Gospel Story Finder

I have a sweet friend who some time ago found herself in such a state. I do not know, nor need I know, what her problem was, but she did summon the courage to go tearfully to her bishop to confess. A Church court was held. She was excommunicated and began the difficult process of repentance. Quite a long time later, after the spiritual healing had taken place and at the time of her baptism, she expressed great appreciation to a bishop who had shed tears of caring for her, even while being firm in the steps that must be taken; to a dear friend in Relief Society, who, she said, had helped her “to understand and forgive all those who couldn’t understand or forgive” her; to those who had helped to keep her testimony strong in those quiet, desperate times when “coming home again” seemed nearly impossible.

I recently had a note from this friend, married now in the temple with a lovely family. She says, “Tell the sisters that it is all worth it. Tell them how beautiful and joyful life can be when you keep the commandments.”

When our youngest son, Jeff, was a toddler, I had to cry in mighty prayer as Enos did (Enos 1:4), but for a different reason. Jeff had swallowed harmful paint thinner and could not breathe. With him in my arms, I rushed frantically in the car to the nearest hospital emergency room, pleading out loud with the Lord to help him to breathe. After what seemed like an eternity, the air passage opened and he did breathe, but his body had already become blue from lack of oxygen. My prayers were answered, and I cried in gratitude.

Growing up I was shy, and I worried about everything. But every time I was worried, my brother Spencer would say, “Ellie, hunamata,” imitating the phrase “hakuna matata” (“no worries”) from the movie The Lion King. Or he would sing the song “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” He helped me see that I was important and that if I let go of my worries, I could find a lot of joy. I try to help others in the way Spencer has helped me.
Ellie S., 16, Utah, USA

Nancy Ashby of Draper, Utah, tells the following experience: “I was having my doubts about the Church. Was it really true? Was it really worth all the effort? Wouldn’t it be all right to marry outside of the Church (which I was seriously considering at the time)? After this life is over, is there really anything else?

“Then my mother asked me to do some typing for her. It turned out to be genealogy sheets. She also handed me an article on genealogy that included the statement:

“‘It matters not what else we have been called to do, or what position we may occupy, or how faithfully in other ways we have labored in the Church, none is exempt from this great obligation. It is required of the apostle as well as the humblest elder. Place, or distinction, or long service in the Church, in the mission field, the stakes of Zion, or where or how else it may have been, will not entitle one to disregard the salvation of one’s dead.’ (Joseph Fielding Smith, Doctrines of Salvation, vol. 2, pp. 148–49.)

“I decided to do something about all this, considering the words of the Savior: ‘If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.’ (John 7:17.) I found that genealogy can be fascinating and fun—and for me it has resulted in a firm testimony and conviction of all the other principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It changed my life.”

When I was 12 years old, my family moved from subtropical Hong Kong to a place with cold, unfamiliar winters. Soon, I was invited on my first winter hike with the young men in my ward.
On the day of our hike, I dressed as warmly as I knew how. As we ascended the winding mountain trail, I was excited to see falling snow cover the ground. I was inadequately dressed for the terrain and weather, however, and had difficulty keeping up with my group. I told them to go ahead and I would join those who I believed were following us.
As I continued at my own pace, my shoes and clothing became soaked and my hands, feet, and face became numb. It then began to snow so intensely that I could no longer see the trail. After wandering for some time, I realized that I was lost, alone, and unsure if anyone knew I was missing.
Elder Tai in the Sierra Nevada range of California around 1988. The story he shares took place on Mount Baden Powell in the San Gabriel Mountains of California in 1984.
Photograph courtesy of the author
Lost, cold, and alone on that snowy mountain those many years ago, I became desperate. Not knowing what else to do, I knelt in the newly fallen snow and prayed to my Heavenly Father for help. I shared my predicament and fears with Him and pleaded to be found and rescued.
When I arose from my prayer, the snow descended all around me, and a beautiful, calm silence filled the trees. This serenity was disrupted when I heard rustling in the bushes nearby. Two older boys emerged. They had already reached the summit, and instead of following the trail, they decided to slide down the mountain. Of all places, they slid right to where I was!
When they asked me what I was doing there, I told them I was lost. They invited me to join them, and together we slid safely down to the trailhead at the base of the mountain. Eventually we were reunited with the rest of our group.

Many years ago it was my opportunity to serve as president of the Canadian Mission. There we had a branch with very limited priesthood. We always had a missionary presiding over the branch. I received a strong impression that we needed to have a member of the branch preside there.
We had one adult member in the branch who was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood but who didn’t attend or participate enough to be advanced in the priesthood. I felt inspired to call him as the branch president. I shall always remember the day that I had an interview with him. I told him that the Lord had inspired me to call him to be the president of the branch. After much protest on his part, and much encouragement on the part of his wife, he indicated that he would serve. I ordained him a priest.
It was the beginning of a new day for that man. His life was quickly put in order, and he assured me that he would live the commandments as he was expected to live them. In a few months he was ordained an elder. He and his wife and family eventually went to the temple and were sealed. Their children served missions and married in the house of the Lord.

My mother shared one such example, something she had observed while she was a student at BYU many years ago. A man who lived in a community in Utah had a mighty gift of healing. People sought him out for blessings, many coming from outside his ward and stake. In time, he made almost a profession of giving blessings. As part of his travels to various communities, he came to the apartments of BYU students, asking if they wanted blessings. This man had lost sight of the revealed direction on spiritual gifts: “always remembering for what they are given” (D&C 46:8). A spiritual gift is given to benefit the children of God, not to magnify the prominence or gratify the ego of the person who receives it. The professional healer who forgot that lesson gradually lost the companionship of the Spirit and was eventually excommunicated from the Church.

Last June, a terrible accident occurred in the country of Lesotho in southern Africa. A small bus carrying 20 young women of the Maputsoe Branch of the Church and seven of their leaders was headed to the capital city, Maseru, for a gathering of young women from their district. As they traveled the two-lane highway in the morning hours, a car coming in the opposite direction, attempting to pass another vehicle, came into the lane occupied by the bus. There was no space or time to avoid a head-on collision, and within seconds the vehicles hit, rolled off the road, and burst into flames.
In all, 15 people died in the accident, including six young women, two Young Women leaders, and the branch president and his wife. Survivors, family members, and friends have expressed a range of emotions, including moments of anger, depression, and even guilt. Despite these feelings and unanswered questions, they have comforted one another and turned to God through sacred music, the scriptures, and prayer, where they have found solace. Seventeen-year-old survivor Setso’ana Selebeli testified, “Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
A young woman and a leader who were hospitalized for burn treatments studied the Book of Mormon together. One said, “Lately we’ve been reading in Moroni, and Moroni says exactly what I’ve been feeling. … When he speaks, it’s like he’s saying, ‘You have to learn these words because they are written for you to help you pass through this.’”
At a joint funeral service for those who perished, Area Seventy Elder Siyabonga Mkhize counseled, “We should all turn to the Lord at this time and ask Him to comfort our hearts and … to soothe the pain that we feel.” The Young Women president from the neighboring Leribe Branch, Mampho Makura, urged: “Turn to the Lord, and find the strength to accept His will. Jesus Christ is ‘the author and finisher of our faith’ [Hebrews 12:2]. Don’t look away, but look to Him.”
Of course, the counsel “look to God and live” not only has meaning for us in eternity but also makes all the difference in the character and quality of our mortal lives. Remember the words of young Sister Selebeli in Lesotho already mentioned—“Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
Looking to God means that He is not just one of our priorities; it means, rather, that He is our one highest priority. I call to mind again that awful crash in Lesotho last June. From her hospital bed, one of the Young Women leaders who survived, who did not believe in God before joining the Church, said that her purpose is now to discover why her life was spared. “Constantly serving God is how I will come to an answer, if I come to an answer,” she stated. “I used to think that I love God, but now I really, really, really, really, really love Him. Now He is the [number-one] priority in my life.”

In the spring of 1999, I made the decision to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In truth, I had made up my mind to serve a mission as a young boy in Primary years before, but the real decision came as I approached my 19th birthday and was eligible to serve. As I took inventory of my life, my current circumstances, and what I wanted at that time, it was a difficult decision to make. However, as I counseled with family and friends and turned to the Lord in prayer, I knew that serving a mission was what the Lord wanted for me and what I needed to do. The decision to serve has influenced my life in more ways than I can count or convey. Putting my trust in the Lord and serving a mission helped me come to know Him intimately, helped me trust Him completely with my life, and deepened my faith and knowledge of His gospel to name a few. Little did I know then how helpful these principles would be for my life.

There are many ways one may help others find the Lord. The Jones family, in Raleigh, North Carolina, assisted the Lord by preparing a copy of the Book of Mormon with their family picture and testimony inside the front cover. They then invited the missionaries to their home to meet some close friends, the Browns. The next day the missionaries went to the Browns and presented to them this copy of the Book of Mormon as a gift from the Jones family. The Browns were so appreciative of the gift that they agreed to read, ponder, and pray about this marvelous book of scripture. They did. The elders continued to teach them. The Jones family continued to fellowship them. Today the entire Brown family enjoys church membership.

The day was June 27, 1844. The place, Carthage, Illinois. In the early evening Willard Richards, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, dispatched sobering news to the Saints in Nauvoo: “Joseph and Hyrum are dead. Taylor wounded, not very badly. I am well. . . . The job was done in an instant” (HC 6:621–22).
A cortege left the hostile county seat of Carthage early the next morning and arrived in Nauvoo just after three in the afternoon. The mourners were waiting in the streets for the return of their prophet-leader.
“My soul sickened and I wept before the Lord,” William Hyde observed. “It seemed that the very heavens were clad in mourning” (William Hyde Journal, LDS Church Archives).
James Madison Fisher described the melancholy: “To see stout men and women standing around in group[s] crying and mourning . . . was enough to break the heart of a stone ” (Aroet Hale, Reminiscences, LDS Church Archives).
“The love the saints had for him was inexpressible,” Mary Alice Cannon Lambert lamented. “Oh, the mourning in the land!” (Mary Alice Cannon Lambert in “Joseph Smith, the Prophet,” Young Woman’s Journal 16, no. 12 (December 1905), 554).
These people had left homes, farms, and even families to gather for the Word’s sake. They saw themselves as saints; they saw Joseph as a prophet called of God.

Today the Church is in 37 African countries with many Church-­owned places of worship. These chapels are constructed with funds from the headquarters of the Church. This is the story of how the first LDS chapel was acquired.
When missionaries returned to Africa on October 16, 1904, Samuel Martin was the first to be baptized in Cape Town. He had been born in England. In Cape Town he owned a bakery. Like all early Saints, he longed to join with the Saints in Utah. He shared that desire with the mission president. The mission president promised Brother Samuel that if he would pay his tithing faithfully, he and his family would be able to emigrate to Zion. Having faith, Brother Martin negotiated the sale of his business, which provided more than sufficient funds for the family’s future. The Martins moved to Utah—only to return to South Africa when Samuel himself was called to serve as mission president from April 1926 through 1929.
And what of the promise made to Samuel about tithing? Tithing contributed from the sale of his business provided funds which were used by the Church to purchase a mission home—which became known as “Cumorah”—and which was the first Church-­owned property on the African continent. The building served many years as the mission home, later became a chapel, and was rebuilt in 1937. Today the Mowbray Chapel sits on that same property at the corner of Main and Grove Road in Cape Town.
Samuel Martin will always be remembered for his generosity and for his faithful payment of tithing. Indeed tithing is a principle with a promise.
Source: Evan P. Wright; A History of South African Mission Period I, 1903–1944

The gospel has helped him in other ways, too. One is that since he joined the Church, Richard has been able to overcome a speech impediment. Before receiving the Holy Ghost, “I could not say a word in public,” Richard says. After his confirmation, he was able to bless the sacrament, give talks in church, and take roles in two road shows. “Like it says in Ether 12:27—my weakness became a strength,” he says.

Reader B: Her name was Betty June. Just under six feet, she must have been the tallest, toughest girl in the high school sophomore class. She got in fights. She wasn’t very smart.
Reader C: I know, because she was in my sophomore English class.
Reader B: She kept calling everybody else “stupid” or “creep.” Most of the kids stayed away from her.
Reader C: Including me.
Reader B: She had some friends though, because she was so tough.
Reader C: I know, because she was in my gym class right after English. I stayed away from her crowd. One day, after the first month of second semester, we had a big exam in English. I studied hard and when the papers were returned, I had received an A. Afterwards, in the girls’ locker room getting ready for gym class, I was so excited about my success that I started telling my locker mates about the A I got.
Reader B: Suddenly a voice grumbled from behind.
Reader D: “You’re such a creep.”
Reader C: I turned to see Betty June looking down at me.
Reader D: [sullenly] “You’re always bragging, kissying up to the teacher.”
Reader B: Betty June brushed by hard and walked away.
Reader C: In gym class, we were practicing basketball. I was assigned to a team playing opposite Betty June’s team. At one point, I was guarding the basket while Betty June dribbled like a bear toward me. She knocked me to the floor as if I hadn’t been there and made her shot. But before she stalked away, she grumbled down at me.
Reader D: [sullenly] “Keep outa my way!”
Reader C: And I did keep out of her way. I disliked Betty June.
Reader B: People dislike those who intimidate and threaten them. But in church we were always learning about charity.
Reader C: And besides, my conscience bothered me. Valentine’s Day was coming up. I bought valentine cards with cute sayings for some of my friends. And I decided [pause] I’d give one to Betty June, too. At least the Lord would know I tried. The day came. I got to English class early. I thought, “What if it offends her?” Then I thought, “What’s the worst she can do to me? She can pound me into the ground, that’s what. But maybe being pounded into the ground isn’t as bad as letting myself be intimidated.”
Reader B: Finally Betty June came into the room.
Reader C: My throat felt dry. My scalp tingled as if my hair would stand on end. My hands felt ice cold and my palms sweaty, as if I would turn to rubbery water any minute. I felt scared, but I told myself that being scared is a whole lot safer if nobody knows it. I walked stiffly to Betty June’s desk and sputtered, “Here, this is for you.” Class was starting. So I quickly, and with relief, sat down. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Betty June open the envelope and look at the card. Then she placed it open at the top of her desk. After class I started out the door and into the hallway on my way to gym, when I felt a tall figure walk up beside me.
Reader D: [awkwardly] “You’re not mad at me or nothing.”
Reader C: “Uh, why should I be mad?”
Reader D: “ ’Cause I bumped you or something.”
Reader C: “No, uh, I’m not mad.”
Reader B: Scared maybe, but mad, no.
Reader C: But I didn’t say that, only thought it.
Reader D: “Did you get that assignment Miss Phelps gave us for next week?”
Reader C: “You mean writing a theme using at least ten similes? Yeah, I think I understand what she wants.”
Reader D: “Do you think maybe you wanna look at mine when I do it? I mean, I don’t know if I can do it right.”
Reader C: “Sure. I’d be happy to help. When do you want to get together?”
Reader D: “How about maybe Saturday?”
Reader C: “Saturday’s fine, in the afternoon. See, Saturday morning our church has an activity and service project. Would you like to come?”
Reader B: Not everyone responds easily. But most do when trust is placed in the Savior’s advice, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”
Reader C: Because most of the time my neighbor is like me. It takes trust.

Just the same, I was a father trying to raise daughters on my own. I sought to create one-on-one time with both of them to strengthen our relationships. Yet how could I help them prepare to be women? I soon found there were more resources than I imagined:
Family members. I thank the Lord for a sister-in-law and a daughter-in-law who lived nearby and came to my rescue. They attended maturation meetings with my daughters. They helped my daughters get ready for dances. Most of all, they listened. They shared my daughters’ hopes, fears, longings, and desires. They helped them transition from child to adolescent to adult with a different understanding of that process than I could provide, never having experienced it in the same way.
Neighbors. Good neighbors watched my daughter with their daughter after school until I got home from the office. Other neighbors took my children to school when I had early meetings. One neighbor with a lawn-care business had his crew mow my lawn regularly for free so I could spend more time with my family.
Ministering brothers and Church leaders. My ministering brothers coordinated with the ward council, and it seemed that everyone in the ward, especially Primary and Young Women leaders, went out of their way to help my girls. I learned that one of the great things about the Relief Society is that they offer, well, relief. Once, a group of them cleaned my whole house, top to bottom. And at Young Women activities, someone always made sure my daughters felt included.
Not everyone will experience this same level of support. But I’ve learned that until we let others know the gaps we see our children experience without a mother, those individuals may not understand how they can help.
Honoring Fathers
“Some men are single fathers, foster fathers, or stepfathers. Many of them strive mightily and do their very best in an often difficult role. We honor those who do all that can be done in love, patience, and self-sacrifice to meet individual and family needs.”
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “Fathers,” Liahona, May 2016, 95.
Elder Baxter said: “Single parents, I testify that as you do your very best in the most difficult of human challenges, heaven will smile upon you. Truly you are not alone. Let the redemptive, loving power of Jesus Christ brighten your life now and fill you with the hope of eternal promise. Take courage. Have faith and hope. Consider the present with fortitude and look to the future with confidence.”4
Like anyone going through challenges, single fathers may feel overwhelmed. I know I did at times. But I also know there’s a lot of hope and a lot of help for single fathers in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

One of those times came for me as I was nearing the end of my classwork in my doctoral program at UCLA and preparing to write my dissertation. At the time I needed to get a doctoral committee set so they could approve my dissertation prospectus. Because of some rather strong promptings and small miracles, I had come to know what the Lord wanted me to do—look at the language learning abilities of older adults, namely, our senior missionaries. Part of what I wanted to do would use research methods that were quite common in our field. But, in consultation with the people at the MTC, I had determined that I also wanted to do some work more ethnographic in nature and requiring a more qualitative data analysis approach, something that was quite new and not as well known as it is now. The people at the MTC and I felt that gathering this kind of data would be more informative and helpful for putting together future programs for the senior missionaries. As I discussed the possibility of doing such work with teachers in my department at UCLA, none of those who had already agreed to serve on my PhD committee felt they had sufficient practice in these methods to be able to guide me. They requested that, if I wanted to do this kind of research, I find someone with this expertise to serve as one of the “outside” members of my committee. Otherwise, I would need to change my research.

At the time, members of my department and I were only aware of one person who had some expertise and interest in language instruction issues and who also had expertise in the kind of qualitative research I wanted to do. He was in the Education Department, but his training had been in anthropology. He had served on a couple of PhD committees for other persons graduating in my field. I went to see him to see if he would be willing to serve on mine. When I met the professor, I found him to be easy to talk with and, happily for me, very interested in my research topic. When he asked me where I was going to get a supply of older adult language learners to study, I told him about my plans to study our senior missionaries and about the time frame for the research. He told me that he thought the research would take longer than I was proposing, said he was a little uncomfortable with the idea of working with a “missionary” population, and asked me to think about those factors to see if I could make adjustments in what I was planning. He invited me to return the next day with my answers; we would then discuss his serving on my committee.

I went home and thought about alternatives. Even though I wanted to complete my degree as soon as possible, I was much more concerned that it be well done than that it be “fast done.” I knew I could adjust my time schedule for carrying out the research. But the issue of a different population was more difficult. It wasn’t that other populations didn’t exist. I knew that my elderly aunt was currently living in a retirement community near San Diego and that she and others in the community regularly participated in language classes. My problem was that I knew that the Lord wanted me to study the missionaries. My whole selection of the dissertation topic had been with them in mind, and the Lord had confirmed to me in several small, miraculous ways that that was what he wanted me to do. But discussion of those kinds of miracles was not exactly the kind of thing I felt comfortable telling a UCLA professor about. Yet I desperately needed him on my committee. I needed to get my committee set, get my prospectus approved, and get up to Utah to begin the study here at the time that had been approved by the MTC. And there were no other willing professors with expertise in qualitative research whom I or any members on my committee knew about. I wondered if I could not study my aunt’s colleagues and then find the necessary applications for it later at the MTC. I went to the Lord. He wanted me to do the work at the MTC.

So the next day I went back to face the professor. He asked me about my decisions. I told him that I was willing to adjust my time schedule and that I would much rather have the work done well than to have it done fast. I could tell that that pleased him. And then I told him that I didn’t feel that I could adjust in the matter of the population I was going to study. I told him that I had observed the senior missionaries and their struggles with language learning. I knew they were not the same as the seniors learning languages in the retirement community. Those seniors chose which languages they wanted to learn; they were in class a couple of hours a week; they lived at home and enjoyed all of the amenities of their usual lifestyle. The seniors in the MTC were quite different. I told this professor that I could not change populations because the seniors in the MTC and their levels of sacrifice and commitment mattered too much to me. As I finished speaking, I could tell that he recognized the depth of my feeling.

He then spoke of his convictions in his academic work. He said that, as an anthropologist and consequentialist, he was opposed to proselytizing. He said that, even if my results were not directly helping the missionaries I would be studying, he recognized and knew that eventually the findings would be put to that purpose. I agreed that that was exactly what I hoped. And, so, he said, “I cannot serve on your committee.” We both knew what that meant. As we parted, both of us had tears in our eyes at the mutual recognition of the integrity of the other’s choice.

As I left the professor’s office, although I didn’t know what I was going to do about my committee, I felt some satisfaction about having been strong enough to do what the Lord wanted me to do in spite of all the intellectual and academic reasons and pressures to do something else. I felt the peace of the Lord that comes from having chosen right. But I was not prepared for what came next. As I continued to think about the encounter and to bemoan to people who cared about me what had happened, I began to have an impression about something the Lord wanted me to do. I sensed that the impression had nothing to do with my getting a committee—an issue that I used to push the impression away with for a while. The impression that was starting to grow was that I needed to write to this professor and tell him about the Book of Mormon and its effects—this to a man who had just told me about how he felt about proselytizing! You can bet this was one impression I tried to wish away or ignore.

I kept myself plenty busy for the next couple of days so that it wouldn’t be in my thoughts so much, but it was always there, nagging softly from the corners of my mind. I managed two or three days like this, and then the Lord did what he always does when he has something he really wants me to do: He woke me in the middle of the night with nothing but this issue fully on my mind. I thought about how I love the Book of Mormon; I have no doubts of its authenticity and truth. I knew its power to change lives for the better, to bring happiness and a higher sense of worth to those who read it and find out its truth on their own. Because of my experiences in South America, I especially knew its power to affect the peoples there. I felt I needed to tell this professor that. I also thought about him, about his integrity. What we had felt in his office was real. I knew he respected my integrity just as I respected his. But that was also part of the difficulty for me: Would I cause him to think that I did not understand the issue of his integrity, that I did not respect that? Would he dismiss me as some kind of a fanatical “proselytizer”? Would he, when we were not face to face, mock what I would say? Would he pass the letter on to members of my own department with questions about what kind of students they were producing and what kind of good sense these students might seem to be lacking?

Satan argued with great sophistication, appealing to my pride and desire not to be thought a fool and urging me not to do what the Lord’s impressions were telling me to do. I finally tumbled out of bed, fell on my knees, and told the Lord I would write the letter. I asked for his help and went to my typewriter. When I finally finished the letter, I went back to bed and slept peacefully. The next day I delivered the letter to the professor’s box.

Now I know how we all want this story to end—the professor read the letter, changed his mind, decided to be on my committee, read the Book of Mormon, was converted, and is now a stake president somewhere. That is not what happened. He did read the letter, did not change his mind, did not serve on my committee (although I found someone with qualitative research expertise who did), and, as far as I know, has never read the Book of Mormon nor been converted. But something happened to me. I learned who I belonged to even in the academic world. And I had peace. The Lord helped me, and I learned again that, when we are true to him, he magnifies the intellect he has given us. I was able to get very thorough data for my dissertation, and, even though I expanded the gathering of data to match what had been suggested, I was able to complete the degree quickly.

One cold day years ago, two missionaries spent hours contacting people on the streets of Nagano, Japan. They talked to a few people, made even fewer teaching appointments, and saw all those appointments fall through.
At the end of this tough day, the missionaries met a young man, only 15 years old, who was interested in learning about the Church.
That young man was me.
I met one of the missionaries that day on my way home from school. He taught me about the First Vision and testified that it was true. I did not understand everything at the time, but I wanted to learn more.

Brothers and sisters, six months ago as we met together in our general conference, my sweet wife, Frances, lay in the hospital, having suffered a devastating fall just a few days earlier. In May, after weeks of valiantly struggling to overcome her injuries, she slipped into eternity. Her loss has been profound. She and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple on October 7, 1948. Tomorrow would have been our 65th wedding anniversary. She was the love of my life, my trusted confidant, and my closest friend. To say that I miss her does not begin to convey the depth of my feelings.

This conference marks 50 years since I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles by President David O. McKay. Through all these years I have felt nothing but the full and complete support of my sweet companion. Countless are the sacrifices she made so that I could fulfill my calling. Never did I hear a word of complaint from her as I was often required to spend days and sometimes weeks away from her and from our children. She was an angel, indeed.

I wish to express my thanks, as well as those of my family, for the tremendous outpouring of love which has come to us since Frances’s passing. Hundreds of cards and letters were sent from around the world expressing admiration for her and condolences to our family. We received dozens of beautiful floral arrangements. We are grateful for the numerous contributions which have been offered in her name to the General Missionary Fund of the Church. On behalf of those of us whom she left behind, I express deep gratitude for your kind and heartfelt expressions.

Of utmost comfort to me during this tender time of parting have been my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the knowledge I have that my dear Frances lives still. I know that our separation is temporary. We were sealed in the house of God by one having authority to bind on earth and in heaven. I know that we will be reunited one day and will never again be separated. This is the knowledge that sustains me.

A few weeks ago, my mission president asked all the missionaries to prepare a four-minute talk on the blessings of the Savior’s mercy and grace in their life. It took a while for me just to understand what the topic really meant. I was little confused, and I needed help. Knowing exactly what to do when I need help, I knelt down, prayed, and asked our Father in Heaven to help me to understand this topic and prepare the talk for the zone conference.
The Spirit of the Lord began to guide me. With the help of the Spirit, I searched the scriptures diligently to learn more about what the mercy and grace of the Atonement of Jesus Christ does for me and all those who have faith in him. After studying several scriptures, I paused and read the topic again. The last three words of the topic struck out to me: IN MY LIFE.
When I started to think about the blessings of mercy and grace because of the Atonement in my life, the following three questions came to my mind. First, what are the blessings you have received in the past? Second, what are the blessings which you are receiving now? Third, what are the blessings which you’re going to receive in the future because of his mercy and grace?
My dear brothers, sisters, and friends, I testify that it was because of the great mercy and grace of His infinite Atonement that my family was blessed with the restored gospel when I was 15 years old. And because of His mercy and love I was forgiven of all my sins when I took Christ’s name upon myself through the ordinance of baptism.
Though I was one of the weakest of the weak, because of His grace, I received strength to do more than what was expected of me in my callings from the day I joined the Church. As it says in Ether 12:27, His grace was and will be sufficient for me and you to overcome all our weaknesses. Jesus Christ made my weaknesses into strengths, little by little, because of His grace.
It was very painful to face failures in my life, especially in my studies. In twelfth standard, I failed in my subjects again and again and again. It was too hard for me to bear. I almost gave up. But the Savior indeed helped me to stay strong and showed His bounteous mercy and grace to me, which helped me not to give up. Having a great hope in my heart, I took a different course and chose to do a diploma in mining engineering in which I was able to succeed. In fact, I was one of the toppers of my college in all six semesters of my 3-year course. It may sound magical, but it was a miracle. How did this happen? I testify that it was because of Christ’s grace that I received light in my life which helped me to have success in my education.
Today, my family has been blessed with peace, love, joy, and unity. Though my dad is not with us, I know that he is resting in paradise because I was able to be baptized for him in the temple and we were sealed as a family to live together in eternity. This was made possible only through the grace of the Lord by His atoning sacrifice for all God’s children. Because of His tender mercy and grace, I’m able to be a full-time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My heart and soul rejoice greatly to share the gospel.
I know for a surety that I’m going to receive many, many, many other blessings from our loving Heavenly Father through the mercy and grace of Jesus Christ.
Each time I have received a blessing in my life, I had to do something on my part. I would like to suggest three things you can do to access mercy and grace in your life and receive blessings. First, exercise your faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ by learning more than you know now about His grace and mercy from the scriptures and from the church magazines. Second, seek His help by praying more often and third, follow Him to the end and never give up.
I promise you that as you do these three things in your life, you will definitely see blessings and miracles. As President Gordon B. Hinckley said, “May we go with determination to try a little harder to be a little better” (Gordon B. Hinckley, “We Have a Work to Do,” Ensign, May 1995, 87; see also www.ChurchofJesusChrist.org/study/general-conference/1995/04/we-have-a-work-to-do?lang=eng).
I bear my witness that Jesus is the Christ who came down from heaven, lived a sinless life, and died to save you and me. I also testify that this is His church and He directs it through prophets and apostles. I know for myself that Joseph Smith was blessed to see Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ face-to-face and received divine help and strength to restore the fullness of the gospel. I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real and the only way for our salvation and exaltation. I know that families can live together forever in the celestial kingdom of God. In the name of the Lord and Savior, even Jesus Christ, amen.

Their married life got off to a great start. Leonie and Frank saved up to buy land and build a house, which they completed soon after their honeymoon. The newlyweds enjoyed taking long walks together, playing cards with friends and going to balls, and when they eventually welcomed five beautiful children into their family, Leonie cherished being a mother. “Throughout our childhood and our lives, we always felt loved,” says Lisa.
After some time, the family’s fortunes changed. They lost their home and had to move several times as Frank sought reliable work. Times were hard, but Leonie never complained. “Mum always demonstrated incredible patience,” said Lisa. She was an excellent cook who would brighten her children’s days with great food and fun activities. “I knew we weren’t all that well off, but thanks to Mum, I had no idea how poor we really were.”