Gospel Story Finder

Emily was playing with blocks when her dad slowly walked through the front door, dropped his briefcase on the floor, walked up the stairs, and sat on his bed.
I think your daddy had a hard day. I’ll go see what is wrong after I answer the phone.
Emily knew her dad’s job was hard sometimes. She didn’t want her dad to be unhappy.Because Mom is busy and can’t help Dad right now, I will.
Emily went upstairs and quietly peeked into her parents’ bedroom. She saw Dad sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Emily remembered the words to the Primary song she sang on Sunday: “Jesus said love everyone; treat them kindly too.”
As Emily thought about the song, an idea came to her mind. She ran to her bedroom and began to hunt through her toy box. She set aside the dolls, cars, and smooth rocks until she found her favorite thing in the whole world—a beautiful red princess ring.
Emily rushed back into her parents’ room.Hi, sweetie, what’s up?Dad, I know you are sad right now. I want to give you my red princess ring. It always makes me feel better.
Emily climbed on Dad’s lap and dropped the ring into his hand.Emily, are you sure? I know this is your favorite ring.I’m sure. I want you to be happy.You make me very happy. You are my sunshine.
Emily felt warm all over as Dad gave her a big hug. She had helped Dad be happy, and that was worth all the rings in the world.

At a recent extended family home evening, our grandchildren were having a wonderful time. A six-year-old grandson became very upset when his father said it was time to go home. So what did this dear boy do? He came to me and said, “Grandfather, may I have your permission to disobey my father?”
I said, “No, sweetheart. One of life’s great lessons is to learn that happiness comes through obedience. Go home with your family, and you will be happy.” Though disappointed, he dutifully obeyed.

Telii and Nabota were among the first Tubuaians to join the Church. They became Elder Pratt’s closest friends there and helped him preach the gospel. Telii translated Latter-day Saint hymns and scriptures and set them to himene, a local singing style. Many evenings, she gathered people together to teach them her songs. It was during these meetings, which sometimes lasted until midnight, that her relatives and friends first learned gospel concepts and scriptures. Several were soon baptized.

I had 467 full-time missionaries given to me over a period of three years. What a glorious experience. I remember I hadn’t been in New England more than an hour when the telephone rang. On the line was an elder I hadn’t met yet, an elder who had been in the mission field just one week. He had some concerns, as sometimes missionaries do, and he wanted to go home. He didn’t just say, “I want to go home.” He announced he was going. He was a small young man in stature, quite good-looking, and a sharp athlete; but he was born with a handicap, and this was one of his barriers. He had only half a larynx. When he spoke he spoke with a harsh voice, and people often made fun of him. He announced on the phone, “President Dunn, I just called to tell you I’m going home tonight, so don’t try to stop me.”
I said, “Well, at least pay me the courtesy of coming over and getting acquainted and saying good-bye.”
“All right, I’ll come by on my way to the airport.”
He came over. In the meantime, I checked his file and found among other things one thing in my favor—he wanted to be an athlete. He was a good one. He wanted to make a career out of sports. I sat him down. He said, “Now, President, you’re not going to talk me into staying.”
I said, “Didn’t intend to. Tell me your problem.”
He said, “It’s very simple. I don’t have a testimony. I don’t believe in the Lord. Furthermore, and you’ll learn sometime, my home life hasn’t been what it ought to be. I hate my dad, I hate my mother, I hate this Church, I hate this mission, and I already hate you.”
I thought, “Well, this is a thrilling challenge; first day on your mission and you’ve got a young man thinking like this.” I said, “I don’t know what all the circumstances are, but let me tell you something. The Lord lives, and he loves you. Your parents, for reasons you can’t fully comprehend, love you. This Church loves you, this mission loves you, and I like you a little bit. Now,” I said, “you can walk out of this mission anytime you want; but I don’t think you’re going to and let me tell you why. You’re not a quitter. You may have a lot of hang-ups and problems, but you’re not a quitter. I noticed from your athletic record that you don’t quit. Let me tell you something you may not know. I played professional baseball for a number of years and found myself behind in early and middle innings of many a ball game. If you were my coach, and we were behind five to two in the seventh inning, and I came to you and said, ‘Coach, let’s get out of here while we can and save face,’ what would you say?”
He said, “We’ve got two more innings to catch up and win.”
I said, “Exactly, and a mission is no different!”
“Well,” he said, “that’s baseball.”
I said, “No, it isn’t. The game of life plays by the same rules and principles. I just don’t think you’re going to quit because you’re not that kind of player. There’s the door. You can go if you must, but I don’t think you will.”
“Well,” he said, “I’ll try it one more week.”
“Fine. One more week. You call me next week, and we’ll talk about it.”
He called me the next week, and he gave me the same dialogue. He didn’t even miss a line. He had it out again, and would you believe for the next 103 weeks. Every week, through the mail, in person, on the phone, “I’m going, President!”
“So long, Elder; but I don’t think you are.”
And then it happened, the 104th week. Another phone call and he said, “I’ve got to tell you. It happened. I got the spirit!” And he told me of some very special experiences he had had that week, how the Lord had answered his prayers and how he received a testimony. Through real hardship and prayers he got an answer.
The following Sunday he came into the mission home for his last evening prior to his departure home. We used to have a simple ceremony when a group departed; and when it came time for him to speak he said, “Can I say something, President?”
I said, “You haven’t hesitated up to now. What do you want to tell us?”
He said, “You know what I found out this week? I’ve found what a testimony is. I believe in the Lord. He lives, and I love him. I love my mom and dad. I love this Church. I love this mission, and I kind of like you.”

Mary Hobson, the eighth of nine children born in Farmington, Utah, in 1853, kept house for her older brother Alma. He had a store in Richmond, Utah, and was the first telegraph operator there. He taught Mary, age 15, telegraphy and sent her to a special school for this in Logan. She helped him and was the first woman telegrapher in Richmond. Then Alma moved to Franklin, the oldest town in Idaho, and kept a store, post office, and telegraph office there. Mary helped him and thus became the first woman telegrapher in Idaho. When Alma moved back to Richmond, Mary stayed in Franklin and managed the store, post office, and telegraph office for several years.

I want to share a story that sums up all the points I've addressed today. My great-grandmother Wetekia Rukuku Elkington was born and raised on a small island called Rangitoto Ki te tonga or more commonly known in English as D'Urville Island. When Wetekia was about 14 years old she had a dream and in the dream she saw two Caucasian men in top hats and black coats and when they prayed they raised their right hand to the square. She said, "I was standing on a very wide and beautiful plain. Around me were many people standing in many small groups. They appeared to me to be very sad. I wanted to know the cause of their sadness but could find no answer to my question because none would speak to me. While doing this I heard a voice far away but I couldn't understand the words until the voice was almost over me. Wetekia heard a voice in Maori say "O house of Israel, how oft have I gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings and ye would not—I will gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me. [3 Nephi 10:5]. When I heard these words I looked up and saw a white dove flying over me saying these words. I clapped my hands and looked up and said, "Yes Lord, I will repent and turn unto thee." The white dove then turned into a book, a book with the pages opened out towards me. I woke up then shouting those words, I was so happy. My father rushed over to me and asked what was the matter. I told him of the dream and he said to me "It is a good dream, you are blessed of God."

Some time later a cousin returned from visiting the main island and shared with his relatives that a new religion was being taught and the missionaries of that religion traveled in pairs and taught from a new book of scripture. Upon hearing this, Wetekia immediately recognized the new religion being described as the one from her dream. Her father sent for the LDS missionaries to come to the island and teach the people about the new religion. In 1892 Wetekia, her father and several relatives were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For Wetekia her dream had such a profound impact on her it was a defining experience in her life. Because of it, she was convinced that the Lord wanted her and her people to hear the message of the gospel and to follow the savior by joining His church. This decision has had eternal ramifications for not only her and her own posterity but many others. Today the Ngati Koata tribe is known as predominantly LDS, five and six generations of her posterity are members of the church. Hundreds of her descendents have served missions, been married in the Temple and served in various leadership positions in the church. Truly the results of her being open to the Lord's will and following the promptings of the Spirit are hard quantify over 100 years later. The impact of her decision still continues. I'm happy to say that two of Wetekia's great-great grandchildren are current students at BYUH.

After serving in Vava'u for nearly a year, the elders finally saw the fruit of their labor. Yes, they had their first baptism in the island of Vava'u. Both Elder Jensen and Elder Jones noted this significant event in their journals.

July 12, 1896: "This was one of the happiest day that we had seen for a long time, at 11 am we commenced out meeting as usual but to a larger congregation than usual and some very high chiefs was present. I spoke first and the spirit of God rested upon me, and I spoke with ease and power. After meeting we had the privilege of taking two souls into the water of baptism the first two in the Vava'u group and in the evening confirmed them members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and after having confirmed them they bore a faithful testimony each which caused our souls to rejoice and we instructed them and encouraged them to do the will of God" (Jensen, Journal #2, p. 131).

July 12, 1896: "...May the glory be given to Him for opening the hearts of two of this people that they endure the mockery for the Gospel sake, and may many more will follow their example. I had almost given up in the hopes on even baptizing one while on this mission as my time is getting short and the people seem so indifferent to the Gospel. This evening at 7 o'clock as prearranged Namosi and Toutai came down and after offering up a few words of prayer we confirmed them to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Bro. Jensen confirmed Namosi and I Sione Tania [Tanea] (Toutai is only a nickname)" (Jones, Journal #5, p. 23).

Many of the people in Vava'u mocked Namosi and Toutai for joining the Church. Shortly after their baptism, Toutai returned to his island, Ha'apai, and Namosi remained in Vava'u with the two missionaries. You can only imagine what it was like to be the only Tongan member of the Church in all of Vava'u. Elder Jensen and Elder Jones understood the challenges that Namosi faced. As good shepherds, Elder Jensen and Elder Jones invested time and energy in nurturing and strengthening Namosi's testimony.

Namosi faced many challenges but he remained faithful to the gospel.

Elder Jones wrote about one of the challenges Namosi faced:July 30, 1896: "This evening Namosi came in and spent the evening, he told us that some were talking of putting him up as the mayor (or bulekolo) at his island Huga but because he has joined the Church they would not have him because he would not work hand in hand with the Free Church..." (Jones, Journal #5, p. 31).

In actuality, people refused to give Namosi the chiefly title Fulivai. Namosi did not care about being a chief. All he wanted to do was to remain true to his testimony of the Gospel.

“Hey, look!” Kate picked up a crumpled paper doll from the floor in the store. “Here, put it in your pocket.”
“You want me to take it?” Maddy asked.
“The store can’t sell it anyway,” Kate said. “They’d just throw it in the trash. This is a rescue mission. We’re saving this doll!”
Kate smiled at Maddy. Maddy smiled back.
“OK.” Maddy slipped the paper doll into her pocket. It felt special to be on a rescue mission!
Still, as they walked out of the store, the paper doll felt like a heavy rock in her pocket. Is that what a rescue mission was supposed to feel like?
When they got back to Maddy’s house, Kate carefully taped and flattened the paper doll the best she could.
“What kind of clothes should I make for her?” she asked, picking up a crayon. “How about a beautiful ball gown?”
Maddy nodded eagerly. “Then we can show my mom!”
“No! We can’t tell anyone,” Kate said. “Not ever. It’s our secret, OK? Promise me you won’t tell.”
“Oh … OK. I promise,” Maddy said. “But why can’t we tell?”
“If you tell, your mom would get mad, and she might not let us play together anymore.”
“Why would she be mad?” Maddy asked. Her stomach felt fluttery and nervous.
Kate put down her crayon. “If you don’t tell, I’ll let you keep the doll and all the outfits I draw for her.”
Now Maddy knew why she felt so nervous. “We … we stole it, didn’t we?” she whispered.
“Hey, you’re the one who stuffed it in your pocket and sneaked it out of the store.”
“Because you told me to!”
“I did not!” Kate said. “I’m going home before you get me in trouble.” She stood up and ran out the door.
Just then Mom came into the room. “Why did Kate leave in such a hurry?” She saw the paper doll in Maddy’s hands. “And where did that come from?”
Maddy bit her lip. She didn’t feel good about keeping a secret from Mom. But what if Kate was right and Mom got mad?
The nervous feeling in her stomach wouldn’t go away. She took a deep breath and blurted out the whole story.
“Kate told me to promise to keep it a secret,” she said. “But it felt wrong.”
Mom sat beside her on the bed. “Most secrets are wrong. Especially if you’re told to never tell anyone. On the other hand, a surprise, like a gift or party, can be a good thing. It’s meant to be fun for everyone.”
Maddy nodded. “Thanks for not getting mad at me,” she said. “Kate said you would.”
Mom hugged her tight. “I’m really proud of you for listening to the Holy Ghost and telling me the truth.”
“Will you drive me back to the store to return the doll?” Maddy asked.
“Of course!” Mom smiled. “And when we get back, you can help me make a cake to surprise Dad.”
Maddy laughed. “Now that’s something I can feel good about!”

The South Pacific sun shone brightly as children and their families gathered at the beautiful Haumi chapel on Moorea Island. They had been there earlier for their regular Sunday meetings. A special reason had brought them back. It was late October, and the bright flowers that grow everywhere on this island wonderland seemed even more lovely than usual.
This day Jonathan Mau was to be baptized, an important day in a young man’s life. Almost the entire branch membership, including his family and friends, were coming to welcome him as a new member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He will do the same for those who follow him. It is a tradition of love on this French Polynesian island.
Jonathan had been taught about Jesus by his family and his Primary teachers. He knew the Savior’s atoning sacrifice made it possible for him to repent and be baptized. He had learned about and quietly considered the importance of the gift he was to receive at the hands of the priesthood after his baptism. His branch president, Taina Mau, had interviewed him and found him prepared and worthy to become a member of the Church and receive the Holy Ghost as his teacher, guide, and comforter.
Jonathan was ready.

That accident caused me to think of things I’d never really thought much about before—like going on a mission. Because of that accident, I did go on a mission, to Texas. It was the most wonderful experience of my life. For the first time, I really stopped thinking just about myself, my basketball, and my baseball. I started thinking about other people. I saw the gospel come into their lives; I watched them change, and I saw how excited they got. I got excited with them. It was the most joyful thing that I’d ever done. The excitement and joy have never left me. I still love missionary work; I love to see people embrace the gospel.

Several years ago while my husband, Ed, and I were serving in the England London South Mission, there was an unexpected storm. All night the winds raged. When morning came we ventured from the mission home to see the damage. It was devastating. Many trees throughout our garden, the neighborhood, and all of southern England had been uprooted. It was amazing to see the fallen trees with their gigantic root systems, still intact, jutting into the air. I came to the conclusion that because of the “easiness of the way” (Alma 37:46)—rain is plentiful in England—the trees had no need to sink their roots deep into the earth to get the nourishment they needed. Their roots were not strong enough or deep enough to withstand the hurricane-force winds.
On the other hand, the giant redwood trees that grow in northern California also have a very shallow root system. But when they are surrounded by other redwood trees, the strongest, fiercest wind cannot blow them over. The roots of the giant redwood trees intertwine and strengthen each other. When a storm comes, they actually hold each other up.
May I share with you some personal examples and thank those people who have been as the giant redwoods in my life, those who have been an example of caring and teaching, those who have intertwined their roots in mine and helped me stand firm as they taught me through their words and their lives.
I feel deep gratitude to my mother, who allowed me to be responsible and didn’t always fix my mistakes. To my father, who is soon to be eighty-nine years old and is living with us, thank you, Dad. Thank you for teaching me as the scriptures counsel, “only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; … reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love” (D&C 121:41, 43).
The strongest intertwining roots in my life are those of my companion and sweetheart, Ed, who is supernally righteous. He has taught and encouraged me, exemplifying President Hunter’s prayer “that we might treat each other with more kindness, more courtesy, more humility and patience and forgiveness” (quoted in Ensign, July 1994, p. 4).
To my children, who are a part of my roots, who are a brightness of hope in my life—thank you for helping me stand tall with gladness because you are trying.
I am a happy grandmother. Thirteen of our seventeen grandchildren are Primary and pre-Primary age. They will help teach me about Primary and children. They can be my hands-on training. Could there be a better calling for a grandmother than to love and strengthen children?
May I offer a sincere expression of gratitude to you, my brothers and sisters, who have strengthened me by forgiving me when I have disappointed you.
There are many others in my life who have encouraged me and allowed me to connect with their strengths. My deep gratitude to President Janette C. Hales, the Young Women presidency, board, and staff who have shared their wisdom and insights, who have more than loved and supported me these last two years. To Michaelene Grassli, Betty Jo Jepsen, Ruth Wright, and the Primary board, thank you for your devotion and untiring efforts to encourage all members of the Church to focus on what is best for the children.
When I was ten or eleven years old, I became the Primary organist in the ward in Hawaii where I grew up. That is one of my most vivid Primary memories. I remember being very nervous. I remember making many mistakes. But I remember even more clearly that the Primary leaders cared more about me than about the mistakes I made.
I thank the community of Saints, the ward family of Saints, who, throughout my life, have provided “safe places”—places where I was able to be taught, to have experiences, to practice, and to eventually better understand and live the principles of the gospel.
One day as Ed and I were maneuvering the streets of England, he turned to me with tears in his eyes, and he said, “Look.” I turned and saw a child on the side of the road. And then he said, “Who will teach the children?” That thought will not leave my mind or my heart. Who will teach the children? Who will teach the child who asks, “Will Heavenly Father really answer my prayer?” Who will teach Kate when at five years of age she asks, “Why do we need Jesus?” Who will teach the children? Please, will you? Will you? Will you help teach the children?
Since my call I’ve knelt and asked, “Father, what do you want the children to be taught?”
Teach and show the children that Heavenly Father loves them and has confidence in them because they are his children.
Teach and show them that they do need Jesus, our Savior, our guide. Help them understand and accept his love and trust him and follow him. Teach them that our prophet, President Howard W. Hunter, has said, “We should at every opportunity ask ourselves, ‘What would Jesus do?’ and then be more courageous to act upon the answer.” He also said, “We must know Christ better than we know him; we must remember him more often than we remember him; we must serve him more valiantly than we serve him” (“He Invites Us to Follow Him,” Ensign, Sept. 1994, p. 5).
Teach the children that at eight years of age, when they are baptized and receive the Holy Ghost, they will be responsible for their choices. Teach them that they will be tempted, but as they listen to the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost, he will help them with their choices.
We can teach the children these gospel truths and all of the truths of the plan of happiness that Heavenly Father wants his children to understand and live. Family home evening can be one of those safe and loving places where the Spirit is felt. With eight children in our home, I also have vivid memories that family home evening wasn’t always easy. Remember other opportunities for teaching: family prayer, family scripture study (don’t give up!), in the classroom, in the hall, in the neighborhood.
And please, will each one of you be as the stalwart and dependable redwood trees, connecting and intertwining your roots of testimony, of faith, of love, of kindness and patience with every child? Their roots are not deep enough for them to stand alone in the storms of life. They need us—every one of us—parents, teachers, leaders, youth, brothers, sisters. They need you.
And now I look to the future. How grateful I am for the principle of presidency, and for Sister Anne Wirthlin and Sister Susan Warner. “In the multitude of counsellors there is safety” (Prov. 11:14). We will stand together in unity as we support our priesthood leaders and help parents teach and strengthen children.
To the Primary children of the world, I want you to know that there are many people you don’t even know who love you and care about you, who want you to be safe, be happy, and feel peace. I love you and would want you to feel “encircled about … in the arms of his love” (2 Ne. 1:15) and my love. Listen carefully to every good thing you hear about Heavenly Father and Jesus our Savior and then try your very best to follow him by doing what he wants you to do.
All of us can be like the giant redwood trees and support and strengthen each other, especially the children, that when storms arise we can actually hold each other up. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I know of another little boy who came home from school one day long ago to find a rented piano in the house. “What’s this piano here for?” he asked his mother.
“It’s for you,” she replied.
“For me?” he asked. “Why for me?”
“Because,” she said, “you are going to take piano lessons.”
He said he didn’t want to take piano lessons. But she had already arranged for a teacher.
Well, this little boy began to miss a few lessons. One day his mother asked, “How was your piano lesson?”
He said, “Fine. I’m doing pretty well.”
“That’s interesting,” she said. “I just talked to your teacher, and she hasn’t seen you for a while.” He had been caught. He didn’t know what the punishment would be, but he knew it would be bad. Then his mother said, “Just for that, you may not take piano lessons.”
He tried to look punished, but inside he was very happy with her decision. Mother, he thought, you have hit on the perfect punishment. I hope you use it often. Within his heart he felt that he had just been liberated. He was free from practice, free from lessons, free from discipline, routine, and regimentation—free from all that seemed to limit his freedom.
When he grew to be a man, he was sitting one day in a church meeting during which a woman was to sing a solo. When her time to perform came, she walked up to the podium and announced, “My accompanist could not come today. I need someone to accompany me.” Looking over the congregation, she saw a man who used to teach piano. “Will you accompany me?” she asked him. The man came forward, and she handed him the music.
As he watched this happen, my friend who had avoided music lessons thought, What would I have done if she had asked me? If she had asked me, I would have been free to do only one thing: to say no. Suddenly, he realized that what he had assumed to be one of the great liberating moments of his life—when his mother said, “You may not take lessons any more”—was in fact a moment of bondage, not freedom. As he sat in that church meeting, he might as well have been handcuffed, for he could not have played the piano if he had wanted to. The other man was free; he could choose to play or not to play. Ultimately, then, freedom is more a matter of capacity and ability than of permission.

While newlywed undergraduates at BYU, Christy and I learned valuable lessons about recognizing this type of prompting.

After my mission to Taiwan, I thought international law would be a good career choice. As Christy and I considered that possible future, we understood that five more years of expensive education lay ahead. The United States economy was in a deep recession and our funds were limited, so we reasoned that joining the air force ROTC would be a wise choice to pay for my schooling. But as I took the required tests and filled out the paperwork, we just could not get comfortable about making that commitment. No stupor of thought or dark feelings came—only an absence of peace. While joining the air force is a great option for some, we determined this was not the right course for us. Looking back, that seemingly illogical financial decision was inspired, in part, because I would have been a horrible lawyer!

For Mindy, a young mother of twin toddlers, the simple efforts of her ministering sister made a huge difference in her sacrament meeting experience every week.
“Because of my husband’s work schedule, I take our twin daughters to church by myself every week,” Mindy explains. “It’s really overwhelming to try to make it through all of sacrament meeting with two busy toddlers, but my ministering sister has taken it upon herself to help me.
“She sits with us and helps me take care of my girls every week. Just having her next to me means so much and really eases my anxiety in their moments of tantrums or fussiness. I don’t think she’ll ever know how much her actions have impacted me at this time in my life. She saw my need as a young, anxiety-filled mother, and she helps make church a peaceful and happy place for all of us.”

When I reflect on the race of life, I remember another type of race, even from childhood days. When I was about ten, my boyfriends and I would take pocketknives in hand and, from the soft wood of a willow tree, fashion small toy boats. With a triangular-shaped cotton sail in place, each boy would launch his crude craft in the race down the relatively turbulent waters of the Provo River. We would run along the river’s bank and watch the tiny vessels sometimes bobbing violently in the swift current and at other times sailing serenely as the water deepened.

During one such race we noted that one boat led all the rest toward the appointed finish line. Suddenly the current carried it too close to a large whirlpool, and the boat heaved to its side and capsized. Around and around it was carried, unable to make its way back into the main current. At last it came to an uneasy rest at the end of the pool, amid the flotsam and jetsam that surrounded it.

The toy boats of childhood had no keel for stability, no rudder to provide direction, and no source of power. Inevitably their destination was downstream—the path of least resistance.

Recently I heard of an excommunicated man who stormed out of his Church court bitter and unrepentant. Many of us, if we had been in that court, would have said, “Good. He’ll have time now to make his peace.” And we would have thought, “Good riddance.” One of the high councilors present that night spent three evenings a week for the next several years visiting this man until, mellowed, repentant, and regenerated, he was reinstated in the Church. As the Prophet Joseph Smith has said, “Nothing is so much calculated to lead people to forsake sin as to take them by the hand and watch over them with tenderness.”

A number of years ago someone began delivering gifts to us by night, leaving them on our front porch about two weeks before Christmas. We didn’t know who it was. When the first gift was discovered, I asked our children to look around the driveway and our front-porch area to see if the card had simply dropped out of the package. They couldn’t find the name of the person who had brought the gift to us. The same thing happened the next day. Within another day or two we figured someone had made our family the focus of the 12 days of Christmas tradition. For almost two weeks prior to Christmas that year, a wonderful young woman dropped off gifts and, in an important way, changed the lives of our children. They were so touched by her generosity and her desire to secretly do such a nice thing that they each have participated in the 12 days of Christmas for others since that time. The holiday season brings memories of her kindness.

President George Albert Smith told the story of a time when he was seriously ill and had traveled to St. George, Utah, to see if it would improve his health. He became so weak that he could scarcely move. In his account he recalled: “One day, under these conditions, I lost consciousness of my surroundings and thought I had passed to the Other Side. I found myself standing with my back to a large and beautiful lake, facing a great forest of trees. … I realized, or seemed to realize, that I had finished my work in mortality and had gone home. I began to look around, to see if I could not find someone. There was no evidence of anyone living there, just those great, beautiful trees in front of me and the wonderful lake behind me.

“I began to explore, and soon I found a trail through the woods which seemed to have been used very little, and which was almost obscured by grass. I followed this trail, and after I had walked for some time and had traveled a considerable distance through the forest, I saw a man coming towards me. I became aware that he was a very large man, and I hurried my steps to reach him, because I recognized him as my grandfather. … I remember how happy I was to see him coming. I had been given his name and had always been proud of it.

“When Grandfather came within a few feet of me, he stopped. His stopping was an invitation for me to stop. Then—and this I would like the boys and girls and young people never to forget—he looked at me very earnestly and said:

“‘I would like to know what you have done with my name.’

“Everything I had ever done passed before me as though it were a flying picture on a screen—everything I had done. Quickly this vivid retrospect came down to the very time I was standing there. My whole life had passed before me. I smiled and looked at my grandfather and said:

“‘I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.’

“He stepped forward and took me in his arms, and as he did so, I became conscious again of my earthly surroundings. My pillow was wet as though water had been poured on it—wet with tears of gratitude that I could answer unashamed.”

President Smith continued to say, “I have thought of this many times, and I want to tell you that I have been trying, more than ever since that time, to take care of that name. So I want to say to the boys and girls, to the young men and women, to the youth of the Church and of all the world: Honor your fathers and mothers. Honor the names that you bear, because some day you will have the privilege and the obligation of reporting to them (and to your Father in heaven) what you have done with their name.” (George Albert Smith, Sharing the Gospel with Others, Deseret Book Co., 1948, pp. 111–12.)

Photographs by Richard M. Romney
Aidan Troutner, 18, from Timpview High School in Provo, Utah, figured he could race well at the Nike Cross-country Nationals (NXN) in Portland, Oregon. But no one figured he really had a chance to win the individual championship—until it came to the final sprint.
Aidan entered the meet, he says, “under the radar.” Several other runners were predicted to win. “But that’s one of the goals I had this season, not to worry about other people so much, just to focus on my own time and training, improving myself. The Lord gives us talents, but He expects us to put in the work.”
And Aidan had worked, hard. Training and competing from June through November had enabled him to win first place in both the Utah 5A high school championship and the Southwest Regionals.
“I had confidence in myself, because I knew I was prepared,” he says. “The Lord expects us to act, not to be acted upon [see 2 Nephi 2:13].”
He also knew that a couple of other Latter-day Saints were running, too. “So, just before the race began, we gathered together for prayer. We asked Heavenly Father to help everyone run to the best of their abilities. We said our prayer, then the starting gun went off and we were on our way.”
Aidan followed the strategy his coach had mapped out with him. He stayed in 4th position through most of the race. Then, with about 600 meters to go, he made his move. “It wasn’t until then that I realized I could really win it,” he remembers. “With 200 meters left, I took the lead and cruised to the finish line.” He had paced himself, and he had finished strong.
Aidan received a lot of recognition for his performance. “One of the greatest blessings I had was the number of people I got to talk to about the gospel,” he says. “Especially after the race, people wanted to know more about me, what I was doing after high school, and where I was going to college. I told them I’m going on a mission and then I’m going to BYU. It was an amazing blessing to talk to people who didn’t know much about the gospel.”
Aidan also finds that running has reinforced gospel principles for him.
“We had a lesson just last Sunday about self-reliance,” he says. “One of the key things we talked about was that self-reliance implies that you do it yourself, but in truth, we can’t do anything without our Savior Jesus Christ. That’s the way we become truly self-reliant—to rely on Him to ease our burdens. As applied to running, that means I couldn’t have done this by myself. I needed the help of teammates, coaches, and my family, just like each of us needs the help of the Savior.”

Christmas Island and Call to Seventy When President Workman was presiding over the Honolulu Mission, he had the responsibility for a branch of the church on Christmas Island. Christmas Island is a small island which is part of the Republic of Kiribati. We had made many trips to Christmas Island and all of them were difficult. The airplane only travelled once a week so when we went, it was always a week long affair. The accommodations were rustic to say the least and the heat oppressive. Still, the saints there were wonderful and they always wanted and needed spiritual leadership.

On one occasion, Ross told me that we needed to travel to Christmas Island to effect a change in the branch leadership. These trips always taxed me but I agreed to go and we fixed the last week of March 2001 as our travel date. We would leave early on Tuesday and return the following week Tuesday.

One morning early, as we were preparing for a week of intensive missionary zone conferences, Ross said to me: “I have a feeling we should travel to Christmas Island this very week.” I thought briefly that this would mean cancelling already planned zone conferences and otherwise rearranging a very complicated schedule. Besides, I always dreaded this trip and the very thought of moving it up would normally have caused me much stress.

However, to my surprise, I felt strongly to agree with Ross. I recognized it as a witness of the spirit. I immediately said, “I agree.” He was as surprised with my quick response as I was.

We travelled there, accomplished the work required, trained local leaders and did what we could to strengthen that branch. However, as we returned home, I could not think of any particular reason why the work we did there was of such urgency that it could not have waited for another couple of weeks as we had originally planned. There seemed to be no answer to it and Ross and I wondered if we had simply misread the powerful spirit we had both received.

The following week, the last week in March 2001, as we were sitting in a zone conference (one of those we had postponed for the Christmas Island trip), Ross got a page from the mission office. It was one of those rare urgent pages that sometimes meant serious trouble with a missionary. Ross left the conference meeting and returned sometime later. He seemed calm but I could tell he had something important on his mind. We had but barely restarted the conference when he was paged again. He left again and when he returned, he handed me a note which said only: “President Hinckley.” We spent the next several hours in the zone conference and when finally we headed out to the airport, I asked Ross: “okay, what is going on?”

He told me that he had received a call to serve as a general authority in the Seventy and President Hinckley had instructed us to be in Salt Lake City immediately. I then realized that the decision to go to Christmas Island two weeks before was a defining moment. Had we not listened to the spirit and gone on the planned schedule, we would have been away from Hawaii when President Hinckley called. We would have been isolated on Christmas Island and could not have travelled to Salt Lake for Conference. We could not have accepted the call to the Seventy because we could not have been reached and even if we had known of the call, could not have made the trip to Salt Lake to be sustained in Conference. The Lord knew we could not be on Christmas Island at the time scheduled and we did not. That we both were guided remains one of the great blessings in our lives.