Gospel Story Finder

Are there some specific things that you could use some help with right now? When my neighbor saw my broken fence and fixed it, he knew that I needed help. But other needs aren’t as easily determined without asking. Gently ask or suggest ways in which you might help. For example, I was concerned that the financial provisions for my family were in order, but didn’t quite know how to go about determining whether or not they were. One day my bishop, who is a certified public accountant, came to see me. “If you’d like me to,” he said, “I’d be happy to review your financial affairs with you and your wife.” I was grateful for his tact, and relieved to learn after his review that things were as we wished them to be.

Let me just share a little personal experience that happened some years ago at the university.
I’d been in a very special meeting with some young people. We had been talking about temple marriage. As we departed the session, I was walking with three young ladies, one of whom I knew quite well. I had become aware that she had been dating a boy out of the faith, and I just cautiously suggested to her that you tend to marry those you date. I said, “I am planning on the day when I can perform your sealing in the temple.”
She looked at me and she said, “Well, I may not get married in the temple.”
And I said, “Why not?”
And she looked at me as only young people can, and said, “Why should I?”
All right, mom and dad, teacher. What do you tell them?
Like most teachers, I paused to stall and think. Then, hoping for inspiration, I said, “Well, why shouldn’t you?”
She looked at me and she said, “Do you really want to know?”
And I said, “Please.”
She said, “How well do you know my father?”
I said, “Reasonably well.”
She said, “My dad puts on a pretty good front. Oh, he’s a fine man, but he’s a little hypocritical.” She said, “You ought to see the way he treats my mom and us at home. And you know, my mom and dad were married in the temple. And I don’t want a marriage like that.” She said, “How well do you know Brother and Sister So-and-so?”—another acquaintance.
I said, “I know them.”
She said, “Did you know I babysit for them. They too are married in the temple, and I wouldn’t care for a marriage like that.” She said, “How well do you know Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so?” This is a wonderful member of our community, not of our faith. Ten children. She said, “I babysit that family too, and I’d like a marriage like theirs.”
Now what do you say, mom and dad? Teacher? The scriptures say so? Well, that’s what the leaders teach. Young people are after whys and wherefores.
I was still a little puzzled. Standing nearby was another young lady. I turned to her and I said, “How do you answer that?”
She was alert. She turned to her friend and she said, “Jan, you’re not fair.”
Jan said, “Why not?”
She said, “Because you’re judging the whole church by two or three examples that don’t represent, necessarily, what we believe and teach or how we should live.” She said, “Let me ask you a question. When was the last time you had a little personal crisis, maybe a frustrating date, a test, a social situation that worried you a little bit, where your dad sensed it and came into your bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed and stroked your head and said, ‘Wouldn’t you like a blessing tonight?’”
Jan looked at her and said, “Well, my dad doesn’t do that.”
The little girl said, “My dad does.”
And then together they talked about how her dad regularly taught the family. An experience was shared regarding family prayer. She listed some eight or nine such moments without even pausing. I could see a little change in Jan’s heart. You could see in Jan’s eyes the expression, “Oh! I would like a husband like that.”
I had the thrill some months later of performing that marriage, in the temple. I’d like to think that night, a change occurred.

Kurt lived in Switzerland with his family. He had six big brothers. Hans and Josef were the biggest, and Franz and Peter were next in size. Then came Jon and Fritz. Even Fritz was much bigger than Kurt.
One day the six big brothers were going riding on their six big brown horses.
“I would like to ride a horse,” said Kurt.
All the big brothers looked down at Kurt. “You are much too little, Kurt,” said Hans, and away they galloped.
The next day the six big brothers were going hunting for a big black bear.
“I would like to go hunting,” said Kurt.
All the big brothers looked down at Kurt. “You are too little, Kurt,” said Josef.
“Grow a little more, and then you can help hunt the black bear.”
Another day the six big brothers were going to climb a high mountain covered with snow.
“I would like to climb the mountain,” said Kurt.
All the big brothers looked down at him.
Kurt sighed. “I know, I know. I am much too little.”
“But you will grow,” said Franz kindly. “Then you can join us.”
“It takes so long to grow,” said Kurt, and he sat down to wait for his six big brothers to return.
One day the snow came in big feathery flakes. All the land turned marshmallow white.
“Stay here with Mother, little Kurt,” said Peter. “We are going with Father to get a Christmas tree.”
When they came back, they brought the tree into the house. It stood tall and green and smelled of the woods.
“There, little brother. How do you like our Christmas tree?” asked Jon.
“It’s beautiful!” declared Kurt.
“We will make it even more beautiful,” said Fritz. “See what Hans is bringing from the loft.”
Hans brought down a big box. Kurt went to see what was in it.
“Gold and silver!” he cried. “And red and blue and green! May I put them on the Christmas tree?”
“We’re sorry, Kurt,” said Josef, “but you are too little.”
“Yes, I know,” said Kurt. He sat down to watch his six big brothers put the shiny ornaments on the Christmas tree.
The six big brothers laughed and sang happy songs, but not little Kurt. He just sat and watched.
At last the tree was decorated. They all stepped back to admire it. “No,” said Franz, “it’s not finished yet. It must have one thing more; then it will be truly beautiful.”
“The gold star for the top,” said Peter. “Where is it?”
“It’s not in the box,” declared Jon.
Hans said, “I will go back up to look for it.”
“I see it,” he called down, “but it is back in the corner where I can’t reach it.”
He came down and Fritz went up. “I can’t reach it either,” Fritz said when he came back down.
They all looked at Kurt. “Little Kurt,” Josef said, “would you try to reach the star?”
Kurt ran over to Hans, who boosted him up the ladder. Soon Kurt was backing out of the loft, holding the gold star carefully in his hands. “The star is beautiful,” said Kurt. “Please let me put it on the tree.”
“Oh,” said Franz, “you are much too—”
“I know, I know,” said Kurt. “I’m much too little.” And he turned away from the Christmas tree.
Hans looked after him. “Kurt, you are much too little to reach that high, but let’s see how fast you can grow!” He picked Kurt up and put him on his shoulders.
“Now you are taller than any of us,” said Peter.
Hans held Kurt high—as high as the top of the Christmas tree. Kurt took the beautiful, shiny gold star and put it on the very top of the tree.
“Beautiful! Beautiful!” everyone chorused. “And it’s all because we have a little brother!”
The six big brothers laughed and sang—
“O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How faithful are thy branches …”
And Kurt sang with them.

When I was a mission president, a fine elder came to me. I asked, “How can I help you?”
“President,” he said, “I think I’m losing my testimony.”
I asked him how that could be possible.
“For the first time I have read some anti-Mormon literature,” he said. “I have some questions, and nobody will answer them for me. I am confused, and I think I am losing my testimony.”
I asked him what his questions were, and he told me. They were the standard anti-Church issues, but I wanted a little time to gather materials so I could provide meaningful answers. So we set up an appointment ten days later, at which time I told him I would answer every one of his questions. As he started to leave, I stopped him. “Elder, you’ve asked me several questions here today,” I said. “Now I have one for you.”
“Yes, President?”
“How long has it been since you’ve read from the Book of Mormon?” I asked.
His eyes dropped. He looked at the floor for a while. Then he looked at me. “It’s been a long time, President,” he confessed.
“All right,” I said. “You have given me my assignment. It’s only fair that I give you yours. I want you to promise me that you will read in the Book of Mormon for at least one hour every day between now and our next appointment.” He agreed that he would do that.
Ten days later he returned to my office, and I was ready. I pulled out my papers to start answering his questions. But he stopped me.
“President,” he said, “that isn’t going to be necessary.” Then he explained, “I know that the Book of Mormon is true. I know Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.”
“Well, that’s great,” I said. “But you’re going to get answers to your questions anyway. I worked a long time on this, so you just sit there and listen.”
And so I answered all of those questions, and then asked, “Elder, what have you learned from this?” And he said, “Give the Lord equal time.”

I met my husband, Wally Woods, at a youth conference held at the church in Edmonton. He joined the Church the following year and went to Brigham Young University in the fall of 1970. When he returned in the spring of 1971, we were married and sealed in the Cardston Temple on July 24 of that year. The president of the temple, Heber G. Jensen, told us that he had sealed a number of First Nations families, but we were the first indigenous couple he had married and sealed in the Cardston Temple.

I remember walking home from Primary one afternoon when I was about eleven years old. I had been deeply moved by the lesson Sister Squires had taught us about Gethsemane and the Savior’s crucifixion. I remember saying to my father that since Jesus Christ was God, this suffering would not have hurt Him as much as it would an ordinary person.

My father got the scriptures from our living room and read to me from the nineteenth section of the Doctrine and Covenants. He read several verses to me, among them verses 16–19:
“‘For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;
“‘But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I;
“‘Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink—
“‘Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and finished my preparations unto the children of men.’” [D&C 19:16–19]

After my father finished reading the scriptures, he turned to me and said, “Because Jesus Christ was God, it hurt Him more, not less.”

Don’t think that only grown-ups can understand the doctrines of the Church or learn from the scriptures. The Spirit can help you feel and know these things too. Don’t worry if you don’t understand everything you read or hear—grown-ups don’t, either. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that Sister Squires told us about the Savior’s Atonement and Crucifixion. Her lesson troubled me. It led me to ask more questions. I’m also grateful to a father who knew the scriptures and who didn’t think I was too young to learn. I’m sure Sister Squires didn’t tell us everything she knew, and I’m sure I didn’t understand everything she told us. But I felt that day what I think she felt, and it made a difference in my life.

Many children, and some adults, may for personal reasons find a 24-hour fast difficult. It can be, in the words of Isaiah, felt that the fast has “afflicted [their] soul.” Wise parents recognize that possibility and so are careful to follow the counsel of President Joseph F. Smith: “Better to teach them the principle, and let them observe it when they are old enough to choose intelligently.”12
I saw the blessing in that counsel recently. One of my grandsons had found a 24-hour fast beyond his powers of endurance. But his wise parents still placed the principle in his heart. One of his school friends recently lost a young cousin to accidental death. My grandson asked his mother on fast day, at about the time he had always felt the fast was too hard to continue, whether it would make his grieving friend feel better if he continued his fast.
His question was the confirmation of President Joseph F. Smith’s counsel. My grandson had come to the point where he not only understood the principle of the fast, but it had also been planted in his heart. He had come to feel that his fasting and prayers would lead to a blessing from God for someone in need. If he lives the principle often enough, it will bring the wonderful effects in his own life, as promised by the Lord. He will have the spiritual blessing of power to receive inspiration and greater capacity to resist temptation.

I urge you young people to develop the habit of always showing respect, courtesy, and deference to your parents and others, especially those who are older than you. My father taught me that every person in and out of the Church has a title, such as Mr., Mrs., Brother, Sister, Bishop, Elder, or President, and that they should be addressed with respect. When I was six years old, my father reinforced this principle when I made the horrid mistake of calling our local grocer by his first name. Upon leaving the grocery store, my father taught me with firmness that I had shown a lack of respect by being so casual to an older person. I have never forgotten that experience, nor have I after 60 years forgotten the name of the grocer. I even remember his first name.

Soon I’ll be celebrating the first anniversary of my baptism, thanks to the efforts of my neighbor Diane Novak who is ten.
Diane invited me to Primary at the Caribou Branch of the Church in the Houlton-Maine District of the Canada-Halifax Mission. Later I met with the missionaries and was baptized by Diane’s father in the swimming pool at Loring Air Force Base. Now I go to Mutual and take my nonmember brother and one of his friends with me.

When my father-in-law passed away, our family gathered together to greet others who came to pay their respects. Throughout the evening, as I visited with family and friends, I often noticed our 10-year-old grandson, Porter, standing near my mother-in-law—his “granny.” Sometimes he was standing behind her, watching over her. Once I noticed his arm linked with hers. I watched him pat her hands, give her little hugs, and stand by her side.

For several days after that experience, I couldn’t get this image out of my mind. I was prompted to send Porter a note, telling him what I had observed. I emailed him and told him what I had seen and felt. I reminded Porter of the covenants he had made when he was baptized, quoting Alma’s words in Mosiah chapter 18:

“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, … that ye may have eternal life—
“… If this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?”1

I explained to Porter that Alma taught that those who want to be baptized need to be willing to serve the Lord by serving others—for your whole life! I said: “I don’t know if you realized it, but the way you showed love and concern for Granny was keeping your covenants. We keep our covenants every day as we are kind, show love, and take care of each other. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you for being a covenant keeper! As you keep the covenant you made when you were baptized, you will be prepared to be ordained to the priesthood. This additional covenant will give you more opportunities to bless and serve others and help you to prepare for the covenants you will make in the temple. Thank you for being such a good example to me! Thank you for showing me what it looks like to be a covenant keeper!”

Porter replied back: “Grandma, thanks for the message. When I was always hugging Granny, I didn’t know that I was keeping my covenants, but I felt warm in my heart and felt really good. I know that it was the Holy Ghost in my heart.”

I also felt warm in my heart when I realized that Porter had connected keeping his covenants with the promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]”2—a promise made possible by receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost.

From age 8 to age 18, I reflected a lot about getting baptized. But it took me a long time because I had a lot of things I needed to change in my life, even though I tried to live good principles.
At the age of 18, I met the missionaries in Cayo’s home. The missionaries taught me the lessons to prepare me for baptism. They helped me, and their message touched my heart. During this time, my mother and my little sister were introduced to the missionaries. They were baptized a few months before I was. I was baptized on March 10, 2007.
It took the time that it took, more than 10 years, but finally he was baptized.
“It’s interesting to see how the Lord does things,” Cayo says. It took more than 10 years for Anthony to be baptized, but in that time, Anthony gained a strong testimony.

One day as Christmastime approached, my parents announced that we were going to a drive-in movie. For a seven-year-old, this was very good news, but I thought I could make it even better.
“Can Kenny come too?” I asked. Kenny was my age and lived next door.
Dad smiled. “Of course, if it’s OK with his parents.”
I grew up in a small house in a small town. Mom and Dad often talked about struggling to get by on a teacher’s salary, but we must have been wealthy compared to Kenny’s family. When I invited him that afternoon, he was overjoyed. I could tell that he seldom got to see a movie.
That night we drove up in front of Kenny’s house in our station wagon. When Dad honked the horn, Kenny came running out carrying a brown lunch bag spotted with grease stains.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked.
Kenny smiled shyly. “Some snacks for the movie.”
“What kind of snacks?”
“Oh, just some fried calf liver that my mom cooked up.”
“Wow!” I said. “I’ll trade you some popcorn for some of your liver.” I knew that Kenny couldn’t afford to buy popcorn, but I wasn’t just being nice. Liver was my favorite food.
December soon brought lights and carols and secret shopping. The whole world felt alive and full of wonder. Finally, after an endless wait, the best moment of the year arrived—Christmas morning!
We awoke early, as usual, and had all the presents opened before 6:00 a.m. I got several brand-new racing cars and a new track to go with them. I also got a “supercharger” that would shoot the cars down the track at an astonishing speed. “This is the best Christmas ever!” I exclaimed.
I couldn’t wait to tell Kenny about my presents. I rushed over to his house and pounded on the door. When he opened it, I blurted out, “What did you get from Santa Claus?”
“Santa brought me this new pair of pants and this shirt for school.”
“Neat,” I said. “What cool toys did you get?”
“I didn’t get any toys this year.” He was still smiling.
I stood there speechless for seconds that felt like minutes. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t remember what I did or said next, but I know I didn’t mention my gifts.
When I got home, I must have looked sad. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“Kenny didn’t get a single toy for Christmas.” I felt like I was sharing a tragedy.
Mom thought for a few moments, then asked a question that changed my life: “What if you were to take a couple of your new racing cars and wrap them up for Kenny?”
An hour earlier, her idea would have sounded crazy. Now it was a lifeline in a storm, and I grabbed it. I carefully chose two of my best cars and wrapped them. I wrote on a small card, “Merry Christmas, Kenny! From Steve.”
When Kenny unwrapped the gifts, his eyes lit up, and my heart grew bigger than my chest. We played with our racing cars all Christmas afternoon.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked that evening.
“Good,” I replied. “Great” would have been more like it.
I often think back on all the special Christmases I enjoyed growing up. I treasure every one of them and appreciate every gift I received—my first shiny new bike, the magnificent pump-action BB gun, and all the rest. But no Christmas gift could ever come close to the one Mom gave me by suggesting that I give away a couple of toy cars. Every time I think of that experience, all is calm, all is bright.

While we were growing up, our father was a ward clerk for fifteen years, and I remember that every Sunday evening he would come home after meeting and go into the dining room. He would pull down the blind and on the oak table he would put the money that he had gathered that day for the bishop—the tithes and offerings.
He would count it and account for it and put the ones and the fives and the tens in a pile; and then he would get the ironing board and an iron and a wet rag, and then our dad would take each of these paper bills and iron it smooth.
Now you would wonder what four little boys would recognize about this. The one thing they got from it was that whatever you do for the Lord, you do the very best that you know how. There is nothing that is too good for the Lord.

Sister Kirts, a professional hairdresser, met a family who had come to her salon for haircuts. They were donating their hair as their family’s Christmas project. From them she got the information about donating hair and did a little research. A minimum of 10 inches of hair was needed, bound in a ponytail. Especially needed was fine, light colored hair that would be more appropriate for children’s wigs.
With some hesitation, Sister Kirts presented the idea to the girls in her ward. It wouldn’t help Jessica directly, but the donation of their hair would help other girls and boys. At first, the thought was stunning. Ten inches! That was so much. “They were petrified at first,” said Sister Kirts. “I didn’t want to pressure them. But later that day, the phone just started ringing. And, one at a time, the girls called and said, ‘I’m in.’ I couldn’t believe that they would do it.”
The word spread through the ward. Even two little girls from Primary joined the Young Women in donating their hair. The local newspaper and a television station covered the event because so many girls were donating their hair at the same time. And at Christmastime, people could not help but compare this event to O. Henry’s story “Gift of the Magi,” about a young couple who each gives up the thing they value most to buy a gift for the other. In the story, the young wife sells her long hair to buy a chain for her husband’s heirloom watch. He, in turn, sells the watch to buy combs for his wife’s beautiful hair.
After the young women’s story aired on the news and was printed in the newspaper, the salon offered to cut the hair of anyone who wanted to donate it. Dozens of people responded. “Teenagers have so much power for good or for bad,” said Sister Kirts. “For these people who came to donate their hair, their biggest reason was that if an 18-year-old girl can do this, I can too.”
Rachael Ward, another of the Young Women in the Redondo First Ward, was a little frightened to go back to school after Christmas vacation with her new short hair. “It was awful waiting for that day. Everyone noticed my hair, even people I didn’t know before. A lot of people looked at me differently. They said it made them realize that people really do good deeds for each other. It’s not just a story on television. That made me feel good.”
Rachael’s friend Brittanie Streetmaker also donated her hair. “I was nervous, but now whenever I look in the mirror, I think of a little girl who will be so happy to have a cute styled wig. My friends ask me if I miss my hair, and I say I do, but I don’t regret it for a second.”
Editor’s note: Jessica is home from the hospital. She still suffers from partial paralysis and is continuing treatment for aplastic anemia. She loves the way the girls sacrificed to help others.

“Fam’lies can be together forever through Heav’nly Father’s plan” (“Families Can Be Together Forever,” Hymns, no. 300). I love this Primary song, which teaches that families can be sealed for eternity. I prayed that this could be true for my family, especially after my father passed away.
Recently the Lord answered my prayer. My mother, my two brothers, and I were able to travel to the Manila Philippines Temple to be sealed together and to my father. It was our first time in the temple together, and I can still remember the happiness I saw in my mother’s and brothers’ eyes. There was a great feeling of joy there.
I know the temple is the house of the Lord and that those in the temple have the proper authority to perform sacred ordinances. I’m so grateful that through these ordinances my family can be with my father again. Since going to the temple, we try to be a stronger family and do all we can to keep our covenants so that we can be together forever.

In contrast, selflessness builds strong, loving relationships. Several years before his death, former Brigham Young University president Rex E. Lee was hospitalized for five months with cancer. His wife, Janet, was at his side virtually every day. When he “was so sick that he couldn’t even read his favorite literature—[U.S.] Supreme Court cases—Janet read the cases aloud to him while tenderly rubbing his bare feet. In a multitude of such moments, the roots of their love, including their affection, stretched ever deeper. President Lee said he knew Janet loved him before, but now their love has a depth they could not otherwise know” (Bruce C. and Marie K. Hafen, “‘Bridle All Your Passions,’” Ensign, February 1994, 17).

Even as the restored gospel spread across the continent, the blessings of the house of the Lord remained out of reach for most members in South America. Until the completion of the São Paulo Brazil Temple in 1978, only those able to travel to the United States or Europe had the privilege of making eternal covenants and participating in ordinance work for others. Saints throughout South America contributed to the temple’s construction by laboring at the site, selling valuables, and donating savings.
Shortly after the dedication of the temple, Efraín and Maria Ondina Rodríguez from Arequipa, Peru, made the trek to São Paulo. Complications at international border crossings and the outbreak of a revolution turned their trip into nearly a monthlong journey. Despite encountering many difficulties, through faith and determination they were united as eternal companions. For others, attending the temple required fording raging rivers and crossing the towering Andes mountains to be sealed together forever as families.

I have always been interested in animals and birds, and when I was a little boy and the other children wanted to play cowboy, I wanted to go on safari to Africa and would pretend I was hunting the wild animals.
When I learned to read, I found books about birds and animals and came to know much about them. By the time I was in my teens I could identify most of the African animals. I could tell a klipspringer from an impala, or a gemsbok from a wildebeest.
I always wanted to go to Africa and see the animals, and finally that opportunity came. Sister Packer and I were assigned to tour the South Africa Mission with President and Sister Howard Badger. We had a very strenuous schedule and had dedicated eight chapels in seven days, scattered across that broad continent.
President Badger was vague about the schedule for September 10th. (That happens to be my birthday.) We were in Rhodesia, planning, I thought, to return to Johannesburg, South Africa. But he had other plans, and we landed at Victoria Falls.
“There is a game reserve some distance from here,” he explained, “and I have rented a car, and tomorrow, your birthday, we are going to spend seeing the African animals.”
Now I might explain that the game reserves in Africa are unusual. The people are put in cages, and the animals are left to run free. That is, there are compounds where the park visitors check in at night and are locked behind high fences until after daylight. They are allowed to drive about, but no one is allowed out of his car.
We arrived in the park in the late afternoon. By some mistake, there were not enough cabins for all the visitors, and they were all taken when we arrived. The head ranger indicated that they had a cabin in an isolated area about eight miles from the compound and we could spend the night there.
Because of a delay in getting our evening meal, it was long after dark when we left the compound. We found the turnoff and had gone up the narrow road just a short distance when the engine stalled. We found a flashlight and I stepped out to check under the hood, thinking that there must be a loose connection or something. As the light flashed on the dusty road, the first thing I saw was lion tracks!
Back in the car, we determined to content ourselves with spending the night there! Fortunately, however, an hour or two later we were rescued by the driver of a gas truck who had left the compound late because of a problem. We awakened the head ranger and in due time we were settled in our cabin. In the morning they brought us back to the compound.
We had no automobile, and without telephones there was no way to get a replacement until late in the day. We faced the disappointment of sitting around the compound all day. Our one day in the park was ruined and, for me, the dream of a lifetime was gone.
I talked with a young ranger, and he was surprised that I knew many of the African birds. Then he volunteered to rescue us.
“We are building a new lookout over a water hole about twenty miles from the compound,” he said. “It is not quite finished, but it is safe. I will take you out there with a lunch, and when your car comes late this afternoon we will bring it out to you. You may see as many animals, or even more, than if you were driving around.”
On the way to the lookout he volunteered to show us some lions. He turned off through the brush and before long located a group of seventeen lions all sprawled out asleep and drove right up among them.
We stopped at a water hole to watch the animals come to drink. It was very dry that season and there was not much water, really just muddy spots. When the elephants stepped into the soft mud, the water would seep into the depression and the animals would drink from the elephant tracks.
The antelope, particularly, were very nervous. They would approach the mud hole, only to turn and run away in great fright. I could see there were no lions about and asked the guide why they didn’t drink. His answer, and this is the lesson, was “Crocodiles.”
I knew he must be joking and asked him seriously, “What is the problem?” The answer again: “Crocodiles.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “There are no crocodiles out there. Anyone can see that.”
I thought he was having some fun at the expense of his foreign game expert, and finally I asked him to tell us the truth. Now I remind you that I was not uninformed. I had read many books. Besides, anyone would know that you can’t hide a crocodile in an elephant track.
He could tell I did not believe him and determined, I suppose, to teach me a lesson. We drove to another location where the car was on an embankment above the muddy hole where we could look down. “There,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I couldn’t see anything except the mud, a little water, and the nervous animals in the distance. Then all at once I saw it!—a large crocodile, settled in the mud, waiting for some unsuspecting animal to get thirsty enough to come for a drink.
Suddenly I became a believer! When he could see I was willing to listen, he continued with the lesson. “There are crocodiles all over the park,” he said, “not just in the rivers. We don’t have any water without a crocodile somewhere near it, and you’d better count on it.”
The guide was kinder to me than I deserved. My “know-it-all” challenge to his first statement, “crocodiles,” might have brought an invitation, “Well, go out and see for yourself!”
I could see for myself that there were no crocodiles. I was so sure of myself I think I might have walked out just to see what was there. Such an arrogant approach could have been fatal. But he was patient enough to teach me.

One Sunday I was walking to church when I noticed a beautiful butterfly lying in a wet gutter. The butterfly was stuck in the water and flapping its wings very slowly. My dad helped me lift the butterfly up and place it on a tree branch. After a few moments the butterfly flew away. I was happy to have helped one of God’s beautiful creations. I know God loves everything He created, and that He would be happy that I helped the butterfly.

Everyone can remember a special teacher that has made a profound difference in their life. I will ever be thankful to Miss Hamilton, my second-grade teacher. She was also my Sunday School teacher. I can still recall her saying, “Now remember, always be a good boy!” and “I am so proud of you.” She always made me feel very important. I grew to love her, and I’m sure she loved me. That school year was a glorious one. I hated to see it come to a close. The news traveled fast in the small town of Sugar City, Idaho, and one summer day my mother called me in the house to inform me of the disastrous news: my dear Miss Hamilton had gone and gotten married! And she didn’t even check with me to see if it was all right.
Our daughter-in-law, also a teacher, received a note at the end of a school year from one of her third-grade students. He wrote, “Miss Scoresby, I will miss you more than my pet gerbil that died.”
We are in essence a church of teachers. Regardless of life’s circumstances or the nature of one’s calling, all members of the Church have the opportunity to teach and to testify. The very nature of our lives bears witness of what we believe and teaches all who come within our sphere of influence.
Many, perhaps most, adult members of the Church, however, find themselves in a position to teach in a more direct manner. Leaders, parents, and called teachers have the specific responsibility to constantly improve their teaching abilities so they can prepare, train, and edify those who fall within their stewardship. President David O. McKay reminded us that “the proper training of childhood is man’s most important and sacred duty” (Gospel Ideals [1953], 220). The Lord has made it clear that parents shall “teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord” (D&C 68:28).
There is power in the doctrines of the Church—hence the need for us all to be ever learning and constantly fortifying ourselves spiritually. President Hinckley has said: “The forces against which we labor are tremendous. We need more than our own strength to cope with them. To all who hold positions of leadership, to the vast corps of teachers and missionaries, to heads of families, I should like to make a plea: In all you do, feed the Spirit—nourish the soul. … I am satisfied that the world is starved for spiritual food” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1967, 89; or Improvement Era, Dec. 1967, 85–86).
President Hinckley made that statement nearly 30 years ago at a general conference. Then, how much more need have we to be spiritually fortified today! Indeed, inspired gospel teaching among all members of the Church is a lifeline to the spiritual stability and growth of members of all ages.
Technology will surely advance and methods will certainly change, but the personal touch by a dedicated, loving teacher who radiates the Spirit is the key to filling the desire of the writers of this 1899 document, which was to teach the children and others the “principles of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; to make Latter Day Saints of them.” In the name of the greatest teacher of all, even Jesus Christ, amen.