Gospel Story Finder

The deacons in the Church have a sacred obligation to visit the home of every member to collect fast offerings for the poor. President Thomas S. Monson once related to me how he, as a young bishop, began to sense that the young deacons in his ward were complaining about having to get up so early to collect fast offerings. Instead of calling the young men to task, this wise bishop took them to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City.

There, the boys met a disabled woman operating the switchboard. They saw a blind man placing labels on cans, and an elderly brother stocking shelves. As a result of what they saw, President Monson said, a penetrating silence came over the boys as they witnessed the end result of their efforts to collect the sacred funds that aided the needy and provided employment for those who otherwise would be idle.

Last night I went to MIA. We had a different experience than we normally have. A master sergeant named Frank Brown called on Major Funk last week and asked about the Church. He said that his family in Florida was hearing the discussions and attending church, and he wanted to know more about what we believe. He said he has never seen his family so interested in church before. So Major Funk invited him to MIA.

Most of the members stayed in the regular room and read the Book of Mormon. Major Hollis, the district clerk, and I gave Frank the first discussion. It went quite well. I had practiced my half of the discussion this past week, after having been asked to give it.

Before going to MIA, I said a little prayer. I knew before I got there that things were going to be all right. The Holy Ghost really gives you help when you need it. Sergeant Brown is an honest man and expressed his feelings freely. We are planning to present the second discussion to him next Tuesday at MIA.

I had such a great experience last night. We met with Frank Brown again and presented to him the Book of Mormon lesson. Yesterday Frank received a Book of Mormon from his wife. It arrived with perfect timing. It was marked with specific scriptures to read.

Frank was very receptive to the discussion. He committed well and told us he believed the Church has been restored with the priesthood. He said he would continue to pray. I was really thrilled as he expressed his feelings.

It’s 9:00 P.M. and I’ve just come back from another discussion with Frank Brown. I don’t want to go back to the barracks and lose the wonderful spirit we felt. Here’s what happened tonight:

We held our meeting in the usual place, Major Hollis’ office. We have privacy there. I taught the complete lesson tonight, with Brother Hollis adding his testimony as he felt moved to do so. It was a beautiful discussion.

Frank answered our questions right down the line. He knows why we need to know the truth and how we obtain it. He bore his humble testimony that the Church of Jesus Christ has the truth because of the apostles and the priesthood. He told us how he could enjoy the blessings of the Church and the restoration by being baptized, but he said he still has some old ways that he must get settled. He really is a golden contact.

As the lesson progressed I asked, “What are some things men commonly take into their bodies that are harmful?” His answer included the things mentioned in the Word of Wisdom. He said he had just finished reading it tonight. His wife had sent it to him, and it arrived just the other day. I then asked him, “Why has God commanded us not to use these things?” He said, “Because of his great love for us. The use of these things harms us spiritually, too.” I asked Frank, “Do you use any of these things?” He said, “Not anymore!”

What an answer! Frank explained that a couple of weeks ago his cigar began to taste bitter anyway, so he decided he would quit smoking. He doesn’t like coffee, but he does enjoy tea. I said that if he could quit his tobacco, tea would be no problem. He used to drink occasionally but hasn’t since learning that his wife is interested in the Church.

Both Brother Hollis and I had tears in our eyes as we heard Frank bear his testimony about the Word of Wisdom. Neither of us had ever met a contact who had decided to live the Word of Wisdom before being told about it in the discussion.

As we finished the lesson, I asked him if his prayers had been answered about the restoration and the Joseph Smith story. He said he has been praying and he feels he has had his prayers answered.

It’s strange, but during the past couple of days, thoughts have been coming into my mind that I should forget about Frank because he wasn’t interested. I even thought that he wasn’t going to be there tonight. But I know now who put the thoughts in my head. Unfortunately, “Scratch” is having a wild time here in Vietnam. I’m sure Satan works against anyone being taught the truth.

Late yesterday afternoon Frank came to the office to ask some questions in regard to his wife’s latest letter. She told him briefly about sealing and temple work. Probably she just touched lightly on these deep subjects. He didn’t understand what we believed and wanted to know why his wife was so enthusiastic about the temple. Major Funk explained these subjects briefly but very simply and with much understanding. Frank seemed to have a better understanding of the gospel when he left.

Last night I had the privilege of teaching Frank and Terry the fifth discussion. I really enjoyed giving it. It was the lesson on the plan of salvation. Since Terry has already received the Holy Ghost, he really had a good understanding of the lesson. He answered the questions just as if he were reading from the book.

Frank said he called his family in Florida and asked them to make the arrangements for their baptism. His little girl, age nine, wrote and asked Frank if she and the rest of the family could be baptized. He decided to let them be baptized there in Florida, and he would be baptized here on the same day.

Frank is trying to coordinate with his family to be baptized on May 17. His wife couldn’t believe he was making the decision on his own, so I wrote her a letter explaining his conversion.

Frank was interviewed tonight, and it was announced to the congregation that he would be baptized. He asked me to baptize him. I was speechless. What an honor it will be to baptize Frank!

Frank Brown just came by and told me he received a letter this morning explaining that his family will be baptized in Florida at the same time on Saturday as he will be here. He was really happy. I’m certainly looking forward to Saturday morning.

I’m going to ask Dad to send me my line of authority. I’d like to let Frank know by what authority he was baptized.

What a great morning this has been. Frank was baptized!

He picked me up at 5:45 and we rode to the beach together. It was a beautiful morning. The sun had not yet risen above the horizon, and the clouds were just above the edge of the water. The stars were still twinkling. As we arrived at the beach, the golden haze of dawn made the sky a brilliant yellowish-orange, and this color was reflected in the calm sea. The fishing boats, several miles from shore, were returning from their night’s work. After a few minutes, more brethren arrived. Altogether, ten members from the Church attended the service.

The opening song was “Come, Come Ye Saints,” and considering the early hour, it sounded pretty good. After the opening prayer, the first counselor gave a talk about baptism. It was a good talk. Then Frank and I waded into the cool, clean water. It was very serene, peaceful, and smooth. We turned and faced the group on the beach.

As Frank came out of the water, he had a special radiance about him. He was purified as he had never been before. I’m very happy I had the chance to share the gospel with him.

We walked back to the group, and after changing into dry clothes, Frank was confirmed a member of the Church by Brother Hollis and given a wonderful blessing. President Coates and I stood in the circle to confirm him. After everyone had welcomed him into the fold, Frank took me back to my barracks, but we didn’t have much to say as we rode. We were just thinking.

Frank attended all three meetings yesterday. He spoke in last night’s sacrament meeting. He bore his testimony and then told about his family. He said, “I know this is the true church of God. I have been in other churches before this one, but the other ones don’t have the priesthood.” His family sent him word that they were baptized last Saturday in Florida. Frank was ordained to the office of deacon yesterday in priesthood meeting. He passed the sacrament in Sunday School and at sacrament meeting.

At church Frank told me about his family. They are active in their ward. He said his sixteen-year-old boy is already talking about a mission. The daughters will be helping their mother teach a Junior Sunday School class. Frank will fit right in when he returns home in September.

First, many people will mourn with us; they won’t judge us. Due to severe panic attacks, anxiety, and depression, our son returned home from his mission after just four weeks. As his parents, we found it difficult to deal with disappointment and sadness because we had prayed so much for his success. Like all parents, we want our children to prosper and be happy. A mission was to be an important milestone for our son. We also wondered what other people might think.

Unbeknownst to us, our son’s return was infinitely more devastating for him. Note that he loved the Lord and wanted to serve, and yet he could not for reasons he struggled to understand. He soon found himself at a point of total hopelessness, battling deep guilt. He no longer felt accepted but spiritually numb. He became consumed by recurring thoughts of death.

While in this irrational state, our son believed that the only action left was to take his own life. It took the Holy Ghost and a legion of angels on both sides of the veil to save him.

While he was fighting for his life and during this immensely difficult time, our family, ward leaders, members, and friends went out of their way to support and minister to us.

I have never felt such an outpouring of love. I have never sensed more powerfully and in such a personal way what it means to comfort those in need of comfort. Our family will be ever grateful for that outpouring.

I cannot describe the countless miracles that accompanied these events. Gratefully, our son survived, but it has taken a long time and much medical, therapeutic, and spiritual care for him to heal and to accept that he is loved, valued, and needed.

Family members, especially spouses, probably have the greatest need for trust. And they should be able to have the greatest confidence in one another. Yet there are those who violate that trust. I still remember two men I worked with nearly eighteen years ago. Upon learning that I was engaged to be married, they proceeded to tell me some extremely personal things about their wives. I didn’t want to hear it, and I got away from the presence of these men as quickly as I could. I wish I had had the maturity to tell them kindly that I didn’t want to hear such things and that their wives would likely be horrified at this betrayal. But even then I did have the maturity to see the enormous wrong these men were doing and to vow that I would never betray my wife in such a way.

Although born and raised in the Church, I went to a Catholic university at the age of seventeen—straight from BYU to Gonzaga University at Spokane, Washington. Every professor of mine was a Jesuit priest, wearing the long black, full-length cassock—every one a Ph.D., and every one a great Christian gentleman. I want it understood, I went there scared to death, the only Latter-day Saint boy on the entire campus. They knew that I was a Latter-day Saint. But they didn’t ridicule my church, or me, and they gave me great strength and support. I came to see them as great spiritual leaders—making tremendous sacrifices in their own lives.

After high school, like many freshmen, I was overwhelmed by my college courses and the challenges of simultaneously living away from home but also with five roommates.

This was when I learned to understand the strengthening and enabling power of Christ’s grace. I spent my days working and studying, but I depended on daily prayers in which I pled to Heavenly Father for the ability to complete the necessary tasks. As the school year continued, I discovered to my joy that with the strengthening and enabling power of Christ’s Atonement, I could function not only well but without difficulty.

There is a power in goodness that is often learned in families. There is a void when it is lacking. I know one family that left what they described as “the good life” in a desire to do good. They agreed on a noble purpose that would take them to the Philippines for a year. The mother of this family reported, “We were flabbergasted it was so hard.” Without the normal routine and conveniences of home, she said, “We were just the same old ornery people.” Then they set a new routine—exercise at 5:30 a.m., 6:30 scripture study, then breakfast and school. Each afternoon they visited orphanages to play with the children.
Gradually the family started to notice a change—new levels of patience, gratitude, and respect. They started to talk to each other—to really talk and to really listen. The mother stated, “I will never forget the learning that took place for me and my family the day they brought a five-month-old baby into the orphanage whose tongue had been cut and an eye poked out.” When they learned the mother, a beggar, had injured her own child, it gave a new dimension to the social studies lesson they had discussed at home. A new level of compassion started to develop—greater reverence for the sanctity of life. This family put their “trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good” (D&C 11:12), and gradually they started to experience the power to become changed.

I don’t think I have ever been more impressed with what a temple recommend means than when I was a stake president in Boston, Massachusetts. We had a dear lady, a widow, who lived in one of the poorer sections of Boston. She was struggling to sustain herself, but she was an independent person who did not want to be a burden to others. She could not afford to move to a better part of town, and as the neighborhood deteriorated around her, she was almost a prisoner within the walls of her own home. She would venture out to the store and would find people on the streets very unfriendly. Once she had even been knocked to the ground and her money was taken from her.
So she came to rely on the priesthood to be with her as she went out to gather the necessities of life. She had a system of unlocking the door for us when we arrived. We would knock on the door of her apartment, and we would hear her weak and feeble voice through the door, “Who is it?” We would repeat our name, and then she would say, “Slide your temple recommend under the door so I can be certain it is you.” After our recommends were slid under the door, she would unlock the latches and we would be allowed to enter.
I have often thought how symbolic that was. A temple recommend—a little piece of paper—represents us and reflects our worthiness to receive the blessings of the temple.

To me, service meant boxes of hygiene kits, a pile of donated blankets, students heading to a rundown public park with shovels and rakes. And that kind of service was something I did not have time for. I felt bad I didn’t do more for other people, but I was barely juggling my classes, part-time job, and calling already. What more could I do?
One day, a phrase popped into my head: “Service is an attitude.”
“What?” I silently asked the air. I thought service was a “project,” like gathering food for the poor or starting a recycling program.
The next day after class I saw a student cutting across campus with his backpack flopping open. He was too far away for me to yell to him. “Someone else will tell him,” I thought. But he continued power-walking away from me. No one stopped him. “I hope he doesn’t lose anything important,” I thought.
“Service is an attitude,” a voice whispered to my mind.
I broke into a run. “Hey,” I called. “Hey, buddy, your backpack is open.”
The bewildered student stopped and flipped through his folders and books to make sure nothing had fallen out. He glanced up at me, eyes wide with relief. “Thanks!”
Sometimes service is a project. Other times it’s paying attention and taking a small step out of the way to make someone’s day better.

Three siblings in another family in the same stake have also joined in a community Patenschaft.
“The family we’re mentoring is from Afghanistan,” says Vinzenz C., 17. “They fled because bombs were falling around them and they were afraid they wouldn’t survive. They crossed the sea in a rickety boat, traveled through several countries, and lived in camps for a long time before they were placed in our community.”
Like Elisa, Vini (as his friends call him) had also previously prepared materials for refugees. He was one of about 50 youth who sorted donated clothing and toys. “I was carrying boxes around for about six hours,” he recalls. “It was exhausting, but it helped me to understand how much they need simple things we often take for granted.”
Meeting a refugee family in person deepened his desire to be of service, and the same is true for his brother Philip, 15, and his sister Ida, 12.
“I helped the elders quorum assemble bicycles that a company donated,” Philip says. “We attached the wheels and the pedals. You don’t need to do huge things, just do simple things and you can make a difference in refugees’ lives.”
“It’s difficult to be in a completely new environment, with new customs, foods, and languages,” Ida says. “If I had to go through what they’re going through, I’d be eager to just have a friend.” She says she has also learned from their example of sticking together as a family, even during desperate trials.
So, if you want to get to know refugees, where do you start?
“You can communicate in a lot of ways,” Ida says. “You can point, nod your head, or smile. Besides words, remember you can also communicate with feelings and emotions.”
There are, in fact, many “languages” everyone speaks—music, kindness, laughter, and love, for example. “You already speak many ‘languages’ that they understand,” Ida says. “Like Fußball. Start with those. Show that you care for them and that you want to help them.”
“It’s about understanding them,” Vini says. For example, refugees are often deeply religious and have faith and traditions of their own. “Reaching out to them is not about bringing them into the Church. It’s about treating them as brothers and sisters of our Heavenly Father, with respect and love.”

That evening, Holly went to the LDS dance, which is one of the highlights of social life for young Latter-day Saints in Calgary. After the dance, she brought home many of her friends to meet her grandfather, who received them with graciousness and humor. He made them all feel like old and valued friends, and they also felt the powerful witness of the Spirit that they were in the presence of a beloved servant of God.

Some months ago I was given the assignment to interview a young man, 21 years old, to determine if his repentance was sufficient for him to serve a mission. My heart ached as I read of the serious problems and transgressions in his past. I wondered if it would be possible that one with such a background could ever prepare himself to worthily serve a mission. At the appointed time for my interview I saw a handsome young man approaching me. He was immaculately groomed and had a wonderful countenance about him. He looked like a returned missionary, and I wondered who he was. As he approached he extended his hand and, to my surprise, introduced himself as the young man I was to interview.

During the interview I simply asked, “Why am I visiting with you tonight?” Then he laid out the sordid details of his past. After reviewing and confessing again his transgression, he began talking to me about the Atonement and the years of painful repentance that brought him to this very interview. He expressed his love for the Savior and then explained that Christ’s Atonement was sufficient to rescue even a boy like him. At the conclusion of the interview, I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, “When I get back to Church headquarters, my recommendation will be that you be permitted to serve a mission.” And then I said, “I ask only one thing of you—just one. If you are privileged to serve, I want you to be the best missionary in the entire Church. That is all.”

About four months later I was speaking at a missionary devotional at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. After the devotional I was standing in front of the podium greeting missionaries when I noticed a familiar face approaching me. My first thought was that I was about to be embarrassed because I was supposed to know this young man. I could not remember where I had met him, and I knew the first question that he was going to ask me. Sure enough, he extended his hand and asked, “Do you remember me?” Apologetically and somewhat embarrassingly, I answered: “I am sorry. I know I should know you, but I just do not remember.” He then said: “Well, let me tell you who I am. I am the best missionary in the MTC.” I could not withhold the tear that slowly trickled down my cheek as I thought: “Here is a man. He met his Gethsemane. He paid the painful price of repentance. He has humbled himself and submitted himself to the redemptive power of the Savior. He has met the challenges. He has measured up to true manhood.” And I say, “Behold a man,” a man humble enough to submit himself to the redemptive powers of the Savior.

First, an experience that I had as a youth which helped to teach me an important lesson. It occurred when I was quite young—to be more specific, a boy of 10 or 11. I was herding our flock of sheep in the mountains of northern Utah to the east of East Garland. My grandfather had entrusted me with the sheep as we were moving them up the mountain to the summer range. I had just watered them in a small mountain stream and bedded them down for a short rest before going on.
While they were settled, I went about to explore the terrain and check the route ahead. I was a couple of hundred yards up the canyon when I heard a sound that chilled me to the bone. Once you have heard a rattlesnake, a very poisonous reptile, you’ll never forget the sound.
Cautiously I moved toward that sound. To my surprise I observed not one but three rattlers just a few yards away. They were on a rocky knoll that had been warmed by the spring sun. While the sight of three rattlers in a bunch intrigued me, because you seldom see more than one at a time, it also concerned me since the sheep would need to pass this way.
Before long the sheep roused and started moving up the canyon. As they came closer, the snakes seemed to sense the intruders and slithered down the incline toward the creek.
Fearing the danger, I immediately turned my sheep up the hill away from the direction the snakes were moving. I was successful for a time, but then a couple of sheep broke away from the flock. As they did so, the entire flock seemed determined to follow those two errant old ewes, and there was no stopping them. You may have heard the characterization “They all followed like a bunch of sheep.” Well, that’s what happened here. To make matters worse, they were moving directly toward the location of the rattlers.
I had hoped that the natural instinct of the sheep would keep them at a safe distance. But some of the flock were pushed directly into the path of the snakes. And there was no escape for the unfortunate ones that sustained the strikes of those disturbed reptiles.
It was a sad young shepherd who had to report to his grandfather a short time later the loss of two of his prized ewes. The experience of that day provided a very forceful illustration to me of what can happen when the sheep ignore their shepherd.
I was there as the shepherd. I perceived the danger and was trying my best to protect my sheep. But as a few started to go in the wrong direction, others were determined to follow. Though only two of the flock were lost, it was a loss that need not have been.

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, “Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!”
He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, “What kind of a world awaits him?”
For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.
But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.
That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.
They will see many events transpire in the course of their lifetime. Some of these shall tax their courage and extend their faith. But if they seek prayerfully for help and guidance, they shall be given power over adverse things. Such trials shall not be permitted to stand in the way of their progress but instead shall act as stepping-stones to greater knowledge.

David D’Arcy, 17, Adelaide. David was at a local shopping center when he and his mates were jumped by “some other blokes. We were fighting,” he says sheepishly. Suddenly the fight was broken up by the appearance of six men in suits, white shirts, and ties.
Later, a school friend introduced him to the missionaries—the same ones who had played peacemaker. David was baptized on his 17th birthday. “Those missionaries,” he says, “I love ’em.” Guess what David D’Arcy wants to be when he’s 19.

I was a new missionary about to leave the missionary training center, and I didn’t know if the Book of Mormon was true.

I believed it was true. I had read it many times and prayed about it repeatedly, just as Moroni directs (see Moroni 10:3–5). But I had never received an answer! Without that knowledge, how would I be able to teach and testify to the people of Romania? I needed to know for myself, and I needed to know now.

During one evening of quiet study time in our MTC classroom, I gripped my scriptures and bowed my head.

“Heavenly Father,” I prayed silently, “I have read this book many times. If I am going to continue as a missionary, I need to know: Is it true?”

With my eyes still closed, I flipped open the book.

My finger landed on Mosiah 1:6: “O my sons, I would that ye should remember that these sayings are true, and also that these records are true. And behold, also the plates of Nephi, which contain the records and the sayings of our fathers from the time they left Jerusalem until now, and they are true; and we can know of their surety because we have them before our eyes.”

Those words struck me as no passage of scripture ever had before or since. Every instance of the word true leaped off the page. As Joseph Smith said about his own experience, the words “seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of my heart” (Joseph Smith—History 1:12). I felt suddenly full of peace and purpose instead of fear or worry.

In an instant, I knew that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that Heavenly Father was sending me that message. It was like He was telling me, You already know. Now get to work.
And I did.

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.

One of the great families to join the Church in Canada was that of Archibald Gardner. From his journal, we learn of the family’s experience in Canada during the year 1843.

Robert Gardner describes the day of their baptism: “We went about a mile and a half into the woods to find a suitable stream. We cut a hole through ice eighteen inches thick. My brother William baptized me. … I was confirmed while sitting on a log beside the stream. …

“I cannot describe my feelings at the time and for a long time afterwards. I felt like a little child and was very careful of what I thought or said or did lest I might offend my Father in Heaven. Reading the Scriptures and secret prayer occupied my leisure time. I kept a pocket Testament constantly with me. When something on a page impressed me supporting Mormonism, I turned down a corner. Soon I could hardly find a desired passage. I had nearly all the pages turned down. I had no trouble believing the Book of Mormon. Everytime I took the book to read I had a burning testimony in my bosom of its truthfulness.”

Archibald Gardner added: “[My] mother … [accepted] the Gospel at once and whole heartedly, after hearing it. … Not long after contacting the new faith she became desperately ill, so ill that her life was despaired of. She insisted on being baptized. The neighbors said that if we put her in the water they would have us tried for murder as she would surely die. Nevertheless, well bundled up, and tucked into a sleigh, we drove her two miles to the place appointed. Here a hole was cut in the ice and she was baptized in the presence of a crowd of doubters who had come to witness her demise. She was taken home. Her bed was prepared but she said, ‘No, I do not need to go to bed. I am quite well.’ And she was” (in Delilah G. Hughes, The Life of Archibald Gardner: Utah Pioneer of 1847 [Draper, Utah: Review and Preview Publishers, 1970], pp. 25–27).

When I was about 10, my older brother had a serious health problem. The blood in his hands was not circulating properly, and they hurt very badly. At that time, my family lived in a small town on the border of Brazil and Argentina. The medical facilities there were not very good, so my mother and my brother traveled to the big city of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, to see the doctor. Because my father had to work during the day, my baby brother had to stay with another family. So every day I went to visit him. And every day I prayed for my older brother.
The doctors told my mother they needed to amputate (cut off) my brother’s hands. Mother refused. “No, I know the Lord will take care of my son,” she said. One night after my mother and brother had returned home, he was in great pain. I shared a room with him, and I remember him crying because his hands hurt so much. While he cried, Mother knelt by his bed, praying. The next morning, I saw him sleeping peacefully. Mother was also asleep, still kneeling at his bedside. We were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but Mother had great faith. Eventually my brother’s hands did get better. He lost the tips of some of his fingers, but he did not have to have his hands amputated.
Mother also had great courage. And she taught us to be of good cheer. She told my brother that even though he had lost part of some fingers, he still had everything else. So my brother did not get discouraged. His first job was as a typist. Today he is an attorney.

President Wilford Woodruff gave this report in general conference in 1896.

Joseph Smith continued visiting myself and others up to a certain time, and then it stopped. The last time I saw him was in heaven. In the night vision I saw him at the door of the temple in heaven. He came to me and spoke to me. He said he could not stop to talk with me because he was in a hurry. The next man I met was Father Smith; he could not talk with me because he was in a hurry. I met half a dozen brethren who had held high positions on earth, and none of them could stop to talk with me because they were in a hurry. I was much astonished. By and by I saw the Prophet again and I got the privilege of asking him a question.

“Now,” said I, “I want to know why you are in a hurry? I have been in a hurry all my life; but I expected my hurry would be over when I got into the kingdom of heaven, if I ever did.”

Joseph said: “I will tell you, Brother Woodruff. Every dispensation that has had the priesthood on the earth and has gone into the celestial kingdom has had a certain amount of work to do to prepare to go to the earth with the Savior when he goes to reign on the earth. Each dispensation has had ample time to do this work. We have not. We are the last dispensation, and so much work has to be done, and we need to be in a hurry in order to accomplish it.”

Of course, that was satisfactory, but it was new doctrine to me.