Gospel Story Finder

Now for the illustration pertaining to those men whose habits and lives include but little Church attendance or Church activity of any kind. The ranks of these prospective elders have grown larger. This is because of those younger boys of the Aaronic Priesthood quorums who are lost along the Aaronic Priesthood pathway and also those grown men who are baptized but do not persevere in activity and faith so that they might be ordained elders.
I not only reflect on the hearts and souls of such individual men, but also sorrow for their sweet wives and growing children. These men await a helping hand, an encouraging word, and a personal testimony of truth expressed from a heart filled with love and a desire to lift and to build.
Shelley, my friend, was such a person. His wife and children were fine members, but all efforts to motivate him toward baptism and then priesthood blessings had miserably failed.
But then Shelley’s mother died. Shelley was so sorrowful that he retired to a special room at the mortuary where the funeral was being held. We had wired the proceedings to this room so that he might mourn alone and where no one could see him weep with sorrow. As I comforted him in that room before going to the pulpit, he gave me a hug, and I knew a tender chord had been touched.
Time passed. Shelley and his family moved to another part of the city. I was called to preside over the Canadian Mission and, together with my family, moved to Toronto, Canada, for a three-year period.
When I returned and after I was called to the Twelve, Shelley telephoned me. He said, “Bishop, will you seal my wife, my family, and me in the Salt Lake Temple?”
I answered hesitantly, “But Shelley, you must first be baptized a member of the Church.”
He laughed and responded, “Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. I sort of snuck up on you. There was this home teacher who called on us regularly and taught me the truths of the Church. He was a school crossing guard and helped the small children across the street each morning when they went to school and each afternoon when they went home. He asked me to help him. During the intervals when there was no child crossing, he gave me additional instruction pertaining to the Church.”
I had the privilege to see this miracle with my own eyes and feel the joy with my heart and soul. The sealings were performed; a family was united. Shelley died not too long after this period. I had the privilege of speaking at his funeral services. I shall ever see, in memory’s eye, the body of my friend Shelley lying in his casket, dressed in his temple clothing. I readily admit the presence of tears—tears of gratitude, for the lost had been found.

I was raised on a farm in Kansas where we lived next door to my Grandma Dew, and I was her shadow. We went everywhere together—to the bank, the doctor, the Early Bird Garden Club, and to an endless procession of Church meetings. When it came to the gospel, Grandma was zealous. She would talk about the Church anytime and with anyone—including her eldest granddaughter.
I’ll never forget an interchange she and I had one night as we drove home from yet another meeting. It began when I blurted out a question that flashed through my eight-year-old mind: “Grandma, what if the gospel isn’t true and we’ve been going to all of these meetings for nothing?”
Charming little eight-year-old, wasn’t I?
“Sheri, you don’t need to worry about that,” she answered, “because I know that the gospel is true.”
I challenged her: “How can you know for sure?”
Several seconds passed before she said slowly, “I know for sure that the gospel is true because the Holy Ghost has told me that Jesus Christ is our Savior and that this is His Church.” She paused, and then she added something I will never forget: “And, Sheri, He’ll tell you too, and when He does, your life can never be the same again.”
I still vividly remember what happened next. A sensation unlike any I had ever experienced charged through my body, and then I began to cry. Though I didn’t understand the reason for my outburst, I’m sure Grandma realized exactly what was happening—that the Spirit was bearing witness to me that what she had said was true.
I am grateful to testify that during the intervening years I have come to know for myself that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and our Redeemer. And with that knowledge, my life has been changed forever.

Last Sunday, Ruby and I attended a sacrament meeting of a ward here in central Salt Lake. The meeting was most interesting because in that ward there is some affluence as well as people who are living in halfway houses. Just before the testimony meeting, a young lady walked up to the bishop on the stand holding a little baby in her arms, wanting the baby to receive a blessing. The bishop stepped down and took the little baby, and the baby was blessed.

Later on, during the testimony meeting, a little seven-year-old boy, with his five-year-old sister by the hand, walked up to the pulpit. He helped fix a little stool there for her to stand on, his five-year-old sister, and he helped her as she bore her testimony. And as she would falter just a little, he would lean over and whisper in her ear, this little loving seven-year-old brother.

After she finished, he stood on the stool, and she stood watching him, and he bore his testimony. She had that sweet expression on her face as she watched him. He was her older brother, but you could see that family love and relationship with those two little children. He stepped down from the stool, took her by the hand, and they walked back down to take their seat.

Near the end of the testimony meeting, when there were a few moments for me at the end, I asked the young lady who had brought her child up to be blessed if she would come up and stand by me, which she did. In the meantime, while the testimony meeting was going on, I asked the bishop, whispering into his ear, “Where is her husband?”

The bishop said, “He’s in jail.”

I asked, “What is her name?” and he told me her name.

She came up and stood with me by my side, carrying the little baby. As we were standing at the pulpit, I looked down at this little precious baby, only a few days old, and this mother, the mother of that little daughter who had brought her to receive a blessing at the hands of the priesthood. As I looked at the mother and looked at that precious little child, I wondered of what she might become or what she could be. I spoke to the audience and to this young mother about the proclamation that was issued five years ago by the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve, a proclamation on the family, and of our responsibility to our children, and the children’s responsibility to their parents, and the parents’ responsibility to each other. That marvelous document brings together the scriptural direction that we have received that has guided the lives of God’s children from the time of Adam and Eve and will continue to guide us until the final winding-up scene.

Many years ago I heard a story that impressed me. A beautiful little blind girl was sitting on the lap of her father in a crowded compartment in a train. A friend seated nearby said to the father, “Let me give you a little rest,” and he reached over and took the little girl on his lap.
A few moments later the father said to her, “Do you know who is holding you?”
“No,” the little girl replied, “but you do.”
Some might say, “What a perfect trust this child had in her father.” Others may say, “What a wonderful example of love.” And still others might say, “What an example of faith.” To me it indicates a beautiful blending of all of these principles. Affection, respect, and care over the years had placed in this little girl’s heart a peace that surpasseth all understanding. She was at peace because she knew and trusted her father.
Our trust and our relationship with our Heavenly Father should be similar to that of the little blind girl with her earthly father. When sorrow, tragedy, and heartbreaks occur in our lives, wouldn’t it be comforting if when the whisperings of God say, “Do you know why this has happened to you?” we could have the peace of mind to answer, “No, but You do.”
Peace is a blessing that comes to those who trust in God. It is established through individual righteousness. Just as the little girl could sit peacefully on the stranger’s lap because her father knew him, so we can find peace if we know our Father and learn to live by His principles.

A few years ago, my neighbor’s husband died. She was really sad.
I prayed to know what I could do to help. The thought came into my mind to give her flowers on Valentine’s Day. However, I needed to earn the money to buy the flowers. I made it a goal in my Children’s Guidebook to earn the money.
I earned the money by doing different jobs for others. My grandma paid me to clean up her garden and the leaves in her yard. At home, I earned money by clearing the brush behind our shed. It took months of hard work to earn enough money.
Finally I had enough money to go to a store and buy the flowers. Valentine’s Day came, and I gave my neighbor the flowers with a note. She was really happy. I felt warm and happy too. I thanked Heavenly Father for helping me do what He wanted me to do.

In 1978 I had a memorable dream in which two people appeared to me. As I spoke with them in this dream, I felt an amazing sense of joy. The happy feeling persisted even after I woke up the next morning.
That very day two Latter-day Saint missionaries knocked on the door of our home and asked if they could share a message. Remembering my dream, I agreed and invited them in. My husband was reluctant, but he consented when I told him that I couldn’t bear to let them go away without talking to them.
Among other things, the missionaries taught me about prophets that day. I was familiar with the prophets of the Bible, such as Abraham and Moses, but the missionaries also taught me about a modern-day prophet, Joseph Smith. At the end of our lesson, the elders asked if they could return for more discussions. I said yes.
After additional discussions the missionaries invited me to be baptized. I liked what I had learned, but before being baptized, I wanted to gain a testimony of Joseph Smith. Of all the things the missionaries had taught me, his story was the most difficult for me to accept. But I knew that if I was sincere in seeking such a testimony, Heavenly Father would confirm the truth to me.
I went to see a member of the clergy in the church I had been raised in. I told him what the missionaries had taught me and expressed a great desire to meet with them again. Before I could say anything else though, he told me that Joseph Smith was crazy, that he was a visionary.
Suddenly, I heard a voice tell me, “Joseph Smith is a true prophet.” My heart started beating strongly within me, and even though I had not yet been baptized into the Church, I found myself defending the Prophet of the Restoration.
The feeling of confirmation grew even stronger as I left the clergyman’s office. I had received my answer and knew in which church I should raise my sons.
I was baptized a short time later, and I felt a great desire to share what I had found. I had received a spiritual confirmation of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and I wanted others to experience the joy I now had in my life as a result. My husband experienced that joy for himself when he joined the Church two years after I did.
I am grateful to live in a time when we again have prophets on the earth. Because of their guidance, I have a sure path that I can follow.

Frequently the heavenly virtue of patience is required. As a bishop I felt prompted one day to call on a man whose wife was somewhat active, as were the children. This man, however, had never responded. It was a hot summer’s day when I knocked on the screen door of Harold G. Gallacher. I could see Brother Gallacher sitting in his chair reading the newspaper. “Who is it?” he queried, without looking up.
“Your bishop,” I replied. “I’ve come to get acquainted and to urge your attendance with your family at our meetings.”
“No, I’m too busy,” came the disdainful response. He never looked up. I thanked him for listening and departed the doorstep.
The Gallacher family moved to California shortly thereafter. The years went by. Then, as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I was working in my office one day when my secretary called, saying: “A Brother Gallacher who once lived in your ward would like to talk to you. He’s here in my office.”
I responded, “Ask him if his name is Harold G. Gallacher who, with his family, lived at Vissing Place on West Temple and Fifth South.”
She said, “He is the man.”
I asked her to send him in. We had a pleasant conversation together concerning his family. He told me, “I’ve come to apologize for not getting out of my chair and letting you in the door that summer day long years ago.” I asked him if he was active in the Church. With a wry smile, he replied: “I’m now second counselor in my ward bishopric. Your invitation to come out to church, and my negative response, so haunted me that I determined to do something about it.”
Harold and I visited together on numerous occasions before he passed away. The Gallachers and their children filled many callings in the Church. One of the youngest grandchildren is now serving a full-time mission.

Members of the Arusha Branch in Tanzania decided to volunteer at Shanga House, a facility that gives vocational training to people with disabilities and teaches them to provide a living for themselves and their families.
On August 20, 2011, 35 participants—adults, youth, and children; Church members, investigators, and missionaries—worked alongside people with disabilities in making craft items and jewelry that would later be sold. The volunteers also helped with household chores like cleaning and sweeping.
Just before the group departed, Shanga House coordinators asked them to come to a central area so that the people they had served could shake their hands and thank them. “It was quite an emotional experience,” said Sister Sandra Rydalch, who is serving a mission in the area with her husband, Elder Rich Rydalch. Since that time, when people from Shanga House see members of the branch downtown, “they readily recognize us, wave, and stop to visit,” Sister Rydalch said.
Patience Rwiza, who organized the branch’s project under the direction of priesthood leadership, points out that the activity was beneficial not just for those at Shanga House but also for those who offered the service. “People developed a sense of love by helping others, and along the process, people learned things from the community that they didn’t know before,” he said. “My testimony has been strengthened with what I did and saw—from the members’ participation and the community as a whole.”

Many years ago I was planning to spend Christmas Eve with my family, and I was apprehensive about it. I had recently joined the Church, and my family was critical of my new religion. The situation worsened when I gave my mother a ride to my grandmother’s house. My mother had been drinking heavily, and I felt tempted to snap at her. The excitement I usually felt during the holiday season was replaced with despair. Silently, I prayed for help.
I tuned the car radio to the popular music station I usually listened to, hoping that would lift my spirits. But then I felt impressed to turn off the radio and sing Christmas hymns. I did so, and my mother—though surprised—seemed calmer. She even joined in singing some of the carols.
My mood changed immediately, and I was reminded of the true meaning of Christmas. When I thought of how the Savior unselfishly gave His life for us, my own problems seemed small and manageable. I realized that I had many blessings in my life and many reasons to rejoice. I felt assured that the Holy Ghost was with me, and I was confident that I could respond peacefully to any criticism I received about the Church.
Singing didn’t take away my problems, but it enabled me to approach my troubles with a positive attitude—and that made all the difference.
Kimberley Hirschi, California, USA

Once Joseph discovered that sharing his vision only turned his neighbors against him, he kept it mostly to himself, content with the knowledge God had given him.18 Later, after he moved away from New York, he tried to record his sacred experience in the woods. He described his yearning for forgiveness and the Savior’s warning to a world in need of repentance. He wrote the words out himself, in halting language, trying earnestly to capture the majesty of the moment.

In the years that followed, he recounted the vision more publicly, drawing on scribes who could help him better express what defied all description. He told of his desire to find the true church and described God the Father appearing first to introduce the Son. He wrote less about his own search for forgiveness and more about the Savior’s universal message of truth and the need for a restoration of the gospel.19

With each effort to record his experience, Joseph testified that the Lord had heard and answered his prayer. As a young man, he learned that the Savior’s church was no longer on the earth. But the Lord had promised to reveal more about His gospel in due time. So Joseph resolved to trust in God, stay true to the commandment he had received in the woods, and wait patiently for further direction.20

Shortly after my call as a new General Authority, I had the privilege to accompany President James E. Faust for a stake reorganization. As I drove the car to our assignment in beautiful Southern Utah, President Faust was kind enough to use the time to instruct and teach me. One lesson I will never forget. Said he, “The members of the Church are gracious to the General Authorities. They will treat you kindly and say nice things about you.” Then he briefly paused and said, “Dieter, always be thankful for this, but don’t you ever inhale it.”
This important lesson about Church service applies to every priesthood holder in every quorum of the Church. It applies to all of us in this Church.
When President J. Reuben Clark Jr. counseled those called to positions of authority in the Church, he would tell them not to forget rule number six.
Inevitably, the person would ask, “What is rule number six?”
“Don’t take yourself too darn seriously,” he would say.
Of course, this led to a follow-up question: “What are the other five rules?”
With a twinkle in his eye, President Clark would say, “There aren’t any.”
To be effective Church leaders, we must learn this critical lesson: leadership in the Church is not so much about directing others as it is about our willingness to be directed by God.

I don’t know when I started liking Jarom as more than just a friend. Maybe the first day. But the more I was around Jarom, the more I liked him. I didn’t date much, so it was nice to have someone to hang around with. One lunch hour he asked me to the Iron Man’s Ball, a dance sponsored by the school’s weight lifting club.
After I accepted, I began to wonder how I’d explain Jarom to Mom and Dad. They’d always taught me to date LDS guys. I decided on a subtle strategy.
“Do you ever go to church?” I asked him one day.
“Not that I remember. Why?”
“Why don’t you?” I quickly added. “You’d like it.”
He grinned. “I don’t think I’d fit in.”
“Come to a fireside. There’s one Sunday.”
“Fireside? What the heck’s a fireside?”
I laughed and explained it to him. “My dad’s our bishop, and he’s giving the talk. He’d be impressed if you showed up.”
Sunday evening I was nervous, not sure how Jarom would come dressed. He showed up in a pair of white Levi’s, a pale blue dress shirt, and a tie. And he had shaved.
“Mom and Dad, this is Jarom Wade.”
Dad shook his hand warmly. “Jarom’s a good Book of Mormon name.”
Before Dad could ask him anything else, I explained, “Jarom’s the one I’ve told you about, the one who settled our seminary class down.”
Before Mom and Dad could ask any personal questions, I hurried Jarom out of the house. But things started unraveling at the fireside. Dad spoke about the last thing I wanted Jarom to hear—dating! And he managed to say all the wrong things, talking hard about not dating before you’re 16, not dating nonmembers, no steady dating, and on and on. It’s not that I disagreed with Dad. I just didn’t know if Jarom would understand.
After the fireside Jarom drove me home. As he helped me out of the car, he asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
We were both quiet for the first half block. Jarom was the first to speak. “Your dad made sense tonight.” He chuckled. “I finally understood something that a Mormon was teaching.”
“He says what he thinks,” I said, blushing in the darkness.
Jarom didn’t answer right away. “He doesn’t know I’m not Mormon, does he? I guess my name and my going to seminary threw him off.” I stared ahead, suddenly nervous. “But you knew it would, didn’t you?”
“I haven’t lied about you, Jarom,” I came back defensively.
“But he’s thinking one thing, and I’m thinking something else.” He hunched his shoulders. “I shouldn’t take you to the Iron Man’s Ball.”
“Jarom, Dad didn’t say that,” I spoke out, feeling hurt.
“I want to go,” Jarom said softly. “You’re probably the first girl I’ve really wanted to go with. But I have to be fair to your dad too.” He pondered a moment. “I don’t have much, Brookley. Mom’s gone. I don’t know where Dad is. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I don’t have much money. But I can still say I’m honest. I can still make a promise and have it mean something. Mom taught me that. That’s why I get up every morning and sit through your Mormon seminary. Because of a promise.”
When we walked back to the house, Dad was just pulling into the driveway. He jumped out of the car, spotted us, and invited us into the house so we could get out of the heat. We sat in the living room and talked with Mom and Dad while some of the younger kids hung around a bit. I could tell Jarom felt awkward and wanted to speak but wasn’t sure what to say.”
“Mr. Reeves,” Jarom finally said, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs, “I liked your speech tonight.” He shifted uneasily on the sofa.
“Bishop Haroldson probably gives you the same speech in your ward.”
Jarom glanced at me, then at Dad. “I don’t know Bishop Haroldson. I’m not Mormon.” I could tell Mom and Dad were surprised. “With a name like Jarom, you probably figured I was. And I go to seminary.” He looked at his hands and explained briefly how he’d ended up in seminary and how he’d agreed with Rhett to stay awake and listen. “I know how you feel about Brookley going out with guys like me.”
The room was quiet while Dad thought. “A promise means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Jarom nodded. “Do you believe what you hear in seminary?”
“I haven’t had a chance to really process all of it. It’s still pretty new. I don’t disbelieve it.”
“Will you make another promise?”
“Depends on the promise.”
“Keep listening to Sister Batson. With your heart and your ears.”
Jarom considered the request. “I don’t know that I’ve ever listened with my heart. I’m not sure I know how.”
Dad smiled. “I don’t think somebody makes promises like you’ve made without listening to his heart.”
Jarom considered that a moment and then nodded once. “You have my word then.” He took a deep breath and stood up. He held his hand out to Dad, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now I guess I better head home and get to bed or I’m going to have a hard time staying awake in seminary tomorrow.”

This was the first youth conference Chris Windham, 14, of the Nacogdoches Ward, Longview Texas Stake, had attended. He had fun at the dances, listened to the speakers, and filled up on good food. But his strongest memory might be when his group came to the final house as they installed their last smoke detector. It was Chris’s turn to talk to the homeowner and explain their purpose. Each group member had taken a turn being the one to handle the screwdriver, hold the ladder, or do the talking.
At this house, it was Chris’s turn to talk. He reached for a picture of Christ. It was supposed to have someone’s testimony written in the accompanying paper. But they had run short, and the paper was blank.
Chris handed the picture to the man they had just met. He said, “I don’t have a written testimony to give you with this picture of Christ.”
He paused. The adult leaders, who were standing behind him, glanced at each other. What was Chris going to do?
As Chris said later, the Spirit was urging him to tell this man what he believed. So, without hesitation, Chris bore his testimony with power and conviction to someone he had just met. “I know that Christ lived, and that He suffered and died for us. …”
As Chris spoke, tears sprang to the eyes of the man listening. He carefully held the picture of Christ, with head bowed, and listened to the words of a 14-year-old boy.
For a few days, the LDS youth in these two stakes didn’t feel so few in numbers. They were a force for good, and they pulled strength from being together. They bore their testimonies, in writing and in testimony meeting.
Melanie Paul, 16, Coushatta Branch, Shreveport Louisiana Stake, said about their written testimonies, “These are going to people who may change their lives. I stressed the influence of Jesus Christ in my life. They may never get another chance to hear a testimony from a member of the Church. When you start writing, you aren’t just saying empty phrases. It’s true.”
This group also wanted to take sides against a chorus of bad influences. “The advertising is all aimed at kids our age,” said John Daniels, 18, Queen City Ward, Shreveport Louisiana Stake, “encouraging us to smoke, to drink, to do other things. We need someone on the other side, warning us, telling us where we can go wrong and how to avoid it.”
The voice of warning against the vices of the world may not be as loud and strident as a smoke detector, but for those with ears to hear, it is just as compelling, a voice of warning that may save someone’s life eternally.

Martin woke up slowly. His mom was shaking his shoulder.
“Martin,” she said, “it’s time to wake up.”
Martin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The sky was still dark, but he knew what time it was. His family woke up at 5:30 every morning to read the Book of Mormon together. It wasn’t always easy to get up so early.
Martin rolled out of bed and walked slowly to join his family. He stretched and yawned really wide. His brothers and sisters looked sleepy too, but they were all there.
Each person read for five minutes. At first Martin wanted to go back to bed. But he kept listening. Each verse seemed to make him feel better and better. By the time they were done reading, Martin felt spiritually strong.
And spiritual strength was something Martin needed every day. In Kenya, there were only a few Church members Martin’s age, and they all lived far away.
After school Martin always went to a boys’ club run by a Catholic church. One week the club went on a camping trip together. Martin had a lot of fun. He sang camping songs. He chopped logs. He even helped build a campfire.
But on the second day, one of the leaders brought out a teapot. “We’re going to have tea now,” he said.
The other boys were excited. They drank tea at home for special occasions. They all grabbed their cups and waited for the leader to fill them.
Martin felt a little nervous. He knew that he shouldn’t drink tea. But he didn’t want to offend his friends.
Then he remembered how he felt when he kept the commandments. When his family followed the prophet and read the Book of Mormon together, he felt happy. When they didn’t, he didn’t feel as happy.
Martin knew what he had to do.
“No, thank you,” he told the leader when he came to fill Martin’s cup. “I don’t want to drink tea.”
The leader looked surprised, but he let Martin drink water while the rest of the boys drank tea. Some of the boys wanted to know why Martin didn’t drink tea, but none of them made fun of him. Martin felt happy. He knew the Word of Wisdom would make his body strong. And he was glad that he had been strong enough to do the right thing.

Even when I was a young woman, most of my callings in the Church involved teaching Primary children, and this influenced my decision to pursue a degree in elementary education. But the choice of a major wasn’t the only way Church teachings affected my education. That became very clear as I prepared to graduate.
The last project I had to complete was a final paper that I would defend in an oral exam before three judges. The judges were some of the teachers who had taught my classes.
My paper carefully finished, I spent part of the evening before the oral exam with my boyfriend’s family. When I left to go home, his mother said she hoped everything would go well and quoted, “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear” (D&C 38:30).
The next day came. Dozens of memories passed through my mind. I remembered how I decided to leave the city where I grew up to further my education; I remembered all the sacrifices my family had made to finance it. I could not disappoint them. My final exam had to be a success.
My classmates were also waiting to take their exams. All of us were concerned about the questions the judges might pose, but I felt secure because I had prayed for help and because I knew that God knew the effort I had made to organize, research, and write my paper.
My turn came. After explaining my paper to the panel, I began to answer questions. After asking several on the topic I had covered, one of the judges queried, “How much work did you put into this paper?”
“A great deal,” I replied. “I gave it everything I had because I wanted it to be innovative.”
“Burned the midnight oil?”
“No, I don’t usually stay up late doing schoolwork,” I said. “I organize my day so I can get my work done.”
The faces of the judges clearly showed surprise. The same judge remarked, “I find it strange that you should admit you haven’t stayed up late. We know your classmates have, for many a night.”
One of the other judges said, “Let me tell you about this student. She has time for everything. I can say so because I know her. She has time for her studies, her friends, her family, and she even attends church.”
“Really?” the other judge was again surprised. “What church do you attend?”
“I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Oh, yes, I know what church that is,” one said.
“And we are taught to go to bed early so we can be invigorated the next day.”
I felt calm and safe talking about the gospel, even though I was surprised to be asked about religion during a professional exam.
“Your paper was written with great feeling. It is excellent. I suppose this is also due to the habits instilled in you by your church.”
“Yes,” I said. “I was taught at church how to teach children, and it has really helped with my degree.”
“You took to it like a fish to water,” one of the judges joked. “We hope you won’t stop going to church, because you owe much to the values you have gained there.”
Soon I was excused from the room so the judges could come to a decision. Two minutes later they called me back in.
“It wasn’t hard for us to reach an agreement. In view of your exemplary conduct, your excellent grades, and the paper you defended today, our verdict is unanimous in favor of graduation, with honorable mention. Congratulations!”
When I told my family, they wept for joy.

Mary Rollins was 12 years old when she first learned about the Book of Mormon. She borrowed a copy and stayed up most of the night reading.
Mary was also excited for a new book called the Book of Commandments. It would have many of the teachings Jesus Christ had given to Joseph Smith.
But some people didn’t like the Church. One day, men broke into the building where the Book of Commandments was being printed. They threw the printing press out the window and scattered the pages into the street.
Mary and her younger sister, Caroline, hid and watched. Mary wanted to save the pages before they were ruined. Caroline was afraid, but they knew the pages had the word of God on them.
The sisters ran into the street and grabbed as many pages as they could. Some men saw them and yelled at them to stop. Mary and Caroline held the pages tighter and ran into a nearby cornfield.
Two men chased after them. Mary and Caroline dropped to the ground and hid the pages beneath their bodies. They listened quietly as the men searched for them.
Soon the men gave up. Mary and Caroline were safe! They had saved the pages. Today those teachings are in the Doctrine and Covenants.

Mia Maids Kate Hancock and Charmaine Davison, from the Sydney suburbs of Revesby and Gymea, have been friends since they were very young. Even though they live about 45 minutes apart, they go out of their way to do things together. They like the same music, they enjoy spending time together (especially at the beach), and sometimes they even like the same boys.
That closeness became even more precious last year when tragedy struck Kate’s family.
“My nephew, Ben Innis, died just before Christmas, and Charmaine helped me through it,” says Kate. “She always reminds me to go to the scriptures when I feel bad about it. She helps me remember that we know where he is and that he’s all right.”
But it was more than just Charmaine’s good advice that kept Kate going. It was also her willingness to listen, to sympathize, and to care that helped Kate through a very rough time.
“My grandfather had died some time previously,” says Charmaine. “I was just devastated. He died during school holidays, so I had heaps of time to read the scriptures. It helped me so much, and I knew it would help Kate, too.”
So now when Kate and Charmaine list the kinds of activities they like to do together, they not only include things like shopping, talking on the phone, and sports, but they also remember things like studying the scriptures and attending the temple.
“When you do temple work for a member of your family, and you feel really worthy to be there, it helps you feel closer to people who are gone,” says Charmaine. “It’s such a good feeling.”
And, not surprisingly, Kate couldn’t agree more.

Last year, while on vacation with our two youngest children, Julie suggested we do proxy baptisms in both the St. George and San Diego Temples. I murmured—to myself—thinking, “We attend the temple at home, and now we’re on vacation. Why not do something more vacation-like?” After the baptisms, Julie wanted to take pictures outside the temple. I silently murmured—again. You can guess what happened next: we took pictures.

Julie wants our children to have memories of how we helped our ancestors, and so do I. We didn’t need a formal lesson on the importance of temples. We were living it—thanks to a mother who loves the temple and wants her children to share that love.

Charles received another mission call in 1862. This time he was to take his family and help settle St. George, where he planted cotton, corn, peaches, and sorghum. St. George was a difficult place in which to live because it was very hot and dry. The pioneers tried many times to dam the Virgin River so that they could irrigate their farms, but each time a spring flood washed out the dam. At times Charles had to go back to Salt Lake City to work as a watchmaker for a while to earn enough money to feed his family. Finally, after ten years of his family’s living in a one-room house, he was able to build a larger home in St. George.

Just five years ago last month, our family got involved in a situation that was quite unexpected at the time, but that has changed our entire family. We took a foster child into our home.
I remember that day very well. It was one of those pressure situations in which they couldn’t find anybody else and the child was coming the next day. After our great volunteer effort, as a couple we started having all kinds of misgivings about the commitment we had made. We even became a little upset. We felt like we had almost more children of our own than we could handle at the time. We had five children, and it seemed like all of them were at some special age where they make big messes but are not quite responsible enough to see that things get picked up. Now, here we had another child coming who wasn’t even one of our own.
With all of these doubts, we sat down with our children to make some preparations. With the faith that can come only from a child, our children, in just a short period of time, were ready to accept their big sister.
Jean arrived, and we found a child much more frightened than we were. She was a seventeen-year-old high school sophomore. We were a family that had not seen a child have a ninth birthday yet, so we knew we were in for some quick learning. That was probably the only right assumption we made about the whole situation.
Right off, we found that we had a new problem. It concerned bathing. She was there just a few days when we realized that something had to be done. Finally, it was decided by the matriarch that the patriarch needed to do his duty—so a daddy-daughter talk was the order of the day. I must say that it went exceptionally well. Starting the next day, we didn’t have any hot water for three months.
We look back now on the short time that we had Jean—just a few months—and we realize that we learned many things. Let me take just a minute and review some of them with you.
Both my wife and I had to struggle a little at first to let ourselves accept another child on the same level as our own children. Those first few days were a real struggle as we had to try very hard not to put our own children first. That was an invaluable lesson for us. We can accept anybody now almost immediately. We could have gone a lifetime and not learned how to do that. Our children learned that, too, and we will be eternally grateful for that.
The second thing we learned from Jean was that we can certainly learn many things from others. Jean taught our children many things. She loved to work, and she’d always take a job and do it right. And then she’d pitch in and help the other children with their jobs. She helped our children internalize many of the principles that we were trying to teach them. One of the biggest challenges we were having with them at that time was trying to get them to take a job and do it completely. They seemed to do the minimum—either that or a little less. Jean taught them differently. They would struggle with us, as most children do with their parents, but they would accept it from her.
As an example, Jean liked the satisfaction of doing dishes by hand. She wouldn’t use the dishwasher. And to this day we have a daughter that enjoys doing dishes that way.
The third thing Jean helped us with was learning how to communicate with our children. As an older child, if she understood a situation, she basically felt the same way about it as we did. We found that the goal became one of understanding. At first there was a language problem between us; she nodded her head “yes” all the time, but we soon found out that she had learned to do that when sentences ended, even if she hadn’t understood what was being said. We came to realize that we needed to extend the same courtesies to our other children that we were giving to Jean. In the process of raising children every day, we start expecting too much from them, and we think they should automatically understand all the things that are going on in the family. Sometimes some of us treat the neighbor children better than we treat our own. It was a great lesson that we are thankful we were able to learn.
The fourth thing was that this was the first real fast-moving missionary experience we’d had as a family. We used to call Jean our “sponge”—she wanted to learn it all. She would ask us questions about everything. She wanted to know why we had to sit down as a group to eat, why we knelt when we prayed, why a person needs to go to church every Sunday, why we have to have different foods for every meal. When it came to gospel living, she felt a special kinship and wanted to know all that she could find out.
I recall one experience that we had with Jean when we went camping. Immediately after I stopped the car, Jean got out and began sweeping the camping area. Our children just couldn’t believe it, but she continued until she had swept over all the area, until all the loose dirt and pine needles were in a neat pile. But she didn’t stop there: she came over and knelt down by the children and spent the next few minutes talking to them about the principle of cleanliness—that when you are camping or living outdoors cleanliness becomes a very important thing, and that by taking a few steps you can make life livable. And the amazing thing was that they listened. We were just grateful that we were in the Rockies of Colorado and not the sands of New Mexico. I always wondered how deep she would have gone to find solid ground.
Just three weeks ago, Jean returned to our home for a few days with her two children. She was quietly asking questions about ways she could be influencing her family and her children.
Now, I’m sure that as you listen to this, it sounds like the whole experience was joyful and always a good time. But I can promise you that it wasn’t. It’s like any service done for others; you have to sacrifice something in order to make it happen. The deep feelings of satisfaction that come from service can be gained in no other way. It changes people and prepares them for something very important.
We are eternally grateful to Jean, and not just because we consider her our eldest daughter, or because of the joy that she brings into our home. But we are grateful for the opportunity that she gave us to be of service to another. We have learned as parents that we can spend an awful lot of time teaching gospel principles and applying them in our family and working toward perfection. Sometimes it feels like a great deal of effort is being put forth with very little impact on our children. But as soon as we started living gospel principles through service to another, a great thing began to happen. Our children began to understand the principles of the gospel that we had been trying to teach them.
As we attempted as a family to be of service to another, we found that we received the most. What a marvelous thing that is! By helping someone with something that she couldn’t do alone, we received blessings we weren’t able to obtain by ourselves. That’s the gospel of Jesus Christ in its truest sense. As the family and the individual are strengthened through service to others, they are blessed, and a Zion people is prepared.
I know that Jesus Christ lives, that this Church contains his complete gospel plan, that welfare principles are the gospel in action. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.