Gospel Story Finder

For example, in my high school days I chose not to study on Sundays. I would study until midnight on Saturday and then ask my mom to wake me up early on Monday morning. I kept the Sabbath day holy. Sometimes I felt a little uncomfortable because I knew that my classmates were spending the whole day studying. In Korea, getting into a good university is a serious goal. But even if I had a test on Monday, I did not study on Sunday. Because I had one day fewer to study, I really had to focus my attention. I think I made better use of my study time because of this focus. In the end I was one of the top students in my high school, and I got into one of the most prestigious universities in Korea.

Dear Topher,
You asked me in the letter I got from you yesterday if I was afraid to die. I guess I should be, kind of. But I don’t feel scared. Mom told me what Grandma Clanton said before she died about four years ago. She said she would be leaving Mom and the rest of us for just a little while and to not be frightened. She said she’d be happy and that we shouldn’t worry about her. That helped me a lot.
Another reason I’m not afraid is because I have a testimony of Jesus. He died so that we might all live again and so that families can be forever. I have an older brother in Heaven. Maybe I’ll be able to see him. And my Uncle Eugene. And my ancestors. I kind of got to know some of them when my parents were working on their family history. One of them, Nathan Twiggs, carried a chair on his back all the way across the plains—and not just so he would have something to sit on when he got tired walking! His grandfather, Thomas Twiggs, made it and used to sit on it with Nathan on his knees and read the Book of Mormon to him. Dad said it was in that chair that Thomas got his testimony.
If I could choose between staying or leaving, I would stay here on earth for a while because when I think of leaving my family, I feel sad. But Heavenly Father knows best, and Mom said that we were all probably both happy and sad when we left our heavenly parents to come down here.
Oh, I wish I could see that play you are going to be in, Topher! It sounds like it will be fun. I laughed when you said you brought a friend to dress rehearsal and you pointed to Bigfoot and said he was your bishop, and your friend said, “No wonder everyone is so reverent—I wouldn’t want to upset him, either!”
Take care of yourself, Topher. Kiss a kangaroo for me. I think they’re cute.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
I’m Cindy’s mother. You probably don’t know me. Or maybe you do, a little. Cindy most likely told you about her family in some of her letters. She’s told us a good deal about you.
Cindy passed away last week, Topher. She wanted me to tell you good-bye and that she would see you later. She said for you to work on your testimony every day because it will help make your trials much easier to bear. And you know what, Topher? It does. It does!
Write us when you can. We would like to keep in touch.
Love,
Cindy’s mom
Dear Cindy’s family,
I cried a lot when you told me about Cindy. Then, well, it’s hard to explain, but a warm feeling came over me. It felt like the sun when it pushes down through a bunch of dark, wet clouds. I know Cindy is happy, just as she said she would be. And what she said about you asking me to work on my testimony? Well, I am. I want one, too, so that when things get hard or confusing I can be strong—and happy, even when I’m sad.
I’ll write again soon.
Love,
Topher

My mother, who turned 93 last week, always emphasized that the public and private persons needed to be the same. When I was a little girl, I went to a store for my mother. In my purse, I had money and a list of things I was to get. The storekeeper took the list, and once I received the items, I handed her the money. I was then given some change and a receipt. I returned home where my mother checked everything. One time, I had received too much money back. Mother took me to the store with the extra money. When the storekeeper laughed, Mother informed her that my integrity was not for sale for a few coins then or for millions when I grew up. Once I tried to get away with something by saying, “But everyone else does it.” That didn’t work. This tiny woman said that I was not just everybody; I was a member of Hannonen family and a citizen of Finland. Once we were converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, she added “Mormon” to the list. “Remember who you are” has played in my mind before there were iPads or iPods, MP3 players, and truthfully, before there were computers, electric typewriters, or color TV.

I had temptations similar to the ones you face today, but I made choices based on moral and ethical values taught to me in my childhood. Later in life, it did not matter to my mother what place I had in an organizational chart, how many people I was responsible for, or how much money moved through my hands. What mattered was that I had clean hands and a pure heart and that I was working towards eternal goals in the kingdom of God. I cannot give a resume of my accomplishments to the Lord, only myself and who I have become during my time in mortality.

Thank you so much for this wonderful magazine. A while ago, I was feeling really down. As I flopped onto my bed, I saw the September 2000 New Era sticking out of a pile of magazines. I felt impressed to read it, and since I was having such a hard time I picked it up and read the entire thing. My dark mood was lifted, and I felt refreshed. With all the filthy magazines out there, it’s good to know there is at least one that is uplifting and wholesome.
Liesel HaubnerPleasant Grove, Utah (via e-mail)

Some years ago while our family was eating dinner with another couple from our ward, we received a phone call from the emergency department of our local hospital. An official asked my husband, who was serving as stake president at the time, if someone from our Church could come see a 17-year-old youth who had suffered a serious head injury.
Upon arriving, my husband learned that the young man had fallen from a balcony onto a cement sidewalk 30 feet (9 m) below. He was unconscious and not expected to live.
My husband and the brother who ate dinner with us gave the young man a blessing. His family, who lived a thousand miles (1,610 km) away, was contacted and apprised of his condition.
Miraculously, after a few days of intensive care, the young man regained consciousness and began to heal. For four weeks his parents visited him daily in the hospital. Then they flew him home to Arizona, USA, so he could complete his recovery.
How marvelous it was to witness the healing power of the priesthood work in a way to give this young man a second chance at a healthy future. And how grateful I was for a husband and other ward members who are prepared to perform priesthood service and act with divine authority.
I felt deeply for the young man’s parents, who were so far from their son during his crisis. I was glad, however, to know that they felt somewhat reassured when they learned that their son had received a priesthood blessing and that Church members were glad to help.

My first Sunday in church was in early 1995. All my life I had spent weekends in stadiums and gymnasiums. I love sports! I was even studying sports. But in January 1995 I came in contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The sister missionaries invited me to attend church, and I went.
It was a fast and testimony meeting. I sat on a massive wooden pew, one sister missionary to my right, the other to my left. But I encountered only unfamiliar faces, unfamiliar music, unfamiliar proceedings, and unfamiliar words. I had never partaken of the sacrament before and was preoccupied with finding out the appropriate conduct. I felt very uncomfortable. I said to myself, “It will be over at some point, and then I will get out of here and never come back.” But the meeting concluded with the announcement that all should remain in the chapel for a lesson by the mission president, President Charles W. Dahlquist II, who now serves as Young Men general president. So most people, including the sister missionaries, remained seated, and I could not simply sneak out inconspicuously, as I had planned. Since I did not have the courage to tell the missionaries how awful I was feeling, I decided to endure.
President Dahlquist stood in front. He began by asking what we would do with a good book we had just read. My answer was, “Read it again, recommend it to others, or give it as a gift.”
He spoke about the Book of Mormon, then about a few other subjects. But something peculiar happened. I suddenly knew that everything he said was true. I knew that he knew more things that were true as well. I knew that I wanted to know what he knew. I knew that I wanted to have in my life what he had as an anchor in his life. It is hard to find words to describe this experience. I simply knew that he knew.
I looked around stealthily to see if anybody had noticed anything unusual, for I had the impression that something wonderful had happened.
Because of his lesson I attended church again—and again. My baptism was on March 2, 1996, approximately one year after this experience. Today I have five wonderful children and a wonderful, eternal husband.
I recall often and with gratitude this lesson.
Barbara Hopf, Stade Branch, Hamburg Germany Stake

Some people also stumble over statements made by Church leaders that have turned out to be incorrect, not about doctrine but in their personal opinions. For example, President Joseph Fielding Smith (1876–1972) wrote in the first edition of his book Answers to Gospel Questions, “It is doubtful that man will ever be permitted to make any instrument or ship to travel through space and visit the moon or any distant planet.”4

Later, following the Apollo moon landings and the death of President David O. McKay, Joseph Fielding Smith became President of the Church. At a press conference, a reporter asked him about this statement. President Smith replied, “Well, I was wrong, wasn’t I?”5

The gospel has helped him in other ways, too. One is that since he joined the Church, Richard has been able to overcome a speech impediment. Before receiving the Holy Ghost, “I could not say a word in public,” Richard says. After his confirmation, he was able to bless the sacrament, give talks in church, and take roles in two road shows. “Like it says in Ether 12:27—my weakness became a strength,” he says.

Second, get involved. Each of us seems to learn the importance of giving of ourselves and the value of working with others at different points in life. While I still have much room for improvement in this area, I had an experience or two as a student here that have helped to shape my attitude about getting involved.

I returned from my mission in October and decided to live at home and commute to school from Saint Anthony for a few classes during the second block. On one of my first days on campus, I was approached by a student body officer I knew who said, "Hey Shane. You should consider getting involved in campus activities. We need someone to chair the annual Christmas Tree Lane event. Would you be interested in doing that?"

My first thought was, "Oh no. Not me. I remember coming to that event on this campus from the time I was just a young boy and it was bigger than life. What would I know about doing something like that? I don't have time for that." Well, I must have been saying "no" on the inside and something kind of like "yes" on the outside because, before I knew it, I was being whisked into some office in the Manwaring Center and lined out for my new assignment. I soon found myself looking around campus for people to help on the committee and diving into something that turned out pretty well despite my weaknesses. I enjoyed it. I felt I was somehow investing in my future and helping with a needed project.

I went back for more. The following spring I threw my hat in the ring to run for student body president. And guess what happened? I didn't win. At that time at Ricks College, there were several elected student body offices and a couple of appointed positions on the council. A couple of days after the election, the student who did win the election asked to speak with me and asked me if I was willing to serve in the appointed capacity of Student Relations Officer. I agreed. For the next year, I was out of my comfort zone. I had a variety of experiences I could not have foreseen. I learned something about serving in a different way. I made new lifelong friends.

When I was seven years old, my mom and dad befriended a less-active family in our ward that consisted of a single mother and her two sons. My older brother, John, and I were the same ages as the two boys, Robin and Shannon, so it seemed appropriate that we extend a hand of fellowship.
The family didn’t own a car, so my father offered to pick them up at their home in a nearby city and give them rides to and from church. I remember the days Dad summoned my brother and me to accompany him to pick them up. I begrudged it at the time, but despite my groaning, Dad continued to give them rides until they were actively attending church and had their own car. Robin and Shannon were soon baptized and confirmed, and their mom began participating in Relief Society. I didn’t realize at the time the positive repercussions that would come from this act of service.
A few months before I began eighth grade, my dad passed away. To compound my grief, I was insecure about my physical appearance and lack of friends. I began to succumb to feelings of despair, and I spent my lunch hours walking to my house and back because I couldn’t bear sitting alone.
That same year, the family we had befriended moved into our school district, and Shannon began attending my school. We became immediate friends. I felt accepted, and I was no longer so sad. Knowing that someone enjoyed being my friend boosted my confidence and self-worth. I no longer had to spend my lunch hour by myself.
Our friendship deepened during high school. When our older brothers left for college and missions, Shannon and I became surrogate brothers. We received our Eagle Scout Awards at the same court of honor, went to the same university, left on missions during the same summer, and became roommates afterward. We were both married in the Salt Lake Temple to wonderful women, and our first children were born within three months of each other.
One evening shortly before Shannon’s wedding, we began talking about our childhood. I told him how he had helped me overcome my insecurities and cope with the death of my father. It was his friendship, I added, that had helped me turn my life around. Shannon then told me that if my dad had not given his family rides to church, he would not have attended church, served a mission, and been sealed in the temple.
The Spirit touched me strongly during that conversation as I realized the blessings that a simple ride to church had on our lives. As I reflected on Shannon’s friendship, I realized that my father not only helped save Shannon’s family, but he also prepared a friend who helped save his own son.

I was recently told of a woman in Idaho Falls, a widow. Over a period of 15 years she acted as proxy in giving the temple endowment to 20,000 individuals in the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple. She completed her 20,000th endowment on a Friday and returned on Saturday to do five more. She passed away the following week.

Just think of what this one little woman did. She performed these vicarious endowments for as many people as are assembled in this Conference Center this morning. Think of the reception she must have received on the other side.

Radmila was baptized on 22 February 1975 in Zurich, Switzerland. She later moved back to Belgrade, Yugoslovia, where the Church was just being organized. In 1981 she served a mission to Montreal, Canada, the first missionary to be called from Yugoslovia. Now she is finishing a graduate degree in physical therapy at Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. She also helps translate Church materials into Serbo-Croatian, the Yugoslav national language.
As she look back, Radmila says she feels Heavenly Father performed many miracles in her life. Once she questioned the existence of God. Now she knows that God has a strong love for her, and she wants to serve him any way she can.

One day in 1862 Henry’s father sent his family some money, and Sister Roberts decided to take two of her children, seven-year-old Anne and two-year-old Thomas, with her on a ship to the United States. At the time, all members of the Church were encouraged to gather to Utah. Sister Roberts didn’t have enough money to take the whole family, so she decided to go to Utah and earn enough money to send for her other two children.
She arranged for some distant relatives to take care of twelve-year-old Mary, but they refused to take Henry, who was five. A husband and wife who were new members of the Church seemed to be good people. They didn’t have any children, and they agreed to be temporary guardians for Henry until Sister Roberts could send for him.
The husband was a stonecutter and thought Henry would be helpful in carrying the buckets of sand and water that were used in stonecutting. Because of the heavy buckets carried on his head, Henry’s head sank low between his shoulders. It wasn’t until he was an adult that his head and shoulders were once again in a normal position.
His temporary “father” was often out of work, and sometimes Henry and his guardians wandered from town to town, sleeping under hedges or in haystacks. They worked at odd jobs when they could, and sometimes they begged. Their only belongings were a Bible, a violin, and a bundle of ragged clothes. They spent many nights in inns, where the husband played the violin, and his wife and Henry sang ballads. Henry sometimes stood on a table to sing, then passed his hat around for coins.
His guardians fought with each other a lot, and sometimes they wanted to be rid of Henry. Once they decided to enlist him in the army as a drummer boy. The night before he was to go, Henry heard a calm voice tell him, “If you are enlisted as a drummer boy, you will never see your mother in America.”
He had promised her that he would go to Utah, no matter what happened, so he left the couple’s cold shack and wandered about for several days. He ate what he could find and slept in doorways and empty boxes. Finally he rejoined them.
While Henry was longing for his mother, she was thinking constantly of him and Mary. In Utah she worked long hours, sewing, tailoring, and making hats. After three years she had earned enough to send for her children.
But Henry could not be found! He was nine years old by the time Church leaders in England found him. On April 30, 1866, he and his sister Mary boarded the sailing ship John Bright with about seven hundred other Latter-day Saints.
The voyage was a mixture of terror and fun. Violent storms brewed at sea, lasting as long as three days. Other days were calm and cloudless. On those days the passengers sometimes sang, danced, and played games on the deck. Henry often played marbles with other children when the ship was steady enough for the marbles to stay in the ring. He and Mary ate food they had brought with them, such as bread and pickled fatty bacon that had turned green.
After the ship landed in New York on June 6, Henry and Mary still had a long way to go. They travelled to Nebraska by boat and train, often riding in cattle cars. The bedding and equipment sent by their mother were not waiting for them in Nebraska, so on July 13 they set off in a Church wagon train with only the clothes on their backs.
To make matters worse, Henry lost his wooden clogs when he crossed the Platte River. Not wanting to wait for the rest of the wagon train to reach the river, Henry got up early and left by himself—something he knew he was not supposed to do. When he reached the river about noon, he was tired and fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw the last of the wagons pulling up on the other side of it.
He shouted, and William Henry Chipman, the captain of the company, told him to swim across the river. Taking off his heavy coat and wooden clogs so he could swim, Henry plunged into the water. When the current carried him downstream, Captain Chipman rode his horse into the water. Henry grabbed a stirrup and held on while the horse swam across.
He was safe, but he had to walk across the remaining plains barefoot. His feet became black, hard, and cracked from the journey; blood often oozed from the cracks. Sometimes at night Mary cried in sympathy as she pulled spines of prickly pear cactus from his feet.
Near Fort Laramie, Wyoming, the Saints lost many cattle in an Indian raid and had little food, but a relief train from Salt Lake City kept them from starving.
When Henry and Mary entered Salt Lake City on September 15, 1866, it had been more than four years since they had seen their mother. Henry walked proudly at the head of the train, his clothes in tatters, his hair sticking out in all directions. In honor of the occasion, he was wearing a pair of boots, many sizes too large, that he had discovered in a burned-out pony express station.
His mother was nowhere to be seen. When the company halted for the last time, Henry sat on a crate in a wagon, heartsick, watching the happy reunions between loved ones. At last he saw a woman in a red and white plaid shawl approaching. He went to her and said, “Hey, Mother.”
“Is that you, Henry?” she asked. “Where is Mary?” Mary was hiding inside a wagon, ashamed of her ragged clothing. The family was finally reunited. However, there was sad news. During her journey to Utah, Sister Roberts had watched her baby, Thomas, weaken and die. She had buried him in a donated breadbox coffin along the way.
When Henry arrived in Utah, he couldn’t read or write, but he learned very quickly. Brigham, as Henry was now called, helped to support his family by farming, herding cattle, training horses, prospecting, mining, and blacksmithing. One night he and a friend shot a 550-pound (250-kg) grizzly bear. They sold the hide, and Brigham used his share of the money to help pay for his education at the University of Deseret (now the University of Utah). He finished his two-year course of study in one year, graduating in 1878 at the head of his class.
Brigham, or B. H. as he was often known in later life, went on to achieve great things. He served missions in the United States and Great Britain. He presided over the Southern and Eastern States Missions. He wrote many books, including the six-volume Comprehensive History of the Church. He became famous for his eloquence in preaching the gospel. He served in the First Quorum of the Seventy and was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives. The poor boy sleeping in doorways, yearning for his mother’s love, had grown into one of the most loved and respected men in the Church.

Alison listened eagerly as the bishop announced that their ward would be having a Christmas open house this year. “We want it to be a special evening,” he said. “It will be a wonderful opportunity to invite friends and neighbors.”
Alison loved the Christmas holidays. She liked shopping for presents for her family and friends and singing Christmas carols. And she loved reading the story of Jesus’s birth and thinking of Him as a small baby.
The bishop’s next words caught her attention. “Because of the open house, we won’t be having our traditional ward Christmas party this year.”
Alison frowned. “No party?” she whispered to her mother. The ward Christmas party was one of her favorite parts of the season.
Mom put a finger to her lips.
“Some of our friends and neighbors do not understand that we are Christians,” the bishop continued. “We want them to know that we believe in Jesus Christ.”
Alison turned her attention back to the bishop.
“The open house will focus on Jesus Christ,” he said. “We’re asking families to bring nativity sets, and we will have a live reenactment of the Nativity scene.”
As the time drew near for the open house, Alison started getting excited. Mom and Dad invited an elderly neighbor to go to the open house. Alison invited Erica.
The night of the open house, Alison helped Mom wrap both of the family’s nativity sets in newspaper. Then Mom and Dad drove her to pick up Erica.
When they got to the church, Alison and Erica looked at nativity sets from Japan, Austria, the Philippines, and many other countries.
Then the girls went outside where the young men and young women were acting out the Nativity. There were live cows, sheep, and even a nanny goat. “Everything but a camel,” Alison said.
The bishop asked everyone to gather in the chapel. Alison and Erica sat with the Primary children. The children sang “Picture a Christmas”1 and “The Nativity Song,”2 and the ward choir performed parts of Messiah.
“That was really great,” Erica said on the ride home. “I wish my parents could have come.”
“Maybe next year,” Alison said, smiling. She thought about the open house and realized she hadn’t missed the Christmas party after all.

We should all realize that great works of righteousness can be and are performed by the Aaronic Priesthood. President Wilford Woodruff relates an experience that he had. He said:
“I was strongly impressed three times to go up and warn Father Hakeman [an early apostate]. At last I did so, according to the commandment of God to me. The third time I met with him, his house seemed to be full of evil spirits, and I was troubled in spirit at the manifestation. When I finished my warning, I left him. He followed me from his house with the intention of killing me. I have no doubt about his intention, for it was shown to me in vision. When he came to where I was, he fell dead at my feet, as if he had been struck with a thunderbolt from heaven. I was then a Priest, but God defended me and preserved my life. I speak of this because it is a principle that has been manifest in the Church of God in this generation as well as in others. I had the administration of angels while holding the office of a Priest. I had visions and revelations. I traveled thousands of miles. I baptized men, though I could not confirm them because I had not the authority to do it.” (Millennial Star, 1891, 53:641–42.)
He also said: “I desire to impress upon you the fact that it does not make any difference whether a man is a Priest or an Apostle, if he magnifies his calling. A Priest holds the keys of the ministering of angels. Never in my life, as an Apostle, as a Seventy, or as an Elder, have I ever had more of the protection of the Lord than while holding the office of a Priest. The Lord revealed to me by visions, by revelations, and by the Holy Spirit, many things that lay before me.” (Millennial Star, 1891, 53:629.)

Nathan Yeung, a priest in the Victoria First (English) Branch, Hong Kong International District, spends about an hour a day at early-morning seminary, seven hours at school, another hour traveling to and from school, two to three hours per day doing homework, and another two to three hours a day practicing the piano, studying martial arts, playing on his school basketball team, or singing with a school choir. If he eats breakfast on the run and spends only an hour at dinner, that leaves about eight hours a day for everything else, including sleeping.
But this story isn’t about Nathan and everything he’s doing, because most of the youth in his branch are just as busy doing just as many interesting things.
Lesa Lai, a Laurel, keeps a similar schedule except school lasts a half hour longer, travel is one hour each way, and it’s volleyball, soccer, or track—depending on the season. For Shan Singh, a priest, it’s rugby and serving as vice president of the student council.
It’s the same story for Alice Andersen, Celestine Yeung, Musashi and Chihiro Howe, Chelsea and Casey Messick, and the other young men and young women in the district.
These youth are typical of many Latter-day Saint teenagers around the world who seem to balance on the circus high-wire while juggling Church activity, family time, school, jobs, and extracurricular activities. How do they pull off such a difficult act without falling into the trap of missing what is most important?
That’s the million-dollar question. “It’s all about priorities,” says Chelsea, a Laurel. “If you make time for the most important things, everything else falls into place.”
Chelsea, Nathan, and their friends in the Hong Kong International District are learning that it’s easier to find balance when your feet are firmly planted on a solid gospel foundation. They have recognized the importance of making personal time for the gospel. “That is the most important part of my day,” says Nathan. “If I don’t read and pray and go to seminary, my day is bad.”
“Most of our friends at school aren’t members,” says Lesa. “So it’s up to us to make personal time for church. I try to read my scriptures every day and listen to Church music.”
Sometimes prioritizing means giving up something good to make time for something more important. “I had to give up my job because I was too busy,” says Chelsea. The others have all run into similar situations.
Along with the gospel, a top priority for these young men and women is family. “Family is important,” says Casey, a teacher. “I know I can always turn to them for help. I can trust them. I know I can be with them forever.”
But sometimes finding time together is tough. “It’s not just my schedule,” Lesa notes. “We don’t get much time together because my siblings are gone a lot too, and my dad travels a lot.”
So with their families, these youth have had to find ways to make time for each other. “I used to go out a lot with friends on weekends, but now I try to save that time for my family. I see my friends on school days,” says Celestine, a Mia Maid. “And when my dad is home, we all try to accommodate his schedule.”
Each of the youth agrees that weekends are most often free for family time if carefully planned. “Especially Sunday,” Chelsea says. “Sunday is for family.”
“I try to make sure I have time for them whenever they’re planning something,” says Nathan. In addition, his family always tries to have dinner together. “And family home evening is important.”
“Family home evening helps keep us together,” Musashi, a teacher, agrees. “And we try to plan family activities on Saturday. It’s important to make time for family, because the goal is to be with them forever.”
Balance is only one of the blessings that come from setting spiritual growth as a top priority.
“Making time for the gospel is good for the spiritual part of your life,” says Musashi. “It helps your testimony grow.”
It’s also important because it helps you set a good example, according to Shan. “Other people can tell when you’re living the way you should,” he says. “Sometimes I’ll get questions from my friends because of the way we live.”
“If I don’t read and pray and go to seminary, I’m not prepared when missionary opportunities come,” says Nathan.
For Chelsea, it’s about remembering the real reason we’re here. “Doing things like praying and reading scriptures is a reminder that Jesus Christ should be the center of your life. Remembering that affects everything you do,” she says. “Otherwise, it’s easy to get so busy you forget why we came.”
When we remember to focus on the Savior, we realize that life isn’t about walking the high-wire while juggling different activities, but it’s about standing on solid ground. As Helaman said, “Remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; … which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall” (Hel. 5:12).
“When things of the world crowd in, all too often the wrong things take highest priority. Then it is easy to forget the fundamental purpose of life. Satan has a powerful tool to use against good people. It is distraction. He would have good people fill life with ‘good things’ so there is no room for the essential ones. Have you unconsciously been caught in that trap?”Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “First Things First,” Liahona, July 2001, 7; Ensign, May 2001, 7.

It sounded simple. For two weeks I was to choose a family member and every day give something small to the person to express my love. I chose my little brother because we usually did not get along very well, and I figured this would be a good opportunity to draw closer to him. I decided to do it anonymously, and for the first week I bought him small bags of candy and various trinkets, leaving them by the side of his bed or under his pillow. After the week was over, I was thinking, Wow, this has got to be the easiest Personal Progress goal ever!
The second week, however, fell during our family camping trip, and the absence of convenient stores seriously complicated things. But I soon found that all it took was a little more creativity. Instead of buying things, I started doing things. I helped him roll his sleeping bag, whittle a marshmallow stick, and untangle his fishing line. Thinking constantly of ways to serve my brother strengthened our relationship incredibly, and I could see clearly the promise being fulfilled: “He that loveth his brother abideth in the light” (1 Jn. 2:10).
The last day of camp I lay in the dark tent, deep in the woods, listening to the soft calls of the birds and the gentle splashing of water from the nearby lake. The wind rustled through the tree tops, and I felt a cool breeze across my face.
“Someone tie up the window,” my brother mumbled sleepily. I felt him shiver beside me and suddenly realized that I had not done anything for him that day. I tied up the window, but since it was the last day, I felt I should give him something extra special. Maybe when we get home, I can buy him something especially expensive, I thought. No, that won’t do. It has to be today, and he is almost asleep. I lay quietly, thinking for a moment, and then rolled onto my side to face my brother.
“Warren,” I whispered.
“Hmmmm?”
“I love you.”
He was quiet for a second before he clearly responded, “I love you, too.”
I lay on my back and looked through the “sun roof” at the clear, dark sky and smiled.

When he was a very young boy, my great-grandfather, Benjamin Lillywhite, came from England with his parents after they joined the Church. When they arrived in St. Louis, his father and little sister died of cholera. His mother did not have enough money to buy a wagon to travel the rest of the way to the Salt Lake Valley, but she wanted her son to go to where the Saints were gathering as soon as possible. So she sent six-year-old Benjamin with another family, and under their care, he walked to the Valley. I was told that when his shoes wore out along the trail, he wrapped his feet in rags. But in spite of their hardships, he made it to the Valley.

Another early African pioneer is Anthony Obinna of Nigeria. He relates that one night in the late 1960s “I was sleeping and a tall man came to me [in a dream], took me to one of the most beautiful buildings, and showed me all the rooms.” In 1970 he read an article in an old Reader’s Digest titled “The March of the Mormons,” which included a picture of the Salt Lake Temple. “It was exactly the same building I had seen in my dream,” he said. Brother Obinna wrote to the Church for LDS literature.

In 1978, when the Obinna family learned of the revelation on the priesthood, they wrote to the First Presidency: “We are happy for the many hours in the upper rooms of the temple you spent supplicating the Lord to bring us into the fold. We thank our Heavenly Father for hearing your prayers and ours.”

When the missionaries arrived in Nigeria, they found many people prepared for the gospel as a result of Brother Obinna’s teaching and leadership. The first LDS chapel built in Nigeria is near the Obinnas’ home in Aboh Mbaise.

Appreciating my ward sisters. For the first two years after my divorce, I was surrounded by supportive and loving friends in the Relief Society presidency. They cried with me, they laughed with me, and I felt close to them. Through my calling I became aware of some of the needs of my ward sisters, and giving service to them helped me keep my perspective and find healing within my own heart.
Other blessings came. My friends in the presidency, worried about my first Valentine’s Day without my husband, sent a beautifully wrapped gift, which was waiting for me when I arrived home from work. Another time they made me “queen for a day.” I was asked to attend an early-morning meeting. When I arrived, a sister was waiting to do my nails. A couple of friends came to do my hair. Then I was told we were going to lunch and out shopping. They purchased a new outfit for me, the first I’d had since the divorce. My heart overflowed, and I felt the Savior’s love through the actions of these sisters.