Gospel Story Finder

Over 50 years ago, I had the privilege to serve as the president of Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. On the morning of June 5, 1976, my wife, Kathy, and I drove from Rexburg to the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple to attend the sealing of a close friend. Of course, with four young boys in our home at the time, our temple trip could be only accomplished with the help of a courageous babysitter! We left our precious children in her care and made the short, 30-minute drive.

Our experience in the temple that day was wonderful, as it always was. However, after the conclusion of the temple sealing—and as we were preparing to return home—we noticed many temple workers and patrons nervously conversing in the lobby of the temple. Within moments, one of the temple workers told us that the newly constructed Teton Dam in eastern Idaho had collapsed! More than 80 billion gallons (300 million cubic meters) of water were flowing through the dam and into the 300 square miles (775 square km) of neighboring valleys. Much of the city of Rexburg was underwater, with homes and vehicles carried away by floodwaters. Two-thirds of the 9,000 residents were suddenly homeless.

As you might imagine, our thoughts and concerns turned to the safety of our dear children, hundreds of college students and faculty, and a community we loved. We were less than 30 miles (50 km) from home, and yet on this day, long before cell phones and text messaging, we had no way of communicating immediately with our children, nor could we make the drive from Idaho Falls to Rexburg, as all the roads had been closed.

Our only option was to stay the night in a local motel in Idaho Falls. Kathy and I knelt together in our motel room and humbly pleaded with Heavenly Father for the safety of our dear children and the thousands of others affected by the tragic event. I recall Kathy pacing the floors into the early hours of the morning with worry about her children. Despite my own concerns, I was able to put my mind at ease and fall asleep.

It wasn’t long thereafter that my sweet eternal companion woke me and said, “Hal, how can you sleep at a time like this?”

These words then came clearly to my heart and mind. I said to my wife: “Kathy, whatever the outcome, all will be well because of the temple. We have made covenants with God and have been sealed as an eternal family.”

At that moment, it was as if the Spirit of the Lord confirmed in our hearts and minds what we both already knew to be true: the sealing ordinances, found only in the house of the Lord and administered by proper priesthood authority, had bound us together as husband and wife, and our children had been sealed to us. There truly was no need to fear, and we were grateful later to learn that our boys were safe.

Illustrations by Cam Kendell
Hi, Mia. Want to play four square with us?
I don’t really feel like playing right now.
OK.
That night …
Sound label: Sniffle (coming from top bunk)
I don’t know why I feel so sad. Maybe a Primary song will help me feel better.
Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?
What’s wrong, Mia?
I was sad, but now I feel the Holy Ghost.
What does the Holy Ghost do?
He comforts us. That’s why He’s called the Comforter.
Mom, Dad, guess what? I felt the Holy Ghost! I was sad, and He comforted me.
I’m so glad! Come tell us about it.
The next day …
Hi, Mia. Are you feeling better?
Yes! Can I play with you today?
Yeah! Let’s go.
Thanks!
Thanks to Mia P. for sharing her story!

When President Wilford Woodruff was a child, he lived in Connecticut and worked in his family’s flourmill and sawmill. Both his father and grandfather worked at the mills and encouraged him to put in a full day’s work. Some days Wilford worked for 18 hours!
Father: Are you ready for another day, Son? Nothing will make you feel more satisfied than working with your hands.
When his work was done Wilford liked to relax in the peace and quiet of nature. Sometimes he and his brother Azmon would go fishing. They were known as the best fishermen in the area.
One day after work Wilford discovered an island in the middle of his fishing stream. The island was covered with wildflowers. Wilford would lie on his back among the wildflowers and gaze up at the clouds.
Wilford: I certainly love this place. It’s good to get away from the noise of life and be alone for a few minutes.
During these quiet moments Wilford often thought about Heavenly Father. He would pray earnestly to better understand the scriptures he read each day.
Wilford: There are so many different churches and religions. I just want to know God’s will.
As he grew older Wilford continued doing the things he loved as a child—fishing and praying. While traveling across the plains with Brigham Young, Wilford fished at every possible spot.
Brigham: You sure love to fish, don’t you, Brother Wilford?
Wilford: It gives me time to meditate. Sometimes it gives me dinner too!
These prayers helped Wilford become a very faithful man and a Church leader. Other people noticed his good example and gave him the nickname “Wilford the Faithful.”

On my desk sits a handcrafted, somewhat mangled, little clay sheep. I keep it there to remind me of the real reason I get up in the morning.
The other young man, John, was extremely quiet. Although he came to our family home evenings, he always sat in the corner, never saying anything. Though others would try to start a conversation with him, he would not respond. Kathleen and I would invite him over on other days of the week, but he wouldn’t come. We tried everything we knew to get him to express himself and let him know that he was worthwhile. He never responded. We were particularly worried about him because he showed all the symptoms of dropping out entirely, and we didn’t really know how to get through to him, to let him know that he was worth more than his social security and that he had more to offer the world than the stripes on his sleeve. During that special home evening activity John convinced us that we need no longer be so gravely concerned.
At the beginning of the assignment, he took some clay and went off to a corner of the living room. Almost hiding, John very quietly stayed by himself throughout most of the evening, working the clay. Occasionally he smiled as someone else in the group made a contribution. Generally, he showed no emotion whatsoever and said absolutely nothing. So after everyone had made a presentation but John, we prodded him to speak.
To our pleasant surprise, John stood up and then said, “In the Bible there is a story about a shepherd who lost a sheep. This shepherd, as the story goes, was very concerned for the lost sheep, so concerned that he left the whole flock to seek out the one that couldn’t be found. I feel like I am the lost sheep, and you have found me. I want to give you this little clay sheep to show my gratitude.”
Then he sat down. No one said a word. I doubt that there was a dry eye in the room.
I can’t think of a better reason to get up in the morning than to feed my Father’s sheep. So, as a gentle reminder, I keep John’s gift on my desk—always.

Not long ago, a dear friend had an impression to visit a woman in her ward. She brushed off the prompting because she hardly knew her—it just didn’t make sense. But since the thought kept coming to her, she decided to act on the prompting. Because she was already feeling uncomfortable about the impending visit, she determined that taking something to the sister would help ease her anxiety. Certainly she couldn’t go empty-handed! So she bought a container of ice cream, and off she went to begin what she worried might be an awkward visit.
She knocked on the woman’s door, and shortly the sister answered. My friend handed her the ice cream in a brown paper bag, and the conversation began. It didn’t take long for my friend to realize why the visit was needed. As they sat together on the front porch, the woman unveiled a host of challenges she was facing. After an hour of talking in the warm summer weather, my friend noticed the ice cream melting through the brown paper bag.
She exclaimed, “I am so sorry that your ice cream melted!”
The woman sweetly responded, “It’s OK! I’m lactose intolerant!”
In the case of the melted ice cream, what mattered most? The ice cream? Or that my friend simply did something?

When I was a college freshman, I found myself flustered and frustrated as I tried to get through my first semester. It was very difficult to fit everything into my busy schedule, which included a full load of classes, a very time-consuming Church calling, and the everyday adjustments of living on my own for the first time. As December arrived, I became overwhelmed with everything. With the pressure of finals and a lack of time and money, I didn’t feel the Christmas spirit at all.
I went home a week before Christmas, wondering what to do for gifts. I had been assigned to buy a present for my younger sister Rachel and didn’t know what to get her, until my friend showed me a very plain little stuffed bear her mother had made for her and the touching poem she’d written to go along with it.
On Christmas Eve, I found myself working frantically to finish a bear. My mom came to my room, sat down with me, and helped me get it done for Christmas morning.
As Rachel tore the paper from the package and peered inside, a huge smile spread across her face. There were tears in everyone’s eyes as the family realized what a special gift it was. In its seams, and in the poem attached, was the real meaning of Christmas. There was love in that simple bear.
—Lisa McKinstryRexburg, Idaho

Illustration by Toni Oka
Taking the step to leave her family and gather to Zion was a profound choice for 20-year-old Cyrena Dustin. Baptized in Portage, Ohio, in March 1837, she was the only member of her family to accept the message of the restored gospel. Joining the Church brought opposition from her family, but rather than abandon her faith, Cyrena held fast to her testimony.
In the summer of 1837, she traveled to Kirtland, Ohio, and visited the recently dedicated temple. She described that meaningful experience: “Truly I felt like thanking God that my mind had been enlightened and that I had been permitted to embrace the gospel and partake of its blessings.”
The next year she felt the desire to gather to Zion and join her fellow Latter-day Saints in Missouri. This decision not only separated her from her family but required her to, in her words, “start out alone in the world to fight the battle of life among strangers.”
Cyrena trusted in the promises of her patriarchal blessing, which brought her comfort and gave her the “necessary faith, courage, and fortitude to make the sacrifice of leaving home and friends.” She wrote of her determination: “I went forth trusting in the Lord in full faith that he would give me grace sufficient to overcome all obstacles and difficulties which might be thrown in my way, and that I might endure to the end.”
Her final farewell with her parents and siblings before leaving for Far West, Missouri, was filled with tears, pleas for her to stay, and even threats to have her forcibly returned home. Despite the sadness, Cyrena left holding firm to the conviction that she had heard the voice of the Lord.
“As I was leaving the house,” she recalled, “I turned back at the door and bore a faithful testimony to the truth of the gospel, and that was the last time I ever saw any of my father’s family.”
Quotations come from Cyrena Dustin Merrill, Autobiography, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.
A longer version of this article can be found in this issue at liahona.ChurchofJesusChrist.org or in the Gospel library app.

My friend and colleague Ty Mansfield described a similar truth. As a man who experiences same-sex attraction, Ty witnessed the spiritual growth that can take place as we anchor our lives in Jesus Christ and willingly surrender our entire hearts to Him, allowing Him to consecrate all difficult experiences for our gain. For Ty, that began as the Spirit taught him “that whether I ever married, I was infinitely loved and accepted by God. My responsibility was to continue to live one day at a time while seeking and following the guidance of the Spirit.”5 And eventually, trusting God led Ty to enter into a joyful, beautiful, eternal marriage to his wife.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” I smiled, as the boy I loved whispered in my ear. We were holding hands, waiting to enter the sealing room of the temple, where we would be sealed for time and all eternity. As we entered, I caught a glimpse of us in one of the golden-edged mirrors in the sealing room. We did look beautiful—both of us, dressed in white, smiling, glowing, filled with a joy we didn’t know existed. I felt my eyes become moist as I watched the room fill with friends and family. The Spirit of the Lord was strong.
As the door closed I reflected on a time when I did not feel so beautiful. Four years before I didn’t know much about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some of my friends were members, and I knew they didn’t smoke or drink alcohol, but I didn’t know much about their religion.
My first year at college was exciting. It was the first time I was away from home, and I was determined to do and try everything I had never done before. I ate junk food and stayed up all night chatting with my roommate, who was a member.
Then I began to date Todd. He began to take me to parties at his fraternity. At the time I did not have the gift of the Holy Ghost, but I could still sense darkness at those parties.
Soon Todd began to pressure me to do things I was uncomfortable with—things my parents had warned me against. After one such night of resisting his pleas, I lay in bed and wept for hours. I remembered a feeling I had when I was a child that was sweet and pure. I had felt close to God. Now, I felt far from Him.
I knelt and began to pray. I pleaded with the Lord to forgive my sins, and I told Him I would give anything to feel sweet and pure again. Afterward, I felt as though a burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I had a warm, peaceful feeling in my heart. I knew the Lord had heard my prayer. Everything would be all right.
The next day my roommate asked if I would care to come to church with her. I reflected on the previous night with Todd, and agreed to go. I needed some spiritual guidance.
The church was much different than the ones I had attended as a child. I was surprised there was no priest. It was fast and testimony meeting, and I was interested to see how deeply the members felt about their religion. I began to feel a desire to be that committed to the Lord.
I started talking to the missionaries. I liked what they told me, but each night I asked the Lord if the Church were true, and each night I received no answer. My parents were upset that I was investigating the Church. They gave me some anti-Church literature that confused me. I asked my member friends about what I had read, and every question I had about the Church was answered. Finally, I felt as if I would burst if I did not know. I knelt in my room and pleaded with the Lord to reveal to me if this was His true Church.
What happened then is hard to describe. It was as if the veil was parted, and I remembered what I knew from the premortal existence. Everything that was confusing before was now crystal clear. I saw the truth so strongly that I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true Church of Jesus Christ. I was filled with an indescribable peace. I knew the Lord had answered my prayer to find my childhood feeling of peace again.
I made the decision to be baptized. It was not an easy decision. My parents told me I would tear the family apart if I went through with it. Many of my friends, including Todd, would not speak to me when they heard I was joining the Church. I felt alone.
When I was baptized my parents did not come, but as I came from the waters of baptism I knew I was home. I had found the truth and I would never let it go. I felt closer to God than I had ever felt before.
I felt beautiful. It was the deep and glowing beauty that comes from righteousness. It was the same beauty that I saw in all the faces surrounding me in the temple. And as I knelt across the altar from my future husband and saw our reflections go on forever in the mirrors that surrounded us, I knew I would give up everything to be worthy to be in that room. I would give up everything to feel the peace and joy and beauty that filled my soul. It was beautiful, and nothing on earth could ever compare.

Two years ago we were asked to live in Hong Kong, known for its tall buildings. Our apartment building was dwarfed by much taller buildings around it. So, I was prepared to live in the shadows. Imagine my delight to wake up and see the rays of the morning sun shining through our windows. This simple experience filled my soul with immense joy and gratitude.
When I finally got my bearings, I was so confused. Our windows were not facing east. How did we ever get the morning sun? Upon further investigation, I learned that the sun’s rays were being reflected into our apartment by the tall building in front of us. I was reminded that when we strive to follow the Savior, He will use us to bless others. Through our example and service to others, they will feel the Savior’s love for them.

The Lord’s compensating blessings often come through the kindness and service of others who help us accomplish what we cannot do on our own. I remember a time when, living far from one of our daughters in France, we felt helpless to assist her after a difficult delivery. That same week our ward in Utah sought help for a mother who had just given birth to twins. My wife, Valérie, volunteered to bring a meal for her, with a prayer in her heart for both this new mother and our daughter in need. Soon after, we learned that the sisters in our daughter’s ward in France had organized to provide meals for her family. To us, God had answered our prayers, sending His angels to bring comfort when we couldn’t.

One fine morning I was strolling on a country road encompassed by every kind of greenery that filled my soul with well-being of the highest degree. I was full of expectancy of the best when I beheld, nearby a slaughter house, two apparently hungry dogs engaged in a bloody fight over what I later discovered to be a meatless piece of bone. I wondered why they had to quarrel over a worthless portion of animal skeleton. I was amazed especially when I saw the slaughter house which undoubtedly was the source of such a bone. It should not have offered any difficulty for one of them to look and find another piece of bone with abounding flesh from the slaughter house.
One consoling thought that struck me immediately while watching with fun these two unintelligent animals was that they were not human. Without any faculty of intellect, they could not exercise self-control nor feel any compunction or shame for my presence.
Thenceforth, I continued to walk leisurely, convinced that only dogs would act they way I had just witnessed. I was certainly saddened, in spite of my surroundings, when at a distance before me I saw two men locked in physical combat. I intervened, and they stopped at a point when one of them pulled a long knife. My presence was properly timed to prevent the certain death of the other who was apparently without any defensive weapon except his hands. I inquired what was wrong, and they began accusing each other. As a lawyer, I advised them that whoever won the fight is not a winner in the true sense because not only would he be deprived of peace of mind but that the authorities would see to it that he went to jail to pay for his crime.
The cause of it all, I finally found out, was that one owed the other the measly sum of $10.00 which he could not pay at the moment but promised to do so in an uncertain future. The latter, obviously drunk, became fed up with promises and so decided to settle it his way on the assumption it would solve his problem. Naturally, I remarked that it is the duty of the courts to collect debts otherwise impossible of recovery and that to take somebody’s life is too high a price for such an insignificant amount.
I left these two men shaking hands in renewed friendship, as I volunteered to pay the debt in behalf of the debtor.
The course taken by these two men was surely less forgivable than that of the dogs. Dogs are not expected to exercise self-control. But many of us act like dogs if we don’t.
Just what is this elusive word “self-control”? Webster defines it as “restraint exercised over one’s own impulses, emotions, or desires”. These three: impulses, emotions, and desires must be put in subjection by anyone human if he is to anticipate peace and harmony in his life, if he is to acquire the sterling embodiments of perfection and godship in the eternities.
Such is the law: both immutable and demanding but a law nevertheless. It may be obeyed or broken to the benefit or prejudice of anyone who does.
Latter-day Saints, above all other members of any community, have been regarded here and abroad, in the past and in the present, as a strange people because they have overcome a number of things which non-members engage in freely or with license. We do not touch anyone of those things embraced in the Word of Wisdom; we pay our tithes with the money that non-members otherwise spend in the passing pleasures of the day or night; we avoid any participation in anything worldly that violates the standards of things of beauty and of good report; or we depart from unwholesome companionship or association of anybody or anything that would give the appearance of evil.
To be sure, all these require extreme self-control, which when pursued faithfully ripen into self-mastery which President Spencer W. Kimball in his “Miracle of Forgiveness” says is a continuous program. It is always associated with obedience to law and order. Our Lord Jesus the Christ became the author of eternal salvation because he was made perfect through continued obedience by the things which he suffered throughout his earthly ministry.
In the Book of Doctrines of the Hindus, this one appears:
“That man alone is wise
Who keeps the mastery of himself! If one
Ponders on objects of the sense, there springs
Attraction; from attraction grows desire.
Desire flames to fierce passion, passion breeds
Recklessness; then the memory—all betrayed—
Lets noble purpose go, and saps the mind,
Till purpose, mind, and man are all undone.”
If recklessness saps the mind and the memory forgets the noble purpose of our creation, and when such a purpose, mind and man are all undone, what is left of him? Need we ask? Certainly, the dog in him, the animal in him! And when one day he quarrels with a dog over a worthless piece of human bone, we will not be surprised.
The Chinese philosopher Confucious once said that “Who contains himself goes seldom wrong”. This is logical because the simple implication is that this man is obedient to law and, therefore, commits no wrong. But the Greek philosopher Epectitus also declared that “No man is free who is not master of himself.” This again is plain because he who does not control his impulses, emotions and desires permits himself to be their slave by following them at every turn. A slave, as we know, is one without freedom but does the bidding of his master to satisfy the latter’s every whim which usually leads to destruction and death.
Self-control, whether we like it or not, is an all-embracing and paramount consideration in the life of every Christian. For the ultimate reward for obedience through self-control, and ultimately self-mastery, is kingship over cities, dominions and principalities. No one, absolutely no one, can qualify in the eternal realms to be a king exercising control over others unless he has completely mastered himself. That is why unless we now practice self-control, we cannot hope to be worthy of the reward so high and forbidding yet not a necessarily unreachable, impossible dream. Jesus Christ did it. He said we can do it. So, it can be done.
The great author John Milton once wrote in his “Paradise Regained”:
“Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king—
Which every wise and virtuous man attains;And who attains not, ill aspires to rule
Cities of man, headstrong multitudes,
Subject himself to anarchy within,
Or lawless passion in him, which he serves.
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By saving doctrine, and error lead
To know, and by knowing worship God aright,
Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part.”
President Spencer W. Kimball, echoing the sentiments of an unknown author, also said:
“The height of a man’s success is gauged by his self-mastery; the depth of his failure by his self-abandonment. There is no other limitation in either direction and this law is the expression of eternal justice. He who cannot establish a dominion over himself will have no dominion over others; he who masters himself shall be king.

“When I thought that the last thing I said to my little brother was, ‘Don’t be late to class today’ instead of ‘I love you’ … You never understand how important someone is to you until you think they are gone,” says Lacy Stockwell, 18. Lacy had spoken to her freshman brother, Taylor, in the cafeteria just seconds before the shooting erupted. As she ran from the cafeteria, she’d been unable to find him.
Of her reaction at finding her brother safe, Lacy says, “It was incredible when I saw him. We yelled each other’s names and ran down the hall to each other and hugged. I can’t express the emotions I felt.”

A story shared by our beloved associate, Elder Henry B. Eyring, illustrates this principle of commitment still further. This story is about his father, the great scientist Henry Eyring, who served on the Bonneville Stake high council. He was responsible for the welfare farm, which included a field of onions that needed to be weeded. At that time, he was nearly 80 and suffering from painful bone cancer. He assigned himself to do weeding even though the pain was so great that he pulled himself along on his stomach with his elbows. The pain was too great for him to kneel. Yet he smiled, laughed, and talked happily with the others who were there that day weeding that field of onions. I now quote what Elder Eyring said of this incident:

“After all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone [said to] him, ‘Henry, good heavens! You didn’t pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway.’

“Dad just roared. He thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on himself. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.

“… I [asked] him, ‘Dad how could you make a joke out of that?’ …

“He said something to me that I will never forget. … He said, ‘Hal, I wasn’t there for the weeds.’”

My friend and I were kicking a rock back and forth as we walked to school. I kicked the rock and it hit the side of my neighbor’s truck and made a small dent. I was scared that I would get in trouble, so I decided not to tell anyone. When I got home from school, I felt worse and worse until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I told my parents what had happened. My dad took me over to my neighbor’s house, and we told him about it. My dad asked if we could clean the truck as payment. We spent a long time cleaning the inside and outside of the truck, and when we took it back I felt much better. I was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped me to choose the right.

After graduation Franklin received an appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. He wondered if he accepted the appointment if he would ever serve a full-time mission. It was a difficult decision to make. Elder Richards said, “I think unknowingly I was following the advice of the Lord to Oliver Cowdery:
“‘Behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right’ [D&C 9:8].
“In effect, I was doing that, I thought about a mission and about my grandfather, and I wondered, Do I want to go to Annapolis and tie myself up or don’t I? So I studied it out, talked to several people, and reached the decision that I would prefer to go on a mission. I made it a matter of prayer, expressing my feelings to the Lord, and the Holy Ghost bore witness to me that my decision was right.”

Let’s start with the assignment to be a ministering sister. Whether you have that assignment as a 10-year-old daughter in a family where the father has died, or as a Relief Society president whose town was recently affected by fire, or when you are in a hospital recovering from surgery—you have a chance to fulfill your call from the Lord to be His ministering daughter.

A sister recovering in a hospital from surgery was prepared to minister to her fellow patients. She had spent a lifetime ministering for the Lord to every stranger as if he or she was a neighbor and a friend. When she felt in her heart the call to minister in the hospital, she served others so bravely and with such love that the other patients began to hope she wouldn’t recover too soon.

Poverty defined Heber’s growing years but not negatively. Having little money was a challenge that never deterred him. Wanting to learn to pitch a baseball but not having enough money for a ball, Heber earned the money by shining boots for his mother’s boarders. Later he longed to attend the Salt Lake Theatre; instead of feeling sorry that he had no money to buy tickets, he obtained a job as a water carrier for theater patrons and was thus allowed to watch the plays.6

A caravan is like a camper or RV.
One Easter holiday I went to Scotland with my mum, my two sisters, and my grandparents. We stayed in a caravan just a few metres away from a large field with trees and some friendly horses. Every day my sisters and I would go and feed the horses. It was fun. Mum didn’t mind because she could see us and knew we were safe.
One day, though, I went on my own to the play area, which was quite far from our caravan. Mum had told me to never go there on my own, but I went anyway.
When I finished playing, I started back towards the caravan, but I didn’t know which way to go. All the caravans looked the same. I walked all over the place but could not find my way; every way seemed to be a dead end with bushes. What I did not know was that my mum and granddad were looking all over for me and getting worried.
After a while I was very frightened, so I thought to myself, I should pray to my Heavenly Father. After I finished my prayer, I knew I had to go through the bushes. I pushed through them and could see the trees up ahead and knew that was where the field and horses were. I knew I was near the caravan and ran as fast as I could. I said another prayer thanking my Heavenly Father for showing me the way back.
When I got back, my mum and granddad were still looking for me. They were so pleased to see me. They hugged me, and I told them what happened. They were cross because I had gone away but very happy I had prayed when I was lost and afraid.

And while this angelic atmosphere graces every general conference, I feel the October 2019 general conference experience may best express how my own heart and soul were such desperate and blessed recipients of Latter-day Saint blessed kindness—of that soul-restoring light and love of Latter-day Saint kindness that truly establishes your community “as a light unto the nations.”

From left to right: Michael Law, Yael Charnes, Rabbi Joe Charnes, and Elder S. Gifford Nielsen of the Seventy attend general conference in October 2019.
Photo courtesy of Michael Law.

The story itself actually begins a week and a half before the October 2019 general conference session, when I, along with family and friends, had to bury the loveliness of my mother, Eudie (YOU-dee) Charnes. My heart was broken, grieving, and empty beyond empty. The beauty of Eudie, the beauty that was Eudie, was, simply and sadly, no more. She was no longer before me to hold, to hug, or to nourish—to bless, to sing to, to cry over, or to pray with. The life and the light that had given me life had died, her blessedness now gone and beyond. And so too a part of me died with her also, a part deep within, leaving me forever without. With grace she died, embraced by faith, interlaced in the loving arms of her beloved family: of my wife, Sarah; of our daughter, Yael; and of mine, her newly orphaned son.

We were all together yet completely alone—each alone in our individual loss but bound together in our shared loss. And that fragile togetherness that we shared with each other was helped, and at times was even held together, by the kindness and presence of two living Latter-day Saint community treasures: Brother Mike Law and his eternal celestial companion, Sister Debbie Law, of Colorado, USA. Their humble hearts overflow with a love that can only be described as being inspired from above, and we are forever grateful for the light of their accompanying presence during our walk through the darkness and the despair of death.

It was during this time, a mere two days after burying my mother, that my desperate cry for the blessed was answered—answered in the form of a simple phone call and offer from my treasured friend, Brother Mike Law. He was again reaching out and reaching in, as always, to see how I was faring and wayfaring along, in loss along this long and lonely journey of woe.

While we were speaking, I noticed a subtle tenor of uncertainty entering into Mike’s voice, as he asked me the following question: “Joe, I know the answer is probably going to be no, but would you like to go to general conference, if I can get tickets?” My response was simple, immediate, direct, and urgent: “Mike, there’s actually nowhere else that I’d rather be.”

Those were my words, friends; those were my words, words sung forth in solemn song and solemn sorrow. I just knew that general conference would be that consecrating moment of graceful uplift for my heart. I knew the generous arms of every Latter-day Saint–inspired heart would be unconditionally extended and extending in love—that the arms of their loving hearts simply would not fail.

In graceful embrace: Elder Matthew L. Carpenter of the Seventy (right) and Rabbi Joe Charnes (left) at the October 2019 general conference.
Photo courtesy of Michael Law.

At general conference, people simply smile from the heart. They say hello from the heart, and they glow from the heart. There is an unspoken language of presence of heart. Their presence says hello. Just being there says hello. Just being there is being embraced.

That was the balm my aching soul needed—that heart-embracing balm of general-conference kindness. That is why general conference would truly be that healing balm of Gilead for my soul in need.

And this is a general truism of your grand faith. Wise, loving, nurturing kindness is the service anthem of the Latter-day Saint community; it is the emblematic hallmark and legacy of your faith. If the old adage is true that “the highest form of wisdom is kindness,” then general conference is truly a gathering place for some of the wisest human beings on the planet.

You are “a light unto the nations,” and a light unto my heart. Bless you, Mike, for following the promptings of your heart. Your devotion to helping me restore peace within has the heavenly choir above singing, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23).