Gospel Story Finder

Recently, during a hospital visit to a dear friend, she asked me to read the scriptures to her. You see, she was full of fear. Well, I planned to spend the evening in final review of materials for a test the next day at school. However, I knew that my friend had not been very close to the Lord lately; so I decided to stay and read to her.
I left the hospital much later than I had planned, and I was worried about my test. Still, I felt I had made the right decision in staying and helping my friend become closer to the Lord by reading the scriptures to her. That night I prayed that the Holy Ghost would bring back into my mind those things which I had previously read in my textbook and studied in class, for now there was no time for further study. A warm and comforting spirit came over me. I had no fear during the examination the next day, and I was blessed with the ability to remember information that otherwise might not have come back into my mind. I believe that if we truly seek God and try to live worthily, we will be blessed with the ability to accomplish all our goals and we will have the power to be what we should.

You will remember a tender story told by President James E. Faust. “As a small boy on the farm … , I remember my grandmother … cooking our delicious meals on a hot woodstove. When the wood box next to the stove became empty, Grandmother would silently pick up the box, go out to refill it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and bring the heavily laden box back into the house.”
President Faust’s voice then filled with emotion as he continued: “I was so insensitive … I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen wood box. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my [sin of] omission for all of my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness.”25
More than 65 years had passed. If President Faust still remembered and regretted not helping his grandmother after all those years, should we be surprised with some of the things we still remember and regret?

When our children were little, they used to watch a children’s television channel that featured a program called What Do You See? The screen would zoom in very closely on something, and the children had to guess what it was as the image gradually widened. Once the entire object was visible, you could easily tell that it was a cat, a plant, a piece of fruit, and so on.
I remember that on one occasion they were watching that program and it showed something very close up that looked very ugly to them, even repulsive; but as the image widened, they realized that it was a very appetizing pizza. Then they said to me, “Daddy, buy us one just like that!” After they understood what it was, something that at first had looked unpleasant to them ended up being something very attractive.

Clarissa’s eyes shone as she twirled in front of her reflection in the mirror and watched the green folds of her new dress rise above her ankles and spin around her knees. She felt like a princess.
“Is it finished?” she asked her mom.
“Almost,” Mom replied. “I just need to hem it. Now go stand by the door so I can see how much shorter it should be.”
Clarissa turned slowly as her mother directed. She loved the new dress she would be wearing when she and her younger sister Deseret served as flower girls at Aunt Olivia’s wedding.
Clarissa smiled when she thought of Aunt Olivia. She was Mom’s youngest sister, and she always made time to play games and dress-up with Deseret and Clarissa when all the other adults were talking at family gatherings. Clarissa loved Aunt Olivia!
Clarissa remembered the first time she met Edgar, the man Aunt Olivia was going to marry. Mom had invited Aunt Olivia and Edgar to dinner. He was tall and quiet. At first, Clarissa was scared of him because he didn’t talk much. But then he had smiled at Clarissa and talked to her quietly. They soon discovered that they shared the same birthday! That made Clarissa feel special. She really liked Edgar.
Clarissa was happy several months later when Mom told her that Edgar and Aunt Olivia were going to be married. She and Deseret were even happier when Aunt Olivia asked them to be flower girls. Mom explained that they would get new matching dresses and that they would carry flowers at the reception. They were going to have so much fun!
Clarissa stopped daydreaming as Deseret ran into the room. “Mom, are you ready to hem my dress?” she asked.
“I’m not quite finished with Clarissa’s dress, dear,” Mom said.
Deseret looked at Clarissa. “You look so pretty!” she said. The girls grasped hands and twirled around the room together. “We’re going to be beautiful at the wedding!” Clarissa exclaimed.
“Actually, girls,” Mom said, “you’re going to be beautiful at the reception. You’re not going to the wedding, you know.”
The dancing stopped abruptly. “What?” Clarissa asked. “Why can’t we go to the wedding?”
“We have to!” Deseret cried. “We’re the flower girls! Aunt Olivia asked us.”
“I know you’re the flower girls,” Mom said. “But do you girls remember where Aunt Olivia is getting married?”
“In the temple,” Deseret said.
“That’s right.” Mom smiled. “Aunt Olivia and Edgar are getting married in the same temple that Dad and I were married in. But only adults who have a temple recommend can go to weddings in the temple.”
“Why?” Clarissa asked.
“Well,” Mom said, “getting married in the temple is very sacred and holy. Only people who have made important covenants, or promises, to Heavenly Father in the temple can go. Adults are old enough to understand how important and special those covenants are.”
“Why does Aunt Olivia want to get married in a place where we can’t go?” Deseret frowned.
“I know why,” Clarissa said. “If you get married in the temple, you can be married forever, right?”
“Right, Clarissa.” Mom nodded. “Did you know that a temple wedding is called a sealing?” Mom laughed as Deseret looked up at the ceiling. “Not that kind of ceiling, Deseret. A temple sealing is a bit like sealing an envelope. When you lick an envelope and shut it tightly, it’s sealed, though not forever. When Olivia and Edgar are sealed in the temple, their marriage can last forever—even after they die. Temples are the only places on earth where that kind of marriage can take place.”
“Where will we be during the sealing?” Deseret asked.
“On the temple grounds with Uncle Ammon,” Mom replied. “He’s not old enough to go to Olivia’s sealing, either.”
“Hurray!” the girls cried. Uncle Ammon was a lot of fun, too.
“And then the next day, we’ll go to the reception at the church,” Mom continued. “You girls will wear your new dresses and carry flowers, and lots of people we know will be there. It will be fun. Now why don’t you take this dress off so I can finish it?”
As Clarissa walked to her room to change, she thought about what Mom had said. She knew Edgar and Aunt Olivia really loved each other. She was happy they could be married forever.
Weeks later, the girls walked around the temple grounds with Uncle Ammon. They admired the beautiful temple and the flowers and trees around it. They went into the visitors’ center and saw some pretty pictures and a movie about Jesus. Then they went outside to meet Mom and Dad after the sealing. Together they waited for Aunt Olivia and Edgar to come outside.
Clarissa spotted them as they came through the door. Aunt Olivia looked so beautiful! Edgar—now Uncle Edgar—looked handsome. They smiled as they held hands and hugged everyone.
As Clarissa wrapped her arms around Aunt Olivia, she whispered, “I’m glad I couldn’t go to your wedding.”
Aunt Olivia drew back and looked into Clarissa’s eyes. “What did you say?” she asked.
Clarissa looked down shyly. “I’m glad I couldn’t go to your wedding because I’m glad you got married forever,” she said.
“Me too!” Aunt Olivia smiled as she hugged Clarissa one more time.

A hailstorm had flattened Richard Ballantyne’s first wheat crop in the Salt Lake Valley, leaving just a few precious stalks to be gathered in the fall. He and his wife Huldah and their baby had come too late in the season the year before to plant any crops, so they were counting on this year’s wheat harvest to help them through the winter.
In the midst of his discouragement, Richard had an unusual impression. His mind drifted back to his homeland in Scotland where he was converted to the Church. He thought of the sooty ragamuffins who played on Sunday in the streets of the little village of Fawns. Richard had organized a small Sunday School there for these boys and girls and had taught them about Jesus.
Now, in this new land and in this desert country that had been so hard to tame, Richard thought of the pioneer children. He loved the gospel and he loved to teach boys and girls. In his own words Richard Ballantyne expressed his feelings this way:
“I felt that the gospel was too precious to myself to be withheld from the children; they ought to have the privileges of gospel teaching, and that was the main purpose: to teach them the gospel.”
Richard told his bishop that he would like to start a Sunday School. The bishop and the General Authorities of the Church all encouraged him in his plans. Loading everything they owned into two wagons, Richard and his family moved out of the Old Fort to a building lot one block west and three blocks south of the proposed Salt Lake Temple site. They built a single room to be used as a “summer kitchen” and lived in one covered wagon. Their other wagon was used for storage.
Any time that wasn’t needed to provide food and clothing for his family, Richard spent working on the addition to his little one-room home that was to be used for a meetinghouse. He went to Millcreek Canyon, cut down trees, and hauled the logs to a mill to be sawed into lumber. From a quarry in Red Butte Canyon, he brought sandstone for the foundation and sills. Adobe bricks for the walls were obtained from a brickyard west of the city.
The Sunday School room was twenty feet long and eighteen feet wide and had plastered walls inside and adobe walls outside, plank flooring, and a roof of logs and boards covered with several inches of dirt. The room was lighted by two windows in front and a window and half-glass door on the south side. Heat came from a large fireplace, and the benches were made of slabbed timber.
Sister Ballantyne chose the music for the Sunday School, made suggestions on the lessons, and helped give the room a cozy and welcome atmosphere.
Outside, Richard planted cottonwood trees for shade and attractive shrubs and vines. He also built a pole fence around the house. By the time winter came, the building was completed and the bearded Scotsman invited the children in the neighborhood to his new home for Sunday School.
At eight o’clock Sunday morning, December 9, 1849, about thirty children between the ages of eight and thirteen stamped the snow off their shoes and trooped into Sunday School where a warm fire and Richard Ballantyne greeted them. With shining eyes he called the class to order. After a song, he gave a sincere prayer and dedicated the room to teaching children the gospel of Jesus Christ.

In the spring of 1998, Carol and I were able to combine a business trip with a family vacation and bring our four children, along with my recently widowed mother-in-law, to Hawaii for a few days.
The night before our flight to Hawaii, our four-month-old son, Jonathon, was diagnosed with a double ear infection, and we were told that he could not travel for at least three to four days. The decision was made for Carol to stay home with Jonathon, while I would make the trip with the rest of the family.
My first indication that this was not the trip I had envisioned occurred soon after our arrival. Walking down a moonlit, palm-lined path, with a view of the ocean in front of us, I turned to comment on the beauty of the island, and in that romantic moment, rather than seeing Carol, I found myself looking into the eyes of my mother-in-law—whom, I may add, I love dearly. It just wasn’t what I had anticipated. Nor had Carol expected to spend her vacation at home alone with our sick infant son.
There will be times in our lives when we find ourselves on an unexpected path, facing circumstances much more severe than a disrupted vacation. How do we respond when events, often out of our control, alter the life we had planned or hoped for?
On June 6, 1944, Hyrum Shumway, a young second lieutenant in the United States Army, went ashore at Omaha Beach as part of the D-day invasion. He made it safely through the landing, but on July 27, as part of the Allied advance, he was severely injured by an exploding anti-tank mine. In an instant, his life and future medical career had been dramatically impacted. Following multiple surgeries, which helped him recover from most of his serious injuries, Brother Shumway never did regain his sight. How would he respond?
Following three years in a rehabilitation hospital, he returned home to Lovell, Wyoming. He knew that his dream of becoming a medical doctor was no longer possible, but he was determined to move ahead, get married, and support a family.
He eventually found work in Baltimore, Maryland, as a rehab counselor and employment specialist for the blind. In his own rehabilitation process, he had learned that the blind are capable of much more than he had realized, and during his eight years in this position, he placed more blind people into employment than any other counselor in the nation.
Now confident in his ability to provide for a family, Hyrum proposed to his sweetheart by telling her, “If you will read the mail, sort the socks, and drive the car, I can do the rest.” They were soon sealed in the Salt Lake Temple and ultimately blessed with eight children.
In 1954 the Shumways returned to Wyoming, where Brother Shumway worked for 32 years as the State Director of Education for the Deaf and Blind. During that time, he served for seven years as bishop of the Cheyenne First Ward and, later, 17 years as stake patriarch. Following his retirement, Brother and Sister Shumway also served as a senior couple in the London England South Mission.
Hyrum Shumway passed away in March 2011, leaving behind a legacy of faith and trust in the Lord, even under trying conditions, to his large posterity of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Hyrum Shumway’s life may have been changed by war, but he never doubted his divine nature and eternal potential. Like him, we are spirit sons and daughters of God, and we “accepted His plan by which [we] could obtain a physical body and gain earthly experience to progress toward perfection and ultimately realize [our] divine destiny as heirs of eternal life.” No amount of change, trial, or opposition can alter that eternal course—only our choices, as we exercise our agency.
The changes, and resulting challenges, that we encounter in mortality come in a variety of shapes and sizes and impact each of us in unique ways. Like you, I have witnessed friends and family face challenges caused by:
The death of a loved one.
A bitter divorce.
Perhaps never having the opportunity to marry.
A serious illness or injury.
And even natural disasters, as we have recently witnessed around the world.
And the list goes on. Although each “change” may be unique to our individual circumstances, there is a common element in the resulting trial or challenge—hope and peace are always available through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ. The Atonement of Jesus Christ provides the ultimate corrective and healing measures to every wounded body, damaged spirit, and broken heart.
He knows, in a way that no one else can understand, what it is that we need, individually, in order to move forward in the midst of change. Unlike friends and loved ones, the Savior not only sympathizes with us, but He can empathize perfectly because He has been where we are. In addition to paying the price and suffering for our sins, Jesus Christ also walked every path, dealt with every challenge, faced every hurt—physical, emotional, or spiritual—that we will ever encounter in mortality.
President Boyd K. Packer taught: “The mercy and grace of Jesus Christ are not limited to those who commit sins … , but they encompass the promise of everlasting peace to all who will accept and follow Him. … His mercy is the mighty healer, even to the wounded innocent.”
In this mortal experience, we cannot control all that happens to us, but we have absolute control over how we respond to the changes in our lives. This does not imply that the challenges and trials we face are of no consequence and easily handled or dealt with. It does not imply that we will be free from pain or heartache. But it does mean that there is cause for hope and that due to the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can move forward and find better days—even days full of joy, light, and happiness.
In Mosiah we read the account of Alma, the ex-priest of King Noah, and his people, who, “having been warned of the Lord … [,] departed into the wilderness before the armies of king Noah.” After eight days, “they came to … a very beautiful and pleasant land” where “they pitched their tents, and began to till the ground, and began to build buildings.”
Their situation looked promising. They had accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ. They had been baptized as a covenant that they would serve the Lord and keep His commandments. And “they did multiply and prosper exceedingly in the land.”
However, their circumstances would soon change. “An army of the Lamanites was in the borders of the land.” Alma and his people were soon placed in bondage, and “so great were their afflictions that they began to cry mightily to God.” In addition, they were even commanded by their captors to stop praying, otherwise, “whosoever should be found calling upon God should be put to death.” Alma and his people had done nothing to deserve their new condition. How would they respond?
Rather than blame God, they turned to Him and “did pour out their hearts to him.” In response to their faith and silent prayers, the Lord responded: “Be of good comfort. … I will … ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs.” Soon after, “the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.” Although not yet delivered from bondage, by turning to the Lord, and not from the Lord, they were blessed according to their needs and according to the Lord’s wisdom.
Elder Dallin H. Oaks has taught: “Healing blessings come in many ways, each suited to our individual needs, as known to Him who loves us best. Sometimes a ‘healing’ cures our illness or lifts our burden. But sometimes we are ‘healed’ by being given strength or understanding or patience to bear the burdens placed upon us.”
Ultimately, “so great was their faith and their patience” that Alma and his people were delivered by the Lord, as will we, “and they gave thanks,” “for they were in bondage, and none could deliver them except it were the Lord their God.”
The sad irony is that, too often, those most in need turn away from their one perfect source of help—our Savior, Jesus Christ. A familiar scriptural account of the brazen serpent teaches us that we have a choice when faced with challenges. After many of the children of Israel were bitten by “fiery flying serpents,” “a type was raised up … that whosoever would look … might live. [But it was a choice.] And many did look and live.
“… But there were many who were so hardened that they would not look, therefore they perished.”
Like the ancient Israelites, we are also invited and encouraged to look to the Savior and live—for His yoke is easy and His burden is light, even when ours may be heavy.
Alma the Younger taught this sacred truth when he said, “I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.”
In these latter days, the Lord has provided us with numerous resources, our “brazen serpents,” all of which are designed to help us look to Christ and place our trust in Him. Dealing with the challenges of life is not about ignoring reality but rather where we choose to focus and the foundation upon which we choose to build.
These resources include, but are not limited to:
Regular study of the scriptures and the teachings of living prophets.
Frequent, sincere prayer and fasting.
Worthily partaking of the sacrament.
Regular temple attendance.
Priesthood blessings.
Wise counseling through trained professionals.
And even medication, when properly prescribed and used as authorized.
Whatever change in life’s circumstance may come our way, and whatever unexpected path we may have to travel, how we respond is a choice. Turning to the Savior and grasping His outstretched arm is always our best option.
Elder Richard G. Scott taught this eternal truth: “True enduring happiness with the accompanying strength, courage, and capacity to overcome the most challenging difficulties comes from a life centered in Jesus Christ. … There is no guarantee of overnight results, but there is absolute assurance that, in the Lord’s time, solutions will come, peace will prevail, and emptiness will be filled.”
To these truths I share my witness. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Later that summer Leann came to my house and said that she was my visiting teacher. This seemed strange and wonderful at the same time, especially since I was not a member of the Church. Here she was taking time from her busy schedule to share a spiritual thought with me and to see if there was anything she could help me with. I knew from her spirit that she was sincere. I’ve never forgotten Leann and the messages she shared with me.

As a 26-year-old, Robert G. Ellis Jr. was working as a police officer in a Senate office building in Washington, D.C., USA.
“I spent a lot of time pondering what I had learned about Jesus,” he recalls. “My father and mother didn’t attend any church, but they had allowed me to go, and I had enjoyed attending more than a dozen denominations.” As a newly married young adult, he felt that he should be baptized—but in what church?
“My spirit was troubled. I wanted to find a church that was true to Christ’s teachings. People would say that all the churches were the Lord’s Church, but they did not hesitate to say that another denomination was wrong. I prayed, ‘I want to be baptized, but I don’t know which church to join.’”
Remembering that Jesus Christ said, “Ask, and it shall be given you” (Matthew 7:7), Robert kept pleading. One day while he was at work, Robert again felt troubled, and tears came to his eyes.
“I felt frightened and did not know if my thoughts were right or wrong. Then a peaceful feeling came over me. Without totally realizing why I was doing it, I walked over to an elevator operator and asked, ‘What church do you belong to?’”
The elevator operator was Norman Maxfield, a returned missionary attending Georgetown University.
“He looked up from some books. I could tell he was surprised. He said, ‘I’m a Mormon. Why?’
“I said, ‘I want to be baptized, but I don’t know which church to join.’
“He asked, ‘What do you believe in?’
“‘Jesus Christ,’ was the answer I proudly gave.
“He asked, ‘May I tell you about my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?’ As he told me that Christ’s Church had been restored to the earth, I knew that my prayers had been answered. The feeling within me was wonderful.”
That was in 1977. Today Brother and Sister Ellis are members of the Church in Virginia, USA.

I was reared in the Philippines by strict but loving grandparents. My grandfather’s favorite phrase was, “It’s for your own good.” He used it whenever I acted stubborn or failed to finish a chore. He always said that the things he asked of me would help me become better prepared when I grew up. Although I didn’t fully comprehend his words, young as I was, I obeyed—if for no other reason than to avoid further sermons.
My grandparents were religious people. By the time I was five, I knew there was a loving God who blessed us as we obeyed His commandments. Going to church on Sundays was a must, and singing hymns, reading Bible stories, and praying were part of our daily routine. I felt temporally and spiritually blessed. We were happy and content.
Then events came into my life that shattered my peace like the sudden blow of unpredicted bad weather. My grandparents died unexpectedly one Christmas season when I was a teenager. The sorrow I felt seemed to ruin forever the joys and anticipation of Christmas. A couple of months later, my parents’ home burned down. A year later, my mother was in a car accident that left her an invalid. Then my father lost his job.
Tribulations beset me like a storm. With little money, I lost hope of earning a college degree. The demands of household chores drained me of energy.
Confused and battered emotionally and spiritually, I began to doubt God’s existence. I began to ask why He had allowed such adversity to come into my life when I had always tried to obey Him. The whys continued to bother me, and with no answers, I slowly drifted away from the church I was attending at the time. For years I searched other religions for answers and relief, but nothing satisfied me.
One bright summer afternoon, a close friend invited me to meet the Latter-day Saint missionaries. They impressed me with their polite greeting and neat appearance, and I was curious about their name tags, which bore the name of Jesus Christ. Somewhere inside my soul, a soft but clear voice seemed to whisper, Hear their message; it’s for your own good. The familiar phrase echoed in my mind.
As I listened to the discussions, my faith in God’s existence was gradually restored, and I accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ. Following my baptism, I found that my lifelong questions had answers. I read in Doctrine and Covenants 122:5–7 the Lord’s words to the Prophet Joseph Smith: “If thou art called to pass through tribulation … all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.” I have come to realize that great blessings did come from my trials, for they led me to the true fold of God.
Looking back on my experiences, I realize they truly were for my good—just as Grandfather had said.

While serving a mission in Romania, Meg Yost and her companion regularly visited a family who hadn’t attended church in a long time. “The Stanicas were among the earliest members of the Church in Romania,” Meg says, “and we loved them.”

When it came time to plan and organize a branch activity, leaders decided that the branch would have a “Pioneer Night.” This would be an evening to celebrate the courageous pioneers who crossed the United States to get to the Salt Lake Valley. It would also be an opportunity to honor the pioneers of the Church in Romania.

“We thought it would be a great way for some of the members to bear testimony of their conversion and how they have seen the Church grow in Romania,” Meg says. “We immediately thought that the Stanica family should be involved. We invited them to participate, and they were excited!”

On the night of the activity, the Stanicas still hadn’t arrived when it was time to start.

“We were worried that they wouldn’t come,” Meg recalls. “But just in time, they walked through the door. The Stanicas bore a beautiful testimony of the gospel and the Church. They also got to socialize with other members whom they hadn’t seen in a long time.”

The members of the branch opened their arms and welcomed the Stanicas. The next Sunday, Meg was pleasantly surprised to see Sister Stanica at church.

“When I visited the branch a few months later, she was still coming!” Meg says. “I think the chance to bear her testimony and to feel involved and needed in the branch really helped her.”

At one time the Lord said that He was “well pleased” with Joseph Wakefield. He was stalwart and faithful and taught hundreds about the prophetic work of Joseph Smith. But from 1833 to 1834 he was influenced by some dissidents in Kirtland. He was once in the home of Joseph Smith. Joseph came out of the room where he had been translating the word of God and immediately began to play with some children. “This convinced [Brother Wakefield] that [Joseph] was not a man of God and that [therefore] the work was false.” In due course, Joseph Wakefield apostatized, was excommunicated, and became a persecutor of the Church and of the Saints.

Like the Li family, the Wu family has also traced their family line back to the emperor. In doing so, they discovered that the Wu children were part of the 150th generation since the emperor. The story caught the attention of the media, and in 2005, Wilford Wu, then 19, was selected to represent the young people of Taiwan during an annual ceremony at the traditional tomb of the Yellow Emperor.
For the Wu family, members of the Ching Hsin Ward, Taipei Taiwan West Stake, family history has been a family effort. Brother Wu, Chi-Li and his wife, Shirley, did much of the research, and Wilford and his older sister, Camilla, have helped organize it and participate in temple ordinances for more than 3,000 of their ancestors.
Working together has helped bring the Wu family closer together. They say it has also helped them feel a special connection with their ancestors.

Our seminary class has always exchanged presents at Christmastime. Last year, as usual, we held a meeting to determine how we would go about sharing gifts.
“We should draw names like always,” someone said, “but let’s say no one can spend more than $5.00.”
“How about instead of buying a gift, we write a letter,” Amy said. “We could watch the person whose name we get, notice their good qualities, and write a letter that says what we’ve learned about them.”
After a bit of discussion we all agreed, though most people didn’t appear very enthusiastic—just glad they wouldn’t have to spend any money.
I drew the name of a girl I barely knew. Michelle had been in some of my classes, but I had never taken the time to talk with her. I began to watch her both in seminary and in our history class.
Michelle was shy, but I noticed she always had a warm smile when she’d pass strangers in the hall. I learned she was intelligent when she did a marvelous presentation in history on Jesse Owens. I was most impressed, however, when I saw her love for people—when she put her arm around a tearful girl on her way out of seminary, when she befriended a lonely handicapped student. She became a real person to me instead of just another face on campus. I began to love her.
The day we were to exchange letters arrived and everyone was much more enthusiastic about the idea. As I stood and read my letter I found it easy for me to express my feelings to Michelle. Other students experienced similar reactions.
The Christmas gifts our seminary class exchanged that day meant more to me than anything money could buy. Astonishing results came from that experiment. Many students’ spirits were lifted, and we felt a closeness that unified our class for the rest of the year.
We learned there is something positive in everyone and when we share our love for them we give a true gift.

Two hours after Jay arrived, I knew I didn’t like my cousin. Two days after he arrived, I didn’t like myself. I knew that this would be my worst Christmas ever, and I began fervently wishing for it to be over with and for Jay to be gone. More than anything, I thought about how ashamed of me my father would be if he found out that I was a weakling who couldn’t stop somebody from rubbing my nose in the dirt.
A month ago Aunt Edith had written that she and Uncle Harley and Jay were coming to spend Christmas with us. On the day they were to arrive, we waited expectantly on the porch as we watched a moving cloud of dust appear far down the road. Soon a shiny green car pulled up in front of the gate.
“A brand new Studebaker!” my father said, wonderment in his voice. Since the drought and the dust storms and the depression had started, we had seen little that was new, much less a new car.
During the handshakes and hugs, I noticed that Jay was almost as big as Uncle Harley, although my cousin had just turned twelve, not quite a year older than I was.
“Jay’s the biggest boy in his grade,” Aunt Edith announced proudly.
“Yes, sir, this boy’s going to be a football star,” Uncle Harley boomed, even prouder.
“I reckon Andy’s like his dad,” my mother said, chuckling. “John says he got his growth late, but there was plenty of it—six-four in his stocking feet.”
My father didn’t say anything, and I wondered if he was wishing that I was bigger so that he could act proud too.
Later, upstairs in my room, Jay wandered around, restlessly touching things.
“You any good at marbles?” he asked. He sounded as if he was pretty sure I wasn’t.
“OK, I guess,” I answered.
While he got his marbles from his suitcase, I drew a chalk circle on the worn linoleum floor. “You go first,” I offered, since he was company.
He won the first game. I won the next two.
He scooped up his marbles. “This sorry old floor is uneven, and you have an unfair advantage, ‘cause you’re used to it. Without an unfair advantage you wouldn’t have won, kid.”
“Nuts! You’re just a bad loser,” I returned.
Before I knew what was happening, he had pinned me facedown on the floor, and with his knee in my back, he twisted my arm up behind my shoulder blades.
“Say uncle,” he ordered.
“I won’t.”
“Say uncle, you redheaded, freckle-faced runt. Say it!” He twisted until hot pain seared my shoulder.
“Uncle,” I managed to gasp.
Shoving my nose hard against the floor, he released me. When we were standing, facing each other, he said calmly, “If you tattle, I’ll get you again.”
“I don’t tattle.” I could feel my face flame at the insult.
“Dandy little Andy,” he taunted, with a mocking grin.
Around the grown-ups flattery just oozed from Jay, and he was extra polite to me. But when we were alone, he was something between barely tolerable and awful. In his tolerable state he talked incessantly but brushed aside anything I had to say as if he were shooing away a fly. When he prodded the cow I was milking and she put her foot in the bucket, he jeered, “Dandy little Andy.” My arms were sore from his constant knuckling me with his oversize fist.
On Christmas Eve, when we were chucking rocks at a fence post, Jay threw one that missed its mark and hit the door of his father’s car. It left a big dent and chipped the paint. My father and Uncle Harley, approaching from the well house, saw the damage and both of us with rocks in our hands.
“Son, did you do that?” Uncle Harley sounded stern.
Jay looked him directly in the eye and replied so earnestly that I would have believed him myself if I hadn’t known better, “No, sir, I did not.” Then he glanced at me with a pained expression.
After that performance my “I didn’t do it” sounded like a guilty denial.
My father stood silent for a moment, then turned and strode toward the barn.
Despite my misery, Christmas day did come. Jay and I took the firecrackers Uncle Harley had brought for us to a bare spot of ground near the windmill and spent the morning blowing up tin cans. I was so relieved that this was the last day of his visit that I actually had a good time.
Late in the afternoon Jay tagged along when I went to the pasture to drive in the milk cows. I rounded up the cows and was headed back with them when I saw a firecracker arc and explode under the lead cow. She tossed her horns and ran bellowing toward the barn.
I turned and saw my cousin, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Then I smelled it—prairie fire! I whirled around to see flames beginning to lick through the dry winter grass.
I ripped off my plaid mackinaw and beat out the fire nearest me, but the ever-present west wind fueled new flames that raced along, devouring the grass. I knew that if I couldn’t stop the blaze, it could burn up three counties. As I ran up and down beating the growing line of fire, I became like a piece of machinery, with no thought of heat or smoke or time. I didn’t even wonder where Jay was. I had completely forgotten him.
Finally I became aware of my father’s voice. “Andy, it’s all right. The fire’s out.”
I saw my father, his eyes red-rimmed from the smoke, holding wet gunny sacks in each hand. Blackened grass surrounded us. We walked wearily to the dry creek bed and dropped down on a flat rock.
From farther down the creek Jay suddenly appeared, striding purposefully. “I was going for help, sir. After I saw Andy drop that firecracker, I—”
My father’s voice cracked like a whip, “Don’t bother with another one of your lies, Jay. Go along to the house.”
My father turned back to me and put his hands on my shoulders. He said in his quiet way, “You did a man’s job today, Andy. With everything the way it is, if all the winter grazing had burned, I don’t see how we could have held on to the ranch another year. I’m grateful to you.”
I understood then that in ways that mattered to my father, I stood tall.
The next morning as we waved good-bye to the occupants of the green car, I found myself suddenly thinking that this was my best Christmas ever.

When my parents realized my desire to be baptized, they surprised me by agreeing to have the missionaries come for a visit. When they arrived at our home, my parents had a good feeling. After talking for a while, the missionaries invited us to sing a hymn, “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 294). As we sang together, my mother had tears in her eyes. Everyone was touched.
This experience softened my parents’ hearts, and a year and eight months after I first met the missionaries, I was baptized. I later served a mission in Utah and have had many wonderful opportunities in the Church.

The Junior Prom was just a few weeks away, and I was 16. This year I could actually go. All I needed was a date.
Finally, one week before the dance a nice young man asked to take me to the prom. All the way home on the school bus (I lived on a farm in Oregon), I felt as excited as a kid waiting for Christmas. I ran the half mile from the bus stop to my home.
“Mom, you will not believe this. The most wonderful thing has happened.” The words burst out like firecrackers. “I’ve got a date for the Junior Prom!” I danced around the kitchen as my mother reacted with appropriate enthusiasm.
Then it hit me, and I said, “I’ve got a serious problem. I don’t have a thing to wear.” And I didn’t. I was one of nine children, and we didn’t have much money. I had a wonderful mother with many talents, but they did not include being able to take a piece of material and turn it into a beautiful prom dress. I knew I was asking for more than my share when I said, “Is there any way I could buy a formal?”
There wasn’t much opportunity to earn money with all the work I did helping out at home. The problem was presented to my dad, and my prayers had to have made the top ten list of Most Fervent.
“This is very important to you, isn’t it, sweetheart?” my dad said. And the tone of his voice made me feel another miracle was on its way. “We’ll find the money. You’ve got to have a formal.” I hugged him and proclaimed him to be the most wonderful father on earth.
The next day Mother and I went shopping. Do you know what the styles were in the 50s when I was 16? Strapless evening gowns. And President David O. McKay taught modesty then just as President Ezra Taft Benson does today. Some things never change. Styles do, but the need to be modest never does.
As I stood in the dress shop that day, I knew these strapless gowns were not modest. But that’s all there was. We went to another shop, and again only strapless evening gowns. We went to yet another shop and found the same story. As I looked down the rack in the last shop, my eye was pulled to a beautiful peach gown with rows and rows of the kind of ruffles I’d dreamed of. I said, “Oh, Mom, look! It’s so beautiful. Can I try it on? I know I can’t get it because it’s strapless, but it’s so pretty. Can I just try it on, you know, to see if I really look good in this color?”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to just try it on,” Mom said. And with that I was off to the dressing room. Quickly I put it on, zipped it up, and looked in the mirror. It took my breath away. I had to have this dress. And besides it occurred to me that if strapless was all there was in the dress shops then guess what everyone at the dance would be wearing. All of a sudden I wanted to be “in.”
I walked out wearing the dress and said, “Mom, we have searched everywhere and there just isn’t anything, so I guess we’re just forced into this purchase.”
She smiled and said, “No we’re not. But it is beautiful, and it does come up quite high. Maybe we could get some material and add to the top to make it modest.”
Feeling slightly foiled, I thanked her profusely. We bought the dress and the material and headed for home.
The next day, before my mother had a chance to make the needed adjustments for my dress, the phone rang. My brother and his wife, 400 miles away in Provo, Utah, called to say they had just given birth to the very first grandchild in our family and they needed Mother’s help. She was so excited, she was on a bus in a matter of hours and forgot all about making the additions to my dress. And so did I, sort of.
The night of the prom arrived, and Mother was still gone. The thought of going to the prom in my gorgeous new strapless evening gown created a pulse rate I could actually see. About 15 minutes before my date was to arrive I was ready and walked out into the living room. There was my dad.
He took one look at me and said, incredulously, “Where did you get that dress?”
And I replied with feigned innocence, “Mother bought it for me.”
He was not convinced. “Mother would never buy you that dress without a plan. Now tell me the plan.”
“There was a plan, Daddy. Mom was going to add some material to the top, but she didn’t get a chance before she left. And, Daddy, I’m just sick about it, but I have to go this way.”
My dad was not persuaded. He firmly asked. “Where’s the material?” I could feel cardiac arrest coming on.
“Bring it to me, and a needle and thread and scissors, too. Quickly.” I went to get the items thinking, “I have never seen those big calloused hands sew anything but seeds.”
Daddy held up the material and looked it over, then laid it on the table and folded it until it was a band about six inches wide. He then took one end of it and began sewing it to one side of the top of my dress, using tiny little stitches, the kind you can’t pull out. Then he wrapped it around my shoulders, cut off the excess, and stitched the end firmly in place on the other side. He fanned the fabric out, and I was modest.
As I stood there I thought, “Tonight is the night I die.”
I went to my mirror to look at the damage. To my surprise it didn’t look too bad. A ruffle hid most of the stitches. Just then the doorbell rang, and there was my date.
That night, as we danced around the floor amidst all those bare shoulders, something happened. Nobody else knew it happened, but I knew because it happened inside of me. Suddenly I was filled with an overwhelming love for my dad. It surprised me. Somehow, throughout my whole being, I knew how much my dad loved me. He loved me enough to insist that I not go to a dance dressed immodestly. It felt good.
I don’t think anything bad would have happened to me that night if I had gone with bare shoulders, but I might have really enjoyed being “of the world.” After compromising in this area, I might have found it easier to do other things contrary to gospel teachings.
You don’t live in the era of the strapless evening gown as I did. Instead you live in the era of the gownless evening strap. But you’ll make it. I know you can because President Benson said, “It is not by chance that you have been reserved to come to earth in this last dispensation of the fulness of time. … You are ‘youth of the noble birthright’” (Ensign, Nov. 1986, p. 81). And one way to exemplify that is to follow the prophet’s counsel to dress modestly.

Because you are a first-generation member, each choice you make is important. Seemingly small, insignificant decisions will impact past and future generations, as well as your own life. One young first-generation member, Chris, was offered a drink of alcohol at work the day after his baptism. His friends were all there and were drinking. There was considerable pressure. No one else knew that the day before, he had been baptized and made promises to the Lord. He made the decision not to drink and was treated poorly. Reflecting on that event later, he wrote: “It is now forty years since I made those [baptismal] promises and I can truthfully say that I have … kept the Word of Wisdom. … I believe if I had accepted [that] drink that I would, perhaps, never have been able to keep the Word of Wisdom.”

But Chris kept his baptismal promises. Later he met and married a faithful member. Together they raised eight children in the gospel. Now in the sixth generation, his faithful descendants number in the hundreds. Dozens have served missions and introduced the gospel to others. His efforts in family history opened the blessings of the gospel to hundreds more. One small decision by a first-generation member made a difference for thousands.

The final awareness activity of the conference was a bit of a shock to most of the youth. As they were seated for a beautiful, all-you-can-eat brunch, blindfolds and ropes were distributed. The teens were divided into partners to help each other: one was blindfolded, the other had his “good” arm tied to his side. They were then invited to go to the buffet and help themselves.
This experience and the discussion on blindness helped Laura Lemke of the White Oak Ward a few days later when she encountered a blind man who appeared lost at the subway station. Without hesitation, she went up to him and offered assistance. Rather than grab him, she offered her elbow to him, and led him to the fare card machine.

For example, when I was called to be a mission president, my wife, Lucie, was called as my companion. We wanted to be united as we served. We knew that meant it was important for us as a couple to be aligned with the will of the Lord. What’s more, our children would also be affected by our calling since they would accompany us. They were young, ages 14, 11, and 7. Leaving home for three years would be a big adjustment in their lives, so being aligned with the will of the Lord would be important for them too.
We decided as a family that we wanted to serve the Lord together. As my wife says, “We all wanted to be pointed in the same direction.” And as a family we were blessed as we served together in the Democratic Republic of the Congo Mbuji-Mayi Mission.
Serving together strengthened our unity and capacity to face challenges related to a new culture, in a new city, with a new local language. It helped us to be more resilient as we responded to the need to attend leadership seminars and zone conferences and still meet the needs of our children. Our family prayers and scripture study became more meaningful, and our testimonies grew stronger as we watched converts, members, and missionaries love and embrace the gospel.
As a family serving together in the mission field, we witnessed the truth—for ourselves and for others—that we come to know Jesus Christ by doing His will. We saw what happens in the lives of those who hear His voice, obey His commandments, and accept His will in their lives. We received blessings as we fulfilled our own callings, and we watched the spiritual growth of missionaries and local Church members, including recent converts, who accepted callings, shared His gospel, and ministered to one another. We learned that doing His will is simple. It means doing what we are supposed to do to help God fulfill His work and His glory “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39).
When we accepted the call extended by President Russell M. Nelson to serve as mission leaders, my wife and I knew we were doing what the Lord wanted us to do. And we were delighted when our children joined us in that service. We left everything behind, but we knew that wonderful blessings were ahead. We were eager to share the Savior’s promise: “And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day” (John 6:40).

Well, I’m the eighth child in a family of nine, and I wonder if I gave my older brothers and sisters such a hard time. Oh, I’m sure that I did things like spill food on their clothes as they were heading out the door for a date, but it seemed that no matter how badly I embarrassed them, they still treated me kindly. I admired them a lot.
I especially looked up to my older sister Lynette. I started second grade when she entered college. We both had a love for music. She was majoring in music composition and spent many hours at the piano. When she practiced, I often sat on the couch next to the piano and listened to her play. I watched as her fingers glided over the keys and wondered if I would ever be able to play like that. I liked to think that by keeping her company, I was helping her out in some way.
One day as I listened to her practice, I noticed she was playing something new. “Hey, Lynette! That sounds like wind chimes!” I said.
She explained to me that she was composing a piece for her class. She then decided to name the song “Wind Chimes.” She even let me help her with it. She showed me which two notes to play on the organ pedals while she played the rest of the song on the piano. I tried in vain to keep the right rhythm, and she just smiled and said, “Try to keep it even, Rebecca.”
By then I was feeling pretty special. I couldn’t believe that she was letting me, a second grader, help her with her college homework.
A few days later Lynette told me that her composition had been graded. She said that “we” got an A! I was on cloud nine. I was happy for her, and at the same time I felt like a princess because she had let me be a part of it.
Now I’m a freshman in college and going through the struggles of being a music major myself. I even have some of the same teachers that she had. There are times when I have difficult questions, and I know just who to go to for help. Although Lynette is now married and lives miles away, I call her and she patiently explains the theory of music to me. For those few moments, it feels like we are once again a team. Nothing makes me happier than to be able to phone her again a few days later and say, “Hey, Lynette! We got another A!”
As the years come and go, I’ll always remember the time my big sister shared with me. She took the time to make me feel special—to let me know she cared. It’s a great lesson I learned about sisterhood.