Gospel Story Finder

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley
At the outset, I should like to say that I am convinced that we have never had a more dedicated or more capable generation of young men in the history of the Church. Some of you older brethren may dispute that, which brings to mind the story of the boy who came down to breakfast one morning and said, “Dad, I dreamed about you last night.”
“About me? What did you dream?”
“I dreamed I was climbing a ladder to heaven and on the way up I had to write one of my sins on each step of the ladder.”
“And where did I come into your dream?” the father asked.
Said the boy, “When I was going up, I met you coming down for more chalk.”

Sister Louella Norberg was visited by Kathy Peterson, Joele Chafant, Deanna Peterson, and Kiku Okauchi. Kathy said of the visit, “Joele, Deanna, Kiku, and I met outside her apartment and were standing there wondering how we should approach her when she stuck her head out and called, ‘Yoo-hoo, girls! Here I am!’ and invited us in to see her. It was fascinating. She told us things that happened over the years, and I really enjoyed it. I know she liked it a lot too because she kissed us all before we left.”

Revelation to the Lord’s servants has been known throughout the dispensations. In many ways they have been inspired in the selection of officers in the Church, in prophecy, in the solution of problems. When it was necessary for President Joseph F. Smith to select counselors in the First Presidency, it was not difficult for him to select Anthon H. Lund as one counselor, but he was not able to determine who the other counselor should be, so he prayed for guidance. On the morning he was to meet with the Quorum of the Twelve to announce his selection, he received an audible revelation. He heard plainly the words “Choose John R. Winder as your first counselor.” The voice was heard again stating the same command. Brother Winder, though a member of the Presiding Bishopric, had never been considered by President Smith until he heard the voice that morning.

The youth of the Salem Oregon East Stake really cleaned up at a local 4-H outdoor camp. Heavy winter storms had toppled some trees and torn hundreds of smaller branches from others. The stake youth council decided that cleaning the camp would be a good service project.
The date was set, and come rain or shine, the stake youth were invited to help. One hundred and fourteen showed up to clean the cabins and lodge—inside and out. Trails were cleared, downed trees were cut up for firewood, fences were repaired, and windows were cleaned.
After a hard day’s work, the young people relaxed over dinner and games. The 4-H people were grateful for the help, and the youth felt they had made some new friends.

When we moved to the United States, great trials began for me. We attended a small branch and I had great leaders who wanted to help me, but my school friends tried to pull me off the gospel path. Unfortunately, I began to speak to my mother in an unkind way and rarely listened to her counsel.
I would go to church every Sunday, but I really didn’t have the desire to go, and I didn’t know if I wanted to go on a mission anymore.
One morning I opened the Book of Mormon, and it opened exactly to the page of my favorite scripture, 3 Nephi 12:14–16:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, I give unto you to be the light of this people. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.
“Behold, do men light a candle and put it under a bushel? Nay, but on a candlestick, and it giveth light to all that are in the house;
“Therefore let your light so shine before this people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”
It gave me great joy to read this because it helped me remember what I learned in seminary and how marvelous the plan of our Father is. So I decided to try to be a light to the world.
I invited two cousins to come to church. One was less active, and he became active. The other was not a member, and I was able to baptize him.

I remember when I was quite a lad (and that’s remembering a long way back) what my mother said to me when I went to go on my mission in 1904 (and that’s before some of you were born). She said, “My boy, you are going a long ways away from me now. Do you remember that when you were a little lad you used to have bad dreams and get frightened? Your bedroom was just off mine, and frequently you would cry out in the night and say, ‘Mother, are you there?’ And I would answer, ‘Yes, my boy, I’m here—everything is all right. Turn over and go to sleep.’ You always did. Knowing that I was there gave you courage.

“Now,” she said, “you will be about 6,000 miles away, and though you may cry out for me, I cannot answer you.” She added this: “There is one who can, and if you call to Him, He will hear you when you call. He will respond to your appeal. You just say, ‘Father, are you there?’ And there will come into your heart the comfort and solace such as you knew as a boy when I answered you.”

I want to say to you young people that many times since then, in many and varying conditions, I have cried out, “Father, are you there?” I made that plea in the mission field when we were mobbed almost every night, driven from place to place. We were beaten and expelled from cities; our lives were threatened. Every time before I went out to those meetings, I would say, “Father, are you there?” And though I didn’t hear a voice and though I didn’t see His person, I want to tell you young people that He replied to me with the comfort and assurance and testimony of His presence. It made me unafraid, and with that presence, I am grateful to say, we did not suffer much.

Dad was sitting on the front lawn, cleaning his bicycle. “Can I help you, Dad?” Michael asked.
“No thank you, Son—it’s too messy. Go ask your mother if you can help her.”
Mom was in back of the garage, painting a bookshelf.
“Can I help you, Mom?”
“No thank you, honey—this paint is sticky,” Mom said. “Go ask Mary if you can help her.”
His sister was in the kitchen, baking cookies.
“Can I help you, Mary?”
“No thank you, Michael—this oven is hot.”
Michael walked sadly out of the kitchen. “There’s no one I can help,” he said.
Just then the baby cried.
“The baby’s crying, and I can’t leave this to get her,” Dad called to Mom.
“I’m too messy to get the baby,” Mom called to Mary.
“I have to take the cookies out of the oven right now, or they’ll burn. I can’t get the baby either,” Mary called back to Mom and Dad.
Dad cleaned the bicycle grease off his hands and went to get the baby. Mom cleaned the paint off her hands and went to get the baby. Mary took the cookies out of the oven and went to get the baby. When they opened the door to the baby’s room, they saw her laughing and playing in her crib.
“I helped her,” Michael said proudly. “I sang a little song and shared my toys with her.”
The baby laughed, waving a toy car up and down.

As we think about eternal values and wise choices, let me share an experience of some who exemplified a righteous standard.

Our son-in-law, who is a bishop in a student ward and also a teacher of English on this campus, was assigned a six-week seminar last summer. After talking it over, he and our daughter, Susan, decided she would stay at home with their five children and see that they all had their summer lessons and also care for their yard in his absence.

One hot summer afternoon she brought the children to Salt Lake City to see us. While visiting with us she mentioned that everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Then, having shared her problems and having touched base with home, she felt she could go on. About an hour after she left, the phone rang. Susan was calling from her home in Provo. We could barely hear her teary, squeaky voice on the other end, and we thought perhaps there had been an accident. But she simply wanted us to know that the students in their ward, in spite of their busy schedules, had come over while she was in Salt Lake City and weeded their entire yard.

Commitment to righteousness is not just saying—it is doing!

The night before the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, their friends in the Carthage Jail with them heard Hyrum read from the Book of Mormon and Joseph bear testimony of its divinity to the prison guards.
There was only one bed in the room, and the prisoners took turns resting on it or stretching out on dirty mattresses on the floor. After the others were all asleep, there came the sound of a gun discharging in the courtyard below. The Prophet, who lay beside Dan Jones on the floor, turned to him and asked, “Are you afraid to die?”
“Has that time come, think you?” asked Dan. He paused only a moment and then said, “Engaged in such a cause, I do not think death would have many terrors.”
“Before you die, you will yet see Wales and fill the mission appointed you,” the Prophet promised.
And that is exactly what Dan Jones did!
The next morning he was sent to take a note from Joseph Smith to the governor. Upon his return, Dan was not permitted to enter the jail. He tried to force his way inside to be with the Prophet but was prevented from doing so and thus escaped probable death. The next year he left for a mission in the British Isles and was assigned to Wales. He met with such success there, converting thousands, that he is often called the “Father of the Welsh Mission.” A company of 250 Welsh Saints immigrated to Utah in 1849 under his direction.

The responsibility of communication is not alone on the shoulders of parents. The youth also have a responsibility to contribute love and strength to the family organization.
I recall a stage play that recently was made into a movie. It dealt with parents whose only child, a son, returned from military service. The father and son had never been close. It was a situation in which both father and son loved each other but were unable to find ways to express themselves, and therefore hostilities arose because each thought the other did not like him. It was a breakdown of communication.
But now the son was home from the army, and things were different. The father and son began to establish a whole new relationship. The high point of the play came when the boy said to his father something like this:
“Dad, I always resented you when I was younger because you never told me that you loved me, but then I realized that I had never told you that I loved you either. Well, Dad, I’m telling you now: I love you.”
For one electrifying moment the father and son embraced each other as the pent-up love and appreciation of years came flooding out. This probably would never have happened had the son not realized that he was as guilty of lack of expression as his parents.
Loren C. DunnConference ReportApril 1969, p. 22.

Many years ago, when I was still in college, I started hanging out with the wrong friends and mimicking some of their behaviors, which could have taken me out of the safety zone of my baptismal covenants. One day, as I was saying goodbye to my friends, there came to my mind words that were spoken to me, and although they weren't audible they were as clear as if they had been. The tone was stern, kind, without condemnation and had a protective intent to it. It was the Spirit of the Lord, which said, addressing me: "This is not your place," meaning the path my friends had invited me to take. That was all. I followed that counsel and saved myself a lot of trouble.

For three and one-half years after the First Vision, Joseph Smith continued the routine of life as a New York farm worker. At times, he later explained, he associated with jovial company and allowed his youthful exuberance to express itself with levity. Though not guilty of any act except the mischievousness which his native cheery temperament led him into, he began to feel that he had not acted consistent with the solemn counsel received in the vision.

With that concern uppermost in his mind, Joseph Smith, now seventeen, retired to his room, on September 21, 1823, and began to pray. Suddenly the room filled with light and he was visited by a heavenly messenger. The messenger who proclaimed himself to be an angel of God introduced himself as Moroni, the last record keeper of the Nephites, a people who had lived on the American continent fourteen hundred years earlier. Moroni’s message stirred Joseph to a realization of his mission, for he was told that in a nearby hill were buried sacred plates containing a record of the ancient inhabitants of the Americas and of the Savior’s teachings among them. Moroni repeated the message in two additional visits that night and again the following morning. Joseph was instructed to visit the Hill Cumorah each year to receive instructions to prepare him for his mission. Finally, on September 22, 1827, he was entrusted with the plates.

“And so,” Sister Adams said, “as Jesus tells us in Matthew 7:7 [Matt. 7:7], ‘Ask, and it shall be given you.’ When we ask in faith, and do our part, Heavenly Father will always answer us. He wants us to be happy.”
So, Brandon thought, if Heavenly Father wants me to be happy, then He must want me to get away from what makes me unhappy. Yeah! And what makes me unhappy is Bobby!
Brandon rolled his eyes, remembering Bobby’s “Please, let me come with you, Brandon.” … “I didn’t mean to break it, Brandon.” … “Can I ride your bike?” … “Can I sit by you?”
That night Brandon prayed eagerly, “Heavenly Father, please make Bobby leave me alone. He’s always pestering me and making me really unhappy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Brandon hopped into bed with a smile on his face.
On Monday, Bobby insisted on walking to school with Brandon. He kept interrupting Brandon and Peter while they were talking about important stuff. He squeezed in beside Brandon at lunch and dripped milk on Brandon’s new pants. After school, he cried so hard that Mom made Brandon take him along to nail down the floor of the tree fort. On the way there, he spilled all the nails.
This isn’t working! Brandon’s thoughts raged. He grabbed Bobby’s hand and stomped back home.
Brandon flopped into bed after a complaining prayer that night. Then he thought, What did Sister Adams say exactly? Oh, yes—we have to do ourpart too. Of course! That’s what’s wrong. I’ve been expecting Heavenly Father to do it all for me.
“Run, Peter,” whispered Brandon the next morning. “Go to school by yourself, Bobby,” he yelled over his shoulder as the two older boys raced away.
At lunchtime, when Bobby approached their table, the two friends locked elbows and spread out their legs. “He’s turning around, Brandon,” Peter said, holding up his hand for a high-five. Brandon looked. All he could see of Bobby was hunched shoulders as he trudged away.
“No, you can’t carry the hammer, and no, you can’t come!” Brandon hissed at Bobby after school. “You’re nothing but a pest, and nobody wants you along anywhere—especially at the tree fort.”
Bobby’s face began to crumple. Brandon grabbed Bobby’s shirt front. “And if you start to bawl, I’ll never let you do anything with me again.”
Tears coursed down Bobby’s cheeks, but he didn’t make a sound.
Brandon marched off, clutching his hammer so tightly that his fingers ached. Nailing down the floorboards was hard work, but it went fast without his brother’s pestering. He stopped only when the sun was almost down.
Walking home, he was glad that he’d finished so much and glad that his prayers were being answered. But when he went inside, there was Bobby, sitting as still as a statue outside Brandon’s room. Brandon scowled and slammed his door shut, all his good feelings vanishing. His mind saw only Bobby’s sad face.
He’s just making it worse and worse, Brandon ranted to himself. He breaks my stuff. He ruins my games. And now he’s ruined my enjoying the tree fort too. Well, he’d better leave me alone—or else!
On Saturday afternoon, he came home from soccer practice to find Bobby wobbling down the street on his new bike. Brandon grabbed the handlebars and yanked the bike around hard. Bobby flew off. The next instant he was screaming. His hands were skinned, and a bump was growing on his forehead.
Brandon pushed his fear away with more anger. “Don’t you ever touch my bike again! Don’t ever touch anything of mine, for as long as you live!”
Brandon felt himself marched into the house. Up the stairs he went and into his room. “Hurting someone else is not the way to take care of disagreements, Brandon,” Dad said. “You know that. You will stay in your room until you can make things right with Bobby.”
Glaring at Dad as he closed the door behind him, Brandon stomped to the window. Mom was helping Bobby into the house and holding a cloth to his forehead.
Brandon refused to come down for dinner. He wasn’t about to “make things right.” It wasn’t fair to be punished when Bobby had taken his bike without permission.
On Sunday, Brandon came out only to go to church. Sister Adams taught the class how to use the Topical Guide in their Bibles to find scriptures to answer their questions and help them learn how to solve problems. She explained that the Holy Ghost could help them know which scriptures to read.
Back home, Brandon ate his meals in his room, still fuming. I’ll never make up with that little pest!
Monday was Bobby’s birthday. After school, Brandon stood at his bedroom window, watching Bobby and his friends yelling and jumping around in the backyard.
“Oh, wow! My favorite!” Bobby yelled as he tore open a package. “A praying mantis transformer robot!”
Brandon clenched his fists. He’d been wanting one of those for months.
“Oh, wow! A dragonfly robot!” Bobby waved a robot in each hand.
Brandon slumped on his bed.
After the guests had gone home, Bobby pounded up the stairs and into Brandon’s room. “Brandon!” He stopped at his brother’s scowl. “I—I just wanted to show you my transformers. …”
“Well, I don’t want to see them. So just get out of here.”
Bobby turned and shut the door softly behind him. Tears squeezed out onto Brandon’s cheeks. Since he’d decided to pray for what he wanted, everything had gone wrong! He didn’t understand it at all.
He must have dropped off to sleep, because it was dark when he woke up, way past dinnertime. His stomach growled as he opened his door to listen. They’re having family home evening without me, he thought. They don’t care about me at all.
Then he saw it—the praying mantis transformer robot. It had been placed on the tray of food by the door.
He sat in his doorway and picked it up. Did Bobby really give this to me? Shame flooded through him. Why would he do that, after how mean I’ve been to him? And what do I do now?
Sister Adams had said to look in the Topical Guide. She’d said that the answers to our problems are all in the scriptures.
He knelt by his bed, wanting help more than he’d ever wanted it before. “Heavenly Father, I feel awful! Please help me to feel the Holy Ghost prompting me, so I can know what scriptures to read that will help me. I really want to understand what to do about Bobby. Everything I’ve done so far has turned out wrong.”
Opening his Bible to the back pages, Brandon searched in the Topical Guide until he found the word Ask. That was what he needed to know: how to ask Heavenly Father for blessings so he could really get them. He began reading the phrases listed there. When he came to “Mosiah … 4:21 whatsoever ye a. [ask] that is right,” he was sure that this was his answer. He almost tore a page in his Book of Mormon in his haste to find the scripture:
And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.
Understanding flooded Brandon. It was right to ask Heavenly Father to help him be happy. What was wrong was trying to have happiness by making Bobby unhappy. Bobby couldn’t just disappear. He was part of Brandon’s family! So what was right was for them to be happy together. And that meant doing what the scripture in Mosiah said: imparting—sharing. Sharing things. Sharing time. Sharing fun.
And Bobby showed me how. Brandon picked up the transformer, which was even more precious now. Then his eyes scanned his room. When they came to his shell collection, he picked it up and went downstairs. “May I talk to Bobby?”
Brandon beckoned Bobby into the kitchen. “I found the transformer, Bobby. Thanks! That’s the best present I ever got.”
Bobby’s grin could have lit a rocket.
“And this is for you,” Brandon told him, handing him the box.
“Your shell collection? But, Brandon, it’s your most special thing!”
“No, it isn’t—my brother is.”
The warm feelings flooding Brandon were unmistakable. This time, he had asked for what was right and had done his part right. He could feel himself receiving happiness through his body. Bobby wasn’t a pest—he was a pretty neat kid. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” he prayed silently.
With their arms around each other, the brothers trooped into the living room.

Several years ago I presided over one of our missions. Two of our missionaries were teaching a fine family, and they had expressed a desire to be baptized, and then they suddenly cooled off. The father had learned about tithing and canceled all further meetings with the missionaries.
Two sad elders reported to the branch president, who himself was a recent convert, that he would not have this fine family in his branch.
A few days later the branch president persuaded the elders to join him in another visit to the family.
“I understand,” he told the father, “that you have decided not to join the Church.”
“That is correct,” he answered.
“The elders tell me that you are disturbed about tithing.”
“Yes,” said the father. “They had not told us about it; and when I learned of it, I said, ‘Now that’s too much to ask. Our church has never asked anything like that.’ We think that’s just too much, and we will not join.”
“Did they tell you about fast offering?” he asked.
“No,” said the man. “What is that?”
“In the Church we fast for two meals each month and give the value of the meals for the help of the poor.”
“They did not tell us that,” the man said.
“Did they mention the building fund?”
“No, what is that?”
“In the Church we all contribute toward building chapels. If you joined the Church, you would want to participate both in labor and with money. Incidentally, we are building a new chapel here,” he told him.
“Strange,” he said, “that they didn’t mention it.”
“Did they explain the welfare program to you?”
“No,” said the father. “What is that?”
“Well, we believe in helping one another. If someone is in need or ill or out of work or in trouble, we are organized to assist, and you would be expected to help.
“Did they also tell you that we have no professional clergy? All of us contribute our time, our talents, our means, and travel—all to help the work. And we’re not paid for it in money.”
“They didn’t tell us any of that,” said the father.
“Well,” said the branch president, “If you are turned away by a little thing like tithing, it is obvious you’re not ready for this Church. Perhaps you have made the right decision and you should not join.”
As they departed, almost as an afterthought, he turned and said, “Have you ever wondered why people will do all of these things willingly? I have never received a bill for tithing. No one has ever called to collect it. But we pay it—and all of the rest—and count it a great privilege.
“If you could discover why, you would be within reach of the pearl of great price, which the Lord said the merchant man was willing to sell all that he had that he might obtain it.
“But,” said the branch president, “It is your decision. I only hope you will pray about it.”
A few days later the man appeared at the branch president’s home. No, he did not want to reschedule the missionaries. That would not be necessary. He wanted to schedule the baptism of his family. They had been praying, fervently praying.

A second thing to remember in responding to others is not to lose your temper. Uncontrolled anger distorts reason and cancels wisdom. All of us are susceptible to rising anger, but before we act we can bring ourselves under control. I have often thought how easily a young missionary becomes angry when he sees something that doesn’t seem complimentary to him or his religion. But we sometimes fail to remember that we too can offend others. Our doctrine, for example, is offensive to some people. In one city in Brazil, our elders found that a Protestant minister had begun publishing and distributing derogatory pamphlets against the Church. It was information that would not have been accepted in the United States, because generally we have been too well known for people to believe those ridiculous stories. But the people in Brazil began to get some wrong ideas about the Church, and the elders wanted to do something about it.
I suggested they take a copy of the pamphlet and visit the minister, if they could find him. After some preparation, they found him, and they said, “Are you responsible for the publication of this material?” He responded rather evasively and with some embarrassment. They said, “We would just like you to know that we represent The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that this material is not true. This is not what we believe. We don’t appreciate having this kind of falsehood distributed about us, but you should know that when we find people who have read it, it is easy for us to tell them the truth, and then, of course, they get a poor opinion about you. If you feel that you must publish this sort of thing, then continue to do so; it really doesn’t hurt us that much. In many ways it helps us. But we would prefer that you don’t do it.” That solved the problem.

One night, I was planning on waking up early in the morning so I could eat the rest of the cookie dough left in the fridge. The next day, I woke up before 6:00 in the morning, but then I stopped and thought about what Jesus would do. I decided I shouldn’t eat the rest of the cookie dough. At breakfast I told my mom what I had wanted to do. She wasn’t angry and understood. I repented about the cookie dough, and I was happy to know that Heavenly Father understood too.

Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared a childhood experience that impressed upon him the importance of a loving family. When he and his brothers were boys, their mother had radical cancer surgery that made it very painful for her to use her right arm. With a family of boys, there was a lot of ironing, but as his mother ironed, she often stopped and went into the bedroom to cry until the pain subsided.
When Elder Christofferson’s father realized what was happening, he secretly went without lunches for almost a year to save enough money to buy a machine that made ironing easier. Out of his love for his wife, he set an example of nurturing within families for his boys. Of this tender interaction, Elder Christofferson said, “I was not aware of my father’s sacrifice and act of love for my mother at the time, but now that I know, I say to myself, ‘There is a man.’”4

Laura's Dad
LAURA: I am grateful for just a moment to share with you a meaningful story of finishing in my life. I have to briefly begin at the beginning of my life. I was born to goodly parents, just like Nephi. My dad, a veteran of the Vietnam War, and a police officer, saw much of the ugliness the world has to offer. In 1976 he joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, when I was five years old. His decision, coupled with my desire to know our Heavenly Father, would change both of our lives, but not at the same time. Life took its toll on my dad, and he found himself outside of the Church off and on for many years. I was married to my sweet husband in 1991 in the Los Angeles Temple. It was a day I had prepared for and longed for all my life. However, it was a day that I broke my dad's heart. My dad had been my hero and the one I most wanted to please, but he had not been ready to make sacred covenants. As a result, my dad couldn't witness our marriage.
Fast-forward twenty-five years. All those years, I strived to be an example. I shared my testimony, I followed through on promptings, I made my share of mistakes, and I felt like much of it fell on deaf ears. However, on November 6, 2016, about 10 a.m., my phone rang. My dad, whom I have only seen cry once, was emotional and told me that he was holding a temple recommend. I wish I had time to tell you all that I was feeling. On Friday, November 25, 2016, in the Denver Colorado Temple, I witnessed my dad and mom being sealed, and then I knelt and was sealed to them. All our children were there except our son, who is serving a mission in Brazil. I asked my dad what made the difference, and he said, "I told the bishop that I think it is time." I might never know all the steps that helped my dad take that step to finish, in a sense, his conversion.
I testify to you the reality of the Atonement of Jesus Christ in each of our lives, and the reality of change. I have witnessed it firsthand in myself and in the miracle of my dad. Recently, in two temples, I watched my dad serve as an escort to our sons as they were married to their sweethearts. As much as I wanted my dad to be there with me when I was married, my joy was so full those days, and it more than made up for his absence twenty-six years ago. How I love my dad. There is power in finishing the covenants we need to make here in mortality.

One sister, a Relief Society instructor, was known for preparing flawless lessons. One time she decided to create a beautiful quilt that would serve as the perfect backdrop to the theme of her lesson. But life intervened—there were children to pick up from school, a neighbor who needed help moving, a husband who had a fever, and a friend who felt lonely. The day of the lesson approached, and the quilt was not completed. Finally, the night before her lesson, she did not sleep much as she worked all night on the quilt.

The next day she was exhausted and barely able to organize her thoughts, but she bravely stood and delivered her lesson.

And the quilt was stunning—the stitches were perfect, the colors vibrant, and the design intricate. And at the center of it all was a single word that triumphantly echoed the theme of her lesson: “Simplify.”

One sister told of her preparation to receive a General Authority guest in her home for stake conference. Everything was to be perfect. Extensive cleaning and cooking were done. Her ten children were prepped as to what their roles should be. She worked hard! By the time he arrived she was exhausted and couldn’t enjoy his visit. Too late, she realized that spiritual preparation was “needful” also.

She stated, “It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can find answers to our everyday challenges. It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can find joy in enduring and overcoming our trials. It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can feel the greatest joy of all, a nearness and closeness to our Savior and Father in Heaven.”