Gospel Story Finder

NOTE: Elder David B. Haight, of the Quorum of the Twelve, was so impressed with a letter he received from eleven-year-old Brennon Fuelling of Oakley, Utah, that he suggested it be printed in the Friend. He had asked Brennon in person what he was doing for the Church, and Brennon had replied, “Well, I helped people join.” At Elder Haight’s request, and with the hope that other boys and girls will catch the spirit of missionary work, Brennon explains in the following letter what he did recently to help someone join the Church.
Dear Elder Haight,
Five months before Christmas, a family consisting of a husband, a wife, and their twin boys came to our door to ask if the house right by us was for rent. We said yes and took them over to show them around. They said it was nice and that they would think about it.
Well, the next day we received a phone call. It was from Mr. Nacy, the father of the family that had knocked on our door. He told us they would move into the house within two days, so I took over the lawn mower and started mowing the lawn and cleaning up the yard. When the Nacys got there with the moving van and saw me working on the yard, Mr. Nacy offered to pay me, but I refused. I helped them move in.
As the days passed, I started wondering if the Nacys were Mormons. I asked Mom and Dad if they knew, but they said they probably weren’t because the Nacys hadn’t attended our church.
I went over the next day, and Mrs. Nacy answered the door. I asked if they were Mormons. She said that she was a Baptist and that Mr. Nacy was a Mormon. I asked if they would like to come to church with us the next Sunday. It was stake conference, and I told them what time church started and everything.
Sunday I saw the Nacys in church on the front row.
The next day I went over and asked if they enjoyed the meeting, and they said yes. Later, a little before Christmas, I asked if they had a Christmas tree. Mrs. Nacy said no. I knew we had an extra one, so I told her that I had better be going home, and I ran over and got our extra Christmas tree. I took it over and gave it to her and said it was a Christmas present from me.
The Nacys moved shortly after Christmas. And last summer when I was hauling hay, Mr. Nacy stopped and told us his wife had been baptized.
Respectfully,
Brennon Fuelling

"I speak now of immodest, casual, or slovenly dress and grooming that in particular times and places mocks the sacredness of what is taking place or of the place itself. Let me give you an example. A while back a young woman from another state came to live with some of her relatives in the Salt Lake City area for a few weeks. On her first Sunday she came to church dressed in a simple, nice blouse and knee-length skirt set off with a light, button-up sweater. She wore hose and dress shoes, and her hair was combed simply but with care. Her overall appearance created an impression of youthful grace.
"Unfortunately, she immediately felt out of place. It seemed like all the other young women her age or near her age were dressed in casual skirts, some rather distant from the knee; tight T-shirt-like tops that barely met the top of their skirts at the waist (some bare instead of barely); no socks or stockings; and clunky sneakers or flip-flops.
"One would have hoped that seeing the new girl, the other girls would have realized how inappropriate their manner of dress was for a chapel and for the Sabbath day and immediately changed for the better. Sad to say, however, they did not, and it was the visitor who, in order to fit in, adopted the fashion (if you can call it that) of her host ward.
"It is troubling to see this growing trend that is not limited to young women but extends to older women, to men, and to young men as well. Some say dress and hair don't matter--it's what's inside that counts. I believe that truly it is what's inside a person that counts, but that's what worries me. Casual dress at holy places and events is a message about what is inside a person.
"It may be pride or rebellion or something else, but at a minimum it says, 'I don't get it. I don't understand the difference between the sacred and the profane.' In that condition they are easily drawn away from the Lord. They do not appreciate the value of what they have. I worry about them. Unless they can gain some understanding and capture some feeling for sacred things, they are at risk of eventually losing all that matters most. You are Saints of the great latter-day dispensation--look the part."

In June of 1837, the Prophet Joseph Smith called Heber C. Kimball, an Apostle, to go on a mission to England. Elder Kimball’s call came as the two sat in the Kirtland Temple and Joseph spoke with divine authority: “Brother Heber, the Spirit of the Lord has whispered to me, ‘Let my servant Heber go to England and proclaim my gospel and open the door of salvation to that nation.’”3

That whispering of the Spirit is an example of how the call comes to servants of the Lord to send missionaries to their fields of labor.
Today missionaries go forth two by two as appointed by the Lord, carrying that same message, with the same divine call to serve from the prophet of God. Our prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, has said of those called to serve: “The missionary opportunity of a lifetime is yours. The blessings of eternity await you. Yours is the privilege to be not spectators but participants on the stage of priesthood service.”4
The stage is yours, my dear Aaronic Priesthood boys. Are you ready and willing to play your part? The Lord needs every able young man to prepare and recommit, starting tonight, to be worthy of a call from the prophet of God to serve a mission.
I remember fondly our entire family’s great joy when two of our children received their calls to serve as full-time missionaries. Excitement and anticipation filled our hearts as they each opened their special letter from the prophet of God. Our daughter Jenessa was called to the Michigan Detroit Mission, and our son, Christian, was called to the Russia Moscow South Mission. What humbling and thrilling experiences, all at the same time!
As Sister Rasband and I had the privilege of presiding over the New York New York North Mission several years ago, I marveled as the missionaries arrived in New York City.
As I interviewed them on their first day in the mission, I had a profound sense of gratitude for each missionary. I felt that their call to our mission was divinely designed for them and for me as their mission president.
After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.
With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.
I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.
First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.
As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”
He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.
He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.
From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.
Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.
After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!
A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.
As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.
At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.
I conclude with the Lord’s words to the Whitmer brothers, who had a profound role in the early days of the Restoration. They were witnesses to the gold plates, and their signed testimonies are included at the front of every copy of the Book of Mormon. They were among the first band of missionaries called by a prophet of God in 1829 to preach the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.
In the preface to section 14 of the Doctrine and Covenants, it states, “Three of the Whitmer sons, each having received a testimony as to the genuineness of the work, became deeply concerned over the matter of their individual duty.”
To John and Peter Whitmer Jr. the Lord said this: “For many times you have desired of me to know that which would be of the most worth unto you.”5
I suppose many of you young men have asked yourselves that same question. Here is the Lord’s answer: “And now, behold, I say unto you, that the thing which will be of the most worth unto you will be to declare repentance unto this people, that you may bring souls unto me, that you may rest with them in the kingdom of my Father.”6
At this time in your life, a mission call from the Lord, my young friends, is the most important work that you can do. Prepare now, live righteously, learn from your family and Church leaders, and come join with us in building the kingdom of God on earth—accept your divine appointment in “so great a cause.”7 This is my humble prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

For our family, Christmas begins in October. Each year my mother puts up our artificial tree and strings the lights around it the weekend before Halloween. This is her way of reminding herself the holiday season is near and she needs to prepare for it.
My family is rather small, consisting of my mother, my younger brother, and myself. Being divorced, my mother has had to work very hard for the little we have. Christmas had never been a festive occasion in our home. We never had very much. Sometimes my brother and I would feel embarrassed as we compared our few presents to the many our friends received. Everyone else always seemed to have so much more than we did.
A few years ago, after my mother put up the Christmas tree, she turned to where my brother and I were silently watching and delivered her annual speech, which always contained the same ideas.
“Well, kids,” she would say, “this year is going to be a really hard Christmas. I’m sorry I can’t give you very much.” Once again we accepted the fact that Christmas that year would be another poor one.
Within a week of her talk with us, there was a knock at our door. It was two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They taught our family, we were eventually converted, and in early December we were baptized.
Christmas that year could have been the worst. My mother was working 16 hours a day, and I was baby-sitting whenever I could to try to help. Even so, we just barely had enough money for our family to survive. We were really feeling down, and our mood affected everything we did. My brother and my mother started to argue more than they usually did. I was ill, so I was not in a good mood either. I didn’t want Christmas to come that year. There seemed to be no Christmas cheer in our house.
This soon changed. On the night of December 23, someone knocked on our door. When my mother answered it, nobody was there, but on our doorstep were two large boxes. They were filled with food, treats, and even presents! Who did this? Our home was filled with excitement as we wondered who our mystery friends were.
The next morning Howard, an elderly man who lived across the street from us, came to our door. We were surprised to see him because the only time he had ever come over before was to complain about our barking dog. He asked my mother if he could come inside. When my mother let him into the house, he started crying. When we tried to find what was wrong, he shouted through his tears, “It’s Christmas and people are dying!” After he calmed down we learned of his wife’s death several years before at Christmastime. Then he told us his grandson had been killed in a recent plane crash. We invited him to spend Christmas Eve with us. He came back later with a cake to share.
I will always remember that Christmas Eve. Howard came over and some of the ward members also came to visit, bringing their Christmas cheer. Our last visitors of the evening were the missionaries who had baptized our family two weeks before. They gave me a gift. It was a copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price. I read, amazed by some of the revelations Joseph Smith had received. As I read, I knew immediately it was true. It was that Christmas Eve that I gained my testimony of the truthfulness of these volumes of scripture. I felt the Spirit very strongly that night. I went to bed feeling I was the happiest person on earth.
I awoke the next morning, knowing there would be no presents from Santa. I wondered why this was my favorite Christmas. Why had it been so good when our family had almost nothing?
Tears filled my eyes as I realized how foolish I had been. I didn’t have less than my friends; I had more. I had a knowledge of the meaning of Christmas. I knew I had a Heavenly Father and Savior who loved me.
That Christmas, at age 15, I realized what Christmas was really about. It is not how many presents you receive or how much you have that makes a good Christmas. It is loving others, having the knowledge that you are loved, and having a testimony of Jesus Christ. It is a holiday to celebrate His birth and life.
Our family tree still goes up in October. It is a reminder that the holiday season is near. However, instead of reminding me of all the money we have to save or the presents we need to buy, it reminds me of that special Christmas, the Christmas I received the greatest gift of all.

I was called to a home in a little village in New Zealand one day. There the Relief Society sisters were preparing the body of one of our saints. They had placed his body in front of the big house, as they call it, the house where the people come to wail and weep and mourn over the dead, when in rushed the dead man’s brother. He said, “Administer to him.” And the young natives said, “Why, you shouldn’t do that. He’s dead.” “You do it!”

This same old man that I had with me when his niece was so ill was there. The younger native got down on his knees and he anointed this man. Then this great old sage got down and blessed him and commanded him to rise. You should have seen the Relief Society sisters scatter. He sat up and said, “Send for the elders; I don’t feel very well.” Of course, all of that was just psychological effect on that dead man. Wonderful, isn’t it—this psychological effect business? We told him he had just been administered to, and he said, “Oh, that was it.” He said, “I was dead. I could feel life coming back into me just like a blanket unrolling.” He outlived the brother that came in and told us to administer to him.

The Holy Ghost will also guide you as you make decisions regarding your future. Another young woman I know was dating a tall, handsome young man—the star of the school basketball team and senior class president. While discussing their future plans, she explained that she had made a decision a long time ago to marry a returned missionary in the temple. A mission was not part of his plans, and nothing more was said. The following Christmas, he gave her a small gift. As she opened it, she realized that it was a letter from a prophet of God calling her friend to serve a mission. Her righteous influence helped him make that important decision.

Many years ago in Adelaide, Australia, a young mother, Sister Pat Hedger, was widowed at the age of 28--left to raise 3 young children. Pat was employed as an office assistant for the South Australia Police Department and was struggling with the death of her husband. A lady in the office knew of Pat's situation. She asked Pat if she had ever prayed for help. Pat had grown up in a home that was not necessarily active in their religion and had never learned to pray. Pat's friend taught her how to offer a simple prayer and to ask for comfort. Pat found comfort in prayer. A simple prayer softened her heart and prepared her to accept the gospel.

About eight years after Pat had learned to pray, my companion and I knocked on her door. She was busy, so we left her a copy of the Book of Mormon and set up a return appointment. When we returned to teach Pat she related her story to us. As we taught her the first discussion, we shared the Joseph Smith story with her and she related her personal experience with prayer. We asked Pat if she would offer a prayer before we left her home that night. She accepted and offered a very simple but sincere prayer. We set another appointment for the following evening to share the plan of salvation. Because of that simple prayer she offered years before she was prepared to recognize the truth of the Book of Mormon, she was baptized a week later. Pat's two sons were baptized the following month and her daughter was baptized several months later.

Because of a simple prayer, a family was prepared to accept the gospel. Since that time Pat served in many callings, her sons Brenton and Darrell served missions, and her daughter Julie has served in the Young Women and many other callings faithfully. About seven years ago I received an email from Pat's son, Brenton. He had just been called to serve as a bishop and now serves on the Adelaide North Stake High Council. Through a simple prayer a young family was prepared to hear and accept the gospel and now has the opportunity for eternal life. The Hedger family continues to serve and loves the Lord because of a mother's simple prayer in a time of need.

An experience that I had on my mission shows how Heavenly Father watches over us. My companion and I had just taught and baptized a family in Leeds, England. Then we were transferred to Bradford, about a half-hour bus trip away. One day, my companion and I were getting ready to visit some missionaries in our district, but it seemed like we just could not get out the door. Each time we left, we realized that we had forgotten something.

After returning three times, we thought, Maybe there’s some reason we should stay here. We sat down, and within a few minutes, the phone rang. It was the mother of the family we had baptized in Leeds. She was very ill, and she needed us to come give her a blessing. We immediately left for the bus stop, where the bus was just about to leave. When we changed buses, we again caught our bus very quickly. When we arrived, the woman was so sick that she was shivering badly, and we couldn’t even understand her words. My companion and I gave her a blessing, and as I said the words, we both felt so much strength leave us that we had to sit down for almost ten minutes. During that time, she was able to stand, go to her kitchen, and prepare something for the three of us to drink. When we left half an hour later, she was completely healed and waved to us at the door. Not all priesthood blessings are answered so quickly and happily, but we were overjoyed for it to happen to this good sister.

I recall an incident from early Church history, from the days of persecutions and difficulties. Heber C. Kimball, then a member of the Council of the Twelve, found himself in circumstances where he sought hospitality from a member of the Church, a widow woman. She offered him what she had—bread and milk—and provided a room with a bed for him. He went to retire. She thought: “Here’s my opportunity. I would like to find out (and this is, in effect, the same old question: Are General Authorities human), I would like to find out what an apostle says when he prays to the Lord.” So after the door was closed, she crept quietly up to it to listen. She heard Brother Kimball sit down on the bed. She heard each of his shoes fall to the floor. She heard him lean back on the bed and then utter these words: “Oh Lord, bless Heber; he is so tired.”

When I completed my graduate studies in May of 1982, I accepted a job offer from a Honolulu law firm after graduation, and spent evenings Monday through Friday, and all day Saturday, at a licensing preparation class. I spent mornings working at the law firm and every afternoon preparing for the class. I saw very little of my wife and 3 year old daughter in those days, and Sister Durrett was pregnant with our second child.

While in the midst of what seemed to be an extremely arduous schedule at the time, I received late one evening a telephone call from my only brother, whom I had not had regular contact with for over two years. He was seeking information about the Church. He had been working as a professional rock and roll musician in Waikiki, and because of his schedule, our paths seldom crossed. It seems that his girlfriend had expressed a feeling of emptiness in her life, and she was resigned to seeking out and attending a church in the upcoming week with or without him. My brother told her that before they sought out a church, they should "check out" my brother's church. He was calling to receive information about the Church—an answer to prayers I had offered since I was baptized some ten years earlier and a literal fulfillment of my Patriarchal Blessing "that some members of my family would join the Church." Of course, the call had to come in the middle of my preparation for the Hawaii state bar examination. But the Spirit made clear that this opportunity would not present itself again, and that it could not be passed up.

I arranged for the fulltime missionaries to meet my brother and his girlfriend on Sunday evening, the only night I was not in class, and we commenced to share the missionary lessons with them every Sunday thereafter.

To make a very sweet story succinct, they shortly embraced the Gospel, and I was able to baptize my only brother and his future wife at Nu'uanu Ward, as soon as we could arrange the wedding which we did in less than a month with the help of Sister Durrett. Several years later I was able to lay my hands upon his head in the circle where he was set apart as a Bishop of the Ewa Beach Ward. Remember, service of lasting value in the Kingdom will rarely be convenient.

President Tandiman, a retired government official, was working in a law office in 1970 when he met Latter-day Saint attorneys applying for government recognition of the Church. At their invitation, he accepted the missionary discussions. He was affected by the conduct of the missionaries and their teachings and the fellowshipping he received. “These made a deep impression upon me, an impression that stayed with me and helped me remain active in those early years of my membership,” he says. President Tandiman’s wife and six children also accepted the gospel, and he baptized them. His daughter is now married and has a daughter of her own. Four sons have served missions in Indonesia, and a fifth son is looking forward to a mission call.

One year after his baptism, Brother Tandiman was called as president of the Djakarta Branch, then later as the West Java District president.

“When I worked at the candy shop,” his older sister began, “I practically ate my paycheck each week in candy. I couldn’t help myself, it tasted so good. Finally after praying about it, I decided to set a candy quota for each day. If I stuck to my quota, I rewarded myself by taking the money I would have spent on candy and putting it toward a new pair of jeans. Some days I didn’t make it, but gradually I ate less candy. And I got the jeans!”

I too received an email from a friend telling me about that very same position. He too knew that someday I wanted to return and work at BYU–Hawaii. And though the timing was not perfect for my family, it was very much something my wife and I had planned on for years. I was fortunate enough to receive the first interview and then the next. Each time I felt the promptings from the Spirit to act. As I met the team, it just felt right. And as my wife and I sat on the steps of the temple, in tears we said, “Lord, if you need us here, please bless this all to work out.” And later that month I too received a phone call and as soon as I said “hello,” I knew I did not get the job.

Over the ensuing weeks I asked, “Why? Why was the Spirit so clear on what I should be doing if this was not where He needed me. Hadn’t I learned the truth?” But at the same time, I felt a deep sense of peace. As I learned about the amazing career and background of Arlene, I clearly was taught by the Spirit that BYU–Hawaii had chosen the right person, at the right time. And as I returned to my normal routine, I began to feel what the choir so beautifully sang about in the hymn “The Lord Bless You and Keep You” I began to feel peace. I felt promptings to learn more and to grow. I was led to additional things at work I needed to learn. My job at that time needed me to progress in the topics of compliance, risk, and governance. I felt the need to learn something new in the job that I was already in. The entire time, and as I reflect, for years before I applied for that CIO job, the Lord had been preparing me for a different career. He was preparing me for the job I have now and love. He knew that had I not applied for the CIO job I would not have been open to learning what I needed to, for where He needed me.

I recall that when I was called to be the president of the Northwestern States Mission, it came at a very difficult time for me to leave my business. Many of my friends, members and nonmembers, said to me, “The Church is asking you to make a great sacrifice.” I replied to each, “I feel it is a real opportunity.”

As President McKay set me apart, he promised me that it would be the happiest period of my life. It wasn’t the easiest experience of my life, but it was the happiest—another experience in my life where sacrifice brought forth the blessings of heaven to me and my wife.

I am sure that the skills and discipline and soul-power that result from overcoming the challenge of material shortages open the door for extraordinary blessings. I offer one small personal example. As poor graduate students in Chicago, my wife and I did not have the resources to telephone home, except for very short calls on special holidays. We had to keep in touch by long, weekly letters, which each of us typed to both sets of parents each week. The composition of those letters developed writing skills that have blessed each of our lives for the ensuing forty-some years. We would have been deprived of a blessing of significant growth if we could have simply picked up the telephone and communicated in the almost effortless and sometimes almost thoughtless way that would have been available if we had had more money. I am an advocate of letters among loved ones, and my preference has been reinforced as I have written family histories and rejoiced in the details of loved one’s lives that have been preserved in writing rather than lost on some electronic highway.

When I served in the Area Presidency in Mexico, a stake president told me about a woman in his stake. She was an accountant, and worked for a Mexican firm. At the end of the year party, she happened to be sitting across from, or close to, the general manager of the company. When they came around with champagne for the end of the year toast, she told the waiter: "No, thank you."

The general manager heard her, and said: "Oh, you must drink, it is the end of the year toast." She said, "No, thank you. For religious reasons, I do not drink." "Oh, you can this one time," he said, and told the waiter to serve her champagne. She placed her hand over her glass, and declined. He insisted, she refused, and he did not hide his displeasure at her firmness.

Several months later, the financial director resigned. The next day, the general manager called her into the office. He told her that the financial director had resigned and that he was going to appoint her to take his place.

Then he went on to explain why, in words like these: "At the end of the year, at the company party, you refused to drink champagne for religious reasons, in spite of the pressure which I put upon you to do so. When I thought about the people in the financial department, I decided that I could trust you more than anyone else. I believe that you will do the right thing in spite of any pressure which might be brought to bear on you. That is why you are the new financial director of the company."

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked my dad as he dumped a pile of cassette tapes on my desk. “Transcribing all these will take weeks, maybe the whole summer.”
Earlier that week, I had agreed to help him record stories from the emergency room. As an inner-city doctor, my dad is always seeing unusual cases—like a boy with a watermelon seed stuck in his ear and a man who claimed his dandruff and flaking skin were caused by aliens. My family loves to hear his stories, and one day my mom suggested he record them on tape. I volunteered to type them.
This was, of course, before I remembered I was going to be in summer school all day, studying chemistry. After the first week of learning about elements and chemical formulas, the thought of reading, writing, or even thinking outside of school made me sick. I didn’t want to spend two hours a night typing stories. I wanted to do unproductive things like watching TV or playing video games.
“Well, I guess I can find someone else to do it,” said my dad, looking disappointed. “Or maybe we can just put it off for a while.”
I almost said “great” and left, but he looked so crestfallen I couldn’t. “Leave the tapes, Dad. I’ll see what I can do,” I said finally.
Every evening after summer school, I would come home, eat, go running, and head upstairs to the computer. For two hours I would transcribe the tapes, typing at a painfully slow speed because I made so many mistakes. At first I hated it, and my eyes seemed constantly blurred from staring at the screen. But it was easy to get interested in the stories my dad was telling, like the one about an old woman who saved her fingernail clippings in a jar for a year and then brought them in for examination.
One case, in particular, touched me. It was about a boy from Mexico who was dying. When my dad went to see the patient, he found the mother by the boy’s bedside, weeping.
“Hola, Señora Garcia,*“ said my father, who had served a Spanish-speaking mission. Startled to hear Spanish, the woman told my dad she had brought her son from Mexico to receive care. They continued to talk, and the woman told my father she was LDS. As the only LDS emergency room doctor at the hospital—and the only one who spoke Spanish—my dad was able to give the boy a blessing of comfort before he died and help the mother with funeral arrangements.
As I heard my dad bear testimony of the experience, I realized that these tapes were doing more than improving my typing skills. They were improving my relationship with my father. In a funny way, I was getting to know my dad better as I listened to his stories. Soon I couldn’t wait to get home from summer school each day so we could talk about what I had typed the night before. My dad seemed excited, too, that I was interested in this part of his life.
He would frequently come up to me to tell me little things he had forgotten to put in a story. “Did I tell you the male nurse who kept fainting was transferred to pediatrics?” he’d ask, or, “Did I remember to say that the bicyclist who crashed was 83?” And sometimes we would sit and talk for hours—about his job, my schoolwork, anything.
As we talked, I began to realize what a wonderful friend my dad was. In the past, I had been so busy with school and cheerleading that there were days when I barely said hello to him. But the tapes helped me see what I was missing. And once we developed the habit, taking time to talk was easy. We were friends.
Within a month, I had finished transcribing the tapes. “Here you are, Dad,” I said, handing him 38 single-spaced, typed pages.
“Thanks, Elyssa, I hope this didn’t take too much time away from hanging out with your friends,” Dad said.
“Nah, it was actually pretty cool. I’m kind of sad to be done,” I said, smiling. I had been hanging out with a very important friend.

A few weeks ago I attended the baptism of a man I have known for many years. It was a joyful occasion. Surrounded by his wife of forty-seven years and his children and grandchildren and other loved ones, this good man entered the baptismal covenant. He became a member of the Church he has long sustained and supported.
From the time he brought his Mormon bride to make a home in his beloved Southland, he had respected her beliefs and her desire to teach them to their children. Because there wasn’t a branch of the Church in their small city, their home became the first meeting place for the few Church members his wife could locate and invite to worship with her. Their home was always open to the missionaries, where a good meal and a place to sleep could be counted on. (His wife recalls as many as fourteen missionaries sleeping wall-to-wall in their small home on one particular night.)
As his faithful wife and children labored with the missionaries to build up the Church and the membership outgrew the walls of their home, he gave financial support for the branch, the ward, and finally the stake center as they came to be built.
During these many years, the gospel has been a lifeline that has enabled this woman to maintain her hope and trust in the Lord. It has been the strength that has bound their family together.
However, the full blessings which the Lord has to offer were unattainable by this family until this husband and father became worthy and willing to enter the covenant of baptism and receive the priesthood of God. Now this family can look forward to the exalting temple ordinances and the lifeline to eternal life which they could not provide for themselves.

In September 2020, with the declining health of our parents and the instability of the COVID-19 pandemic, we relocated my sweet 83-year-old parents from their home of 45 years in Las Vegas, Nevada, to Cedar Hills, Utah, to be closer to family, making it easier for us to help care for them.
As you can imagine, this move was difficult for them on many levels. Residing in Las Vegas for most of their married years, they enjoyed their independence and the relationships they built there. They owned a lovely home and prided themselves on having an open door when family passed through. Giving up home ownership after 66 years and downsizing into a small rental home in a new state was challenging. Now they had to say goodbye to everything familiar to them, including friends they’d shared years of memories and experiences with and people they’d grown close to while serving in various callings.
At the time of the move, Church meetings were held remotely. Our parents worried how they would be able to get to know the people of their new ward when there was no opportunity to go to church and build new friendships. How could they possibly feel at home in these circumstances?
We found them a small rental home in a neighborhood in the Cedar Hills Sixth Ward, unaware of what a special place it would turn out to be.
Because we had simplified their belongings for the move and didn’t need assistance with moving bulky items, we hadn’t contacted the ward leadership to announce their arrival. That didn’t matter. Within five minutes of our pulling in with the moving van, neighbors arrived at the door, gloves on, asking how they could help. Homemade muffins were delivered and cold drinks offered to our family members helping with the move.
On Thursday of that week, members of the Relief Society presidency visited to introduce themselves and welcome our parents to the ward. On Sunday the bishop came to meet them and inquire whether they needed anything. He spent almost an hour with them, genuinely getting to know them and asking if they’d be willing to take ministering assignments.
Within two weeks of their arrival, they had ministering brothers and sisters assigned to them and were contacted by both. They also received ministering assignments and were introduced to their assigned families. Even with Mom’s late-stage dementia, her ministering companion made the effort to invite her and bring her along as they visited the sisters they were assigned to. The ministering brothers were consistent, loving, and genuine. They immediately found a commonality with roots from Wyoming, and my parents felt loved from the first visit.
Later that month the youth of the ward secretly covered their front door with notes of welcome and love. The first week of November, some deacons asked if they could come by and meet Mom and Dad. About seven young men and their leaders spent time with them, introducing themselves through get-to-know-you topics such as favorite foods, where they went to school, and what they did for after-school activities. The deacons followed up by asking our parents questions about how things were when they grew up and how they met.
These youth continued to come by at least monthly, sometimes just to drop off a treat or to check in. They caroled at Christmastime and brought a lovely holiday basket of food and treats. Because of these simple kindnesses, Dad could call the boys by name when he saw them and had a sense of familiarity with the ward, even though they weren’t able to meet in person for Sunday meetings.
A girl in the ward was invited in her home evening to say hello to someone new, and she chose Mom and Dad. She proceeded to build a relationship with them, coming over almost every day with a treat or to drop off a flower she had picked from her yard.
Our parents were asked to create a short video introducing themselves that was shown at the ward Christmas party. Every time there was a ward activity or gathering, our parents were reminded and offered a ride by someone. Special treats and hand-colored cards were delivered on their birthdays and holidays, and kind neighbors shoveled their driveway, sprayed the lawn for dandelions, and pulled their trash cans in every week. The ward members made a special effort to call them by name, recognized them at the grocery store, and helped them feel like they belonged.
Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.
With Mom’s dementia, one activity she was drawn to was sweeping. A kind neighbor recognized this and allowed her to come and sweep around them as they pulled bushes from their front yard, all the while making Mom feel like she was the one providing the service.
Dad was invited to participate in the ward choir and made to feel he was a valued addition. At age 84, he was called to work in the Young Men organization as a specialist with the deacons, gaining a feeling of relevance and contribution.
After only a year, they felt at home, that they mattered, that they could still make a difference. They were never made to feel like they were a burden or just “another renter” in the neighborhood. My heart is full as I contemplate the Lord’s words in Matthew 25:40: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Well done, Cedar Hills Sixth Ward!

My little brother and sister, Michael and Abbie, are a handful. You just can’t get them to sit still. I should know—I’ve tried. Mom says I’m old enough to watch them when she goes out for errands. I’m glad Mom thinks I’m responsible, but I’m not sure I want to watch them on my own.
So today, when Mom went to the store and put me in charge, I was ready. I decided that in order to watch Michael and Abbie, I would need to get them to behave, and I knew just the way to do it.
“Who wants to play a game?” I asked.
They jumped up and down. “Ooh! Me! Me!”
“It’s a game I just invented. It’s called Baby Caterpillar. Do you want to pretend to be baby caterpillars?”
“Yes!” Michael yelled.
“Yay!” Abbie shouted.
I grinned. My brother and sister can never quietly agree to anything.
“To play this game, I need both of you to get a blanket,” I said.
They both ran to their bedrooms as fast as they could and brought back two blankets.
“OK, now just watch.”
They stood quietly and watched, which was a first for them.
First I laid down both blankets and had Abbie lie right in the middle of one and Michael in the middle of the other. Then I wrapped them each in a blanket cocoon up to their chins.
“Ta da!” I said. “You are now baby caterpillars!”
“Yay!” they shouted.
They wiggled around for a bit, and after a while they started talking to each other in their “caterpillar language.” Their smiling faces peeked over their blankets. I sat on the couch with a good book while they chattered to each other.
When I looked at my brother and sister, nestled in their little cocoons, I realized they weren’t so bad after all. In fact, now that I was spending time with them, I kind of liked them. I thought about how much fun we could have playing a board game together after they were done being baby caterpillars. I put my book down and started to think of other games we could all play the next time Mom left me in charge.