Gospel Story Finder

“A miraculous, but longer-term, experience happened on a trip to see the old Church museum in Salt Lake City. I thought it was neat to see a lock of Joseph Smith’s hair and the mummies, but afterward, when Mother and Dad went shopping, I chose to stay in the car. I was sitting there kind of bored and happened to see some pamphlets we’d picked up on Temple Square. One of them was the Joseph Smith story. I didn’t have anything to do, so I picked it up and read it. It was a wonderful experience. I had heard the Joseph Smith story before at home and at Primary, and I had believed it. But as I sat there in the car alone and read it, I had a spiritual experience as powerful as any I’ve had as an adult. The Spirit testified to me that what Joseph Smith was telling was true, and I had a greater love for Joseph. I wished that I had lived when Joseph Smith lived because I wanted to help him. I wouldn’t have apostatized, as some of his friends did.

To illustrate an element of my topic today, I would like to share an experience that I had many years ago as a young man serving in the military. I enlisted when I was 17 years old, right out of high school. I was so young I only had to shave maybe once a week. Looking back 30 years I can say that during that time, I had many experiences that were formative in shaping my future. One such experience took place while I served as a crew member on an M109 self-propelled howitzer. Essentially, it is a large cannon on tracks. The primary purpose for that piece of equipment is meant to be very destructive, and it is.[2] Perhaps there are those of you who have served in field artillery who can relate to this experience. I was used to being on the sending end of an unforgiving kind of business, where we would fire high-explosive rounds that weighed approximately 100 pounds to the distance of anywhere from only a few hundred yards to many miles away. The distance the shell was sent was determined by many factors. The first factor consisted of the amount of gunpowder that was placed behind the shell in the barrel, or the "tube," as we called it. The powder would come premeasured and in large bags that were placed in canisters. Each canister had the same number of bags in it, but we were instructed as to how many we should use for a particular firing mission. The angle of the tube had a major effect on the distance. Those of you who may be physics majors would likely know something about this. We had to consider factors relating to the weather, such as wind, rain, as well as how smoothly the shell would fly through the air (whether it would catch and tumble or spin). Any type of friction could throw it off target. Again, mistakes could be very unforgiving. When we were given the order to fire a round someplace, we were also instructed to adjust the "gun," as it was called, either right or left or up and down a certain number of millimeters; and then, when told to do so, we simply pulled a string called a lanyard, there would be a loud boom, the ground would become unstable under our feet, and we would wait for further orders. What's the harm in pulling a little string, one might ask, or being off target one millimeter? One day I had the opportunity to observe where the rounds would hit. We drove to the side of a mountain where the forward observers were located. They were the soldiers whose job it was to observe where the explosives hit and then relay information back to the gun line and instruct us how and where to adjust our firing. Interestingly, we were far more accurate at hitting the targets that we could not see as opposed to those that we could see, because of the help of the observers who would direct our fire. Brothers and sisters, I had never seen the "other end" of what we were doing back at the gun line. That was my first exposure to that part of the experience. We have all seen similar things on television, movies, and in pictures, but nothing can describe the sights, sounds, and smells. The unique burning-sulfur aroma of the gunpowder is something I will never forget. The destructive power is difficult to describe, especially if you can imagine as many as 24 rounds being shot simultaneously into an area. We needed to do our job correctly, paying attention to detail and listening for proper feedback. Another vantage point gave me a very different perspective about the work that we were involved in, and it intensified my own efforts to improve.

Before he became a member of the Church, Peter had spent most of his adult life chasing financial success. By all outward appearances, he seemed to have found it. After all, he had owned and run several businesses.
When a local Church leader in West Midlands, England, asked Peter to join a personal finances group offered through the Church’s self-reliance initiative, he doubted that the course could teach him anything. Once Peter started attending the group, however, he quickly realized how much he still had to learn.
“The course is not just about finances; that is only half of the story,” he says. “The most important thing for me was learning to have faith in Heavenly Father—how He provides us all temporal blessings and opens the door to true self-reliance if we follow His spiritual guidance.”
As a member of a personal finances group, Peter learned practical skills such as tracking family spending, creating and living on a budget, reducing debt, and saving for the future. Using these skills, along with exercising faith in Jesus Christ and working hard, Peter and his wife repaid a large debt.
“I am feeling significantly lighter and freer without the fear associated with debt and financial disorganization,” he says. “I am feeling the abundant blessings of Heavenly Father in a way I have never felt before. I have learned how to petition Him and listen to His answers when I need help with my temporal affairs.”

Every morning I read the Book of Mormon with my family. I have learned about Ammon, Nephi, and Abinadi. All of them stood up for what they believed and didn’t give up, even when it got hard.
One day, I was playing with two friends. One of my friends said there was no God. Then she said to my other friend, “What do you think?” My other friend said, “I don’t want to be part of this.”
I stood up like Abinadi and told her all about God. It made me happy to bear my testimony. I am grateful the scriptures gave me courage.

When I was serving as a missionary in northern Mexico, a few days after the baptismal service of the Valdez family we received a telephone call from Brother Valdez asking us to come to his house. He had an important question for us. Now that he knew the will of the Lord regarding the Word of Wisdom, and even though it would be difficult to find a new job, he wondered if he should continue to work for the cigarette company where he had worked for many years. Only a few days later Brother Valdez again asked us to come by and visit him. He had decided to quit his job because he was not willing to go against his convictions. Then with a smile and emotion in his voice, he told us that the very day he quit his old job, another company had called to offer him a much better position.

I am the youngest in a family of four boys, and about twenty-two years ago I was encouraged to apply for a faculty opening here at BYU in the Department of Mathematics. At the time, I was a faculty member at Oregon State University, and my three older brothers lived in Iowa, Washington, and California, while my parents lived in Logan, Utah. In addition to this being a great opportunity for me to come to BYU, it allowed me to be a little closer to my parents, because their health was failing.

My father did not want my decision to move to Utah to be based in any way on helping him and my mother. He was very proud of the fact that his sons were contributing to the kingdom outside of Utah. My wife, Shauna, and I felt that the move to BYU was the right decision, and we arrived here in August 1996.

Six months after our arrival in Provo, my father had surgery in Salt Lake City to repair a heart valve. Ten years earlier his original valve had been replaced with a pig valve, at which time he contracted hepatitis C. Because this pig valve was now failing, the doctors decided to replace it with a mechanical valve. During the surgery the doctors realized that the hepatitis C had wreaked havoc on my father’s liver, which made the heart surgery very traumatic on his body. This was the beginning of a seventeen-day roller coaster ride.

At this time my mother’s health was not good, so she was only able to visit my dad about every two to three days. Thus the responsibility of visiting my father and communicating with the doctors fell to my wife and me. One or the other of us would travel from Mapleton, about ten miles south of Provo, to the hospital in Salt Lake City every day. Many times my wife would visit in the afternoon, and I would spend the evening at the hospital, or vice versa. This was particularly challenging because we had four children ranging in age from three to nine.

I referred to this time as a roller coaster ride because on one day a particular doctor would be pessimistic and on the next day another doctor would be optimistic about the eventual outcome. These varied opinions and outlooks greatly affected my emotions as I went to visit my father.

I remember driving up State Street toward the hospital in Salt Lake City and feeling the dread of what I might hear from the doctors on that day and wondering to myself, “Am I afraid of my dad dying?” I also thought to myself, “I have a testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and of His Resurrection. Am I afraid of death? Do I really believe I will see my father again?”

It is this question of “Do we really believe?” that will be the focus of my comments today. As I pose this question, I do not do so to introduce doubt, because when I was going through these trials associated with my father’s time in the hospital, I never really doubted my testimony. Instead I wondered why I was feeling this wide swing of emotions when I knew I did have a testimony that the Atonement of Jesus Christ would allow me to see my father again.

Moroni 7:41 says:

And what is it that ye shall hope for? Behold I say unto you that ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise.

I believed this scripture, but this was the first time I had had to directly apply it in my life. We don’t truly gain a testimony of many principles of the gospel until we exercise faith and apply those principles in our lives. I already had a testimony of the blessings of paying tithing, a testimony that Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ, and a testimony of God’s presence in the temple because I had had many opportunities to test these principles and had had confirming experiences about them. Facing the death of my father, however, was my first opportunity to test my faith and understanding of the Resurrection.

As I faced this trial, I recalled something that my father had told me many times growing up: “Hold fast to the things you know are true, and the answers to the rest will come to you in time.”

When I was on this trying journey of driving to the hospital each day and was facing the fact that my father might not recover, I held fast to the testimony I did have of various gospel principles, and I knew that someday I would better understand the Resurrection. One thing that I have since come to realize is that the main contributing factor to the swing in my emotions at this time was the fear of the temporary loss of association with my father.

One of the main things we enjoy about our families is spending time with them. My father never missed attending a game in which I participated as a young man. Whether it was church basketball or high school football or basketball, he never missed a game. We also attended many Utah State University basketball games together and even had a chance to attend a Jazz basketball game in the month before his surgery. I believe that one cause of my fears as I drove to the hospital was not a doubt of my testimony but the sadness I would feel in not being able to spend time with him.

After seventeen days in the hospital, my father passed away, and I was forced to consider the question “Do I really believe in the Resurrection and Atonement?”

I conclude where I started by sharing an experience that happened to me several weeks after my father passed away. Sitting in an elders quorum class, I was asked to read Doctrine and Covenants 138:28–30, which states:

And I wondered at the words of Peter—wherein he said that the Son of God preached unto the spirits in prison, who sometime were disobedient, when once the long-suffering of God waited in the days of Noah—and how it was possible for him to preach to those spirits and perform the necessary labor among them in so short a time.
And as I wondered, my eyes were opened, and my understanding quickened, and I perceived that the Lord went not in person among the wicked and the disobedient who had rejected the truth, to teach them;
But behold, from among the righteous, he organized his forces and appointed messengers, clothed with power and authority, and commissioned them to go forth and carry the light of the gospel to them that were in darkness, even to all the spirits of men; and thus was the gospel preached to the dead.

As I read these verses in that elders quorum lesson, the Spirit powerfully testified to me that my father was one of those missionaries sharing the gospel in the spirit world. Do I really believe in the Resurrection and that I will see my father again? Yes. I followed my father’s counsel and held on to what I believed, and the answer did come.

Recently I listened to a young mother address a ward Relief Society meeting. She told us that she is losing her eyesight. She expressed gratitude for those who had been reading to her, driving her to appointments, and for another sister who was teaching her to play the piano. Relief Society sisters through their acts of kindness had offered her their light and helped to lessen the fear of this very difficult time of her transition into a world of darkness.

Dances weren’t easy for Randa either. One night, at a church dance, one of the brighter guys made a proposition. You could show real courage by asking the “ugliest” girl there for a dance. Better yet, you could stay for a second dance just to prove your courage had staying power. That was followed by a lot of laughter, and a lot of “I will if you will” promises.
Suddenly one of the guys broke away from the group and asked Randa for a dance. Then he stayed for a second. When he returned to our group, he said, “Okay guys, you promised.” One by one, they asked Randa to dance, and stayed for a second. Randa danced 16 times that night. She had the time of her life—only to learn later that she was the object of a cruel joke.

What if I left? When I first moved here, there were only two other young women in my branch. We became friends and I got to know them very well. But they stopped going to church.
One time I went to the temple, I saw the mission president. I told him about my friends and asked what I could do to help them return to the Church. He told me to stay where I was, be strong, and to pray for them.
Soon after that, I saw one of the girls, and I was so happy to see her. When I returned home that night, I prayed, and felt strongly that I definitely needed to stay right where I was and keep going to church, keep going to seminary, and keep being an example to my friends. What if I left and never came back and one of my friends returned to church? Who would be their friend and help them return? Things are easier when we do them together.
My name is Alyona, and I live in Kharkiv, Ukraine.

Numerous individuals and couples have served both international and local welfare missions. The variety and scope of their service grew to span both the globe and the range of human need. As they have served on projects including instruction and practical help on food security, medical aid, sewing, clean water projects, and literacy to help for the disabled, welfare missionaries have followed the Savior’s example to care for those in need. Their reports show the spiritual dimension of this temporal service. Sister Connie Polve and her companion, both nurses serving welfare missions in Paraguay, treated an infant suffering from a severe skin infection. She reported, “I distinctly felt the Spirit of the Holy Ghost descend upon me and I knew that I was no longer operating under my own direction, but was indeed being a literal tool in the hand of the Lord to do a work for Him upon the earth.” The infant recovered, and the family—once “lost, timid people”—radiated “strength and [the] light of Christ [in] their countenances.”11 Today, over 11,000 missionaries care for those in need in 188 countries.12

“Now for the story of how I came to be a recipient of the CTR tie tack. A few weeks ago before coming to New Zealand as a mission president, I was in the Kayenta Ward in Kayenta, Arizona. As I was saying some tender farewells to many of my Navajo friends, a remarkable young Navajo bishop gave me a big hug, then removed his tie tack and pinned it on my tie. As he did so, he asked me not to forget him.

“Now here in New Zealand, the last thing I do every morning as I dress for this great calling is to pin my tie tack with this beautiful silver and turquoise CTR emblem on my tie. I love it! It helps this old boilermaker make the right choices throughout the day. I know that it also helps fulfill the prophetic promise made to my wife and me from President Gordon B. Hinckley as he laid his hands on our heads and set us apart.

“He said words to this effect: ‘You will have an instant bonding of love for every missionary in your mission.’ I can’t tell you how many times that a missionary, during a visit, has said something like this: ‘President Gardner, I love your tie tack.’ And then he or she will show me their CTR ring.

“I believe that Navajo bishop was inspired to give me the tie tack and that I make the right decision every day when I choose to wear it. And the beautiful blue and silver CTR pin is helping bond me to a royal army of missionaries in the New Zealand Wellington Mission.

“I appreciate the opportunity of relating to you my special experience associated with this great Primary children’s motto, ‘Choose the Right.’”

Nearly one year ago, our daughter Alisa died. She had struggled with cancer for almost eight years, with several surgeries, many different treatments, exciting miracles, and deep disappointments. We watched her physical condition deteriorate as she came to the close of her mortal life. It was excruciating to see that happen to our precious daughter—that bright-eyed little baby who had grown up to be a talented, wonderful woman, wife, and mother. I thought my heart would break.
Last year at Easter time, a little over a month before she passed away, Alisa wrote: “Easter is a reminder of all that I hope for myself. That someday I will be healed and someday I will be whole. Someday I won’t have any metal or plastic inside of me. Someday my heart will be free of fear and my mind free of anxieties. I am not praying that this happens soon, but I am so glad I truly believe in a beautiful afterlife.”1
Each of us has physical, mental, and emotional limitations and weaknesses. These challenges, some of which seem so intractable now, will eventually be resolved. None of these problems will plague us after we are resurrected. Alisa researched survival rates for persons with the type of cancer she had, and the numbers were not encouraging. She wrote: “But there is a cure, so I’m not scared. Jesus has already cured my cancer, and yours. … I will be better. I’m glad I know this.”10
I long to see my mother again and feel her gentle touch and look into her loving eyes. I want to see my father’s smile and hear his laugh and see him as a resurrected, perfect being. With an eye of faith, I picture Alisa completely beyond the reach of any earthly troubles or any sting of death—a resurrected, perfected Alisa, victorious and with a fulness of joy.
A few Easters ago, she wrote simply: “Life through His name. So much hope. Always. Through everything. I love Easter to remind me.”23

Another way to receive spiritual insights about our own eternal natures is from a parent or a leader who can reassure us because of his or her inspired glimpses into who we really are. The Spirit has whispered very specifically to me on occasion about the true identity of my children. I remember the night before one of our babies was born I had the distinct impression that this baby would be a great friend and helper with each of its siblings. This has proved to be absolutely true. Another time when one of our teenagers was very downcast because of involvement in an automobile accident, I distinctly heard these words in my mind: “I love this child and will guide his life.” And He has. Such glimpses have come again and again to me. When they have needed encouragement, I have been blessed with insights into the great and noble eternal spirits of my children.

My wife and I recently received a letter from one of our daughters that, in part, read, “I’ve become a nurse. Four of the six kids have the flu. I’m changing my ambitions from psychiatrist to nurse. Anyway, nobody in this family is sick in the head; we are just all sick.” Then in capital letters she wrote, “I WANT MY LIFE BACK!”
When we read the letter, we gave each other a knowing smile. But those last words, “I WANT MY LIFE BACK,” have stuck in my mind. My daughter’s situation was temporary and for a good cause, but I’ve been hearing more often about people who are filling their lives with meaningless and harmful things.
A cluttered life is a life that you do not have control of. It is a life in which the things you have surrounded yourself with, and allow to use up your time, are controlling you and negatively influencing your happiness and eternal progress.
Our lives can become cluttered by many things. Some are obvious, such as material things. We can surround ourselves with the material things to the extent that we have no time for the spiritual. Look around and you will see all the gadgets and toys and the nice and the fun things that cause us to squander and pay and to wander and play.
Other things that clutter our lives and use our time are not as obvious. They are more subtle and just seem to evolve, taking control of us.
Whenever I think of something subtle—something kind of hidden that we know is there if we stop to think about it but don’t suspect it of cluttering or negatively influencing our lives—I know Satan is busy at his work.
Nothing suits the devil better than to become a silent partner with us. He knows that we have agency and are at liberty to make choices for ourselves. He also knows that while in mortality we are subject to time. If by his subtle means he can become our silent partner, he can influence us to make wrong choices that use our time unwisely and prevent us from doing what we should.
I have learned that it is very difficult, if not impossible, to unclutter one’s life by starting at the top of the pile with the idea that the solution is to just get things sorted and better organized. It is nice to get better organized, but that is not enough. We must actually get rid of what we do not need.
To do this we need to develop a list of basics, a list of those things that are indispensable to our mortal welfare and happiness and our eternal salvation. This list must follow the gospel pattern and contain elements needed for our sanctification and perfection. It must be the product of inspiration and prayerful judgment. It should separate need from greed. It must be our best understanding of those things that are important as opposed to those things that are just interesting, between things we really need and things we just want.
We need to examine all the ways we use our time so we can better understand what we should really be spending our time doing. After all, we give our lives to that to which we give our time.
We must learn that none of the exciting and entertaining and fun things are worth it if they take us from the path that will lead us back home to our Heavenly Father.
We must remember that a person who is not living the basics of the gospel of Jesus Christ is not living them, no matter who or what has caused it. We must also remember that a family divided is a family divided, no matter who or what divides it.
We need to ask ourselves some serious and soul-searching questions. One of these would surely be, Do I have time for prayer? I don’t mean just an occasional, quick, repetitious prayer that is like giving a wave of the hand to your Father in Heaven as you pass Him on your way to something “important.” I mean sincere, honest, “from the depths of a contrite spirit and a broken heart” prayer; kneeling in humility, demonstrating to the Holy Father that you really love him; private prayer which involves you in the process of repentance and pleading for forgiveness and allows time for pondering and waiting for the answers to come.
The next question might be, Do I study the scriptures? If you do, you know that Lehi saw a rod of iron, which, interpreted, means the word of God (1 Ne. 11:1–23). Those who held to the rod, using it as a guide at all times, came safely through the mist of darkness and arrived at the tree of life and partook of its glorious fruit (1 Ne. 8:19, 30). I solemnly testify that the holy scriptures are the word of God. Constant study of them is the act of holding to the iron rod. They will guide you to the Tree of Life. If you are one who has said, “I want my life back,” I exhort you to go to the Tree of Life, where you will find the pure love of God.
God’s plan is a plan of simplicity. It involves being obedient to simple laws, laws that have within them an automatic blessing and happiness for obedience and an automatic punishment and unhappiness for their disobedience.
I urge you to clear away the clutter. Take your life back. Use your willpower. Learn to say no to those things that will rob you of your precious time and infringe upon your agency to choose to live in exactness to God’s plan of happiness and exaltation. Don’t let the subtle influences of Satan take away any part of your life. Keep it under your own control and operated by your own agency.
It is my humble prayer that by our choices we may preserve our individual agency from the subtleness of Satan and live our lives bright and clear and on the path that leads us back to the presence of our Heavenly Father.

It has been said that children are our hope for the future. The wonderful youngsters of the Navu 1st Ward in Samoa are already making the future brighter.
On the cool, foggy morning of March 25, they planted 300 small trees at Malololelei Recreational Reserve with the help of their Church leaders and parents.
The children’s service project was in conjunction with the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment’s Three Million Tree Planting Campaign, an initiative to protect the biodiversity of Samoa.
The children were happy to serve in a hands-on way. They experienced what it feels like to contribute something good to their community and to make a difference.
Ten-year-old Charity said with a smile, “I really loved the tree-planting activity. I learned that trees provide us with air to breathe every day and for birds to live in. By planting trees, we are helping the environment and the different animals and birds in the forest. I felt happy and I loved this activity.”
“I had so much fun,” eight years-old Jonnie said. “I was happy to be with my friends and to help the world by planting the trees. It made me happy to know that this is what our Heavenly Father wants us to do, and it will make Him happy. I love this activity.”
Falefatu, age nine years, agreed, adding, “When I was told what to do, I was really happy and excited to learn how to plant trees and now I know that trees protect the world. I learned that they give us air, medicine and wood to build our houses. I wish to have more activities like this because trees are really important for everyone.”
The adult Church leaders who accompanied the children were pleased to see them enjoying the opportunity to serve.
“The tree-planting activity was such an amazing experience,” noted Eric U.J Tuia. “From the beginning, we could see the excitement in the eyes of the children. It was great to see them participate in doing community service.”
He continued, “I really felt a strong presence of the Spirit of Christ with us during this project. The children radiated joy and happiness as they planted their first tree and quickly ran to get more trees to plant. Even as it started to rain later that day, their enthusiasm for trying to plant as many trees as they could seemed unaffected. What a sight to see that day, and what a fantastic experience it was. The children will never forget it.”
Eseese Moke Ah Sam added, “It was a privilege to witness the excitement of our children planting the trees. I felt very blessed and had a sense of overwhelming joy that these children learned to invest themselves in caring for the environment. They now understand that it is God’s will that they nurture and care for the planet that He blessed us with.”
The children and the small trees will grow up together, and in their own way, will make their world a better place to live. The trees will beautify and give more oxygen to the world and the children learned that they, too, can serve to enrich and add life to their communities.

Several years ago, I attended a work seminar, and I noticed that some of the seminar leaders would fold their arms and bow their heads before eating lunch. These people are usually so nice, I thought to myself. Why are they in such a bad mood whenever they sit down to eat?
I quickly learned that they were praying—not sulking—and I couldn’t help but ask more questions about their faith. They were overwhelmingly kind and had such a unique spirit about them, and I yearned to know more. I learned that they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and we quickly accepted their invitation to attend church with them.
Due to his autism, my younger son was afraid of being in large groups and meeting new people, but the ward welcomed us with open arms and did everything they could to accommodate our needs. The members set aside a special room at the back of the chapel just for my son, and they fulfilled our request to avoid making eye contact with him until he felt more at ease. Even when one of my children would disrupt sacrament meeting, we were treated with the utmost respect and kindness.
I saw my sons unfold in the warmth of the ward’s embrace. They quickly made new friends, and my sons even started to attend Primary classes on days that I was unable to attend church.
We were eventually baptized, a memory that still brings tears to my eyes. At the baptismal service, the ward members—understanding my children’s fear of crowds—tiptoed into the back of the room after the boys had been seated to avoid frightening them. Afterward, we were offered a mountain of congratulatory sweets, and the love in the room was so palpable that my sons remarked, “I want to be baptized again!”
I have nothing but gratitude in my heart when I think about the deep love demonstrated by the members in our ward—a love that ultimately allowed us to find the light of the gospel. The ward perfectly encapsulated what it means to have our “hearts knit together in unity and in love one towards another” (Mosiah 18:21). My family was truly blessed by the kindness of these welcoming Latter-day Saints.
It’s now been two years since my sons and I were baptized. Both of my sons have been ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood, and I’ve seen an incredible change in their demeanors.
I’m grateful for the many caring individuals who accepted my family and who helped my sons overcome their fears through the power of love. I’m grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ, through which even the deepest wounds of prejudice can be healed. And above all, I’m grateful for a loving Heavenly Father, who prepared a way for my family to find peace and belonging, even when I couldn’t see what that path would be.
I’ve learned that as we make room for our differences, we make room for greater love. Each of us is a beloved child of heavenly parents, and as we remember this truth, we can all—no matter where we are or who we are—become one in Christ (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:27).

In 1982, the second Christmas after we were married, Cleto and I decided to establish family traditions. Because we were the first members of the Church in our families, our former Christmas celebrations—though they brought us happy memories—lacked genuine compassion and service. Moreover, our first baby, eight-month-old Diego, was reason enough to improve ourselves in this way.
We were quite busy with university studies, household chores, Church callings, and our crash course in first-time parenthood, but we still devoted ourselves to preparing for a special occasion. We used each family home evening in December to make decorations and to come to a better understanding of the symbols and colors we saw everywhere. We also planned on preparing a simple dinner, and we thought up useful and inexpensive gifts. As we undertook a scripture study program, we realized that the true change in our manner of celebrating Christ’s birth would involve choosing a gift for the Savior.
We wondered, “What do you give someone who has heaven and earth at His disposal?” The scriptures provide the answer, declaring that anything we do “unto one of the least of these” (Matthew 25:40) we do unto Him. Because Christmas is a season of friendship and a time of love, we wanted to invite a member of the Church to experience the warmth and sweet spirit we felt in our home. We looked hard to find someone who needed some cheering up and whom helping could be our Christmas present to the Savior.
Each time we invited a ward or stake brother or sister to our home, we were happy to discover that the person was already involved in other activities. But Christmas Eve soon arrived, and we still had not found someone with whom to share our Christmas.
Resigned to our failure, we were getting ready for dinner when the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I was elated to find a friend we had not seen for some time. Avelar had recently gone through the disappointment of an upsetting separation. He was sad and alone and had felt a strong desire to be with us.
We received Avelar with love, and he told us that he had found the environment he needed to be consoled in the midst of his trials. We told him of our preparations to serve and help someone in need so that he could recognize the Lord knew him and loved him.
For all of us, it was wonderful to realize that the Savior had sent us someone we could not find: our friend Avelar. We realized the overriding importance of relationships among Heavenly Father’s sons and daughters. For that reason, on subsequent Christmases we and our three children always remember that the purpose of the season is to strengthen bonds of unity, love, and friendship.

You may have heard the story of the two medical students who took a long weekend to go off together and study for a final. Studying took a backseat to the fun they were having and eventually they headed back for campus realizing that not only hadn't they studied a bit, but they were going to be late for the final. The two of them concocted a good story and then went to see the professor. They explained that they had been studying hard, away from campus, but they had a flat tire on the way home. They found they were without a jack, were unable to get help and thus were late for the final. Would it be all right for them to take the final in a few days? The professor thought carefully and then agreed that it would be all right.
At the agreed time he met the two medical students and put them in separate rooms with the test booklets. The first student turned over the first page. First question, 5 points, name the two branches of the left main coronary artery. The student thought-this going to be easy-left anterior descending and circumflex. He turned over the page. Second question, 95 points, "Which tire."

When the pandemic first hit, I had one week remaining on my mission in Iowa. I had completed my plan and had created what I thought was a seamless transition into life at home. However, in the middle of March, news spread that campus was shutting down and going to an entirely online, virtual format for the foreseeable future. All my plans for work, school, and life went out the door.

As I began my fourth semester at BYU-Idaho, I wasn’t able to see any of my friends and some of my family members, and my social life was put on pause. The life I had envisioned vanished right before my eyes.

I remember joining my Zoom classes in the basement of my parents’ house and wondering how in the world I ended up there. I thought this couldn’t be the end. I needed to find a way to connect with people during these uncertain times.

Although I was lost and confused, I quickly realized that most of my classmates and professors felt the same way. I was not alone. Students started meeting outside of class in Zoom rooms to work on assignments and projects and to study for tests. We all wanted to succeed but knew that we couldn’t do it without each other. Over the course of the semester, I met lifelong friends and turned what seemed like a dreadful semester into one I will always remember.

Semesters passed, and the university started getting into a sense of normalcy, with classrooms opening and people coming back to campus. I wanted to continue to grow friendships. I reached out to those around me and got involved with Student Support. I began volunteering and was placed on a council with my peers.

A small group of us were tasked to plan the first in-person Get Connected since the pandemic began in 2020. It was no small production. We began searching for hundreds of volunteers to serve with us in welcoming the Fall 2021 incoming freshman. I was reminded once again that I was not alone. People wanted to have face-to-face interaction and connect with one another. It was a unifying experience, and one that I will forever be grateful for.

I don’t think I have ever been more impressed with what a temple recommend means than when I was a stake president in Boston, Massachusetts. We had a dear lady, a widow, who lived in one of the poorer sections of Boston. She was struggling to sustain herself, but she was an independent person who did not want to be a burden to others. She could not afford to move to a better part of town, and as the neighborhood deteriorated around her, she was almost a prisoner within the walls of her own home. She would venture out to the store and would find people on the streets very unfriendly. Once she had even been knocked to the ground and her money was taken from her.
So she came to rely on the priesthood to be with her as she went out to gather the necessities of life. She had a system of unlocking the door for us when we arrived. We would knock on the door of her apartment, and we would hear her weak and feeble voice through the door, “Who is it?” We would repeat our name, and then she would say, “Slide your temple recommend under the door so I can be certain it is you.” After our recommends were slid under the door, she would unlock the latches and we would be allowed to enter.
I have often thought how symbolic that was. A temple recommend—a little piece of paper—represents us and reflects our worthiness to receive the blessings of the temple.