Gospel Story Finder

Balancing his Church work, his civic service, and his legal work, Howard continued to advance his distinctive career. An example of Howard’s careful, thoughtful approach to problems is the legal case in which he represented a plaintiff in an action to recover damages to a tomato crop caused by the drifting spray of a crop duster on an adjoining ranch. After Howard’s excellent opening presentation before the court, on the second day of trial arguments, the twelve defense attorneys offered a substantial settlement, which his client accepted. His capacity for precise thinking and logic, together with his intuitive feeling for justice, made him a formidable advocate.

Years ago I presided in a Church disciplinary council. The man whose sins were the subject of the council sat before us and related something of his history. His sins were indeed serious, but he had also been terribly sinned against. As we considered the matter, my soul was troubled, and I asked to be excused to think and pray about it alone before rejoining the council.
I was standing in front of a chair in my office pleading with the Lord to help me understand how such evil could have been perpetrated. I did not see but rather sensed an immense pit with a covering over it. One corner of the covering was lifted slightly for just an instant, and I perceived within the pit the depth and vastness of the evil that exists in this world. It was greater than I could really comprehend. I was overcome. I collapsed into the chair behind me. The experience seemed to take my breath away. I cried silently, “How can we ever hope to overcome such evil? How can we survive something so dark and overwhelming?”
In that moment there came to my mind this phrase: “Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Seldom have I felt such peace juxtaposed with the reality of evil. I felt a deeper appreciation for the intensity of the Savior’s suffering and had a better, even frightening, appreciation for the depth of what He had to overcome. I felt peace for the man who was before us for judgment, knowing he had a Redeemer, whose grace was sufficient to cleanse him and also repair the injustices he had suffered. I knew better that good will triumph because of Jesus Christ, whereas without Him we would have no chance. I felt peace, and it was very sweet.

Many years ago, as a freshman at BYU–Hawaii, I was passing through some difficult life experiences. I was also aware of my imperfections and felt distant from my Heavenly Father. I was not guilty of any egregious sins, but I was not where I wanted to be spiritually. I was much like the boy who, through some carelessness, had wandered into the desert.

On a particular Sunday a conference was held on campus, presided over by President Spencer W. Kimball. He spoke to a large gathering of Saints who had come to hear the prophet. I remember feeling the Spirit as he spoke. Following the closing prayer all arose, and in respectful silence we watched that great man exit the building.

As we filed out, two young Polynesian students I had met at the dorms approached me and invited me to walk with them to the Laie Hawaii Temple, where they were going to spend the afternoon reading from the scriptures. I was a bit surprised at the invitation—not knowing them very well at the time—but I gladly accepted. When we arrived at the temple, we walked to the upper grounds. I didn’t have scriptures with me, so as they sat on the grass to read, I walked a short distance away and sat on a stone bench.

I cannot remember all that I thought and felt that day—it was many years ago—but I remember thinking about my Heavenly Father and about how I wanted to draw closer to Him. I started to pray, but as I did, I remember I felt heavy and discouraged. At that time in my life I had a hard time envisioning a God of love and compassion. I felt I was praying to someone who was always displeased and disappointed with me and far away. I didn’t understand the true nature of my Heavenly Father.

But my perspective was about to change. As I sat on that bench, my attention was suddenly drawn to a small group of people excitedly walking toward the entrance of the temple. I looked beyond them, and to my great surprise I saw President Kimball and some local and general Church leaders coming out of the temple. They were walking down a sidewalk that led to a gate where cars had just pulled up to carry them to the airport. A half dozen or so people lined the sidewalk, waiting to greet President Kimball as he made his way to the awaiting cars.

I stood up and apprehensively approached the sidewalk, deciding to remain a short distance away from where he would pass. However irrational it might sound, I was afraid to approach him. I had decided that as a prophet he might be able to peer into my heart and see my imperfections. I felt that I was in need of greater spirituality and a serious haircut, so I decided to remain what I considered to be a safe distance away from the sidewalk.

Well, I miscalculated. As President Kimball passed by, he looked right at me. I recorded in my journal what happened next: “President Kimball suddenly stopped and turned and headed right for me. The prophet grabbed my hand, gave me a hug, and kissed me on my cheek and then looked me in the eyes and said, ‘I love you.’”

I was overcome with emotion. The only words I was able to get out were thank you. I felt something in that hug and expression of love. I watched him through my tears as he climbed into an awaiting car. He looked through the window at us with such pure and loving eyes and waved good-bye as he drove away.

I then ran behind the temple and had a good cry. Yes, I felt President Kimball’s love for me, but his love pointed to the wellspring from which it flowed. I felt an outpouring of my Heavenly Father’s love for me, so real and so clear. The feeling remained with me for a time. President Kimball’s act of kindness could have come from the groundskeeper that day, because if it had flowed from fountains of charity, I am convinced the same results would have followed. Having it come from the prophet certainly made it very special, but what flowed through him and was communicated to me was my Heavenly Father’s love. Heavenly Father was reaching out to me through one of His special servants and two wonderful students, through whom the pure love of Christ had flowed to me that day.

Certainly Sister Sylvia Rosen has learned the power of faithful patience. Sylvia is a young single mother from Utah with four children, one of whom is affected by a severe developmental disorder resembling autism. At a time of already great challenge in her life, she was diagnosed with advanced cancer. With renewed faith in our Heavenly Father, she let go of some activities and devoted herself to her top priorities: taking care of her family and pursuing medical treatment for her condition.

Today she continues to struggle with life’s challenges, but all her activities are mediated by a beautiful spirit of waiting on the Lord. As her health permits, she makes gifts for friends and delivers meals to neighbors in need of comfort. The more she gives to others, the more peaceful becomes her countenance. “I need all my faith and patience,” she says. “I am fighting for my life.”

Sister Rosen has learned the truth of Isaiah’s promise: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles” (Isa. 40:31).

The first of this group in England were Elders John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff, who docked at Liverpool January 11, 1840. Immediately they began their work, and Elder Woodruff became one of the most productive missionaries in the Church’s history. He preached first in the Staffordshire Potteries, working with members among their friends. One member especially helpful to Elder Woodruff was William Benbow, who undoubtedly told the apostle of his brother, John Benbow, a prosperous farmer at Herefordshire, who had joined the United Brethren in his search for the ancient gospel. In early March Elder Woodruff noted in his diary that “the Lord warned me to go to the South.” Immediately he and his host journeyed to the John Benbow home, where the gospel was preached to that family and then to hundreds of willing listeners. In that area alone, Elder Woodruff baptized 158 converts within a month.

In 1988, my family relocated to Perth Australia—I had a new job opportunity. The Sydney temple was then 4000 km from our home. We made a family commitment to drive to the Sydney temple every two years. Once there, we would spend a whole week participating in temple ordinances. Our children still have fond memories of the mostly sacred time we had together driving three and a half days each way across Australia.

Every year in Australia, an endurance race that goes from Sydney to Melbourne is held. This race is 543.7 miles long and takes world-class athletes five full days to complete. It is known as the world's most grueling ultra-marathon. And the athletes who enter are mostly young, less than 30 years of age, highly trained and sponsored by large companies.

Let me share with you the story of a very unlikely competitor named Cliff Young, who at 61 years of age showed up at the start of this race wearing his overalls and work boots. Everyone assumed he was a spectator, but when he picked up his number and joined the other competitors, everyone was shocked. When he was interviewed by the press, they told him in effect that he was crazy to attempt this and that he should not even start the race. They told him there was no way he could ever finish. To which Cliff replied: "Yes I can. See, I grew up on a farm where we couldn't afford horses or tractors, and the whole time I was growing up, whenever the storms would roll in, I'd have to go out and round up the sheep. We had 2,000 sheep on 2,000 acres. Sometimes I would have to run those sheep for two or three days. It took a long time, but I'd always catch them. I believe I can run this race."[9]

The professionals who had run this race knew what it took and they had calculated that in order to finish in five days, a person had to run for 18 hours straight and then sleep for six hours. Everyone knew this fact. Everyone, that is, except for Cliff Young!

When the race started, Cliff was left in the dust. He wasn't flashy, he wasn't sponsored, and he wasn't fast. In fact he didn't even run properly-he shuffled! So on the second day of the race, Cliff was forgotten. But to everyone's surprise, he was still in the race. He had jogged all night long! And not only that, but he had determined to run for the next five days straight to the finish line without sleeping at all. No one believed that this could be done-no one that is, except Cliff.

"Cliff kept running. Each night he came a little closer to the leading pack. By the final night, he had surpassed all of the young, world-class athletes. He was the first competitor to cross the finish line and he set a new course record...Today, the 'Young-shuffle' has been adopted by ultra-marathon runners because it is considered more energy-efficient. At least three champions of the Sydney to Melbourne race have used the shuffle to win the race. Furthermore, during the Sydney to Melbourne race now, modern competitors do not sleep. Winning the race requires runners to go all night as well as all day, just like Cliff Young."[10]

What does this story teach us? It isn't that we shouldn't sleep; rather, it teaches us that we can change the world! We can do hard things. We can endure. We must prepare and all our life is preparation. Believe in yourself! Don't give up. Endure! You have the power to achieve anything you set your mind to.

It was a dry year when Mona and George Dunn decided to grow sugarcane on their farm near Lautoka. After six weeks without rain, the Dunns and the contractor whom they had hired to plant their crop feared that the seedlings would not survive. Brother and Sister Dunn and their sons fasted and prayed. As they returned from church the next Sunday, they met the contractor. “You are very blessed,” he said. “It has rained just enough to keep your cane alive.”
Later, when their water tank had nearly run dry, the Dunns again prayed for rain. As they sat on their veranda a few nights afterward, they saw a patch of clouds. “Wouldn’t it be marvelous if it poured right now?” said Sister Dunn.
“It will,” replied her husband.
And it did. The storm filled their tank to overflowing—but did not wet the road leading to their home.

Susan awoke to the smell of sausage frying. Saturday! That’s the only day Mom cooked sausage. She sat on the edge of her bed and stretched. A familiar rattle outside drew her to the window. Uncle Gordon’s brown pickup truck drove into the driveway in a cloud of dust.
Susan quickly straightened the bed covers and tucked them in. She slipped into her blue jeans and lavender gingham cowboy shirt. Then she grabbed her cowboy boots and pulled them on as she ran down the hall.
“Good morning, Kate,” she heard Uncle Gordon greet her mother. “Is Susan up yet this morning?”
“Here I am, Uncle Gordon,” she called. “Did you get the new horses?”
“Well, now, I like that,” he teased. “I haven’t seen you since school started, and all you can think of is horses.”
“I’m glad to see you too.” Susan grinned. “How are you? Did you get the horses?”
“That’s better,” he laughed. “Yes, I did. I picked up two yesterday.”
“What do they look like?” she asked.
“They’re both mares and as black as the root cellar at midnight,” he told her. “I’m having a hard time figuring out what to call them. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I was hoping your mother would let you spend the day at the ranch with me. Then you could have the job of naming them.”
“May I please? I’ll do my chores before I go,” she promised.
“It’s fine with me if your father doesn’t need you today,” Mom agreed.
The kitchen door opened wide, and Dad entered with pail of fresh milk. “Good morning, Gordon,” he said. “I’d shake your hand, but Kate doesn’t allow us to have milk shakes before breakfast.”
Susan grinned. She liked her father’s sense of humor. “May I go home with Uncle Gordon?” she asked. “He has two new horses, and he needs me to name them. May I, please?”
“Hold on just a minute, young lady,” her father said. “You can’t go anywhere without breakfast. How about joining us, Gordon?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” he admitted. “No one makes biscuits like my sister-in-law.”
“Susan, will you get the pitcher of orange juice while I finish setting the table?” her mother asked. “Then we can eat.”
“The men will go wash up,” Father said.
“Don’t forget the raspberry jam,” Gordon whispered to Susan as he headed to the bathroom.
After breakfast, as Susan and Uncle Gordon drove from Pleasant Heights to Middleton, Susan studied her uncle. He looked a lot like her father, only much younger. He’d only been home from his mission a few years. He was medium in build and had strong arms like her father’s from throwing bales of hay. Both had brown arms and faces from a summer in the sun. The strong jaw and high cheekbones were the same too. But Dad’s hair was dark brown touched with gray. Uncle Gordon’s was blond.
“Why don’t you get married, Uncle Gordon?” Susan asked.
“Because I haven’t met someone just like you yet,” he laughed.
Susan blushed at his joke. Deep down she didn’t want Uncle Gordon to get married right away. He would have less time for her if he did. But she knew that someday she would have to share him.
Grandpa had been ill when Uncle Gordon returned from his mission to Brazil. Uncle Gordon had taken over the ranch and cared for Grandpa until he died last summer. At first, it was hard for Susan to go to the ranch after Grandpa died. She loved the horses, but everywhere she went, she expected to see him. Uncle Gordon understood how she felt. He knew when to make her laugh and when to let her think about the emptiness she felt without Grandpa.
When they arrived at the ranch, Uncle Gordon pointed to the pasture by the barn. “There they are,” he told her. “You go over and get acquainted.”
“Are they broke?” she asked.
“One of them is, and one isn’t,” he said, “so be careful. I have a truckful of grain to unload. I’ll be back in a little while to see how you’re getting along.”
Susan leaned against the top rail of the fence and watched the two horses grazing side by side. They look just alike from here, she thought. Still, being around horses all her life taught her that no two horses were ever exactly alike. I’ll find the difference, she told herself.
She climbed the fence and walked slowly around the edge of the pasture until she could see their faces. The closest horse whinnied and tossed her head. Susan saw a brief flash of white. There must be a small blaze under her forelock, she thought. The mare tossed her head again. There was the blaze! It’s like the moon hiding on a cloudy night.
The second mare cocked her head to one side and studied Susan. Then she sauntered over to her and nuzzled at her jean pocket.
“What are you looking for?” Susan asked. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sugar cube. The horse carefully put its lips around the cube on the palm of Susan’s hand, then nudged again at her pocket.
“You’ve had enough.” Susan pushed her nose away. “The other one is for your friend.”
The second mare continued to nuzzle at her, letting Susan scratch her behind the ears. “You’re pretty friendly, aren’t you, girl,” she said, stroking the horse’s slender nose. She’d keep her distance more if she was wild, Susan reasoned. Well, there’s one way to find out if she’s broke or not.
Uncle Gordon’s rule was if she could catch, saddle, and bridle it, she could ride it, so Susan headed for the tack room of the barn. She shut her eyes tightly for a moment when she entered the barn, to help her eyes adjust to the dim light. The saddles rested on sawhorses against the wall of the tack room; the bridles hung on the wall above them. She chose her favorite saddle from the farthest sawhorses, and the bridle closest to the door.
Talking softly, she approached the mare. The horse stood steady as Susan slipped the bit into her mouth and the leather strap over her ears. After putting on the saddle blanket, Susan paused for a moment. The mare acted indifferent to the blanket, so Susan slung the saddle onto her back too. She pulled the cinch tight, lifted her left foot into the stirrup, swung her right leg over the mare’s back, then took the reins and clucked her tongue. “Come on, girl,” she coaxed. “Let’s take a little walk.”
At first they swayed gently back and forth together. Then the mare went crazy. She ran full speed toward the fence. Just when Susan was sure that they would hit it, the mare turned with a jerk that nearly snapped her rider out of the saddle. Susan grabbed the saddle horn tightly with one hand and pulled back on the reins with the other. “Whoa, girl!”
But the mare just continued her wild dance. She stiffened her legs and bounced across the pasture. Each jolt forced the air out of Susan’s lungs. The horse spun around several times, then ran full speed toward the open barn door! Susan knew that the top of the door was only about a foot taller than the mare’s back, but she didn’t dare roll to the ground—the horse might suddenly turn back and trample her. Heavenly Father, help! she prayed silently.
“Lie down!” the thought pushed through her fear.
She lay back until her head rested on the horse’s rump just as the mare lunged over the threshold of the barn. The top of the door frame missed Susan’s nose by inches.
Once inside the barn, the horse stopped as though she had come in from a leisurely trail outing. She pulled a mouthful of hay from the manger and was chewing innocently when Uncle Gordon came running into the barn. “Are you all right, Susan?”
Susan was still lying on the horse’s rump, catching her breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Yeah, I’m OK,” she replied sheepishly between breaths. “I guess I got the wrong horse.”
“You got the right one if you’re training for the rodeo,” he laughed. “I couldn’t have paid for a better show than the two of you put on.”
Susan sat up, swung her right leg over the mare’s back, and slid to the ground. Uncle Gordon put his arm around her and walked her to the house. They sat on the porch steps and listened to a meadowlark calling. Susan sat on the top step, and Uncle Gordon sat two below her. It made them eye level.
“Did you come up with some names for me?” Uncle Gordon asked at length.
She nodded. “I’d call the one in the pasture Moonlight for the small blaze hidden under her forelock. And you can call the one in the barn Nightmare!”
“What great names,” he laughed. “Do you think you’ll take up breaking horses?”
“It was exciting,” she assured him. “But I think I’ll leave that to you. I did learn one thing, though—next time I’m going to ask Heavenly Father if I made the right choice before I get on a horse.”

In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.”4 And this young woman was teachable.

After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.

With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.

During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.

She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.

Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.

“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”

In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”

About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”

Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”5

My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.

My youngest daughter and her husband spent several years earnestly seeking the best medical direction and the latest scientific assistance to have a baby. They fasted, they prayed, they hoped.
At last the long-desired result was achieved, and she is expecting their first child. Recently, the doctor scheduled an intensive examination to determine the soundness of the pregnancy. My daughter approached the exam with much anxiety. As the appointed day drew near, she found that her husband could not accompany her, and she asked if I would go with her. She said, “Mom, after all we’ve been through, if anything is wrong, I am going to need someone with me.”
I was delighted to get a preview peek at someone I am going to love and treasure through eternity. I wanted to reassure her that everything was all right, but in my heart I too worried.
After the doctor reviewed the technician’s video, he came in to discuss the findings with us. His first words were, “I wish every baby could look this perfect!” I could hardly contain myself. As we got to our car, I could not hold back my feelings any longer and I began to cry. So many feelings just came spilling out. I wept, wishing every expectant mother could hear those words. I cried for every woman who wanted to have a baby but couldn’t. Tears flowed for all the women who want children but have not found a husband. Finally, I shed tears of gratitude with an overwhelming desire that our family will provide a home worthy of this baby.

September 1832 was a busy season of preparation for the early Saints. The Prophet was preparing to move to the John Johnson home southeast of Kirtland, Ohio; other brethren were preparing to leave for Missouri. In the midst of these preparations, Joseph Smith received the revelation that we now know as section 64 of the Doctrine and Covenants. After instructing the men going to Missouri, the Lord reminded them: “But all things must come to pass in their time. Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:32–33; emphasis added).
These verses are a guide for us as we prepare ourselves and our families to live in “perilous times” (see 2 Tim. 3:1). We must not become weary of doing good, and we must not become impatient; the changes we seek will come about “in their time.” Most important, the great work we wish to do will proceed from “small things.”
One of those small things, I have learned, is that I must find the time to fill my own spiritual reservoir each day. It’s tempting to make a massive list of my failings and then to work at them, as a friend of mine says, as though I am “killing snakes.” Self-improvement may seem a kind of work project, but it is—at heart—a change of heart. When we women struggle to keep up with life—raising children, providing necessities, attending school, dealing with issues of age or ill health—our own spirituality often ends up at the bottom of our long “to do” lists.
Scripture study and prayer will bring change—but not automatically. If we read with one eye and pray with half a heart, we are engaging in a ritual, and while that time is not worthless, it isn’t fully productive either. We need, with the support of family, to clear enough time to study—not just read—to contemplate, feel, and wait for answers. The Lord has promised that He will strengthen us, fortify and refresh us, if we will take time for Him each day (see D&C 88:63).
Sisters, we must prepare if we wish to serve, and we must serve if we wish to prepare. When I was 16 I was called to teach the three-year-olds in what was then called Junior Sunday School. (You know there was such a thing in the olden days.) I taught some busy children. They climbed on and under the chairs and table and never seemed to stop moving. I was dreadfully inexperienced, and during the first few weeks I wondered if I had done the right thing in accepting the call.
But I persisted, and what I learned—quickly—was that I couldn’t just pray for help. I had to be prepared. That meant planning activities, stories, and lessons, and it meant having plan B ready, along with C through Z. Many years later, when I was called to lead a Junior Sunday School, I knew how to assist new teachers. I knew how to enjoy the children, and I knew the importance of being faithful in my calling.
I, like many of you, have had numerous callings in the Church. Some have been easier for me than others, but I have tried to magnify each one. But does the phrase “magnify your calling” ever make you nervous? It has worried me! Recently I read a talk in which President Thomas S. Monson said on the subject: “And how does one magnify a calling? Simply by performing the service that pertains to it” (“Priesthood Power,” Liahona, Jan. 2000, 60; Ensign, Nov. 1999, 51). Sisters, we can do that! I hear women say that their callings are wearing them out or that they don’t have time to serve. But magnifying our callings does not mean staying up all night preparing handouts and elaborate table decorations. It does not mean that each time we do our visiting teaching we have to take something to our sisters. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies. Let’s simplify. The message of a good lesson comes through spiritual preparation. Let’s put our focus on the principles of the gospel and on the material in our study guides. Let’s prepare to create an interesting exchange of ideas through discussion, not through extra, invented work that makes us so weary we come to resent the time we spend in fulfilling our callings.
When we are called to serve, we are not offered a release date. Our lives are our service. Lois Bonner, a woman in my stake who is 92 years old, began serving as a visiting teacher when she married over 65 years ago. She still faithfully serves. The Nelsons from Canada and the Ellsworths from Utah, as missionaries, taught, mentored, and loved those of us who were in a small, growing ward in Missouri. We learned, through them, the joy of service and benefited from the wisdom of their experiences. I can think of no better way to thank our Father for all He gives us than to serve His children in every age of our lives.
Finally, I’m coming to understand the meaning and importance of our offerings—specifically, our tithes and fast offerings. Throughout the Doctrine and Covenants the Lord admonishes us to care for each other and to give of our temporal resources to build the kingdom of God. In fact, our willingness to do this is one of the prerequisites for the Lord’s returning to the earth (see Daniel H. Ludlow, A Companion to Your Study of the Doctrine and Covenants, 2 vols. [1978], 2:46). Though each of our circumstances may differ, it is important for us to give all that we can. The Lord has seldom required individuals to give all, but it is important for Him to know that we would and could do it, if asked (see Bruce R. McConkie, “Obedience, Consecration, and Sacrifice,” Ensign, May 1975, 50). In one stake where my husband and I lived, our stake president challenged members to double their fast offerings and prepare for the blessings that would come. I can now bear personal testimony that the Lord will bless us in unfathomable ways if we are true and faithful in giving generously.
Spirituality through prayer and study. Service to others. Generous tithes and offerings. These are not new principles. These are some of the “small things” that are prerequisites to that which is great. In the verse that follows, we learn what the Lord requires of us. He requires “the heart and a willing mind” (D&C 64:34; emphasis added). It is our hearts and our minds that must be made new. We each have our failings, our weaknesses, our less-than-perfect attitudes. The Lord asks us to open ourselves to Him, holding nothing back. He says to us, seek not “thine own life”; seek “my will, and to keep my commandments” (Hel. 10:4). The newness of heart comes when we do and give all we can, then offer our heart and will to the Father. As we do this, our Father promises us that our lives now and in eternity will be abundant. We need not fear.
Sisters, don’t become weary in doing good. If we are patient, we can experience the change of heart we seek. For most of us this will require only a slight change of course, sending us toward true north. The adjustments we must make are in those “small things,” but that does not mean they are easy. Too many forces are confusing our compass. But the pull to the polar star is one we recognize. It is the direction toward home.
I bear witness to you of the reality of the promises of the Father to us, His beloved daughters. I testify that as we attune our lives to emulate the life shown us by the Savior, we will know that the light of Zion is arising, that we are becoming a people prepared for His return. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Contrast the fear and faithlessness so prevalent in the world today with the faith and courage of my dearly beloved daughter Emily, who now lives on the other side of the veil. As mortal life was leaving her cancer-ridden body, she could barely speak. But with a smile on her face, she said to me, “Daddy, don’t worry about me. I know I will be all right!” Emily’s faith was showing—showing brightly—in that tender moment, right when we needed it most.

This beautiful young mother of five had full faith in her Heavenly Father, in His plan, and in the eternal welfare of her family. She was securely tied back to God. She was totally faithful to covenants made with the Lord and with her husband. She loved her children but was at peace, despite her impending separation from them. She had faith in her future, and theirs too, because she had faith in our Heavenly Father and His Son.

I was told of a conversation by a Primary teacher, who related what transpired in his class. He was teaching the eleven-year-olds. He asked the question, “Suppose the Lord asked you to build a spaceship big enough to take you and your family and provisions off this planet? Could you do it?”
Steve spoke up and said, “Yes.”
And the teacher said, “Have you ever built a spaceship?”
“No.”
“Have you ever built a model spaceship?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
Steve said, “Yes, on TV.” But then he declared, “You said the Lord told me to build it. If the Lord told me to build it, I could do it.”
I wonder how many of us as adults have that kind of faith.

My sister has Down syndrome. I try to help her and love her. One thing that helps me spend even more quality time with her is reading the New Era with her. We have lots of fun reading the articles, and she points out her favorite pictures. She sees things in them that I had never seen before. I love my sister, and I love the New Era. Thank you for the time and effort that is put into every wonderful issue.Kalia Robinson, Aurora Ward, Springfield Missouri Stake

“My brother drove an ox team for a widow and her little girl. The little girl was very sweet and amiable, the mother rather peculiar. He said that she would ask more questions in a day than ten men could answer in a week. He was a born joker and could no more avoid joking than he could avoid breathing. He could never tell her anything so absurd or ridiculous that she would not believe it. He got so tired of her questions, such as ‘Riley, I wonder how far we have traveled today?’ and ‘I wonder how far we will travel tomorrow?’ ‘I wonder if we will get to water?’ ‘I wonder if we will see any Indians?’ and ‘I wonder what they will do?’ ‘Will they be friendly or savage?’ Her wondering got so monotonous he could hardly endure it.
“At last he had his revenge when we came in sight of Chimney Rock. Anybody who has crossed the plains either by wagon or train will remember seeing this—a land mark—it is very tall and shaped something like a smokestack and probably centuries old. At the rate we traveled it could be seen several days before we reached it. When she began her speculations about the rock, he told her in a most confidential way that as soon as we got to it, he was going to push it down, that he was sick and tired of hearing so much about Chimney Rock, that it had stood there long enough anyway. As soon as he got his hands on it, over it would go. Well, she begged and implored him to let it stand that other emigrants might see it who came after us, but he was obdurate. She then threatened him by saying that she was going to tell Brigham Young, when she got to the Salt Lake Valley. That was always her last resort. Well, he kept her very anxious for two days until we were less than about one kilometer from it. He then yielded to her pleadings and said he would let it stand. She was so delighted that she gave him an extra good dinner and supper that day.”

As a young man, I served in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. We spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There, an instructor taught us about emergencies that could occur when flying at the speed of sound and about what we must do to avoid disaster.
One young man in my flight-training unit refused to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When it was time for him to go to the trainer and learn emergency procedures, he went to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course, instead.
A few months later, fire erupted in the quiet sky over Texas, and my friend’s plane went down in flames. The young pilot who was with him bailed out and survived. My friend did not. He had not learned the lessons that could have saved his life.

“OK,” our mom said, “it’s finally time to remodel your bedroom, girls.” My sister Shannara and I were so excited! We had been waiting a long time to fix up our room. Our mom told us we could do anything we wanted. Then my sister, who is almost a Mia Maid, said, “How about if we do a Young Women theme?” As soon as she said it, we knew that was what we wanted.
We painted all of the walls and even the ceiling. We chose a beautiful blue color for the walls. My dad added crown molding and put up new blinds. The best part was the frames we made to hold the Young Women values, each represented in their value color. We hung them on the wall with ribbon and crystal drawer knobs. Finally, we put up a mirror and a big picture of the Sacramento California Temple. Just under the temple picture we put a picture of my sister and me when we were small, wearing my mom’s wedding dress.
We love everything about our room. I like knowing that we could work hard and make something beautiful. But more than that, I love how I feel when I am in there. It is so calm and peaceful, and I like to look around and see everything that is important to me. I’m glad I have a wonderful new room, but I’m even more glad for the values that make both my room and my life beautiful.

You have the unique blessing of serving in a Church calling at a very young age. Leadership opportunities abound in young single adult and young married stakes. While serving as a stake and ward leader on campus, I enjoyed associating with fellow students who were faithful in their Church service while being diligent in their secular studies. I observed that the more attention students gave to serving faithfully, the more successful they were in their studies. I learned intimately how our Heavenly Father guides and directs us in ways beyond our abilities and capabilities. I learned to never doubt that I was called by the Lord. Being “willing to take upon [ourselves] the name of [Jesus Christ], and always remember him and keep his commandments” will invoke the covenant promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]." [16]

I recall an accounting professor inviting me into his office. In a very kind and loving way, he said, “Aley, your work in my class is mediocre. I know you can do much better. The Lord expects it.” He then expressed his appreciation, love, and counsel. I felt the Holy Ghost testify to me that what he said was true. I left his office feeling uplifted, not hurt or discouraged. His approach was an example of gentleness, meekness, love unfeigned, and kindness. [17] Not only did he change my life to be a better student, he also changed my life to serve more faithfully and diligently as a disciple.

One Sunday morning Ho-jik Kim was teaching a Sunday School class when the president of Korea, Syngman Rhee, sent his secretary to get him. Dr. Kim was the vice minister of education at the time, and President Rhee wanted to discuss an important matter with him.

Arriving at the LDS meetinghouse, the secretary found Dr. Kim in Sunday School and urged him to go at once to see the president. Brother Kim said he could not leave until he had taught his Sunday School lesson.

Afterward, when Brother Kim met with the president, he was criticized for being late. Dr. Kim explained to the president the importance of his calling as a Sunday School teacher. President Rhee, realizing how much the Church meant to Dr. Kim, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Chalhaeso!” (You have done well!)