Gospel Story Finder

My legal name is Dora Jolene, but growing up I always went by my middle name. My grandma, Dora Green, passed away before I was born. My grandma, Dora Erickson, was a well-known educator in eastern Idaho. She has a school named after her in Idaho Falls: Dora Erickson Elementary.
It was my first day at Ricks College, my first semester, and my first class when our instructor began taking the roll. I was nervous to say the least, and when the instructor called the name “Dora,” no one replied. He repeated two, three times until it dawned on me. I raised my hand and said, “Oh . . . I think that is me!” The silent classroom was no longer quiet; you could hear laughter coming from our room. I told the instructor—and the rest of the class—that I go by my middle name “Jolene.” I’m sure I made a lasting impression on everyone. In fact, I think I even got a couple of dates out of it.

When I was a junior in high school, I was on the varsity cheerleading squad. Every summer we attended the NCA Cheerleading Camp at the University of Georgia. That year, as my roommate and I were unpacking, I took out my scriptures and my picture of a temple and put them on the desk in the room, something my Laurel adviser had challenged us to do. When my roommate saw that I had taken those things out, she moaned and said that she couldn’t take being around someone so religious and picked up her mattress and walked out of the room. She went into the next room and sat down with the rest of the cheerleading squad. I could hear them saying horrible things about my beliefs and me. I was shocked. I just sat there on my bed and wondered what to do. I looked at my scriptures and the temple picture and thought, “Who do I want to please? Do I want to please Heavenly Father or these girls?” I remembered that Heavenly Father would never forsake me, and I knew that I wanted to please Him.
I endured a week of being excluded and shunned. I sat alone in my room every night and listened to the other cheerleaders laughing. At mealtime, they would crowd me to the end of the table and turn their backs to me. The only time anyone would talk to me was if they needed to communicate about a cheer we were doing. I wanted so badly to go home, but I could not. I spent a lot of time that week praying for Heavenly Father to help me. I prayed for strength to make it through the week. I prayed that I would treat the other girls nicely in spite of how they were treating me. I prayed that their hearts would be softened towards me.
This situation continued until it was the last day of camp. In the morning, we practiced and prepared for the final competition that afternoon. Our squad was good, and we came in first or second place every year. That year, however, our routines were not going well. Nothing seemed to be working for us that morning. The girls felt hopeless. We sat in a circle and talked about what we could do to improve our cheer and make it come together.
One girl said, “We need help. We need to pray.” A few of the girls said they didn’t know how to pray. Then, in the same instant, I saw 11 heads turn in unison and look at me. “Kathy, you know how to pray. Will you pray for us?” asked one of the girls. I couldn’t believe it. The Spirit touched me, and I felt so much love for them. I was excited for the opportunity to pray and so happy that I had remained faithful to Heavenly Father, even in the face of ridicule. I felt such responsibility offering that prayer. The cheer came together, but the bigger miracle was the change that took place in the hearts of the girls. From that day forward, we were friends, and they respected my beliefs and values. On top of that, before every football game, our cheerleading squad would gather together in a circle joining hands, and they would ask me to offer a prayer.

A German family once came to see a show and fell in love with the whole cast. The father discovered the group was Mormon when he gave Brother Benson a bottle of champagne to help celebrate a successful performance, and, of course, he wanted to know more. The family took all the players to dinner, and they responded by turning West Yellowstone upside down in order to find a German Book of Mormon for the family. At last report the family was investigating the Church in Germany.

As a mission president I emphasized to the missionaries the necessity of developing faith, determination, and courage. How successful I was is illustrated in the case of Elder Smith. Sister Richards and I met Elder Smith six years after he was released from his mission, and he told us the following story. He was seeking employment in a stock brokerage firm in Salt Lake and, after being interviewed in Salt Lake, was sent to the company’s headquarters in San Francisco. In San Francisco there were two persons interviewing him, a young man and an older man with a big cigar in his mouth. The older man, who seemed to be the one with the authority, told Elder Smith he understood that he had been on a mission for his church. Elder Smith said he had. The man then asked, “What kind of a missionary were you?”
Elder Smith answered, “The best missionary in the mission.”
The man was so startled by this forthright answer he almost dropped his cigar. He said, “If you were the best missionary in the mission, you’re hired right now.” Elder Smith had learned to apply the principles of faith, courage, and determination in his life.

I think one of the beautiful pictures that I remember back in the early days of the program was when we looked up and saw a beautiful field, white with cotton bolls, and then saw the Relief Society sisters, the Primary children, the men and women and children in the rows of cotton with their long bags trailing behind them. They were learning to pick cotton. When they went to weigh, they always were disappointed. They thought they had 150 pounds dragging behind them, and it turned out to be only eight or ten. I remember they were happy; they were doing something that was constructive. They were helping others. I remember sometimes in their happiness they would sing songs like “Way Down Upon the Swanee River.”
I have seen them picking fruit, cherries, apples and peaches, and it seems to me there was a new dimension that had been added when they felt they were doing something constructive, something they did not have to do, something they wanted to do for their own people.

New Year’s Eve at Ramón’s houseHappy New Year!Happy New Millennium!
Sleepy, mi hijo (my son)?No, just disappointed. I thought the new millennium was going to feel different, but nothing’s changed.
I know what you mean. The reason is here in the scrapbook you were showing Tía Ynez. Do these photos look familiar?Of course. They’re from my baptism.
Did you feel any different after being baptized and confirmed?Well, yes—I felt clean and warm and good.
That’s because you really had changed. Your sins were forgiven, and you had the companionship of the Holy Ghost. In a way you were a whole new person. A new millennium just changes the calendar, but your baptism changed you.
Wow! My baptism was better than a once-in-a-thousand-years experience!

When Theany Reath, a young adult in Cambodia, was investigating the Church two years ago, she worried that her family would be offended when she stopped praying to their deceased ancestors. To her relief, her parents have been tolerant of her new beliefs and behaviors. “I feel the love of my parents a great deal,” she says. “They respect my new practices, such as fasting, and they no longer expect me to drink tea with them.” Today she serves as a branch Young Women president.

In the journey of life, it is helpful and hopeful to remember that no one has sinned tomorrow. Many years ago I read a story about an elderly man who was shocked to see his name listed in the obituary section of the morning paper. In disbelief, he called the editor to complain.

The editor was very apologetic and said, “I don’t know how that could have happened, but unfortunately the papers have been printed and delivered, so there is nothing we can do about it now.” He then brightened and said, “I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow we will put you in the new birth section and give you a fresh start.”

The gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of hope and fresh starts. In reality, everyone gets a fresh start every day. Repentance fills our lives with peace, joy, and light as we see each day as a new opportunity to learn from the past and try a little harder.

I love to go sledding. We have the best hill by our house that all of the neighbor kids enjoy sledding on. One beautiful day, Mom asked my sisters and me if we would like to go. Of course I said yes. Just as we were leaving, one of my best friends, Braiden, called to see if I could play. I invited him to go sledding with us. He hurried over to my house, and we took off for the hill.
The hill was just as icy and fast as I had hoped it would be. We were having a lot of fun going down the hill! Then my friend said his hands were freezing. He had forgotten to bring his gloves. I felt bad that he had such cold hands. I quickly took my gloves off and gave them to him. We kept sledding for another hour or so. My hands were probably freezing, but I didn’t care because I was happy about giving my gloves to a friend. I know Jesus Christ would do the same for His friend. I want to always try to do what He would do. I had the best day ever on the hill because I felt warm inside.

Another sister said: “Sisterhood has taken on a whole new meaning for me. Several years ago my husband died suddenly, and I felt as if my world had collapsed around me. But just as suddenly, I was surrounded by a wonderful circle of sisters who helped bear my burden. They are always there. Our weekly trips to the temple bring such peace and comfort into my life. I rejoice in this sweet sisterhood.”

I Love Family History! I didn’t always appreciate family history work. That changed when I was baptized for one of my ancestors in the Santiago Chile Temple.
I was a deacon the first time I went to the temple. When I was about to enter the baptismal font, I felt the presence of someone enter the room. I looked up and saw an old man dressed in old clothes. I felt his love and gratitude for me because I was doing his vicarious work. After I was baptized for him and came up out of the water, I looked around for him, but he was no longer there.
I used to think that the temple would provide the names for temple work, so I wasn’t interested in doing family history research. But this experience got me excited about looking for my own family names.
One day I got on my computer and saw that I had received an email from the Church with a family name. I felt that I needed to research more names, so I asked my mother how I could effectively look for names and gather more information about my ancestors.
So far, I’ve found 11 family names, and I know I can find even more. These people never had the opportunity to be baptized while they were on earth, and they have waited a long time for their temple work to be done. I’m glad I can help them through temple and family history work.
Lucas R.,16, Santiago, Chile

May 15
Dear Sarah,
This is it! I’m really excited. Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Trujillo over on Cottonwood Lane? I haven’t seen them at church, so I guess they’re not members. But remember how Mr. Trujillo always had that enormous garden in the field next to his house? He sells his vegetables at the farmer’s market.
Well, I went by there and saw him working and stopped and talked to him. He said he was having some trouble with his arthritis and couldn’t handle such a big garden this year. I told him I was looking for a way to earn money, and he said I could have some of the space there and raise some vegetables to sell. In return, I’ll help him irrigate and things like that. I should have some money for your mission by August.
Lindsay’s pretty scared about her operation, but if it’ll mean she can eat regular food, it’ll be worth it.
I loved your letter. Do you only teach Spanish-speaking people?
Love,Angela the Gardener

When I was younger, I lived next door to an elderly lady who spent most of her time alone and seldom left her house. When she did leave, she would be gone for a long time, and that is when I went to work.
I would get a rake or snow shovel or broom and sneak around the tall wooden fence that separated our yards and do some yard work. Sometimes I would just leave her a plate of cookies with a note. I tried so hard to be a friend to the lady who lived there, and I thought that if I did these things for her she would be nice to me.
I really enjoyed the extra work because it made me feel good inside, but I thought I would feel even better if she would only acknowledge my kindness. I would watch her come home and feel disappointed because she never made an attempt to show thanks or appreciation. I had worked so hard and never received so much as a smile.
Then one Sunday at church we had a lesson on service, and I realized that I had been performing acts of service for my neighbor with the expectation of getting something in return. I went home and asked my mom about service and she gave me a scripture to read. It was Mosiah 2:17:
“And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
That taught me a valuable lesson about my activities. And I knew that even if my neighbor didn’t seem to care about my efforts, my Heavenly Father did care.

Ten-year-old Gavin is in the fifth grade, and he likes to do missionary work. Twice already he’s given friends copies of the Book of Mormon, and several times he’s invited his nonmember friends to family home evenings. He always prays that he will be a good missionary.
One Friday Mr. Leitzmiller, Gavin’s schoolteacher, had taught his class about the Mayan Indians of Mexico and Central America. Then, after the class was over and the students were leaving the classroom, he stopped Gavin and asked if they could talk a moment. When they were alone, Mr. Leitzmiller (who was not a Latter-day Saint) said, “Do you know if Jesus appeared to the Indians on the American continents after He died on the cross?”
Remembering what he had been taught in family home evenings, at Primary, and on other occasions, Gavin replied, “Yes, He did!”
“I once had a Mormon roommate in college,” Mr. Leitzmiller continued, “and I thought that I remembered his telling me about Jesus coming to the Western Hemisphere after His resurrection. Gavin, do you have a book that tells about that visit?”
“Yes,” Gavin answered. “It’s called the Book of Mormon.”
“Could you bring it to school with you on Monday?” the teacher asked with great interest.
Gavin said that he would.
That evening during supper Gavin told his family about his teacher’s request. They were all very excited for Gavin’s opportunity to do some more good missionary work.
On Sunday Gavin’s dad went to the stake center and picked up “Christ in America,” a pamphlet that tells what happened when Jesus came to the Americas after He was crucified.
That night Gavin carefully wrote on the inside cover of a new copy of a Book of Mormon, “This book tells about Jesus visiting America. It is a true story.”
Early Monday morning Gavin took the copy of the Book of Mormon, with the pamphlet tucked inside, to school and gave it to his teacher before class started. “Mr. Leitzmiller, here’s the book that you asked me to bring,” he said. “I hope that you’ll read it.”
The teacher promised Gavin that he would, and Gavin ran outside to play before the bell rang for school to begin.
When Gavin said his prayers that night, he asked Heavenly Father to bless his teacher as he read the Book of Mormon so that he would know the truth about Jesus.

Hirobo Obeketang sits back on his couch and smiles. He and his wife, Linda, have just finished holding family home evening with four of their children and the sister missionaries. They also treated the missionaries to a fish dinner, complete with eyes and tail—a tradition in Majuro, the capital of the Marshall Islands. As Hirobo describes his life, he expresses how grateful he is for the Church, the gospel, and his family, especially his wife.

It is June 2009. One day earlier the Majuro Marshall Islands Stake was created, and Hirobo was called to serve as the first stake executive secretary. Hirobo, as new stake president Arlington Tibon describes him, “is very, very strong,” one of the faithful leaders of the island.

But Hirobo is the first to point out that until recently that wasn’t the case. In fact, he credits his wife with being the strong one—the one who made the difference in his life. He explains, “I was baptized when I was eight years old, but when I was 16, I became less active.”

A few years later he and Linda began living together, though they weren’t married. Linda was not a member of the Church. In 2000, shortly after Linda discovered that Hirobo had been baptized as a child, she became interested in the Church and began meeting with the sister missionaries.

“She studied for two years and decided she wanted to be baptized,” Hirobo recalls. “We had to get married first, but I wasn’t interested in getting married. I was confused; I was really into the world’s temptations. I didn’t understand the importance of family, and I didn’t really care or listen to anybody.”

Linda, though not baptized, raised their children in the Church. Every year she asked Hirobo to marry her so she could get baptized; each time he said no. Over the years two of their daughters were baptized, but Hirobo did not attend their baptisms.

Then, in 2006, their nine-year-old son, Takao, passed away from a seizure and high fever. About 300 members from the Majuro district came to the funeral to support the family.

“Their support was a really big thing for me,” Hirobo says. “I started to think that God was probably telling me something.”

He began thinking about how he was the reason his wife couldn’t get baptized, even though he was a member of the Church. “She was getting stronger and stronger. She was really inspiring me,” he recalls.

“So I sat down and thought about how I was halfway through my life. I asked myself, ‘Am I going to continue doing what I am doing? Do I have a chance to work for God for the second half of my life?’ I started saying my prayers and thinking about coming back to church to start working for God.”

Hirobo began studying with the missionaries and relearning doctrine. President Nelson Bleak of the Marshall Islands Majuro Mission befriended him, as did other members, including then-district president Arlington Tibon. Finally, Hirobo committed to return, and the next thing he knew, he was attending not just sacrament meeting but also Sunday School and priesthood meeting. At last, Hirobo made up his mind.

“When I came back, I said, ‘This is it. This is what I’m going to do.’ And it changed my life completely.”

Hirobo and Linda were married on August 30, 2008. He soon received the Aaronic Priesthood and baptized his wife. Two months later Hirobo received the Melchizedek Priesthood and was called as the district executive secretary.

Hirobo looks at his wife and smiles. “She couldn’t believe I was the one who baptized her,” he says. “Imagine—it took her eight years, from 2000 to 2008. She is amazing.”

As soon as Sister McKee was well, we started sharing the presentation with some of the people we were teaching as a supplement to the discussions. Our most spiritual experience was with the Aranda family. The Arandas wouldn’t commit to baptism even though they were praying and reading and asking questions. We decided to make a final effort. We would share our presentation about the Savior with them.
So began one of the most unforgettable experiences of my mission. As we gave the presentation, Sister McKee and I could hardly read our parts because our emotion was so great. When it was over, no one dared to break the silence and interrupt the peace that had filled the room. Brother Aranda had his head down. When he finally spoke, his eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t know what it is that I am feeling here”—he pointed to his chest—“but it is so strong, so wonderful, that I can’t express it.”
When we returned a few days later, the Arandas had decided to be baptized.

You should know that at the outset of the invitation to speak here, I questioned my ability to provide meaningful material for students and faculty such as you. I don't consider myself a great scholar or scriptorian, although I have great admiration for academics and gospel scholars. Throughout my life, I have wondered why the opportunities and callings I have enjoyed have come to me. I am truly an ordinary man-one who, at the stage of life you are now in, would never have dreamed of having any of the callings that have become such a significant part of what I now represent. I grew up in small communities, working on farms and raising animals. My parents were faithful members of the Church, my father having served a full-time mission. They didn't live close enough to attend a branch regularly and were, for years, the only members in their entire community. They taught me and my siblings the principles of the gospel in our home by word and by example. Perhaps that is where we learned that the Lord uses ordinary people to do His work and build His kingdom.

As I received my patriarchal blessing, I had no idea of the import it would ultimately have in my life. A few words from that blessing have taken on a rich and deep meaning as my life has unfolded: "You will be called upon to lift up your voice in defense of the everlasting gospel and to bear testimony to the people of the world of its divinity and its truthfulness."

As a young man, newly called to serve in the Northern Mexican Mission, I felt that this blessing was surely being fulfilled. Of course, being of pure Danish/Scandinavian descent from both my father and mother, I had always desired to serve my mission in Denmark. Little did I know, at that time, that the Lord was preparing me for future callings, many of which were dependent upon my becoming fluent in teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in the Spanish language. For instance, how many Danish-speaking mission presidents do you think are needed in the Church at any given time compared to the number of Spanish-speaking mission presidents? Our service in the Argentina Buenos Aires South Mission helped me see that this promise in my blessing had a greater far-reaching effect than I had previously imagined. In the October 1999 general conference, as I stood at the pulpit of the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City and addressed the membership of the Church all over the world, as you might suppose, the promise took on even greater significance.

Half of the time that I served in the Second Quorum of the Seventy was spent in the Chile area, where Spanish was essential to the members of the area presidency in fulfilling our responsibilities and interacting with the members. Even the call that Sister Oveson and I received in 2005, to serve as president and matron of the newly dedicated Newport Beach Temple, involved using our Spanish-language skills in helping with the temple ordinances for many of the Spanish-speaking members of our temple district.

In retrospect, at this time of our lives, during this, my seventy-fifth year and after having recently celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary, we can see the hand of the Lord in our lives more clearly when we look back on the ways He prepared us to become worthy instruments in His hands to help build the kingdom in the places He called us to serve.

To be old and poor is to be alone, afraid, and ill-fed, and unknown. In a series of articles the Wall Street Journal discusses the problems related to the care of the aged. Following are some of the quotes taken from these articles:
“Many of the aged are gnawed by the fear not that they will die, but that they will die unnoticed by anyone.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 16.)
“The poor never saved for rainy days because it rained every day of their lives.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 1.)
Shabby apartments attract the elderly due to their meager incomes.
Most of these people live alone “as do five million of the total U.S. population over 65. Coupled with their sense of uselessness, their solitude breeds despair.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 1.)
“So, many of the elderly eat what they can get, or afford, not what is good for them. …
“Some live mainly on what they can buy from the vending machines in their hotel or apartment lobbies. …
“Others eat dog food. ‘They can get two meals out of a can,’ says Robert Forst.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 16.)
It may be interesting to note there are over 300 organizations representing the interests of the aged.
I believe the Savior had great insight into problems such as this, for as he describes in his parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Lazarus was laid daily at the gate, “desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table: moreover the dogs … licked his sores.” (Luke 16:19–21.) Both examples are pitiful plights of humanity.
Beset by problems, the elderly poor still cling fiercely to their pride; many will not ask relatives for extra help. They don’t want to be a burden.
A popular song says:
Old friends,
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends, …
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Paul Simon, “Old Friends”
The Church is not without its fault in the care of the aged. This is not due to the principles or the teachings of the Church, but rather to the shortcomings of its members. I sat in a conference some years ago when Elder Matthew Cowley said, “A mother can take care of seven children, but seven children will not later take care of that same mother.” The Church has the solution to all of life’s problems. The Savior did not leave us without direction in caring for our wonderful senior Saints. He was our model. You recall his beautiful, compassionate experience with the widow in the city of Nain. (See Luke 7:11–15.)
Several years ago we lived in Garden Grove, California. I was a produce supervisor for a large grocery chain. I dropped by home and picked up my young son Lawrence, who was three at the time. We went out to visit a farm to see if we could procure produce for that company. I went into the sheds, examined the produce; then I was told that Jack, the farmer, was in the house. I went to the front door and rang the bell. A little lady, probably 85 years old, white-haired, frail, stood in the doorway.
I said, “Is Jack here?”
“No, he isn’t. His father just passed away, and he went to the hospital.” And then she began to weep, and I said, “Are you Jack’s mother?” She said, “Yes.”
“I’m terribly sorry about your husband.” And then I was no longer a produce buyer; I was a high priest in the Church, and I said to her, “Do you believe in the resurrection?”
“I guess so.”
And then I said, “The Savior said, ‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’ (John 11:25.) And ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you.’” (John 14:2.) And I went on with several scriptures about the resurrection.
Then finally as I concluded I said, “Your husband will live again. He will be resurrected.” I said, “Do you believe that?” I couldn’t tell whether she did or not; I just knew she wasn’t comforted. So I said to her, “Do you believe in prayer?”
She said, “I used to pray, but lately if I get down on my knees I can’t get back up again. When I do pray, I forget what I’m supposed to pray about. And then when I’m down on my knees and no one comes, I just have to wait until someone does come.”
I said, “Would you like Lawrence and me to pray for you?”
She said, “Yes,” and opened the door and we went in.
I helped this sweet soul down onto her knees, and then we began to pray. I poured out my soul to the Lord to let a sweet blessing of comfort come to this spirit, to this little soul. About halfway through the prayer I felt a warmth and a peace come into my heart that I knew our prayers were answered.
At the close of the prayer, I stood up and lifted this soul again from her knees. Peace radiated from her face. I held her hands for a moment and looked into her eyes. There was peace there.
Lawrence and I left. She came over and stood in the doorway as we went out and climbed into the car.
Lawrence turned around and looked at her and then he said to me, “Dad, she sure was a sweet old grandma.”
Well, there are many sweet old grandmas in the Church, and they love us and they need our love.
Not too long ago I left a Committee of Expenditures meeting, went up to the hospital to administer to a sweet little soul who had been there. As I finished, for some reason I felt impressed and so I said, “I want you to know this hand shook hands with the prophet 15 minutes ago.” And she began to weep. And then a little lady across the room said, “Would you mind administering to me with that hand that shook hands with the prophet 15 minutes ago?” And I administered to her, and then a lady in the bed next to her said, “Would you mind administering to me with that hand that shook hands with the prophet a few minutes ago?” And I administered to her.
Let us review the program, the Lord’s program, for the care of our senior Saints. First, the responsibility rests with the individual to do all he or she can to be a contributing member of society and of the Church, and give service to friends and children and loved ones. All these give soul satisfaction so needed. When health is sufficient to warrant, the Church provides many blessed opportunities for great service. The rich experience of these loved ones can be of such importance to the Church.
Many can accept calls as couples to fill full-time missions. Others may be called upon to officiate in the temples. Some may visit the temple regularly to do endowment work. Genealogical research is fascinating, stimulating, and fulfilling. Many can and should be called to teach Primary, Sunday School, and Relief Society. Our youth love mature Saints as teachers because they have time to care. Bishops may call the brethren to be home teachers and the sisters to do Relief Society visiting teaching.
Inasmuch as home teaching is never finished, many long-living men may help truly teach us by example what home teachers really should be. The Lord said, “He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:39.) Our senior Saints may well be called upon to bake and cook or render compassionate service during funerals or other times of stress and need.
Now, second, the family should do all they can do. Those who have mothers and fathers who are confined should care for them by furnishing those soul needs such as love, care, and tenderness. If you recall the words of the epitaph:
Here lies David Elginbrod;
Have mercy on him, God,
As he would do if he were God
And you were David Elginbrod.
So we might also declare to you, try to understand them, try to anticipate their needs. Before you turn the financial responsibility of them over to the Church, state, or government, use every resource you or any member of your family has. Nursing home care provided by the Church was up 411 percent last year.
I believe the Savior would be pleased if we would bring these souls back into our homes, if possible, and if not, to pay the expenses from members of the family. I don’t know of any mother or father in the Church who turned their children over to society during those prolonged sicknesses or during those first years of life when it took 24 hours a day to care for the infant child.
Now, third, after the individual and family have used all their resources, then the Church is called in to assist. Let me go back to one thought that came to me. I just talked to a young man the other day, and he said that in his family a grandfather had been very critically ill, had been bedfast and the family tended him during those long hours and, as it were, the man had to wear a diaper. The family changed the diaper regularly. Is that more than he would have done for them? No. We must not forget our family members.
Now to the Church. Welfare services reach into every life in the Church. We are interested in the physical health and emotional welfare of every member. Our beloved aged are a vital segment of the Church. They contribute more to our lives than we would dare to suppose.
For example, I have a sweet Aunt Beryl Hollindrake. She told me that when she was just three or four years old that my great-grandmother, her Grandmother Featherstone, would hold her on her lap and tell her about the Savior, all the beautiful stories. Then she would recall how my great-grandmother would tell her about the Savior’s trial and how they beat him and cursed him and spit upon him—how they dragged him and forced him against the cross and drove huge spikes into his hands cruelly. She said, “As my grandmother would tell me these stories, tears would stream down her cheeks.” And she said, “It was on the lap of my grandmother that I learned to love the Savior with all my heart and soul.”
What a wonderful contribution our grandmothers and grandfathers can make if they will share some of the rich experiences and their testimonies with their children and grandchildren.
When I was stake president, we wanted the lonely, the heartsick, the despairing, even the inactive, young or old, to move into our stake so we would have a greater opportunity to serve.
I have a great friend who, when he was called to be a stake president, canceled the high council Christmas party and had a special Christmas party for the senior Saints in the stake. And then on Christmas morning he would call all of the widows in his stake who had no one who cared.
Edgar A. Guest, in a great understanding of life, wrote many verses about home. Let me just extract a few from his great poem on home:
Ye’ve got t’ weep t’ make it home, ye’ve got t’ sit an’ sigh.
An’ watch beside a loved one’s bed, an’ know that Death is nigh;
An’ in the stillness o’ the night t’ see Death’s angel come,
An’ close the eyes o’ her that smiled, an’ leave her sweet voice dumb.
For these are scenes that grip the heart, an’ when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an’ sanctified;
An’ tuggin’ at ye always are the pleasant memories
O’ her that was an’ is no more—ye can’t escape from these.
They may be pleasant memories, and they may not, depending on our care for them.
Stephen Horn, the president of California State University at Long Beach, said, “It is time we revised our concept of the ‘old’ to ‘long-living’ and accented not the declining powers of aging but the rising knowledge and experience that results from a long life.”
Life can be so full and rich for our beloved senior Saints with snowy crowns. We love you and care for you. You make life so rich and meaningful for us. We pledge to be what we should be in our relationship to you. In James we read:
“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction.” (James 1:27.)
“To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction.” It is my prayer that we may be filled with pure love of Christ toward our beloved senior Saints. This is his church. I believe if he were here he would spend much time with them. May we follow in his footsteps. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Conner was learning so many new, wonderful things, but he had a hard time understanding a key principle. “There’s just so many people,” he says. “How could God know everything about me?” So he asked the missionaries.
Sister Jin and her companion prayed to know how they could show Conner that Heavenly Father cares about him personally. Inspiration hit. Conner had recently shared with them how he felt homesick for China and missed his favorite Wuhan noodles.
The missionaries prayed, asking Heavenly Father to help them find these noodles. A couple hours before their next lesson with Conner, Sister Jin and her companion felt impressed to walk to an area they didn’t regularly visit. Not long after they got there they were approached by a Chinese family. It turned out they were from Wuhan, too!
Sister Jin told them about Conner and how he missed his homeland. The family went to their car, pulled out a bag full of Wuhan noodles, and asked Sister Jin to give them to Conner.
Later, during their lesson with Conner, Sister Jin told him, “Conner, Heavenly Father knows you and He loves you, and He even knows what your favorite food is.” Then she handed him the bag.
“When she gave me the bag of noodles, it was very special,” Conner says. “I really felt the Spirit and knew in that moment that God really knows me.”
Conner was soon baptized and sealed to his family in the Salt Lake Temple. “I have a great family. I don’t say that a lot in front of people, but it’s true—it’s always a party! I feel like I chose this family. I waited a long time for them. Everything is so good now.”

I wish all of you could have sat with me when for nearly an hour in one of our Inter-American Association of Broadcasters board of directors meetings, I watched a man who formerly operated successful television and radio stations throughout Cuba. This man, my old friends of many years, asked for the microphone to be placed on the table, sat before us, and took off his coat. I didn’t understand why he wanted to sit down but I soon did. For over forty-five minutes he poured out all the anguish I’ve ever heard come out of a human soul. He soaked the front of his shirt with his tears as he told us how he, because of apathy, had permitted freedom to be destroyed in his great land. He didn’t care about what it did to him, he said, “but what I did to my children and my children’s children—this most precious of all gifts.” Do we feel that strongly about freedom?