Gospel Story Finder

Six-year-old Catherine sang as she followed Joseph and his plow down the long brown furrows, dropping yellow kernels of corn into the newly turned soil:
One for the cutworm,
One for the crow,
One to rot, and
One to grow.
Joseph called over his shoulder, “If Alvin doesn’t get back with some money, all that corn will go to the land agents. And from what I hear, they’re not about to share it with a cutworm or a crow or anything else.”
Catherine had heard her father talk about land agents, but she wasn’t sure just what they were. “What are land agents, Joseph?” she asked.
Her brother pulled the ox to a halt and explained, “They’re men who sell property. If there is a drought or your crops don’t sell and you can’t pay the mortgage money, they come and take the farm back.” Then he paused for a moment, remembering his father’s dawn-to-dark labor when they’d first cleared the land of trees to plant crops.
The whole family had helped tap the thousand sugar maple trees in the spring. Joseph also remembered the split-wood chairs and baskets and the straw brooms his father had made to sell to help pay for the farm. His father had even hired out as a hand for other farmers to bring in precious money. But still there wasn’t enough.
Catherine brought her brother back from his recollecting. “Are they going to take our farm, Joseph?”
“It looks like it, unless we can raise some more money. Alvin is still out on his job as a carpenter’s helper with a crew that’s building log houses, and Mother has been selling a lot of her painted oilcloth covers.”
“I’ve helped Mother sell cakes and gingerbread and root beer on public days,” Catherine said, beaming.
“Well, we’ve all helped. But it hasn’t been enough.” Joseph sighed as he slapped the reins against the rump of the ox. “I wish I could do something more.”
“You’ve been helping to clear trees and plowing and planting the corn and pumpkins. That’s a big help.”
“Sure. But we need money. And we need it right away.”
Catherine let out a deep breath and sat down on the broken black earth. “Will we have to let the land agents take our farm?” she asked.
“If we can’t pay all the mortgage money, we will. And the law backs them up. But it just doesn’t seem right after we’ve spent two years clearing trees from sixty acres of land and planting crops and building a four-room log house besides. They’d only turn around and sell it again for a heap of money, and we wouldn’t get a penny for all the improvements we’ve made.”
Catherine understood now why some folks said the land agents were really land robbers. The thought was still in her mind when a large black crow flew down and began to scratch for the newly planted corn. Her frustration erupted. Skirts flying, she chased after the bird, shaking her fist.
“Get out of here you old domineker!” she yelled as the bird flapped off in panic. “I won’t let you take our corn!”
Young Joseph had to laugh at the sight of her, and his laughter skipped across the clearing into the open window of the house. His mother was just lifting the lid on the cooking pot in the fireplace when she heard it. She smiled and felt a sudden sense of relief. How she wished she could stir some of it into the venison stew. They needed all the laughter they could get these days.
She left the stew sputtering against the pot lid as she called to her family. “Supper’s on!”
Later after supper, Joseph’s father, as always, felt for his spectacles. When his hand found the lower right-hand pocket of his vest, that was the signal for a reading from the Bible and for family prayer.
That night the family had an extra long prayer. Father Smith thanked Heavenly Father for His “mercy which endureth forever.” Then he pleaded for help in somehow obtaining the money that was needed. When all members of the family had added their amen, they sang the usual hymn:
Another day has passed and gone,
We lay our garments by—
The song was interrupted by a loud knock. Mr. Smith opened the door and invited a neighbor from down the road to come in.
“Much obliged, Joe. I came to ask if you’d let me hire one of your boys for a few days. I need to dig a well.”
Alvin was away working and young Joseph knew his father needed Hyrum to help cut trees. “I could do it, sir,” he said eagerly.
His father smiled. “Joseph’s able. He’ll give you a good day’s work for a day’s pay.”
“I know your boys are good workers. They’ve worked alongside their pa until they’re better than most men. That’s why I’m here. Young Joseph will be fine.”
Joseph was so happy that he had to take a big breath to keep from shouting out loud: The Lord is surely opening up the way. Things are going to work out. I’m sure of it. He was so sure that he wasn’t a bit surprised when Alvin arrived home a few days later with the money he had earned. Just the same, it was a tense moment when the whole family gathered to count their savings. Is it enough? they wondered.
Joseph held his breath as the cash was totaled. It was enough; they’d made it. Tears and laughter mingled as they realized that Alvin’s earnings added to what Joseph and the others had been able to raise would save their farm!
(To be continued.)

At such times I frequently remember my own wedding day nearly twenty-six years ago and the strong feelings of love that I had for my wife, Kathy. I also remember our high expectations for the future. I am sure that we had an ideal in mind that wasn’t necessarily peculiar to us, and yet we (or at least I) thought Kathy and I were about to begin a companionship together that would be unparalleled in the romantic history of Western civilization!

Nevertheless, despite our best intentions and efforts, the “ideal” began to collide with reality shortly after our brief honeymoon in Salt Lake City at the then existing equivalent of a Motel 6. I cannot speak for Kathy but, on my part, I soon began to feel some small sense of disillusionment–a feeling that there was something more to be had in and from marriage than I, at least, seemed capable of producing.

There began to be a gradual descent from the lofty level of our wedding day to a somewhat lower plateau where we seemed destined to live out our lives well beneath our privileges. One small example from among many will illustrate the type of memories that Kathy and I were accumulating together about that time.

We were living in Salt Lake City, where I was attending law school and Kathy was teaching first grade. The stress of both of us being new to the city, to our schools, and to each other became a little heavy and our relationship a bit testy. One night about dinnertime we had a quarrel that convinced me there was no hope for nourishment at home. So I left our modest apartment and walked to the nearest fast food restaurant a block away. As I entered the north door of this establishment, I looked to my right and, much to my surprise, saw Kathy entering through the south door! We exchanged angry glances and advanced to opposing cash registers to place our orders. We continued to ignore each other as we sat alone on opposite ends of the restaurant sullenly eating our evening meal. We then left as we had entered, taking separate routes home, finally ending this utterly ridiculous episode by reconciling and laughing together about how infantile we had both been.

It was when he turned 18 that Enoch faced a bigger challenge. Wanting to grow his knowledge and understanding of the gospel by learning what the world thought of his faith, he began to encounter ideas and philosophies that caused him to question his beliefs. He began to wrestle with his testimony, becoming more and more confused by what he was finding. He tried to find his own answers to resolve the growing confusion, but they were not forthcoming. He turned to others with his questions, but they couldn’t resolve his doubts. Finally, he approached the missionaries, challenging them to answer his questions, but they declined to give him easy and quick answers, which he found surprising. Instead, they returned the challenge and gave him a Book of Mormon with the promise that if he read with a sincere heart, asking God in faith, his confusion would be resolved. He accepted their challenge.

Enoch devoured the Book of Mormon in 10 days. Frequently, as he encountered stories of conversion such as those of Alma, King Lamoni, and others, the Spirit moved him to tears. In his reading he recognized the same Spirit he had felt in reading the New Testament in his youth. He felt a calming comfort that helped him remember and renew his relationship with his Savior, and his confusion began to fade. The answers to some of his questions never came, but he didn’t worry as he realized that his questions didn’t have to be answered. What mattered was his knowledge of the truthfulness of the plan of salvation and of the divinity and role of Jesus Christ, and especially of the Saviour’s love for him. He regained his footing on the covenant path with a newly strengthened relationship to God.

My wife and I have four awesome grandsons: Liam, Jack, Teddy, and Benji. When they are with us, our home is full of energy, curiosity, and chaos. We recently had the opportunity to have the three oldest stay with us for a few days. Knowing that they would be with us, I decided to start incubating chicken eggs that would hatch during their stay. I got 12 fertile eggs and started them in our incubator 21 days before the boys arrived.

When they arrived, they were excited to see what was going to happen. This is Liam and Teddy with my youngest daughter, Ellie.

When day 21 arrived, the first thing they noticed was slight movements in the eggs. Then, believe it or not, the boys started hearing muffled peeping sounds from inside the eggs! This was just the beginning of three days of excitement in the incubator.

Now, when a baby chick gets close to hatching, they need air so they can start using their lungs for the first time. Up until this point, the chick has been getting oxygen through a diffusion process through the shell of the egg that doesn’t require the use of their lungs. The first step happens inside the shell, where the chick uses a special tool—a tiny, sharp “egg tooth” on the top of its beak, which it only has during the hatching process. With this egg tooth, the chick pierces a thin membrane inside the shell, reaching a small pocket of air near the blunt end of the egg.

The next thing that the boys noticed was what is called “pipping.” This is where the chick actually breaks through the shell for the first time. You can see these pips in a few of the eggs in this picture. This single “pip” provides the chick with even more oxygen in preparation for what it will have to do in the next several hours.

While all of this is happening, the other chicks who have already hatched are drawn to the unhatched eggs to offer encouragement by peeping loudly and pecking at the unhatched chick’s beak inside the egg. When they do this, it triggers the unhatched chick to continue its work at escaping its shell. As you can see, this is hard work, even for those with cheerleading duties!

Once the chick has built up some energy after the initial pip, they start what is called “zipping.” This is where the baby chick uses its beak and special egg tooth to create a sequence of many “pips” around the circumference of the egg. All that is holding the shell together at this point is a bit of attached membrane.

Now, as an observer, it’s very tempting to want to reach in and just pull apart the shell to let the baby chick out of its cramped prison. However, by doing so, you would be depriving this chick of the necessary struggle that is required for it to develop the strength and circulation necessary for it to thrive in the world it is coming into. In fact, assisting a chick out of its egg could be fatal. So, we patiently watched, hour after hour, for the chicks to finally push themselves free of the shell.

Many years ago in Cuzco, high in the Andes Mountains of Peru, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I held a sacrament meeting in a long, narrow room with a door that opened onto the street. It was night and it was very cold.
While Elder Tuttle spoke, a little boy, perhaps six years old, appeared in the doorway. He was naked except for a ragged shirt that went about to his knees.
On our left was a small table with a plate of bread for the sacrament. This ragged street orphan saw the bread and inched slowly along the wall toward it. He was almost to the table when a woman on the aisle saw him. With a stern toss of her head, she banished him out into the night. I groaned within myself.
Later the boy returned. He crept along the wall, glancing from the bread to me. He was near the point where the woman would see him again. I held out my arms, and he came running to me. I held him on my lap.
Then, as something symbolic, I set him in Elder Tuttle’s chair. After the closing prayer, much to my sorrow, he darted out into the night.
When I returned home, I told President Spencer W. Kimball about him. He was deeply moved and spoke of it in a conference talk. He told others of it and said to me more than once, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.”
I have never forgotten that little street orphan. Many times in South America I have looked for him in the faces of the people. When he comes back into my mind, others come with him.
Over the years, I have wondered what President Kimball meant when he reminded me of that street orphan in Cuzco and repeated, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.” One day he added, “You held a nation on your lap.”
Now in my 78th year, I understand what President Kimball was seeing; I know what he meant. That boy in Cuzco and the one in Japan and the other children about the world profoundly influence what I think and how I feel and what I pray for most earnestly. I constantly think of little children and their parents who struggle to raise them in ever more perilous times.

As I lay in my bed that night, I watched each of my sisters and brothers in turn be taken down the stairs. I was the oldest child at home that year since my older sister had left on her mission. Below me in the living room, I heard the song over and over as each child was sung to. Then it was my turn. I followed Papa down the stairs into the living room. He sat in the big chair and opened his arms.

“Do you still want me to sit on your lap?” I asked.

“Of course,” he smiled. Gratefully, I climbed onto his lap and pulled my knees up to my chin, snuggling up next to him.

“This is my last night to be rocked,” I said.

“I know,” came his quiet reply.

As the first few strains of the familiar tune began in the tape recorder next to us, I thought back to all the years I had heard this song on Christmas Eve. Suddenly something in me wanted to stay. I was so warm and comfortable, and I had no idea what the future months and years would hold. I started to cry.

Don’t let this song end, I thought.

Papa began to sing.

Heaven bless you little one while you’re fast asleep.
You’ll awake to dancing toys,
Candy canes, Christmas joys.
And I pray your whole life through,
Angels will watch over you,
Loving you the way I do,
My little one, sleep well.

Each year before this night, the song had reminded me of Christmas and what the next morning would bring. But on this last time, I knew Papa was singing about life and the years ahead—not toys that would break or wear out, but eternal joys I would find on my journey through life, joys I was not even aware of now. On this night I heard the emotion of his voice as he sang for angels to watch over me, not just for tonight but for tomorrow night and all the nights that would follow when he wouldn’t be there.

I let my tears flow, as the last strains of music faded away. Papa and I watched the lights of the tree in the darkness, and we rocked and rocked, long after the song had ended.

As we rocked, I thought what our last night in heaven must have been like, the night before each of us came to earth to be born. Did Heavenly Father hold us close and tell us of the joys and dancing toys which we would find on the morrow? Did we cry and wish we could stay with him forever, even though we knew earth life would bring us more joys than we could imagine? He must have held us long after his song to us had ended, asking that angels would watch over us in our earthly journey, that our years away from him would be filled with happiness and would eventually lead us back to his presence.

I found comfort as I thought of my Heavenly Father that night, while my earthly father rocked me. Even though Papa couldn’t be there every day in the future to help me with each struggle I would face, my Father in Heaven would be there. No matter what the years ahead would bring, I would not only have the support of an earthly father but of my Heavenly Father. And he would guide my paths and bring me home for good. That night I felt he too was singing, “Loving you the way I do, my little one, sleep well.”

Daniel Baker of the Republic Branch, Colville Washington Stake, was awarded a medal and certificate from the Boy Scouts of America for his action in saving his younger brother’s life.

Dan’s two-year-old brother was choking on a piece of carrot and was unable to breathe. Dan, an Eagle Scout, used the Heimlich maneuver that he had learned in Scouts to help his brother.

In high school, Dan served as the student body vice-president, junior class president, and as president of his seminary class. He also received awards for being the outstanding history student and choir member of his school.

In his branch, Dan served as president of his priests quorum. In his spare time he enjoys hunting and fishing.

“Hi, Mom,” Ben called as he rolled his bike into the garage. “Hi, Ben,” Mom answered. Closing the recycling bin, she turned to look at him, and her smile faded. “Where’s your helmet?” she asked.
Ben slid his bike into its place. “I don’t need it anymore.”
Mom’s eyebrows went up. “Ben, what is our family rule about helmets?”
Ben took a deep breath and slowly repeated: “If you’re riding your bike, you wear a helmet.”
Mom looked steadily at Ben until he squirmed. “But, Mom!” he protested.
“Please go inside. We’ll talk about it in a minute.”
Ben went in and sat down at the table. Pretty soon Mom and Dad joined him. “So, Ben, tell me about your helmet,” Dad began.
“Dad, I don’t need it anymore. I’m a great bike rider now.”
“You are a good bike rider,” Dad said. “But helmets aren’t just for beginners. I’ve been riding a bicycle for many years. Do I wear a helmet?”
“Yes, you do,” Ben admitted. “But the kids at school think only babies wear helmets.”
“Oh,” Mom said. “So it isn’t cool to wear one?”
“No, it’s not!” Ben exclaimed.
“Ben, do you know why we have the helmet rule?” Dad asked.
“To make me look stupid?” Ben answered with a wry smile.
Dad chuckled. “No. For exactly the opposite reason. It’s to help keep that brain of yours safe.”
“As a matter of fact,” Mom added, “every rule, whether it’s a family rule or one of Heavenly Father’s commandments, is given to help us be safe and happy.”
“But having kids make fun of me for keeping the rule doesn’t make me happy,” Ben complained.
Dad thought for a moment. “Sometimes we have to be obedient even when other people make fun of us for it. I know that in the long run you’ll be happier because you obey.”
Mom looked Ben in the eyes. “Ben, this wasn’t the first time you went riding without your helmet, was it?”
Ben’s shoulders drooped. “No,” he admitted.
“Thank you for being honest,” Dad said. “Your Mom and I both feel that it is very important that you obey our family rules. You’ve broken this one. What do you think a good consequence would be?”
Ben was quiet for several long moments. “Maybe a time-out from my bike?” he said at last.
Dad nodded. “That sounds fair. I think maybe it should be long enough to help you remember the rule. How about until the end of summer?”
Ben groaned.
“OK,” Mom said. “When school starts, you get your bike back.”
As the sunny days of August went by, Ben often looked wistfully at his bike hanging on the garage wall. “Next time I’ll obey the rule,” he told himself. He remembered what Mom had said about obedience helping people be happy. “Well,” he thought, “It’s true that I’ll be happy when I can ride my bike again, even if someone makes fun of me.”
When school began, Mom helped Ben lift the bike down. First he checked the tires and oiled the chain. Then he picked up his helmet, adjusted the fit, and snapped it onto his head. It felt great to be riding again!
One bright sunny afternoon in December, Ben was riding home from school. When he came to an intersection he stopped and looked carefully both ways. But a young lady who had just learned to drive turned right without looking or stopping. The bumper of her car struck Ben’s bike and sent him flying headfirst into the sidewalk.
A neighbor who saw the accident called Mom. As she ran down the street, she heard a siren and saw the ambulance. “Ben!” she shouted.
“I’m here, Mom.”
Two paramedics were checking Ben. “Your son is going to be just fine,” one of them said. “He was wearing this, and it saved his life.” He handed her Ben’s helmet. There was a big dent in it.
Mom gave Ben a long hug. “I’m glad you were wearing your helmet today,” she whispered.
“Me too,” he said. “Obeying the rules really does help keep me safe and happy.”

Let me share a little experience that happened a few years ago. President Oaks mentioned that I had the privilege of teaching in the seminary and institute program at one time; that was a great training ground for me. The particular class involved in this story numbered forty-four. They were excited, early-morning students that used to get up at five in the morning to meet me at six and have class. There was one little girl—let us call her Marlene—who was very lonesome, the typical wallflower that you have seen depicted in many ways. She used to arrive about one or two minutes before the class started, or even a minute or two after, so that she would not have to mix socially. She always used to sit alone close to the back of the class. It was very obvious to me, the teacher, that she could not mix socially. And I pondered. What could be done? It was all right for me to talk to her on a one-to-one basis, but what she was reaching out for was the peer group, and no one seemed to respond. Everybody was caught up in his or her own world—and that is understandable with young people.

One day, while we were studying from the book of John about the miracles of Jesus, it seemed to strike me, in a spiritual way, that miracles were all right in the time of the Savior, but how about now? I also knew that in the class was Gail. Gail was an exciting, refreshing girl who just seemed to attract everybody. Everybody wanted to sit next to Gail. She was the typical extrovert, and yet not too selfish; but it was obvious that in the size of the group she had not noticed Marlene either.

One day I kept Gail after class for a minute. I said, “Gail, we have been studying about the miracle of Jesus. Would you like to perform a miracle?”
Thinking that maybe she could turn the water to wine or walk on the water, she said, “Oh, that would be wonderful! Let’s do it.”
And I said, “Well, it’s a different kind of a miracle. Would you like to transform a girl who doesn’t belong into somebody that does? Have you noticed Marlene in the back of the class?”
She said, “Yes.”
“Have you noticed that she has no friends?”
“Yes.”
I said, “I’ve checked it out and I find that you are both in the same high school. Would it be too hard at lunchtime to seek her out and include her in your circle? I’ll promise you that if your girlfriends see what you do with her, they’ll take an interest too, because they love and respect you and your popularity.”
She said, “Oh, that would be fun!”
And I said, “Now, extend that to this class every day. I don’t know how you are going to do it, but you find a way to sit next to her. Would you do that? And I’ll watch you very carefully, but I won’t make it obvious.”

The next day at seminary Marlene came about two minutes before the class was to start, and Gail quickly maneuvered herself to the chair next to her. Several of the other girls in the class did a double-take. “What’s she doing that for?” That persisted for the next three or four days, and the other girls began to say, “Well, what’s Marlene got that would attract Gail?” And within two weeks a little wallflower who did not belong, even in the Church, commenced to unfold, and we found a spirit and a talent that was unbelievable. Even her teacher was surprised at the difference. I challenge you, young people, to reach out. If the gospel is really true—and it is—you and I of all people can help those that somehow do not seem to belong. Would that not seem to you to be consistent in the gospel of Jesus Christ? It certainly does to me.

A mission is a couple of years in the future, but it’s something 17-year-old Jeremy thinks a lot about now. Where will he be called? Will he have the opportunity to learn a language? What will a mission be like? What more can he do to get ready?
Jeremy Pownall lives in Sydney, Australia, a place known for its famous opera house, great climate, relaxed lifestyle, and surfing. Actually, body-boarding is his passion right now, although he pretty much only gets to go for a few hours early Saturday mornings. He is just getting his mind around the fact that when he goes on his mission he’ll be leaving the beach and the waves behind. After all, a lot of his surf mates have done it. In fact, those mates are the very ones who are the most effective in convincing him that he really can serve a mission and be more than happy about it.
“There’s nothing like an early-morning yarn going to the surf,” he says. “I go with the returned missionaries in the ward and my Young Men leaders. They are great advice givers. All of them say that there will be great experiences in your life, but a mission is the best experience for your life.”
What do a bunch of LDS surfers talk about at the beach? Jeremy smiles slightly and says, “We talk about the waves we’ve caught and the places we’re going to travel to, where we would like to go on a mission or where they’ve been on their missions. The older guys tell us to definitely marry in the temple. And they remind us that we are going to marry the girls we date.” Being surrounded by surf and sand seems to be the right spot for all this good advice to sink in.
Jeremy admits that he really is a listener. And he soaks in the good advice that comes from his mentors, the ones who are a few years ahead of him on the road of life. “They tell me that if I ever do something that I regret, to never feel uncomfortable about going to my bishop or talking to my parents.”
In another instance, at Young Men camp, he listened when someone got up and spoke about his patriarchal blessing. “I hadn’t thought too much about that,” he recalls. “A week later I went for my interview, and a month later I got my patriarchal blessing.”
In talking about his testimony, Jeremy mentions one of his mentors in particular. “He’s one of my dad’s friends from New Zealand. Whenever he comes here, he goes out of his way to take me surfing. It’s a perfect opportunity for us to talk. The talks I’ve had with him are a major part of my conversion story.”
Sometimes it is in the relaxing moments out in the water or on the drive to the beach when what is said is the easiest to listen to. For Jeremy, that’s where his own testimony came into focus.
The next step in his conversion was bearing that testimony. “I think my testimony grew exponentially when I started bearing it more often and more freely. I feel more confident.”
After all, he points out, he does live in the mission field every day. “A lot of people respect me for my morals, especially here in Australia. Here people at 14 will start going to parties, getting drunk, and trying smoking and drugs. They respect me for still being an interesting and outgoing sort of person, yet not doing any of that stuff.”
Jeremy has big plans for the future. His success in school and his interest in learning languages might lead to becoming an ambassador or diplomat. “Everyone complains about how world leaders are doing things at the moment. I think I could do a better job. Maybe they need the Spirit to guide them.”
Jeremy is sensitive to the impressions of the Spirit. He listens to those who have made good choices. He pays attention to his seminary teacher and his youth leaders. And he likes what he hears.
The bottom line is that he is happy. He had a friend tell him once that she envied people from his church because they all seemed to be happy. Jeremy agrees. He says he has always treasured that about the gospel. “I’m blessed to live in Australia. I’m blessed to have a good family and be brought up in the gospel. I don’t want to waste it.”

We run onto many little experiences and stories. For instance, in California some years ago I went to a Relief Society bazaar with my daughter there—her daughter’s sitting right down here this morning—and I met a woman who came up here to go to the Y and started keeping company with a young man who was a member of the Church but wasn’t at all active in the Church. When he became serious and proposed to this woman, she said, “I’ll never marry a man who doesn’t do his duty in the Church and honor his priesthood. I’m going to be able to point to my children and say, ‘You follow your father.’” He wasn’t willing to pay the price; so their courtship ended right there. In a short time she started keeping company with another young man. He proposed, and their engagement was announced in the newspaper, and a copy of that newspaper was sent to the first suitor in Chicago, where he was living at the time. When he read it, he called her up all the way to Los Angeles—this was before they had those cheap rates—and he said, “I can’t live without you. If you’ll call off that engagement and give me another opportunity, I’ll do anything and everything you ever ask me to do in the Church.” When I met them down there in California (she was the daughter of one of the families that lived in the stake there when I was the president), he was a counselor in the bishopric. I’ve since checked with the stake president, and he said the man later became the bishop and was the best bishop in the stake. And here—just a year ago in April, I think it was—I met him in front of the Hotel Utah. He had just been appointed a member of the stake presidency. Now, there was a girl who understood what it meant to build on the right kind of foundation, who understood that life beyond this life is more important than this and that it pays to make preparation for it.

I have seen answers to that prayer. I have seen the miracle of the expansion of this cause and kingdom and can testify of it.
In 1960, only twenty-seven years ago, I was given an assignment by the First Presidency to work with the mission presidents, the missionaries, and the Saints in Asia. The Church was weak and small in that part of the earth. The seed had been planted in Japan, Taiwan, and Korea by faithful Latter-day Saints in military service. But it was tiny and unstable. We had no buildings of our own. We met as small groups in rented houses. In winter they were cold and uncomfortable. Converts came into the Church. But some, lacking faith, soon left. However, there remained a residual of strong and wonderful men and women who looked beyond the adversity of the moment. They found their strength in the message, not in the facilities. They have remained faithful to this day, and their numbers have been added to by the tens and tens of thousands.
A few Sundays back we held a regional conference in Tokyo. The spacious hall was filled to capacity. There were almost as many present on that occasion as there are assembled in the Salt Lake Tabernacle this morning. The Spirit of the Lord was there. An attitude of faith filled that vast congregation. For me, who had known those days when we were weak and few in number, it was a miracle to behold, for which I give thanks to the Lord.
We had a similar experience in Hong Kong, where there are now four stakes of Zion.
Then in Seoul, Korea, my heart was touched as we entered the largest hall in that great city to find every seat taken by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and their invited guests. A magnificent choir of 320 voices opened with the strains “Oh, how lovely was the morning” (“Joseph Smith’s First Prayer,” Hymns, 1985, no. 26). It was a moving expression of the first vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
I had known South Korea in its days of poverty and reconstruction following the terrible war. When first I went there, we had six missionaries in Seoul and two in Pusan. Some were ill with hepatitis. Today there are four thriving missions in that land, with some six hundred missionaries. Many of the missionaries are sons and daughters of Korea. They include bright and beautiful young women in whose hearts burns the light of faith. They include young men who leave schooling for a season in order to serve missions. These young men are under tremendous pressures because of military requirements as well as educational demands, but they have faith in their hearts.
When first I went to South Korea, there were two or three tiny branches. Today there are one hundred fifty local units of the Church, both wards and branches. Then it was a small, isolated district of the Northern Far East Mission. We had no chapels. Today there are 14 stakes with 47 chapels built and owned and another 52 under lease, with others under construction.
I felt a spirit in that congregation three weeks ago that touched me to the depths of my soul. I saw the sweet fruits of faith. I knew of the early struggles in establishing an unknown church. I knew of the poverty of the people. Now there is strength. There is an undreamed-of measure of prosperity. There is a warm spirit of fellowship. There are families of devoted husbands and wives and good and beautiful children.
These are people I love, and I love them because of their faith. They are intelligent and well educated. They are hardworking and progressive. They are humble and prayerful. They are an example to others across the world.

As a 13-year-old boy, Lyman O. Littlefield accompanied the camp of Zion, which went up to Missouri. He later narrated this incident of a small yet personally significant act of service in the life of the Prophet:
“The journey was extremely toilsome for all, and the physical suffering, coupled with the knowledge of the persecutions endured by our brethren whom we were traveling to succor, caused me to lapse one day into a state of melancholy. As the camp was making ready to depart I sat tired and brooding by the roadside. The Prophet was the busiest man of the camp; and yet when he saw me, he turned from the great press of other duties to say a word of comfort to a child. Placing his hand upon my head, he said, ‘Is there no place for you, my boy? If not, we must make one.’ This circumstance made an impression upon my mind which long lapse of time and cares of riper years have not effaced” (in George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1986, p. 344).

Inviting friends to church can sometimes be scary. But not to Russell! This nine-year-old from New Zealand loves sharing the gospel with his friends and showing them how great the Church is.
Russell W. has a mild form of autism, which can make it hard for him to communicate. But that doesn’t stop him from making friends. When a new family moved into his neighborhood, Russell quickly befriended their son, a boy his age named Connor. Connor has a condition that makes it hard for him to sit still and focus on one thing.
Russell’s family welcomed Connor into their home, and Connor liked being there. Russell often invited Connor to go to church with him. As he went to church, Connor found that he was able to focus more and it was easier for him to sit still and be reverent. Connor’s parents saw the positive effect that the Church had on their son. They invited the missionaries to their home to learn more about the gospel. One day, Connor’s family decided they were ready to be baptized!
Russell’s and Connor’s birthdays are close together, and they were baptized on the same day. Russell was excited that he could share that special day with his friend.
Russell continues to be a missionary. He has invited several friends to church since he and Connor were baptized. One of these friends is considering being baptized too! As Russell’s dad says, “The Church is part of Russell’s life. He enjoys it, so why not invite a friend to make it even more fun?”

Before I left to run some errands one evening, I asked my children to do their homework and told them I would correct it when I returned home. Upon my return, I was surprised to find my seven-year-old son, Mayco, riding his bike with a friend. I asked him if he had done what he was supposed to do, and he answered with a resounding yes. I then asked if he was telling the truth, and he said, “Mama, I can’t lie to you.”
This caught his friend’s attention, and he asked Mayco why he couldn’t lie. Mayco replied with total certainty, “How could I lie when I’m a Mormon?”
I went into the house to look over his homework, and not only was it done, but there were no mistakes. I am grateful for the gospel principles that my son is learning and for his example of becoming more like Jesus.

“Mom, how can I find a friend?” Connor asked. He watched Mom put down her book.
“There are lots of ways,” she said. “Did you try what we talked about? Smiling at people and talking about your hobbies?”
“Nothing works.” Connor sat on the couch by Mom and twisted his hands together. “I just want a friend. Someone who understands me and will be kind to me.” Connor was feeling sad and lonely, more every day. He had autism, and it was hard finding a friend who was nice to him.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “I know it’s been hard without friends for so long, especially with the bullies at school. Did you try praying about it?”
“No.” Connor sighed.
Mom smiled. “Sometimes friends find us. And sometimes we have to find them.” She put her arm around Connor. “When I was younger, I was really lonely too. I prayed for two years, and then I found a very special friend.”
Connor’s back straightened. “Who did you find? Was it Jamie?”
Mom nodded. “I prayed and looked for someone and found Jamie.”
“She’s your best friend!” Connor felt happier inside. If Mom found a friend by praying, maybe he could too! When he said his prayers that night, he prayed to find someone who also needed a friend.
Connor looked for a friend at school. He looked at the grocery store. He looked at church. And he kept praying.
Connor was walking home one day and saw kids playing outside. They were his new neighbors, the ones who just moved in with their dad and stepmom. Connor didn’t know them very well. One of the boys, Seth, was deaf. He went to a sign language ward for church.
No one else in the neighborhood knew sign language. It must be hard for Seth to feel like he doesn’t have friends to talk to, Connor thought.
Wait! he thought. Seth needs a friend. Just like I do!
Connor found some books at the library about sign language. He practiced everywhere he could. He practiced in the bathroom mirror. He practiced in the car. Soon Connor could sign lots of words.
Then one day Connor knocked on Seth’s big front door. He held a notebook and a sign language book under his arm.
When Seth came to the door, Connor put his hand to his forehead. He kept his fingers close and then moved his hand out, like a salute. Connor had learned that was how to sign hello.
Seth made the sign too. He smiled a little bit. He pointed at the sign language book and raised his eyebrows.
Connor signed, I’m learning sign language. Then he opened the notebook and wrote, “Can you teach me more?”
Seth’s smile got bigger. He waved Connor inside, and they sat in the family room together. They signed back and forth for a few minutes. Connor wrote down questions on the notebook, and Seth wrote his answers below. Seth taught Connor a bunch of new signs. Pretty soon the notebook page was filled.
Connor couldn’t believe it. He was learning sign language with his new friend!
After a few weeks, Connor and Seth didn’t need books or papers anymore. They learned how to understand each other, and they both liked having a kind friend.
“Mom, I did what you told me to do,” Connor said one night after getting back from Seth’s house. “I prayed to find someone who needed a friend and would be mine too. Seth was the one I found!”

I have long known that Maeser’s educational philosophy included welding character and academics. I have often heard anecdotes from his life. What I did not know until visiting the exhibit is that—after receiving the famous charge from Brigham Young to teach nothing, not even the alphabet or times tables, without the Spirit of God14—Maeser set down his educational philosophy for the Brigham Young Academy in writing, and his plan included a strong commitment to active student learning. The written plan is now lost, but the exhibitors located the desk where Maeser composed it and have sketched out what can be inferred about the contours of Maeser’s plan. They wrote the following:

In the late spring of 1876, shortly after his arrival in Provo, Maeser received word that in a few days Brigham Young would be visiting him. President Young wanted to learn how Maeser planned to implement the charge he had given him.
Maeser sat at his desk that night to work out his ideas. Nothing came. Through the next day and the day after, he paced his office and scribbled notes. The third day, in the late afternoon, he dropped, exhausted and disheartened, to his knees.

“O Father,” he pleaded, “show me the way, help me to make the plans for this great work. I cannot do it of myself.”

Immediately the confusion of the preceding days was lifted, and within a few hours Maeser had written out the plan for the new school. It had come to him as an answer to prayer.15

Being brought up in the Church, I was always told by my friends and family that this was the true church. I never really denied it, but I never really bothered to find out for myself either. I just assumed it was true because everything pretty much made sense and my parents and everyone else seemed so sincere about it.
I had always planned to go on a mission, partially because I felt I was expected to and also because I felt I needed to. After I had received my mission call and before I was about to enter the Missionary Training Center, I really began to think and wonder about the truthfulness of the Church. I had never prayed to my Heavenly Father about knowing the truth, and now I was so close to going on my mission I felt I didn’t have the courage to ask. It was as if I was denying the truth.
When I entered the MTC, I did so with high spirits and was happy to be there. I was enjoying the knowledge I was gaining, but in the back of my mind the thought still lingered. I needed to know for myself if the gospel was true, but I continued to push the thought farther back in my head.
One day my teacher finished giving a great lesson. He then bore his testimony and challenged each of us to find out and pray for ourselves. I was almost in shock, feeling the lesson was aimed specifically at me. That night after our companionship prayer, I knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help me know that what I was doing was right and that the Church was true.
I finished my prayer and waited and waited. Feeling nothing, I became discouraged and went to bed.
A couple of days later, I was doing my daily scripture study when I came across this scripture: “Verily I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (D&C 98:1–3).
These verses really helped me understand the need for patience. A few days later at a fireside, we were talking about our prophets. I’m not the emotional type, but I’ll never forget that night. The Spirit was so strong in the room, and it was the first time I had ever felt the Spirit so strongly. Toward the conclusion, all the missionaries stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” While we were singing, they had a movie on the screen showing pictures of the prophets. I was overwhelmed, choked up, and warm inside. I knew the Holy Ghost was testifying to me the truth, and that the prophet was leading the true Church.
I recently returned from serving my mission in the Tucson Arizona Mission. I am so grateful for that special day in the MTC. I realized it’s never too late or early to pray about the truth. I learned patience while also learning the Lord will answer our prayers.

During my sophomore year in high school, I was attending a team basketball camp. One evening a man came onto our floor and started yelling at everyone to clean up. My roommate and I went into the restroom and helped clean, then returned to our room. As we entered, my friend swung the door shut. He was not aware the man was behind us, turning to come into our room, and the door shut in his face. He threw open the door, grabbed my friend, and pushed him up against the wall.

This was the first moment of choice for me. What did truth, fairness, and justice require? I did not have time for a long philosophical debate, so I chose to act with what I understood to be integrity. I stepped between my friend and this man, pulled the man's arms away, and made a youthful attempt to explain why he should not be assaulting my friend.

He was not pleased and invited my friend and me downstairs for disciplinary action. While working our way downstairs, we came to understand this unknown man was actually the head coach of the university’s men’s basketball team and the head of the camp we were attending.

When we met downstairs, the coach berated us and demanded my friend and I apologize to him. My friend stated he was sorry if he had done anything to offend and was allowed to return upstairs. I understood my friend’s comment and agreed with his response, but then the coach turned to me and demanded my apology. I refused. My determination then and now is that defending a weaker party who is being assaulted is not something to apologize for. In fact, doing so would be dishonest. The social status of the offender does not miraculously erase the injustice or inappropriateness of his actions.

I explained I was not sorry for my actions and was invited to leave the camp. There is much more to this story, involving lessons I learned from my father. But, for our purposes today, I will just state my father was told over the phone there was no need for him to come get me, and I would be allowed to stay at the camp; regardless, he drove all night to meet me in the morning and stood by my side as we went to meet with the coach, who, to his credit, apologized for his actions the night before.

Her life changed forever when she awoke in the Prince Charles Hospital in Brisbane with two artificial heart valves. As a patient, surprised to be alive and able to serve, Jane wandered around the hospital visiting other patients.

Jane says, “I feel a deep and abiding gratitude, what a gift all these extra days and years have been. I’ve gained significant insights to pain and patience and have become compassionate in ways that I doubt I could have grasped from any other experience.”