Gospel Story Finder

Late in 1827, Emma learned she was pregnant and wrote to her parents. It had been almost a year since she and Joseph had married, and her father and mother were still unhappy. But the Haleses agreed to let the young couple return to Harmony so Emma could give birth near her family.
Although it would take him away from his own parents and siblings, Joseph was eager to go. People in New York were still trying to steal the plates, and moving to a new place could provide the peace and privacy he needed to do the Lord’s work. Unfortunately, he was in debt and had no money to make the move.5
Hoping to get his finances in order, Joseph went to town to settle some of his debts. While he was in a store making a payment, Martin Harris strode up to him. “Here, Mr. Smith, is fifty dollars,” he said. “I give it to you to do the Lord’s work.”
Joseph was nervous about accepting the money and promised to repay it, but Martin said not to worry about it. The money was a gift, and he called on everyone in the room to witness that he had given it freely.6
Soon after, Joseph paid his debts and loaded his wagon. He and Emma then left for Harmony with the gold plates hidden in a barrel of beans.7
The couple arrived at the Haleses’ spacious home about a week later.8 Before long, Emma’s father demanded to see the gold plates, but Joseph said he could only show him the box where he kept them. Annoyed, Isaac picked up the lockbox and felt its weight, yet he remained skeptical. He said Joseph could not keep it in the house unless he showed him what was inside.9
With Emma’s father around, translating would not be easy, but Joseph tried his best. Assisted by Emma, he copied many of the strange characters from the plates to paper.10 Then, for several weeks, he tried to translate them with the Urim and Thummim. The process required him to do more than look into the interpreters. He had to be humble and exercise faith as he studied the characters.11
A few months later, Martin came to Harmony. He said he felt called by the Lord to travel as far as New York City to consult experts in ancient languages. He hoped they could translate the characters.12
Joseph copied several more characters from the plates, wrote down his translation, and handed the paper to Martin. He and Emma then watched as their friend headed east to consult with distinguished scholars.13
Facsimile of characters from the Book of Mormon plates.
When Martin arrived in New York City, he went to see Charles Anthon, a professor of Latin and Greek at Columbia College. Professor Anthon was a young man—about 15 years younger than Martin—and was best known for publishing a popular encyclopedia on Greek and Roman culture. He had also begun collecting stories about American Indians.14
Anthon was a rigid scholar who resented interruptions, but he welcomed Martin and studied the characters and translation Joseph had provided.15 Although the professor did not know Egyptian, he had read some studies on the language and knew what it looked like. Looking at the characters, he saw some similarities with Egyptian and told Martin the translation was correct.
Martin showed him more characters, and Anthon examined them. He said they contained characters from many ancient languages and gave Martin a certificate verifying their authenticity. He also recommended that he show the characters to another scholar named Samuel Mitchill, who used to teach at Columbia.16
“He is very learned in these ancient languages,” Anthon said, “and I have no doubt he will be able to give you some satisfaction.”17
Martin placed the certificate in his pocket, but just as he was leaving, Anthon called him back. He wanted to know how Joseph found the gold plates.
“An angel of God,” Martin said, “revealed it unto him.” He testified that the translation of the plates would change the world and save it from destruction. And now that he had proof of their authenticity, he intended to sell his farm and donate money to get the translation published.
“Let me see that certificate,” Anthon said.
Martin reached into his pocket and gave it to him. Anthon tore it to pieces and said there was no such thing as ministering angels. If Joseph wanted the plates translated, he could bring them to Columbia and let a scholar translate them.
Martin explained that part of the plates were sealed and that Joseph was not allowed to show them to anyone.
“I cannot read a sealed book,” said Anthon. He warned Martin that Joseph was probably cheating him. “Beware of rogues,” he said.18
Martin left Professor Anthon and called on Samuel Mitchill. He received Martin politely, listened to his story, and looked at the characters and translation. He could not make sense of them, but he said they reminded him of Egyptian hieroglyphics and were the writings of an extinct nation.19
Martin left the city a short time later and returned to Harmony, more convinced than ever that Joseph had ancient gold plates and the power to translate them. He told Joseph about his interviews with the professors and reasoned that if some of the most educated men in America could not translate the book, Joseph had to do it.
“I cannot,” Joseph said, overwhelmed by the task, “for I am not learned.” But he knew the Lord had prepared the interpreters so he could translate the plates.20
Martin agreed. He planned to go back to Palmyra, set his business in order, and return as soon as possible to serve as Joseph’s scribe.21
Joseph and Emma Smith’s home in Harmony, Pennsylvania.
In April 1828, Emma and Joseph were living in a home along the Susquehanna River, not far from her parents’ house.22 Now well along in her pregnancy, Emma often acted as Joseph’s scribe after he began translating the record. One day, while he translated, Joseph suddenly grew pale. “Emma, did Jerusalem have a wall around it?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, recalling descriptions of it in the Bible.
“Oh,” Joseph said with relief, “I was afraid I had been deceived.”23
Emma marveled that her husband’s lack of knowledge in history and scripture did not hinder the translation. Joseph could hardly write a coherent letter. Yet hour after hour she sat close beside him while he dictated the record without the aid of any book or manuscript. She knew only God could inspire him to translate as he did.24
In time, Martin returned from Palmyra and took over as scribe, giving Emma a chance to rest before the baby came.25 But rest did not come easy. Martin’s wife, Lucy, had insisted on coming with him to Harmony, and both Harrises had strong personalities.26 Lucy was suspicious of Martin’s desire to support Joseph financially and was angry that he had gone to New York City without her. When he told her he was going to Harmony to help with translation, she had invited herself along, determined to see the plates.
Lucy was losing her hearing, and when she could not understand what people were saying, she sometimes thought they were criticizing her. She also had little sense of privacy. After Joseph refused to show her the plates, she started searching the house, rifling through the family’s chests, cupboards, and trunks. Joseph had little choice but to hide the plates in the woods.27
Lucy soon left the house and lodged with a neighbor. Emma had her chests and cupboards to herself again, but now Lucy was telling the neighbors that Joseph was out to get Martin’s money. After weeks of causing trouble, Lucy went home to Palmyra.
With peace restored, Joseph and Martin translated quickly. Joseph was growing into his divine role as a seer and revelator. Looking into the interpreters or another seer stone, he was able to translate whether the plates were in front of him or wrapped in one of Emma’s linen cloths on the table.28
Throughout April, May, and early June, Emma listened to the rhythm of Joseph dictating the record.29 He spoke slowly but clearly, pausing occasionally to wait for Martin to say “written” after he had caught up to what Joseph had said.30 Emma also took turns as scribe and was amazed how after interruptions and breaks, Joseph always picked up where he left off without any prompting.31
Soon it was time for Emma’s baby to be born. The pile of manuscript pages had grown thick, and Martin had become convinced that if he could let his wife read the translation, she would see its value and stop interfering with their work.32 He also hoped Lucy would be pleased with how he had spent his time and money to help bring forth God’s word.
One day, Martin asked Joseph for permission to take the manuscript to Palmyra for a few weeks.33 Remembering how Lucy Harris had acted when she visited the house, Joseph was wary of the idea. Yet he wanted to please Martin, who had believed him when so many others had doubted his word.34
Unsure what to do, Joseph prayed for guidance, and the Lord told him not to let Martin take the pages.35 But Martin was sure showing them to his wife would change things, and he begged Joseph to ask again. Joseph did so, but the answer was the same. Martin pressed him to ask a third time, however, and this time God allowed them to do as they pleased.
Joseph told Martin he could take the pages for two weeks if he covenanted to keep them locked up and show them only to certain family members. Martin made the promise and returned to Palmyra, manuscript in hand.36
After Martin left, Moroni appeared to Joseph and took the interpreters from him.37
The day after Martin’s departure, Emma endured an agonizing labor and gave birth to a boy. The baby was frail and sickly and did not live long. The ordeal left Emma physically drained and emotionally devastated, and for a time it seemed she might die too. Joseph tended to her constantly, never leaving her side for long.38
After two weeks, Emma’s health began to improve, and her thoughts turned to Martin and the manuscript. “I feel so uneasy,” she told Joseph, “that I cannot rest and shall not be at ease until I know something about what Mr. Harris is doing with it.”
She urged Joseph to find Martin, but Joseph did not want to leave her. “Send for my mother,” she said, “and she shall stay with me while you are gone.”39
Joseph took a stagecoach north. He ate and slept little during the journey, afraid that he had offended the Lord by not listening when He said not to let Martin take the manuscript.40
The sun was rising when he arrived at his parents’ home in Manchester. The Smiths were preparing breakfast and sent Martin an invitation to join them. By eight o’clock, the meal was on the table but Martin had not come. Joseph and the family started to grow uneasy as they waited for him.
Finally, after more than four hours had passed, Martin appeared in the distance, walking slowly toward the house, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.41 At the gate he paused, sat on the fence, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. He then came inside and sat down to eat in silence.
The family watched as Martin picked up his utensils, as if ready to eat, then dropped them. “I have lost my soul!” he cried, pressing his hands on his temples. “I have lost my soul.”
Joseph jumped up. “Martin, have you lost that manuscript?”
“Yes,” Martin said. “It is gone, and I know not where.”
“Oh, my God, my God,” Joseph groaned, clenching his fists. “All is lost!”
He started pacing the floor. He did not know what to do. “Go back,” he ordered Martin. “Search again.”
“It is all in vain,” Martin cried. “I have looked every place in the house. I have even ripped open beds and pillows, and I know it is not there.”
“Must I return to my wife with such a tale?” Joseph feared the news would kill her. “And how shall I appear before the Lord?”
His mother tried to comfort him. She said maybe the Lord would forgive him if he repented humbly. But Joseph was sobbing now, furious at himself for not obeying the Lord the first time. He could barely eat for the rest of the day. He stayed the night and left the next morning for Harmony.42
As his mother, Lucy, watched him go, her heart was heavy. It seemed everything they had hoped for as a family—everything that had brought them joy over the last few years—had fled in a moment.43

Last year just before Christmas, I attended a dinner given in honor of a high-ranking French official who is not a member of the Church. The dinner was held in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Before sitting down to our meal, we took our guest to the observation window on the 10th floor, which offers visitors a beautiful view of Temple Square. The scene was almost magical, with the Salt Lake Temple standing tall amid myriad glittering lights. We stood there for several minutes, almost speechless.
Upon our return to the banquet room, the official asked us an unexpected question: “Do you believe in the end of the world?” This led to an inspiring discussion about the Lord’s Second Coming and the importance for all of us to be prepared to receive Him on the day of His return.
As I was thinking about the temple we had just admired, a wonderful thought came to my mind: “Upon His return, Jesus will at last have a beautiful place in which to dwell!”

Jeffrey just started kindergarten and is making lots of friends. One day, his teacher told me that the day before, one of the students in his class was having a bad day and was very unhappy. The teacher said that Jeffrey stayed by this student’s side during recess and tried his best to be a good friend. He put his arm around her and comforted her the best he could. At lunchtime, he made sure that he sat next to her, and he helped her open her milk carton and other items in her lunch. Jeffrey’s teacher said that she was very proud of Jeffrey for being a good friend to the girl.

A few years ago I had another experience that helped me recognize my own blindness to what small things had produced. For one of my research projects I had to go down to Colonia Juarez, one of several communities built in the last century by Latter-day Saints in northern Mexico. A friend of mine from Colonia Juarez picked me up in El Paso, Texas, and drove me to her community. During the drive we crossed a lot of desert area of the kind that would almost seem a caricature for west Texas and northern Mexico—sand, dirt, cactus, an occasional little pueblo with adobe buildings, broken-down-looking cars, and only one paved road, which was the highway we were on. Everything seemed hot and dirty. After about four hours the road started to descend and curve a little more, and, as we came around a bend, suddenly, there was Colonia Juarez. I was stunned. There were beautiful fruit orchards, brick homes with lovely yards, water running in ditches by the side of the streets, plenty of shade trees. If I had not known where I was, I would have sworn that I was in one of many small towns I was familiar with in Utah. Everything looked like it. And then I realized that the small towns and big cities in Utah were as much a surprise and a wonder, not because of their smallness or quaintness (as some of you more sophisticated types may think) but because they, just like Colonia Juarez, had been wrested out of the desert. Something great had proceeded out of the small, forward-looking acts of many—a true miracle had been produced.

Lately I have been thinking of a time in my life when the weight of worry and concern over an uncertain future seemed ever present. I was 11 years old and living with my family in the attic of a farmhouse near Frankfurt, Germany. We were refugees for the second time in a period of only a few years, and we were struggling to establish ourselves in a new place far away from our previous home. I could say that we were poor, but that would be an understatement. We all slept in one room that was so tiny there was scarcely space to walk around the beds. In the other small room, we had a few pieces of modest furniture and a stove that Mother used to cook meals on. To get from one room to the other, we had to pass through a storage area where the farmer kept his equipment and tools, along with assorted meats and sausages hanging from the rafters. The aroma always made me very hungry. We had no bathroom, but we did have an outhouse—down the stairs and some 50 feet (15 m) away, though it seemed much farther during wintertime.
Because I was a refugee and because of my East German accent, other children often made fun of me and called me names that deeply hurt. Of all the times of my youth, I believe this may have been the most discouraging.
Now, decades later, I can look back on those days through the softening filter of experience. Even though I still remember the hurt and despair, I can see now what I was unable to see then: this was a period of great personal growth. During this time, our family bonded together. I watched and learned from my parents. I admired their determination and optimism. From them I learned that adversity, when confronted with faith, courage, and tenacity, could be overcome.

I knelt beside my three-year-old and listened to his scrambled bedtime prayer: “I’m thankful for Mommy and Daddy, snow and clouds. I’m thankful for Santa Claus. I’m thankful for pizza and my big brother. Thank you for food. Thank you for everything.”
I waited as he hesitated. With such a long inventory of blessings, I assumed he was deciding between continuing his list or jumping into his warm, inviting bed. After a long pause, he hastily added, “Oh, and please bless our dumb old cat.” He then finished his prayer with an emphatic amen.

Consider the power to love. I remember a mother I met once as I made a professional house call. This woman was confined in an iron lung. The ravages of polio had effectively destroyed all the breathing muscles so that her life was completely dependent upon this large metal tank and the electrical motor that powered its noisy bellows.
While there, I watched her three children as they related to their mother. The oldest interrupted our work to ask permission to go to a friend’s house for an hour. Later the second child asked her mother for help with arithmetic. Finally the youngest child, so small that she couldn’t see her mother’s face directly, looked up at her image in a mirror that had been placed over the mother’s head and asked, “Mommy, may I have a cookie?” I’ve never forgotten that lesson on the power of love. This woman, virtually disabled and certainly incapable of any degree of physical enforcement of parental authority, sweetly influenced that home solely with the power to love!

“My, but this boat is slow!” Sarah Thomas complained as the paddle steamer inched its way up the Mississippi River. She was sure the boat was standing still and that the trees were floating past! Even time seemed to stand still that warm day.
Sarah’s mind began to wander. She thought about the day in England a few years before, when a neighbor came knocking at their door. “There be a new preacher in town,” he announced. “Come and listen to him. Everyone’s meeting at the tithing barn.”
“I have a harness to mend,” her father answered without looking up. “It won’t mend itself.”
“His name is Heber Kimball, and he be from the Americas!” the neighbor added excitedly. “They say that he be a great preacher. He preaches about a new religion! The people of Preston really liked him.”
“Well, now,” Sarah’s father said thoughtfully. “An American preacher. I wonder if American preachers have a better tale to tell than British ones. Not a one that I’ve ever listened to preached the truth.” He stitched the leather absentmindedly. A new religion, he thought. I guess I’ll give him a chance.
As the neighbor hurried on his way to spread the word, the Thomas family prepared for the meeting. They didn’t have any other clothes to change into, but they washed themselves and brushed the clothes that they were wearing. Sarah brushed and rebraided her hair.
When they got to the busy town, some of their neighbors were hurrying to the tithing barn. Some of those who had already arrived at the meeting place were caring for their horses; others stood around talking and laughing. They were all eager for the American preacher to arrive.
The people of Chatburn liked to listen to preachers. But after the preachers moved on, it was as though the towns-people were still hungry for something that they didn’t have—the truth. No one in Chatburn had ever joined any of the churches that sent missionaries to their town.
When the American preacher walked into the town square, the people eagerly surrounded him. After they had crowded into the barn, there were so many of them that the preacher had to stand on top of a barrel to speak.
Sarah, who was used to hearing preachers, listened only halfheartedly when he began to talk. They all preach the same thing, she thought. But soon Elder Kimball’s message began to pierce her mind. He was preaching of a Savior who not only came to earth and was crucified but lived still. Elder Kimball bore such a powerful testimony of the living Savior that Sarah began to feel a warm glow, and she could tell that people around her were feeling the same thing. She strained to catch every word. Elder Kimball taught them that everyone must first have faith in Jesus Christ. Then they must repent and be baptized.
“This is it!” Sarah said to herself. “He speaks the truth!”
After the meeting, the people surged around Elder Kimball. Mrs. Partinton tugged on his sleeve. “Please, I want to be baptized!” Soon others were also asking to be baptized.
Sarah wanted desperately to add her own request for baptism, but she couldn’t be heard from the back. As she waited for her chance, the crowd flowed out the doors and down to the river. Following them, she watched as Elder Kimball baptized several people.
Her father found her in the crowd. “Come, Sarah,” he said. “It’s time to get the wee ones home.” Baby Josiah was asleep in her mother’s arms, and Timothy was crying softly as he leaned against her father. Sarah knew that she must obey, so she followed them. As they walked, she became very sleepy. It was a struggle to walk and to listen to her parents.
“I want to be baptized, Joshua,” her mother said softly. “He’s brought Christ’s true church to us.”
She heard her father chuckle softly. “Yes, he has.”
“What’s funny?” Mother asked.
“I was just thinking of all those other preachers who have come to Chatburn,” her father answered. “Not a one of us would join with them. They think that we are wild and hard-hearted. If they could only see us now! This one man has changed everything.”
“Father,” Sarah said sleepily, “I want to be baptized. May I?”
“Yes. Brother Kimball is leaving for Clitheroe tonight, but he’ll be back. We’ll be baptized when he comes again.”
The next few days were very long for Sarah. She did everything that she could think of to make the time go faster. One morning, when she was returning from taking a basket of scones to Mrs. Root, who was sick, she saw Elder Kimball on the path to town. She ran the rest of the way home to tell her family. In a short time, they were back in town, ready for a meeting. This time so many people had gathered that they met outside. Elder Kimball stood on a stone wall and preached to the people, and it was just as before. Sarah felt the Holy Ghost tell her that he spoke the truth.
Sarah and her parents were baptized that night. What a good feeling it was to know that they were all members of Christ’s true church. She felt clean and right.
Things changed in Chatburn after that. Parents began to teach their children what Elder Kimball had taught them. The children listened to their parents and obeyed Christ’s commandments. A new happiness and peace filled the village.
A few weeks later the man they now called Brother Kimball returned to their village. The children saw him on the path and, singing the songs of Zion, raced to meet him. They grabbed his arms and held on to his coat. Their parents stood in the doors of their homes as the group passed; they called out blessings on the man who had changed their lives.
What a wonderful time it was for Sarah! Brother Kimball continued to teach them. She learned more about the Prophet Joseph Smith, through whom the Lord restored the true church, and she felt a strong desire to see a living prophet.
Soon the word was spread throughout England: “The Saints are gathering in Nauvoo. Come to Nauvoo!”
“Nauvoo!” The cry jerked Sarah back to the present. The boat was rounding a curve, and now she could see people and buildings.
The Saints pressed eagerly against the rail of the boat as they searched for a glimpse of their new home. Sarah was searching, too, searching for someone very special. She wanted to see the Prophet. She had heard that sometimes he met new arrivals at the dock. Will I know him when I see him? she wondered.
As the boat neared the dock, she could distinguish faces. Her eyes stopped on a tall man who stood out above the rest. He had light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that had a twinkle in them. She knew without anyone telling her. He was the Prophet. Her wish had been answered. She was a member of Christ’s true church, and now she had seen His Prophet. Bless Brother Kimball!

When our oldest daughter, Betsy, was preparing to graduate from the 6 th grade at Laie School, which is a big deal in Laie, Linda promised to make her a special home-sewn dress for the occasion. Because she was not sure of the best kind of material or where to get it, she got some information from her new visiting teacher, Karen Miller. She bought the material and a pattern, but before she could start it, she had to fly to Utah quickly to be with her mother, who was dying. She had to stay three weeks, and missed the graduation. On the day of the graduation, though, she called Betsy and told her she was so sorry that she did not have time to make her dress. Betsy cheerfully said, "Oh, I had my dress. Sister Miller came and got the pattern and the material and made it for me. I wore it today." The picture is of Betsy receiving a special award in her new dress with Joe Ah Quinn as master of ceremonies.

In 1926, LeGrand responded to a call from President Heber J. Grant for short-term missionaries. Elder Richards left his business and family to serve six months in another part of the country. In 1929 he responded again, when President Grant asked him to sell his home and business and move to California, where he served first as a bishop of the Glendale Ward and then as president of the Hollywood Stake. Such a call was quite unusual by this point in Church history, but Elder Richards said when the call was delivered to him by a messenger: “Tell the President that I think enough of the Lord, the Church, and him that if this is what he wants, I will go.”

Back to South America. I met one day a young Peruvian, way back in the hinterlands of Peru, beyond the trains and beyond the bus lines, where we had to go in a car, and he said to me, “I think I heard you the other day on my transistor.” He was in Peru; I was in Salt Lake City, in the general conference. But he heard my talk, which had been broadcast, I think, to the Telstar, and then to Buenos Aires, and then back to Lima, and then out into the wilderness. From this remote settlement, about as far away as you could get, he had heard, through this little pocket instrument, some of the general conference; and I realized that transistor radios would come smaller and smaller and would cost less and less money, until the people behind the curtains would hear it, and everybody in the world, nearly, could afford one of these little transistor radios, which would be pocket size.

At Young Women camp in the mountains of California, girls and leaders waited for dinner in an A-frame lodge. As we waited, some girls noticed something under a table. A hummingbird had somehow flown into the lodge, couldn’t find its way out, and finally collapsed on the floor. They asked me to help.
The bird looked near death, its beak wrapped with cobwebs and its feathers askew. I gently put it into a cup and carried it outside. I hoped it would recover on its own but realistically expected it to go the way of all nature. However, as I tipped the cup to gently deposit the hummingbird onto the ground, in mid-slide the hummingbird grasped the rim of the cup with its tiny talons. I held the cup upright, the bird perched on the rim, its eyes closed. Now what?
One leader, seeing the bird, mixed a solution of sugar and water and brought it to me. First I gently brushed the cobwebs from the needle-sharp beak. The bird didn’t flinch. Then I dipped a finger in the sugar water and held a drop to the tip of the beak. The drop disappeared, even though the bird didn’t move. Perhaps the liquid seeped into the beak? I dipped my finger again and held it to the bird’s beak. This time a tiny tongue, thinner than a hair, licked my fingertip.
For 10 or 15 minutes, the hummingbird drank one drop after another. By then, several other leaders had gathered around me, and I offered them a try at feeding it.
Suddenly the bird opened its eyes, and its ruffled feathers fell instantly into place. After drinking a couple more drops, it started its wings, warmed them for a second, and flew straight up. It hesitated a moment above us, and then shot away.
We stood there, stunned. And then, as suddenly as the bird had flown away, the spiritual lessons came:
Often, as we reach out to the less active, our efforts don’t seem to make a difference. But the love we offer does slip into the cracks—like the nectar into the unmoving beak of the hummingbird—providing spiritual nutrition that one day may produce results.
At times we can’t go further on our own; we need a kind, caring hand up.
Sometimes people get tangled in the cobwebs of sin or addiction and need the help of a friend or priesthood leader and the Savior’s assistance to get free.
We need regular spiritual nutrition in order to endure, else we run out of spiritual strength and fall victim to evil influences.
The hummingbird kept hanging on. Literally. Hanging on made all the difference. At times, we must simply endure in faith as we deal with the painful and sometimes horrible challenges of life.
The New Testament says that the Master is aware of even the sparrow’s fall (see Matthew 10:29–31). I now know He is also aware of a hummingbird’s fall. And He is aware of you.

The Holy Ghost will also guide you as you make decisions regarding your future. Another young woman I know was dating a tall, handsome young man—the star of the school basketball team and senior class president. While discussing their future plans, she explained that she had made a decision a long time ago to marry a returned missionary in the temple. A mission was not part of his plans, and nothing more was said. The following Christmas, he gave her a small gift. As she opened it, she realized that it was a letter from a prophet of God calling her friend to serve a mission. Her righteous influence helped him make that important decision.

Years ago our 17-year-old son wanted to go on a weekend trip with his friends, who were all good boys. He asked for permission to go. I wanted to say yes, but for some reason I felt uncomfortable about the trip. I shared my feelings with my wife, who was very supportive. “We need to listen to that warning voice,” she said.

Of course, our son was disappointed and asked why we didn’t want him to go. I answered honestly that I didn’t know why. “I just don’t feel good about it,” I explained, “and I love you too much to ignore these feelings inside.” I was quite surprised when he said, “That’s OK, Dad. I understand.”

Young people understand more than we realize because they too have the gift of the Holy Ghost. They are trying to recognize the Spirit when He speaks, and they are watching our example. From us they learn to pay attention to their promptings—that if they “don’t feel good about something,” it’s best not to pursue it.

She studied elementary education at Brigham Young University and minored in Spanish. During a class trip to Mexico, she met Jorge Dennis, and the two began corresponding.
When he moved to Salt Lake City a year later to study English, they began dating. Within a few months, they were engaged. They married in the Salt Lake Temple on September 4, 1980. They have four children and nine grandchildren. They live in Bountiful, Utah.

Rhoda (center) was invited to attend the Ghana Takoradi Mpintsin Stake gathering place with her neighbor who is a member of the Church. When he invited her, she couldn’t believe that she could attend without being a Church member. After some encouragement, she began participating in the beauty class, and now she has become a successful entrepreneur. Her growing clientele includes 10 regular customers for manicures or pedicures.
Rhoda explains, “I have gained confidence and learned how to talk to people. Before coming to the young adult gathering place, I was quiet and kept to myself. But I learned in this business, it is important to be outgoing and talkative.” She is now teaching the beauty class at the gathering place and has become self-reliant. She says, “I can make my own decisions. I don’t have to ask my mom for money anymore. I am very grateful to the Lord for the opportunity the gathering place has provided me!”

The idea of experimenting with our requests to the Lord opens up multiple avenues of conversing Him. I'd like to share a personal experience to illuminate what I mean. In my Patriarchal Blessing I was told that I would have the health I need to meet the challenges of raising my family. However, about ten years ago I began to develop some very challenging health problems, one of which was not being able to sleep. It is no accident that sleep deprivation is used by those who torture others, because sleep deprivation is agony. Finally, after years of not getting enough sleep, I wondered if my Patriarchal Blessing included the promise of health so that I would have the faith to pray for sleep. I pled with the Lord that I would sleep through the night. I put my name in the temple. I researched the topic of sleep, reading any article I could find on it. I went to doctors. I tried everything I could think of. Still I was a walking zombie, who could barely get through the day. This situation was puzzling to me because I believed the Lord had put the blessing of health in my Patriarchal Blessing as a prompt, or a seed, for me to pray about. Yet sleep did not come. Then I thought about what Alma said. Maybe I needed to experiment with the prayer I took to the Lord. I altered my prayer. Instead of asking the Lord to bless me with sleep, I asked that I be led to information that would help me sleep. Within a couple of weeks of experimenting with this prayer, I was searching on the internet on a completely unrelated topic, and within minutes found two new pieces of information regarding sleep deprivation and its causes. I was able to adjust my behavior and have moved from sleep approximately four hours a night to seven.

I am so grateful that the Lord tutored me in my prayers. He gave me a prompt in my Patriarchal Blessing of what question, or seed, I should choose for my prayers. It took some experimenting to fi
nd exactly the right one. I am so grateful that the Lord did not give me my request with my first prayer but gave me the room to experiment. If He had immediately answered my pleadings for sleep, I might never have learned what was preventing me from getting a good night's rest and that might have meant that I would have had to spend energy for the rest of my life on prayers for sleep. Instead, when I altered my prayer, it opened the way for the Lord to bless me with knowledge. That knowledge is bringing sleep and energy. And part of the blessedness of it, is that I now can spend my time conversing with the Lord about other things besides sleep.

When a doctor advised Kay Salveson of Nibley, Utah, to exercise as a treatment for her frequent stress headaches, she couldn’t imagine how she would be able to do it with little time or money. In desperation, she got an old stationary bike and pedaled while her children watched television. It worked. Now Sister Salveson takes brisk walks for exercise. “As I take in the view, I am uplifted by the magical changing seasons and I am humbled by God’s beautiful creations surrounding me, which seem to put everything back into perspective,” she says. “Some people say they walk off pounds. That is true—but I also walk off problems and discouragement.”

Missionary work is well to the forefront of British seminary students’ minds, though most don’t have to suffer as dramatically as 18-year-old David Clinch in order to go on a mission.
David is a dedicated fourth-year student who works in a factory on a Government Youth Training Scheme. Unfortunately, due to an uneven floor, a trolley load of heavy metal bars fell on his leg last October. As he reached out to fend off the bars, he lost the tips off two fingers and received a severely broken ankle.
David had a priesthood blessing, and in far less time than the doctors predicted, David’s body healed. The bones in the ankle knitted perfectly, and he was mending so fast the doctor prescribed ointment to slow down the finger skin growth.
Despite pain and inconvenience, David kept up with his seminary booklets and accepted the challenge of using the time to learn scriptures. His favourite has become D&C 14:7 about enduring to the end. A surprise blessing was in store. His employers paid enough compensation to allow David to go on a mission next year.

Yesterday morning the Presidency of the Church, President Benson, Elder LeGrand Richards, and myself went to Calgary, Alberta, Canada. President Kimball is a most dynamic prophet, and I guess my purpose in telling you some of the things that happened this weekend would be to give you a little closer personal look at President Kimball.

We boarded the plane to Calgary for the purpose of going up there to attend a solemn assembly. President Kimball has instituted, and there will be held in various parts of the United States in the months to come, several solemn assemblies. As you may or may not know, most of the solemn assemblies are convened in the temples. Now, we have had solemn assemblies in the Tabernacle when we sustain new Presidents of the Church, and you’re familiar with those. But, because there aren’t enough temples in the world yet and because there are priesthood brethren that need to be instructed, the President has outlines a very ambitious schedule of solemn assemblies.

The solemn assemblies are for the purpose of instructing the priesthood. Those who are invited to come need a temple recommend and a ticket; there are men placed at the doors, just as you would find if you were to go to the temple here in Provo, who check recommends and tickets.

We arrived in Calgary yesterday, right after noon. As we came off the plane and were walking through customs, President Kimball reached over to carry Elder Richards’ briefcase for him. (President Kimball is eighty, while Elder Richards will soon be ninety.) Unless you’ve been associated with President Kimball, you’ve never seen a more thoughtful, humble, unpretentious, unimposing man—one who doesn’t try to stand above anybody else.

We were driven to the stake center where we were to have the meeting. As we came, I saw the lawn covered with about five hundred little Primary children who had assembled there to sing to the prophet. They sang, concluding with that wonderful primary hymn, “I Am a Child of God.” There aren’t many things that make the President lose his composure, but this touched his heart. He spoke to those wonderful little children. We then went inside, and there were over nine hundred brethren, priesthood leaders—elders quorum presidencies, bishoprics, high councils, stake presidencies, and seventies and high priests leaders—from the nine stakes in Alberta and the mission districts. It was a great experience to sit there for four hours. We partook of the sacrament first. Elders quorum presidencies passed the sacrament; the presidencies of the stakes administered to it. It was a great experience. All of these brethren had come fasting for one purpose: to be in tune with the Spirit as they were instructed by those assigned, particularly the prophet. I appreciated all that was taught by the great men who were there. But there was a difference when the prophet stood up to teach the priesthood. There was a spirit about it that I’m sure you can imagine, but it was unusual. For one hour President Kimball, with a few notes but without a prepared script, instructed the priesthood. This was a thrilling experience.

Afterwards we had a fireside. I was assigned to speak at the fireside with some young people. As we were having dinner before, President Kimball asked me, “Bishop, do you think it’d be all right if I came to the fireside for just a few minutes?”

I said, “I’m sure it’d be all right, if you want.” So he did. He didn’t come in right at the beginning because he had some other duties, but we were right in a break when I saw him come in. I went to the microphone and said, “If you young people want to have a great thrill, look back and see who just walked in the door.” And five hundred of them looked around. When they saw President Kimball had come in, both the girls and the boys started wiping their eyes. They were thrilled by a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Having a prophet come in and give them a blessing and speak to them.

He really is a prophet. There’s no question about it. You have every right to know, as do we who work so closely with him, that he is a prophet. How fortunate we are that we can feel the security of knowing that we have a real prophet leading us! He is a very human individual, too. One of the people was surprised to see that he ate his soup with a spoon, like the rest of us, and that he liked pie and other things that we all like.

I’ll just tell you one more thing. This morning, as we gathered at the airport in Calgary, many of the families of the stake leaders were there to bid President Kimball goodbye. They brought their little children, of course, and waited outside by the sidewalk, where we were shaking hands and saying goodbye. Presently the plane was about to leave, so we hurried inside and started down toward the plane. One of the Brethren commented that President Kimball was missing. We were told that the President had seen a young lady, the daughter of one of the stake leaders, and said, “I forgot to tell her goodbye.” So he had gone back outside and shaken her hand. We thought the plane would have to wait for him, but he didn’t want to dismiss anyone. He’s sensitive to everyone.

I don’t know, brothers and sisters, if you’ve ever shaken his hand. Those of you who have, and those who have looked into his eyes, have gotten a special feeling. I remember the first time it happened to me. As he shook my hand, he didn’t say anything except hello, but he said it with a love that overpowered me. We’re fortunate to have a prophet leading us today. May the Lord bless us to recognize him as such and to listen and obey the things he tells us to do.