Gospel Story Finder

I was a student when I decided to get married. My wife loved me as I was and not because of what I had. Surely, I did not have anything materially—but I had faith in our Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ, and I worked hard every day to provide for myself and my family.

Over the years, Nathalie and I have worked together, and she has made me into the man that I am. We are truly the fruit of our faith and of our daily efforts.

As the two boys, nine and eleven years old, hurried toward their home, they were remembering every detail of the past week so they could tell their family.
The Christmas holiday that they had spent with one of their father’s friends in the country, was over. There had been snow and gifts and laughter and fun. But best of all, there had been plenty of food to eat, and the farmhouse was always warm.
Riding back from the country on the bus, the boys talked about how things at home used to be when Father was well and there had been plenty of food and their house had always been warm. Mother laughed often then as she cared for their lovely home.
Now they lived in an old house and there wasn’t even one rug on the cold floors. But riding toward home on the bus, the boys cautioned each other not to talk about the warm comfortable farmhouse they had just left, and especially not to mention the bright and beautiful carpet in the living room.
Once before, the previous summer, the boys had been invited to spend a few days in the country. When they returned, they told the, family about the fun they’d had. Mother s face had been sad and quiet when they talked about how the carpet in the living room had made the whole farmhouse beautiful and about how warm and soft it felt to their feet.
“Someday,” she said, “we’ll have a beautiful warm carpet, too. I promise you.
The boys were almost home, now. They were anxious to share their gifts, to tell about their holidays, and to be with their family again.
The elder of the two boys was first to reach their front door. He ran into the living room and then stopped suddenly, looking down in amazement. There on the floor was a beautiful turkey-red Oriental carpet!
Mother hurried to greet her boys whose eyes were wide and questioning as they looked first at her and then at the floor. Finally, she said, “It s probably silly, but this is my Christmas present to us. I painted it. It won’t keep your feet warm but it is pretty, don’t you think?”
The boys looked at her again, and there at the floor where she had painted a brilliant carpet design over the rough boards. Their eyes filled with tears. The rug was more beautiful than anything they had seen in the country, and suddenly their feet felt almost as warm as their hearts.

Anthony Antelope was so absentminded, he thought he was an anteater. That was because his last name began with ANT.
He became as angry as an alligator when he couldn’t catch any ants. He aimed at ants, but he wasn’t able to gather any amount of them. Although he was amazingly agile, as soon as he advanced against ants, he found those active insects absent.
Ambitious Anthony was not able to eat. His ant-catching acts always caused accidents. Afterwards, Anthony was usually ailing and always hungry!
In the afternoon Amy, the Angora cat, said, “Anthony, allow me to alert you that you are an authentic African antelope and absolutely no relation to any anteater.”
“I’ve always been an anteater,” replied Anthony. “I adore ants, but I can’t catch any. Aren’t you aware that I must appease my angry appetite with ants?”
“You should be ashamed, Anthony! You aren’t an anteater. I advise you that you are an admirable antelope,” answered Angora Amy. “My advice to you is to admit you aren’t an anteater. All the animals will stand aside to watch an active, alert antelope. No one stands aside for an antelope acting as an almost anteater.
“Instead of ants, which you admit you aren’t able to catch, try some grass. Other antlered antelopes eat huge amounts of grass and they are still alive,” added Amy.
Anthony accepted an ant-sized amount of grass from Amy. He apologized after eating it, and admitted that it tasted altogether different from how he thought grass would taste.
“It appears that my antelope appetite has been aroused for this food,” announced Anthony. “Thanks to you, Angora Amy, I am able to be an actual antelope and not an artificial anteater who found it awfully awkward obtaining ants.”
There are over 125 words beginning with A’s in this story. How many do you remember?

Twelve-year-old Monica Saili loves swimming. She is one of the top young swimmers in New Zealand. She may be part fish.
Well, the fish part probably isn’t true. But the only other explanation for why she’s so good is because she trains so hard.
She’s at the pool for two hours every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday she runs track or cross-country after school.
Her least favorite swimming drill is having to do the butterfly stroke with just one arm, keeping her chin up, and alternating arms every 100 meters. “Your shoulders really burn,” she says.
But she’s learned that when the going gets hard, giving up doesn’t make life easier. Doing the hard work is what makes her stronger.
All that hard work has helped. She started winning medals at age 10. At 11 she was in the country’s top 10 for her age group in the butterfly stroke. At 12 she was selected for a development swimming camp with the national team and was picked to swim in the Oceania Games in Samoa against swimmers from other countries.
She says, “My dad always said, ‘Success comes with hard work. It doesn’t just land in your lap.’”
Monica learned that is true for swimming, and she found out it’s also true in life when her father died unexpectedly a few months after her 11th birthday.
“I was very close to my dad,” Monica says. “He started me in swimming. He took me to all my practices and competitions. When he died, I felt like I had no one to talk to.”
Losing her father was hard. But Monica doesn’t give up during difficult practices, so when her dad died, she wasn’t going to give up on her faith in Heavenly Father either.
“My dad was my example,” she says. “He taught me how to live the gospel.”
Since his death Monica has started studying the scriptures before bed, “trying to make it a habit,” she says. She stands up for her beliefs at school. “I get a lot of questions about the Church,” she says. And she serves as the ward music director.
“I am blessed for being a member,” Monica says. “I am comforted when I get too stressed.”
Monica still misses her father. But with the support of her mother and family, she keeps going.
Her life is full of piano and violin lessons, student council meetings, swimming, Personal Progress, and leading the music during sacrament meeting.
She doesn’t know yet how far her swimming will take her or how long she’ll stick with it. But as far as the gospel is concerned, she is determined to stick with that to the end.
“Sometimes life is hard,” Monica says. “But doing hard things can make us stronger. You just have to keep swimming.”

I remember a story about when President David O. McKay, ninth president of the Church, was a young lad. He received a new pocketknife on his eighth birthday, and he got on his horse and rode out into the valley, made a fire, ate his lunch, then got ready to return home.
As he began riding home, he realized that he had forgotten his new pocketknife. He quickly turned around and raced back to the spot where he had eaten his lunch and searched in vain for his knife. His father had taught him to pray when confronted with a problem, so because of his faith in his father, David got on his knees and began to talk simply and earnestly to the Lord. In the midst of his prayer, he saw a vision—a picture as clear as any TV picture—of his knife under a clump of weeds. He got up on his feet, looked around, walked directly to the scene he had just witnessed in his mind, and found his knife exactly as it had been revealed to him!

Illustration by Patricia Geis
Ava squirmed in her seat. She bounced. She wiggled. She heard her Primary teacher talking. But Ava could not pay attention. All she could think about was the box under Sister Obi’s chair.
It was wrapped in shiny blue paper. It had a gold bow on top. What could it be? Ava leaned her head way down. She stared at the box. She wished she could see through the shiny paper. She could hardly wait to find out what was inside.
Finally Sister Obi pulled out the box. She set it on her lap. Ava leaned forward. But Sister Obi didn’t open it.
Sister Obi held out the box. “Inside this box is one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations. Look inside. Then pass it on without saying anything.” She passed the box to Noah.
Noah slowly lifted the lid. He stared inside the box. He smiled. Then he passed the box to June.
Ava stood on her tiptoes to try to see. But it wasn’t her turn yet. What could be so important to Heavenly Father? And how could something so special fit in such a little box?
She watched everyone take a turn. One by one, each of her friends opened the box. They looked inside. They smiled.
Finally it was Ava’s turn! She lifted the shiny lid and looked inside. It was a mirror! Ava looked at the mirror in the box. She saw her own face looking back.
Ava saw her eyes get big. Was she one of Heavenly Father’s greatest creations? Did Heavenly Father love her that much?
Ava smiled. She felt warm and happy inside. It was like a big hug. A big hug from Heavenly Father. He did love her! She was one of His greatest creations.

One evening several years ago, my wife and I were visiting the home of one of our sons and his wife and children for dinner. It was a typical event for a family with small children: there was much noise and even more fun. Shortly after dinner our four-year-old granddaughter, Anna, and I were still sitting at the table. Realizing that she had my full attention, she stood up straight on a bench and fixed her eyes on me. When she was sure that I was looking at her, she solemnly ordered me to “watch and learn.” She then danced and sang a song for me.
Anna’s instruction to “watch and learn” was wisdom from the mouth of a babe. We can learn so much by watching and then considering what we have seen and felt. In that spirit, let me share with you a few principles I have observed by watching and learning from wonderful, faithful marriages. These principles build strong, satisfying marriages that are compatible with heavenly principles. I invite you to watch and learn with me.

One of my friends, a successful merchant, shared with me the greatest secret of his personal success—and it’s not his selling ability. He discovered it one day when the phone rang while he was helping one customer with another waiting to be helped. The clerk said, “I think it’s your wife, Ralph.”
“Hello, Ralph,” said a voice on the other end. “How are you?”
“Fine, dear, but terribly busy. What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
There was a short pause. Then, unhappily Betty said, “I just wanted to hear a grown-up’s voice for a change. Sorry I bothered you when you were so busy.”
Ralph loved Betty, he said he loved her more than anything else in the world, but suddenly he realized that Betty was home with four children under the age of 5, chattering, playing, quarreling, but always needing her. She was busy too—and frustrated.
Wisely Ralph took time right then to apologize, and tell Betty how much he loved her, assure her she could call him anytime, and invite her to go out to dinner that evening with him.
Ralph’s discovery? “Since Betty is the most important person in the world to me, she also deserves first claim on my time. Since I’ve learned to give it to her, she’s happier. I’m happier, and both of us can do our jobs better.”

I want to share with you one precious experience that has touched my life and opened the eyes of my understanding. As a businessman I was responsible for the sales of a group of clients, and I was constantly challenged to maintain a good relationship for selling in spite of not participating in popular habits like drinking alcohol, smoking, or telling light-hearted jokes, things which the Spirit did not allow me to do. One day while I was working in my office in Dortmund, Germany, I received a telephone call from one of my clients. He was calling me from Paris, France. His company had an exhibition there, and he invited me to come and pay him a visit and talk about more business. I was immediately warned and alarmed by the Spirit that his real reason for inviting me to Paris, besides talking about business, was to find someone who would pay his pleasure bills in that expensive city. I was honored by the opportunity for more business, but scared by the expectation of the uneasy decisions that lay ahead of me. I knew that I had to go because this was my obligation as a salesman. I took the night train to Paris, traveling with a serious, constant prayer in my heart, a prayer that I would have the power to be successful without compromising my standards.
My friend picked me up in the early afternoon at the train station in Paris. I immediately discovered that he was not in the mood to talk about business, but that he wanted to show the city and its amusements to me, a total stranger unable to speak French. I intensified my prayer to my Father in Heaven, and he gave me a spirit of comfort, and even happiness and joy. I told my friend how happy I was to see him, and that I had to take the early night train back in order to meet some important responsibilities at home. He looked at me, smiling, and said, “No, no, you will stay with me until tomorrow. We have many important matters to discuss, and I will show you the city in privacy. No one will see you, and I will not tell anybody. Today we will enjoy life.”
I knew that his understanding of the enjoyment of life was totally different from mine, yet I also knew that his company’s business was vital for the survival of our company. So I prayed harder, pleading for help. Finally he invited me to a nice little restaurant, wanting to show me the places that only the knowing know. The Spirit said that there was nothing wrong with having dinner with him, so I agreed, and we started one of those long-lasting, expensive French meals. He ordered for both of us because he spoke fluent French, and he ordered two bottles of wine in spite of my strong protest that he not order wine for me.
The conversation was good; his bottle was emptied; mine remained untouched. Finally he became aware of this, took the bottle and filled my glass and his glass. He took his glass in his right hand, looked into my eyes, and Said, “My dear friend, you know how much I enjoy your company and the standards you keep, but now you will drink this one glass to my health. If you don’t, you will not receive one more piece of business from me.”
I felt my blood freeze inside of me. It came to my mind, “Brother Busche, now you have to make a decision!” All kinds of rationalizations came creeping into my heart. But before I could say anything, I was overtaken by a power that filled me with great joy and light. To my surprise, I found myself putting my right arm around him. The Spirit made me say something that I would never have been able to think of myself, something that changed the situation totally. I heard myself say, “Mr. So-and-so, you know that I know you better than that. I know that you would never make a logical business decision and have it based on such illogical conditions.” I gave him a big hug, and smiled in his eyes with a deep feeling of love and friendship. This shook him for a moment, and he was unable to speak. Then his eyes began to fill with tears. He hugged me back, and began to speak. They were words of apology. He wept and said, “I want you to forgive me. If you had drunk this glass of wine, I would have made a fool out of you tonight. I wanted to destroy you, but now you will be my friend forever. Don’t worry anymore. Right after this meal I will take you personally to the station so that you can get your train on time. You will also receive all the business from me that you want and are capable of handling.”
And so it went. When I was in the little sleeping compartment on the night train back home, I cried for joy and happiness and praised the Lord for his help at the right time and in the right way.

Because of his great love for science, Henry Eyring encouraged each of his sons to major in physics as preparation for a career in science. It was while Hal was studying physics at the University of Utah that a conversation with his father marked one of those defining influences in his life. He asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem. “My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” Elder Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’”
A little chagrined, Hal admitted he had not. “You don’t understand,” his father went on. “When you walk down the street, when you’re in the shower, when you don’t have to be thinking about anything else, isn’t this what you think about?”
“When I told him no,” Elder Eyring concludes, “my father paused. It was really a very tender and poignant moment, because I knew how much he loved me and how much he wanted me to be a scientist. Then he said, ‘Hal, I think you’d better get out of physics. You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.’”
The advice deeply impressed young Hal. He went on to finish his degree in physics, graduating not long after the end of the Korean War. During the war, the number of missionaries called from each ward had been greatly restricted. Further, by the time he graduated, Hal had already committed to a commission in the United States Air Force. So he entered the military without having served a full-time mission. But in a bishop’s blessing prior to his departure, Hal was promised that his military experience would be his mission.

May I share a letter from a grateful recipient of their loving service. He writes:
“The young women [of my ward] very literally saved my life. I was a young bishop, just 29, the father of four beautiful little girls, including a small baby, when Heavenly Father called my wife home to Him. As I met with each of our little girls and asked them what impact this change would mean to them, the concerns of six-year-old Emily, the oldest of the four, were many, including, ‘Who is going to comb and curl my hair for church and put ribbons and clips in it?’ That was a good question to me as well. Who? I was consumed with the idea that life would be as ‘normal’ as possible for all of us—which meant that I would have to learn a whole new way of life. I was their father, and I was going to be the only parent. I realized that I was not equipped with the motherly skills that I needed. I called upon the young women of the ward to train me to be able to satisfy at least the needs of hair care. They came to my home, numerous times, to begin my training. They even showed me how to care for my six-month-old Natalie as far as washing her hair without so much trauma. By the time I ‘graduated,’ I could whip up a mean (but simple) hairdo. Much more than the skill, those young women gave me confidence as a father of daughters—that I could love them, care for them, be there for them, no matter how the rest of my life continued.” Thank you, Brother Michael Marston, for your tender letter.

One such product of the early Brigham Young Academy was James E. Talmage. He was recognized quickly for his great intellect, spiritual strength, and outstanding character. As he concluded his studies at BYA, he became a member of the faculty and then left for a few years to obtain his graduate education at Lehigh University and Johns Hopkins University before returning to BYA and the Church Educational System. Of course his crowning appointment was to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and his many contributions are widely known and appreciated throughout the Church. Jesus the Christ and The Articles of Faithare two books that continue to be classics in Church literature and deserve our careful and regular study in our libraries of “best books” (D&C 88:118).

Two accounts of his character (perhaps showing that he also was a character) are found in The Talmage Story, the biography written by his son, John. These accounts have been favorites of mine for many years, and some of you are likely familiar with these experiences. I believe they deserve retelling because they not only reveal much about Brother Talmage but also give significant insights into important dimensions of character.

Let me go directly to the experiences as the younger Brother Talmage recorded them. Both occurred when James Talmage was a mature man. The first was shortly after he left the Church Educational System and became president of the University of Utah at the encouragement of the First Presidency. He had obtained a bicycle, which was then the newest fad in transportation during the 1890s. These are his son’s words:

James acquired one of the new machines, not as a hobby or physical conditioner but as a practical means of transportation. . . .

Some time after James had achieved reasonable proficiency in handling his machine on standard roads, he showed up at the front door one evening a full hour late for dinner and scarcely recognizable.

May [his wife] nearly went into shock, for her husband was a frightening sight. Battered, bruised, and bleeding profusely, clothes torn in a dozen places and covered with dust and mud, James looked as though he had been caught in a riot, or at least a fight of unusual violence. Neither, it developed, had been the case.

Half a block from the Talmage home a single-plank footbridge crossed the ditch of running water that separated the street from the footpath. Until now, James had dismounted when he reached this point in a homeward journey, and crossed the narrow bridge on foot. Today, he had decided that he had reached the point in his development as a cyclist where he should no longer resort to this prudent maneuver, but rather ride over the bridge in the manner of an accomplished veteran of the two-wheeler.

Having so decided, James approached the bridge resolutely, confident that he would negotiate the tricky passage in a manner to be proud of and to impress neighbors, if any should chance to be watching, with his skill and casual daring. He turned sharply from the road toward the bridge with scarcely any diminution of speed. The result was spectacular, and observers, if any there were, must indeed have been impressed, but in a very different way from that intended. The professor’s bicycle went onto the plank at an oblique angle and quickly slid off the side, throwing its rider heavily into the ditch bank.

Dazed, bruised, bleeding, and humiliated, Dr. Talmage was not convinced that the difficult maneuver was beyond his skill. Rather, he was stubbornly determined to prove that he could and would master the difficulty.

For the next hour, [James] might have been observed trundling his bicycle fifty yards or so down the road from the bridge, mounting and riding furiously toward the plank crossing, turning onto it with grim-lipped determination—and plunging off it in a spectacular and bone-shaking crash into the rough ditch bank. Uncounted times this startling performance was repeated, but in the end mind triumphed over matter, willpower over faltering reflexes, and the crossing was successfully made. Not just once, but enough times in succession to convince James that he was capable of performing the feat without mishap at any time he might desire to do so. From then on, he never again dismounted to cross the bridge, albeit he never made the crossing without experiencing deep-seated qualms which he kept carefully concealed from any who might be watching. [John R. Talmage,The Talmage Story: Life of James E. Talmage—Educator, Scientist, Apostle (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1972), 138–40]

This is an interesting insight into a man who believed something likely trivial to most people was not only worth doing but worth doing well. This same unfailing determination was demonstrated much later in a more widely recognized sense when Brother Talmage literally lived in the Salt Lake Temple as he wrote his famous and beloved book Jesus the Christ at the direction of the First Presidency. His absolute commitment to completing a task he determined to be important, whatever anyone else might think, served him very well throughout his life and, in turn, blessed and continues to bless countless others.

I remember once, while on a break from high school, a friend and I decided to go hiking through the slot canyons in southern Utah. We drove for several hours to our destination and then hiked to a nice campsite by the river and spent the night.
When we got up in the morning, all my excitement for our hiking trip was gone. Instead, I had a feeling that we ought to return home. For more than two hours this feeling kept bothering me; then suddenly, it went away. I felt so relieved because, frankly, I was afraid to share my feelings with my friend. We’d spent so many hours driving and hiking to our campsite and planned to spend several more days hiking and camping. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me if I said, “I think we ought to go home.”
After lunch, my friend left the campsite to be alone for a few minutes. When he returned, he said, “I think we’d better go home.”
“I do, too,” I said. We cut our trip short and went home.
Today I still think about that experience. I didn’t listen to the Spirit—or at least I didn’t act on the promptings I felt—and the Spirit left me. I am grateful that my friend had the courage to listen and follow.

The Winnipeg Manitoba Stake youth have got it together. At a recent stake dance, held in the institute building, there were 50 or more youth—and almost all of them were actually dancing. And guess what else? When a slow song started, the dance floor wasn’t empty! The music was fun and tasteful, the dancing was appropriate, and the decorations were simple but effective. Large paper flowers lined the walls, and beach balls provided constant entertainment as they were swatted around the room from dancer to dancer.
How, you ask, did this stake pull off its successful dance? Well, each month the youth of one of the wards in the stake is in charge. Stake leaders assign the wards at the beginning of the year so there will be lots of time to plan. The Waverley Ward was assigned to this stake dance. Its members started planning about a month in advance, and the first thing they did was decide on a theme—“Hawaiian School’s Out.” The young men were in charge of refreshments, and the young women did the decorating. Then they publicized.
“Do lots of poster advertisements and announcements. Plan ahead. Come up with interesting themes. Maybe a ‘dress as your parents night.’ Make sure you have a good deejay with lots of appropriate music and a large selection,” says David Moore, the teachers quorum president, who helped plan the dance along with the rest of the bishop’s youth council.
Also on the council was Stephen Wood, the stake’s deejay for the dance. The stake has mixers, speakers, and other audio equipment because it doesn’t want to hire disc jockeys anymore. It was too hard to regulate the music selected by hired deejays, and it was also becoming too expensive. So Stephen was put in charge of the music, a very important responsibility, because we all know—besides the fun people, of course—it’s the music that makes or breaks a dance.
Stephen, a priest, had some deejay experience from being in charge of the youth conference dance music. “I talk to people before the dance and see what they want,” he says. But he does have some ground rules. “No swearing or unacceptable lyrics. I haven’t really played anything too heavy. Too heavy or too fast a beat isn’t good.” He usually uses his own CDs, and others bring their CDs to the dance as well.
Not that there’s a problem with inappropriate music requests. Each of the youth is interviewed by his or her bishop or branch president or one of his counselors before they come to the dance. They receive dance cards outlining what standards are expected of them while at the dance, and they need to show those cards before they can get in.
The interviews aren’t stressful. For the most part, the bishop just explains the guidelines for casual versus semi-formal attire, asks you not to dance too close to your partner, and reminds you that drugs and alcohol of any kind won’t be tolerated—things you already know. The interview is just a reminder of the appropriate behavior that will help you have more fun at the dance.
Surrounded by paper flowers and beach balls, everyone line danced, swing danced, and did other dances you might never have seen before. If you had seen how much fun they were having, you would definitely have joined in. Stephen even jumped off the stage once, leaving the deejaying duties to his older brother Richard, while Stephen and a friend taught everyone how to line dance to the song that was playing.
They also played games. There was a hula contest, the limbo (how low can you go?), and a snowball dance. Each time Stephen yelled “snowball” everyone had to trade partners fast!
As fun as all this sounds, you don’t have to go to Manitoba to find a good stake dance. You can make your stake dances the best ever. All you really need to do is go with the attitude that you’re going to have fun and that you’re not going to be a wallflower. And when you’re planning, be sure you follow the guidelines the Church has given for stake dances. Then you’ll have it together too.

A few weeks ago I attended the baptism of a man I have known for many years. It was a joyful occasion. Surrounded by his wife of forty-seven years and his children and grandchildren and other loved ones, this good man entered the baptismal covenant. He became a member of the Church he has long sustained and supported.
From the time he brought his Mormon bride to make a home in his beloved Southland, he had respected her beliefs and her desire to teach them to their children. Because there wasn’t a branch of the Church in their small city, their home became the first meeting place for the few Church members his wife could locate and invite to worship with her. Their home was always open to the missionaries, where a good meal and a place to sleep could be counted on. (His wife recalls as many as fourteen missionaries sleeping wall-to-wall in their small home on one particular night.)
As his faithful wife and children labored with the missionaries to build up the Church and the membership outgrew the walls of their home, he gave financial support for the branch, the ward, and finally the stake center as they came to be built.
During these many years, the gospel has been a lifeline that has enabled this woman to maintain her hope and trust in the Lord. It has been the strength that has bound their family together.
However, the full blessings which the Lord has to offer were unattainable by this family until this husband and father became worthy and willing to enter the covenant of baptism and receive the priesthood of God. Now this family can look forward to the exalting temple ordinances and the lifeline to eternal life which they could not provide for themselves.

Usually at some point soon after baptism, new members will be asked to take on a greater role in serving in their ward or branch. The bishop or branch president will issue a calling. This can be a difficult time for some.
When I accepted the first calling I received—Relief Society secretary—I wondered, “How could I be given such an important responsibility?” President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, explained how: “There will be times when you will feel overwhelmed. One of the ways you will be attacked is with the feeling that you are inadequate. … But you have access to more than your natural capacities, and you do not work alone.”2
Sometime later, the Relief Society president commented that the suggestions I had made at a presidency meeting showed that I was inspired. Confused, I replied, “I am?” She kindly reassured me that I was responding to the Spirit. Recognizing the hand of God guiding the work we do is not easy at first, but as we keep the commandments and work diligently, we will recognize that He magnifies those whom He calls.

Recently, you may have read about Sister Ella Hoskins, who at 100 years old was called to help the young women in her ward with Personal Progress.20 About two years later, at 102, Sister Hoskins earned her Young Womanhood Recognition award. The young women, the ward and stake Young Women and Relief Society presidencies, and family members gathered together to celebrate her accomplishment. Boundaries of age, organization, and marital status faded away in faithful service. Young women expressed gratitude for Sister Hoskins, for her teaching, and for her righteous example. They want to be like her. Afterward, I asked Sister Hoskins, “How did you do it?”
She promptly responded, “I repent every day.”

To summarize the role of the appointed teacher in our Campus Education Week theme, I quote from cherished notes in my personal files from a talk given by Elder Spencer W. Kimball to missionaries that I heard as a young missionary fifty years ago:

Brother Lee is my senior, and I am Brother Mark E. Petersen’s senior. When we go to work together, he never says, “You do this, and you can’t do this.” Brother Lee always says, “Now, Brother Kimball, what do you think about this? Shall we proceed along this line; shall we go here; and what shall we do there?” Always. He never tells me what I must do. When Brother Petersen and I go, I try to do the same: “Brother Petersen, shall we move in this direction? What shall we do? How do you feel about this?” It works out perfectly, and everyone is happy. But there is the senior element. When one of us is senior, someone has to take the responsibility; someone has to lead out. And that is all that it is! Sometimes I use “stick men” to show what I mean. I’ve seen places in missions where the senior companion is the big “stick man” about six feet tall and the little junior companion is way down here. That is not how it should be. We should have two “stick men” the same size. The one has a little more training, and he has been out in the field a little longer, but that doesn’t give him any dictatorial rights. They are both the same size; the one leads out in suggesting. [Personal journal of Jay E. Jensen, from a talk given by Spencer W. Kimball, 2 January 1959]

The phrase “one leads out in suggesting” has become central to my life and ministry as a husband, father, grandfather, teacher, and Church leader.

Your Church leaders are ever ready to help you in your preparation, as are your parents. One young man’s parents encouraged him to choose carefully the music he listened to. He and his family listened to a talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer on choosing good music. He went to his room, sorted through his records, took a pile to the trash can and broke and discarded them. Following the principle of obedience helped prepare this young man to serve an honorable mission.

How well I remember the challenges confronting the youth in the ward over which I once presided as a bishop. One evening a lovely teenage girl came to my office with her boyfriend to talk things over with me. The two of them were very much in love, and temptation was beginning to get the best of them.

As we counseled together, each made a pledge to the other to resist temptation and keep uppermost in their minds the goal of a temple marriage. I suggested a course of action to follow and then felt impressed to say: “If you ever find yourselves in a position of compromise and need additional strength, you call me, regardless of the hour.”

One morning at 1:00 a.m., the telephone rang and a voice said: “Bishop, this is Susan. Remember how you asked me to call if I found myself being tempted? Well, Bishop, I’m in that situation.” I asked where she was, and she described a popular parking spot in the Salt Lake Valley. She and her fiancé had walked to a nearby phone booth to make the call. The setting wasn’t ideal for providing counsel, but the need was great, and the young couple was receptive.

I won’t mention how often Susan called. However, when the mailman delivered her wedding announcement to our home and Sister Monson read, “Mr. and Mrs. Jones request the pleasure of your company at the wedding reception of their daughter, Susan,” she sighed, “Thank heaven!” When I noticed the small print at the bottom, which read, “Married in the Salt Lake Temple,” I said silently, “Thank heaven for the strength of Latter-day Saint youth.”