Gospel Story Finder

Let me conclude by telling you that at eighty years of age my father had to have his leg amputated, and because of that operation the last year of his life was particularly difficult. At his funeral Elder Thomas S. Monson spoke. He said:

I suppose his greatest battle has occurred in the last few months, but he rose to the occasion, and he demonstrated to each one of us that he is the man that we knew him to be. I’ve seen courage many times—in the navy, in life. I’ve read about courage. But I don’t know when I’ve seen courage to excel that of my friend as he overcame the handicap of his lost limb and, to the amazement of the doctors, at his age developed the ability to use his artificial limb in such a way that he could be proud of his accomplishment and could do many things that other people felt he never again would do.

These words and my father’s example have been a rich legacy of continuing strength for me and for my family, far more important than the earthly treasures of wealth or position he probably would like to have left us, but didn’t.

As I began my shift and started waiting tables, one of my favorite residents, Stan (not his real name), entered the dining room. I work in an assisted-living center and had spent many hours visiting with this wonderful man. He is an accomplished author and former professor who had served as a mission president, stake patriarch, and temple sealer.
I hoped that as I spent time with him, some of his spirituality and pleasant personality would rub off on me. I was consistently impressed by his humility and faithful desire to serve others. His wife of 63 years had recently passed away, and though he was surely grieving, he was able to find joy as he sought ways to make others feel loved and comfortable.
With the COVID-19 epidemic raging, 2020 had been especially tough for our assisted-living community. But the advent of the Christmas season brought renewed hope for the future.
That evening, Stan sat with another man at the table I was serving. As that man finished his meal, he asked me for some snacks to take back to his room. I went for the snacks, but unfortunately, we were out of what he wanted. When I returned to his table and told him, he was disappointed. I offered substitute snacks, but he politely declined.
Stan, having heard our conversation, rose from his seat. With his walker, he slowly made his way down the hall. He returned a few minutes later with some of his own favorite snacks—chocolate-covered cashews. He offered them to the man, thanked him for his company, and returned to his room.
As I thought about my friend facing the loss of his wife and our community dealing with a COVID-19 quarantine, the Savior’s words hit me. He said, “Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it” (Mark 8:35).
Stan found joy as he continued to serve. I remember thinking, “Truly, this is a man of God.”
I will always remember the impact this experience had on me. It helped me set a lifelong goal to become a committed disciple of Jesus Christ, like Stan. He showed me that true joy is found in the continuous giving of small things, like Christmas cashews.

In British Columbia, Canada, Scouts of the Fifth Kelowna Troop arranged a special Remembrance Day recognition evening. The young men, ranging in age from 11 to 13, moved out of their comfort zones to interview LDS veterans in the Vernon British Columbia Stake, the troop’s sponsor.
Patrol leader Michael Edis of the Kelowna Second Ward conducted the evening as master of ceremonies. After a flag ceremony, the singing of the Canadian national anthem, and a presentation on the history of Remembrance Day, each Scout gave a short biography about the veteran he had interviewed. Each veteran was then presented with a “thank you” crest.
“They risked their lives for us,” said Brady Wilson. “It was fun to give out the thank-you awards and listen to their stories.”

Following the renovation of the Mesa Arizona Temple some years ago, clergy of other religions were invited to tour it on the first day of the open house period. Hundreds responded. In speaking to them, I said we would be pleased to answer any queries they might have. Among these was one from a Protestant minister.
Said he: “I’ve been all through this building, this temple which carries on its face the name of Jesus Christ, but nowhere have I seen any representation of the cross, the symbol of Christianity. I have noted your buildings elsewhere and likewise find an absence of the cross. Why is this when you say you believe in Jesus Christ?”
I responded: “I do not wish to give offense to any of my Christian colleagues who use the cross on the steeples of their cathedrals and at the altars of their chapels, who wear it on their vestments, and imprint it on their books and other literature. But for us, the cross is the symbol of the dying Christ, while our message is a declaration of the Living Christ.”
He then asked: “If you do not use the cross, what is the symbol of your religion?”
I replied that the lives of our people must become the most meaningful expression of our faith and, in fact, therefore, the symbol of our worship.
I hope he did not feel that I was smug or self-righteous in my response. Our position at first glance may seem a contradiction of our profession that Jesus Christ is the key figure of our faith. The official name of the Church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We worship Him as Lord and Savior. The Bible is our scripture. We believe that the prophets of the Old Testament who foretold the coming of the Messiah spoke under divine inspiration. We glory in the accounts of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John setting forth the events of the birth, ministry, death, and Resurrection of the Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father in the flesh. Like Paul of old, we are “not ashamed of the gospel of [Jesus] Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation” (Rom. 1:16). And like Peter, we affirm that Jesus Christ is the only name “given among men, whereby we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

On a winter’s morn, a father quietly awakened his two sons and whispered to them, “Boys, it snowed last night. Get dressed, and we’ll shovel the snow from our neighbors’ walks before daylight.”
The party of three, dressed warmly, and under cover of darkness, cleared the snow from the approaches to several homes. Father had given one instruction to the boys: “Make no noise, and they will not know who helped them.” Again, the word anonymous.

I was discussing options for my Eagle project when I heard about the tsunami that had caused widespread devastation on the island of Samoa. I also learned that a sister in our ward, Savili Martin, would be traveling to Samoa with her family to visit relatives during the Christmas holidays. While I realized that the main concern of the people of Samoa was to rebuild and make the best of what they had, I also knew that all children love to receive gifts, and I felt inspired to organize a service project to provide Christmas presents to the children whose lives had been affected by the disaster. Although the gifts wouldn’t be extravagant, I felt that this project would be a blessing to the children and would help ease the burdens of their parents.
I worked with the Scouts in my ward to start a Christmas stocking gift drive. So many people were eager to help with this project. The Scouts and Young Women in my ward helped pass out flyers and collect donated gifts. We received donated material to make the stockings. My family and another family in the ward made the stockings, and the girls at the Primary activity days in our ward stuffed them. We gave all the gifts too big to put into stockings to the school district’s Project Help for Christmas.
We completed the project in time for the James and Savili Martin family to take the boxes of stockings with them to Samoa, where they gave the stockings to the Primary children.
When Sister Martin and her family returned to Arizona, she brought back a video of the children receiving their Christmas presents. I felt so warm inside when I saw how grateful every child was for his or her gift. One young boy in particular was wrapping his little arms around his Christmas stocking, making sure everybody knew it was his. Their appreciation and excitement more than compensated for all the hard work put into this project. The Spirit was strong after we watched the video, and I felt that the Lord blessed us in our efforts to help and serve His children.

Ten-year-old Alexandra and her family are grateful that the missionaries were able to come to their country. Several years ago, the missionaries knocked on their door, and her grandmother invited them in. Because of that contact, Alexandra, her parents (Rosa and Arnaldo), and her brother (Victor), as well as her grandmother joined the Church. When Alexandra attended a Latter-day Saint meeting for the first time, she felt more comfortable there than she had at any other church. Later, when she was baptized, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Alexandra knew that she could gain exaltation and return someday to Heavenly Father and Jesus.

Lisa, a high school sophomore, tells about the time the quarterback of the football team asked her to the homecoming dance.

“I couldn’t believe my luck,” she said. “One of the most high-profile guys in the school had asked me to the most prestigious dance of the year.”

Her enthusiasm dampened, though, when after the dance her date started driving down a lonely road she realized led to Lover’s Lane. Quarterback or no quarterback, she had decided long ago that “parking” was something she would not do.

To avoid embarrassment, she began talking about how this particular road reminded her of a friend’s experience. The police had caught her friend and a date parking up there, and had taken them to the police station.

“Of course, anyone who is silly enough to park deserves what they get,” she laughed. Without speaking, her date turned the car around, and a few minutes later they were sitting in her living room eating pie with her parents. [JeaNette Goates Smith, “Dating: Give Me a Brake,” New Era, June 1993, p. 10]

Max got ready to play superhero. He put on his red t-shirt. He put on his superhero cape. Then he went to his little sister’s room.
“Come on, Mia,” said Max. “Let’s go save the day!”
Max and Mia went into the living room. They saw a basket full of clothes.
“Will you help me?” asked Mom.
“OK,” Max said. “Then we can go save the day.”
Max and Mia helped Mom fold all the clothes and put them away.
Then Max saw some trash on the floor. “Let’s pick up all the trash,” said Max. “Then we can go save the day.”
Max and Mia raced around the house. They threw away all the trash they could find.
They saw Mom sweeping the kitchen floor. “We can help you,” Max said.
Mia held the dustpan while Max swept the floor.
“Now let’s go save the day,” Max said.
Mom looked around at the clean house. Then she hugged Max and Mia. “I think you already did!”

Last March, as you remember, devastating rock and mud slides engulfed six small towns in the mountains east of Lima, Peru. All of these towns were within the Lima Peru San Luis Stake. The slide left 25,000 people homeless. Eighteen LDS families lost their homes completely, and 198 other families were left in dire need of food, clothing, and medical supplies.
The day after the slides, one member of the stake presidency and two other Church members waded through waist-high mud and debris for five kilometers to assess the damage. They found that more than three hundred people, members and nonmembers, had taken refuge in the Chosica chapel.
The following day, the stake presidency called a meeting of their eleven bishops and branch presidents. They made many assignments to furnish needed supplies. They asked each ward and branch to furnish work teams to go to the homes of members and help them clean up.
The stake presidency resolved to handle the problem without seeking help from outside stakes. They soon found that they could not handle it all alone. They went to their Regional Representative and asked him to coordinate economic help from other stakes in the region. The Saints of Peru rallied together.
As an example, the Iquitos stake sent thirteen crates of clothing, each weighing thirty kilos (about sixty-six pounds). Other stakes and wards donated food, bedding, and mattresses.
Selling quilts and refreshments, young women raised more than three hundred dollars. One young priest, a senior at his high school in Lima, led a group of twenty-eight of his classmates, all nonmembers, to Chosica to help with the cleanup.
The stake Relief Society presidency visited the area frequently and instructed the sisters in classes on hygiene, sanitation, nutrition, and “how to organize family living in a tent.”
The stakes did not intend to seek assistance from the general welfare funds of the Church. Stake leaders called in all fast-offering reserves from their wards and branches. They asked stake members to participate in a special fast on 29 March 1987 to raise funds that would help cover the expenses.
Some bore tender testimonies. Let me share just two. Sister Guadalupe, a nonmember, lost everything. Then in the shelter of a little room in our chapel, she gave birth to a baby boy. She stated that the Lord had helped her escape. She learned that everything of the world is temporary and can be lost. She thanked the branch and the Church for opening its doors to her and for the assistance she received.
Sister Leonora de Contreras, a Relief Society president, said she knew the gospel was true. She expressed thanks for her husband, who holds the priesthood and is a pillar of strength. The catastrophe destroyed the fruits of their lifetime of labor in less than thirty minutes. She recalled the words of their son who is serving in the Peru Trujillo Mission. As he left home, he said to her, “Mami, whatever happens, if you need help, ask the Lord, and stay close to the Brethren.” She expressed appreciation to stake leaders for their assistance.

Jim had just turned 18. He was sitting across from a General Authority of the Church, obviously nervous, filled with frustration, and showing a lot of animosity. His request was forthright, simple, and came out like he couldn’t wait to say it.
“I want to be excommunicated from the Church—today!”
“How long have you been a member?”
“About three years,” came the answer.
“Why do you make such a request?”
“Because I have lost my free agency. I like to smoke, and the Church is depriving me of my free agency to live the way I want to live.”
Jim failed to recognize that his most important exercise of free agency occurred when he decided to be baptized and to live in accordance with gospel standards.
Jim had obviously acquired associations with peers outside the Church who had gradually dulled the spiritual sensitivity and uplift that he had felt at the time of his baptismal commitment.
He was no longer a free young man. He had fallen prey to one of the adversary’s many ploys and deceptions which deceives the very elect at times and entices people away from the truth. Jim complained that the Church was depriving him of his freedom. But in actuality, it is the truth of the gospel that makes us free. We all have a great need to be free.

At first I didn’t want to serve a mission. I thought there were many other things I could do during this time, like going to college or working hard to buy a car. But then I heard a talk from our prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, where he talked about faith and mentioned missionary service. I thought about how I have a knowledge of the gospel only because two missionaries decided to serve. So I talked to my bishop about going on a mission.
I realized that I needed to work to pay for my mission, but finding work during the pandemic was hard. One day I was feeling stressed about earning money. I decided to pray to God. As I pondered, the words “Sell bottled water” came to my mind. The impression was so strong! In Brazil, people often sell treats or drinks at stoplights. I immediately had lots of questions about selling water, but I felt inspired about how to do it. I did some research and decided to sell water in a more professional way.
It was hard to sell water, because it was extremely hot. The first day we started working, it was a brutal 100 degrees Fahrenheit (38 degrees Celsius) and extremely humid, and we couldn’t stay for too long under the umbrella because we were keeping the coolers under it. That day, we worked for five hours nonstop under the burning hot sun. During all those hours I kept thinking, “This is for my goal. I am going on a mission!” Deep inside I knew the Lord was with me and was going to protect me and help me through.
I am the only member of the Church in my family, so what motivates me is my faith in Jesus Christ. I know that even though I am alone in some ways, He is there for me. And if we do what He asks, trusting in Him, He will help us get where we need to be.
Even though we may have many storms in life, I know that I can choose to strengthen my faith in tribulations. Jesus Christ has the power to help me come closer to Him and witness miracles that I would never have witnessed without tribulation. If I follow Him and repent of my mistakes, all my sacrifices will be for a great purpose, and that brings me peace.
Ítalo O., Brazil
Since writing this article, Ítalo has begun serving in the Ecuador Guayaquil South Mission.

Many years ago I had the opportunity to deliver a commencement address to a graduating class. I had gone to the home of President Hugh B. Brown that we might drive together to the university where he was to conduct the exercises and I was to speak. As President Brown entered my car, he said, “Wait a moment.” He looked toward the large bay window of his lovely home, and then I realized what he was looking for. The curtain parted, and I saw Sister Zina Brown, his beloved companion of well over fifty years, at the window, propped up in a wheelchair, waving a little white handkerchief. President Brown took from his inside coat pocket a white handkerchief, which he waved to her in return. Then, with a smile, he said to me, “Let’s go.”

As we drove, I asked President Brown to tell me about the sign of the white handkerchiefs. He related to me the following incident: “The first day after Sister Brown and I were married, as I went to work I heard a tap at the window, and there was Zina, waving a white handkerchief. I found mine and waved in reply. From that day until this I have never left my home without that little exchange between my wife and me. It is a symbol of our love one for another. It is an indication to one another that all will be well until we are joined together at eventide.” Yes, a model to follow, “an example of the believers.”

When I was 16 years old and living in Porto Alegre, Brazil, my older brother had a friend who often visited our home. One day this friend told us that he had found a church and that he liked its members’ way of living.
He told us a little bit about his experience with joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but he wasn’t sure that my brother and I were “church material.” He thought that the standards of the Church would be too much for my brother and me to embrace.
Our sister, however, was a good, kind girl. Because of these traits, our friend thought that she might be interested in what Latter-day Saints stood for, so he asked our mother if she could attend a Church activity with him.
Our mother agreed but only on the condition that my brother or I go too. My brother was faster than I was and quickly said, “Not me!” So I was designated to go to the activity with my sister.
I didn’t really mind. I had been curious about the Church since I had first seen the large, square chapel across from my school. I had seen people coming and going from the church often, and I had noticed that the men wore white shirts and ties. I wondered what could be going on inside “the big box,” as I then thought of the building.
My sister and I arrived at the church with our friend. Inside, at the center of a large cultural hall was a small group of people: two sister missionaries and maybe six others. They were playing a simple game and enjoying popcorn and juice. Everyone was laughing and having a good time.
“Who are these people,” I wondered, “and why are they so happy?” I knew it certainly couldn’t be because of the game they were playing or the physical environment or the treats they were sharing. Those were all so simple. The happiness seemed to be coming from inside them.
I had often wondered where true happiness came from and what I could do to find it. I thought maybe it came from exciting activities or taking exotic vacations or pursuing all that the world has to offer. And then I went to that meetinghouse, where these people were so happy without any of those things. It made a significant impression on me.
After the activity the missionaries stood at the exit to shake hands with everyone. When my sister got to the door, they asked her if she would be interested in knowing more about the Church. She said, “No, thanks.” But I was still curious. I felt a “desire to believe” (Alma 32:27), so when they invited me to learn more about the gospel, I said yes.
My parents weren’t interested in the missionary lessons or in having them conducted in our home, so I arranged to have the lessons at the meetinghouse. Over the next month I learned about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ—about what made those people in that cultural hall so happy. I learned that happiness came from doing what the Lord wanted me to do, that it came from within, and that I could be happy no matter what was going on around me. That doctrine was “delicious to me” (Alma 32:28). I wanted it in my life.
A month after that first activity, I decided to join the Church. In the years that followed, both of my parents also joined the Church.

My father also taught me to be honest about keeping the Sabbath day holy. As a young boy, I remember how he enjoyed playing baseball, but he never played a game on the Sabbath. I too loved this sport. My father asked me not to ever play ball on Sunday, and I promised to obey his wishes.
I kept that promise even though at one time I was offered a chance to try out for big league baseball. It was easier to let this opportunity go by when I thought of the example of my father and had so much respect for him.

Christmas was just two weeks away. We had just moved to Moab, Utah, and our family of 11 was living in a three-bedroom trailer without utilities. My parents’ company had gone bankrupt, and there was no back pay. The situation was dismal, to say the least.
My singles ward was planning a service project called “The 12 Days of Christmas.” The bishops in the stake had prayed and selected a family for us to help for 12 days. Considering my family’s situation, I was disappointed that no one had offered to help us. I agreed to buy a gift for a boy in the family, but I couldn’t help but wonder what my own brothers would get for Christmas.
The day came for me to purchase a gift for this boy, and I wanted to get him something special. I decided to go to the local department store to see what toys were popular. After 30 minutes I was getting discouraged because no toys seemed just right for the child.
Then a young boy came into the store. He was about the right age, and his appearance suggested that his family was probably struggling financially. I noticed the thrill on his face as he came across a train set. I knew I had found my gift.
As this little boy’s brother came into the store to get him, I realized that this was the boy I was buying the gift for. I knew this was Heavenly Father’s way of telling me that the stake had picked the right family to serve. I was glad that I had agreed to help them rather than put my own needs first. But I had no idea that more blessings awaited my family.
My father found another job a couple of days before Christmas, and my parents managed to get a small gift for each child. And things were about to get even better.
The day before Christmas, a brother in the ward called the bishop and offered to rent a house to a needy family. It was a large, five-bedroom home with the utilities already working, and best of all, he didn’t expect rent until the next month. The bishop told us about the house, and we moved in that very morning.
Around the corner from the house was a little bar. Someone there noticed us moving in and was touched by our situation. He started collecting donations and brought over a mug filled with cash from perfect strangers.
Another miracle occurred when my father left work for the night. The bosses were passing out Christmas bonuses, but my dad had only been there for two days, so he assumed he wouldn’t get anything. He started to leave, and they said they had something for him. He was surprised to see that each of the men had given up part of their bonuses to share with our family. His company matched the donations. My dad was humbled by their generosity.
That evening, I helped drop off the gifts for our service project. When I got home, my mother told me about the mug of cash and the bonus from work. She had just finished when we heard horns honking. We ran outside and, to our further amazement, dozens of gifts decorated our lawn. We were touched and humbled by the love of strangers for our family. What began as a very meager Christmas had become, instead, a Christmas that we would never forget.
Later, as I thought about the events of the previous month, I realized that Heavenly Father knows each of us. He knows our needs, and He often uses others to meet those needs. But He blesses us the most when we put others first. When I sacrificed my family’s needs to help another family, my family was blessed more than I could have imagined.

It all started with a simple invitation. When Milly (now 19) and her brothers were younger, they used to play with some Latter-day Saint children in their neighborhood. Those children invited Milly’s brothers, Henry and Jason, to play basketball at the meetinghouse and to attend church. When they were teens, Henry and Jason joined the Church and eventually went on missions. Milly started going to church with her brothers when she was 8, and when she was 14, her parents allowed her to be baptized.

The faith of children has always helped me to realize how close our Heavenly Father really is to us. Children’s prayers have also taught me that our Heavenly Father doesn’t expect each prayer to be long or for us to use big words. My granddaughter Lisa doesn’t pray very long, and she doesn’t use big words. But I know that her prayers are heard and answered because she loves her Heavenly Father and He loves her.
When I was six years old, my mother took me to the groundbreaking service for our new chapel in Santa Monica, California. As we arrived, Mother noticed that I had brought the small sand shovel that I usually took on our family outings to the beach. I had hoped that I could help by digging some ground at the chapel site. They let me use my shovel that first day, and my faith was increased because I helped to build a church for our Heavenly Father. My, how good I felt! The seeds of service and faith were planted in my heart. It is my wish to keep that same feeling of faith and desire to serve that I had as a six-year-old child.
Years later when my childhood dreams of a mission were realized, I was called far away to New Zealand. There I first met the Maori people who have brought so much into my life by their simplicity, sincerity, and great faith.
One of my first assignments was to a Maori village called Judea, where the missionaries were helping in the construction of a small chapel. At that time I was trying to learn the Maori language. Each day I prayed to our Heavenly Father for help. And then one day I was surprised to be surrounded by Primary children. My prayer for help with the new language had been heard, and our Heavenly Father had inspired the branch president to send these children to help me. They followed me everywhere I went for weeks, talking to me in Maori. Their first lesson I shall remember forever:
Hei tito tito te ngeru me te whiro
Te kau peke runga te marama
Ka kata te kuri ki tana mahi pai
Ka oma te rihi me to punu.
The words sounded beautiful, but they were meaningless to a new missionary. I thought I was learning an old Maori war chant. What a surprise to me when I found out the children were teaching me “Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. …”
How grateful I shall always be to those children of New Zealand for the wonderful blessing they brought to their new missionary.
In another part of New Zealand the missionaries always stopped for the night at a certain Maori home where they could be sure of a place to sleep, and they knew the Spirit of the Lord was always there. There were eleven children in this family, and each took his turn to say family prayer. They always sincerely prayed that they might one day be able to go to the temple to be sealed together by the power of the priesthood for time and all eternity. This family was so poor that it seemed impossible for them to save enough to buy tickets for Mother, Dad, and eleven children to travel all the way to the Hawaii Temple five thousand miles away. But their faith was great and the prayers of the entire family persisted. How could such a blessing ever come to pass?
Every New Zealand missionary was humbled beyond words when the announcement was made just a few years later by President David O. McKay that a new temple would be built in New Zealand—within fifty miles of the little Maori family who possibly could never have saved enough money to travel to Hawaii. God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform. People with sufficient faith will never be denied the blessings of heaven.
Our family will not forget our little friend Becky, who invited us to hold our family home evening in her home. Even though her daddy was not a member of the Church, she wanted him to participate in a family home evening. Most of all, she wanted him to become a member of the Church.
Becky’s daddy said he would be glad to have us go to their home for family home evening. We had a beautiful time together. The spiritual lesson was followed by refreshments, some games, and family prayer. As we were saying goodnight, Becky looked up at me and asked, “Bishop Simpson, will you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” I answered, “anything you say.”
“Will you please baptize my daddy for me?”
That request, filled with the hope and faith of a child, sank deeply into the heart of her daddy, and it was just a few weeks later that his baptism was performed.
No wonder Jesus said, “Except ye … become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3).

Shortly after Brother Watabe joined the Church, his commitment to his faith cost him his job at the Japanese foreign office in Sendai. As a new convert, Brother Watabe stopped attending office parties, where drinking wine and pouring wine for others to drink was customary. His superior officer warned him several times that he must attend these parties and that he must stop taking part in missionary street meetings. But Brother Watabe remained steadfast. Finally his superior called him in and said, “You would rather go to your church than work here; we don’t need you anymore.” Soon Brother Watabe was offered a job in a U.S. Army camp. After working there for five years, Brother Watabe was called to the mission home in Tokyo to work as a translator for the Church.

Joseph Sr. preceded Lucy and the children to Palmyra. By the time the family was reunited, their ready money had been reduced to a few cents. But that arrival showed two important traits of the family. First was their unconcealed joy at being reunited. Lucy wrote that she felt joy “in throwing myself and my children upon the care and affection of a tender husband and father” and witnessing the children “surround their father, clinging to his neck and covering his face with tears and kisses that were heartily reciprocated by him.” And second was a united approach to solving their problems. Lucy said, “We all now sat down and maturely counseled together as to what course it was best to take [and] how we should proceed to business.” Joseph Sr., Alvin, and Hyrum worked to pay for land. To maintain home and to replenish provisions, Lucy, aided by Sophronia and the younger children, took care of household chores and sold Lucy’s oilcloth art. They also made baked goods and root beer, which young Joseph sold in the village from a homemade handcart.
The family’s united effort greatly improved their material circumstances. Two years after arriving in Palmyra as “strangers, destitute of friends, home, or employment,” Lucy wrote, “we were able to settle ourselves upon our own land [in] a snug, comfortable, though humble habitation, built and neatly furnished by our own industry.”