Gospel Story Finder

This summer four teenage nieces and I shared a tense Sunday evening when we set out walking from a downtown hotel in a city we were visiting to a nearby chapel where I was to speak. I had made that walk many times, but that evening we suddenly found ourselves engulfed by an enormous mob of drunken parade-goers. It was no place for four teenage girls, or their aunt, I might add. But with the streets closed to traffic, we had no choice but to keep walking. Over the din, I shouted to the girls, “Stay right with me.” As we maneuvered through the crush of humanity, the only thing on my mind was my nieces’ safety.
Thankfully, we finally made it to the chapel. But for one unnerving hour, I better understood how mothers who forgo their own safety to protect a child must feel. My siblings had entrusted me with their daughters, whom I love, and I would have done anything to lead them to safety. Likewise, our Father has entrusted us as women with His children, and He has asked us to love them and help lead them safely past the dangers of mortality back home.

I am embarrassed to think of the times I hesitated to spend extra time and effort with the seventeen teachers of the Provo Thirteenth Ward while I was their advisor. It is true. I had a growing family, a new job and home, and other responsibilities, but I needed to be reminded of my obligation to these young men. As I came to know and love them, their challenges and problems became my own. Gradually I found myself serving not out of a sense of responsibility but in a spirit of love and concern.

When I was a young man I wondered why the Lord needed to have the Prophet Joseph Smith translate the Book of Mormon to begin the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I knew that God the Father and Jesus Christ had spoken with him. I knew that Peter, James, and John had restored the Melchizedek Priesthood, that prophets had brought the keys, and that Joseph had been taught by apostles and prophets from earlier dispensations. With all of that, I wondered what the place of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon in all of that was.
Then I began missionary work. One of my early companions told me the story of his conversion. I remember his words, which were something like this: “The missionaries had taught me. I had read the Book of Mormon. The missionaries challenged me to set a date for baptism, but I could not decide. Finally, I knew I had to make a choice. So, I knelt down and prayed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. I told God that I was desperate, that I knew this was the most important decision I had ever made, and that I needed His help. The Spirit testified to me that the Book of Mormon was true, that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that the Church was true, and so I was baptized.”

One day my family went sledding with my grammy and papa. We walked to an open area that was covered with several feet of fresh snow. It was really hard to walk in! My sister had a hard time walking in the snow, so my papa said, “Just walk in my footsteps.”
My sister and I started stepping in his footsteps. After a while I wanted to try to walk on my own for a bit. When I walked by myself in the snow, it was way harder!
Walking in my papa’s footsteps was easier because he already did the hard part of walking in the snow. I have a testimony that Jesus Christ already did the hardest part. If you walk in Jesus’s footsteps, your life will be easier too.

In September 1938 I was 15 years old and lived in the little Swiss village of Gilly, between Geneva and Lausanne, in the Swiss canton of Vaud.
One day I returned home from school and found Mamma (Geneviève Emilie Pauline Gay) visiting with two young gentlemen, one from Canada and one from the United States. They were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were living in the nearby village of Nyon. My mother was helping them improve their French language skills. She told me that she was very happy to help, and I met them several times. Then one day Mamma told me that the young gentlemen had left Nyon. Over the years, Mamma and I wondered what had become of them.
I grew up, married, and moved to central France with my husband. In 1990 we were living in the small town of Beaumont in Puy de Dôme when by chance I came upon a magazine article in Le Point, a current affairs magazine. The article was called “Recenser l’humanité depuis Adam et Eve” (“To take a census of humanity since Adam and Eve”). It told about the work of genealogical research and baptism for the dead in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I read, I experienced a great shock that took me back more than half a century. For several days after reading the article, I felt unsettled, as if I must do something. I thought of my mother, who had always had much faith and goodwill toward other religions and had passed away in 1978. I also thought of my father, who had died in 1937.
Finally, I wrote a letter to Mr. Patrick Coppin, director of acquisitions for the Genealogical Society of Utah, who had been mentioned in the article. I asked if the names of my mother and father might be included in the genealogy of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and if they could receive the blessings of the Church. I included my parents’ birth, marriage, and death dates.
I also included something else: the names and addresses of Elder Brigham Y. Card of Cardston, Alberta, Canada, and Elder Jay Lees of Salt Lake City. They had written their names and addresses on the back of a photograph they had given my mother 52 years earlier.
Three weeks later, I received a letter from Elder Card telling me it would be his joy to act as proxy in the temple ordinances for my mother and father. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read his letter, but it took me several days to realize what this meant for my parents. On 28 June 1990, my parents were baptized, endowed, and sealed in the Jordan River Temple, with Elder Card and his wife, daughter, and son-in-law acting as proxies. My parents had received the blessings of the temple.

United in their resolve to be true to their call from the prophet, the company headed into the desert toward 50-Mile Spring. Since there was no road, the pioneers cut their own through what one man described as “the roughest country I ever saw a wagon go over.” Mostly rock and nearly void of foliage, the land was a combination of gulches and straight-walled chasms more than 100 meters deep.
At 50-Mile Spring, President Smith divided the company into three work groups: one to work at the crevice, one to build a road from the crevice to the river 1.2 kilometers away, and one to build a ferry. For the next six weeks, all three groups worked simultaneously. “I don’t think I ever [saw] … men go to work with more of a will to do something than that crowd did,” wrote Cornelius I. Decker of the group who worked to widen the narrow crevice. “We were all young men; … we did make dirt and rock fly.” Two blacksmith forges were established at “the Hole” so that blacksmiths could keep tools sharp as men cut solid rock. Several men were lowered by rope in half-barrels over the 14-meter cliff. While dangling in midair, they drilled holes in the cliff and filled them with blasting powder. Work continued in snow storms as well as in sunshine.
The second group constructed a road over virtually impassable land. The steep upper third of the road was a serious challenge; among the problems the workers had to solve was how to create a section of road along the face of a 15-meter rock wall. First they blasted a ledge along the wall, then extended the ledge outward. This was done by hammering staves into holes drilled parallel to the ledge. Logs, rocks, and gravel were piled into the resulting area to build up a shelf just wide enough to accommodate a wagon.
The third group built a ferry wide enough to carry two wagons at a time across the Colorado River. Part of this group also began work on a road eastward.
On 26 January 1880, everything was ready.
Elizabeth M. Decker wrote of the first wagons to go down through “the Hole”: “Coming down the hole in the rock to get to the river … is almost strait down, the cliffs on each side are five hundred ft. [about 155 meters] high and there is just room enough for a wagon to go down. It nearly scared me to death. The first wagon I saw go down they put the brake on and … [chained the rear wheels together so they slid as a unit instead of rolled] and had a big rope fastened to the wagon and about ten men holding back on it and they went down like they would smash everything. I’ll never forget that day.”
The wagon of Joseph Stanford Smith was the last of 26 wagons to pass through Hole-in-the-Rock that day. Brother Smith, known as Stanford, had helped others all day while his wife and three children sat on a pile of quilts in the snow and watched. Apparently not realizing that men would be coming to help them, Stanford and his wife, Belle, thought they were stranded. So they determined to bring their wagon down by themselves. Belle sat their three-year-old son on the quilts, placed the baby between his legs, and told them not to move until their father came back for them. Ada, the oldest, sat in front of her brothers and said a prayer.
Belle and one of the horses pulled on the ropes tied to the back of the wagon as Stanford braced his legs against the dashboard and gently urged the lead horses on. As soon as they started down, the anchor horse fell. Belle caught her foot in the rocks and broke free several times before she too fell and was dragged along with the horse down the steep slope. By the time the wagon stopped, a jagged rock had torn into Belle’s leg from heel to hip. Stanford ran to her to see if she was all right. With pioneer tenacity, Belle told him she had “crow-hopped” all the way down. Stanford helped her into the wagon, cleaned her cut, and then climbed back up for the children. As he passed his horse, which was dazed but alive, Stanford took off his hat and waved it in the air as a salute to his wife. They had made it!
After crossing the Colorado River by ferry, the company still faced more than 240 kilometers of rugged ground. Elizabeth M. Decker described this land in a letter to her parents. “It’s the roughest country you or anybody else ever seen; it’s nothing in the world but rocks and holes, hills, and hollows. The mountains are just one solid rock as smooth as an apple.” Because the land turned out to be rougher than anticipated, the journey took much longer than expected—six months instead of six weeks—making the so-called shortcut extremely arduous. Two babies were born along the way. Supplies had to be brought in to the company by mule train. On 6 April 1880, the exhausted company came upon a few acres of good farmland near a small river. They named the spot Bluff City.
Though travel worn, the pioneers had remained true to their resolve to follow the prophet and move forward, and they had endured the hardships in good spirits. As one member of the company recalled, “In a camp … moving … through extremely rough country, one would naturally look for some trouble and a few accidents, but this was not the case. All was hustle and harmony.”
The road created by this pioneer company served as the major highway in and out of the area for about one year. Westward traffic heading back up the steep corridor through Hole-in-the-Rock required each wagon to have a six-horse team.
By 1882 the road had fallen into disuse, but the pioneers had done what they had set out to do—establish a settlement in a remote area of the proposed state of Deseret. Though the area today remains somewhat isolated, it stands as a legacy of those faithful and tenacious pioneers who cut their way through solid rock in obedience to a prophet’s call.

I remember watching other kids reading with delight in class. Everyone in my family could read and did a lot of it. I once asked my brother, Rob, what was so great about reading. He smiled when he told me that when you read it’s like a whole new world opens.
I had heard the stories of Joseph Smith only being 14 when he received answers to his prayers. I wanted to experience this new world of reading. I was 13, living in Arizona with my dad. In early October, I prayed, sobbing into the sheets of my bed, begging the Lord to grant me the gift of reading. I promised that if he would grant me this great blessing, I would read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover.
Amazingly, in less than 18 days, I jumped six reading levels and was up to the same grade level as others my age. Once I had been told that was impossible. The miracle happened. I struggled but kept my promise and read the whole Book of Mormon. I have since moved on to the other scriptures.
Now that I am 15, I bear my testimony that the scriptures are so important that Heavenly Father allowed a girl with a learning disability to read. I know it is important to him that all of his children read his sacred books. The scriptures have changed my life forever.

I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that helped me to say no to my Navy friends when our first leave came while I was in training camp in early 1944. My naval colleagues invited me to share in their worldly activities; to prove that I was a “man” by getting a tattoo, and then going after drink and women.
I was the only Latter-day Saint in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I left them to go by myself to the servicemen’s recreation center and then to a movie. The following day I found Church services and Church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in world War II still living a virtuous life has held eternal rewards for me.

It was our first Christmas on the North Island of New Zealand—a beautiful and fascinating land. Yet despite the sunshine and the kindness of the Church members, I felt deep pangs of loneliness for my parents and siblings. We had moved from the United States earlier that year, and I felt homesick.
In our new area my husband and I became friends with the Wilsons, a young Irish family of another Christian faith who had also recently arrived in New Zealand. Noleen Wilson was my co-worker, and we soon became good friends, sharing experiences of immigrating and of our love for our new home. As our friendship grew, I became aware that their family was also struggling with loneliness as well as feelings of being overwhelmed. They had three young children and a fourth on the way.
One evening when I was feeling particularly lonely and sorry for myself, I had the impression that the best way to overcome my loneliness was to serve another—specifically the Wilsons. My husband and I decided that night to begin celebrating the 12 days of Christmas with the Wilsons by anonymously leaving messages and small gifts on their doorstep. Each night my loneliness was replaced with excitement and anticipation as we sneaked up to their home, left our message and gift, knocked on their door, and then ran away with big grins on our faces.
Each day at work Noleen would tell me about the mysterious “Christmas elves” who had visited the night before. She would relay stories of her children anticipating the arrival of their visitors, who were making the family’s Christmas a happy one. On several evenings the ward youth joined us in our fun.
On the final night, Christmas Eve, the Wilsons left a message and cookies on their doorstep, asking that they be able to meet their elves. When we arrived with the youth to sing carols as our final gift, the children were ecstatic and our friends embraced us with hugs and tears of gratitude. The loneliness in my heart was replaced with love and joy, and the bond of friendship between our families was strengthened.
Later we received an e-mail from a man in the Wilsons’ church who said he was so touched by what we had done for the family that he asked about our Church and the acts of service we provide for others. The congregation had never heard of the 12 days of Christmas and now associates this tradition with Latter-day Saints.
I will never forget that first Christmas in New Zealand, where I learned an unexpected way to forget myself, go to work, and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9)—just as Jesus Christ comforts us in our times of need and loneliness.

The article “CTR Rings in the Principal’s Office” (Mar. 2007), which tells of a girl who told her school principal about the Church when the principal asked about the girl’s CTR ring, inspired my five-year-old son and other Primary children in our branch to always wear their CTR rings.
My son and another child had their first missionary experience when their schoolteachers asked about the rings and the children were able to tell them about the Church.
Aleksey Dobrovolskyy, Ukraine

Bowling also teaches you to “follow through and keep going.” How has this helped you to overcome challenges? Before I release my bowling ball, I must keep my body in proper alignment, especially my arm, hand, and wrist. Even a slight turn of the wrist can send the ball off course. This is also true for my spiritual and personal growth.
When I experienced ongoing bullying from a peer, I was troubled for a time. I sought advice and comfort from my parents and seminary teacher and through studying the prophet’s counsel and the scriptures. The bully eventually moved away, and I was able to “course correct” by remembering my divine worth.

There was a time in my life when I strayed far from the principles I knew to be true. Because of this, I felt terribly unhappy. Although I believed that the Atonement worked for other people, in my mind I was too far gone for it to apply to me. I thought I wasn’t worth saving.
One Sunday morning I heard the bells of a nearby Christian church sounding the hymn “Did You Think to Pray?” (Hymns, no. 140). The music struck me, and for the first time in many months, I felt the Spirit. I cried as I realized Heavenly Father was using this hymn to let me feel His love and know that He would help me.
The repentance process was not easy, and many times I felt discouraged. But the feelings I felt that Sunday morning stayed with me, and after a time I returned to full activity and received my endowment in the Dallas Texas Temple.
Now when I hear that hymn, I am reminded of that tender moment when the One I thought had forgotten me showed His love in a way He knew I would receive it.
Jessica Blakely, New Mexico, USA

After two years of custodial work, another ward was added to our building, making a total of four. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday we had Relief Society, with the officers arriving as early as 8:30 A.M. The Relief Society room, foyer, kitchen, south steps, nursery, and rest rooms had to be ready. While Relief Society was in session, we cleaned the rest of the classrooms, the chapel and the cultural hall.

Then at 3:00 the Primary officers began to arrive. The relief society room, nurseries, kitchen and rest rooms had to be checked and cleaned if needed. When Primary was over we picked up, swept, straightened chairs, and cleaned backboards to get ready for activity night. This went for about a year; then two wards moved out of the building. It seemed like we were on vacation!

One of the greatest lessons in devotion came when George T. Benson received a mission call. “I was about 13 years of age when father received a call to go on a mission. He went, leaving mother at home with seven children. The eighth was born four months after he arrived in the field.

“Mother was a stalwart. Never did we hear a murmur from her lips. The letters we received from Father were indeed a blessing. They seemed to us children to come halfway around the world, but they were only from Cedar Rapids, Marshall Town, Iowa; Chicago, Springfield, Illinois; etc. There came into our home, as a result, a spirit of missionary work that has never left it.

“Father returned home and while we were sitting in the yard on one-legged milking stools, milking cows the ‘armstrong method,’ he would sing over and over again, ‘Ye Elders of Israel,’ ‘Israel, Israel, God Is Calling,’ ‘Come All Ye Sons of God,’ ‘Ye Who Are Called to Labor,’ until I learned every word of these great missionary songs. Today I don’t need a songbook when we sing these great songs that Father sang to us morning and evening.”

Twelve-year-old William Moroni Palmer leaned against his mother’s arm. “Read the story about David and Goliath,” he said.
“I read that one to you yesterday.”
“Then how about Daniel and the lions?”
“You already know that by heart.”
“I know. But David and Daniel were so brave. I wish I was as brave as they were.”
“They were more than brave,” his mother said. “They also had great faith in the Lord. They knew He would help them.” She put her arm around her son. “Besides, you are as brave as they were. Every day you face a world of darkness, and every day you face it with a smile.”
William reached for the Bible his mother held, and she put it into his hand. He gently caressed the cover. “Oh, I wish I could read it!”
His mother tousled his hair. “You can read it in your mind,” she said, her voice growing firm. “Daniel 6:23.” [Dan. 6:23]
William sat up tall. “‘Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in his God.’”
“Very good,” his mother said. “Because you have memorized it, you can read it any time you’d like.”
Just then his father stepped into the room. “It’s official,” he reported. “Elder Heber C. Kimball is coming to the conference your mother and I will be attending in Ogden.”
“He’s in the First Presidency now!” His mother jumped to her feet and ran to the front door. “Hyrum,” she called to William’s brother, “come here, please. I have something wonderful to tell you!”
For the next several hours, William’s parents, his married brother and sister, and even nine-year-old Hyrum excitedly talked about the upcoming conference.
William only listened. Ever since he had learned that President Kimball was coming, a great shivery feeling had filled his heart. Did he truly have enough courage—and enough faith—to ask what he so desperately wanted to ask?
After a while, his mother returned to his side. “What is it, Son?” she asked. “Aren’t you excited too?”
William nodded. “Yes, but …” He swallowed hard. “Mother, would you ask President Kimball to come to our place after the conference and bless me so that I can see?”
His mother pulled him into her arms. “Dear William, do you believe that you can be healed?” she asked.
William thought of Daniel climbing out of the lions’ den. He pictured David swinging his slingshot above his head. “I know I can, Mama, if he will come and if the Lord wills it.”
“Then I will bring him. He gave me a blessing to heal me when I was dying in Nauvoo, and he promised that he’d shake hands with me in the west, so I’m sure that he will come.”
When conference day arrived that day in 1858, William’s father gathered his family for prayer. He prayed that he and his wife would have a safe journey, that all would be well at home, and that William would receive his sight, if it was God’s will. Then the boys’ parents left for the conference.
While they were gone, William spent most of his time in his parents’ room, praying. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he pleaded, “let President Kimball come.”
Finally, just as the warm afternoon air was beginning to cool, William heard the clickety-jingle of the family surrey. He ran to the front door and listened harder. The Apostle’s voice!
“Is this the boy you told me of?” President Kimball asked as he stepped through the door.
“It is,” his mother said. “But would you like to eat with us first?”
“This must come first. He has waited long enough.”
William’s father placed a chair in the middle of the room for William to sit on. Then he and President Kimball gave William a blessing.
“Open your eyes, Brother William,” President Kimball said, “and you shall see.”
William’s eyes flew open. He sat stunned for a moment, then jumped from his chair and ran out the door. “Oh! I can see! I can see! Oh, Mama, I can see!” Then he fell to the ground and hugged it.
How grateful he was that God had not only restored his sight but had also taught him that if he had faith in Him, all things were possible.

"I did not really enjoy being a child, because they were difficult years for me. I was the oldest of six children and somehow resented this responsibility. I can never remember feeling carefree, because I was always trying to measure up to my parents’ expectations. Now when I’m in someone’s home, I often ask the oldest child, ‘How do you feel about being the oldest one in your family?’ I’ve had some interesting conversations.
“I liked school and really enjoyed learning, which has been a very stimulating thing for me. Knowing how to read has been one of the great satisfactions in my life. To be able to read was always exciting to me. When I was a very small boy, I started reading the newspaper. I was a conscientious student.”
Elder Poelman said that one of the things he remembers and cherishes is the scripture stories that his mother taught him during his childhood. “Often my mother would be working at the ironing board. I can remember sitting close-by while she ironed. She would tell me Bible and Book of Mormon stories, and that was a great legacy my mother left to me.
“My parents were always very active in the Church and were hard workers. During my childhood, we lived in rather strained financial circumstances. A good part of that time we lived in a four-room home. We had one bedroom and a sleeping porch and one very small bathroom. I now live alone in a condominium with three bathrooms and it makes me chuckle to think about it.
“Many people had a difficult time during the depression. Father was unemployed for about a year and a half, and I remember worrying a great deal. My mother often took me into her confidence, because I was the oldest child. And I knew from the time I was a small boy all about our family finances—how much the coal bill was and how many months behind we were in its payment.
“But now,” Elder Poelman continued, “I have a great deal of satisfaction enjoying the childhoods of my children and my grandchildren. I have seven grandchildren, one girl and six boys. Our oldest just turned seven. I really enjoy being a grandfather, and I think that I’m reliving my own childhood to some extent. It’s a great opportunity!
“My parents were both musical, though untrained. While we had no musical instruments at home except my father’s ukulele, the family enjoyed singing together. I was in my teens when my parents first acquired a record player. And I remember what a great experience that was and how much we all enjoyed it. When I was older, the family did acquire a piano, and some of the younger children took lessons. My wife was a music major, and that was one of the things I enjoyed about her when we were dating. I loved to sit and listen to her play the Bach Inventions.
“The name Poelman is a Dutch name,” Elder Poelman explained. “My paternal grandfather was born in Holland, and as a young man in his teens, he left Holland and went to South Africa. There he married my grandmother, a Scottish girl. She was working at the time as a governess for an English family living in South Africa. My grandparents had one child born in South Africa, then they went back to the British Isles. Another child was born in England, and then they moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where my father was born. It was to their home in Scotland that the missionaries came tracting, and my grandmother answered the door. They were on the third floor of a cold-water flat in the working-class section, and a man named A. Z. Richards was one of the missionaries. He stayed close to our family until he died, and I have always been very fond of him.
“Subsequently, I was called to serve as a missionary in Holland, as were all three of my younger brothers. My father also served a mission in Holland. That missionary experience was a valuable one for me, because I had an opportunity to meet some of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters, and I was able to learn the language.”
I asked Elder Poelman what message he wanted to share with the children of the world, and he replied, “Your Father in heaven knows who you are and loves you unconditionally. Even when you do things that are bad, He loves you. It makes Him sad, of course, but it doesn’t mean that He stops loving you. I would encourage you to pray to our Heavenly Father often, knowing that no matter what you’ve done or how you feel about yourself, Heavenly Father will listen to you.
“Sometimes we may think that the Lord loves us only if we keep His commandments and that if we disobey His commandments, He loves us less. That isn’t true! This is something Satan would like us to believe because then we feel estranged from our Father in heaven. Remember, He loves you all the time wherever you are and whatever you are doing.”

The Prophet Joseph Smith was a tall, strong man. He grew up on a farm and spent many hours clearing the land and planting crops with his father and brothers.
The Prophet loved spending time with young people. One of his favorite activities was wrestling. In those days, wrestling consisted mostly of trying to throw your opponent off balance.
One day Joseph noticed a crowd of enthusiastic young men and boys. When he got closer, he saw that they were wrestling. He decided to join them.
There was one especially large fellow who seemed to be the champion. He was proud of the fact that no one had thrown him, and he was eager to wrestle the Prophet.
The match had scarcely begun when the champion found himself being carried by his collar and the seat of his pants to a nearby ditch, where Joseph dropped him.
As the crowd yelled and cheered, Joseph helped the young man to his feet, patted him on his back, and said, “You must not mind this. When I am with the boys, I make all the fun I can for them.”
Although he was the first President of the Church and a very busy man, Joseph Smith knew that taking time to be friendly with others was important.

Mary Fielding, who later married Joseph’s brother Hyrum, visited the Prophet after a severe illness in the summer of 1837 had nearly taken his life. At that time antagonism against him had reached almost overwhelming proportions. She records:
“He feels himself to be but a poor creature and can do nothing but what God enables him to do. He seems very happy. He told us something of his feelings during his sickness. He said when he [was] too weak to pray himself the enemy strove against him. The struggle sometimes became so great that he had to call upon his wife or some friend to pray that the good spirit might conquer. He was blessed at times with such glorious visions as made him quite forget that his body was afflicted. On the Sunday night before mentioned when to all appearance he seemed to be so near his end, good Brother Carter … and some others met together in the House of the Lord where they fasted and prayed for him nearly all night. Brother Carter saw in a vision a grave open to receive him [the Prophet] … but saw the earth fall in of its own accord and fill up the grave with no person in. From this [time] he began rapidly to recover and in three or four days after was able to be out in the air. Those who love him of course rejoice abundantly. He says he shall yet stand in his place and accomplish the work God has given him to do however much many seek his removal.”30

A few years ago, an impressive experience helped me realize how important this mental image is to my spiritual development.
All my life I had heard about the rewards of daily scripture study, but had never successfully formed the habit. Then one day I found myself on a committee working with five people who had each firmly established the habit of scripture study in their lives. I noticed their command of the scriptures in solving problems and teaching others. I marvelled at the way they used the scriptures to avoid personal discouragement and to receive counsel. As I watched them I began to imagine how much better my life would be if I had the scripture habit. The next thing I knew, I was studying the scriptures daily.
Forming a good mental image of who we are and what our values are can help determine who we become and how we live. Our self-image helps us define ourselves—and leads us to act accordingly. Mental pictures and ideas precede our every action. They can help or hinder our righteous progression.
Satan, for example, uses the principle to lead people to bondage. If he can lead us to imagine ourselves as innately sinful, we become uncomfortable in church or near righteous people and we withdraw from the ways of the Lord. Having defined ourselves as sinful, without hope or desire for redemption, we seek ways that are comfortable to our perception and persist in sin until we are “bound down by the chains of hell.” (Alma 13:30.)
On the other hand, if we think of ourselves as children of God, we are more likely to act accordingly. As this mental image of ourselves grows and matures, we find ourselves striving for the qualities and traits that are our inheritance from God—gentleness, love, honesty, consideration, and cheerfulness. Liberty, rather than bondage, is the result.
Alma encouraged his people to develop and maintain a righteous self-image. “Have ye received his [Christ’s] image in your countenances?” he asked them. “… Do you look forward with an eye of faith, and view this mortal body raised in immortality, and this corruption raised in incorruption, to stand before God to be judged according to the deeds which have been done in the mortal body? …
“Can you imagine to yourselves that ye hear the voice of the Lord, saying unto you, in that day: Come unto me ye blessed, for behold, your works have been the works of righteousness upon the face of the earth?” (Alma 5:14–16; italics added.)
Alma knew that an important step to helping people try the ways of the Lord is to help them form the mental picture of themselves performing the works of the Lord.
As parents, it is our responsibility to plant these mental images while our children are young, so the images can help guide their behavior.
One of the most profound means of instilling a righteous image in our children is through the use of scripture and family stories. My own image of what I wanted to be began with stories of my great-grandfather, Robert D. Young. He lived to be ninety-five years old and died when I was fourteen years old. But I love the man as much as if he had walked with me and taught me every step I was to take.
I have few recollections of my own concerning him, but I was raised on stories about him. One of my favorites told of how as a young teenager he had hired on with a group of cowboys to run a herd of cattle from Colorado to Texas. During the first few days of the journey, the owner of the herd, a very wealthy man with no family of his own, rode with the group, but then left to attend to other business. As the cowboys made their way to Texas, the other men, all older than grandfather, spent their free time in pursuits that grandfather didn’t consider worthwhile. Instead of joining them, he would find a quiet spot and study mathematics and engineering.
The night before they arrived at their destination, the other cowboys decided they wanted to go into a nearby town and celebrate their safe arrival. They tried to get grandfather to go, but grandfather insisted that he had been hired to tend the cattle, and he would do just that. Later that night, the owner returned to find grandfather alone with his cattle. He was so impressed that he offered grandfather one-half of all he owned if he would become his business partner. Grandfather would have never again wanted for anything, but he refused. He said he just didn’t feel like that was what the Lord wanted him to do.
Many times during my youth I remember thinking, “I want to be just like my grandfather!” Other times I would ask myself, “Now what would grandfather do?” and then act accordingly.
Uplifting stories from family history can help children develop the image of their divine potential. We can further guide them to identify with good examples through phrases such as, “You’re a lot like that,” or “That sounds like something you’d do.” But we must avoid the temptation to preach, or we may lose the effectiveness of the stories.
I’ve come to realize that my grandfather, being human, must have had faults and shortcomings. But no one has ever told me what they were, so I’ve been free to think only of the good. That is one of the secrets of instilling a righteous image in our children. Dwelling on the negative, unless there is an important lesson to be learned, helps no one. But relating the positive creates a mental image that the child can cling to and identify with.
In this same way, our extended family members, or neighbors, teachers, leaders, and others can serve as good examples to the children. A great deal of good is accomplished by verbally identifying the virtues of these individuals and using opportunities for these people to share their faith-promoting stories and testimonies when our children are present.
One evening I watched my daughters’ reactions as a beautiful friend visiting in our home told the story of meeting her husband. Her eyes sparkled as she explained that if she had disobeyed her father as she had been tempted to on that occasion, she would not have been present to meet the man she later married. Like thirsty sponges my daughters drank in her words. The story made a great impression on them. If I had tried to explain the same principle, they might have labeled it “preachy.” But my friend’s enthusiasm, spirit, and love made the experience memorable and helpful.
On another occasion, I shared a hospital room with a delightful woman in her eighties who had broken her hip. Despite her intense pain, she was determined to walk again and was full of faith and optimism. A few weeks after the hospital stay, I took my daughters to meet this good woman and her husband. We had a wonderful visit. They told us many stories of faith and love for the gospel. Now, four years later, the girls still retain an impression of the faith, joy, and love that comes from growing old in the gospel.
While exposing our children to as many positive role models as possible, we realized that two of their strongest examples should be us—their parents. However, like most parents, I often find myself discouraged because my children so easily pick up my faults despite my efforts to preach against them. I know that the very best way to give my children the proper image is to be what I want them to be. One of the greatest helps to doing this is for each marriage partner to use every opportunity possible to build up the other in the eyes of the children.
A wise man once told me that early in his marriage he and his wife realized that bad habits and character traits make themselves prominent because of their unpleasant consequences, while good traits go largely unnoticed, especially by a child who has had little experience with the world. To help their children identify the proper images, this couple determined to point out each other’s virtues to their children at every opportunity.
This little piece of advice is worth gold! For example, as the children and I wait in the car while my husband goes into a gas station to pay for gas, I take the opportunity to say, “Just look at that special man. He’s a man who loves God and tries so hard to keep the commandments.” Other times I am more specific. “Do you know one of the things I love about your father?” I’ll ask as I serve lunch. “I like his tenderness. Did you notice the tears in his eyes yesterday when Sister Jones bore her testimony?”
Not only does this build an image, but in effect I am also saying to the children, “This is what I value; this is what is important to me. These are traits that will make me proud of you, too.”
Another way to define a righteous image for children is to help them understand their patriarchal blessings. These blessings speak of the inheritance that can be theirs, the lineage they are a part of, and some of their promised blessings. Usually there are also phrases which tell of righteous characteristics and traits they possess. As we stress these traits and use them as living descriptions of the child, they can actually become part of the child’s self-image.
Phrases such as “Your Father in Heaven is pleased with you” help the child define himself as being good and accepted.
We needn’t wait until the child gets a patriarchal blessing to stress virtues, however. Nor do we need to limit ourselves to the particular virtues mentioned in a blessing. Parley P. Pratt has said, “An intelligent being, in the image of God, possesses every organ, attribute, sense, sympathy, affection, of will, wisdom, love, power and gift, which is possessed by God Himself.
“But these are possessed by man, in his rudimental state, in a subordinate sense of the word. Or, in other words, these attributes are in embryo; and are to be gradually developed.” (Key to the Science of Theology, 4th edition, Liverpool, England: Albert Carrington, 1877, p. 101.)
Since our children already possess virtuous character traits, our job is to help the child recognize them, allow them to grow, and keep them from being overlooked.
About the time she entered school, our daughter Anissa, who is nick-named Niss, began greeting each day with a negative attitude that affected the entire family. So I started calling her “Happy Niss.” That may seem strange, but it wasn’t a lie because I knew that happiness was and is an innate quality of her spirit.
“Good morning, Happy Niss,” I’d call in my most cheerful voice; and she’d call back, “I’m not happy. I’m just Niss.”
But I persisted in calling her Happy Niss. Things began to ease, but she still had grumpy mornings. Then one night as I tucked her into bed I said, “Do you know what I love, Happy Niss?”
“What?” she asked.
“I love to see that beautiful, bright, big smile of yours first thing in the morning. My whole day goes better when your smile is the first thing I see.”
She didn’t say a word. The next morning I was preparing breakfast when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see straggly haired, sleepy-eyed Anissa with the strangest forced grin stretched across her face.
“What is the matt—” I started, then stopped, remembering my words of the night before. “Oh, that smile!” I cried, and threw my arms around her. “I just know it’s going to be a good day now!” And it was.
The real climax to that experience came in a recent home evening when each of us was asked to describe one trait that made us unique or special. Anissa’s immediate response was, “I’m always happy.” The idea had now become part of her self-image.
Giving our children a righteous image to follow is perhaps one of the most important things we can do for them. If they can imagine themselves as righteous people, their actions commonly follow accordingly.
Ultimately, the image we use to determine our actions must be the image of Christ. As Alma said, “Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?” (Alma 5:14.) Before we can lead our children to receive his image, we must adopt that image ourselves. To do this we must read and study the life and teachings of the Savior, sharing what we learn with our children. We must become so familiar with these things that they are not just words—but concepts, ideas, images in our minds of who and what we are.

“I want to tell all the members of the Church that I loved my mission very much,” said Cambodian member Eng Bun Huoch, who was baptized on October 25, 1998. He served a mission in Phnom Penh two years later. “Serving a mission is not easy, but it is worth it. I can’t describe how important and profitable it was to my life. My two-year mission instilled in me leadership skills and teaching skills and showed me how to be a better friend, son, and member.”
After returning home on July 17, 2002, Elder Huoch was able to find a job that improved his quality of life. His testimony had been strengthened, and he felt better prepared to deal with the challenges of life.
“I thank the Lord that He brought the gospel to Cambodia before I was too old to serve a mission,” he says. “I would be very sad if I missed the opportunity to do this marvelous work.”