To illustrate this point I would like to share an experience that involves a great group of young men. This experience began two years ago and is still ongoing. This unique experience and transition has been witnessed and enjoyed by many and has left a lasting impression on me and many others. This is an example of a group of young men who set personal goals at an early age including goals with eternal significance.
Two years ago our twin sons were members of our local High School football team in Rexburg and they were excited to play their senior year. All the young men on this team made it their goal during their youth football days to win a high school state championship in football. During the prior high school season their team won four games and lost five. It made sense at the time why no one picked this team do be anything but average their senior season. Fortunately, someone forgot to tell that to this team. This team was a close knit group, all with a common goal. In my opinion this team had three attributes that exceeded that of their opponents this particular season. Their desire to do their best and win was greater and their team unity and unselfishness exceeded that of their opponents.
During this pre-season the boys would continually refer to their goal of winning a state championship and they were determined that nothing would stand in their way of accomplishing this goal. The season began and this team practiced and played their games with one goal in mind: a State championship. I'll give you the condensed version of this very exciting season and simply say, they ended up having pretty good year winning all nine of their regular season games. Not bad. They then went on to win their first two state playoff games. Finally, as a result of every coach and player's desire to win and the best efforts of everyone on the team they held on to win the 5A state championship and end the season undefeated with 12 wins and no losses. You would be hard pressed to find a group of young men and coaches that were happier that evening than this group not to mention the entire community.
The next morning the front page of the local newspaper read: "PERFECT!" On the back page it read "CHAMPS!" What a great experience for these young men. Those were truly great times and an experience they will remember for a lifetime.
Did this experience contribute to these young men experiencing an abundant life? Absolutely. Many probably thought that few things, if any could ever surpass the excitement, satisfaction, and happiness that this experience had brought them, but this overall experience gets even better.
Midway through this particular football season, President Monson made the announcement that young men could begin their missionary service when they turn 18. Many of these young men at an early age made it a goal to win a state championship in football but they also made a personal goal to serve a mission. As a result, midway through this football season, winning a championship and leaving on a mission right after high school became the conversation piece for many. The following spring, mission call after mission call started arriving in the mailboxes of many of these young men. All the sudden this large group of teammates began to decrease in number as they saw their lifelong friends leave, one at a time, week by week to their respective missions throughout the world. What a blessing it was for these boys to have such a large group of friends and teammates with similar values and with the same goal of serving a mission. There are certainly other high school football teams who go undefeated and win championships, but few teams can say they have over 30 young men from their championship team currently serving missions. I don't give you that number to brag or set this group of young men apart from anyone else. I give you that number in the spirit of excitement, humility and gratitude. Watching them work together on the football field was certainly enjoyable but watching this group transition into the lives of Elders has been equally enjoyable and fulfilling.
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Experiencing The Abundant Life
Summary: The speaker tells of his twin sons and their Rexburg high school football team, whose long-held goal was to win a state championship. After achieving an undefeated championship season, many of the same young men pursued another goal of greater significance by accepting mission calls and leaving one by one to serve throughout the world.
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Missionaries
👤 Other
Look for the Light
Summary: The speaker recalls her young daughter Erica expecting to wake up bigger on her birthday, a memory that later became precious after Erica died in a car accident at age seventeen. In the depths of grief, a friend urged the speaker to look for tender mercies, and over time those small rays of light brought peace, testimony, and assurance that she would see Erica again.
When our family lived in Hong Kong, my daughter Erica was turning four years old. When I walked into her room on the morning of her birthday, she was wide-awake and lying quietly on her bed. When I got closer, she said to me, “Mom, I’m no bigger than yesterday, and my hair is not any longer!”
My daughter was very distraught because she thought that when she woke up on the morning of her birthday she would instantly be a year bigger. I was trying very hard not to laugh as I explained to her that the growing doesn’t take place all at once—it happens a little bit at a time and is barely noticeable. But Erica was having a hard time grasping the concept of small growing. There have been times in my life when I have had a hard time with that concept too.
Erica eventually grew into a beautiful and amazing young woman—and, yes, she always had long hair. I clung to that sweet birthday memory when, thirteen years later, our family had to endure losing her when she was killed in a car accident. She was a new university student, like many of you, and had just started taking classes. One day as she was driving on the freeway, she lost control of her car; unfortunately, she had neglected to fasten her seat belt.
I felt as if a nuclear bomb had gone off in my life. She was my youngest child, and she had been so full of life and potential. How could she be gone? My heart was truly broken. How could I go on living? How could I endure the constant anguish? It made it hard to breathe. It made it hard to do the most basic things. I wanted to stay in bed all day. I wanted the world to stop.
Erica passed away many years ago. Now, when I look back on that wrenching time of grief when I struggled to feel my Savior’s love, I can find some grace in that terrible experience. A friend of mine said something to me shortly after Erica died. He told me to look for “tender mercies”6 from our Heavenly Father and promised me that they would come if I would open myself up to receiving them. He was telling me about the rays of light that Elder Dushku spoke about in his conference talk. He was telling me about small learning.
I listened to him and opened up my broken heart. And those rays of light did come to me as I walked through that dark valley of shadow and death. It took a long time—much longer than I expected—and it was the hardest learning that I have ever done, but eventually I emerged with a knowledge that the Savior understands my sorrows and struggles and that He loves me and my daughter. He brought peace and comfort that soothed my heart and soul. He blessed me with His Spirit and the knowledge that I will be with Erica again. He surrounded me with rays of light that I have learned to recognize and gather into a glorious, brilliant pillar. In the darkness and despair, God’s light and love encircled me.
My daughter was very distraught because she thought that when she woke up on the morning of her birthday she would instantly be a year bigger. I was trying very hard not to laugh as I explained to her that the growing doesn’t take place all at once—it happens a little bit at a time and is barely noticeable. But Erica was having a hard time grasping the concept of small growing. There have been times in my life when I have had a hard time with that concept too.
Erica eventually grew into a beautiful and amazing young woman—and, yes, she always had long hair. I clung to that sweet birthday memory when, thirteen years later, our family had to endure losing her when she was killed in a car accident. She was a new university student, like many of you, and had just started taking classes. One day as she was driving on the freeway, she lost control of her car; unfortunately, she had neglected to fasten her seat belt.
I felt as if a nuclear bomb had gone off in my life. She was my youngest child, and she had been so full of life and potential. How could she be gone? My heart was truly broken. How could I go on living? How could I endure the constant anguish? It made it hard to breathe. It made it hard to do the most basic things. I wanted to stay in bed all day. I wanted the world to stop.
Erica passed away many years ago. Now, when I look back on that wrenching time of grief when I struggled to feel my Savior’s love, I can find some grace in that terrible experience. A friend of mine said something to me shortly after Erica died. He told me to look for “tender mercies”6 from our Heavenly Father and promised me that they would come if I would open myself up to receiving them. He was telling me about the rays of light that Elder Dushku spoke about in his conference talk. He was telling me about small learning.
I listened to him and opened up my broken heart. And those rays of light did come to me as I walked through that dark valley of shadow and death. It took a long time—much longer than I expected—and it was the hardest learning that I have ever done, but eventually I emerged with a knowledge that the Savior understands my sorrows and struggles and that He loves me and my daughter. He brought peace and comfort that soothed my heart and soul. He blessed me with His Spirit and the knowledge that I will be with Erica again. He surrounded me with rays of light that I have learned to recognize and gather into a glorious, brilliant pillar. In the darkness and despair, God’s light and love encircled me.
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👤 Children
👤 Friends
👤 Parents
👤 Other
The Voice of the Spirit
Summary: As a child living behind his father's clock and watch repair shop, the author wondered why his father hung repaired wall clocks near their bedrooms at night. One morning the father explained, through a request, that he listened in the night and could tell a clock wasn't working properly, prompting a recheck. The author then learned to discern correct timing by attentive listening and later likened this practice to recognizing the voice of the Holy Ghost. The experience continues to guide him to seek quiet moments for spiritual direction.
When I was young, my father had a store where he sold and repaired clocks and watches. Our family home was located in the back of the store, so I grew up with the sounds of clocks and watches.
At the end of each day, my father would take some of the wall clocks he had worked on during the day and hang them inside our home on the walls near our bedrooms. I didn’t understand why he did this and why we had to sleep with all that noise. But with time, the sound of different clocks became a familiar part of otherwise quiet nights.
A couple of years later, I began working with my father in the store, learning from him how to repair watches. One morning he said something that opened my mind and helped me understand why he hung the wall clocks outside our bedrooms instead of keeping them inside the store.
“Could you bring me the wall clock that was near your bedroom last night?” he asked. “I was listening to the sound of it during the night, and I realized it is not working right. I need to look at it again.”
That was it! In the silence of the night, he had listened to the sound of the clock in the same way a doctor listens to the sound of the heart of a patient. In the process of repairing various types of clocks and watches over a lifetime, he had trained his ears to determine by a clock’s sound whether it was working perfectly or not.
After that experience, I began to pay attention to the sound of the clocks during the night, just as my father did. By doing so, I learned to recognize whether a clock was working correctly or whether it needed adjustment.
From my father, I learned the lesson of listening in a practical way—working with watches and clocks. Today I treasure the lesson he taught me. The Holy Ghost, in fact, still brings that lesson to my mind and heart, and He gives me a promise of good things to come.
That experience has helped me search for quiet moments when I can listen for the voice of the Spirit. Listening closely to the Holy Ghost helps me determine whether I am walking the correct path or whether I need to change my course so that I can be in tune with Heavenly Father’s desires.
At the end of each day, my father would take some of the wall clocks he had worked on during the day and hang them inside our home on the walls near our bedrooms. I didn’t understand why he did this and why we had to sleep with all that noise. But with time, the sound of different clocks became a familiar part of otherwise quiet nights.
A couple of years later, I began working with my father in the store, learning from him how to repair watches. One morning he said something that opened my mind and helped me understand why he hung the wall clocks outside our bedrooms instead of keeping them inside the store.
“Could you bring me the wall clock that was near your bedroom last night?” he asked. “I was listening to the sound of it during the night, and I realized it is not working right. I need to look at it again.”
That was it! In the silence of the night, he had listened to the sound of the clock in the same way a doctor listens to the sound of the heart of a patient. In the process of repairing various types of clocks and watches over a lifetime, he had trained his ears to determine by a clock’s sound whether it was working perfectly or not.
After that experience, I began to pay attention to the sound of the clocks during the night, just as my father did. By doing so, I learned to recognize whether a clock was working correctly or whether it needed adjustment.
From my father, I learned the lesson of listening in a practical way—working with watches and clocks. Today I treasure the lesson he taught me. The Holy Ghost, in fact, still brings that lesson to my mind and heart, and He gives me a promise of good things to come.
That experience has helped me search for quiet moments when I can listen for the voice of the Spirit. Listening closely to the Holy Ghost helps me determine whether I am walking the correct path or whether I need to change my course so that I can be in tune with Heavenly Father’s desires.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Family
Holy Ghost
Parenting
Revelation
Me and Woody
Summary: While playing under the porch with his cousin Jeff, the boy uses Woody to dig a road, and the stick breaks. After Jeff leaves, the boy retrieves the pieces, apologizes to Woody, and buries him near the previously planted flower. He reflects that Woody was a good stick and that he misses him.
One day my cousin Jeff came over to play. We played under the back porch. Jeff had a little dump truck and I had a windup tractor. Mom gave us an empty cereal box and we made houses and roads.
I wanted to make another road. Jeff was using the shovel, so I took Woody out of my pocket and started to dig. Woody dug nice roads. I kept making the road longer and longer until I hit a rock and then SNAP! I picked up the piece that had broken off and tried to fix Woody, but it was no use. I felt like crying, but Jeff was there.
“It’s just a dumb stick,” Jeff said.
I put Woody’s broken pieces under the porch steps and kept on playing. When Jeff went home, I crawled under the porch and got the pieces.
“I’m sorry, Woody,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything. I put him in the cereal box and carried him down to where we planted the flower and made a hole. Then I put Woody in the hole and covered him up.
He was a good stick and I miss him a lot.
I wanted to make another road. Jeff was using the shovel, so I took Woody out of my pocket and started to dig. Woody dug nice roads. I kept making the road longer and longer until I hit a rock and then SNAP! I picked up the piece that had broken off and tried to fix Woody, but it was no use. I felt like crying, but Jeff was there.
“It’s just a dumb stick,” Jeff said.
I put Woody’s broken pieces under the porch steps and kept on playing. When Jeff went home, I crawled under the porch and got the pieces.
“I’m sorry, Woody,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything. I put him in the cereal box and carried him down to where we planted the flower and made a hole. Then I put Woody in the hole and covered him up.
He was a good stick and I miss him a lot.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
Children
Family
Friendship
Grief
Recognizing and Increasing Personal Revelations
Summary: While leading an anti-teen-smoking effort in Blackfoot, Idaho, the speaker initially pursued a county ordinance with other concerned mothers. After praying for confirmation, she did not feel peace and instead received a new impression to pursue a state law. She followed that prompting through a year of work, and Idaho passed a law that significantly reduced minors' access to tobacco.
One such occasion occurred while I was spearheading an effort in Blackfoot, Idaho, to get a new Bingham County ordinance that would help reduce teenage smoking. At the time, an alarming twenty-seven percent of Idaho teens were smoking. We discovered that tobacco companies were placing their products near candy to encourage teens and children to steal, which, of course, produced more addicted customers. In turn, tobacco reps were offering to replace that stolen product for free. You can imagine how this stirred up a group of PTA moms!
So we drafted a county ordinance that would move tobacco products behind the counter, ban tobacco vending machines, and require licensing, inspections and fines. After our first meeting, it was apparent the commissioners were willing to pass the county ordinance, despite opposition from some local retailers. However, I had an uneasy feeling for some reason, and I started doubting things.
So I followed the counsel in the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants in order to receive a confirmation regarding our efforts. First I studied it out logically and resolved that I was still on track. Then I prayed to ask the Lord if this was right thing. I paused to listen, but I did not get a burning, or a feeling that it was right. Instead I had a hard time focusing on my question. My mind wandered and I had to keep reminding myself what I was asking. I did not hear a "no." I just had no feeling at all. Then as I practiced the "pause principle" and knelt in absolute silence, a new idea came into my mind. The idea was to abandon our attempt for a county ordinance and try for a new state law instead.
This made perfect sense, when it came from the Lord. I would have never attempted this on my own, but I was filled with a peaceful reassurance to move forward. The Lord had communicated His will to me through the Holy Ghost and I knew He would help me with the large task that was ahead. I spent the next year researching, writing a bill, finding legislators who would sponsor it, and enduring a battle with the national tobacco lobby, after which the state legislature adopted a new Idaho statute called the "Prevention of Minors' Access to Tobacco."
I know the Lord was guiding this entire process. One year after the law was adopted, minors' access to tobacco in Idaho was reduced by fifty percent. Practicing these few powerful verses helped prepare me to recognize the voice of the Lord so I could hear the confirming answer, which came first as a stupor of thought, followed by a better idea.
So we drafted a county ordinance that would move tobacco products behind the counter, ban tobacco vending machines, and require licensing, inspections and fines. After our first meeting, it was apparent the commissioners were willing to pass the county ordinance, despite opposition from some local retailers. However, I had an uneasy feeling for some reason, and I started doubting things.
So I followed the counsel in the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants in order to receive a confirmation regarding our efforts. First I studied it out logically and resolved that I was still on track. Then I prayed to ask the Lord if this was right thing. I paused to listen, but I did not get a burning, or a feeling that it was right. Instead I had a hard time focusing on my question. My mind wandered and I had to keep reminding myself what I was asking. I did not hear a "no." I just had no feeling at all. Then as I practiced the "pause principle" and knelt in absolute silence, a new idea came into my mind. The idea was to abandon our attempt for a county ordinance and try for a new state law instead.
This made perfect sense, when it came from the Lord. I would have never attempted this on my own, but I was filled with a peaceful reassurance to move forward. The Lord had communicated His will to me through the Holy Ghost and I knew He would help me with the large task that was ahead. I spent the next year researching, writing a bill, finding legislators who would sponsor it, and enduring a battle with the national tobacco lobby, after which the state legislature adopted a new Idaho statute called the "Prevention of Minors' Access to Tobacco."
I know the Lord was guiding this entire process. One year after the law was adopted, minors' access to tobacco in Idaho was reduced by fifty percent. Practicing these few powerful verses helped prepare me to recognize the voice of the Lord so I could hear the confirming answer, which came first as a stupor of thought, followed by a better idea.
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👤 Parents
👤 Other
Lucy Leads the Way
Summary: In 1831, Lucy Mack Smith led a group of early Saints traveling by boat from New York to Ohio. When they reached frozen Lake Erie, she boldly testified of the restored gospel and invited the Saints to pray for the ice to open. A thunder-like sound followed, the ice broke, and their boat passed through while the ice closed behind them, allowing them to reach Ohio safely.
[The boat captain sits near the boat. The narrator enters.]
Narrator: In the spring of 1831, groups of Church members traveled by boat from New York to Ohio. Lucy Mack Smith, the mother of the prophet Joseph Smith, led one of the groups.
[Lucy Mack Smith leads the Church members onstage.]
Lucy Mack Smith: Brothers and sisters, we have set out just as Father Lehi did to travel to a land that the Lord will show unto us if we are faithful. I want you all to lift your hearts to God in prayer continually that we may be prospered.
[They all get on the boat with the captain.]
Narrator: Lucy’s group traveled safely on the Erie Canal. But when they got to Lake Erie, the harbor was frozen!
[Sheets of “ice” block the boat.]
Captain (pointing to the ice): When will this ice melt? We can’t sail until it has melted.
Church member 1: We’ll never make it to Ohio!
[The townspeople enter and see the Church members.]
Church member 2: Look! Maybe those people can help us find a place to stay until the ice melts.
Townsperson 1: Good day. Who are all of you?
Church member 1 (speaking quietly, to Lucy Mack Smith): Don’t tell them who we are. Some people treat us badly because of our beliefs.
Lucy Mack Smith: I am Lucy Mack Smith, and we are members of the true Church of Jesus Christ restored to the earth.
Townsperson 2 (calling from below the boat): I have a question for you. Is the Book of Mormon true?
Lucy Mack Smith: That book was brought forth by the power of God and translated by the same power. It is true!
[Lucy Mack Smith continues talking silently and gesturing to the townspeople.]
Church member 1: Will we ever have a comfortable home again?
Church member 2: Not if we’re stuck here on this frozen harbor.
Lucy Mack Smith: Friends, let us trust God. He will provide.
Lucy Mack Smith (turning to the Saints on the boat): Brothers and sisters, if you will all raise your desires to heaven that the ice will let us through, as sure as the Lord lives it shall be done.
[Lucy Mack Smith and the Church members pray together.]
Narrator: Just then a noise like thunder was heard.
[Kids playing the part of the ice stamp their feet loudly and pull the two “sheets” of ice offstage.]
Church member 1: Look! The ice is breaking!
Captain: Everyone to your post. Let’s get this boat moving!
Lucy Mack Smith: Soon we’ll be with the Saints in Ohio!
[The Saints cheer, and the boat starts moving forward.]
Narrator: After the boat sailed through, the ice closed again, and other boats had to wait. But Lucy and her boat sailed across Lake Erie and reached Ohio safely a few days later.
Narrator: In the spring of 1831, groups of Church members traveled by boat from New York to Ohio. Lucy Mack Smith, the mother of the prophet Joseph Smith, led one of the groups.
[Lucy Mack Smith leads the Church members onstage.]
Lucy Mack Smith: Brothers and sisters, we have set out just as Father Lehi did to travel to a land that the Lord will show unto us if we are faithful. I want you all to lift your hearts to God in prayer continually that we may be prospered.
[They all get on the boat with the captain.]
Narrator: Lucy’s group traveled safely on the Erie Canal. But when they got to Lake Erie, the harbor was frozen!
[Sheets of “ice” block the boat.]
Captain (pointing to the ice): When will this ice melt? We can’t sail until it has melted.
Church member 1: We’ll never make it to Ohio!
[The townspeople enter and see the Church members.]
Church member 2: Look! Maybe those people can help us find a place to stay until the ice melts.
Townsperson 1: Good day. Who are all of you?
Church member 1 (speaking quietly, to Lucy Mack Smith): Don’t tell them who we are. Some people treat us badly because of our beliefs.
Lucy Mack Smith: I am Lucy Mack Smith, and we are members of the true Church of Jesus Christ restored to the earth.
Townsperson 2 (calling from below the boat): I have a question for you. Is the Book of Mormon true?
Lucy Mack Smith: That book was brought forth by the power of God and translated by the same power. It is true!
[Lucy Mack Smith continues talking silently and gesturing to the townspeople.]
Church member 1: Will we ever have a comfortable home again?
Church member 2: Not if we’re stuck here on this frozen harbor.
Lucy Mack Smith: Friends, let us trust God. He will provide.
Lucy Mack Smith (turning to the Saints on the boat): Brothers and sisters, if you will all raise your desires to heaven that the ice will let us through, as sure as the Lord lives it shall be done.
[Lucy Mack Smith and the Church members pray together.]
Narrator: Just then a noise like thunder was heard.
[Kids playing the part of the ice stamp their feet loudly and pull the two “sheets” of ice offstage.]
Church member 1: Look! The ice is breaking!
Captain: Everyone to your post. Let’s get this boat moving!
Lucy Mack Smith: Soon we’ll be with the Saints in Ohio!
[The Saints cheer, and the boat starts moving forward.]
Narrator: After the boat sailed through, the ice closed again, and other boats had to wait. But Lucy and her boat sailed across Lake Erie and reached Ohio safely a few days later.
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👤 Pioneers
👤 Early Saints
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Adversity
Book of Mormon
Courage
Faith
Miracles
Missionary Work
Prayer
Testimony
The Restoration
Women in the Church
It Still Takes Faith
Summary: Ephraim Hanks was building a house when Brigham Young unexpectedly told him to rebuild the foundation twice as thick. Ephraim obeyed, and later flooding proved the wisdom of the counsel. In another incident, he also obeyed Brigham Young’s odd request to shave completely, illustrating his readiness to follow prophetic direction.
Ephraim Hanks was one of those early pioneers, but his pioneering continued long after his arrival in the valley. On a fall morning in 1848, President Brigham Young drove to where Ephraim was building an adobe house inside the old fort in Salt Lake City. Looking over the completed foundation, Brigham quizzed Ephraim concerning the thickness of the rock wall.
“Eight inches,” replied Brother Hanks.
“Tear it down and build it twice that thick,” Brigham declared and then promptly drove away before Ephraim could respond. To do as President Young requested would mean hauling in more rock and doing twice as much work as Ephraim thought necessary. Nevertheless, Ephraim widened the foundation to 16 inches, as the prophet had suggested. A month later a heavy rainstorm caused widespread flooding in the valley, resulting in considerable damage. Hanks’ reinforced foundation and walls, however, stood firm against this deluge, preventing a possible collapse of the entire structure. Many other homes in the valley were not so fortunate. From this experience Ephraim learned that when the prophet spoke, he would listen.
Not long after this incident, Ephraim once again received unsolicited counsel from President Young. At a dance in Salt Lake City, Brother Brigham saw Ephraim and told him to go home and shave his face. Ephraim, like most of the men of his day, had worn a beard virtually his entire adult life. His beard extended almost down to his waist. Somewhat puzzled by this strange request, he left the social and rode home, where he shaved off his beard. Ephraim returned to the dance wearing a newly trimmed moustache. When Brigham saw him, he brushed his hand across Ephraim’s face and said he had meant a clean shave. Excusing himself a second time, Brother Hanks complied with the prophet’s strange command and shaved off the moustache as well. It was perhaps this type of obedience to counsel that prompted President Brigham Young to later say of Ephraim Hanks, “Here was a man always ready to lay down his life for the authorities of the Church as well as for the cause of Zion and her people.”
“Eight inches,” replied Brother Hanks.
“Tear it down and build it twice that thick,” Brigham declared and then promptly drove away before Ephraim could respond. To do as President Young requested would mean hauling in more rock and doing twice as much work as Ephraim thought necessary. Nevertheless, Ephraim widened the foundation to 16 inches, as the prophet had suggested. A month later a heavy rainstorm caused widespread flooding in the valley, resulting in considerable damage. Hanks’ reinforced foundation and walls, however, stood firm against this deluge, preventing a possible collapse of the entire structure. Many other homes in the valley were not so fortunate. From this experience Ephraim learned that when the prophet spoke, he would listen.
Not long after this incident, Ephraim once again received unsolicited counsel from President Young. At a dance in Salt Lake City, Brother Brigham saw Ephraim and told him to go home and shave his face. Ephraim, like most of the men of his day, had worn a beard virtually his entire adult life. His beard extended almost down to his waist. Somewhat puzzled by this strange request, he left the social and rode home, where he shaved off his beard. Ephraim returned to the dance wearing a newly trimmed moustache. When Brigham saw him, he brushed his hand across Ephraim’s face and said he had meant a clean shave. Excusing himself a second time, Brother Hanks complied with the prophet’s strange command and shaved off the moustache as well. It was perhaps this type of obedience to counsel that prompted President Brigham Young to later say of Ephraim Hanks, “Here was a man always ready to lay down his life for the authorities of the Church as well as for the cause of Zion and her people.”
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👤 Early Saints
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Other
Decisions Determine Destiny
Summary: While President Monson presided over the Canadian Mission, Sister Monson received a phone call from a Dutch woman requesting missionaries after her children recovered from chicken pox. The assigned missionaries delayed visiting until Sister Monson insisted they go that very night. The Jacob de Jager family joined the Church, and Brother de Jager later served in significant Church callings, ultimately as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy.
During the period 1959 to 1962, I had the privilege to preside over the Canadian Mission, with headquarters in Toronto, Canada. There Sister Monson and I had the wonderful opportunity of working with 450 of the finest young men and young women in all the world. From that particular experience I should like to relate an experience that came to Sister Monson that had far-reaching significance. One Sunday she was the only person in a usually very busy mission home. The telephone rang, and the person who was on the other end of the line spoke with a Dutch accent and asked the question, “Is this the headquarters of the Mormon Church?” Sister Monson assured her that it was as far as Toronto was concerned, and then she said, “May I help you?” The party on the line said: “Yes. We have come from our native Holland, where we’ve had an opportunity to learn something about the Mormons. We’d like to know more.” Sister Monson, being a good missionary, said, “We can help you.” Then the lovely lady who had called said, “We have chicken pox in our home; and if you could wait until the children are better, we’d love to have the missionaries call.” Sister Monson said that she would arrange this, and that terminated the conversation.
Excitedly she told the two missionaries on our staff, “Here is a golden referral,” and the missionaries agreed. Then, as some missionaries do, they procrastinated calling upon the family. Days became weeks, and the weeks became several. Sister Monson would say, “Are you going to call on that Dutch family tonight, elders?” And they would respond, “Well, we’re too busy tonight, but we’re going to get around to it.” After a few more days Sister Monson would say, “What about my Dutch family? Are you going to call on them tonight?” Again the reply, “Well, we’re too busy tonight, but we’re going to work it into our schedule.” Finally Sister Monson said, “If you aren’t able to call on the Dutch family tonight, my husband and I are going to call on the family,” and the elders replied, “Well, we’ll work it into our schedule tonight.”
And thus they called on a lovely family. They taught them the gospel. Each person in the family became a member of the Church. The family was the Jacob de Jager family. Brother de Jager became the president of an elders quorum. His employer, the gigantic Phillips Company, then transferred him to Mexico, where he served the Church with distinction. Later he became the counselor to several mission presidents in Holland; he then became a Regional Representative of the Twelve; he then became a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, serving as the executive administrator of the work in Southeast Asia.
I ask the question: Was it an important decision that was made on the part of the missionaries to call on the de Jagers? Was it an important decision for Sister Monson to say, “Tonight is the night or else!” Was it an important decision for the de Jagers to telephone mission headquarters in Toronto, Canada, and say, “Could we have the missionaries come to our home?” I bear testimony that these decisions had eternal consequences, not only for the de Jagers, but for many other people as well, for here is a man who can teach the gospel in English, in Dutch, in German, in Spanish, and in Indonesian, and he now is learning to preach the gospel in Chinese. I ask the question, “What will be our faith?”
Excitedly she told the two missionaries on our staff, “Here is a golden referral,” and the missionaries agreed. Then, as some missionaries do, they procrastinated calling upon the family. Days became weeks, and the weeks became several. Sister Monson would say, “Are you going to call on that Dutch family tonight, elders?” And they would respond, “Well, we’re too busy tonight, but we’re going to get around to it.” After a few more days Sister Monson would say, “What about my Dutch family? Are you going to call on them tonight?” Again the reply, “Well, we’re too busy tonight, but we’re going to work it into our schedule.” Finally Sister Monson said, “If you aren’t able to call on the Dutch family tonight, my husband and I are going to call on the family,” and the elders replied, “Well, we’ll work it into our schedule tonight.”
And thus they called on a lovely family. They taught them the gospel. Each person in the family became a member of the Church. The family was the Jacob de Jager family. Brother de Jager became the president of an elders quorum. His employer, the gigantic Phillips Company, then transferred him to Mexico, where he served the Church with distinction. Later he became the counselor to several mission presidents in Holland; he then became a Regional Representative of the Twelve; he then became a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, serving as the executive administrator of the work in Southeast Asia.
I ask the question: Was it an important decision that was made on the part of the missionaries to call on the de Jagers? Was it an important decision for Sister Monson to say, “Tonight is the night or else!” Was it an important decision for the de Jagers to telephone mission headquarters in Toronto, Canada, and say, “Could we have the missionaries come to our home?” I bear testimony that these decisions had eternal consequences, not only for the de Jagers, but for many other people as well, for here is a man who can teach the gospel in English, in Dutch, in German, in Spanish, and in Indonesian, and he now is learning to preach the gospel in Chinese. I ask the question, “What will be our faith?”
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
Agency and Accountability
Conversion
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Faith
Family
Missionary Work
A Conversation about Precious Stories
Summary: During their first years of marriage, the Soareses faced infertility and health challenges. After a priesthood blessing and a surgery, Sister Soares became pregnant; they felt the Lord’s peace and strength to continue their work and education.
I remember what a challenge it was during those first five years after marriage when we were trying to have children.
Sister Soares: Those years were very difficult. I couldn’t get pregnant.
Elder Soares: We had many health challenges after so much effort. That’s when we received a priesthood blessing. Later you had a surgery, and a few months later . . .
Sister Soares: Our dream came true.
Elder Soares: You got pregnant.
Sister Soares: We trusted so much in the Lord, and we recognized tangible blessings. It was not easy for the two of us, who were so inexperienced, but it has also been marvelous.
Elder Soares: While we were dealing with life, the Lord provided for our spiritual needs, giving us the peace that we needed, the comfort and ability to work, to continue on, to finish our education. It was a significant time in our lives that completely changed the direction of everything we thought we’d be doing.
Sister Soares: Those years were very difficult. I couldn’t get pregnant.
Elder Soares: We had many health challenges after so much effort. That’s when we received a priesthood blessing. Later you had a surgery, and a few months later . . .
Sister Soares: Our dream came true.
Elder Soares: You got pregnant.
Sister Soares: We trusted so much in the Lord, and we recognized tangible blessings. It was not easy for the two of us, who were so inexperienced, but it has also been marvelous.
Elder Soares: While we were dealing with life, the Lord provided for our spiritual needs, giving us the peace that we needed, the comfort and ability to work, to continue on, to finish our education. It was a significant time in our lives that completely changed the direction of everything we thought we’d be doing.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Parents
Adversity
Education
Faith
Family
Health
Marriage
Miracles
Patience
Peace
Priesthood Blessing
I Need to Go to the Temple
Summary: José Gonçalves da Silva recounts surviving a bus accident on the way to the Caracas Venezuela Temple and his determination to keep going despite family concerns. He explains the long, costly journeys he has made for temple work, including vicarious ordinances for his family, and expresses joy at the announcement of a future temple in Manaus. José sees his sacrifices as preparation for returning to God’s presence and hopes to live to see the temple completed and his wife baptized.
José Gonçalves da Silva suddenly awoke to people calling his name. It was dark, and he had no idea where he was.
“I was asleep when the bus rolled,” José recalls of the early-morning accident in January 2008. “Nobody could find me because I was in the back of the bus covered with luggage. Some of the brethren finally located me as they began to gather up the suitcases.”
When the bus driver lost control on a narrow stretch of winding road in southern Venezuela’s dense rain forest, José and other Latter-day Saints from Manaus, Brazil, were approximately halfway through their three-day trip to the Caracas Venezuela Temple. José suffered only minor injuries, but several brothers and sisters had to be hospitalized.
“It’s time you quit going to the temple,” concerned family members told José, who was 80 when the accident occurred. Undeterred, however, he declared: “I need to go to the temple. If the Lord allows it, I will return.”
He immediately began saving money for his fourth trip to Caracas, which he made in early 2009. For Brother Gonçalves da Silva, the 40-hour bus ride is easy compared to the three trips he previously made to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. For many years, the São Paulo Temple, located thousands of miles southeast of Manaus, was the closest temple to this city of two million people in the northern state of Amazonas. Then, in 2005, Manaus became part of the Caracas Venezuela Temple District.
During those years of traveling to São Paulo, “we would take a boat here in Manaus and spend four days getting to Pôrto Velho,” the capital of Rondônia State, José says. “Then we would take a four-day bus ride to São Paulo. My wife is not a member of the Church, and when I went to the temple for the first time in 1985, I went alone. I spent the night at the bus terminal in Pôrto Velho because I arrived late and there was no bus. The next morning I headed for São Paulo. It was a nice experience, but I arrived a little tired.”
He then spent three full days serving in the temple before making the eight-day return trip home. It takes him a year to save enough from his pension to cover the costs of traveling to the temple.
“It is a sacrifice to go, but it is worth it,” says Brother Gonçalves da Silva, who has done much vicarious work for his family. “I felt a special joy the day I was baptized for my father, when someone was baptized for my mother, and when I represented my father as my parents were sealed. It was a wonderful opportunity. All my brothers and sisters are gone now, but I have done the work for them during my temple trips.”
José believes that the sacrifice inherent in traveling so far to the temple will help Latter-day Saints in Manaus be grateful for the day a temple is dedicated there. “I am excited for that day,” he says.
Manaus had one small branch with 20 members when José joined the Church in 1980. Since then he has seen the Church blossom there to nearly 50,000 members living in eight stakes.
“When the announcement came in 2007 that a temple would be built in Manaus,” José says, “I wept for the great joy I felt, and I prayed that the Lord would allow me to live long enough to see the groundbreaking,” which occurred a year later. Now he prays that he will live to see the temple completed and his wife baptized so that they can be sealed.
“We don’t know when we will die, but we should be prepared and happy when that time comes,” Brother Gonçalves da Silva says. “I’m looking forward to returning to the presence of my Father in Heaven and my Savior, Jesus Christ. Being in the temple helps me prepare for that day.”
“I was asleep when the bus rolled,” José recalls of the early-morning accident in January 2008. “Nobody could find me because I was in the back of the bus covered with luggage. Some of the brethren finally located me as they began to gather up the suitcases.”
When the bus driver lost control on a narrow stretch of winding road in southern Venezuela’s dense rain forest, José and other Latter-day Saints from Manaus, Brazil, were approximately halfway through their three-day trip to the Caracas Venezuela Temple. José suffered only minor injuries, but several brothers and sisters had to be hospitalized.
“It’s time you quit going to the temple,” concerned family members told José, who was 80 when the accident occurred. Undeterred, however, he declared: “I need to go to the temple. If the Lord allows it, I will return.”
He immediately began saving money for his fourth trip to Caracas, which he made in early 2009. For Brother Gonçalves da Silva, the 40-hour bus ride is easy compared to the three trips he previously made to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. For many years, the São Paulo Temple, located thousands of miles southeast of Manaus, was the closest temple to this city of two million people in the northern state of Amazonas. Then, in 2005, Manaus became part of the Caracas Venezuela Temple District.
During those years of traveling to São Paulo, “we would take a boat here in Manaus and spend four days getting to Pôrto Velho,” the capital of Rondônia State, José says. “Then we would take a four-day bus ride to São Paulo. My wife is not a member of the Church, and when I went to the temple for the first time in 1985, I went alone. I spent the night at the bus terminal in Pôrto Velho because I arrived late and there was no bus. The next morning I headed for São Paulo. It was a nice experience, but I arrived a little tired.”
He then spent three full days serving in the temple before making the eight-day return trip home. It takes him a year to save enough from his pension to cover the costs of traveling to the temple.
“It is a sacrifice to go, but it is worth it,” says Brother Gonçalves da Silva, who has done much vicarious work for his family. “I felt a special joy the day I was baptized for my father, when someone was baptized for my mother, and when I represented my father as my parents were sealed. It was a wonderful opportunity. All my brothers and sisters are gone now, but I have done the work for them during my temple trips.”
José believes that the sacrifice inherent in traveling so far to the temple will help Latter-day Saints in Manaus be grateful for the day a temple is dedicated there. “I am excited for that day,” he says.
Manaus had one small branch with 20 members when José joined the Church in 1980. Since then he has seen the Church blossom there to nearly 50,000 members living in eight stakes.
“When the announcement came in 2007 that a temple would be built in Manaus,” José says, “I wept for the great joy I felt, and I prayed that the Lord would allow me to live long enough to see the groundbreaking,” which occurred a year later. Now he prays that he will live to see the temple completed and his wife baptized so that they can be sealed.
“We don’t know when we will die, but we should be prepared and happy when that time comes,” Brother Gonçalves da Silva says. “I’m looking forward to returning to the presence of my Father in Heaven and my Savior, Jesus Christ. Being in the temple helps me prepare for that day.”
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👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Baptisms for the Dead
Death
Family
Family History
Ordinances
Sacrifice
Sealing
Temples
Please Read It to Me
Summary: As a small child facing a severe post-surgery crisis, David asked his mother to read the Book of Mormon to him. Despite her concern that he was too young to understand, he persisted and even asked her to pray that he would understand. They continued reading through hospitalization and recovery, and David gradually read on his own. His health improved, and by baptism and deacon ordination he had read the book multiple times and was preparing for a mission.
How those words touched me! It had been 15 years ago that the Book of Mormon became an integral part of David’s life. I had read it to him as he lay in bed, at life’s edge.
“What are you reading, Mommy?” David asked in the faintest whisper of a sound. His delicate face closely matched the color of the snowy pillowcase. Deep red drops of blood, descending from a bottle suspended above, provided a vivid contrast as they dropped through a tube into his motionless white arm.
“The Book of Mormon,” I replied. It helped me through the endless hours of watching my son fight a seemingly insurmountable battle. It was supposed to be minor surgery to correct a small health problem, but the whole procedure had become a nightmare. Face to face with the fragile quality of mortality, I groped for an anchor with eternity.
“Read it to me,” David said.
“But you wouldn’t understand it, David,” I told him. “You’re too young. Later, when you’re well and at home, I’ll read you some stories from the Book of Mormon.”
Again the whispered words, urgent this time. “Please read it to me, Mommy.”
Not knowing what else to do, and not wishing to further upset him, I began in First Nephi: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, …” I intended to read a few lines while he drifted off to sleep, and then continue my silent reading. Every time I thought he was asleep, my voice quieted and quit. Then, from the hospital bed, again and again, I heard, “Read it to me.”
And so I read it to him. I read all during the hospital stay, and then at home, where he lay attached to two tubes that drained fluids from his body into bags, one on each leg. Doctors had discovered a congenital defect that gave him only part of one kidney.
I did not read stories from the Book of Mormon. I read from the book itself. One morning, after David’s two sisters had gone to school and his two little brothers were sleeping, we sat together reading as usual. I stopped and looked down at him. “David, do you understand this?”
His blue eyes looked thoughtfully into mine. “Not all. But some of it.”
When I continued reading he stopped me and said, “Mother, kneel down.” Startled by the request, I simply knelt, feeling his small body at my side. Then, totally trusting, he said, “Now pray for me. Pray that I will understand the Book of Mormon.”
By the time we finished the book, David had turned five and was able to recognize and read many of the words on his own. Eventually he read alone. His health improved and, by the time he was baptized, he had read the whole thing by himself more than once. By the time he was ordained a deacon, he was eagerly preparing for a mission.
“What are you reading, Mommy?” David asked in the faintest whisper of a sound. His delicate face closely matched the color of the snowy pillowcase. Deep red drops of blood, descending from a bottle suspended above, provided a vivid contrast as they dropped through a tube into his motionless white arm.
“The Book of Mormon,” I replied. It helped me through the endless hours of watching my son fight a seemingly insurmountable battle. It was supposed to be minor surgery to correct a small health problem, but the whole procedure had become a nightmare. Face to face with the fragile quality of mortality, I groped for an anchor with eternity.
“Read it to me,” David said.
“But you wouldn’t understand it, David,” I told him. “You’re too young. Later, when you’re well and at home, I’ll read you some stories from the Book of Mormon.”
Again the whispered words, urgent this time. “Please read it to me, Mommy.”
Not knowing what else to do, and not wishing to further upset him, I began in First Nephi: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, …” I intended to read a few lines while he drifted off to sleep, and then continue my silent reading. Every time I thought he was asleep, my voice quieted and quit. Then, from the hospital bed, again and again, I heard, “Read it to me.”
And so I read it to him. I read all during the hospital stay, and then at home, where he lay attached to two tubes that drained fluids from his body into bags, one on each leg. Doctors had discovered a congenital defect that gave him only part of one kidney.
I did not read stories from the Book of Mormon. I read from the book itself. One morning, after David’s two sisters had gone to school and his two little brothers were sleeping, we sat together reading as usual. I stopped and looked down at him. “David, do you understand this?”
His blue eyes looked thoughtfully into mine. “Not all. But some of it.”
When I continued reading he stopped me and said, “Mother, kneel down.” Startled by the request, I simply knelt, feeling his small body at my side. Then, totally trusting, he said, “Now pray for me. Pray that I will understand the Book of Mormon.”
By the time we finished the book, David had turned five and was able to recognize and read many of the words on his own. Eventually he read alone. His health improved and, by the time he was baptized, he had read the whole thing by himself more than once. By the time he was ordained a deacon, he was eagerly preparing for a mission.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Adversity
Baptism
Book of Mormon
Children
Faith
Health
Missionary Work
Parenting
Prayer
Scriptures
Testimony
No-Swear Zone
Summary: A Latter-day Saint teen regularly drove friends whose language included swearing, which bothered him. He announced a new rule of no swearing in his car, and his friends agreed. Their conversations became funnier and more enjoyable, and their friendships strengthened while respecting his values.
The bell rang on Friday afternoon, and everyone quickly filed out of the school. Finally, my school week was over, and it was time to have some fun with my friends. We threw our backpacks into the trunk of my car and hopped in.
I was the first of my group of friends to have access to a car, so I was usually the driver. I was also the only Latter-day Saint in the group and, even though I had good friends, their standards were sometimes different from mine.
As we drove that day, my friends used swear words to dress up their stories. As in times past, it bothered me. So I thought about how I could cut down on the swearing and make the language of our group better. I knew my friends were aware and respectful of my values, but would they get mad if I expected them to uphold one of those values? I decided to try an idea.
“Hey, I’m trying out this new rule in my car where there’s no swearing allowed,” I said. They all gave me funny looks, but they went along with it. The result was amazing! Our conversations were hilarious because, instead of using swear words to express strong emotions, everyone found funnier ways to say things. It made our experiences in the car so much more enjoyable, and our friendships were strengthened as we kept the rule during car rides together.
I was so glad my friends were receptive to that no-swearing rule and were willing to uphold it in my car. It made me feel good to know I could stand up for my values and have my friends respect them. Best of all, it really made a difference in our friendships and helped us all to better appreciate the effects good language can have on people’s lives.
I was the first of my group of friends to have access to a car, so I was usually the driver. I was also the only Latter-day Saint in the group and, even though I had good friends, their standards were sometimes different from mine.
As we drove that day, my friends used swear words to dress up their stories. As in times past, it bothered me. So I thought about how I could cut down on the swearing and make the language of our group better. I knew my friends were aware and respectful of my values, but would they get mad if I expected them to uphold one of those values? I decided to try an idea.
“Hey, I’m trying out this new rule in my car where there’s no swearing allowed,” I said. They all gave me funny looks, but they went along with it. The result was amazing! Our conversations were hilarious because, instead of using swear words to express strong emotions, everyone found funnier ways to say things. It made our experiences in the car so much more enjoyable, and our friendships were strengthened as we kept the rule during car rides together.
I was so glad my friends were receptive to that no-swearing rule and were willing to uphold it in my car. It made me feel good to know I could stand up for my values and have my friends respect them. Best of all, it really made a difference in our friendships and helped us all to better appreciate the effects good language can have on people’s lives.
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👤 Youth
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Agency and Accountability
Courage
Friendship
Kindness
Virtue
Missions—Only You Can Decide
Summary: The speaker describes his struggle over whether to serve a mission, including concerns about timing, readiness, and basketball. A priesthood leader counsels him that if he serves faithfully, he will return a better basketball player, and he realizes the decision is his own to make.
He then shares how his father was once supported in going on a mission despite family concerns, and how his own mission in Spain strengthened his testimony. He concludes with the example of Jose Manuel, who overcame many obstacles to serve a mission, teaching that love, faith, and testimony matter more than outward talents and that those who are willing should push aside obstacles and serve.
One such decision is whether or not to go on a mission. While I was growing up I had a desire to serve a mission. But when it finally came time to send in the papers, I was hesitant. The decision became filled with pressures. I didn’t know whether to leave after my freshman year, after my sophomore year, or after I had completed my college education. I fought with a multitude of inward thoughts and feelings. I also wondered if I had enough knowledge to go out there and give what was so precious to me to somebody else. I talked to a lot of people, and most of them willingly shared their opinions with me. Some said that I should go immediately, others said later, and some said I shouldn’t go at all. I wonder, if I had asked you, should I go now or later or not at all, what would you have told me?
Perhaps you would have been like one of our great priesthood leaders. I went to him, and we talked about my situation. He listened with patience and concern. After I expressed my feelings about being able to play basketball when I returned, he said, with words that sank deep into me, “Devin, if you serve a mission and serve faithfully, when you return you will be a better basketball player than you are now.”
I had great confidence in that man, and I felt that he was moved by the Spirit to say what he did. I felt he was talking to me personally and not to all athletes who serve missions, because each case is different. He could advise me, my parents could advise me, my friends could advise me, but they couldn’t serve for me. I was the one who was going, and no one else could make my decision. I had to make that myself.
One reason I desired to serve a mission was that I had seen the impact that serving a mission had on my father and mother. Many times in our family home evenings Dad would mention his mission. He told us about his call. He had a desire to serve a mission, but when he expressed that desire to his father, his father discouraged him from going. My dad grew up on a chicken farm in American Fork, Utah. Because of failing health, his father didn’t feel that he would be able to maintain the farm, and there would be no money to finance a mission.
Bishop Melvin Grant came to discuss the matter with my dad’s family. When Dad’s father told the bishop that his son couldn’t go, Dad’s mother stood right up from her chair and said, “I’ll take care of the chickens. My son George is going on a mission.”
And so he went to England. My dad told me that a few months into his mission he received a letter from his mother that said, “I think the chickens know where you are, because they’ve never laid as many eggs as they are laying now.”
In April of 1980 I entered the Missionary Training Center and began to learn Spanish to prepare to serve in Madrid, Spain. While in the MTC, I knew that I was doing the right thing. In my heart I wanted to someday return to play basketball. Yet at the same time I decided that even if I never played another game of collegiate ball I wouldn’t regret the decision that I had made.
In Spain I had the honor of wearing a little name tag that said “Elder Durrant.” That title, Elder, was a greater honor than any I had ever before known. I had many experiences as a missionary. When someone accepted the gospel, I felt indescribable joy. When people rejected the message of the gospel, it brought me great sorrow.
One of my most joyous memories began during the summer of 1981. We had walked the city streets all morning talking to businessmen about the Church. By noon we were hot and tired and ready to take a break. We decided to walk through a nearby park, and as we did so, we could see off to the side a group of young people. We decided to see if they would listen to our message.
As we approached, they looked at us with some suspicion. We told them we were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They laughed a little and made a few mocking comments. It seemed obvious that they didn’t want to listen to us. But there was one young man in the group who looked at us with a sincere interest. So we focused our attention on him. He had a guitar. We asked, “Would you play something for us?” He smiled, lifted his guitar, and began to play.
When he finished, we told him more about ourselves and our message. He told us his name was Jose Manuel. We talked for a few more minutes and then ended the conversation by asking if we could talk to him another day about our church. He replied he would be glad to listen to us and that we could find him in the park most every day taking his dog for a walk or playing his guitar.
As we left, we couldn’t imagine this young man ever being baptized. A few days later we were in that same area. To our pleasant surprise, there he was. We asked if he would listen to us. He consented, and we pulled two park benches together, and my companion and I sat on one and he sat on the other. We looked into Jose Manuel’s eyes and told him about Jesus Christ. Near the end of our message we told him about the Book of Mormon and that Jesus Christ had visited America after his resurrection. We challenged him to read about this great event. He said he would. We left the book, yet we had our doubts if Jose Manuel would ever even open it.
A few more days went by, and we decided to see how he had done on his reading assignment. To our surprise, he told us that he had read the part in the Book of Mormon that we had assigned him. He explained that he had told his friend about what he had read. His friend also wanted to read the book, so Jose Manuel had given it to him. He asked us if he could possibly get another copy. We told him that we could probably work something out.
After that we continued to teach him the gospel. We saw him change his appearance and his heart. He wanted to be baptized.
Nearly three years have passed since we first met Jose Manuel in that park in Madrid, Spain. He is now a member of the Church. A few months ago he, like you and me, had a decision to make. He had to decide whether or not to serve a mission. Jose Manuel had every reason in the world not to go. He was just a recent convert. His knowledge of the gospel wasn’t that extensive. He had lost his father a few years before, and his mother didn’t want him to go. Other family members didn’t want him to go either. He didn’t have the finances to be able to serve for eighteen months. He also had to complete his military service before he would be able to even think about serving a mission. Everything was against his going on a mission.
Every one of us, as we think about a mission, can find a number of reasons why we shouldn’t go. We must each look beyond those reasons. The key is to look for reasons to go. And Jose Manuel had some reasons to go. He knew that Jesus Christ was the son of God and the Savior of the world. He knew that Joseph Smith had seen a vision. He knew that the Church was true. He knew that it had changed his life, and he wanted to go out and share that knowledge with others.
Jose Manuel had a desire to serve. He was called to the work. With the help of the Lord, he was able to work things out. That always seems to happen. He overcame the obstacles, and he’s now serving in the Spain Barcelona mission.
We’re all faced with different obstacles that sometimes make serving missions seem difficult. In my dad’s case, his father was ill. Jose Manuel’s family didn’t want him to go. I wondered about my basketball future. Many of the obstacles we face are those within our own minds. For just a minute I want to talk directly to you—just you. You who might say, “I have this girlfriend”; or, “I’ve got a good job and a car”; or, “I’ve never been good at schoolwork, and I know I could never memorize scriptures and all those discussions”; or, “I can’t talk to people who I don’t even know”; or, “I couldn’t be obedient to all the rules missionaries follow”; or, “I don’t really know the Church is true, so how could I tell others about it?”
To those who have such thought and feelings: if you don’t now have a testimony, you can gain one on a mission. Your girlfriend will be all right. You can learn the scriptures and discussions well enough to be effective. You’ll have the courage you need to talk to strangers. You can be obedient. You can do it.
Some of you may be fearful about your ability because to this point in your life you have struggled. Perhaps you’ve not been academically gifted or socially prominent. I agree that being socially graceful, well educated, experienced in leadership, and able to speak well are useful talents for doing missionary work. But there is something beyond these which can give a missionary his real power.
I was told recently of two missionary companions—one had many outward talents, the other didn’t. They had received a letter from a man and his family to whom they had taught several discussions. The letter told the elders to come by and pick up the Book of Mormon because the family had decided they were not interested in continuing the discussions.
The more outwardly talented elder felt confident that by using all his social skills and all his learning he would be able to change the man’s mind. During the meeting he used every persuasive skill he could think of. The other elder listened. Finally the man agreed to continue the discussions.
Later, at the family’s baptism, the talented elder remembered the night with some degree of pride. After the baptism the man told him, “The night I changed my mind and continued to have you teach me was the most important night of my life. As you talked to me, my mind was so determined to not listen that there was nothing you could have said that would have caused me to continue. But then I looked at your companion. His eyes were focused on me. I saw in his face more love than I had ever known before. My heart felt a spirit that made it so I could not resist his silent message. I decided then that if this church could cause someone to love like that, then I wanted to be part of it.”
Outward social and educational talent help, but more needed than these are the inward talents of love and faith and testimony. In these talents we can all be equal.
If your health will allow, make yourself worthy to serve. Push aside the obstacles and go.
I pray that the Lord will bless us in all of our decisions—decisions about missions, decisions about marriage, decisions about character, about dedication, about morality.
I’m grateful for the honor that I had of being Elder Durrant while in Spain. I know that Jesus Christ lives, that while he was on the earth he taught us the way that we ought to live. I know that he expects us as holders of the priesthood to take what he has given us and go out and share it with others. And as we do this, he not only blesses the lives of the people we come in contact with, but he also blesses us. I know that the gospel he has given us is true. That’s why I wanted to share it—because it means so much in my life.
I testify of these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Perhaps you would have been like one of our great priesthood leaders. I went to him, and we talked about my situation. He listened with patience and concern. After I expressed my feelings about being able to play basketball when I returned, he said, with words that sank deep into me, “Devin, if you serve a mission and serve faithfully, when you return you will be a better basketball player than you are now.”
I had great confidence in that man, and I felt that he was moved by the Spirit to say what he did. I felt he was talking to me personally and not to all athletes who serve missions, because each case is different. He could advise me, my parents could advise me, my friends could advise me, but they couldn’t serve for me. I was the one who was going, and no one else could make my decision. I had to make that myself.
One reason I desired to serve a mission was that I had seen the impact that serving a mission had on my father and mother. Many times in our family home evenings Dad would mention his mission. He told us about his call. He had a desire to serve a mission, but when he expressed that desire to his father, his father discouraged him from going. My dad grew up on a chicken farm in American Fork, Utah. Because of failing health, his father didn’t feel that he would be able to maintain the farm, and there would be no money to finance a mission.
Bishop Melvin Grant came to discuss the matter with my dad’s family. When Dad’s father told the bishop that his son couldn’t go, Dad’s mother stood right up from her chair and said, “I’ll take care of the chickens. My son George is going on a mission.”
And so he went to England. My dad told me that a few months into his mission he received a letter from his mother that said, “I think the chickens know where you are, because they’ve never laid as many eggs as they are laying now.”
In April of 1980 I entered the Missionary Training Center and began to learn Spanish to prepare to serve in Madrid, Spain. While in the MTC, I knew that I was doing the right thing. In my heart I wanted to someday return to play basketball. Yet at the same time I decided that even if I never played another game of collegiate ball I wouldn’t regret the decision that I had made.
In Spain I had the honor of wearing a little name tag that said “Elder Durrant.” That title, Elder, was a greater honor than any I had ever before known. I had many experiences as a missionary. When someone accepted the gospel, I felt indescribable joy. When people rejected the message of the gospel, it brought me great sorrow.
One of my most joyous memories began during the summer of 1981. We had walked the city streets all morning talking to businessmen about the Church. By noon we were hot and tired and ready to take a break. We decided to walk through a nearby park, and as we did so, we could see off to the side a group of young people. We decided to see if they would listen to our message.
As we approached, they looked at us with some suspicion. We told them we were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They laughed a little and made a few mocking comments. It seemed obvious that they didn’t want to listen to us. But there was one young man in the group who looked at us with a sincere interest. So we focused our attention on him. He had a guitar. We asked, “Would you play something for us?” He smiled, lifted his guitar, and began to play.
When he finished, we told him more about ourselves and our message. He told us his name was Jose Manuel. We talked for a few more minutes and then ended the conversation by asking if we could talk to him another day about our church. He replied he would be glad to listen to us and that we could find him in the park most every day taking his dog for a walk or playing his guitar.
As we left, we couldn’t imagine this young man ever being baptized. A few days later we were in that same area. To our pleasant surprise, there he was. We asked if he would listen to us. He consented, and we pulled two park benches together, and my companion and I sat on one and he sat on the other. We looked into Jose Manuel’s eyes and told him about Jesus Christ. Near the end of our message we told him about the Book of Mormon and that Jesus Christ had visited America after his resurrection. We challenged him to read about this great event. He said he would. We left the book, yet we had our doubts if Jose Manuel would ever even open it.
A few more days went by, and we decided to see how he had done on his reading assignment. To our surprise, he told us that he had read the part in the Book of Mormon that we had assigned him. He explained that he had told his friend about what he had read. His friend also wanted to read the book, so Jose Manuel had given it to him. He asked us if he could possibly get another copy. We told him that we could probably work something out.
After that we continued to teach him the gospel. We saw him change his appearance and his heart. He wanted to be baptized.
Nearly three years have passed since we first met Jose Manuel in that park in Madrid, Spain. He is now a member of the Church. A few months ago he, like you and me, had a decision to make. He had to decide whether or not to serve a mission. Jose Manuel had every reason in the world not to go. He was just a recent convert. His knowledge of the gospel wasn’t that extensive. He had lost his father a few years before, and his mother didn’t want him to go. Other family members didn’t want him to go either. He didn’t have the finances to be able to serve for eighteen months. He also had to complete his military service before he would be able to even think about serving a mission. Everything was against his going on a mission.
Every one of us, as we think about a mission, can find a number of reasons why we shouldn’t go. We must each look beyond those reasons. The key is to look for reasons to go. And Jose Manuel had some reasons to go. He knew that Jesus Christ was the son of God and the Savior of the world. He knew that Joseph Smith had seen a vision. He knew that the Church was true. He knew that it had changed his life, and he wanted to go out and share that knowledge with others.
Jose Manuel had a desire to serve. He was called to the work. With the help of the Lord, he was able to work things out. That always seems to happen. He overcame the obstacles, and he’s now serving in the Spain Barcelona mission.
We’re all faced with different obstacles that sometimes make serving missions seem difficult. In my dad’s case, his father was ill. Jose Manuel’s family didn’t want him to go. I wondered about my basketball future. Many of the obstacles we face are those within our own minds. For just a minute I want to talk directly to you—just you. You who might say, “I have this girlfriend”; or, “I’ve got a good job and a car”; or, “I’ve never been good at schoolwork, and I know I could never memorize scriptures and all those discussions”; or, “I can’t talk to people who I don’t even know”; or, “I couldn’t be obedient to all the rules missionaries follow”; or, “I don’t really know the Church is true, so how could I tell others about it?”
To those who have such thought and feelings: if you don’t now have a testimony, you can gain one on a mission. Your girlfriend will be all right. You can learn the scriptures and discussions well enough to be effective. You’ll have the courage you need to talk to strangers. You can be obedient. You can do it.
Some of you may be fearful about your ability because to this point in your life you have struggled. Perhaps you’ve not been academically gifted or socially prominent. I agree that being socially graceful, well educated, experienced in leadership, and able to speak well are useful talents for doing missionary work. But there is something beyond these which can give a missionary his real power.
I was told recently of two missionary companions—one had many outward talents, the other didn’t. They had received a letter from a man and his family to whom they had taught several discussions. The letter told the elders to come by and pick up the Book of Mormon because the family had decided they were not interested in continuing the discussions.
The more outwardly talented elder felt confident that by using all his social skills and all his learning he would be able to change the man’s mind. During the meeting he used every persuasive skill he could think of. The other elder listened. Finally the man agreed to continue the discussions.
Later, at the family’s baptism, the talented elder remembered the night with some degree of pride. After the baptism the man told him, “The night I changed my mind and continued to have you teach me was the most important night of my life. As you talked to me, my mind was so determined to not listen that there was nothing you could have said that would have caused me to continue. But then I looked at your companion. His eyes were focused on me. I saw in his face more love than I had ever known before. My heart felt a spirit that made it so I could not resist his silent message. I decided then that if this church could cause someone to love like that, then I wanted to be part of it.”
Outward social and educational talent help, but more needed than these are the inward talents of love and faith and testimony. In these talents we can all be equal.
If your health will allow, make yourself worthy to serve. Push aside the obstacles and go.
I pray that the Lord will bless us in all of our decisions—decisions about missions, decisions about marriage, decisions about character, about dedication, about morality.
I’m grateful for the honor that I had of being Elder Durrant while in Spain. I know that Jesus Christ lives, that while he was on the earth he taught us the way that we ought to live. I know that he expects us as holders of the priesthood to take what he has given us and go out and share it with others. And as we do this, he not only blesses the lives of the people we come in contact with, but he also blesses us. I know that the gospel he has given us is true. That’s why I wanted to share it—because it means so much in my life.
I testify of these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Parents
👤 Young Adults
Agency and Accountability
Education
Holy Ghost
Missionary Work
Revelation
Young Men
Time to Pray
Summary: The narrator becomes friends with Michelle, attends her family's home evening, and meets two missionaries who teach the discussions. Seeking confirmation, the narrator prays earnestly and later prays with member Davie, hears a prompting to repent, feels a powerful spiritual confirmation, and is baptized five days later. One year and two days after baptism, the narrator enters the New Zealand MTC and is called to serve in Perth, Australia.
The friendship that Michelle and I had was one of those “one of a kind” things. It was a friendship that changed my life.
In the early stages of our friendship all that I knew about her was that her morals and values were much stronger than any of my other friends. It wasn’t until I was invited over to her house for a family home evening that I found out she was a Mormon.
It was at this family home evening that I was introduced to the gospel by two wonderful missionaries, Elder Stinchcombe and Elder Archibald. When they asked if I wanted to hear the discussions, I was filled with an unfamiliar but comfortable feeling. I accepted.
After having the discussions and resolving many of my concerns, we set a date for baptism. But, even though I felt good about my decision, I wanted some kind of confirmation that I was doing the right thing. I started to search desperately for the answer to my question, “Is the Church true?” I prayed morning, noon, and night, but I didn’t seem to be getting an answer.
It wasn’t until I met Davie Wilden, a Church member, that my hopes became a reality. After many hours of talking and reading with him, we decided it was time to pray. As we knelt and Davie began to pray, the room grew silent. He ended his prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help me; then it was my turn to pray.
I had just begun my prayer when I heard a voice. It said, “Say sorry, just say sorry.”
I prayed with all my heart for Heavenly Father to forgive my sins. I felt a warm, tingly feeling come right down through my arms and seem to pierce me to the very center. Five days later I was baptized.
Since then, my testimony of the gospel has grown stronger and stronger, and I know it came about through the prayers of myself and those who helped teach me the gospel. Exactly one year and two days after I was baptized, I entered the New Zealand MTC, being called on a mission to Perth, Australia. I now have a chance to experience the same joy as the people who taught me the gospel by sharing my testimony with others.
In the early stages of our friendship all that I knew about her was that her morals and values were much stronger than any of my other friends. It wasn’t until I was invited over to her house for a family home evening that I found out she was a Mormon.
It was at this family home evening that I was introduced to the gospel by two wonderful missionaries, Elder Stinchcombe and Elder Archibald. When they asked if I wanted to hear the discussions, I was filled with an unfamiliar but comfortable feeling. I accepted.
After having the discussions and resolving many of my concerns, we set a date for baptism. But, even though I felt good about my decision, I wanted some kind of confirmation that I was doing the right thing. I started to search desperately for the answer to my question, “Is the Church true?” I prayed morning, noon, and night, but I didn’t seem to be getting an answer.
It wasn’t until I met Davie Wilden, a Church member, that my hopes became a reality. After many hours of talking and reading with him, we decided it was time to pray. As we knelt and Davie began to pray, the room grew silent. He ended his prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help me; then it was my turn to pray.
I had just begun my prayer when I heard a voice. It said, “Say sorry, just say sorry.”
I prayed with all my heart for Heavenly Father to forgive my sins. I felt a warm, tingly feeling come right down through my arms and seem to pierce me to the very center. Five days later I was baptized.
Since then, my testimony of the gospel has grown stronger and stronger, and I know it came about through the prayers of myself and those who helped teach me the gospel. Exactly one year and two days after I was baptized, I entered the New Zealand MTC, being called on a mission to Perth, Australia. I now have a chance to experience the same joy as the people who taught me the gospel by sharing my testimony with others.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptism
Conversion
Family Home Evening
Forgiveness
Friendship
Holy Ghost
Missionary Work
Prayer
Repentance
Revelation
Testimony
The Perfect 'A': Turning Our Lives to Christ
Summary: HTM students from Kiribati wanted to help their country but initially saw no opportunities and did not know where to begin. They took small steps by brainstorming ideas, contacting leaders, meeting officials, and funding trips home themselves. Their efforts grew into national influence, including presentations to parliament and the United Nations, partnerships with the World Bank, and a major development initiative.
I have seen this firsthand in our HTM students from Kiribati. They had a strong desire to help lift their country from poverty, but they saw no opportunities back home and didn’t know how or where to begin. But they did not let their lack of understanding stop them. They brainstormed simple ideas, reached out to local leaders, requested meetings with government officials when they came to Hawaii, and saved their own money to travel back home where they engaged with community members. Their willingness to serve was placed in the Savior’s hands, and he multiplied their efforts beyond anything they could have imagined.
Since then, they have presented to their national parliament, were invited to a private reception with the president of their country, spoke at the United Nations, helped establish the first national park in all of Micronesia, influenced changes in national laws and public policy, began training programs that gave their countrymen hope and a secondary source of income, and even presented to international organizations like the World Bank that agreed to help fund their projects. Several of those students and I just returned from Kiribati last Saturday where they are partnering with the World Bank, the Kiribati government, and other community leaders as part of a $700M development initiative. What began as humble, uncertain steps became a national movement that changed the direction of their entire country and gave hope to their citizens for a better future—proof that the Lord can amplify our small offerings into something far greater when we let Him.
Since then, they have presented to their national parliament, were invited to a private reception with the president of their country, spoke at the United Nations, helped establish the first national park in all of Micronesia, influenced changes in national laws and public policy, began training programs that gave their countrymen hope and a secondary source of income, and even presented to international organizations like the World Bank that agreed to help fund their projects. Several of those students and I just returned from Kiribati last Saturday where they are partnering with the World Bank, the Kiribati government, and other community leaders as part of a $700M development initiative. What began as humble, uncertain steps became a national movement that changed the direction of their entire country and gave hope to their citizens for a better future—proof that the Lord can amplify our small offerings into something far greater when we let Him.
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
FYI:For Your Information
Summary: Selected for North Carolina's Governor’s School due to instrumental talent, Troy Swartzle made new Church connections and invited friends to activities. He also addressed misconceptions about the Church during a philosophy class.
Troy Swartzle, a priest in the New Bern Ward, Kinston North Carolina Stake, was selected to attend Governor’s School of North Carolina. Troy was selected because of his outstanding abilities in instrumental music. He plays french horn.
Troy was one of two from his high school and five from the county school system selected to go to the school. During his stay, he met Church members from throughout the state and was able to invite some interested friends to accompany him to Church activities. He was also able to correct misconceptions about the Church during his philosophy class.
Troy was one of two from his high school and five from the county school system selected to go to the school. During his stay, he met Church members from throughout the state and was able to invite some interested friends to accompany him to Church activities. He was also able to correct misconceptions about the Church during his philosophy class.
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👤 Youth
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Education
Friendship
Judging Others
Missionary Work
Music
Priesthood
Young Men
A Legacy of Love
Summary: Before baptism, he sought his mother's permission, but she initially refused, fearing losing her son. He and the missionaries fasted and prayed, and after a follow-up call, she eventually consented with the condition that he remain committed. This experience led him to take his membership very seriously.
I asked the missionaries to come back almost every day after that. I believed what they taught me. I believed that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in the Sacred Grove. But before I could be baptized, I needed to get permission from my mother. I called her and said, “Mother, I’ve found a wonderful church. I need to get your permission to join.”
She said, “No. I lost my husband; I don’t want to lose my son.” She was afraid that if I joined the Church I would leave her.
I said, “I’m not going anywhere.” And then she hung up.
The missionaries fasted and prayed for me, and I did too. I called her again and said, “Please don’t hang up on me until I’ve really explained it.” She suggested that I study more and take some more time to decide. But I felt strongly that now was the time I should be baptized.
Finally she told me, “Son, if you are going to quit right in the middle, don’t do it. But if you will stay with it all the way through, then you have my permission.” That caused me to always take my membership in the Church very seriously.
She said, “No. I lost my husband; I don’t want to lose my son.” She was afraid that if I joined the Church I would leave her.
I said, “I’m not going anywhere.” And then she hung up.
The missionaries fasted and prayed for me, and I did too. I called her again and said, “Please don’t hang up on me until I’ve really explained it.” She suggested that I study more and take some more time to decide. But I felt strongly that now was the time I should be baptized.
Finally she told me, “Son, if you are going to quit right in the middle, don’t do it. But if you will stay with it all the way through, then you have my permission.” That caused me to always take my membership in the Church very seriously.
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👤 Parents
👤 Missionaries
👤 Young Adults
Baptism
Conversion
Family
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Missionary Work
Prayer
Testimony
The Restoration
Forgiveness and Football
Summary: A high school senior football player dislocated his kneecap after being illegally blocked, ending his season. He felt deep anger as he reviewed the game film and blamed the opposing linemen. After weeks, he chose to forgive them, recognizing they are children of God, and found peace and gratitude that the injury was not permanent.
“40-stack, cover 3, 40-stack, cover 3, hit …” “HARD!” we yelled in reply to Joey, the middle linebacker, as we broke our huddle and lined up against the offense. Tensions ran high on both sides of the ball.
It was the last regular season game of my senior year, and we needed a win in order to secure a share of the league championship and a number-one spot going into the playoffs. It was still early in the first quarter, and our opponents were marching down the field. We needed to stop their drive and score so that we could take an early lead. We had prepared all season for this game. We did not want all those four-hour practices to be in vain.
“43, 43, hut, hut!” I was off at the snap of the ball. As soon as I hit the offensive guard, I felt someone hit me from the side. I heard a loud pop, and my left leg collapsed beneath me. This is not good, I thought as I lay stunned on the ground, unsure of what to do. I had never been injured in a game, and I hoped that someone would notice me before the next play started.
After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, our team trainer was in front of me, examining my leg. I still did not know what had happened, and I waited for her to explain what was wrong. Eventually, the paramedics on duty at the game appeared, along with my parents and my head coach. From their conversation, I discovered that my kneecap had been dislocated and was currently on the side of my leg, instead of the front where it belongs.
I could not believe it! Injuries happen in football, but they were not supposed to happen to me, especially on senior night, our last home game.
Feelings of misery overwhelmed me as the paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher and rolled me into an ambulance. I was sure the season was over for me, and I could not hold back the tears.
Since my dad is a doctor, they allowed him to ride with me to the hospital. Once we arrived, the ER doctors gave me some pain medication that also relaxed my muscles. After taking some X-rays, they popped my kneecap back into place. It provided instant relief for the time being.
The next day, the sports doctor informed me that I would be on crutches for at least six weeks. Playing football was out of the question. My high school football career was over.
Later that day, I watched the game film from the night before. I replayed the fateful play several times, and I became angrier with each repetition. The linemen from the other team deliberately double-teamed me in a way that often results in an injury to the defensive lineman. According to my coach, I was not the first victim of their blocking scheme. One lineman blocked me head-on and held me up, while the other rolled into me from the side. This had pushed my knee in, causing the kneecap to pop out, ending my season prematurely. I was disgusted that they would sink that low. I thought that the referee should have called a penalty on them for doing an illegal high-low block, but that would not have changed the end result for me.
After a few weeks of living in almost constant anger about what had happened, I finally realized that being angry was not going to change anything. My knee was injured whether I was angry or not. I knew that in order to truly overcome my anger, I would have to forgive those two linemen, whom I did not even know. They may not have felt any remorse for what they did, and they probably did not know the extent of my injury. At first I did not think it was fair that I should have to forgive them, since they never apologized, but I knew that I needed to forgive them for my sake more than for theirs.
Over time I was able to realize that those two linemen are children of God and that they may not have anticipated injuring me. Now I can look back on this experience without anger at the two players who ended my season. I am not happy about being injured, but I am grateful that I did not need surgery on my knee and that the injury was not permanent. I am glad that I was able to move on and not let anger consume my life.
It was the last regular season game of my senior year, and we needed a win in order to secure a share of the league championship and a number-one spot going into the playoffs. It was still early in the first quarter, and our opponents were marching down the field. We needed to stop their drive and score so that we could take an early lead. We had prepared all season for this game. We did not want all those four-hour practices to be in vain.
“43, 43, hut, hut!” I was off at the snap of the ball. As soon as I hit the offensive guard, I felt someone hit me from the side. I heard a loud pop, and my left leg collapsed beneath me. This is not good, I thought as I lay stunned on the ground, unsure of what to do. I had never been injured in a game, and I hoped that someone would notice me before the next play started.
After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, our team trainer was in front of me, examining my leg. I still did not know what had happened, and I waited for her to explain what was wrong. Eventually, the paramedics on duty at the game appeared, along with my parents and my head coach. From their conversation, I discovered that my kneecap had been dislocated and was currently on the side of my leg, instead of the front where it belongs.
I could not believe it! Injuries happen in football, but they were not supposed to happen to me, especially on senior night, our last home game.
Feelings of misery overwhelmed me as the paramedics loaded me onto a stretcher and rolled me into an ambulance. I was sure the season was over for me, and I could not hold back the tears.
Since my dad is a doctor, they allowed him to ride with me to the hospital. Once we arrived, the ER doctors gave me some pain medication that also relaxed my muscles. After taking some X-rays, they popped my kneecap back into place. It provided instant relief for the time being.
The next day, the sports doctor informed me that I would be on crutches for at least six weeks. Playing football was out of the question. My high school football career was over.
Later that day, I watched the game film from the night before. I replayed the fateful play several times, and I became angrier with each repetition. The linemen from the other team deliberately double-teamed me in a way that often results in an injury to the defensive lineman. According to my coach, I was not the first victim of their blocking scheme. One lineman blocked me head-on and held me up, while the other rolled into me from the side. This had pushed my knee in, causing the kneecap to pop out, ending my season prematurely. I was disgusted that they would sink that low. I thought that the referee should have called a penalty on them for doing an illegal high-low block, but that would not have changed the end result for me.
After a few weeks of living in almost constant anger about what had happened, I finally realized that being angry was not going to change anything. My knee was injured whether I was angry or not. I knew that in order to truly overcome my anger, I would have to forgive those two linemen, whom I did not even know. They may not have felt any remorse for what they did, and they probably did not know the extent of my injury. At first I did not think it was fair that I should have to forgive them, since they never apologized, but I knew that I needed to forgive them for my sake more than for theirs.
Over time I was able to realize that those two linemen are children of God and that they may not have anticipated injuring me. Now I can look back on this experience without anger at the two players who ended my season. I am not happy about being injured, but I am grateful that I did not need surgery on my knee and that the injury was not permanent. I am glad that I was able to move on and not let anger consume my life.
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Adversity
Forgiveness
Gratitude
Health
Judging Others
Patience
Participatory Journalism:Helping, Sharing, Reaching Out
Summary: After a devastating car accident in 1975, Barbara underwent many surgeries and ultimately an amputation. Throughout her recovery, her Beehive class, ward members, leaders, and family continually included and supported her in activities and callings. Their love helped her regain confidence, participate fully, and learn she could do anything if she tried.
by Barbara Balli
On January 11, 1975, at 1:35 P.M., I was on my way to the store near my home. I was walking on the sidewalk when a car traveling about 40 miles per hour went out of control and pinned me against a telephone pole. There just happened to be a policeman at the scene, and he immediately radioed for help. He then tried to help me, but my leg was so badly damaged that where he needed to apply the tourniquet there wasn’t any leg.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was listed as dead on arrival, but the doctors, working feverishly, managed to revive me. After a beautiful blessing by my bishop, I went into surgery. The doctor said my leg would probably have to be amputated, but an investigating officer at the scene of the accident found a four-inch piece of femur bone and rushed it to the hospital. When it was taken into the operating room, the decision to try to save my leg was made. Although I later lost my leg, I have a six-to-seven-inch stump that I wouldn’t have had if they had taken my leg right away.
After my accident many friends and relatives did many things for me and my family. People in the ward were so nice that they made it possible for my parents to be with me during the many months I was in the hospital. They brought meals and tended and cared and showed great love and concern for us.
The first thing I remember about Mutual was when the young people invited to the closing social the girls and boys who would be old enough to attend Mutual the next year. When they asked me, I was so surprised because I was still spending most of my time in the hospital, with only a few days at home between surgeries, and I was in a wheelchair. They said this wouldn’t matter, so all the kids helped me, and I went. It was really neat!
When it was time for me to start Mutual, I was called to be the second counselor of our first-year Beehive class, even though I was going to be in the hospital much of the time. That year my class really did a lot for me. I especially remember the time they taped a meeting they held at our bishop’s cabin because I was unable to attend. They also recorded the New Beginnings program and brought it up to the hospital where we all listened together.
I was out of the hospital and on crutches when the stake Beehive adviser asked me to take a part in the play “Apple Seeds.” That really made me feel like I was wanted and loved.
After nine months of pain and suffering and 34 surgeries trying to save my leg, the doctor recommended that my leg be amputated. With the help of my parents and my Heavenly Father, I decided to have it done. The date was September 24, 1975, and I was 12. When my class found out, they were wonderful. They said, “Oh, it won’t make any difference!”
While I was in the hospital for my 35th and final operation, my class would often bring lessons and cheery faces to make me happier. They would call me and include me in all their planning when I was unable to attend meetings. This way I knew all the fun things I was missing and really felt as if I wanted to hurry and get back in the swing of things.
About five months later our ward held a Bicentennial Spring Sing, and our class was asked to participate. I was included, of course! I had my prosthesis by then. The class really helped so I would look good on stage, and when we went off stage, down the front stairs, they all took them one at a time so I wouldn’t lag behind and be noticed. It looked like that was the way it should have been. They let me know I didn’t have to hesitate when asked to do things, and I learned that if I will try, I can do anything anyone else can do.
During the summer I asked one of my girl friends in the class if she would teach me how to ride a bike again, and she did. After falling down about six times and laughing each time, I finally got the hang of it. We still go on bike rides together, and it is really fun.
The closing social last year was a swimming party. I really didn’t want to go, but my mom and friends persuaded me to at least attend. When I got there, everyone was having so much fun, I couldn’t resist their coaxing; so I called my mom to bring my suit. After I removed my leg and got into my suit, the girls carried me to the pool. I had a great time, and everyone was so understanding and made me feel that I had nothing to be ashamed about.
This year I was called to be president of the second-year Beehive class. I only hope I can do a good job and help other people the way I have been helped.
On January 11, 1975, at 1:35 P.M., I was on my way to the store near my home. I was walking on the sidewalk when a car traveling about 40 miles per hour went out of control and pinned me against a telephone pole. There just happened to be a policeman at the scene, and he immediately radioed for help. He then tried to help me, but my leg was so badly damaged that where he needed to apply the tourniquet there wasn’t any leg.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was listed as dead on arrival, but the doctors, working feverishly, managed to revive me. After a beautiful blessing by my bishop, I went into surgery. The doctor said my leg would probably have to be amputated, but an investigating officer at the scene of the accident found a four-inch piece of femur bone and rushed it to the hospital. When it was taken into the operating room, the decision to try to save my leg was made. Although I later lost my leg, I have a six-to-seven-inch stump that I wouldn’t have had if they had taken my leg right away.
After my accident many friends and relatives did many things for me and my family. People in the ward were so nice that they made it possible for my parents to be with me during the many months I was in the hospital. They brought meals and tended and cared and showed great love and concern for us.
The first thing I remember about Mutual was when the young people invited to the closing social the girls and boys who would be old enough to attend Mutual the next year. When they asked me, I was so surprised because I was still spending most of my time in the hospital, with only a few days at home between surgeries, and I was in a wheelchair. They said this wouldn’t matter, so all the kids helped me, and I went. It was really neat!
When it was time for me to start Mutual, I was called to be the second counselor of our first-year Beehive class, even though I was going to be in the hospital much of the time. That year my class really did a lot for me. I especially remember the time they taped a meeting they held at our bishop’s cabin because I was unable to attend. They also recorded the New Beginnings program and brought it up to the hospital where we all listened together.
I was out of the hospital and on crutches when the stake Beehive adviser asked me to take a part in the play “Apple Seeds.” That really made me feel like I was wanted and loved.
After nine months of pain and suffering and 34 surgeries trying to save my leg, the doctor recommended that my leg be amputated. With the help of my parents and my Heavenly Father, I decided to have it done. The date was September 24, 1975, and I was 12. When my class found out, they were wonderful. They said, “Oh, it won’t make any difference!”
While I was in the hospital for my 35th and final operation, my class would often bring lessons and cheery faces to make me happier. They would call me and include me in all their planning when I was unable to attend meetings. This way I knew all the fun things I was missing and really felt as if I wanted to hurry and get back in the swing of things.
About five months later our ward held a Bicentennial Spring Sing, and our class was asked to participate. I was included, of course! I had my prosthesis by then. The class really helped so I would look good on stage, and when we went off stage, down the front stairs, they all took them one at a time so I wouldn’t lag behind and be noticed. It looked like that was the way it should have been. They let me know I didn’t have to hesitate when asked to do things, and I learned that if I will try, I can do anything anyone else can do.
During the summer I asked one of my girl friends in the class if she would teach me how to ride a bike again, and she did. After falling down about six times and laughing each time, I finally got the hang of it. We still go on bike rides together, and it is really fun.
The closing social last year was a swimming party. I really didn’t want to go, but my mom and friends persuaded me to at least attend. When I got there, everyone was having so much fun, I couldn’t resist their coaxing; so I called my mom to bring my suit. After I removed my leg and got into my suit, the girls carried me to the pool. I had a great time, and everyone was so understanding and made me feel that I had nothing to be ashamed about.
This year I was called to be president of the second-year Beehive class. I only hope I can do a good job and help other people the way I have been helped.
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Bishops’ Storehouse Program Growing Internationally after 75 Years
Summary: Glen L. Rudd recalled delivering chicken to the Pioneer Stake Bishops’ Storehouse as a teenager during the Great Depression and realizing it was helping poor families and unemployed men. The article then explains how the storehouse began in 1932, how members contributed and worked to support one another, and how it became the model for later Church welfare storehouses. It concludes by showing the storehouse’s lasting legacy in Welfare Square and the Church’s worldwide welfare and employment efforts.
As a 16-year-old boy, Glen L. Rudd took between 800 and 900 pounds (360 to 400 kg) of chicken meat to the Pioneer Stake Bishops’ Storehouse in downtown Salt Lake City for his father.
He watched as the heavy delivery was lifted up on the loading dock of the familiar building. He had heard about what went on inside but had never seen it personally. He knew of the circumstances of many families in his stake; most of his friends’ fathers were unemployed because of the Great Depression.
But on that day he saw what was really happening. “I knew we were helping the poor, the people in need,” recalled Elder Rudd, a former member of the Seventy who spent 25 years managing Welfare Square—the outgrowth of that first storehouse.
As a young man, he realized that during the height of the Depression, when almost 70 percent of the men in his stake didn’t have jobs, the Church was offering help. At the storehouse was a coal and wood yard, a furniture workshop, a cannery and sewing center, and food—much of it donated by people like his father, who owned a poultry processing plant.
August 19, 2007, marked the 75th anniversary of the opening of that storehouse, the Church’s first. Today the Church operates 108 storehouses in the United States and Canada and an additional 29 in Latin America. There are storehouses in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, and Venezuela.
In addition, the Church runs 285 Employment Resource Centers, 44 Deseret Industries thrift stores, and 100 home storage centers around the world. Church members donated 623,153 days of labor to welfare facilities in 2006, and 239,410 people internationally received training and jobs with the help of Latter-day Saint employment efforts, according to information provided by Welfare Services.
“I have passed this place thousands of times,” said Elder Rudd, speaking of the Church’s first storehouse and its significance. “I have always had great feelings for it. This was the beginning.”
The storehouse began in early 1932, when then-stake president (later 11th President of the Church) Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) and his counselors met with bishops in the Pioneer Stake. “It was decided after a good discussion that they better do something and do it quickly,” Elder Rudd said. “It was decided that they would build a storehouse and learn how to fill it.”
Stake leaders obtained the free use of a building on Pierpont Avenue and volunteers got the facility ready. Members of the Pioneer Stake fasted on the day of the official opening and brought their contributions to the storehouse.
“It was an interesting thing that by the time it was finished, there was enough food and other items contributed to fill the storehouse,” wrote Elder Rudd in a report about the storehouse. “Also, there was a spirit throughout the stake like there had never been before—just plain brotherly love.”
The storehouse, which filled the same function as early tithing offices, operated under the same principles as modern Latter-day Saint storehouses. “Everyone was supposed to work. That was the aim of the Church, to help people help themselves,” Elder Rudd explained.
Elder Rudd said as commodity prices were very low in the 1930s, many farmers were unable to hire any help and most were harvesting what they could and letting the rest spoil. Storehouse officials—including President Lee’s counselor Paul C. Child and storehouse manager, Bishop Jesse M. Drury—assigned Fred J. Heath and other unemployed men to contact the farmers, and many men were sent onto farms along the Wasatch Front and as far away as Idaho to harvest crops that were then shared with the volunteers.
Trucks arrived at the storehouse filled with fruit and other produce. Much of the fruit was canned, Elder Rudd recalled.
He said at one point so many onions (which were donated in abundance) and canned goods were stored in the upper level of the storehouse that the ceiling started to buckle. Props were placed to keep the ceiling from collapsing. Onions were traded for other necessities. The storehouse provided help. No one was ever turned away, he said.
Soon the Salt Lake Stake asked if they could join with the Pioneer Stake storehouse, and four years later they moved the facility to a larger building. Other storehouses were established in the Murray and Liberty Stakes. In addition, employment offices were set up in all six stakes then operating in the Salt Lake Valley.
“[The Pioneer Stake storehouse] became the pattern for all other storehouses,” said Elder Rudd, “including the big storehouses built by the General Welfare Committee in 1938 and 1939, which were located on what has since been known as Welfare Square.”
He watched as the heavy delivery was lifted up on the loading dock of the familiar building. He had heard about what went on inside but had never seen it personally. He knew of the circumstances of many families in his stake; most of his friends’ fathers were unemployed because of the Great Depression.
But on that day he saw what was really happening. “I knew we were helping the poor, the people in need,” recalled Elder Rudd, a former member of the Seventy who spent 25 years managing Welfare Square—the outgrowth of that first storehouse.
As a young man, he realized that during the height of the Depression, when almost 70 percent of the men in his stake didn’t have jobs, the Church was offering help. At the storehouse was a coal and wood yard, a furniture workshop, a cannery and sewing center, and food—much of it donated by people like his father, who owned a poultry processing plant.
August 19, 2007, marked the 75th anniversary of the opening of that storehouse, the Church’s first. Today the Church operates 108 storehouses in the United States and Canada and an additional 29 in Latin America. There are storehouses in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, and Venezuela.
In addition, the Church runs 285 Employment Resource Centers, 44 Deseret Industries thrift stores, and 100 home storage centers around the world. Church members donated 623,153 days of labor to welfare facilities in 2006, and 239,410 people internationally received training and jobs with the help of Latter-day Saint employment efforts, according to information provided by Welfare Services.
“I have passed this place thousands of times,” said Elder Rudd, speaking of the Church’s first storehouse and its significance. “I have always had great feelings for it. This was the beginning.”
The storehouse began in early 1932, when then-stake president (later 11th President of the Church) Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) and his counselors met with bishops in the Pioneer Stake. “It was decided after a good discussion that they better do something and do it quickly,” Elder Rudd said. “It was decided that they would build a storehouse and learn how to fill it.”
Stake leaders obtained the free use of a building on Pierpont Avenue and volunteers got the facility ready. Members of the Pioneer Stake fasted on the day of the official opening and brought their contributions to the storehouse.
“It was an interesting thing that by the time it was finished, there was enough food and other items contributed to fill the storehouse,” wrote Elder Rudd in a report about the storehouse. “Also, there was a spirit throughout the stake like there had never been before—just plain brotherly love.”
The storehouse, which filled the same function as early tithing offices, operated under the same principles as modern Latter-day Saint storehouses. “Everyone was supposed to work. That was the aim of the Church, to help people help themselves,” Elder Rudd explained.
Elder Rudd said as commodity prices were very low in the 1930s, many farmers were unable to hire any help and most were harvesting what they could and letting the rest spoil. Storehouse officials—including President Lee’s counselor Paul C. Child and storehouse manager, Bishop Jesse M. Drury—assigned Fred J. Heath and other unemployed men to contact the farmers, and many men were sent onto farms along the Wasatch Front and as far away as Idaho to harvest crops that were then shared with the volunteers.
Trucks arrived at the storehouse filled with fruit and other produce. Much of the fruit was canned, Elder Rudd recalled.
He said at one point so many onions (which were donated in abundance) and canned goods were stored in the upper level of the storehouse that the ceiling started to buckle. Props were placed to keep the ceiling from collapsing. Onions were traded for other necessities. The storehouse provided help. No one was ever turned away, he said.
Soon the Salt Lake Stake asked if they could join with the Pioneer Stake storehouse, and four years later they moved the facility to a larger building. Other storehouses were established in the Murray and Liberty Stakes. In addition, employment offices were set up in all six stakes then operating in the Salt Lake Valley.
“[The Pioneer Stake storehouse] became the pattern for all other storehouses,” said Elder Rudd, “including the big storehouses built by the General Welfare Committee in 1938 and 1939, which were located on what has since been known as Welfare Square.”
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