Gospel Story Finder

Sister Paula Thomas of Sandy, Utah, discovered for herself that Heavenly Father does indeed speak to His children. She remembers:
“I was raised in a less-active home. Because of the influence of friends, I began attending Primary. When I was nine years old, my Primary teacher gave a lesson on personal prayer. I knew that I could pray at mealtimes and in meetings, but I had never thought of praying to Heavenly Father on my own.
“After the teacher dismissed our class, I approached her and asked her to teach me to pray. Kindly, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to write and talk at the same time. ‘You always begin by thanking Heavenly Father for all you have,’ she said, ‘and then you tell Him the desires of your heart. Is there something special you want to ask for, Paula?’
“I knew exactly what I wanted—I wanted to make my mother happy. I did not recall ever seeing her smile or laugh. Life was hard, and Mother cried often. I loved her so much that I would write poems, put on programs for her on Mother’s Day, and buy her gifts with my baby-sitting money. She was always grateful, but I knew her burdens were heavy.
“I left Primary that afternoon with those written instructions from my teacher. That night, when the house was quiet, I knelt at my bed and began my very first personal prayer. I prayed that I would be able to make my mother happy. I offered the same prayer every night for seven years.
“When I was 16, I received my patriarchal blessing from a patriarch whom I had never met. In my blessing he said: ‘Paula, the Lord has heard the prayers of your heart. A time will come in your life when you will be able to return with a deep feeling of love the gifts that have been so graciously given unto you by your mother. You will not only bring your mother happiness, you will give her the gift of joy.’
“As he was giving me the blessing, I received a powerful witness of God’s desire to communicate with us through personal revelation. Heavenly Father had heard my prayers, and He let me know he was aware of me.
“Years later, after my mother’s death, I went through the temple to receive sacred ordinances in her behalf. While there, I received an impression that I had truly given my mother the gift of joy—that day and on many other occasions.”

With those two extremes in mind, I would now like to give some examples which might help us inch our way into the center of the spectrum or toward that elusive balance. A few years ago I learned a great lesson while laboring as the new managing director of the Welfare Services Department of the Church. We were at a critical stage in the history of welfare. It was time to go through an agonizing reappraisal of the program in light of current world conditions. I was beside myself with worry and concern.

After praying for a solution, I decided to ask for meetings with some of the Brethren. I poured out my concerns and added my feeling that we were at a stage where further revelation on the subject was necessary. Then I sat back with my yellow note pad and Cross pen and waited for pearls of wisdom.

They each gave me the same pearl: “Brother Pace, I commend you for your concern and conscientiousness in finding solutions to these weighty matters. I, too, have some deep concerns and anxieties, and you are absolutely right—we do need revelation. Now, go get it!” Who, me? I was an employee of the Church, not a General Authority; but I had the responsibility to bring forth well-thought-out recommendations to the Brethren which could be confirmed, modified, or rejected in the appropriate forums. It was my obligation and right to receive inspiration, but it came with intense, agonizing study, research, and meditation.
What can we learn about balance from the recent fuss about historical documents? The lessons on straying off center are vivid. Would the discovery of any document, no matter how contradictory to what you believe to be true, destroy your testimony? It may raise some intellectual questions, but it need not destroy your testimony. There is an avenue to truth greater than intellect and more certain than the five senses. The most glorious of all avenues to truth is direct revelation from heaven. A saving testimony will never come from a spectacular historical or archaeological find, and a testimony need never be lost on the basis of such a find.
This does not mean we should have no interest in history. I love Church history, and my joy when visiting Church historical sites is intensified by knowing their background. But the more lasting impressions are from what is felt there, rather than what is remembered.
A few years ago my wife and I went to some of these sites. Two experiences come to mind which have relevance to this search for balance. In Jackson County we sat on the lawn within the boundaries of the future Jackson County temple. It was sunset. We were alone. We talked of history and prophecies of the future. But we remember most the sweet, peaceful, spiritual witness that Jesus Christ stands at the head of this church and that Joseph Smith is what he claimed to be, a prophet of God. No amount of historical research alone can bring to pass that spiritual witness. It comes only when we become attuned and learn to recognize spiritual things. However, the spiritual witness was strengthened by our knowledge of what has happened and what will happen there. That evening we found the elusive balance.
The next day we strayed off center. We went to Adam-ondi-Ahman, part of a sacred past and destined to be included in a sacred future. Knowing this history helped us understand the significance of the land. We had a history book which told of an altar of Adam and the Nephites. We didn’t know subsequent research has given rise to some questions on the exact location. We arrived an hour before sunset and, in search of the precise location of the altar, we drove to and fro becoming more frustrated by the minute. Fortunately, we came to our senses and drove to a knoll just in time to watch the sunset and enjoy the spirit of the place. Again, the Lord blessed us with a spiritual experience which can be recalled vividly upon reflection.
How often do we get so involved in the search for historical and archaeological details that we fail to take advantage of spiritual experiences right before our eyes. The same historical knowledge which can intensify spiritual experiences can destroy spirituality when we stray too far off center.
A complete testimony was never intended to be gained through history, except that kept by prophets and coming forth as scripture. The Lord didn’t mean for our testimonies to be based on physical, historical evidence.
Do you remember what the Lord told Joseph regarding Martin Harris’s desire to see the plates? “Behold, if they will not believe my words, they would not believe you, my servant Joseph, if it were possible that you should show them all these things which I have committed unto you” (D&C 5:7).
There is no other way to gain a testimony but through the witness of the Holy Ghost. You can rely on nothing else. Spiritual manifestations are generally reserved for the spiritually mature, not so much as a trial of faith as to assure they are not mocked. One must become adept at recognizing the Spirit before a spiritual manifestation can be a sanctifying experience. We have numerous scriptural examples of how pointless a physical manifestation can be without the accompanying receipt of the witness of the Holy Ghost. Conversion comes not by physical manifestations from heaven.
Laman and Lemuel observed many miraculous manifestations such as that recorded in 1 Nephi 3:30–31: “And after the angel had spoken unto us, he departed.
“And after the angel had departed, Laman and Lemuel again began to murmur, saying: How is it possible that the Lord will deliver Laban into our hands? Behold, he is a mighty man, and he can command fifty, yea, even he can slay fifty; then why not us?” [1 Ne. 3:30–31]
Nephi couldn’t believe it and said, “and ye also know that an angel hath spoken unto you; wherefore can ye doubt?” (1 Ne. 4:3). Here we have an example of knowledge being of no eternal value because the Spirit was absent.
Nephi put his finger on Laman’s and Lemuel’s problem in 1 Nephi 17:45. “Ye are swift to do iniquity but slow to remember the Lord your God. Ye have seen an angel, and he spake unto you; yea, ye have heard his voice from time to time; and he hath spoken unto you in a still small voice, but ye were past feeling.” [1 Ne. 17:45]
Even in heavenly manifestations we must acquire the ability to recognize the Spirit and feel the experience as well as see and hear it. Were it not so, Satan could thoroughly confuse us with his own demonstrations. Despite all the spectacular manifestations received by the Nephites and Lamanites at the birth of the Savior, within a short period of time doubts crept into the minds of those who were not converted.
“The people began to forget those signs and wonders which they had heard, and began to be less and less astonished at a sign or a wonder from heaven, insomuch that they began to be hard in their hearts, and blind in their minds, and began to disbelieve all which they had heard and seen—
“Imagining up some vain thing in their hearts, that it was wrought by men and by the power of the devil, to lead away and deceive the hearts of the people” (3 Ne. 2:1, 2).
If a witness of the Spirit is necessary to discern the validity of a visit by an angel, how very vital that witness is in more subtle situations.
How can we acquire the ability to recognize a witness of the Spirit? Even as I attempt to explain, I know it’s impossible to convey an understanding of this phenomenon. We must make the discovery privately and individually.
First, remove yourself from the guilt feelings you have experienced when you have fallen short in your attempts to recognize the Spirit. Have any of you ever been certain you have received a spiritual witness only to have subsequent events prove you were in error? Have any of you had a spiritual witness you dismissed as indigestion only to find out you blew it?
We have more patience with our failures in learning to ski than we do in learning how to recognize the Spirit. When we fall going down the slope, we get up, laugh at ourselves, and try again. When we have a failure in recognizing the Spirit we feel great guilt and are reluctant to go forward. It’s natural to have spiritual setbacks. It’s okay. It’s all right. Stay with it.
We all know it takes years of practice to become a professional athlete and a price must be paid. However, we expect to be overnight successes in spiritual things.
Joseph Smith said, “A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas, so that by noticing it, you may find it fulfilled the same day or soon; (i.e.) those things that were presented unto your minds by the Spirit of God, will come to pass; and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation until you become perfect in Christ Jesus” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 151).
Please note he said, “you may grow into the principle of revelation.” To become proficient in basketball one practices shooting countless shots. By repeating successful approaches and changing failures, the player gets the uncanny ability of knowing as soon as the ball leaves his hands whether the shot will be good or not.
In spiritual things we need to learn when we have had a witness of the Spirit and be able to recognize a counterfeit thrown at us by Satan or self-imposed by our own ambition and desire. Sometimes a young man will tell his girlfriend, “I have received a spiritual witness that you are to be my wife.” In some cases I would suggest the witness is more a desire than a manifestation. If, when the time comes, you receive that witness, put it to the test. Ask her to marry you. If she says yes, you were right; if she says no, you were wrong. But keep your witness to yourself. She is perfectly capable of receiving her own revelation.
What does a spiritual confirmation feel like? It’s the feeling you have when you read the Book of Mormon. It’s the feeling you have when you talk of heavenly things with your parents or a valued friend. Learn to recognize it. Learn to follow it.
If it were possible, I would lay down a formula for instant and certain success. One of the reasons it is so hard to enjoy consistent success is that the variables change each day. We are in tune more on one day than another. We are more emotionally vulnerable on one day than another. Satan works harder on us on one day than another. However, with all the variables there is one constant. The Spirit witnesses only the truth.
If your success ratio for recognizing the Spirit is low, ask yourself these questions:
How well am I living the commandments?
Am I studying the scriptures in order that I might be more attuned to spiritual things?
Am I praying with real intent?
Have I done my homework and gone to the Lord with a well-thought-out solution?
Have I learned to recognize a stupor of thought?
Can I honestly say “thy will be done” and am I willing to take no for an answer?
Don’t fail to invest adequate time learning things of the Spirit. I’m not speaking of religion classes, although I heartily endorse them. I’m speaking of learning how to recognize and obtain revelation. It’s a lifetime course, but you don’t have to wait until graduation to receive benefits. The rewards are immediate. Close in on that elusive balance between intellectual pursuits and that of learning to recognize the promptings of the Spirit. There is a balance and it is incumbent on each of us to find it.

One night when I was 16, I remember coming back from a Church activity with three friends. We were all in the priests quorum and enjoyed being together. We parked the car in front of my house, and we were talking about the fun we had at church when one of my friends made a suggestion.
Nearby was a club that was popular with teenagers. On Fridays and Saturdays they had dances. He said, “We should go to one of those dances.” He suggested we could even use the opportunity to preach the gospel to the youth there. The other three, myself included, tried to tell him it didn’t sound like such a great idea. The standards wouldn’t be the same as at Church activities. There would be people smoking and drinking. People would be dressed immodestly. Most of the music would be inappropriate, loud in its volume, and heavy in its beat, often filled with suggestive words.
This was a good friend, a very active young man. But he kept insisting that we should go. “As long as we don’t participate in the bad stuff,” he said, “it will be just fine.” The three of us tried to dissuade him but couldn’t. He finally said, “Then I am going to go alone. I am going to show you that there’s nothing wrong with it. And you are going to miss out on some great fun.” He was determined to stick his hand in the cumbuca.
On Friday he went to the dance. The next day, Saturday, he came to Church-sponsored activities bragging about how fun it had been. He invited us to go the next week. We never did go, but he ended up going on a regular basis until finally he began going to the Saturday night dances as well. Then he would be late to church on Sunday because he was tired from being out so late. Finally he began skipping church.
Over time he stopped coming to church regularly. He ended up not going on a mission. A few years ago I contacted him over the phone. He was living in a different town far away from me. When we started talking about the Church, he was totally cold, not the same person I used to know.
Looking back, I think of the four of us in that car. The other three all stayed active in the Church, married in the temple, and have served in priesthood leadership positions. But that one excellent friend fell away, married outside the Church, and today is totally inactive. His children do not know the blessings of the gospel. Even though he can still repent, and I hope he will, he is losing valuable time and opportunities.
That night in the car, the four of us were at a crossroads. I didn’t know the decision was that important at the time. We simply knew that it was not appropriate to go where he wanted to go. I remember he said, “We will go there, and through our good example we will convert some of those youth.” But he was being deceived, and he ended up being the one who was converted to a different path. As I look back, I can see that something that seems small can have a huge impact over the years. I am happy that I was able to choose what was right.

Our obedience and our faith in our leaders is put to the test through callings and releases. I recall an occasion when I was tempted to ask for a release from my calling as branch president. On my way to talk to the district president, I stopped at the post office to pick up my mail. Among the mail was the latest issue of the Liahona. As I looked over it, my eyes fell on a short message by President David O. McKay, in which he told how much the first leaders and missionaries of the Church had to suffer for the gospel. His words touched my heart, and I realized the foolishness of my decision. I kept my appointment with the district president, but never mentioned my original reason for coming. Instead, I took the opportunity to ask for additional counsel concerning my calling.
Years later the brother who had been district president asked me, “Brother Davila, what did you really want to talk to me about many years ago when you came to my house in Bogota?” I told him I had come to ask for a release. Then, with love and a smile, he said, “I knew what you were going to tell me. From the time you called me to make an appointment until you arrived at my house, I was praying that something might happen along the way that would change your mind.”
This experience has helped me to testify that our leaders are inspired, and that we should follow them humbly and willingly accept callings and releases that they extend to us.

Many years ago we used to have money-raising events in our wards to pay for the utilities and other local expenses and activities now paid by the general Church funds and the local unit budget allowance. We used to have bazaars, fairs, dinners, and other fund-raising activities. At that time my ward had a wonderful, devoted, committed bishop.
A member of a neighboring ward found that a dunking machine was a successful money-raising activity. Participants would pay to throw baseballs at a marked mechanical arm. Hitting the bull’s-eye would trigger a release, plunging the person sitting on the seat of the machine into a big basin of cold water. Our ward decided to use this machine, and someone suggested that more people would pay for balls to throw if the bishop would be willing to sit on the dunking seat. Our bishop was a good sport, and because he was responsible for raising the money, he willingly consented to sit on the dunking seat. Soon some began to buy balls and to throw them at the target. Several hit the mark, and the bishop was drenched. After half an hour of this, he began to shake with the cold.
While some of the people thought this was great fun, my father was very offended that the office of the bishop had been so belittled and held up to ridicule or even contempt. Even though the money raised was intended for a good cause, I can still remember feeling ashamed that some of our people did not show more respect for both the office and the man who had by night and day served us so well as our good shepherd. As holders of the priesthood of God, we should set the example of sustaining the leadership of the Church to our families, our friends, and our associates.

A few days ago, I attended a program celebrating the 146th anniversary of the Relief Society established by the Prophet Joseph Smith, Jr. Until then, I did not have a feeling or inspiration about what I wanted to say at conference. As I sat in that meeting attended by over three hundred sisters and saw the outstanding presentation—the choir of mothers and children singing and the testimonies of half a dozen of those sisters about the joys and goodness that had come into their lives because of Relief Society—I knew what I wanted to say to you today. And that is to seek the blessings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Listen to some of their comments in that meeting about the Church and its organization.
One sister said: “I will never forget the first time the missionaries took me to church in the little branch in my home town of Santa Rosa, Philippines. I had never heard of Relief Society before, but those dear sisters encircled me in the arms of love.”
Another sister said: “Sisterhood has taken on a whole new meaning for me. Several years ago my husband died suddenly, and I felt as if my world had collapsed around me. But just as suddenly, I was surrounded by a wonderful circle of sisters who helped bear my burden. They are always there. Our weekly trips to the temple bring such peace and comfort into my life. I rejoice in this sweet sisterhood.”
Truly, they were no more strangers, but fellow citizens with the Saints (see Eph. 2:19). They were members of His church—the kingdom of God on earth.
As I sat in that meeting, I thought about what the Church had done for me, my wife, my family, the people in wards I had lived in, the poor and the needy among us, and the whole human race. Those few minutes that day touched my spirit, and I felt like a child who had discovered a treasure. There were feelings within me that I cannot fully explain, but I recognized what the Church had done to bless my life and everyone around me who had truly accepted it and become involved in it.
Central to everything that Christ would have us understand and receive is the great power that comes to us when we draw close to Him through our acts, our compassion, and our personal change in becoming like Him. Our passage here on this earth is a proving ground, a period of growth and choice, and a time “to prepare to meet God” (Alma 12:24). He has given us His Spirit to guide us and His truth and His church to influence us to recognize these powers and use them. One great man in Book of Mormon days who fought against these principles and teachings of the Church was Alma the Younger, who was struck dumb and, after the Church spent days of fasting and prayer, was revived and spoke these words:
“For, said he, I have repented of my sins, and have been redeemed of the Lord; behold I am born of the Spirit.
“And the Lord said unto me: Marvel not that all mankind, yea, men and women, all nations, kindreds, tongues and people, must be born again; yea, born of God, changed from their carnal and fallen state, to a state of righteousness, being redeemed of God, becoming his sons and daughters;
“And thus they become new creatures; and unless they do this, they can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God” (Mosiah 27:24–26).
Alma had become a new creature, born of the spirit. He then went forth with conviction to build the kingdom of God upon the earth through the teachings of Christ and the establishment of His church—the very Church of Christ that he had condemned and ridiculed. The Church is necessary to help us to change our lives, to become new creatures.
As I contemplate the blessings of the Church in the lives of the sons and daughters of God, a hundred memories flood through my mind—memories such as:
The times I personally spent in Primary, Sunday School, priesthood, MIA, and seminary with young men and women growing up where activities were always within the bounds the Lord had established and where eternal truths were taught and retaught to strengthen and to truly provide us with a means to measure truth and error.
The time, years ago, when we lived in a large ward with many young families—an area called Morningside Heights. (We actually renamed it Morning Sickness Heights because there were so many young families.) As bishop, I had the blessing of interviewing between sixty and seventy eight-year-old children for baptism. I don’t remember one child who didn’t love the Savior or who didn’t understand and live the law of tithing. This was one of the blessings bestowed by faithful parents and wonderful teachers from Primary and Sunday School in the Church.
The time I heard about an LDS police chief who was honored as the outstanding police officer in California, who said, “All I know about organization is what I’ve learned in the Church. I’ve organized my police force just like my stake. I have a high council and bishoprics organized all over the city. I don’t call them by that name, but they are there just the same.”
The experiences in the Church when I saw my wife and daughter and dozens of other women go into a home on a regularly scheduled basis to help an autistic child learn how to crawl.
The time I saw a weeping father, who had been activated, stand in our stake conference with his arms around two sons and say, “Where would we be without the Church?”
On and on and on it goes. The Church of Jesus Christ is the organization that the Savior established when He personally walked upon the earth in Palestine and later in America and in 1830 when He reestablished it upon the earth to perfect and exalt all mankind. The Church and its functions are indispensable to the plan of God.
The Church provides all of the teachings of the Savior.
The Church exercises the authority from heaven, beginning with a prophet of God and extending down to every family.
The Church provides the saving ordinances of the gospel, including holy, eternal endowments and sealings in the house of God, a fulness of all that the Father has.
The Church provides brotherhood and sisterhood with others, wherever they are upon this earth. A member of the Church is immediately a part of a community of God with friends. It is a refuge from the world, with watchcare and accountability for every member.
The Church helps us to overcome selfishness and uncertainty by serving others in dozens of ways over a lifetime. Some of our fondest memories go back to those associations we have had in service together.
The Church is a way of life and has established organizations and cultural and developmental opportunities for ourselves and our children that are the envy of this world. Loving leaders and teachers provide warmth, security, activities, music, theater, and athletics, as well as the teachings of the Savior to help us to learn how to love Him, to try to be like Him, and to serve others. Our seven-year-old grandson has, through the Primary and the example of his father, found the wonder and blessing of the New Testament and now carries his little edition around, reading it often.
Our young women are trying to put faith, prayer, individual worth, knowledge, choice, accountability, integrity, the divine nature, and good works into their lives to get understanding about their future roles in this world and forever. Through many service projects they share their lives, their testimonies, and their influence to help others come unto Christ.
A young man in Michigan several years ago fell in love with an LDS girl. He was told forthrightly and with great love that she wanted the power of the priesthood in her home and the blessings of an eternal family, and she would only marry someone who could give her those blessings. The teachings she had received had taken root, and the seeds of faith, knowledge, and choice had grown, and she knew that they were true. The young man felt her spirit and agreed to be taught the gospel.
And after he had learned that the gospel was true, his father would not approve his baptism. A great shepherd, a bishop of the young girl, went to the father and helped him to see the value of that young woman, her standards, the Church, and the really truly important things in life. The father was touched that day as he attended the baptism and saw about twenty young men and women of the Church. Following the service, he asked that the missionaries come teach him. A young woman had taken on the divine nature and was able to share the priceless truths with others.
And what about our young men, all men actually, as they learn how to exercise the priesthood of God? George Romney, former governor of Michigan and former president of American Motors, once said this to young men in a stake conference:
“Boys, I want to tell you something. I have never had a degree in business administration from any business school. What success I have had in the business world I owe to the training I have received in this church.”
Recently, we learned a very valuable lesson from our President, Ezra Taft Benson, about the value of the Church in his own life and in the lives of boys. He spent many years early in his married life teaching our young boys as a Scoutmaster, learning and sharing with them in a hundred ways. And we saw the results a few months ago as nearly all of those Scouts he had led assembled and stood in this Tabernacle—a witness of what had been done for them in this church. Yes, the Church is the instrumentality of God. It is essential to the salvation of mankind.
Listen to what President David O. McKay said about the Church: “Every phase of [the Church] seems to me applicable to the welfare of the human family. When I consider the quorums of priesthood, I see in them an opportunity for developing that fraternity and brotherly love which is essential to the happiness of mankind. In these quorums and in the auxiliaries of the Church, I see opportunities for intellectual development, for social efficiency. In the judicial phase of the Church I see ample means of settling difficulties, of establishing harmony in society, of administering justice, and of perpetuating peace among individuals and groups. In the ecclesiastical organization, I see an opportunity for social welfare such as cannot be found in any other organization in the world.
“Thus does Christ and His Church become my ideal, my inspiration in life. I think it is the highest ideal for which man can strive. …
“I know of nothing else in the world that can even approach Christ’s Church as an anchor for the soul” (Treasures of Life, comp. Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1962, pp. 3–4).
Now, may I invite all within the sound of my voice to seek the blessings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—its important, eternal blessings, its programs and activities, its opportunities to serve and to be of one heart and one mind—and to seek the peace the Savior promised. The First Presidency has extended a special invitation to all who, for whatever reason, may have gone astray from the Church, to come back, to come home, for you are needed and we love you. The Lord and His church will bless you and your families—even into eternity.
Let us all seize every opportunity to serve in His church, with full intent and with great desire, for that is what expands and perfects and sanctifies the soul. The words of the Lord given in February 1829 capture the spirit and heart of how to serve in the Church:
“Therefore, O ye that embark in the service of God, see that ye serve him with all your heart, might, mind and strength, that ye may stand blameless before God at the last day” (D&C 4:2).
Beloved brothers and sisters, this is the Lord’s church, to which we are highly privileged to belong. We are part of it. It blesses our lives. May we capture the true spirit intended by the Lord and be anxiously engaged with others in seeking the blessings of the Church. I know with all the strength of my soul that it is true, that it is God’s instrument to help us to become like His Son, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“But, Mom,” Kendyl cried, “I have to go to Achievement Day. Sister Reed wants all of the girls there. She takes pictures of us at our activities to put in our scrapbooks, and I don’t want to be left out.”
“I know it’s important to go to Achievement Day, honey, but we have such a long drive ahead of us to Grandma’s! I don’t want to get a late start.”
“Can I at least go for an hour? Marie and I already planned to ride our bikes together.”
Kendyl’s mom looked down at the pleading expression on her daughter’s face and sighed. Even if it meant a delay, she was pleased that Kendyl didn’t want to miss the Achievement Day activities. “OK, honey, you can go for the whole time, but why don’t you and Marie walk so that we can pick you up from Sister Reed’s house on our way out of town.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Kendyl called over her shoulder as she ran to finish packing.
“Dad, is this the longest road in the world?” Kendyl’s six-year-old brother, Weston, asked.
“No, Son. It just seems that way because it’s flat and straight.”
This was a trip the family made at least once a year, and Kendyl had remembered how long and boring it was. Her backpack was full of things to keep her occupied—books, colored pencils, a drawing pad, and some braided cord for a key chain she was making as a gift for Grandma.
Weston was busy playing with action figures, making all sorts of growling and fighting noises. A few of the figures were missing arms or legs, but he didn’t care. He didn’t go anywhere without his Galactic Gorillas.
The family had long ago finished the sandwiches Mom had packed, and Kendyl’s stomach was starting to growl. The chips were gone, too, thanks to Weston the “chip monster.” “How much longer, Dad?” She didn’t want to sound like her little brother, but this trip seemed longer than any of the others. Wasn’t there supposed to be a town soon?
“Oh, we still have a few more hours. Try to get some sleep. That will make the trip go faster.”
She didn’t like sleeping in the car. Her neck always hurt on one side when she woke up. It was getting too dark to do anything else, though, so she rested her head against the back of her seat and shut her eyes.
A sudden drop in the car speed threw Kendyl forward against her seat belt, jolting her wide awake. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“It’s OK, honey,” Dad said. “The engine cut out a moment, that’s all.”
“Are we there yet?” Weston sat up, stretching.
“Not yet, Sport. I think the car’s getting as tired of this trip as we are, that’s all.”
Kendyl and Weston sat back. The only light outside came from the stars spread across the velvet black sky, and the two bright funnels from the headlights. Suddenly Kendyl felt very small and a little scared, so she shut her eyes to say a little prayer. Just as she started her prayer, the engine cut out again. Dad steered the car over to the side of the road as it slowed to a halt.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked.
“I’ll get out and take a look. Thank goodness the lights still work.” Dad got out of the car and checked under the hood. “I don’t know what it could be,” he said, climbing back inside. “Everything seems to check out. Maybe we just need to let the engine rest for a minute.”
Kendyl’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere.
“I’m hungry,” Weston said with a whine in his voice. “I want to go to Grandma’s.” The whine changed quickly into sobs. Hearing her brother cry made Kendyl’s own eyes water.
“Sweetie,” Mom said, “everything’s going to be fine.”
“But I’m hungry and cold.”
Kendyl’s stomach wasn’t only hungry—it was tied in knots.
Half an hour went by. Dad tried to start the car again. No luck. The more he tried, the more tired the battery started to sound.
“Mommy,” Weston said, “I’m really hungry, and it’s really cold.”
Then Kendyl remembered. “Mom, guess what?”
“What, honey?”
“I put our old camping blanket in the trunk.”
“You did?” Dad asked, his voice sounding happier.
“Sister Reed told us to at our last Achievement Day. And today she helped us make emergency kits. Mine is in the trunk.”
“Is there food in it?” Weston asked.
“A little bit. Peanut-butter sandwich crackers and fruit snacks.”
“Yes! Hurray for Achievement Day!” Weston shouted.
“Hurray for Sister Reed,” Dad added.
“Hurray for Kendyl,” Mom said.
Within minutes, they had the blanket, some jackets, extra clothes to keep them warm, and the canvas tote bag containing Kendyl’s emergency kit.
“Look—a candle and matches,” Dad said. He struck a match and touched it to the wick. The tiny flame bathed the inside of the car with its glow. Kendyl felt a lot better now that there was light.
“Bandages and a bottle of water,” Mom said, going through the rest of the bag. “And toilet paper, and wet wipes—and here’s the food.” She handed a fruit snack to everyone, and they shared a four-pack of crackers with peanut butter.
“This is the best food I’ve ever eaten in my whole life,” Weston said. “Mom, will you buy this kind of crackers when we get home?”
“Of course, Son,” Mom said. “Kendyl, it’s a real blessing to have this emergency kit. And to think that I almost didn’t let you go to your activity!”
“Sister Reed told us that if we were prepared, we didn’t have any reason to be afraid.”
“She’s absolutely right,” Dad said.
“You know what my teacher told us?” Weston said.
“What, Wes?” Mom asked.
“She said that when we need help we should pray.”
“Your teacher is also right,” Dad said. “Why don’t we have a prayer right now?”
They folded their arms, bowed their heads, and Dad said the prayer.
They had not sat there long after the prayer, when Weston called out, “Look—headlights!”
Sure enough, a tiny, bright circle was coming toward them. It quickly grew into two powerful tunnels of welcome light.
The whole family cheered as Dad flicked the headlights on and off to signal to the driver.
Not only did the car stop, but to everyone’s delight, the driver was a highway patrolman. He called a tow truck, and soon they were snug and safe in a hotel room.
Before going to bed that night, the family knelt in prayer. Weston reminded Dad to thank Heavenly Father for peanut-butter sandwich crackers. Dad also thanked Heavenly Father for watching out for them that night, for the power of prayer, and especially for Sister Reed, Kendyl, emergency kits, and Achievement Day.

Just recently I was very sick and hurt so badly I could not move. I had prayed a couple of times to ask Heavenly Father if He could help me. It just kept getting worse. So I called my dad at work and asked if he could come home to give me a blessing. He agreed.
When he got home, I had prayed four times already and told no one about it. What was so surprising is that in his blessing he said that he knew I had prayed about it and that if I kept praying, then I would heal very quickly. I know it was Heavenly Father talking to me through my dad, because Heavenly Father was the only other person who knew that I had prayed. I thought that was amazing.

I grew up in a small town and participated in a 4-H club that each year required me to purchase a lamb or a calf to raise. I had to maintain a workbook to keep track of what I paid for feed, veterinarian bills, and anything else I needed. The most memorable lamb I had was when I was nine. I bought a Southdown-cross lamb from a farmer and took good care of it. My dad helped me, and the county agent met with members of the club periodically to sign off in our workbooks. I learned how to raise and show that lamb, including shearing it so it would look its best.
I ended up taking it to The Dalles, Oregon, livestock show, and I won the grand-champion prize. The lamb weighed 92 pounds, and I received $2.50 per pound for my efforts. For a nine-year-old, that was a lot of money. And because of the records I had kept, I knew how much I earned after costs. For me, that was good training. For the last 20 years, I have been self-employed. I’ve paid my tithing on the same basis I learned when I was nine.

Pornography also inflicts mortal wounds on our most precious personal relationships. In his talk to men of the priesthood last October, President Hinckley quoted the letter of a woman who asked him to warn Church members that pornography “has the effect of damaging hearts and souls to their very depths, strangling the life out of relationships” (Liahona and Ensign, Nov. 2004, 60).

At a recent stake conference a woman handed me a similar letter. Her husband had also served in important Church callings for many years while addicted to pornography. She told of great difficulty in getting priesthood leaders to take this problem of pornography seriously: “I got all kinds of responses—like I was overreacting or it was my fault. The bishop we have now has been great. And now after 15 years my husband is trying to deal with his addiction, but now it is 15 years harder to quit for him and the loss has been incalculable.”

I have also had the privilege of meeting with cherished friends, some from years past and many I have met recently. It was after a meeting with a dear friend that I have known and loved for many years that I felt impressed to prepare my remarks today.
When we met, my friend confided that he had been struggling. He felt he was experiencing, to use his words, a “crisis of faith” and sought my counsel. I felt grateful that he would share his feelings and concerns with me.
He expressed a great longing for what he had once felt spiritually and what he now thought he was losing. As he spoke, I listened carefully and prayed earnestly to know what the Lord would have me say.
My friend, like perhaps some of you, asked the question so poignantly phrased in the Primary song: “Heavenly Father, are you really there?” For those of you who may be asking this same question, I would like to share with you the counsel I would offer to my friend and hope that each of you may find your faith strengthened and your resolve renewed to be a committed disciple of Jesus Christ.
I begin by reminding you that you are a son or daughter of a loving Father in Heaven and that His love remains constant. I know that such reassuring feelings of love are difficult to recall when you are in the midst of personal struggles or trials, disappointments, or broken dreams.
Jesus Christ knows about fierce struggles and trials. He gave His life for us. His final hours were brutal, beyond anything we can even comprehend, but His sacrifice for each one of us was the ultimate expression of His pure love.
No mistake, sin, or choice will change God’s love for us. That does not mean sinful conduct is condoned, nor does it remove our obligation to repent when sins are committed. But do not forget, Heavenly Father knows and loves each of you, and He is always ready to help.
As I pondered my friend’s situation, my mind reflected on the great wisdom found in the Book of Mormon: “And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.”
I testify that “the gulf of misery and endless wo” is a place no one wants to be. And my friend was feeling that he was on the edge.
When I have counseled individuals such as my friend, I have explored their decisions made over the years which led them to forget sacred experiences, to weaken, and to doubt. I encouraged them, as I encourage you now, to recall, especially in times of crisis, when you felt the Spirit and your testimony was strong; remember the spiritual foundations you have built. I promise that if you will do this, avoiding things that do not build and strengthen your testimony or that mock your beliefs, those precious times when your testimony prospered will return again to your memory through humble prayer and fasting. I assure you that you will once again feel the safety and warmth of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Each of us must first strengthen ourselves spiritually and then strengthen those around us. Ponder the scriptures regularly, and remember the thoughts and feelings you experience as you read them. Seek other sources of truth as well, but heed this caution from the scriptures: “But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God.” Attend Church meetings, especially sacrament meeting, and partake of the sacrament and renew covenants, including the promise to always remember the Savior, that His Spirit may ever be with you.
No matter what mistakes we have made or how imperfect we feel we are, we can always bless and lift others. Reaching out to them in Christlike service can help us feel the love of God deep within our hearts.
It is important to remember the powerful counsel found in Deuteronomy: “Keep thy soul diligently, lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen, and lest they depart from thy heart all the days of thy life: but teach them thy sons, and thy sons’ sons.”
Generations are affected by the choices we make. Share your testimony with your family; encourage them to remember how they felt when they recognized the Spirit in their lives and to record those feelings in journals and personal histories so that their own words may, when needed, bring to their remembrance how good the Lord has been to them.
You will recall that Nephi and his brothers returned to Jerusalem to obtain the brass plates that contained the recorded history of their people, in part so that they would not forget their past.
Also, in the Book of Mormon, Helaman named his sons after their “first fathers” so they would not forget the goodness of the Lord:
“Behold, my sons, I desire that ye should remember to keep the commandments of God. … Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when you remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good.
“Therefore, my sons, I would that ye should do that which is good, that it may be said of you, and also written, even as it has been said and written of them.”
Many today have the same tradition of naming their children after scriptural heroes or faithful ancestors as a way of encouraging them not to forget their heritage.
When I was born, I was given the name of Ronald A. Rasband. My last name honors my father’s ancestral line. The middle initial A was given to me to remind me to honor my mother’s Danish Anderson ancestry.
My great-great-grandfather Jens Anderson was from Denmark. And in 1861 the Lord led two Mormon missionaries to the Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson home, where the missionaries introduced them and their 16-year-old son, Andrew, to the restored gospel. Thus began a legacy of faith of which my family and I are the beneficiaries. The Andersons read the Book of Mormon and were baptized a short time later. The following year, the Anderson family heeded the call of a prophet to cross the Atlantic to join the Saints in North America.
Sadly, Jens died on the ocean voyage, but his wife and son continued to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving on September 3, 1862. Despite their hardships and their heartaches, their faith never wavered, and neither has the faith of many of their descendants.
In my office hangs a painting that captures so beautifully a symbolic reminder of that first meeting between my ancestors and those dedicated early missionaries. I am determined not to forget my heritage, and because of my name I will forever remember their legacy of faithfulness and sacrifice.
Never forget, question, or ignore personal, sacred spiritual experiences. The adversary’s design is to distract us from spiritual witnesses, while the Lord’s desire is to enlighten and engage us in His work.
Let me share a personal example of this truth. I distinctly recall a time when I received a prompting in answer to mighty prayer. The answer was clear and powerful. However, I failed to act immediately on the prompting, and after a period of time I began to wonder if what I had felt had been real. Some of you may have fallen for that deception of the adversary as well.
Several days later, I awoke with these powerful verses of scripture in my mind:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart. …
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?”
It was as if the Lord was saying, “Now, Ronald, I already told you what you needed to do. Now do it!” How grateful I was for that loving correction and direction! I was immediately comforted by the prompting and was able to move forward, knowing in my heart that my prayer had been answered.
I share this experience, dear brothers and sisters, to demonstrate how quickly our minds can forget and how spiritual experiences guide us. I have learned to cherish such moments “lest I forget.”
To my friend, and to all who wish to bolster their faith, I give you this promise: as you faithfully live the gospel of Jesus Christ and abide by its teachings, your testimony will be protected and it will grow. Keep the covenants you have made, regardless of the actions of those around you. Be diligent parents, brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends who strengthen loved ones with personal testimony and who share spiritual experiences. Remain faithful and steadfast, even if storms of doubt invade your lives through the actions of others. Seek that which will edify and fortify you spiritually. Avoid counterfeit offerings of so-called “truths” which are so pervasive, and remember to record your feelings of “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, [and] temperance.”
In the midst of life’s greatest storms, do not forget your divine heritage as a son or daughter of God or your eternal destiny to one day return to live with Him, which will surpass anything the world has to offer. Remember the tender and sweet words of Alma: “Behold, I say unto you, my brethren, if ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?”
To all who feel the need to have their faith fortified, I plead with you, do not forget! Please do not forget.
I bear witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I know he saw and talked with God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, just as he recorded in his own words. How grateful I am that he did not forget to write of that experience, that we may all know of his testimony.
I bear my solemn witness of the Lord Jesus Christ. He lives; I know He lives and stands at the head of this Church. These things I know for myself, independent of any other voice or witness, and I pray that you and I will never forget sacred eternal truths—first and foremost that we are sons and daughters of living and loving Heavenly Parents, who desire only our eternal happiness. Of these truths I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Robin Gallagher has more silver and gold than a lot of the prospectors who hoped to hit it rich back in the big mining days of the 1840s. During three years of competition in various Special Olympics competitions in Ohio, she has collected four gold medals, three silver medals, one bronze medal, and 25 ribbons, as well as a few aching muscles and a lot of satisfaction.
Robin, a member of the East Liverpool Branch, Pennsylvania Pittsburgh Mission, took first place in the 50-yard dash in her age group at the Ohio State Joseph P. Kennedy Special Olympics in 1977. She was one of 14 students chosen to compete from Columbia County. During last summer’s competition at the Columbus State Special Olympics, she again took first place in the 50-yard dash, placed third in the long jump, and raced with a team that achieved second place in the 440-yard relay. In addition to Special Olympics, Robin also enjoys music, sewing, woodworking, and participating in the Young Women program.

“A brown butterfly to land on my hand,” my three-year-old squeaks with excitement. His response is an innocent reply to my offhanded question, “What do you want for Christmas?”
I mutter a hesitant “We’ll see” before putting him to bed, relishing the rare moments I get to spend with him. I’ve been too out of sorts to be present most of the time.
The unceasing screams of his sister, suffering from colic, keep pulling me into the black hole of postpartum depression. I feel like a shattered piece of china held together with tape—sharp, broken, and barely hanging on. I don’t want my bitter feelings to spoil my son’s excitement for the season.
I feel the weight of his answer on my shoulders. A brown butterfly had landed on his hand while we were taking one of our daily walks in the cool air of early spring. He talked about it for weeks. It is still the highlight of his short life.
I want to make his wish come true and see in his face some of the joy I desperately want for myself. I go to sleep praying for peace and relief, feeling that this is going to be a harsh Christmas for us both.
The next morning, we awake to a beautiful day—perfect for our annual Christmas Eve hike. My son prepares with more gusto than usual, talking about when and how his butterfly will arrive.
“It’s a little too cold,” I say as I zip up his coat and pull a hat over his head. “Perhaps the butterflies will all be staying warm inside their homes.”
“Not my butterfly,” he laughs, undeterred.
I put my daughter in the baby carrier and say a silent prayer: “Please don’t let him be too disappointed.”
As we walk, my son looks back and forth among the trees, more eager with each step. The cold wind shakes the leaves. He spins as they fall to the forest floor, where he stomps on them with a big crunch of his boots. To him, the world is full of magic, just waiting for his wish to come true. But I don’t see any butterflies.
We near the end of the trail. As I start to call him home, I hear his joyful laughter. I turn to see him by a tree holding his finger out as a small brown butterfly dances around him. With the faintest touch, they meet, and he smiles. His eyes find mine, and I feel warmth spreading all over me, marveling at the little miracle I’ve just witnessed.
I clap my hands in celebration and praise. God was listening. The weight of my sadness eases, and the Sprit witnesses that He is aware of me. He had heard my pleading prayers for strength and relief during tiring nights and depressing days.
Even small things, like finding a butterfly on a December day, prove that Heavenly Father is watching over my family—reminding me that miracles still happen when we have the faith of a child.

Climbing the long stairway to the highest dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome, Italy, the tourists paused halfway up to rest—all except a slender Japanese man. Although he looked older than some of the others, he climbed to the top energetically and without stopping. Several in the group asked the man why he had so much energy. “Because I am a Mormon,” replied Brother Masao Watabe with a chuckle.
A curious American asked him how the Catholic cathedral might compare with a Latter-day Saint temple. Calmly, as if he had been waiting for just such a question, Brother Watabe took some cards from his pocket and passed them around among the group. On the front was a photograph of the Hawaii Temple, where Brother Watabe was serving as a temple missionary. On the back, pointed out Brother Watabe, were the Articles of Faith.
In fact, Brother Watabe probably was looking for just such an opportunity to share his faith. Now second counselor in the presidency of the Taipei Taiwan Temple, Brother Watabe has talked about the gospel to people on trains and buses, to military officers and employers.
Perhaps he feels such missionary zeal because the gospel has so deeply changed his own life. Masao Watabe was born to Japanese parents in the An-Tung Province of China, and he belonged to one of the sects of Shintoism. He was an intelligent young man with an interest in languages. After graduating from college, he married and was sent by the Japanese foreign office to study the Mandarin language in Peking. He worked at the Japanese embassy in Peking and at the Japanese foreign office in Tokyo.
An idealistic young man, Masao Watabe had had a lifelong dream of unifying the nations of the world. Then World War II began, bringing death, devastation, and defeat. A year before the war ended, young Masao was drafted into the Japanese army. The experience of war plunged him into a period of despair. “Life was like wandering in the darkness with no hope or purpose,” he recalls.
After the war, Masao was transferred to the city of Sendai, Japan. There he met a Catholic priest who introduced him to Christianity. “When I talked to him about the religion of Jesus Christ,” Brother Watabe remembers, “I felt good in my heart. I asked many questions about Christianity. As I listened to his answers my heart, which had been struggling in the darkness, gradually became enlightened, and it seemed to me the Lord’s voice began to whisper to it.”
After a short time, Masao became disillusioned with Catholicism. He sought out a Bible class at a local university, which he attended for a year. His teacher, the wife of a Methodist minister, took him to church. She and her husband encouraged him to be baptized into the Methodist church. Because he had unanswered questions about that faith, he hesitated.
While he was still considering becoming a Methodist, one of his students told him that two American missionaries had begun boarding at his house. Masao was eager to meet them, and the next day the student brought them to school. “As I shook hands with them, I had a very good feeling,” says Brother Watabe. When he attended Sunday School with them, he was impressed with the simplicity of the services and the sincerity of the people.
A missionary pamphlet, Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story, fascinated him so greatly that he read it all night. But it was the Book of Mormon itself that rekindled the hope he had lost during the war. When he first read the prophecy contained in 1 Nephi chapter 10 [1 Ne. 10], concerning the scattering and gathering together of Israel, his heart was filled with joy. All his life he had yearned to help bring about unity in the world. He was also excited to learn that his deceased ancestors could receive baptism and other saving ordinances.
Ever since that cold day in November 1949 when he was baptized in the Hirose River, Brother Watabe has dedicated himself to sharing the joy he has found in the gospel. He was able to baptize his wife, Sister Hisako Watabe, in July of the next year. Their oldest son, nine-year-old Masahisa, was baptized that same day. And he has baptized their two younger sons, Masaji and Masakazu, and two daughters, Seiko and Yasuko, at age eight.
When Brother Watabe learned that each member of the Church should be a missionary, he committed himself to go tracting every day. He began by tracting in the train on the way to work, giving pamphlets to those who were interested. While serving a mission in Brazil, his third son, Masakazu, had the unusual experience of baptizing a man who had first heard of the gospel from Masao Watabe on a train in Japan fifteen years earlier.
As the first native Japanese member of the Church in Sendai City, Brother Watabe has been a faithful servant. He became the first president of the Sendai Branch. When the first stake in Asia was established in Japan, he served as stake patriarch. Because he feels that the best advice is the word of God, he prepared himself to give blessings by studying the scriptures. One of his favorite scriptures to quote is from Matthew: “And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:38–39.)
Shortly after Brother Watabe joined the Church, his commitment to his faith cost him his job at the Japanese foreign office in Sendai. As a new convert, Brother Watabe stopped attending office parties, where drinking wine and pouring wine for others to drink was customary. His superior officer warned him several times that he must attend these parties and that he must stop taking part in missionary street meetings. But Brother Watabe remained steadfast. Finally his superior called him in and said, “You would rather go to your church than work here; we don’t need you anymore.” Soon Brother Watabe was offered a job in a U.S. Army camp. After working there for five years, Brother Watabe was called to the mission home in Tokyo to work as a translator for the Church.
The Watabes’ commitment to their faith has brought a life filled with joy, including the joy of a faithful family. In 1968, the entire Watabe family was sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. The Watabe children are all married, and Brother and Sister Watabe have twenty grandchildren. All the Watabe sons have served missions for the Church.
In 1979, Brother and Sister Watabe were called to a work they love, serving as temple missionaries in the Hawaii Temple. Later, Brother Watabe received the authority to act as a sealer. The Watabes enjoy their work in the Taipei Taiwan Temple, where Brother Watabe serves as second counselor.
Already Brother Watabe is planning another way to share the gospel after he is released from the temple presidency. He hopes to return to Japan and write books that will express his testimony to his fellow countrymen. For Brother Masao Watabe, life is a mission every day.

During a recent virtual mission reunion. Stuart and Sheryl McReynolds invited their returned missionaries to continue one of their mission traditions—their annual ‘EMM-athon’. During their time presiding over the England Manchester Mission, the McReynolds had established this custom when they challenged their missionaries to get up on time for the three days over Christmas, getting out of their accommodation each day to run or walk for exercise. They also invited them to record and share a short video greeting for the other missionaries while they were out.
The McReynolds thought it would be fun to continue the EMM-athon tradition in some form with returned-missionary colleagues from around the world. This year’s invitation was to get out sometime over the Christmas period to run, walk or cycle and share a photo or short video on their mission alumni Facebook group, thereby hoping to connect with missionaries during this special time of year. They also issued a challenge to donate for every mile covered to Barnabus, a Manchester Charity caring for the city’s homeless. They thought this was a good way for them to stay connected to their mission area and continue giving in some small way.
They established a fundraising page with Barnabus and pushed ahead with the challenge. More than seventy returned missionaries, young and senior, from 13 countries covered 562 miles during the Christmas week, including one young returned missionary running 27 miles on Christmas Eve! Their combined fundraising efforts resulted in a £879 donation for the charity, providing much-needed help and support to Manchester’s homeless.
Alex Simpson, a representative of the Barnabus Charity contacted the McReynolds to thank them and all who were involved with the fundraising efforts, and in recognition of those efforts a certificate of thanks was sent by the charity. Alex added that the charity was grateful for the money that had been raised to help change the lives of people experiencing homelessness.
This was a wonderful idea and act by Stuart and Sheryl McReynolds and their returned-missionary colleagues. They plan to do the same thing annually as they look to identify other charities within the England Manchester Mission boundary that they could support.

James Peter Fugal was an honest man! He herded sheep much of his life in the rolling hills of Idaho. On one bitterly cold winter night, he was herding sheep for another man when a blizzard set in. The sheep bunched together, as sheep do, in the corner of a fenced area, and many died.
Though the death of the sheep was no fault of his, James Fugal felt responsible and spent the next several years working and saving to repay the owner for his lost sheep.
This same desire to live Christian principles was evident in Aurelia Spencer Rogers, who founded the Primary organization of the Church. She had a concern for the moral character and social development of children. Leaders of the Primary since Aurelia Spencer Rogers continue to teach wholesomeness, virtue, and love for one another as well as to instill a desire to understand and live by traditional values.
Sister Haight and I attended a sacrament meeting some distance from our home. We found, to our delight, that the Primary would present the program, the theme being “We Believe in Being Honest.”
I marveled at the eagerness of these young children as they spoke about the fundamental principles they were learning of telling the truth, respecting the property of others, being trustworthy, and standing for the right.
I thought of James Fugal, the humble sheepherder, and how wonderful it was that these children were being taught the same values that made him a man of such noble character.

I credit the Church for helping me become a better reader and student. When the elders read things to me, we would discuss them but by the next week, I could not remember what we had talked about. Reading was hard, but they gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon and taught me the plan of salvation. I sought for help from friends to memorize the plan of salvation, and the missionaries were excited about this. My reading and expression got better through the scripture reading, that was the beginning of my path to becoming an average student.

Whenever anyone said something nice to Dan, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—accept it. A typical conversation with his teachers quorum adviser went something like this:
“Hey, Dan, glad you came! We can really use your help on the ward basketball team.”
“I’m no good at basketball. The only reason I came was because the other guys kept calling me.”
“Well, get warmed up. We need your outside shot.”
“I don’t have an outside shot. I don’t even have an inside shot.”
“So … what do you do in a game?”
“Mainly try to get the other team to feel sorry for me,” Dan said glumly.

Let’s take another look at Dan, this time with a more positive light in his life.
“Hey, Dan, glad you came! We can really use your help on the ward basketball team.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
“Well, get warmed up. We need your outside shot.”
“Okay. Maybe I can work with Steve a little. He’s good at passing, and that, along with what I can do, should be a good combination. You know, I’m starting to feel a little sorry for the other team.”

I think of when I was a young man, before I was even ordained a deacon, I went to one of our ward meetings in the little country town where I was raised, and two missionaries reported their missions down in the Southern States. In those days they traveled without purse or scrip, and they had to sleep out many nights when they couldn’t get entertainment. I don’t know whether they said anything unusual that night or not; but if they didn’t, the Lord did something unusual for me, because when I left that meeting, I felt like I could have walked to any mission field in the world, if I just had a call. And I went home, went into my little bedroom, and got down on my knees, and asked the Lord to help me to live worthy so that when I was old enough I could go on a mission. And when the train finally left the station here in Salt Lake and I was headed for the little land of Holland, the last thing I said to my loved ones was, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

“Come on!” I said, impatiently swinging my keys around my index finger. “We’re both going to be late if you don’t hurry up!”
My 17-year-old sister slid off of the bed where she had been lying facedown. We were late for our summer jobs, and she was moving agonizingly slow. It seemed like she was always trying to annoy me. Born 11 months apart, my sister and I could be best friends or best enemies. I sighed and harassed her, trying to get her to move faster.
She limped slowly to the car, saying she didn’t feel well. “She’s so dramatic,” I thought to myself as I pulled up to the fast food restaurant where she worked. “You’re not that sick,” I said as she staggered out of the car. Sometimes having a sister could be so aggravating.
That night when I got home, my mother opened the door. She had been waiting up for me. Her eyes were red and swollen. “Your sister tried to commit suicide. She took a bunch of pills …”
“No!” I remembered the last words I had said to her. She must have been thinking that I wouldn’t even care.
The next months were a blur for our family—trying to prove how much we loved her, trying to give her a reason to live. We prayed and fasted; we sought priesthood counsel and blessings. I watched my father’s hair turn grey and my mother’s face sag with worry.
My sister! Though at times we drove each other crazy, she was my best friend. I didn’t know she was feeling so desperate. I thought of all the teasing remarks I had made in the last few months. Instead of supporting her as a family member should, I had been making the problem worse.
Although I knew what she had done was her choice, I couldn’t help agonizing over how I could have helped her if I had known. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my mind flooded with memories of growing up together. The ache made my heart feel hollow.
I never realized until that moment how powerful words could be. Perhaps if I had used my words to support my sister instead of teasing her, she would have opened her heart. Then I would have realized she needed me to be her friend.
I determined I would be that friend. I began to follow Paul’s admonition in the scriptures to “be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you” (Ephesians 4:32). As I did so, I noticed a change both in my sister and in myself. She was grateful for the little ways I showed my love for her. But I was also blessed. Being kind to her made me feel happier and more confident in myself.
Eventually my sister’s medications were able to calm the turmoil that raged inside her. She had a chemical imbalance in her brain that affected her moods drastically. Her hormones became more balanced, and she achieved a sort of stability, although she would continue to struggle with the effects of that horrific time.
Because I almost lost her, I now cherish the time we have together and try to be more like the Savior when I interact with all my family members. I savor each new year with my sister as a gift. Sometimes when we visit each other we just laugh and laugh because it feels so good to be together. The time I can spend with my family brings me a deep sense of joy.
I have learned to hold on to family with all my might. I will fight to keep the relationships strong. Those relationships are a gift from God to bring us joy and bless us in times of need. Family relationships are precious. Life is precious. I will savor these gifts while they are mine.