Gospel Story Finder

In my last year of teaching Year 1 children, I decided to share the real message of Easter with the children in my class. I borrowed the video of He is Risen, a cartoon version of the Easter story. The children sat and watched intently, which was a miracle in itself. At the end of the video, they were full of amazement, all asking questions. One boy asked if he would see his deceased grandfather again. Hearing the children ask these questions and being able to answer them made it feel as if I was hearing the message for the first time myself. I stopped and thought about how much I had taken this truly miraculous event for granted.

More than once I have heard priesthood leaders say that they had been inspired to go to someone in need, only to find the visiting teacher or the home teacher had already been there. My wife, who is here with me tonight, is an example. We had a bishop once who said to me, “You know, it bothers me—when I get an inspiration to go to someone, your wife has already been there.” Your faith will grow as you serve the Lord in caring for Heavenly Father’s children as the Lord’s teacher to their home. You will have your prayers answered. You will come to know for yourself that He lives, that He loves us, and that He sends inspiration to those with even the beginnings of faith in Him and with the desire to serve Him in His Church.

I was born to a good Catholic family in 1949 on the Mediterranean island of Sardinia. There, I was given a Christian education and attended church regularly.
The people of Sardinia have always been quite independent, so it is not surprising that, despite being governed by Italy, they have kept their native tongue as their only language. Consequently, as I grew up, I spoke only Sardic, a language similar to Latin, until I started school at age six.
At school, however, all of our communication was in Italian. This new language fascinated me, and I tried hard to learn it. I was disadvantaged, however, because no one in my family had any books in Italian. All I had were my school books.
Other than having this unusual interest in Italian, I was a typical boy. After school, my five friends and I would play in town. One day we went to the city dump to look for bicycle parts. When we left the dump, we showed each other our “treasures.” I had found a steering wheel, and my friend Franziskeddo wanted it. He offered me in exchange an Italian book he had found. I immediately agreed, although the book was missing the cover and some of the first pages. I was very excited. Finally I had my first book in Italian—in fact my first book ever!
When I started to read it, I discovered religious stories of men I had never heard of—Lehi, Nephi, Alma, Helaman, Moroni. Though I knew nothing of the book’s origin, I had a good and safe feeling whenever I read it. By my 16th year, I had read the book at least 10 times, still without knowing its name. Then, about this time, I left Sardinia and settled in Italy. I eventually lost the book, but the stories and teachings stayed in my memory.
Years later, sometime in the 1970s, I moved to Germany and found a job in Hagen at a sugar-machine factory. One day an engineer with the company returned from a business trip to the United States. He brought with him a book in German titled Das Buch Mormon. Knowing I was interested in religion, he loaned it to me. Unfortunately, my language skills in German were not very good, and I understood very little of what I read—though somehow it seemed familiar.
A few years later, two young men came to my door in Hagen. They introduced themselves as missionaries and asked for a little time to introduce their church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I listened as they told the story of Joseph Smith. At the end of the hour, they gave me a book and asked me to read it. It was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
I immediately liked what I read, beginning with the first verse: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents … “I felt that the book was speaking to me, for I, too, had goodly parents.
As I continued to read, memories flooded into my mind. This was something I had read before! I marvelled at the miracle that had brought into my hands the book I had read so eagerly as a child. With the memories also came the same good, comfortable feeling I had always had while reading the book in my youth. The Lord’s hand in this situation was clear to me, and I found it easy to accept that this book was truly holy scripture and that the church of God was again on the earth. I soon became a member of his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I wonder who it was who threw that torn copy of the Book of Mormon on a trash dump in Sardinia in 1955. I would like to thank that person for introducing me to the treasures of Christ’s gospel.

When Leah woke up that morning, she looked out the window. She smiled because everything was covered with snow. She dressed for school quickly and rushed down to the warm kitchen. “Mom,” she said happily, “did you look outside?”
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Yes, I did, honey. Isn’t the snow pretty?”
“When I get home from school, can I play in it?” Leah asked hopefully.
“Yes, you may. But you’d better hurry and eat your pancakes now, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Mom!” Tim called from the basement. “Where are our winter boots?”
“Under the stairs,” Mother called back. “In the tall cabinet.”
Leah’s older sister, Carol, wrapped a scarf around her neck. “I found my boots. See you later, Mom,” she said as she gave Mother a kiss. Then she patted Leah’s head and added, “Have a good day, Pumpkin.”
Soon Tim left for school too.
“I wish I could stay home and play in the snow,” Leah said.
“That would be nice,” Mother agreed, “but today is a school day.”
Leah nodded and popped the last piece of pancake into her mouth. “That was good! Thank you.”
Mother smiled. “Thank you, honey, for enjoying it. Now hurry and get ready.”
Leah went to the closet and took out her coat and hat. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. Then she went downstairs to the tall cabinet beneath the stairs. She opened the door and looked for her boots. There they were, white and clean, waiting to tramp in the snow. Leah liked them a lot. She sat down and pointed the toe of her shoe into the opening of one of the boots. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her boot over her shoe.
“Mom,” she finally called up the stairs, “I can’t get my boots on.”
Mother went down the stairs. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Don’t tell me they no longer fit.” Mother knelt in front of Leah and put a boot beside Leah’s shoe. “They look like they might barely fit.” Mother tugged and pushed, but the boots would not go over Leah’s shoes. “Well,” Mother said as she looked in the cupboard. “Let me see … Yes, here’s a pair of Carol’s old boots. Let’s see if they fit.”
Leah tried on one of the boots, and it slipped on without any trouble. “They fit, with room left over.” Leah giggled.
Mother laughed too. “Not too much room, though. I’m glad you can get into them. They’ll keep your shoes nice and dry.”
All the way to school Leah watched the tracks the boots made. The bottoms made squiggily lines like snow tires. Leah was glad that her sister’s boots fit her.
When recess came, Miss Higgins asked, “How many of you would like to go outside and play in the snow?”
Everyone raised his hand and cheered.
“All right,” Miss Higgins said with a smile. “Bundle up and out we go.”
Leah pulled on her boots easily, and soon she was outside playing. Then Leah saw Melanie standing alone near the school building where the snow barely covered the ground. She wasn’t playing with the others because she wasn’t wearing boots.
When recess was over, everyone lined up at the door, waiting to go back inside. “Quietly now, class,” Miss Higgins said. “Shake the snow from your boots and walk quietly past the other classrooms.”
Leah looked at Melanie’s shoes. They looked like they were sopping wet, and Leah knew that Melanie’s socks were wet too. Leah looked at the footprint Melanie’s shoes made in the snow, then made a boot print beside it. Melanie’s shoe print was quite a bit smaller than the print from Carol’s old boot! Leah smiled to herself as she followed the line into the school.
After school Leah looked for Melanie.
“Melanie?” she called. “Do you want to walk in my boot tracks as far as my house?”
Melanie shivered and smiled. “Thanks, Leah,” she said happily.
“Don’t you have any boots?” Leah asked over her shoulder.
“My parents will probably get me some when they can.”
Leah nodded. “I have some white boots at home … I can’t wear them anymore. I think they’d fit you!”
Melanie hesitated. “Maybe your mother wouldn’t like me taking your boots.”
“She wouldn’t care,” Leah told her classmate. “I’m the youngest in the family, so I know she wouldn’t mind.”
Melanie smiled and shivered again. “Well, if she says that I can have them, that’d be great!” Melanie said, hurrying on as Leah turned up the walk to her house.
“Mom,” Leah called, “I’m home!”
Mother turned from the sewing machine and gave Leah a welcome-home hug. “How was school, honey?”
“We played in the snow at recess time and pasted pictures in our books this afternoon. It was fun.”
“That’s good,” Mother said.
“Mom,” Leah said quietly. “Melanie Harper doesn’t have any boots. Can I give her my old white ones? I think they’ll fit her.”
Leah’s mother looked at her for a long minute, then gave her a second hug. “Honey, it’s more than OK. It’s a very caring thing to do, and I’m proud of you. I know how much you liked your white boots.”
“Melanie will like them too. Do you think Heavenly Father would be happy if I give them to her?”
“Honey,” her mother replied, “Heavenly Father is always pleased when we help each other.”

In October 1981, Sister Renlund was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She underwent two surgeries and nine months of chemotherapy. Struggling to take care of Ruth and their daughter, Elder Renlund recalls, “I was hurting, and it seemed as if my prayers wouldn’t go heavenward.”
When he brought Ruth home from the hospital, she was weak, but they wanted to pray together. He asked Sister Renlund if she would pray. “Her first words were, ‘Our Father in Heaven, we thank Thee for priesthood power that makes it so that no matter what happens, we can be together forever.’”
In that moment, he felt a special closeness to his wife and to God. “What I’d previously understood about eternal families in my mind, I now understood in my heart,” Elder Renlund says. “Ruth’s illness changed the course of our lives.”
To take her mind off the illness, Sister Renlund decided to attend law school. “I just thought, ‘This will only be a bad experience unless we make something good of it,’” Sister Renlund says. “It wasn’t in our plan for me to have cancer as a young woman and have only one child. And my survival was in doubt. But we felt like law school was the right thing.”
She pursued her studies even as she continued treatment for her illness and her husband continued his residency.
As Elder Renlund was transitioning from three years on the medical house staff to a cardiology fellowship, he was interviewed to be the bishop of the Baltimore Ward. Brent Petty, who was the first counselor in the Baltimore Maryland Stake at the time, remembers that interview. Both he and the stake president, Stephen P. Shipley, felt “the strong influence of the Holy Spirit” as they interviewed him.
Brother Petty recalls that “he distinguished himself as a superb bishop,” even with the professional and family challenges he was experiencing. When Elder Renlund received his call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles last year, Brother Petty notes that members of the Baltimore Ward as well as Elder Renlund’s medical colleagues, most of whom are not Latter-day Saints, were pleased. They expressed their love for him and their admiration for his service and exceptional moral character.
In 1986, after Sister Renlund graduated from the University of Maryland School of Law and Elder Renlund completed his three-year internal medicine residency program and three-year cardiology fellowship, they returned to Utah. Sister Renlund began practicing law at the Utah attorney general’s office, and Elder Renlund became a professor of medicine at the University of Utah. For 18 years he was the medical director of the Utah Transplantation Affiliated Hospitals Cardiac Transplant Program.
In 2000 he also became the director of the Heart Failure Prevention and Treatment Program at Intermountain Health Center in Salt Lake City. The program included implantable cardiac pumps and the total artificial heart. Donald B. Doty, M.D., an internationally recognized heart surgeon, was a colleague and friend of Dr. Renlund at LDS Hospital. Dr. Doty says, “His remarkable training, in-depth focus, capable administration, and compassion were exceptional.”
Dr. A. G. Kfoury, a devout Catholic who worked closely with Dr. Renlund for many years, states that Dr. Renlund was the lead transplant cardiologist in the region, “unmatched in his character, integrity, humility, and compassion.” He says Dr. Renlund “brought out the best in people. He did it quietly. He listened well and cared, and he was immensely interested in the success of those who worked with him.” Dr. Renlund led quietly by example and was always concerned about the families of his co-workers.
Dr. Kfoury particularly noted Dr. Renlund’s compassion for patients. For example, if a patient didn’t have means of transportation, Dr. Renlund would drive significant distances to the patient’s home, lift him or her into his car, and then drive the patient back to the hospital. Dr. Kfoury said this was extraordinary.
After serving as stake president for five years in the Salt Lake University First Stake, Elder Renlund was called in 2000 to serve as an Area Seventy in the Utah Area. Then in April 2009 he was called to be a General Authority Seventy. His first assignment was to serve in the Africa Southeast Area Presidency, an area that has Church units in 25 different countries.
Sister Renlund shares their response to the calling: “It was a surprise, of course. And people have said, ‘You’re leaving your careers at their peaks.’ And that’s probably true. But if the Lord needs the peak of our careers and this is when we can be of service, then that’s the time to go.”
Speaking of his wife as his hero, Elder Renlund says, “She made the greater sacrifice.” Sister Renlund left her job as the president of her law firm and left positions on several prominent boards to serve with him. “We were sent to Africa and tutored by the Saints about what really matters,” says Elder Renlund.
One Sunday in central Congo he asked the members what challenges they were facing, but they couldn’t think of any challenges. He asked again. Finally, an old gentleman in the back of the room stood and said, “Elder Renlund, how can we have any challenges? We have the gospel of Jesus Christ.” Reflecting on that experience, Elder Renlund explains: “I want to be like these Congolese Saints, who pray for food every day, are grateful every day for food, are grateful for their families. They have nothing, but they have everything.”
Serving in the Area Presidency for five years, Elder Renlund traveled thousands of miles through the vast Africa Southeast Area, visiting members and missionaries. He studied French because it is spoken in several of those countries.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, who was the member of the Twelve assigned to work with the Africa Southeast Area Presidency at the time, says of Elder Renlund: “No one could have invested himself in the area and its people and their needs more than Elder Renlund did. He labored unceasingly to know the people, to love their cultures, and to help move the Saints toward a place of redeeming light.”
On September 29, 2015, he received an unexpected call from the Office of the First Presidency. At the Church Administration Building, “I was welcomed warmly by President Thomas S. Monson and his two counselors. After we were seated, President Monson looked at me, and he said, ‘Brother Renlund, we extend to you the call to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.’”
Elder Renlund was stunned. He humbly accepted the calling and recalls, “I think President Monson sensed that my bones had dissolved, and so he looked at me, and he said, ‘God called you; the Lord made it known to me.’”
Elder Renlund returned to his office, closed the door, and fell to his knees in prayer. After collecting himself, he called his wife. “Her reaction was one of astonishment,” he says, “but of absolute commitment to the Lord, His Church, and to me.”
Their daughter, Ashley, acknowledges, “My dad has excelled because of the blessing of heaven and has been prepared by a lifetime of service for this call. He has a big heart; it is full of love.”
Similarly, Elder Renlund’s brother, Gary, says Elder Renlund “was prepared from a long time ago, both by challenges and by service for the call that has come to him. This is part of the larger plan that is in place, and it is easy for me to sustain him.”
Reflecting on the magnitude of the calling, Elder Renlund says, “I don’t feel qualified, with the exception that I do know that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. I can witness of His living reality, that He is my Savior and your Savior. I know that that’s true.”

Michael ran straight toward the huge maple tree. He needed to work up a little speed if he wanted to reach the bottom branch.
Step … step … jump! GRAB!
His fingers curled around the branch. Michael swung his legs up to hook an ankle over the limb.
Soon he was perched on the branch. Just like a panther! he thought with a smile. This was the perfect hide-and-seek spot! Why hadn’t he used it before?
“Ready or not, here I come!” his friend William yelled from down the street.
Michael grinned again. William wouldn’t find him for a long time.
“HEY!” a voice yelled. “Get out of my tree!”
Michael jumped and nearly fell out of the tree. He looked down. His stomach flip-flopped when he saw Mr. Gates. He was holding a rake and hurrying toward the tree.
“I’m sorry!” Michael said, scrambling down as fast as he could. The rough bark scraped his arms.
“STAY OFF my property!” Mr. Gates shouted.
Michael dropped and hit the ground hard. He didn’t stop running until he got home.
The next day, as Sister Stiles was giving the Primary lesson, Michael couldn’t stop thinking about mean Mr. Gates. He was the grumpiest person Michael knew. Michael leaned back in his chair and sighed.
Suddenly something Sister Stiles was saying caught Michael’s attention.
“We can usually love people who are nice to us,” she said. “But Jesus was kind even to those who hated Him.”
Michael let the front legs of his chair drop back down on the floor. Did that mean Jesus would be nice even to Mr. Gates?
Yes, He would, Michael thought. Suddenly he had an idea. He couldn’t wait to tell his family.
“You want to do what?!” his sister Molly asked after they got home.
“I want to make some cookies and take them to Mr. Gates,” Michael said.
His sister Wendy looked at him like he’d said he wanted to eat worms for dinner. “Why? He’ll just chase you away!”
“We’re supposed to be nice to people,” Michael said. “Even the ones who are mean.”
Even Mom and Dad looked a little unsure. “Well, yes,” Mom said. “But Mr. Gates might not like the gift, just to warn you.”
Michael still knew it was a good idea. All week he kept asking his family to help him make cookies. But nobody did. Finally, on Sunday, Michael was done waiting. He was going to figure out how to make cookies, all by himself, and deliver them today!
“Hold on,” Wendy said when she saw him getting out the chocolate chips. “I’ll help. But I still say it’s a bad idea.”
After the cookies came out of the oven, Dad offered to go with him to deliver them.
Michael was excited. He was doing what Jesus would do! As they walked under the big maple tree, though, Michael started feeling nervous. Maybe he should just forget the whole thing.
No, he decided. This is what Jesus would do. Michael stepped up to the door and knocked.
As the door opened, Michael quickly said, “Hello, sir. I made these for you.” He held out the cookies. Mr. Gates looked down at them. Then at Michael. And then his whole face lit up.
Michael almost fell over. Mr. Gates could smile?
“Well, thank you, young man!” he said. “But tell me … how on earth did you know that today is my 80th birthday?”
Michael smiled back at Mr. Gates. He thought Jesus would have smiled too.

Norberto and his family were brought into the Church through an uncle they call “Ton Ton.” Ton Ton bought their family a subscription to Etoile in 1985, and so when he visited the family in 1991, they already had an idea of what the Church was about. Ton Ton said, “The Church has now come to Madagascar. Let’s go find it.”

They found the meetinghouse, but the first time they attended, Norberto’s father, Elie, couldn’t go. He still had responsibilities with the young men’s group in another church. His mother, Esther, came home from that first meeting and told her husband, “We’ve found the right church.” He went with them the next week, and they all accepted the gospel. Norberto was only a baby at the time, but he was baptized when he turned eight, even though he was afraid to go under the water.

We are also blessed by temple covenants and ordinances, where “the power of godliness is manifest.” I visited a woman who had lost a teenage daughter in a terrible accident, then later her husband to cancer. I asked how she could endure such loss and suffering. She replied that strength came from spiritual reassurances of an eternal family, received during regular temple worship. As promised, the ordinances of the Lord’s house had armed her with God’s power.

Lives are shaped through the influence of obscure, faithful members who carry the spirit of the gospel.
When once I tried to thank a great teacher and patriarch, William E. Berrett, he quickly passed the credit back to one who had taught him. An old convert from Norway was called to teach a group of mischievous Aaronic Priesthood boys. They were greatly amused by his broken English, but somehow the Spirit polished his words and soon the boys responded.
I have heard Brother Berrett testify on more than one occasion, “We could warm our hands by the fire of his faith.”

One day, a few months after my baptism, I heard some members criticizing each other in church. I was very disappointed. I went home and told my father that maybe I should not go to church anymore. It was difficult to see members criticize others like that. After listening, my father taught me that the gospel had been restored and it is perfect but members are not yet, neither himself nor me. He firmly said, “Do not lose your faith because of the people around you, but build a strong relationship with Jesus Christ. Don’t look around, look up!”
Look up to Jesus Christ—the wise advice of my father—strengthens my faith whenever I face challenges in life. He taught me how to apply the teachings of Christ, as in these words: “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”4

I recently heard a young man tell his story of how he prayed to keep his heart from sin. At age 12 he began experimenting with drugs and alcohol, which led to many years of addiction and misery. Trying to find acceptance and love, he joined a gang, but still the search for his purpose in life was futile. Despondent and alone, he tried to take his life, but he was not successful—either time.

According to his native culture, this young man, being the eldest male child in the family, was the rightful heir of his father’s vast wealth, possessions, and eventually his tremendously successful business. However, his parents were displeased with the way he was leading his life, so they sent him to a residential school in a foreign place—Utah—with hopes of reforming him.

His parents did not realize what reformation would take place in their son. After a short time attending school with many Latter-day Saint students, he noticed how happy they seemed and wondered what made them emanate a special light. While on a hike with school friends, he talked to a girl who was LDS and heard her say that she would give up everything for the gospel. “What is it,” he thought, “that makes this gospel so powerful that she would be willing to make such a sacrifice?”

Shortly thereafter he saw an LDS infomercial and decided to call the toll-free number, not realizing that missionaries would be sent to his dorm. After prayerful study, he decided to follow Jesus Christ. He gave up his status in the family, the respect of his parents, the promise of a grand inheritance, and a life of depression and substance abuse.

Because the light of the gospel shone through his friends, he was drawn to that light. Letting it become more powerful in his life, he gained help from the Lord to turn his heart from sin so that he could be “ever reflecting his goodness, / And always shine for him.”

I had gone to a certain house several times and had been rejected and warned not to come back again, but I was prompted to go again and again. And then as I was attempting to walk past that house, I was prompted to go in and try again to make contact. I used the big brass knocker on the English door without any response. I could see a lady in the front room knitting, and I made considerable noise with that knocker. She did not come out, and I went around to the back door. There was no knocker on that door so I used my walking stick, and I knocked with considerable vigor; in fact, it echoed through all the house.

Very soon the lady came out, and her coming out reminded me of my early days on the farm when I teased a sitting hen off the nest. (I see some of you have had farm experience.) You know that a setting hen when she is teased off the nest comes off with her feathers going in the wrong direction, with her beak in perpetual motion, and this woman reminded me of that.

I apologized and said, “I am sorry to have interrupted you and have insisted upon an interview, but, my dear sister, I have come over six thousand miles to bring you a message which the Lord wants you to have. He sent me here to give you that message. I am going back to Canada in a few days, and I must tell you what the Lord wants you to know.”

She said, “You mean the Lord sent a message to me!”

I said, “That is right, he did.”

I told her of the restoration of the gospel, the organization of the Church, and the message of the restoration. She was quite impressed by what I told her. And I said when I left, “I am sorry to have disturbed you, but I could not refuse to carry out the message and the mission that was given to me when I came here. When we meet again, and we will meet again, you are going to say, ‘Thank you for coming to my back door. Thank you for loving me enough to carry the message of the Lord to me. When you left I could hardly contain myself. I was worried, disturbed, and wondered what it was all about. I finally went to the mission home, got some literature, studied, and became a member of the Church with my family.’”

Ten years later I was in England again, this time as a soldier, and at the end of the meeting a lady came up with two grown daughters. She said, “I do thank God and thank you that you came to my door with that message many years ago. I and my daughters joined the Church and we are going to Utah in a short time, and we thank God that you had the courage, the fortitude, and the faith to come to me with that divine message and to leave it with me in the name of the Lord.”Elder Hugh B. BrownOf the Council of the Twelve

My great-grandma didn’t have much money growing up, so she and her family did scavenger hunts for Christmas because the only presents they could afford were little things like pencils and erasers. The scavenger hunt made up for not getting a lot of big or expensive gifts.
The tradition has been passed down, and now every Christmas, my family does a scavenger hunt. My siblings and I make scavenger hunts for each other and hide clues—I even hid a clue on my dog once. I like it not only because it’s fun, but because it brings my family together and I get to connect with my great-grandmother, even though I’ve never met her.
This tradition helps us understand that Christmas isn’t about the presents you get. It’s about Christ, His birth, and everything He’s done for us. I know Christ’s Atonement is not just used for repentance; we can use it because Christ knows exactly what we’re going through. We’re never alone, and Jesus knows what we’re going through because He went through it too.
Rachel B., 16, California, USA

I always pray for guidance from Heavenly Father when I design a building or for anything in my life. I love Heavenly Father and the Savior, and I know They know me personally. I grew up in Star Valley, Wyoming, USA, and as an architect I helped design the new Star Valley temple! My son, Micah, even helped me turn a shovel of dirt at the groundbreaking. It is a blessing to help create a building that can bless so many lives.

Lorenzo Snow was baptized and confirmed in Kirtland, Ohio, when he was twenty-two years old. But he was disappointed that no miraculous manifestation (happening) took place after these ordinances were performed. Two or three weeks later, however, the young man, who was to become the fifth president of the Church, did have an unforgettable heaven-sent experience that he described in these words:
“One day while engaged in my studies, I began to reflect upon the fact that I had not obtained a knowledge of the truth of the work … and I began to feel very uneasy. I laid aside my books, left the house, and wandered around through the fields under the oppressive influence of a gloomy disconsolate spirit, while an indescribable cloud of darkness seemed to envelop me.
“I had been accustomed, at the close of the day, to retire for secret prayer, to a grove a short distance from my lodgings, but at this time I felt no inclination to do so. At length, I concluded I would not forego my evening service, and knelt as I was in the habit of doing, and in my accustomed retired place.
“I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the Spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O, the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into [one] of light and knowledge. I then received a perfect knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the holy Priesthood, and the fulness of the Gospel. It was a complete baptism—a tangible immersion in the heavenly principle or element, the Holy Ghost; and even more real and physical in its effects upon every part of my system than the immersion by water; dispelling forever … all possibility of doubt … that the ‘Babe of Bethlehem’ is truly the Son of God; also the fact that He is now being revealed to the children of men, and communicating knowledge, the same as in the Apostolic times. I was perfectly satisfied, … for my expectations were more than realized.
“That night, as I retired to rest, the same wonderful manifestations were repeated, and continued to be for several successive nights. The sweet remembrance of those glorious experiences … bring them fresh before me, imparting an inspiring influence which pervades my whole being.”

The sweetness of this M&M is so important that I want to tell you about my last son, Kyle. He is a great kid. When he was sixteen he started to be a cowboy and started to ride bulls—and there is only one thing stupider than a bull. When Kyle turned nineteen, I filled out his papers for his mission—and those papers sat. Some of his friends got things together and left on their missions, but not Kyle. I think we filled out two sets of mission papers for him, and then when he was coming up on twenty-one, I threw out all his papers.

Later that year he came to me asking where his missionary papers were, and I hit the fan. I told him that I was sick and tired of his hypocrisy and that I didn’t want him to go on a mission—in fact, I didn’t care if he ever went on a mission. Then it flashed before me that I was going to heck for treating my son so rotten and preventing him from going on a mission instead of bringing salvation to his soul. So I asked him if he had been praying about a mission. He told me that he had been putting a lot of thought into it and had had some feelings about going. That wasn’t good enough. I had heard that before, so I told him he had to find out what the Lord wanted him to do. I was very heated throughout this conversation, and it would have been very easy for Kyle to say, “Well, so much for that.” But he didn’t. He had been feeling something, and I think the Spirit had already touched his life. He did go on a mission and is now married to a great young lady, and their second boy is on the way.

Raking leaves wasn’t as easy as Shannon had thought it would be. And it wasn’t as much fun as it looked. The rake was taller than she was and was hard to hold.
“Do you want me to help you?” her mother asked.
“No, thank you,” said Shannon. “I want to do it by myself to surprise Dad.”
The autumn air was crisp like the crunchy leaves crackling under her feet. But the sun shone brightly, and, feeling hot from the exercise, she took off her sweater.
“Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Mom asked.
This time Shannon said yes.
“Dad will be pleased with your surprise.”
“I know.” Shannon finished her drink and hurried back outside. She wanted to be done before Dad got home.
She raked and raked and raked. Finally there was only a giant pile of colored leaves in the middle of the yard. She could hardly wait to show her surprise to Dad.
Mom called to her from the kitchen window. “Guess whom I hear pulling up.”
Shannon ran around the house and down the sidewalk to greet her father. A sudden gust of wind almost swept her off her feet, but Dad caught her and gave her a bear squeeze. “I’d better hang on to you,” he said, laughing. “I don’t want my favorite daughter to blow away.”
“Come to the backyard, Dad,” she said, pulling him along. “I have a surprise for you.”
Just before they got there, Shannon said, “Now close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.” She led him the rest of the way, going slowly so that he wouldn’t trip. “My pile of leaves!” she wailed. “It’s gone everywhere!”
Dad opened his eyes. “Don’t feel bad, honey,” he said after she’d choked out what had happened. “It was a wonderful surprise.”
“How could it be wonderful when it’s not even there anymore?”
“Well, a pile of leaves isn’t really the surprise—it’s knowing that a special little girl worked very hard to do something nice for her dad. The wind can’t blow that away, no matter how hard it tries.”
Shannon brightened up. “Really?”
“Really,” Dad said and kissed her forehead. “I bet the two of us could rake up these leaves again in no time if we did it together.”
Shannon smiled. “I’ll get the rake.”

I was first introduced to our church some 51 years ago in Hong Kong by two faithful missionaries, one from Hawaii and one from Arizona. Their concise presentation of Joseph Smith’s First Vision inspired me. As a 14 years old boy, I had no doubt that there is a living God. I soon wanted to join the church and be part of this wonderful organization, but my parents refused to give their permission. The Relief Society president of this small branch took upon herself the responsibility of providing me constant support and encouragement. She took me to church for Mutual Improvement Activities, presently known as Mutual Activities, and Sunday services. Could she have just assumed that teaching the gospel to an investigator was the missionary’s responsibility? Was a 14-year old boy really serious or interested in religion? Was the effort really worth the time spent with such strong opposition from his parents? After all, she had a demanding calling and several children to nurture. Not so for this good sister. She took Pres. David O. McKay’s counsel to heart. She knew what it meant of the phrase “every member a missionary.” She magnified her calling. Through her persistent effort, I received permission from my parents to be baptized a year later. The service of this sister not only brought about my conversion and baptism but of other members of my family. In the decades that followed, many others have also accepted the gospel.

For example, when I was ordained a deacon, our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized was proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out.

As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told that we were assisting every member in a renewal of the covenant of baptism, with its responsibilities and blessings. We were also told how we should assist a particular brother—Louis—who had a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.

How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Louis sat. I was hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a piece of bread and pressed it to his open lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Louis made better deacons of us all.

My family, like all of you, has also dealt with both sides of this phrase. In 2012, my twelve-year-old son Brian was diagnosed with an inoperable golf-ball-sized brain tumor. He had a high risk of death, blindness, or permanent one-sided paralysis. Through many prayers, fasting, and over time, due to God’s grace he was miraculously healed and is now a student at this university.

While our family was dealing with the trial of Brian’s brain tumor, we received great help from those around us. Just a few examples include ward members and friends secretly gave us money to help with medical expenses; one ward member picked up a CD with an MRI scan on it in Rexburg and drove it down to the hospital in Salt Lake City so physicians could get it as soon as possible; numerous food items dropped off at our house; family members watched our other young children so my wife and I could be with Brian; many ward members, friends, family members and even classmates and school teachers fasted for him on the day of his seven hour tumor removal surgery; when Brian finally came home from the hospital, ward members lined our driveway to welcome him home; President Thomas S. Monson even became aware of his situation and sent him a personal letter that buoyed him up in between his two surgeries. A quote from this letter still helps me in my daily trials. It states: “Undoubtedly you have had many questions and concerns about your future and what lies ahead. At times it may be difficult to understand why we are faced with certain challenges in this life. While we may not fully comprehend our Heavenly Father’s plan for us individually, we do know if we bear our burdens well, we will be eternally blessed.”[13] Our family was truly strengthened by all these people’s service.