Gospel Story Finder

On September 11, 2001, the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City were hit by terrorist-controlled airliners that caused both towers to collapse. Thousands of people were killed. Out of this tragedy have come hundreds of stories of courageous, unselfish acts. One very poignant and heroic account is the Washington Post’s story of retired army colonel Cyril “Rick” Rescorla, who was working as vice president for corporate security of Morgan Stanley Dean Witter.

Rick was a very experienced ex-military combat leader. He was in his office when “the first plane struck the north tower at 8:48 a.m. … He took a call from the 71st floor reporting the fireball in One World Trade Center, and he immediately ordered an evacuation of all 2,700 employees in Building Two,” as well as 1,000 more in Building Five. Using his bullhorn, he moved up the floors, working through a bottleneck on the 44th and going as high as the 72nd, helping to evacuate the people from each floor. One friend who saw Rick reassuring people in the 10th-floor stairwell told him, “Rick, you’ve got to get out, too.”

“As soon as I make sure everyone else is out,” he replied.

“He was not rattled at all. He was putting the lives of his colleagues ahead of his own.” He called headquarters to say he was going back up to search for stragglers.

His wife had watched the United Airlines jet go through his tower. “After a while, her phone rang. It was Rick.

“‘I don’t want you to cry,’ he said. ‘I have to evacuate my people now.’

“She kept sobbing.

“‘If something happens to me, I want you to know that you made my life.’

“The phone went dead.” Rick did not make it out.

“Morgan Stanley lost only six of its 2,700 employees in the south tower on Sept. 11, an isolated miracle amid the carnage. And company officials say Rescorla deserves most of the credit. He drew up the evacuation plan. He hustled his colleagues to safety. And then he apparently went back into the inferno to search for stragglers. He was the last man out of the south tower after the World Trade Center bombing in 1993, and no one seems to doubt that he would’ve been again last month if the skyscraper hadn’t collapsed on him first.”

Amid the great evil and carnage of September 11, 2001, Rick was not looking for what might be in it for him; instead he was unselfishly thinking about others and the danger they were in. Rick Rescorla was the “right man in the right place at the right time.” Rick, “a 62-year-old mountain of a man cooly [sacrificed] his life for others.” As the Savior Himself said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

But falsehoods about the Saints continued to spread. Joseph did his best to combat the mounting prejudice until October 1838, when he and other Church leaders were betrayed at Far West, Missouri, into the hands of government officials.
Joseph and his brethren were eventually tried at Richmond, Missouri, then imprisoned in Liberty Jail for four months. Finally, early in April 1839, Joseph was taken to Gallatin for another trial. A fellow prisoner, Alexander McRae, wrote that during one adjournment of the court, Joseph made a gesture of friendship toward the guards.
“From that time until we got away,” McRae’s account continues, “they could not put a guard over us who would not become so friendly that they dare not trust them, and the guard was very frequently changed. We were seated at the first table with the judge, lawyers, etc., and had the best the country afforded, with feather beds to sleep on—a privilege we had not before enjoyed in all our imprisonment.”6
Peter H. Burnett, a legal counselor for the prisoners, wrote: ‘[Joseph] had great influence over others. … Just before I left to return to Liberty, I saw him out among the crowd, conversing freely with every one, and seeming to be perfectly at ease. In the short space of five days he had managed so to mollify his enemies that he could go unprotected among them without the slightest danger.”7
After the legal proceedings at Gallatin, the lawmen (who apparently believed in the innocence of the prisoners) gave Joseph and his companions the opportunity to escape. They seized the chance and crossed the state border into Illinois.8

Sister Afton Pettigrew was one of the best Primary teachers I ever had! In many ways, she changed my life. Even today I still remember one special lesson she taught about the Holy Ghost when I was about eight.
I was a pretty lively child. I didn’t like having to sit reverently through a whole Primary lesson. On this day, she couldn’t get me to understand what or who the Holy Ghost was. To me, a ghost was a scary thing, and I thought the Holy Ghost was something to be afraid of.
Then Sister Pettigrew said, “Ronnie, I’d like to have you stand in front of the class and read a scripture for us. It’s 1 Kings 19:11–12.”
I didn’t want to stand in front of all those Primary kids and read a scripture. But I took the Old Testament she handed to me and began to read what the Lord said to the prophet Elijah:
“Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:
“And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.”
I finished reading and looked up. Sister Pettigrew could tell I was a little confused about what I’d read, so she explained. ”That means that when the Lord speaks to you, He won’t speak in big, loud ways, like wind storms or earthquakes or fires. You’ll hear Him speak very quietly, like a still, small voice in your heart.”
Then she said, “By the way, Ronnie, you have a very pleasant voice. You read and speak very well.”
I couldn’t believe it! Not only did Sister Pettigrew teach me about the Holy Ghost, but she also helped me see one of my talents!
I was a changed boy after that. I learned that the Holy Ghost speaks to us through thoughts in our mind and peaceful feelings in our heart. I tried to remember to listen inside me for those thoughts and feelings. If I was doing something wrong, like not being reverent in Primary, I listened. Or if I had to make a decision about something, I listened. Sometimes the voice was very soft. I had to be quiet on the inside and on the outside to recognize it. And if I didn’t listen the first time or the second time, it became softer and softer until I couldn’t feel it anymore.
Listening to that still, small voice also helped me find and improve the talents Heavenly Father blessed me with.
Today as a grownup, I still think of Sister Pettigrew and how she helped me. How grateful I am for her and for all our Primary teachers all over the world who teach children how to bring Heavenly Father into their lives and how to grow their talents.

On certain occasions I have approached young men of missionary age and informed them that they have been called to serve a mission. Sometimes they explain that they have no desire to go on a mission. I then tell them that it is immaterial to me whether they serve a mission or not. Of course, it isn’t all immaterial; but I say I am only informing them of the calling the Lord has already given them. And I’ll explain how I know that. I was present the day President Kimball made the announcement that all young men should go on a mission. The Holy Spirit told me that the principle was true.

Later on, I was talking with a humble, but inspired, patriarch who is here tonight. He informed me that he was not trained nor educated to give patriarchal blessings and that he could only say the things the Lord told him to say. I thought that sounded about right. He then added: “You would be interested to know how many young men who come for their blessings are told that they will go on missions.” With that statement, I again felt revelation and saw light, and I knew that President Kimball had not called them on a mission. He had merely made the announcement. But the mission had been ordained by the Lord himself, and every young man who belongs to the Church has an obligation to labor to build up the kingdom.

There has been no difficulty, therefore, for me in telling young men that I know they have been called on a mission. And when they respond that they are not interested, I merely say: “Don’t tell me; tell the Lord. You go and pray and ask him what he wants you to do.” Almost always they return from that experience saying: “Well, I suppose I had better go on a mission.” For some of them it is then time to say: “Now we both understand that you are not quite prepared, so let us begin to take the steps by which you will be qualified to go.”

My dear brothers and sisters, since last general conference, I have felt in my own life the power of priesthood blessings and the power of the faith and prayers of Church members. For many years, I have given blessings to others. I have fasted and prayed for their well-being and have exercised my faith for their recovery. Recently, during a serious illness, I was the recipient of such faith, prayers, and blessings. I thank you, brothers and sisters, for the prayers that you have offered in my behalf.
One of my colleagues said to me that some good would come from this illness. He suggested that it is good, on occasion, for everyone to face adversity, especially if it causes introspection that enables us to openly and honestly assess our lives. That is what I did.
The night before my surgery, my doctors talked about the possibility of cancer. When I was left alone, my mind filled with thoughts of my family and of my ministry. I found comfort in the ordinances of the gospel that bind me to my family if we are faithful. I realized that I needed to rearrange some of my priorities to accomplish the things that matter most to me.
Sometimes we need a personal crisis to reinforce in our minds what we really value and cherish. The scriptures are filled with examples of people facing crises before learning how to better serve God and others. Perhaps if you, too, search your hearts and courageously assess the priorities in your life, you may discover, as I did, that you need a better balance among your priorities.
All of us must come to an honest, open self-examination, an awareness within as to who and what we want to be.
As most of you know, coping with the complex and diverse challenges of everyday life, which is not an easy task, can upset the balance and harmony we seek. Many good people who care a great deal are trying very hard to maintain balance, but they sometimes feel overwhelmed and defeated.
A mother of four small children said: “There is no balance at all in my life. I am completely consumed in trying to raise my children. I hardly have time to think of anything else!”
A young father, who felt the pressure of being the family provider, said: “My new business requires all of my time. I realize that I am neglecting my family and church duties, but if I can just get through one more year I will make enough money, and then things will settle down.”
A high school student said, “We hear so many contrasting views that it is hard to always know what is right and what is wrong.”
How often have we heard this one? “No one knows better than I do how important exercise is, but I just have no time in my day for exercising.”
A single parent said, “I find it next to impossible to accomplish all that I need to do to manage my home and lead my family. In fact, sometimes I think the world expects too much of me. Regardless of how hard I work, I never will live up to everyone’s expectations.”
Another mother of four remarked, “My struggle is between self-esteem, confidence, and feelings of self-worth versus guilt, depression, and discouragement for not doing everything I am told we must do to attain the celestial kingdom.”
Brothers and sisters, we all face these kinds of struggles from time to time. They are common human experiences. Many people have heavy demands upon them stemming from parental, family, employment, church, and civic responsibilities. Keeping everything in balance can be a real problem.
A periodic review of the covenants we have made with the Lord will help us with our priorities and with balance in our lives. This review will help us see where we need to repent and change our lives to ensure that we are worthy of the promises that accompany our covenants and sacred ordinances. Working out our own salvation requires good planning and a deliberate, valiant effort.
I have a few suggestions that I hope will be valuable to those of you concerned with balancing life’s demands. These suggestions are very basic; their concepts can easily be overlooked if you are not careful. You will need a strong commitment and personal discipline to incorporate them into your life.
First, think about your life and set your priorities. Find some quiet time regularly to think deeply about where you are going and what you will need to do to get there. Jesus, our exemplar, often “withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed” (Luke 5:16). We need to do the same thing occasionally to rejuvenate ourselves spiritually as the Savior did. Write down the tasks you would like to accomplish each day. Keep foremost in mind the sacred covenants you have made with the Lord as you write down your daily schedules.
Second, set short-term goals that you can reach. Set goals that are well balanced—not too many nor too few, and not too high nor too low. Write down your attainable goals and work on them according to their importance. Pray for divine guidance in your goal setting.
You recall that Alma said he would like to be an angel so he could “speak with the trump of God, … to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people!” (Alma 29:1). He then said, “But behold, I am a man, and do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me. …
“Why should I desire more than to perform the work to which I have been called?” (Alma 29:3, 6).
Third, everyone faces financial challenges in life. Through wise budgeting, control your real needs and measure them carefully against your many wants in life. Far too many individuals and families have incurred too much debt. Be careful of the many attractive offers to borrow money. It is much easier to borrow money than it is to pay it back. There are no shortcuts to financial security. There are no get-rich-quick schemes that work. Perhaps none need the principle of balance in their lives more than those who are driven toward accumulating “things” in this world.
Do not trust your money to others without a thorough evaluation of any proposed investment. Our people have lost far too much money by trusting their assets to others. In my judgment, we never will have balance in our lives unless our finances are securely under control.
The prophet Jacob said to his people: “Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy. Hearken diligently unto me, and remember the words which I have spoken; and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness” (2 Ne. 9:51).
Brothers and sisters, remember to always pay a full tithing.
Fourth, stay close to your spouse, children, relatives, and friends. They will help you keep a balance in your life. In a recent study by the Church, adults in the United States were asked to identify a time when they were very happy and to describe the experience. They were also asked to describe a time when they were very unhappy. For most people, one thing that had made them the most happy or the most sad was their personal relationships with others. Much less important were their personal health, employment, money, and other material things. Build relationships with your family and friends through open and honest communication.
A good marriage and good family relationships can be maintained through gentle, loving, thoughtful communication. Remember that often a glance, a wink, a nod, or a touch will say more than words. A sense of humor and good listening are also vital parts of good communication.
Fifth, study the scriptures. They offer one of the best sources we have to keep in touch with the Spirit of the Lord. One of the ways I have gained my sure knowledge that Jesus is the Christ is through my study of the scriptures. President Ezra Taft Benson has called upon members of the Church to make the study of the Book of Mormon a daily habit and a lifetime pursuit. The Apostle Paul’s advice to Timothy is good counsel for each of us. He wrote: “From a child thou hast known the holy scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.
“All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:15–16).
Sixth, many people, including me, have difficulty finding the time for sufficient rest, exercise, and relaxation. We must schedule time on our daily calendars for these activities if we are to enjoy a healthy and balanced life. Good physical appearance enhances our dignity and self-respect.
Seventh, the prophets have taught repeatedly that families should teach one another the gospel, preferably in a weekly family home evening. This family practice, if we are not very careful, can slowly drift away from us. We must not lose this special opportunity to “teach one another the doctrine of the kingdom” (D&C 88:77), which will lead families to eternal life.
Satan is always working to destroy our testimonies, but he will not have the power to tempt or disturb us beyond our strength to resist when we are studying the gospel and living its commandments.
My last suggestion is to pray often as individuals and as families. Parents need to exercise the discipline required to lead out and motivate children to join together for regular family prayers. Our youth can know the right decisions to make each day through constant, sincere prayer.
The prophet Alma summarized the importance of prayer in these words: “But that ye would humble yourselves before the Lord, and call on his holy name, and watch and pray continually, that ye may not be tempted above that which ye can bear, and thus be led by the Holy Spirit, becoming humble, meek, submissive, patient, full of love and all long-suffering” (Alma 13:28). When I am in tune spiritually, I find that I can balance everything in my life much more easily.
I realize, brothers and sisters, that other suggestions could be added to these. However, I believe that when we focus on a few basic objectives, we are more likely to be able to manage the many demands that life makes on us. Remember, too much of anything in life can throw us off-balance. At the same time, too little of the important things can do the same thing. King Benjamin counseled “that all these things are done in wisdom and order” (Mosiah 4:27).
Often the lack of clear direction and goals can waste away our time and energy and contribute to imbalance in our lives. A life that gets out of balance is much like a car tire that is out of balance. It will make the operation of the car rough and unsafe. Tires in perfect balance can give a smooth and comfortable ride. So it is with life. The ride through mortality can be smoother for us when we strive to stay in balance. Our main goal should be to seek “immortality and eternal life” (Moses 1:39). With this as our goal, why not eliminate from our lives the things that clamor for and consume our thoughts, feelings, and energies without contributing to our reaching that goal?
Just a word to Church leaders: Be very careful that what you ask from members will help them attain eternal life. For Church members to be able to balance their lives, Church leaders must be sure they do not require so much from members that they have no time to accomplish their personal and family goals.
Not long ago, one of my children said, “Dad, sometimes I wonder if I will ever make it.” The answer I gave to her is the same as I would give to you if you have had similar feelings. Just do the very best you can each day. Do the basic things and, before you realize it, your life will be full of spiritual understanding that will confirm to you that your Heavenly Father loves you. When a person knows this, then life will be full of purpose and meaning, making balance easier to maintain.
Live every day with joy in your heart, brothers and sisters. I humbly testify that life can be wonderful, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When Lorenzo Snow was a young boy, he ran for his life from a charging bull! He quickly climbed a tall white oak tree and sat shivering from cold as the bull pawed the ground around the tree and slashed the air with his horns. With teeth chattering and his hands numb, Lorenzo prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for all your blessings. And please, dear Lord, tell my father to come and help me.” Just then, his father came riding on his horse and carrying a bullwhip. One crack from it sent the bull running. Lorenzo’s prayer had been answered by a loving Heavenly Father.

Kathryn and Emily Phillips were both excited when their stake president called them to obtain the contents of the box to be placed in the cornerstone of the new Bountiful (Utah) Temple. For approximately seven months, the box was part of the family while they gathered, sorted, and prepared its contents.
““The box is sort of like a time capsule,” says 14-year-old Emily. “We put things in it that were representative of the time when the temple was built.”
Newspapers, histories of the area where the temple was built, pictures of the temple under construction, and books about the lives of both President Benson and President Hunter were included in the box, which was sealed in the cornerstone when the temple was dedicated in January.
After gathering all of the desired items to put into the box, Kathryn and Emily’s work still wasn’t finished. They did 30 presentations for Primary, Mutual, and adult groups, explaining what they had done.
““My favorite group was a group of Primary children,” says 18-year-old Kathryn. “They had raised some money and bought a set of scriptures to put in the cornerstone box. During the program, we all sang ‘I Love to See the Temple.’ I’ll never sing that song quite the same way again.”
Although the box is out of sight, it will always be close to the hearts of these sisters who are now eagerly awaiting the time when they can enter the temple.

It would be an understatement to say that my husband and I were surprised to learn that, at age 40, I was expecting a baby. Complications in the pregnancy soon prompted the doctors to order complete bed rest for me. My husband gave me a priesthood blessing in which I was promised that if I would do as I was instructed by the doctors, all would be well.
But bed rest proved to be a difficult challenge as I tried to meet the needs of our two young children and keep myself occupied.
When the ward members realized I would be “confined for the duration,” dinners began arriving with regularity. My three-year-old son was often picked up to spend the day with friends. And when my six-year-old son got home from school, someone always seemed to drop in to check on him. Sisters came frequently to clean the house and do the laundry, often ending up sitting on my bed to visit.
More than two months before the baby was due, I went into early labor and our tiny, frail son was born. He was so ill that the doctors told us we should set our affairs in order and prepare for a funeral. We went in to see our tiny son, covered with wires and tubes, in a warming crib. With tears flowing freely, my husband and two other brethren anointed and blessed our little baby, John. John responded by beginning to fight for his life.
While my husband and I spent many days and nights at the hospital, our ward members continued their many acts of service and love for our family. More than once during the pregnancy and at least twice after the baby was born, the entire ward fasted and prayed for us.
On one occasion when we were permitted to take John to church even though he was still on oxygen, a mother approached us with her eight-year-old son. She quietly, almost reverently, asked if her son could see the baby. She explained that her son had caught the vision of serving and loving others by fasting and praying. He wanted to see how his faith and prayers had been answered. He looked at the baby and wept. He told his mother he was glad he could fast and pray. “After all,” he said, “look what Heavenly Father did.”
Today John is a vibrant, energetic, loving 17-year-old. He is a living testimony to the members of that generous ward and their commitment to faith and charity. Words cannot express the gratitude we feel toward them and our Heavenly Father.

When I first visited Czechoslovakia, long before the people there had freedom, I was met by Jirí Snederfler and his wife, Olga. I went to their home, which is where the Prague Branch of the Church met. On the walls were picture after picture of the Salt Lake Temple. I said to Sister Snederfler, “Your husband must truly love the temple,” and she said, “I, too; I, too.”
She brought out an album of pictures of the missionaries who were serving there in 1950, when their government required the closure of the mission. As she held up each photograph, she said, “Wonderful boy, wonderful boy!”
Brother Snederfler has always been willing to stand up for the gospel. When the Church wanted the Czechoslovakian government to again recognize it officially, the Communist leaders told us, “Don’t send an American or any other foreigner. Send a citizen of Czechoslovakia.” That was frightening because to admit then that you were a leader of any church meant that you might be in danger!
Brother Snederfler was the one chosen to go to his government. He later told me that he had asked for the prayers of the branch members. Then he went to Olga and said, “I love you. I don’t know when—or if—I’ll be back. But I love the gospel, and I must follow my Savior.” With that spirit of faith and devotion, he went to his government leaders and told them that he was the leader of the Church there and that he wanted them to again recognize it officially.
Meanwhile, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles had been working very hard to get the needed approval. It came: “Your church is again recognized in Czechoslovakia.”
Brother Snederfler eagerly went to tell Olga and the other stalwart members of the Church there that once again missionaries could come to their country and that they could again worship Heavenly Father in freedom. It was a happy day.
Jirí and Olga Snederfler later served as president and matron of the Freiberg Germany Temple, where faithful members of the Church in Germany, the Czech Republic, and nearby countries attend. They were happy to find themselves each day in the Lord’s house, which they so dearly love.

How can I turn my heart to my ancestors? I can do it by learning about them. I recently received a letter from an uncle, Lynwood Ellis, recalling acts of kindness performed long ago by my father and mother. He said that he loved to go to their house because my father always gave him citrus fruit. This was back in 1918 or 1920, when citrus fruit just wasn’t often available in Utah. How did my father manage to get it? My uncle didn’t know, but he was sure that my father didn’t get this fruit for his own use. He just enjoyed giving it away! As I read these stories, my heart was turned to my father and mother because I knew more about their hearts. I found that I wanted to learn more about them and about their parents and grandparents.

Sister Asay recalled another incident when she poured out her heart to her Father in Heaven: “Carlos has always made me feel that I’m the greatest person in the world, and I just never want to let him down, or do anything that will slow his progress.” She told of the time she had the responsibility of handling their very meager finances. “We had our money budgeted in little envelopes,” she explained. At that time her young student-husband was teaching school and also going to night school. As he left for school one morning with full confidence in his sweetheart and wife, he said, “I’ll need the tuition money ready so I can register after school tonight.” Colleen had this horrible feeling come over her. She realized that through some misplanning, perhaps paying a bill before it was due or something like that, there was no money for the tuition.
“He trusted me. I just couldn’t let him down. He needed the money then so he could continue his schooling, and there was no money and no way of getting it unless it was to just drop out of the sky.” With a desperate feeling, and yet with the unwavering faith she had developed over the years, she talked to her Father in Heaven: “There is no money. What am I going to do? Carlos thinks there is, and he is coming home, and I just can’t disappoint him.” Sister Asay hesitated a minute, then leaned forward and reverently bore testimony: “That was one of the greatest spiritual experiences I’ve had,” she said, “and I’ve had a number of them.
“You know, when I got up from my knees, I looked out of the window. I saw the postman coming down the walk. The thought came to me immediately, ‘There will be some money in the mail.’ I confidently walked to the mailbox and—nothing. I could hardly believe it. My heart sank. There was no money. Disappointed and heartsick, I turned to go back in the door, full of concern, thinking of Carlos’s education and our future. At that moment the postman came back around the corner of the house. ‘Here is a letter,’ he said. ‘It was in the bottom of the bag and I didn’t notice it.’” She quickly opened the letter to discover a seminary check—two payments in advance—for the exact amount of the tuition. “I just started to cry,” she said. “The Lord did hear my prayers. I said to the children, ‘Look, here is some money from the Lord.’” Those dear little children sensed their mother’s excitement and ran all the way up and down the block, where there were nonmembers, and publicly announced to all their friends, “The Lord has sent us some money.”
“That’s how instantly I’ve had prayers answered,” Sister Asay explained. “Sometimes answers don’t come that quickly, but sometimes they do!”

When I turned 12, my bishop invited me in for an interview. In that interview he explained to me what the Aaronic Priesthood is. He explained to me my responsibilities in holding the priesthood. I was set apart as deacons quorum president, but I was the only member of that quorum who was active. At that time my great bishop taught me an important lesson on Church service.
One Sunday we were in the chapel for priesthood meeting, and he turned to me and asked, “Where are the other boys? Where are the deacons in your quorum?”
I said, “I’m it. I’m the only one I know of.”
“What are you doing to get to know the members of your quorum?” he said.
I said, “I don’t know what to do.”
And then he sweetly said, “I’ll tell you what to do.”
He then took me with him right after the meeting, and we walked around the neighborhood, visiting each of the young men on the quorum list and inviting them to come back. And several of them did come back after a few visits. Some went on to serve missions, have great families, and become bishops and stake presidents. And it all started with that simple visit from my bishop and me. He paid attention to that special need in our little ward, and I’m really grateful because I learned a lesson that has remained with me.
Through my life I have learned that people are ready to be invited to come back. You have to go and invite them. Even a boy like me, without experience in the priesthood, can do much to help the kingdom grow.
That experience as a deacons quorum president helped me. That bishop was very wise. He had the vision of the future. He entrusted me with that assignment because he knew I was a young man who needed a coach. And he decided to be that coach, so he spent the time to help me and support me by going with me. He helped me understand how good it is to serve in the Church, to do something with your testimony. It was wonderful. I will be eternally grateful for him.

When I was 17, I was assigned as my father’s home teaching companion. We visited a few families in our ward and gave them a message from the bishop or read an article from a Church magazine. Home teaching was actually not so bad. Some of our families really appreciated our company.
We visited an older couple who always looked forward to our coming. They were talkative and gave us cookies when we were there.
Another of our families was actively involved at church. They were easy to home teach. The TV would be turned off, and the family always gathered around, sitting quietly while my dad and I gave our message.
Our ward was spread out over a large area of farms and small communities outside of Pocatello, Idaho. Many of the people had chosen the semi-country life to escape from the city. They liked being away from the traffic noise. Some simply wanted to get away from society. The Browns, a family newly assigned to us, fit right into that last category. As I look back, I wonder at the patience my father showed.
It was my job to set up our home teaching appointments. Brother Brown answered the phone and told me they were too busy this month and to maybe call back later if I wanted to. The same results occurred four weeks later on my second attempt. My father decided we needed a more direct approach.
The next month came, and after visiting our other families, we drove straight to the Browns’ house. A pickup truck and a car were in the driveway. Our printout showed a family of three: a father, a mother, and a 9-year-old boy. We went up to the door and knocked. No answer.
A month passed and again it was time for home teaching. Visiting our regulars went smoothly, and then it was time for our not-so-regular.
“Do they really want us to come?” I asked.
“We don’t know for sure,” was the answer from my senior companion. “They haven’t told us to go away, and we haven’t done anything they could get mad at, have we? We can’t give up so soon.”
We drove to their house. This time the cars were switched. They had to be home. There were only two drivers. We went up to the door and knocked. Silence.
“Knock again,” said my dad. I heard some noise inside the house, but the door stood still. From the corner of my eye, I saw motion. I turned to the window and, for a split second, locked eye contact with a brown-haired child, who disappeared. We left. It seemed apparent that this family did not want us around. I did not know if I wanted to be around them. I suggested to my father that we report back to the high priests group leader that this family did not want home teachers and call it good.
“Hm.” My dad was not a man of many words, but I knew well the meaning of this. We would be going back.
The next month came all too soon. It was, again, time to do our home teaching. Our visits with the regular families quickly came and went. I then found myself standing in front of the door with the two cars in the driveway. My dad motioned me, and I timidly knocked. No answer. “There, that’s that. They won’t answer, Dad. Let’s go home.” A nod from my senior companion prompted me to knock again. I reluctantly did so, keeping my thoughts to myself. Then it opened; not the door, but a window. A gruff male voice asked what we wanted. A waft of cigarette smoke followed his question. I was ready to bolt. My dad smiled. He told the voice who we were and why we were there. He explained that we wanted to get to know this family and become friends. Then he asked if we could come back next month. That was all he said, nothing more. Hesitating, the faceless voice behind the window agreed and we left.
“He knew exactly who we were,” my dad said as we drove away. “He gets new home teachers every couple of years. He just knows how to get rid of us.”
The next month was much the same—the same voice from the window, the same brief conversation, and the same hesitation to let us come again next month.
Our third month was not the same, however. The pickup was not in the driveway. We went up to the door and knocked. We both looked toward the window in anticipation. To my surprise, the door opened! That same child I had seen earlier poked his head out, glanced down the street, and then at us. “Please, come in,” he said.
A lady was standing in the front room. “Thank you for coming, we only have a few minutes,” she said. “Do you know when Cub Scouts meet?”
“We will find out for you, Sister Brown,” my dad answered.
The child was staring at me. I was in shock now that we were standing in the house and not on the porch. Had he said something? “Can you baptize me?” he repeated, with a sincere ring in his voice.
His smile was contagious, but all I could say was “What?”
“He wants to become a member of the Church like his cousins in town. He has been watching you come to the door each month. I told him you could probably baptize him.”
“Can you baptize me into the Church?” he asked a third time.
I was beginning to recover. “Yes, uh, I think so.”
My dad helped me out. “Let’s talk to the bishop,” he said. “He can tell us what you need to do to get ready. Can both of you and Brother Brown come to church on Sunday?”
That was our whole visit. Then we were gone. I contemplated the entire situation during the quiet drive home. Being a home teacher was something more than cookies and pleasant conversations. Being a home teacher could be seriously important. Why had I suggested we give up on this family? The example my father gave me was beyond my years. I was experiencing guilty exhilaration, guilt because of my murmuring and exhilaration because of the unexpected results of our visit. I glanced at my dad.
“You did good,” he said, reading my mind. “Let’s watch for them on Sunday.”
I have always cherished my memories of home teaching with my father. I can remember some of the families we taught better than others. I will never forget the Browns.
We saw the mom and the boy at church that next Sunday and many other Sundays. We saw the boy at Cub Scouts the next week and many other weeks. I’m sure some deep conversations were held at the Browns’ house, because the door always opened for us, even when Brother Brown was home. He even learned how to smile and shake hands.
Then came the baptism. I felt the smiling eyes of the city cousins looking down on the boy and me. The bishop had let them kneel by the baptismal font, which was recessed into the floor at the stake center. A deep, peaceful feeling swept over me as this wet, glowing boy and I stepped up and out. I almost felt that it was I who had been baptized. The boy’s parents were beaming. I saw Sister Brown brush a tear from her cheek. I looked up at my father; he nodded his approval.
Warmth grew inside me as I realized the wisdom of His patience, His patience for this little family and for me.

Aioo Suisala just turned 19. He works to earn money for his mission. On Saturdays and during school vacations he works with Letane and Sosaia at nearby plantations with many of the other people from the village. They get to the fields either by walking or riding horses. At the plantations they weed the taro plants, fumigate, pick bananas, and check how the pineapples are ripening.
On Sundays Aioo, who is assistant ward clerk, Sosaia, and Letane attend Church meetings and take care of their responsibilities in the ward. Their chapel is less than ten years old, and the local Saints helped to build it. Aioo and Sosaia both remember working on it.
Aioo stands in stake conference in Pesega as he is sustained to be ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He has been looking forward to and preparing for this day for a long time because it means that he is almost ready to go on his mission.

One year ago, to earn money to prepare to go on a mission, I joined a Chinese folk dance group going to Japan. I was not allowed to leave the group to go to church because it was such a long way to go. Fortunately though, two missionaries, Elder Porter and Elder Anderson, came to visit me and brought me Church magazines to read. They had to travel a long way, but they knew how much I needed contact with the Church. The Church magazines really helped me while I was unable to attend church.
For six months now I have been a full-time missionary preaching the gospel to my own people in the Taiwan Taipei Mission. I really appreciate the Church magazines and the two dedicated missionaries who brought them to me and encouraged me to go on a mission.
Victoria Jang Lien RongTaiwan Taipei Mission

From the time he was a young boy growing up in Genoa, Italy, Christopher Columbus knew that he wanted to be a seaman. Coming from a family of weavers, however, it was expected that Christopher would follow in the footsteps of his grandfather and father. But the curious boy was more interested in the sea and the stars, and instead of weaving cloth as his brothers and father did, Christopher spent much of his time weaving dreams of adventure and discovery.
He listened to the tales of the sailors who came to the marketplace. They talked about exotic people of the Orient and of the great amounts of gold and spices in China, Japan, and India. Christopher dreamed of someday going to those strange, faraway places.
As soon as he could, he began working on ships. Studying hard, he learned as much as he could about sailing, maps, and navigating by the stars. At the age of thirteen, he left home to seek his fortune as a seaman.
He traveled throughout Europe and the Mediterranean and became an expert navigator. By the time he was 25, Christopher was made captain of a ship. It was then that he started to formulate a plan.
In the 1400s, many seamen were reluctant to go after the wealth of the Indies because it was thought that the only way to get there was by sailing a difficult, circuitous route around Africa. Christopher believed that there was another way. He thought that he could get to Japan by going west across the Atlantic Ocean.
Most people laughed at Christopher’s idea, and he had a hard time getting anyone to support his proposed trip. It took him six years to finally convince the king and queen of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella, to provide him with ships and money.
On August 3, 1492, Christopher set sail from Palos, Spain, with three ships: the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. It was only after a long and difficult journey that land was sighted. October 12, 1492, was the happy day when he set foot on dry ground—not in Japan or China or India, but on an island in what is now called the Bahamas, in the western hemisphere.
It has now been five hundred years since Christopher Columbus made that trip, and modern history books all give an account of the famous journey. But long before Columbus was born, another historian wrote of this navigator’s future travels. The prophet Nephi, son of Lehi, had a vision of Columbus. He recorded the vision in 1 Nephi: “And I looked and beheld a man among the Gentiles, who was separated from the seed of my brethren by the many waters; and I beheld the Spirit of God, that it came down and wrought upon the man; and he went forth upon the many waters, even unto the seed of my brethren, who were in the promised land” (1 Ne. 13:12).
The scriptures indicate that Columbus’ voyages to the lands of North and South America were not made by chance but were directed by the Spirit. Columbus himself acknowledged several times that he was motivated by divine influence. In a letter to the king and queen of Spain, he wrote, “Our Lord unlocked my mind, sent me upon the sea, and gave me fire for the deed. Those who heard of my emprise [enterprise] called it foolish, mocked me, and laughed. But who can doubt but the Holy Ghost inspired me?”*
Weeks into their voyage, the crews that were with Columbus grew restless and fearful, and the captains of the Nina and the Pinta both wanted to turn back. Columbus would not give up, however, and he finally promised that if land was not sighted in forty-eight hours, they would turn back. That night in his cabin, Columbus “prayed mightily to the Lord,”* and on the very next day, October 12, land was sighted.
Because of his strong determination, courage, and faith, Christopher Columbus was able to make his dream of adventure and travel to distant lands come true. He didn’t discover a new route to the Indies, as he had hoped to, but his discovery of America was inspired by God.

Years ago I read a Time magazine article that reported the discovery of a letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.
A few members left the Church because of the document.
Sadly, they left too quickly. Months later experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete deception. You may understandably question what you hear on the news, but you need never doubt the testimony of God’s prophets.

“Jessie,” Mother called, “are you OK? You’ve been in the bathroom for a long time.”
“I’m getting my family home evening lesson ready,” Jessie called back.
“In the bathroom?”
“I can’t part the Red Sea in the living room,” Jessie replied.
“That’s true,” said Mother.
Jessie had a little water in the bathtub. She put in several drops of red food coloring, just for effect. Her father had carefully installed a rotating fan on a shelf above the tub for her, and if she stopped the fan from moving back and forth, turned it on high, and used only a little water in the tub, she could part the Red Sea.
But this only solved part of her problem. She couldn’t turn the fan off to drown Pharaoh and the Egyptians while she was still getting Moses and the Israelites to the other side of the bathtub. And how was she going to get Pharaoh into the sea to begin with? There was also the cloud that separated the Israelites and the Egyptians. She could use cotton for that, but someone else would have to hold up the cloud.
David came into the bathroom to comb his hair. “David,” asked Jessie, “would you turn this fan off and on for me when I ask you to?”
“If it won’t mess up my hair,” said David.
“It won’t, I promise.”
Just then their sister Ruth came into the bathroom to get some nail polish. “Playing in the water I see, David,” Ruth teased.
“Be quiet,” said David. “I’m helping Jessie part the Red Sea.”
“Ruth,” said Jessie, “I need you to get the Egyptians into the Red Sea so that David can drown them.”
“Clever!” Ruth exclaimed, picking up the small figures. “They’re plastic cowboys and horses dressed up in Egyptian capes.”
Jessie’s little brother, Jared, came into the bathroom to see what was going on. He picked up the cotton. “Soft,” he said.
“Jared,” Jessie asked, “Can you hold that cotton cloud right here to protect the Israelites?”
“Me water,” said Jared leaning over the bathtub and swishing the water with one hand and swinging the cloud with the other.
Dad came into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Well, it looks like we’re having a meeting in here,” he said.
“We’re parting the Red Sea,” said Ruth.
“Tonight’s lesson?” asked Dad. “So that’s why you wanted the fan set up in here, Jessie.”
“Yes,” Jessie replied. “Will you please help me get Moses through the Red Sea? I can’t move all these Israelites by myself.”
“The robes on these army men of yours look great,” said Dad. “They make good Israelites.”
“Thanks, Dad,” said Jessie.
Mother poked her head into the room. “What on earth is going on in here?”
“Oh, Mom,” Jessie answered, “we’re ready for my part of the family-home-evening lesson. Will you sit on the clothes hamper and watch? We need a watcher.”
“I’d love to,” said Mom.
“Ready, begin,” announced Jessie.
David turned the fan on. The Red Sea parted. Jessie and Dad led the Israelites through the bathtub. Jared held the cotton cloud and swished his hands in the red water. Ruth rode the caped Egyptians into the tub on their horses. David turned off the fan, and the Egyptian soldiers and Pharaoh drowned. Mom clapped and cheered.
“Whew,” said Jessie, wiping her forehead, “that was quite a job.”
“A great family effort,” said Dad.
“Jessie, I’ve made your favorite red sugar cookies,” Mom said, “in honor of your parting the Red Sea.”
“Boy, I’m luckier than Moses,” said Jessie.
“Why’s that?” asked Dad.
“I’ll bet Moses didn’t get red sugar cookies after he parted the Red Sea.”

As I nervously waited to board my flight from Boston to Salt Lake City—my first airplane ride alone—my parents repeated for the zillionth time their last request.
“Don’t forget to visit Grandpa,” they said. “He’d really love it.”
“Okay,” I promised, though silently I finished it with “if I feel like it.”
I was flying out to begin my freshman year at Brigham Young University. Dad thought the trip would be an excellent opportunity for me to drop in on his dad in Salt Lake City, but I was worried enough about my own survival far from home.
I remembered Grandpa as a kind old man who always had time for his grandchildren. After chatting a little he would take us outside to swing on his swings, eat his raspberries, and gaze over the fence at his one big cow.
But seeing Grandpa now would mean doing adult things, like socializing and asking questions. Dad wouldn’t be there to do most of the talking, like he usually did. The whole idea of visiting him was making me uncomfortable.
At the airport in Salt Lake City I was met by two teenage cousins from Mom’s side of the family. They weren’t related to Grandpa Lythgoe and didn’t know about the promise I had made to my parents. How easy it would be to keep quiet and let them drive me straight to BYU.
But as we drove I thought, not only of the promise, but also how lonely Grandpa must be since Grandma died two years before. He could probably use a visit right now, especially from a grandson he didn’t see very often. So despite my fears, I asked my cousins to stop.
With Dad we would always walk in Grandpa’s back door without knocking, but this time we approached the seldom-used front door. Back doors seem reserved for people you know, and I was beginning to realize I scarcely knew him.
Grandpa came to the door, and we knew he was happy to see us. He was closing fast on his 90th birthday and looked feeble, but he was still Grandpa. The house felt empty without Grandma, but what seemed the most different was me. With Dad 2,500 miles away, I was suddenly the adult in charge of conversation, and everything I said must have sounded a bit forced.
Of course Grandpa asked me what I planned to study at BYU, and I also told him what the rest of the family was up to, but we soon ran out of things to say. I decided we should hit the road again.
A month later the rest of my family flew out for a week to help Grandpa celebrate his birthday, but a few days before the party I got a phone call. Grandpa had died the night before.
As I hung up the phone, it suddenly became clear to me how important that short visit had been a month before. I hadn’t said anything earth-shattering, and maybe part of the reason I had gone was to please my parents, but I was happy and relieved I hadn’t passed up my last chance to see Grandpa alive. I often think of Grandpa and something I later heard my mission president say: “Be glad that you did; don’t wish that you had.”

That summer, Louisa Pratt moved her family into a cabin she had purchased for five dollars. It was her third home in Winter Quarters. After the chimney failed on her sod home, she had moved the family into a damp dugout, which was little more than a five-foot hole in the ground with a leaky roof.
In the new house, Louisa paid some men to install a floor of split logs. She then had a bowery built in front of her house that could seat twenty-five people, and she and her daughter Ellen opened a school for children. Her daughter Frances, meanwhile, planted and tended a garden and chopped wood for heating the home and cooking.
Louisa’s health was still poor. After recovering from her fever and shakes, she took a bad fall on the snow and ice and hurt her knee. While living in the dugout, she developed scurvy and lost her front teeth. But she and her daughters had suffered less than many of the Saints. Everyone had neighbors and friends who had died from the sicknesses that raged through camp.25
After purchasing the home and making repairs, she had little money left. When her supply of food was almost gone, she visited her neighbors and asked if they would be interested in purchasing her feather bed, but they did not have any money either. While speaking with them, Louisa mentioned that she had nothing in her house to eat.
“You do not seem troubled,” one of them said. “What do you expect to do?”
“Oh, no, I do not feel troubled,” Louisa said. “I know deliverance will come in some unexpected way.”
As she made her way home, she visited another neighbor. During the conversation, the neighbor mentioned Louisa’s old-fashioned iron crane, which was used for holding pots in a fireplace. “If you will sell it,” the neighbor said, “I will give you two bushels of cornmeal.” Louisa agreed to the bargain, recognizing the Lord was blessing her once again.
That spring, Louisa felt healthier and ventured out to worship with the Saints. The women in the settlement had begun to meet together to strengthen each other by exercising their spiritual gifts. During one meeting, the women spoke in tongues while Elizabeth Ann Whitney, who had been a spiritual leader among the Saints for many years, interpreted. Elizabeth Ann said that Louisa would have health, cross the Rocky Mountains, and there have a joyful reunion with her husband.
Louisa was startled. She had assumed that she would reunite with Addison in Winter Quarters and then make the journey west with him. Without his help, she could see no way, physically or financially, to make the journey.26
As the members of the advance company headed into the heart of the Rocky Mountains, the trail grew steeper and the men and women tired more easily. Ahead of them, clearly visible above the rolling plains, were snowcapped peaks much taller than any mountain they had seen in the eastern United States.
One night in early July, Brigham’s wife Clara awoke with a fever, a headache, and intense pain in her hips and back. Others soon complained of the same symptoms, and they struggled to keep pace with the rest of the company. Every step they took on the stony ground was agonizing for their feeble limbs.27
Clara felt better as the days passed. The strange sickness seemed to attack quickly, then subside a short time later. On July 12, however, Brigham came down with a fever. He became delirious through the night. The next day, he felt somewhat better, but he and the apostles decided to rest most of the company while Orson Pratt pressed on with a band of forty-two men.28
About a week later, Brigham instructed Willard Richards, George A. Smith, Erastus Snow, and others to continue on and catch up with Orson’s advance company. “Halt at the first suitable spot after reaching the Salt Lake Valley,” he instructed, “and put in our seed potatoes, buckwheat, and turnips, regardless of our final location.”29 Remembering Jim Bridger’s report on the region, he cautioned the company against going south into Utah Valley until they had become better acquainted with the Ute people who inhabited it.30
Clara, her two young half brothers, and her mother stayed behind with Brigham and the other sick pioneers. Once the company felt strong enough to continue, they followed a crude trail across uneven terrain choked with underbrush. In some places, the canyon walls were so high that heavy dust became trapped in the air, making it difficult to see what lay ahead.
On July 23, Clara and the sick company climbed a long, steep trail to the summit of a hill. From there they descended through a thick grove of trees, winding their way down a path riddled with stumps left by those who cut the trail. A mile down the hill, the wagon carrying Clara’s brothers overturned in a ravine and smashed against a rock. Men quickly cut a hole in the wagon cover and pulled the boys to safety.
While the company rested at the bottom of the hill, two riders from Orson’s company arrived in camp with reports that they were near the Salt Lake Valley. Exhausted, Clara and her mother pushed ahead with the rest of the company until the early evening. Above them, the sky looked ready for a storm.31
The next morning, July 24, 1847, Wilford drove his carriage for several miles down a deep ravine. Brigham lay behind him in the carriage, too feverish and weak to walk. Soon they traveled along a creek through another canyon until they arrived at a level bench of land that opened to a view of the Salt Lake Valley.
Wilford gazed with wonder at the vast country below. Fertile fields of thick green prairie grass, watered by clear mountain streams, stretched for miles before them. The streams emptied into a long narrow river that ran lengthwise down the valley floor. A rim of tall mountains, their jagged peaks high in the clouds, surrounded the valley like a fortress. To the west, glistening like a mirror in the sunlight, was the Great Salt Lake.
After a journey of more than a thousand miles through prairie, desert, and canyons, the sight was breathtaking. Wilford could imagine the Saints settling there and establishing another stake of Zion. They could build homes, cultivate orchards and fields, and gather God’s people from around the world. And before long, the Lord’s house would be established in the mountains and exalted above the hills, just as Isaiah had prophesied.32
Brigham could not see the valley clearly, so Wilford turned the carriage to give his friend a better view. Looking out across the valley, Brigham studied it for several minutes.33
“It is enough. This is the right place,” he told Wilford. “Drive on.”34
Brigham had recognized the spot as soon as he saw it. At the north end of the valley was the mountain peak from his vision. Brigham had prayed to be led directly to that place, and the Lord had answered his prayers. He saw no need to look elsewhere.35
Below, the valley floor was already alive with activity. Even before Brigham, Wilford, and Heber Kimball descended the mountain, Orson Pratt, Erastus Snow, and other men had established a base camp and begun plowing fields, planting crops, and irrigating the land. Wilford joined them as soon as he reached the camp, planting half a bushel of potatoes before eating his evening meal and settling in for the night.
The following day was the Sabbath, and the Saints gave thanks to the Lord. The company met to hear sermons and partake of the sacrament. Though feeble, Brigham spoke briefly to encourage the Saints to keep the Sabbath, take care of the land, and respect each other’s property.
On the morning of Monday, July 26, Brigham was still convalescing in Wilford’s carriage when he turned to Wilford and said, “Brother Woodruff, I want to take a walk.”
“All right,” Wilford said.36
They set out that morning with eight other men, traveling toward the mountains to the north. Brigham rode in Wilford’s carriage part of the way, his hands clutching a green cloak around his shoulders. Before they reached the foothills, the ground leveled off into a plain, and Brigham stepped out of the carriage and walked slowly over the light, rich soil.
As the men followed Brigham, admiring the land, he stopped suddenly and thrust his cane into the ground. “Here shall stand the temple of our God,” he said.37 He could already see a vision of it in front of him, its six spires rising up from the valley floor.38
Brigham’s words struck Wilford like lightning. The men were about to walk on, but Wilford asked them to wait. He broke off a branch from a nearby sagebrush and drove it into the ground to mark the spot.
The men then continued on, envisioning the city the Saints would build in the valley.39
Later that day, Brigham pointed at the mountain peak north of the valley. “I want to go up on that peak,” he said, “for I feel fully satisfied that that was the point shown me in the vision.” The round, rocky peak was easy to climb and clearly visible from all parts of the valley. It was an ideal place to raise an ensign to the nations, signaling to the world that the kingdom of God was again on the earth.
Brigham set out immediately for the summit with Wilford, Heber Kimball, Willard Richards, and others. Wilford was the first to reach the top. From the peak, he could see the valley spread out before him.40 With its high mountains and spacious plain, this valley could keep the Saints safe from their enemies as they tried to live the laws of God, gather Israel, build another temple, and establish Zion. In his meetings with the Twelve and the Council of Fifty, Joseph Smith had often expressed his desire to find such a place for the Saints.41
Wilford’s friends soon joined him. They called the place Ensign Peak, evoking Isaiah’s prophecy that the outcasts of Israel and the dispersed of Judah would assemble from the four corners of the earth under a common banner.42
Someday they wanted to fly a massive flag over the peak. But for now, they did their best to mark the occasion. What happened is uncertain, but one man recalled that Heber Kimball took out a yellow bandana, tied it to the end of Willard Richards’s cane, and waved it back and forth in the warm mountain air.43