Gospel Story Finder

I saw that happen when I was a young man. I was the first assistant in a priests quorum. The bishop called me one day at my home. He said that he wanted me to go with him to visit a widow in great need. He said he needed me.
As I waited for him to pick me up at my home, I was troubled. I knew the bishop had strong and wise counselors. One was a famous judge. The other ran a large company and would later become a General Authority. The bishop himself would someday serve as a General Authority. Why was the bishop saying to an inexperienced priest, “I need your help”?
Well, I know better now what he might have said to me: “The Lord needs to bless you.” At the home of the widow, I saw him, to my amazement, tell the woman that she could get no help from the Church until she filled out the budget form he had left with her earlier. On the way home, as he saw how shocked I was, he chuckled at my surprise and said, “Hal, when she gets control of her spending, she will be able to help others.”

Imagine graduating from Young Women and a few months later being called as Relief Society president. Impossible, you say? Mallory Higginson and Macie Murphy could tell you otherwise.
Both 18-year-old freshmen at BYU–Idaho, Macie and Mallory are serving as presidents of the Relief Society groups in their student wards. They had hardly even attended Relief Society before they were each called to serve as president.
They smile confidently as they talk about their callings, but each admits being surprised and overwhelmed after her first meeting with the bishop. Neither of them had been attending Relief Society for very long before arriving at school. Now all of a sudden they were in charge. Despite their initial doubts and fears, Macie and Mallory have quickly come to see that they are not on their own. Their mothers, who have both served as Relief Society presidents, are only a phone call away with comfort and advice. Their bishop is also there to support them, and, of course, so is the Lord.
Although from very different parts of the country—Macie is from Columbus, Georgia, and Mallory is from Mesa, Arizona—they are both learning together that Relief Society is about women being united in the gospel.
Macie and Mallory are each responsible for about 60 young women, and they have learned a lot from it. Living in the dorms at BYU–Idaho as they experience being away from home, the girls in each Relief Society group have become especially close-knit.
From her apartment Macie can see all the apartments in her Relief Society, which she likes because she can see the people she’s looking after. When they come back from dates, she likes to go chat with them, or if she notices that someone is sad or lonely, she invites her over to talk and have fun.
This dorm setting helps to foster a sisterhood, and Macie has learned that sisterhood is what Relief Society is about. “I think it’s really important to rely on each other,” she says. “I know lots of these girls come from places where they don’t have LDS friends, and it’s cool that we can all be one, united in the gospel.”
That is why things like visiting teaching are so important. Just before Mallory left for college, her mom asked her if she wanted to go visiting teaching. Mallory brushed off the offer by rolling her eyes and asking, “How hard could it be?” She admits that she didn’t take it very seriously, but now she understands what a wonderful support system it is. “It is so important for women to check up on each other and to support each other,” she says.
Macie agrees and says she is encouraging her Relief Society sisters to reach out and serve each other, even if it’s as simple as talking to someone who seems to be having a bad day. “It makes you feel better about yourself if you’re serving others,” she says. “We’re all a little homesick and lonely, and this is a great strength.” Away from their homes, the girls have become like family and look after each other, sharing cookies and conversations with neighbors.
“The moment I got this calling, I had this great love for the girls, and I didn’t even know them,” says Macie. She had heard other people say similar things about their callings but had never experienced it before. She compares this feeling to a small taste of what the Lord feels for us all. “He loves us all; we’re His children,” she says. “I feel a responsibility to help take care of the Lord’s children.”
Their bishop encourages this feeling of responsibility, and although he helps them and gives them guidelines, he encourages Macie and Mallory to pray for inspiration.
One way in particular that Mallory and Macie had to rely on the Lord was in recommending their counselors and others for callings in Relief Society. It was a rather daunting task at first, considering they were as new to the ward as they were to the calling and thus hardly knew anyone. Each of them prayed and then went door-to-door trying to get to know the girls in her Relief Society. Mallory says, “I asked the Lord to help me seek those who would be able to grow in the callings and also be able to help the other girls grow.” After that it was a matter of being in tune with the Spirit to know who felt right for the position. She was grateful to be able to counsel with her bishop, who holds the keys to approve callings in the ward.
Through her prayers, Macie has been able to touch the life of at least one girl through inspiration. “One of the girls I had recommended for a calling came up to me and was in tears. She told me that she had been praying for something and felt like she needed to get involved. This calling was what she needed. I know the Lord was the one who called her, but it made me feel good that I could help her out.”
“One of my favorite things to do during Relief Society is to sit up at the front during the opening hymn and look at each girl’s face,” says Mallory. “It’s a different perspective. You see them all as equal—they are all great people. And I’ve learned that everyone has something to offer, which is a perspective that I have often prayed for.”
Mallory considers being able to see the girls through the Lord’s eyes as one of the biggest blessings of her calling. But she says that you don’t need to be the Relief Society president to feel that. Anyone can pray and ask Heavenly Father for the ability to see people as children of God and appreciate what they have to offer.
“It’s been really humbling,” says Mallory of receiving this calling. “I look around and see so many great girls, and I realize any of them could be a Relief Society president with the Lord’s help, because we are instruments in His hands.”
After all, you never know just when the Lord might call on you to lead, whether it be in your Young Women class presidency or as president of the Relief Society. Macie and Mallory admit they were surprised, but that hasn’t stopped them from accepting the opportunity to serve.
And now both of them also have a new perspective on Relief Society.
When she first moved into Relief Society at home, Macie thought it was a challenge to fit in with the older women. Mallory’s home ward tried to ease the transition by periodically inviting the Laurels to Relief Society lessons and activities, so she had a taste of what it was like, but in the back of her mind she still had a fear that they were going to spend a lot of time sewing. However, both Mallory and Macie now understand the reasons for programs like home, family, and personal enrichment and are able to gear them toward the women their age.
“I have a greater appreciation for Relief Society now,” Macie says. “I don’t think it’s just an old ladies society anymore.”
And just as both girls turned to their mothers for words of advice and comfort in their new callings, Mallory says that with the right attitude, the younger women can learn from the older women. Then, that sisterhood she and Macie have come to embrace can be extended across the generations.
For help with the transition to Relief Society, go to www.lds.org and click on Serving in the Church, Relief Society, and then Transitioning into Womanhood.

Several years ago in Osaka, Japan, I received a telephone call from one of the Japanese officers of the Church requesting an appointment. I invited him to my hotel room and there listened to one of the most intelligent and articulate young men I had ever met.
He was a college graduate. He had majored in a special field of science and was employed by a stable, conservative corporation. One of his classmates, who had been at the top of the graduating class in the same field, was employed by a young, progressive firm in Tokyo. Several times in recent months this classmate had tried to entice his friend to change jobs. One of the vice-presidents of the firm in Tokyo made contact with the Church member, saying he could set his own salary at three or four times what he was then making.
The response was, “If there is the slightest question in the minds of the officers of my church about my leaving Osaka, which would require my being released from my Church position, it doesn’t matter how much money you offer me, I will have no interest in your proposal.” The vice-president replied, “I am not a Christian. I know nothing about your religion, but you are the kind of man I want in my organization.”
Should he move from Osaka to Tokyo, which would require his release from his Church assignment? Of course, I assured him that he could serve the Lord in Tokyo as well as in Osaka.
He moved to Tokyo. Later, while visiting that city, I received another call from the same man. We visited for quite some time. He had become extremely successful. He had broadened his experiences and was now a consultant teaching top management personnel in major corporations how to operate their companies. His time was in great demand. He was earning a large income. But he was neglecting his Church work and his family responsibilities.
I told him I wouldn’t tell him what he should do, but that there was a scripture that would tell him if he truly was converted: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33.) I sensed that this scripture might have caused a little antagonism; however, we parted as good friends.
A few weeks after I returned home, I received a letter from him. He said he had his priorities straightened out. He had resigned from the company. His first priority now would be his family and the Church, and his second priority would be employment. Setting priorities and then reviewing them to see that we are not straying is one of the most valuable lessons we can learn.

Illustration by Craig Stapley
I have a lot of good friends. Some go to church, and some don’t. One day a group of us, including one other LDS young woman, was eating lunch when a few of my friends began to use the Lord’s name in vain. No one else seemed bothered by it, and soon other students at the table started saying the Lord’s name in vain too. At first I thought, “Just let it slide; they don’t know any better.” But then it started to really bother me. They kept saying it, and I felt a pit in my stomach. So I stood up. I said firmly, “It really bothers me when you talk like that. Please stop.”
They laughed and kept going.
I stood up again, but this time my LDS friend stood up with me. We grabbed our lunches and moved somewhere else. It felt good to leave the table when they were doing that. As I walked away, I felt the Spirit.
I’m glad my friend left with me. It reminded me of the song “We’ll Bring the World His Truth” (Children’s Songbook, 172–73) and how “we must do as the Lord commands.” While I may not have had an “army of Helaman,” my friend showed me that I am not the only person trying “to bring the world [H]is truth.”

To be old and poor is to be alone, afraid, and ill-fed, and unknown. In a series of articles the Wall Street Journal discusses the problems related to the care of the aged. Following are some of the quotes taken from these articles:
“Many of the aged are gnawed by the fear not that they will die, but that they will die unnoticed by anyone.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 16.)
“The poor never saved for rainy days because it rained every day of their lives.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 1.)
Shabby apartments attract the elderly due to their meager incomes.
Most of these people live alone “as do five million of the total U.S. population over 65. Coupled with their sense of uselessness, their solitude breeds despair.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 1.)
“So, many of the elderly eat what they can get, or afford, not what is good for them. …
“Some live mainly on what they can buy from the vending machines in their hotel or apartment lobbies. …
“Others eat dog food. ‘They can get two meals out of a can,’ says Robert Forst.” (Nov. 15, 1972, p. 16.)
It may be interesting to note there are over 300 organizations representing the interests of the aged.
I believe the Savior had great insight into problems such as this, for as he describes in his parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Lazarus was laid daily at the gate, “desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table: moreover the dogs … licked his sores.” (Luke 16:19–21.) Both examples are pitiful plights of humanity.
Beset by problems, the elderly poor still cling fiercely to their pride; many will not ask relatives for extra help. They don’t want to be a burden.
A popular song says:
Old friends,
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends, …
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Paul Simon, “Old Friends”
The Church is not without its fault in the care of the aged. This is not due to the principles or the teachings of the Church, but rather to the shortcomings of its members. I sat in a conference some years ago when Elder Matthew Cowley said, “A mother can take care of seven children, but seven children will not later take care of that same mother.” The Church has the solution to all of life’s problems. The Savior did not leave us without direction in caring for our wonderful senior Saints. He was our model. You recall his beautiful, compassionate experience with the widow in the city of Nain. (See Luke 7:11–15.)
Several years ago we lived in Garden Grove, California. I was a produce supervisor for a large grocery chain. I dropped by home and picked up my young son Lawrence, who was three at the time. We went out to visit a farm to see if we could procure produce for that company. I went into the sheds, examined the produce; then I was told that Jack, the farmer, was in the house. I went to the front door and rang the bell. A little lady, probably 85 years old, white-haired, frail, stood in the doorway.
I said, “Is Jack here?”
“No, he isn’t. His father just passed away, and he went to the hospital.” And then she began to weep, and I said, “Are you Jack’s mother?” She said, “Yes.”
“I’m terribly sorry about your husband.” And then I was no longer a produce buyer; I was a high priest in the Church, and I said to her, “Do you believe in the resurrection?”
“I guess so.”
And then I said, “The Savior said, ‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.’ (John 11:25.) And ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you.’” (John 14:2.) And I went on with several scriptures about the resurrection.
Then finally as I concluded I said, “Your husband will live again. He will be resurrected.” I said, “Do you believe that?” I couldn’t tell whether she did or not; I just knew she wasn’t comforted. So I said to her, “Do you believe in prayer?”
She said, “I used to pray, but lately if I get down on my knees I can’t get back up again. When I do pray, I forget what I’m supposed to pray about. And then when I’m down on my knees and no one comes, I just have to wait until someone does come.”
I said, “Would you like Lawrence and me to pray for you?”
She said, “Yes,” and opened the door and we went in.
I helped this sweet soul down onto her knees, and then we began to pray. I poured out my soul to the Lord to let a sweet blessing of comfort come to this spirit, to this little soul. About halfway through the prayer I felt a warmth and a peace come into my heart that I knew our prayers were answered.
At the close of the prayer, I stood up and lifted this soul again from her knees. Peace radiated from her face. I held her hands for a moment and looked into her eyes. There was peace there.
Lawrence and I left. She came over and stood in the doorway as we went out and climbed into the car.
Lawrence turned around and looked at her and then he said to me, “Dad, she sure was a sweet old grandma.”
Well, there are many sweet old grandmas in the Church, and they love us and they need our love.
Not too long ago I left a Committee of Expenditures meeting, went up to the hospital to administer to a sweet little soul who had been there. As I finished, for some reason I felt impressed and so I said, “I want you to know this hand shook hands with the prophet 15 minutes ago.” And she began to weep. And then a little lady across the room said, “Would you mind administering to me with that hand that shook hands with the prophet 15 minutes ago?” And I administered to her, and then a lady in the bed next to her said, “Would you mind administering to me with that hand that shook hands with the prophet a few minutes ago?” And I administered to her.
Let us review the program, the Lord’s program, for the care of our senior Saints. First, the responsibility rests with the individual to do all he or she can to be a contributing member of society and of the Church, and give service to friends and children and loved ones. All these give soul satisfaction so needed. When health is sufficient to warrant, the Church provides many blessed opportunities for great service. The rich experience of these loved ones can be of such importance to the Church.
Many can accept calls as couples to fill full-time missions. Others may be called upon to officiate in the temples. Some may visit the temple regularly to do endowment work. Genealogical research is fascinating, stimulating, and fulfilling. Many can and should be called to teach Primary, Sunday School, and Relief Society. Our youth love mature Saints as teachers because they have time to care. Bishops may call the brethren to be home teachers and the sisters to do Relief Society visiting teaching.
Inasmuch as home teaching is never finished, many long-living men may help truly teach us by example what home teachers really should be. The Lord said, “He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:39.) Our senior Saints may well be called upon to bake and cook or render compassionate service during funerals or other times of stress and need.
Now, second, the family should do all they can do. Those who have mothers and fathers who are confined should care for them by furnishing those soul needs such as love, care, and tenderness. If you recall the words of the epitaph:
Here lies David Elginbrod;
Have mercy on him, God,
As he would do if he were God
And you were David Elginbrod.
So we might also declare to you, try to understand them, try to anticipate their needs. Before you turn the financial responsibility of them over to the Church, state, or government, use every resource you or any member of your family has. Nursing home care provided by the Church was up 411 percent last year.
I believe the Savior would be pleased if we would bring these souls back into our homes, if possible, and if not, to pay the expenses from members of the family. I don’t know of any mother or father in the Church who turned their children over to society during those prolonged sicknesses or during those first years of life when it took 24 hours a day to care for the infant child.
Now, third, after the individual and family have used all their resources, then the Church is called in to assist. Let me go back to one thought that came to me. I just talked to a young man the other day, and he said that in his family a grandfather had been very critically ill, had been bedfast and the family tended him during those long hours and, as it were, the man had to wear a diaper. The family changed the diaper regularly. Is that more than he would have done for them? No. We must not forget our family members.
Now to the Church. Welfare services reach into every life in the Church. We are interested in the physical health and emotional welfare of every member. Our beloved aged are a vital segment of the Church. They contribute more to our lives than we would dare to suppose.
For example, I have a sweet Aunt Beryl Hollindrake. She told me that when she was just three or four years old that my great-grandmother, her Grandmother Featherstone, would hold her on her lap and tell her about the Savior, all the beautiful stories. Then she would recall how my great-grandmother would tell her about the Savior’s trial and how they beat him and cursed him and spit upon him—how they dragged him and forced him against the cross and drove huge spikes into his hands cruelly. She said, “As my grandmother would tell me these stories, tears would stream down her cheeks.” And she said, “It was on the lap of my grandmother that I learned to love the Savior with all my heart and soul.”
What a wonderful contribution our grandmothers and grandfathers can make if they will share some of the rich experiences and their testimonies with their children and grandchildren.
When I was stake president, we wanted the lonely, the heartsick, the despairing, even the inactive, young or old, to move into our stake so we would have a greater opportunity to serve.
I have a great friend who, when he was called to be a stake president, canceled the high council Christmas party and had a special Christmas party for the senior Saints in the stake. And then on Christmas morning he would call all of the widows in his stake who had no one who cared.
Edgar A. Guest, in a great understanding of life, wrote many verses about home. Let me just extract a few from his great poem on home:
Ye’ve got t’ weep t’ make it home, ye’ve got t’ sit an’ sigh.
An’ watch beside a loved one’s bed, an’ know that Death is nigh;
An’ in the stillness o’ the night t’ see Death’s angel come,
An’ close the eyes o’ her that smiled, an’ leave her sweet voice dumb.
For these are scenes that grip the heart, an’ when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an’ sanctified;
An’ tuggin’ at ye always are the pleasant memories
O’ her that was an’ is no more—ye can’t escape from these.
They may be pleasant memories, and they may not, depending on our care for them.
Stephen Horn, the president of California State University at Long Beach, said, “It is time we revised our concept of the ‘old’ to ‘long-living’ and accented not the declining powers of aging but the rising knowledge and experience that results from a long life.”
Life can be so full and rich for our beloved senior Saints with snowy crowns. We love you and care for you. You make life so rich and meaningful for us. We pledge to be what we should be in our relationship to you. In James we read:
“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction.” (James 1:27.)
“To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction.” It is my prayer that we may be filled with pure love of Christ toward our beloved senior Saints. This is his church. I believe if he were here he would spend much time with them. May we follow in his footsteps. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Returning from serving in the Thailand Mission, Sister Phonphongrat worked for a publishing company for five years. But then she began to feel that she wanted to do something to serve others more. She applied for a job in the Phanat-Nikhom refugee camp in Cholburi, which prepares refugees from Southeast Asia for a new life. Some of these refugees have sponsors in the United States and need to learn American customs and culture.
“The camp administrator wanted to hire someone who knew the English language well,” she recalls. “When I went for an interview, I told them that my English wasn’t very good, but that I knew about American culture. I said that I wanted the refugees most of all to know that I loved them, that they were important, and that they were children of God. The interviewer looked at me and asked, ‘What are you? A Mormon?’ But I got the job.”
Refugees are not Sister Phonphongrat’s only pupils. She has taught both seminary and institute classes. “As a seminary student I learned the importance of keeping a journal and studying the scriptures,” she recalls. “I always write out the scriptures I want to remember and use them to guide me in my daily life.”
Since her baptism, Sister Phonphongrat has received her temple endowment and patriarchal blessing. Both experiences have been sources of great strength for her. “They are something I can refer to, something I can get strength from. It used to bother me that I wasn’t married, but now I know I have to live the commandments, be active in the Church, and live the gospel principles as best I can. If I do, everything will be all right. I feel I have a work to do.”

When we watch television, we probably don’t think about what a “fool” idea TV was once thought to be. We just take it for granted that it pulls pictures out of the air and then converts them into images that we can see on our TV sets. Little thought is given to how marvelous this means of communication is.
But the way it was invented is marvelous indeed.
Not widely known is the fact that television was actually invented by a fifteen-year-old boy, and if it were not for the urging of his high school teacher, the boy might never have gotten the patent for it.
It all began in the early 1920s in Rigby, Idaho, when a teacher, Justin Tolman, recognized a student’s genius. He saw a very rare potential in young Philo Farnsworth and did all he could as a teacher to encourage and develop the youth’s scientific talent.
Although Phil, as he was called by his family and friends, was busy with school and other activities—he played the violin in the school orchestra and taught himself how to play the piano—his inventive mind traveled far beyond the limits of the classroom and his community.
Most people who listened to Phil’s ideas weren’t able to understand the boy’s advanced concepts. And they didn’t put much faith in his theory that pictures could be sent through the air and instantly received and seen on screens hundreds, even thousands of miles away.
Phil’s teacher, Justin Tolman, was truly amazed at the youngster’s grasp of electronics and his ability to solve problems with innovative solutions. He watched for hours after school as Phil expertly drew diagrams on the blackboard, illustrating his television theory. Tolman was sure that, given the equipment to conduct experiments, the boy could produce this wonderful invention. But where could such elaborate equipment be found? Certainly not in the high school lab!
It wasn’t until several years later, when Phil was married and attending college, that he was able to get the financial backing he needed to perfect his television. Then, when he applied for a patent on his invention in 1927, he discovered that a man named Vladimir Zworykin, who worked for RCA, was applying for a similar patent. Which of these inventors should the patent be awarded to was a real problem for the United States Patent Office. From the documents his backers provided, it appeared that Vladimir had had the idea first.
But if Phil’s high school teacher, Justin Tolman, could be found, it was possible that the teacher could vouch for Phil’s claim of having had the concept for television first. Tolman was found, and the patent office asked him to appear before them. Assured that Tolman had no chance to talk to Phil beforehand, the patent authorities questioned Tolman at great length, and his memory proved to be excellent. He described in detail all the diagrams that Phil had drawn on the school blackboard as a student so many years before.
Impressed with Tolman’s clear description of Phil’s television, the patent office awarded the patent to the young inventor.
Philo Farnsworth, who died in 1971, had lived a very productive life and had been awarded a great number of patents in the field of electronics.

Lucy prepared herself early in her marriage to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, ed. Preston Nibley [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1958], pp. 34–35).

As I was growing up, my family would occasionally go to an amusement park located a few miles from Ogden. In those days you would purchase a special pass containing a certain number of tickets for different rides in the park. One of the tickets was for entrance into what they called the fun house. We always saved the fun house for last because once we got in we could stay there for as long as we wanted.

Inside this attraction were two very large moving barrels. They were connected together, each one turning in the opposite direction. The idea was to see if you could keep your balance and walk upright through these two barrels without falling down. When I tried to walk through the barrels, I immediately fell down. I tried to stand up but fell down again. Being somewhat determined, I tried a third time, only to fall again. Most of the other people had mastered the challenge and either stepped on me or maneuvered around me and continued through the barrels.

At this point, somewhat embarrassed and slightly in pain, I decided to quit and just sit down and stay at the bottom. Well, the barrels didn’t care what I decided to do; they just kept turning. I found myself being tossed and tumbled like I was inside a giant clothes dryer. It didn’t take long to realize that giving up was much worse than trying.

I gathered myself together as best I could and, with some struggle, began to crawl on my hands and knees just to stop from tumbling and to keep my balance. Soon I was able to go from crawling to standing up in short spurts. Finally I could stand up and walk in perfect rhythm with the turning barrel.

I began to slowly make my way through the first barrel but soon encountered the second barrel going the opposite direction. This required me to quickly switch directions while maintaining my balance. After several miscues I finally made it through the barrels.

I tell this story because it reminds me of how life is sometimes. Have you ever felt your life moving in opposite directions? Tumbling, falling, standing up, falling again, and wanting to give up? But be advised: You don’t want to give up. You never want to give up.

Eleven-year-old Beth Burroughs pulled the reins gently but firmly to the right and guided her horse, Ebony, down the side of a rocky dry wash. The homemade wreath of flowers she had slung over the saddle horn bounced as she maneuvered her animal down the little zigzagging ravine. By taking this route, Beth would save herself a good mile and a half of riding time on the road. She had to get to Heaven’s Gate Cemetery and back home so that she could help her mother with the wash.

The predawn light had turned the mist that hung over Hampton Lake into silver lace as Beth galloped along its south shore. Her horse was starting to show signs of strain, so she decided to pull up and let him rest.

Looping the reins about a large dead limb that protruded from other woody shore rubble, Beth knelt at the water’s edge and gazed at her rippled, distorted reflection. If it had been someone’s first view of her, she thought, she would have been as badly misrepresented as Rebecca had been.

Ebony lifted his dark head, shook his mane, and went back to drinking. Beth gazed fondly at him a moment, then her eyes returned to the rippling water. She remembered her father talking about the worth of the individual soul, about how each person that ever was, is, or ever would be is a child of God and therefore special in his or her own way. He said that no one should judge anybody else by appearance because his character, like his soul, is inside and can only really be seen by Heavenly Father.

But somehow, Beth painfully recalled, her father’s teachings had been hard to put into practice whenever Rebecca was around—until the day of the field mouse. …

Ebony lifted his head again, his thirst now satisfied. Beth lingered a minute or two, watching her reflection clear and sharpen in the settling water. Then she remounted Ebony and continued down the road.

Mr. Flannagan chugged by in his Model T, waving and honking as he traveled in the opposite direction. Such a noisy, happy machine, Beth thought, then decided she was wrong. Machines might be noisy, all right, but they didn’t have feelings. People could feel happy. She had been happy, very happy in the time she had spent with Rebecca after the day of the mouse’s burial. Beth had made more and more visits to the yellow house on Banberry Road. She and Rebecca had helped Sister Johnson bake cookies, walked the fence in the big grassy field just down from Tucker’s Mill, and lain on their backs, watching the clouds sail wildly by in the yellow sky.
Rebecca had a smile for everyone, a smile, Beth was sure, that could light up the world. She was like a little child. But had not the Savior Himself taught that “of such is the kingdom of heaven”? Beth hadn’t minded the funny looks some of her old friends gave her every now and again after she became friends with Rebecca. Her real friends respected her for her feelings. Besides, she knew Heavenly Father approved, and He was her most valued friend.

As Beth’s horse clip-clopped past the bright red covered bridge a half mile from Heaven’s Gate Cemetery, she couldn’t help but think about Rebecca’s death a year ago. Rebecca had disappeared into a neighbor’s burning house and lowered a small child out a window into someone’s waiting arms just before a section of roof collapsed on her, burying her beneath the fiery timbers.

Beth laid the homemade wreath of flowers on Rebecca’s grave. A couple of minutes later she again climbed onto Ebony’s back and rode out of Heaven’s Gate.

The sun seemed to perch on top of the mesa as horse and rider turned up the little treelined path toward home.

“Did you have a good ride, honey?” Beth’s father asked as he stepped from the barn, leading a plow horse.
“Sure did,” Beth replied, walking her horse toward him. “There’s a lot to see when the sun comes up. First you see a little of this, then a little of that. Pretty soon everything is all lit up as pretty as can be. As pretty as a good memory. As pretty as Rebecca Johnson.”

These principles apply to you, my young brothers and sisters. I asked President Eyring to gather some examples of faith in action in the lives of BYU-Idaho students that I could share with you. Here is one of the many that inspired me:

As I am the only member in my family, I had a tough time while preparing to serve my mission a few years ago. My family tried to stop me from serving a mission and all the paperwork was delayed. I doubted the value and purpose of my serving a mission; I couldn’t see hope and light. However, I heard a still, small voice whisper in my mind, saying, “Endure to the end.” I did not know how, but the only thing I can do is be patient and not give up. Eventually, I received my calling after nine months of waiting, and successfully went on my mission with my family’s understanding. Patience is a hard lesson for me to study, so I am still learning today. One of the ways that I maintain faith when the blessing came later than hoped is to try not to focus on the blessing I am hoping for but focus on trusting in the Lord. The truth is He knows the best of my needs, and He is in charge of all things.

Throughout his life, Heber J. Grant recognized the Lord as the source of his strength. Called to be an Apostle when he was only twenty-five years old, he was plagued for four agonizing months with doubts about his worthiness and preparation for the calling. But during a missionary journey on the Navajo Indian reservation in Arizona, the young Apostle had an unforgettable experience that silenced his doubts forever.
He later recounted that as he was riding alone on horseback, “I seemed to see, and I seemed to hear, what to me is one of the most real things in all my life. I seemed to see a Council in Heaven. I seemed to hear the words that were spoken. I listened to the discussion with a great deal of interest. … In this Council the Savior was present, my father was there, and the Prophet Joseph Smith was there.” Young Heber listened as the council discussed the vacancies that needed to be filled in the Quorum of the Twelve. “It was given to me,” he said, “that the Prophet Joseph Smith and my father mentioned me and requested that I be called to that position. I sat there and wept for joy. It was given to me that I had done nothing to entitle me to that exalted position, except that I had lived a clean, sweet life. It was given to me that … the Prophet Joseph and my father desired me to have that position, and it was because of their faithful labors that I was called, and not because of anything I had done of myself or any great thing that I had accomplished. It was also given to me that that was all these men, the Prophet and my father, could do for me; from that day it depended upon me and upon me alone as to whether I made a success of my life or a failure. …
“From that day I have never been bothered, night or day, with the idea that I was not worthy to stand as an Apostle, and I have not been worried since the last words uttered by Joseph F. Smith to me [Elder Grant succeeded Joseph F. Smith as President of the Church]: ‘The Lord bless you, my boy, the Lord bless you; you have got a great responsibility. Always remember this is the Lord’s work and not man’s. The Lord is greater than any man. He knows whom He wants to lead His Church, and never makes any mistakes. The Lord bless you.’” (In Conference Report, April 1941, pages 4–5.)

Since middle school I’ve sold magazines for a fund-raiser. Each year, I tried desperately to find the right magazine for me. Little did I know that the perfect magazine for me was already in my home. I used to just read “The Extra Smile” and then toss the New Era aside. But a few years ago, I began to read more and more of the articles. I found that they were directed to people my age and discussed situations I could relate to. It wasn’t full of degrading articles or beauty ads. It described true beauty, answered my questions, and uplifted my spirit. The New Era is “The Perfect Magazine for Anne.” It just has a different title.Anne Sheffield, Moorpark Ward, Saratoga California Stake

My niece Mariela was only eight years old when her mother died. Afterward, her father—my brother—took her, her brother, and the children’s grandmother and moved to another part of the country.
At about the same time, I dreamed of my niece’s mother. Because of the dream, I felt impressed to pay special attention to Mariela. I determined to do so; however, it was difficult because she lived far away. We usually saw each other only during vacations, but at those times, I told her about the Church, about gospel standards, and about the love God has for His children.
As the years passed and Mariela became a young woman, I grew to feel a mother’s love for her. Eventually she finished her university studies and began working. The missionaries visited her several times, and I fervently hoped she would be baptized. Then she was transferred in her employment, and she moved farther away. I continued to pray for her.
Not long after this, Mariela suffered over the deaths of three people she loved very much. Her grandmother, who had raised her, died. Later her boyfriend was killed in an automobile accident. This loss was followed shortly by the death of her father. These events plunged my niece into despair, and she lost much of her interest in life. I continued to try to encourage and comfort her and to explain that she could endure even these sad experiences.
A year after her father’s death, I arranged for his temple ordinances to be performed. His wife and a daughter who had died in infancy were sealed to him, and both he and his wife were sealed to their parents.
The next time Mariela came to see me, I showed her the family group records. I told her what temple ordinances we had done for her family members. Then I explained that they would have the opportunity to accept the gospel and these ordinances that had been performed in their behalf, and I assured my niece that families can be together eternally. She was deeply moved and asked to borrow some past issues of the Liahona (Spanish). After that she began visiting me more regularly, and we often spoke about the gospel.
One day Mariela told me the missionaries had taught her the discussions and she had accepted the gospel. She said she was convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel because of the importance it places on families. I wept with happiness.
I give thanks to my Father in Heaven. I believe this is what He desired all along—the bringing of the gospel to family members on both sides of the veil.

Speaking of expert opinion, I was in another graduate class where a student was reporting on the prominent pioneer educator Horace Mann. Another student in the class challenged some of the information he was presenting. He stopped and said, “I want to tell you that these are not my own words. I am quoting directly from the author—these words came straight from Horace’s mouth.”

In your search for yourself I would like to make a suggestion or two, which is the burden of what I want to talk to you about this morning.

Elder Terence M. Vinson, newly called to the Second Quorum of the Seventy, had never heard the term Mormon before meeting Kay Anne Carden in the early 1970s in Sydney, Australia. The pair talked about religion and ultimately came to an agreement. Each Sunday, they would attend both the church of Terence’s youth and a small branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One group met in a large and beautiful building, the other in a small rented space that the few Latter-day Saints had been able to procure.
But after a while “the comparison was embarrassing,” and Terence began taking the missionary discussions. He had many questions. Then, while attending stake conference, he felt a message as clearly as if it had been spoken. “I needed to join the Church in order to progress. All the questions I had would have answers,” he said.
He was baptized the next week.

Finding the local meetinghouse was the last thing on my mind.
Things like the hot weather, high humidity, and learning Cantonese were much more important.
I was a discouraged, homesick missionary who had just arrived in Hong Kong and I found myself thanking a man for giving me an address I already knew and really didn’t need. And all this because I couldn’t learn Cantonese.
I hadn’t meant for things to happen that way. The missionaries in my district were doing a street display near Hong Kong’s Star Ferry boat just when the commuters were coming home from work. I wanted to get referrals and talk with people—and I tried to—but I was having little success.
My inexperience in speaking Cantonese—the second-most common Chinese dialect was painfully obvious. Speaking to Chinese people seemed impossible, and understanding what people said to me seemed about as easy as walking on water. And because I could neither speak nor understand, I began to think that I was of little worth to the Lord.
I saw Mr. Wong just as he was coming down the steps off of the ferry. He looked like such a nice man. He wore a blue suit and black shoes. His eyeglasses were slipping down his nose. His tie was still tight around his neck—something that looked very out of place in the humid air.
I got up as much self-confidence as I could in the few seconds I had. And I tried to feel confident. With a quick prayer in my heart and a deep breath, I started toward him.
The instructors at the Missionary Training Center had prepared me well for situations like this. I had practiced asking golden questions and getting referrals dozens of times. But all the preparation in the world couldn’t have taught me what I was about to learn.
“Neih hou ma?” I asked. “Good,” he replied in a language I knew was Chinese but bore little resemblance to what I had learned in the MTC.
“I’m a representative of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints. Have you ever heard of this church before?”
Mr. Wong gave his reply, but—as usual—I couldn’t understand.
“My name is Gong Jeung-louh,” I said. “May I ask your honorable name?”
I didn’t understand much of what he said back to me, but I did understand his last name was Wong. He drew the Chinese Wong character on his hand and raised it to my eyes. His drawings meant nothing to me, but I pretended they did.
“May I tell you a little about our church?” I asked.
“I don’t understand,” he said. That was one of the few things I could understand. I had used that phrase myself several times during the past three weeks.
I showed Mr. Wong my name tag so he could read the name of the Church in Chinese.
“Oh—a church!” he said.
I smiled. “Yes—I am a missionary from this church,” I said, pointing to my name tag. “May I tell you a little about it?”
His reply was long and difficult for a new missionary to understand.
“What is your address?” I asked. I decided I might as well do everything I could and try to get a referral.
“Address? You want address?” he asked.
“Yes. What is your address?” I got my pen and notebook ready to write—or at least to ask him to write—the address down.
“You wait here. I will return in a few minutes,” he said. I barely understood what he was trying to tell me, thanks to his hand gestures.
“You stay right here,” he insisted.
“I will,” I assured him. Off he went, leaving me with no idea of where he was going or why he wanted me to wait.
Mr. Wong reappeared from among the sea of Chinese commuters a full 15 minutes later. He walked briskly—almost at a trot—with a paper in his hand.
He smiled and waved as he approached. I walked to meet him.
“Here,” he said. He handed me a page of an English phone book. The address of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints was circled.
“Here is your church’s address,” he said.
Now I understood. Mr. Wong had thought I was a lost foreigner looking for my church. I lost my confidence as I thanked him for his trouble.
Mr. Wong offered his hand with a smile of pride and friendliness.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“No problem,” he replied, and began to walk away.
“See you later,” I said. And then, as an afterthought, “May I give you this?”
I reached into my suit pocket and handed him a Joseph Smith pamphlet. I gave it to him with two hands, and he accepted the gift in the same manner, a Chinese custom.
“At least I learned something in the MTC,” I thought to myself, remembering our classes on cultural customs. Mr. Wong disappeared into the crowd.
I went to sleep that night praying for strength and success. I wanted to preach the gospel with all my heart, but I felt great frustration in learning to speak the language.
The months passed, and as they passed my confidence grew. I was soon transferred out of that area, and new investigators, new companions, new street displays occupied my mind.
A year later I was a zone leader in another part of Hong Kong. One Sunday I was back in my first area taking care of some mission business. Being in that first meetinghouse brought back many good memories. I rejoiced in seeing my old friends from the local ward.
As the meetings ended and people started leaving the building, I watched, hoping to see more of my former friends. Soon my companion and I were the only ones in the foyer.
As we were about to leave, a classroom door opened. My eyes widened as I saw Mr. Wong—the commuter at Star Ferry—emerge from the dark hall!
“Mr. Wong! How are you?” I asked with excitement.
“I’m Brother Wong now, Elder Call,” he said in perfect Mandarin.
“You speak Mandarin? No wonder I couldn’t understand you at the ferry!”
“And you were speaking Cantonese—that is why I couldn’t understand you,” he said.
We sat and talked for several minutes. Brother Wong explained to me that after our encounter at the ferry a year before, he went home and read the Joseph Smith pamphlet. He said he read it out of curiosity more than anything else. The Spirit touched his soul. He telephoned the mission home to ask for more information and two sisters began teaching him the gospel. He gained a testimony and was baptized.
Our reunion was sweet and joyous, even though we had seen each other only once before. My heart was touched and the Spirit bore record to me of the true meaning of Paul’s words to the Corinthians:
“I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase” (1 Cor. 3:6).

Another important relationship in a family is that between children themselves. Often an older brother or sister will come to the aid of a younger sibling in a show of love and concern. If there is any doubt about love as a divine inheritance, consider a brief Reader’s Digest story shared by Sister Sharon G. Larsen at the recent Young Women conference. The story is about

twin girls, Brielle and Kyrie, who were born prematurely. “They were placed in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly slept. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, could not keep up with her.”

Sister Larsen said Brielle’s condition became critical as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared. “Then the nurse remembered a procedure she had heard about. The parents consented, and the nurse slipped the squirming baby into the incubator with the bigger sister. No sooner had the door of the incubator closed than Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle’s blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling.” [“Protect Families from Anger, Strife,” Church News, 4 April 1998, p. 5]

One might argue that the relationship formed in the womb was the reason why Brielle snuggled up to her sister and why Kyrie wrapped her arm around her smaller twin. Even then, the bonding reflects a divine spark in both children that reaches back into the eternities.

Adriana bounced the ball to Selene. Boing! Selene caught the ball and bounced the ball back. Thud! Adriana didn’t catch the ball. Selene called Adriana a mean name. Adriana looked sad. “Please don’t say that,” Adriana said. “It hurts my feelings.” Adriana bounced the ball to Selene. “I’m sorry I called you a mean name,” Selene said. Selene bounced the ball back to Adriana. “I’m glad we can play ball together!” Selene said.

In the faraway islands of the Pacific, hundreds who were near-blind now see because a missionary said to his physician brother-in-law, “Leave your wealthy clientele and the comforts of your palatial home and come to these special children of God who need your skills and need them now.” The ophthalmologist responded without a backward glance. He has commented quietly that this visit was the best service he ever rendered and the peace which came to his heart the greatest blessing of his life.