Gospel Story Finder

My companion handed me an envelope and said, “Sister Jones, I think this is for you.” I looked at the return address and was pleased to see my cousin’s name printed neatly in the corner. I had just been transferred to a new city from the other side of southern France and didn’t think anyone back home in the United States was aware of my new address. I opened the envelope and read a short note in which my cousin said that she had recently received an e-mail from her French pen pal after eight years of no contact.
My cousin explained that although she and Céline had received each other’s address in their high school French and English classes, respectively, they had never actually written to each other. My cousin was therefore very surprised to receive Céline’s e-mail. She didn’t know if Céline lived in southern France where I was serving, but she included her name and address, asking me to contact her if possible.
Because I was new to the area, I handed the note to my companion and asked her if my cousin’s pen pal lived in the mission. “Not only does she live within mission boundaries,” she responded, “she lives in our district!” Excitedly, we called Céline to introduce ourselves, and she agreed to meet with us. We took the short train ride to Montauban.
As we stepped off the train, we were greeted warmly by Céline and her parents. They invited us to their home and asked us to share our message. As we taught them about the Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Spirit bore witness of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. The family expressed their appreciation for the values taught by the Church, and after a lengthy discussion we left them with a copy of the Book of Mormon, a prayer, and a promise to return.
That was the first of several visits with Céline and her family. My mission ended while they were still in the process of learning about the Church, but before I said good-bye to Céline, I asked her why she had decided to contact my cousin after eight years. Her response surprised me: “When I was cleaning out a drawer, I came across her address on a small piece of paper I thought I’d lost. I felt strongly that I needed to write to her.”
On the way home to our apartment I gazed out the train window and marveled at how a loving Father allowed a lost address to be found and an old connection to be made at the very time I was unexpectedly transferred to a new city for the last six weeks of my mission. He is mindful of all and will make miracles happen, even with such a small and simple thing as a pen pal’s address.

7. Two relevant memories for young fathers. When I was such, I had just received a phone call telling me of a friend’s death in an accident. I was sitting in the living room with tears streaking down my cheeks. Our young son, Cory, saw the tears as he passed in the hallway. I learned that he had anxiously assumed the tears were because he had disappointed me in some way. He didn’t know about the phone call. Brethren, we underestimate how genuinely and frequently our children want to please us.

One of my pre-mission life goals was to graduate from college. While attending classes would have been difficult with my illness and the constant doctor appointments, my dad encouraged me to take online classes from Brigham Young University Independent Study. Not only was this an achievable horizontal goal, but I also realized that maybe I was capable of doing more pre-mission goals than I had previously thought possible.

One day at church, a sister walked up to my mom and said, “Do you know that Destiny can serve an online indexing mission?” This unexpected question was an answer to my prayers. I was able to serve the Lord for nine months as an indexing support Church-service missionary. This was a mission I could do!*
As I became better at managing my health condition, I began studying at a community college while doing my online mission. I was asked to teach mission preparation at the nearby institute. Teaching helped me realize that my enthusiasm for missionary work had not waned and that even my short mission had provided me with many experiences that could be valuable for my students.
After successfully attending a semester of college near my home, I moved to Utah, USA, to attend BYU. At first, I could hardly walk by the Provo MTC without feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. But I started volunteering weekly at the MTC and found that it was healing to meet the wonderful missionaries being sent to my beloved Hungary.
A Hungarian sister, Edit, who has prepared nearly 150,000 names for the temple asked me to take some of her names to the temple. It was a joy to do the saving ordinances for these Hungarians!
Serving a mission was my most important life dream and, understandably, I felt a loss when I came home earlier than anticipated. For a time, I struggled to talk about my mission. I had to work through feelings of failure. I had to learn how to judge the value of my mission by my desire to serve rather than the length. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, each of these steps toward meaning in my life also brought healing.
For years I was nervous that returning to Hungary would be difficult for me emotionally. When I eventually traveled there, it wasn’t until the second day that I realized that not only was I not feeling any pain, I was also feeling overwhelming joy to be back. I knew then that Heavenly Father had given me the opportunity to experience the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement. I now know that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, all things will be made right in the end.
*Many early returned missionaries continue to serve as young Church-service missionaries. Meet with your bishop or branch president for more information.

Carrie put her finger on her zoo-animal calendar and once more counted the days before she would be baptized. Today was Sunday, and in just seven more days she would be eight years old—old enough for baptism.
Today was really important, too, and maybe just a little bit scary, because today she would have her baptism interview with the branch president. President Stevenson wasn’t unfriendly, but Carrie was worried that he would give her a test about the Articles of Faith or the Ten Commandments or something.
“Carrie,” Mom called, “it’s time to get up. Remember, your interview is right after sacrament meeting.”
Carrie slipped out of bed and onto her knees. During her prayer, a warm feeling came over her, and she knew that everything would be all right. She remembered that it was the sort of calm feeling that Sister Cowan, her CTR-A teacher, had taught her could come to her through the Holy Ghost.
“Get out of my way,” Nathan growled later as he shoved past Carrie into the bathroom.
Wow! she thought. I hope he’s not going to be a real grouch all day.
But Nathan was still scowling as he, Carrie, and Mom and Dad left for church.
“Good morning, Carrie. Your big day is coming up next week, right?” Carrie felt a familiar arm around her shoulder as Sister Cowan gave her a hug. “Your interview with President Stevenson is today, isn’t it? You’re really ready for baptism—I know you are.”
Sister Cowan always made Carrie feel special. But that warm feeling disappeared as Nathan came toward her—he still had a frown on his face.
Just then President Stevenson came out of the chapel. “I’ll be seeing you right after church, won’t I, Carrie?” he said with a big, warm smile.
Carrie nodded and smiled back. Maybe our visit will be OK, she thought.
Then President Stevenson smiled at Nathan. But Nathan didn’t smile back—he was being a dedicated grouch today. The branch president simply said, “Nathan, remember?”
Miracles really do happen, Carrie thought as Nathan started to grin, then gave President Stevenson a great big smile!
“I remember.” Nathan’s smile grew and lasted as he ambled down the hall.
Did I see a miracle? Carrie wondered. And what did Nathan remember?
During sacrament meeting, Carrie glanced over at Judy. Carrie thought that she always looked sort of sad. But now, as Judy looked up from her hymnbook, she broke into a smile! Following Judy’s gaze, Carrie saw President Stevenson smiling at Judy from the stand.
How can he make Nathan and Judy smile when nobody else can? Carrie asked herself.
Soon, the meeting was over, and the branch members were visiting in the foyer.
“Carrie.” She felt a light touch on her shoulder. “Are you ready for our interview?”
Nodding, she followed the branch president to his office.
“I’m really glad we can visit today about your baptism,” President Stevenson told her. “Would it be OK if we started with a prayer?”
When he finished the prayer, he opened his scriptures and asked, “Do you remember when the Prophet Abinadi tried to teach King Noah about God? The only one in the king’s court who believed Abinadi was Alma. After Alma was converted, he gathered others and taught them the gospel. He said that for people to be ready for baptism, they should ‘mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places’” (Mosiah 18:9).
As they talked about what Alma had written, Carrie was glad that Sister Cowan had discussed it all in her class.
When President Stevenson asked Carrie if she would be willing to do all that Alma said, she answered yes and really meant it.
“The next verses talk about a covenant between the people being baptized and God. Do you know what a covenant is?” President Stevenson asked.
Covenant? Oh no! This is the test, and I can’t remember what it is! “Well, uh, not really,” was all she could mumble.
“That’s all right, Carrie. Lots of people don’t really know. A covenant is an agreement, or promise, between two people. They agree, or covenant, that as long as one of them does what has been agreed upon, the other is bound to do what he promised. Alma spoke of baptism as a covenant between us and God. If we agree to be baptized and always remember the Savior and keep his commandments, he agrees to send his Spirit to always be with us. Do you understand this?”
“I guess so, sort of.”
The branch president smiled. “Maybe it’ll be easier to understand if you and I make a simple agreement, OK? Here’s our agreement: Whenever I see you, whether it’s here at church or someplace else, I promise that I will smile at you, even if I’m not feeling happy. But if I do that, then you have to promise that you’ll smile back at me, even if you don’t feel like smiling. Do you think we can make that agreement?”
“OK. I can do that.”
“Good. Now, as a symbol of our agreement to smile, let’s shake hands.” Her small hand was smothered by his, but it felt warm and firm, not scary.
“Now, just as our handshake was a symbol of our agreement, your baptism will be a symbol of the covenant—a very sacred agreement—that you are making with God. He’ll send you his Spirit if you take the name of Jesus Christ upon you by being baptized and remembering him and obeying his commandments. The sacrament prayers will help you remember this sacred covenant that you are making with Heavenly Father. Do you understand better now?”
“Yes, President Stevenson.” Carrie smiled.
“I think that you are prepared for your baptism, Carrie. Tell your parents I’d like to talk with them about arrangements for your baptismal service.”
She got up to leave, then turned back with a grin. “President Stevenson, have you made the smile agreement with the other kids who have been baptized?”
“Yes, I have. Everyone—even adults—who has been baptized in our branch since I’ve been branch president has made the same agreement with me. I think it helps everyone understand better what a covenant is, and every time we smile at each other, we remember just how sacred our baptism covenant is. Their smiles show that they are happy to have made their covenants with Heavenly Father. Don’t you think so?”
Remembering Nathan and Judy, Carrie thought so too. She smiled as she hurried to find her parents.

Francisco Ayres Hermenegildo joined the Church in his native Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, at age 21 and later served a mission in São Paulo. After he and his wife, Kallya, were married, they moved to Sydney, Australia, in 2002. In 2006 Francisco was called to be the president of the Hyde Park young single adult branch. President Hermenegildo felt overwhelmed not only because he was still learning English but also because members of the branch were natives of more than 10 countries, and many of them were also learning English.
“I confess that we felt inadequate when we were called to look after the Hyde Park Branch,” President Hermenegildo says. “The language barrier seemed enormous, and we prayed to the Lord for His help. But I am learning that the Lord inspires, qualifies, and fortifies those who are engaged in building His kingdom.”
In addition to recognizing the Lord’s direction in his own life, President Hermenegildo sees it in the lives of the members of the branch—many of whom, like him, are first-generation members.
“Each of us has been brought here at this time in our lives for a reason,” he says. He explains that each member has an opportunity to grow in testimony, serve in callings, and share the gospel message with friends and loved ones.
“We believe that the prophecies related to the gospel filling the earth are happening,” says President Hermenegildo. “The members of the branch are and will be leaders wherever they go in the world. It is a great privilege to help prepare those leaders, which we do every time we teach and nurture members of the branch.”

Because of the difficulties we faced, my mom wanted a better life for her children and often prayed for help.
Our circumstances didn’t change until a miracle took place in our lives. I was only a young boy when the missionaries came to our village, but I remember everything. My mom, dad, brother, and I were eating lunch in our field. I can still remember the smell of the tortillas on the fire as two white men with light hair made their way through the field. My eyes opened wide in surprise, and I held onto my mom, ready to kick the men if it became necessary to defend ourselves. However, when the men asked, “Would it be OK if we warmed up our tortillas in your fire?” peace came over me. Curiosity filled my head. Why was their accent so funny? Why did they wear white shirts and neckties? Why were they so big?
“Sure, you can warm up your tortillas in our fire,” my dad replied. I don’t know how it happened, but the next thing I knew, the missionaries were showing us illustrations of the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. My mom was shocked! She had always believed that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were beings we could talk to and ask questions of, but she had never heard anyone teach that. While listening to the story of the First Vision, my mom received confirmation from the Holy Ghost that it was true. The visit of these two missionaries was the answer to her prayers. My mom invited them to drop by our house any day.
Later when the missionaries visited us and taught us about the Word of Wisdom, my mom was the happiest I have ever seen her. My dad is a slightly different story. I remember that he was trying to smile, but his eyes were watery, his forehead was white, and the rest of his face was red.
In our tribe, you stick with the traditions—no matter what. Changing religions is viewed as an act of desertion. Friends leave you and relatives look down on you, especially if you are the first one to change.
My mom was surprised that the missionaries took so long to ask, “Will you be baptized into the Church?” She was ready. My dad felt in his heart that the message brought by the missionaries was true, but he was concerned about the consequences that would come to our family if we went against the traditions of our tribe. He needed more time to make up his mind.
In the end, my dad went against everything he had known and chose the gospel. His friends left him. Our relatives told him he was crazy and asked how much money the missionaries paid him to get baptized. No one invited us to parties anymore. My family’s social life was gone for a while. These changes were some of the hardest my family ever had to make.
The gospel of Jesus Christ brought a mighty change into my family, for which I am grateful. My dad dedicated more time to our family. My mom cooked better meals. My parents now spent our income wisely. We even had the chance to attend elementary school. My dad said something to us that I will never forget: “From this point on, you will never quit until you get a degree from school.”
We were a different family. Family home evening became a time when we set personal and family goals. My dad prepared gospel lessons and shared his life experiences with us, something he had never done before. We children knew our parents loved us. Alcohol was no longer in our home. The fights between my mom and dad turned into discussions in which they tried to understand each other. Somehow we seemed to be materially rich, although we were actually poor. We were a happy family, and eventually my dad was respected for his new way of life. People trusted him because he did not drink anymore. His friends began to come to him for advice, and somehow whoever associated with my dad started to prosper. Gospel living was contagious. My dad even organized a group of farmers to learn new and better methods of farming.
As a child, I started my religious reading with the Bible, but the Old Testament was too hard for me to read and understand at that young age. My next attempt was the Book of Mormon. After reading a couple of pages, I could not put the book away. Nephi became my new hero. Each day, after some hours of school and many hours of work on the farm, I went back to reading the Book of Mormon. As I read, I felt a special connection between the people of the Book of Mormon and my tribe. I felt the Book of Mormon explained where our Cakchiquel tribe came from and who our ancestors were.
In my reading of the Book of Mormon and learning about the true gospel of Jesus Christ, I felt that I was part of the fulfillment of the promises God made to Lehi, Nephi, and other Book of Mormon prophets about their children being preserved. I’m eternally grateful to those faithful people in the Book of Mormon and to the missionaries who introduced us to the book that changed the course of our lives.
My family eventually moved to Guatemala City. My parents have served in our ward there for many years. My two brothers and two sisters and I are all faithful Latter-day Saints. My brothers and I served full-time missions. My brother, sister, and I are studying at a university.
My family’s conversion story reflects God’s love and mercy for His children. I am thankful for the love He has for His children wherever they are—even deep in the mountains of Guatemala.

I am aware of a young man who came to his bishop for help with his family. It seemed that everything was wrong in his home. He argued with his wife, and their goals were so very opposite. His children seemed to bicker all the time, and when he tried to spend time with them, he got out of sorts very quickly. He was spending more time away from home and was using his money unwisely. After much counseling about family relations, the inspired bishop began to sense the young man’s low self-esteem and eventually discovered the root of the problem: the young man had been bothered by immoral desires ever since he could remember. He loved his wife, but also he was easily attracted to other women. His thoughts were plagued by lustful desires, and he delighted in the challenge of flirting. Consequently, he suffered severely from guilt, and he felt too weak to ever fully repent. A heart full of lust has little room for the true love that should prevail in a family. For months the young man followed the bishop’s plan for overcoming his weakness. The change that occured was remarkable. His family life improved dramatically. He saw qualities in his wife and children that he had never seen before. He found new joy in spending time with his family and found reservoirs of spiritual strength that he was unaware of. Alma counseled his son Shiblon to “bridle all your passions, that ye may be filled with love” (Alma 38:12). This young man had learned to bridle his passions, and the lust in his heart was replaced with a love such as he had never imagined.

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

Reminiscing about Lier and her experiences there almost makes Bonnie homesick for the scrub brushes and her many friends. “I learned some really great things at Lier—I certainly learned endurance—but the most wonderful thing about it was the people. They really care about you. At Easter I was allowed to fly home to the United States to visit my family. All of the girls and the teachers were up at 6:00 to see me off. And they had made me piles of delicious sandwiches because they were afraid I’d get hungry on the long trip home.”

President N. Eldon Tanner (1898–1982), former First Counselor in the First Presidency, told the following experience:
“A young man came to me not long ago and said, ‘I made an agreement with a man that requires me to make certain payments each year. I am in arrears, and I can’t make those payments, for if I do, it is going to cause me to lose my home. What shall I do?’
“I looked at him and said, ‘Keep your agreement.’
“‘Even if it costs me my home?’
“I said, ‘I am not talking about your home. I am talking about your agreement; and I think your wife would rather have a husband who would keep his word, meet his obligations, keep his pledges or his covenants, and have to rent a home than to have a home with a husband who will not keep his covenants and his pledges.’”6
He had a difficult choice: his home or his integrity. A man or woman of integrity does not yield or succumb merely because it is hard or expensive or inconvenient. In this respect the Lord has a perfect sense of integrity. He has said, “Who am I … that have promised and have not fulfilled?” (D&C 58:31).

MELBOURNE—
Just a short time ago, I was really struggling to keep attending all my Church meetings. I’m sure almost everyone experiences the same sort of doubts I was having—about the gospel, about myself, about school. It was the time for year-12 students to start submitting the VTAC forms, our application to university. I was so confused! How, at the age of 16, was I supposed to decide what direction my entire life should take?
Of course, the questions I had about where I was going began to spread to other areas—like the gospel. A close friend of mine, a recent convert, was having a great deal of trouble with her own testimony, and I was finding that I was unable to answer some of her questions. I began asking questions of my own. Some of them could be answered by seminary and Young Women teachers, but the answer to perhaps the most important question I would ever ask had to come from the Lord. I needed to know that the Church is true.
All I could do was ask. I knew I was doing all the right things: I attended seminary every day, I read my scriptures and wrote in my journal each night, I hadn’t missed a Church meeting for years. So on a freezing June night, I closed my Book of Mormon and knelt to pray.
“Please, Father,” I whispered. “I need to know that I’m doing the right thing, that all of this effort isn’t just in vain.”
I had heard all the descriptions of the wonderful feelings that people experience when they ask in faith about the truthfulness of the gospel. I’d often thought them somewhat trite, almost predictable. But the warmth and the certainty that washed over me as my Father in Heaven answered my prayers was nothing that words could ever do justice to. I felt surrounded by a glow of love and peace, and within my soul I knew the perfect truth of the gospel principles I had taken for granted all my life. Now I know the Church is true.

My boy graduated from high school at the age of 17 with plans to attend Brigham Young University-Idaho, 3,000 miles away from home before serving a full-time mission.
When he turned eighteen, he received his patriarchal blessing that mentioned the blessings that would come to him from serving a mission. Shortly after, my son shared with me that he had put in his mission papers. I cried. In part because I was proud that he had come to that decision on his own, but also because I was terrified. You see, Rayshawn was my only child and since my divorce, it was just the two of us.
Life intervened and some pretty trying things happened that tested my son’s faith. It is the hardest thing in the world to see one’s child struggle and not be able to do anything but encourage and pray unceasingly for them. My son turned eighteen, then 19, and by this time he was adamant that he would never serve a mission. He turned 20 and COVID hit. He came home from school because the isolation was doing things to his mental health.
By this time, he attended Church sporadically. He and I are the only members of the Church in our family, so I depended heavily on the temple prayer roll, personal and family prayer, and spending quality time together. We would sometimes read his patriarchal blessing together because I think the adversary works very hard at making the youth feel unworthy, unloved, unappreciated, worthless, and unable to do anything that presents a challenge or even anything that does not bring them instant gratification. We must help them see themselves as their Heavenly Father sees them and then living up to their potential will be much easier.
My little branch in the Caribbean is guided by a mission president and when a new president moved into our area he reached out and began counseling with my son via Zoom. By the time my son turned 22 years old he submitted his mission papers for the third time. Third time’s the charm, right? I should let you know that he taught himself Japanese because he really wanted to go to Japan.
Of course, our plans are not God’s plans, and he was called to the Trinidad Port of Spain Mission. He has been out on his mission for 10 months and he is zone leader. I have seen a mighty change in my son, and this young man who always thought the glass was half-empty is able to keep things positive even when confronted by someone with a knife in the streets while training a new missionary. He would later encourage other missionaries to always look for the positive perspective in similar situations.
As a mother, I still pray without ceasing over my baby boy, Elder Rayshawn N. Gibson, but I see that he has received His image in his countenance and the Light of Christ indeed shines in his eyes. Can a mother ask for anything more?

When Gordon was ordained a deacon and eligible to attend stake priesthood meeting, his father took the somewhat unwilling boy to his first meeting and, as a member of the stake presidency, went to the stand. Gordon stayed on the back row.
The congregation of men sang as the opening hymn “Praise to the Man.”
Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah
Jesus anointed that prophet and seer. …
Something happened! “There welled up in me an overwhelming conviction!” President Hinckley said later. A spirit of confirmation flowed into his heart, and a spirit of testimony affirmed to that boy deacon that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. He knew it! He knew it! He knew it as firmly as he knew that he lived! From that moment on he was armed with that “residual of faith.”
Later, when the faith of this bright university student was challenged by doubts (always a part of the education of the young members of the Church), the memory of that moment sustained him. Even today, more than sixty years later, he cannot tell of that experience without putting a finger under his glasses to prevent a tear from rolling down his cheek.

What are the blessings of a mission? “Can ye tell?” (Alma 26:2).
Maybe Brother and Sister William Keith Clark can. “Dear President Featherstone,” they wrote, “we were happy to receive your letter. I’m sure we love you already.” (Bless them, they didn’t even know me, and yet they could love me.) They continued: “We are not too young anymore. William Keith Clark is eighty-one years old. He has been a bishop’s counselor, a bishop, and a patriarch for thirty-one years. I, Ellen Clark, am seventy-six years of age. I have been a music director and a teacher in all the organizations of the Church, ward and stake. We have had an abundant life and love to teach the gospel. We have ten children, all married in the temple and working in the Church. We had our reunion recently—fifty-six grandchildren and twenty-six great-grandchildren! This is four missions for my husband and three for me. Our happiest moments are teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.” Every missionary is a story of love and sacrifice. I love them so much. Their great devotion to the cause, their love for the Lord, and their willingness to serve him, whose work this is, will bless their lives and their posterity forever.

After the discussion, Mother began to read the books they left and to pray about what she should do. It wasn’t long until she decided to be baptized. She was worried though about telling my grandmother.
Finally, however, Mom got the courage to call Grandma on the phone and to tell her that she was going to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
There was an empty, cold silence on the other end of the line. At last my grandmother said, “I’m heartsick and disappointed in you,” and then she hung up the receiver.
It was a long time before Grandma would talk to any of us on the phone or answer our letters; so you can imagine how happy my mother was when Grandma called one day and said, “I’ve been thinking about your baptism and I’ve decided that it’s all right for you to be a Mormon, dear, as long as you’re happy.” And Mom really was happy.

Every Saturday at ten o’clock, Mama takes Brett and me to the library. That’s when our Library Grandma reads.

The other children grab books and yell, “Read mine! Read mine!” Brett and I sit quietly, like people should in a library.

Our Library Grandma gathers the grabby grumblers and growls like a grouchy gorilla. She reads wild stories for wild children. Her hair springs from the bun on the top of her head. Her arms wave and her feet stomp. Her eyes squint and her brow wrinkles. The wide-eyed children hold their breath.

“Don’t stop, Grandma,” they beg when it’s time to go. “Read to us all day.” They love her, but we love her the best.

After our Library Grandma finishes reading to all the children each Saturday, we pick out books to take home. When Mama comes to get us, she gives our Library Grandma a ride home too. At our house, she comes in. Brett and I give her our library books and yell, “Read mine! Read mine!” Then our Library Grandma, our very own real Grandma, hugs us—and reads to us all day!

Years ago, Sister Dahlquist returned excitedly from a BYU Education Week class and suggested that we start learning poetry as a family. So as part of our daily family seminary, we began to include a poetry memorization component. The first poem that we memorized was:
Keep a poem in your pocket, and a picture in your head,And you'll never be lonely, At night when you're in bed.[10]
We learned a number of others over the years. And if those five little girls were here with me today, though they are grown, they would remember most of them. What is important is not that they are always prepared with a talk or an inspirational thought - which they are, but that when they are discouraged or tempted, they have filled their minds with that which is good and right and positive and uplifting - and it will carry them through some pretty difficult times. When I was in Berlin several years ago, I toured Hohenschönhausen, a Russian prison. It was a horrible and very dark experience. When we left the prison, I asked our guide, Herr Eberhart Zaun, how he ever survived. He said, "When things got really bad, I recited portions of Shakespeare plays that I had memorized as a youth." I asked, "What about those who had not memorized uplifting quotes as a youth?" He replied, "They soon lost hope and died." I am convinced that being able to control our thoughts by that which we treasure up in our minds is, indeed, a lifesaving work.

Before dances, dating, and driving occupied my weekends, I often spent Saturday nights babysitting. I remember thinking that I was prepared for any challenge. I had already dealt with overflowing toilets, policemen at the front door, minor illnesses and injuries, and even a leaking ceiling. But I was about to face my biggest babysitting challenge, and it would happen while the kids were sleeping happily and safely down the hall.
Mrs. Porter* left in a hurry, handing me her usual list of instructions and emergency phone numbers with a note at the bottom that read, “I grabbed a movie for you to watch after the kids go to bed. It’s supposed to be good. Thanks again.”
With the exception of an entire bottle of bubbles being spilled on the closet floor, the night went without major upsets. Five rounds of Mother May I later, bedtime came and I had a chance to see what Mrs. Porter had picked out.
I popped the movie into the VCR and read the description on the back of the box. The opening credits started rolling as I noticed the letter R in the bottom corner. With a sigh of exasperation, I pushed eject and put the movie back in the box. I didn’t watch R-rated movies.
But sitting there on top of the TV, the movie seemed to stare at me, calling my name. The minutes seemed like hours as thoughts started to invade my mind, forcing me to question my standards.
No one will know if you watch this, it seemed to say to me. When you’re done, you can just hit rewind. You don’t have to tell anyone. Besides, it’s just a little bad language. It’s not like you don’t hear worse language every day in the hallways of school. How bad could it be? No one will know.
The movie won. My heart started to pound as I opened the box. It’s just a movie, I reassured myself. Just as I reached to put the movie into the machine, I paused. What was I doing?
Then it hit me. Even if no one else in the world ever found out what I had done, I would know, and my Heavenly Father would know. I shut the box with a snap, amazed that I had come so close to doing something I knew in my heart was wrong. The movie lost.
Standing there with the box in my hands, I made a promise to myself to keep my mind clean of things that did not meet Heavenly Father’s standards. I promised to do what was right, even when no one was watching.

“My transition from Young Women to Relief Society was a wonderful experience because of service,” says Tagen Spencer of the Princeton Ward, Pocatello Idaho East Stake. “Even though I started my Relief Society experience in my home ward, where most of the women were elderly, they were all very welcoming to me. When I served with them on a humanitarian project, many of the widows in the ward were there. We were assigned to sort used clothing. One sister called and offered to pick me up. She even took me to lunch after the service project. Every time someone came across a used wedding dress, she would pull it out, give it to me, and start laughing. We had such a good time. It strengthened my testimony of service as well as helped me bond with the sisters.”

When my son, Monty, was young, he had a strong desire to become an Eagle Scout. In his early years of Scouting he worked very hard and it appeared that by the time he turned 16 he would have his Eagle. Well, once he began driving and became interested in sports and girls, his desire to become an Eagle Scout began to fade.

About a month before turning 18, when he would no longer be eligible to receive his Eagle, he had one more required merit badge to finish. I remember one evening he came to me and said, "Dad, I only have one more merit badge to finish my Eagle and only one month to do it in. How can I make me do it?" Monty did receive his Eagle Scout award after some hard work and disciplined effort. Over the years I have thought many times of that statement: "How can I make me do it"?