Gospel Story Finder

This principle was brought to light when I was in high school. I had taken an art class in my senior year, because it seemed like an easy A.

When the teacher assigned each of us to sculpt from clay, our favorite figure, I decided in my state of consummate humility, to sculpt myself.....I chose an action pose of myself as a football player. I was excited each day to get to my art class to work on perfecting me. After a few days, what was once a large block of clay began to take form. There were few projects throughout my high school life that I spent more time on, as it was important to perfect this image. After all, I surmised, someday my children will observe this masterpiece and I want there to be no doubt that the small statue looked just like me. I took a few liberties, of course, and depicted the muscles to be a bit bigger and the facial features to be more handsome. I carved in my jersey number to leave no doubt as to who this masterpiece resembled.

Once the sculpture was complete, it was set on the shelf to dry. Within a few days it would be placed into the furnace to remove all of the moisture from the clay and harden the statue to resist the test of time. It was spring break and so the statue was left over the weeklong holiday on the shelf. When I returned, to my surprise, the small statue had hardened on its own. To the eye and touch, it seemed that it was hard enough and so I decided to bypass the oven. I began to paint the sculpture the school colors and painstakingly insured that every detail was covered. I was so proud of my work. The replica of me had actually turned out to be better than the original. I received a much anticipated A on the project and proudly took the statue home and placed it on the shelf in my bedroom. A few months later, as I was cleaning out my room in anticipation for my mission, I moved the statue to a different shelf. I was surprised when one of the legs fell off. I grabbed some glue from the drawer and attempted to glue the leg back on.

When I returned the next day and tried to check on the result of my glue job, I picked up the statue and both legs fell off. I was beside myself; how could my masterpiece be falling apart? All efforts to put it back together failed and along with the legs, eventually the arms fell off, as well. Sadly, and out of options, I ultimately took what was left of the crumbling figure that had once so wonderfully represented me and placed it in the trash can. I reflected then, and still do, on my consummate failure. I had put so much into this project and yet, I failed to follow one of the most important steps in the creation of my masterpiece. In spite of all my efforts, what seemed like a small omission led to the ultimate destruction of “me”.

Jennifer Johnson, 15, of Arvada, Colorado, is confined to a wheelchair and is deaf, but thanks to the help of friends, family, and ward members, she often feels just like “any other kid.”
Jennifer was born with spina bifida, and has had more than 25 surgeries in her short life. Recently, “News for Kids,” a nationally syndicated television program, featured Jennifer going through her classes at school and working at home with her sister Julianne to accomplish their chores.
Jennifer, a Mia Maid, loves going to church and attending Young Women activities. With the help of many, she’s attended YW camp for the past two years, which has been a real treat for her.
She also gets along well at school. “Kids sometimes make fun of me and tease me,” she says. “But I want to be treated like any other eighth grader.”

Last year in my fourth-grade class there was a boy whom nobody respected. At lunch our table always got really crowded, and no one would scoot over for him. I knew that this wasn’t right, so whenever he asked me to scoot over, I did. One day one of my friends asked, “Why do you always scoot over for him?” I answered, “That’s what I’d like someone to do for me.” I know that when I scooted over he appreciated it. I felt good inside too, because I believe that it was what Jesus would have done.

A few years ago, Brig Sorenson mapped out and recorded thousands of graves at the local cemetery for his Eagle project. Picking up where Brig left off, the stake arranged an ongoing service project to photograph the hundreds of gravestones in the cemetery for an Internet genealogy database.
“I’d never been in a graveyard before,” says Kirsten Barraclough. “But it was fun to see the names of all the people who died. It was nice to know you are serving others.”
“Some days I come to the cemetery and I feel really sad,” says Jessica McGuire, whose uncle and grandfather are buried there. “But this time I came and helped. It was a lovely feeling.”

One day at the end of November 2000, I went to school and found out that my friend Jonathan B.’s house had burned down during the night. He and his family had gotten out safely, but their house and all the things in it had burned to the ground. I felt very sad for him, and I knew I had to do something to help. I thought about it all that day.
When my mom picked me up from school, I told her what had happened and that I wanted to buy a new backpack and some toys for Jonathan. She said that she would be happy to take me shopping for these things.
When we got home from school, she called my teacher and asked for the phone number and address of Jonathan’s grandma’s house, which is where his family was staying. She then called there and asked if we could come over later and see him. She found some nice clothes that I had outgrown but that were just the right size for him. Then Mom, my sister Michelle, and I went shopping.
I chose a backpack that I knew he would really like. Then I picked out some toys to fill the backpack. I felt really happy when we took everything to Jonathan. He did really like the backpack, and he was happy to have some toys to play with.
His mom hugged me and thanked me for being so kind to him. My mom and dad told me that they were very pleased that I had chosen to do something so nice for somebody else. I knew that the good feelings I had inside were from the Holy Ghost, letting me know that I had done the right thing.

As a leader in the Philippines, I was able to help in the planning and building of the Manila temple. The Lord was watching over its construction. The day before the groundbreaking, a typhoon approached Manila, and we feared we would not be able to proceed. That evening at a mission conference, a missionary prayed for the weather to clear so that the groundbreaking could continue. During the night, the typhoon changed direction, and we were able to proceed the next day.

Ouch! Have you ever been attacked by a jumping cactus? Cholla cactus segments “jump” off to stick to clothes, skin, or whatever else they can hook their spines into.
The Latter-day Saint youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice, though, as they cleaned the site where the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple will be built. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground made safe to walk on for those attending the temple’s groundbreaking ceremony.
“It was hard work, but it will be totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, age 15.
Before the city of Albuquerque approved the plans for the temple, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing to prepare for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle they could find. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks with sagebrush.
“We’re so happy we will have a temple here. We thought it would never happen,” says Rosalie Campbell, age 12.
Amber Chee, age 17, looks forward to doing baptisms for the dead and someday getting married in the Albuquerque temple. “It was really fun coming here. I felt the Spirit,” she says.
Both Rosalie and Amber have done baptisms for the dead before, but opportunities for temple trips come only once a year for the Albuquerque youth, who have had to travel at least eight hours to get to a temple.
“Temples were always a faraway thing,” says Neil Peterson. As 16-year-old Neil wipes his brow, he says he enjoys helping out with something so important, even if it is hard work.
Besides concentrating on the cactus plants, Michelle Williams is thinking about what it will mean to have a temple in her area and about why she is cleaning up the temple site. “It’s very symbolic,” she says. “You have to be clean yourself to go to the temple.”
Logan King is waiting for his call as a full-time missionary. He won’t be able to go to the Albuquerque temple before his mission, but he realizes the importance of being worthy to attend the temple. “We need to clean all the cactuses out of our lives before we can go to the temple,” he says.
Researching family history is another way the Albuquerque youth are preparing for the temple. Many of them have become excited about doing family history, knowing they will soon have a temple in their area. Albuquerque’s family history center missionaries, Sister Wilcox and Sister Hatfield, say the temple will strengthen the youth. Among the large number of young people in the area, they have seen a “big push for genealogy.”
Sarah Sego, age 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can do baptisms more often. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is eager to tell others why she loves going to the temple. She talks to her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school class.
Sarah is not alone in her missionary efforts. Many Church members are enjoying the opportunity to explain the gospel to others because of the temple.
“I think the temple will make people notice us more,” says Lisa Willis, age 14. She’s also been telling her friends about the temple. “The best part of building a temple is having people ask about it,” she says.
Albuquerque’s full-time missionaries were also working hard at the cleanup. They say members in the area feel that the temple will bring many blessings to all the people of Albuquerque.
“While tracting, we stopped by a house and a woman opened the door and said, ‘Hey, I heard you are building one of those temples.’ That allowed us to get in the door and talk to her about the Church,” says Elder Moyer from California. Many missionaries have similar stories.
The temple will be built in a valley where it can be seen from far away. In fact, it’s the same valley the Mormon Battalion came through on its famous march from the Missouri River to California.
At the groundbreaking ceremony, many young people who had been at the cleanup also sang in the youth chorus. The strains of “High on the Mountain Top” (Hymns, number 5) rang out over the crowd of thousands that had gathered to see the temple ground dedicated.
“We all joined together to celebrate our temple,” says Tyler Lindsey, age 16. “I knew that it was right and the ground was holy. I don’t know how we sounded, but the Spirit was there.”
The Spirit is there. The spirit of service, of missionary work, and of love can be felt strongly in Albuquerque. Whether pulling cactuses or doing baptisms for the dead, the youth of Albuquerque are carrying out the Lord’s work with His Spirit to help them. The youth don’t know yet all the ways the temple will change their lives, but they are grateful to have been able to take a small part in the temple-building project. They are looking forward to the temple’s dedication in the year 2000 and to even greater blessings and opportunities to come.

Bishop Brown’s relationship with his family is one of respect and love, of understood meanings, and of honest and helpful criticism. Joanne, Bishop Brown’s oldest daughter, remembers that when she went to BYU there was a lesson given in her student ward about loving your parents, and the counsel was given to the new students at BYU to write their parents and tell them of their love for them. Joanne said, “In our home we didn’t say I love you, we just loved each other.” But Joanne followed instructions and wrote her father and mother telling them how much she really did love them. When Bishop Brown received that letter he called his daughter immediately. Joanne says she will always remember how touched and grateful her father was for her expression of love to him.

Young John was also prepared to accept the restoration of the gospel through other spiritual experiences while yet in his youth. As a very young boy he had seen in the heavens an angel holding a trumpet to his mouth. When Elder Pratt announced that God’s angel had indeed restored the gospel to the earth, John remembered this manifestation of his youth and recognized it had been given to him as a sign of the truth he would receive so many years later. And this was not the only spiritual manifestation he had received, for he reported that “often when alone, and sometimes in company, I heard sweet, soft, melodious music, as if performed by angelic or supernatural beings” (Life of John Taylor, pp. 27–28).

Perhaps the greatest way my mission prepared me for military service was what it taught me about the power of example. While serving with the 101st Airborne Division, I have come to realize how powerful a good example can be to those with whom I serve. People say they never hear me use profanity or see me drink alcohol or view pornography. A lot of the guys in my unit have asked me why I won’t participate in those activities and have questioned me about the Church and what it teaches. I always explain my values, telling them my religion teaches me that certain things are bad for me and to abstain from them. Knowing that others are noticing my actions helps me strive to be a good example of what a Latter-day Saint should be.

Long before I joined the Church, I was a critic of it. I gathered false information about the Church and criticized my friends who were members.
Despite my ignorance, I was soon converted to Christ through missionary lessons, which transformed me to the point where I desperately wanted to serve a full-time mission.
To strengthen my testimony, I participated in missionary lessons almost all the time, and every moment I spent at a lesson with the missionaries made me more eager to proclaim the restored gospel.
For four good years, the Lord’s invitation in Doctrine and Covenant 88:81 lingered on my mind. Meanwhile, I was learning an electrical and plumbing trade that would take almost three years to complete. This job prevented me from attending Church regularly.
During this time of doubt and reflection on the decision to take, I was inspired by the Savior’s promise in Matthew 6:33–34.
After careful reflection, I finally resolved to accept the call to serve a full-time mission, and it was at this point that I began to encounter a series of obstacles.
I quit my job and went to Côte d’Ivoire to work on my mission application. When I arrived in Côte d’Ivoire, my elder sister hosted me. I stayed with her for a while before finding a job.
After a few months, I found a job in a boutique where I was to be paid 600 francs CFA a day, or 20,000 francs CFA a month. I had to accept it because it was the only opportunity I had.
I also met a girl who agreed to be my girlfriend. I told her about my beliefs and my plans, and she was willing to stand by me.
During working hours, I would go to money agencies to deposit money in amounts ranging from 500,000 francs CFA to 4,000,000 francs CFA. Whenever I received any amount of money and recounted it, there was always a surplus, which I gave back to my boss. Surprised at my honesty and integrity, he increased my salary and often gave me 1,000 to 3,000 francs CFA every evening in addition to my salary. Each time I received my salary at the end of the month, I completed one task on the requirements list for my mission. During this time of unrelenting effort, I had a misunderstanding with my elder sister, so I had to move out and embark on a new adventure. I had no place to sleep because all the money I earned at the end of the month was invested in my mission application. I slept at my friends’ homes, where sometimes four people shared a small room. Some close friends declined my request to spend the night in their homes. There came a time when I wandered from house to house with my suitcase, looking for a place to lay my head. One night, with no place to sleep, I slept on the ground at a marketplace.
Through it all, I kept my faith and knew that the Lord gives no commandment to the children of men without preparing a way for them. (See1 Nephi 3:7.)
One evening, I met with my boss to discuss my situation and the goal I wanted to achieve (i.e. serving a full-time mission). After listening to me, he set a condition: If I would forgo my dream and stay with him, he would do everything for me. I knew he could do that. He had good intentions when he set this condition. He was very close to me, and I had become like a son to him. He trusted me more than some of his brothers. For me, the Savior‘s call was the most important thing. I, therefore, declined the offer. He even sent people to plead with me, but it was all in vain because I was determined to serve a mission.
Finally, I went to Abidjan to apply for my passport, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Along the way, we had to get off the bus and walk for miles to cross certain areas. We even had to walk through the forest during the trip.
There were all sorts of issues with getting a passport, but by God’s grace, I got mine.
After about a year of working on my mission application, I gave it to my bishop to submit it to the stake president. To my utter surprise, my bishop lost the file containing my passport and medical records. This was a huge ordeal for me. That night, I got on my knees and cried my heart out, pleading with God to make it possible for us to find the file. After my prayer, I told Heavenly Father that if we did not find the file, I would work on another application no matter how long it would take.
A few weeks later, a miracle happened: my file was found at the premises of my stake president’s company. The security guard had been keeping the file all this while since he did not know the owner.
This experience strengthened my faith in Christ, that He is mighty to save.
After receiving the file, we gave it to my stake president to fill it out and submit online. However, the file was not submitted online for nearly two months, and it was at this point that I felt like giving up. When I told my girlfriend that I wanted to give up, she replied with a statement that I had made at the beginning of our relationship, that nothing and no one could stop me from serving a full-time mission. I regained hope, called my stake president, and followed up with strict monitoring. When the application was submitted, I quit my job to better prepare for my mission. At one point, I ran out of food and was supported by my girlfriend.
Finally, my call came. I was called to serve in the Côte d’Ivoire Abidjan West Mission with President and Sister Lewis. I was so happy I had attained my goal. I had to go to the training center in Ghana, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I had to undergo my training online. There again, I paid for an internet bundle out of pocket until I ran out of money. A few days later I informed my trainer that I would have to stop taking the course for lack of money. Surprised by what he had just learned, he sent a message to my stake president, and the problem was resolved. I then proceeded with my training as planned.
I experienced adversity from the beginning of my preparation till the end. I am grateful for having kept the faith and for the hand of God that supported me during those trying times.
After my mission, I married that young girl who stood by me through it all. We now have a child who makes us so happy. I testify that as much as we shall put our trust in God even so much we shall be delivered out of our trials, and our troubles, and our afflictions, and we shall be lifted up at the last day. (See Alma 38:5.)

Diligence was demonstrated by all members of the choir, but extraordinarily so by one precious mother whom I shall never forget. Just five days after the choir had left America, I was asked to inform her that her beautiful 37-year-old daughter had died after a long illness. The leaders of this sorrowing mother offered means for her to return home from Europe. She declined the offer. She and her family had already anticipated this possibility. Their decision had been made. It was not to be interpreted as a pattern for anyone else to follow, but for her alone. Her children and grandchildren had pleaded that she remain on assignment. So she continued in all diligence, never missing a single concert! She nobly fulfilled this scriptural counsel: “Therefore be diligent … in whatsoever difficult circumstances [you] may be” (D&C 6:18).

Her example can bless each of you, just as it did her family and me.

Except that it isn’t about San Jose. It’s about San Francisco. There are a lot of fun things within easy reach of the young people in San Jose—everything from beach parties, to ski trips, to camping, to sailing, to sports and cultural events, to San Francisco, which is why this story happened.
San Francisco is about an hour from San Jose, just far enough to make it adventurous and close enough to make it convenient, and that’s how the priests and Laurels of the San Jose Seventh Ward came to make the trip one bright morning.
Their first stop was the Golden Gate Park, a giant green finger pointing out of the Pacific toward San Francisco Bay. They strolled in the shade of the gigantic trees and spent an hour in the lush beauty of the Oriental Tea Garden. They could easily have spent a day seeing the Park’s other attractions, but there was a city of 42 hills and 42,000 adventures waiting for them.
They visited the Golden Gate Bridge, standing on a windswept observation point and watching the vast red span stretch away from them. The intense blue of the bay was dotted with sails, and wave-swept Alcatraz Island looked foreboding in the middle of them.
Next they visited the quaint brick buildings of Ghiradelli Square and ate their lunches on the steps of a fountain there. Then, refreshed by the rest, they ambled along to Fisherman’s Wharf, passing on the street artists who sold their handiworks and street musicians who played in the open air, glancing hopefully now and then into guitar cases and hats where people would occasionally throw money.
One man sat in the back of a pickup truck parked by the curb and played an upright piano. Another innovative fellow climbed inside a painted box and billed himself as a human juke box. People put money in through a slot, and he played a wandering trumpet for them.
They walked along Fisherman’s Wharf, talking to the fish vendors and looking at the stacks of fresh crabs, lobsters, shrimp, and other seafood. Some of it looked back at them and snapped angry claws.
After spending some time observing the long rows of docked fishing boats, they boarded a cable car and rode up the steep hills to Chinatown. They walked up and down the steep streets lined with exotic buildings with upturned roofs, neon signs in Cantonese and English, and shops filled with the pungent aroma of unfamiliar foods.
By then the sun was getting low, and knowing the way to San Jose very well, they returned home.

I had a recent experience that has helped to deepen and sharpen that understanding. This experience overlaps with the story of Erika Hunter that President Worthen shared in university conference. I will offer a slightly different context to that great story. In the first few weeks of August, units from across campus come and make presentations to the President’s Council as part of resource planning. In these presentations, unit leaders both report on good events of the past year as well as discuss resource needs and plans for the upcoming year.

This year in the resource planning presentation by the McKay School of Education, interim dean Kendra Hall-Kenyon shared Erika’s story of how BYU’s unique light blessed Erika to overcome an obstacle. As you recall from President Worthen’s address, Erika had accepted her first position teaching second-grade students. She shared, “On the first day, . . . I loved it! The second day, I was unsure. And by the third day, I was ready to quit. It was so hard!”

Over the next few days, while wrestling with these feelings, she prayed for help. And Erika did receive an answer to her prayer. While driving to work a few weeks into the term, she was blessed to remember counsel from one of her instructors—that she was a child of God and so were all of her students, including the ones who pushed her buttons. Erika’s instructor taught that as public school teachers, they can’t walk into a classroom and teach the gospel directly to their students, but they can always bring the Savior with them into that space.

And that answer was enough. Erika didn’t quit. With that momentary reminder of primary identity, she doubled down on class preparation with new focus, returned to the classroom with more determination and, to keep the story brief, ended up having a great experience with her class that year.

In April 2024, the project reached a significant milestone. Brother Sylvain Tshibaka, known for his self-reliance initiatives within the stake, kicked off the inaugural inspection of the harvest alongside brothers Jean-Claude Buzangu, Tshimanga Pisthou, and Charles Kayembe, the Kinshasa region welfare and self-reliance manager.
After months of meticulous planning, diligent cultivation, and unwavering dedication, the fields are starting to show what promises to be a bountiful future. With a sense of pride and determination, these brothers picked the farm’s first harvest of maize and peppers. Working together, they exemplified the spirit of unity and collaboration that defines Project Moroni and shows the power of collective effort in achieving common goals.

May I underscore this call to action by discussing a concept I was reminded of recently while watching a basketball game.

In that game, the first half was a seesaw battle, back and forth. Then, during the last five seconds of the first half, a guard on one team made a beautiful three-point shot. With only one second left, his teammate stole the inbound pass and made another basket at the buzzer! So that team went into the locker room four points ahead with a palpable surge of momentum. They were able to carry that momentum into the second half and win the game.

There is a story of a group of Relief Society sisters making candy called “divinity” at the home of one of the sisters. Two little boys in the family were allowed to eat all of the divinity they could scrape from the spoons, pans, and bowls. It was the weekend of general conference and, as the family listened to the talks one of the speakers said, “There is a spark of divinity in each of us.” One of the little boys jumped up and said, “A spark of divinity? Wow, I’m full of it!”

The youngest elephant, the one called Mija, was missing. Choon’s father told him about it while they ate their breakfast.
“Late last night Mija pulled up the stake that holds her tie-chain and wandered away. Into the forest, no doubt.”
Choon stared at his father in dismay. He knew that elephants could move on their huge feet without making noise. “But her bell!” he cried. “Did no one hear it tok-tok?”
“All the elephants wear wooden bells that tok when they move in the night,” his father gently reminded him. “This is a sound we are used to.” There was worry in his eyes. He was the foreman of the lumber camp, and an elephant, even a young one, was valuable and must not be lost.
Choon’s own heart was troubled. Mija was his playmate. Because she was not yet old enough or big enough to work at carrying logs, she had plenty of time to walk with him in the forest. There they listened to the jabbering of the monkeys and watched little birds dart among the trees. They waded together in the river. With her trunk, Mija would squirt water over her back and shoulders. Swoosh! She would squirt water on Choon, also, while Choon ducked and laughed and shouted and splashed water back.
Now as his father made ready to search for Mija, Choon said, “I know the forest. I will go with you.”
His father answered firmly, “No, Son. Runaway elephants often become frightened. Then they are dangerous. Besides, who would carry food to the workers at noontime?”
This was Choon’s job, the boy well knew. Sighing a little, he trotted after his father through the door of their small house and across the clearing to the edge of the teak forest, where the elephants stayed at night. There were more than twenty of them—great, strong, wise creatures that did tasks too heavy for other animals or men.
Choon’s father patted the leathery trunk of his own elephant and spoke softly, “Ah, Mem Chang, fine one! This morning we go on a very important mission.”
Mem Chang gave a shrill squeal of welcome. Lowering her head, she wrapped her trunk around the man and lifted him onto her flat, broad forehead. Choon’s father didn’t use a pointed goad stick. Instead, he tucked a brown foot behind each ear and pushed against one or the other to tell Mem Chang which direction to take. Choon watched as the elephant shuffled down the forest trail. Her feet, as big as cooking pots, made scarcely a sound.
Soon there was noise from another direction. The elephant riders were coming to work. They shouted to one another and to Choon. “Sawaddii (hello)!”
Mahouts (elephant masters) these men were called. They wore white turbans on their heads. Tied around their waists were bright-colored panungs (long cloths).
At one of the mahout’s command, his elephant dropped to the ground and pushed its long ivory tusks beneath a teak log. Wrapping its trunk around the log to secure it, the animal rose slowly and carried it to the river. The log would float downstream to a mill, where it would be cut into boards. Teak logs from Thailand were strong and much sought after, Choon’s father had told him. They were used all over the world for making furniture and fine carvings.
Someday, when I am older, maybe I can be a mahout, Choon thought wistfully. He would willingly scrub his elephant clean with coconut husks. He would polish its long ivory tusks and whisper in its ear and sing to it. Choon knew that an elephant must love and trust its rider, or it would do little work and cause much trouble.
“And there will be trouble if I stand here daydreaming,” Choon scolded himself. The sun was climbing higher and higher. When it reached the top of the sky, the men and their animals would stop to rest. And they would be hungry.
Choon ran back to the house. Hanging from the pole outside the door was a great stalk of bananas that his father had brought from a nearby grove. Choon began to pull ripe golden fruit from the thick stalk. “Nueng, song, sahm! Si, hah, hok …” He counted rhythmically as he placed the bananas one by one into a net bag.
All at once he stopped counting. Had his ears really heard a tok-tok? Then he heard another sound, a kind of rattle. Choon gasped. “It is an elephant’s tie-chain.”
His heart beat fast. As the sounds came closer, he made himself turn slowly—until he was looking into the small eyes of a young elephant. “Mija!”
At the sound of her name, Mija’s big ears fanned the air. She shuffled, rattling the tie-chain that was still around one foot. A shiver of fear ran up Choon’s spine and down again. Mija was a runaway. Was she frightened and dangerous now?
Mija grunted and struck the ground with her trunk. Choon laughed out loud with relief. He knew what this meant. “Of course, Mija. You are hungry.”
Quickly he reached into the net bag and picked out an especially fine banana. Mija took it with her trunk and popped it into her pointed mouth. Choon gave her another, and another. The elephant ate eagerly. Then she wrapped her trunk, like an arm, around his shoulders and gently nuzzled his cheek. Choon, in turn, fondly rubbed her trunk.
They were still standing there when his father rode up on Mem Chang. “Choon!” he exclaimed. “You have found Mija!”
“No!” Choon laughed. “Mija found me!” Then he told about hearing Mija’s bell and tie-chain. “I was afraid,” he said truthfully. “But Mija wasn’t dangerous. She was only hungry—and lonesome, I think.”
“You have been a kind friend to Mija.” Choon’s father looked pleased and thoughtful. “When Mija is old enough to carry logs, she will need a mahout—someone she loves and trusts. I think, Choon,” said his father, “that Mija will want you to be her rider.”
Choon’s heart leaped for joy. “Mija! Oh, Mija, did you hear?”
Mija heard the happiness in Choon’s voice. She lifted her trunk and whistled—a squealing, singing, little whistle of pleasure.

My teachers were heaven-sent. May I mention but a few: our former stake president, Harold B. Lee; President Marion G. Romney; and President J. Reuben Clark.
President Clark too was a master teacher. It was my privilege during those years to assist him in the preparation of his manuscripts that they might find their way into printed volumes. What a unique and profitable experience to be with him frequently. Knowing that I was a new bishop presiding over a difficult ward, he emphasized the need for me to know my people, to understand their circumstances, and, in the spirit of tenderness, to minister to their needs. One day he recounted the example of the Savior as recorded in Luke, chapter seven, verses eleven through fifteen:
“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him. …
“When he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. …
“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
“And he came and touched the bier. … And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.”
When President Clark closed the Bible, I noticed that he was weeping. In a quiet voice he said, “Tom, be kind to the widows, and look after the poor.”

I was reminded of this several years ago at Christmastime when one of our daughters had returned recently from her mission. My wife and I had purchased a gift for her—one that she was excited to receive. On Christmas Eve I suddenly realized that I didn’t remember where I had hidden the gift. (Remember, I’m the guy who beat a cherry tree with a baseball bat.) I racked my brain. I searched in all my favorite hiding places. I simply could not find the gift. I felt sick. Minutes went by, stretching into an hour or more. Nothing came to my mind. I decided to pray: “Father in Heaven, I need your help. I have a gift for my daughter but I can’t find it. She is a choice daughter, and I don’t want to disappoint her. Please help me find the gift.” Immediately, I knew where to look. I found the gift. I testify that He knows us. He loves us. We can go to Him in prayer, even in the small and simple things.