Gospel Story Finder

Three brothers walked away with first prize in the Grand Prix de la Chanson Eurovision 1984. The competition is an important one in Europe, receiving extensive television coverage and generating much interest since each of 19 countries sends one performing group to the competition.
Per, Richard, and Louis Herrey, originally of Sweden but now living in Los Angeles, California, returned to their native country and won the right to represent Sweden at the international competition. At the competition, which took place in Luxembourg, the Herrey brothers took first prize home for Sweden.
Prior to their victory, the boys had received other awards. Per, who served a mission in Chile, was selected to participate in an international song contest in Chile. He sang an original composition. Richard has danced in seven episodes of the television show Fame.
Following their victory, the brothers will tour Sweden and Europe and prepare the songs they want to use in cutting a record album.
The Herrey family is active in the Westwood Second Ward, Westwood California Stake.

Military basic training was tough, especially spiritually. I was surrounded by foul language and bad influences. Prayer and priesthood blessings gave me power to endure, but I longed to have more than personal prayers. Having served a mission, I knew the power and unity that can come from praying with a companion. Unity was one thing our group of about 56 airmen definitely lacked.
Three weeks into basic training, we were still struggling to get along and work as a team. Approaching the junior officers, I requested permission to hold a nightly prayer meeting for anyone who desired to come. Surprisingly, they not only agreed but also supported the idea.
Six airmen came to the first meeting. After taps and lights out, we used a flashlight to read a few verses from the New Testament that related to the challenges we were facing. We then said a prayer, asking that we could have the Spirit of God with us and that we could be grateful for the things we had.
Gradually, more airmen began attending our meeting. Soon our numbers had increased to 15. Sometimes we read Bible verses; other times we read from the Book of Mormon. Each evening anyone who wanted to pray was given the opportunity.
As I had hoped, our prayer meetings had brought unity to our group. But they did more than that: they strengthened us as individuals and helped us turn to our Heavenly Father.

Mike and Lynn are a young married couple with two young children. They especially wanted to share this day with their children and make it special for the whole family. Their entire family worked hard that day to be nicer to each other. They spent the day in the canyons learning about each other and our Father in heaven. As Mike said, “You cannot have a perfect day and not improve your family life. It was wonderful.”
Lynn shared another experience that had happened to her. “Early that morning I arose and decided to fix a good breakfast. I started making pancakes first. I was whipping up the pancakes with a wire whip a little too vigorously, I guess, because suddenly the batter splattered all over everything—the cupboards, the floor, me. Then I looked down at my son and his face had dozens of tiny pancake batter specks on it, and his eyes were big as saucers. When I looked at him, I began to laugh. Usually I would have become very irritated in that kind of a situation.
“And just after breakfast, I received a call from my mother asking if I could give my sister a ride to work that morning. I bundled up the kids, warmed up the car, and drove out to mother’s. By the time I got there my sister had found another ride to work. Again I was able to accept the situation instead of becoming angry or disgusted.
“As I was driving home from Mother’s I began to cry. My son asked what the matter was, and all I could say was, ‘We are going to have a perfect day.’

Several years ago on a cold winter night, some of our extended family volunteered to serve dinner in a homeless shelter during the Christmas season. At first some of the younger children were a bit frightened by the sights, smells, and sounds of the inner-city shelter. They had never been so close to such distress before. But in time a little Christmas miracle took place.

As we served the hot meal we all began to interact with the homeless residents. We exchanged smiles, laughter, and small talk. Then the singing started. No one really remembers who began to sing first—perhaps one of the residents or one of the children—but before long everyone was singing Christmas carols. The room filled with the sweet spirit of Christmas. It became like a great party, almost a family reunion. They were no longer strangers but brothers and sisters, children of the same God. It was powerful, personal, and poignant—a night never to be forgotten.

No heavenly angels sang that night at the shelter—at least not in the literal sense—but heaven seemed close. We felt love—love for God, each other, and all humanity. As the evening ended and we stepped back into the cold night, we each felt the joy and meaning of Christmas more deeply. The stars shone a little brighter, and we all felt a little closer to a few of our fellow passengers on life’s common journey.

My parents played a big role in to who I am today. They were raised in the Catholic faith in Brazil. My mom was one of seven children, and she was only able to finish elementary school as she had to start working at a clothing factory at the young age of 11 to help her family financially. My dad also had to stop school to start working as a bellboy at a hotel when he was still a young teenager. I remember when I was young seeing my dad going to school for adults at night after work to get his high school diploma. My parents were introduced to the gospel of Jesus Christ after they were married and had their first child. For some reason, they felt that they were not ready to be baptized, but my mom said that if one day she would join any church to raise her young family, it would be The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

A few years passed, and my parents were in the car on their way to the hospital for my mom to give birth to their second child which was me, when she saw two missionaries of the Church walking on the street. She asked my dad to stop the car because she needed to talk to them. My dad stopped the car, she called the missionaries over and told them that she was going to the hospital to give birth, she would be back home in a few days, and she wanted them to come to her house because she wanted to get baptized in their church.

A few months later, my parents were baptized. The Church was still very young in Brazil, but it was growing exponentially.

It had been only a few months since Peter’s father, Dr. Mattias Koteles, a professor at the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, had attended an important scientific conference in Austria. On his return, he had told his family an exciting story that had nothing to do with the conference but that he had heard from one of the American doctors. It was about a young boy named Joseph Smith who had been visited by God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ. And it was claimed that the Church that Joseph Smith had organized was God’s true Church.
What if it’s true? Peter had hoped, excitedly. Only a few weeks before, his teacher at school had told the class that there was no God and that the worth of religion was just something that people imagined. While he was listening to his teacher, it had seemed to Peter that a voice in his mind was telling him that his teacher was wrong. That night he had knelt beside his bed and prayed that he would know for sure. Afterward, he had been filled with a warm and happy feeling, and he knew that God lives.
Dr. Koteles had brought back a pamphlet that explained about Joseph Smith, and Peter had read it over and over with growing excitement. He wanted with all his heart to find out more about Joseph Smith and this church. The pamphlet said that an angel had given Joseph some ancient records and that the translation he had made of them with the help of God was published in a book of scriptures called the Book of Mormon. If he could get a copy of this book to read, he would be able to find out if Joseph Smith’s story was true. He thought of the promise that he had read in the pamphlet: “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moro. 10:4).
Peter’s mother had listened to Papa with tight lips, and Peter could tell that she was angry. He heard his parents talking that night when they thought that he was asleep. Peter felt ashamed to be listening, but he was anxious to hear more about the Church …
“Mattias, how could you do this, filling Peter’s head with this nonsense? He’s only ten years old. It’s not only useless, but it could be dangerous for him as well as for us. The government is being very understanding right now, but things could change any moment. Remember that we are Hungarians. Such things are discouraged. Have you forgotten the revolution and the foreign tanks in the streets? You must know that this American church would never be approved by the State Office of Church Affairs.”
“Mama, I am a patriotic Hungarian. My father gave his life for Hungary. But above every man’s duty to his country is his duty to God.”
“But, Mattias,” protested Mama, “an American church? Everyone would think the same. How could you favor an American church and be a loyal Hungarian? It could only mean trouble.”
“There are members of this church all over the world. It is not an American church. I listened to Dr. Jensen talk about its teachings far into the night. I asked many questions. What he told me is just what the Bible teaches. If the story is true, and I feel in my heart that it is, then this is God’s church. Would you have me turn away from God?”
“Mattias, it is only an impossible dream, this idea of yours about a true church. I refuse to hear any more about it. When the State Office of Church Affairs recognizes this church of yours, then I will discuss it. Until then I want you to promise that you will say no more about it to me or to Peter.”
“All right, Mama,” replied Peter’s father, but his voice was filled with sadness.
Neither of his parents mentioned the matter the next day. Peter knew that his mother had not read the pamphlet and that she did not intend to read it. After supper, when he was helping his mother put away the dishes, he asked, “Do you believe that there is a God, Mama?”
“When I was a little girl, my mother taught me about God. I felt that He was very near. As I grew older, I saw much that was wrong in the churches, but this feeling of God’s closeness was something apart from going to any church. Nothing has changed for me since then. But even if this church that your father has found is God’s church, it would be better for us not to know. We could never be a part of it. It would take a miracle. We are Hungarians, and it is no use.”
Perhaps she’s right, Peter thought, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He decided that if there was a true church, God would want him to find it, and only God could help him. He began to pray every night to know if the church described in the pamphlet was true and, if it was, to be able to become a member of it.
Then the miracle happened! It was the end of June, and the streets of Budapest were filled with people enjoying the warm summer sunshine. After school Peter lingered on the bank of the Danube River for a long time. The river seemed especially beautiful that day, and he had been late getting home from school. His mother said nothing about it, though, and all through supper she was strangely silent, her cheeks glowing pink with excitement.
Papa watched her curiously and finally asked, “Mama, what is it? Tell us.”
Silently she left the table, returning with the strudel for dessert and a page of the government’s daily newspaper. She handed the paper to her husband, and he read silently, then passed it to Peter.
Mama had circled a small article in the middle of the page that said: “The State Office of Church Affairs has concluded its investigation and announces full recognition of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a legal institution and authorizes citizens of the Hungarian People’s Republic to be members and attend meetings of this religious organization.” The article went on to say that the Church was holding a meeting that night and another on Sunday and that representatives of the First Presidency of the Church would be there.
“I checked your pamphlet,” Mama said, “and it is the same church. I thought that I would never see it happen. Even now I do not understand how such a thing came to be. Surely God must be with this church.”
“What does it mean, Papa?”
“It means that the State Office of Church Affairs has said that it will allow this church to have meetings in Hungary. It is allowed to teach people about Joseph Smith and the gospel and to baptize people who wish to be members.”
“The miracle,” breathed Peter, staring at his mother.
“Yes, the miracle,” she said.
“Now we will talk of this!” exclaimed Dr. Koteles, and his eyes shone with excitement.
“Yes,” said Mama simply. She took the pamphlet out of her apron pocket and began to read it aloud. As she read, Peter felt as if he would burst.
They went to the meeting on Sunday and were surprised at how many attended—almost sixty people. Peter listened to all that was said, but it was hard for him to understand everything. After the meeting, Dr. Koteles and Peter shook hands with some of the Church officials, and one of them wrote down the Koteles’s name and address. He said that he would send some elders to visit them and bring them a copy of the Book of Mormon.
A couple of days later Peter heard their doorbell ring and ran to answer it. How he hoped that the Latter-day Saint elders had come so that he could know for sure that they represented God’s true church!
Peter’s heart was pounding as he opened the door and saw two men in dark suits. They introduced themselves, and as they smiled and shook hands with Peter, he suddenly realized that he already knew the truth: These elders were members of the true Church; they had been sent by a prophet of God, and he, Peter, was going to be a member too.

Tyler was playing tag with his cousins when he heard his grandma calling.
“Everyone come inside!” she said. “It’s time for dinner!”
Tyler’s whole family was together for a family reunion. Even Uncle Robert and his family had come from far away!
As everyone gathered together, Tyler noticed Grandma holding a basket. He wondered what it was for.
“I’m going to pass this basket around,” Grandma said. “It’s for your phones.”
Tyler heard several of his cousins groan.
“Our family doesn’t get together very often,” Grandma said. “This way we can listen to each other better. We can all get our phones back after dinner.”
Uncle Hyrum made a funny face. “Welcome to the No-Phone Zone!” he said as he put his phone in the basket and passed it on.
Tyler looked at his phone. He liked playing games on it, and he was waiting for a text from his best friend, Ethan. With a sigh, he put his phone in the basket and handed it to his cousin. Then he heard a ping. Was that a text for him? He barely stopped himself from reaching for the basket again.
“Thank you,” Grandma said. “Now let’s say a prayer and eat.”
After the prayer, Grandpa brought in a plate piled high with hamburgers and hot dogs from the grill. They looked delicious! Tyler helped his little brother put a burger on a bun, then grabbed a burger and two hot dogs for himself.
Grandma laughed when she saw his plate. “You eat just like your dad did when he was your age.”
Tyler smiled back. “I’m a growing boy, Grandma.”
Aunt Tracy laughed too. “That’s exactly what your dad used to say!”
After dinner, Tyler’s grandparents, aunts, uncles, and older cousins all told stories. Usually Tyler didn’t stick around to hear the grown-ups talk. But this time he didn’t want to leave the table. He’d never heard these stories before!
Tyler especially liked the stories about Dad.
“Did Dad ever get in trouble?” he asked.
“Oh yes!” Grandpa said. “He was always making crazy inventions—like toasters that also opened the blinds … or at least tried to!”
“What do you mean? All of my inventions worked perfectly!” Dad said.
Everyone laughed.
Grandma looked at Tyler. “We’re proud of your father, and we’re proud of you too!”
Tyler felt a little embarrassed, but mostly he had a happy feeling inside. Suddenly Tyler realized that he hadn’t even thought about his phone for an hour. He had been having so much fun!
When Dad said it was time to leave, Tyler gave Grandma a big hug. “Thanks, Grandma. This was the best dinner ever!”

A number of years ago I taught evening classes for the University of Utah at the old Stoker School in Bountiful. One winter night I walked outside after class and found myself in the middle of a heavy snowfall. As I trudged to my black Subaru station wagon, arms full of class materials, I discovered the lock on my door was frozen. After numerous failed attempts, I moved to the passenger door, only to experience the same result. The best idea I could muster under the circumstances was to heat the locks—hence my professional pursuit of health and not engineering. I walked to the nearby house of some friends and borrowed a candle and some matches. To my dismay, this effort failed as well. Though I could insert the key, I could not coax it sideways.
By now the night was growing late, and I was becoming increasingly cold and tired. Most of the other cars were gone, and I found myself nearly alone in the parking lot. As I stood there, something interesting caught my eye. A few rows over from the car I was so ingeniously trying to enter was my black Subaru station wagon. After seeing my car, I was relieved on three counts: I could now drive home, there was no damage done to the other Subaru, and the owner hadn’t shown up while I was attempting to torch his lock.
This experience has long served as a personal reminder that in this life we can be drawn to things that squander our time, energy, and light without moving us toward a meaningful end. Still, the way home is straight and narrow, and it is vital to know the difference between something that helps us return and something that deflects or restrains our progress.

Similarly, I had much miraculous help when I kept my commitment to the Lord about the Sabbath day. When I returned from my mission, writing was not one of my strong points. I found it very difficult, and my freshman English class was all about writing compositions. For some reason they were always due at nine every Monday morning. There were numerous times when I was still struggling with it late Saturday night. It was so tempting to work on it on Sunday, but I did not. I would get up early Monday morning and go after it, and often it would just flow. It felt so different than it had on Saturday night. I usually got it done by nine, but occasionally I did not. When that was the case, I would go to class and it would turn out that many class members were not finished, and the teacher would grant us until Wednesday. Or the teacher would be sick, and I would get an automatic extension until Wednesday or some other intervention. I can testify to you that I was never penalized on my grades for keeping the Sabbath day holy. Now this would not have been the case if I was slacking off in my studies or failing in my spiritual obligations. I knew the Lord would not just do the work for me if I had not done my very best.

Yesterday my friend and I argued. So today I didn’t walk to school with her. I may never walk with her again!
I stepped over all the cracks as I walked down the sidewalk.
At the end of the block, I had to cross the street. Usually I look one way and my friend looks the other way. But today I had to look both ways before crossing. I saw a car coming. It swooshed as it passed, and I felt the air rush against my face. I looked both ways again and crossed the street.
I walked down the street where all the houses are shaded by maple trees. The yards don’t have much grass, but they do have a lot of stuff that I call moss. My friend and I like to stop and rub our fingers across the moss. It feels like velvet. But I didn’t stop today. Today I just kept walking.
I turned the corner and came to the house that has a wooden bridge that goes from the sidewalk to the front door. Below the bridge is a flat, smooth lawn with a birdbath in the middle. Sometimes my friend and I rest our elbows on the railing of the bridge and pretend that it leads to a castle. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
At Main Street I waited on the curb. Main Street is wide and has lots of traffic. But there is a crossing guard to help. She stopped the traffic, and I crossed the street. Usually she says, “Good morning, you two.” Today she just said, “Good morning.”
I said, “Hello,” and kept on walking.
I almost stopped at the toy store. My friend and I like to look in the window. Besides lots of toys and fancy, dressed up dolls, there are wagons and skates and bikes. But I didn’t stop to look today. Today I just kept walking.
Next to the toy store is a grocery store with a gum machine by the front door. It has red, yellow, green, and white gum balls. My friend and I both like the yellow ones best. Sometimes my friend and I stop on our way to school and buy gum balls to have after lunch. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
I crossed the stone bridge over the Indian River. My friend and I like to stop and watch the sparkling water swirl around the rocks. Sometimes we throw pebbles into the water and watch the circles that form. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
I walked as fast as I could past the firehouse. I didn’t want to be in front if the sirens went off. They go shreeeow,shreeeow! The sound hurts my ears. My friend and I always hold hands and run past the firehouse.
I looked at the clock on the steeple of the church on the hill. I had ten minutes to get to school. Sometimes my friend and I skip fast up one path to the steps of the church. We sit and catch our breath. Then we skip down the other path back to the sidewalk. But not today. Today I just kept walking.
At last I was almost at school. I stopped in front of the house with a sign by the front door that says: “Built in 1726.” Sometimes I imagine myself living in that house way back then. But not today. Today I ran the rest of the way to school. It was a long way without my friend.
I saw my friend in class, but I didn’t talk to her all day.
When school was almost over, I looked at the clock six times. Finally the big hand clicked and moved ahead. The bell rang. I scooted out of the classroom as fast as I could go so that I could get home without seeing my friend along the way. I ran past the old house and the church. I ran past the firehouse with my hands over my ears. I zoomed across the stone bridge.
I stopped when I got to the grocery store. I slipped a nickel into the gum machine. Out came a yellow gum ball. I stuck it in my pocket and ran past the toy store.
As soon as the crossing guard nodded at me, I hurried across Main Street. I dashed past the house with the wooden bridge and down the street made shady by maple trees.
After I stopped at the corner and carefully looked both ways, I sped across the street. Then I ran down the sidewalk, and I didn’t even watch out for cracks. I stopped for a moment in front of my friend’s house. I wondered when she would get home.
As I walked up the front steps to my house, I felt something round and smooth in my pocket. It was the yellow gum ball. I decided to save it for my friend. I think I’ll give it to her when I walk to school with her tomorrow.

Álvaro Emiro and Maritza Ariza recently took their five children, ages one through ten, to the temple. They first walked 40 minutes to catch a bus. Then after a two-hour bus ride, they arrived in Barbosa, where they joined a busload of members led by Ismael Carreño, president of the Barbosa Branch, Duitama Colombia District. After another bus ride of nearly five hours, they reached the temple and were sealed as a family.

Both of my parents learned English when they were in college, and they wanted to raise my siblings and me to speak English in the home. We learned by reading the Book of Mormon in English. At first we’d just read the Book of Mormon and be done, but my mom said she wanted us to read to understand. She told us to pick a verse that stood out to us and explain how it applied to us. This helped me to be confident in speaking and expressing my thoughts in English.
I’m grateful that my parents helped us understand the importance of learning and that they used the Book of Mormon to teach us the gospel and as the number one tool for teaching us English. It was a resource we all had access to, and it helped prepare us to read other materials in English. I know that I’m able to speak English better now because of our family Book of Mormon study. Knowing another language has helped prepare me for school, a mission, and jobs that require English-speaking skills.
Louena H., Tonga

When I was a university student, the honors program in which I was enrolled required students to write a thesis. Each student’s thesis had to be supervised and approved by two professors.
For my thesis I chose to research and analyze warfare in the Book of Mormon. I consulted with one professor about my idea, and he agreed to be one of my supervisors. He also suggested another professor as a potential second supervisor.
I met with the second professor to explain my thesis topic to him. As soon as I mentioned the Book of Mormon, his demeanor changed and he began to criticize the Church. I listened quietly until he had finished and then briefly explained that I felt he misunderstood our beliefs. He didn’t seem convinced, but to my surprise he agreed to supervise my thesis.
After almost a year of research and writing, I submitted my thesis for faculty approval. During that year I had been accepted to law school, and I needed to finish this project to graduate and move forward.
Within a week I received an e-mail from the professor who had criticized the Church. He asked me to meet him at his office.
When I arrived, he asked me to close the door and sit down. Almost immediately, he launched into an attack—not on my thesis but on the Book of Mormon. As calmly as I could, I bore my testimony of the Book of Mormon.
I hesitantly asked the professor if he would still approve my thesis. He said he would not.
I went home feeling depressed and unsure what to do. Without this man’s approval, I could lose my chances to graduate from the honors program and to begin law school. I prayed that everything would work out somehow.
When I explained my situation to the other professor who was supervising my thesis, he advised me to visit the professor the next day and give him one more chance to approve my thesis.
The next morning I found myself waiting outside the professor’s office. I was nervous, unsure of how he would react to seeing me again. When he arrived, he silently opened his office door, gesturing for me to come in. Without saying a word he took out a pen and signed my thesis, officially giving me his approval. He offered no explanation of what had caused him to change his mind but smiled at me as I said good-bye.
I am grateful that I had the opportunity to bear my testimony to this man. I know that as we stand for what we believe, Heavenly Father will strengthen and bless us.

There is a difference in our spiritual strength that results when we are actively striving to live the gospel to the best of our ability. It is often seemingly small things that can make such a difference in our lives. I recall another experience I had while serving as a bishop. I had felt impressed that there were some things we needed to be aware of and to work on to help strengthen the youth in our ward. In a combined priesthood/Relief Society meeting I outlined some of my concerns and feelings regarding what I felt we needed to do as a ward. A discussion period followed, and I remember one brother in my ward who raised his hand and said, “Bishop, if this is what you feel we need to do as a ward, I want you to know that I support it and will do whatever I can.” How gratifying that was to see this member committed to following the counsel he had received. That type of commitment to do whatever the Lord asks of us generates a spiritual strength and awareness that will bring us closer to the Savior and help us to continue to progress in our lives.

I was coming home from swimming lessons Saturday morning when I saw lots of people lined up for a parade. I asked my mom why we weren’t going to the parade. She told me it was because we needed to listen to general conference. I really wanted to go to the parade and was sad that we couldn’t go, but I told my mom that I knew it was more important to listen to conference and that I would do that instead. I liked listening to the prophet and other speakers. I know it helps us to learn more about Jesus.

Jamie was looking forward to the garage sale. She helped her mother sweep the driveway and set up the long folding tables. Then she printed a large GARAGE SALE sign to display at the end of their street.
“Do you think we’ll have lots of people?” Jamie asked.
“I hope so,” Mother answered. “The newspaper ad should help.”
A broken toaster, some mismatched dishes, and outgrown clothing lined the tables. Jamie was fascinated by the people who came to browse through the collection of old items.
“Why would anyone pay fifty cents for an old blue bottle?” Jamie asked after an elderly lady had left with her purchase.
“Why, she’ll put some pretty silk flowers in it and think it’s the world’s greatest treasure!” Jamie’s mother explained. “People like to have unusual things without having to pay a lot for them.”
“Do you think someone will want to buy my old high chair and crib?” Jamie asked.
“Yes, I’m sure someone will,” replied Mother. “They’re almost like new.”
“I don’t like to think of my things being in someone else’s house,” Jamie said with a frown.
“Well, we certainly can’t use them anymore!” Her mother laughed. “You’re a big girl now. I’ll bet if you looked through your room, you’d find some things to get rid of too.”
Jamie went to her room to look for something she could sell. Her bookshelf was lined with books about giants and kings and clowns. This one used to be my favorite, she thought as she looked through the pages of How to Tell Time. I can’t sell it! she decided.
Inside her desk she found a set of plastic letters and numbers that she’d used in first grade. One of the Cs was missing, and the 8 was bent. I might need these to play school the next time Andrea comes over, Jamie thought. Finally, after thinking about everything in her room, Jamie decided to sell her blocks. They had been stored in the farthest corner of her closet for a very long time.
Back outside, Jamie told her mother, “I’m going to sell my blocks for two dollars.”
“Two dollars is rather high,” Jamie’s mother said as Jamie placed the box of blocks on the table. “You may want to lower the price.”
None of the adults were interested in the two-dollar box of blocks. Jamie began to think she’d keep them after all. Then an old blue car pulled up in front of the house. A young woman, followed by three small children, walked up the driveway.
“Your ad said you had a high chair and crib for sale,” the woman said.
“Yes, we do,” replied Jamie’s mother. “They’re right over here on the lawn. As you can see, they’re in very good condition.”
“They are nice,” the woman said. “The ones we have at home are worn-out.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Jamie’s mother said, smiling at the three active children.
Jamie noticed that the dress the little girl was wearing was much too small for her. One of the little boy’s shoes had a hole in the toe, and his shirt was too big. The baby wasn’t wearing shoes, and Jamie thought his feet must be cold.
“My name’s Anne,” the little girl told Jamie. “I’m going to be in first grade this year!”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Jamie said. “How old are your brothers?”
“Marty’s four, and Alex is almost two,” Anne told her. “We’re going to have a new baby pretty soon!”
Marty spied the box of colorful blocks sitting at the edge of the table. “They’re pretty!” he said. He picked up a purple block and turned it around and around, looking at all its sides. “Bet I could build a real high tower with all of these!” he boasted.
“How much are the blocks?” Anne asked.
“Two dollars,” Jamie said. “They’re really good blocks. I haven’t used them very much.”
“Oh.” Anne sighed. “We won’t be able to buy them, Marty.”
“I have some money!” Marty declared. “Eighteen cents from my piggy bank!”
“I know,” Anne whispered to him, “and I have thirty-five cents. But even together it won’t be enough.”
“Maybe we can ask Mother for the rest,” Marty suggested.
“No,” Anne said. “She only has enough for the baby furniture.”
Jamie watched Marty’s freckled face sag into a sad frown. She watched his little fingers place the purple block back into the box. Then she thought about how useless the blocks had been sitting in her closet.
“Two dollars is probably too much for them,” Jamie admitted. “They do have some scratches. I think eighteen cents is a fair price!”
“You do?” Marty grinned. “That’s great!”
Marty counted out his dime and eight pennies. Jamie put the coins into the money box.
“Thank you,” Marty said, clutching his new treasure.
“I have some other things I don’t need anymore,” Jamie said. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll bring them out!”
“I don’t think we have enough money to buy any more,” Anne said.
“Wait until you see if there’s anything you like before you decide,” Jamie said as she hurried inside.
Jamie got How to Tell Time from the shelf. One of the clock hands on the cover was slightly bent, but that wouldn’t matter. It could still help a six-year-old learn to tell time. She gathered all the letters and numbers from her desk, put them into a shoe box, and then hurried outside.
“I’m too old for these things now,” Jamie said with a smile as Anne looked at the toys. “And they’re only thirty-five cents.”
“But aren’t these worth more than that?” Anne asked.
“No, thirty-five cents is just right,” Jamie replied. “You’ll have a lot of fun playing school with them.”
“I can’t wait to tell time!” Anne cried. “Thank you!”
As the old blue car pulled away from the curb, Jamie could see three excited faces looking back at her. Jamie waved. The coins she clutched in her other hand were forgotten. Inside, Jamie had a zillion dollars’ worth of happiness.

Consider the following: John Lyman Smith the brother of President George Albert Smith related this incident that took place when he was a young boy.

In my early years I used to often eat at the table with Joseph the Prophet. At one time he was called to dinner. I being at play in the room with his son Joseph, he called us to him, and we stood one each side of him. After he had looked over the table he said, 'Lord, we thank thee for this Johnny Cake, and ask Thee to send us something better. Amen.' The corn bread was cut and I received a piece from his hand.

Before the bread was all eaten, a man came to the door and asked if the Prophet Joseph was home. Joseph replied he was, whereupon the visitor said, 'I have brought you some flour and a ham.' Joseph arose and took the gift, and blessed the man in the name of the Lord. Turning to his wife, Emma, he said, 'I knew the Lord would answer my prayer.'[13]

I am so glad Jill is here today. We met some 30 years ago here upon the campus of BYU–Idaho, then Ricks College. It was a blind date. I remember going to pick her up. It was apartment #22 of Hillcrest Apartments, then called Mansard Village. Jill answered the door. I remember how beautiful she was, her wonderful smile and sparkle in her eyes. I hoped that this was indeed Jill Anstead. I told her I was Richard and that I was here to pick up Jill. She sweetly smiled, looked me straight in the eye and told me that Jill had left 15 minutes ago. Luckily her roommates started laughing in the background. That day, I received the first taste of her unique sense of humor.
She is my friend – my best friend – I am so thankful that our paths crossed here at Ricks College so many years ago.
Brothers and sisters, the reason I share these accounts with you, is that years from know, it will be times like these at BYU–Idaho which you will remember. It will be of being in the temple, going to Church, walking through campus on a sunny fall day. It will be your relationships with roommates, ward members, faculty and those you date. These very personal experiences will be the source of fond and rich memories which you will draw on in years to come.

In February 2017, I was working here at BYU-Idaho as the Institutional Planning Managing Director. One of my responsibilities at the time was providing budget support to the Online Learning and Pathway departments. On February 7, the Church announced the creation of BYU-Pathway Worldwide. With this announcement, the Pathway organization would be relocated from Rexburg to Salt Lake City. I remember thinking at the time, “I’m glad I don’t work directly for Pathway so I don’t have to move my family with the team.” Well, long story short, then-president Clark G. Gilbert asked me to be the Budget Officer for BYU-Pathway Worldwide and move my family with them.

I remember going home from work that day, waiting for our four young children to go to bed, and sitting down with my sweetheart and telling her about my conversation with President Gilbert. Tears flowed as we talked about the decision ahead and the impact it would have on our children. I still vividly remember the conversation. Some of it was Taunia asking the following questions:
Taunia: “Where will we live?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
Taunia: “How much will you make?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
Taunia: “What are the employee benefits?”
Me: “I don’t know. But the good news is we have a couple of weeks to decide!”
Ultimately we both agreed that, no matter the outcome, we wanted to do what was best for our little family and that the Lord knew what was best for us. We didn’t ever want to look back and wonder what might have been or have regrets for not trusting in Heavenly Father’s plan for us. So we fasted, prayed, and went to the temple, earnestly seeking direction from the Lord.

It became evident that we needed to accept this opportunity and move to Salt Lake. So we did. And it was hard, difficult, scary at times, and overwhelming. But it was also wonderful, faith-building, a tremendous opportunity in many ways, and we had so much peace knowing that we had subjected our will to the will of the Lord, and, no matter the outcome, it was where we were supposed to be. I will be forever grateful for the experiences we had in Utah, the friends we made, and the circumstances that allowed us to return back to Rexburg six years later.

Imagine you’re invited on a pleasure cruise with friends. At 3:00 A.M. the first night out, you are awakened by a loud explosion. A shout of “Fire!” startles you. You race for the deck. Amid the excitement, someone shouts the warning command: “Prepare yourself with life preservers!” Through the eerie dawn and jagged fingers of flame, you see a variety of lifesaving equipment on deck. There are cushions, belts, rings, and several kinds of vests and jackets. Would you grab the nearest piece of lifesaving equipment? Do you think one is as good as another?
I’m a landlubber, and to me one life preserver would have seemed as good as another. But not anymore! What changed my mind?
I attended a safety exhibit. The exhibit stressed accident prevention and covered safety in many situations.
The display that intrigued me most was water safety. A beautiful large blue and white boat caught my eye. Over the bow lay a variety of familiar pieces of lifesaving equipment. On each piece was a simple card. The card read YES on the pieces of equipment that were safety approved; NO on those that were not. I was dumbfounded. I thought all life preservers were approved and would save life in an emergency. I expressed my surprise to the gentleman who was in charge of the display.
“Most people think they’re perfectly safe,” he said, “but that’s the tragedy of it. Now take this skier’s vest. It will protect the skier from getting his ribs broken if he should hit the water hard when making a high jump. The belt will aid him some, but he needs this life jacket to be protected from drowning. Ski belts are not approved because of insufficient buoyancy and failure to ensure face-up flotation.”
He picked up an orange, U-shaped life jacket. It had a YES sign. “Inside this life jacket are strong waterproof plastic bags. They’re filled with kapok and surrounded with this heavy water-repellent canvas. You could float for days wearing this,” he said. “It’s designed to save life.” He put it on demonstrating it for me. “It fits securely around the neck. This holds the head up out of the water,” he said.
“Now, let’s compare this approved vest with this piece of equipment over here.” He rested his hand on the familiar khaki canvas vest with a NO sign on it. “This is nothing but a death trap,” he said. “It’s about as helpful as a bucket of cement. It can become saturated with water in 15 or 20 minutes. When it’s saturated it weighs 29 pounds. The weight of the human body is 10 to 11 pounds when in water. You put this 29 pounds around your neck and it just drags you down.”
“That’s terrible!” I protested. “Why are they allowed to manufacture such death traps? They’re worse than nothing at all!”
“You’re right.” he said emphatically. “They are just a money-making deal. There is no guarantee they will save.”
As I drove home, I thought how foolish I had been to assume all lifesaving equipment would do the job. I began to wonder if I was making other incorrect assumptions that were potentially as dangerous. Then a very striking comparison entered my mind. There are many different philosophies of life, but not all are designed to save. Some, like the khaki vest, can even be death traps.
A popular philosophy of our day teaches us to “look out for number one.” Have you ever heard the line “If it feels good, do it”? Some contend that it doesn’t really matter if you lie, cheat, or steal—as long as you don’t get caught. And everywhere we are bombarded with the message that a person’s success in life is equivalent to the amount of money he makes. While these philosophies, and many like them, are often packaged attractively and made to look very appealing, they are wholly inadequate to save.
The saving principles of the gospel as taught by Jesus Christ and his prophets look very different. Compare, “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matt. 7:12); “love thy neighbour as thyself” (Mark 12:31); “Wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10); and “No other success can compensate for failure in the home” (David O. McKay).
All roads do not lead to Rome, and all philosophies do not lead to eternal life. The Savior taught that man-made creeds have no power to save. “In vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men” (Matt. 15:9).
He also said, “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 7:21).
There is but one plan of salvation and one road that leads to eternal life. Don’t take things for granted, especially not your eternal salvation! Get informed. Apply the teachings of Jesus Christ and his prophets. Whether for water safety or eternal safety, rely only on that which is designed to save.