Gospel Story Finder

Searching for a great idea for a youth conference? The Aurora Colorado Stake has a suggestion.
Work.
Hard work.
Like shoveling gravel, digging dirt, weeding, painting, washing cars.
Mixed with fun and fellowship.
There’s an explanation. The young people from Aurora wanted to do something different for their youth conference, something special. So they spent three days cleaning up a city.
“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ‘something to help someone else,’ and ‘something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we encouraged them to go ahead.”
Inspired by a story on service in the Tambuli (see “Building a House Helped Build Testimonies,” February 1988, page 47), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was close to Aurora; economically the community wasn’t doing very well; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small Latter-day Saint branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had youth who would welcome some company and fellowship with other Church youth. And, while the young people from Aurora were there, it was decided, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., eighty-four young people divided into eight teams were busy all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the Latter-day Saint youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
Besides cleaning up the main street of Granby, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the chapel.
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Activities included a Hawaiian-style dinner with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Suggestions on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room, the Latter-day Saint youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. The presented him with framed historical photographs of Granby, which now hang in the train station, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation of their three days of service.
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed fifteen years ago, he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come here and bring us into the limelight in our Community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”

George Q. Cannon had a large family. Forty-three children. It wasn't always easy to keep them straight, as I found out in a recollection of Collins Cannon, one of the younger sons. Here is what Collins wrote:

"I was about eight and one day I came upon Father and Uncle Angus M. on Main Street. Before I go further with this anecdote I must [explain that] Uncle Angus was a kisser. He kissed all and sundry, young and old, male and female alike, and it didn't matter whether it was on Main Street or wherever...Uncle Angus had grandson twins...They were called Jack and Chick. They were about my age...I had chanced upon Father and Uncle Angus and I was attempting to slide by unnoticed on account of my dread of the kissing ordeal...Angus spotted me, halted me and you guessed it—he kissed me...Father looked on and said, 'Angus, which is that, Jack or Chick?' My world tumbled about me...and I cried out, 'No, no, Pa! I ain't Jack or Chick! I'm Aunt Martha's little boy.'"

When our children were younger and we would be on our way to Sunday church meetings, occasionally we would pass a car pulling a boat. My children would become silent and press their noses against the windows and ask, “Dad, why can’t we go waterskiing today instead of to church?”
Sometimes I would take the easy but cowardly way out and answer, “It’s simple; we don’t have a boat.” However, on my more conscientious days, I would muster up all the logic and spirituality available to a patriarch of a family and try to explain how much happier our family was because of our Church activity.
I first realized I wasn’t getting through when on a subsequent Sunday we saw a family laughing and excited as they loaded their snow skis onto their car. One of my teenage sons said with a sly grin, “They’re not really happy, huh, Dad?” That statement has become a family joke whenever we see someone doing something we cannot do. When I see a teenager driving a beautiful, expensive sports car, I say to my sons, “Now there’s one miserable guy.”

A Church member gives a refugee mother a special quilt that belonged to her adopted son.
Photograph by Marc Marriott
To help you see the divine in each person, ask yourself, “If the individual were a family member or a loved one, how would my view of this person change?”
This question became very personal to one Latter-day Saint woman when her Relief Society held a baby shower for a refugee mother in their community.
Her Relief Society presidency contacted a local refugee resettlement agency to find a mother they could help. Once they had been connected with a mother and her family, the presidency visited the home to ask how they could be of the most help. (An important part of the principle of humanity is honoring a refugee’s agency by asking how they would like to be helped and then sincerely listening.)
The Relief Society president suggested a baby shower, explaining it as a way to celebrate a new child and give gifts that the baby and mother may need. The refugee family agreed that would be helpful to them.
As the ward began planning the shower, one sister found she had a special “soft spot” for those who must come to a new home after her experience adopting a baby from Guatemala. During the long process of adoption, this sister had kept busy by making a quilt for her new baby. As she compared the experience of her own adopted son to this new refugee baby, she wanted to connect with the family by giving them the quilt she had made.
At the baby shower, this woman explained her connection to the refugee mother, describing how her young son also had to come to a new home and how they had loved wrapping him in the quilt when he arrived. The woman gave the refugee mother the quilt and said, “I hope that your new baby will love it too.”

The headlines in a recent newspaper article seemed to jump off the page: “Lost in Fog, 757 Plunges into Pacific.” With 70 people on board, Aeroperu Flight 603 from Lima, Peru, to Santiago, Chile, had fallen from the dark and foggy sky into the icy Pacific waters off the coast of Peru. What happened? Moments before the crash the pilot of the aircraft was asking the same question: “What’s happening? What altitude am I at? Why is my ground crash alarm on? Am I over land or sea? . . . I don’t have any instruments.” (See Salt Lake Tribune, 3 October 1996, A1, A9.) With a failed navigational system and thick fog preventing him from seeing any lights on the ground, I believe the pilot may have been experiencing vertigo. If an airplane turns at a constant two or three degrees, the motion is imperceptible. If a person inside cannot see lights from the instrument panel or from the sky or ground, before long he could be flying completely upside down and not even be aware of it. When a pilot realizes he is losing altitude, his automatic reaction is to pull the stick back. If he is not flying straight and level, however, his airplane can dive toward the earth rather than climb toward the safety of the sky.

If we are not careful, we can experience spiritual vertigo. If we stray off the course of obedience only two or three degrees—an almost imperceptible difference—we can become disoriented. Losing sight of our eternal destination and not even realizing how far off course we are, we will make poor choices. Our Savior does not want us to crash. His desire is for us to choose the route that will bring us back on the straight and narrow path to live with him eternally. “Come, follow me,” he has told us. He provides the light that will keep us on course and bring us back into his presence.

The pilot of Aeroperu Flight 603 asked for a guide plane—a light, if you will—to show him the way to the airport.

Before dawn, officials [in Peru] lined up ambulances, firetrucks, gasoline-powered generators and reflectors on the dark beach so that possible survivors would have bright lights to swim toward. [Salt Lake Tribune, 3 October 1996, A9]

Several years ago, in this same setting, I shared the example of a family who lived close to a large amusement park. They would drive by the park often, and each time their young son would ask, “Daddy, can we go there? I really want to go there and play on all the rides.”

The father would try to deflect the question by simply saying, “Maybe tomorrow we can go.”

This little interchange repeated itself week after week until finally, early one Saturday morning, the boy came running into his parents’ bedroom. He jumped on the bed, startling both of them, and exclaimed with great enthusiasm, “Daddy, tomorrow is today!”

This interesting play on words—­tomorrow is today—illustrates a valuable point. Commence­ment ceremonies naturally point to the future, to the exciting opportunities ahead, and to everything you hope to accomplish. But to a great extent, your success in life and how you prepare for the responsibilities that will ultimately be yours depend on the accumulation of small and simple things you do each and every day. No matter what your ambitions for the future are, you achieve them step by step, one day at a time. In this sense, tomorrow truly is today.

Within a few years after Sandra Edwards of Kingston, Tennessee, was baptized, she was divorced, lost her mother to a stroke, and then lost her son in a tragic automobile accident. During these crises, the members of her branch were her lifeline. They helped her move, tended her children, brought food to her home, and gave her encouragement, love, and help. “Never once was there a critical word,” she says. “Never once did I feel left out, ashamed, lonely, unwanted, or unappreciated.”

Following the directions of Church leaders was an accepted thing to Don McBride. When he was nine years old, his father had accepted a call from President John Taylor to leave his home in Santaquin, Utah, to colonize the Gila Valley area of Arizona. Life was hard there; scarce rainfall made farming difficult. Water was obtained only by irrigation. Don and his brothers helped support the family by freighting goods across Indian territory.
On January 13, 1897, Don McBride married Mary LaPreal Nuttal. In October of that year, their son, Donald, was born. When the call came from the First Presidency to serve a mission in the Samoan Islands, Don, with the support of his wife, accepted immediately.
In June 1898 Elder McBride, with only a few dollars in his pockets, left for Salt Lake City to be set apart for his mission. There he received a special blessing from a General Authority of the Church. The blessing contained a promise that if he would fill an honorable mission, obeying those who were in authority over him, he would have power to command the winds and waves of the sea to be still.
Elder McBride thought little of this promise upon his arrival in Samoa. He worked diligently to master the Samoan language. In his mission journal he wrote, “Fasted all day and prayed to the Lord in secret to help me learn the language. … I study very hard to get the language, but it is slow work.” Then, as he began to feel more sure of the language, he started to offer prayers and to bear his testimony at meetings and to teach in the Church-organized schools. He even helped in translating the Bible into Samoan.
Elder McBride encountered prejudice and opposition from the ministers of other churches on the islands. He wrote, “In looking around I find the field is by no means clear and prejudice staring me in the face as the Teachers have forbidden anyone attending our meetings.”
He learned to enjoy the unaccustomed food delicacies of the Samoan people and mentions feasting on roasted bat, ula (breadfruit), and palela (a kind of sea worm). He also grew to appreciate their sincere friendliness and hospitality.
Elder McBride and his companion were called to travel to the island of Savaii to prepare for a conference to be held there. As they drew near the island in a boat, a fierce inland wind suddenly forced them back out to sea. Having no compass, they knew that they would be lost if they didn’t keep the island in sight. They and the Samoan men with them took turns rowing until all were exhausted, their hands blistered and raw.
Suddenly Elder McBride remembered the blessing that had been given to him. He arose at once and stretched forth his hands. In the name of Jesus Christ he commanded the winds and the waves to be still. Immediately the winds subsided, and the terrifying waves became peaceful, astonishing the frightened natives. Although the men were now far out to sea, they turned their boat toward the island and rowed to it safely.
Don Carlos McBride served two missions to the Samoan Islands, spending a total of nearly seven years there. In 1910, during his second mission, he was called to be the mission president. Despite the hardships and sacrifice involved, he served with obedience and love.

At a young age, Sister Cristina B. Franco learned that if she had a question, she could turn to Heavenly Father in prayer for an answer.
“I remember going to my mom when I was 11 or so and asking her a doctrinal question,” she said. “She answered my question but told me, ‘You don’t have to take my word for it.’ So I prayed and asked my Heavenly Father if it was true.”
Her prayer was answered, and from then on she knew she had a Heavenly Father who loved her and would answer her prayers.

I used to coach my oldest daughter's city-league basketball team. She was 9 or 10 at the time and was more interested in having fun and mingling with the other girls than in scoring a lot of points or even winning games. I tried, with mixed success, to teach the girls to dribble and shoot and pass and catch. Most of them were content to play minor roles and just enjoyed being part of a team. At our first game I realized very quickly that not all the parents were as content with that arrangement as their daughters were. I heard things from the stands like "Don't let her get away with that!" and "If she gets in your way again, knock her over!" I wasn't aware of this, but apparently it's important for little girls to learn how to growl, push, and throw a good elbow when they're nine if they want to be responsible, contributing adults and future mothers.

Sometimes we send the message that aggression and superior self-confidence is the key to future success. Well, it just didn't feel right to me. I couldn't reconcile what I was hearing and seeing with anything the Savior taught. It wasn't until just recently that I read the following from Elder Maxwell: "If we truly want the best for our sons and daughters, we want for them not status but more meekness, mercy, love, patience, and submissiveness."

At age twenty-seven, Wilford Woodruff was present at a meeting called by the Prophet Joseph in Kirtland, Ohio, early in 1834. At this time, the Saints who had gathered in Missouri were suffering great persecutions. Mobs had driven them from their homes in Jackson County. Some had tried to establish themselves in neighboring counties, but persecutions followed them. The Prophet had announced the intention to go to Missouri and had enlisted a number of volunteers to go as Zion’s Camp to rescue the Saints there. Wilford Woodruff gives a vivid description of the Prophet’s message to the elders who met in preparation for the Zion’s Camp march:

On Sunday night the Prophet called on all who held the Priesthood to gather into the little log school house they had there. It was a small house, perhaps 14 feet square. But it held the whole of the Priesthood of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who were then in the town of Kirtland, and who had gathered together to go off in Zion’s camp. That was the first time I ever saw Oliver Cowdery, or heard him speak; the first time I ever saw Brigham Young or Heber C. Kimball, and the two Pratts, and Orson Hyde and many others. There were no Apostles in the Church except Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. When we got together the Prophet called upon the Elders of Israel with him to bear testimony of this work. Those that I have named spoke, and a good many that I have not named, bore their testimonies. When they got through the Prophet said, “Brethren, I have been very much edified and instructed in your testimonies here tonight, but I want to say to you before the Lord, that you know no more concerning the destinies of this Church and the kingdom than a babe upon its mother’s lap. You don’t comprehend it.” I was rather surprised. Then the prophet said, “It is only a little handful of Priesthood you see here tonight, but this Church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world.” [CR, April 1898, p. 57]

Ten-year-old Olivia curled upon her side and tried to go back to sleep, even though she knew that it would be impossible. After all, it was Christmas, 1843. Well, just barely, Olivia thought as she counted the twelve chimes that echoed softly from her mother’s clock.
Last Christmas, she’d lived far away in Leek, England. Then Grandpa Rushton had listened to the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “These men speak the truth,” he’d said. Three months later, Olivia and her entire family were baptized along with Grandpa and Grandma.
Leaving England to join the Saints in America had been a very hard decision. Would Grandpa be able to sell his silk business? What would Papa do? Would Baby James get sick and die like Mama’s other baby? And what about Grandma Lettice? Olivia would have been terrified to leave her home if she were blind like Grandma.
After a lot of prayer and asking the Lord, Papa knew that they needed to follow the counsel of the Prophet Joseph Smith and join the Saints in Zion.
And now it was Christmas, even though Christmas in Nauvoo was very different from Christmas in England. There, everyone enjoyed crackling Yule logs, the singing of carols, and the exchanging of presents. In Nauvoo, many people didn’t celebrate the day at all. Mama said that it was because of their religious customs before they joined the Church. But that didn’t seem like a very good reason to Olivia. If only we could have Christmas like we did in England! she thought with a sigh.
Just then, she heard muffled voices by the front door. Olivia slid out of bed and tiptoed across the cold floor. “Mama?”
Her mother and father were bundled up!
“Where are you going, Mama?”
“What are you doing up, Olivia?” Mama whispered. “You should be in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep—and then I heard you.”
“Well, go back to bed,” Mama said. “Grandma Lettice asked us to go singing with her.”
“Singing? Now? May I come, too?”
“It’s cold outside,” Papa said.
“I don’t mind,” Olivia replied. “Please?”
Mama and Papa exchanged glances. “Well, all right,” Papa said. “But you’ll have to dress quickly. We don’t want to be late.”
Olivia changed into her warmest clothes, then followed her parents into the chilly darkness. The cold stung her face like an angry slap, and her breath turned into puffy clouds. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Are we going to sing a song I know?”
“You’ll see,” Mama said.
Just as she was wondering how much farther she’d have to walk, she saw her aunts and uncles, Grandma Lettice, and several neighbors gathered together outside the Mansion House at the corner of Main and Water Streets.
The Prophet’s house! Olivia caught her breath. Are we going to sing to the Prophet? she wondered.
“All right, everyone,” Grandma Lettice whispered. “Just as we rehearsed it.”
For a split second, Olivia wondered if it had been a mistake to come—she hadn’t rehearsed anything. But in only two notes, Olivia realized that she did know the song. It was one of the songs in Sister Smith’s new hymnal. She took a deep breath and sang with the rest of the carolers.
“Mortals, awake! with angels join,
And chant the solemn lay;
Love, joy and gratitude combine
To hail th’ auspicious day.”*
Soon lights flickered to life, and windows of the Mansion House opened. The Prophet Joseph Smith, his family, and all of his boarders looked out.
“Who’s singing?” someone asked.
“How lovely,” whispered another.
“Are there angels outside?”
Although Olivia wasn’t an angel, she certainly felt like one as a wave of warmth spread from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes. How happy the Prophet looks, she thought.
When they’d finished, Olivia was certain that she saw tears in the Prophet’s eyes as he thanked them for their beautiful serenade and blessed them in the name of the Lord.
“Merry Christmas,” Olivia called as the singers left. She decided that she didn’t want to be back in England, after all. She belonged here with her family, the restored Church, and the Lord’s prophet. She couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift.

Several members of the Snow family, including 17-year-old Lorenzo, clambered into the carriage and drove off toward the Johnson farm, four miles away. The year was 1831, and recently a new religious group known as Mormons had sprung up in the area.
Word had been circulated that the Mormon Prophet, Joseph Smith, was to speak at a meeting at the Johnson place and the Snows, curious perhaps, decided to attend.
The Prophet was standing in the doorway of the house, addressing the group. Lorenzo later recorded his impressions thus: “He was only 25 years of age and was not, at that time, what would be called a fluent speaker. His remarks were confined principally to his own experiences, especially the visitation of the angel, giving a strong and powerful testimony in regard to these marvelous manifestations.”
Lorenzo concluded that Joseph Smith had not been deceived. Either the Mormon leader had, indeed, talked with the Father and the Son or he was an outright fraud. The boy was not religiously inclined at the time, and did not bother to find which of the possibilities was true.

After 13 years as an artist and producer at Disney, I remember getting on the elevator to go to work. As I pushed the button to go up, I had a gentle but clear thought come to my mind: “You’re not supposed to be here.”

What would you do with that thought? Well, I put it on a mental shelf and went to work. There was a lot to do. However, that thought came back again and again until it was the only thing I could think about, and the only thing I could see in front of me. I cried as I told my sister, “I think I’m supposed to leave, but I don’t know why or where I’m supposed to go.” As a single sister, stability was important. And this career was stable, offered incredible creative opportunities, and though I had no personal life because of the workload, I loved the people I worked with.

As I tried to put a plan in place, nothing would come together. Later I learned that the plan was not to have a plan. So, I left without an opportunity. I remember thinking, “So this is what faith looks like.” This approach was definitely not “after the manner [or logic] of men.” [33] I remember waking up without a job and away from the people I loved. I cried and had many heartfelt conversations with my Heavenly Father. This time was invaluable as I learned who I really was—minus a career, a title, a status, minus the people I knew well. I came to know in a deeper way who I was to Him as His daughter, and how much He knew and loved me.

I began to have peace, and my covenant relationship with God deepened. After letting go of everything I thought I had to have, I was open to what the Lord had in store. Though I had stepped away from what seemed like a prosperous, stable place into an unknown desert, the Master of the vineyard took great care to nourish, comfort, and strengthen me.

I was unexpectedly led to graduate school in BYU’s Master of Public Administration program. I was also unexpectedly offered a position to manage the Church’s animation team. And I was serving as Young Women president of more than 50 girls. I couldn’t have written or imagined these elements in my story. That’s when you know it’s Him.

Two months after I left Disney, the studio that I thought was so stable shut down without warning. The Lord had mercifully given me time to recenter in Him. And I’m so grateful He let me choose Him.

We experienced one of those “only with time” blessings this past February when we attended the naming and blessing of a little Mongolian girl in our expanded missionary family. Her name is Tungalag. Her mother is Davaajargal. She’s a modern-day pioneer as the first woman to be baptized in Mongolia. Tungalag’s father, Sanchir, is an MBA student at BYU.

I knew Sanchir in Mongolia for some time before he became a member. It was only after one year and many, many discussions with dedicated missionaries that he was baptized. It is nothing short of a miracle that this young father, after only two years in the Church, could have uttered the words of this beautiful blessing which began, “Tungalag, I bless you that you will be a good human being.” I’ll never forget that beginning!

In this blessing he said things that he would not have known or even imagined before his baptism. Witnessing this blessing and realizing the extent to which the gospel has changed this young man and this family truly made this a missionary payday.

I had been on my mission for 13 months when I received a phone call from my mission president informing me of the death of my dear sister Solange. This news broke my heart, and I shed tears of sadness as I remembered the beautiful moments we had spent together throughout her life of nearly 20 years. My pain over losing her was very deep.
As we approached the weekend, I realized that we were coming up on general conference. And in spite of my sorrow and pain, my companion and I went to watch the conference broadcast at the chapel.
Who would have known, but in his talk entitled “Confide in God Unwaveringly,” Elder Ulisses Soares recounted an experience that exactly described my situation. He said, “Years ago while serving as a mission president, I received a phone call from the parents of one of our beloved missionaries informing me of the death of his sister. I remember, in the tenderness of that moment, that missionary and I discussed God’s marvelous plan of salvation for His children and how this knowledge would comfort him.
“Although he was stunned and saddened by that adversity, this missionary—through his tears and with faith in God—rejoiced in his sister’s life. He expressed unwavering confidence in the tender mercies of the Lord. Resolutely, he told me that he would continue to serve his mission with all faith and diligence in order to be worthy of the promises that God had for him and his family. In this time of need, that faithful missionary turned his heart to God, placed all of his trust in Him, and renewed his commitment to serve the Lord with faith and with all diligence” (Liahona, May 2017, 35).
Dear brothers and sisters, I felt that every word, every sentence of this talk was addressed directly to me—and what a source of comfort! I testify that God speaks to us every six months through the mouths of His servants in general conference.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland illustrated how this can happen when he spoke of the experience of Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail. If there were any place likely to be considered unholy or haunted, it would be that small jail, located near the western frontier of America, in the winter of 1838–39. As described by Elder Holland:

The jail ... was considered escape proof, and it probably was. It had two stories. The ... main floor was accessible to the outside world only by a single small, heavy door. In the middle of that floor was a trapdoor through which prisoners were then lowered into the lower floor or dungeon. The outside walls ... were ... two feet thick, with inside walls of 12-inch ... logs. These two walls were separated by a 12-inch space filled with loose rock. Combined, these walls made a ... virtually impenetrable barrier four feet thick.6

Joseph and his companions spent more than four months in that setting.

Elder Holland continued:

The food given to the prisoners was coarse and sometimes contaminated, so filthy that one of them said they “could not eat it until [they] were driven to it by hunger.” On as many as four occasions they had poison administered to them in their food, making them so violently ill that for days they alternated between vomiting and a kind of delirium, not really caring whether they lived or died. In the Prophet Joseph’s letters, he spoke of the jail being a “hell, surrounded with demons ... where we are compelled to hear nothing but blasphemous oaths, and witness a scene of blasphemy, and drunkenness and hypocrisy, and debaucheries of every description.”7

Elder Holland included further descriptions from Joseph Smith’s letters:

“We have ... not blankets sufficient to keep us warm; and when we have a fire, we are obliged to have almost a constant smoke.”8

“Our souls have been bowed down”9 and “my nerve trembles from long confinement.”10

“Pen, or tongue, or angels [could not describe] the malice of hell that I have suffered.”11

That is not the kind of place that you or I would describe as holy. And yet it was in that setting that the Prophet received and recorded some of the most sublime revelations of this dispensation, including sections 121, 122, and 123 of the Doctrine and Covenants. The outpouring of the Holy Spirit was so profound in that jail that B. H. Roberts, as Elder Holland noted, rightly referred to it as a “prison-temple.”12

President McKay recalls another vivid lesson from youth:
“I thank my earthly father for the lesson he gave to two boys in a hayfield at a time when tithes were paid in kind. We had driven out to the field to get the tenth load of hay, and then over to a part of the meadow where we had taken the ninth load, where there was ‘wire grass’ and ‘slough grass.’ As we started to load the hay, father called out, ‘No, boys, drive over to the higher ground.’ There was timothy and redtop there. But one of the boys called back, (and it was I) ‘No, let us take the hay as it comes!’
“‘No, David, that is the tenth load, and the best is none too good for God.’”

In my personal life, I have also experienced what felt like disappointing detours. As a young person, I expected my life to proceed in a particular pattern. But by the time I turned twenty-five, after having graduated from BYU with a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, I found myself living alone in Japan, divorced, and working outside of my chosen field. I also somehow ended up with crispy blonde hair that ensured I stood out in Asia. Though I had a great network of support, I had to reevaluate who I was and how I understood the world. As I biked through narrow, winding neighborhoods on long rides to work, I slowly found a deeper sense of peace. As I was cared for by friends and challenged by intent students, I started to find a new sense of direction.

In the middle of the winter, a package arrived from my Grandmother Marsh in Los Angeles. I caught my breath when Polly and I tore off the brown wrapping. Inside were two outfits, breathtakingly in style. Mine had a pink flowered top with knee socks to match. Polly’s was identical, except that it was blue. This was our big chance to show the kids at Forsythe Junior High that we weren’t such misfits after all. Boy, would they be surprised!

I was a little nervous about the color because this was no ordinary pink. It was a sizzling, shocking pink. But the outfit was so definitely “in” that I squelched my fear. I slowly hung my oversized plaid coat in my locker and wondered what the kids would think of me appearing in such style.

A sea of eyes followed my dazzling pink presence from my locker to my homeroom. Then the whispering began—but not whispers of envy or admiration, as I had secretly hoped.

“Look what she’s wearing.”

“Didn’t we already have Halloween?”

All day the laughter continued. Resentment and frustration built within me. If only I had a friend to walk with, it would be so much easier. If only somebody who knew what was acceptable would give me some hints. Repeatedly I had tried to fit in and failed. And now even Grandma’s outfit had betrayed me. After that I stopped trying to live by other people’s standards. I warned Polly, and she never even wore her new clothes.