Gospel Story Finder

Since it will be time to close in a few minutes, I will add one more thought. When I go to conferences, at the close of the conference the Saints always bring up their nonmember friends and introduce them to me. I say this: “You know what I always say to the nonmembers who honor us with their presence?”
“What’s that, Mr. Richards?”
“There are only two kinds of people in this world—those who are in the true church and those who ought to be. Get your boots on; we don’t want to wait too long for you. We’ll get you sooner or later. You don’t know that, but we do, and it had just as well be sooner as later.” You know, I’ve had letters come back from all over the world telling me they got their boots on. I walked up to the United Airlines counter in Chicago about a year and a half ago, and the young man in back of the counter looked at me and said, “Aren’t you LeGrand Richards? I’m one of those guys you told to get my boots on. I’ve joined the Church and I’m going out to the Y next fall.” Last general conference a woman came in from California. She’d made me a pretty little figurine with two boots and a little motto in the middle—“Get your boots on!”—to put on my desk. Just the other day I received a letter from a young man dated August 24. Now that’s not very long ago. About a year ago I entertained a young group from the Y in my office, and I showed them through the Church Administration Building. As I did, I said, “I’m sure you’re all Mormons. If you’re not, you ought to be.” In this letter this young man wrote me back and said, “I was the only ‘ought to be’ in that group you showed around, and I just wanted to tell you I’ve joined the Church.”

When I think of what our people do in this Church without having to be paid with money for what they do, I know that it is a tremendous thing. You take the General Authorities here on the stand. When they were called to be General Authorities, there was nothing said to them about whether they would receive an allowance to live on. I remember when I was back in Washington, just after President Benson was called to be a member of the Twelve and he had not yet been out West to be ordained and set apart. I was then the Presiding Bishop and attended his stake conference. And he said: “Bishop, will there be any provision that we will have a living while we are serving as General Authorities of the Church?” And I said: “Well, there will be a little allowance. But,” I said, “you will have to live differently than you have done back here unless you have got a little bit tucked away!” I happen to know of an offer that was made to him while he was in the Department of Agriculture that, in those days, was a tremendous offer; and he passed that by to come back here to be a member of the Quorum without any assurance that he would have an allowance given to him.
I think of when President Tanner was called to be one of the General Authorities. President McKay told us that he was in line to become the prime minister of Canada and that he was at the head of several great industrial organizations in Canada. I am sure that if he were to stand here now, he would tell you that when President McKay asked him to be one of the General Authorities, he did not discuss with him anything about an allowance that he would receive.
I could go on down, and each one of these men could tell you how they gave up their businesses and their professions, and why did they do it? Because they had received the gift of the Holy Ghost that made it possible for them to do what Jesus advised: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt. 6:33).
When I was the Presiding Bishop and one of my counselors, Bishop Ashton, died, I asked for Brother [Thorpe B.] Isaacson. He was then at the head of a large insurance business that he owned and operated. And when President George Albert Smith asked him if he was willing to serve as my counselor, he said: “Yes, but I would like to go back East and arrange with my company to appoint a manager, because you know in the insurance business so much depends on renewals. But,” he said, “if they won’t let me do it, I’ll tell them to take the business.” I happen to know that the tithing he had been paying was just about the equivalent of what his allowance was when he became a counselor in the Bishopric! And not only that, for the first six months after he received his allowance, he turned it back to the Church. He said: “I’ve never been on a mission, so it is about time I did something.”
Now if you could hear from each one of these men! For instance, I had a business with ten men and two girls working for me, and the President of the Church sent my father over to see how I would like to go to California and preside over the Hollywood Stake. I won’t take time to tell you all the details. In sixty days I’d sold my business, I’d sold my beautiful home, and moved my family down to California with no allowance to live on. I had to start all over again.
Then when I was in business here in Salt Lake and President Heber J. Grant called for a thousand short-term missionaries, he said: “Bishops and stake presidents are not exempt.” I was then a bishop. I landed back in New England—left my wife and seven kiddies and my business in the hands of my brother-in-law. You don’t do things like that with normal men! It takes men inspired by the Holy Spirit.
We have 28,000 missionaries in the world today paying their own way and maintaining themselves, and we have had hundreds of thousands since this Church was organized and the only reason that they do it is because they have the gift of the Holy Ghost. Most of them from their infancy have looked forward to the day when they could go on a mission.
I think of a little story President Benson told us a short time ago when he told about being at a banquet back in the East. He sat next to a minister, and the minister said: “Mr. Benson, I’d like to visit with you after the banquet.” So they got in another part of the building, and he said: “Now there are two things in your church we would like to copy.”
Brother Benson said: “And what are they?”
“Well, first, it’s your missionary system,” he said. “You send your missionaries all over the world. You don’t pay them; you make them pay their way to their field of labor, maintain themselves while they are there, and all the Church does for them is to pay their return fare when they come back.” He said: “Now in our church, we have a missionary fund. But,” he said, “we offer to pay our men to the field of labor, to maintain them while they are there, and then to return them after they are released—and we can’t get anybody to go!”
Now that is the difference when you are operating in the kingdom of man and the kingdom of God. It is God’s kingdom. He is the only one that can put his Holy Spirit into the hearts of his people.
No one in this world could duplicate what we did here last night when we held a conference of the priesthood of the Church. It was broadcast in over 1,700 different buildings and I imagine that we had an estimated attendance of over 200,000 men and boys, all bearing the priesthood of God together. No wonder Peter said: “Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people [we are peculiar to the world]; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).
Now think of this choir back here that has been singing to us so wonderfully. They have been doing it now for over fifty years. (I don’t suppose all of them have, but the Choir has!) And we don’t have to pay them anything—350 of them that gather here week after week to practice and then come to sing for us.
Down in the South, when I was president of the mission down there, I went to one of the beautiful new chapels there—not of our Church—and the minister showed us through. The ground had broken away so that the basement was above the ground level, and I said to the minister: “Do you know what we would do with this if we had it?”
And he said: “What?”
I said: “We’d improve it and use it to entertain our young people.”
“Well, Mr. Richards,” he said, “you can do it. You have trained leaders, you don’t have to pay them. But we haven’t got them, and we can’t afford to pay them.” Now I knew he could not because one of our members sang in his choir each week and was paid by the minister for singing in the choir.
What if we had to pay all of these folks here, and then all of our ward choirs, and all of the auxiliary organizations. And, just think!—on Friday we had a gathering of the Regional Representatives of the Twelve. I don’t remember just how many were there, but I think about 190. They are businessmen, executives, and professional men, and go all over the country without any compensation for their work in order to help build the kingdom. Thank God for the gift of the Holy Ghost! No wonder the Prophet said that included all things.
Now one of the finest illustrations we have in holy writ of what the Holy Ghost can do for a man is in the case of Peter. You remember when Jesus met with them in the last supper and told them that there was one among them who would betray him, Peter said something like this: “Though all men shall be offended because of thee, yet will I never be offended.
“Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee.” And Jesus said: “Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.” (See Matt. 26:3–35.) Then when Jesus was taken prisoner and Peter sat in the outer room, two different women came up to him and said: “Thou also wast with Jesus” (Matt. 26:69); and he denied it emphatically. Then a man came, and he even denied it with curses. And when he was through, he heard the cock crow, “and he went out and wept” (Matt. 26:75). Now that was Peter before he received the Holy Ghost.
Jesus commanded his disciples to tarry in Jerusalem until they should be endowed with the Holy Spirit; he said it was necessary for him to go away or the Comforter could not come. And he said: “But the Comforter … shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (John 14:26).
Now look at Peter after he received the Holy Ghost and when he was commanded by the chief priests not to preach Christ in the streets of Jerusalem. He said: “We ought to obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). He was as fearless as a lion.
I toured the Central American missions with the mission president a few years ago. We went into one of the great cathedrals there and on one of the walls were oil paintings of the original Twelve, showing how they were put to death. Paul was beheaded at Rome by Nero. Peter was crucified with his head downward because he didn’t consider himself worthy to be crucified like his Lord. That is Peter after he had received the gift of the Holy Ghost. Compare that with when he denied the Savior.
Now you could find that with all of our people, if you wanted to apply it—all through the work of the Church. We dedicate an average of one beautiful chapel a day throughout this Church and the people contribute to it; their tithes and their offerings make it possible to build these buildings, and they do it because of the Holy Ghost that they receive by the laying on of hands when they become members of this Church.
Now just to illustrate that: When I was back in the South, there was an itinerant preacher that came through Atlanta, telling the leaders of churches how they could get out of debt. He quoted the words of Malachi: “Prove me now herewith, … if I will not open you the windows of heaven” (Mal. 3:10). And he told those people that if they would pay their tithing for ten months, they could get out of debt. I talked to him afterwards, and I said, “Reverend, I would like to bear you my testimony, that you are getting pretty close to the truth.” I said, “We have been paying our tithing all our lives.” Then I said: “There is just one thing I can’t understand. You say it is the Lord’s law of blessing his people, and if it is, wouldn’t it be better to be blessed all their lives than just to be blessed for ten months?”
And he said: “Oh, Mr. Richards, we can’t go that far, yet!”
We could not build these beautiful buildings and carry on this great program of the Church if it rested upon the shoulders of men with their own capacity and ability.
I see it is time for me to close!
God bless you all. I thank him with all my heart and soul for the restoration of the gospel, for the restoration of the holy priesthood, for all the gifts and blessings that we enjoy by virtue thereof, including the gift of the Holy Ghost. When I was appointed a member of the Twelve, I said from this pulpit that I would rather have my children enjoy the companionship of the Holy Ghost than any other person or individual in this world; and I feel the same today, for them and for me, and for all of you, and I leave you my love and blessing in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

“She’s like my mom,” says Ricardo of his grandmother. “She has been raising me since I was young.” Ricardo lives with his grandmother and grandfather and four of his uncles. “My grandfather suffers from Parkinson’s disease, so I do things like help him get in his chair,” Ricardo says. Ricardo is constantly trying to teach his family by example. “I try to be an example when I go to church because when I’m on the right path, my family is watching me, and I want them to come to church too.”
Even though Ricardo and his grandmother are the only active members of the Church in their house, he says, “We all have family home evening together.”
Standing up front and teaching the lesson each Monday is young Ricardo. “I use the Book of Mormon and the Bible for family home evening lessons,” he says. “I read the story and then testify. Sometimes I use the lesson manual for deacons.”
Ricardo also testifies to his friends and neighbors. “In my neighborhood I tell my friends stories about Christ, about prophets, about Nephi,” he says. “I tell them stories I’ve heard in church about faith and about how prayer helps us in our lives. Some friends stay and listen, but others leave. That’s a way I can be an example.”
No longer does Ricardo walk to church alone. Now every Sunday he puts on his shirt and tie, takes his grandmother by the hand, and they walk together. Who knows? In time, Ricardo will probably be leading others to church with him.

Years passed and I moved. As much as I hated to leave my Church friends, I soon found another group of sisters with strong testimonies and big hearts in the Relief Society in “my” new ward. A Relief Society teacher gave us a decorated to-do list and encouraged us to write “Be kind” at the top of our lists each day. The sisters sitting beside me and I thought it was a grand idea, especially since it supported the Relief Society motto “Charity never faileth” (Moroni 7:46).

Then I read a story about a pioneer woman. When that woman was a child, the prophet asked her family to help settle a Latter-day Saint community in a remote area. Tragedy befell when one of her siblings died. Her mother was distraught, and deep sadness permeated the family.

One day this little girl was looking out the window. As far as she could see, a blanket of snow surrounded the family’s modest home. As the little girl stared at the horizon, she saw two people trudging toward the house. On they came, slowly making their way, and suddenly the child realized who they were—they were her mother’s visiting teachers.

That story inspired me. I was baptized in May 1983. It is an honor to be a visiting teacher myself. I love associating with so many women who exemplify the “virtuous woman” whose “price is far above rubies” (Proverbs 31:10). It is wonderful to be with women who are also striving to be kind, to love one another, and to bring others unto Christ.

President Hinckley shared an experience he had when he was quite young, and I quote:
When I was a small boy in the first grade, I experienced what I thought was a rather tough day at school. I came home, walked in the house, threw my book on the kitchen table, and let forth an expletive that included the name of the Lord.
My mother was shocked. She told me quietly, but firmly, how wrong I was. She told me that I could not have words of that kind coming out of my mouth. She led me by the hand into the bathroom, where she took from the shelf a clean washcloth, put it under the faucet, and then generously coated it with soap. She said, "We'll have to wash out your mouth." She told me to open it, and I did so reluctantly. Then she rubbed the soapy washcloth around my tongue and teeth. I sputtered and fumed and felt like swearing again, but I didn't. I rinsed and rinsed my mouth, but it was a long while before the soapy taste was gone. In fact, whenever I think of that experience, I can still taste the soap. The lesson was worthwhile. I think I can say that I have tried to avoid using the name of the Lord in vain since that day. I am grateful for that lesson.[11]

Our son did this long ago on a family trip. We had traveled many miles to see a beautiful castle. By the time we finally arrived, one of our younger daughters was tired and cross. She refused to get out of the car to take the short hike to the site we had come so far to see. Most of us felt impatient with her. But with gentleness our 14-year-old son lifted her on his back and carried her to the castle. That tense moment was softened by his quiet expression of love. That now lives in each of our memories more than the view of the castle.

When Mormon missionaries were proselyting in Mississippi in 1844, their message was not widely received. However, one 13-year-old slave boy, Samuel Chambers, showed unusual interest in the elders’ street meeting discussions, and a nighttime baptism and confirmation soon followed. Born on May 21, 1831, in Pickens County, Alabama, Samuel grew up in Noxubee County, Mississippi, as an orphan. Slave traders took away his mother, Hester Gillespie, while Samuel was a small boy.

Thus he embraced the LDS faith despite “not having kind parents” to encourage him. Nevertheless, as he later told the deacons quorum, “the spirit of God remained with me.” He had “known the gospel to be true ever since I was confirmed,” and after his conversion he “greatly longed” to gather with the Saints, but being a slave he “could never see how it would be brought about.” Samuel was cut off from any contact with the Church but “tho’ lacking age & experience yet God kept the seeds of life alive in me.” During these years in bondage he married. But shortly after the birth of his son Peter his first wife either died or was sold into Texas (the records disagree). Then on May 4, 1858, he married Amanda Leggroan, a slave who was born to Green and Hattie Leggroan in Noxumbra County, Mississippi, on January 1, 1844.

When the Civil War brought the collapse of the Confederacy, Samuel became a freedman. He turned to shoemaking and then to sharecropping in order to support his family. It had been 21 years since his baptism. “I then commenced to save means to gather (to Utah),” he recalled, and “this took me four years.” This desire to join the Saints is most remarkable in Samuel’s case because he had “never heard another word of the gospel” since his baptism.

Finally in 1870 the 38-year-old freedman left Mississippi with 26-year-old Amanda and teenaged Peter. Evidently their means of transportation for part of the journey was a simple, ox-drawn wagon. Accompanying them was the family of Amanda’s brother, Edward Leggroan. He and his wife were in their mid-20’s and brought with them three children under six years of age. Like others who had migrated to Zion, this small group came with high hopes. At the same time the fact that they were black gave them cause to worry about what the future might hold for them in the strange new land. But one thing was certain with Samuel: “I did not come to Utah to know the truth of the gospel, but I received it away back where the gospel found me.” They arrived in Salt Lake City on April 27, 1870.

My grandparents have had a great influence on my life. Even though they have been dead for many years, I still feel their confirming love. One grandfather, James Akerley Faust, died before I was born. I knew him only through the stories my grandmother and my parents told about him. However, I feel a strong kinship with him because I am in part what he was. Among other things, he was a cowboy, a rancher, and a postmaster in a small town in central Utah. On one occasion, Grandfather took a trip in the winter to Idaho, where he met an acquaintance who had fallen on hard times. It was cold, and Grandfather’s friend had no coat. Grandfather took off his coat and gave it to him.

When the Explorers returned to Guayaquil, they shopped for souvenirs and visited some of the historical sites of the city. Walter P. Crespo, the Scout executive for Guayas Province, explained the history of the various monuments and their significance to the citizens of Guayaquil. He even showed them where a branch of the Church held its meetings.
“Boy, to think that just a few months before, my family was sitting in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City,” Nik comments, “and then to realize I was in South America—what a great time to live!”

Currently I am swimming, serving as a student body officer, learning the piano and bass trombone, playing the piano for priesthood opening exercises, keeping an A average in AP classes, doing my duties as a priest and Eagle Scout, and holding a job to earn money for my mission. Most of the times overlap. I finally had to sit down and make a weekly schedule. This helped tremendously. I left at least 10 minutes of “me time” between each of these activities. But when work and swim continued to fill the same time slot, I had to drop swim for a while. That relieved much of the stress I was going through. Sometimes you just have to let things go, and prioritize your activities in order of importance.
Ryan G., 18, Mississippi

A second incident happened when I was twenty-nine. My companions and I had climbed Longs Peak in Colorado on a bright September day. Longs Peak is 14,256 feet high. At that altitude one can climb three or four steps before his legs go numb and he has to wait three or four minutes to get his strength back to take three or four more steps.
It was late afternoon when we reached the top. From there I saw a ridge that seemed to begin a thousand feet below and would cut my descent time in half. Unheeding of the warnings of my companions, I started down the north side of the mountain. I had gone down about 500 feet when I suddenly found myself on a field of clear ice that had resulted from a storm the previous night.
I skirted to the left and came to a cliff with a sheer drop of several thousand feet. My only way out of the predicament was back to the top. I shall not tell the dangers of that climb back, but what had taken me two hours on a fairly easy trail earlier in the day I then did in thirty minutes without stopping for breath and without having my legs go numb. Where did the strength come from? Adrenalin? Some may think so, but this was an entirely different strength, one that did not come from me.
That afternoon I learned another lesson. As I climbed, I could hear the whistle of one of my fellows. As I reached the top, there stood Golden Kilburn. The other climbers had gone down the trail, but he had—at some risk to himself—waited for me, feeling that he could not leave until I was accounted for.
Together we descended, reaching the safe portions of the trail at dusk. Had we been delayed much longer, we both would have been caught at night at the 13,500–14,000-feet level without coats. I have wondered many times which would have been the least pleasant, freezing or falling 3,000 feet down over the cliff. I have also wondered about the force that reached out, unknown to me, and made me equal to the altitude for thirty brief minutes.

One Sunday after church, my mother, my brothers, and I were in the car ready to go home. But we could not find the car key. Our dad had put all our bags in the car and walked home with my younger sister in the stroller. We looked everywhere for the key, but we could not find it. In Primary and family home evening, I have learned that we should always pray when we need help. I told my mom that we should pray so Heavenly Father could help us. My mom was very happy, and we prayed together. Suddenly our grandmother drove up and brought us the key. Our dad had accidentally taken the key and sent it back with our grandmother. I know that Heavenly Father helped us by sending our grandmother. He will always help us, even through other people.

Weeks had passed since my adult daughter had moved to a new city, and each Sunday that she missed church brought me the same concerns. Would she ever return to church? I tried everything I could think of to get her there: encouragement, logic, pleading, acting as her personal alarm clock, prayer, fasting, even calling her bishop. Since we lived 2,000 miles (3,220 km) apart, it was difficult for me to attend with her, but I even tried that!
I continually imagined that if I could just tweak the situation a little, my daughter would reestablish her spiritual trajectory. I felt I just needed the right person—her visiting teacher, her bishop, a friend or family member—to be placed in her path to say or do just the thing that would steer her back. But nothing was working. My head spun with worry, and my heart filled with guilt and anguish that I had failed her as a parent.
My daughter has not yet returned to church. But our goals are clear; we are both working to stay close. We talk frequently, and I know her LDS upbringing has helped her to become kind, disciplined, and thoughtful. While I would never have chosen for her to take the path she is currently traveling, I am grateful for the lessons we are learning along the way. And I have found peace as I embrace our unique positions in our journeys back home.

I was a freshman in 1972—fifty-two years ago. I attended many devotionals in this building, just as you do. As a young student, neither I nor anyone who knew me—except my mom—could ever have imagined that a day would come when I would stand at this pulpit and speak.

In my freshman year, President Dallin H. Oaks was in his second year as president of this university. That year President Oaks taught his first and only Book of Mormon class—or so I have been told by him. I had the good fortune of being a student in that class.

To my chagrin, as incredible as that experience was—to be taught by President Oaks—one memory stands out. One day at the conclusion of class, he asked me to stay and visit. My hair was a fair bit longer than the standards allowed.

Looking kindly into my face, President Oaks said, “Brother Schmutz, I can’t help noticing that some of your classmates are wondering if the president of the university is going to say anything to you about the length of your hair. I would rather not. Can you take it from here?”

I nodded.

At the next class I had a new look and a new love for my president. President Oaks continues to encourage and kindly invite better behavior.

When Troy and Sheralee Johnson were young, they had a problem—with each other. They fought all the time.
“They just couldn’t seem to leave each other alone,” says their mom, LeAnn. “A lot of times they couldn’t even be in the same house together.”
At about the time Troy and Sheralee were having the most trouble getting along, the Johnsons decided it was time to commit the family to daily scripture study.
“During a general conference session when I was still pretty young, President Ezra Taft Benson counseled all of the Saints to read and study the Book of Mormon both as a family and personally. He promised blessings to all the families that followed his counsel. My parents decided that if anyone needed blessings, it was us,” says Sheralee.
A family meeting was held and all eight Johnsons agreed to get up early every morning to study together. That was more than nine years ago, and the family has hardly missed a day since.
The family’s dedication also brought about an unexpected, although welcome, result.
“When we started reading scriptures together, the overall feeling in our house changed, and Troy and I just didn’t fight anymore. We focused on other things, like school and church. Then, since we weren’t fighting, we could really get to know each other,” says Sheralee.
“I don’t remember anything specific happening to make us stop fighting,” says Troy. “Things just changed for the better and we started to get along. I guess we just had a better feeling in general and that made things better between us.”
Now Troy, a returned missionary, and Sheralee, a student at BYU, are friends. In fact, Sheralee says she really missed having Troy around while he was on his mission in Rome, Italy.
“Until he was gone, I didn’t really realize what an integral part of my life Troy had become. I couldn’t wait to see him again,” she says. The rest of the Johnson siblings, Curtis, Benjamin, Michael, and Angie, are now carrying on the tradition, getting up at the crack of dawn to study the gospel every day.
“Growing up, I learned how the Book of Mormon affects our lives,” says Troy. “The same feeling continued on my mission, and that helped with the work.”
“Our parents really taught us the importance of the Book of Mormon. We knew that if they made that much of an effort to get us up, it must be important,” adds Sheralee.
Is getting up at 5:30 A.M. to study scriptures with your family a challenge? Troy, who isn’t a morning person, answers a hearty “yes.” Is it worth it? Troy and Sheralee both say they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Around the age of 12, I developed into a “klutz.” I’m not sure what brought it on, but the symptoms were horrible. I fell, I stubbed my toes, and I stumbled over things. Boy, was I in trouble when my mom moved the furniture. We’re talking serious bruises here!
People who didn’t know me would say, “You’re so tall. You’ll be great at basketball.” Well, I tried. I really tried. But I missed so many balls and flubbed up so many games that I began to wonder if my P.E. grade could keep me out of college.
The beginning of my junior year in high school, we started another semester of basketball. I was not looking forward to another semester of failure.
Just as we were choosing teams, the teacher asked, “Would anyone here be willing to teach a freshman boy how to swim? Of course, you won’t be able to play basketball.” Oh, what a sacrifice. I volunteered immediately.
Tuesday I met Henry. This is going to be easy, I thought. I’m not even going to have to get wet. I’ll just sit on the side and tell Henry what to do.
Wednesday I was in the water with Henry.
Thursday I was ready to drown Henry.
By Friday, basketball was looking good.
Henry was short, plump, and although I didn’t know it at the time, mentally handicapped. At first he just thought it was a game, and he wouldn’t even try. I got so frustrated. I was very standoffish with him, very upperclassman. The more he goofed off, the less friendly I became. I started feeling kind of desperate about it. Weeks had gone by. He was still messing around, and I was yelling.
One night I asked Heavenly Father if he would soften Henry’s heart. “Make him teachable,” I prayed. “Please help him to listen to me and cooperate.”
Henry was no different the next day or the next. However, when I saw Henry, I noticed what a sweet smile he had. Then I laughed at something silly he did. I stopped yelling. I didn’t feel like it anymore. And, finally, we began talking. I actually liked Henry. I sat on the edge of the pool with him and told him how dangerous it was not to know how to swim. I told him he had to learn how because I wanted him to be safe. I told him, “I care what happens to you,” and I meant it.
Henry started trying. He put his face in the water. He kicked. He practiced his arms. He floated when I held him. Swimming did not come easily to Henry. But by the last day, he made it across the short end of the pool. He looked really rough, but he was afloat, and he passed it off for his coach.
When Henry came out of the water, you could see his smile clear across the pool. I’ve never seen anyone look so proud.
The next semester, whenever I passed him in the halls, he gave me his big smile. He often came and talked to me at lunch and after school.
I did such a small thing for Henry, and yet I reaped great benefits. His learning how to swim even got me an A in P.E. that semester. And I learned a very important lesson from Henry. I thought Heavenly Father had ignored my prayer because Henry didn’t change. Yet he didn’t have to. I was the one who needed a softened heart, and I got it. I began to see Henry as a person with value. He was more than just another aggravation in my life. As soon as I changed my attitude, Henry responded eagerly.
I also learned that Heavenly Father cares about each of us. And he wants us to care about each other—a lesson that has stayed with me, helping me to grow in the gospel. All because Henry needed to learn to swim.

For the family history experience, the two organizers, Liz Seymer and Asti Liang, borrowed some real-life family histories from stake members. They wrote the stories, leaving out some important details but leaving in clues to help uncover these facts. From the clues given them, the girls had to figure out where they needed to go for more information. Around the cultural hall were tables and resource people. One had census records. Another represented cemetery headstones. Others represented the Church’s Family History Library and computerized records. If the girls asked the right question of the person in charge of the table, they were rewarded with the correct answer. But if they didn’t know the correct question to ask, they didn’t get an answer, just as in real life. They had to retreat and do a little more figuring.
Mounted on easels to one side were the photographs of the families the girls were researching, as if they were just waiting to be found. Hilary Ekstron of the sixth ward said, “Our group had to go to five different places just to find out one thing. But it was really interesting.” It was surprising how quickly the girls became involved in their “mystery” family as they were introduced to certain types of records and how information is recorded.

I heard a funny story about a captain of an aircraft carrier who is trying to navigate his ship during a storm at night. He sees a light in the distance that appears to be heading straight toward him. He shouts to his radio operator, “Tell that oncoming vessel to change course by 20 degrees!”
The radio operator does and waits for a response. “Captain,” he says, “they are telling us to change our course 20 degrees.”
The captain shouts, “Explain to that radio operator that I’m not asking—I’m demanding. Change course!”
The radio operator sends the message, waits for a moment, and then looks up. “Captain,” he says, “they insist that we are the ones who must turn.”
The captain grabs the headset and barks into the microphone, “I don’t know who you are or where you are going but there’s something you ought to know. I’m the captain of a navy aircraft carrier group accompanied by three destroyers, three cruisers, and numerous support vessels. We are proceeding directly towards you and will not change course!”
Through the static the captain hears a reply: “Understood, Captain. But there’s something you ought to know. We are a lighthouse.”

… Across the way on Temple Square block, the foundations of the temple rose above the general level of the surrounding ground and seemed to be an object of interest to nearly all the emigrants, many of whom were permitted to go within the wall, and view it. By and by there were numerous meetings in various groups of people, friends of the emigrants, parents and sweethearts, and perhaps in some instances wives of the teamsters that had returned. There seemed to be an air of cheerfulness in all this meeting of people on the arrival of this large emigrant train of Saints.

Mary and I seemed to be so little part of this excitement and joy, because nobody seemed to come for us. Mary remained concealed under the wagon cover, and I lonesome and heartsick sat upon the tongue of [the] wagon, my chin in my hands and elbows upon my knees, thinking “Zion” was not so much after all, if this was all of it. …

Presently, however, approaching from the west gate, I saw a woman in a red and white plaid shawl. … She seemed to be daintily picking her way, and there was something in the movement of her head as she looked to the right and to the left that seemed familiar to me. The woman was moving in my direction, and the closer she came the stronger the conviction grew upon me that there was my mother. …

I stood until she came nearly parallel to where I sat; then sliding from the tongue of the wagon, I took a few steps, which brought me near to her and, plucking her gown, I said: “Hey Mother,” and she looked down upon my upturned face. Without moving she gazed upon me for some time and at last said, “Is this you, Harry? Where is Polly?” Of course Polly was in the wagon, and I led my mother to where she was hiding, and when mother and daughter met, there was a flood of tears on both sides. At last I joined them, making the trio of the united family. It seemed difficult for our mother to realize that we at last were her children after more than four years of separation, but once in a while, a smile would break through the tears and she seemed to be extremely happy. A neighbor of hers … had driven her from Bountiful to the city to get us children, and it took but a short time to leave the remaining emigrant teams and people to find this wagon and make the start for home, Bountiful.

There was one thing remembered in this reunion, and that was on my part. I felt that I had arrived, that I belonged to somebody, that somebody had an interest in me, and these were the thoughts that were in my mind as I sat in the wagon on the drive home to Bountiful. I had heard incidentally that my mother owned her house, and that, of course, for English people, who among the poorer classes were all renters, meant a great deal to me. Now I was going to my mother’s home—her own house.

Monica and I have also had experiences where we have studied things out, came to a conclusion, and sought God’s direction through prayer; then received clear direction that the answer was “no, do not proceed.”

Shortly after arriving in St. Louis, Monica and I thought it would be great to try to buy a home. Many other graduate students in St. Louis were buying homes and it seemed like a great idea. We found a home that we could afford and made an offer. The seller came back with a counteroffer that was very reasonable. Our real estate agent was excited. You could see that the agent felt the sale and her commission were coming soon. Monica and I had prayed about the first offer and felt fine. We prayed again, telling our Heavenly Father that we thought we could afford this home at the counteroffer price and that it would be the right place for our family in St. Louis. In that moment, I felt what might have been the strongest experience I've ever had with a stupor of thought. My mind was filled with doubt and raced to all the alternative scenarios and negative “what if” outcomes that could occur. We told our real estate agent that the deal was off and that we would not be buying this home or any other home. She was not happy. Monica and I felt bad about that, and we felt great pressure to change our minds. But we knew the Lord had told us what to do and we followed His direction. I don't know all the reasons that we learned our lesson this way, but every graduate student who bought a home when we arrived in St. Louis was caught in the difficult economic conditions that suppressed real estate values in 2009. We were spared that challenge and were well positioned to begin our life after graduate school because of this guidance from the Lord.