Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago I attended one of our worship services in Toronto, Canada. A 14-year-old girl was the speaker. She said that she had been discussing religion with one of her friends at school. Her friend said to her, “What religion do you belong to?”
She replied, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormons.”
Her friend replied, “I know that church, and I know it’s not true.”
“How do you know?” came the reply.
“Because,” said her friend, “I have researched it.”
“Have you read the Book of Mormon?”
“No,” came the answer. “I haven’t.”
Then this sweet young girl responded, “Then you haven’t researched my church, because I have read every page of the Book of Mormon and I know it’s true.”

One day, I was playing a good, fun game on the Internet. Then I noticed that the website I was on was advertising games with blood and gore. I had an uncomfortable feeling, so I exited the website. Later I found the same game on a different website that did not advertise bad games. I felt way better after I turned off the website advertising bad games. I am glad I have the gift of the Holy Ghost so I can be protected and comforted. I am glad the Holy Ghost helps me make good choices.
Renton O., age 10, Utah

As a newly married student at BYU I was called to serve in a BYU ward bishopric. I tried to serve the bishop as best I could, but my wife and I loved to travel to visit with our families on the weekends as much as possible. This meant getting excused from my church responsibilities.

After a few months serving this way, I noticed that while the bishop did politely excuse me, he was disappointed that I would be away again. I asked him if it was all right that we visit our families so often. His reply surprised me: “I would like to visit my family as well, but my calling is to serve here.”

I got the message. I was serving when it didn’t interfere with my plans—when it was convenient. I learned from this good bishop what it really meant to actually serve the Lord. I thought I knew how to serve before this experience, but I was wrong. Visiting my family was certainly important, but I learned I could do both. With some planning I found time to visit my family after I had completed my calling. There will always be some things you have to give up to do justice to a calling, whether it’s in the bishopric or as a home teacher. I’ve decided that we probably have enough time to do all that the Lord expects us to do—including visiting our families—but we probably don’t have enough time to do all the things we would like to do.

Angie shook the tin box, and the loose change rattled against the metal sides. Opening the lid, she let the coins fall onto the carpeted floor where she was sitting. “Seventy-three cents,” she muttered, remembering the lace-trimmed valentine in the store that cost a dollar. Frustrated, Angie kicked the box and it went flying across the room.
The front door opened, and Angie looked up.
“Hi,” said her brother David. “You beat me home from school today. Is Mom home from work yet?”
“No,” said Angie, as she stooped to pick up her money.
“What’s all this doing on the floor?” David asked.
Angie looked up, trying to force her tears back. “Oh, David, I saw this beautiful valentine yesterday, and I really wanted to buy it for Mom. But I only have seventy-three cents, and it costs a dollar.”
David bent down to help pick up the scattered coins. “I wish I could help you, Angie. But I only have about six cents to my name.”
“I just can’t ask Mom for money to buy a card for her,” sighed Angie.
“Why don’t you make her one?” asked David. “You know how much she likes things that we make for her.”
“I do that all the time,” wailed Angie. “But I wanted to get her a really fancy valentine.”
David dropped the rest of the change into the box. “Well, go back to the store and find a smaller card that won’t cost as much as the big one you liked.”
“OK, but I hope I can find one I like,” Angie said, taking the box from David.
It was almost closing time when Angie arrived at the store, and no one else was in the card department. Angie looked again at the large card that she had wanted to buy. Flowers decorated the edges, and rows of paper lace peeked from behind the red heart. Angie sighed, then turned to look through the smaller valentines.
She opened and closed several cards, but none appealed to her like the big valentine on which she had set her heart. Angie read the verses on some of the cards, then turned around to leave.
On a rack by the card department were rows of colored paper and paper doilies. Angie stopped. Just maybe, she thought, looking back at the large valentine in the card section, maybe I can make Mom a big card! Angie picked out a large piece of red construction paper and some paper doilies. Next she went to the candy counter and searched the showcase until she found the red and white striped peppermints that were her mother’s favorite candy. Smiling, Angie opened her box and counted out the money. She had more than enough for four paper-wrapped candies.
David was waiting by the door when she returned home. “I was just getting ready to come looking for you. What took so long? Did you find a smaller card?”
Angie smiled. “I’m going to give Mom a giant valentine. And I still have some money left.” She rattled the little box and walked into the living room with a large brown paper sack.
“Let me see what you have,” said David.
“Not yet. It’s a secret,” said Angie, and she went into her bedroom with the package.
After dinner Angie gathered up some old magazines and scissors and went back into her room. She came out once for glue.
“Do you want some help?” asked David. “I’m finished with my homework.”
“No,” said Angie, “but thanks anyway. I don’t want to ruin your surprise.”
“Mine?” asked David.
Angie carefully shut her bedroom door. She smiled, thinking about David’s surprised expression. Again, she began to look through the old magazines.
Two stacks of words surrounded Angie. One set described her mother; the other described David. Carefully Angie glued the paper lace around a red heart, then she began to position the words in place.
As she glued the picture of a football on David’s valentine, she thought, They’ll know right away which valentine is theirs. Then, pulling off some tape, she attached the peppermint candies to the one for her mother. She had just finished when Mom knocked on her bedroom door. Angie quickly pushed the valentines under her bed.
“Time to get ready for bed,” said Mom, coming into the room. “You must be tired. You haven’t been out of your room all evening. Is everything OK?”
Angie smiled. “Everything is super, Mom. I can hardly wait for tomorrow.”
“Neither can I,” replied her mother with a wink as she noticed a large, lacy valentine with the word Mom on the bottom poking out from under Angie’s bed.

After this experience, the Veranos attended Church meetings for a time, but quit after a few weeks. During this period there were several “coincidences” that helped to keep the Church in their thoughts. Sig’s mother-in-law, visiting from Colombia, spoke favorably of the clean-cut young American missionaries whose meetinghouse was near her home. An old friend from Colombia, now a sailor in the merchant marine, came for a visit. At dinnertime, he asked if he could say a blessing on the food—and Sig Verano recognized from his prayer that he was a Latter-day Saint. The friend, a convert who studied the scriptures ardently during his long voyages, bore his testimony to the Veranos, not knowing they had been investigating the Church.
Earlier, Sig Verano had told one pair of missionaries that they could come to visit as friends, but not as teachers. Before one of them went home at the end of his mission, he and his companion stopped by to visit and to invite the Veranos to meet his parents at a small farewell gathering hosted by friends. The Veranos were so impressed with the loving Latter-day Saints they met that they began taking the missionary lessons again.
But Ana Verano, faithful to the traditions of her forefathers’ church, became stubborn when she realized her husband was serious about joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She felt she didn’t need to be baptized again. So they reached an agreement: since the children liked the Church, he would take them there after his baptism. She would continue to go to her church.
But repeatedly during the week preceding Sig’s baptism, Ana dreamed of the Savior’s baptism by John in the River Jordan. She concluded that it was an indication, meant just for her, of the right thing to do.
Sigifredo and Ana were baptized in January of 1974. Their son Edison was baptized later that year, after his eighth birthday.
The Veranos’ struggles with faithfulness were not yet over, however, and neither was the loving work of others in fellowshipping them.
A fine home teacher, George Baker, helped keep them active in the Church, Brother Verano recalls. Unused to attending church meetings three times a day, beginning with priesthood at seven A.M., Brother Verano was ready to quit. The early meetings were difficult because he was working from midnight to six A.M. But Brother Baker, who could not go himself, arranged for someone to drive the Veranos to ward meetings, and kept them coming.
The Veranos’ spirituality grew as they faithfully attended meetings and obeyed gospel principles.
He was called as president of his stake’s Spanish-speaking branch, created in 1978, and was made bishop when, after five years, it became a ward.
The creation of that branch was a blessing also for Ana Verano. What little English she knew had made it difficult for her to participate in an English-speaking ward. In the Spanish-speaking branch, she could hold callings and grow in service as her husband had.
“My real testimony has come through working in the Church,” Brother Verano says. “Constant service is one of the things that strengthens one’s testimony.”
The first Spanish-speaking ward in their stake was divided shortly after its creation, and Sig was called to the high council. He now serves as stake executive secretary for the three Spanish-speaking wards in the Los Angeles California North Hollywood Stake. Ana serves in the stake’s English-language name extraction program.
Among the vocational courses Sig Verano completed in his wide-ranging studies was one in real estate sales. It led to a profitable new career—and to further strengthening of his testimony.
His sales career didn’t begin well. He was fired after only one week when the owner of the real estate agency learned the new salesman’s religion following Brother Verano’s refusal to work on Sunday.
“The gospel is so important in our lives that Sunday is empty if we can’t go to Church meetings,” he explains. But the owner of the real estate company said that the Mormons put too much time into Church service to be successful. Go work for a small agency where the owner will not care so much about sales success, he told Sig Verano.
Brother Verano took the dismissal as a challenge. He found a job with a larger agency, and, working only part-time in 1979, was its top salesman. He has consistently refused to work on Sundays; as branch president and bishop, he also devoted part of his Saturdays to Church service. Yet for several years he has been among the company’s top five salespeople.
In Church service, Brother Verano says humbly, he has gained knowledge that the Lord lives, that through him we can be redeemed, and that he has placed prophets on earth to help guide us. Those who only tentatively believe that the gospel is true can come to know of its truth with certainty as he has—by testing it in obedience and in service to others.
“When I was baptized into the Church,” he reflects, “I believed. But now I know.”

Now, you young men, let’s carefully consider some examples from the lives of our prophets as they have spiritually prepared for the priesthood. President Joseph Fielding Smith shares with us his feelings in these words: “‘When I was a small boy, too young to hold the Aaronic Priesthood, my father placed a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hands with the request that I read it. I received this Nephite record with thanksgiving and applied myself to the task which had been assigned to me. There are certain passages that have been stamped upon my mind and I have never forgotten them.’ By the time he was ten years old he had read the Book of Mormon through not just once but twice. His brothers remembered of his hurrying to get through his chores as quickly as possible, and sometimes even leaving a ball game early, and secluding himself in the hayloft or in the shade of a tree to get back to his reading of the book.” (Joseph Fielding Smith, Jr., and John J. Stewart, The Life of Joseph Fielding Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1972, p. 57.)

I’m serving as a missionary, and I love teaching people about Jesus Christ and helping them learn how to follow Him more closely. But sometimes it’s the teacher who learns the most.
One evening, while at a member’s home for dinner, I was asked to pray. As I was doing so, I realized it was starting to sound a lot like the last prayer I’d said at a member’s home. A thought came into my mind, “Whom are you praying to? Them or God?” It shocked me enough that I paused for a moment. I realized that I was praying “to be heard of men” (Alma 38:13) and not out of a sincere desire to communicate with my Father in Heaven. I was doing it out of duty instead of out of love for God.
As I finished my prayer, I silently thanked God for revealing my faults to me. I promised Him that I would pray to be heard of Him and not just to say nice words. As I’ve since kept that promise, I’ve drawn so much closer to Him and have been better able to recognize His loving hand in my life.

You and your mom are on a scavenger hunt as part of a Primary quarterly activity to help you appreciate all the natural goodness Heavenly Father has given us. You have a list of things to check off when you find them. In addition, letters of the alphabet have been hidden in some of the places.
You are the first team. Go to Start. Follow the directions along the way, and you will find the letters. As you find each one, write it in order on the blanks at the bottom of your list. The letters will spell a word that tells what you’ll be enjoying after the hunt.
No letter here, but fill your canteen at the water fountain, check off “Water” on your list, and go to the big oak tree.
Write down the letter in the hole, check off “Oak Tree,” and hurry over to the pond.
That isn’t a letter—it’s a frog on a lily pad. Check off “Lily Pads” and look for the large boulder.
That isn’t a letter, either—it’s a snake. Rest here a bit while you check off “Boulder,” then find a pile of leaves.
Jump in, then write the letter on the brown leaf, check off “Leaves,” and head for another big pile—acorns this time.
No letter here. The squirrel wishes you’d go away so he can finish storing these nuts, so check off “Acorns” and head for the hollow log.
Another letter for your checklist. While you write it and check off “Hollow Log,” your cap blows off. Luckily, you see it at the apple tree, where you should go next.
On a low branch, there’s an abandoned nest with a green apple in it but no letter. Check off “Nest” and try the next place, over by those moss-covered stones.
Aha! Another letter! Write it and check off “Mossy Stones.” Do you see the wild strawberries? The last letter may be there. …
Nope—no letter, but the berries taste wonderful. You eat just a few so that the others can have some too. Now check off “Strawberries,” then look under the big pine tree.
Hurray—the last letter! Write it down, don’t forget to check off “Pine Tree,” then hurry over to join the leaders and wait for the other children.
Scavenger Hunt List
Water
Oak Tree
Lily Pads
Boulder
Leaves
Acorns
Hollow Log
Nest
Mossy Stones
Strawberries
Pine Trees
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Answer:

I mentioned the young man in another setting. Later I received an unsigned letter that began, “Elder Gong, my wife and I have raised nine kids … and served two missions.” But “I always felt I would not be allowed in the celestial kingdom … because my sins as a youth were so bad!”
The letter continued, “Elder Gong, when you told about the young man gaining hope of forgiveness, I was filled with joy, beginning to realize that maybe I [could be forgiven].” The letter concludes, “I even like myself now!”

One hundred and two years ago the student graduation speaker, Alfred Kelly, mounted the podium as I do now and forever changed the course of BYU.
BYU was in financial difficulties, and plans were in place to sell some of the school property. However, Kelly had a vision. In his vision he literally saw the present-day BYU that we now know.
As past BYU president Jeffrey R. Holland has told the story, while Alfred Kelly stood on Temple Hill,
everything he saw took on the appearance of people, young people about his age moving toward Temple Hill. He saw hundreds of them, thousands of young people coming into view. He knew they were students, he said, because they carried books in their arms as they came. . . .
The students then entered these temples of learning with their books in hand. As they came out of them, Kelly said their countenances bore smiles of hope and of faith. He observed that they seemed cheerful and very confident. Their walk was light but firm.
Alfred Kelly’s vision changed the course of BYU with “all believing in the dream of a Provo schoolboy, all believing the destiny of a great university which that day had scarcely begun” (Jeffrey R. Holland, “Who We Are and What God Expects Us to Do,” BYU devotional address, 15 September 1987; emphasis in original; see B. F. Larsen, “Fifty Years Ago,” speech given at a BYU alumni meeting, 25 May 1962, B. F. Larsen biographical file, BYU Archives, 4–5).

Elder Renlund has sought that direction many times—as a General Authority Seventy, as a cardiologist, and as a husband and father. While he worked as a medical resident in training in Maryland, USA, for example, his wife developed ovarian cancer. Their daughter, Ashley, was just 16 months old. During those difficult days, Elder Renlund’s feeling of closeness to the Lord was restored when Ruth thanked the Lord in prayer for their temple sealing.
Elder Renlund spent his career as a cardiologist, treating patients with heart failure. He saw many patients die. But after a patient named Chad died, the emotional distance he maintained in times of crisis as a physician shattered when Chad’s parents joined him in the emergency room. In that moment he saw Chad through their eyes.
Of this experience, Elder Renlund said, “I now realize that in the Church, to effectively serve others we must see them through a parent’s eyes, through Heavenly Father’s eyes. Only then can we begin to comprehend the true worth of a soul” (page 94).
Elder Renlund’s childhood and Church service have also helped prepare him to see others through the Lord’s eyes and understand the Church’s diverse membership.
Dale Renlund was born on November 13, 1952, to Swedish immigrants who came to Utah to be sealed in the temple. When Dale was a boy, the family moved to Finland and then back to Sweden. He returned to Utah with his family three years later. At age 19 he was called to serve a full-time mission in Sweden.
In 2009 Elder Renlund was called to serve as a General Authority Seventy. His first assignment was in the Africa Southeast Area Presidency. Elder Renlund ended his career as a physician and professor, but his wife, he says, “made the greater sacrifice.” Ruth was the president of her law firm when Elder Renlund was called and left her work as well. But ever since they married in 1977, he says, she has always been “all in” and a source of great strength to him.
While in Africa, Elder and Sister Renlund were “tutored by the Saints about what really matters.” Once, in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Elder Renlund asked the members what their challenges were. He recalls that after some prodding, “an older gentleman stood up and said, ‘Elder Renlund, how can we have challenges? We have the gospel of Jesus Christ.’” Elder Renlund reflects: “My wife and I want to be like those Kananga Saints. … They look like they have nothing, but they have everything.”
In closing his first talk as an Apostle, Elder Renlund testified: “With all my heart I want to be a true follower of Jesus Christ. I love Him. I adore Him. I witness of His living reality. I witness that He is the Anointed One, the Messiah” (page 94).

I came from, and I come from a home that is not very well to do. I think I’m speaking the truth even on behalf of my wife growing up where she did in very humble normal circumstances there. We didn’t have a lot of money, when we got married, I tell you when we went back to Rick’s College there wasn’t much in our bank account in our wallets. We didn’t have many of those material things in the apartment. And there was even one winter where a member of the bishopric, or was it the bishop, I can’t remember, came by and he saw his breath in our apartment. Wondering if the heater was broken and we said, “Well we just don’t have any money to pay for it.” And the Relief Society came and started bringing us quilts and things to keep us warm. And in our first year at Ricks College, I took my wife, my newlywed wife, out to eat once. And that was to subway sandwiches.
So, why am I telling you all this? I just want to go on record and be a witness today this morning, to all of you, that I don’t care how lacking you think you may feel, how unprepared for the world you may think that you are, as a servant of the lord I will just make you a simple promise, put your heart, your heart, before the Lord and tell him that you from now on will give yourself to him, to the best of your ability, that never means perfectly because while we are in mortality that’s never going to happen. But, go before the father and promise him that you will strive to do your very best, to be on the covenant path, to keep the covenants that you’ve made and to learn more about how to keep them better. And to do so, and then the promise is sure that as long as you are on the covenant path, giving your best effort, nothing will ever go permanently wrong in your life, that’s a promise.

During that same Saturday afternoon leadership meeting, I noticed some youth slip into the meeting and reverently and attentively listen to the teachings and discussion. I was surprised to see them, as those invited to the leadership meeting were adult district and branch council members, and typically youth are not anxious to sit through long additional Church meetings, especially when not directed at them. After the meeting, we went to meet these fine young people and to learn more about them. I was astonished to learn that they had just arrived on a public transportation bus from seven hours away. They had come straight to the meetinghouse with the desire to feel the Spirit during this weekend district conference. It was obvious that they were full of joy at being in the midst of fellow members of the Church far from their homes in the north of Namibia. Several were new converts, and several were actively preparing to serve missions despite living in a town where there was no organized unit of the Church. They were led by a wonderful returned missionary who radiates the joy of the gospel and is appropriately named Happy. Immediately following the Sunday session of the conference, this impressive group of young people would once again get on a bus for the seven-hour return journey so they could be home in time for school and work on Monday. I marveled at their willingness to journey from so far at great personal sacrifice to hear the word of the Lord and am delighted to know that now in their own town of Ongwediva, we have since organized a branch of the Church.

The day was scorching; my sister, Susie, and I waited impatiently outside the church for Dad to pick us up following his weekly golf game. The sweat trickled down my back; Susie’s golden curls were wet and drooping. I remember watching with envy as my friends left the church with their parents. I wished with all my heart that Mom and Dad would come with us to church. I had even prayed about it. But they always thought they were too busy or too tired. By the time Dad picked us up, we were half baked. I was angry at both him and Mom.
Mom had stayed home, as usual, fixing dinner. We sat around the table now, but I was still burning up inside. I detest spinach, so rather than taking any, I passed the bowl to Susie. Instantly, both Dad and Mom were nagging at me, saying, “Take some spinach, Dan! It’s good for you!”
I had reached my limit. I retorted, “Why don’t you come to church? It’s good for you, just like spinach is for me!” Dad struck me, and Mom left the table crying. I ran from the house angry and hurt.
“Am I a Christian, Rebecca?” I asked, as I came back to the present. “Let’s say I used to be.” She sensed my need for silence.
We walked along the dark, tree-lined street; only the crunching sound of autumn leaves under our feet interrupted the silence. I felt so alone in the cold, dark world. More than anything else I wanted Rebecca’s friendship. She seemed so sure of herself, so at peace with herself. I wanted to draw from her strength, to learn from her wisdom. I looked down at my feet, afraid of her warm eyes.
“Rebecca,” I whispered softly. “What is it that makes you so special?”
I could have guessed that she would say it was her belief in Deity; she impressed me as a deeply religious girl. I wondered, though, which religion was to receive the credit for making her so sensitive, tender, and caring.
I pressed further. “What is your religion, Rebecca? Are you Catholic, Protestant, or something else?”
Her lips held just a hint of a smile. “I guess I fall into the ‘something else’ category, Dan. I’m searching for truth wherever I can find it. I discover it in some unusual places. But I can’t help but wonder one thing. Is there one religion that contains all of the truth?”
Her question pricked me deeply. Her eyes were searching mine, imploring. I looked away—my past blazed before me. Silently, I bowed my head and prayed. I hadn’t done that in years! After a long moment, I returned her gaze.
“Rebecca,” I slowly began, “what do you know about the Mormon church?”

I came to understand more fully the relationship between the “priesthood” rocket and the “opportunity to benefit from Christ’s atoning power” payload several years ago. During a weekend, I had two assignments. One was to create the first stake in a country, and the other was to interview a young man and, if all was in order, restore his priesthood and temple blessings. This 30-year-old man had joined the Church in his late teens. He served an honorable mission. But when he returned home, he lost his way, and he lost his membership in the Church. After some years, “he came to himself,” and with the help of loving priesthood leaders and kind members, he repented and was readmitted by baptism into the Church.

Later, he applied to have his priesthood and temple blessings restored. We set an appointment for Saturday at 10:00 a.m. at the meetinghouse. When I arrived for the earlier interviews, he was already there. He was so anxious to have the priesthood once again, he just could not wait.

During our interview, I showed him the letter explaining that President Thomas S. Monson had personally reviewed his application and authorized the interview. This otherwise stoic young man wept. I then told him that the date of our interview would have no official meaning in his life. He looked puzzled. I informed him that after I restored his blessings, his membership record would show only his original baptism, confirmation, priesthood ordination, and endowment dates. He choked up again.

I asked him to read from the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.
“By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.”

Tears filled his eyes a third time. Then I placed my hands on his head, and in the name of Jesus Christ and by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood, and with the authorization of the President of the Church, I restored his priesthood and temple blessings.

The joy that came over us was profound. He knew he was once again authorized to hold and exercise the priesthood of God. He knew that his temple blessings were again fully operative. He had a bounce in his step and a radiant light about him. I was so proud of him, and I sensed how proud Heavenly Father was of him too.

Thereafter, the stake was organized. The meetings were well attended by enthusiastic, faithful Saints, and a wonderful stake presidency was sustained. However, for me, the historic occasion of organizing this first stake in a country was overshadowed by the joy I felt in restoring the blessings to this young man.

On several occasions different mothers have recounted a similar story to me. They were all survivors of sexual abuse. Forgiveness was a struggle for each of them. Then someone in their family was accused of abusing another—usually the accused was one of their children. Can you imagine what happens to a mother’s insides when her child is so accused, especially when she has personally suffered at the hands of a similar transgressor? Yet all of these women have told me that eventually they were able to see their own transgressors in a new light—children of God who had made a terrible mistake but who someday may repent and receive God’s forgiveness. Such transformation had allowed them to sacrifice fantasies of revenge and turn judgment over to God. They permitted Christ’s blood to surround their pain and cleanse their hearts with peace.

Ten years ago one evening in March, I was in the ward kitchen putting pink mints on glass plates for my niece’s wedding reception. The organdy lace wedding apron was barely holding my soul together. I was quietly just hanging on spiritually and emotionally. It was a time in my life of little joy. My mother and her sister were talking together nearby. I heard my aunt ask my mother, “How is Elaine?” Mom responded, “I believe she has made a decision to be happy. She has a garden and flowers in her yard. She sews and writes, and she works hard. She keeps a clean house and plays beautiful music. Her children are doing well. I think she has decided to be brave and to be happy.”

I wept a few tears as I eavesdropped on my mother’s conversation. I was lonely, tired, and grief stricken. I didn’t know if I had made a conscious decision to be happy. But hearing my mother’s hopeful description of me, I wanted it to be true. So I did decide to be happy. I decided that night to find joy in every day. It has been difficult. But I was brave. I am not so brave every day, but I do try to remember that joy is a decision that requires courage.

I am forever grateful for this sacred ordinance. My parents died when I was relatively young. My father was a construction worker, and my mother was a stay-at-home mom. They endured many hardships, and both had lived a good life, but they never had a chance to be taught the restored gospel during their mortal life. Just before I left for my mission, I managed to complete my four-generation family history and brought their names with me to the missionary training center. On a crisp fall morning in October 1989, I was baptized for my parents and ancestors at the Provo Utah Temple. My heart was full on that beautiful morning. I felt the tender mercy of our Heavenly Father who, in His grand plan of salvation, provided us a way to redeem our deceased ancestors. As President Wilford Woodruff stated: “There is hardly any principle the Lord has revealed that I have rejoiced more in than in the redemption of our dead; that we will have our fathers, our mothers, our wives and our children with us in the family organization, in the morning of the first resurrection and in the Celestial Kingdom. These are grand principles. They are worth every sacrifice.”6 What a glorious doctrine!

I recently represented the Church at the annual G20 Interfaith Forum in Italy. I was encouraged, even buoyed up, when I met with government and faith leaders from around the world. I realized wounds and differences can be resolved and even healed when we honor God, the Father of us all, and Jesus Christ, His Son. The Great Healer of all is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I had an interesting moment as I closed my talk. The previous seven speakers had not closed in any manner of a faith tradition or in the name of God. As I spoke, I thought, “Do I just say thank you and sit down, or do I close ‘in the name of Jesus Christ’?” I remembered who I was, and I knew the Lord would have me say His name to conclude my message. So I did. Looking back, it was my opportunity to express my belief; and I had the freedom of religion to bear my witness of His holy name.

Some years ago my husband and I arose early in the morning wanting to arrive on the grounds of the Jordan River Temple well before the crowd that would gather for the occasion of laying the cornerstone for the magnificent edifice. Our plan was ill timed. The crowd was already there when we arrived. Due to the contour of the land, I was not only stretching to see over the heads of those in front of me, but we were on the low side of the slope in front of the temple and I couldn’t see what was going on. Heber, being considerably taller, tried to ease my disappointment by reporting to me the observations from his vantage point. “The choir is assembling,” he reported. “The General Authorities are taking their places. The TV cameras are in place.” This only added to my frustration as I faced the backs of those in front who were seeing this historic event that I was missing.

After reaching and stretching without success to catch even a glimpse of the drama, I decided to settle down, hoping to just feel the spirit of the occasion. It was when I relaxed that I changed my perspective and was attracted by an activity at the far northeast side of the temple just beyond the corner. This became the focal point of my interest. There I observed two men dressed in dark pants, white shirts and ties. They each had a shovel. They were busily engaged around a wheelbarrow. I saw them empty sacks of concrete, pour in water, and mix the contents in the wheelbarrow. In time, after hearing the choir and the impressive messages given by the presiding authorities, Heber reported to me that the cameras were now moving from center stage to the location for the placement of the cornerstone.

I watched. At that moment the men who mixed the mortar pushed the wheelbarrow to the front of the building and then quickly disappeared behind the scenes. The cornerstone was carefully anchored in place with the mortar prepared for this important event. On the news that evening I saw what the cameras saw. But they did not see what I had seen.

Now, years later, I never drive by the Jordan River Temple, especially after dark with the bright lights shining like beacons of refuge to a darkening world, without thinking of the men who mixed the mortar—those whose quiet, unsung labors played a major role in the placement of the cornerstone for the house of the Lord in a building that will stand against all of the storms of life.