Gospel Story Finder

Thank you, President Tanner.
President Kimball, Brethren of the General Authorities who are here with us, thank you for this privilege and for your presence. And to you sisters across the waves of sound, our greetings and our love. To all of you radiant mothers and daughters gathered here in the Tabernacle (including my own daughters and my mother who have come from their scattered homes to be in the presence of the prophet on this historic occasion), you are a wonderful delight to look upon.
I join with you all in the joy of being a woman and in the privilege of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the fulness of times. For those of you who haven’t joined the Church yet, we welcome you when it’s right for you to come. Some of us have just come from a very special reception the Young Women hosted in our building across the way. We honored lovely Sister Camilla Kimball and Sister Tanner and other wives of the General Authorities and their daughters. We paid particular tribute to Sister Funk and her counselors who have just been released as the general presidency of the Young Women. We deeply respect and affectionately appreciate all of these sisters. We commend them to you as models for your own lives. They live close to the Lord. They follow the Prophet implicitly. They contribute to society meaningfully, and in turn they have endured difficult circumstances, which bring beauty into life. We include other women seated here before you—Sister Louise Lake, Sister Belle Spafford—among this distinguished group of women whom we all would do well to emulate.
Now tonight, clear across the world for the first time, the Church women over 12 are meeting. We are tied together by technology but sense each other’s spirit through that tender influence of the Lord Jesus Christ. We mark this moment as the beginning—at last—of a unique unification of all the Sisters of the Church, and we are focusing on proper priorities instead of personal preferences or even programs. We see it as a significant developing of all of us under the mantle of the mouthpiece of the Lord, President Spencer W. Kimball. Now, as he speaks to us tonight, it is as if the Lord Jesus Christ himself were addressing us sisters. Christ made this very clear when he said to others of his children a time ago, “Blessed are ye if ye shall give heed unto the words of these … whom I have chosen from among you to minister unto you” (3 Ne. 12:1).
“And whatsoever they shall speak … shall be the word of the Lord, shall be the voice of the Lord, and the power of God unto salvation.
“Behold, this is the promise of the Lord.” (D&C 68:4–5.)
So, President Kimball, with all of our hearts we sisters of the Church sustain you, and we shall try to heed your words.
I’m going to share an experience I had with President Kimball to help you understand what a choice human being he is, besides a powerful prophet, and perhaps base the rest of my remarks on this incident. I stood alone in the basement of the Church Office Building about two years ago, waiting for an elevator. It was very early on a Monday morning, well before the influx of office workers. As the elevator lowered into place, suddenly two Church security officers appeared from out of somewhere and held back the opening doors. Now, nobody does that for me, so I looked around just in time to see President Kimball and his personal secretary, Brother Haycock, entering the area. They moved quickly into the secured area, and I quickly moved out of the way. Well, as President Kimball turned and faced the front of the elevator, he saw me standing out there waiting for the next one. And he said to me very graciously, “Good morning.” And I said, “Good morning, President Kimball.” And he said, “Aren’t you going to get on?” And I said, “Well,” and hesitated for a few moments, “I didn’t think I was supposed to under the circumstances.” And then he said, “Aren’t you going up?” And I said, “Yes.” And he said, “Well, tell me, how do you intend to get there?” And then he said, “Come along.” So I got on! At the prophet’s invitation I was happy to ride up with him.
Tonight President Kimball extends an invitation to all of us, with some specifics, I am sure, for us as women to follow him as he follows the Savior. If we want to “go up,” we must “get on.” It is that simple. He is our leader; in all the world of would-be leaders, who can guide us back to the presence of God.
Sisters, this church is the saving remnant of the world. And what is our part as women in all of this? This girl is the future mother of the man. The woman is companion to the priesthood. She is the molder of the next generation. As women ours is the gift to love, to influence for good, to marry, and to mother—but according to the timetable of the Lord for us. (So hang in there, sisters. If it hasn’t happened yet, it may a little later than sooner. And when the time comes, if you have lived for it, have no regrets that you prayed so fervently for a good man who now is always off to a meeting or filling some celestial assignment, depending upon the timing.) You see, the details of your life and the timing really aren’t all that important. They just point up differences to us—married or single, living alone, barren or bulging with blessings. These are just details. What does matter is our personal relationship with the Lord and our own unshakable testimony that he cares enough about each one of us to be there when we really need him.
Though we are women with different cultural backgrounds clear across the span of my voice, some with differences in personal situations (we may even clash at times on opinions regarding temporal trends or how to bake a loaf of bread properly), my firm feeling is that we must pursue a course of a covenant people. We must secure those traditions which are sacred to good people everywhere. In each country as you hear this program by direct line, your course should become clear, your priorities ought to be known to you as a daughter of God. Personal opinions may vary. Eternal principles never do. When the Prophet speaks, sisters, the debate is over. So I urge us all to provide powerful unity as women for those things we can agree upon—family, chastity, accountability to the Lord, responsibility in the community, sharing the gospel.
To help us, it seems there are at least two critical areas to concentrate on—for all of us of all ages, whether we are whole or lame, at peace or troubled, privileged or seemingly deprived. The first is to strengthen self. The second is to serve the Lord by serving others. This is the way it works: We gain a personal testimony. We share it with others. We learn the principles of the gospel. We apply them as we associate with others. We keep a personal record, and we do our genealogy. And, sisters, we emphatically and happily declare, “I will be obedient! I will help strengthen others that they may be so too!”
In Christ’s day on one occasion, people were pressing heavily about him. A woman in trouble reached out to touch him in faith. His disciples scoffed that Christ should question who had touched him when so many were crowding about, and yet, he knew her touch was different. She had connected. He responded by healing her.
Sisters, our touch must be different. Rather than merely moving about Christ, wanly waiting for his blessings, we must reach out and connect—in faith. The prophet is here today to show us how. As he quietly taught me that early morning, if we want to go up, we have to get on.
If by any chance there are doubts in any hearts within the sound of my voice, or if your own testimony is at all shaky at the moment, hang on to ours while yours grows. I know that God lives, and I know that Jesus is the Christ and a necessary Redeemer, that he loves us and that his principles suffice. On this very special occasion of my maiden voyage, as it were, I am thankful to be able to personally testify that as President Kimball placed his hands upon my head with the other Brethren, President Tanner and President Romney, to set me apart as the general president of the Young Women of the Church,
I felt, through the power of the Holy Ghost, that sweet and undeniable witness of the validity of his calling as prophet. This church is true, sisters. The system—priesthood, womanhood—is a blessing to us.
As each challenge comes to us in life, and as our timetable varies a little from what we thought it was going to be, may we be wise enough to find ourselves on the Lord’s side, getting on and going up with the prophet, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

On Thursday 19 May 2022, we had a temple trip for service missionaries. Sadly, not all the missionaries could attend—but for those that could, it was a wonderful time in a sacred place.
The sun was out, and the grounds were beautiful. Being new to the mission at the time, it was good for me to meet some more missionaries.
I still feel nervous every time I go to the temple and get left alone, or even with another person my age, almost as if we are left unsupervised! But I love the feeling I get when I’m in the temple with other service missionaries (though as wonderful as the elders are, I’d definitely like more sisters in the mission!).
The temple brings a peace to my heart, even when I don’t understand everything that is going on around me. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for us, and we won’t understand everything in this life—but that we can also bring any questions we have to Heavenly Father. He loves us and He is there for us, no matter what.
Elder and Sister Kimberling, the service mission leaders, brought a picnic style lunch for us to have afterwards. I love that they are always there to take care of us missionaries, whenever we need. They are the best. I had a wonderful time with everyone and hope that sometime soon everyone in the mission can enjoy the temple together.

But in addition to the blessings, life for the Pitakpongs has had its traumas, too. Some seven years ago, President Pitakpong was out of town on business when an intruder in his home struck Sister Pitakpong with a wrench and stole a gold necklace she was wearing. “My son, Wuthikrai, went to his mother’s aid, and he, too, was hit, as was my wife’s mother. The man ran away as my daughter screamed for help.
“My wife had to be hospitalized, and she still suffers from severe headaches that make it difficult for her to concentrate.”
But the family finds comfort in living the gospel of Jesus Christ. “Being sealed together in the temple brought a special spirit into our family,” says President Pitakpong. “It strengthened our individual testimonies. Now, not only does our sixteen-year-old son want to go on a mission, but his two younger sisters want to go, too.”

I've sometimes been asked by people of other faiths, why is it that so many LDS families seem to thrive, even in this age of family decline? We clearly have our share of troubled homes. But they still ask, "How do you explain the amazing confidence in marriage and family life that I see in the Mormons I know?" A law professor from Tokyo visited the U.S. to explore his concerns about the damaging effect of American culture on Japanese family commitments. He told me that the two most corrosive forces in his culture are the immorality in American TV and movies, and the self-centeredness of American law. He said, "You beat Japan in the second world war. Do you have to inflict your movies and your laws on us too?"

Then, after he'd been on the BYU-Provo campus several days, mixing in the dorms with students, this professor said, "You must tell me about these students and their families. This campus is an island of hope in the land of the apocalypse. What is the secret behind all the shining eyes?"

Some years ago I created a stake on one of the islands in Japan. As usual, we held many interviews with the leaders to become acquainted with them. One of the men had moved to that area from Tokyo to take care of his aged and ailing father and his father’s business, which was in difficulty because of the father’s ill health. After the father died, the son went to his father’s creditors and acknowledged his father’s debts. He requested time from those creditors so that he could assume and pay all of his father’s outstanding obligations. In our interview I asked him how he was managing to meet this responsibility. He answered that he was getting along quite well and that he would be able to handle his father’s debts. The Lord saw fit to honor him with a call to be one of the leaders of that stake.

Soon after I began to serve as the president of the Laie Hawaii Temple, during one of these precious visits to the Baptistry, I met a couple of students from this campus (Brigham Young University–Hawaii). I was introduced to a young man, John Komotios who had been coming all week with his wife and other students. I was informed that he had recently joined the Church through baptism. As I welcomed him, I extended an invitation to him, to come back to the temple often and regularly. I also invited him, that in a year to please let me know when he would come to the temple for his own endowment so that I could join him in that future special event in his life.

About three months ago John contacted me and invited me to attend the temple when he would receive his own endowment. I had the great privilege of being able to perform the new patron instructions for John. John and his wife, Addison, shortly after he received his endowments, traveled to the mainland to be sealed. A few weeks ago, John and Addison became temple workers.

Temple worship and service have played an important part in the spiritual foundation in the lives of John and Addison Komotios. Their story of temple worship and service is not uncommon, but rather it is quite a familiar story that we see time and time again, that involves students and others from this special community. I see many of you spending time in the Lord’s holy house as patrons, worshiping and then again in that same week I see you as temple workers, serving others. I am sure that Addison and many of you were the light and the righteous examples to John. Now, John is being a light and a righteous example to others around him. This is a major part of our Heavenly Father’s plan. This is what the Lord wants us to do. Once you have received the light, you are to become the light to others.

Silhouetted with their boats against the evening sky, they looked like a party of mountain men or trappers. Just like the early explorers of the great Northwest, they had portaged their canoes over rugged terrain, retraced their tracks, and then carried food and equipment to the site of their camp.
They had been pushing hard. Muscles and spirits were tired. They were probably as sore and stiff as any group of travelers ever could be. But now the tents were pitched, supplies were stashed (safe from bears) high in the trees, dinner was steaming in the pot, and the campfire beckoned anyone near to mellow in its warm, yellow glow.
It was time to recover from the strains of the day, to let nature calm and soothe with a serenity unique to the out-of-doors. Snowcapped peaks stood like an honor guard in white dress uniform. The sun, small on the horizon, dipped through strands of gray, leaving an orange tinge in the sky.
“This day has not been a piece of cake,” said Eric Peterson. “But now is when you know you’ve earned it. The view is marvelous, worth every blister.”
Eric was one of the younger members of our group, but after a few days on the Bowron Lakes, he, like the other boys and fathers of Troop 266 from Tacoma, Washington, already felt like a seasoned veteran. Paddling and portaging all day, sleeping out in the woods with your father and your friends and leaders, getting up early and working hard—it makes you feel responsible for yourself.
Our decision to head north into the Canadian wilderness between Kamloops and Prince George, British Columbia, had initiated months of work, preparation, and planning. Fall and winter months had been filled with passing merit badges, repairing the troop’s canoes, fundraising, and the gathering of food and clothing, all under the direction of Scout and priesthood leaders in the Tacoma Sixth Ward. Then came the high excitement as spring gave way to early summer, school let out in June, and we were on our way. It was the second trip to the area for some of the older boys. As much as possible, fathers accompanied their sons and were assigned to the same canoe with them.
And what memories we made! Fighting stiff head winds that could have pushed us across the water easily, if only we’d been traveling in the opposite direction. Sudden storms that pelted us with rain and ice. The sweet “sleep of a labouring man” (see Eccl. 5:12). The one bear that did wander near camp climbed a tree and tried to get into our food. The aches, the pains, the blisters—and going on in spite of them. The wind that did, once, mercifully fill our makeshift sails as we raced across Spectacle Lake in record time.
It all served to bring us closer together, as young men and leaders, as brothers in the priesthood, as fathers and sons. How can you not talk to someone while paddling across the 26-miles of choppy waves on Lanezi Lake? Especially when he has struggled with you, side-by-side, to carry a canoe through rocks and underbrush on the banks of the Caribou River; and shivered with you when “deadheads and sweepers” (submerged logs in the language of Canadian rangers) tipped your canoe into the bone-chilling waters.
None of us will forget the 18 hours we spent drying out around an old potbellied wood stove heated to a red hot glow. Or the ranger who entertained us with tales of his Montana cowboy days. Or the impromptu testimony meeting when Lynn Wilbur read to us from the Book of Mormon.
Sure, we returned home eager for pizza, bathtubs, and nice clean sheets. But we returned home richer and stronger—and ready to head north of the border again just as soon as we are able.

"An old Jewish legend tells of two brothers, Abram and Zimri, who owned a field and worked it together. They agreed to divide both the labor and the harvest equally. One night as the harvest came to a close, Zimri could not sleep, for it didn't seem right that Abram, who had a wife and seven sons to feed, should receive only half of the harvest, while he, with only himself to support, had so much.
So Zimri dressed and quietly went into the field, where he took a third of his harvest and put it in his brother's pile. He then returned to his bed, satisfied that he had done the right thing.
Meanwhile, Abram could not sleep either. He thought of his poor brother, Zimri, who was all alone and had no sons to help him with the work. It did not seem right that Zimri, who worked so hard by himself, should get only half of the harvest. Surely this was not pleasing to God. And so Abram quietly went to the fields, where he took a third of his harvest and placed it in the pile of his beloved brother.
The next morning, the brothers went to the field and were both astonished that the piles still looked to be the same size. That night both brothers slipped out of their houses to repeat their efforts of the previous night. But this time they discovered each other, and when they did, they wept and embraced. Neither could speak, for their hearts were overcome with love and gratitude"

Third, we can come to know the Lord and trust Him as we serve others. I share the following story with permission from Amy Wright, who came to understand the principle of serving even amid a terrifying and life-threatening illness. Amy wrote:
“On October 29, 2015, I found out I had cancer. My cancer has a 17 percent survival rate. The odds weren’t good. I knew that I would be in for the fight of my life. I was determined to give it everything I had not just for myself but, more important, for my family. In December, I began chemo. I was familiar with many of the side effects of cancer-fighting drugs, but I did not know that it was possible for someone to be so sick and still be alive.
“At one point, I declared chemotherapy a human rights violation. I told my husband that I was done. I quit! I was not going back to the hospital. In his wisdom, my sweetheart patiently listened and then responded, ‘Well, then we need to find someone to serve.’”
What? Did he miss the fact that his wife had cancer and couldn’t take one more bout of nausea or one more moment of excruciating pain?
Amy goes on to explain: “My symptoms gradually worsened to where I generally had one or two ‘OK’ days a month [when] I could somewhat function as a living, breathing human being. It was those days when our family would find ways to serve.”
On one of those days, Amy’s family distributed chemo comfort kits to other patients, kits filled with items to cheer and to help relieve symptoms. When Amy couldn’t sleep, she would think of ways to brighten someone else’s day. Some ways were big, but many were just small notes or text messages of encouragement and love. On those nights when her pain was too great to sleep, she would lie in bed with her iPad and search for ordinances that needed to be completed on behalf of her deceased ancestors. Miraculously the pain would subside, and she was able to endure.
“Service,” Amy testifies, “saved my life. Where I ultimately found my strength to keep moving forward was the happiness I discovered in trying to relieve the suffering of those around me. I looked forward to our service projects with great joy and anticipation. Still to this day it seems like such a strange paradox. You would think that someone who was bald, poisoned, and fighting for [her] life was justified in thinking that ‘right now it is all about me.’ However, when I thought about myself, my situation, my suffering and pain, the world became very dark and depressing. When my focus turned to others, there was light, hope, strength, courage, and joy. I know that this is possible because of the sustaining, healing, and enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”
Amy came to trust in the Lord as she came to know Him. If she had leaned even a little to her own understanding, she might have rejected the idea that she serve. Service enabled her to withstand her pain and afflictions and to live this scripture: “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”6

In order to finish the temple, the prophet Wilford Woodruff asked everyone to make special contributions to the temple fund. Even young children were encouraged to give whatever they could. Many children worked on holidays and gave all their earnings to the temple fund. Other children asked to do extra chores around the house in order to earn some money to give.
During this time, one young Primary boy was trying to earn enough money to buy something for himself. He found work at a neighbor’s farm. After working very hard, he was paid twenty-five cents—a lot of money in those days—for his efforts. He “clutched the coin and ran home” excitedly to show his father how much he had earned. “Pa, look what I have!” he proudly announced. “The next time you go to Provo,” he continued, “I can get a new pair of jeans with this money.”
His father reminded him of the prophet’s request for funds for the temple. “President Wilford Woodruff needs ten cents of this quarter for the Salt Lake Temple. Here, I’ll give you fifteen cents for the coin, and we’ll go together to give the dime to our bishop, who will send it to Salt Lake City.” The boy gladly took the money to the bishop so that he, too, could help build the temple.

When I was about eight years old, I lived in Jamaica. Jamaica can be very hot. I was so excited one day when my aunt invited me to go with her and my cousin to the house of a friend who had a swimming pool. A cool pool on a sunny day sounded great.
My mother said I could go but that I couldn’t swim since she didn’t know who would be there to watch us. I told her I would just put my feet in the pool to get cool.
When I got to the house, my cousin immediately jumped in the pool. Some of our other friends came over and started to swim too. Everyone kept begging me to come in the pool, and finally I gave in. It was so hot outside, and I thought my mom wouldn’t know because my aunt said she wouldn’t tell her.
I knew my aunt was wrong to keep secrets from my mother, but I played with my friends for a while in the pool anyway. I was so scared the whole time about what would happen if my mother knew I had disobeyed her. When we got home, my hair was a little wet, even though I had tried to keep it out of the water. My mom asked me if I had gone swimming, and I lied. I told her no. I felt really bad about it for a really long time, but I didn’t want to get in trouble.
A few years later, when my sister, Briélan, was seven, she was invited to go to the beach with some friends and their parents. My mom told her the same thing she had told me: go and have fun, but don’t go swimming. When my sister got to the beach, her friends’ parents told her she could go ahead and swim. They wouldn’t tell her mother, so it would be OK.
Even though my sister thought my mom would never know, she told her friends’ parents that she would not go swimming because her mother had asked her not to, and she wanted to be obedient. The grown-ups tried to convince her it was OK, but she still said no because she knew she should do what was right, and they were trying to get her to do something wrong.
My sister’s day at the beach was just as hot as mine at the pool, and she wanted to swim just as badly as I did. But my little sister became my big example when she chose to honor our parents by obeying them.
When my mom told me this story about my sister, I told her how I had lied to her. She was thankful that I finally told her the truth. She was very proud of my little sister, who had chosen to obey her, and so was I.

Shortly after graduating high school, Enoch discovered the power of music. Passing by a classroom in church one day, he saw the missionaries teaching members to play the piano, and he was captivated by it. He sat in and listened as they taught what musical notes look like on a page, and how they relate to the piano keys. Curiously enough, it all made perfect sense to him. The 30 minutes of instruction ended, and the missionaries eventually left, but his interest remained, so he learned to play on his own, note upon note, stanza on stanza, playing just the melody first with one finger, then with two, then playing with both hands, and by perserving through the struggles, he learned to play beautifully.

Many years ago, our family planned to spend Christmas with my wife's family in Seattle. Because of my work schedule, I was not able to travel with my family but planned to join them a few days after they arrived. One night my wife's younger brother, who was in high school at the time, invited a group of friends to hang out. Unbeknownst to them, it started snowing, and soon all the roads were closed, leaving everyone stranded for the night at my in-laws' home. Trying to accommodate the group for the night meant that my wife ended up having a new roommate. They made small talk, eventually said goodnight, and turned out the light. As my wife was lying in bed, it dawned on her that she hadn't said her personal prayers before retiring. She didn't feel right saying her prayers as she lay in bed, but at the same time, she didn't feel comfortable getting out of bed and kneeling with a stranger in the room. She feared what this girl might think, especially if she didn't believe in God. She feared that maybe she might be considered a religious fanatic or some type of weirdo. She feared that somehow her new roommate might feel uncomfortable, be offended, or have a negative opinion of the Church. She even feared that she wasn't being true to her own conscience by not doing what she has done most every night of her life and pray kneeling by the side of her bed. What should she do? She decided to wait silently until her new roomie was asleep and then take action.

Feeling certain that her roommate was indeed asleep, my wife carefully and silently slid out of bed, not wanting to wake her guest. She would have made the stealthiest ninja proud. She knelt by the side of her bed, offered her prayer, and then repeated the ninja-like return to bed. Mission accomplished. She had scarcely settled in when she heard a voice in the dark ask, "Lisa, were you just praying?" My wife answered, "Yes, I was." It was silent again for a moment, and then she heard, "All my life I've wanted to pray, but I just didn't know how." Another silent pause. "Will you teach me?" Lisa turned on the light, talked about a loving Heavenly Father, the power and process of prayer, and then they kneeled together, and a "first" prayer was offered.

Lisa's faith drove her to action--to her knees--rather than to remain passive and overwhelmed with fears. I have been privileged to witness this woman of faith overcome her fears as she has acted on promptings, accepted callings that pushed her beyond her comfort, and courageously maintained her standards without dilution. She overcame the fears of what the future might hold--especially being married to me--as I worked through three university degrees, and full-time employment that was not in sight. Her first response to worry is to pray. Her first inclination when fear sets in is turn to God. I know saying this embarrasses her, and I will surely hear about this on our drive home today, but she is a fine example of what it means to have faith to conquer fear.

Gerald Horton Bath told the experience of a small African boy who
listened carefully as the teacher explained why it is that Christians give presents to each other on Christmas day. “The gift is an expression of our joy over the birth of Jesus and our friendship for each other,” she said.
When Christmas day came, the boy brought to the teacher a sea shell of lustrous beauty. “Where did you ever find such a beautiful shell?” the teacher asked as she gently fingered the gift.
The youth told her that there was only one spot where such extraordinary shells could be found. When he named the place, a certain bay several miles away, the teacher was left speechless.
“Why . . . why, it’s gorgeous . . . wonderful, but you shouldn’t have gone all that way to get a gift for me.”
His eyes brightening, the boy answered, “Long walk part of gift.”

I believe our Heavenly Father has provided a simply beautiful plan for finding both joy and peace and He has always shared this with His children who seek Him. One of my favorite examples of this is the hall-of-fame pro football player Gale Sayers.

Gale played for the University of Kansas, where he earned the nickname the “Kansas Comet.” He gained over 4,000 yards and was a two-time All-American. He was drafted by the Chicago Bears in 1965, and in his rookie year, he scored an NFL record 22 touchdowns and gained 2,272 all-purpose yards. Sadly, in 1968 he suffered a serious knee injury that cost him the final five games of the season. Helping him through this challenge was his fellow running back, Brian Piccolo.

Brian’s path to the NFL was much different than Gale’s. Brian played at Wake Forest, and at that time there was only one African-American player in the ACC—Darryl Hill, who played for Maryland. In 1963 when Maryland visited Wake Forest, the home-team student section began to taunt Darryl Hill. Noticing this, Brian Piccolo went over to the Maryland bench and approached Darryl and said, “I want to apologize for the behavior of my fans. . . . Then, draping his arm over Hill’s shoulder, he began walking him toward the Wake Forest side of the field, where the jeering was at its worst. By the time the two of them reached the middle of the field, the . . . screaming dropped to near silence.” [4] Two years later, Brian signed with the Chicago Bears as an undrafted free agent and made the practice squad.

Gale and Brian were the first interracial roommates in the NFL. While Gale was injured, Brian saw more playing time. Once Sayers returned, they played together as the starting tailback and fullback. After scoring a touchdown against the Atlanta Falcons, Brian pulled himself out of the game, complaining of shortness of breath. A medical examination revealed that he had an aggressive form of cancer that, in spite of surgery and treatment, would spread throughout his body. It was now Gale’s turn to help and serve his friend.

The month before Piccolo's death at the age of 26, Gale Sayers was accepting the George S. Halas Courage Award and told the crowd that they had selected the wrong person. He said, "I love Brian Piccolo and I'd like all of you to love him too. When you hit your knees to pray tonight please ask God to love him too." [5] Brian left behind a wife and three daughters.

Inspired by his friend, Gale wrote his autobiography titled I Am Third, which stands for “God is first, others are second, and I am third.”

This book was the inspiration for the 1971 movie Brian’s Song.

My parents separated when I was born. I was three months old when I left Chile by ship with my mother, crossed the Strait of Magellan, and landed in Uruguay where I was raised. I knew who my father was but did not know if my father really loved me. I still have the two or three cryptic letters he wrote to me, generally responses to eager letters from me.
Like Joseph, I longed for my father’s love. When I became a teenager, the need to have this love was exacerbated. My heart became hungry for a father’s understanding. During those years, my rebellious, angry statement, “I do not have a father,” only meant, “I wish I had one.” It was then that I found the missionaries of the Church, and they taught me the gospel.
I still remember the first discussion. Elder Giles asked me to read the first scripture I ever read. “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19).
That day I found my family and my Father in Heaven. The scripture told me that He, my Heavenly Father, was yet alive.

During a spelling test at school my teacher said the word we were to spell. I did not understand what he said and asked him to repeat it. After he did, I still did not know what the word was. I took a quick peek at my neighbor’s paper and wrote the same word on my paper. I received 100 percent on my test. That night I felt really bad about what I had done. I told my mom what I had done and that I was scared to tell my teacher. We decided to write my teacher a letter and tell him the truth. I also asked if I could retake the test. I went to school and handed my teacher the letter. He read it and said that I could not retake the test, but that he would mark the one word wrong. I felt so much better inside. I did not get 100 percent on my test, but it was worth it.

On Tuesday, April 26, members of the Coalinga Ward welfare committee met with other welfare leaders of the Hanford Stake in an emergency preparedness training seminar. Each ward was given a hypothetical disaster and assigned to come up with a plan of action for dealing with that situation. The scenario for the Coalinga Ward read: “A severe earthquake has caused major damage to the city of Coalinga and surrounding area. Power and communication by telephone are out. Fires are burning in some areas of the city. Many homes and public buildings are partially or totally destroyed.”
As Coalinga Ward leaders discussed their plan of action that Tuesday night, no one suspected that in less than a week they would actually be putting it into effect. Bishop Fowkes, a geology professor, conducted the session. “It’s not very likely that we’ll see a major earthquake in Coalinga,” he began. (Coalinga’s location in relation to the San Andreas fault made a large earthquake seem unlikely.) “But we’ll go ahead with this exercise and come up with a plan anyway,” the bishop continued.
The following Monday, May 2, at 4:43 P.M., an earthquake measuring 6.5 on the Richter scale hit just outside of Coalinga on an unknown fault. The downtown area was devastated, buildings caught fire, power was disrupted, and several homes were knocked off their foundations. Nearly every home sustained damage of some kind. It was time to implement the plan.

Salvation Knoll, another early landmark, was so named by George B. Hobbs when he and three others were on an advance scouting party. They were lost Christmas day in 1879. They were out of provisions and they were traveling in snow and extreme cold. Thinking they might die, Brother Hobbs decided to climb a small knoll which he named Salvation Knoll.
His journal records, “This was surely Salvation Knoll, for on looking to the northeast across a spur of the Elk Mountain I discovered the Blue Mountains, about 10 miles away” (in Hole-in-the-Rock, p. 88).

For my second example I turn to the release of a stake president in Star Valley, Wyoming—even the late E. Francis Winters. He had served faithfully for the lengthy term of twenty-three years. Though modest by nature and circumstance, he had been a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley. On the day of the stake conference, the building was filled to overflowing. Each heart seemed to be saying a silent thank-you to this noble leader who had given so unselfishly of his life for the benefit of others.
As I stood to speak following the reorganization of the stake presidency, I was prompted to do something I had not done before, nor have I done so since. I stated how long Francis Winters had presided in the stake; then I asked all whom he had blessed or confirmed as children to stand and remain standing. Then I asked all those persons whom President Winters had ordained, set apart, personally counseled, or blessed to please stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his feet. Tears flowed freely—tears which communicated better than could words the gratitude of tender hearts. I turned to President and Sister Winters and said, “We are witnesses today of the prompting of the Spirit. This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.” No person who was in the congregation that day will forget how he felt when he witnessed the language of the Spirit of the Lord.