Gospel Story Finder

May I take a few moments at this session of our conference to discuss what I believe is perhaps the most misunderstood meeting of all the meetings that convene in the Church. I refer to the bishop’s court. I would like to begin by relating a story.
The brief episode I am about to relate is true, and the facts are accurate because those who were present will never forget them.
The hour was very late; the room was quiet except for the audible sobs of a young man who had just received the verdict of a Church court. Justice had taken its true course. There was apparently no alternative. The unanimous decision, following serious deliberation, fasting, and prayer, was excommunication.
After several minutes, a weary face looked up, and the young man’s voice broke the silence as he said, “I have just lost the most precious thing in my life, and nothing will stand in my way until I have regained it.”
The process leading up to the court was not an easy one. Certainly, courage is a most important factor for every person who has seriously slipped but wants to get back on the Lord’s side.
After the meeting was finished, the communications that followed the young man’s dramatic statement of hope for the future were so reassuring. From some there were firm promises of help during the ensuing months of continuing repentance; from others a pat on the back and a handshake, with an eye-to-eye assurance that conveyed a feeling of confidence and the hand of fellowship. There was complete knowledge among all present at that meeting that all could be regained in the life of this young man if it were done in the Lord’s way.
This young man had just taken his first giant step back. As an excommunicated member of the Church and with his heart determined to make things right, he was far better off than just a few days before with his membership record intact but carrying deceit in his heart that seemed to shout the word hypocrite with every move he made toward doing something in the Church.
This episode took place a few years ago. The young man’s pledge has been fulfilled, and in my opinion, no member of the Church stands on ground more firm than the man who has had the courage to unburden himself to his priesthood authority and to set things in order with his Master. What a relief to have once again the peace of mind that “passeth all understanding.”

In June 2022, the cancer had returned for the third time in 4 places! I‘ve never been an anxious person but waiting for the result was horrible. My husband and I hugged and cried yet again. We said a prayer to ask Heavenly Father to help us get through it. Another talk from President Nelson came to mind. It was Let God Prevail.2
This time the monthly chemotherapy has affected me psychologically. I‘m a strong-willed person and I‘ve never said, “Why me?”. Instead, I ask the Lord what I need to learn. My prayers have never been as heartfelt. Yes, sometimes I cry out during the night when I‘m so fatigued with my chemo. We have a picture of Christ on our bedroom wall, and when I‘m awake during the night I ask for His help. I have the words ‘Let God Prevail‘ in my mind every day. Whenever my husband is stressed about his business, he knows I‘m going to smile and he says, “Let God Prevail.”
Although we‘re going through these trials, and I still have down days where I cry and feel hopeless, most days I Let God Prevail and feel at peace. I‘m still serving as our Ward Relief Society President, and blessed to be able to help the members with their trials in their lives.

At length the final September arrived. The boy had become a man, almost twenty-two now. With both fear and joy Joseph climbed the familiar hill where the plates were buried—fear that he might fail the Lord, joy in the miracle that had come to him.
Joseph was not aware of the gold cover of leaves on the ground as he descended the hill. He thought only of the golden plates he carried in his arms and the heavenly messenger’s final warning as he delivered them up to him. It rang in his ears. He, Joseph, was now responsible for the plates and must guard them with his life if need be, for the angel Moroni had told him that wicked men would use every evil scheme possible to steal them.
The last part of Moroni’s instruction comforted Joseph—that if he were faithful to his trust the plates would be safe. But fearful that someone might have seen him, Joseph searched the woods for a temporary hiding place. He found it in a fallen birch log. Joseph cut out part of its decayed interior and hid the plates inside, covering the opening with bark and leaves.
Supposing that the plates were safe for the time being, the next day Joseph went to work in a neighboring town. But that very day Father Smith overheard some men plotting to steal the plates. Alarmed, he hurried home to tell Lucy and Emma.
Concealing her own fear, Emma was reassuring: “If Joseph is to keep the record, he will and no one can stop him.”
“Yes,” Father Smith answered solemnly, “he will, if he is watchful and obedient; but remember that for a small thing, Esau lost his birthright and his blessing. It may be so with Joseph.”
Emma went for her shawl and bonnet, her dark eyes flashing. “There’s no time to be lost. I’ll ride immediately and warn Joseph!”
By afternoon Joseph had retraced his way through the woods to the fallen log. Shadowy light filtered through the branches overhead and a lone birdcall accentuated the stillness as he took the plates from their hiding place. Carefully he wrapped them in his linen frock.
For a time he traveled the open road, but then thinking there might be danger, he returned to the woods. His pounding heart seemed to thunder from tree to tree.
And, indeed, as he hurried through the woods with his precious burden, his fears were realized. Three times Joseph was attacked on his way home. But each time, clutching the record tightly to him, he gathered all his strength and with powerful muscles threw off his enemies. He wasn’t even aware he had broken his thumb in the struggles until he sank down, panting and utterly exhausted, in his own front yard. But the plates were safe.
Joseph had been called to translate the plates, to establish the gospel of Jesus Christ once again on the earth. He was to be a prophet. And Joseph knew, with a mighty surge of exultation, that no obstacle, no temptation, no persecution could keep him from his appointed destiny.

When I was growing up, my father kept a cow to provide milk for the family. When my father decided I was old enough, it became my job to milk the cow. Every morning and night I would go out carrying two buckets—an empty one for the milk and one with some grain. The grain was supposed to keep the cow busy while I milked her, but I could never milk as fast as the cow could eat the grain.
I remember one cow in particular who didn’t like me at all. She always seemed to know when the milk bucket was almost full, and at that moment she would kick the bucket over and run off. She destroyed all of my hard work in a flash. With my hands aching and my eyes burning with tears of frustration, I would return to the house with an empty bucket.
One day, Dad came to my rescue. He put a rope around the cow’s leg and tied it tight to a post so she couldn’t kick or run away. At first she fought against the rope, but after a while I didn’t even need to tie her leg to the post. I could just throw the rope on the ground by her back feet, and she would stand quietly until I picked up the rope and let her go.
I learned a great lesson from this. If we keep the commandments when we are young, we will train ourselves to stay close to our Heavenly Father, just as the rope trained our cow to stay close to the post. Then when we have temptations or difficult times in our lives, we will automatically respond by choosing the right. Instead of feeling restricted, we will be thankful that God gave us commandments to keep us in the right place.

“That’s about it for announcements and assignments. Oh, but I would like to see Greg and Tom Glenn after class, if you boys wouldn’t mind.”
“Uh oh,” I thought to myself as I poked my brother in the side and let out a nervous laugh. Trouble was waiting for us, for sure. I suddenly became very pious, bowing my head, folding my arms, and hoping that the closing prayer would go on forever.
We knew all too well what Brother Reed wanted to see us about. Tom and I hadn’t been on time to priesthood meeting for weeks. Sometimes we didn’t come at all, and sometimes we sneaked silently through the door and slipped into the back row at the very last minute, just in time to get our sacrament passing assignments and leave.
Now, it wasn’t that we were sleeping in or fooling around at home. On the contrary. We were wide awake every morning at 4:30 to do the chores on the dairy farm where we lived. Dad had recently had a heart attack, so it was up to Tom and me to milk the cows and clean the place, and do all the other dairy work. We had the cows on a fixed schedule which easily got us to school during the week for 8:30 classes; but on Sundays, finishing everything, then showering and dressing for priesthood at 7:30 was rough. It was an awful lot of work, and we thought we were doing pretty well to make it to priesthood at all.
Evidently, though, our priests quorum adviser didn’t think so. After everyone else filed out of the room, Brother Reed pulled a chair up close, so he was only about a foot or two away from us. Although he didn’t touch us, we could sure feel him, sitting so near.
“Boys,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone, “there’s really something missing from the quorum when you’re absent. What am I doing wrong? Are my lessons bad, or is it something I do personally?”
Talk about throwing us a curve! We thought we were going to be chewed up and spit out in little pieces, but here was Brother Reed, thinking he was the reason we were late. We both started explaining simultaneously that it wasn’t his fault at all, but that we just had to take care of all the chores at the dairy.
“Well, would it be of any use to you if I came over early on Sunday and helped with the work a little? It would be a privilege for me, and it might help you get to priesthood on time. What do you say? What time does the work start?” he asked, wearing the most sincere look I’d ever seen on a man’s face.
Tom and I had the same thought at the same time. We couldn’t let him do that. First of all, 4:30 was far too early to drag anyone out of his bed and away from his family on a Sunday morning. Second, we didn’t want him to have to suffer the subfreezing weather. And third, there wasn’t that much he could do anyway. We were not about to give him any of the grubby work.
So when he asked us when we started, we pushed the clock back an hour and told him 3:30 A.M., thinking no one in his right mind would get up that early, no matter how helpful he felt. We thanked him for his generous offer, shook his hand, and assured him that we would try to make more of an effort to be at our meetings on time in the future.
We didn’t think about it much for the rest of the week, until Sunday when I groggily crawled out of bed at about 4:15 in the painfully cold morning. I looked out the window and was shocked to see Brother Reed’s ancient wreck of a Rambler silently parked in the driveway. I threw my clothes on, raced outside, and tapped on his car window.
“Good morning,” he said cheerily as he rolled down the window. His words formed small icy clouds in the air between us. He reached out to shake my hand, and I noticed his grasp was one of the coldest I’d ever felt. I could have kicked myself. It was obvious he’d been waiting in the driveway for some time—probably since 3:30. And his financial state was such that he didn’t have enough money to run the car’s motor—and heater—while he waited.
“Come on inside while Tom gets dressed,” I said as I led him to the house. Then I raced upstairs to hurry Tom into some kind of working condition.
In a few minutes, the three of us were trudging through the snow to the barn. The one thing we hadn’t exaggerated about was the amount of work there was to do, and Brother Reed pitched in the best he could.
At one point in the milking process, though, Brother Reed paused for a second and rather timidly asked, “Do you suppose I could have just a little sip of that milk? I’ve almost forgotten what fresh milk tastes like, we’ve been using the powdered kind for so long.”
Our hearts went out to our quorum adviser. It seemed he sacrificed for everyone. Not only did we give him a drink, but we packaged several gallons for him to take home to his family. It was the least we could do for him.
Well, maybe not the least. The hour for class to begin was drawing nearer and nearer, and the work still wasn’t finished. Finally Brother Reed told us he would have to go home and get ready for church. “Now I understand why it’s so hard for you boys to get to class on time,” he told us as he stood up and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “I’ll try to be a little more understanding in the future.”
You should have seen the look on his face when he arrived at church to find Tom and me already seated there, clean, with scriptures in hand. We had decided that if he cared enough to go that excruciatingly cold extra mile to help us, we could work a little faster and help him. I can’t honestly say that we were both on time for every meeting from then on, but we did always see that at least one of us was there every Sunday.
And we found that Brother Reed’s lessons were actually quite good. But none of them ever matched the lesson he taught us about service and love before priesthood meeting on that cold winter morning.

I’m told that no one can create something out of nothing. How powerfully I realized that truth the day I had a visit from a member of our stake presidency. His telephone call that told me to expect him made me wonder what was the purpose of his visit. But all my questions failed to prepare me for the challenge he brought. He came to ask me to write a stage production for our region. He emphasized that they wanted quality—the kind of quality that would make the production suitable for a major attractions center in our city—to which the nonmember public could be invited. And then he left.
But he left behind him a great burden. Because the expectations of my priesthood leaders were so high and my play writing experience so little, I felt very anxious. The fearful thought occurred to me that the discomfort that had settled in my stomach and my legs might not go away until after the presentation of the play.
How could I possibly live up to the expectations of my stake presidency? I had never done the kind of thing they wanted. I felt almost oppressed by a terrible cloud of doubt and helplessness. I had not even one idea. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any experience in writing, I had. But I had always had a concept to share; some ideas to work with. But now I had nothing. When I went to bed that night, my mind was still blank. I couldn’t think of any ideas that could be developed and built into a stage production.
But when I awoke in the morning I knew what I wanted to say. From the recesses of my mind came the ideas, the building blocks with which I could construct the play.
Where did the ideas come from? They came from a deep and precious source—the scriptures.
Just prior to the beginning of the Church’s program of scripture study, I had completed independently what to me was an intense, thorough, and highly rewarding study of all the standard works of the Church—a search that left my working Bible very well worn. As a result, the scriptures had provided the basic form with which to help me fulfill my assignment to build a spiritually successful stage production. But even more important, I could not help but see a comparison and realize how much more vital the scriptures are as building blocks with which to construct our testimonies, our character, and our eternal lives.
One week after receiving the assignment I was able to present to the stake leaders a rough draft of the first half of our production, a production that in final form exceeded our hopes and had a beneficial impact on many nonmember visitors.
This whole experience added more conviction to an already growing testimony of the value of the scriptures.

Though a moratorium on the registration of new churches in Rwanda stood in the way of launching formal missionary work or obtaining a meetinghouse, the Saints longed to see a branch created. As they continued to meet, the Lord gathered other Rwandan Saints to Kigali from different parts of the earth.
Yvonne Martin, who joined the Church in Scotland, arrived in November 2007 and began sharing the gospel with her friends. Jean Marie and Agathe Rumanyika, who had met missionaries in Missouri before business interests brought them back to Kigali, came in time to offer their home and, later, their hotel to host meetings as the group outgrew the Samuel home. Ruth Opar, a returned missionary, and former Relief Society president who had joined the Church in Kenya, came back to see if Kigali would be a good place to settle her family. The Kigali Branch was organized on March 16, 2008. Later that month Joshua Opar—Ruth’s husband and a former bishop—moved into the branch with their children.

One year my family and I went trick-or-treating* on Halloween with our cousins. We knocked on one door and the man said he was out of candy, but that he would give each of us a dollar instead. As we walked to the next house, I looked at my dollar and realized that it was actually a $100 bill. I told my dad, and we looked in everyone’s bags. They all had $100 bills. The man had given us a total of $800. We decided to go back and tell him. He was thankful that we had returned his money because that was his house payment. I felt happy because if we had not given him back his money, he could have lost his home. I’m glad that Jesus teaches us to be honest.

That feeling has brought back to my memory the first day I walked into the Salt Lake Temple. I was a young man. My parents were my only companions that day. Inside, they paused for a moment to be greeted by a temple worker. I walked on ahead of them, alone for a moment.
I was greeted by a little white-haired lady in a beautiful white temple dress. She looked up at me and smiled and then said very softly, “Welcome to the temple, Brother Eyring.” I thought for a moment she was an angel because she knew my name. I had not realized that a small card with my name on it had been placed on the lapel of my suit coat.
I stepped past her and stopped. I looked up at a high white ceiling that made the room so light it seemed almost as if it were open to the sky. And in that moment, the thought came into my mind in these clear words: “I have been in this lighted place before.” But then immediately there came into my mind, not in my own voice, these words: “No, you have never been here before. You are remembering a moment before you were born. You were in a sacred place like this.”

My dear brothers and sisters, I still remember the seminar for Regional Representatives that I attended in 1972. At the end of that seminar President Marion G. Romney, on his way out of the auditorium, walked through the aisle where I was standing with two big binders under one arm and a stack of printed materials under the other arm. President Romney stopped and said, “Now, Brother de Jager, how are you going to teach all these inspired materials?”
I paused, thinking of an answer that would satisfy a member of the First Presidency of the Church. I replied, “President Romney, I shall teach in such a way that everyone will understand.”
President Romney, a twinkle in his eye, said, “That’s not enough; you shall teach in such a way that no one will misunderstand these divine materials.” Then he walked on.
Now, many years later, I begin to see more and more the wisdom of his counsel. People do easily misunderstand, like the sweet old sister I met in the ZCMI shopping mall the other day.
“Aren’t you that Dutchman who spoke in general conference a while ago?” I said, “Yes, ma’am.” Then she continued, “Oh, I loved your Holland story about the boy with his finger in the dike.” I remarked, “Well, sister, that was not exactly the subject of my talk; I was talking about saving souls.” But she went on to say, “You know, I heard that story for the first time when I was still in school, and I am so pleased you told it again.”
Brothers and sisters, I have learned not to argue, especially with sisters. So I left this sister with a smile and went on my way, a sadder but wiser man. I had apparently failed to teach so that no one misunderstood.
Therefore, my challenge today is to do better. I would like to dedicate a few words of appreciation to the modern-day pioneers who are laboring in the smallest of branches in newly opened missions of the Church.
Especially in places where the membership is still too small to make the many programs of the Church work as the Lord intended, for the edifying of the Saints and for the establishing of Zion.
I also would like to pay tribute to the couples who labor in faraway places as representatives of the International Mission. Some of them are in their seventies and are now serving their third mission!
I am also full of praise for the dedication and endurance I have witnessed in Asia, shown by the deacon in Tien Mu, Taiwan, the newly ordained elder in Bacolod in the Philippines, the Relief Society sister in Solo, Indonesia, the Primary president in Khorat, Thailand; and let there be no misunderstanding: I honor all those who labor in similar places and callings all over the world. May the richest blessings of our Heavenly Father always be with these modern-day pioneers.
What a tremendous work still lies ahead of us, for I have observed that in the merry-go-round world of daily living there is a growing need for the peace and tranquillity of the gospel of Jesus Christ. This church, which bears his name and which was restored to the earth by the Prophet Joseph Smith, can provide people of every nation and tongue with that peace.
I testify that the priesthood of God has been restored to the earth and that a daily growing number of priesthood holders are willing to serve as coservants of the Lord. With this Priesthood we serve best when we serve those who need us most!
There is a deliberate purpose for every soul to be here on the earth, and our Father in Heaven has sent his word to reveal that expressed purpose and to guide all mankind in joyously fulfilling that conscious design. But, alas, there are many who reject the instructions, the revelations, and the guidance and prefer to stumble on in the darkness of their own reasonings.
And there are also many who have the feeling that the whole world is against them. Sometimes this is indeed true; and they had better find out why, because they will then discover their own shortcomings and what ways there are to improve themselves. The Lord does not ask whether a person comes to his church from prison or from a successful and respectable background. He accepts a soul, not his history! And then a door opens and that person starts to progress, learning line upon line, precept upon precept, through example and through the scriptures like the beautiful parables of Jesus Christ.
Let us read them often, these traditional classroom illustrations, of which the British poet Thomas T. Lynch said:
He spoke of grass and wind and rain,
Of fig trees and fair weather;
And made it his delight, to bring
Heaven and earth together.
He spoke of lilies, corn and vines,
The sparrow and the raven;
And words so natural, yet so wise,
Were on men’s hearts engraven.
He spoke of yeast and bread, of flax and cloth,
Of eggs and fish and candles—
See, how the whole familiar world
He most divinely handles.
The social background of the life of Jesus Christ is wonderfully reflected in the parables. They take us back to the first century a.d. In my vivid imagination, when reading the parables I enter that home and watch the housewife making the bread or patching the old garment or looking for the lost coin. I see the bustle of the marketplace and watch the travelers on the road. I work the fields with the sower, I climb the hills with the shepherd, or stand by the lakeside and help the fishermen to pull the net ashore.
I become acquainted with the local merchant, his large house, his vineyard, and his barns. I learn how he deals with his steward and his laborers, and I am fascinated by it. Nothing of the life in the busy province of Galilee seems to escape the Master. His greatest interest was always in the common people.
Brothers and sisters, I want you to know that I have a desire to be the Lord’s humble servant in this dispensation. He lives. The same Jesus is the head of this church.
I am a convert to this church. I received the light through the missionaries, and I know there are two important forces that can carry light to all corners of the world—the sun in the heavens and the mission organization of this church. I see this miracle happen every day while traveling in the missions of the area to which I have been assigned. What is required is organized teamwork. Let us remember this when we, as a team, build branches and districts, wards and stakes, priesthood quorums, and auxiliary organizations in our Father’s kingdom here on earth, and always keep in mind the words often quoted by President Harold B. Lee: “There is no limit to the good that you can do, if you don’t care who gets the credit” (see Antoine R. Ivins, in Conference Report, Apr. 1946, p. 42). The need of the hour is true discipleship in the Lord’s restored church.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is on the move worldwide, and the missionary program is the inspired blueprint for progress.
Therefore, let us go forward with great determination, in a spirit of love and unity. That is our best source of motivation—to do the work with all our might, mind, and strength, and make people really happy.
In the book of Proverbs in the Old Testament we read: “Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he” (Prov. 29:18).
I know with all my heart that this is true. I testify that the purpose of the restored gospel is to create happy families in this life and in the life to come.
That we all may come to a perfect understanding of this divine purpose is my humble prayer in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

On the day of my baptism, I felt clean, pure, and truly perfect. I loved the feeling so much that I made a goal to stay perfect forever. I will never sin again, I told myself.
Fast-forward one day.
I wanted to play with my big sister’s new Barbie doll, but she wouldn’t let me, no matter how hard I tried to convince her. So, in a rage that made me forget my goal to remain sin-free, I grabbed a pair of scissors while she wasn’t looking and cut off all her doll’s hair.
Admittedly, I was somehow under the impression that the doll’s hair would grow back. But as I sat looking at all the synthetic hairs piled in my lap, I felt the sting of having ruined my newly perfected life.
When my sister found out, she was furious. My parents explained to me that the doll’s hair would not grow back. Guilt and regret overwhelmed me as I watched my sister cry at the sight of her forever-bald doll.
With a little time and a lot of apologizing on my part, my sister forgave me. But I still never forgot how disappointed I felt for having given up my perfect life all too quickly.
As painful as it was as an eight-year-old to realize I made a mistake the day after my baptism, Heavenly Father provided a way for me to repent. Through the Savior’s perfect example and sacrifice, we can overcome our sins and make good choices that bring us blessings.

Thanks to the love and patient teaching of my bishop, high school became a positive period in my life. Attending the Church high school changed my vision of who I was and what my life could be. When I graduated, I stayed in Mexico City. The first thing I did once I found a place to live was find the local ward so I could continue to have a place of refuge, a place where I could grow in the gospel.
A short time after that, I served a mission on Temple Square in Salt Lake City. I found great joy in sharing with others the truths that had given me a solid foundation in an otherwise turbulent time of life.

After learning of the deaths of the Prophet Joseph and the Patriarch Hyrum, Wilford Woodruff reports his meeting with Brigham Young, who was then the President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, as follows: “I met Brigham Young in the streets of Boston, he having just returned, opposite to Sister Voce’s house. We reached out our hands, but neither of us was able to speak a word. … After we had done weeping we began to converse. … In the course of the conversation, he [Brigham Young] smote his hand upon his thigh and said, ‘Thank God, the keys of the kingdom are here.’”

“When I made the decision to go on a mission, a lot of people thought I was crazy,” relates Trevor. “I’d played two seasons of football at BYU. I’d made varsity as a freshman—the only freshman on the varsity offense that year. I’d received two championship rings. I’d been to two Holiday Bowls. And I was going to leave it all to go on a mission?
“But they didn’t understand my motivation. Going through my mind was the fact that football is good and football is important, but someday football is going to end. Where would I be on that day if I based my entire life on football? I thought of what doesn’t end, and that’s my relationship with God, with my family, and with our church.
“So I left football, knowing that I might not ever play again. But even if I didn’t there would be no regrets, because the most important thing would be taken care of.”

I joined the Church at age 16 and at 17, against all odds, left England for America to escape a life of poverty. I was completely alone and frightened, but I was determined. I had one plan: to become rich and famous. A few years before, I had seen a documentary about orphanages in Romania that deeply impacted my young, fierce heart. I was no stranger to childhood trauma, so I set a goal to get enough money to fund an orphanage and truly make a difference in the world.
I couldn’t have known then how different my life would turn out. I got married at age 25, and my husband soon joined the Church. By then I had managed to become quite successful, but I was still looking for true “success” (or at least what I thought was success at the time: fame and fortune). I longed to make a big difference. Strangely enough, I didn’t want to get pregnant, but I had a strong feeling that we shouldn’t do anything to prevent pregnancy. It turned out that my feeling was right because after about a year, nothing had happened.
Growing up, I always loved children, even though my plans didn’t include having more than one or two of my own in the far distant future. I didn’t think I’d be too disappointed if I couldn’t have children at all, but when suddenly faced with that very real possibility, I was devastated.
Over the next two years, I became angry, resentful, and desperate. Ironically, “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” came out around the time I got married, and that message increasingly affected me in a negative way because I felt like I couldn’t fulfill my duty to have children. When my husband and I visited doctors, they couldn’t find any reason for the infertility. It seemed so unfair. I wondered why God had done this to me. Little did I know, my heart was changing. I had always been hyper-focused on success, but now, for the first time in my life, my heart wanted a baby more than anything else.
As time marched on, I felt more and more forgotten, desperate, alone … abandoned by God. I pasted on a cheerful smile, but no one understood what my husband and I were really going through. One day, I spoke to my husband’s grandmother, who was very wise and spiritual. As I shared my feelings with her, she said, “You know, there are many other ways to be a mother.” I felt her words penetrate my heart to its core. I was humbled. I knew this was an answer from Heavenly Father. I had only been fixated on having a baby through my own body. A glimmer of hope emerged as we considered other options. We became foster parents.
Soon our first foster baby, Benjamin, came to us. My bond with him was overwhelming, but I felt faint promptings that he wouldn’t be with us forever. I was heartbroken at the thought of him leaving us. And I was desperate for a baby I could keep. The Church’s Family Services was helping couples with adoptions at the time, so I went to my bishop to get information. The next week I got a call from a social worker who was looking to place a baby in a foster/adoption home. This was music to my ears. Despite the possibility of the baby having developmental issues, we felt the Lord’s hand directing us and we had faith to go forward. I’m not going to lie—I was scared. But it felt right, and baby Daniel was delivered to our home that very night.
Within days he became gravely ill, was hospitalized, and given a 50 percent chance to live. I sat by his crib for 11 days alternately praying and crying over him. I never once left the hospital. When Daniel’s birth parents came to see him (the adoption wasn’t final yet), there I was, looking like a complete disaster! But they seemed disconnected and showed no emotion whatsoever when they saw him.
This was a huge “aha” moment for me. I realized then that I really was Daniel’s mother! It didn’t matter that I hadn’t given birth to him—he was meant to be mine. I learned a lot about motherhood in those 11 days. I would have done anything for him.
Daniel’s life was spared. Benjamin returned to his biological family. But the Lord stayed by our side. Since then, we have adopted six more children and have miraculously had two of our own. I could shout from the rooftops about the miracles I’ve witnessed in my life. I have such a testimony of Heavenly Father’s promise to us that we can have the blessings we desire, even in ways we might not have originally expected or when we expect them (see 2 Nephi 10:17; Alma 37:17).
Having nine kids is hard at times. It’s nonstop laundry, it’s different personalities, and each child comes with different issues. But I know they were all heaven-sent. Honestly, it feels like my dream of making a difference and owning my own orphanage has come true after all!
My trial of infertility led me to my greatest blessings. I feel like I had to be truly humbled so I could submit to God’s will instead of my own. I experienced that “mighty change of heart” (see Alma 5:13). And through this kind of submission, He has guided me. He has blessed me with dreams, visions, and miracles that have led me to each child. He always had a plan for me! Even when I felt forgotten, He was there.
Infertility can be very dark and lonely. I think back on those days when it was hard to go to church without children—when the family proclamation held a bitter sting. I couldn’t see then what I see now. The loving words in the proclamation always applied to me. Regardless of our circumstances, we do each have a place in Heavenly Father’s eternal plan.

“Ready to cut down the bananas?” Dad asked. Tadiana watched with her siblings, Alicia and Kavi. Dad used a knife to cut down the whole bunch of bananas.
The garden was growing well this year! But lots of other things were hard. There was a quarantine in New Zealand because of the coronavirus. Tadiana wasn’t able to see her friends or go to school. But she was happy she got to spend so much time with her family.
Kavi’s eyes got wide as he stared at all the fruit. “There’s no way we can eat that all by ourselves!” he said.
Mum nodded. “I bet Sister Banks would like some. She hasn’t been able to work in her garden since her husband died.”
“I know Sister Finau is lonely too,” Tadiana said. “I can take her some bananas!”
“Who else?” Dad said. They all sat down on the grass. They made a list of people who might need a little help.
The next day they filled sacks full of silverbeet (chard), kumara (sweet potatoes), and bananas. Mum and Dad drove around the neighbourhood. At each house on their list they dropped off a sack.
Tadiana peeked out the car window and watched Sister Banks open the door. Sister Banks used her cane to slowly walk toward the bag. Her smile was so big that Tadiana could see it even while they drove away.
Tadiana felt a warm, happy feeling. But she also felt a little sad. She got to spend quarantine with her family. But Sister Banks lived all alone. She probably hadn’t talked to anyone in weeks!
“I think there’s something else we can do for our neighbours,” Tadiana said. “Why don’t we invite them to a video call for our family scripture night?”
“That’s a great idea,” Dad said.
When they got home, Tadiana called Sister Banks. “Hi, Sister Banks! Our family is doing a scripture night tonight. Do you want to call into it?”
“I would love to!” Sister Banks said. After that call, Tadiana handed the phone to Alicia. They took turns calling people in the ward and inviting them.
That night Tadiana nervously waited at the computer. Would people show up? Then, one by one their neighbours’ faces popped up on the computer screen. Some of them had a hard time using the technology, so Mum helped them.
One lady held up a plate of hokey pokey (honeycomb toffee). “I know none of you can eat this,” she said. “But I was so excited for tonight that I cooked a special dessert! Maybe you can pretend to smell it through the screen!”
Everybody laughed and talked about how they were spending their days. Lots of people were struggling, but it made everyone happier to talk to each other.
When they were done talking, Tadiana shared a scripture, 2 Nephi 31:20: “Press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men.”
They had a short lesson and took turns reading from the scriptures. Then Kavi said the prayer.
“Remember to come back next week!” Tadiana said. One by one people waved goodbye and left the call.
When the last person left, Mum and Dad gathered the family into a big group hug. Tadiana was glad she and her family could help their neighbours. They would all press forward together.

When Dean and Bonnie Hill were called to serve as senior missionaries in the Cochabamba Bolivia Temple, Bonnie was apprehensive. She had never studied Spanish and was uncertain about her ability to perform necessary ordinances or relate with others in an unfamiliar language. A priesthood blessing promised her that she would be able to communicate both verbally and spiritually in Spanish.
“I can’t really speak much Spanish outside the temple,” she says. “But in the house of the Lord, it seems to come easily to me.”
Even after she and her husband returned home and attended Spanish sessions in the Ogden Utah Temple, patrons remarked at her superb accent.

“Thanks for vacuuming, Anne. Now please go get ready and put on your Sunday clothes,” Mom said, as she placed her best china plates on the table.
“Sunday clothes? But this is Monday,” I protested.
“Remember, we’re having company for dinner,” she said.
“How could I forget after all the work I’ve done? But why Sunday clothes? We didn’t have to wear Sunday clothes for our other guests,” I complained.
“Anne, please just do it,” Mom concluded, as she rolled the green cloth napkins and slipped them into the napkin rings.
Always before Dad and Mom had told us who was coming. My Dad has this thing about inviting people over to eat with us. The first time he invited someone, it was a returned missionary from Argentina. Mom fixed food from Argentina called milanesa. Before this missionary came, Dad made us learn where Argentina is on the globe, what the people and the weather are like, and what Argentina’s main exports are, so we could carry on an intelligent conversation.
Dad had such a good time that about a month later, he invited the bishop and his family to have dinner with us. The bishop had been to Hong Kong on his mission, so Mom prepared Chinese food. Before the bishop’s family came we had to be able to, you guessed it, locate Hong Kong on the globe. We also had to learn the books of the Old and New Testament and of the Book of Mormon. Dad thought it would impress the bishop, but it was a little hard to work it into the conversation.
A few months later Dad got really brave and invited his boss to dinner. Dad is a chemical engineer and works for a petroleum company. The company makes gas and oil and bug spray and things like that. I asked Mom if we were having petroleum products for dinner. She laughed and said, “No, stuffed pork chops.”
Before the boss came we not only had to learn about the Alaska pipeline, off-shore drilling in the Gulf of Mexico, and how to squeeze oil out of rocks called shale, but we also had a review of manners and etiquette.
We spent days putting napkins on our laps, keeping our elbows off the table, chewing with our mouths closed, speaking only when spoken to, etc. The boss turned out to be very nice, and he seemed to like us.
A few months later Dad was at it again. It began when a notice came in the mail that one of the senators from our state, Senator Brown, would be in town to give a lecture about what was going on in Washington, D.C. When Dad mentioned that he was going to call this senator and invite him to dinner, we all begged him not to do it. Mom said senators don’t have time for such things. But Dad was undaunted (that’s one of the week’s vocabulary words) and called the senator’s office. He even got to talk to the senator.
The senator said he was sorry, but all his evenings were busy, so he couldn’t come to dinner. Now my dad is a quick thinker and just like he’d planned it, he said, “Well, then, how about coming to breakfast?”
Senator Brown is no match for my Dad, and he certainly was not prepared for that and couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, so he said, “Yes.” He actually said he would come.
Before he came you can imagine what we had to learn. Did you know there are 435 congressmen in the House of Representatives, 100 senators in the Senate, that a senator is elected to a term of six years and a congressman for two? We were crammed full of facts, and we got Mom’s now famous manners and etiquette review.
The morning the senator came, a newspaper reporter did too. The reporter took our pictures with Senator Brown and wrote down all about how the senator was having breakfast with this family. It was kind of embarrassing and was even more embarrassing when the picture and article were in the newspaper.
Well, Dad had not taught us one thing to impress his latest guest, and Mom hadn’t explained why we had to wear Sunday clothes. In fact, they wouldn’t even tell us who was coming.
Mom had fresh flowers, candles, and her very best lace cloth on the table. She made us work to clean every inch of the house. She even got her hair done at the beauty shop.
I said, “Hey, Mom, please tell me. Who is coming? If he’s such an important person, how could he have time to come to dinner with us?” She just smiled and asked me to refill the ice cube trays.
Soon the house was ready, the food was ready, all five of us children were bathed and dressed and ready in our Sunday clothes. There was soft music playing. Mom and Dad seemed happy and peaceful, not nervous like when our other guests were coming. It was 6 o’clock. The guest would soon be here.
At 6:30, the guest hadn’t come. At 6:45 we were still waiting. We were all hungry. “Who is this most important person, anyway?” I asked impatiently.
Just then Dad and Mom called us to the table, and Mom lit the candles. “Let’s begin,” said Dad.
“How can we begin? We can’t start without our guest! We’ve gone to too much work. Who are we waiting for anyway? The president of the United States?” I said.
“Sit down, all of you, and we’ll give you some clues to see if you can guess who our guest will be,” said Mom.
“This person is more important than the president of the United States. But even though he is so important, he knows you very well,” said Dad.
“Is this a trick?” I asked.
“Not a trick,” Dad answered.
Dad continued. “This person is smarter than my boss or the senator. He is more spiritual than the missionary or the bishop. Yet, as important as he is, I didn’t even have to make an appointment with him.”
“Let’s kneel down and have family prayer to begin our dinner and home evening,” said Mom.
Suddenly, as we knelt around the table and Dad began to pray, I got this special feeling. Then I knew. Dad and Mom had gone to all this work to teach us about Heavenly Father. He is much more important than anyone else, and we don’t have to make an appointment to talk to him.
Everyone else must have figured it out too because after the prayer we ate in silence for a long time.
Finally, Dad said, “I hope you will invite Heavenly Father to be your guest in everything you do.”

One Monday, when we were celebrating the U.S. holiday of Washington’s birthday, I was down at my mother’s sawing a log in the backyard. She came out to give me some direction and see how I was doing it, and she wasn’t very pleased. She thought I ought to do it differently. She went back into the house and in a few minutes my younger brother arrived. She said to him, “I think you’d better go out in the backyard and give Bruce some help and see that he does this thing right.” And then she said to him, “Bruce isn’t very bright.” Well, so I’m not. So I start where I am, and I go forward from there. I start using such talent as I have, and I begin to apply the principles of eternal truth to my life. I consult and counsel with the Lord in the process, and no matter where I am, the gospel takes me forward and onward and upward, and blessings flow to me in this life and eventually give me glory and honor and dignity in the life to come.

When he returned from Asia, he moved to southern California, where he began working and attending college. At a Church dance, he met Clara (Claire) May Jeffs. After dating for three years, they were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 10, 1931. Howard decided to give up his band, for he felt that working as a professional musician would interfere with what was more important—his family and the Church.