Gospel Story Finder

Young men in the teachers quorum of the Draper Fifth Ward, Draper Utah Stake, felt a need to be unified. The younger members of the quorum did not feel close to the older members. In a few days of vacation from school, the group decided to explore a nearby part of their state together. Through shared experience they hoped to find new friendships.
The group drove a few hours south into a strangely bleak and beautiful area of Canyonlands National Park. With red sandstone cliffs, twisted pinnacles of rock, and flat-topped mesas, the land was as dramatic as they had hoped for.
The late nights spent talking around the campfire and the days filled with exploring the Anasazi Indian ruins and swimming in the nearby rivers served as a common ground around which new friendships could grow. Through the fun of being together, the group found new unity.

Brett was excited. He had just gotten a letter from his big brother Tony. Tony was a missionary. Before Tony left, Brett promised him that he would do missionary work too.
Dear Brett, Did you know that when you serve others, you are doing missionary work? I can’t wait to hear about all the missionary work you are doing. Love, Tony
Mom, I want to serve others so I can do missionary work like Tony. What can I do?
I know Mrs. Hampton could use some help raking her leaves on Saturday. Would that be a good way to do missionary work?
Yes! Then I could write Tony and tell him all about it.
The next Saturday, Brett sat down to write Tony a letter.
Dear Tony, I hope you are having as much fun as I am doing missionary work. We helped Mrs. Hampton today in her yard. She gave us a plate of cookies. Dad asked her if she wanted to come to church with us, and she said yes. Love, Brett
Brett folded the paper and stuck the letter and one leaf from Mrs. Hampton’s yard inside an envelope.
I can be a missionary too!

Among the friends I made in the theater business was a fine man who was a great success as the star of his own network television show. He was also an outstanding business man. Through our association over the years, we had many interesting experiences. One special experience stands out in my mind as a personal example to me that what the Lord said to Hyrum really does apply today.

This story began when my friend and I had an occasion to fly to Mexico with two very wealthy friends of his in a private, executive jet that was owned by one of the two men. The arrangements were that I was to fly from Salt Lake City to join the others at the Los Angeles Airport. I boarded their jet, and we began our flight to Mexico. On board I was introduced to a man who is reported to be one of the most wealthy men in the world. His personal net worth was estimated at that time to be in excess of 2 billion dollars! The seating arrangement within the executive jet was such that four seats were grouped in one compartment, and we were invited to sit with this wealthy man. As I look back on this experience, it is somewhat amusing to me that in my humble circumstances I would have been sitting with two millionaires and one billionaire.

As the jet took off from the Los Angeles International Airport, the conversation became most interesting to me. These three wealthy executives spent the first little while talking about the various multi-million dollar business deals in which they had recently been involved. I must admit that I sat in wonderment as I listened to their conversation, but as time went on, it became progressively more apparent to me that the most important thing in the life of the billionaire was his desire to make and accumulate more and more money. I studied very carefully the billionaire’s attitude and philosophy of life as he talked to us. He seemed to me to have found great power with his wealth, and money was certainly the center of everything that was important to him. He discussed his vast, worldwide financial empire and earthly possessions.

By the time we landed at our destination, it had become abundantly clear to me that the billionaire, with all of his wealth, was really a most unhappy and spiritually deprived man. During the conversation I had learned that he had no children of his own. He had no definite faith in God and no positive assurance of hope for a life after death. He seemed to me to epitomize the words of the Savior when He said:
“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:
“But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:
“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (Matt. 6:19–21.)

We completed our business in Mexico and again boarded the jet to return to Los Angeles. Upon our arrival I bade these three men good-bye and boarded a commercial flight to return to my home in Salt Lake City. During the flight I had time to ponder what had taken place during the past two days. When I walked into my home, my wife Barbara greeted me, and her first question to me was, “How did the meetings go?” My response to her question was, “Honey, we may not have very much money, but I do know this—of the four men aboard that plane, I was by far the richest man of them all because I was the only one who knew where I came from, why I am here on this earth, and where I can go in the eternities to come if I am faithful.”

My wife and I discussed this experience, and as we did, again the words of the Lord seemed to ring clearly in my mind. He said:
“No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.
“Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?
“But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:24–25, 33.)

The billionaire, with all of his hundreds of millions of dollars, cannot buy what comes to members of the Church freely when we accept and live the teachings of the gospel. How blessed we are as a people! How rich we are individually because of our knowledge that we, in fact, do possess the eternal truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Just imagine—the most valuable treasure a man can have in this life comes freely, without monetary price, to all men everywhere when they embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ and live its teachings.

I am grateful for this unusual experience because I now understand more clearly than ever before that the most important asset one can have in this life is the personal, inner peace and positive assurance that come in knowing that the purpose of this life is for men to learn how to prepare for eternal living in the presence of our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. The billionaire will not take one cent of his wealth with him when he dies, and perhaps only then will he realize that the greatest possession a man can obtain is the knowledge that humble service to our fellowmen, love of family, and knowledge of eternal truths make a man rich. As the Lord said to Hyrum, “Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich.” [D&C 11:7]

But overcoming their own problems with deafness was only the beginning. Virl and Tom realized the extensiveness of the deafness problem while serving missions for the Church in Canada. It was then that they became aware of the small amount of medical research being done, including research in the areas of psychological adjustment, speech therapy, and education.
“Tom and I decided that from that time forward we would do whatever we could to help others in the ‘silent world’ of the deaf,” said Virl.
They were instrumental in starting a program for the deaf in western Canada. This later led to a deaf mission in California.

After the turmoil of the Second World War, my family ended up in Russian-occupied East Germany. When I attended fourth grade, I had to learn Russian as my first foreign language in school. I found this quite difficult because of the Cyrillic alphabet, but as time went on I seemed to do all right.
When I turned 11, we had to leave East Germany overnight because of the political orientation of my father. Now I was going to school in West Germany, which was American-occupied at that time. There in school all children were required to learn English. To learn Russian had been difficult, but English was impossible for me. I thought my mouth was not made for speaking English. My teachers struggled. My parents suffered. And I knew English was definitely not my language.
But then something changed in my young life. Almost daily I rode my bicycle to the airport and watched airplanes take off and land. I read, studied, and learned everything I could find about aviation. It was my greatest desire to become a pilot. I could already picture myself in the cockpit of an airliner or in a military fighter plane. I felt deep in my heart that this was my thing!
Then I learned that to become a pilot I needed to speak English. Overnight, to the total surprise of everybody, it appeared as if my mouth had changed. I was able to learn English. It still took a lot of work, persistence, and patience, but I was able to learn English!
Why? Because of a righteous and strong motive!

“Please. Please. Please.”
“No. And stop following me around.”
“But I want to come with you,” she continued to beg in her six-year-old voice.
“Knock it off, Linzie. Just once I’d like to go somewhere without you coming with me.” I could feel the anger in my voice rising. I was so tired of her being my tagalong. Everywhere I went she had to come too or else she would throw the biggest tantrum. She knew that even the slightest whimper would get her anything she wanted. This time was no exception.
“Where are you going, Bree?” my mom called from the kitchen, where she was making dinner.
“I have to go to the store to get some paper for school. I’ll be gone only 10 minutes.”
“Well then you can take Linzie with you.”
“Yea! Yea! Yea!” The tears immediately ceased when Linzie realized her victory.
“Mom, she’s such a pain. Why do I always have to take her with me?”
“Because she’s your sister, that’s why.” I should have expected that one.
“Fine. Whatever. Hurry up, and get your shoes on, Linzie.” I knew I was acting like a brat, but I had hours of homework to do.
“Okay, let’s go,” Linzie said angelically.
During the drive to the store, I turned up the radio so I wouldn’t have to talk to my sister. We both stared straight forward. The store was busy, and the lines were long. All I could think about was all the homework that awaited me, and how I was going to be up past midnight finishing it. The ride home started off as solemn as the ride to the store. I was determined to let Linzie know how annoyed I was.
“Bree, Bree,” she said timidly.
“What, Linzie?” I didn’t bother turning down the radio.
“You know why I always want to go with you everywhere?”
Her sincerity caught my attention. “No, why?”
She sat quiet for a moment before responding. “Because—because I’m gonna miss you a lot because you’re going to college soon.”
I looked at her. She was staring at me with her beautiful blue eyes. I really didn’t know what to say. “I’ll miss you too. A lot. I’ll still get to come home sometimes, though.”
“Will we be able to do stuff when you come home?”
“Of course, silly girl.”
“Good,” she said as we rounded the corner onto our street.
That was all that was said, but that day I learned a huge lesson about the importance of developing a lasting relationship with my sisters and brother—even when they’re young. It reminded me of the scripture in Mosiah 3:19: “Becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him.”
I don’t think Linzie knew the huge impact her innocent comment had on me. Now I try to be more tolerant of the things that my younger siblings do, because when I’m gone, I will miss them.

In a high school in Utah, a young mentally handicapped student we will call Frank wanted so much to be accepted by the popular crowd. He would follow them around, always on the outside looking in, hoping to be included but never achieving it.
One day in the cafeteria, some of the more popular boys and girls encouraged Frank to get up on the table and dance. Thinking he would please them, he did it. In his awkward way, he twisted and twirled. The group yelled, clapped their hands, and laughed. They were laughing at him, and Frank thought they were laughing with him.
A few tables away, Dave was eating lunch with a friend and watching it all. He courageously leaped up, faced that crowd of tormentors, and through clenched teeth said, “I’ve had as much of this as I can stand!” He helped Frank down and said, “Frank, you come and have lunch with us.”
At a 20-year high school reunion, one of the graduates had a surprising conversation with one of her classmates that went something like this:
“I came to this reunion after all these years hoping you would be here so I could thank you. My high school experience was hard for me. You may not have known it, but you were the only friend I had in high school. I wondered if maybe the seminary teacher had assigned you to be nice to me. Did he?”
“No, he didn’t assign me.”
“Well, you didn’t know it, but every day I looked for you because I knew that you would talk to me. You made me feel better about myself. Now I am married and have a large family. During these past years I have thought many times of what you meant to me, and I wanted to tell you that.”

How well I remember my father, the bishop of our ward, filling my small red wagon with food and clothing and then directing me—as a deacon in the Church—to pull the wagon behind me and visit the homes of the needy in our ward.

Often, when fast-offering funds were depleted, my father would take money from his own pocket to supply the needy in his flock with food that would keep them from going hungry. Those were the days of the Great Depression, and many families were suffering.

I remember visiting one family in particular: a sickly mother, an unemployed and discouraged father, and five children with pallid faces, all disheartened and hungry. I remember the gratitude that beamed in their faces when I walked up to their door with my wagon nearly spilling over with needed supplies. I remember how the children smiled. I remember how the mother wept. And I remember how the father stood, head bowed, unable to speak.

These impressions and many others forged within me a love for the poor, a love for my father who served as a shepherd to his flock, and a love for the faithful and generous members of the Church who sacrificed so much to help relieve the suffering of others.

In Mbuji-Mayi, Democratic Republic of the Congo, initially some were critical of the Church, not understanding our beliefs or knowing our members.
Some time ago, Kathy and I attended a very special Church service in Mbuji-Mayi. The children were dressed immaculately, with bright eyes and big smiles. I had hoped to speak to them about their education but learned that many were not attending school. Our leaders, with very nominal humanitarian funds, found a way to help. Now, more than 400 students—girls and boys, members as well as those not of our faith—are welcomed and taught by 16 teachers who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ.
Fourteen-year-old Kalanga Muya said, “[Having little money,] I spent four years without attending school. … I am so grateful for what the Church has done. … I can now read, write, and speak French.” Speaking of this initiative, the mayor of Mbuji-Mayi said, “I am inspired by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because while [other] churches are being divided each one in his corner … [you are working] with [others] to help the community in need.”

When Elder Backman was twelve years old, his father was called to be president of the South African Mission. “That mission was one of the highlights of my boyhood!” Elder Backman recalled. “We were so excited when Mother told us that we were going to Cape Town, South Africa, that my brother, two sisters, and I danced around the front room. Africa seemed like such an exotic place with all its wild animals.
“It was a very spiritual experience,” Elder Backman continued. “My father was permitted to have only twenty-five missionaries, and they became very close to us. We lived in the same home with them, and they ate every meal with us. I was absolutely immersed in the mission. All those missionaries were my big brothers. They still are. We still get together once a month. I have always tried to follow in their footsteps.
“Our church meetings were held in a room that had been added to the mission home for that purpose. Upstairs was the dormitory for the missionaries. The building also had a baptismal font. I was the only deacon in the branch, and I felt pretty important. As old as I am now, I think that those experiences in South Africa at that tender age are the most vivid that I have had in my entire life.
“When I was young, our family took a number of trips. The most memorable one was when we left South Africa and traveled by ship for two months and stopped at twenty-four ports. We sailed up the east coast of Africa, through the Mediterranean Sea, and ended our trip in Hamburg, Germany. Tangiers, Algiers, Zanzibar, Dar es Salaam, Cairo, and Port Said, were only a few of the exotic cities that we visited.
“When President Gordon B. Hinckley invited me to attend the dedication of the temple in South Africa a few years ago, I had the choice experience of greeting many of the Saints there whom I had known as a boy. I love those people, and I love that country.”
Even before going to South Africa, Elder Backman had great admiration for missionaries. “When I was a boy, a lot of missionaries went out from our ward,” he recollected. “They were permitted then to print missionary farewell programs with their pictures on them, and I would save those programs, fold them, and stand them up on my dresser. Those missionaries were my heroes. I never wavered in my desire to go on a mission because of the example that those men had set for me. As a boy, I was shy and didn’t do anything to call attention to myself. But serving a mission helped me to overcome my shyness.
“My message to young people is that they should prepare to serve a mission. Preparing to serve a mission means that you must keep the commandments, be active in the Church, take part in Primary classes and Sunday School, gain the Aaronic Priesthood if you are a boy, and if you are a girl, be active in the Young Women organization. Serving a mission is the greatest preparation for life that I know.”

It was a lazy day in August. The sun was hot, and Tommy and Elija were lying on the ground near the creek, enjoying the shade of a big cottonwood tree. They had been assigned to watch the thirty head of cattle, which were grazing a half mile upstream.
“Herding cattle might be important,” said Tommy, “but it isn’t very exciting.”
Just then the cattle started to low. The boys heard them moving around as if they were frightened. “Something is bothering them,” said Elija. “Let’s see what it is.”
In a moment the two boys were running toward the cattle, but they stopped short when they saw a small band of Indians coming toward them. They had no way of knowing whether or not they were friendly. But Tommy knew that the Omaha Indians had given the Mormon pioneers permission to camp on their land for the winter and to use their water and their timber.
When the boys came within talking distance, a young Indian stepped forward and spoke to them in halting English. “Last night our enemies, the Iowas, attacked our camp. All of our men except Chief Big Head and I were on a hunting trip. The Iowas took our horses and all of our food. They wounded many women and children. Chief Big Head they left for dead. He will die if he does not get help.”
Tommy looked down on the willow bed that the Indians had made for their chief. What he saw made him want to close his eyes.
“I’ll go for help,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” said Elija.
The young Indian put his arm across Elija’s chest to keep him from going. “You stay here till boy gets back.”
Tommy knew that Elija’s safety depended on his speedy return, so he ran almost all of the two miles to Winter Quarters.
He went at once to the home of his bishop and told him what had happened. “The Indians really need help,” he concluded, “and they’re keeping Elija with them to make sure I bring some back.”
Bishop Morley listened quietly; then he put his arm around the boy to comfort him while he thought about what to do. “We must find Brigham Young,” he decided. “He might be down at the ferry. You take my horse and ride down there as fast as you can. In the meantime I will look around here.”
The ferry was twelve miles away, and it took Tommy an hour to get there. When he arrived, he found Brigham Young and told him his story.
“We will help the Indians, of course,” Brigham Young said, “but our first concern is for Elija. You must get back to him as soon as possible. Take your wagon and ask Bishop Morley to take his. These two wagons should be enough to bring the badly wounded to Winter Quarters. I’ll meet you at my house.”
Bishop Morley was waiting for Tommy. They took the two wagons and went to get Elija and the Indians.
When they came to the small sad camp, Elija ran up and began talking to Tommy. “At first they were afraid I would run away,” said Elija, “but when I took off my shirt and wet it in the creek so I could cool the forehead of Chief Big Head, they knew I could be trusted.”
“I’m so glad you are all right,” Tommy said.
Bishop Morley and the young Indian helped Chief Big Head into Tommy’s wagon, and the boys started back to Winter Quarters. The other Indians who were badly wounded were put into the Morley wagon. The rest of the Indians walked beside it.
The sun was almost setting when the wagons arrived at the home of Brigham Young. He soon determined that the Indian chief would need special care. He turned to Tommy and said, “Please go and ask your mother if she could take Chief Big Head into her home and nurse him back to health.”
Tommy was off in a flash. He returned in a few minutes with his mother, who said, “Of course, I’ll take care of him.”
Brigham Young smiled and said, “You won’t be sorry. An Indian never forgets a kindness.”
The weeks that followed were anxious ones for Tommy and his mother. Chief Big Head was very sick and needed constant care. Either Tommy or his mother stayed day and night by his side. Then one day, without any warning, the Indian got out of bed. “Chief Big Head well,” he declared. “I must go to my people.”
That night he left Winter Quarters and took with him all of the Indians who had been staying there.

Randy McGee has imagination. He’s unintimidated as well. He’s also the cheerleader at Thomas Jefferson High School in Washington who had “lost so many school elections” he decided to run for an office he could win! He invented the office of Archduke, and his campaign included the wearing of a red cap and the handing out of a job description with his picture to student voters. The student council admitted that his speech got the most raves at the election assembly, and Mormons in the area appreciated the good publicity in the local papers. As Archduke, Randy spreads good cheer, stirs up goodwill efforts between schools, and acts as chief pepper-upper at games. “As far as I know,” comments Randy laughingly, “I’m the only Archduke in the USA”.

By Rajane S., Jamaica
Photograph © iStock/Thinkstock
I have always been fascinated by genealogy work, so when our Area Presidency gave the youth the goal of gathering 10 ancestors’ names to do baptisms and confirmations for them at the temple, I was ecstatic.
I started my research without any help, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. I had three names without any information, and at that point I felt stuck both spiritually and physically. I decided to ask my mother for help. She suggested that I call her mother. When I called my grandmother, she was more than happy to help. She even gave me permission to act as proxy on behalf of the names we talked about. I was overjoyed and grateful.
The temple trip was approaching, and I had no names from my father’s side. A few hours before I was to leave home, I felt impressed to go to the cemetery and have my father call his aunt to come. We went to the cemetery, and as I watched my father and great-aunt walk around the cemetery, I felt myself being led toward some of my ancestors’ headstones. I felt their willingness to be part of the gospel. With help from the Holy Ghost and from my family members, I had reached my target. I had the names of 16 temple-ready ancestors!
When I went to the temple, I could feel the enthusiasm and excitement of my ancestors who were ready and waiting. During the baptisms and confirmations, I could feel their souls filled with joy and peace. I felt amazing, and all I wanted to do was thank them for giving me the opportunity to be a part of something so special.

Years ago I was on a mission in England. I had been called to labor in the European Mission office in London under President Joseph F. Merrill of the Council of the Twelve, then president of the European Mission. One day three or four of the London papers carried reviews of a reprint of an old book, snide and ugly in tone, indicating that the book was a history of the Mormons. President Merrill said to me, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.” I looked at him and was about to say, “Surely not me.” But I meekly said, “Yes, sir.”
I do not hesitate to say that I was frightened. I went to my room and felt something as I think Moses must have felt when the Lord asked him to go and see Pharaoh. I offered a prayer. My stomach was churning as I walked over to the Goodge Street station to get the underground train to Fleet Street. I found the office of the president and presented my card to the receptionist. She took it and went into the inner office and soon returned to say that the president was too busy to see me. I replied that I had come more than 8,000 kilometers and that I would wait. During the next hour she made two or three trips to his office; then finally he invited me in. I shall never forget the picture when I entered. He was smoking a long cigar with a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”
I held in my hand the reviews. I do not recall what I said after that. Another power seemed to be speaking through me. At first he was defensive and even belligerent. Then he began to soften. He concluded by promising to do something. Within an hour word went out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed and tipped in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history, but only as fiction, and that no offense was intended against the respected Mormon people. Years later he granted another favor of substantial worth to the Church, and each year until the time of his death I received a Christmas card from him.
I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way.

I recall an event described by a man I met at a stake conference in the Midwest more than a decade ago. The setting was a beautiful campus in central Illinois. My informant, a participant in a summer workshop, saw a crowd of young students seated on the grass in a large semicircle about 20 feet from one of the large hardwood trees that are so common and so beautiful there. They were watching something at the base of the tree. He turned aside from his walk to see what it was.
There was a handsome tree squirrel with a large, bushy tail playing around the base of the tree—now on the ground, now up and down and around the trunk. But why would that beautiful but familiar sight attract a crowd of students?
Stretched out prone on the grass nearby was an Irish setter. He was the object of the students’ interest, and, though he pretended otherwise, the squirrel was the object of his. Each time the squirrel was momentarily out of sight circling the tree or looking in another direction, the setter would quickly creep forward a few inches and then resume his apparent indifferent posture. Each minute or two he crept closer to the squirrel, and the squirrel apparently did not notice. This was the scene that held the students’ interest. They were silent and immobile, attention riveted on the drama—the probable outcome of which was becoming increasingly obvious.
Finally the setter was close enough to bound at the squirrel and catch it in his mouth. A gasp of horror arose, and the crowd of students surged forward and wrested the beautiful little animal away from the hound, but it was too late. The squirrel was dead.
Anyone in that crowd of students could have warned the squirrel at any time by waving their arms or crying out, but none had done so. They just watched while the inevitable consequence got closer and closer. No one asked “Where will this lead?” and no one wished to interfere. When the predictable outcome occurred, they rushed to the defense, but it was too late. Tearful and regretful expressions were all they could offer.

Following up on a member referral, my missionary companion and I visited the home of a young mother. We knocked at her front door a number of times before she opened it and welcomed us inside. We explained who we were and told her that a neighbor had referred us to her. She accepted our introduction and settled down in front of us, ready to hear the first missionary discussion.
The woman’s ten-year-old daughter, who was sitting in the room with us, didn’t make the slightest effort to turn and look at us. Instead, she turned up the volume of the television set. Her mother seemed to be following the discussion very intently and did not seem to notice the noise. So my companion continued presenting the discussion.
A few minutes later, the girl again increased the volume. The sound was now so loud that we couldn’t hear the mother clearly. Still, she did nothing to remedy the situation, but continued showing the same interest in our message. I began to feel quite annoyed by the girl’s behavior and her mother’s lack of action. I felt even more irritated when I realized that the daughter wasn’t even watching the television—she was drawing on some paper! I tried to appear calm on the outside, all the while thinking, “What a brat! And why doesn’t her mother say something to her!”
My thoughts were far from the discussion when the girl left the room, leaving the television set turned on. How infuriating!
But when she came back a little later, I saw her face for the first time and realized that she had Down’s syndrome, a condition causing mental retardation. I looked at the young mother, who was fully concentrating on my companion’s message. “What a considerate mother!” I thought. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to say anything to her daughter because of her condition. Or perhaps she doesn’t want to interrupt us.”
Humbled, I presented the second part of the missionary discussion. Then we offered a prayer, set our next appointment date, and visited informally with the woman for a while. As we talked, we were amazed to learn that she was deaf and that she had understood our presentation by reading our lips.
As we left her home, I felt very sorry that I had misjudged both mother and daughter. Neither had been aware of how the television had distracted us.
Even though I had not spoken my feelings, I had not controlled by thoughts. My judgment had been based on little or no understanding of the situation. Since that experience, I have always worked to control my thoughts and not be so quick to judge others.

My husband and I had just moved to a new town and were excited to attend our new ward. It turned out that the ward boundaries were being changed, and the ward was divided.
After church our second Sunday, the ward clerk set an appointment for us to meet with the new bishop on Tuesday evening. After a short visit, the bishop asked my husband’s permission to call me as the Primary president of the new ward. Then he issued the call to me. I was shocked, but I had been taught never to turn down a calling, so I agreed to do my best.
The bishop gave me a list of names and asked me to meet with him in two days with names picked out for counselors and a secretary. I felt overwhelmed. When we arrived home, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. Then I poured out my heart to Heavenly Father, expressing my concerns over my new calling. I didn’t know anyone in the new ward, and I needed His help. When I finished praying, peace filled my heart.
The next morning I prayed and then dove into my usual housework. The list of names the bishop had given me sat on the kitchen table, and I briefly glanced at it each time I passed. After I had looked at the list several times, two names seemed to stand out to me. I picked up the list and read the names. As I pronounced the names, a warm feeling engulfed me. I had never felt the Holy Ghost so strongly.
I immediately approached Heavenly Father in prayer, tears streaming down my cheeks as I said the names again. I didn’t know anything about either of these women, but I knew in my heart they were to be my counselors.
Later that evening I went over the list of names in my head. One name came into my mind every time I pictured the list. She became my secretary.
I met with the bishop the next day and gave him the names for my counselors and secretary. To my surprise they were the same women the bishop thought would work well in the Primary. When I got to church on Sunday, the first counselor in the bishopric stood outside the chapel with me, pointing out my counselors and secretary as they arrived. As I watched these sisters, I felt that I already knew them. The Spirit again confirmed to me that these women were called of God.
I knew we could work harmoniously together serving the Lord—and we did. Although these sisters were strangers to me, they were perfect for their callings. The Lord knew whom He wanted to call. What a growing experience it was to me to learn firsthand what it means to be called of God by prophecy.

A memorial service was held for Stephen at the Vancouver stake center in British Columbia. Instead of sending flowers, friends contributed to a fund in his name set up at his former high school. Each year a graduating student who has “shown outstanding contributions in the area of helping other young people—one who has gone above and beyond the call of duty in the spirit of a true humanitarian”—will receive $100 bursary and the “Super Steve Humanitarian Award.”
The Vancouver British Columbia Stake has inaugurated a “Stephen Farrance Memorial Sportsmanship Award” to be presented to the seminary team that shows the most concern for each other, attention to rules, sincere effort, and good sportsmanship during the annual scripture chase.
At the memorial services, members and nonmembers gathered to remember Stephen. A School friend spoke on Stephen’s contributions to the school and to his fellow students. He spoke of his many talents, his desire to serve, and his example to the student body. His priests adviser talked about Stephen’s Church accomplishments, his enthusiasm for any outing, even if he knew he couldn’t participate, and his concern for the priesthood brethren. And the bishop spoke about Stephen’s spiritual achievements. He reminded those gathered of the great, strong testimony he had, and how he had made use of every opportunity to bear it. He talked of Stephen’s desire to serve the Lord in any capacity he could. For the first time members and nonmembers, brought together through love of Stephen, became aware of many sides of Stephen’s remarkable character.

The group pushed on to another of George Washington’s famous camps on the banks of the Delaware River. Instead of tramping through deep snow with cold feet like the Revolutionary soldiers, this modern group welcomed the cool water of the river. Each teen was armed with an inflated tube, and they settled down to float the river.
“Tubing was fun,” said Jan Taylor of the Doylestown Pennsylvania Ward, “because you didn’t have to do anything in particular and you could talk to people. Everyone was together, and we were going so slow there was nothing else to do besides talk.”
The floaters were a little deceived about the speed of the river. They thought that it would be an easy matter to just paddle over to the bank. But when the floaters reached the point where they were supposed to get out, some people found they were caught in the current and being swept down river. They were in no real danger, but they were passing by the easiest places to get up the bank.
At this point, Tim Bothell, 19, a chaperon from the Smerna Branch of the Wilmington Delaware Stake, went to the rescue. He swam out into the current and caught errant floaters who were not strong enough to get themselves out of the river. Again and again he reached out and helped someone get into the shallow water where they could wade out.
Another group of boys brought up the rear in the river to keep an eye out for trouble. They made sure that everyone had made it down safely. Both Tim and the rear guard did these things without being asked. They were watching out for each other. They were helping each other have a good time. For these three days, strangers were closing the distance and becoming friends.

I remember visiting a woman in the hospital a few days before she died of cancer. I had brought my two young daughters to accompany me because this sweet sister had once been their Primary teacher.
Her family members were gathered around her bed, wishing to be with her in her final moments on earth. I was surprised as she sat up in the bed. She reached out to my daughters and introduced them both, one by one, to each member of her family. She spoke as if my daughters were royalty being presented at the court of a queen. She found a way to say something about the way each person in the room was a disciple of the Savior. I still remember the strength, the tenderness, and the love in her voice. And I recall being surprised at her cheerful smile even as she knew her time in life was short.
She had received priesthood blessings of comfort, yet she gave us all a living testimony that the Lord’s promise of peace is true: “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
She had accepted His invitation, as we all can, whatever our trials and troubles:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls” (Matthew 11:28–29).