Gospel Story Finder

I wish to begin this evening by reading a dream which President Joseph F. Smith had as a young man. As some of you know, President Joseph F. Smith was the sixth President of the Church. He served from 1901 to 1918, a period of 17 years.
He was the son of Hyrum Smith, who was the brother of the Prophet Joseph Smith. He was born at Far West, Missouri, on November 13, 1838. When the Saints were driven out of Missouri, he was brought to Illinois as an infant. His father was killed in Carthage Jail at the time the Prophet Joseph was murdered. As a boy not yet 6 years of age, he heard a knock on the window of his mother’s home in Nauvoo. It was a horseman to tell his mother that her husband had been killed at Carthage that afternoon. What a sobering and terrible experience that was for a little boy.
At the age of 9 this fatherless lad drove an ox team with his mother across the plains to this valley. At the age of 15, he was called on a mission to Hawaii. He made his way to San Francisco and there worked in a shingle mill to earn enough money to get to the islands.
Hawaii was not a tourist center then. It was peopled largely by the native Hawaiians. They were, for the most part, poor but generous with what they had. He learned to speak their language and to love them. He never lost his love for the Hawaiian people, nor did they for him. I give you this as background for the dream which he had when he was serving there as a very young man. I quote his words:
“I was very much oppressed, once, [when I was] on a mission. I was almost naked and entirely friendless, except the friendship of a poor, benighted … people. I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look a … man in the face.
“While in that condition I dreamed [one night] that I was on a journey, and I was impressed that I ought to hurry—hurry with all my might, for fear I might be too late. I rushed on my way as fast as I possibly could, and I was only conscious of having just a little bundle, a handkerchief with a small bundle wrapped in it. I did not realize just what it was, when I was hurrying as fast as I could; but finally I came to a wonderful mansion. … I thought I knew that was my destination. As I passed towards it, as fast as I could, I saw a notice, ‘Bath.’ I turned aside quickly and went into the bath and washed myself clean. I opened up this little bundle that I had, and there was a pair of white, clean garments, a thing I had not seen for a long time, because the people I was with did not think very much of making things exceedingly clean. But my garments were clean, and I put them on. Then I rushed to what appeared to be a great opening, or door. I knocked and the door opened, and the man who stood there was the Prophet Joseph Smith. He looked at me a little reprovingly, and the first words he said: ‘Joseph, you are late.’ Yet I took confidence and [replied]:
“‘Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!’
“He clasped my hand and drew me in, then closed the great door. I felt his hand just as tangible as I ever felt the hand of man. I knew him, and when I entered I saw my father, and Brigham [Young] and Heber [C. Kimball], and Willard [Richards], and other good men that I had known, standing in a row. I looked as if it were across this valley, and it seemed to be filled with a vast multitude of people, but on the stage were all the people that I had known. My mother was there, and she sat with a child in her lap; and I could name over as many as I remember of their names, who sat there, who seemed to be among the chosen, among the exalted. …
“[When I had this dream] I was alone on a mat, away up in the mountains of Hawaii—no one was with me. But in this vision I pressed my hand up against the Prophet, and I saw a smile cross his countenance. …
“When I awoke that morning I was a man, although only a boy. There was not anything in the world that I feared [after that]. I could meet any man or woman or child and look them in the face, feeling in my soul that I was a man every whit. That vision, that manifestation and witness that I enjoyed at that time has made me what I am, if I am anything that is good, or clean, or upright before the Lord, if there is anything good in me. That has helped me out in every trial and through every difficulty” (Gospel Doctrine, 5th ed. [1939], 542–43).
The core of that meaningful dream is found in the reproof given by Joseph Smith to young Joseph F. Said the Prophet, “Joseph, you are late.”
Replied Joseph F., “Yes, but I am clean—I am clean!”
The result of that dream was that a boy was changed into a man. His declaration “I am clean” gave him self-assurance and courage in facing anyone or any situation. He received the strength that comes from a clear conscience fortified by the approbation of the Prophet Joseph.
In conclusion I return to where I started with the dream of a poor boy who was sleeping alone on a mountain and saw a mansion toward which he hurried. Before entering, he stopped to cleanse himself and dress himself in clean garments. He was reproved for being late. He replied, “Yes, but I am clean!” The Prophet Joseph smiled, and Joseph F. Smith, that young missionary, eventually succeeded to the office of prophet and President himself. What a testimony. God bless us to walk with clean hands and pure hearts and be worthy of His smile of approbation, I humbly ask in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

As a teenager, I was used to attending various crusades as a Christian, and returning from one such crusade, I met my older brother with two young men. They were introduced as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and they wanted to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with us. I asked, “What do you have that I never heard before? Is it not about the preaching of Christ?”
With a smile, they responded, “We don’t know what you know about Jesus Christ and until you hear from us, you may not know what we have for you. We have six lessons to share with you.”
They proceeded to introduce the six discussions: “One, the plan of our Heavenly Father; two, the gospel of Jesus Christ; three, The Restoration—”
I interjected, “Please pause there.”
Something spiritual struck me about the topic of the Restoration. I asked if we could discuss the topic. They declined and told me that the lessons are sequential and I had to hear lessons one and two before we can get to the third. I obliged and an appointment was scheduled.
Finally, I was taught of the Apostasy, the First Vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Restoration of the priesthood, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, and the reorganization of the Christ’s Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
These messages enticed me to go to church and finally, I got baptized on 28 February 1987. I taught the same messages for twenty-six months in the Nigeria Aba Mission. I have since learned three important lessons about The Restoration.
Love of God
The Restoration of Jesus Christ’s Church embodies God’s love for His children. His infinite love is not limited to a particular dispensation regardless of the fallen state of His children. Amid the general Apostasy, the unconditional love of our Father in Heaven was demonstrated once again. In 1820, the heavens once again opened and a young boy, Joseph Smith’s, prayer was answered.
“When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name, and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him” (Joseph Smith History—1:17)!
This vision was the beginning of Jesus Christ’s restoring His Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith was used as an instrument by the Lord to restore the Church of Jesus Christ that He organized over two millennia ago.
Jesus Christ Built His Church
The Bible taught us that Jesus Christ organized His church.
“He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
“And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
“And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
“And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
“And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:15–19).
This is a clear indication that Jesus Christ organized His Church. By the revelation, Apostle Paul explained the structure of the Church.
“Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God;
“And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone;” (Ephesians 2:19–20).
Even though Jesus Christ Himself is the chief cornerstone, apostles and prophets were integral parts of the structures of the church to minister for the perfecting of the Saints and to avoid mingling the gospel of Christ with the doctrines of men.
“And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;
“For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ:” (Ephesians 4:11–12).
Jesus Christ told His disciples that they would be killed after His Ascension. (See John 16:1–4, Acts 12:1–3.) The martyrdom of the Apostles led to a dark age, the Apostasy that resulted in the priesthood being taken away. (See Amos 8:11–12, 2 Thessalonians 2:3.)
The Priesthood and Associated Keys.
Because Jesus Christ organized His church, He has to commission people to act on His behalf through the power of the priesthood. Jesus Christ called the Twelve Apostles, empowered them with the priesthood, and commissioned them to proclaim His gospel. (See John 15:16.) Almost two hundred years ago, the light of Christ overshadowed the dark age. Heavenly messengers, Peter, James, and John conferred the priesthood on the Prophet Joseph Smith, followed up with the various keys of the priesthood by Moses, Elias, and Elijah.
The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “The Melchizedek Priesthood . . . is the channel through which all knowledge, doctrine, the plan of salvation, and every important matter is revealed from heaven.”
On 6 April 1830, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was organized, and Jesus Christ restored His Church. President Russell M. Nelson made this spiritually insightful statement “consider how your life would be different if priesthood keys had not been restored to the earth. Without priesthood keys, you could not be endowed with the power of God. Without priesthood keys, the Church could serve only as a significant teaching and humanitarian organization but not much more. Without priesthood keys, none of us would have access to essential ordinances and covenants that bind us to our loved ones eternally and allow us eventually to live with God.
“Priesthood keys distinguish The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from any other organization on earth. Many other organizations can and do make your life better here in mortality. But no other organization can and will influence your life after death.”
I testify that Jesus Christ has restored His Church and that is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the restored gospel has been a blessing to my family.

I was taught by great elders. When I heard the message of the Restoration, I had an even greater confirmation that I should be baptized. But I wanted to know for myself the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. The elders marked Moroni 10:3–5 in my Book of Mormon and invited me to pray and ask God if it is true.

The next evening I remembered that I had not yet read the Book of Mormon. As I began to read, I felt a very strong spirit. I prayed, and before I was finished, I knew that the Book of Mormon is true. I am grateful to God for having answered my prayer. I was baptized in July 2006.

I don’t suppose many of those who were there would still recollect that event without being reminded of it. It might have slipped from my memory, too, if it hadn’t been for another incident a few years later, one that taught me something else about being out of step.
Kent and Colleen Ockey were definitely different from other families I had met while selling photography. Not only were they genuinely friendly to me, but they showed great love to each other as well. I remember how happy they seemed, how comfortable and at peace I felt in their home even though I couldn’t find an ashtray. These people seemed completely out of step with others I had encountered in my work.
On a side table in their living room, I noticed a large copy of the Book of Mormon. I had read a few chapters of it earlier in my life, and now it attracted my attention again. The Ockeys answered my questions freely, and invited me back. They introduced me to the missionaries. I began studying, praying, and searching. Twenty-three days later, I was baptized. I finally felt that I was in step, and I’ve tried to keep in step with the Lord and guidance from his appointed leaders ever since.

In 2013 we were living in Manhattan, New York, USA. We loved our ward. Because we were expecting our first child, we began looking for a larger apartment in the ward. We found one that seemed perfect, but it didn’t feel right.
That spring, Laura started to feel that maybe we should move to Brooklyn. Wil wasn’t so sure. We didn’t know anything about Brooklyn, and Wil wanted to be close to his investment-banking job so that, given his long work hours, he had a short commute. We decided to pray about it and listen for an answer during general conference.
As we watched the talks on a laptop computer in our studio apartment, Elder Stanley G. Ellis of the Seventy shared an experience he had as a member of a stake presidency. He said that families moving into his stake in Texas, USA, would often ask which ward was best. Only once in 16 years did a family ask which ward needed help.1
We were touched by his story. It answered our prayers. So, instead of staying in a ward we loved, that we felt comfortable in, and that had a great nursery and Primary, we took Elder Ellis’s advice to heart and prayed about where we should move.
At the time, we were serving as ordinance workers in the Manhattan New York Temple. One of the workers there knew New York City well. He suggested two wards where he thought we could help—both in Brooklyn.
The first ward was too far from Wil’s work. The second one was closer, and we felt we had found the right place when we visited the ward’s sacrament meeting. Many of the members were Haitian immigrants. Because Wil is from Gabon and speaks French, we thought the ward would be a great home for us.
A few weeks later we found an apartment and moved in. Wil was soon called to serve in various meaningful ways. Understanding the language took some time, but he felt blessed to quickly become proficient enough in Haitian Creole to help interpret for members during meetings and interviews. Laura was also blessed to serve in various capacities, and we became involved in missionary work.
We learned that when we serve the Lord and His children, He takes care of us. Our experiences in Brooklyn helped keep us grounded. They especially helped Wil care less about the fanfare of Wall Street and remember what matters most. In investment banking, almost everyone works on Sundays. Wil occasionally had to do catch-up work from home, but the Lord blessed us so that he never had to go into the office on Sundays.
When we moved to Brooklyn, we thought we were going to be one of only two families with young children in the ward. But the ward’s boundaries changed two weeks after we moved in, and several other young families also moved in.
Eventually, we intend to move to Gabon. We feel that our experiences in Brooklyn have helped prepare us to better serve the Church and people of Africa. We’re thankful we followed the prompting to move. The Lord blessed us—and continues to bless us—in ways we never could have imagined.

On July 22, 1839, in Commerce (now Nauvoo), Illinois, and in Montrose, Iowa, the Prophet went from house to house healing one after another of the sick and suffering Saints. Among those healed were Brigham Young and several of the Twelve. To one man who was at death’s door, the man of God said, “Brother Fordham, I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to arise from this bed and be made whole.” Wilford Woodruff, who was present, said, “His voice was like the voice of God, and not of man. It seemed as though the house shook to its foundations. Brother Fordham arose from his bed and was immediately made well.” (Essentials in Church History, p. 270.)

My first few months as a member of the Church were rough ones—especially for my friends. On one hand, I was excited about what I had found, especially the inner peace and the joy I felt in my close relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
On the other hand, in my excitement to share my new understanding of the restored gospel and its teachings, I started to regularly tell my non-LDS friends when they did something I thought was wrong.
Of course I was about as subtle as an elephant on a charge.
One evening in the early summer, I finally realized how judgmental and self-righteous I had become. About five months after my baptism, I went to an outdoor concert with a good friend. As we walked around the grounds trying to find a spot to eat our picnic before the concert began, I noticed many of the people around us had brought wine to drink with dinner. Not one to pass up an opportunity to show how much wisdom I had acquired by a member of the Church, I hissed to my friend “Look at all those people drinking wine—that’s disgusting!”
My kind and patient friend turned to me and said, “I’m sure that when Jewish people go into a restaurant, they don’t walk around and criticize everyone with ham on their plates.”
I finally had the good sense to be silent for a while and ponder what he said. I realized that in all the lessons I had been taught, there had been no mention of members going forth and judging their neighbors. As a matter of fact, the terms “example” and “loving our neighbors” had been used a lot.
Embarrassed, I thanked my friend for his wisdom and apologized for my lack of consideration.
I am happy to report that his message came through loud and clear. I stopped demanding changes from my friends and started demanding changes from myself. I still stand strong for the things I believe in, but I do it in a polite way—a way that, happily, has helped my friends feel comfortable in talking to me about the Church.

I clenched my fists, bit my lip, and kicked the ball that was rolling toward me. Then I frowned as I watched it soar out of bounds instead of going into the goal.
A girl named Nan had been standing by the fence watching our game. She ran to pick up the ball, tripping in her excitement. Everyone laughed. No one thanked her as she threw the ball back to us.
I felt guilty. I knew Nan wanted to play, but I didn’t want to be the one to invite her.
Nan was quiet, with messy brown hair, thick glasses, and a squeaky voice. She didn’t have one friend in our whole class. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her. I had just never talked to her.
That afternoon our teacher announced that she was going to move our desks around. She would make a new seating chart.
The room buzzed with excitement. My best friend, LeAnna, and I smiled at each other.
Just then Caroline leaned toward me. “I heard Nan tell Mrs. Martin she wants to sit by you. Gross!”
I sat in shock. “Why me?” I wondered. I had never been mean to Nan, but I had never been nice to her either.
“Tell the teacher you don’t want to sit by her,” Caroline whispered. “Otherwise no one will want to sit by you.”
I looked at Nan. Her head was lowered. She must have known what everyone in the room was thinking.
Mrs. Martin called me up to her desk. I knew Nan was a child of God and that Jesus said to love everyone. But if I became friends with Nan, everyone would think I was weird.
“Who do you want to sit by?” Mrs. Martin asked me.
“LeAnna,” I said. That was easy.
Mrs. Martin smiled. “Would you be willing to sit by Nan too?”
I looked down at the floor and whispered, “I’d rather not.”
Mrs. Martin looked surprised. “Are you sure, Angie?”
“Yes,” I muttered.
The next day our desks were rearranged. I sat by LeAnna. Nan was across the room. The two girls sitting by her pushed their desks away from hers so it looked like she was sitting alone. She looked like she was going to cry.
A few weeks later Nan changed schools. A girl in my ward went to that school, and I asked her if she had met a new girl named Nan.
“I think so. What does she look like?” she asked.
“Well, she’s really quiet. Her hair is messy, and she wears thick glasses. No one in my class liked her.”
“Really? It must not be the same girl,” she said. “The new girl I know is really fun. Everyone likes her. She’s a great football player.”
I thought about the day Nan had watched us playing football. She only needed a chance and a friend. And I could have given her both.
That day I made a promise to myself to always be nice to everyone and never let a girl like Nan slip by me without trying to be her friend.

Lynn dug frantically through her suitcase. “Mom, my teddy bear is missing!”
Mom came in and helped Lynn search through her belongings. “Where did you last see him?” she asked.
“I put Oatmeal in my suitcase before we left Aunt Kathy’s house, but he’s not here,” Lynn said.
“I’ll go call Aunt Kathy,” Mom said. She left the room and Lynn continued to search through her unpacked clothes.
A few minutes later, Mom came back. “Aunt Kathy hasn’t seen Oatmeal,” she said. “But she will keep looking.”
“I bet Kiera did something to Oatmeal,” Lynn muttered. “I bet she gave him to her dog to chew on.”
“Why would you say that about your cousin?” Mom asked.
“Kiera thinks I’m too old to have stuffed animals.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, but she’s only a few years older than I am and she doesn’t have any stuffed animals at all. She doesn’t even have any dolls. She must think they’re silly. Her room is decorated with Mormonad posters, and she has lots of CDs, jewelry, and clothes.”
When Lynn had seen how grown-up Kiera was, she wanted to be like her. She didn’t want Kiera to think she was a baby because she still had a teddy bear, so she kept Oatmeal in her suitcase most of the time.
But Oatmeal wasn’t in her suitcase now. Lynn felt tears sting her eyes. “Mom, will I have to get rid of my stuffed animals when I graduate from Primary?” she asked.
Mom put her arm around Lynn’s shoulder. “Of course not,” she said. “And don’t give up hope. Oatmeal just might be taking the long way home.”
The next day Lynn wrote a note to Kiera:
Dear Kiera,
Thanks for letting us stay with you. I had a good time.
Love,
Lynn
P.S. Did I leave my stuffed bear there? Let me know soon. Please.
Two weeks went by. Then a package came in the mail for Lynn. It was from Kiera. Lynn tore open the attached letter. It read:
Dear Lynn,
I found your bear under my bed! I think my dog took him out of your suitcase. There was a tear on Oatmeal’s arm, but I patched him up good as new. Before sending him home we wanted to make sure he had a good time. He was in a suitcase most of the time you were here and didn’t get to do anything. I think he really enjoyed himself, judging by the photos. Please come and see us again soon. We loved having you. And don’t forget to bring Oatmeal with you. He has a lot of friends here, just like you do.
Love,
Kiera
Lynn opened the package and pulled out Oatmeal. He had a neatly patched arm with a bandage, and he was wearing small sunglasses and a doll-sized Hawaiian shirt.
Lynn laughed. “Mom, look at this,” she said, pulling out a small photo album. “Look at all the pictures they took of Oatmeal. Here he is making sand castles with some kids on the beach. He’s even wearing little swimming trunks. Here he is in a white shirt and tie, eating with the missionaries. Here he is holding a leash and walking the dog. I guess they finally became friends. Looks like Oatmeal had as much fun as I did.” Lynn smiled and hugged her bear.
“Yes,” Mom said. “I’d say your cousin cares a lot for your bear.”
“It’s really me she likes,” Lynn said. “And she knows how much Oatmeal means to me, so she cared for him too.”

It could have been a disaster, but instead it turned out to be one of the best girls’ camps we had ever held in the Philadelphia Pennsylvania Stake.
The campsite we usually used had mistakenly been double-booked that year, so we were forced, at the last minute, to share Camp Mack with another large group.
The other group could not have been more different from us. It was a police academy camp for troubled youth, ages 11 to 15. The camp had been set up to teach them discipline and coping skills through rigorous activities led by police officers.
At first, neither group was too excited about sharing Camp Mack. So, with the help of our priesthood leaders, we worked out a schedule with the other camp to try to stay out of each other’s way.
The first day, we watched the police academy group drilling, marching, and doing calisthenics. We heard their noise and yelling all day long no matter where we were. They, in turn, kept a watchful eye on us as we did crafts and rotated to different classes.
That first evening our young women were ending the day’s activities by singing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301). The police academy youth were walking to their sleeping area. They stopped and listened to the music floating through Camp Mack. When the song was finished, the campers walked slowly and quietly to their lodge. What a difference from the yelling we had heard throughout the day.
The second day we tried to keep out of the way of the police academy activities. Both groups continued to watch each other. At the end of the day two, police officers approached some of the Young Women leaders. They wanted to know what we were doing with the girls at camp and why they were so well behaved and friendly. What were our camp goals and philosophies, and what did Latter-day Saints believe? We were thrilled to have them ask these questions and grateful for the opportunity to share the gospel.
The following day the Young Women leaders told the girls that they had been standing as witnesses without even knowing it. They had made a deep impression on the police officers running the other camp.
Immediately, our girls wanted to give them a Book of Mormon. We presented an officer with a copy of the Book of Mormon the following night. We assured him that if he would read it and pray for an answer of its truthfulness, it would change his life. The Spirit was so powerful during this conversation that the officer got tears in his eyes and said he had never felt the peace he was feeling then.
By the last day of camp, there was a feeling of friendship between both camps. Their cooks stood side by side with our cooks as they helped each other make breakfast for both groups. The Spirit of God filled Camp Mack that week. What could have been a disaster turned into a wonderful experience for all of us. We learned that when we stand as witnesses of God at all times, in all things, and in all places, the Lord can use us to help Him perform miracles every day.

I find in the life of my grandfather and grandmother Alexander DeWitt and Louise Vickery Christofferson an instance of such consecration. Grandpa was a strong man and was good at shearing sheep in the days before electric clippers. He got good enough, he said, that “in one day I sheared 287 sheep and could have sheared over 300, but we ran out of sheep.” During 1919 he sheared over 12,000 sheep, earning some $2,000. The money would have substantially expanded his farm and upgraded his home, but a call to serve in the Southern States Mission came from the Brethren, and with Louise’s full support, he accepted. He left his wife (then pregnant with their first son, my father) and their three daughters with the sheep-shearing money. Upon his joyous return two years later, he observed, “Our savings had lasted us throughout the two years, and we had $29 left.”

I spent my early childhood in Pocatello, Idaho. The most significant event at that time was World War II. My first memory in life is of being at the train station in Pocatello one night with my mother and three brothers, watching a troop train with my dad onboard pull out of the city. I felt a powerful sense of loss and sadness.
My dad was away serving in the navy for two years. During that period, my mother was raising four little boys at a time when shoes, tin, gasoline, and anything made of rubber were rationed. Even if you had money, you still needed coupons to buy anything. It was a tough time, yet I think as little boys we didn’t really notice any losses, except for our dad.

Dan is trying very hard to follow the example that Jesus Christ has set for us. Last year he was baptized because he knew that that was what Jesus wanted him to do. And he was baptized in the Jordan River, where Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist (see Mark 1:4–11).
DeAnna, Dan’s mom, said that he worked very hard to prepare himself for baptism by learning more about the gospel and by studying the scriptures every night. “He is a wonderful example to his younger brothers,” she said. “They want to be baptized, too, when they reach the age of accountability, eight years of age.”

This is a story about the importance of following the prophet. It took place on the Spear Ranch in the Gila Valley of Arizona. My good friend, Jim Bryce, was foreman of the ranch. Along with his father, Ross Bryce, who was a counselor in the Pima, Arizona, stake presidency, and four Mexican vaqueros (cowboys)—Pula, José, Chino, and Javier—we began the fall roundup.
Early in the morning before sunup, at the ranch headquarters we loaded the horses into trailers and hauled them out to Nuttall Canyon. After unloading and saddling the horses, we began riding up the canyon. We spotted the first cattle as the sun lit up the east side of Stowe Knoll.
Carefully, we made our way up the rugged slope above the cattle and moved them down toward the canyon floor, letting them make their way by themselves. We went higher up the canyon until we reached a fence at the edge of a forest. Spreading out, we searched the gullies, draws, and bottom brush and began to herd the cattle down and out of the canyon. Our goal was to drive them to a corral on the other side of Left Hand Canyon, where we would earmark, brand, and vaccinate the new calves.
My friend Jim took the lead and was riding on higher ground than the rest of us so he could watch the herd of about 120 cows and calves we had gathered. Two vaqueros rode on each side, keeping the herd together, and President Bryce and I were bringing up the rear, keeping any stragglers from drifting away from the herd.
As we approached Left Hand Canyon, Jim rode up onto a knoll where he could look over the area and see what lay ahead. Since this was the first time these vaqueros had been in this part of the ranch, they did not know where the trail crossed the canyon. Jim kept motioning to move the herd of cattle towards him. The vaqueros didn’t notice his motioning, so Jim began to wave his hat and yell to move the herd towards the knoll where he was. These gestures also went unnoticed or ignored by those of us with the herd.
We soon found ourselves in a thicket of mesquite and catclaw trees amid the boulders along the edge of the canyon. The cattle were spreading out in all directions; it was impossible to keep them together. We had to get off our horses, tie them up, and crawl on our hands and knees through the brush, trees, and rocks in order to get the cattle out. At the edge of the canyon was a cliff that dropped off 15 to 20 feet to boulders below.
After losing some of the cattle in the thick brush and getting the rest of the herd out of the thicket and back together, we again heard Jim calling from on top of the knoll. He motioned to us to drive the herd towards him where we would find the trail that went down the canyon and up the other side to the corral.
Once the herd got to the trail, they followed it easily as it wound down the side of the canyon, across the creek, and up the other side, right into the corral. How easy it was to follow the trail and cross the treacherous canyon to the safety of the corral. Had we paid attention to Jim, we would not have lost any cattle and would have saved a lot of time and avoided having to crawl through the mesquite thickets and around rocks and catclaw trees to get the cattle out. It would have been easier to follow his directions and stay on the trail.

For many years I practiced law with a fine Christian gentleman who was not of our faith. He was a man of humble origins whose family had not long been in the United States. By hard work and faith, he worked his way through school and became successful and wealthy. But he never lost his interest and compassion for the poor of all faiths. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, he would take his family, load up the car with turkeys and groceries of all kinds, and go to the poorer sections of the city, where he would personally deliver food to the poor.
He would enlist my help in contacting bishops who lived in the less-affluent areas to identify people of our own faith who might be in need. Year after year he did this without any thought of recognition. He literally fulfilled the Lord’s admonition in the Doctrine and Covenants to “remember in all things the poor and the needy, the sick and the afflicted,” for, as that verse continues, “he that doeth not these things, the same is not my disciple” (D&C 52:40).

Riches were not a part of my childhood. We were a family of five: my father and four siblings. My mother had passed away when I was five years old. My father’s meager income was used to buy our food; the purchase of clothing was put off as long as possible.
One day, somewhat bothered, I came up to my father and said, “Daddy, why don’t you buy me some shoes? Look at these; they’re worn out, and you can see my big toe through the hole in the shoe.”
“We’ll fix that up,” he replied and, with some black polish, gave a shine to my shoes. Later on he told me, “Son, it’s fixed up.”
“No,” I answered, “you can still see my big toe.”
“That can also be fixed,” he told me. He again took the polish and put some on my toe, and before long it shined like my shoes. So it was early on in life I learned that happiness does not depend on money.

Suva 1st Ward, Suva Fiji Stake
In September last year, I travelled abroad on a work-related mission and decided I’d take a couple of weeks off work while I could. Each week while I was away, I kept telling myself I’d pay my tithing when I got back. When I finally returned home several weeks later, I realized it had been three months since I last paid my tithing. My first Sunday back at church I paid my tithing only for the first month I was away and then I struggled in my mind. The festive season was upon us. Did I really need to pay?
To put my mind at ease I messaged my bishop and shared my dilemma hoping he would sympathize with me and tell me what I wanted to hear. He asked, “Do you want to go to the temple or not?” For as long as I can remember, this commandment was a prerequisite.
I knew in my heart that my faith was being tested and I was denying myself of the blessings that the Lord promised those who faithfully paid their tithes: “I will … open you the windows of heaven and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”
In his talk, “Tithing: Opening the Windows of Heaven”, Elder Neil L. Andersen shared:
“The windows of heaven open in many ways. Some are temporal, but many are spiritual. Some are subtle and easy to overlook. Trust in the Lord’s timing; the blessings always come.”
As a widow, a mother to a beautiful young woman, a single parent, and the first counsellor in our ward Relief Society, I rely profoundly on these promised blessings.
The joy I felt, the peace that overwhelmed me would not have been possible if I had not been honest and faithful in doing what’s right. I know with surety that these promises are certain and despite all the challenges I have endured, my life has been blessed over and over again.

One of Sister Redd’s “jewel” times was at the birth of her first child, a son. But within three months the trials and tests of this life soon closed in. Both mother and child were afflicted with polio. Anxieties were high and prayers were intense. Brother Philip Redd, her husband and now area director of seminaries and institutes in Southeast Asia, was preparing within the month to begin his career as a full-time seminary teacher. “We felt we had really tried to do what was right and that we were doing what the Lord wanted us to be doing. We had faith that the Lord would bless us even in our afflictions.”
Our Father in Heaven has told us that his people must be tried and tested, even as Abraham who was commanded to offer up his only son (see Gen. 22:1–4; D&C 101:4). And so it was that this faithful couple was tested. Their prayers were answered, but only partially. Sister Redd was healed and left without any ill effects from the dread disease, but her precious child, her only son, was stricken with crippling paralysis in his leg, his arms, and his back. The brightness of a happy time had quickly faded. The scratches and bites of life became a painful reality. Brother and Sister Redd were forced to give up their child to the professional care of the children’s hospital over a 160 kilometers away where he could receive special attention. Even after a year he was still very weak and progress remained slow.
Three long anxious years, and the concern for her child only increased. The divine nature of a true and righteous mother, with all of the pure emotions inherent in the sacred role of motherhood, swelled within her aching heart. “I just wanted so desperately for him to be well,” she whispered. “It was so hard not to be able to tuck my little boy in at night. His life was vital to us.”
One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”
Even though her baby remained in the hospital, there were still some happy, “jewel” times. Another little boy was born and then a little girl. In time the afflicted child became stronger and stronger, and he learned to walk with braces. Eventually he was able to leave the hospital for a time, allowing this little family to be together at home for Christmas.
While there were ample reasons for quiet rejoicing, the scratching, biting times were painfully evident. Gradually over the following months Sister Redd became anxiously aware that she was losing the feeling in her hands and her feet. While diapering her baby, she would often stick the safety pin into her thumb unknowingly. When she noticed the blood, her growing concern increased. She sensed a frightening paralysis creeping over her entire body. It was very difficult for her to handle her little new baby and the responsibilities of her young family. As the months and years continued, there were both struggles and blessings along the way. Braces were laid aside and her little son managed to make his way to school. These blessings were acknowledged with humble gratitude, deeply expressed. But suffering severe headaches and with no feeling in her hands or feet, the young mother of three cried out for help. The support of family and friends seemed not enough. “People were good, so very, very good,” she gratefully recalled. “But being restricted physically, not being able to take care of those you love, is so very difficult.”
At this time a team of specialists determined that it was probably multiple sclerosis that had afflicted her body, leaving her so painfully handicapped. The thoughts of her future gave cause for great anxiety. “That was years ago,” she said. Sister Redd, now a beautiful, healthy, and active woman, vibrant in countenance and testimony, radiates a spirit that has been purified through struggle.
She spoke of the day she and her devoted husband, seeking first the will of the Lord in all things, sought counsel from a friend who had been the supervisor of seminaries and was now a General Authority. “He told us that he didn’t think the Lord meant for me to give my life. He gave me a blessing, explaining that the Lord had accepted my offering in behalf of my child. He promised me that I would live. But it is not we who regulate the magnitude of our tests or determine the time of relief,” she explained. “We do not receive a witness until after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6), and our Father in Heaven will make that determination.”
The very hour one might expect relief may be the moment in which the Lord will take count of our endurance and our faithfulness. Following the blessing, Sister Redd’s condition worsened, and on the 25th of October she was confined to bed. She had to be fed, and “I couldn’t even brush my teeth,” she explained. “My good husband and I talked about the purpose of life and death, and we prayed that we could accept whatever the Lord had for us. At that time we felt that everything would be all right.” Drawing strength from each other, these young parents were tested and were found “willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [them], even as a child doth submit to his father.” (Mosiah 3:19).
On the 20th of December Nedra Redd was flown to the hospital in Edmonton, Alberta. There she received further tests. After two long, anxious days, the doctors confirmed the probability that it was not multiple sclerosis that had afflicted her entire body, but rather a very deep and serious brain tumor at the base of her skull. It appeared to be inoperable. In her weakened condition, the possibility of surgery was considered a high and frightening risk. But the doctors explained that she would have only two weeks to live if they didn’t remove the growth. It was seriously impairing her breathing and would soon cut off her rapidly diminishing flow of air. The situation seemed desperate. One doctor offered counsel, suggesting that if they wanted to risk surgery, they would surely want to wait until after Christmas. But Sister Redd reached into her reservoir of strength, filled in large measure by the blessing she had received from their friend the General Authority. Courageously this young couple made their decision. “Surgery was scheduled for Christmas Eve,” she said. “We felt our Father in Heaven was beginning to answer our prayers,” she whispered. “On Sunday night my cousin, who was the stake president, came to give me a blessing. He told me later that when he gave me that blessing, he literally felt the strength flow from him.” The power of the priesthood was again activated in her behalf.
Anxious family and friends waited through the nightlong vigil following the surgery. Dawn broke forth; it was Christmas morning. The tumor had been removed. All was quiet as the moments ticked on in that hospital room. Her future hung in the balance. “I had a very special thinking time as I regained consciousness,” Sister Redd explained. It was in the twilight time between life and death that the gifts of life came back to this faithful woman on that Christmas morning. They returned one by one with enough space between each to allow time for cherishing and savoring. Such gifts, such jewels, such priceless jewels!
“I’m all right! I didn’t die in surgery! I’m alive!” was her first realization. “But everything was black, and I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to speak, and I couldn’t speak. I thought, ‘I’m blind. I can’t hear. I can’t speak. But I am alive.’ I can remember such a surge of gratitude that I was alive, and then I sank into unconsciousness again. When I realized later that I was conscious again and that there was a sort of grayness around me, I thought, ‘I am not totally blind. I can see some light.’ I can remember praying and telling my Father, ‘Thank you. I’m alive and I’m not totally blind.’ I couldn’t have lived in darkness. So I gave thanks again. Then I realized I could see Phil’s face. My husband was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear him. But,” she said with intensity, “I could see him. I was grateful that I could see his face.
“Soon I realized I could hear him speaking to me, so I prayed again and gave thanks that I could see and hear. I thought, ‘I can’t speak, but it’s enough. I can see and I can hear.’”
Sister Redd, reflecting on her deep gratitude for those precious gifts on that Christmas morning, shared the ecstasy of her final treasure. “The doctor was there. I had been trying to speak. I heard him ask my husband, ‘Can she speak?’ He shook his head just slightly. ‘I was afraid of that,’ the doctor said. ‘We had to destroy quite a bit of her vocal chords to get the tumor. I was afraid she would not be able to speak.’”
With a happy tone in her clear, full voice, Sister Redd recalled her thoughts at that moment: “‘Oh, so that’s it.’ I thought. ‘I can’t talk. But I can hear and I can see.’ I had such a deep feeling of joy and gratitude. Then the doctor put his finger on the hole in my throat where the tracheotomy was and said, ‘Now try.’ I could make sounds! I knew I was not mute. It was such a good feeling. We knew the Lord had blessed us.
“It was Christmas morning. Phil had spent the night with me when I needed him so much. With my whole soul filled with gratitude and thanksgiving, I asked him to go home and be with the children. It was a wonderful Christmas.”
From the deep reservoir of faith and courage, carved out by times of trial and suffering, Brother and Sister Redd rejoice. “It is such a comforting feeling to know that there is nothing the Lord can’t do or won’t do for you if it is for your good.” They have made this discovery: “The Lord is in the everyday things, not just the eternal, glorious things. It’s like the comparison between the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ and quiet background music. He is in both, and knowing that provides a continuous awareness of happily-ever-after times in all of life.”

In addition to all his many other virtues, President Kimball has a wonderful sense of humor. While traveling in Europe a couple of years ago, it became necessary to stay over for a full week before going to Poland to finalize arrangements for official recognition of the Church in that land. I thought perhaps we could use the time to climb the Matterhorn, visit the fjords of Norway, or explore beautiful England by taking a boat trip on the Thames River, but instead, President Kimball said he wanted to visit the missions in Italy, Austria, and Germany. He left it up to one of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve and myself to arrange the itinerary. We arranged special meetings each night in a different city or country.
As soon as we arrived in the first mission, President Kimball asked when the missionary meeting was to be held. I told him that we hadn’t planned any missionary meetings because all of the missionaries would be attending the general meeting that night. He said he still wanted a special missionary meeting. I told him the reason we didn’t plan a separate meeting with the missionaries was because of the time and energy required. He replied, “I know what you are trying to do. You are trying to save me, but I don’t want to be saved. I just want to be exalted!” I then went to the phone and arranged meetings all over Europe for the balance of our trip.

From one of our associates who is deeply involved in helping people we learn of what happens when the Church steps in to help.
About twelve years ago Roger walked through the side door at Welfare Square. It took him at least fifteen minutes to tell the supervisors who he was and where he came from. Although he was a young man of eighteen years, he had great difficulty expressing himself. Part of his young life had been spent in an institution in a neighboring state. Now at the age of eighteen he was on his own.
This young man lived for some time alone in the mountains. Finally, he got a ride into Salt Lake City. He could neither read nor write, and speech was nearly impossible.
The brethren at Welfare Square found Roger a place to stay. Soon he had a bishop, and he gradually became active in the Church. Fellow workers at Welfare Square helped him to learn to speak so that he could communicate. He still has great difficulty, but his friends and associates can, with a little patience, converse with him reasonably well. He worked in several different jobs at the storehouse, and today he is an active elder in the Church. Roger now has a job in a large commercial enterprise and at the present time is totally self-sufficient.