Gospel Story Finder

MORRIN: And he's also engaged to be married soon. So, Clayton, I really appreciated what you shared on the discussion board. Would you mind sharing with us your experience?
BRASSFIELD: So when I returned home from my mission, the very first job that I had was at a lumber mill. And working at the lumber mill was a lot different than any job I'd ever had. It was a lot harder, and I had no experience. When I first started, I was really, really terrible at my job. I had a lot of times where I just wanted to give up, because I knew that the guys that I worked with didn't like me because I was so bad. I knew that if I didn't get better, I could lose my job. One thing that always helped me to persevere and to finish this job and not quit when I wanted to or when I had other opportunities for other jobs was asking myself the question of how I could expect my future children to persevere in hard things when I couldn't do it myself. And when I thought about that, it helped me to continue on, and I eventually became really good at my job and became one of the best employees that they had. And now when I'm off track or not at school, they allow me to come back and work, even if it's just for a week at a time.
MORRIN: Thank you, Clayton. Like I shared with you earlier, I really appreciated the long-term perspective you had when you were trying to figure out what you were going to do and if you were going to continue in this job that was really hard at the time, that you looked forward to the future and considered your own future family. So thank you for sharing that.

Lucy also exercised faith and liberally drew upon the power of God to heal her from physical affliction. While living in Kirtland, Ohio, she made a concerted effort to study the Bible, Book of Mormon, and Doctrine and Covenants. Then, an accident occurred in her home, where she fell down the stairs face first and severely bruised her head. Her eyes became inflamed until she went blind. The ensuing distress Lucy endured for days was indescribable. Turning to priesthood power when medical remedies had failed, Lucy called upon elders to administer to her. Instead of asking for the restoration of her sight, Lucy asked for something better. She requested that the elders ask God to not only heal her eyes but ensure she would never have to use glasses again. After the elders administered to her and removed their hands from her head, Lucy read a passage in the Book of Mormon and never wore glasses again.7

Every summer the Monson family spent two months at the family cabin on the Provo River. Tommy Monson learned to swim in the river’s swift currents. One warm afternoon when Tommy was about 13, he grabbed a big, inflated inner tube and floated down the river.
That day a large group of people had gathered at a picnic area by the river to eat and play games. Tommy was about to float through the fastest part of the river when he heard the frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young girl had fallen into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the people on shore could swim to save her.
That’s when Tommy appeared on the scene and saw the girl’s head disappear under the water. Tommy stretched out his hand, grasped the girl by her hair, and then lifted her over the side of the inner tube. Then Tommy paddled to the riverbank. First, the family threw their arms around the girl, kissing her and crying. Then they began hugging and kissing Tommy. He felt embarrassed by all the attention, and he quickly returned to his inner tube.
As Tommy continued his float down the river, he was filled with a warm feeling. He realized that he had helped save a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her!” He made it possible for Tommy to float by at exactly the time he was needed. That day Tommy learned that the sweetest feeling is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and allows us to help Him save others.

Considering the horrific event that took place in Littleton, Colorado, in April of this year, you may wonder why we are writing about a shooting that took place in an Oregon high school in May of 1998. We had just finished this story and scheduled it for publication when the tragedy took place at Columbine High School. We knew then that this story needs to be told more than ever. This story is not about violence; it’s about the comfort and perspective the gospel offers. Here are thoughts and experiences shared by those who know both the pain and the healing firsthand.The Editors
It’s been just over a year since a tragic shooting occurred at Thurston High School in Springfield, Oregon. Two students were killed and 23 others wounded when a fellow student opened fire in the crowded school cafeteria.
Some 60 seminary students were in school at Thurston on the day of the tragedy—one of whom helped to stop the shooter. Of course, the seminary students wish the tragedy had never happened. But they also say they’ve learned priceless lessons they’ll never forget.
Although they’ve been reluctant to talk with the media about the shooting, the students were eager to share their testimonies with the youth of the Church through the pages of the New Era.
More than anything, the students talk about how they’ve come to know just how much they love—and are loved by—their families. Just after the shooting, students were instructed to go to enclosed rooms of the school until the situation was secured. In that long period of waiting, teens with brothers or sisters at Thurston found themselves consumed with thoughts of their siblings.
“When I thought that the last thing I said to my little brother was, ‘Don’t be late to class today’ instead of ‘I love you’ … You never understand how important someone is to you until you think they are gone,” says Lacy Stockwell, 18. Lacy had spoken to her freshman brother, Taylor, in the cafeteria just seconds before the shooting erupted. As she ran from the cafeteria, she’d been unable to find him.
Like Lacy, Melissa Piepgrass was also terribly concerned for her brother. “We were taken into the gym, and all of a sudden I was really scared about my older brother, because I know he goes into the cafeteria a lot. I was crying and praying for him.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the students were released. All around the school, emotional reunions took place as students found their siblings and their parents who had gathered outside. Melissa found her brother in a park across the street. “I ran over and gave him a big hug.” Her voice trembles as she says, “That’s the first time I ever really felt how much my older brother loves me.”
Of her reaction at finding her brother safe, Lacy says, “It was incredible when I saw him. We yelled each other’s names and ran down the hall to each other and hugged. I can’t express the emotions I felt.”
Kawika Lawther, 17, describes the reunion that took place between worried parents and their children. “When they let us out into the parking lot, I looked around and saw people hugging their parents. When I saw my dad I ran to him and gave him a big hug. The men in my family don’t really show their emotions, but when he hugged me my dad started to cry. I really felt how much he loves me.”
Adam Buchanan, 15, remembers a similar experience. “I didn’t realize the extent of what had happened until I saw my mom and dad in the parking lot. They were praying for me.
“That really stands out in my mind because it’s one of the very few times I’ve seen my dad cry. It’s meant so much to me that he loved me so much and that they were so worried about me.”
Perhaps Lacy speaks for all the students when she says, “I’m so grateful for an eternal family, because now I realize they are so essential to my life!”
The seminary students say they’ve also felt the love of their Heavenly Father. After 15-year-old Chad Durfee ran from the cafeteria to his classroom, he became even more frightened when he learned that his father, who teaches at Thurston, was in the cafeteria. “I realized then that I wanted to talk to my Heavenly Father. I dropped to my knees in front of everybody and prayed. I was so comforted and I felt the Spirit so much even after what had just happened.
“I probably prayed about 500 times that day. It totally strengthened my testimony of prayer,” says Chad. “Every time I’ve had a problem from that time on, the first thing that comes to my mind is talking to my Heavenly Father. It makes me feel so good to know He lives and loves us and wants us to be happy.”
Like Chad, many students talk about the comforting influence of the Spirit in their lives. Fourteen-year-old Kirk Blair was at his junior high school when he heard about the shooting at Thurston, where his sister, Katie, is a student. “We were worried for her, but I knew through the Spirit that she was okay.”
The Holy Ghost helped Tiffany Austin, 16, regain her sense of security. Several days after the shooting, “I was sitting in the pew at youth conference and felt the Spirit come over me. Then I knew that Heavenly Father wasn’t going to leave me alone no matter what happened. I finally got my security back.”
The example of the Savior and the power of His Atonement have helped students forgive and become whole again after such a trying experience.
“I was so mad that someone could do something like this, and I couldn’t make it go away,” says Alisha Stott, 16. “Forgiving is really hard, but I’m working on it. Being around others going through the same process and watching them forgive makes me feel that I can also. And remembering that Jesus Christ forgives our sins. He forgave people who wronged him, so I should be able to forgive also.”
“No matter what we go through, Jesus Christ knows how to heal us,” says Corwin Lewis, 17. “He can do that because of the Atonement.”
Many students gained stronger testimonies of the power of the priesthood. “The day they let us go back to school, I was afraid to go, so my uncle gave me a blessing,” says Jena Johnson, 16. “It gave me a sense of peace that I knew we were going to get through this. Then I had the confidence to face my fear.”
Adam tells how he felt as he watched his father administer a priesthood blessing. “My dad and I are the Rogerses’ home teachers, so Brother Rogers asked my dad to help him give his daughters a blessing.
“The Spirit was so strong. It was a really humbling experience. I was thinking, I’m going to be 19 in a few years. Will I be ready for the Melchizedek Priesthood? It’s such an awesome responsibility, but I think having it would be the best thing in the world.”
The seminary students also talk about their deepened appreciation for each other, for their ward families, for the scriptures, and for the gospel.
Fortunately, most of us will never experience the kind of tragedy the youth in Springfield have. But from their experience we can learn what matters most in life, and know that a loving Father in Heaven can bless us no matter what the trial.
“I had always taken things for granted before,” says Chad. “I went to church but didn’t really think about it. But now I’ve started to get very spiritual. I love the Church, every aspect about it. Sometimes at night I look up at the stars and think how wonderful it is to know our Father in Heaven lives.”
Melissa remembers, “On the night of the tragedy, I saw the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen. I just knew that Heavenly Father was showing his love for us, telling us that everything would be okay.”
After the tragedy in Littleton, Colorado, the Springfield seminary students wanted to do something to help. They wrote letters to the seminary students in Littleton, sharing their testimonies and messages of hope and encouragement.
The Springfield youth weren’t the only seminary students to give their support to Littleton. Letters, e-mail messages, and posters have poured in to the Columbine High School seminary from seminaries and Church members all over the world.
“It’s helped the kids to see that there are people all over the world who care about them,” says Rob Hildebrandt, seminary teacher at Columbine. “It has really hit them that in this Church we are truly a worldwide family.
“With every new poster, the first thing the kids want to know is where it’s from. When I tell them, they say ‘Wow! They know about us there?’ They’re overwhelmed at the people who love them whom they don’t even know.”
Brother Hildebrandt says the students have also felt the many prayers of support that have been offered for them.

After losing his eyesight, my grandfather fasted and prayed that if he was to remain in darkness, the Lord would give him peace. He states that almost within the hour “my mind was enlightened and the cloud of darkness had lifted from me.” He could see again, not with physical eyes, but spiritual eyes. Later, Alma Benjamin Larsen was called to be a patriarch, where he served for 32 years. Like the sons of Mosiah, my grandfather fasted and prayed, and as a result, he was given the opportunity to bless thousands of God’s children.

One young mother and father sat at their kitchen table reviewing their day. From down the hall, they heard a thud. The mother asked, “What was that?”

Then they heard a soft cry coming from their four-year-old son’s bedroom. They rushed down the hall. There he was, lying on the floor next to his bed. The mother picked up the little boy and asked him what had happened.

He said, “I fell out of bed.”

She said, “Why did you fall out of bed?”

He shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t get far enough in.”

By now our children had joined with us in the discussions, and the two sisters who had originally knocked on our door had been replaced by another pair of lady missionaries. I would put the baby in his playpen, and then we’d start bombarding the missionaries with question after question. We found that the two sticks mentioned in prophecy were the Bible and the Book of Mormon. “Do we get to see the Book of Mormon? When? When can I read it? Next discussion?” This was going to be a long week—I could hardly wait.
The week was long. I kept thinking about the Book of Mormon and could hardly wait to get my hands on it. The day finally arrived, and I hoped in my heart they wouldn’t forget the Book of Mormon. I even thought they might finally have a cup of coffee with us.
As we discussed the Book of Mormon, they told me of a wonderful promise contained in it. Yes, we’d give it a try. We’d pray about it.
It took only a few pages of the Book of Mormon to convince me that it was true. It’s true! This is the word of God! And so, each morning at 6:00 I would take my cup of coffee out on the back steps of the house in the cool morning air and read until the children woke up. How forceful were the words! Who could ever deny, after reading this book, that it was the word of God? It is the word of God! What a feeling of excitement, of discovery, of awe, of warmth, of wonder.

On August 25, 1975, a big bully who operated a shoe repair shop, along busy Herran street in Paco, Manila, resenting Elder Mabunga’s protest over the obvious overcharging for the repair of Elder Larkin’s pair of shoes, held the Filipino missionary by the collar and started to manhandle him.
The ensuing commotion caught the attention of an off-duty cop who was by chance in the vicinity and who came to the aid of the missionaries. The incident ended with a brief interlude of friendship with the cop, to whom they related their experience a week before, who in turn promised to help in the apprehension of the holdup men.
They shook hands and parted ways—but the harrowing experience of two unnerving incidents in a week’s time apparently was disconcerting to the two missionaries. Both forgot to take note of the cop’s name and address! That evening, they prayed hard for an opportunity to cross paths with him again.
One evening during the same week, they were teaching the gospel to the big Molinos family residing at Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila when someone knocked on the door. The elders momentarily stopped as the head of the family excused himself to open the door.
The Lord, indeed, works in strange ways. Who should come knocking on the door but the cop whose name the two elders forgot to take note of, and who turned out to be a relative on an unscheduled visit to the Molinos family without any purpose in mind.
The reunion resulted in a new turn of events in the life of the cop. He joined the Molinos family in listening to the message of the elders, hardly realizing that Elder Larkin and Elder Mabunga were silently thanking the Lord for an opportunity that came at the least expected moment.—P. Ocampo Jr.
Notes: The cop, Patrolman Antonio Buenaflor Molinos of Precinct 5, was baptized September 27, 1975, almost a month ahead of the big Molinos family of 2174 Road 5, Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila.
One of the holduppers was apprehended and jailed.

One newly called bishop, in his first meeting with his counselors, declared, “The Aaronic Priesthood is a prime responsibility of ours.” To the second counselor, he directed, “I ask you to be personally responsible to ensure that every deacon, at the appropriate age, be worthy and be ordained a teacher.” To the other counselor, he said, “Will you please do the same as pertains to the teachers, that they may, on schedule, be worthy and be ordained priests.” Then the bishop continued: “I will take the same responsibility for the priests to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and be ordained elders. Together, and with God’s help, we can do it.” And they did.

Previously: Franco asked permission to go to church with Matt. And Matt tried a spicy soup called posole.
That soup was good. But I thought I was going to breathe fire like a dragon!
Well, the spices can take some getting used to.
Next time I might need a bigger glass of milk! Thanks again for lunch.
So, Dad, can I go to church with Matt?
I don’t think so, boys. Our family’s been in our church for many generations.
Later, at Matt’s house …
Franco’s dad is a good man who wants the best for his son. He’s being cautious.
Sigh. I guess.
That night …
Franco’s still my best friend. And his dad’s great too. We don’t have to be the same to be friends.
Good thing … ’cause I’m pretty different from everyone!

I have another good friend—a contemporary of mine—Geneva Brown. She has also been a great inspiration to me. A number of years ago she became afflicted with multiple sclerosis. Her health steadily deteriorated, confining her to a wheelchair. It would have been an easy thing for her to give up, but it was not her nature. She was a person who was used to doing and being busy in all kinds of things. But she has shown more determination than ever and has kept herself busy.
We saw her one day just coming out of the temple. I watched as her husband wheeled her across the street from the temple to the car, as he opened the door, and as she lifted herself from the wheelchair into the car. I kept wanting to reach out and help her some way. But she has learned how to manage. She is interested in people and things. How easy it would have been for her to refuse a calling in the Church, even to be a visiting teacher. Certainly she had an excuse. She didn’t need to be a visiting teacher, but it was not her nature to quit. She was able to drive a car with special controls, so she would go on her visiting teaching rounds with her companion. When she arrived at the home of the sister to be visited, a beep of the horn would bring the sister out of her home to sit in the back seat of the car and be taught. Neighbors along the street, seeing the fun that was going on, would come out of their homes and join them until the car was full. Many were lifted and edified by this wonderful woman who was willing to push on and go the extra mile.

May I conclude with a simple little illustration of the response of one who stood at level three. He had passed from level one because his eyes were fully open to the reality, including some of the pain, of seeing things for what they were. Yet he had moved from a level two kind of realism to a third level where his mature perspective permitted what he saw with those wide-open eyes to be subordinated to what he felt in a wide-open heart.

The man in this case is my own father, who died about fifteen years ago. At the time of this incident, he was in his mid-fifties and was very involved in his professional life and in other heavy obligations that frequently took him out of his hometown for several days at a time. He was tired. At a much earlier time in his life, he had served for ten years in a stake presidency and had fulfilled numerous other assignments for the Church. One day his friend Brother Whitehead approached him to say the stake presidency had called him, Brother Whitehead had told the presidency he would accept the assignment only if my father would act as his first counselor.

It is one thing to be called as a counselor in the bishopric when one is young and full of fresh enthusiasm to learn about leadership in the Church, and when one’s time is not heavily committed. One might understandably have a somewhat different attitude at a later time in life. Let me share with you the inner thoughts of my father’s heart as he wrote them that day in his personal journal:

My first reaction was, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me . . . I know something of the work required of a bishopric; it is a constant, continual grind; there is no let up . . . I am busy and my state affairs demand what spare time and energy I have. In some respects I am not humble and prayerful enough; I have not always been willing to submit unquestioningly to all the decisions of the Church . . . but neither do I feel that I can say no to any call that is made by the Church, and so now I add to my first reaction, ‘nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.’ I will resolve to do it as best I can. There will be times when I will chafe under the endless meetings, but I am going to get in tune with the program of the Church in every way. I do not intend to get sanctimonious, but I know there must be no reservations in my heart about my duties and responsibilities. The work of the Church will have to come first. It will not be hard for me to pay my tithing and attend regularly, as I have been doing that. But I will have to learn, I suppose, to love the Deseret News, or at least the Church Section, as much as I love the Tribune . . . I will have to get to the temple more often . . . I will have to become better acquainted with the ward members and be genuinely interested in them and their problems . . . I will have to learn to love every one of them and to dispose myself in such a way that they might find it possible to feel the same toward me. Perhaps in my weak way I will have to try and live as close to the Lord as we expect the General Authorities to do.

Perhaps my appreciation for understatement and my personal knowledge that my father was an honest man makes that statement seem to me a more striking example of dealing humbly with ambiguity than it really is. But his statement stirs me to want to be as childlike as my education has taught me to be tough-minded—wise as serpents and harmless as doves, I believe the Savior called it.

The answer is one that Latter-day Saints would hardly call coincidence. In a little known note to the Manuscript History of the Church, Joseph named his doctors: “Smith, Stone and Perkins” of Dartmouth Medical School in Hanover, New Hampshire, 8 kilometers from the Smith home.

These were not the ordinary, poorly trained country physicians so commonly found in those days. Nathan Smith, graduate of Harvard Medical School in Cambridge, Massachusetts, sole founder of the Dartmouth Medical School, later to found three additional New England medical schools, was also president of the New Hampshire Medical Society and had, prior to treating Joseph Smith, accepted the position of the first professor of medicine and surgery at Yale Medical School in New Haven, Connecticut. He had delayed moving to New Haven so he could care for the victims of the 1813 typhoid epidemic in the communities surrounding Hanover, New Hampshire.

Cyrus Perkins was Nathan Smith’s former pupil and a graduate of the Dartmouth Medical School. Perkins had later returned to the area to become the professor of anatomy and join his former teacher in a medical practice.

Stone was very likely also a former student of Smith’s: earlier class rolls of the Dartmouth Medical School lists several Stones.

Even more significantly, Nathan Smith was one of early America’s greatest medical men and had, on his own, devised an operation for osteomyelitis as early as 1798 that he published in 1827 but that was not used for two generations. In other words, generations ahead of his time, he was the only man in America who could have saved Joseph Smith’s leg.

Without a college education, Nathan Smith apprenticed himself to a country physician for three years, then began his own practice in Cornish, New Hampshire. Dissatisfied with his preparation, he applied to the newly founded Harvard Medical School in Cambridge, Massachusetts three years later. He became its fifth graduate and returned to his country practice in 1790.

Now he felt his mission included raising medical standards and proficiency among his colleagues as well. He petitioned Dartmouth College trustees to establish a medical school and spent a year in Edinburgh, Scotland, accumulating equipment, books, and clinical experience. His opening lecture in 1797 was the beginning of Dartmouth’s medical college.

For thirteen years, he single-handedly taught anatomy, chemistry, surgery, remedies, and the theory and practice of medicine, until the New Hampshire legislature allowed Perkins to join him as professor of anatomy in 1810.

Neither one received a salary for the teaching: tuition fees and their joint medical practice made up their income. Since Dr. Smith had trained many of the physicians in upper New England, he was consulted on many difficult cases, which meant travelling as much as 160 kilometers on horseback over rough dirt roads. He routinely invited ten to twenty of his medical students along on these trips as part of their training.

This pattern was repeated in Joseph Smith’s case. After Dr. Stone had unsuccessfully performed two operations on Joseph’s diseased leg, his mother insisted on another opinion and requested a “council of surgeons.” Nathan Smith, his partner, Cyrus Perkins, and medical students from Dartmouth came to do the necessary surgery.

At first an amputation was suggested: Lucy Mack Smith instead asked for the experimental operation of removing only the diseased bone. Her description of the procedure is accurate and parallels the description of the operation found in early Dartmouth medical student notebooks.

The operation was successful, and Joseph’s wounds healed. The fact that a wound with the exposed shaft of bone healed so readily is truly miraculous; however Nathan Smith had achieved an unusual record of good results—he never described amputation following his operation. Joseph used crutches for three years but his life and his leg were spared.

After the epidemic and the operation, both Nathan Smith and Joseph Smith left New Hampshire, Nathan Smith to become a professor at Yale Medical School and Joseph to return to Vermont for three years before moving to Palmyra, New York, where he eventually began his great work.

It is hard to call it an accident—a boy plucky enough to refuse amputation despite two unsuccessful operations; a mother who requested the experimental procedure, not knowing Nathan Smith was the only surgeon in the United States who had such a successful experience treating osteomyelitis; and the undramatic conjunction between the right man and the right time.

From his earliest days of singing “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission,” Jared Cassity planned on serving as a full-time missionary. He had read the scriptures and was familiar with all the missionary discussions. Most importantly, he was worthy and desired to go on a mission.

But he couldn’t go. Jared’s mental disabilities and some physical problems meant he could not serve a proselyting mission. “It took courage for me to accept that,” he says.

That was more than three years ago. Now, Elder Jared Cassity—that’s right, Elder—has been serving for three years. Elder Cassity was called on a stake mission. He is an assistant in the North Ogden Utah Stake’s missionary preparation class, helping other young men who are planning to go on missions become more prepared. “It took a lot of praying, but I know this is the right thing for me to be doing,” he says.

Elder Cassity shares his responsibilities in the class with Elder Paul Hansen, who has also been serving for three years. Elder Hansen also has mental and physical disabilities, but he manages to make it to class to set up chairs and distribute hymnbooks long before anyone else gets there. His mom, Janeen, says, “He felt really bad, because he’s always wanted to go on a mission, but it wasn’t right, and this was right.” Alma Harris, who teaches the class, says that as the time approached for Elders Cassity and Hansen to be released from their two-year missions, they wanted to remain in their callings, and he still needed their help.

Elders Hansen and Cassity have various responsibilities each week in the class, including bringing refreshments, setting up chairs, and giving an occasional talk. But their most important duty is preparing their stake’s future missionaries.

“I love the change that comes upon these wonderful boys when they serve missions,” Elder Cassity says, nearly crying. “I love seeing what the Spirit can do. … Sometimes I cry when I hear their wonderful testimonies, because I feel like I was one who helped that person.”

For some, there will come the temptation to dishonor a personal standard of honesty. In a business law class at the university I attended, I remember that one particular classmate never prepared for the class discussions. I thought to myself, “How is he going to pass the final examination?”

I discovered the answer when he came to the classroom for the final examination, on a winter’s day, wearing on his bare feet only a pair of sandals. I was surprised and watched him as the class began. All of his books had been placed upon the floor. He slipped the sandals from his feet; and then, with toes that he had trained and had prepared with glycerine, he skillfully turned the pages of one of the books which he had placed on the floor, thereby viewing the answers to the examination questions.

He received one of the highest grades in that course on business law. But the day of reckoning came. Later, as he prepared to take his comprehensive examination, for the first time the dean of his particular discipline said, “This year I shall depart from tradition and shall conduct an oral, rather than a written, test.” Our favorite, trained-toe expert found that he had his foot in his mouth on that occasion and failed the examination.4

Subject: Lisa (Elizabeth)
Age: 16 years
Event: A ride home with Larry Hill, local football hero
“Did you see Friday night’s game?” Larry asked as he helped her into the car.
“Oh, sure. You were wonderful!”
“Thanks.’”
“I bet you have to practice hard to get so strong and fast. Just watching you run around the other team is so exciting.”
“Things have always come easy for me. ‘Natural talent’ is the way the paper describes it.”
“But you must train hard.” “No,” he answered, “training is for people who don’t have natural talent.”
“Are you going to play in the pros?” she asked.
“Oh, sure,” he answered confidently. “I’m going to be a legend in my own time. Someday you’ll see me on TV and you’ll tell people that you knew the great Larry Hill and that he gave you a ride home from a school pep assembly practice.”
“Okay,” she smiled, “I’ll do my part if you do yours.”
“It might be a nicer memory if you’d sit a little closer,” he suggested. Turning on his four-track stereo to mood music, he casually put his arm over her shoulder. “You know, Lisa, I was watching you tonight. I think I could really fall for you.”
She sat forward, leaving his arm dangling in the air. “Larry, do you know where I live? It’s on Fairmont.”
“Sure, I know.”
“Then where are you driving?” “I thought we could go up on the hill overlooking town and look at the moon … and talk.”
“You can see the moon really well from my house,” she suggested.
He looked at her suddenly with a puzzled expression. “You’re joking? You don’t want to go up there with me?”
“I’ve got to go home. My parents will be worrying.”
He angrily flipped off the music, made a U-turn in the middle of the block, and sped back toward her house. “I’ll tell you one thing, “he finally said, “there are not many girls in our school who’d turn down attention from me.”
“Really? Maybe I’ll be a legend in my own time, too.”
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Larry, you’ve got the whole world telling you how great you are. Isn’t that enough?”
“Why won’t you go up there with me and talk?”
“I’ll talk with you in our kitchen over popcorn. Why do you want to go there?”
“I might want to kiss you.”
“And parking up there has worked with other girls?”
“Look, who else ever pays any attention to you? I’m doing you a favor.”
“You sound so sorry for me,” she said. “Is a kiss from you such a prize?”
“Other girls think so,” he answered crisply.
“Suppose I just let them have my share.”__________
“But my cousin says that you are a good athlete,” Elizabeth said to Dan.
“I play racquetball. I’ve been state champion three times. Since I wasn’t cut out to be a football player, I substituted racquetball.”
As he opened the car door for her outside the restaurant, she gave him a broad smile.
__________
“Elizabeth, you have the most beautiful smile.”

As a young elder, I had been called to the old Primary Children’s Hospital on North Temple Street … in Salt Lake City. There were children to be blessed. It was the Christmas season. I had never been in a children’s hospital before.
As our group entered the foyer, we noticed an attractively decorated Christmas tree, with beautifully wrapped gifts beneath its boughs.
A feeling of sympathy welled up within me as I noticed these tiny children, many with legs or arms in large plaster casts. Some were ever so weak and pale.
A young lad called out to us, “Will you give me a blessing?” Of course the blessing was given. I shall ever remember placing my hands on the … head of that faithful boy who was desperately ill. As we left his side, he looked up into my eyes and said, “Thank you, Brother Monson.”
We walked away, only to hear him call out, “Oh, Brother Monson, merry Christmas to you.” I could scarcely see him for the tears in my eyes. He had that glow about him that comes only at Christmastime. That boy trusted in his Heavenly Father. He acknowledged the priesthood of God. His faith was unwavering. I felt I was on holy ground.
What made the glow emanate from the presence of this faithful boy? It was the Christmas spirit.

When I was in kindergarten, my parents and I went to the school book fair. They bought me some stickers. When we went home, we found we had accidentally taken two sheets of stickers, instead of just the one we had paid for.
The next day, my teacher gave me permission to return one sheet. The book fair was gone, but the library assistant thanked me for being honest.Emma M. Wilde, age 8Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Several years ago I was attending the baptismal service for my daughter Mary. As many of you may know, there are generally a few talks on the topic of baptism that are given at this service. On this particular day, the man assigned to give the talk decided to teach a short lesson to the baptismal candidates rather than give a traditional talk. So he had each eight-year-old child move to the front of the chapel and sit on the front bench as he gave the lesson. He started the lesson by asking the following question to the children: “After you’re baptized, who is it that is there to guide you and comfort you and help you make good decisions?”
A little girl raised her hand and promptly answered: “It’s the Holy Ghost.”
Smiling, the teacher said, “That’s right.” The teacher then asked another question: “And after you are baptized, who is it that is bad and evil and wants you to be miserable for the rest of your life?”
A little boy raised his hand and blurted out: “I know who it is. It’s the IRS!”
As my wife, Theresa, and I have tried to teach our seven children the principles of the gospel, we recognize that sometimes—as in the case of the young man in this story—our lessons haven’t always been completely understood by our children.

One more story - President Isaia wanted to give some of his land to the Church to build a Chapel. The village Matai said he couldn't do that - only Catholics and the LMS were allowed in that village. President Isaia said it was his land and he could give it to the Church. Another long story shortened. The Matai had made it very clear the Chapel could not be built. A fourth and final letter was sent to President Isaia by a special messenger from the village's council of chiefs. The letter contained threats of what would happen if the construction went forward. Brother Isaia said, "I talked with my wife and children. My answer to the threats was that if I die, I die with a testimony of the Church. We prayed. I put on clean garments, I put on long pants instead of a lava lava because I did not want the villagers to see my garments. My brother and some others came with bush knives and said they would protect me. But I told them the Lord was watching." The villagers arrived about 12:00 pm in a pickup truck. They put me in the truck, tied me with ropes, and drove me to the village green. My hands and feet were tied. The young untitled men were instructed to collect wood. I still remember the faces of the two men who lit the fire...I was lying on the ground facing up. The firewood and dry coconut leaves were placed around me and on top of me. I could see through the pieces of wood the faces of those who were there...During this time I felt as if I was being held - as if I was being embraced. The wood was lit on fire and then it began to rain. They tried seven times to light the fire - I was like that about five hours."