Gospel Story Finder

Hadley Peay is now seven years old. Hadley was born with a very serious hearing impairment requiring extensive surgery to bring even limited hearing. Her parents followed with tireless training to help her learn to speak. Hadley and her family have cheerfully adapted to the challenge of her deafness.
Once, when Hadley was four, she was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store with her mother. She looked behind her and saw a little boy sitting in a wheelchair. She noticed that the boy did not have legs.
Although Hadley had learned to speak, she had difficulty controlling the volume of her voice. In her louder voice, she asked her mother why the little boy did not have legs.
Her mother quietly and simply explained to Hadley that “Heavenly Father makes all of His children different.” “OK,” Hadley replied.
Then, unexpectedly, Hadley turned to the little boy and said, “Did you know that when Heavenly Father made me, my ears did not work? That makes me special. He made you with no legs, and that makes you special. When Jesus comes, I will be able to hear and you will get your legs. Jesus will make everything all right.”
Hadley knew enough.

A mother wrote, “After October conference, in family council, we decided to earn some money not to spend it for Christmas, but to send it to missionaries. The boys, ages five and six, gathered cans for refunds, stacked wood, raked leaves, vacuumed the car, and swept the garage. Two-year-old Becky stacked wood and set the table. Mom gave piano lessons. Daddy cracked his piggy bank of eight years. One boy lost a tooth, and Daddy paid him a quarter for it. He promptly loosened and removed two more for an additional fifty cents! We are sending our total earnings ($81.85). It’s been a pleasure.”

Thank you for Elder Richard G. Scott’s article, “Do What Is Right,” in the March 2001 issue of the Liahona (Spanish). When I learned that my daughter and a young man were falling in love at a very early age, I became angry and said some things that were unfair. But that night I prayed for a way to help these young people. The next day I read the article and found the answer.
I talked with my daughter, and we both cried together when I shared some paragraphs in the article. Then I talked with the young man, read him the paragraphs, and asked him to forgive me. He had also read the Liahona, and he understood that this advice wasn’t just my opinion. An Apostle had given this counsel. This experience united the three of us. I don’t know what I would have done without Elder Scott’s advice.Rosario Colmenares,Chorrillos Ward, Lima Perú Chorrillos Stake

Later on, a friend I made in the ward texted me and asked if I wanted to sing in the choir for a stake conference. Why does she want me to sing? I thought. I’m not a member. I kept battling it, but finally I said, “Sure, I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t like singing in other churches where there’s a band, it’s loud, and it feels like you’re at a concert. We sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The words of the hymn and the sweet sound of the music really touched me.
Kevin:
A few months later, we were sitting in fast and testimony meeting, and Kendra said to me, “I think you should go up and share your testimony about prayer because of what it did for Dad.”
Kendra’s stepdad had just had a massive heart attack. We called on the ward to pray for him and our family during that time. Thankfully, he pulled through.
“I think you should do it,” I said. She got up and bore her testimony. It was so amazing. After this, things just started to unfold for her.
Kendra:
At the beginning of 2018, I kept hearing the name “President Monson.” At this time, I didn’t know this was the prophet. One night the missionaries came over and asked how I was doing.
“I’m doing fine,” I said, “but a person’s name keeps coming to my head, and I don’t know who it is.”
“What’s the name?” They asked.
“President Monson.”
“Kendra, that’s not just any name,” they said. “That’s the name of the prophet who just passed away. You should look at some talks he gave and see what the Lord wants you to learn from him.” I looked at some of his messages, and they were really touching and helped me. From there, it just seemed that the gospel kept coming back to me.
When we would go out to eat before, I would usually order a sweet tea, but Kevin would say, “You don’t need a sweet tea; get something else.”
One day I went to a fast food restaurant for my lunch break and ordered a sweet tea. A few minutes later, an employee said, “At the very moment you ordered a sweet tea, the machine broke.”
She said it would take about an hour to fix the machine. I only had 30 minutes for lunch. I just ordered a soda instead. At that point I laughed and said, “All right, I get it now!”
I wanted to join the Church, but I also didn’t want to make my mom mad. My mom played a big role in my decisions while I was growing up. She was a minister, so I constantly listened to her instead of going to church and learning for myself.
I was a little hesitant when we set a date for my baptism. The missionaries came over, and we talked about it.
Finally, I asked my daughter, Aryanna, “Do you want to be baptized?”
She said, “Mom, I’m ready whenever you are.”
She told me that when she went to church, all the girls ran and greeted her. They took her to Primary classes and were always friendly. They wanted her to be part of things. She became really good friends with one of the girls. That’s what she enjoyed about it.
At Aryanna’s baptism, she cried tears of joy. When I saw her, I thought, I’m where I need to be.
Kevin:
I know Heavenly Father brought the gospel to our family because He loves and cares about us so much.

At the age of eight I was baptized in borrowed white trousers. They were too long, but my mother tucked the legs up and fastened them with a few stitches. This worked fine until they got wet. As I stepped out of the water the weight of the wet cloth broke the stitches. I tripped over my borrowed pants and fell to my knees. The thought immediately came to me that this was a reminder to always kneel and pray for the help of our Heavenly Father in everything.

The other experience was related to me by a good friend. He gave a Book of Mormon to one of his associates in business. He soon retired from the company and heard nothing from this former associate for several years. When he saw him again, the friend said, “Possibly you’d like to know what happened to your Book of Mormon? I haven’t read it, but many of my family have, and there are now nineteen of my family members in your church as a result of reading it.

“I took the book home and put it on the shelf. One night as my mother was babysitting for us, she saw the book and began to read it. When we came home, she asked us about it. She said, ‘This book is true.’ This started a chain of events that brought about these many baptisms.”

We found Athens hot and humid when our group arrived there. Without air conditioning, the bus trip left us tired and bedraggled. But it didn’t take long before the light-hearted quips and personal concern of the young people had the rest of us forgetting our discomfort. It was Carolyn who decided we needed some singing, and Virnell, Shelley, Bonnie, and Diane soon joined in.
As usual, Melvin was the first to help with the luggage when we reached our hotel, checking the number of pieces and helping the ladies with their heavier bags.
“How do you control them?” the lady had asked.
It was just past noon when we returned from a spectacular tour of the Acropolis and Mars’ hill where Paul preached to the Athenians. The young people had assisted their not-so-young associates along the rugged terrain among the ancient ruins, not only giving their physical strength, but sharing their excitement and wonder as well. When we returned to the hotel, we were stunned by the news that Greece was at war with Turkey. Cyprus had been invaded by Turkish troops. All of the Greek men between the ages of 18 and 45 were to be mobilized within the next few hours. Suddenly the streets were filled with people. Young men carried small tote bags; neighbors gathered for brief farewells; a woman stood in her doorway weeping as she saw the men leave. She told us her children were too young to go, but she had five brothers who would have to fight.
This was not just a disruption of the afternoon-scheduled tour to Corinth. This was not just the temporary inconvenience of having no other bus at our disposal. Greece was at war! Greece’s borders were sealed. Her harbors were closed. Her airports were shut off. No commercial transportation was allowed in or out of the country. With the shortage of help in the hotel, we were informed that we would receive no further clean linen, there would be no room service, and the waiters from the dining room were gone. Making our own beds would be no problem. Hanging our towels to dry was no inconvenience. But what kind of chaos would the dining room be in without anyone there to help?
Dinner time arrived, and we walked into the dining room. To our delight there seemed to be plenty of help. John seated me at our table, and Jerome filled our water glasses. Carolyn was serving the rolls to other hotel guests, while Virnell followed up with butter. Bonnie was laughing and joking with some of the tourists as she and Diane served them cool beverages. Shelly was clearing dirty dishes from the tables and refilling glasses with ice. Melvin did anything that might have been overlooked—clearing tables, bringing a salad where one was forgotten, or resetting tables for the next group. They had not been asked; they had volunteered. For the duration of our stay in Athens, their service made the dinner hour something to look forward to.
With the tension of the war mounting, rumors of a military coup circulated throughout the city. Tanks were brought in, and armed police platoons became numerous on the streets. The U.S. Embassy warned us to remain in our hotel until further notice. Thus confined, we were threatened with boredom. But again our young people came to the rescue; they would have nothing to do with boredom. At our sacrament meetings our priests, Melvin and Jerome, prepared the sacrament and were assisted by John in passing it. Virnell and Carolyn served as chorister and organist. By recalling our experiences of the previous week in the Holy Land, our sacrament hymns were even more meaningful to each of us. We followed the admonition that “the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me.” (D&C 25:12.)
In the days that followed, the strain of being in war-inflicted Greece, our evacuation from Athens, and many long delays between planes were all made lighter by the humorous good nature and thoughtful consideration of the young travelers in our group. The lives of all those who traveled with them were made richer by their influence. Our LDS youth serve as an ensign, proclaiming the spirit of the gospel to all the world.

In 1980 Central was invited again to compete outside of Tahiti against New Galedonia in the France Cup. Erroll balked at taking part. “It was an international match,” he explains, “and it was clear that if we reached the final and it involved a Sunday game, there would be bad feeling if I pulled out. I suggested it would be fairer to all concerned if I let someone else take my place. But Mr. Spitz wouldn’t hear of it. He talked the New Caledonians into playing on a Saturday.” Erroll took the winning goal in a 4–3 score.

In the winter of 1831–32, Joseph Smith came to the Snow home. As he sat by the fire, Eliza “scrutinized his face as closely as I could without attracting his attention, and decided that his was an honest face.” Even so, her investigative nature led her to observe what happened over time. She attended a local meeting where Joseph and two Book of Mormon witnesses spoke, and she was deeply impressed. Her mother and sister, Rosetta and Leonora, believed and were baptized that spring.4 Still Eliza waited, studying the Book of Mormon, watching and listening.

In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5

Even then, baptism was a challenge for Eliza, a humble woman who followed social rules and propriety. She prayed for someone to come baptize her, but no one came. When she heard of a meeting of the Saints about two miles from home, she asked her father’s permission to go and be baptized—as an adult, she respected her father, and he readily consented. At the meeting, there was no discussion about baptism, but Eliza gained courage to stand up and request the privilege. Before she could arise, a dark fear came over her. She pushed through the fear and was baptized in a nearby stream on April 5, 1835. “From that day to this I have not doubted the truth of the work,” she wrote.

That night, Eliza reflected on her baptism: “I felt an indescribable, tangible sensation, … commencing at my head and enveloping my person and passing off at my feet, producing inexpressible happiness.” She saw in a vision a candle with a long, bright flame, and a voice told her, “The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path.” She was satisfied.6

Eliza moved to Kirtland to join the Saints for a time and taught school. When she returned to her family’s home at the end of the term, her old friends and neighbors asked about the “strange people” with whom she associated. “I was exceedingly happy in testifying of what I had both seen and heard,” she later wrote. Eliza determined to change her life and live permanently with the Latter-day Saints. Her conversion deepened even further in 1837 when she lived with Joseph Smith and his family. Again, she observed. “I had ample opportunity of judging his daily walk and conversation,” she recalled. She saw much more than the miraculous events of the Kirtland Temple dedication—she saw the life and relationships of a prophet of God. “The more I made his acquaintance, the more cause I found to appreciate him in his divine calling.”7

Thirty-seven years after her baptism, with a heart firmly fixed through persecutions in Missouri and the eventual assassination of Joseph Smith, Eliza remained a committed Latter-day Saint. On June 22, 1872, she shared about her conversion with a group of women in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA: “When I heard it announced that the Lord had spoken from heaven and a record had been brought forth I was deeply interested. I prayed unto the Lord to let me know if the work were true, covenanting with him if he did so that I would ever praise his name.” After her baptism, she said, she attended Church meetings. “We were called upon to speak; I dared not refuse for I had promised God I would ever praise his name in the congregation of the Saints.”8 Her continual conversion required her continued witness.

Eliza bore her testimony over a thousand times as she traveled throughout Utah Territory to teach the Relief Society, young women, and Primary children about the Restoration. Her heart was fixed, and she invited others to experience their own conversions and become firm and steadfast.

Four days later a winter storm dumped eighteen centimeters of snow overnight. Dad woke me up in the morning, pushed a snow shovel into my hands, and told me to clear the snow away from the house. He thoughtfully reminded me that I would have to hurry to get to school on time. I grumbled most of the time but worked fast to get out of the cold. I was about to hurry into the warmth of the house to eat breakfast when I glanced down the street in Brother Watts’s direction. The house was dark; the snow around his house was undisturbed. For a moment I pondered. Then I did one of the craziest things I’d ever done in my life. I walked down the street and began shoveling the snow from Brother Watts’s house.
“What are you doing, boy?” a voice growled behind me when I was about half finished with the job.
Startled, I turned to see Willard Watts standing at his front door. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his old jacket, and his head was scrunched into the coat’s collar.
I shrugged. “Just shoveling a little snow to stay in good shape.” I banged the shovel on the cement and stomped my feet.
“I clear my own snow. I can’t pay you, if that’s what you’re planning.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I answered, returning to my shoveling.
He watched for a moment and then turned back into the house. I went on clearing the snow. As I worked, I wondered what made Willard behave the way he did. I soon finished clearing the snow, put the shovel over my shoulder, and headed for home.
“Hey, boy,” Brother Watts called to me from the front door. He came down the steps and held three dollar bills in his hand. “This is all the change I have,” he mumbled. “I usually do my own work.”
I looked at the three dollars. “I didn’t do it for money.”
He seemed puzzled. “You’re Tom Jordan’s son, aren’t you?”
I nodded yes.
“Did he tell you to do this?”
I shook my head and said something about being late for school.
Three other times I cleaned off the snow in front of Brother Watts’s house. Each time I finished he came out with a few one dollar bills and held them out to me. Each time I politely refused them.
The last time I cleaned off the snow was the end of March after a storm had dumped quite a bit on the ground. He came out with a twenty-dollar bill. “Take it,” he insisted, thrusting it towards me.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m doing this to get myself in good physical condition,” I said.
“Who makes you do this?” he demanded.
We stared at each other for several seconds without speaking. It was a question I had asked myself. Part of the reason went back to the fact that everyone had just crossed him off as one more negative Church statistic. Ever since that first morning I’d felt sorry for Willard Watts, living alone in his house, just waiting for life to end. Everybody deserved more than that out of life. It was possible that the next time he went to church might be to attend his own funeral. “I guess I just thought you—” I hesitated, chewing on my lower lip. “I better be going,” I mumbled. “Don’t want to be late for school.”
Willard pulled out a cigarette, put it in the corner of his mouth, and lit it. He inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled he muttered, almost as though he didn’t want me to hear, “Well, thanks.”

Later I climbed the Mount of Olives by way of a very old stone path. The huge stones were polished from the countless sandals of several thousand years. The feet of Jesus probably climbed this path from Jerusalem to Bethany. It was long and steep, and I stopped several times to gulp much needed air and to wipe the sweat from my eyes. As I lifted my eyes to see the top of the hill, I imagined myself to be one of the Savior’s disciples, following him up the path to Bethany. Perhaps I would have stumbled on a projecting rock and called, “Master, wait for me.” Or I might have asked, “Lord, what of the last days?” For a moment I stood there, aboard my own personal time-machine, wondering about the closeness to Christ that I was feeling. As tears came unexpectedly, I understood those I had seen in President David O. McKay’s eyes during a sacrament meeting a few years ago. He had cried in contemplation of the suffering of a close friend, a man called Jesus.

When I was the Presiding Bishop and one of my counselors, Bishop Ashton, died, I asked for Brother [Thorpe B.] Isaacson. He was then at the head of a large insurance business that he owned and operated. And when President George Albert Smith asked him if he was willing to serve as my counselor, he said: “Yes, but I would like to go back East and arrange with my company to appoint a manager, because you know in the insurance business so much depends on renewals. But,” he said, “if they won’t let me do it, I’ll tell them to take the business.” I happen to know that the tithing he had been paying was just about the equivalent of what his allowance was when he became a counselor in the Bishopric! And not only that, for the first six months after he received his allowance, he turned it back to the Church. He said: “I’ve never been on a mission, so it is about time I did something.”

Only six months ago you faithful members of the Church of Jesus Christ sustained me as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. This calling came as a great surprise to many, but especially to our grandchildren, who said, “But he is our Opa! He is just a regular person. He played with us, and he used to cut our hair!”
After the October general conference, my wife and I talked to our children on the telephone, and one of our grandsons said, “Since we were so far away from you and could not be with you in Salt Lake City, at least you should have waved to us when you were giving your conference talk.” We have not yet been with our children and grandchildren until this general conference, and so I wave today, hoping to make a grandson happy. I also wave to all of you wonderful members, whose prayers and love are so important and appreciated by my wife and me.
In my growing-up years in Germany, I attended church in many different locations and circumstances—in humble back rooms, in impressive villas, and in very functional, modern chapels. All of these buildings had one important factor in common: the Spirit of God was present; the love of the Savior could be felt as we assembled as a branch or ward family.
The Zwickau chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever that operated the bellows to make the organ work. Even before I was an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, I sometimes had the great privilege to assist in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns of the Restoration, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. The eyes of the organist unmistakably indicated whether I was doing fine or needed to increase my efforts quickly. I always felt honored by the importance of this duty and the trust that the organist had placed in me. It was a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to have a responsibility and to be part of this great work.
There was an additional benefit that came from this assignment: the bellows operator sat in a seat that offered a great view of a stained-glass window that beautified the front part of the chapel. The stained glass portrayed the First Vision, with Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove, looking up toward heaven and into a pillar of light.
During the hymns of the congregation and even during talks and testimonies given by our members, I often looked at this depiction of a most sacred moment in world history. In my mind’s eye I saw Joseph receiving knowledge, witness, and divine instructions as he became a blessed instrument in the hand of our Heavenly Father.
I felt a special spirit while looking at the beautiful scene in this window picture of a believing young boy in a sacred grove who made a courageous decision to earnestly pray to our Heavenly Father, who listened and responded lovingly to him.
Here I was, a young boy in post–World War II Germany, living in a city in ruins, thousands of miles away from Palmyra in North America and more than a hundred years after the event actually took place. By the universal power of the Holy Ghost, I felt in my heart and in my mind that it was true, that Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices. The Spirit of God comforted my soul at this young age with an assurance of the reality of this sacred moment that resulted in the beginning of a worldwide movement destined to “roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth” (D&C 65:2). I believed Joseph Smith’s testimony of that glorious experience in the Sacred Grove then, and I know it now. God has spoken to mankind again!
Looking back, I am grateful for so many friends who helped me in my youth to gain a testimony of the restored Church of Jesus Christ. First I exercised simple faith in their testimonies, and then I received the divine witness of the Spirit to my mind and to my heart. I count Joseph Smith among those whose testimony of Christ helped me to develop my own testimony of the Savior. Before I recognized the tutoring of the Spirit testifying to me that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, my youthful heart felt that he was a friend of God and would therefore, quite naturally, also be a friend of mine. I knew I could trust Joseph Smith.
The scriptures teach us that spiritual gifts are given to those who ask of God, who love Him, and who keep His commandments (see D&C 46:9). “All have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God.
“To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby” (D&C 46:11–12).
Today I know that my young testimony benefited greatly from the testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and many friends in the Church who knew “by the Holy Ghost … that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that he was crucified for the sins of the world” (D&C 46:13). Their good examples, caring love, and helping hands blessed me to receive another special gift of the Spirit described in the scriptures as I was yearning for more light and truth: “To others it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue [faithfully]” (D&C 46:14). What a wonderful and precious gift this is!
As we truly humble ourselves, we will be blessed with this gift to have faith and to hope for things which are not seen but are true (see Alma 32:21). As we experiment upon the words given to us by the scriptures and the living prophets—even if we only have a desire to believe—and do not resist the Spirit of the Lord, our souls will be enlarged and our understanding will be enlightened (see Alma 32:26–28).
The Savior Himself explained this merciful principle clearly to all the world in His great intercessory prayer, given not only for His Apostles but for all the Saints, even for us today, wherever we might be living. He said:
“Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word;
“That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me” (John 17:20–21; emphasis added).
This is how Joseph Smith’s First Vision blesses our own personal lives, the lives of families, and eventually the whole human family: we come to believe in Jesus Christ through the testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Prophets and apostles throughout the history of mankind have had divine manifestations similar to Joseph’s. Moses saw God face-to-face and learned that he was a son of God “in the similitude of [His] Only Begotten” (see Moses 1:1–6). The Apostle Paul testified that the resurrected Jesus Christ appeared to him on the road to Damascus and made Paul one of His great missionaries (see Acts 26:9–23). Hearing Paul’s witness of his heavenly vision during the trial at Caesarea, the powerful King Agrippa admitted, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian” (Acts 26:28).
And there were many other ancient prophets who also bore powerful testimony of Christ. All of these manifestations, ancient and modern, lead those who believe to the divine source of all righteousness and hope—to God, our Heavenly Father, and to His Son, Jesus Christ.
God has spoken to Joseph Smith for the purpose of blessing all of God’s children with His mercy and love, even in times of uncertainties and insecurities, of wars and rumors of wars, of natural and personal disasters. The Savior said, “Behold, mine arm of mercy is extended towards you, and whosoever will come, him will I receive” (3 Nephi 9:14). And all who accept this invitation will be “encircled about with the matchless bounty of his love” (Alma 26:15).
Through our faith in the personal witness of the Prophet Joseph and the reality of the First Vision, through study and prayer, deep and sincere, we will be blessed with a firm faith in the Savior of the world, who spoke to Joseph “on the morning of a beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (Joseph Smith—History 1:14).
Faith in Jesus Christ and a testimony of Him and His universal Atonement is not just a doctrine with great theological value. Such faith is a universal gift, glorious for all cultural regions of this earth, irrespective of language, race, color, nationality, or socioeconomic circumstance. The powers of reason may be used to try to understand this gift, but those who feel its effects most deeply are those who are willing to accept its blessings, which come from a pure and clean life of following the path of true repentance and living the commandments of God.
As we remember and honor the Prophet Joseph Smith, my heart reaches out to him in gratitude. He was a good, honest, humble, intelligent, and courageous young man with a heart of gold and an unshaken faith in God. He had integrity. In response to his humble prayer, the heavens opened again. Joseph Smith had actually seen a vision. He knew it, and he knew that God knew it, and he could not deny it. (See Joseph Smith—History 1:25.)
Through his work and sacrifice, I now have a true understanding of our Heavenly Father and His Son, our Redeemer and Savior, Jesus Christ, and I can feel the power of the Holy Ghost and know of Heavenly Father’s plan for us, His children. For me, these are truly the fruits of the First Vision.
I am grateful that early in my life I was blessed with a simple faith that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, that he saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a vision. He translated the Book of Mormon by the gift and power of God. That testimony has been confirmed to me over and over again.
As one of the least among you, but in my calling as one of the Apostles of Jesus Christ, I testify that He truly lives, that He is the Messiah. I do have a personal witness of Jesus Christ, the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind. I received this knowledge by the unspeakable peace and power of the Spirit of God. The desire of my heart and of my mind is to be pure and faithful in serving Him now and forever.
I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Dr. Walker came one evening with a book under his arm and a flower in his hand. “Kari, I want you to have this book. I noticed you and your mother reading together, and I guess I wanted to get into the act. I think you of all people might understand a little of what this young boy went through. He was about your age.”
Kari reached for the book and smiled when she realized it was about the Prophet Joseph Smith. As she read she began to feel that Joseph was a good friend as they traveled together through pain, trials, endurance, and above all, loneliness.
A few weeks after the operation, Dr. Walker told Kari she would have to have radiation therapy. The first snowfall had covered the old oak tree when Kari’s mother drove her to the first treatment. Dr. Walker had prepared her for the aftereffects as best he could, but she soon learned to hate the radiation treatments, even though she knew they were probably saving her life. She wrote in her journal, “A radiation treatment is 100 stormy nights all mixed into one.”
Kari’s mother kept her promise. She was there every step of the way. She was a cheerleader in a house dress and apron, keeping up the faith and the fight.
Christmas came and went. The words “Kari, make it just one more day,” became Mother’s battle cry. Or if the fatigue or nausea was unbearable, the words were, “Kari, make it just one more hour.”
As winter dragged on, the hours and days merged into a gray landscape of pain and exhaustion. Finally, on Valentine’s Day, Kari gave up. She lay in bed looking at an unopened valentine from her mother. Finally, she let it fall to the floor, still unopened. She was tired beyond caring. Her leg burned and itched. She was on the verge of vomiting. She lay back and gave herself up to “What if?” and “Why me?”
Turning her head as if to hide the pointless tears, she saw through her window the ropes of her swing. They moved lazily with the wind, pale lines against the bare oak limbs and gray sky. She struggled to her elbow, then slid heavily from her bed and limped to the window. As she looked down at the swing, a memory stirred and grew strong. She knew what she had to do.
She had made it down the stairs somehow and was halfway out the door when her little brother John found her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he said. “Please get back to bed. It’s cold out here. You’ll catch cold and …”
“Just help me get to the swing.”
John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The swing? You want to swing? It’s freezing out here.”
Kari kept limping toward the swing. “If you won’t help me, I’ll get there myself.”
John put an arm around Kari’s waist, and she leaned on his shoulder. Together they moved on toward the swing. Each step took forever. Kari held her stomach to keep from retching, dragging her leg behind her.
Finally they reached the wooden seat. Kari sat down and John began pushing her. At first she could do nothing but hold on weakly, but then she felt a change. Her grip tightened. Her head felt less heavy on her shoulders. Slowly at first, then more swiftly, strength came flooding into her from some hidden reservoir. For the first time in weeks she felt fueled by a purpose. She began pulling hard on the rope and stretching her toes forward. She felt as if she were reaching with her legs for the height her soul required. With all the strength she possessed she struggled higher and higher, hanging at each summit in a weightless, timeless calm, then dropping back into a dizzy gulf. Soon she was higher than she had ever been before. Street on street opened to her. Suddenly the whole valley was before her, clear to the horizon. She could see to the edge of the world. Her toes touched oak twigs. She felt as if she had left her body behind while her spirit soared. With every swing the world looked new and different. The oak limbs blurring past were the color of Thomas’s new suit.
The pages of Dr. Walker’s book began to dance in circles through Kari’s mind. She thought of Joseph crying out to the Lord in the jail at Liberty, and she heard the answer:
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity … shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes” (D&C 121:7–8).
She felt as if she were kneeling with the Prophet as he searched the heavens again for the height he needed, and again heard the voice. “If the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good” (D&C 122:7).
Bells chimed somewhere in the valley, and Kari thought they were ringing in her soul.
All her newfound strength suddenly drained from her. She was barely able to hold on as the swing slowed. She went limp as John grabbed the ropes and stopped her.
He came around from behind the swing and faced Kari, steadying her as she slumped forward. He was surprised to see a calmness about her. And something that had been missing much too long seemed to have come back.
“John?”
“Kari, what is it? Do you need the doctor?”
Kari shook her head. “I was just wondering how long a woman lives. How old is a woman usually when she dies?”
John shivered in the 35-degree weather. “I had a teacher at school tell me the average life of a woman was 70 or so. She was about 50, and I think she told us that to take away our hopes of getting a different teacher in the near future.”
The wind stopped blowing for a moment, and the air felt less harsh. “John, Dr. Walker says I’ve got three more months of radiation treatments. Right now that looks like forever, but when I think of living 50 or 60 years after that, it’s really just an instant.”
John took his jacket off and put it over Kari’s shoulders. He glimpsed his mother at the kitchen window and knew that in a few moments she would be running out to bring Kari back to the safety of the house.
Kari made circles for a moment with her toe. “The surgeons think they got all the cancer, but they won’t be sure for at least five years, and even then there are no guarantees. But, John …” She took his hands and found that they were strong, like Thomas’s, like her father’s. “Even if they didn’t get it all—when I think of even the longest life compared to forever, it’s like sitting here on the swing and seeing just beyond the yard compared to being so high I can see the entire valley. It’s just a moment.”
John looked a little dubious. “I’d have to say it was a long moment, in my opinion.”
Kari smiled despite the churning of her stomach and the screaming of her leg. “Okay, a long moment, but still a moment.”
“Now let’s go in, Kari. Please? Mom’s coming out of the house, and she’s going to be madder than wet hornets.”
John lifted Kari from the swing. Her head began to swim, and her stomach lurched. He held her tight and started guiding her back to the house. Suddenly she stopped and turned around to look once more at the swing. She knew, as some things are just known, that she would swing again when the bluejays began to fly and the sun warmed the house once more.
“John, Thomas was right.”
John turned around and looked at the swing too. “Thomas is usually right, Kari. He’s the brains in this family.”
The swing began to move slightly as the wind picked up. Kari saw her mother out of the corner of her eye, running to help.
Kari turned her back to the swing, and at the same time she turned her back on giving up. Snow began to fall, but Kari’s thoughts were on the coming spring. She was thinking about the hours she would spend on the swing, and about how far she would learn to see.

Recently, while traveling for a weekend assignment, I realized my carry-on bag wouldn’t fit in the overhead space. I needed that bag. It contained important, essential material. Almost before I had a chance to react, an attendant took my bag, wrapped a tag around its handle, handed me a luggage claim ticket, and whisked my precious possession away.
Throughout that flight, I had an anxious feeling. I hoped someone was taking care of the bag and its contents. I hoped it would not be forgotten, neglected, or lost. I clutched my claim ticket, hoping for a successful reunion.
My story had a happy ending; my bag and I were reunited. But the experience got me thinking.

As a young missionary in Japan struggling to learn a difficult language, I heard some vocabulary words early and often. Greetings such as ohayo gozaimasu (good morning) or konnichiwa (good afternoon) were two of these. Another was wakarimasen, which means, “I don’t understand.” This word, along with a side-to-side hand expression, seems to be a favorite response from Japanese contacts directed to young missionaries as they attempt to strike up conversations.
Initially, as I reflected on the meaning of “and with all thy getting get understanding,” I thought of understanding more in terms of this type of comprehension: what I might hear with my ears and understand in my mind. I thought of the Japanese saying wakarimasen. Do I understand or not understand?
As I have studied and observed the use of the word understanding in the scriptures and from the words of living prophets, however, I have come to realize a deeper meaning. Consider these words from Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles when he was the Presiding Bishop of the Church:
“First, we start with the intelligence with which we were born. To our intelligence we add knowledge as we search for answers, study, and educate ourselves. To our knowledge we add experience, which should lead us to a level of wisdom. In addition to our wisdom, we add the help of the Holy Ghost through our prayers of faith, asking for spiritual guidance and strength. Then, and only then, do we reach an understanding in our hearts—which motivates us to ‘do what is right; let the consequence follow.’ (Hymns, 1985, no. 237.) The feelings of an understanding heart give us the sweet spirit of assurance of not only knowing but doing what is right no matter what the circumstances. The understanding in our hearts comes from a close interdependence of study and prayer.”1
Now consider again: “And with all thy getting get understanding.” Understanding in this context follows intelligence, knowledge, experience, wisdom, and promptings from the Holy Ghost—all of which lead us to knowing and doing what is right.
Most of you are approaching or have entered a critical intersection or crossroads in your life. You are becoming more independent with each passing year, and you are moving deeper into the “and with all thy getting” phase of your life. What is it that you are going to be getting? You may be getting a husband or a wife, your own family, a job, to name a few things.
To manage these very important things that we “get,” we must also obtain “understanding,” as the scripture teaches. This understanding comes through an interdependence of study and prayer. Said another way, we must trust in and rely on the Lord Jesus Christ. Alma described this when he likened the word unto a seed. As he stated, “It beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me” (Alma 32:28; emphasis added).
President Thomas S. Monson often quotes a scripture from Proverbs that adds another dimension to this understanding: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5).2
As we trust in and rely on the Lord, a greater measure of understanding comes from Him into our heart.
Let me offer an example of a powerful woman who played a key role in the Restoration, who trusted in the Lord, and who leaned not unto her own understanding.
Shortly after the Church was organized in Palmyra, New York, Joseph Smith’s mother, Lucy Mack Smith, remained in Waterloo, New York, with a large group of Saints while her husband, Joseph Sr., and some of their sons, including Joseph Jr., departed before her for Kirtland, Ohio. Her responsibility was to bring this group to Ohio when she received word from her son, the Prophet.
Word came in early spring 1831. Lucy, with the help of some of the brethren, began to move the group to Buffalo, New York, with the intention of making passage to Ohio by ship on Lake Erie. She said: “When the brethren considered the spring sufficiently open for traveling on the water, we all began to prepare for our removal to Kirtland. We hired a boat … ; and … we numbered eighty souls.”
Then, as they pushed off into the Erie Canal and headed to Buffalo, she said: “I then called the brethren and sisters together, and reminded them that we were traveling by the commandment of the Lord, as much as Father Lehi was, when he left Jerusalem; and, if faithful, we had the same reasons to expect the blessings of God. I then desired them to be solemn, and to lift their hearts to God continually in prayer, that we might be prospered.”
About halfway to Buffalo from Waterloo, passage along the canal became impossible. Conditions for the 80 Saints were uncomfortable, and murmuring began almost immediately. Lucy, relying on the Lord, had to unite their faith. She told them: “No, no, … you will not starve, brethren, nor anything of that sort; only do be patient and stop your murmuring. I have no doubt but the hand of the Lord is over us.”
When they arrived in Buffalo on the fifth day after leaving Waterloo, the harbor leading to Lake Erie was frozen. They took passage on a ship with Captain Blake, a man acquainted with Lucy Smith and her family.
After a couple of days, although conditions on the ship were not conducive for all of them to stay while awaiting notice of departure, Lucy reported, “Captain Blake requested the passengers to remain on board, as he wished, from that time, to be ready to start at a moment’s warning; at the same time he sent out a man to measure the depth of the ice, who, when he returned, reported that it was piled up to the height of twenty feet [6 m], and that it was his opinion that we would remain in the harbor at least two weeks longer.”
This was devastating news to the group. Supplies were low and conditions were difficult. Lucy Mack Smith further recorded her admonition to the Saints: “You profess to put your trust in God, then how can you feel to murmur and complain as you do! You are even more unreasonable than the children of Israel were; for here are my sisters pining for their rocking chairs, and brethren from whom I expected firmness and energy, declare that they positively believe they shall starve to death before they get to the end of their journey. And why is it so? Have any of you lacked? … Where is your faith? Where is your confidence in God? Can you not realize that all things were made by him, and that he rules over the works of his own hands? And suppose that all the Saints here should lift their hearts in prayer to God, that the way might be opened before us, how easy it would be for him to cause the ice to break away, so that in a moment we could be on our journey!”
Now, please observe here the great faith of Mother Smith—how she chose to trust in the Lord and how she asked that the Saints with her not lean unto their own understanding:
“‘Now, brethren and sisters, if you will all of you raise your desires to heaven, that the ice may be broken up, and we be set at liberty, as sure as the Lord lives, it will be done.’ At that instant a noise was heard, like bursting thunder. The captain cried, ‘Every man to his post.’ The ice parted, leaving barely a passage for the boat, and so narrow that as the boat passed through[,] the buckets of the waterwheel were torn off with a crash, which, joined to the word of command from the captain, the hoarse answering of the sailors, the noise of the ice, and the cries and confusion of the spectators, presented a scene truly terrible. We had barely passed through the avenue when the ice closed together again, and the Colesville brethren were left in Buffalo, unable to follow us.
“As we were leaving the harbor, one of the bystanders exclaimed, ‘There goes the “Mormon” company! That boat is sunk in the water nine inches deeper than ever it was before, and, mark it, she will sink—there is nothing surer.’ In fact, they were so sure of it that they went straight to the [news] office and had it published that we were sunk, so that when we arrived at Fairport we read in the papers the news of our own death.”3
“And with all thy getting get understanding,” or, said another way, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5).
I have personally observed the heartbreak and personal havoc wrought upon those whose focus is on worldly “getting” and not on the Lord’s “understanding.” It seems that those who lean unto their own understanding or rely on the arm of the flesh are more likely to develop a disproportionate focus or obsession for material gain, prestige, power, and position. But keeping the “getting” in accordance with this scriptural guidance of “understanding” will temper your temporal appetite. It will allow the proper context for your activities as a productive member of society and of the Lord’s kingdom.
As a young student full of aspiration, I remember listening to a respected and successful mentor suggest that we appropriately manage ambitions by following an order of “learn, earn, serve.” President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) taught a pattern that leads to trusting the Lord and relying on Him rather than on ourselves. He said: “Each of us has a fourfold responsibility. First, we have a responsibility to our families. Second, we have a responsibility to our employers. Third, we have a responsibility to the Lord’s work. Fourth, we have a responsibility to ourselves.”
We must have a balance. President Hinckley suggested that we fulfill this fourfold responsibility through family prayer, family home evening, family scripture study, honesty and loyalty to our employer, fulfillment of our Church responsibilities, personal scripture study, rest, recreation, and exercise.4
American philosopher and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it.”5
Fortunately, Latter-day Saints never have to look very far to know what to do. With your knowledge of a loving Heavenly Father and the great plan of happiness, you have rudders deep in the water. Now, put your oars in deeply as well and pull hard and even.
In a general conference talk, President Monson quoted from Proverbs, as he had done before: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Then he said, “That has been the story of my life.”6 What a great life to emulate.
I have great expectations for each of you, as do the Father and the Son. I finish where I began—with the exhortation found in Proverbs: “And with all thy getting get understanding.”
Get real understanding. This will come to you as you realize the interdependence of study and prayer, as you maintain a commitment to serve while learning and earning, and as you lean not unto yourself but trust in and rely on the Lord.

Emily poured the last of the lemonade into her cup and went outside. It was a hot day! Emily was glad she had some cold lemonade. Then she saw Grandpa pushing the lawn mower. He looked hot and tired. Emily really wanted the whole cup of lemonade. But she knew Grandpa would be thirsty. Emily went back inside. She got another cup and poured in half of her lemonade. Then she took it outside to Grandpa. He stopped the lawn mower. They drank their lemonade. Grandpa smiled and said, “Thank you for sharing your lemonade!”

One inactive member was jolted into the realization that she was not converted to the Church when her son went on a mission. Comparing herself to others whose impressive conversion stories she had heard, she asked herself, “Why are these people converted so powerfully, and I, with my pioneer heritage, remain unconverted?” She began to read the Book of Mormon even though she doubted its worth and found it boring. Then a friend challenged her. She said, “You say you believe in prayer. Well, why don’t you pray about it?”

This she did, and after she had prayed, she began to read the Book of Mormon again. It was no longer boring. The more she read, the more fascinated she became with it and thought, “Joseph Smith couldn’t have written that—these words were from God!” She finished reading it and wondered how God would tell her that it was true. She said: “A power strong, beautiful, and joyful moved completely through my body. … I knew that Jesus Christ was resurrected, … that Joseph Smith was a prophet who saw God and Jesus Christ. I knew that he miraculously translated ancient records with God’s guidance. I knew that Joseph Smith received revelations from God.” It changed her life because now she too was a convert!

Leaders of the Church have counseled us to cultivate a garden at our homes. Recently, members from the Mountain View Ward in Nairobi, Kenya heeded that counsel, and following their bishop’s assignment and worked hard to create a ward shamba (the word ‘shamba’ means ‘garden’ in Swahili). Ward members joined hands and applied their knowledge in transforming the thickets and shrubs into a bountiful harvest.
Finally, the day came when the rewards were quite visible and abundant. The Mountain View Ward members’ hard work proved itself. There was an abundance of food, ranging from bananas to mboga to beans and they are about to harvest the maize. It was clear that the members’ aim wasn’t for instant gratification. They understood that in all harvests, some blessings don’t come until later, so they chose to be patient with the sweet potatoes and cassava.

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles (80 km) to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.

After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.

“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”