Gospel Story Finder

The responsibility of communication is not alone on the shoulders of parents. The youth also have a responsibility to contribute love and strength to the family organization.
I recall a stage play that recently was made into a movie. It dealt with parents whose only child, a son, returned from military service. The father and son had never been close. It was a situation in which both father and son loved each other but were unable to find ways to express themselves, and therefore hostilities arose because each thought the other did not like him. It was a breakdown of communication.
But now the son was home from the army, and things were different. The father and son began to establish a whole new relationship. The high point of the play came when the boy said to his father something like this:
“Dad, I always resented you when I was younger because you never told me that you loved me, but then I realized that I had never told you that I loved you either. Well, Dad, I’m telling you now: I love you.”
For one electrifying moment the father and son embraced each other as the pent-up love and appreciation of years came flooding out. This probably would never have happened had the son not realized that he was as guilty of lack of expression as his parents.
Loren C. DunnConference ReportApril 1969, p. 22.

In another case, a young brother was reactivated as the result of the establishment of the outreach initiative to bring into activity young single adults ages 18 to 30. On the first night of activities in one of our Church buildings, this brother was the only nonmissionary attending, but within a few weeks, he had brought about 30 people to family home evening and other activities.
This brother is a Web site designer—he and a partner started their own Web design business. He currently lives with two nonmembers, both of whom work at his Web design company. He is very bold about sharing his testimony. One of his coworkers previously had studied Christian theology, and this brother referred him to the missionaries working in the young single adult program. Now his coworker is a regular attendee of the activities, and this reactivated brother assists the missionaries as they teach him by adding his testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel to theirs.

From the early years of our marriage, President Wheelwright's involvement at work, in the community, and with the Church have placed large demands on his time and energy. Our children and I learned early on to postpone eating dinner because he wasn't home when we expected; we muddled through math assignments and even science projects because he was at a Pack Meeting or Court of Honor; we eventually even grew accustomed to sitting without him during Sacrament meetings because he was either on the stand or visiting one of the other wards in our stake.
But all of these sacrifices paled in comparison to his business travel away from home. From the beginning, his profession required frequent travel related to case writing, research, consulting, teaching, and speaking engagements, at some periods averaging two or three days per week. He was a Frequent Flyer before most airlines even had miles programs!
With these responsibilities, and especially his travel schedule, came hard decisions about how he was going to fulfill his goal of being a loving, committed, and involved husband and father. After much consideration, he decided that one way he could spend more meaningful time with each of his children was to take them with him on his business trips. He usually knew his schedule far in advance so at the beginning of each school year we would have a special Family Home Evening where he would lay out his travel plans and invite each child to accompany him on one trip. Let me give you a few examples of these memorable one-on-one adventures.
One year, our six-year-old son, Matt, went with Dad to Chicago. We had good friends there who could care for him in the morning while Dad worked; in the afternoon, father and son visited the fantastic Transportation Museum and other exiting places in Chicago.
One of our daughters remembers joining her dad on a short visit to Corning, New York, where she accompanied him on a fascinating tour of a glass plant. She still recalls the glass animals she saw being made there!
On an extra special occasion, two of our teenage daughters agreed to share their annual "business trip" and accompany Dad to Tokyo and Hong Kong! While he was busy teaching, they entertained each other in the hotel but the rest of the time the three of them explored the Orient together, making some incredible memories.
One of the best parts about this special family tradition, though, is that, honestly, the kids really didn't care where they got to go with Dad! What was far more important was the time they had alone with him. They loved flying on airplanes together, and eating at nice restaurants together, and exploring big cities or small towns or even noisy, bustling factories together. Without exception, these annual adventures were anxiously awaited and greatly cherished. In the final years of his professional work, he had a bit more freedom to pick and choose from professional travel opportunities. It seemed a little unfair that this luxury came just as our children began leaving home to start families of their own. They were growing up too fast, and he felt more and more torn between accepting exciting assignments and being home with our shrinking family. One evening, he came home from work and told me what he had taped to his telephone that day. It was a simple, hand-written note that read, "Would I rather do this than spend time with my family?" From that day forward he turned down about 90% of those intriguing requests that would have taken him unnecessarily away from us. Of course, the kids made sure he kept enough business trips for each of them to accompany him once a year.
Now that we're empty nesters, he always asks me to travel with him! I know that I am invited wherever and whenever he goes. Just as he convinced each of our children over all those years of annual business trips, he has convinced me that there is no one in the world he would rather be with than me!

When the Young Women of the Del Rio First Ward in Chandler, Arizona, heard about an orphanage in Zimbabwe that needed hats, they got right to work and started knitting. The Young Women already had an annual retreat planned to the mountains in northern Arizona, so they decided to knit hats while they enjoyed the fresh mountain air.
“I had a great time sitting and talking with everyone while we made these hats. We felt a sense of accomplishment,” said one of the Mia Maids. Jessica White, another Mia Maid, said she was really glad to make time for service. She says that all the girls became so engrossed in knitting that when the leaders suggested they go outside for a break, the girls wanted to stay inside and finish their work instead.
The Young Women made 40 hats during the weekend outing and many of the girls have continued knitting more hats since returning home.

But in addition to the blessings, life for the Pitakpongs has had its traumas, too. Some seven years ago, President Pitakpong was out of town on business when an intruder in his home struck Sister Pitakpong with a wrench and stole a gold necklace she was wearing. “My son, Wuthikrai, went to his mother’s aid, and he, too, was hit, as was my wife’s mother. The man ran away as my daughter screamed for help.
“My wife had to be hospitalized, and she still suffers from severe headaches that make it difficult for her to concentrate.”
But the family finds comfort in living the gospel of Jesus Christ. “Being sealed together in the temple brought a special spirit into our family,” says President Pitakpong. “It strengthened our individual testimonies. Now, not only does our sixteen-year-old son want to go on a mission, but his two younger sisters want to go, too.”

Elder ElRay Christiansen told of a wealthy man in Denmark who was converted to the gospel and had migrated to Utah. His commitment caused the loss of much of his fortune, but, after settling here, he again had the ability to amass riches and, in the process, lost his faith and testimony. As his brethren tried to counsel him about his eternal purpose, he would not listen. Finally one of them said to him, “Lars, it is not good to think only of money. You cannot take it with you, you know.”

Lars answered, “Vat is that you say?” and he was told again, “I say you cannot take it with you.”

Lars responded, “Vell, den, I vill not go.”

Elder Christiansen’s report was that he had gone anyway. And we will go as well.

The best example of this is a missionary. A missionary is willing to leave the comforts of home and family and serve in an unfamiliar area for an extended period of time. There are many examples of our early pioneer missionaries who left to serve with barely a suit of clothing, a pair of socks, and a Book of Mormon. My great, great grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Johnson, served several early missions for the Church including one here, to what was then known as the Sandwich Islands, in 1852. He was married at the time and so he left most of his earthly goods with his family for their support during his absence and journeyed with very little to the West Coast and then on to Hawaii. His journal relates many financial struggles but always a conviction that the Lord would provide a way. When it came time for him to return home from his mission in 1855, he was left without any means to pay for his passage home – a sum of $50. He resigned himself to the fact that he would likely have to wait another six months before his fare could be raised when a faithful convert from the Island of Hawaii gave the mission a sum of $150, a portion of which he offered for the use of my great, great grandfather’s passage home.1 This is not only an example of how the Lord provided for my great, great grandfather, but also an example of how others can become the hands of the Lord here on Earth – which I will talk more of later.

Our missionaries today also put their complete trust in the Lord. One young friend of mine from Colorado recently entered the MTC in Provo to begin learning a new language: Korean. Her family kindly shares her weekly letters with me and I would like to share one of her recent comments:
“I have never studied so hard in my life and it truly is paying off. I notice the Lord in my life every day and cannot give thanks enough for all the blessings I receive. It has been so humbling to learn Korean. I know the gift of tongues is real. It is amazing how much the Lord will bless your life if you just put forth the effort and prepare to receive blessings. I love this gospel!”2
Learning a new language and then being able to share a gospel message in that language is a true example of road sign #1 – putting complete trust in the Lord.

As another example, take Willard Richards—educated, refined, a doctor of medicine. When Joseph and Hyrum surrendered themselves to the governor of Illinois and were placed in Carthage Jail, a handful of the brethren went with them. By the afternoon of June 27, 1844, most had left to take care of certain matters of business, leaving only John Taylor and Willard Richards with the Prophet and his brother Hyrum. That afternoon following dinner the jailer, knowing of the mob outside, suggested that they would be safer in the cell of the jail. Turning to Willard Richards, Joseph asked, “If we go into the cell will you go with us?” To this Elder Richards responded:
Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free. [B.H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 2:283]
Strong and intelligent men do not demonstrate that kind of love for a charlatan or a fraud. That kind of love comes of God and the recognition of integrity in men. It is an expression of the spirit and example of the Savior, who gave his life for all men and who declared, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

“Where did they get the old box anyway?”
“In Logan,” Elder Becket chided, “that’s an old box. Here it’s a treasure. They bought it from the Baptists. They had a special dinner to raise the money. Everybody donated food and then paid outlandish prices to eat it. All the money went for the piano. Someday, when the chapel’s built, they’ll have a new one, but right now they have to make do with that. The members are proud of their piano. Even though no one can play it and even though it might be out of tune, that’s one of the most important things in this whole building.”
“If it’s so important to them, why don’t they tune it?”
“No money. Right now they’re trying to raise money so they can start building their chapel. Every extra peso goes for that.”

I would like to conclude with a personal experience that occurred at our home several years ago. I had gone outside to turn on our barbecue grill, when I noticed a quail sitting on the railing of our deck. I only noticed the quail because it was making a terrible racket- to the point of being annoying. As I looked across my yard in the direction the quail was directing the noise, I noticed the neighbor's cat sitting under our tree. I became intrigued and walked over toward the cat. As I got close, I noticed that the cat had something in its mouth, and I came to see that it was a tiny baby quail. Armed with my barbecue utensil, I scared the cat away, and it dropped the baby quail from its mouth onto the grass. The baby quail was still alive, so I went back into the house to give the mother quail a chance to attend to its missing baby. I gathered my family and together we watched from the window. Soon thereafter, the mother quail flew down to the ground, and began to make a call that was noticeably different than the one she had made before. In response to the call, we were all surprised to see not just one, but five, baby quail immediately pop up from different areas of the grass, and began to quickly make their way to their mother. The mother continued making the sound until all of the baby quail, including the one that had been in the cat's mouth, had all arrived safely back to her.

It became clear that the initial call made by the mother quail was a voice of warning- instructing the baby quail to take deep cover in the grass. The latter sound was a call to gather. Thus, there was safety and security to be had for the baby quail in both recognizing and responding to the specific instruction that was given.

With your indulgence I would like to share a personal experience related to the balance between the intellect and the spirit. Prior to having this experience I thought I understood the doctrine, but afterwards I had certain knowledge that it is true. Intellect and spirituality are mutually dependent.
Over 26 years ago I was hired to be the managing director of the Welfare Services Department of the Church. We were at a critical stage in the history of welfare. Our charge was to bring the welfare program from the 1930s to the 1980s. It was time to go through an agonizing reappraisal of the program in light of current world and Church conditions. The specifics are irrelevant but it will suffice to say I was beside myself with worry and concern.
After praying for a solution, I had a terrific thought: “Glenn, you have access to the Quorum of the Twelve and to a member of the First Presidency. What a resource!” I canonized that thought. Consequently, I called for appointments and met one-on-one with these great men. I poured out my concerns and added my feeling that we were at a stage in the history of the Church where further revelation on the subject was necessary. Then I sat back with my yellow notepad and Cross pen and waited for pearls of wisdom.
I received one consistent pearl from each of those prophets, seers, and revelators: “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 additional revelation. Now, go get it!”
Who, me? I was an employee of the Church at the time, not a General Authority, but I, along with the well-qualified staff of the welfare department were charged with the responsibility to do our homework and bring forward well-thought-out recommendations to the Brethren which could be confirmed, modified, or rejected in the appropriate forums. It was our obligation and right to receive inspiration, but it came with agonizingly intense study, research, meditation, and prayer. We read everything we could find on welfare with the objective of separating principles from programs and policies from doctrine in order that we could come up with sound recommendations. It was a two-year process.
The points I wish to make are that we must learn how to obtain our own personal revelation and that revelation comes by using all the intellectual and spiritual abilities with which we have been blessed. The Spirit guides us along the way but will not replace the hard work. It would have been nice to offer up a prayer to the Lord on the first day of my employment and find the answer on my desk the next morning in the form of a welfare manual. It would also have made a more spectacular story. However, for good reason it doesn’t work that way.

An illustration of the blessings that one receives through obedience is given by this story of Abraham Smoot. As you know, the administration building bears his name.

After the hardships of Ohio, Missouri, and Nauvoo, Abraham Smoot finally was able to settle down in Salt Lake City, build comfortable accommodations for his family, and become mayor of the city. Brigham asked Brother Smoot to come to Provo and be the stake president. The Brigham Young Academy was not Church funded and was the personal responsibility of the stake president. Brother Smoot balked at the idea. “Brother Brigham, I’ve put my family through so much. I have done all I was asked to do. Now, finally, I have some of the comforts of life, I have a position of respect, and I am able to provide for my family. It is too much to ask. I will not go to Provo.”

At that, Brigham Young, the Lion of the Lord, is reputed to have said, “Brother Smoot, you will go to Provo, or you will go to ———!” Brother Smoot went to Provo. By the time he died, Abraham O. Smoot was deeply in debt from keeping the university functioning. His homes were mortgaged and an auction was held to settle the debts.

Jesse Knight showed up at the sale and happened to be the highest bidder on every one of the Smoot homes. He took the deeds and signed one over to each of the wives of Abraham Smoot living in the homes.

Brother Smoot demonstrated to us that by being obedient we harvest eternal blessings which are far more important than the material wealth of this life.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was very small for my age. I was 5?2? and weighed 105 pounds. When you’re 5?2? and 105, not many coaches want you playing basketball, unless you have exceptional talent, which I didn’t. You also don’t make a very good linebacker for the football team.
I was sitting in the gym one day watching the basketball tryouts, when the wrestling coach walked by and said, “We need a few tough guys your size who can wrestle for us.”
I thought to myself, “Obviously I look pretty tough to the coach, so I’ll give this wrestling a try.” I told him I would do it.
My first problem was finding the wrestling room. After some searching, I found it was three stories under the basketball court in an unventilated, very dimly lit cubicle.
As I entered the room, I found the first thing you need to overcome in wrestling is the odor produced by 50 young men sweating in a room with no air circulation.
I found the coach. Instead of being polite and friendly as he had been the day before, he seemed grouchy and mean. He pointed to a kid across the room and said, “Wrestle him.”
I looked at the kid and thought to myself, “This will be a snap.” He was shorter than I was and looked as if he had missed a few meals. I turned to the coach to say he had made a mistake and surely there was someone else I could wrestle. As I did this, the kid grabbed me and for the next three hours gave me a wrestling lesson I’ll never forget. He rubbed my face in the mat and twisted me into positions I didn’t think possible. Finally, after three hours of mat work, I thought we were done. Not quite. Up to the halls we went, where the coach led us in wind sprints and jogging. Finally, four hours after practice began, we were finished. I sat on the bench in the locker room totally exhausted.
The coach called me into his office. He said, “How much do you weigh?”
I replied, “About 105.”
He said, “You’ll be wrestling 98 in three days.”
That was 7 percent of my body weight. “I’ll have to go without eating,” I protested.
He said, “I know.” So to my surprise, a wrestler not only had to work out for four hours, he couldn’t eat after the workout. I made weight at 98 pounds and put up with this difficult schedule for three weeks. Finally I had had enough.
I went home and told my dad that I was going to quit. I thought he would be elated after seeing how much I had suffered. Instead he said, “I never took you for a quitter. I always thought when you started something, you finished it.”
Well, if he was going to say that, I certainly would not quit now. I said, “I guess wrestling is not so bad after all.”
I stuck it out. For four long months I stuck it out. It was never easy. In fact, it was the most difficult thing I had ever done. It wasn’t glamorous. The basketball team got all the recognition. They got the nice locker room and all the new facilities, and the entire school showed up to their games. The school had to assign four members of the pep club to go to wrestling matches. No, it wasn’t glamorous. But much to my surprise, at the end of the difficult season, I had a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction that I had never felt before. The most difficult thing I had done in my life turned out to be the most rewarding.

In one area where more than 300 homes burned, the residents honored the firemen and the missionaries. One resident said, “These missionaries worked longer and harder than anyone else.” Then the missionaries sang, “Because I Have Been Given Much,” (Hymns, no. 219). After the song, the missionaries and residents hugged one another with tears in their eyes.
Said one elder, “We showed others that though we are young, the gospel guides our lives whether we are teaching the gospel or digging out the remains of a home.”

When I reached marriageable age, I got to know my future husband was from Mumbai. Since Mumbai is a large city, I imagined that my life there might include a comfortable home with a garden, flowers, and a balcony. As it was an arranged marriage, I accepted God’s will and married him. Soon afterward, I had to say goodbye to my family, which was exceedingly difficult for me. Many emotions and thoughts filled my heart as I left my home.
After arriving in Mumbai, I was surprised to find that my husband and I lived in a slum in an exceedingly small and overcrowded house where even fresh air could barely pass through. Married life began with many challenges. I did not know the local language, Hindi, which made communication exceedingly difficult. Every day, I had to walk two hundred meters to fetch water and carry it home in vessels. My husband left for work early in the morning at 7:00 a.m. and returned late at night around 9:00 p.m. every day. I spent my days doing household chores from morning until night. During this difficult period, I gradually stopped praying and studying the scriptures. Life became increasingly challenging, and my husband did not follow the Word of Wisdom or attend church regularly. Many trials and afflictions arose, and I began to feel abandoned and wondered why God had brought me there.
One Sunday during a Bible study at church, I turned the pages of the Bible and read Proverbs 3:1–2, which teaches that obedience brings peace and long life. As I studied these verses, my heart was filled with the Spirit, and I felt a burning feeling within me that brought tears to my eyes. I began to reflect on the life of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Though He suffered many trials and was falsely accused, He never forgot God. Even in His last moments, He obeyed Heavenly Father. Though He lived a sinless life, He fulfilled the Father’s will by sacrificing His life so that we might return to our Heavenly Father.
Through His Atonement, we are given the opportunity to repent and strive to obey Him. I understood that obedience truly brings peace and happiness. From that time onward, I began praying again, studying the scriptures, and living the gospel through obedience. Gradually, I helped my husband through the gospel to keep the Word of Wisdom, participate in family prayer, and live Christ’s teachings. Later, I was blessed with two children, which brought great peace and joy into my life. My husband lovingly cared for me during and after my pregnancies. As our children grew, we taught them the importance of obeying the gospel.

Ten days after Mary Ann gave birth to Emma Alice in Montrose, Iowa Territory, on 4 September 1839, duty again called her husband away—on a mission to England. Brigham was so ill that he could not walk without help; his whole family languished with sickness as well.

At their sad parting, Mary Ann said to Elder Young, “Go and fill your mission, and the Lord will bless you, and I will do the best I can for myself and the children.”9 She trusted in God and rejoiced that she had the strength to see her husband off on his journey.

Robert, a member of the Bukuru Branch in the Kisumu Kenya District, was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in early 2024, when he met an American man doing humanitarian work in Kenya.
“I was not really expecting that my life would get better,” Robert says. “My parents did not have money; they could not send me to school.” (In Kenya, even public school costs money.)
“But I knew Heavenly Father would help me. I started praying and reading the New Testament. Then I met my sponsor.”
His “sponsor” was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who blessed Robert’s life in two ways: he helped him obtain his schooling and, more importantly, shared the gospel with him (as did another young man who had recently joined the Church). Robert was baptized about six months later.

I met my wife, Lani, when I was 16. I am now going to tell two stories about how we got to know each other. The first story has nothing to do with the topic of my talk. However, it makes the next story more poignant.
As a teenager, I felt socially awkward. I did not have many friends, and I never thought a girl would ever want to marry me. When I moved to a new high school, I did not know anyone. I met a few people participating in the school play. Lani was one of them. She was friendly and easy to talk to. I started to notice her in a few other classes. I was grateful to have a friend, boy or girl. A few weeks later we happened to be sitting near each other during lunch. In an awkward attempt to make conversation, I asked her if she had been invited to the Christmas dance. She responded “No.” In all my innocence, I replied, “Neither am I” and then left for my next class. Some of you may see the humor in that event. A few of you, mostly young men, may not see the humor. To you, I suggest you talk to your mother or sisters, and do it quickly.
That will give you some idea of what a wonderfully romantic catch I was. Lani and I dated for the next four years. It was a rocky relationship. (I cannot image why?) When I finally left on my mission, we were both glad for a break from each other. I suggested that Lani should date while I was gone. She did. Here is the point I want to emphasize: She did not pine away the next two years, waiting to see what direction her life would take. She propelled her “ship” forward, full speed ahead. She attended school year-round. When her sisters wanted to take an extended summer trip, she remained in school even though her mother suggested it would be “a once-in-a-lifetime” experience to see the Eastern United States and was willing to pay her expenses. Lani completed her course work and had a paid teaching internship by the time I returned from my mission. Three months later, we were married.
Lani and I have reflected on our life together and how we were able to achieve what we have. One of the key factors to our success was that she had a good-paying job with health insurance at the time we married. That impacted when we could have children and how we made it through the next four years of my college career. That happened because she kept moving forward even though the end result was unclear.

Mom hung up the phone slowly. “Ben,” she called quietly, so as not to waken the younger children. “I need your help.”
“Sure, Mom,” Ben said, closing his book. “What is it?”
“Dad is coming home from his business trip tonight,” Mom began, “but planes have had trouble landing at the airport because of the fog. I just called there. They expect Dad’s plane to land, but the bad weather has made it late—so late that Dad will miss his ride home from the airport. It’s a dangerous night for driving, but I’ll have to go and pick him up.”
“Do you want me to baby-sit?”
“No. I’ll ask Mrs. King to come over and sit while the little ones sleep. It’s awfully late, I know, Ben, but I’d like to have you come with me to the airport. I’d appreciate your company.”
“Sure, Mom!” Ben dashed to the closet. “I’ll get my coat.” It wasn’t often that Mom even allowed Ben to stay up late.
Once in the car, Ben realized how thick the fog was. It drifted past his window like clouds of pale cotton candy. He could scarcely see the white lines marking the lanes of the freeway, let alone the signs giving directions. “I sure hope you know the way to the airport, Mom. This is like trying to look through mashed potatoes.”
“Actually,” Mom replied hesitantly, “I’ve only driven to the airport once before, and that was in daylight. I know which signs to look for, but without those, I’m pretty lost. That’s one reason I asked you to come along. I hope that two pairs of eyes watching for the signs will be better than one.”
Ben stared into the milky whiteness outside his window, trying to see anything besides fog. The words of the prayer Mom had offered before they left the house meant more to him now: “Please bless us with safety and guide us to our destination.”
Mom seemed to be whispering. “Did you say something, Mom?” Ben asked.
“Yes, sweetheart, I did,” Mom answered with a smile, “but not to you. I was praying. The fog’s getting worse. I can hardly see the road at all now, and it’s too late to turn back. Please pray, too, Ben.”
Ben didn’t need to be asked. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he was saying silently, his eyes closed, “remember what Mom prayed for before. We need help to find our way through this fog.”
When Ben opened his eyes, in front of their car and a little to the right, he saw two small red lights glowing dimly through the fog. “Look, Mom,” he pointed. “Lights!”
“I see them,” Mom sighed. “They’re taillights. Another car must be in front of us. If we follow it, maybe it will help us stay on the road.”
They followed the taillights through thick fog and through thin fog. Once, when the fog cleared a bit, Ben saw that the other car was a rather ugly old green one. “It’s not a very pretty car,” he laughed, “but I don’t think I’ve ever liked one better.”
“Me, either,” Mom agreed. “Watch for signs now. We need to exit the freeway soon and take another road.”
Ben’s eyes searched for signs. In the thinner fog, he and Mom saw their exit sign at the same moment. But while they had been looking for it, they lost sight of the old green car.
“I feel as if I’ve lost a friend,” Mom said. “I wish I could thank whoever is in that car. They’ll never know how much they helped us. Without them, I don’t know if we would have made it through the first challenge of our trip.”
“The first challenge? That means there must be another one.”
“More than one, I’m afraid. It’ll be darker on this country road, and there’s only one little sign to mark the airport turn. If we miss it in the fog, we’ll really be lost. Keep praying, Ben.”
Usually when he was with Mom, Ben talked nonstop about everything he could think of. But now he was too scared. He felt that they were all alone in a big empty whiteness that was swirling in darkness. It was a lonesome and fearful feeling.
After a few minutes, Mom spoke again. “Do you know what this reminds me of, Ben?” Ben shook his head. “Remember Lehi’s dream that we talked about in family home evening a few weeks ago? Remember how all the people were striving toward the tree when thick mists of darkness surrounded them and many lost their way? Well, this is like being in a mist of darkness. We know where we’re trying to go, but we can’t see to get there. But some people made it through the mist. How did they, Ben?”
“They held on to the iron rod.”
“And what is the iron rod?”
“The word of God,” Ben answered.
“Well, I’m thinking of some of the words of God right now. I remember that He said, ‘Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.’* I think ‘whithersoever thou goest’ even includes through the fog to the airport, don’t you?”
Ben smiled a little into the darkness. His eyes strained for a glimpse of a sign out the window, and in his mind he kept praying, “Please help us find our way.”
Mom slowed down so suddenly that they came to a complete stop. “Do you see something out there?” she asked.
Ben’s eyes ached as he tried to see. He watched one tiny patch of fog clear just enough to reveal a sign: AIRPORT.
“Oh, Ben!” Mom’s voice trembled as she turned the car. “We’re not alone out here, are we? Only one more challenge now.”
“What’s that?”
“At the airport, there will be quite a bit of traffic, and since I don’t know my way around very well, I’ll have to go slowly and follow signs. I hope we don’t have an accident in the traffic and the fog.”
Mom was right about the traffic. As they neared the airport, cars and buses and all sorts of vehicles converged from all directions, some going much too fast for a foggy night. Mom was forced to keep up with them. “I can’t see the signs, Ben, can you?” Her voice was tense. “I’m not sure where to go from here.”
Ben didn’t know how to help. He was nervous about the speeding cars all around them. Then, just ahead, Ben spotted a familiar-looking ugly green car. He relaxed his clenched hand to point; then he and Mom glanced wordlessly at each other. Mom changed lanes and followed the green car right to the entrance of the parking lot. She parked the car, turned off the engine, leaned back weakly, and looked at Ben.
“Mom,” said Ben, after a quiet moment. “Do you think Heavenly Father answered our prayers with that ugly green car?”
Mom smiled. “What do you think, Ben?”
“Well, I think …” Ben swallowed. Then he grinned. “I think Heavenly Father can answer prayers any way He wants to. Let’s go find Dad.”

Perhaps for us in 2009 it would be wise for us to remember to be fully immersed and invested in the gospel of Jesus Christ. An old Christmas story best describes what is meant by invested and immersed. The story is told in first person by a tired shopper who after a long, cold day of Christmas shopping finds herself exhausted on a crowded bus with her arms full of carefully selected gifts. The last available seat on the bus is near the back next to a very handsome gentleman who politely helps her situate her packages.

“My goodness,” he said, “did you leave any merchandise still in the stores for the rest of us?” . . .

The woman in the seat behind us joined in . . . , “The worst thing is that the day after Christmas we will be carrying this same armload back to the store to exchange it.”

Her comment brought a general chuckle from all those within earshot, including my seat mate. As the laughter subsided, he began in a quiet, melodious voice, deepened with experience, to teach me a lesson that I have never forgotten.

“Hear now the parable of the shopper,” he said, speaking gently and indicating my packages. “A woman went forth to shop, and as she shopped, she carefully planned. . . . The many purchases were made with the pure joy and delight that is known only to the giver. Then the gifts were wrapped and placed lovingly under the tree.

“In eager anticipation she [watched] each face as the gifts were opened.

“‘What a lovely sweater,’ said the eldest daughter, ‘but I think I would prefer blue. I suppose I can exchange it?’”

[The man went on to tell how each recipient made similar remarks about his or her gift.] “How sad it is,” continued his soft, beautiful voice, “when gifts are not received in the same spirit they are given. To reject a thoughtful gift is to reject the loving sentiment of the giver himself. And yet, are we not all sometimes guilty of rejecting?”

[By now the bus had stopped, and the passengers were all gathered around. The gentleman] took a present from my stack.

“This one,” he said, holding it up and pretending to open the card, “could be to you.”

He pointed to a rough-looking, teenage boy in a worn denim jacket and pretended to read the gift card.

“‘To you I give My life, lived perfectly, as an example so that you might see the pattern and live worthy to return and live with Me again. . . .’”

. . . He set the present down and took another one from my pile.

“This one,” he said, holding up a pure, white present, “is for you.” He held out the gift to a worn-looking woman, who in earlier years must have been a real beauty and was still attractive. . . . She read the card out loud and allowed her tears to slip without shame down her painted face.

“‘My gift to you is repentance. This Christmas I wish you to know for certain that though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow, and I the Lord will remember them no more. . . . Signed, your Advocate with the Father.’” . . .

[Next the man] looked around the group and brought a ragged, unkempt, little child forward. “This big, red package would be for you if He were here. The card would say, ‘On this Christmas and always, My gift to you is love. My love is pure! It is not dependent on what you do or what you look like. I love you as you have been, as you are now, and as you will be in the future. From your brother, Jesus.’ . . .

“And this silver package to you, madam,” he said with a bow and handed the gift over to an aging grandmother two rows behind.

“. . . His precious gift to you would be the gift of salvation. The surety that you will rise from the grave and live again with a perfect, resurrected body. The card would [be signed], ‘your Saviour.’

“One final gift,” said [the man]. “The greatest of all the gifts of God. Eternal life! . . . Though this gift is to all men, it must be assembled. He has given us the instructions. They are here in the scriptures.” He tore off the paper to reveal a worn, well-used book. . . .

[Finally the man] stood up. He was leaving, making his way slowly down the aisle. He paused just as he reached the front and said, “One last gift. Peace! Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

With those words, he was gone. [From Costley, “The Parable of the Shopper,” Ideals—Christmas 55, no. 6 (November 1998): 50–51]