Gospel Story Finder

One weekend in August 1974 an unexpected change of conference assignment came, sending Elder Monson to the Shreveport Louisiana Stake. The Saturday afternoon schedule was filled with many meetings. Rather apologetically, the stake president asked Brother Monson if he had enough time to give a blessing to ten-year-old Christal Methvin, who was afflicted with cancer. Brother Monson said he would be pleased to do so and then asked if she would be coming to the conference meetings or if she were confined to a Shreveport hospital. Almost reluctantly, the stake president said Christal was unable to leave her home many miles from Shreveport.
Elder Monson examined the meeting schedule and found that there simply was no available time. As an alternative, he suggested that she be remembered in the public prayers which would be offered throughout the conference. Surely, he consoled, the Lord would understand and bless the Methvin family accordingly.
Prior to the stake conference, and unbeknown to Brother Monson, Christal had lost her leg to surgery, only to discover later that the cancer had spread to her tiny lungs. A trip had been planned to Salt Lake City, where she might receive a blessing from one of the General Authorities. The Methvins knew none of the Brethren personally, so they placed before Christal a picture of all the Church leaders. She pointed to the photograph of Elder Thomas S. Monson and said, “I would like him to give me a blessing.”
But Christal’s condition had deteriorated so rapidly that the flight to Salt Lake City had to be cancelled. She was growing weaker in body but not in faith. She said, “Since a General Authority is coming to our stake conference, why not Brother Monson? If I can’t go to him, the Lord can send him to me.” At about the same time, Brother Monson received the unexpected change in his stake conference assignment which sent him to Shreveport.
As one final favor to Christal, they agreed to kneel by her bedside and ask for just one more blessing—the chance to enjoy Brother Monson’s personal visit.
After receiving word from the stake president that Brother Monson would be unable to visit Christal because of the extremely busy meeting schedule, the Methvins were understandably very disappointed. They knelt again around Christal’s bedside, pleading for a final favor for her: that somehow her desire for a blessing at the hands of Brother Monson would be realized.
At the very moment the Methvin family knelt around Christal’s bed, Elder Monson was shuffling his notes, preparing to speak at the concluding portion of the Saturday evening session. However, as he began his move to the pulpit, a voice whispered in near-audible tones a brief but very familiar message: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.”
His notes became a blur as his eyes filled with tears. He attempted to follow the theme of the meeting as outlined, but the name and image of Christal Methvin would not leave his mind. Then, ever faithful to the precious gift so demonstrably his, he responded to the spiritual message. He instructed that changes in the next day’s conference schedule be made, whatever the cost in confusion and disruption. Then the meeting continued.
After a very early Sunday drive over many kilometers, Elder Monson gazed down upon a child too ill to rise, too weak to speak. Her illness had now made her blind. Deeply touched by the scene and the Spirit of the Lord which was so prevalent, Brother Monson dropped to his knees and took the child’s frail hand in his own. “Christal,” he whispered, “I am here.”
With great effort she whispered back, “Brother Monson, I just knew you would come.”
A blessing was pronounced commending a sweet child’s body and spirit to the loving watchcare of her Heavenly Father, who surely must have been observing that tender scene. Her barely audible “Thank you” gave eloquent benediction to the blessing and to the sweet life of faith she had lived. The next Thursday, as she was being remembered in the prayer circle of the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve where Elder Monson had placed her name, Christal Methvin’s pure spirit left its disease-ravaged body and entered the paradise of God.

Let me give you two examples. First, as I read this familiar story, listen closely and try to discern at what particular point darkness was defeated.

After I had retired to the place where I had previously designed to go, having looked around me, and finding myself alone, I kneeled down and began to offer up the desires of my heart to God. I had scarcely done so, when immediately I was seized upon by some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing influence over me as to bind my tongue so that I could not speak. Thick darkness gathered around me, and it seemed to me for a time as if I were doomed to sudden destruction.
But, exerting all my powers to call upon God to deliver me out of the power of this enemy which had seized upon me, and at the very moment when I was ready to sink into despair and abandon myself to destruction—not to an imaginary ruin, but to the power of some actual being from the unseen world, who had such marvelous power as I had never before felt in any being—just at this moment of great alarm, I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
It no sooner appeared than I found myself delivered from the enemy which held me bound. When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him! [JS—H 1:15–17; emphasis in original]

In the Sacred Grove, darkness left young Joseph Smith when the light first appeared.

The houselights fall; the last few coughs and whispers fade; and a girl comes on stage. Under a soft spotlight her face is beautiful, its innocence incongruous in the gaudy, western saloon. As she feels her way from table to table, her eyes wandering blankly across the painted bar and rows of painted bottles on the canvas backdrop, the audience realizes that she is blind.
“Is there no one here?” she asks timidly, to be answered only by silence. “Will no one help me?” she says a little louder, her voice quavering on the edge of a sob. There is no reply from the empty saloon. She sits down unsteadily in a chair, her face inexpressibly weary, her shoulders drooping. “Will no one help me?” she whispers hopelessly. Her vacant eyes pass once over the audience as if yearning to penetrate the darkness, and then with a small sigh she bows her head and seems to give up.
Suddenly, a few rows back, a man springs to his feet. He struggles free from the row of knees and backrests and is quickly on the stage. Drawing up a chair to face the actress, he takes her two small, trembling hands in his two large, strong ones. “I’ll help you, dear,” he says softly.
His words produce instant pandemonium. The audience surges to its feet, sending wave after wave of cheers and applause crashing against the tiny stage, and for several long minutes the melodrama waits; the stage crew waits; the actors backstage awaiting their cues wait; the whole little theater world waits while men and women and children are happy out loud.
It wasn’t exactly a theatrical triumph; there was no such line in the script; the man wasn’t a cast member; no one was more surprised than the “blind girl” at the unexpected offer of assistance. The incident, which really happened, wasn’t so much theater as it was a peculiar form of magic, and it took place, as that sort of magic often does, at a little theater in West Yellowstone, Montana, known as the Playmill.

Understanding the centrality of agency can change the way you view almost every experience you have, even your experience as students at BYU Idaho. Let me give one example. As you may have noticed, the tuition you - and students at all BYU campuses and LDS Business College - pay is considerably lower than that charged by almost any other private university. You may also be aware that your tuition does not come close to paying the cost of your education and that your education - like that of all students at all BYU campuses - is heavily subsidized by the tithe payers of the Church. With this fact in mind, when I became the dean of the law school at BYU, I suggested to the University Administration that it might be proper to increase the law school's tuition. I questioned the fairness of using what in some cases is the widow's mite to finance the education of lawyers, many of whom will have generous incomes over their careers. (I should also acknowledge that I thought the law school's revenues might be helped by such an increase - so my motives weren't entirely pure). In any event, my suggestion that tuition be increased was not accepted.

That caused me to wonder why the Board of Trustees, which includes the members of the First Presidency, three members of the Quorum of the Twelve, and other people who know well the many good uses to which tithing funds could be put - would choose to so heavily subsidize the education of lawyers - and that of all other BYU students. As I pondered that question, the thought came powerfully to my mind that one possible reason has to do with the concept of agency. Using tithing to subsidize BYU students' education allows those students to graduate with much less debt than they might otherwise have - in many cases with no debt at all. By contrast, the average law student at many top private law schools graduates with a law school-incurred debt of more than $100,000. With such debt hanging over their heads, the choice of what those students can do following graduation is severely limited. They have little choice but to work for the highest paying firm they can find, because, as I told prospective law students, they will have a mortgage payment, they just won't have a house to go with it. As many of our leaders have reminded us, "debt can be enslaving." It can limit our agency dramatically. Some law students might decide that they could be of most use as a solo practitioner in Driggs, Idaho or Panguitch, Utah, but if they have to pay off a large educational debt with what they earn, that avenue may not be open to them. Other law students may decide that rather than practice law, they will stay home with young children. However, if they are tens of thousands of dollars in debt, such a choice may be impracticable. Thus, the sacrifice of millions of tithe payers who subsidize your education leaves you free to choose to do what you - and the Lord - want you to do.

With that freedom, as with all freedom, comes accountability. In the case of BYU students, whether they be in Provo, Laie, or Rexburg there are at least two important parts of that accountability. First, it is incumbent on you - whose career and life options are being expanded as a result of the sacrifice of others - to maximize the educational opportunity that is afforded to you. It is your responsibility to learn all you can, so that you are best positioned to do what you - and the Lord - want you to do. Contrary to what Satan may whisper in your ear when the alarm goes off early in the morning to rouse you to go to class or finish a paper, there is more riding on the decision you make at that point than your own g.p.a. or individual success. Those who could benefit from your enhanced education - whether they be your future children, your future clients, or the communities or nations in which you will live - all will be benefitted by your choosing to use your time here as wisely as possible.

Second, because the subsidy allows you to be relatively free from debt and therefore free to do what the Lord wants you to do, it is your responsibility to live your life in a way that makes you worthy to receive the inspiration that will guide you in making that decision. Inspiration about what you should do with your life after you leave here will not come to your bishop, or to President Clark, or to President Monson. It will come to you. But, it will come only if you are worthy. That is one way in which adherence to the honor code can enhance your agency. As you adhere to gospel standards, your capacity to understand - and therefore your freedome to follow - the Lord's plan for you will increase.

At first I was just interested in knowing how my grandmother had managed to raise six children on very little income. I talked to her for hours, taking notes. I also asked my mother and my aunts and uncles about their memories of family events. But I didn’t know what to do with all that information until my cousin Ginny suggested that I write my grandmother’s life story.
But before I could focus my attention on our grandmother’s biography, I felt that I needed to write my mother’s. She was only fifty-one, but she was ill, and I realized that she would probably not survive another year. So I began spending more time with her, gathering information about her life. Ginny and I worked together on both histories; she documented names and dates and I wrote the stories. They were finished soon after my mother’s death.

The third wolf is the excessive individualism that has spawned today’s contractual attitudes. A seven-year old girl came home from school crying, “Mom, don’t I belong to you? Our teacher said today that nobody belongs to anybody—children don’t belong to parents, husbands don’t belong to wives. I am yours, aren’t I, Mom?” Her mother held her close and whispered, “Of course you’re mine—and I’m yours, too.” Surely marriage partners must respect one another’s individual identity, and family members are neither slaves nor inanimate objects. But this teacher’s fear, shared today by many, is that the bonds of kinship and marriage are not valuable ties that bind but are, instead, sheer bondage. Ours is the age of the (decline) of belonging.

It is a warm day—June 29, 1844.
A boat approaches a horseshoe bend in the Mississippi River. On that bend is a city. A traveler on the boat seeks to find the city on his map, but the map, printed a few years previously, shows no such city. On inquiry, he is told that the city is Nauvoo. A brief stop is to be made.
At the docking, the traveler becomes curious as to why long lines of people wait to enter a large home on the river front. Being in no hurry, he informs the boat’s captain that he is going to remain in Nauvoo, perhaps overnight.
As he approaches the end of the line, it becomes apparent that these are grief-stricken people. The ladies and many men are weeping.
“Excuse me,” he says, approaching a mourner, “but what are these lines for?”
The mourner looks up in amazement: “You mean you don’t know?”
“I’m a stranger here,” he says. “I just arrived on the boat.”
“Oh,” replies the mourner. “We are waiting to view the bodies of Lieutenant General Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum who were killed two days ago.”
“Lieutenant General Smith?” the visitor says questioningly.
“Yes, he was the lieutenant general of the Nauvoo Legion, an army of 5,000 men.”
“How many others were killed with them?” asks the visitor.
“None. That is probably the main reason why Joseph died. He believed that his enemies wanted his life alone, and if he had to die, he thought that the lust for blood would be satisfied without the rest of us being killed. He wanted his brother Hyrum to live, but Hyrum insisted on remaining at his side.”
“How did the trouble begin that led to their death?” asks the traveler.
“Well, the public reason given was the destruction of the press of the Nauvoo Expositor,” replies the mourner. “The newspaper was owned by Joseph’s enemies, and they published slanderous and inflammatory articles and lies, seeking to build hatred against Joseph Smith. So an order to close the paper was issued by the city council and the mayor, Joseph Smith.”
“Joseph Smith was also the mayor of this city?”
“Yes.”
“This must be a very new city,” says the traveler. “It isn’t even on my map.”
“Yes, it is new. Just six years ago this was nothing but a swamp.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, the traveler says, “It is a beautiful city. I noticed as I came up the river that the farms and corrals are outside of town.”
“Yes, this is the way Joseph planned the city.”
“Joseph planned this city?”
“Yes, so that the people, mostly farmers, could have the advantages of city life—so that we might associate together and learn from each other.”
The traveler then comments on the wide, straight streets and the well-built houses and wonders what the large building under construction is to be. The mourner informs him that it is the temple and that Joseph had designed it to be the dominant landmark in the city.
“Joseph Smith designed the temple!” the stranger exclaims. He then remembers: “You were telling me what led to his death.”
“Oh, yes, the Expositor incident,” says the mourner. “But the trouble began a long time ago, even before Joseph translated the ancient record.”
“He was a translator?” repeats the visitor. “What happened to the translation of this ancient record.”
“It has been published. It is called the Book of Mormon.”
“Has he published any other books?” asks the stranger.
“Oh, yes, as president of the Church …”
“President of the Church?” exclaims the visitor.
“Yes, president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Almost everyone here in Nauvoo is a member of the Church. As president he published the Doctrine and Covenants and …”
“What kind of book is that?” asks the amazed traveler.
“It is a book of revelations that were given to the Prophet Joseph Smith …”
“The Prophet Joseph Smith!”
“Yes. God the Father and his resurrected son Jesus Christ appeared to him and conversed with him in his youth. In fact, it was after Joseph, full of joy and enthusiasm, told his neighbors he had seen a vision that the persecution first began. Not only was Joseph persecuted, but also all of his followers were. Why, some of the people you see here have been driven from homes in New York, Ohio, and Missouri. In Missouri none of us were paid for our losses. Joseph tried to obtain redress but was refused. That’s the principle reason why he became a candidate for the presidency of the United States.”
“A candidate for the presidency of the United States!” cries out the bewildered stranger.
The mourner continues: “It was four days ago that Joseph bid a reluctant farewell to his family, looked longingly at the temple and then at his farm, and said, ‘This is the loveliest place and best people under the heavens.’ He then rode toward the county seat at Carthage to turn himself over to his enemies. He said, ‘I am going like a lamb to the slaughter, but I am as calm as a summer’s morning.’ He was promised protection and a fair trial, but two days ago, on June 27, a band of over a hundred men with blackened faces stormed the jail. A few moments later, Joseph and Hyrum lay dead.”
“How old was he?” asks the traveler.
“Thirty-eight years old,” says the mourner.
The visitor looks on in disbelief and thinks to himself: “Lieutenant general, translator, author, mayor, prophet, Church president, city planner, architect, presidential candidate—what manner of man was this Joseph Smith?”
This little scene has been imaginary, but well might many people have thought these things about Joseph Smith.

I have three younger sisters and a baby brother who can get restless during sacrament meeting. One Christmas I asked for Mormonad cards. I put them in a little photo album that would fit into my purse, so I could take them to church with me. When my sisters start to get noisy, I pull out the Mormonads and they look at the pictures quietly. I also plan to add pictures of the temple, my family, and Jesus with little children.
Olivia Q., 14, California, USA

Before 1961, missionary conferences were sometimes held in West Berlin, and missionaries and members from the German Democratic Republic could occasionally bring back lesson manuals in their luggage. Although not officially approved by the government, these were not always officially denied at the border crossings. Local Saints then typed the lesson manual information, making many carbon copies, until there were enough copies for each of the branches. After 1961, even this contact with official Church literature became more and more restricted. Brother Joachim Albrecht in Bautzen told this story:
“We received a directive from President Burckhardt that all unauthorized religious materials, books, manuals, etc., were to be destroyed. I was heartbroken. I had, over the years, scraped together a small but nice library of Church materials, for which I had no official authorization. I sat in front of an open fireplace. No, I said to myself. I can’t do it. But in the end, I burned all of the books and manuals I had collected with such difficulty. Less than two weeks after that the secret police knocked on my door. They searched my house for unauthorized printed material. I had none. From that experience I learned a great lesson about inspired leaders and listening to their counsel.”

I came home from my mission mistakenly feeling that I could check patience off my list of lessons to learn. The thing about patience, though, is that it’s not a lesson we learn only once. Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave a talk on patience, and I read it for the first time after a rather discouraging breakup with someone I had been dating. I was feeling heartbroken and a little hopeless, and at that point, the last thing I thought I needed was a reminder to be patient. Surprisingly, though, Elder Maxwell’s insights on patience taught me some powerful concepts that totally changed my perspective (once again) and helped me recommit to patience.
For example, I learned that committing to patience doesn’t mean we shrug our shoulders and give up hope. Elder Maxwell taught: “Patience is not indifference. Actually, it means caring very much but being willing, nevertheless, to submit to the Lord and to what the scriptures call the ‘process of time.’”1 I had always thought of patience as a somewhat passive response to life’s experiences, a sort of relenting. But patience is not relenting. Patience is a manifestation of inner strength and devotion to the Lord.
Elder Maxwell also taught: “Patience is a willingness, in a sense, to watch the unfolding purposes of God with a sense of wonder and awe, rather than pacing up and down within the cell of our circumstance. Put another way, too much anxious opening of the oven door and the cake falls instead of rising. So it is with us. If we are always selfishly taking our temperature to see if we are happy, we will not be.”2 This idea really resonated with me (and not just because I am an impatient baker). It’s discouraging when plans fall through or don’t pan out as expected. To our mortal minds, divine timing can be hard to understand. But what I can understand is that God is a loving Father who has a plan that guarantees eventual happiness if we are faithful, and I am learning to accept His timing with confidence—not with anxiousness.
Because patience tests us at a very personal level, our focus is often inward. But Elder Maxwell taught that “patience also helps us to realize that while we may be ready to move on, having had enough of a particular learning experience, our continued presence is often needed as a part of the learning environment of others.”3 Not only do we need patience, but others also need our patience or the example of our patience. This idea had never dawned on me, and it helped me to view patience as a noble quality, very closely tied to charity, the pure love of Christ, which “never faileth” (Moroni 7:46).

When Raimundo Carvalho was 18, his father died. His father had earned a living washing clothes for other families. Now that meager income was gone.
“I was the oldest child, the only son, with four younger sisters. So, I needed to help my mother provide for the family,” he remembers. “We faced a lot of challenges and we were really poor.”
Raimundo learned to make shoes. Soon, however, it became apparent that he couldn’t keep up on his studies and work enough to provide the help his mother needed. “Taking care of the family came first,” he says. “I was able to finish my classes that year and that was it.”
In his heart, he knew he would come back to school again. But when and how?
He continued to work, and the family survived.
“Then I met and married this beautiful woman,” he says, smiling at his wife, Eréroythe. “And we built a family of our own. Today we have three children and three grandchildren.”
Eró, as his wife is known, encouraged Raimundo to go back to school. “But because of my responsibilities as a husband and a father,” Raimundo says, “I knew I couldn’t pursue the education I wanted at that time. I didn’t abandon my dream—I just put it on pause. It became something I would do in the future.”
What he could do, he found, was to encourage his wife and children in their education.
“The scriptures teach us that the glory of God is intelligence,1” he says. “They also say we should bring up our children in light and truth2 and that we should seek learning by study and faith.3 These principles became standards for our family.”
Today, Raimundo is 62. And that dream he put on pause? It’s finally coming true. He recently graduated from high school. What’s more, he’s preparing to enter college. “I have to take a challenging test to get in,” he says. “But I want people, old and young, to see that they can set a goal and achieve it.”
Raimundo’s wife and children are also pursuing education.
“When I started college a few years ago,” says Eró, who is 57, “no one in the family had done any type of superior education. But I believed that when this wall was broken, education would fill our home. It would make things better going forward. I am a cook by profession, and I cook because I love to cook. But I thought I could learn more, and my daughter Dielle wanted to learn more too.”
They joined a Church self-reliance group, and the facilitator suggested that they apply for Perpetual Education Fund loans. “The loans were approved,” Eró says. “So, we enrolled at the university to study gastronomy. We did the same major, and we were daughter and mother in school together at the same time. We would work all day cooking food, then go to college at night.” Some days Eró started work at 5:00 a.m., worked all day, then had classes starting at 8:00 in the evening.
She admits to falling asleep sometimes. “Sure, it’s tough,” she says. “But you just trust that the Lord will help you, and you keep on going.”
Raimundo and Eró Carvalho on the day she received her degree in gastronomy.
Photographs courtesy of the Carvalho family
Now both mother and daughter have graduated. Eró no longer works at a restaurant. She is self-employed and works from home. “We’re both still cooking, but we’re more qualified and have more opportunities to advance. We’re earning enough to pay back our loans, and Dielle is working on a master’s degree in event management!”
Dielle is now working on a master’s degree.
Eró also explains, “Our son Odirlei, although incarcerated, is completing an online degree in accounting and has been accepted in a competitive federal university agronomy program. He is awaiting a judge’s decision that may allow him to attend classes in person. We encourage him to use his time to study, to become qualified, so that when he gets out permanently, he will be able to have a better life. He has learned that education gives you the opportunity to create a new reality, and he knows that God knows what he can become.”
Eró declares, “Education has made a great difference for our family. It’s not only knowledge; it’s an anchor in our lives.” And Raimundo notes that his mother, who was illiterate most of her life, as an elderly woman learned to read and write.
“Study and faith became standards for our family,” Raimundo says.
Raimundo and Eró also know about another type of education—spiritual knowledge.
“About 30 years ago,” Raimundo says, “we weren’t active in the Church. But our bishop asked Eró and me for an interview. He invited us to take a class about eternal marriage, and because of that class, we came back to the Church and together we studied and learned and built our testimonies. A year later, we were sealed to our family in the São Paulo Brazil Temple.”
Now they have given decades of service in their ward and stake, “and we’re still studying the gospel, still learning more truth,” Raimundo says.
“Even if we’re older,” Eró says, “we need to keep learning. We especially need to keep gaining spiritual knowledge. It’s all part of an eternal plan.”
Raimundo says he loves this quote from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles:
“As a people, we rightfully place high priority on secular learning and vocational development. We want and we must excel in scholarship and craftsmanship. I commend you for striving diligently to gain an education and become an expert in your field. I invite you to also become experts in the doctrines of the gospel.”4
And Raimundo also loves this scripture:
“Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.
“And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come.”5
“That scripture motivates me,” he says. “It brings me happiness to know that there is more to come. I wake up early in the morning and I study the scriptures. Then I go to work satisfied because I was able to learn something early in the morning.”
Not long ago, Raimundo and Eró were called to advise their region’s young single adults.
“It’s wonderful!” Eró says. “We receive their positive energy, and we give them back wisdom. It is like a perfect connection. Age doesn’t separate us. The desire to improve brings us together. We have found that they can teach us skills we haven’t learned yet. And in exchange, we can give them life experience and help them understand how education can further their ability to be self-reliant. We’re here to support each other and learn from each other.”
“What a marvelous opportunity we have now,” Raimundo says, “to help young people see how education can help them to become self-reliant. But I hope we can also help them to understand that the glory of God is intelligence. I think we all have a desire to learn. I believe we will always keep learning.”

“My name is Rachel Zuehl and I’m from Two Rivers, Wisconsin, where my family and I are members of a small branch. Growing up, my brothers and sister and I were the only members of the Church in our high school.
“Everyone knew we wouldn’t smoke, drink, or do anything bad that was considered ‘fun.’ I was lucky to have a few really great friends who respected my standards. I tried to focus my time in high school on being involved in good things like softball, tennis, piano, forensics, and yearbook staff. Being busy helped me forget how unpopular I felt and how different I sometimes felt because I am a Mormon.
“At the spring sports banquet my senior year, I realized that someone did notice and did care that I was ’different.’ For the very first time in our school, the Wisconsin National Guard was presenting an award for ‘strong moral character and freedom from drugs and alcohol use.’ I was the recipient of the award. The whole gymnasium broke into applause as I made my way onto the stage. Through my tears of surprise and joy, I could see my classmates and their parents smiling at me as I received the award.
“I realized that day that being in the mission field has made my testimony strong and has helped me show others that it’s okay to choose the right.”

It started out as an ordinary Primary lesson. I was standing in front of my class of eight-year-old boys and girls, telling them a story about one of the latter-day prophets. When I finished, I began to question them about the moral the story taught. Everyone in the class wanted to answer my question—everyone, that is, but Robert.
I thought nothing of it. He was new in the class, and I thought he was probably just shy about speaking out on his first day. But as the answer was given and as we talked about it, I noticed that Robert’s face got more and more troubled. He wasn’t understanding the idea.
The week before, I hadn’t had time to finish the lesson I had prepared. I knew there wasn’t much time again now, and so I told myself I couldn’t make the other children wait until I had explained it again for Robert’s sake. I decided to go on. After all, I told myself, we will probably go over this idea again some other time.
I made one quick look around the room to make sure the rest understood. As my eyes passed by Robert’s, my heart froze. In an instant it seemed as though his face faded away and in its place I saw that of my three-year-old son, Sam. Startled, I just stood there, staring at Robert as if I expected the transformation to happen again. It didn’t then, or ever again.
Then I realized the impact of what I had done. I had passed over a child of God simply because I couldn’t be bothered. I had lost an important teaching moment. I had been given the opportunity to place a child closer to his Father in Heaven, but had turned my back.
I’ve never forgotten the lesson I learned that day—that only when I have done my best on behalf of all the children I teach can I pray for the best from another teacher on behalf of my own child.

Mercy R. Thompson, the wife of Robert B. Thompson, one of the prophet's hard-working secretaries reports:
"I saw him by the bedside of Emma, his wife, in sickness, exhibiting all the solicitude and sympathy possible for the tenderest of hearts and the most affectionate of natures to feel. And by the deathbed of my beloved companion, I saw him stand in sorrow, reluctantly submitting to the decree of Providence, while the tears of love and sympathy freely flowed. Joseph took charge of the funeral ceremonies, strictly adhering to my husband's wish that there should be no military or other display at his burial as had been but a short time before on the occasion of the burial of Joseph's brother, Don Carlos.
"This indeed was a time of sorrow, but I can never forget the tender sympathy and brotherly kindness he ever showed toward me and my fatherless child. When riding with him and his wife Emma in their carriage I have known him to alight and gather prairie flowers for my little girl."

When I was about to go on a mission, I worried about the same things that today worry the young men and young women who will also serve missions. I worried about work, my girlfriend, school, and family. When I was old enough to go on a mission, my father was almost sixty-six years old, and I thought, My father is old, and if I leave for two years, he may die and I will not see him anymore. Who will take care of my mother? She will be all alone when he is no longer at her side.

May I tell you that I served two years in the mission, I served in the Church schools in Chile for five years, I served as a mission president for three years, as a Regional Representative for six years, and my father is still here at the head of the family. He was born a month after President Benson, so last month he turned ninety-three years old.

I testify that when we serve the Lord with all of our heart, might, mind, and strength, he blesses us.

Years ago, when our six children were young, we decided we wanted to make general conference more meaningful to us. We talked about how important it is to watch conference with clear minds and rested bodies. Conference is an important time to receive instruction from our current prophets. So we set a goal not to plan anything extra for a few days before conference or during conference weekend. We blocked out those days on our calendar, and each of us committed not to schedule extra activities on those days.
If you choose to take a similar approach, it will be unique to your family and your situation, but our family defined “extra activities” as attending school activities, having neighborhood children come over, doing things with friends away from the house, having parties or dinners with friends or relatives, doing projects or yard work in between or during conference sessions, saving school projects until the last minute, and accepting extra assignments at work.
When the week before general conference arrived, it was sometimes hard to say no to these activities, but most of the time our family members cheerfully made the right choices to meet our goal. We found that our younger children wanted to be part of general conference. I think it was because we talked about the importance of conference over and over throughout the week before.
I am happy to report that keeping our schedule simple the days before and during general conference completely changed our family’s experience. Our hearts and minds were prepared for conference. Our time was not cluttered with extra activities, so we could feel the Spirit as we sat and listened to the words of counsel from our leaders.
We have stuck to our goal conference after conference because it fills our home with peace. Though several of our children no longer live at home, we encourage them to still clear their calendar the few days before and during conference, as we do at home. We also try to schedule a time to watch a session of conference together as an entire family. I am hoping that as our children marry and have children of their own, they will continue to place a high importance on protecting their conference experience by clearing their calendars.

I was raised in a family of 11, including my mom and dad. We were well disciplined and religious, but we often fell short of praying as a family.
When I was seven years old, my aunt took me into her home. There I was taught the gospel because she and her husband were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
One night I was invited to pray with them before we went to bed. At first, I was a bit offended because prayer was not part of my life, but I found it easy to pray with them. After the prayer, my uncle taught me how to pray and helped me to understand the importance of praying. He explained that prayer is communication with God and that a relationship with God is impossible without prayer. He taught me that God knows our needs, but we need to ask first.
Talking to my uncle really gave me the desire to learn how to pray. The first time I prayed, I learned that I am a child of God and that He cares about me and wants me to talk to Him always. After that, I knew that when I am looking for God, I must keep calling on Him, even if I am not sure how He will answer.
I know that when we pray to God, He will make Himself known to us. If He answered me, He can likewise answer you.

This glimpse in summary. It was in a school of instruction, the School of Prophets, that the Prophet asked that each in turn speak, that as the revelation says, all might not speak at once but “that every man may have an equal privilege” (D&C 88:122). The subject was faith. Scriptures were quoted. The last man to speak, as it happened, was Brother Kimball, who in effect said it’s all been said but I can say one thing, tell you a story. My daughter, Helen Mar, was standing near the table and her mother left her saying, “Don’t touch those dishes. Don’t break one of those or I will whip you.” Vilate left, and Helen Mar did what little children do when they are told not to do it. Not just a dish was broken. The whole table leaf collapsed. Now she went out, as she had watched her parents do, near a tree. We don’t know what she said, but it would have been simple enough. “Bless my mother that she won’t whip me.” Vilate returned. She saw the situation. She flared. She took Helen by the hand into the bedroom. She assumed the angle. And then she couldn’t go through with it. And the arms of Helen Mar came around her neck and she said, “Oh mother, I prayed that you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, sorry.” When Brother Kimball had finished, every man in the room, including Joseph, was in tears. And Joseph said, “Brethren [these are grown-up, strong, independent, willful, intelligent men], that is the kind of faith we need, the faith of a little child going in humility to its parent” (see Whitney, pp. 69–70). That sums it up.

Completing my full-time missionary service, my mission president gave me great counsel about dating and finding a wife. After being home only a few short weeks, I convinced my dad to allow me to return to Ricks College. Entering the library to work on a report, I went to the circulation desk for help.

There my heart was stolen by a beautiful, blue-eyed, blonde, library worker. After that experience, I spent a lot of time studying in the library! Vickie had graduated with her associate degree and was thinking of moving to attend Utah State University. In my mind that was unacceptable. I had to work fast. We began dating and the rest is history. We met in July, became engaged in October and then married December 18, the day after finals. As much as I thought I loved her then, referring back to Alma's teachings, we had just barely planted the seed of our love. For the last 35 years, we have nurtured and watched over that seed as our love grew; first for one another and our Heavenly Father, then for children, grandchildren, and our many dear friends.

One of the advantages Christina Marinkovic, 23, from the Tiergarten Ward, sees in having a full-time missionary couple in the center is the example these lifelong Church members are to the young single adults.
Christina was first brought to institute by her sister. “I wasn’t interested at first,” says Christina, “but I had a good feeling. It was good to see young people who make good decisions and do the right things. And they have fun. They have fun without alcohol. That was for me a little miracle. Now I am the same way.”
Christina has come to know Elder Thomas and Sister Marilyn Alexander, the missionary couple assigned to the center. “They make institute so much better. We can see a good example of how it is to be married for a long time. It’s good for me to see that a husband and wife can be happy for 40 years and in love with each other. They still flirt. It’s so sweet to see.”