Old Bob would say, his eyes often filled with tears. “You have a wonderful mother.” These were not isolated cases of kindness; they illustrated a consistent pattern of charitable conduct. The example was not lost on the growing boy.

Let me tell you of my own experience. As a child, I was blessed with a good and kind but also overly-busy father. He was very active in the Church as well as in politics and often had to leave his family alone.

I had wished that in my future life this would not happen to me again. The man I fell in love with, however, not only kept busy with the Church and politics like my father but he also had to serve for a long time in the Swiss army.

Believe me, there were moments when I was rather furious and, in my thoughts, wanted to abolish politics and the army and to rearrange church affairs so that I would have more time to spend with my husband and our children would have more time to spend with their father. At church, none of the sisters ever complained or talked about these problems because we were afraid of appearing critical.

A talk I heard many years ago by Lois Brown, the wife of a former Presiding Bishop, changed my attitude. She convinced me that I was not alone in my problem and that it was acceptable to talk about being alone and feeling lonely. Sister Brown said that often, even in her later years, she had to fight against feelings of disappointment when a good meal burned while she waited for her husband.

All of a sudden I didn’t feel guilty. I wasn’t ashamed of my feelings anymore; I dared talk about them—not in order to criticize, to wallow in self-pity, or to express anger, but in order to find solutions.

Last year, I experienced an increase in anxiety and depression. Although I’ve always struggled with mental health, this time was much worse. I eventually sought medical help, but an essential part of my healing also centered on reaching out to my Savior.
As I prayed for relief, I was prompted to look for light in the world around me. I tried my best. There were times when it felt like the light I found was a flicker that quickly burned out. Many times, I imagined I stood in darkness waiting for the next sunrise, knowing it would only fade again at night. Light felt fleeting and temporary.
After months of this, I experienced a profound thought: “There is light inside me.” Doctrine and Covenants 88:13 teaches that the light of Christ is “in all things” (see also verse 7). I don’t have to chase down vanishing rays of light each day. I can carry light with me all the time.
I began to see myself as sharing a part of the divine light of my Heavenly Father and of Jesus Christ, and I realized that I had access to a light that never burned out. As I reached out to my Savior, I discovered for myself that “because the universe is filled with the Light of Christ, we can spiritually learn, progress, and grow.”1

Last year, our very first nephew, Nathan, left to serve a mission in Mexico. We explained to our children that Nathan was in the MTC to learn Spanish. One evening we decided to devote a family home evening night to writing letters to him. Although we were helping the youngest, all of the other children were writing independently. At one point, Stephen, age 7, asked, “How do you spell ‘empty?’” We thought nothing of it at the time, but later as we were reviewing what the kids had written, we saw this question in Stephen’s letter: “Dear Nathan, what do you do in the empty sea?”—Meredith J., Colorado

Rebecca liked having family activity night on top of the cinder knoll, but getting there was scary. When Daddy drove the jeep up the steep hillside, the tires dug deeply into the cinders. Yet even so, Rebecca had the feeling they were going to tip over backward. When the family reached the top of the knoll, the smoke and flames shooting up from the campfire near the volcano’s crater seemed to make it come alive.
It’s so pretty up here, Rebecca thought, as she looked out over the countryside. She could see La Verkin and Hurricane snuggled against the hill to the east, their windows reflecting shafts of sunset gold. In the sky, gold-edged clouds turned redder and redder before the sun disappeared.
Eating dutch-oven spuds and burgers on top of a cinder cone was fun, but Rebecca was impatient for the lesson to begin. As she sat with the others, watching the campfire burn low, she asked, “Daddy, when are we going to have our lesson?”
“Tonight is activity night, and I haven’t prepared a lesson,” he replied. “But we can surely have one. What do you think a good subject would be?” he asked Grandma.
“We could talk about repentance,” she suggested.
“What’s repentance?” asked Rebecca.
“It’s when you’ve done something wrong that you’re sorry for,” Leon answered.
Later during the discussion, Rebecca cuddled against Mama, thoughtfully silent. Finally, she sighed and whispered, “Once I did something I’m sorry for. I took some bubble gum that I didn’t pay for.”
“When did you do that?” Mama asked quietly.
“Last winter when I was with you in Graff’s store,” she replied.
“Then you need to do something about it, don’t you?” Mama suggested. Rebecca nodded.
The next day Mama wasn’t feeling well so she let Rebecca do the dishes to earn a little money. Then Rebecca put on her prettiest dress and brushed her hair and ran to Grandma’s house. Slipping inside the kitchen door, she said, “Grandma, will you take me to Hurricane so I can pay for some gum I took?”
“Of course,” Grandma replied. “I’ll be ready in just a minute.”
As they rode to Hurricane, Rebecca said, “When I get to the store can I just run in and put my money on the counter and then come out?”
“No. That wouldn’t be right,” Grandma answered. “No one would know what the money was for”
“That’s what Mama said,” Rebecca told her. Then she added, “She said to tell Sister Graff about it, but I don’t want to. I’m afraid.”
They found the storekeeper in the back of the store when they arrived, going over her books. Grandma spoke first. “Rebecca would like to talk to you.”
“I’m happy to see both of you,” Sister Graff said. “Won’t you sit down?”
Rebecca sat on a chair next to Grandma. In her hand she had been clutching a nickel, but now she nervously turned it over and over in her fingers without speaking. Finally, Grandma said, “Rebecca, tell Sister Graff why we’re here.”
Rebecca’s eyes moistened. “I can’t remember just what I wanted to say,” she hedged.
“What is the nickel for?” Grandma prompted.
Rebecca quickly thrust the nickel into Sister Graff’s hand. “Here,” she said. “I took some bubble gum without paying for it.”
“You did right to come tell me about it,” Sister Graff said kindly.
“I was just this old when I did it,” Rebecca continued, holding up four fingers. “I wouldn’t do it now because I’m five.” Then impulsively she added, “I only took a penny’s worth, but I want you to have the whole nickel.”
“I can only take a penny for a penny’s worth of gum,” Sister Graff replied. “I will give you your change.” Taking one of Rebecca’s hands in hers, she patted it tenderly. “Remembering this day will help you always to do right. Thank you for coming.”
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief. The telling was over and the gum paid for. She didn’t want to ever feel that bad again. Lighthearted, she skipped as she followed Sister Graff to the checkout counter. Sister Graff rang up a one-cent sale on the cash register and placed four pennies in Rebecca’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, and smiled.
Looking at Grandma, Rebecca declared, “I want to spend two of my pennies.” She picked out two pieces of bubble gum and paid for them. She gave one to Grandma and popped the other into her own mouth. As they drove home, she chattered between chewing and blowing little bubbles that plopped and popped.
“I like the paid-for gum the best, Grandma,” she said happily.

When her dad was on the stake high council, he used to take Katie along on his Sunday speaking assignments, and she would speak in the wards and branches that he visited. “I would talk on the subject the stake president gave us to talk about. I talked about the Book of Mormon and about Alma the Younger. And once I had to talk about being baptized into the Church. When I got baptized, it was fun. I arranged the program.” Katie smiled. “And I want to tell all of the children how nice it felt. It felt lovely.”

The story is told that in ancient Rome a group of women were, with vanity, showing their jewels one to another. Among them was Cornelia, the mother of two boys. One of the women said to her, “And where are your jewels?” to which Cornelia responded, pointing to her sons, “These are my jewels.” Under her tutelage, and walking after the virtues of her life, they grew to become Gaius and Tiberius Gracchus—the Gracchi, as they were called—two of the most persuasive and effective reformers in Roman history. For as long as they are remembered and spoken of, the mother who reared them after the manner of her own life will be remembered and spoken of with praise also.

More than 40 years ago as I contemplated the challenge of a mission, I felt very inadequate and unprepared. I remember praying, “Heavenly Father, how can I serve a mission when I know so little?” I believed in the Church, but I felt my spiritual knowledge was very limited. As I prayed, the feeling came: “You don’t know everything, but you know enough!” That reassurance gave me the courage to take the next step into the mission field.

He also remembers the time his dad was seriously sick. Raúl’s mother thought he was going to die. She rode a bus to the missionaries’ house to ask them to give him a blessing. They weren’t home, so she left them a message. When they arrived several hours later, Raúl’s father was so sick he could hardly talk. The missionaries gave him a blessing—and within half an hour, he was up and feeling much better.

Spending time with my family is always a cherished experience for me. Because I work as a railroad engineer, my schedule is unpredictable. Occasionally I am transferred to distant locations and become temporarily separated from my wife and children. During these times, I see them only a few days each week—and only after a lengthy drive home.
Once, my wife, Scarlett, and our sons traveled to visit me during one of my breaks. Our sons enjoyed sleeping in a motel room and eating at restaurants. This trip became a vacation for them. This refreshing reunion passed quickly, and before too long we were hugging and saying good-bye. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I saw Scarlett’s car disappear from view as we got on opposite on-ramps to the freeway. I was traveling back to the railroad, and Scarlett was taking our children home.
I smiled as I thought about my family and decided to call Scarlett to thank her again for coming to visit me. I reached for my cell phone in my coat pocket, but it was not there. After an unsuccessful search, I realized that the phone must have been put in Scarlett’s car by accident.
I used my cell phone to keep in touch with my family, but it was also necessary for my work. My wife and I had been driving in separate directions for 10 minutes, but I knew I had to retrieve my phone. I decided I would dash up to the next overpass, turn back in the opposite direction, and try to catch her. As I prepared to turn around, I seemed to hear a voice say, “Stop!”
I began slowing down, even though each passing moment was making it more difficult to recover my phone.
A second thought came: “Stay here!”
This strong feeling swept over me. Defying logic and reason, I pulled over and turned off the car. I did not know why, but I sensed that I should stay put. As I yielded to what I felt was a prompting from the Holy Ghost, I felt panic being replaced by peace. I offered a humble prayer, grateful for Heavenly Father’s direction and guidance.
Shortly thereafter I caught sight of Scarlett driving toward me. When she saw me, she quickly brought the vehicle to a halt and came over to me with the cell phone in hand.
“How did you know to stop and wait?” she asked.
Joyful tears filled our eyes as I related my experience receiving promptings from the Holy Ghost.
That incident has stayed with me, and I can never deny the divine help I received that day. It strengthened our testimonies that Heavenly Father is aware of the seemingly minute details of our lives. I strive to remain worthy of that same guidance I received many years ago.

Then I thought of my niece Ashley. She too knows of the love her Father in Heaven has for her, yet her experience was quite the opposite of Jocelyn’s.
Ashley had been walking with her father and mother across seaside boulders near their home in northern California. Her dad was photographing beautiful scenes for watercolors he would paint. Out of nowhere and with no forewarning, a rogue wave engulfed the shore, carrying her father out to sea and dragging her mother along the boulders. Ashley was inland far enough that the killer wave missed her. Terrorized by what she had just witnessed, she ran for help.
Within minutes, a man with a cell phone called emergency numbers, and a rescue began. Her mother had landed in a precarious spot where she could be reached only by helicopter. She was in excruciating pain with a broken back and arm and with numerous cuts and gashes due to the vicious rocks and fierce ocean. Ashley’s father was nowhere to be found. As Ashley’s mother lay on the edge of the sea waiting for rescue, she felt her husband’s presence, and she knew without a doubt that he was gone. His body never was recovered.
Heavenly Father didn’t save Ashley’s dad. Yet Ashley still knows that He loves her. She says:
“During that time I felt great comfort from the Holy Ghost. I had a sure witness of God’s great plan of Salvation, so I knew I would see my dad again. In addition, I felt the Lord’s love through the wonderful, kind care of earthly angels who ministered to our family.” She felt the peace that Jesus promises us, “peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27)

I will tell you of an experience I had before I was a General Authority which affected me profoundly. I sat on a plane next to a professed atheist who pressed his disbelief in God so urgently that I bore my testimony to him. “You are wrong,” I said, “there is a God. I know He lives!”
He protested, “You don’t know. Nobody knows that! You can’t know it!” When I would not yield, the atheist, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. “All right,” he said in a sneering, condescending way, “you say you know. Tell me how you know.”
When I attempted to answer, even though I held advanced academic degrees, I was helpless to communicate.
When I used the words Spirit and witness, the atheist responded, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The words prayer, discernment, and faith, were equally meaningless to him. “You see,” he said, “you don’t really know. If you did, you would be able to tell me how you know.”
I felt, perhaps, that I had borne my testimony to him unwisely and was at a loss as to what to do. Then came the experience! Something came into my mind. And I mention here a statement of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “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 until you become perfect in Christ Jesus.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith.)
Such an idea came into my mind and I said to the atheist, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like,”
“Of course I do,” was his reply.
“When did you taste salt last?”
“I just had dinner on the plane.”
“You just think you know what salt tastes like.” I said.
He insisted, “I know what salt tastes like as well as I know anything.”
“If I gave you a cup of salt and a cup of sugar and let you taste them both, could you tell the salt from the sugar?”
“Now you are getting juvenile,” was his reply. “Of course I could tell the difference. I know what salt tastes like. It is an everyday experience—I know it as well as I know anything.”
“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”
After some thought, he ventured, “Well-I-uh, it is not sweet and it is not sour.”
“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.”
After several attempts, of course, he could not do it. He could not convey, in words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt. I bore testimony to him once again and said, “I know there is a God. You ridiculed that testimony and said that if I did know, I would be able to tell you exactly how I know. My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to convey to you in words how this knowledge has come than you are to tell me what salt tastes like. But I say to you again, there is a God! He does live! And just because you don’t know, don’t try to tell me that I don’t know, for I do!”
As we parted, I heard him mutter, “I don’t need your religion for a crutch! I don’t need it.”
From that experience forward, I have never been embarrassed or ashamed that I could not explain in words alone everything I know spiritually. The Apostle Paul said it this way:
“We speak, not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual.
“But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.” (1 Cor. 2:13–14.)

It is hardly necessary to comment on Paul’s sketch of celestial love in 1 Corinthians 13, or his fatherly concern for cooperating and rebellious converts alike. Joseph Smith’s life exhibits the same mature concern for others. For example, he could have escaped from custody at the beginning of the winter of Liberty Jail, but he would not for fear of reprisals on the Latter-day Saints. After their safety was assured by the dissipation of mobs and beginning migration, he tried three jailbreaks, all of them creative, but only the last successful. And at the end Joseph returned from the far bank of the Mississippi, observing that if his life was of no value to his people, it was of no value to himself. The historical documents surrounding this decision prove that he consciously placed himself in the danger of assassination in jail to keep angry troops from coming to Nauvoo to look for him and endanger his people. Time and again Joseph placed his safety second and the welfare of his family and Latter-day Saints first.

In the 1980s my mother, Mai Saczkowski, directed the Swansea Ward choir. She loved her church choir. Whether it was singing in sacrament meeting or competing on the stage, she pursued perfection and was never content with second best.
As far back as I can remember, music and singing were an important part of growing up. We were encouraged to play instruments, take theory exams and develop our talents. Car journeys were filled with singing. My mother was a gifted and glorious singer with a beautiful, rich mezzo soprano voice. It has been over 20 years since her passing and I struggle to remember her speaking voice, but her singing voice I can instantly recognise.
Mai joined the Swansea Amateur Operatic Society. She appeared in many musicals and soon she was the guest artiste in concerts and fund-raising events. Her social life flourished. She attended Cardiff College where she obtained a Gold medal in singing.
But amidst this flurry of activity, my mother thought of her temple covenants and decided to curtail outside activities and concentrate on building up music in the Church. This was probably her most significant contribution. She inspired many people, especially the youth, by directing shows and teaching singing. She blessed the lives of many with her voice, adding to the spirituality of meetings.
Elder Boyd K. Packer extended a challenge in 1976 that my mother took on board:
“Go to, then, you who are gifted; cultivate your gift. [ …] If you have the ability and the desire, seek a career or employ your talent as an avocation or cultivate it as a hobby. But in all ways bless others with it.”
At age 60 she was struck down with Parkinson’s Disease, which gradually took over her body. Apart from the physical disability, it robbed her of her beautiful voice. She went through the refiner’s fire and learnt patience in her affliction.
I believe my mother used her gift properly; her contributions will be noted for generations. Her posterity has been blessed because of her, and now her grandchildren and great-grandchildren are using their inherited gift to further the work of the kingdom of God.