Gospel Story Finder

One thing we always do as a family is go camping. We have camped in Colorado, Arizona, California, and Utah. Of all those states, I liked Colorado best because of Turquoise Lake.
It isn’t easy to squash seven people into a small car and ride for three straight hours. And to be honest, I wasn’t in a good mood anyway. At the time, I didn’t like camping with my family. Maybe I was going through a phase or something, but my idea of a good time was being at home, where I could use the telephone and hang out with my friends.
We all cheered when Dad announced that we had reached the camp. We couldn’t see the lake from where we were, so my brothers and sister and I started running toward it as soon as we could. Unfortunately Dad was too quick, and he called us all back to set up the tents. He explained that it was almost dark, and we needed to get the work done while we still had daylight.
After a night’s sleep, I woke up the next morning to the sound of a bird chirping merrily from the branches of a tree right above my tent. Mom was already awake getting breakfast started.
“Do you need any help?” I asked.
“Not just yet,” she said.
Just then, I heard a frog croak and a splash coming from the direction of the lake.
Mom said, “Why don’t you take a look at the lake? If you hurry, you’ll be able to see the sunrise.”
Flashing her a grateful smile, I ran toward the hill that separated us from the lake. When I reached the top, I stopped for a moment and gasped, partly because I needed air and partly because the view below me was so beautiful.
The water in the lake was a turquoise color, and so clear I could actually see the fish swimming around in it. There were mountain peaks on the other side of the lake with snow still on them.
It was so quiet without my little brothers and sister running around making noise that I sat down on the hillside and enjoyed the scene that surrounded me. The lake was completely calm when I saw a ripple in the water. Then there was another ripple, and then another. The fish were jumping all around searching for their breakfast.
It was like a play had just begun, and the lake was the stage. The curtains had opened, and the actors had started their parts. From one side I saw a deer leading her fawn to the water’s edge. Next I heard the songs of a group of birds, as they chirped while the sun crept higher and higher. I watched as they flew off together, first turning to the right and then flying to the left and out of sight.
As the sun rose from behind the mountain range, I noticed a squirrel had stopped to watch as the colors of red and yellow filled the sky. We watched together while the sunlight raced across the lake before finally overwhelming us with the warm, first light of day.
Suddenly my thoughts of the moment seemed to change. Along with the rays of warmth, I experienced a type of tingling feeling all over my body as a new understanding filled my spirit. I was no longer just watching this morning miracle, but instead I had become part of the scene in the play. I realized the same immortal being who had created all of this beauty had also created me. I was just as much a piece of his artwork as was the lake, the animals, or the sunrise. It wasn’t until that moment on Turquoise Lake that I really understood that I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father.

William Wood’s teenage years ended while he was serving in the British navy. Now, after war experience in the Crimea and China, and a three-year voyage around the world aboard the (His Majesty’s Ship) Retribution, the sailor enjoyed being home again on the Isle of Sheppey, near the mouth of the Thames River. He relayed and became reacquainted with his relatives, none of whom had appreciated his joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints five years earlier.
After being home two weeks William looked up the local branch of the Church. His sister went along, thinking he was just going for a walk. They ended up at a Mormon meeting in Sheerness held in “a little upstairs room in a dirty back alley.” William received a hearty welcome from the branch president and the few Saints who had known him before.
They called on him to speak at the meeting and tell about his sea experiences. His sister was surprised, he noted, “at finding me still a Mormon and hearing me preach.”
To supplement his discharge pay of 80 pounds sterling, William found work as a butcher. He was hired at good wages by none other than his former employer at Maldon, Mr. Blaxall, the man who fired him years before for joining the Latter-day Saints. William returned to Maldon and worked for about a year, during which period he had two pressing goals: emigrating to Zion and “selecting me a wife.”
Early in 1862 the seaman met and fell in love with Elizabeth Gentry, the attractive, 16-year-old daughter of the branch president in Maldon. Her mother had joined the Church in 1853, Elizabeth in 1854, and her blacksmith father the next year. Brother Gentry and William, converts the same year, had served together as priests at preaching services around Maldon before William’s navy service.
When William and Elizabeth became engaged, they counseled with traveling elder Francis M. Lyman about immigrating to Zion. Elder Lyman, later a member of the Council of the Twelve, advised the couple to join the emigrating company he was then organizing.
The couple joined other emigrating Saints at London and then the group traveled to Liverpool and boarded the old sailing ship William Tapscott, which had been specially chartered by Church emigration agents. For the voyage, the vessel received one of the largest Latter-day Saint companies ever to emigrate together across the Atlantic, numbering 800 souls from the British Isles, Denmark, and Sweden. “It was an interesting sight,” William reported, “to see the Saints boarding the ship with all kinds of tin utensils tied in bunches and some were carrying their straw mattresses on their heads, while others were carrying all kinds of parcels and lunch baskets. Some had old pieces of furniture … or some old picture of great-grandparents.”
William thought it remarkable how quickly the large crowd, divided into shipboard wards headed by specially appointed presiding elders, became orderly. “I do not think the same number of non-Mormons would have settled down to such order,” the veteran of shipboard life observed. “Nothing but the Spirit of the Lord would produce such harmony.” The ship left the Liverpool docks on May 13, 1862.
Ward teachers were assigned to each family, and Elder Lyman requested William to be responsible for the welfare of seven emigrants, including Elizabeth. The seaman obtained their rations, arranged for their food to be cooked, and performed other needed services. The slow, six-week voyage, characterized by rough seas and much sea-sickness, ended at Castle Garden in New York. The company passed health inspections, then boarded trains for St. Louis, Missouri. Because the American Civil War then was escalating, “we were moved and changed about a number of times. At one place we were hustled on board of a freight train. The cars had been loaded with hogs and they had not been swept or cleaned out, thus we were choked with the dust and could taste it for days afterwards.”
At the Missouri River they transferred to a small steamboat. It arrived near Council Bluffs, Iowa, very late at night, in the darkness, and passengers and baggage were unloaded at a fast speed and in confusion. At daybreak the weary travelers located their scattered luggage, then assembled at the Church’s emigration campground. There they were organized into companies of tens, fifties, and hundreds by Church emigration agent Joseph Young. William, being a military veteran, was named captain of the guards.
Wagons and teams had to be prepared, baggage loaded, food supplies purchased and packed, and teamsters trained. While this work was being done the camp was struck by a violent storm with high winds, torrential rains, and vivid lightnings. Cattle broke loose and stampeded, doing great damage. Lightning killed at least two Saints and badly injured several others. Floods washed gullies 3 meters deep in places. During the storm William, as captain of the guards, was called on to help a sister give birth under a collapsed tent—both mother and son remained his lifelong friends in Utah. The company needed two or three days to recover from the storm, and many Saints never found boxes and bags washed away by the flash floods.
A Brother Cooper, noticing William’s skill with cattle, hired him to train his teams to work together in a yoke and then drive them to Utah. In return William and Elizabeth were promised free transportation. A few days later, however, their employer announced that he did not intend to go to Zion but wanted them to help him farm nearby. When William refused, he and Elizabeth were ordered out of the wagon and left without food or water.
Fortunately for the stranded couple, Elders Lyman and Charles C. Rich rode in from the west and found them that evening. They arranged for Elizabeth to ride to Utah with a family named Wardell for 40 dollars. Elder Lyman, however, asked William to return to Florence to help with the D. F. Kimball freight train. The fiancé agreed to this separation reluctantly:
“I think this was the greatest trial I ever underwent—to leave my betrothed and go back. However, I submitted and kissed my girl good-bye and gave her a half sovereign, all the money I had in the world, and jumped in the buckboard and we went, I with a sorrowful heart and a mind full of reflections as to the outcome of it all. Brother Rich found I was in tears and told me to cheer up and have faith and all would be well.”
His first night in camp provided the other men with a good laugh then and for years after. William, preparing for bed, reached in his bag for what he thought were closely woven cotton sailor overalls and instead he held up “some sort of ladies’ underwear trimmed and adorned with lace.” His comrades laughed loudly. He had taken his sweetheart’s bag by mistake instead of his own! But perhaps the seaman was more fortunate than the others: while the freight company members slept on hard ground for three months, William rested comfortably in his sea hammock slung between two wagon wheels. On rainy nights he simply covered himself and hammock with canvas.
Day by day the scenery and travel grew increasingly tiresome. Near Chimney Rock (in what is now Wyoming) some of the cattle became diseased and died, forcing the company to make shorter drives each day. William began to think he would never get to Utah and rejoin Elizabeth.
Finally one October Saturday, William’s company descended the hills above Salt Lake City, awed by a beautiful sunset across the Great Salt Lake and by the splendid square-blocked city stretched out below them. As they approached the city, an occupant of a nearby cabin called and waved to William. It was Sister Wardell, the woman with whom Elizabeth had traveled to Utah! William hurried to her, but his anticipation was instantly crushed. She informed him that Elizabeth no longer loved him and planned to marry a local polygamist!
“This was like a bolt of thunder to me,” he recalled. Heartsick, the young man continued with the company to the valley floor, then returned that night to the Wardells. The woman tried to persuade William to marry her daughter, but he was not interested. “I formed a resolution that I was going to have the ‘love of my youth’”, he said.
Friends from Maldon lived in Centerville so early the next week William hiked 19 kilometers to locate them. He arrived at night, and “to my great joy the girl of my heart was found lying asleep on an old home-made lounge and looking free although almost in rags. She awoke, and her joy was unbounded.” Elizabeth then explained that the Wardell woman had tried to marry her to her own son. That failing, the mother sent the girl away and kept all the clothes and bedding until Elizabeth’s 40-dollar fare was paid in full. The woman then had made up the story about Elizabeth’s loss of affection for William, hoping the navy veteran would marry into the Wardell family.
William returned to Salt Lake City and drove his freight team to Springville where he received his three months’ wages. Then he walked back to Salt Lake, paid off the 40-dollar debt, obtained his and Elizabeth’s belongings, and then got a ride back to Centerville. Two weeks later the engaged couple were married.
Hard work brought the young couple a fine brick home and prospering meat business in Salt Lake, enabling them to pay for the immigration of Elizabeth’s family in 1867. But the next year the Woods gave up home and career to fill a difficult colonizing mission to Arizona. They returned destitute four years later and took up residence in a poor smelter dug in the side of a hill within sight of their former home.
William again left his prospering business and a growing family in 1880 to a mission to his home country. Near the end of that otherwise successful mission he reported:
“I preached the Gospel to my dear ones, my father, mother, brother, and sister, and although none of my own kindred have obeyed, they had to acknowledge they could not confute the doctrine, and they feel today that I am not what they judged me to be twenty-seven years ago. When a boy … All my dear relations have treated me with marked kindness, as they have any of the Elders that called upon them at the time. I know God will bless them for that.”
Six years after he returned from his mission, his beloved Elizabeth gave birth in her 42nd year to their 13th baby, but within days both mother and baby died. William later remarried, and he and his families went on to gain prominence in Canada where the Wood name became linked with extensive ranching and meat-packing interests. William’s son Edward J. served for many years as a stake president and temple president in Alberta.
The year before William died, he wrote his impressive life story, hoping his example as convert, sailor, pioneer, and missionary might teach young people in the Church that “should they have to leave the place where they have been taught the gospel … never to yield to any invitation that leads to intemperance or immorality. Always pray to the Lord, whether you are called by the servant of God to preach the Gospel or surrounded by the horrors of war—never forget to offer a silent prayer to your Eternal Father. He will not forget you.”

Initially, I hesitated to re-engage with the Church, but I overcame my doubts with my ward’s genuine love and support. I especially appreciated my brothers and sisters in the gospel who ministered to me with love. Their teachings awakened a testimony within me that I now share with others. I have shared the knowledge of the gospel with my friends, and they have been baptized and now serve in the Church and the temple. I believe the greatest gift one can give another person is a testimony of Jesus Christ because it brings light into our lives.

Some while ago, I went to visit my son who was studying in Rexburg, Idaho. He, his wife and I went out to dinner at a restaurant where people stand in line to get served. It was full of students excited for graduation and the end of the semester. I noticed a young lady come in by herself, looking somewhat lonely and overwhelmed by the noise and activity around her. I felt prompted to invite her to sit with us. As she got her food, she walked by us and made her way to a table by herself. At that moment, I thought, “Oh, she’ll think I’m strange if I invite her to sit with us,” and I let the prompting pass. I remember waking up about 2:30 a.m. the following morning thinking “What if she had really needed our help and friendship?” I got out of bed onto my knees and prayed that someone else might help her where I had failed. I also determined then that I would try never to let that kind of prompting or the opportunity to lift another pass again.

[A few] of you may know that also in 1878, not long after Brigham’s death, he visited Karl Maeser in a dream and took him on a tour of a large building, with many rooms and a spacious assembly hall. Maeser, on waking, drew the floor plans for the building in some notes about the dream and put them away until six years later when the old Academy building was destroyed by fire. He remembered the notes and used the plans to design the new Academy Building that became the center of BYU for fifty years. Brother Brigham could still be our best architect.

A few years ago my husband and I were returning home to Italy from the Frankfurt Germany Temple. With us in the car were another couple and a young man about to leave on a full-time mission. We had spent a wonderful week attending the temple, but as we journeyed home, my heart was agitated and I could not figure out why.
While we were still in Germany, I noted that Angelo, my husband, took a wrong turn. But trying not to worry the other passengers, I didn’t say anything. Suddenly a huge truck coming from the opposite direction ran into us. The force of the blow sent our car spinning out of control. Angelo was powerless; all we could do was pray.
Our car finally stopped when it smashed against a tree. All the windows broke out, and glass was everywhere. Even my eyeglasses were broken into pieces. I soon learned that six other cars were involved and some of the victims were in serious condition.
The paramedics arrived right away and took my husband, the couple traveling with us, and some of the other victims to the hospital. The young, soon-to-be missionary and I were left at the accident scene. I felt confused and lost since I was in a foreign country without my husband and without any information about what was happening. And so I continued to turn my heart to Heavenly Father in prayer. His answer came almost immediately.
A man approached me. He was German, but he spoke to me in English. Even though I don’t speak either English or German, I was able to understand when he offered to take us to the hospital. Since he was on a bicycle, he said he would return home to get his car.
We were alone again. But in a few minutes another man approached. He spoke Italian! I was so happy that I hugged him and started to cry. He also wanted to help us, but he too had to get his car.
Both men soon returned. They loaded our suitcases in their cars and took us to the hospital. The second man left, but the first stayed with me the entire day, helping me find my husband, buy new glasses, and locate a hotel room for the night. Above all, he gave me encouragement and moral support.
When he came back the next day, I couldn’t help but think of the parable of the good Samaritan. This man, although he didn’t know my husband or me, helped us through a very difficult time.
That day I located and contacted some local Church members. Almost immediately the mission president and the bishop arrived. They were strangers to us, but in their faces I saw the pure love of Jesus Christ. While my husband and our traveling companions recovered, the Church members helped us. Each time they came to visit, they brought their love.
The most important blessing we received during this time of adversity was the reminder of the great love God has for His children. Now I know from experience that if we trust in Him, He will never leave us alone but will be at our side through everyday people.

For example, let me give you a brief incident from a family history in Hawaii. It involves sacrifice and temple blessings and true eternal perspective.

In the early 1900s, a young father and his family joined the Church in Hawaii. He was enthused about his new-found religion, and after two years of membership both he and his eldest son held the priesthood. They prospered and enjoyed the fellowship of the little branch. They anxiously looked forward to being sealed as a family for eternity in the temple soon to be completed in Laie.

Then, as so often happens, a test crossed their path. One of their daughters became ill with an unknown disease and was taken away to a strange hospital. People in Hawaii were understandably wary of unknown diseases, as such diseases had wrought so much havoc there.

The concerned family went to church the next Sunday, looking forward to the strength and understanding they would receive from their fellow members. It was a small branch. This young father and his son very often took the responsibility for blessing and passing the sacrament. This was one such Sunday. They reverently broke the bread while the congregation sang the sacrament hymn. When the hymn was finished, the young father began to kneel to offer the sacrament prayer. Suddenly the branch president, realizing who was at the sacred table, sprang to his feet. He pointed his finger and cried, “Stop. You can’t touch the sacrament. Your daughter has an unknown disease. Leave immediately while someone else fixes new sacrament bread. We can’t have you here. Go.”

How would you react? What would you do?

The stunned father slowly stood up. He searchingly looked at the branch president, then at the congregation. Then, sensing the depth of anxiety and embarrassment from all, he motioned to his family and they quietly filed out of the chapel.

Not a word was said as, with faces to the ground, they moved along the dusty trail to their small home. The young son noticed the firmness in his father’s clenched fists and the tenseness of his set jaw. When they entered their home they all sat in a circle, and the father said, “We will be silent until I am ready to speak.” All sorts of thoughts went through the mind of this young boy. He envisioned his father coming up with many novel ways of getting revenge. Would they kill the branch president’s pigs, or burn his house, or join another church? He could hardly wait to see what would happen.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes—not a sound. He glanced at his father. His eyes were closed, his mouth was set, his fingers clenched, but no sound. Twenty minutes, twenty-five minutes—still nothing. Then he noticed a slight relaxing of his father’s hands, a small tremor on his father’s lips, then a barely perceptible sob. He looked at his father—tears were trickling down his cheeks from closed eyes. Soon he noticed his mother was crying also, then one child, then another, and soon the whole family.

Finally, the father opened his eyes, cleared his throat, and announced, “I am now ready to speak. Listen carefully.” He slowly turned to his wife and said, meaningfully, “I love you.” Then turning to each child, he told them individually, “I love you. I love all of you and I want us to be together, forever, as a family. And the only way that can be is for all of us to be good members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and be sealed by his holy priesthood in the temple. This is not the branch president’s church. It is the Church of Jesus Christ. We will not let any man or any amount of hurt or embarrassment or pride keep us from being together forever. Next Sunday we will go back to church. We will stay by ourselves until our daughter’s sickness is known, but we will go back.”

This great man had proper eternal perspective.

The daughter’s health problem was resolved; the family did go to the temple when it was completed. The children did remain faithful and were likewise sealed to their own families in the temple as time went on. Today over 100 souls in this family are active members of the Church and call their father, grandfather, and great-grandfather blessed because he kept his eyes on eternity, because he used his priesthood to bless his family, and because he recorded his feelings. How the heart of this father turned to his children, and how his children’s hearts turned to him.

The third type of love I want to share is a bit personal and yet needs to be shared. Prior to serving a senior mission, I had not heard much about a unique and wonderful blessing of strengthening that occurs within one’s marriage. In our case, we have been happily married for 42 years, and they have been wonderful and joyful years. However, with children, grandchildren, Church callings, a demanding professional career, and a variety of exciting extracurricular activities, we found that our time together had become limited to a few hours here and there, large family and church gatherings, and not terribly regular date nights. However, as we began serving as full-time senior missionaries, we found ourselves together all the time. Naturally, this required some companionship interviews. The result has been an unexpected and unimaginable blessing, even a rediscovery of why we got married so many years ago. I am reminded of how twitterpated I felt when I first set eyes on the blonde hair, blue eyes, and brilliant smile of Sue Maughan. She has the same spell over me as she did many years ago.

The young man’s name was John Andreas Widtsoe. He lived with his widowed mother and little brother in a small, poor cottage. They had come from Norway in 1884. On June 27, 1894, in Sanders Theater, in Harvard Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts, President Charles W. Eliot of Harvard University conferred upon the young immigrant the degree, Bachelor of Science, summa cum laude (with highest honors). He completed the four-year curriculum in three years. He had undergone many hardships. His widowed mother and little brother had sent him small sums of money from their meager earnings. The rest of his education had been financed by unusual personal sacrifice and by loans from kind friends in Logan, with notes signed at 12 percent interest.

For example, the day two missionaries knocked on Jacques Faudin’s door in Nîmes, Jacques, then an 18-year-old student, seemed an unlikely candidate for membership in any church—he was an active Marxist-Leninist atheist. “I invited the missionaries in only so I could fight with them and try to convert them to atheism,” says Brother Faudin. “However, after two discussions, I was shaken. These missionaries had a strength I couldn’t define. I stopped fighting and began to doubt my atheism.”

This was the turning point for Jacques. He decided to find out if there was a God. Still skeptical when the missionaries gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon, he decided to prove it wrong. After a constant two-week study, he had found no errors.

“I wanted a spiritual testimony,” says Brother Faudin. “In my heart I made a covenant with the Lord that if he would answer my prayers, I would give him my life. Soon I learned that Elder Howard W. Hunter, then of the Quorum of the Twelve, was coming to dedicate the chapel in Marseille. I went to the meeting fasting. When the missionaries introduced me to Elder Hunter, I handed him my program and asked if he would write something to me. He looked me right in the eyes, and then he wrote, ‘You will gain a testimony if you exercise faith and prayer.’ I took the program home and read his words many times. I continued to exercise my faith and to pray. Then one night, after fasting, I received my answer. I knew without any doubt that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that the Book of Mormon was true. I was baptized two days later on 27 July 1968.”

As promised, he has given his life to the Lord and has served in many important leadership positions.

This is my friend Vinod. He is from India and grew up very poor. He had to get a job when he was seven years old because his mother was sick. He joined the Church in 2012, and his mom was very angry that he abandoned his Hindu faith. But he found everlasting joy in the Plan of Salvation. He went on a mission. Priesthood blessings saved him from malaria. He failed the exams to get into BYU–Hawaii four times. God gave him the courage to try the fifth time. He has had trial after trial in his life. But he is grateful for trials because God always gives him enough strength to overcome them.
Vinod says, “I always find a way to show gratitude to God, because He gives more blessings than trials.” Vinod watches out for ingratitude.

I know firsthand that this prophecy is being fulfilled. Mary and I had the opportunity for three years to serve in the Area Presidency of the Asia North Area of the Church. The Asia North Area includes Mongolia, South Korea, Japan, Micronesia, Guam, Palau, and other islands of the sea—beautiful countries from which some of you come. During my service I saw firsthand how President McKay’s prophecy is being fulfilled. I remember calling a young new stake president in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. After praying alongside his wife, he recommended two counselors. The next morning, when we gathered the new stake presidency and their wives for orientation and training, I learned that all six of them were BYU–Hawaii graduates. In faraway Mongolia, I ended up training in English. This pattern was repeated elsewhere. Some of the greatest translators I worked with in Korea and Japan were women and men who had graduated from BYU–Hawaii. In Guam, our temple president and matron, the Area Seventy, and the stake president had all attended BYU–Hawaii. Everywhere I went, I found impressive BYU–Hawaii graduates—leaders, in President McKay’s words, of genuine gold. I trust President McKay’s prophecy because I have seen it. And I expect great things to come as you go forth as leaders in your nations, communities, and especially in your homes.

I love listening to the prophets. When I was a young boy, general conference was also on Fridays. I took a portable radio to school and listened to the talks during class break. But there were still a lot of things that I didn’t understand.
One night, I lay in bed thinking. I worried about all the things I didn’t understand about God. But I knew that I could learn more about God by praying to Him and by reading the scriptures. So I said a prayer and started reading from the scriptures. I read Doctrine and Covenants 88:49. It says, “The day shall come when you shall comprehend even God.”
As I read that, I felt peace and comfort from the Holy Ghost. I started to realize that someday I would be able to understand the things that made me feel worried. And that it was OK if I didn’t understand everything right now. I also learned that I could get to know God better by reading the scriptures and listening to prophets. I have a testimony that you can too!

My father-in-law taught at BYU and loved BYU football but could not bring himself to watch their games because he was so nervous about the outcome. Then a wonderful thing happened—the VCR was invented, which made it possible for him to record the games. If BYU won, he would watch the recording with perfect confidence, absolutely certain of the ending! If they were penalized unfairly, injured, or behind late in the fourth quarter, he wasn’t stressed because he knew they would pull it out! You might say he had “a perfect brightness of hope”!28

Two such pioneers are Linda Choi and Castle Chan, one of the first couples married in the Hong Kong Temple. Brother Chan joined the Church six years ago after missionaries stopped him during a street display. His parents and siblings had always been extremely important to him, and as he listened to the missionaries, he desired the eternal family they spoke of. Unfortunately, no one at home was interested in listening to the truth he had discovered.
Three and a half years ago, however, he met Linda. She agreed to listen to the discussions and attend church with him. “Right from the beginning I was impressed with Castle’s attitude toward his family,” she says. “He was so unlike other men I knew who worried about material things, money, and possessions. Castle focused on things that mattered. He often spoke about an eternal family unit, and I wanted that. If this religion was where he’d found it, I was willing to listen.”
As a student nurse, Linda observes firsthand the reactions of spouses and families during times of illness, disease, and other hardship. “Some patients go their entire stay at the hospital with no visitors,” she says. “They have no one in their lives who cares. Some people I work with have been divorced and place no importance on families. Sometimes playing and possessions are first priorities. I yearned for more than that.”
After a few months, Linda was baptized. Now, using D&C 88:119 as a guide, she and Castle are starting the “forever family” they both seek. “We want a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, learning, glory, and order—a house of God,” Castle explains. “When spouses are members of the same church, they share religious values; they share goals. There is a saying I like: If you share your happiness with one you love, you’ll double it. If you share your sorrows, you’ll lighten them by half. This is our goal: to share our happiness and share our sorrow.”

When I was 30, my friend asked me some questions that changed my life. He asked, “If you had all the money in the world, what would you do?” I gave some simple answers, like buy a house, look after my family, be self-reliant, etc.
Then he dug deeper and asked, “What if you had all those things and all the money in the world, then what would you do?” That’s when I realized that regardless of my marital status, I had a lot to give to the world. I thought about the things I could learn and share and the difference and impact I could make.

Some months ago, I rode in a car with two courageous senior sister missionaries. They were determined to find a ward member’s apartment in the heart of an inner-city neighborhood in the eastern United States. As I sat in the backseat holding my breath, the car’s guidance system regularly blared, “Wrong turn, wrong turn!” Undaunted, the missionary reading the map just kept suggesting way after way through the maze of city streets until finally we found the home of the sister whom they had promised to teach how to read and write.
In their actions and attitudes, these remarkable sisters embodied something that is much more than a reflection of their mortal years. They demonstrated true spiritual maturity.
Helaman, the great Book of Mormon prophet, named his sons Nephi and Lehi after their forebears, and “they began to grow up unto the Lord.” Young or older, all of us must do the same.
This idea of growing up unto the Lord is a compelling one. Unlike the process of growing up physically, we will not mature spiritually until we choose, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, to “put away childish things.”
Daily prayer and scripture study, adherence to commandments and to covenants made at baptism and in the temple are at the core of growing up unto the Lord. We learn to walk in His ways as we do what draws us closer to Heavenly Father and as we teach our children and others to do the same. We “put away childish things” as we choose to become Christlike and serve others as He would have us do.
When the Church was organized in this dispensation, the Lord explained that those who “shall be received by baptism into his church” would be, in part, those “willing to take upon them the name of Jesus Christ, having a determination to serve him to the end.” That means remaining “steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works” each day of our lives. Today, as the Church grows in 170 nations throughout the earth, determined service to others, even in difficult circumstances, is required of those who truly desire “to grow up unto the Lord.” This expansion of the Church means many of us will have opportunities to serve those who are new converts.
I participated in a memorable example of such determined service to those who are new to the gospel when I accompanied those dedicated sister missionaries—one a widow close to 80 years and the other a single parent in her 60s—who would not be deterred by wrong turns. I also witnessed another example of it in that same ward.
This ward is composed of members of many ages, from a variety of countries, all with varying economic circumstances and Church experience. A number of those with the most Church experience are busy graduate-student couples with demanding schedules and young families.
What I saw was a young mother serving as a visiting teaching mentor to newer converts in the ward. While her husband cared for their baby, she enthusiastically modeled loving watchcare to two African sisters. This watchcare involved teaching these sisters not only how to function in a new country but also how to adapt to their new religion.
Through her example she taught these African sisters how the Lord would have us serve each other. The words of the Apostle Paul tenderly describe what I saw in this visiting teaching mentor’s actions toward these new converts: “We were gentle among you, … being affectionately desirous of you, … willing to have imparted unto you, not the gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because ye were dear unto us.” With each visit, the young mentor brought good cheer, a gentle helping hand, and the visiting teaching message.
In time, together the sisters prepared the visiting teaching message to share in other sisters’ homes. Assessing needs, giving on-the-spot service as they went, they became true Relief Society sisters committed to lifting, comforting, and encouraging one another. I doubt I will ever hear the phrase “hearts knit together in unity and in love” that I won’t think of those three happy, loving women demonstrating through their determined service to others what it means “to grow up unto the Lord.”

Suppose the bishop called you into his office after sacrament meeting and said, “I have a very important calling for you in the ward. I would like you to be songbook coordinator for the ward choir.” What would you do? You might think to yourself, “But Bishop, that’s such a little job. Couldn’t you give me something important to do, something difficult that I could really get involved in, like Young Men’s president or Relief Society president—a position where I can really be of service?” But, having been taught never to refuse a calling, you smile and say, “Yes, I would love to be songbook coordinator.”
On your first day as songbook coordinator for the ward choir, you arrive half an hour early and carefully place the songbooks; after the practice you hurry to collect and return them to the proper closet. No one, you observe, puts an arm around you and tells you what a fine job you did. The next week you arrived a bit later and rush through your responsibilities. Again, no one notices your efforts.
The third week comes, and you don’t even go. After all, it’s such a little job.
It may be true that songbook coordinator is not necessarily the most difficult job in the Church. The most difficult job in the Church is the one that begins with the words “I am only.” I am only a home teacher; I am only a visiting teacher; I am only an usher; I am only a deacon. The most important job in the Church, on the other hand, is the one in which service is willingly, and faithfully rendered.
I’ve determined that there are three types of people holding positions in the Church. One is the worker who says, “Yes, I’ll do the job,” but then doesn’t fulfill his responsibility. Another is the person who does the job, but does no more than the minimum expected (and he really doesn’t enjoy it). The third type of individual is one who not only does the job, but finds joy in doing more than just what is expected.
You might ask, “But how can a ward choir songbook coordinator do more than is expected?” Let’s think about that. He might notice that several books have broken bindings, and he takes the time to repair them. Perhaps some of the books have missing pages; so he photocopies those pages from other books and inserts them into the books where they are needed. He might even build a container to carry the books so that he will not drop them as he is distributing or collecting them. There are many ways to enhance one’s service.
Let me tell you about some church workers I have known who went the extra mile. President A. Harold Goodman, of the Provo Temple presidency, once lived in Tucson, Arizona. While there, he was called to be home teacher to a man that no one had been able to visit. After attempting several times without success to find him at home, he went to the neighbors and found out that the man was working two jobs and left home every morning at 5:30 A.M. So the next morning at 5 A.M. Brother Goodman was sitting on the front porch; when the lights went on in that house, he jumped to his feet and knocked on the door. The man answered the door, and Brother Goodman said, “Good morning, I’m your home teacher.” The man was surprised to see someone so interested in him, and a warm relationship developed.
I have an aunt living in Ogden, Utah, who says that as a young girl she had a memorable Sunday School teacher. When he was called, he said, “A Sunday School teacher is the most important calling in the Church,” and he was the best Sunday School teacher she ever had. His name was David O. McKay.
I believe that the most important job in the Church is the one we hold right now. Maybe you don’t even hold a specific position. I remember being in a ward where there were just not enough ward positions for everyone to have one, so the bishop called certain people into his office and asked them to be celestial members—to set a good example for others; to fellowship those in need; and to be one-hundred-percent participators. That was an important calling—as is any calling we now or in the future will hold in the kingdom of God. For it is through righteously serving others that we bless our own lives, enrich the lives of our neighbors, and further the work of the Lord.

The snow fell lightly on Greta and her twin brother Hans as they each carried an armload of firewood to their split-log house.
Suddenly Greta turned to her brother and asked, “Then jolly Kris Kringle will not be allowed to bring gifts to our new home here in Plymouth Colony in Massachusetts on Christmas Eve as he did in Holland?”
“That’s right, my sister. Governor Bradford has decreed that Christmas celebrations are frivolous.”
Greta frowned. “But I can’t see the harm in getting a small doll and a few sweetmeats,” she said.
Hans’ mouth watered when he recalled the Dutch applecakes, oozing with raisins and sugar that their mother made for the Christmas holiday back in the old country.
Greta stopped walking for a moment and then her face brightened. “I know! Hans, let’s take the wood into the house and come back outside again. I have an idea.”
Hans grinned at his white-capped sister as he opened the door for her. No one was in the kitchen so they left the wood and hurried outdoors. The other chores could wait a bit. He had been wanting to tell Greta about his own idea.
Greta stood behind the outbuilding, clapping her mittens together for warmth. She seemed to be almost bursting with excitement. “Hans, let’s at least give Mother and Father some kind of gift. I’m sure the Christ Child would think we were very ungrateful to our parents if we didn’t.” She put up a hand of caution and added, “Oh, nothing frivolous, of course.”
“Come to the shed and see what I already have for Father,” Hans said, hardly containing his excitement. “You’ll have to think of something for Mother.”
It was finally Christmas Eve and to Hans and Greta the very air seemed to crackle with surprise. They smiled knowingly at each other. Greta had thought of a wonderful gift for Mother. Even if they were not visited by Kris Kringle, they would have fun giving gifts to their mother and father.
Mother had prepared a special meal of wild turkey, stuffing, cornbread, and stewed cranberries. The family sat down at the trestle table and Father gave a prayer of thanks.
Hans and Greta ate until they were as stuffed as the turkey had been, enjoying the faces Father made when he ate the sour cranberries.
“They are sour as any pickle,” he grimaced, “but the Indians claim they are good for strength, especially during winter.”
Mother was wearing her best white cap and collar and her good woolen dress. Her eyes looked merry and her hair shone from careful brushing. To Hans and Greta, she looked beautiful.
After supper, the family gathered in front of the great fireplace. With a smile, Mother handed a cornhusk doll to Greta. The doll was dressed in a knitted cape, dress, and white cap just like her own.
“Oh, thank you, Mother!” cried Greta. “I’ve been longing so for a doll.” She hugged it close, her eyes brimming.
“‘Tis time to surprise you, my son,” Father said, bringing in two long-necked gourds, one yellow and one orange. They had been scooped out and a small, round hole had been bored in each of them.
Hans looked at the strange gourds and ran his hands along their smooth, hard surfaces. “What are they for?” he asked.
“Our Indian friend, Squanto, gave them to me,” Father explained. “He calls them gourds and showed me how to hollow them out for birds to build nests in. Come spring, we’ll hang them from the big alder trees.” He touseled Hans’ fair hair. “You are interested in watching birds, and we all like to hear birdsongs. These may lure them to live close by.”
Hans was delighted. “It’s a fine gift, Father. Thank you!”
“Would not the town fathers be displeased if they knew of our presents?” Greta asked anxiously, hugging her doll close. She knew they had come to this new land so they might worship God freely, but seriously.
“Nay,” Father said and smiled. “I doubt that even the Christ Child would think us sinful if we gave our children a little special joy on His birthday.”
Greta clapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened. “Hans! We almost forgot—”
Hans hurried out of the room and soon returned with a small wooden bucket. He pushed it toward his father.
Mr. van Felt stared in astonishment. “Why, Hans. ‘Tis honey, to be sure! Where did you ever get it?”
Hans grinned broadly. “Running Deer and I were looking for eagle feathers when we found it. He helped me get it down.”
Greta stepped quietly behind her mother’s stool and slipped a string of bright red cranberries around her mother’s neck.
Mother reached up to touch the red “jewels.” “Why, child, how did you ever think of this?” she asked, getting up to fetch a shiny pewter plate in which to see herself. When she looked, her cheeks brightened and her eyes sparkled.
“Well, well,” Father said. “All this, and none of us had expected anything at all. Ah! Won’t the cranberry sauce taste much better now?” He looked at his wife. “And you, dear Prudence, are absolutely beautiful.” Going to the table, he asked, “Shall we all have a spoonful of honey for dessert?”
Greta, Hans, and their mother were pleased to see Father’s eagerness to have a taste of the sweet honey.
“Isn’t this a surprising Christmas!” Greta exclaimed. “I think I’m going to like America after all.” And she hugged her doll close and smiled at her family.

“Thank you, Mrs. Frame,” Elizabeth said as Mrs. Frame placed four shiny quarters in her hand.
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Frame said. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help watching Hannah these last five days.”
Elizabeth smiled and waved as she walked down the sidewalk toward town.
Four whole quarters! Elizabeth had never earned even one quarter before, and now she had four! She hugged the coins close to her, thinking of what she might buy. She loved to draw, so a new drawing pad and pencils would be nice. Or maybe she would buy the pretty blue hair ribbon she had seen in the store window.
Elizabeth came to the big wooden doors of the bank. She pulled on the large brass handle and slipped through the doors.
“May I help you, Miss?” a kindly-looking gentleman asked from behind the counter.
“Yes, please. I would like to make change for a quarter,” Elizabeth requested a bit timidly.
“Very well, Miss. I think we can do that.”
Elizabeth opened her hand and placed one quarter on the counter.
“It looks like you have a small fortune there, young lady,” the man said as he handed Elizabeth the change. “What are you going to do with all that money?”
Elizabeth tucked the dime she would need for tithing in one pocket of her apron and put the rest of the money in the other pocket. “I’m not sure yet,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you!” she called as she walked out into the sunshine and headed for the store.
Elizabeth stopped as she got to the store window and peered in. The pretty blue hair ribbon was still there. She also saw a drawing pad and colorful pencils. Elizabeth heard the tinkling of a bell as she pushed open the door.
She slowly walked down each aisle admiring the items for sale. Then a display of cake-making supplies caught her eye. Elizabeth loved to bake, but she had never made a cake. Papa’s birthday was tomorrow, and chocolate cake was his favorite! She used her money to buy the supplies to make Papa a chocolate cake.
The next morning Elizabeth awoke early. Papa had already left to do the morning chores, and she wanted to surprise him with the cake. She carefully sifted flour, sugar, and chocolate into a bowl. Next she whisked together eggs, butter, and buttermilk with a pinch of salt and poured them into the bowl. Elizabeth gently stirred the batter, poured it into a cake pan, and placed it in the oven.
It was hard for Elizabeth to concentrate on her chores, but soon she was finished, and the house was filled with a delicious smell. Placing thick cloths over her hands so she wouldn’t burn herself, Elizabeth carefully pulled the cake from the oven. While it cooled, she made frosting with the remaining sugar and chocolate and some fresh cream she had saved from milking the cows. The frosted cake looked perfect!
“Why, Elizabeth, what are you doing?” Papa asked as he came into the house.
“Happy birthday, Papa!” Elizabeth exclaimed as she held out the cake.
“It’s beautiful!” Papa said as he put his arm around her. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”
At supper that evening Elizabeth thought about the drawing pad, the pencils, and the pretty blue hair ribbon. Those things were nice, but as she watched her father enjoy his chocolate cake she knew she had never felt better!