Gospel Story Finder

Last summer I received a letter from a woman who has emerged from a long period of Church inactivity. She is ever so anxious for her husband, who as yet is not a member of the Church, to share the joy she now feels.
She wrote of a trip which she, her husband, and their three sons made from the family home to Grandmother’s home in Idaho. While driving through Salt Lake City, they were attracted by the message which appeared on a billboard. The message invited them to visit Temple Square. Bob, the nonmember husband, made the suggestion that a visit would be pleasant. The family entered the visitors’ center, and Father took two sons up a ramp that one called “the ramp to heaven.” Mother and three-year-old Tyler were a bit behind the others, they having paused to appreciate the beautiful paintings which adorned the walls. As they walked toward the magnificent sculpture of Thorvaldsen’s Christus, tiny Tyler bolted from his mother and ran to the base of the Christus, while exclaiming, “It’s Jesus! It’s Jesus!” As Mother attempted to restrain her son, Tyler looked back toward her and his father and said, “Don’t worry. He likes children.”
After departing the center and again making their way along the freeway toward Grandmother’s, Tyler moved to the front seat next to his father. Dad asked him what he liked best about their adventure on Temple Square. Tyler smiled up at him and said, “Jesus.”
“How do you know that Jesus likes you, Tyler?”
Tyler, with a most serious expression on his face, looked up at his father’s eyes and answered, “Dad, didn’t you see his face?” Nothing else needed to be said.
As I read this account, I thought of the statement from the book of Isaiah: “And a little child shall lead them” (Isa. 11:6).

Then something wonderful happened. Don Rubén Orlando Vallejos, the father of Matías and Elías, was finally baptized. Brother Vallejos is a butcher by profession, and his work schedule made it difficult for him to attend church. But watching his sons progress and serve others had inspired him. There was a great celebration on his baptism day, with asado (grilled beef) to top it off! Even more impressive, however, were the spiritual feelings of those who attended.
Matías and Elías asked their friend Esteban what he thought about the baptism. “I answered that I had felt something special and I liked it very much,” Esteban recalls. They asked if he would like to listen to the discussions. “I said that I would. ‘In fact,’ I said, ‘I’d like to be baptized.’” A few weeks later, having been taught the gospel, Esteban was baptized. And soon he was ordained a deacon.

The son of a white mother and a part-Maori father, Rei grew up in Gisborne, on the east coast of New Zealand’s North Island. Though his family was poor, they were hard working. As a young boy Rei helped his parents gradually enlarge their small dairy farm by clearing portions of the thick native forest and bush that ringed their home. Each morning and evening his father and mother gathered and knelt with their large family on the carefully swept dirt floor of their home for family prayer. The sounds of the kiwi, the weka, and the rustle of the leaves in the huge native trees lulled him to sleep each night.
As a young man he went into the Urewera area to split posts in the sparsely settled forest area for sheep stations. Working with many full-blooded Maoris he learned the ways of the forest. He grew to love the native flora and fauna and the land itself. After years in the forest he knew the shape and color of each leaf. Even the insects received his careful scrutiny.
But Rei was no nature-loving recluse. He loved his fellowmen as well. Shortly after his marriage a close relative died. Rei and his new bride accepted the responsibility of becoming the parents of the orphans. Some years later his wife caught typhoid while nursing a sick child after a disastrous flood and died.
Eventually Rei remarried; his new wife was a shy, beautiful young Maori widow. She became a warm and loving mother to her instant family of ten children. Together, she and Rei had four more children, in addition to foster children. To date, the Hamons have been parents to thirty-one children, many of them orphans.
For over forty years Rei lived and worked in the forest. Then a serious back injury ended his days of heavy physical labor, confronting him with financial ruin and a depressing life of inactivity. One morning after the children had gone to school, he and his wife knelt in their bedroom and prayed for a solution to their predicament. As they rose from their knees Rei noticed that their six-year-old daughter had left for school without taking her ballpoint pen and drawing pad. He picked it up and began to draw, something he hadn’t done since his early days in primary school. It was an inspired beginning.
With much practice he developed a unique and unorthodox style—which combined the meticulous attention to detail of Van Eyck (1370?–1440, Flemish painter with the technique of such French pointillists as Seurat (1859–1891)—arrived at completely on his own. He used few strokes in his drawings; the vast majority of each piece was made up of tiny dots formed from tapping his pen on the paper or parchment.
Feeling embarrassed with his first drawings, Rei hid them. But his wife found them and took them to a local photographer to be photographed. The photographer was impressed with their quality and took them to the director of a leading art gallery in Auckland, who immediately wanted to stage a show of Rei’s work. He also introduced the artist to mapping pens with very fine points. This enabled Rei to develop the control to do the superb detail in his works for which he has become famous. His new career was launched. Since that time he has exhibited his work in nearly every major town and city of New Zealand. Recently he returned from a 19,300 kilometer tour of the country, exhibiting his work and lecturing about the native New Zealand environment for which he has become a major spokesman. Rei is now nearing his hundredth exhibition in nearly thirteen years. Recently he received an invitation to tour Russia, lecturing about conservation and exhibiting his art.
The drawing that was presented to the queen represents a union of Rei’s art with his attitudes toward nature and conservation. The forest and mountains that surround the Lagoon of Okarito, depicted in the drawing, are the last nesting place of the kotuku, or white heron. The kotuku is sacred to the Maoris; and the Maoris showed their high regard for Queen Elizabeth several years ago by giving her the name “Te Kotuku Rerengatahi.” (“The Rare White Heron of Single Flight”). The large trees in the drawing—the matai, the totara, the kahikatea, and the kauri—are representative of the magnificent podacarp forests that surround the lagoon. The limb upon which the birds portrays the hand of man—the hand that holds the destiny of these birds, bringing either survival or destruction. The upraised limb symbolizes the raising of the right hand in sustaining action for those who are working to preserve the New Zealand heritage. Nestled in the “palm” are four small flowers, symbolizing the most precious blessing of all—children—who should be loved and protected by their parents. It is a plea for protection of the environment as one would protect one’s own family. Much of Rei’s art contains this kind of message.
Rei Hamon draws only scenes of native flora and fauna of the forest. He does not portray New Zealand farms and towns, which have more in common with such scenes in other lands. Seeking our ancient gnarled trees, vines, and ferns, as well as leaves and insects, he expresses his love for the unique, natural heritage of New Zealand. Rei has also written and published poetry expressing his attitudes.
Rei paints directly from his vivid memory. Often he works late at night, in the solitude of his room, while his family sleeps. On one such occasion, he wrote, “My mind is taken into the mystic depths of the environment I love so deeply. … One’s mind, while in this high pitch of thought, unconsciously removes that thin veil which separates the conscious and the subconscious, enabling one’s creative and composing ability to rise above one’s own normal capabilities … I am conscious of a greater power, another hand besides my own.”

One day I saw my oldest son, Wilford, preparing a tithing envelope. He was probably around five years old at the time. Wilford didn’t earn any money, so I wondered why he was paying tithing. When I asked him, he told me he was actually paying a fast offering.
Wilford didn’t have much money of his own. But he was still excited to pay a fast offering.
I was impressed by this act of kindness. I asked him why he had decided to do this.
Wilford answered, “I don’t have any needs. But I know others do.” He knew his money would help people. He was very happy about that.
This simple experience taught me a good lesson: children are really in tune with the Spirit and have a natural Christlike love. Wilford had something he didn’t need and knew it would be helpful to other people. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
Saving money is good. But my young son taught me another lesson through his example. By listening to the Spirit, we can bless the lives of others when we share what we have.

I was given my first Bible when I was eleven years old; my Primary teacher gave one to each of us boys in her Primary class. It was the only Bible I owned until after my mission. My parents offered to buy me a set of scriptures right before I left, but I didn’t want one. That Primary Bible had become very precious to me in my early teens as I began to gain my testimony of the gospel.
Before I left on my mission, that same Primary teacher got up in sacrament meeting and bore her testimony. She was going through a difficult time—she had a strong testimony but wondered if her service in the kingdom was sufficient or worthwhile. After she sat down, I got up and bore my testimony, sharing my love for the scriptures and especially that Bible. I told her what a powerful influence her simple gift had had on my life. It was the first time I ever cried when I bore my testimony, and I was embarrassed. But it was important that she know what a good influence she’d had on me.

Graffiti would soon disappear if those who spray it on had to clean it off. I still remember an experience during my first year in high school. I was eating lunch with some other boys. I peeled a banana and threw the peeling on the ground. Just at that moment the principal walked by. He asked me to pick up the banana peeling. I say he asked—there was a certain steely firmness in his voice. I got off the bench on which I was sitting and picked up the banana peeling. I put it in the trash can. There was other litter around the can. He told me that while I was picking up my own trash, I could pick up the trash of others. I did it. I have never thrown another banana peeling on the ground.

One Friday morning I put on my pink flowered dress, made my lunch, and went to activity day. We were going to the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple.
At the visitors’ center at the temple we watched a movie about baptism. After that we heard a talk about how we can live with Heavenly Father someday and be together forever as a family. Later we walked around the temple grounds. I thought they were beautiful.
After that, we had a picture taken while standing in front of the temple. Then we had lunch and fed the ducks and squirrels. Soon we had to leave. I want to live worthily so I can go to the temple someday.Charlotte Widdison, age 9Pocatello, Idaho

The Church is well-known for its missionaries — well-dressed and cheerful young men and women, serving the community, often in lands far distant from their homes.
One of these missionaries is Elder Thomas Holton, born in Dublin, Ireland in 2001, and brought up in County Westmeath. However, because of COVID-19, his story is somewhat different.
Like countless others before him, Thomas had an ambition from his early years to serve a mission. He prepared diligently and faithfully. He was baptised by his father, also Thomas, when eight and ordained an elder by him in spring of 2019. Not long after, with the endorsement of his local leaders, he applied to be considered for full-time missionary service.
In October that year, he received a response. He was invited to serve in the far-off country of Zimbabwe, starting in March 2020, before which, he would spend a few weeks in a missionary training centre.
He looked forward to this with great excitement, but the global COVID-19 epidemic meant that things did not turn out as anticipated. For a start, Elder Holton was one of a dozen young people to attend the first ever virtual missionary training centre in the Church. In his own words, “This was a great occasion”. Then, when it became apparent that travelling to Zimbabwe was not going to be possible in the short or medium term, he was assigned to the Manchester area in the UK. He was excited about this because both of his parents had served their missions in England. But due to COVID-19, that expectation was also short-lived.
The solution came from an initiative, recently announced by the First Presidency of the Church, which focused on providing volunteer opportunities for young people who are unable, for whatever reason, to serve in the traditional way. Called ‘service missions’, they allow young women and young men to continue to live a consecrated life at home, while working in the Church and local community.
According to materials sent with a First Presidency letter, “Service missions are acceptable offerings to the Lord when a proselytizing mission is not possible. … All missionaries represent the Lord and carry out His work.”1
Elder Holton has demonstrated both courage and faith. He has been a pathfinder, ushering in a new generation as the first male service missionary in the whole of Ireland. He expects to have a transformative experience as he serves as the Saviour did. He acknowledges the support, example and love of his family and local leaders, including Mark Coffey, president of the Church’s Dublin Stake.
“The range of service prospects is remarkable, and I feel that this is a great opportunity to serve the Lord, help in the Church, cooperate with the community, and develop skills. Above all, serving a mission, of any kind, is a joy, because I get to be on the Lord’s errand. Among other things, I am teaching an online scripture class for teenagers, helping with financial auditing within the stake and volunteering where I can within the community. We are also implementing the JustServe programme locally and I’m heavily involved with that. And when the temples of the Church reopen fully after COVID-19, I intend to be working there regularly.”
Note

A few years ago when I was serving in the Europe Area Presidency, I was assigned to a stake conference in Lisbon, Portugal. As part of the agenda for Saturday morning, I invited the stake president to identify some families that we could visit briefly together. As we drove to one particular home by appointment, the president told me of this wonderful man and his family. The father had served a full-time mission, had married a wonderful woman, and had four precious children. But he had slipped away from activity. He had been distracted.
The president explained how much this man was needed in leadership in the ward. When we arrived for our visit, we found a beautiful family, all dressed in Sunday best on a Saturday morning, waiting for us. We gathered in a circle in their living room. Their oldest son, age 15, was the teachers quorum president in the ward. I turned to him and asked, “What are you planning to do three years from now?” He responded immediately without any hesitation, “I will be serving a mission.” Then I asked the key, inspired question: “Who will help you to prepare?” Without any hesitation, he looked directly at his father, pointed his extended arm and finger right at him and said, “He will.” The Spirit came into that room with such power. The father began to weep and, after a moment’s quiet contemplation, asked me if he could bear his testimony to his children and to his wife. He did so with tears streaming down his cheeks. In that moment, his son had prompted his heart to change. He knew instantly what he needed to do.
As we were closing our visit, which was a mixture of English, Spanish, and Portuguese, I taught the parents through the children three words in English as a reminder of the little things they needed to do as a family each day: “Read, pray, and obey; read, pray, and obey; read, pray, and obey,” we chanted together.
The following morning, the family came to stake conference, sought me out, and wanted a picture of their family with me. Today, the son is on a mission, and the father is a counselor in the bishopric.

I will always remember the sight of the temple the day I arrived to receive my endowment. I was filled with deep respect and reverence. I was humbled by the thought that I would go inside and make sacred covenants with my Father in Heaven.
I had arrived dressed in my Sunday best, knowing that my outward appearance reflected my inward respect for the house of the Lord.
“Welcome to the temple,” I was greeted as I showed my recommend and walked inside. Everything about the temple was beautiful. It felt like a piece of heaven on earth, and the friendly temple workers seemed like angels.
I remained in awe at the Spirit I felt. While I didn’t immediately understand everything that was taking place, I did realize the importance of the covenants I was making. It was clear to me why my bishop had spoken of the temple the way he had. The endowment I was receiving would extend not only far beyond the two years of my mission but even into the eternities. More meaningful to me than any of the advice I had received from various people was a scripture I had read as part of my preparation, “And that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord’s house may feel thy power, and feel constrained to acknowledge that thou hast sanctified it, and that it is thy house, a place of thy holiness” (D&C 109:13). I knew that the temple was the Lord’s house, sanctified and holy. I went expecting to feel God’s love, and I did.

Several years ago, my family and I hiked a mountain trail in Iceland to see a famous waterfall. We had never been on this mountain, we were uncertain about the trail, and we are not experienced hikers.
We watched others start up the trail and followed. Soon, they were out of sight and so was the trail! We looked carefully and noticed piles of intentionally placed rocks, called cairns, marking the path to the waterfall. We also noticed patches of ground near the trail that had white, fluffy cotton grass.1 Stepping into that grass always left us with muddy, water-filled shoes.
We learned that the cotton grass grew in marshes and marked a path we did not want to follow. We became confident that following the cairns would lead us to the waterfall.
The trail was not easy, but we persisted, carefully following the cairns and avoiding the cotton grass. Finally, we reached the magnificent waterfall and enjoyed the view from the mountaintop and the refreshment of the water.
As we trekked down the mountain, we saw that the cairns had helped us avoid deep pools of water and steep cliffs we had not seen before. We were grateful that those cairns led us safely.
On our hike, my family and I were free to choose a different path to the top of the mountain, but a different path might not have, and likely would not have, led to the waterfall. We probably would have gotten stuck in the mud, stopped by dangerous cliffs, or given up out of tiredness. Staying on the path provided the most direct and sure route to our destination.

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.

I know this struggle well. My own anticipatory fears nearly stopped me before I even started my journey at BYU. To start, I didn’t really want to go to BYU. I wanted to stay in California and was determined to do something different from all the other kids in my ward. Truthfully, I know that one of the biggest reasons I didn’t want to go to BYU was because I feared I wasn’t smart or spiritual enough to make it here. But the Lord knew otherwise. He strongly prompted me to apply and to attend BYU. I followed that prompting.

Often when we act faithfully on promptings, we believe that the challenge is over. But from experience, most of us know that isn’t always true. Despite my efforts to move forward in faith, I felt impostor syndrome right away. My major was full of valedictorians who were more articulate and who were better writers than I was. And as a transfer student, I felt everyone understood everything better than I did, including the BYU fight song. I struggled at church and in my religion classes to feel that I understood the gospel as well as everyone else did. I was being swallowed up in self-doubt. Everywhere I turned, all I could see was evidence that all the fears I had about myself before coming here were true. I did not belong at BYU.

However, that year I was blessed to end up in an apartment with some of the most wonderful women of faith. They helped me reframe my thoughts and focus on all God had done to prepare me for BYU and on what this opportunity could mean for my spiritual and intellectual growth. I began to understand the roles that Heavenly Father, the Savior, and the Holy Ghost played in my life and learning. Realizing this freed me to come to this experience imperfectly, trusting that They could make me more than I was. This perspective also helped me better see others in their own struggles and extend love and comfort to them. Most of all, it calmed my mind. I did belong here, and God knew it was where I could thrive and grow. I shudder to think of all I would have missed if I had surrendered completely to those fears.

—Kevin Leach, 20, from Sparks, Nevada, spent a summer as an emergency medical technician intern in Atlanta, Georgia. He was able to associate with a lot of other people in the medical field. He came to see that besides his EMT and paramedic training, a nursing degree would be important. Since returning, he’s taken the additional courses necessary, and will soon graduate with three degrees.
“I’m not only going to be able to be a paramedic out on the streets, but I’ll be able to be a nurse in the hospitals, to ride on Life Flights, to teach emergency medicine up to a certain point, and to move up into administration. What I discovered was that some extra work can open a lot of doors.”

Sister Sveinbjörg Gudmundsdóttir of Reykjavík, Iceland, endured a most difficult experience. One morning, two of her sons and a friend hiked up a nearby snow-encrusted mountain. During the hike, two of them—her oldest son and the friend, their branch president—lost their lives. Sorrow pierced Sister Gudmundsdóttir’s heart like a sharp knife. She could not understand why the Lord had allowed this tragedy to happen.
As she did each evening, Sister Gudmundsdóttir knelt to thank the Lord for the day that had passed. But she could not utter a word. She asked herself, “How could I thank Him for this terrible day?” And then she remembered the son who had come back alive. She thanked the Lord for protecting him and for the goodness of the two men who had died. She then expressed gratitude for her four other children and for children-in-law and grandchildren. “With each word of thanks,” she writes, “the burden on my chest lightened, and a warm, life-giving feeling started flowing through my body. My mind was filled with peace, and my heart with joy.” She wondered, “How could I feel joy after what had happened?” The ministrations of the Spirit taught her that “even in deepest sorrow our Father in Heaven can bless us with peace and joy” (“Even in Deepest Sorrow,” Liahona, December 1997, 44).

Last year around Thanksgiving, my family and I were sitting around the table, about ready to stuff ourselves full of warm, flavourful food. Starting our Thanksgiving tradition, my mom said, “Before we start to eat, let’s go around the table and say five things we’re grateful for. Don, would you like to start?”
“Sure thing,” my dad replied. “I’m grateful for you guys and your mom and that you’re always there for me even when work gets tough. I’m grateful for our home and that we’re all healthy and happy.” He turned to me. “What about you, Alison?”
“Um …” I said, thinking about how the year had flown by. It seemed like just yesterday that I was at last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, struggling to find five solid things for which I was grateful.
I thanked everyone in my family for being so loving and for each of their unique contributions in my life. This lifted my spirits for a few hours, but I soon felt like the gesture seemed inauthentic. Unsatisfied, I made a commitment to myself that I’d try to find reasons to be grateful every week instead of just around Thanksgiving.
This seemingly small decision made a huge difference in my life. I’m not sure how or if I’ve made a difference to my parents or siblings by being more grateful toward them, but I know I’ve been blessed. By committing to being more grateful in my life, I’ve been able to develop a stronger relationship with both my family and my Heavenly Father—something definitely worth feeling grateful for.

Laura was having a lot of fun at the Primary activity. She liked being with her Primary friends.
But then Tyler came up to her and said, “Your dad is ugly. He wears glasses.”
Laura frowned and didn’t say anything.
“My brother said your dad is bad at basketball,” Tyler said. “He’s a geek!”
Laura felt tears coming to her eyes, so she ran out into the hall. She sat down, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.
Why was Tyler being so mean? she thought.
Laura looked up to see Sister Morris walking toward her.
“What’s the matter, Laura?” Sister Morris asked.
Laura took a deep breath and told Sister Morris what had happened. Sister Morris frowned.
“That was not very nice of Tyler to say those things,” Sister Morris said. “I will talk to him about treating others kindly.” She gave Laura a hug and held out a cookie. “Would you like a treat?” she asked.
Laura shook her head and wiped away her tears. “No, thanks.”
“How about if you come back to the activity and find someone else who would like a cookie?” Sister Morris said. She handed Laura the cookie.
Laura followed Sister Morris back to the Primary room. She liked to make other people happy. Laura looked around. She wondered who would want the cookie. Whitney, a new girl in Primary, was standing by the wall. She looked a little nervous.
Laura walked over to Whitney and held out the cookie.
“This is for you,” she said.
Whitney took the cookie and gave Laura a big smile.
Laura smiled back. Her tears were all gone. She felt much better.

James Arrington, the character actor and returned missionary who portrays Brother Brigham, said, “I first got the idea of doing somebody after seeing a one-man show on Will Rogers. I loved it! Right then I decided our people are great enough to have something done about them. I saw other one-man shows—Clarence Darrow, Harry Truman, Mark Twain—on TV and on stage, and wished somebody would write a script I could use. Then I thought, ‘Hey, I could write the script!’”
After concluding that Brigham Young would be a suitable subject for that type of theater, James went to work. For two years he gathered all the information he could find on the pioneer prophet. The more he learned about the colonizer, the more he grew to appreciate Brigham Young.
“Because of the hostile 19th-century press, Brigham was one of the most misunderstood men of his day, but his people loved him because of his kindness, his sweetness, and his humor,” James said.
The 20th-century version of Brigham, which will begin a national tour in February, has captivated audiences throughout the Intermountain West. On stage he reads letters, reminisces, carries on one-way conversations, and tells of his association with Joseph Smith.
“I want to shout hallelujah every time I think I ever knew Joseph Smith,” he tells his audience.
He then quickly points out that he had been a member for some time before he met Joseph. He recalls one occasion when he defended the prophet’s character, although he had yet to know him. At that time, he said, “I do not know Joseph Smith. I have never met him. I do not know his private character. I do not care anything about that for I never embrace any man in my faith. But the Book of Mormon and the revelations and the doctrine that have come through the Prophet Joseph Smith will save you and me and the whole world.”
Brigham then recounts a mission to Canada he served at his own expense. He traveled more than 2,000 miles on foot. “That shows the depth of his conviction,” James said.
Brigham Young also tells of his and Heber Kimball’s journey to Kirtland where they first met the Prophet of the restoration. He also comments on his subsequent missionary calls. “He traveled every summer on missions,” James added. “His mission to England, the one most Saints remember, did not come until after he had led the Saints out of Missouri and into Commerce, Illinois. Joseph later joined them when he and several companions escaped their captors in Missouri.”
Through missionary work Brigham’s self-confidence increased. He also learned principles of Church administration. This growth of confidence is revealed in the letters of Brigham to Joseph Smith.
“At first while on his England mission, he kept asking what he should do next. As the months progressed he began more and more to tell the Prophet what he had done and was planning to do,” said James.
“Brigham is one of the nation’s greatest men of letters. The Church Historical Department has more than 30,000 pages of letters on file. We don’t know how many were lost. These letters include messages to his family, advice to his children, communication with national leaders, and directives to Church officials.”
Remembered as an apostle and prophet and a colonizer, Brigham proudly tells his modern audiences that he is a skilled craftsman. “He specialized in carpentry, house painting, and glass glazing,” James noted.
“I’ve always felt that much of the happiness in this life comes from having something worthy to do and doing it well,” Brigham states. On occasion, the historical Brigham urged the Saints to habits of thrift and orderliness. He reported that he could go into his shop on the middle of a dark night and without any light locate whatever tool or item he needed.
Although his present-day performance is peppered with good humor, Brigham has moments of solemness. He tells the audience of the time he was stumping for Joseph Smith’s candidacy as president of the United States in 1844 and learned of the martyrdom in Illinois. He was in New York when he received notice of the assassination. “My first thought was whether Joseph had taken the keys to the kingdom with him. Then bringing my hand down on my knee I told them, ‘No, the keys of the kingdom are right here in the Church.’”
He then recounts that he and others of the Twelve who were then back east returned promptly to Nauvoo where they halted Sidney Rigdon’s effort to wrest control of the Church and proclaim himself guardian of the Saints and spokesman for Joseph.
The 20th-century Brigham intersperses historical accounts with interviews with his secretary, George Watt, and with members of the Church. James explained, “Brigham’s office was always open to any member of the Church and to outsiders. He called it interviewing and found a valuable means of correcting false concepts about himself and about the Church.”
Of such visits by nonmembers, Brigham says, “Though sometimes disagreeable, they are a valuable means of correcting false notions and extending courtesies to which the person, in some cases, is probably entirely unworthy.”
Naturally modest, Brigham never mentions the hundreds of communities settled under his direction, the beginnings of the vast sugar beet industry, nor the origin of Intermountain West drama under his urging. Instead, he passes by these major accomplishments, which have brought fame to him and to the Church, to remind the audience that he was also a painter-glazier.

The binding and strengthening power of covenants in our lives became very real to me recently as our dear friends experienced a tragic loss in their family. While Catherine and Kimball Herrod and their four young children, ages nine months to seven years, were driving home from a family dinner at their grandparents’ place, a double wheel from a huge semitruck on the opposite side of the freeway suddenly sprang loose, flew across the median, and pounded into the driver’s side of the family van. Kimball, the driver, husband, and father, was severely injured and unconscious. Catherine somehow guided the car to the shoulder and called for emergency help. While she watched the paramedics work on her husband and two older children, she sat in a police car with her two little ones on her lap and prayed vocally, “Heavenly Father, we know that Thou hast the power to heal Kimball if it is Thy will, but if not, we have faith that somehow Thou wilt sustain us through this.” Kimball was life-flighted to the hospital, but he did not make it there alive.

After the children were treated for cuts, bruises, and other minor injuries, dismissed from the hospital, and safely home in bed, Catherine returned to the hospital to say her final earthly good-bye to her husband. As difficult as it was, she declared to her parents, who were with her, “I know that Kimball and I are sealed by our temple covenants, and we will be together again someday.” In the most terrible trial of a young mother’s life, her covenants sustained her.

At the funeral, we were reminded of the power of covenants to sustain us in moments of distress and grief. As we joined in the closing song, we all heard above the crowd the voice of Taylor, the five-year-old son, loudly singing, “Families Can Be Together Forever” (Hymns, no. 300). It was joyous for the congregation to know that a child had been taught of the sealing covenants that would bind him to his father and mother.

We were also taught the power of covenants in the sermon offered by Catherine’s father. He quoted a scripture from the precious record that Moroni had sealed up and then brought forth to the Prophet Joseph, reminding us that the gospel promises us a rock in the storms and whirlwinds, not an umbrella:
“Remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, … it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery … , because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation” (Hel. 5:12).

The profound strength the family exhibited comes from the knowledge that they are eternally bound to each other as a family, and they are bound to Heavenly Father and cannot be separated from Him.

While I was serving years ago as president of the Southern States Mission, in one of our public meetings one of our missionaries, a young man who stood 6? 3? and had played on a championship basketball team, said that when his team won the championship game, their companions literally carried them around on their shoulders. Then he said: “That was the greatest experience of my life until I came into the mission field. I wouldn’t exchange a night like this, bearing testimony of the restoration of the gospel, for all the basketball games I have ever played.”