Gospel Story Finder

As a young man he was a gardener and worked several years for rich people with big gardens. The last man he worked for had prize grape vines. They had been neglected, had grown wild and ragged, and the grapes were of poor quality. Father was asked by his employer to care for the vines and to restore them so they would bear good fruit again. Being a skilled gardener, he cut off the bad growth down to the thick stems. When the land owner, who knew nothing about the culture of grapes, saw what his gardener had done, he became very angry and Father lost his job.

So Father gave up gardening and moved to the coalfield. There he started to work as a laborer, keeping the railroad tracks in good repair. After a year or so, the company recognized him as an outstanding worker and made him a supervisor.
Father’s garden was the envy of the village. There was never a weed to be seen. His vegetable crops stood in straight rows like little soldiers. He always had Mam [Mother] save the soapy water on laundry days. This he would pour over his growing vegetables. In later years I learned it was the lye in the soap that killed the bugs.
He loved his family, and instead of visiting the bars he would spend the evenings entertaining the family with his accordion and teaching us to sing and dance.
After his conversion to the Church, Sunday morning was always a special occasion. Following Sunday School and while Mam was preparing dinner, he took us children for a walk up into the hills. Here he taught us about nature and history. We would stop by an old stone wall built in the days of the Romans, and he would tell us of the greatness of the Roman Empire. He would help us imagine the gladiators showing their skill in the arena as the crowds cheered. He also explained to us the destruction of this once great nation.
Father would make the study of nature interesting for us. Once he picked a violet from beneath a hedge and called us children to his side. “It’s just a tiny flower,” he said, “but it contains many elements given by God—a lovely perfume and petals softer than the finest velvet—and all of this comes out of the soil of the earth and the rays of the sun.”
There was a time when on one of our walks I found a hedgehog. He was hiding under some bushes and peering out at us with his little beady eyes. I wanted to poke him with a stick but Father stopped me. “Why hurt the little creature? He has trouble enough with dogs and foxes, so let’s not bother him.”
Once he stopped and signaled us to be quiet. Then he pointed to a dark spot up in the sky. “Listen,” he said quietly, “and hear the voice of God.” We stopped and heard the song of a bird as it soared into the sky. I didn’t hear the voice of God, but years later I learned what he meant.
One evening when it was raining, the family sat around the fireside when suddenly a thought came to me. “Father,” I said, a bit boldly for a young boy, “tell us about our grandparents on your side of the family. We have seen our grandparents on Mam’s side but we have not heard anything about our other grandparents.”
Father stared into the fire for a few moments before answering. “Thomas,” he said, “that’s a good question, but I don’t know much about my father. My mother, who died a few years ago, told me that he died just after I was born, and I have never visited his grave. Someday I must do that.” Sometime later Father announced he was taking a day to go visiting out in the country. There was nothing unusual about this as he had relatives who lived in a little cottage in a village a few kilometers away.
When he returned home that night, we could tell by his actions that something was wrong. A few days later, he called the family together and told us what he had learned.
He had visited an old church in a village called Llanviangel and there he had found the record of his father and of his own birth. This was the story that our father told us:
In a little coal mining village up the valley a girl was born to his grandparents. They named her Rhonwen. When she was sixteen years old, she was sent to work as a servant for a rich family. Before a year had passed, she returned home expecting a baby. Her wealthy employer had taken advantage of her innocence. When he found she was pregnant he paid her two months’ salary and sent her home.
Rhonwen married one of the young men of the village before the baby was born. She failed to have him christened or his birth recorded, and he grew up with the name of Rhonwen’s husband who was killed in a coal mine disaster just after the child was born.
The discovery of the circumstances of his birth, which had later been recorded by the minister of the church, changed our father’s life. He lost interest in his garden and in his personal appearance. Instead of being his happy self, he became morose and moody.
Then one day, Mam, who normally was as gentle as an angel, made Father sit down in his favorite chair. Her gentleness was gone and in her eyes there was a bit of fire. “Gwyllam [William],” she said, “you are acting like a fool. Just because a wicked man took advantage of a young girl and a child was born, you are cursing yourself and putting the curse on all your family. It was God that gave you birth and I saw in you a fine man whom I loved dearly and married.”
The fire was still in her eyes as she spoke again. “Now I will not stand by and see you destroy yourself and us.”
She put her arms around his neck and in a voice that was now touched with love she said, “Oh my Gwyllam, we cannot live in the past. We have each other, our children and our love. Someone sinned but it was not you. Besides, we have the gospel and you hold the priesthood of God. Can we ask for more?”
It was then the agony in his heart burst forth and the tears came—tears that washed away the bitterness and cleansed his mind. From that day on he became our beloved father again. We resumed our walks in the hills and he tended his garden and flowers.

In the April 1973 issue of New Era, Tim Holst was featured because of his clowning around with Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus, “The Greatest Show on Earth.” Because of Tim’s great missionary spirit, many people have been brought into the Church and many more have been influenced for good by his life-style. But Tim is through clowning around.
At the beginning of the 1973 season, Tim became the ringmaster of the circus’s red unit. This is a very responsible position. Tim is the man who keeps the show moving with his singing and introductions. Tim’s new position also requires that he help with administrative work and make special appearances in the many cities that the circus visits all over the United States and Canada.
Tim not only has a new job, he also has a new companion. On August 20, while Tim was in Salt Lake City with the circus, he took some well-planned moments out to get married in the Salt Lake Temple. Tim married Linda Wilson of Kailua, Hawaii. Linda is a former BYU student who met Tim in Norfolk, Virginia, where her father was stationed with the U.S. Navy. Tim was visiting the ward while on the road with the circus.
Linda says, “It takes courage to join and work with the circus, but the circus people are strongly family oriented, and I look forward to doing a lot of missionary work with them.”
Tim and his wife will travel with the circus all over the United States for the next season. Home for them as for other performers will be a portion of a railroad car. Tim has a new job, a new wife, and a new billing—“Missionary-Ringmaster and Friend.”

The first departure came as the result of a revelation Joseph Smith received in Missouri in July 1838, commanding that the Twelve, recently riven by the apostasy in Kirtland, be organized again and expand upon its assigned task of proselyting by going to England. They were to “take leave of my saints” in Far West the next April 26 on the building site of the temple.18 But before that time came, Joseph and many of the leaders had been jailed, leaving Brigham suddenly in charge of a desperate winter exodus back across the state to Illinois. The Governor’s extermination order was in effect, so enemies of the Saints were openly boasting that they would kill anyone who tried to fulfill “Joe Smith’s prophecy” about the Twelve leaving for England from Missouri.
Some of the Saints who were gathered in Quincy, Illinois, argued that in their persecuted condition surely the Lord would not require them to fulfill his word to the letter, but Brigham had been learning from Joseph the value of something more important than practical expediency. He knew the value of energetic, even dangerous, effort and sacrifice in keeping faith with the Lord and His prophet, and he knew the value of great example in motivating faith in the Saints. The three other apostles in Quincy agreed with Brigham that “the Lord God had spoken and it was our duty to obey and leave the event in his hands and he would protect us.”19 The four traveled back by carriage, picking up apostle John E. Page (who was still bringing his family out of Missouri) on the way and meeting Heber Kimball in Far West, where he had been in hiding awaiting them. Heber recorded that the Lord cast a deep sleep on the town.20 They met while it was still dark (Brigham was practical as well as courageously faithful) on the morning of April 26, ordained Wilford Woodruff and George A. Smith apostles, thus providing a minimum Quorum of seven to do business, directed the laying of a token stone for the foundation of the temple, and “took their leave … agreeable to revelation.”21

Henry, now 16, returned with his mother and younger sister, Mary Jane, 4, to Nauvoo. An older sister, Maria, stayed behind to work for the Bettses.
Henry, weak himself from the summer sickness, returned to St. Louis for his sister. He earned his passage downriver and back on riverboats. On the trip down he was an assistant fireman, carrying firewood and loading and unloading freight.
On the boat trip back to Nauvoo, Henry was third cook and “had the cabin dishes to wash, they being brought down to me by the cabin boys.” He liked the job because he could eat the leftover food, which was better than he usually ate. Some plates of food came to him “untouched,” so instead of dumping the food overboard as ordered, he let other cabin boys eat it.
Henry, big for his age, joined the Nauvoo Legion. He “enrolled in a Captain Black’s Company” when unfriendly neighbors began harrassing the Mormons in and around Nauvoo. Officers gave this teenager “something of a gun” and he “sometimes was scouting all night and took delight therein, even at times when the mob was expected every hour.”
Early in 1846, when Henry was 17, the Saints had to leave Nauvoo. For the wagon trek across Iowa, Jonathan C. Wright hired Henry to be a chore boy and drive an ox team. Henry liked this job, except for Brother Wright’s restriction that Henry walk his horses but never run or race them.
While Henry was camped with the Wrights at Council Bluffs, Iowa, a United States army recruiter arrived. “I had told my comrades that he would not get a man,” Henry said. But President Brigham Young called a meeting in a brush-covered bowery and asked that 500 men enlist for the Mexican War. Henry felt impressed to answer the call, so he joined the army. Mr. Wright, upset at losing his hired hand, “was wrathy and said that I could not go.” But Henry went. He was not yet 18 as required by the government, “but as I had nearly got my growth in height I passed without difficulty.” Besides, nobody asked him his age.
The next summer, when he was 18, he entered the Great Salt Lake Valley just behind the 1847 pioneers. Wanting to rejoin his family, he returned east with Brigham Young’s company late that same year to the Winter Quarters area.
Henry and his family came west three years later, in 1850, and became Utah pioneers. He married and lived at Union Fort, Fillmore, and Fairview, Utah. During his adult years he was a farmer, teacher, and shoemaker.

The six years President Eyring spent in Rexburg proved to be a blessing to his family and the college. Wise counsel from a humble home teacher helped make those years memorable. The home teacher, a farmer with great faith, encouraged President Eyring to get out of his office so he could meet, encourage, and give gratitude to college faculty, staff, and students.
Hal prayed about the matter, felt prompted to follow that counsel, and began spending more time with the school’s faithful students and dedicated faculty and staff. With another instructor, he even taught religion classes. As he worked hard to shape the college’s spiritual and academic foundations, he and Kathleen grew to love the campus community and the people of Rexburg.

The day we arrived in Merthyr Tydfil, we went to the local history centre and spent a couple of confusing hours trying to decide how to begin our search. At a loss, we decided to pick up a few pamphlets and go to the Pant Cemetery where we were sure we could find the grave of Morgan Thomas, Margaret Rowland’s husband, or at least find someone who could guide us to the grave.
When we arrived, we were stunned, having been used to our western American cemeteries of limited size. Pant was huge! Hill upon hill of ancient gravestones in every conceivable state of disrepair. We all stood in disbelief as we stared at the task before us. We ultimately decided just to walk around a bit as we prayed to be guided in the right direction. After about 30 minutes of wandering, we met and determined that this would be a hopeless endeavor and somewhat discouraged, we left for dinner.
The next morning, we went to the Engine House (a genealogical repository and information center) in Merthyr to begin our research. It is there where the miracles began as we entered the Engine House and met miracle number one, Terry Jones.
My brothers Richard and Joe, Joe’s wife, Eileen, and I were downstairs learning about the history of the iron industry in the town when Richard’s wife, Sharon, and my friend Sandy went upstairs to wander and look for restrooms. There, they encountered a gentleman working on a computer and began a conversation with him about our quest. When they mentioned trying to find one grave amongst the 10,000 in Pant Cemetery he realized that we really did need some help. He introduced himself as Terry Jones and arranged for us to meet him at the cemetery office across the street where he introduced us to Deb, the keeper of records. Here we not only found Margaret’s grave site number, but others who were related and resided next to her. We were able to arrange with Deb’s husband, the caretaker of the cemetery, to meet later that day to see the graves.
Miracle number two occurred when we returned to the cemetery and realized that all six of us had previously stood very near the actual site of the graves at some point as we wandered the cemetery. The reason we didn’t see the graves was they were covered entirely by a huge tree that had completely swallowed them. We had previously photographed the tree because it was so immense and imposing, but for no other reason.
We returned later to cut away some of the lower branches so that Sharon could crawl inside and read the writing on the headstones, and we discovered that we had many more relatives buried in this plot than we realized.
Miracle number three came with a visit to the Colly Isaf farm upon which Margaret and Morgan Thomas farmed. It is no longer in the Thomas family, but the current owners allowed us to visit and to photograph the place where our family lived. We discovered the name of the farm listed on the back of a photograph found in material one of our aunts had given us.
Miracle number four occurred throughout the following year as Terry continued to do research for our family and discovered many more links in the family chain, but culminated with a discovery of John Thomas, a direct descendant of Margaret Rowland and Morgan Thomas.
John currently lives on Penrhiw farm which has been in the family since 1724 and he and his wife, Celia, were willing to meet with us. He sent us a lineage chart of all the siblings of Job who remained in Wales, adding much needed information to connect our family to those who had died. This discovery came about through another miracle, number five, that of Terry meeting Father Powell at St. Catwg’s Episcopal Church. While looking for Edward Rowland and Ann Miles, he mentioned John as a possible Thomas still living on the farm.
Miracle number six, cheap tickets to Wales even though it was at the time of the royal wedding. The window for these tickets was short, and directly after we booked them the price doubled.
Miracle number seven again involved Terry Jones who had looked for one year for the marriage of Edward Rowland and Ann Miles (Job and Margaret’s grandparents). Three weeks before we returned to Merthyr in 2018, he found it.
When we arrived in Merthyr, the scene had already been set by those who had been directing our lives for the past year. It felt as though we were in a giant genealogical chess game over which we had no control. Terry was beginning to feel the same forces in action as well. Every morning he would present us with a list of places we would visit that day. One day he showed us his list, which had two sides. He said that he created one list the night before and then this morning, for some unknown reason, he changed it and added a new place: Gadfield Elm Chapel in Gloucestershire. He said he didn’t know why he added it but thought it would be interesting for us to see. Of course, we acquiesced.
Miracle number eight: As we got to Gadfield Elm we discovered the reason. The first ownership of the chapel was given to Wilford Woodruff by the United Brethren, but it rested on or near brother Benbow’s farm. Many of the early members were baptized in Benbow’s pond. And Benbow was the maiden name of Terry’s wife. Terry was stunned. He kept saying he had no idea why he had changed the itinerary for the day, but we all knew why.
The next day we visited St. Catwg’s church and we were met by Father Powell and his lay reader Carolynn Corbin, who showed us around this very impressive 2,000-year-old building. While chatting, my brother Richard discovered miracle number nine that Carolynn was a Parry and quite likely a very close cousin of ours. We exchanged emails and discovered that we did indeed have a common ancestor. This led to a wonderful afternoon tea and the uniting of another branch of Welsh and American lines. After just a few minutes with this family we knew we had met before.
Miracle number ten: We discovered that we were not in charge in other ways as we went to Terry’s home for juice and to collect a book of remembrance that he had found when cleaning out the Engine House. He had asked Richard and Sharon to take the book of remembrance back to Logan where they live to find its owner. He showed Sharon this photo of a family reunion taken in 2004 (he had been doing research for the person who sent it to him), and she recognized someone. She immediately texted that person, and as a result, the connection was made between the photo and the owner of the book of remembrance.
There were more miracles during our visit that involved finding graves that were hidden in cemeteries, discovering writing on tombstones that were covered in lichen and moss, and potentially uncovering ancestors of whom we had no knowledge. If you ever doubt that the veil is thin or that there are others across that veil who wish their work done, let these experiences prove to you that you can be an instrument in their hands. If you allow yourself to be open to the impressions, the promptings, or urgings, as a member of this Church or not, the work of Elijah can be accomplished. Please always live so that you can be a vehicle in the work of redeeming your dead; so that when you meet them, they will encircle you with their joy and gratitude.

In June 1994, I learned a lesson that, I hope, will be forever engraved in my memory.
I had planned to climb with a coworker more than 1,200 meters up Spain’s Sierra de Alhamilla. From the top of this independent mountain range, we would each take off in our hang gliders. We planned to take advantage of bright blue skies and enjoy a marvelous flight over the Tabernas desert and the valleys of Pechina and Viator.
The night before our intended flight, my evening prayers were interrupted by a strong impression that I should not fly the following morning. I was surprised not only by the strength of this impression but also by its persistence. Though I had enough experience to know better—I was a member of the district council and was the district Young Men president—I foolishly ignored the prompting; I thought that perhaps the impression was a product of my imagination or my fear of a new experience. I decided that I would go ahead with the climb, but that I would cancel my flight if the weather conditions were not right.
The following day seemed perfect as my friend and I began our climb. I forgot about the impression I had received the night before and looked forward to my flight.
When we got to the top, we found that the wind was not blowing from the expected direction. As I assembled the glider, the wind changed again and began blowing from a different direction. I felt a great weight on my shoulders and questioned our decision to fly. Nevertheless, I felt some pressure to keep the promise I had made to my friend, and being stubborn, I decided to be the first one to take off.
As soon as I left the mountaintop, I knew I should not have done it. I dropped rapidly toward the trees right below my take-off point, my alarming descent announced by a constant beeping coming from a gauge I had with me. The tree tops, which at first had seemed far away, rushed toward me, getting bigger and bigger. Wind turbulence tossed the hang glider about like a leaf in the wind, and I lost control. Trapped in a narrowing canyon and unable to keep a flight path, I feared that I would crash into the mountainside and be killed. The wind was blowing in my ears, threatening me. It sounded as if it were saying, “You shouldn’t be here.”
Just at this terrifying moment, I remembered the impression from the night before. I realized it had been a warning, and I immediately repented of my disrespect for the concern the Lord had shown for my welfare. I prayed aloud, begging him to help me get out of the maelstrom that gripped me.
Suddenly, I seemed to gain a measure of control and saw a small clearing that I could use as a landing place. I was closing in to land when the wind hit me again. I fell 10 meters, the hang glider dropping fast toward the ground as if there weren’t any air. Just as I was about to hit the ground, the wing of my hang glider tipped up and I was able to land. When I pulled myself from the hang glider, I found I had a few cuts and the hang glider had two broken parts. And I had learned a lesson I will never forget.
I left the mountain feeling great gratitude toward the Lord for his tender care. In spite of my hardheadedness, he had preserved my life.

I once asked a man in a fireside group what he would like to do more than anything else if he could just do whatever he wanted. His face lit up, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands came to life, and he told me that he’d just love to have a whole room full of power tools and bring all the kids in the neighborhood in to help them build birdhouses, playhouses, chicken coops, or anything in the whole world they wanted to build. He loved kids; he loved tools; he loved building things; his whole face was aglow with it. I asked him what he was studying at school; the light went out, and he told me he was studying to be a civil engineer. Why? Because his father was one, it paid good money, and so on. I knew he had the capability of being a good civil engineer, but I asked him, “Have you ever thought about teaching shop instead and spending all day working with power tools and teaching kids how to build things?” He just about fell off his chair. His mouth hung open. His eyes lit up again. It had simply never occurred to him to take stock of what he really liked to do, of what really mattered to him in choosing a career. He had never stopped to think that his wonderful love for young people might be there for that kind of a purpose. He had decided the biggest part of the rest of his life with his eyes closed.

It was the first time in ten years the annual all-Alaska youth conference had been held in Fairbanks, a grown-up mining town, rather than the more metropolitan Anchorage. The youth of Fairbanks had decided they needed a challenge and a chance to show the Anchorage Saints they were willing to share the load. So they decided to host the conference for more than 300 people in their small city. They knew there would be struggles; perhaps they didn’t know just how hard the struggles would be. But they were determined.
The first trial was the weather. The committee began its work in October and continued through the winter when the temperatures reach 30 to 70 below zero and when the sun only weakly shines three hours a day. Planning sessions for the conference were held in homes even when Sunday School and other meetings were canceled in the chapel because of the cold. Some members of the committee drove as many as 33 miles to attend the sessions. At those low temperatures and in that darkness, life and death situations can arise from as common an occurrence as a stalled car. There were no mishaps, although constant worry.
The steering committee pushed on; their faith grew with each challenge. The sunny June day that sat so patiently on their calendars was a beacon of hope, and those silly moments that sprang up so unexpectedly were buoys of spirit. They found their worries slipping into laughter.
They worried about planning menus and getting enough food for the crowd they expected. Finally, two girls sat down with an expert Relief Society sister in the branch and cooked up scrumptious menus that included fried chicken, fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, potato salads, and homemade desserts. Then they found that a local supermarket would give them a discount on their food purchase. Finally the sisters in the branch Relief Society offered to run the kitchen. Their worries were eased and they found themselves laughing together at the fun they were having.
One by one the problems were tackled. Working together, the young planners became excited by the great conference taking shape. The months passed quickly.

The Lord has promised, “I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.” I began to understand this as a young missionary in Scotch Plains, New Jersey. One hot July morning my companion and I felt prompted to look up a Temple Square referral. We knocked on the door of the Elwood Schaffer home. Mrs. Schaffer politely turned us away.

As she began to shut the door, I felt to do something I had never done before and have never done since! I stuck my foot in the door, and I asked, “Is there anyone else who might be interested in our message?” Her 16-year-old daughter, Marti, did have an interest and had fervently prayed for guidance just the day before. Marti met with us, and in time her mother participated in the discussions. Both of them joined the Church.

Resulting from Marti’s baptism, 136 people, including many of her own family, have been baptized and made gospel covenants. How grateful I am that I listened to the Spirit and stuck my foot in the door on that hot July day. Marti and a number of her dear family members are here today.

When I first attended church, I often went alone, as I was the only member in my family. At times, I struggled to feel a sense of belonging, which would increase temptations for connection in the wrong places. I realized one way I could combat this was by engaging more deeply with my congregation. As the Lord teaches us in Doctrine and Covenants 58:27, we should be “anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of [our] own free will.”
I started by volunteering to help clean the chapel. I began attending all the ward activities and offering to help wherever I could. Gradually, I built deeper connections with the members of my ward. One family began inviting me to their home evenings, Sunday dinners, and even just to hang out and play games. My family and I have become great friends with them, and it’s been a beautiful experience for all of us.
By immersing myself in my ward, I’ve found opportunities to connect with others who share the same values and standards, including the law of chastity. My ward family has been a great source of support in helping me to stay faithful and strong.

As a young child, I remember my mother reading to me the story “The Ugly Duckling,” by Hans Christian Andersen. Maybe it was because I was shy and felt like I didn’t fit in, but the memory and the moral of that story have always remained with me.
In the version that I remember, a mother duck waits patiently for her eggs to hatch into little ducklings. Before long, the fuzzy, yellow ducklings emerge to the delight of the mother duck. However, there is one slightly larger egg that still has not hatched. The mother and her ducklings wait and watch. When the egg finally cracks open, the yellow ducklings notice that this new member of the family looks different. They gather around him and declare to their mother and father, “He’s not like us. He’s ugly.” They leave him alone in the nest and swim away. The ugly duckling wanders away from the nest and tries to hide. Every encounter he has is negative and discouraging. He would often think to himself, “Everyone hates me because I’m ugly.”
Then a miracle takes place in his life. He sees others who look and act just like he does! He becomes friends with them, and they take him to their mother and ask, “Mother, Mother, we’ve found a little brother! Can he stay with us forever?” The beautiful, graceful swan mother folds her white wing around the ugly duckling and says to him in a gentle voice, “You’re not a duckling at all! You are a little swan, and someday you will be the king of the pond.”
I loved hearing this story as a child. I didn’t realize that the lessons I learned from it would help me through my difficult teenage years. I was baptized a member of the Church when I was eight, but gradually my family became less active.
In the small town in Idaho where I grew up, there was a movie theater that featured an afternoon matinee every Saturday. I would always go with two or three of my friends. The theater would show a short movie about sports and another about current events. The main feature was usually a cowboy movie with lots of action.
One Saturday during intermission, the staff wheeled out a 10-speed bicycle. It was red, it was beautiful, and they were going to give it away to the person in the audience who had the winning ticket stub! Oh, how I wanted that bicycle!
The announcer reached into the container and pulled out a ticket. As he read the number on the ticket, I discovered that I had the winning ticket. Yet I didn’t move or say anything. I was too shy and embarrassed. I did not have enough confidence in myself to stand and let everyone know that I had the winning ticket. He announced the winning number two more times, and each time I held the ticket down so that no one could see it. Finally, the announcer read another number. One of the friends I came to the movie with happened to have the new number. He jumped up, screamed, and ran to the stage to claim his bicycle. That bicycle could have been mine!
As I walked home alone from the movies that Saturday, I thought of the story of the ugly duckling. I was feeling a lot like that little swan. I felt like I was wandering around in the woods trying to hide and that no one liked me. I didn’t realize who I was or what I could become. By the time I arrived home, I knew something had to change. I remember thinking, “It’s time to grow up. That will never happen to me again.”
I began to discover that there were others around me who loved and cared about me. My ward bishopric took an interest in me, as did my stake president, who lived just down the street from me. They taught me the gospel. They bore their testimonies to me of the reality of the Savior and His precious Atonement and what it could do for me. They read to me repeatedly the story of Joseph Smith and his vision in the Sacred Grove. From that experience I have developed the wonderful habit of reading Joseph Smith—History every week. By doing so, I know that I can have the strength to overcome anything placed before me that week.
At that time in my life, when I needed someone so badly, my Heavenly Father blessed me. He knew who I was, and He sent His servants to help me discover that for myself. They wrapped their arms around me and told me by their actions that I wasn’t an ugly duckling at all and that if I was worthy and kept the commandments of God, I could become “the king of the pond.” The blessing and understanding of the Atonement began to give me added strength and confidence.
When I reached the age of 16, these good men encouraged me to receive a patriarchal blessing. After I received my recommend, I got on my old bike and rode several miles to the patriarch’s home. He explained once again what a patriarchal blessing is and how it would bless my life. He laid his hands on my head. After that experience, my life was never the same.
I accepted a mission call to Scotland and had a wonderful experience. A few weeks after I returned home, I met my future wife at a Church meeting. We dated, and I proposed marriage. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple.
One sentence in my patriarchal blessing indicates that I would be permitted to live in mortality with an angel. At the time the patriarch gave me that blessing, I didn’t know what an angel was, let alone the meaning of the phrase. As I left the temple the day my wife and I were sealed, I knew what it meant. She has been the light of my life. Thanks to her, I have been permitted to live in an environment of light. She has brought joy and happiness to our 8 children, 25 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren. My children have all come to call her blessed. I give thanks to God for the blessings of the gospel and the eternal blessings of the covenants and ordinances of the holy temple.
Satan would have us believe that we are ugly ducklings with no chance of becoming like our Heavenly Father and His holy Son. I bear witness that God loves each of us in special ways. As Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said so often, “God’s personal shaping influence is felt in the details of our lives.”1 We are His children. I have come to know that we can rise above our current environment and become “kings and queens of the pond” by following the gospel commandments.
I know something else. I know who you are and where you came from. The revelations remind us of our faithfulness in the premortal life (see Revelation 12:7–11; D&C 138:56; Abraham 3:22–23). As we tie our testimonies to that great truth, each day becomes a wonderful blessing for each of us.
Stay on the Lord’s side of the line. If He can take care of a bashful, shy boy like me, He will take care of you now and in the future. You are a chosen son or daughter of God. Choose to live up to the divine potential that lies within you.

During the final months of our mission last year, we experienced an event that taught once again this profound principle that each of us is known and loved by God.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell was coming to New York City for some Church business, and we were informed that he would also like to have a mission conference. We were so pleased to have this opportunity to hear from one of the Lord’s chosen servants. I was asked to select one of our missionaries to provide the opening prayer for the meeting. I might have randomly picked one of the missionaries to pray, but felt to ponder and prayerfully select one whom the Lord would have me ask. In going through the missionary roster, a name boldly stood out to me: Elder Joseph Appiah of Accra, Ghana. He was the one I felt the Lord wanted to pray at the meeting.
Prior to the mission conference, I was having a regularly scheduled interview with Elder Appiah and told him of the prompting that I had received for him to pray. With amazement and humility in his eyes, he began to weep deeply. Somewhat surprised by his reaction, I started to tell him that it was all right and he wouldn’t have to pray, when he informed me he would love to offer the prayer, that his emotion was caused by the love he has for Elder Maxwell. He told me that this Apostle is very special to the Saints in Ghana and to his own family. Elder Maxwell had called his father to be the district president in Accra and had sealed his mother and father in the Salt Lake Temple.
Now, I didn’t know any of what I just related about this missionary or his family, but the Lord did and inspired a mission president on behalf of one missionary to provide a lifelong memory and testimony-building experience.
At the meeting, Elder Appiah offered a wonderful prayer and made a humble contribution to a meeting where Elder Maxwell taught the missionaries of the attributes of Jesus Christ. All who were there will never forget the feelings of love they experienced for their Savior.

Pam Carpenter must be a storybook princess. She is pretty, petite, and always smiling. She reigns over a huge kingdom complete with castles, lakes, islands, ships, and spacespaces. And she is entertained by flights of fantasy from Peter Pan, rides with Alice in Wonderland and her friends and Captain Nemo, and pirate cruises. Her special friends include Dumbo, Goofy, Donald Duck, Chip and Dale, Mickey Mouse, and hosts of other delightful storybook characters.
Unlike most other storybook princesses, Pam works very hard at being a princess. She always looks nice, is always on the alert for people who need her special help, and graciously welcomes thousands of visitors to her kingdom each day. Such royal responsibilities seem to belong quite naturally to Pam Carpenter, a young Latter-day Saint convert from Orlando, Florida. This pretty young lady possesses a delightful combination of charm, wit, and an encyclopedic knowledge of her kingdom, and she is a person who loves helping others.
No wonder she was chosen to be the official ambassador for Walt Disney World in Florida, chosen for her special responsibilities from the more than 13,000 employees at Disney World. Because many people try out for this position, applying for it involved a series of taxing tests and interviews.
“I really wanted this, but it is so much more than just a job,” said Pam. “During the year you are an ambassador, you have to devote most of your time to it. I always come in early and stay late, and travel much of the time.
“I knew I wanted the job and felt I had something to offer and so I tried out four different years. At first I thought that if I had to try out more than once then maybe I should forget it. But then I realized that was my false pride talking, not me. I finally realized that I did not get the position to begin with because I was not ready for it—I did not know enough about what I was doing.
“The first time I tried out I felt knew all there was to know about Disney. I walked into that room and there were five managers there for the first interview. I was so scared I could hardly talk to them—my voice kind of squeaked out, I gave them all the wrong answers, and I didn’t say anything I wanted to say. I am basically a shy person, and I knew I would have to work harder at being able to get up and speak to groups and being able to present my thoughts in a clear way. So I studied and learned all the facts I could about Disney World. I learned how many acres there are in Bay Lake, how many beams were laid beneath the contemporary hotel, and how many leaves are growing on the Swiss Family tree house. And I tried to develop my poise. I transferred into tour guiding, and this helped me in talking to people and becoming more outgoing.
“I prepared in every way that I could, and then I gave it my big try. Now I am so glad that I did not give up earlier because I have had so many great experiences and met so many wonderful people. After I became ambassador, I even joined Toastmasters International where I learned more about addressing large audiences,” she added.
During the early part of her reign, Pam investigated and joined the Church.
“I had dated a Mormon, and was interested in his great family life. His family members are wonderful together, and I enjoyed spending time with them. I could see they had the key to something important that I wanted in my life. The gospel helps me to appreciate all the people I meet, but it really showed me the importance of the family unit. I love my own family even more since I joined the Church.
“I really feel that I was introduced to the Church for a reason. Meeting other Mormons reading, and talking to the missionaries all felt so right to me. I agreed with everything they taught me. It seemed so natural for me to be baptized. To me it was a very simple process; it wasn’t a big ‘do I or don’t I’ situation. I was learning things I already believed in before I ever heard of the Church. I hadn’t picked up any bad habits to overcome, so I feel like a very natural Mormon.”
Being an example for the Church comes naturally for Pam because of her experience as an ambassador. She was told when she became an ambassador that she represented all 13,000 employees and the whole Disney organization. She was chosen because she was the kind of person that her employer felt good about representing their image.
“To me there is a very specific tie-in between my job and the Church. For Disney I represent the clean, wholesome, all-American look. This is almost more of an attitude than a fashion style. You can’t really look one way and feel the other way inside. Clean, wholesome goodness is something that will never go out of style. That is one of the reasons there are strict dress codes for all of the employees here. We do not even allow men in the park without their shirts and women have to be in modest clothing. I think all young Latter-day Saints ought to try and set this kind of an example. We should be on our toes and demonstrate by the way we look and act what the gospel can do for our lives. It just is not that much trouble to be well-groomed. Combing your hair, dressing cleanly and neatly, and being generally pleasant is the kind of example I think we all should set. What a powerful influence we would be on the world if all members of the Church would be this way. And as long as I am ambassador here, it is expected that I be this kind of good example. I was always taught at home that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing right, and that is one reason I got this position in the first place. It is also one of the reasons I am having such a good year as an ambassador. I am sure not planning on changing my outlook after I leave,” she said.
Of course, Pam’s duties include more than walking around Disney World in a clean uniform. She travels widely in the U.S. and Canada, appears on many television shows and radio interviews, gives VIP tours through her kingdom, and in the company of Mickey and some of her other fantastic friends appears at children’s hospitals and schools for handicapped children.
“We take the Magic Kingdom to people who can’t get out to see it on their own. This is the most exciting and fulfilling part of my ambassador duties. There is a special warmth associated with our hospital visits because we know that many of the people we visit will never come to Disney World in person. You should see the delighted children’s faces when Mickey and the other characters walk into a hospital ward. It puts a very bright spot in the normal daily hospital routine where everything is sort of gray and white. I’ve seen patients smile who the nurses say hadn’t smiled for months. One little girl had been in a coma, and when she came out of it, they could get no response from her. She just lay there. We walked in, and she said, ‘Mickey Mouse.’ Then she smiled. The nurses thought this was incredible because they hadn’t got any kind of a response out of her for months,” Pam said.
In addition to heads of state, royalty, and entertainment and movie stars, Pam was able to show President and Sister Kimball through the Magic Kingdom.
“At the time I had only been a member of the Church for a few months, and I felt honored. I enjoyed being in the presence of this warm, wonderful, great man. Meeting President and Sister Kimball was a tremendous privilege for me because I realize how few people, some who have been in the Church all their lives, ever get this opportunity.
“I’ve had other great experiences this year as well. I met Great Britain’s Queen Mother in Toronto and many other special people who have taught me important things about life. On one of our programs in Washington, D.C., there was a young singer who was blind. He told how when he was young his parents thought he should be sheltered and kept apart from the rest of the world, so they fenced him into the backyard. He didn’t go to school; he didn’t have any friends. He was totally shut away. Yet he had learned to sing, and here he was on this program with national political figures and entertainers. This young man gave us all goosebumps with his singing. He sang ‘The Impossible Dream’ and showed us that being blind doesn’t need to be such a bad thing after all,” she said.
Pam’s work at hospitals and children’s schools has given her a special interest in the handicapped. She is learning sign language and now regularly assists the visitors to Disney World who are hearing impaired.
“I’ve been able to sign for our arts festival and recently at the Ohio and Pennsylvania schools for the deaf. You can’t imagine how excited these kids are when they learn that I am from Disney World and that I can communicate with them in sign language,” Pam said.
Before she got her job, Pam never realized how demanding or fulfilling the life of a storybook princess could be, but to her the rewards are more than worth the effort, for her job and her joys are in bringing happiness and laughter to others.
“Life is wonderful for me. I am having such a great year.* I joined the Church and I like doing all of the Church things—being around Mormons, attending meetings, and especially going to family home evenings. I love helping others, and get a special joy out of helping handicapped people. These experiences make me humble and give me a great appreciation for the things that I have, including the great privilege it is to be able to help make other people happy,” Pam said.

Finally, let me tell you about a woman I have never met but whom I love dearly because she was true to her covenants. My great-great-grandmother Charlotte Gailey Clark was one of the last 295 people to receive their covenants in the Nauvoo Temple prior to the beginning of the great exodus west. The temple had been closed since the Saints were being forced to leave, but all those who were worthy had not yet had an opportunity to receive their endowments. My great-great-grandmother and her husband would be leading their family west, and she wanted her covenants with her before she set out on that journey. I have thought about her so often these past few months. I someday want to say to her, “Grandma, thank you for keeping your covenants. I am so blessed to be your granddaughter. Your faithfulness has blessed me and my family—and will continue to bless all of us throughout the generations.” And sisters, our children and grandchildren will one day be able to say the same to us, and of us. One day they will thank us for keeping this “bag” of covenants with us and using them to bless the lives of our families.

At times the need for mercy can be found close to home and in simple settings. We have a four-year-old grandson named Jeffrey. One day his fifteen-year-old brother, Alan, had just completed, on the family computer, a most difficult and rather ingenious design of an entire city. When Alan slipped out of the room for just a moment, little Jeffrey approached the computer and accidentally erased the program. Upon his return, Alan was furious when he observed what his brother had done. Sensing that his doom was at hand, Jeffrey raised his finger and, pointing it toward Alan, declared from his heart and soul, “Remember, Alan, Jesus said, ‘Don’t hurt little boys.’” Alan began to laugh; anger subsided; mercy prevailed.

Stirling raced his big brother, Parker, up and down the narrow trail, thrilled to be hiking to an actual waterfall.
The bushes and grass grew so close to the trail that they sometimes scratched his legs when he walked past. He didn’t mind. This hike was going to be great!
“Can I swim in it, Dad?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Dad said.
“It will be too cold,” Mom explained. “And you don’t want to be wet for the hike back.”
Stirling shrugged his shoulders. It would still be fun to splash his older sister, Emma. He’d wait until she wasn’t watching, then wham!
As the morning went on, though, it started getting hot. His legs got tired, and he could feel blisters on his feet.
Stirling frowned. This was longer than he’d ever hiked before. And they still had the whole hike back. Was he going to make it?
But his worries disappeared when he finally heard the waterfall around the corner. He and Parker raced the rest of the way.
When the waterfall came into sight, Stirling skidded to a stop. It was awesome. He couldn’t believe how tall the waterfall was and how much water came crashing down. He forgot all about his tired legs.
After eating lunch, Stirling kicked off his shoes and splashed around the edge of the pool. The water was cold, but it felt great. Emma poured some water on his head, but he got her back with a giant splash of his own.
Before Stirling knew it, it was time to head back. The fun and excitement from the waterfall quickly faded as they started the long hike home. Every step hurt.
“How much longer is it?” Stirling asked. “I’m sooo tired.”
“You can do it,” Mom said. “Just keep moving. You’ll be okay.”
Stirling wasn’t so sure. If his feet hurt this much already, how would he ever make it to the end of the trail?
Soon even Parker and Emma started to complain, until Dad made a suggestion.
“Why don’t we say a prayer?” he asked.
Stirling was happy for any excuse to stop hiking. He folded his arms and bowed his head while Dad prayed. Dad asked Heavenly Father to keep them safe and to help them find the strength to finish their hike.
After the prayer, Stirling had an idea of his own. “Why don’t we sing some Primary songs?” He loved singing. Maybe that would help.
“Great idea,” said Mom.
They sang song after song. Stirling soon forgot about his aching feet and tired legs. He smiled. They just might make it after all.
Suddenly he bumped into Dad, who had stopped right in front of him. Stirling peeked around Dad. His eyes widened. A giant moose was walking across the trail only a few feet away.
Stirling froze. He knew how important it was not to startle wild animals. They could be dangerous.
But the moose only disappeared into the bushes. Stirling sighed in relief. That was a close one.
Down the trail a little way, his family stopped for a drink. “I think that moose knew we were coming because we were singing,” Parker said. “And so we didn’t surprise it.”
“That could have been bad,” added Emma. “Great idea to have us sing, Stirling.”
Stirling paused for a second. Had their singing actually helped them stay safe? After thinking about it for a bit, he realized Heavenly Father had answered their prayer. Not only did singing give them strength to finish the hike, but it kept them safe from danger.
He smiled again. Singing Primary songs was always a good idea.

Before their move to Broken Hill, the Kowalski family lived in Ipswich, Queensland, on Australia’s east coast. It’s a nearly tropical area, green and lush and close to some of the finest beaches in the world.
Then Jared’s dad took a job as a dentist for one of the mining companies, and the Kowalskis moved to Broken Hill. In the middle of nowhere. Or at least on the edge of nowhere. And Jared couldn’t be happier.
To some, the red, sandy soil of the outback may be a poor trade for the golden beaches near Ipswich. But to Jared, the snakes and odd lizards and other creatures of the outback are fascinating. In addition to the dogs and fish and other pets that any family might have, Jared has a small backyard menagerie with a bearded dragon lizard, a shingle-back lizard, turtles, finches, and quails—oh, and his carpet python, Monty.
Jared’s interest in animals goes even further. On some Saturdays, he helps the local veterinarian in his surgery, handing him instruments. “I thought it would be interesting,” he says, “so I asked if I could help.”
And if Jared could travel, where would he go? He doesn’t have to think that one over for long. “The Amazon rain forest,” he says. “There’s all those interesting plants and animals. That’s where I’d like to serve my mission, too. I think the people there would be interesting as well.” As much as Jared likes animals, you find when you talk to him that his greatest appreciation is for people.
A good prospector must look beyond the surface of the rocks to see the treasures they might hide. Jared’s that way with people. When you ask him if he feels isolated here in Broken Hill, he says, “I like it. There are some good members here. The best ones are old. They’ve got a lot to tell you. Most of them are really spiritual.”
The branch in Broken Hill is small, and Jared is the oldest Aaronic Priesthood bearer. He’s conscious of the example he has to set for the younger boys, to show his brothers and the other boys “the right things to do.” And the priesthood itself? “It just feels good. You feel special—a lot more confident when you have to do hard things, like tests at school.”
One of those right things to do is home teaching. “I like to home teach,” Jared says. With his senior companion, Lee Robertson, Jared visits five families, offering the prayer when asked. Jared likes people, and home teaching helps him get to know these families better. (It doesn’t hurt that Brother Robertson is also an outdoorsman. He and Jared sometimes talk about hunting wild pigs in the bush, and Jared is looking forward to getting his own compound bow, maybe doing some hunting himself.)
Jared has struck it rich in Broken Hill, all right, but he would also be the first to admit that he brought his greatest treasure with him. The Kowalski home on Cobalt Street is modest, but it’s filled with family and love. As Jared puts it, “We have heaps of fun. We have family home evening, go to the movies. I go camping with my dad.”
The family also reads the Book of Mormon together. Sometimes it makes Jared feel inspired; sometimes it’s hard to understand. But it does help contribute to his growing testimony. “I’ve already got a big testimony of prayer,” he says.
When Jared’s mission call comes a few years from now, it may not be to the jungles of the Amazon. But you know that wherever he goes, he’s going to be happy and successful.
Some people look at a place and think of it as nowhere. Then a guy like Jared comes along and turns it into his own personal somewhere. Like those first prospectors, Jared has found a vein of treasure. He’s rich in the best possible way.

The missionary journey took great physical courage as well as faith. While jumping onto a ferryboat in New York, Brigham slipped and fell against an iron ring on the deck, severely dislocating his shoulder:
“I directed brothers Kimball and Hedlock to lay hold of my body, and Brother Pratt to take hold of my hand and pull, putting his foot against my side, while I guided the bone with my right hand back to its place. … When I came to a fire I fainted, and was not able to dress myself for several days.27

Author and independent historian Don Bradley of the United States faced questions about Church history during a time when, he explains, “I just wasn’t happy and had a skeptical outlook. Cynicism about anyone would negatively impact a relationship, and I lost my faith and relationship with God.” Years later, Don began working toward hopefulness and gratitude in his personal life.

He also began examining studies about the mental and physical health benefits of organized religion. “I couldn’t deny those studies,” Don recalls. “Gradually, I realized I had been substituting skepticism for critical thinking, and with a more hopeful attitude toward life, I regained my faith in God and Jesus Christ.” Don returned to the historical information he once grappled with, but now this same material led to a conviction that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.