Gospel Story Finder

Dan (name has been changed) was seeing me for professional counseling. “I try to live the commandments,” he said, “but I am constantly tempted by sensual distractions. I recommit but get worn down and occasionally end up letting my guard down. I am not going to pornography sites, but I become hypnotized by inappropriate images that seem to be everywhere. My wife is hurt, and I am tired of trying.”
With Dan, it was helpful to distinguish temptation from sin, understand shame and the power of agency, and learn to rely more on the Savior’s grace.
Dan had righteous desires, but he felt like he was failing. He was ashamed, in part because of his ongoing temptations. Like many, he thought that because he had given in to some temptations, he might as well give up.2 While guilt is an important feeling that motivates us to repent, shame can have the opposite effect, leading us to give up. This is particularly damaging when we mistakenly believe temptation is a sign of weakness.
With help, Dan learned not to panic when tempted but to acknowledge his feelings, then choose to move on to healthy behaviors.
Dan began avoiding the use of electronic devices when he was susceptible to temptation, such as when he was alone, tired, or stressed. He passed on problematic TV shows and other entertainment and instead spent time connecting with others. He strengthened his spirit by spending more time in the scriptures, journaling, improving his sleep, and exercising (see Doctrine and Covenants 88:124).8 These important principles can help each of us decrease temptations and increase strength, especially when practiced consistently over time.

Illustration by Dean MacAdam
I’m one of those people who like winter. But I don’t like actually feeling cold.
It was just my luck that my stake put together a reenactment of the birth of the Savior. Outside. At night. During the coldest Christmas in years. In Canada. I played the part of an angel in this Nativity story, so at least my puffy robe could hide my snow pants, mittens, and scarves.
But nothing, not even the puffy robe, could keep my feet warm. My mom took me shopping for thicker boots, and we bought the warmest-looking pair of shoes we could find: a pair of orange boots with red laces. These boots looked like they would survive an Antarctic expedition—and in this record-breaking winter, I needed that. But I felt like the most ridiculous 17-year-old Nativity angel ever. What kind of heavenly messenger wears orange boots?
The night of our final dress rehearsal, I walked out onstage trying to pull my robe down to cover my boots. No matter what I did, they still stuck out of my puffy angel costume.
Luckily, the other angels and I stood half-hidden behind a backdrop for most of the pageant, which meant nobody could see my shoes.
But there was a part at the end when all the characters in the Nativity story—shepherds, Roman soldiers, Wise Men, townspeople, and angels—came in from every side of the outdoor theater to kneel before the Savior.
This part of the pageant was supposed to be a peaceful moment for the audience and cast members to reflect on the Savior’s birth. But for the first two nights, I dreaded it. All I could think about was how I’d have to kneel right in front of the crowd, and they would be able to see my ugly, bright-orange boots. In that moment, being an angel felt more embarrassing than holy.
On the third night, I was waiting backstage with all the other angels, and I suddenly felt excited to share this final Nativity scene with the audience. I mean, this was it—the audience was going to see angels come in from all sides to kneel in front of the infant Savior. How incredible is that?
I forgot all about my boots as the narrator recited Isaiah 9:6, which was my cue: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
As I walked out, everything else fell away. I felt like one of the heavenly angels—those powerful, glorified beings who were present at Christ’s birth.
The other angels and I knelt beside soldiers and put comforting hands on shepherds’ shoulders. We all showed our humility, reverence, and love for this tiny newborn baby. And I felt it—the infinite love that my Savior had for the townspeople, the tax collectors, and me. I knew this Child—and the redemption He brought—was the most important gift the earth had ever received.
When I walked out on stage during the next performances, I didn’t feel like just a girl in a puffy costume and orange boots. I was a part of the “ministering of angels” that testifies of the Savior (Moroni 7:25), even in my own small way. I didn’t care anymore if the audience could see my shoes—because if my orange boots were showing, it meant I was kneeling in front of my Savior.

I peered diligently at the microfilm of church records and read name after name of my ancestors from northern Spain, written generations ago in elegant Spanish penmanship. These families had lived in peace in their little fishing village for centuries. They loved the Lord and one another. Their village was nestled on a little coastal inlet and surrounded by rolling hills of eucalyptus trees, a setting that provided a serene and quiet sanctuary for their families. Few were ever drawn away from its simple beauty and warmth of spirit. Most were related to one another by blood or marriage.
These records had special meaning to me—my grandfather Andres Sanchez had saved them from destruction during the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s. I grew up knowing his story, but my connection with it became evident only as I began my search for the records. Although I never knew my grandfather, I felt his spirit as I read these names and dates. Together we had become a team that made it possible to provide temple ordinances for more than 10,000 of our ancestors.
This day, however, like most days of the last few years, was also filled with pain and sorrow over my daughter and the direction her life was going. I cried out in the depths of despair to my Heavenly Father, pleading for His help in my daughter’s behalf against odds that seemed impossible. My heart was filled with emotion—though I was working faithfully to provide saving temple ordinances for my ancestors, I could do little to save my own child. Then I felt the strength of past generations joining with me in an effort to save my daughter, and I found a measure of peace at the microfilm reader as I lost myself in extracting the precious names and dates from church records.
Now I sat in a large dim room in the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, Utah, reading a copy of that microfilm. As I proceeded with the tedious task of searching through names so foreign to me, I was drawn to these people. A feeling of family unity grew in my mind and heart.
My husband and I drew inspiration, courage, and hope from the example of my grandfather, who willingly sacrificed for future generations. In turn, we felt the strength of past generations joining with us in our efforts to help our daughter.
It was in March 1999, the same week President Gordon B. Hinckley dedicated the Madrid Spain Temple, that I submitted my first 6,000 family names to the temple file in the Bountiful Utah Temple, as complete as possible and within their proper families. Now my next 4,000 names were ready. The names of an entire community of people were available at the temple for their temple ordinances to be performed. The work of salvation for a faithful little Spanish village had begun.
As temple ordinances were performed for my ancestors, it seemed to my husband and me that the heavens were weeping and praying with us in our daughter’s behalf. In time our daughter realized that she needed to change her life and rediscover the peace that had been missing for so long. She began the arduous process of repentance, and gradually we saw the light enter her countenance again. At long last, our heartfelt, pleading prayers were being answered. She enjoyed the healing intervention of a loving Heavenly Father, who is mindful of all of His children.
On a beautiful evening, I sat in the Bountiful temple, my eyes wet with tears of joy. Beside me was my daughter, there to receive her own endowment and to be sealed to a worthy young man.
But the story does not end there. As family and friends gathered to participate in this glorious event, the sister at the desk handed out the proxy names to those attending the session. By coincidence, the names she gave us were some of the same names I had submitted to the temple file. Indeed, it was a double celebration—we rejoiced as we served as proxies for our Spanish ancestors, and in turn they must have rejoiced with us as our daughter was sealed to her husband for time and all eternity in the house of the Lord. In that moment, we could feel the circle of eternal family uniting the past and the present. We were one.

As time passed, I inclined more towards God. I was diligent in reading the scriptures, attending church, and doing prayers. However, my fiancé, who was a recent convert, requested that I visit the Mormon Church. With lots of struggles in my life as well as being a longtime investigator, I finally became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Later, we got married in the Hong Kong China Temple. Today, I am blessed with a happy family with a wife and two beautiful children.
We always try our best to follow the teachings of the Church. My parents used to observe us. After a while, I invited my parents to come to church with us. Following many discussions, my mother became a member of the Church.

Graffiti would soon disappear if those who spray it on had to clean it off. I still remember an experience during my first year in high school. I was eating lunch with some other boys. I peeled a banana and threw the peeling on the ground. Just at that moment the principal walked by. He asked me to pick up the banana peeling. I say he asked—there was a certain steely firmness in his voice. I got off the bench on which I was sitting and picked up the banana peeling. I put it in the trash can. There was other litter around the can. He told me that while I was picking up my own trash, I could pick up the trash of others. I did it. I have never thrown another banana peeling on the ground.

President Monson, we love, honor, and sustain you! This historically significant announcement with respect to missionary service is inspiring. I can remember the excitement in 1960 when the age for young men serving was reduced from 20 years of age to 19. I arrived in the British Mission as a newly called 20-year-old. The first 19-year-old in our mission was Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, an incredible addition. He was a few months shy of being 20. Then over the course of a year, many more 19-year-olds arrived. They were obedient and faithful missionaries, and the work progressed. I am confident that an even greater harvest will be achieved now as righteous, committed missionaries fulfill the Savior’s commandment to preach His gospel.
In my view, those of you in the rising generation are better prepared than any previous generation. Your knowledge of the scriptures is particularly impressive. However, the challenges your generation faces as you prepare for service are similar to those faced by all members of the Church. We are all aware the culture in most of the world is not conducive to righteousness or spiritual commitment. Throughout history, Church leaders have warned the people and taught repentance. In the Book of Mormon, Alma the Younger was so concerned about unrighteousness and lack of commitment that he resigned as chief judge, the leader of the people of Nephi, and concentrated all his efforts on his prophetic calling.1
In one of the most profound verses in all of scripture, Alma proclaims, “If ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?”2
Local leaders across the world report that when viewed as a whole, Church members, especially our youth, have never been stronger. But they almost always raise two concerns: first, the challenge of increased unrighteousness in the world and, second, the apathy and lack of commitment of some members. They seek counsel about how to help members to follow the Savior and achieve a deep and lasting conversion.
This question, “Can ye feel so now?” rings across the centuries. With all that we have received in this dispensation—including the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the outpouring of spiritual gifts, and the indisputable blessings of heaven—Alma’s challenge has never been more important.
Soon after Ezra Taft Benson was called as an Apostle in 1943, President George Albert Smith3 counseled, “Your mission … is to … warn the people … in as kind a way as possible that repentance will be the only panacea for the ills of this world.”4 When this statement was made, we were in the midst of the conflagration of World War II.
Today moral deterioration has escalated. One prominent writer recently said, “Everyone knows the culture is poisonous, and nobody expects that to change.”5 The constant portrayal of violence and immorality in music, entertainment, art, and other media in our day-to-day culture is unprecedented. This was dramatically described by a highly respected Baptist theologian when he stated, “The spiritual immune system of an entire civilization has been wounded.”6
It is not surprising that some in the Church believe they can’t answer Alma’s question with a resounding yes. They do not “feel so now.” They feel they are in a spiritual drought. Others are angry, hurt, or disillusioned. If these descriptions apply to you,7 it is important to evaluate why you cannot “feel so now.”
Many who are in a spiritual drought and lack commitment have not necessarily been involved in major sins or transgressions, but they have made unwise choices. Some are casual in their observance of sacred covenants. Others spend most of their time giving first-class devotion to lesser causes. Some allow intense cultural or political views to weaken their allegiance to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some have immersed themselves in Internet materials that magnify, exaggerate, and, in some cases, invent shortcomings of early Church leaders. Then they draw incorrect conclusions that can affect testimony. Any who have made these choices can repent and be spiritually renewed.
Immersion in the scriptures is essential for spiritual nourishment.8 The word of God inspires commitment and acts as a healing balm for hurt feelings, anger, or disillusionment.9 When our commitment is diminished for any reason, part of the solution is repentance.10 Commitment and repentance are closely intertwined.
C. S. Lewis, the striving, pragmatic Christian writer, poignantly framed the issue. He asserted that Christianity tells people to repent and promises them forgiveness; but until people know and feel they need forgiveness, Christianity does not speak to them. He stated, “When you know you are sick, you will listen to the doctor.”11
The Prophet Joseph pointed out that before your baptism, you could be on neutral ground between good and evil. But “when you joined this Church you enlisted to serve God. When you did that you left the neutral ground, and you never can [go] back.” His counsel was that we must never forsake the Master.12
Alma emphasizes that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, “the arms of mercy are extended” to those who repent.13 He then asks penetrating and ultimate questions, such as: Are we prepared to meet God? Are we keeping ourselves blameless? We should all contemplate these questions. Alma’s own experience in failing to follow his faithful father and then coming to a dramatic understanding of how much he needed forgiveness and what it meant to sing the song of redeeming love is powerful and compelling.
While anything that lessens commitment is of consequence, two relevant challenges are both prevalent and significant. The first is unkindness, violence, and domestic abuse. The second is sexual immorality and impure thoughts. These often precede and are at the root of the choice to be less committed.
How we treat those closest to us is of fundamental importance. Violence, abuse, lack of civility, and disrespect in the home are not acceptable—not acceptable for adults and not acceptable for the rising generation. My father was not active in the Church but was a remarkably good example, especially in his treatment of my mother. He used to say, “God will hold men responsible for every tear they cause their wives to shed.” This same concept is emphasized in “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” It reads, “[Those] who abuse spouse or offspring … will one day stand accountable before God.”14 Regardless of the culture in which we are raised, and whether our parents did or did not abuse us, we must not physically, emotionally, or verbally abuse anyone else.15
The need for civility in society has never been more important. The foundation of kindness and civility begins in our homes. It is not surprising that our public discourse has declined in equal measure with the breakdown of the family. The family is the foundation for love and for maintaining spirituality. The family promotes an atmosphere where religious observance can flourish. There is indeed “beauty all around when there’s love at home.”16
Sexual immorality and impure thoughts violate the standard established by the Savior.17 We were warned at the beginning of this dispensation that sexual immorality would be perhaps the greatest challenge.18 Such conduct will, without repentance, cause a spiritual drought and loss of commitment. Movies, TV, and the Internet often convey degrading messages and images. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf and I were recently in an Amazon jungle village and observed satellite dishes even on some of the small, simply built huts. We rejoiced at the wonderful information available in this remote area. We also recognized there is virtually no place on earth that cannot be impacted by salacious, immoral, and titillating images. This is one reason why pornography has become such a plague in our day.
I recently had an insightful conversation with a 15-year-old Aaronic Priesthood holder. He helped me understand how easy it is in this Internet age for young people to almost inadvertently be exposed to impure and even pornographic images. He pointed out that for most principles the Church teaches, there is at least some recognition in society at large that violating these principles can have devastating effects on health and well-being. He mentioned cigarette smoking, drug use, and alcohol consumption by young people. But he noted that there is no corresponding outcry or even a significant warning from society at large about pornography or immorality.
My dear brothers and sisters, this young man’s analysis is correct. What is the answer? For years, prophets and apostles have taught the importance of religious observance in the home.19
Parents, the days are long past when regular, active participation in Church meetings and programs, though essential, can fulfill your sacred responsibility to teach your children to live moral, righteous lives and walk uprightly before the Lord. With President Monson’s announcement this morning, it is essential that this be faithfully accomplished in homes which are places of refuge where kindness, forgiveness, truth, and righteousness prevail. Parents must have the courage to filter or monitor Internet access, television, movies, and music. Parents must have the courage to say no, defend truth, and bear powerful testimony. Your children need to know that you have faith in the Savior, love your Heavenly Father, and sustain the leaders of the Church. Spiritual maturity must flourish in our homes. My hope is that no one will leave this conference without understanding that the moral issues of our day must be addressed in the family. Bishops and priesthood and auxiliary leaders need to support families and make sure that spiritual principles are taught. Home and visiting teachers can assist, especially with children of single parents.
The young man I mentioned earnestly asked if the Apostles knew how early in life teaching and protecting against pornography and impure thoughts should start. With emphasis, he stated that in some areas even before youth graduate from Primary is not too early.
Youth who have been exposed to immoral images at a very early age are terrified that they may have already disqualified themselves for missionary service and sacred covenants. As a result, their faith can be severely impaired. I want to assure you young people, as Alma taught, that through repentance you can qualify for all the blessings of heaven.20 That is what the Savior’s Atonement is all about. Please talk with your parents or a trusted adviser, and counsel with your bishop.
When it comes to morality, some adults believe that adherence to a single, overriding humanitarian project or principle nullifies the need to comply with the Savior’s teachings. They say to themselves that sexual misconduct is “a small thing … [if I am] a kind and charitable person.”21 Such thinking is a gross self-deception. Some young people inform me that in our current culture it is not “cool” to try too hard in many areas, including living strictly in accordance with righteous principles.22 Please do not fall into this trap.
At baptism we promise to take upon us “the name of [Jesus] Christ, having [the] determination to serve him to the end.”23 Such a covenant requires courageous effort, commitment, and integrity if we are to continue to sing the song of redeeming love and stay truly converted.
A historic example of commitment to be strong and immovable for all ages was portrayed by a British Olympian who competed in the 1924 Olympics in Paris, France.
Eric Liddell was the son of a Scottish missionary to China and a devoutly religious man. He infuriated the British leadership of the Olympics by refusing, even under enormous pressure, to run in a preliminary 100-meter race held on Sunday. Ultimately he was victorious in the 400-meter race. Liddell’s example of refusing to run on Sunday was particularly inspiring.
Depictions and memorials in his honor have referred to the inspirational words from Isaiah, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”24
Liddell’s admirable conduct was very influential in our youngest son’s decision to not participate in Sunday sports and, more importantly, to separate himself from unrighteous and worldly conduct. He used the quote from Isaiah for his yearbook contribution. Eric Liddell left a powerful example of determination and commitment to principle.
As our youth follow President Monson’s counsel by preparing to serve missions, and as we all live the principles the Savior taught and prepare to meet God,25 we win a much more important race.26 We will have the Holy Ghost as our guide for spiritual direction. For any whose lives are not in order, remember, it is never too late to make the Savior’s Atonement the foundation of our faith and lives.27
In the words of Isaiah, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”28
My sincere prayer is that each of us will take any necessary action to feel the Spirit now so we can sing the song of redeeming love with all our hearts. I testify of the power of the Savior’s Atonement, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Don’t worry, Gordy,” Benny told his friend. “I’ll get us back to the cabin safely.”
The boys had left the cabin about an hour earlier to explore the area on snowshoes. Benny had been in the woods many times before, but this was the first time for Gordy and he was frightened. A snowstorm had come up so quickly even Benny had been taken by surprise. It was snowing and blowing so hard that the boys could hardly see each other, and there was nothing to mark the way they should go.
Benny was almost as worried as his friend, but aloud he said, “All we need to do, Gordy, is walk straight ahead, and we’ll come to the cabin.”
“Then let’s get going!” Gordy insisted. “I can’t see anything—and it’s scary. What if we get separated?”
“Here,” Benny said as he took a long scarf from around his neck. He tied one end to his own wrist and the other end securely to Gordy’s belt.
“Now we’ll be okay,” he declared, sounding more cheerful than he felt. “Let’s go.”
Benny started out slowly, sliding one foot after the other without lifting his snowshoes off the ground. He felt a slight tug on the scarf as Gordy followed behind.
Suddenly Benny stopped. Gordy nearly collided into him but stopped just in time. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I just remembered something,” Benny said. “Let me think a minute.”
Benny’s mind raced back to the day of Charlie Roger’s birthday party when they played Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Benny remembered how he had walked in what seemed to be a straight line toward the donkey, but when he pinned the tail on, it was far to the right. Most of the other boys and girls walked far to the right too.
That night Benny had asked his father, “Why do we turn to the right when we think we’re going straight?”
“When we can’t see,” his father told him, “we move to the right or left because our bodies are not perfectly balanced. Most right-handed people tend to turn to the right because the muscles on that side of their bodies are better developed and slightly heavier.
“When we can see, we compensate for this imbalance without thinking. But in a fog, for instance, people often walk in circles when they think they are going straight.”
What’s true of fog must be true of a snowstorm, thought Benny. I’ll have to concentrate on moving to the left and hope we’ll end up at the cabin.
“Come on,” he said to Gordy. “Let’s go on now.”
Benny started out again, moving slightly to his left. After traveling for a while, he felt a tug on the scarf. He realized that Gordy was signaling for him to stop.
“What’s the matter?” Benny called above the noise of the wind.
“You keep going too far to the left!” Gordy exclaimed. “We should have gone straight. Now we’re lost and we’ll never find the cabin.”
“We’ll find it, Gordy,” Benny promised him. “Just trust me, and we’ll be there soon.”
When they started out again, Benny felt Gordy following reluctantly. The snow continued to swirl around them in thick clouds, and all Benny could see was a heavy mist of white. Even when he turned back to encourage Gordy, he could barely see his friend through the whirling snowflakes.
Before long Benny felt a tug on the scarf and turned to hear Gordy call, “We’re lost. What will we do?”
“No, we’re not lost,” Benny answered. “We’re almost there.”
Benny’s voice was strong against the wind and sounded full of confidence, but inside he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t made a mistake. Yet he knew they had to keep moving.
Benny quickly moved one snowshoe ahead of the other, giving a little tug on the scarf. Gordy followed silently.
Suddenly Benny stopped. “There’s the cabin!” he shouted. “I see a little light over to the right.”
He felt the tension on the scarf relax as Gordy called, “Oh, Benny, I see it too!”
The boys hurried in the direction of the light, stumbling a little from fatigue and cold.
“We were right on top of it!” Benny said as the boys circled around to the front porch.
Benny could hear his father’s voice calling through the storm.
“We’re here on the porch, Dad!” Benny answered.
Swinging a lantern, Benny’s father came around from the back of the cabin.
“I’m certainly glad to see both of you,” he said, holding up the light to see the boys. “I’ve been calling and calling for you ever since the storm started. I didn’t dare move out of sight of the cabin, for I knew it wouldn’t help if I got lost too.”
“Well, I thought we were lost,” said Gordy, “but Benny knew just where to go.”
“You can tell me all about it when you’ve changed your clothes and had some hot chocolate,” Benny’s father said. “The important thing is that you’re here.”
As the boys hurried into the warm cabin, they looked at each other and smiled. “You’re right, Dad,” Benny said. “The important thing is that we’re here.”

“Mom, what are we doing for family night?” Benjamin asked as he and his younger brother, Sammy, walked into the kitchen for a drink.
“Do you mean Pioneer Night?” Mom said with a smile.
“What?” Benjamin asked. “I thought today was Monday. You know, family night.”
Mom nodded. “It’s Monday all right. But tonight we’re having a special Pioneer Night.”
Benjamin frowned a little. He liked family night. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything different.
“What’s Pioneer Night?” Sammy asked.
“Well,” Mom said, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down at the table with them, “one hundred and seventy years ago, Mormon pioneers crossed the plains in wagons and handcarts to get to Utah. On July 24, 1847, the first pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.”
“Wait. Isn’t today July 24th?” Benjamin asked.
“Exactly! It’s Pioneer Day. In Utah it’s even a state holiday,” Mom said. “There are parades and fireworks to honor the pioneers.”
“But we don’t live in Utah,” said Benjamin.
“Well, that just means we have to think of creative ways to celebrate,” said Mom. “So we’re having Pioneer Night. Will you help me get ready?”
Benjamin and Sammy nodded. As they helped Mom, Benjamin felt more and more excited. Soon Dad got home from work.
“What’s this?” he said when he saw the kitchen table set with checkered napkins, glass jars, and pie tins.
“It’s Pioneer Night!” Benjamin said, handing Dad a red bandana to tie around his neck. He and Sammy were both wearing cowboy hats from their costume box.
“This looks fun!” said Dad. Then he sniffed the air. “And something smells really good.” Mom was stirring a pot of stew at the stove.
“Before we eat, we have to make butter for the cornbread,” said Sammy.
Mom poured cream into a jar and screwed the lid on tight. After shaking for a few minutes, she handed the jar to Sammy. They all took turns shaking until there was a lump of butter inside!
After dinner they had a special family night. Dad showed them a black-and-white picture.
“This is Joseph Francis, your great-great-great grandpa,” Dad said. “He came to the United States with his family when he was 13 years old.”
Dad talked about how Joseph sailed from England and then worked in a factory to earn money to cross the plains. Benjamin couldn’t believe a boy who was just older than he was had done so many hard things.
Then Mom shared a story from her family history. “My mother, your grandma Hunsaker, met the missionaries when she was 13 years old. When she prayed to know if their message was true, she felt the Holy Ghost tell her to be baptized. Because of her decision, I grew up knowing about the gospel. My mother is a pioneer because she set a righteous example for others to follow.”
Benjamin liked that. Maybe there were ways he could be a pioneer! He was still thinking about it when Dad said it was time for the closing song and prayer.
“Now we can have the treat!” Sammy said. Mom handed everyone a cookie, some candies, and a few other yummy things. She showed them how to make wagons with marshmallows like white canvases on top.
“These wagons sure taste good,” Sammy said as he took a big bite. “I’m glad the pioneers went to Utah.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” to see how to make your own wagons!
“And I’m glad we don’t always have to make our own butter!” Benjamin said with a laugh. His life was different from the early pioneers, but he knew they all had one thing in common: they all believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ!

Illustrations by Elise Black
The front door closed behind Thomas with a swoosh and a click as he hurried to check the family calendar.
“I was right!” he called loudly. “It is my turn to teach the lesson in family home evening.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “Honey, I’m so sorry we didn’t plan your lesson last night! I thought it was my turn to teach.”
Thomas shook his head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know what to do.” Normally she helped him prepare the day before. But he was 10 years old now. He could plan a lesson by himself.
Mom smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure? You don’t need any help?”
“Yup, I’ve got this.”
Later that night Thomas pulled out his copy of the Friend. He opened it to an article he’d read called “The Ten Commandments Teach Me to Love God and His Children” (Sept. 2012). As Thomas read it out loud to his family, he noticed Mom looking very proud of him.
After the lesson it was time for the activity on the next page. Thomas had already cut out the labels that read, “Honoring God,” “Respecting Parents and Family,” and “Respecting Others.”
As part of the activity, they took turns sharing examples of how they’d kept commandments the past week.
“I said my prayers last night,” said his big sister Ella.
“What group do we think that falls in?” asked Thomas. After discussing, they picked “Honoring God.”
After the lesson Ella served some tasty cookies she’d baked. Then they delivered some of the extras to friends.
Thomas felt so happy he could help out. That was one of his favorite family home evenings ever!

The Kuang Kuang Hao, a special express train, sped through the countryside in Taiwan, passing scenes of quiet rivers, hills dotted with Chinese burial mounds, scattered villages, and endless waves of rice fields. As I stepped off the train in Miao Li, the cold winter wind hit me in the face.
Despite the cold, missionary routine in my new area soon became settled. I enjoyed being a senior companion and had a good junior companion. I was comfortable giving the missionary lessons and interacting with the people.
In our branch I met a member named Hu Chin Hsi, who looked like a scarecrow with wild, straggly hair. His eyes were bright but sunken, and his body was thin and straight. He talked with enthusiasm but stopped often to wheeze and cough because he had a chronic lung and respiratory disease. Despite his struggles, Brother Hu was a faithful member and the branch clerk.
One cold winter night we rode our bikes to visit Brother Hu. He lived on a hillside, where the winter wind blew. His home made of loosely nailed planks with a dirt floor was just large enough for one man to lie down and store a few things in. Brother Hu explained he was poor because the money he made as a tax assessor was spent on medicine to keep him alive, and any leftover money was spent on food.
As the rainy season became more severe, we knew Brother Hu needed more help to survive until spring. We collected two extra comforters, some clothing, and some money for food. Brother Hu was grateful for the gifts, and with tears in his eyes, he thanked us over and over.
Everything seemed fine until we noticed he had nothing to keep his hands warm. I thought we could buy him a pair of cloth gloves, but I knew these gloves didn’t last long and often came apart. Brother Hu needed something dependable, long-lasting, and warm.
I had a pair of leather, fur-lined gloves that were given to me by a companion who had completed his mission the previous summer. He told me the gloves were rare and that it would be impossible to find or buy such gloves in Taiwan. The moist, cold tropical air of Miao Li proved how valuable a gift those gloves were, and I guarded them everywhere I went. But now someone else needed them.
When Brother Hu needed blankets, clothes, and money for food, we shared. Now he needed gloves, and I was more than willing to buy him some cloth gloves but not give him mine. I rationalized that I had two more winters as a missionary on this island and needed warm gloves. I even bought a pair of cloth gloves to give Brother Hu, but I was uneasy and unhappy.
I contemplated my behavior and realized I was being selfish. If it didn’t cause me any hardship or sacrifice, I was willing to give. But a rare possession like my gloves was a harder test.
Though it seemed like such a sacrifice at the time, I gave Brother Hu my leather, fur-lined gloves. I took the cloth gloves, which caught on my bike and totally unraveled two days later. What lasted, though, is my memory of Hu Chin Hsi with his cough and wheeze and what I learned from giving to him.

When President Thomas S. Monson was young, people called him Tommy. As a deacon, Tommy watched the young men who were priests in the Aaronic Priesthood as they blessed the sacrament. One of the priests, Barry, had a very fine voice. Often, members of the ward told Barry how inspiring it was when he said the sacrament prayers.
Another young man named Jack was very hard of hearing. When he spoke, it was difficult for people to understand him, and he wasn’t given the assignment to say a sacrament prayer very often. When he did have a turn, the deacons sometimes snickered about the way he spoke.
One Sunday, Barry and Jack sat at the sacrament table together. After the sacrament song they broke the bread, and then Barry knelt to pray. But nothing happened. Barry’s fine voice was silent. Tommy and the other deacons looked up to see what was causing the delay. Barry was frantically looking for the little white card with the sacrament prayers printed on it. He couldn’t find it, and his face flushed pink and then bright red. He couldn’t say the prayer without reading from the little card.
Jack nudged Barry back to his seat. Then he knelt and began to say the words of the sacrament prayer that he had carefully memorized. After the deacons passed the bread, Jack knelt again and offered the prayer on the water. He was prepared and willing to fulfill his calling in the priesthood.
That day Jack’s example touched the hearts of the ward members. Tommy and the other deacons gained great respect for Jack. Barry and Jack became friends. Jack didn’t have the finest voice, but he was prepared to do his duty because he had faithfully learned the sacred sacrament prayers by heart.

Tihi and Tararaina Mou Tham were the happy parents of 10 children when they joined the Church in the 1960s in Raiatea, French Polynesia. As new members of the Church, they soon had a powerful desire to be sealed in the temple, but getting this ordinance at that time was very difficult. The closest temple was in Hamilton, New Zealand—4,000 kilometres (2,500 miles) away from their home.
Tihi knew the family farm’s income was not sufficient for the whole family to travel, so, in 1969 he went to New Caledonia to work in the mines and earn enough for the trip to New Zealand. One of his sons, Émile, was already there, and a year later another son, Gérard, joined them. The rest of the family stayed behind in French Polynesia.
It was not easy for the family during this time. “It was hard for us to be separated,” daughter, Gisele Tefan related about that time. We felt loneliness [and] struggled with financial problems.”
It took Tihi and his sons four years of hard work to earn enough money for the trip, and when they returned from the temple in New Zealand, they went back to New Caledonia and worked an additional two years so that another daughter could also go to the temple and be sealed to them.
Six years and a tremendous effort later, the family was finally all sealed together in 1973.
After this wonderful blessing was obtained, Tihi and Tararaina went on to give many hours of their own service to others in the Papeete Tahiti Temple, the first temple built in the French republic, which was dedicated in 1983. When the couple eventually passed away, they left a legacy of a posterity strongly rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ and eternal family values.

My family and I were introduced to the Church in May 1979, and I knew immediately that this was where we belonged. We were baptized in June, and at first we were all active, but it wasn’t long before I stopped attending and returned to old habits. I never really had any doubt about the truthfulness of the gospel and the Restoration, but I did not think I had what it took to be a good member of the Church.

In 1982, because of my continued alcohol abuse, my wife, who had never failed in her faith, filed for divorce. At the time my family was living in Oklahoma, USA, but I had returned to Illinois, USA, where I had been raised. I had reached the point where I was about to lose the only thing that truly mattered to me: my family.

I began praying on my knees morning and evening to a God who I was no longer sure existed or, if He did, I figured He had long ago forgotten me. Yet for three months I prayed faithfully. Early one morning, while I was deep in prayer, a feeling of great relief came upon me and I knew that God lived, that He knew me, and that He loved me. I also knew I would never touch another drop of alcohol.

That very evening I received a call from my wife to let me know she was going to mail me the divorce papers to sign. During that conversation she suddenly said, “There is something very different about you. I don’t believe you are ever going to drink again, and I am going to tear up these papers.” We reunited, and two years later she gave birth to our third son.

One would assume that I would have returned to full activity in the Church, but I am a stubborn man. I returned for a time and even received a calling as an elders quorum instructor. But I soon began to feel inadequate to teach and again became inactive.

In 1991 we moved into a small branch. Several months before our youngest son’s eighth birthday, my wife, the Primary president, asked him who he wanted to perform his baptism. Of course he wanted his father to perform the ordinance. My wife told him that probably was not going to happen. He did not accept that answer and set about the task of activating his father. He was quite relentless, and in short order I found myself serving as the Scoutmaster, and I later baptized and confirmed my son.

The eight months following my activation were eventful. We were sealed as a family in the Chicago Illinois Temple, and I was again called to serve as an elders quorum instructor, only this time I didn’t quit. I was then called as a counselor in the branch presidency, and five months later I was called to serve as the branch president. A month or so after my call, I remember thinking, “I’m the branch president?”

I have told many struggling Saints over the years that if I can progress in the gospel, anyone can. It is just a matter of understanding the true power of the Savior and His Atonement and taking the steps to come unto Him.

I will be eternally grateful to my wife and children and all the faithful home teachers, quorum leaders, bishops, and other faithful Saints who set such a marvelous example for me. It has been a privilege to serve the Lord and the Saints these past 20 years. My life has been blessed beyond anything I could have imagined.

A Super Fireside including everything from dancing to milking cows was planned and carried out by the youth of the Bozeman First Ward, Bozeman Montana Stake.
With a core group of about 15 youth doing the planning and organizing, all of the youth from the Bozeman and Helena Montana stakes were invited.
The event began with a roast beef dinner followed by a speaker. The older youth pushed back the tables for a dance, while the deacons and Beehives traveled to another location for get-to-know-you games and a magic show.
Early the next morning, the group assembled dressed in work clothes for the day’s activities. After breakfast and an early-morning speaker, the group departed for the stake dairy, the largest dairy in the Gallatin Valley.
Assignments were made for the service project. Some painted the siding on one of the homes. Some helped put up fence. Others painted the calf pens, and the lucky ones got to clean out the barn. With a few paint and water fights, the work was finished in time for lunch in the hayloft. It had been a great success for both the youth and those they served.

The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed they were so relieved.”

After track practice, my brother, my friend, her brother, and I were waiting to get picked up. While we were waiting, we talked with our coach about our religion. He belongs to another faith, but he knew that we were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even though he had many questions, all four of us were Church members, so I wasn’t nervous or afraid he would ask a question that I wouldn’t know the answer to. I knew that if I didn’t know the answer, then there was a pretty good chance my brother or friends would know it.
A couple of hours later, when we were picked up, I thought about what I’d do the next time someone asked a question I didn’t know the answer to. I decided that I didn’t want that to happen and that praying, studying the scriptures, attending church, and partaking of the sacrament would help, because next time my friends or brother might not be there to back me up.

Some years later in Cusco, a city high in the Andes of Peru, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I held a sacrament meeting in a long, narrow room that opened onto the street. It was night, and while Elder Tuttle spoke, a little boy, perhaps six years old, appeared in the doorway. He wore only a ragged shirt that went about to his knees.
On our left was a small table with a plate of bread for the sacrament. This starving street orphan saw the bread and inched slowly along the wall toward it. He was almost to the table when a woman on the aisle saw him. With a stern toss of her head, she banished him out into the night. I groaned within myself.
Later the little boy returned. He slid along the wall, glancing from the bread to me. When he was near the point where the woman would see him again, I held out my arms, and he came running to me. I held him on my lap.
Then, as something symbolic, I set him on Elder Tuttle’s chair. After the closing prayer the hungry little boy darted out into the night.
When I returned home, I told President Spencer W. Kimball about my experience. He was deeply moved and told me, “You were holding a nation on your lap.” He said to me more than once, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.”
As I have visited Latin American countries nearly 100 times, I have looked for that little boy in the faces of the people. Now I do know what President Kimball meant.

In a worldwide leadership training meeting, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland told this story: “For many years, I have loved the story that President Packer has told about William E. Berrett’s boyhood Sunday School teacher. An elderly Danish brother was called to teach a class of rowdy boys. … He didn’t speak the language very well; he still had a heavy Danish brogue; he was much older, with big farm hands. Yet he was to teach these young, rambunctious 15-year-olds. For all intents and purposes, it would not have seemed like a very good match. But Brother Berrett used to say—and this is the part President Packer quotes—that this man somehow taught them; that across all those barriers, across all those limitations, this man reached into the hearts of those rowdy 15-year-old kids and changed their lives. And Brother Berrett’s testimony was ‘We could have warmed our hands by the fire of his faith.’”2

When the temple was ready, I also helped with the setup during some of the dedication sessions. In one of them I had one of the most sacred spiritual experiences of my life.
I was asked to help in one of the corridors of the floor where the celestial room was located and just before the dedication session began, I was asked to occupy the only seat that was available within the room. It is difficult for me to put into words what I felt in that sacred place, I can only say that I wanted to keep that feeling of peace and joy for the rest of my life.

When I was a young child, my father was not a member of the Church and my mother had become less active. We lived in Washington, D.C., and my mother’s parents lived 2,500 miles (4,000 km) away in the state of Washington. Some months after my eighth birthday, Grandmother Whittle came across the country to visit us. Grandmother was concerned that neither I nor my older brother had been baptized. I don’t know what she said to my parents about this, but I do know that one morning she took my brother and me to the park and shared with us her feelings about the importance of being baptized and attending Church meetings regularly. I don’t remember the specifics of what she said, but her words stirred something in my heart, and soon my brother and I were baptized.
Grandmother continued to support us. I remember that anytime my brother or I was assigned to give a talk in church, we would call her on the telephone for some suggestions. Within a few days a handwritten talk would arrive by mail. After some time her suggestions changed to an outline requiring more effort on our part.
Grandmother used just the right amount of courage and respect to help our father recognize the importance of his driving us to the church for our meetings. In every appropriate way, she helped us to feel a need for the gospel in our lives.
Most importantly, we knew Grandmother loved us and that she loved the gospel. She was a marvelous example! How grateful I am for the testimony she shared with me when I was very young. Her influence changed the direction of my life for eternal good.
Both Grandmother Whittle and Jeanene loved me enough to share their conviction that the ordinances of the gospel and serving Father in Heaven would bless my life. Neither of them coerced me or made me feel bad about the person I was. They simply loved me and loved Father in Heaven. Both knew He could do more with my life than I could on my own. Each courageously helped me in loving ways to find the path of greatest happiness.