Gospel Story Finder

I recently became employed in Bengaluru, India, a city that is far from my hometown of Chennai. I enjoyed my new job; however, going to a new branch was a different feeling. I felt like a stranger, and I missed my home branch. Then I read the article “Making Any Ward ‘Home’” in the January 2008 Liahona. I felt comforted, and I started introducing myself to many members. I received a calling and made new friends. Most importantly, I know better why I come to church. Now I look for new faces and reach out to them. Thank you for the article.
Joseph Isaac, India

Now I would like to tell you about a great family experience we had just earlier this month that I think all of us can learn from.

The first part of August I reached a major milestone in my life. I was passing from middle age to old age with my 80th birthday. To celebrate it, I decided to take my children and grandchildren on a tour of Logan, my hometown, to share with them the impact this city has had on my life.

First we stopped at the Maddox Ranch House restaurant in Perry, Utah, for an early dinner. Perry is a significant city in our family history. After dinner we caravanned over to Logan, where I had designated nine stops that I wanted my family to see. With each stop I selected a scripture to teach a lesson on the importance that particular location had for me in my life.

1. Logan High School Lesson: Live Up to Your Potential
For they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man. [D&C 60:2]
I was very shy in high school and did not take advantage of the opportunities that were there to enlarge and build my talents. I was afraid to try. The lesson I wanted to teach my family is to live up to your potential. Don’t be afraid to try. Have confidence in yourself. You won’t succeed the first time on anything you do, but successive attempts will bring confidence and the development of new talents.

2. The Logan Tabernacle Lesson: The Joy of Gospel Service
That ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God. [Mosiah 2:17]
My father had served in the presidency of the Cache Stake in Logan for some 20 years. It seemed appropriate to stop at the tabernacle, where we held our stake conferences, to teach the lesson that Church service brings great joy and is a sure way of developing your skills in human relationships. You enter Church service with the pure intent to build our Father in Heaven’s kingdom. The Lord more than compensates you for your time and effort with blessings that increase your talents and abilities to be used in further service. It is impossible to stay even with the Lord.

3. My Father’s Law Office Lesson: Select Your Profession Early
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
But thou, O man of God, flee these things; and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness.
Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses. [1 Timothy 6:10–12]
I related to my family how I had prepared myself for the banking profession. Dad was the bank attorney. From my newspaper delivery earnings I saved enough to buy 10 shares of First National Bank stock. Dad insisted that I attend the stockholders’ meetings and vote my 10 shares. He thought that was a way of introducing me to the banking profession. A job offer came after graduation that was much more lucrative than banking. I thought I would accept the position for a few years and then return to banking. I never did become a banker. I tried to teach my grandchildren that the selection of a major in college is not as important as integrity, ethics, developing good study habits, and building character as a person of faith, confidence, and industry.

4. My Birthplace Lesson: The Value of Our Heritage
Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents . . . ; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when ye remember them ye may remember their works; and when ye remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good.[Helaman 5:6]
I was given the name of my father. I honored my father and wanted to retain the same values he had established. Our heritage gives us those enduring values that will be with us now and through all the eternities.

5. The Old Family Home Lesson: The Blessing of Good Parents
I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father. [1 Nephi 1:1]
I tried to teach my family that the credit for the success you achieve in life really belongs to the parents who have given you a wonderful start. My father was a hard worker, good provider, and a sterling example of service, honor, and integrity. He loved his family and made time for us in his busy life.
Mother was always there to teach and encourage us. She was a great homemaker, a careful housekeeper, an excellent manager of household finances, and a wonderful cook. How I honor and love my parents.

6. The Comfort Inn Lesson: Accept the Challenge of Change That Occurs in Your Life
That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day. [D&C 50:24]
We checked in at the motel. After checking in, I told my family, “Tonight you will sleep in the place that used to be our old cow pasture.” This is where the motel had been built. My, how times have changed! I will always be grateful that I grew up in an age when we plowed, planted, tended, irrigated, and harvested. These activities were very important in our lives.

Future generations will have little opportunity to enjoy those same blessings we received. We live in a world of rapid change. Somehow we must find a way to hold onto the basic unchanging values and yet be ready for additional revealed light that will lead us to greater opportunities.

7. Aggie Ice Cream Store Lesson: The Value of Traditions
And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy.[D&C 130:2]
Having an Aggie ice cream cone on every trip to Logan has become one of our many traditions. More important are traditions of Church activity, Church service, family loyalty, and so forth. Special traditions we establish here with members of our family will endure. We should build traditions that will be strong in our remembrance, that will last even into the eternities.

8. Utah State University Lesson: The Value of Taking Time to Have a Happy, Successful Courtship
And again, verily I say unto you, that whoso forbiddeth to marry is not ordained of God, for marriage is ordained of God unto man. [D&C 49:15]
I explained that most of my courtship had occurred on the USU campus. Dances, ball games, meeting in the halls between classes, walking across the quad to the library, studying in the library, attending institute classes, taking special walks around the campus, etc., all gave time to becoming better acquainted and enjoying the richness of the relationship that was being developed. It became the most important thing in my life at that time. When this time comes to you, it affects all that you do. Make it precious and special.

9. The Logan Temple Lesson: The Importance of the Temple
In the celestial glory there are three heavens or degrees;
And in order to obtain the highest, a man must enter into this order of the priesthood [meaning the new and everlasting covenant of marriage];
And if he does not, he cannot obtain it. [D&C 131:1–3]
The center of our lives must be the holy temple. We must always be worthy to enter therein. If we live worthy of the covenants we make with the Lord in His house, we literally bind the Lord to give the blessings He has promised us. The Lord will fulfill His promises if we will be faithful to the covenants we make with Him.

We ended the tour later in the evening at the old Logan Ninth Ward building. We had arranged for a room there in which the family could gather. My secretary had prepared a PowerPoint presentation of my life. There were pictures starting with my grandparents, parents, and on through my early life. Then there were pictures from my marriage and of the blessings of children, followed by a collage of pictures of the events we have enjoyed together as a family.

On Sunday morning we attended church services in the Ninth Ward chapel. This building was constructed under the supervision of my father while he served as bishop. He was the bishop for only 18 years. I had opportunity that morning to bear my witness and testimony of the blessings of the gospel in my life.

We then drove to our home in Salt Lake City. However, before letting them enjoy a delicious birthday dinner prepared by my wife, I quizzed the family on what they had learned. I again bore witness to the divinity of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I am absolutely convinced that the greatest refuge we will find in our life will be those wonderful, close associations we have with our immediate family members.

In the early days of launching a company, my business partner and I would pray earnestly before important meetings, asking for Heavenly Father’s help. Time after time, God answered our prayers, and our meetings went well. After one meeting, my business partner pointed out that we had been quick to ask for help but slow to give thanks. From then on, we made it a habit to offer sincere prayers of gratitude, recognizing the Lord’s hand in our successes. We show our love for God with “an attitude of gratitude.”

Finally, the fourth item—the bank. It is a symbol of our financial well-being. I learned a great lesson early in my business career. My boss called me into his office. I could tell he had something on his mind. He said, “Give me a definition of interest.” Of course, I reached back in my training and gave him a definition I had learned from a textbook. He said, “No, no, no, that’s not the one I want. You listen and remember this one: Thems that understands it, earns it; and thems that don’t, pays it.”

Permit me to share with you a more modern illustration of this principle. Sister Shumway’s parents, Josefina and Rufino Villanueva joined the Church as a young married couple in 1964 while teaching at a university in Manila, Philippines. Shortly after their baptism, they decided to move to the island of Negros in the central Philippines, where Rufino’s parents lived. The Church had no congregations on Negros at the time. The American missionary who taught the Villanueva's wrote in his journal that he had little hope that the Villanueva's would stay active in the Church when there was no organized Church there to be active in.

Josefina and Rufino had a choice. They could have said, “With no ward or branch here, we’ll just go back to our previous church.” Or “Once the Church comes to Negros, we’ll be active again.” Or “no one here even knows we joined the Church, so we can just pretend like we’re not members.” With little knowledge of Church organization and structure, but with firm albeit fledgling testimonies of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith’s First Vision, they courageously shouted “nevertheless” at all those reasons and moved forward with faith.

They wrote to the mission home in Manila for Church manuals and held Church in their home. They kept their tithing in a jar, and whenever a missionary visited them on his way to Manila, they gave him their tithing. They remained true to their covenants, and several years later, when a group was organized on Negros, the Villanueva's became stalwarts of the Church. Thousands of people have been blessed by their service. The impact of that “nevertheless” moment is multigenerational, and their children and grandchildren are the beneficiaries of that legacy of faith and devotion. I owe them more than I could ever say for raising such a glorious daughter.

It was a cold winter day in February when I knocked on Sister Chandler’s door. “Hello,” I called, opening the door a little in case she couldn’t hear me. “Are you sleeping?”
Sister Chandler moved slowly from her kitchen to answer the door. She was small and bent, and walked with a slight limp. Her long cotton dress was stained, as always, from carrying coal to her pot-bellied stove, which demanded constant attention to keep her small home warm. Her white hair, also coal stained, framed a face tired from seventy-nine years of troubles. But it was also a serene face, because as long as she had enough coal to keep her house warm during the winter and a little food she had everything she needed to be happy.
I remembered how I had stared in disbelief when I first learned that she lived on a meager $59 a month. There were only two rooms in the house. The first room contained the temperamental stove, a double bed, a worn-out couch, and a set of broken dresser drawers. The other room, the kitchen, had a small cook-stove, a table and two chairs, and a side shelf for pots and pans and the storage of a little food. When we first met her she had no running water and no bathroom.
During the years my husband had served as her home teacher, we had visited her often. When we visited in the evening the house would invariably be dark. The one bare light globe would turn on when we knocked and turn off immediately when we began to drive away.
Sister Chandler had joined the Church as a new bride—her husband was already a member—and she recalled the days when there was no branch or stake. Their only contact with the Church was an occasional traveling missionary or two. But she had always remained faithful and once told how her testimony had sustained her through the deaths of her two daughters during the influenza epidemic of 1918.
In the few short months I had been Relief Society president I had never heard her complain about her circumstances nor ask for any help from the Church. But we helped her with food when her money ran out, and near the end of the month, a week or so before her Social Security check came, I always tried to visit her to see how she was doing.
Now Sister Chandler’s eyes were sparkling because she had a visitor. “Come in!” she said. “I was just having lunch.” She was shy; she always spoke just above a whisper.
“Please don’t let me stop you. I’ll just talk with you while you eat,” I said.
I took her gently by the elbow and we began to walk slowly toward the kitchen. As we passed the bureau she stopped to get something out of the top drawer. I looked quickly at her lunch. It consisted of a little flour and water that had been made into a kind of white gruel, nothing more.
“Sister Chandler, is that all you have in the house to eat?”
“Yes, that’s all, but it doesn’t matter. My check will be here in a day or two. Please, will you take this to the bishop?” She thrust a wrinkled tithing envelope into my hand. “I didn’t have home teachers this month and I can’t go to church myself anymore. It’s my tithing. Please take it to him.”
I stood staring at the gray envelope. Everything inside of me wanted to cry out, “No, no. The Lord doesn’t expect you to pay tithing!” But one small voice deep inside whispered, “Don’t deny this soul the blessings.”
I struggled not to cry as I quickly said good-bye and ran to the car to arrange for some groceries for her.
Sister Chandler is gone now, but I will always remember the great lesson she taught me about sacrifice and devotion—it was easier for her to go hungry than to neglect her obligations to the Lord.

Like Solomon, many others rallied around Joseph and joyfully accepted the truth. They joined the Church in New York, but left their homes to follow him when the Lord directed him to go to Ohio. (See D&C 37:1.) Among those who were prepared to receive the gospel in Ohio were Newel and Elizabeth Whitney. One evening at about midnight, the Whitneys were praying, asking God how they could obtain the gift of the Holy Ghost. Elizabeth recorded their experience:
“The spirit rested upon us and a cloud overshadowed the house. It was as though we were out of doors. The house passed away from our vision. … A solemn awe pervaded us. We saw the cloud and we felt the spirit of the Lord.
“Then we heard a voice out of the cloud saying:
“‘Prepare to receive the word of the Lord, for it is coming!’
“At this we marveled greatly; but from that moment we knew that the word of the Lord was coming to Kirtland.”11

It was a calm night in the North Atlantic, but Captain David Brown awoke with a start. What a strange dream! His ship’s crew, the mates, and even he himself, all were being baptized into the Mormon faith! What did it mean? And why had the dream occurred right after he had fallen asleep while kneeling in prayer? He arose and got into bed, pondering both this strange experience and the singular spirit of the Mormon company then aboard his ship the International.

This crisis caused the priesthood to gather below deck where they supplicated God to still the waves. Almost immediately Captain Brown came down to announce a sudden improvement in the weather. The hatches were again opened. But that night the International sailed into an even worse tempest. “Again our boxes were knocked about,” wrote one, “and many of our pots and tins were smashed, and many articles lost.” The scene was even more terrifying than on the preceding night. No cooking fires were allowed, and women and children could not leave their berths. For nearly fifteen hours the storm raged. Finally, about mid-afternoon the next day, the weather had eased enough so that the hatches could be reopened. It was on that night, after having seen his ship safely through two days of near disaster, that the exhausted Captain fell asleep while praying and had his remarkable dream.

While the International sped west toward port, the Mormon ranks continued to grow as predicted in Captain Brown’s dream. Just before the April 6 festival, the captain’s cook was baptized. On April 8 President Arthur’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Mary Ann, and a Negro crewman were baptized. The second mate, three sailors, and Christopher Arthur, Jr., were baptized the next day. As the International slipped between Cuba and Florida a week later the first mate joined the Church, as did three sailors and one emigrant the next day. Even 110° heat on April 17 did not squelch the Spirit, for the Saints held “first-rate meetings during the whole day; in the evening the ship’s carpenter, captain’s cook, and two sailors bore testimony to the truth of the work.”

Captain Brown’s spirit was troubled as the conversions continued. Some of his feelings were revealed when he gave landing instructions on April 18 and confessed his attraction to Mormonism: “He had crossed the seas many times,” one diarist reported in quoting him, “but never felt so happy with any people as he had with the Latter-day Saints.” He added that “his pride prevented him from immediately becoming a saint but he felt he soon should join us and come to Great Salt Lake City.” Following his remarks two more passengers were baptized. At testimony meeting the next evening six sailors bore testimony and afterwards one sailor was baptized.

Three days before the voyage ended, and as the blackness of night was just starting to lighten along the eastern horizon at 4:30 A.M., Captain David Brown was baptized by President Arthur. That evening he and two others were confirmed members of the Church. Then, as a fitting climax to the International’s conversion story, the captain and ship’s carpenter were ordained as elders, the first and second mates became priests, and the cook a teacher. As part of this service, at which the captain, the carpenter, and several crewmen bore testimony, a Swede and a Negro crewman were the final baptisms aboard ship.

The report credited the workings of the Spirit coupled with the Saints exemplary conduct for the remarkable number of conversions made on the high seas. He proudly wrote:

“I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons [the steward and his wife, both staunch Catholics, and the third mate, ‘a very wicked fellow’—. We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The carpenter and eight of the seamen are Swedish, German, and Dutch. There are two negroes. … The others baptized were friends of the brethren. The number baptized in all is forty-eight, since we left our native shores.”

Captain David Brown’s prophetic dream of six weeks earlier had been 94 percent accurate.

In an interview with the patriarch, I learned that his wife was seriously ill, and he struggled to provide for her care. After addressing the issue with the stake president, we gave her a priesthood blessing. I inquired of the patriarch how many patriarchal blessings he gives on average.

“Eight to ten,” he said.

I asked, “Per month?”

He replied, “Per week!” I counseled him that doing that many per weekend was not wise.

“Elder Godoy,” he said, “they keep coming every week, including new members and many youths.” Again, no complaints—only a smiling face and a grateful heart.

I can tell you of the time I first attended church in a new ward as an older single adult—that is, without family around me to help buffer me and to help me fit in. I felt so out of place, so alienated, so unnecessary. I almost felt that attending church was too much to ask. As I sat there, I was blessed with this thought and just enough courage to do it: Get up and bear your testimony. I did, beginning this way: “You’ll probably wonder who this man over here is, so let me tell you a little about myself.” That changed everything, because it changed how I placed myself in relation to the rest of the ward, who, after all, came to church that day not to make me feel conspicuous but to worship and go away greatly instructed. Perhaps my testimony touched someone that day, maybe not. I know it affected me.

My late father, Claude Roy, passed away in 2015, not long after being baptized. By then, my mother, siblings, and I had been members of the Church for some time, but for decades my father remained adamantly unwilling to join.
Over time, he said, “my heart hardened, and I became irritated by visits from my children and grandchildren and wanted to isolate myself from my family. Tensions grew in my house, and my relationship with my wife became strained.”
Around this time, he began to retrace his Canadian aboriginal ancestors, who were descendants of the Mi’kmaq and Huron-Wendat nations. After reaching out to the Mi’kmaq community near where he grew up, he was invited to a powwow, a Native American ceremony.
During the evening of the powwow, the high chief opened his arms and asked the children to come to him so he could bless them. The discourse that followed on the importance of family and descendants struck my father like thunder.
In that moment, he said, “I saw my family holding out their arms to me while I turned my back on them. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable sadness as though my heart was breaking in pieces. I knew in that moment that the Lord had used the words of my ancestors’ tribe to soften my heart. I knew I had to turn to my Heavenly Father and repair the damage I had caused my family.”
Dad began to make peace with our family, asking forgiveness from each family member. With the example of his wife and children, he began to pray and read the Book of Mormon. Having read many histories about the American continent, he felt drawn to the Book of Mormon. Its veracity was confirmed to him immediately.
“Surrounded by my family, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said. “That was the most beautiful day of my life! I testify of the power of a loving example. For 36 years, my wife kept her faith and was a Christlike example to me, though my heart had hardened. Then, one weekend changed everything for me.”

“Time for family prayer,” Dad called.
I quickly finished brushing my teeth. As I hurried down the hallway, I almost fell over a ball of orange fur that dashed between my legs.
“Mac!” I yelled, startled. “Why do you always do that?”
But Macaroni, our big tabby cat, ignored my protests and hurried on to my parents’ bedroom.
Mom laughed. “Mac beat you again.”
“Mac the prayer cat,” murmured my little sister as she scratched behind his ears. “He never misses family prayer.”
“Why do you think he likes family prayer so much?” Dad asked.
“Because he knows he’ll get his ears scratched?” I suggested.
“I think he can feel the love in the room,” Mom replied seriously.
My brother giggled. “Sometimes Mac rubs his head on my bare feet when I’m kneeling, and it tickles.”
“Should we keep him out of the room when we pray?” Dad said. “Is he too distracting?”
“No!” we all said together.
“This is family prayer and he’s a part of our family,” I pointed out. “He’s welcome to come, even if he does almost trip me every night.”
We later learned that Mac was a prayer cat in more ways than one. I discovered this one afternoon when I couldn’t find my list of spelling words. I needed it to study for a big test the next day, but it wasn’t in my backpack or with my schoolbooks. I was frantic. I came out from looking under my bed and saw Mac watching me.
“What do you want?” I said irritably. “It’s not time for family prayer. Go away, you silly cat.”
Mac just sat staring at me. As I looked at him, I remembered that I hadn’t prayed.
“Well, maybe you’re right,” I admitted. “This is probably the perfect time for a prayer.”
I knelt by my bed and asked Heavenly Father to help me find my spelling list. When I finished, I felt Mac brushing his head against my arm. I sat down and scratched behind his ears. Then I remembered! On the way home from school I had taken my list out to practice the spelling words with my friend. Quickly I felt in my coat pocket and found the list.
“Thanks, Mac,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me that any time is a good time for prayer.” Then I knelt again and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me.
A few weeks later, Mac suddenly went missing. He didn’t come back the next day, or the next. We were terribly worried, but we knew just what to do. Dad and my brother put up posters and talked to the neighbors. Mom notified the animal shelter. And all of us prayed.
After three days, Mac came home. He was thin and dirty, but safe. We were all grateful.
That night, when family prayer was called, I was happy to stand aside and let Mac precede me down the hall to the bedroom.
“Mac the prayer cat,” my sister said, scratching his head. “At night he reminds us to have family prayer.”
“And during the day he reminds us to pray anytime we need help,” I added.
“Even when he’s gone he reminds us to pray for him to come back,” my brother said.
“And now that he’s back,” Mom said, “he reminds us that prayers are heard and answered.”
“Can you tell how glad we are to have you in our family, Mac?” Dad asked.
In answer, Mac curled up in the middle of our family circle and purred.

One member learned how easily an unchallenged lie can snare us in the web of sin even if we believe we have personally kept ourselves at arm’s length from it. He bought a motorcycle from a man who told him, “Pay me [U.S.] $600, but I’m writing out the bill of sale for [U.S.] $400. That way we won’t have to pay as much in taxes.” The buyer fully intended to report the price of the motorcycle honestly; if the seller chose not to do so, the buyer reasoned, he could do nothing about that.

But as he prepared his own tax return, reporting the price of the motorcycle correctly, he realized the problem might not be as simple as he originally had assumed. What if the names of the buyer and seller were somehow linked on tax records? What if he had to back up the information on his tax return with a bill of sale? There was little likelihood of ever being challenged, he reasoned, but that was not the point. He could not live with the idea of sustaining a lie, even though it was not his own.

The buyer of the motorcycle returned to the seller and asked for a legitimate bill of sale. He went away having learned a valuable lesson: if we tolerate lying to any degree, we are accessories to deception.

I did not serve a regular mission until we were called to preside in New England. When I was of missionary age, when I was your age, young men could not be called to the mission field. It was World War II, and I spent four years in the military. But I did do missionary work; we did share the gospel. It was my privilege to baptize one of the first two Japanese to join the Church after the mission had been closed twenty-two years earlier. Brother Elliot Richards baptized Tatsui Sato. I baptized his wife, Chio. And the work in Japan was reopened. We baptized them in a swimming pool amid the rubble of a university that had been destroyed by bombs.
Shortly thereafter I boarded a train in Osaka for Yokohama and a ship that would take me home. Brother and Sister Sato came to the station to say good-bye. Many tears were shed as we bade one another farewell.

Anthony peered out the window of his pretend time machine. It was actually a cardboard box that he had decorated with markers, foil, and other things. For several days he had had lots of fun playing in it. Now he was imagining a strange-looking object in front of him. It was like a car, but it had wings. It was big enough for him to take a ride in, and that was what he wanted to do. But as he began to climb out of the time machine to do that, a real-life voice spoke to him: “Time to get ready for bed, Anthony.”
“Aw, Mom,” he said, flopping down on the floor in disappointment. “I was just going to take a ride in a flying car.”
“Well, you’ll have to do that tomorrow,” Mom replied. “Right now you need to get ready for Book of Mormon time and bed.”
Anthony reluctantly dragged the box into the corner where they kept the toys, then went off to his room. In a few minutes everyone was sitting in the living room with a Book of Mormon in hand.
Dad said, “Tonight we’ve come to the part where Nephi tells us about the words of a prophet named Isaiah. He’s the same prophet Isaiah who’s in the Bible.” Father showed them where the book of Isaiah was in the Bible, then where Isaiah was quoted in the Book of Mormon. He began to read what Isaiah had said.
Anthony found the right page and tried to follow along, but after a few minutes his eyes started to close. The next thing he knew, his mother was waking him up, telling him that it was time for bed.
The following night Anthony had taken another imaginary ride to the future. When his mother called, he was pretending to talk to some creatures from Pluto who had come to earth to live. Slowly he climbed out of the box, went to his room, got ready for bed, then sat down for scripture time.
But he didn’t understand what Dad was reading, and he kept wriggling and squirming. That made his brother and sister wriggle and squirm, too. When Anthony’s mother reminded them all to sit still and listen, Anthony tried to, but the words all sounded strange. “Isaiah is too hard,” he said when Dad finished for that night.
“Yes, his words are difficult to understand,” Dad agreed. “But if we read slowly and you listen carefully, you might be able to understand.”
“And,” Mom added, “we can ask Heavenly Father to help us understand.” As she offered the prayer that evening, she asked for help in understanding Isaiah.
The next night, Anthony was dragging his box to the corner again when Dad stopped him. “Wait, Anthony. Leave your box there for now. I want to do something different for our scripture reading tonight.”
When everyone was settled, Father began, “Tonight I thought that we should learn more about Isaiah and his teachings. That way we might be able to understand a little better when we read his words.
“Isaiah was a prophet who lived a long time ago, even a long time before Jesus was born. But he prophesied, or told about, things that would happen many years later. When we read his words, it’s like listening to someone who had traveled in a time machine.”
Anthony sat up tall. “Did he travel to the future?”
“No,” Dad answered. “But with Heavenly Father’s help, he saw visions of things that would happen in the future, and he told about those things.”
Dad had the three children climb into Anthony’s time machine. “When we read Isaiah,” Dad said, “it’s like we are traveling in a time machine with him. We can listen to his words and imagine that we are there, seeing the things that he saw.”
Anthony and his brother and sister were excited. They wanted to ride in the time machine with Isaiah.
Father went on. “In the Bible, we learn about things that happened while he was actually alive. One of those stories is about a king named Hezekiah. One time King Hezekiah was very sick and was about to die. He prayed and asked the Lord to let him live longer. The Lord told Isaiah what Hezekiah should do to get better, and He told Isaiah to tell Hezekiah that he could live for 15 more years. As a sign to Hezekiah, the Lord turned the sun back 10 degrees. Another time Isaiah helped King Hezekiah win a battle and save Jerusalem.”
The next night they read about things that Isaiah saw would happen in the future. They climbed in the time machine and pretended that they were with Isaiah when he saw a vision showing Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus. They listened to the prophet’s beautiful words: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.”
The children next listened to Isaiah’s words about the sad time when Jesus died: “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities.”
Then they pretended to travel ahead many more years and listened to Isaiah telling about the coming of the Book of Mormon: “Thy voice shall be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the dust.”
Each night that week at Book of Mormon time, they climbed into the time machine and pretended to travel with Isaiah. One night Anthony asked, “Has everything that Isaiah saw already happened?”
“No,” Dad answered, “not everything. Isaiah saw things that would happen in our very own day, and he saw things that are still in the future, in a time called the Millennium, when Jesus will come and live on earth again.”
“Isaiah was so lucky,” Anthony’s little sister said. “He saw so many things.”
“Yeah,” Anthony agreed as he climbed back into the time machine. “But we’re lucky, too—we can go with him and see them, too, when we read the scriptures.”*

After I returned from my mission, I stayed with my family for three weeks before I had to leave to enter Brigham Young University. Before school started, my father visited me, meeting my friends and seeing Salt Lake City. When I took him to the airport, he embraced me and told me, “Out of all 46 years of my life, never ever have I felt more love or the Spirit of God in my home than when you were home the last few weeks. I know that we owe it to the service that you gave in Spain for two years.”

We all have concerns and needs that we can feel alone in. He cares about our concerns no matter how great or small. I have felt the need for His help when worrying about seemingly small things like the ever-present friend I call “house repairs.” Without a spouse to consult with, I can worry alone about the right contractor, fair costs, taking time away from work to be home, and being a good steward over my finances and home. It was a triumph the other day to get my garage door fixed! The Lord heard my concern. And though small in the grand scheme of things, He answered my prayer. How? Through a kind neighbor, the help of the Spirit, and a video on YouTube, I was blessed to know what to do to fix the door.

I love cooking desserts and savory foods and playing the marimba. I sing and dance, and I am learning to play the flute, xylophone, and piano.
The bishop asked me to help lead the music in sacrament meeting. I didn’t expect it and thought they would choose somebody older. But I also felt loved and happy because I love music.
Sometimes I still get scared that I’ll sing something the wrong way and that people will hear it. But the Holy Ghost helps me to be comfortable in front of everybody. Now that I’m getting used to it, it’s actually pretty fun!
At first it was scary. As we were practicing, sometimes I forgot some of the words. So I practiced singing with my mom at home, and that helped a lot. When we practiced in Primary, I sang louder to help those who can’t read or didn’t know the words.
I felt excited when the day of the presentation came. Everything went beautifully. I felt peaceful and calm, and the words just came to me.
I learned that sometimes things don’t go perfectly, but it’s OK and you can learn from them. Leading the music in Primary also prepared me for my new assignment!
Sometimes it might be hard to serve in front of a lot of people, but the thing about us kids is that we can lead no matter our age or how short or tall we are. I would tell them that even though sometimes our fear might get us down, the Holy Ghost can help us feel peaceful. He will always help us get back up again.

A young man I know well was elected to be the student body president at a large university. The university sent him to a leadership seminar where student leaders from across the United States gathered in Chicago, Illinois, to be trained and educated. They participated in an initial game outdoors on the college campus so that they could become acquainted with each other. The students were presented with current issues facing today’s youth and were asked to take a position. In response to the issue presented, they were directed to run to several trees in the grassy area marked “strongly agree,” “partially agree,” “strongly disagree,” or “mildly disagree.”
Toward the end of this exercise, the leader asked, “Do you believe in premarital sex?” Without hesitation, this young man ran to the tree marked “strongly disagree.” To his amazement, he was the only one there! All the other student leaders were laughing and pointing at him and saying, “Oh, Jess, you are so funny. We all know you’re not really serious.” At that moment Jess said he knew exactly what he must do and so he loudly declared, “I’m not funny. I’m serious!” There was a stunned silence, and then the group dispersed, leaving Jess standing alone by the tree. He felt out of place and, yes, weird. But he wasn’t weird. He was right. And he was not alone. During the week, many of the student leaders came to him privately and said that they wished they had known years earlier what he knew. Jess later said, “It was easy because I knew that I represented not only the university but my family, the Church, and the Savior.”

Brother Peterson was a successful man by most people’s standards. But now our whole quorum’s attention was riveted on him as he told the story of his impoverished childhood, of eight brothers and a sick father, the frustration of having to do without the things other kids had during the time of his father’s illness, and how the subsequent feelings of inferiority had led to rebellion against some gospel principles. He told of the girl who would one day become his wife and how she persuaded him to forsake bad habits and go on a mission. And then a story about his missionary farewell. …
“I didn’t know what to talk about. I worried about it all week long. Finally I went in to see Brother Bloomfield. I said ‘Brother Bloomfield, I’ve got to give a talk in less than two hours and I have no idea what to say!’ Well, he had me write down a few things and then he said, ‘Now, you could conclude by saying that you know Peter, James, and John restored the Melchizedek Priesthood to Joseph Smith.’ I said, ‘Who are Peter, James, and John?’ Through all my life, I hadn’t learned who Peter, James, and John were and I was going on a mission in a week!”
Brother Peterson was finishing the story of an extraordinary mission experience. He and his companion had baptized ten people in one month.
“That experience changed the way I thought the other elders in my mission looked at me. It changed the way I looked at myself. That new confidence carried me through the rest of my mission and for twelve years after I got home. …”
He mentioned some of the challenges facing him now and closed with his testimony. There were extra firm handshakes and pats on the back after the meeting, both with Brother Peterson and between other quorum members.