Gospel Story Finder

I would like to share an experience that illustrates the effort required to endure physically and then compare it to the effort required to endure spiritually. Upon returning from my mission, I had the opportunity to play basketball for a well-respected coach and author at a college in California. This coach was very serious about his players being in shape before the start of the basketball season. One of his training prerequisites before any of us could touch a basketball on the practice court was to run a cross-country course in the hills near the school in a specific and very aggressive time. I remember my very first attempt at running this cross-country course immediately upon my return from the mission field: I thought I was going to die.

It took weeks of serious training in order to finally beat the time that the coach set as a goal. It was a great feeling to not only be able to run the course but also to accelerate down the stretch to the finish line.

To play basketball successfully, you need to get into good shape. Being in good physical condition comes at a price, and that price is dedication, perseverance, and self-discipline. Spiritual endurance also comes at a price. It is the same price: dedication, perseverance, and self-discipline.

I was born and raised in Korea in a loving family, and I joined the Church while in my teens. I would like to share the experience of my conversion with you.
My classmate and I were working together in the school library just after winter vacation when he asked me if I was interested in going to church with him. I asked him what kind of church he was talking about, and he told me it was near our school. He said it was a lot of fun, and there were many girls. I was 16 at the time, and that description of church appealed to me. I decided to go. I had gone to a Presbyterian church for a couple of years in elementary school, and I had good memories of church.
My friend and I went to a Saturday activity, and everyone came to greet me and welcome me. I was impressed that they would be so kind to welcome a small guy they didn’t know. I went to church the next day, and I was introduced to the missionaries.
The missionaries taught me about basic gospel principles, about Jesus Christ, and about the Restoration of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith. All the lessons I was taught were reasonable and logical, and I was impressed by eternal progress and the plan of salvation. I had often thought about why I was here on earth and what things were waiting for me after death. It was comforting to know that if I would do all I could for myself, the Savior would do the rest.
Two months later I wanted to be baptized and confirmed, but I needed permission from my parents. They were Buddhist, but they trusted me. I decided it would be best to ask my mother first, so I asked the missionaries to come to my home during the day. Before I went to school, I told my mother that she might have some foreigners come to ask her something and that she should just say yes. And then I ran out the door to school. When I returned, my mom said she had two handsome American visitors. She said they spoke wonderful Korean, and she was so impressed that she said yes. So I got permission from my parents to join the Church.

Then something happened one cold winter night when my companion, Elder Kruger, and I were looking up referrals in an old, badly run-down neighborhood near the harbor in Amsteram. As was our custom, when the referral turned out to be a dead-end, we decided to do some tracting for a little while so that we could count the time towards our 20-hour-per-week proselyting quota. Since I was the senior companion, what happened next falls squarely upon my shoulders. I approached a door and was ready to ring the bell when the Spirit clearly told me "Do not go to that building; leave the area immediately." I was frustrated by this, because we were already behind in our tracting hours and without knocking on a few doors, our trip to this far-away part of town would not count towards our quota. Again, I doubted my ability to receive personal revelation and I feared man more than God. In this case, I worried that the Zone Leader would be upset that we did not reach our quota. So I ignored inspiration and rang the doorbell. It was my turn to run to the top of the narrow, unlit stairway to give the door approach, while Elder Kruger waited on the stoop below. We were never out of sight of each other, and we were only a short distance away. I had been in many ancient, unlit hallways as a missionary, but this one filled me with a strange unease. At the top of the steep flight of stairs I turned to my left and saw a figure standing in a dimly lit doorway down the hall. I introduced myself and said that we had a message about Jesus Christ. The man spoke just two words to me: "Get out." But they were said with such darkness, evil and malevolence that my blood ran chill. I said "OK." Once again the Holy Spirit spoke to me, with great force and urgency. It said: "Run." This time I listened, and I needed no further encouragement. I literally flew down the stairs, surprising Elder Kruger when I hit the bottom. "Run," I said. And that's exactly what we did. He did not question my command. We ran for nearly a mile in our heavy coats that bitterly cold night. When we finally stopped, wonderful, obedient Elder Kruger asked, "What happened back there?" I related to him my impression and disobedience, and then the Spirit's clear command to "Run!" Elder Kruger said that one second he saw me at the top of the stairs and then next I was at the bottom. And he also saw a man coming right behind me, chasing after me! This I had not seen, since I was too busy flying down the stairs.

The idea of what could have happened to me and my wonderful companion, for whom I was responsible, struck me like a heavy blow. As I have prayed to understand that experience and to learn from it, I have no doubt our lives may have hung in the balance. I resolved then and there to lay aside my fears and my foolishness, to stop trying to "save my own life," from embarrassment and inconvenience, and to no longer fear man more than God. I repented of my faithlessness and I resolved to both seek and follow the inspiration that is to be had through the Holy Ghost, both while I was serving as a missionary and from that point onwards. This does not mean I was suddenly perfect. I was still a young man beset by many of the challenges and imperfections that all young men are subject too. But my resolve to forget myself, to truly lose myself, to not fear men more than God, and to follow the Spirit as I served the Lord and my fellow man was resolute.

I remember when I was preparing to be trained as a fighter pilot. We spent a great deal of our preliminary military training in physical exercise. I’m still not exactly sure why endless running was considered such an essential preparatory part of becoming a pilot. Nevertheless, we ran and we ran and we ran some more.
As I was running I began to notice something that, frankly, troubled me. Time and again I was being passed by men who smoked, drank, and did all manner of things that were contrary to the gospel and, in particular, to the Word of Wisdom.
I remember thinking, “Wait a minute! Aren’t I supposed to be able to run and not be weary?” But I was weary, and I was overtaken by people who were definitely not following the Word of Wisdom. I confess, it troubled me at the time. I asked myself, was the promise true or was it not?
The answer didn’t come immediately. But eventually I learned that God’s promises are not always fulfilled as quickly as or in the way we might hope; they come according to His timing and in His ways. Years later I could see clear evidence of the temporal blessings that come to those who obey the Word of Wisdom—in addition to the spiritual blessings that come immediately from obedience to any of God’s laws. Looking back, I know for sure that the promises of the Lord, if perhaps not always swift, are always certain.

It so happened a few weeks later that one of the bishops in southern California called me and said, “I understand you’re a student down at Chapman.”

“Yes, sir.”

He said, “Do you suppose you could get one of those other ministers to come and talk about other religions in our special interests group?” I had one in mind—to pay him back.

I invited my friend to come and speak in my ward. We appointed a time. He had to cancel some other very important appointments. In other churches, as you know, the clergy is paid. We don’t think of that, ofttimes. He canceled a presentation he was going to give that week for about one hundred dollars in order to come and speak for punch and cookies at a Mormon function.

We arranged for it, and I picked him up on the appointed night. We drove over to the building where the class was to be held. I got there about fifteen minutes beforehand. Lo and behold, the church was dark. Sound familiar? I wondered if I had the right building. I said, “Wait a minute,” and explained that one of the great Mormon principles of lay leadership is that we move by the Spirit. About twenty-five minutes after the hour, the spirits started to move. Out of the shrubs and the bushes came Latter-day Saints everywhere. The lights went on, and people were starting to flock. I went in with my guest, our guest, and stood in the foyer. Latter-day Saint after Latter-day Saint, not meaning to, passed us. Not one came over to see who we were. I tried to give Mr. Davis another little sermon on Latter-day Saint philosophy. Finally it was time to start, and we were about fifteen minutes late. We moved into the Relief Society room. Somebody picked up a songbook and said, “What song should we sing?” In a very informal way the meeting got underway. Then my friend gave one of the finest lectures on the New Testament I’ve ever heard. He was very sensitive to a Mormon audience and tried not to say anything that would offend. Then we opened it up for questions, and I don’t dare repeat the rest. I’m sure what happened kept my friend from being associated with this Church sooner than he could have. I don’t know. I haven’t analyzed it with him. But I often have wondered—if I were a Presbyterian or a Catholic or a Baptist or an atheist, having experienced those two things—which church would I join? You see, our conduct, our image, our example, brothers and sisters, are great, great missionary tools.

In the middle of the Pacific Ocean lie 118 islands created from underground volcanoes or coral atolls. Filled with palm trees, black pearls, and Tiaré flowers, these islands are home to about 275,000 Tahitians (as inhabitants of French Polynesia are commonly called).
Gerry Huuti, a 29-year-old convert, is one of those people. He relishes the national sport, va’a, or outrigger canoeing, which has been an important part of his life since age 16. Five years after he began racing, he met Laydreane—a champion paddler and a member of the Church. Thanks to her example, Gerry was baptized and served a mission in New Caledonia while Laydreane served in Tahiti. They married six weeks after Gerry returned home.
Now, several years and one son later, Gerry still participates in va’a tournaments—but he supports his family by creating paddles for va’a outriggers. “My business is right next to my house,” he explains. “I go out and look for wood to cut up and glue together to create paddles.” It sounds simple, but each of these beautiful wooden paddles takes five full days to make. And with about 20,000 paddlers on the Huutis’ island of Tahiti, paddles are always in demand.
Though Gerry and Laydreane are both busy with Church callings, they still make time to go to the temple. “Because of our temple attendance, we have a better relationship,” says Gerry. “We are also blessed on the work side of things. Selling paddles by yourself might work well enough, but if you do it with the Lord, it’s better.” That divine aid is vital to the Huutis. Gerry and his wife also have a strong testimony of tithing. “We never worry that Heavenly Father is going to bless us,” Gerry says. “If you pay your tithing, you’ll end up with more than what you have.”
For the Huutis, va’a is more than just a sport. The principles of dedication and commitment necessary to be good paddlers have helped both Gerry and Laydreane be more dedicated to the gospel. “In va’a, the physical counts for a lot,” Gerry says, “but it’s not the most important thing. What’s more important is the mental—being determined to finish your race. When you have to paddle for four-and-a-half hours, your body can tell you that you can’t make it, but your mind tells you that you can. In the gospel, determination is very important. Sometimes you get discouraged, but faith can help you succeed by following God’s plan for your life. We can always learn something from va’a that applies to the gospel.”

The generous action of a choir member’s spouse brought lasting results. Four choir members and two spouses had taken a taxi to the Hadassah-Hebrew University Medical Centre in Kadesh to see the famous Chagall windows portraying the Twelve Tribes of Israel. “All of Jerusalem is talking about your choir,” said Yocheved, the receptionist. But when asked if she would be attending the final concert that night, she stammered that “complications” would not allow it.
After the six left, they realized that the “complications” meant that she did not have the money for a ticket. Quickly, they returned, and one of the spouses gave her his concert ticket. Her joyful response was spontaneous, and during the concert that evening, she was moved to tears. She embraced each of her new friends after the concert and said, “I didn’t have any way to repay you for your kindness. I did not even know your names, so today I planted a tree at the Hadassah Hospital in the name of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. It will continue to live and grow, and the next time you come to Jerusalem, you can see your tree. Your being here has brought us joy and peace.”

The bed felt soft and warm. Melissa hoped her sister Shelly wasn’t asleep yet in her bed. As Melissa watched the shadows made by the moonlight streaming through the window and across the dressers and beds, they made curious gray shapes on the wall.
“I wonder what the sharpest thing in the world is,” Melissa said.
“Who cares about that?” responded Shelly, who thought Melissa was a nuisance when she asked so many questions.
“Well, it couldn’t be shadows,” Melissa said. “Even though they have corners, they’re very soft.”
“Oh, are they really?” Shelly declared sarcastically.
Melissa lay quietly for a moment, but she kept thinking. Soon she said, “If I wanted to find out what the sharpest thing in the world is, I’d start by letting every single horse bite me.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Shelly.
“Then I’d let every dog bite me.”
“What a dumb idea,” said Shelly. “You couldn’t do that.”
“Pins are very sharp,” Melissa continued, undeterred. “They can go through most anything. Or Mama’s best scissors might be the sharpest thing in the world. Remember how easily they cut my hair?”
“Go to sleep!” Shelly said crossly.
“Our sharpest knife cuts through a loaf of homemade bread in a second. But Daddy’s nails go through wood. Oh!” Melissa cried excitedly, “I think I know what the sharpest thing in the world is. Great-great grandpa Johnson’s sword! If you got poked with that it would really hurt.”
“Will you please be quiet, Melissa, so I can go to sleep!”
“If I could try all the horses and dogs and pins and scissors and knives and nails and swords, then I’d know what the sharpest thing in the world is.”
Shelly suddenly sat up in bed. “Melissa,” she shouted, “if you don’t be quiet, I’m going to tell Dad. I wish I had a bedroom of my own. I wish I didn’t have to share a bedroom with a sister who talks all night!” Then she lay down again, turned her back to Melissa, and pulled the covers over her shoulder.
Melissa was quiet for a long time. Finally, out of the darkness came a wistful voice. “I know what the sharpest thing in the world is.”
“Please, be quiet,” said Shelly.
“It’s words,” Melissa said quietly. “They hurt the most.”
Shelly turned over and looked at Melissa with a mixture of surprise and affection. “Oh, Melissa,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those things I said. I like sharing my bedroom with you. And I like having you for a sister.”
The girls were both silent for a few minutes thinking. Suddenly Melissa whispered, “Shelly.”
“What now?” Shelly asked laughingly.
“I know what the softest thing in the world is,” Melissa declared thoughtfully. “Softer than shadows and darkness and pillows and kittens and blankets and moonlight.”
“Tell me,” said Shelly good-naturedly. “What’s the softest thing in the world?”
“It’s words,” said Melissa.
Through the darkness she could almost see her sister smiling. And then she felt soft arms around her and Shelly whispered, “Oh, Melissa, I love you.”

While at his grandmother’s home, Domingos had developed a desire to serve a full-time mission. “I prayed, and the answer was very certain that I should go when I turned 19. From then on, my mind was made up—I just needed to prepare.”
He found that if he completed his first year of study, the University of the Northern Territory would agree to give him two years off to serve. But he would have to carry an even harder class load for a few months before he left. “My coordinator actually encouraged me and said the mission would be a good experience,” Domingos says. Domingos continued something he had done since high school—telling fellow students about the steps of repentance and the plan of salvation.
He intensified his scripture study, memorizing many passages. “The scriptures brought me peace,” he says. “They reminded me of the things I should be doing.”
He joined the full-time missionaries when they gave discussions. He often bore his testimony. He kept a journal, writing in it every day. His Church leaders interviewed him, found him worthy, and sent in his missionary application.
Then one day, this time when he returned from church, his father ordered him out of the house for the fourth time. “It was pretty final,” Domingos says. “He was not pleased with my plans for a mission. He said if I went, I wouldn’t be his son anymore.”
Domingos’s branch president, Michael Kuhn, invited him to live in his home until the mission call arrived.
Finished with his schoolwork, Domingos filled his days with prayer, uplifting music, Church activities, missionary work, and scripture study. Sometimes he would read the scriptures all day long.
And then the letter came: “You are called to labor in the Hong Kong Mission.” Domingos returned home for a short time to try to make peace with his family before he left. “Mainly because they knew they could not change my mind, they yielded,” he says. Before he left, the family went out to dinner together and took lots of farewell photos.
Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly, and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was thinking only about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he is eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

Tom and Joan (names have been changed) had both lost their spouses. Tom’s wife had passed away from cancer, and Joan’s husband, because of addiction, had left for other relationships. Tom and Joan met at a singles conference and were looking forward to marriage.
Each of them had children, age 15 and under. Their families had been on several outings together, and both Tom and Joan could see potential problems in blending the families. They came to counseling for some ideas on how to communicate in healthy ways to navigate this new chapter of their lives.
I suggested they review the message on family councils by President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “Children desperately need parents willing to listen to them,” he taught, “and the family council can provide a time during which family members can learn to understand and love one another.”1
For their family councils, they decided on the following agenda:
Define the problem.
Brainstorm solutions.
Choose a plan.
Put it into action.
Evaluate the success of the plan the next week and renegotiate the plan if necessary.
In addition to counseling together as a family, Tom and Joan learned that when relationship stress is high, there can be a need to learn how to improve one-on-one communication as well.
Tom and Joan learned several techniques that helped them improve their communication and their relationships with their children.
The parents stood together in finding solutions to problems with the children.
If a child had difficulty completing their daily tasks, one of the parents would spend time with them, discussing the day while they worked to complete the tasks.
They spent time each week deepening their relationship with every child.
They established ahead of time that they would take time-outs when the “emotional” brain (yelling) took over from the “rational,” solution-focused brain (discussion).
Whenever there was a power struggle between parent and child, the parent, when impressed to do so, withdrew and came back later to brainstorm a new solution.
As the family did their best to approach challenging relationship issues in faithful, healthy ways—communicating about their challenges and working through them together—Tom and Joan recognized important growth in their children as well as themselves.

All of the Authorities who are here tonight could testify that in the reorganization of stakes they have had remarkable and inspiring experiences. I recall being assigned to reorganize a stake about 40 years ago. The president had suddenly died. The Brethren asked me to go down and speak at the funeral and reorganize the stake. I had never done this before. I was new as a General Authority. I was to be all alone.
When I arrived, I was taken to another town, where I participated in the funeral service. I asked all of the stake officers and the bishops to remain after the service and announced that a reorganization of the stake would take place the next evening.
I asked the mission president to sit with me as I interviewed the brethren, none of whom I knew. We interviewed late into the evening. I soon discovered there were problems in the stake. There were divisive feelings. When we were all through, I said to the mission president, “I am not satisfied. Are there not others?” He said, “I know of only one man whom we have not interviewed. He moved here rather recently on a transfer in his company. He is the second counselor in a bishopric. I do not know him well. He resides in another city.”
I said, “Let’s go see him.” We drove and went to the hotel where I would be staying for the night. Here I was, having interviewed all of these brethren and having not found one that I considered worthy to preside and having scheduled the reorganization for the next evening.
We arrived late at the hotel. I called the man; a sleepy voice answered the phone. I said that I wished to see him that evening. I apologized for calling him so late. He said, “I’ve just gone to bed, but I’ll put on my clothes and come.”
He came to the hotel. The conversation that followed was most interesting. He was a graduate of BYU in petroleum geology. He worked for a big oil company. He had served elsewhere in positions of responsibility in the Church. He knew the program of the Church. He had served a mission. He knew the gospel. He was mature in the Church. And the territory for which he was responsible as an employee of the oil company was exactly the same as the territory of the stake. I told him we would telephone him in the morning and excused him.
The mission president went on his way, and I went to bed.
At about three o’clock the next morning I awoke. Doubts began to flood my mind. This man was almost a total stranger to the people of the stake. I got out of bed and got on my knees and pleaded with the Lord for direction. I did not hear a voice, but I had a very distinct impression that said, “I told you who should be stake president. Why do you continue to ask?”
Ashamed of myself for troubling the Lord again, I went to bed and fell asleep. I phoned the man early the next morning and issued to him a call to serve as president of the stake. I asked him to select counselors.
That evening when people gathered for the meeting, there was much speculation as to who would be the stake president, but no one even thought of this man. When I announced his name, people looked at one another for a clue to discovering who he was. I had him come to the stand. I announced his counselors and had them come to the stand.
Even though they did not know him, the people sustained him. Things began to happen in that stake. The people had known for a long time that they needed a stake center, but they had been uncertain and argumentative as to where it should go. He went to work and within 18 months had a beautiful new stake center ready for dedication. He unified the stake. He traveled up and down, meeting the people and extending his love to them. That stake, which had grown tired, came to life and literally bubbled with new enthusiasm. It stands as a shining star in the large constellation of stakes in this Church.

Soon afterward I was called to be Laurel class president. I felt very inadequate; there were several Laurels in the ward who were far more qualified. When my new calling was announced, one of the girls in the ward expressed her dissatisfaction. “How could they call you?” she said. “You hardly attend church. What do you know?”
She was right; I didn’t know anything. I felt sure my calling would drive many of the Laurels to inactivity—including me. The whole situation seemed too much to bear. If anyone was at the end of her rope, I was.
When I met with my class adviser, Marlene Evans, I told her that someone had made a huge error. However, she assured me that I had been called for a reason. She began to work tirelessly with me, and I went to her home on a regular basis to learn my responsibilities. With her encouragement, I could eventually conduct a meeting without my knees knocking together.
Once Sister Evans gave me a card that read, “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” She indicated that the rope represented life, and that by not taking righteous actions, we let life slip through our fingers. The knot represented the decision to hang on to the gospel and the security it brings.
I remembered that lesson throughout the coming months. I was attending high school full-time in addition to taking correspondence courses. I was working evenings and Saturdays. I paid for my own tuition, fees, books, clothes, and room and board. There were many times I felt I was at the end of my rope. Was I a super kid, doing it all and by myself? No, but I tied a knot and held on.
Today, I am a university graduate, working as a social worker. I married in the temple and have four children. They have been to the temple and have served missions. And I have served in leadership positions in the Young Women organization. Each time I do, I take every opportunity I can to share Sister Evans’s message with the youth. Her caring and her message changed my life.
I wouldn’t have the abundant blessings I enjoy today if I hadn’t learned to tie a knot and hang on.

President Harold B. Lee relates this incident from Church history:

The story is told in the early days of the Church—particularly, I think, at Kirtland—where some of the leading brethren in the presiding councils of the Church met secretly and tried to scheme as to how they could get rid of the Prophet Joseph’s leadership. They made the mistake of inviting Brigham Young to one of these secret meetings. He rebuked them, after he had heard the purpose of their meeting. This is part of what he said: “You cannot destroy the appointment of a prophet of God, but you can cut the thread that binds you to the prophet of God and sink yourselves to hell.” [In Conference Report, April 1963, p. 81]

In closing, may I share a recent experience. A short time ago I got a call from Elder Holland indicating that he had just received an assignment to accompany a friend of the First Presidency on a visit to BYU. The individual in question is a well-known leader in Asia and heads one of the largest Muslim groups in the world—a group totaling 40 million members. The leader had learned about BYU’s first translation of an Islamic work: The Incoherence of the Philosophers by Al-Ghazali. During the visit he indicated that the book had a profound influence on him as a young man. He was pleased with the translation, but even more important he appreciated the efforts of Professor Daniel Peterson and the scholars working with him to produce a series of Islamic classics in a Western language. He clearly understood the potential cultural bridge that is being built between two worlds—Islam and the West.

Accompanying the leader was a visiting professor at Harvard and a prominent Asian businessman. Following a luncheon and a campus tour, both expressed surprise at the beauty, size, and cleanliness of the campus. They were not aware that BYU is the largest private university in the United States, that students come from each state in the Union and from more than 100 foreign countries. They were amazed to learn that more than 60 languages are taught on campus and more than 80 are spoken. Discussions were held regarding the possibility of further visits, student exchanges, and the recruiting of BYU students for employment.

As the visitors left, I thought how important BYU is as a window on the Church. The glass is not dark but clear and allows viewers to see the values and truths of the restored gospel. Through this window nonmembers feel the importance of education to Church members. They see the youth of the Church, note their strength, and observe the peace within them. The veil that separates is thin when they meet with faculty, discern their cultural sensitivities, and sense the quality of their work and thought.

“Father came home every night shortly after six o’clock, and dinner was always at six-thirty. I remember wonderful evenings at the dinner table. The moment dinner was over, Dad would help clear the table; then we would go into the living room. He would be at one end of the room, totally absorbed in the work he’d brought home. Even so, he always knew what we were doing. If we listened to some good program on the radio, we would keep it down low so that it wouldn’t disturb him. Then, in the middle of the program, he’d look up and smile and say, ‘Turn it up a little. I can’t hear what’s happening.’”

As you exercise your agency, remember, you are not alone. In addition to a kind and wise Heavenly Father, there are others who are praying for you to make wise choices. As a youth, when I would go out on a date or with my friends, I would always check in with my parents when I came home. Usually I would just knock on their door, open it and say, “I’m home,” and then go to bed. One night I came home from a date, knocked as usual, and then opened the door. As I did so, the light from the hall fell on my angel mother on her knees in prayer. And as I saw her there, I knew whom she was praying for. I have never forgotten that experience. And the knowledge that my mother still prays for me today bears me up and reminds me who I am and that I am not alone.

When Elder Juan Alberto Uceda Andrade began courting Maria Isabel Bendezú—the woman he would eventually marry—he knew she was someone special. Both had converted to the Church as youth, and both had served missions in their native country, Peru.
Sister Uceda’s conviction to marry in the temple had a great influence upon him. The nearest temple was in São Paulo, Brazil. “It took seven days just to get there, using every means of transportation available,” Elder Uceda explains. “We traveled by bus, car, boat, horse and carriage, train, truck, and even plane. When we reached the temple, we reached out our hands to touch the walls just to make sure it was not a dream. It was a foundational experience for both of us.”
The couple were married in the São Paulo Brazil Temple on April 13, 1979. They are the parents of five children.

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.
She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.
Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

When I was 10 or 11, I started learning how to play hymns on the piano. I enjoyed playing the piano, and I really wanted to learn to play the organ too. Playing the organ would be so much fun!
My mother, who teaches me, told me that I could start learning to play the organ when I learned to play 100 hymns on the piano. That seemed like a big task, but I was driven to succeed. At first, I learned a hymn once every few weeks, but eventually I got to the point where I would learn two each week. The number of hymns kept growing.
The summer that I learned my 100th hymn, my mother organized a small group of students and taught us all to play the organ. Learning the organ took a lot of practice.
At the end of the summer, the first counselor in the bishopric pulled me aside during a bishopric youth discussion. “Our ward needs a new organist,” he said. “The bishopric has discussed this, and we would like to call you as ward organist.” I felt the blood draining from my face, but I nodded.
My first time playing the organ during sacrament meeting was terrifying. I arrived early to play the prelude music. I played the opening hymn, which went rather well; there were only a few jarring notes. As I played, I had to be careful to watch the chorister, press the keys with my hands, and use my feet on the bass pedals. Between the opening hymn and the sacrament hymn, I was very nervous. But when I played the soft and sweet notes of “How Great the Wisdom and the Love” (Hymns, no. 195), I felt the Spirit fill me with joy and peace.

Then one day in the spring, we found Bimbo stretched out in the backyard as though he were dead. Does he have scarlet fever? I wondered. On the way to see the veterinarian, I remember praying as hard as I could that Bimbo wouldn’t die. The veterinarian told us our dog had been poisoned and would have to stay in the hospital for several days. Later when we took Bimbo home, we gave him love and attention and continued to pray for him. Our prayers were answered and he did recover.