Gospel Story Finder

Second, we can give more generously to the poor and needy. As I visit with Church members, I am overwhelmed with the goodness of faithful Latter-day Saints. A young man in Colombia, raised by his grandmother, owned several shoe repair shops and served as the custodian in his ward. When he was called on a mission, he had saved not only enough money to pay for his own mission but also contributed extra funds to support another missionary.

What about sharing our food, clothing, and furniture? The Lord commands that we not covet our own property (see D&C 19:26). In many places we are blessed to have Deseret Industries. We can teach our children to go through their closets regularly and share their clothing while it is still in style, allowing others to dress fashionably too.

Many rewards come from sharing our material possessions. King Benjamin reminds us of this when he says, “For the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God … impart of your substance to the poor, … such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief” (Mosiah 4:26). We can all be searching for the many opportunities in our lives to give—to share.

I have had many such teachers since. One was a prophet of the Lord, Spencer W. Kimball. I was visiting from England for general conference and asked if I could see him. I was told that he was in his office and no one was with him. I knocked on the door and his familiar voice said “Come in.” I started to open the door, but before it was fully open, he was there already. I felt a sense of urgency and real caring. He took me by the arm, showed me round his office, then sat me down across the desk. “How is the work going in England?” he inquired. I gave a brief report, but he knew already; he was teaching me the principle of stewardship and accountability. Then he reached up to his bookshelves, took down a book, and handed it to me. “Have you read this?” he asked. He smiled, took a pen, opened the book and wrote a message, and then gave it to me. I shall always treasure that copy of The Life Story of Heber C. Kimball, the first missionary to England.

Emma K. came from Midvale, Utah, to interview Sister Cheryl C. Lant, Primary general president. Emma and Sister Lant talked about the purpose of Primary while they toured the Relief Society Building. The Relief Society Building is where the offices of the general presidencies of the Primary, Young Women, and Relief Society are. It has beautiful displays about the purpose and history of these organizations.
Emma: “What good things are the children of the Church doing?”
Sister Lant: “One of the best things they are doing is learning from their scriptures. Every Sunday, we see children bring their scriptures to Primary. They open them, they read them, and they’re learning directly from the words of the Lord about what He wants them to do.”
Emma: “What do you hope they can learn to do more often?”
Sister Lant: “We need to be more kind to our brothers and sisters, to our parents, to our friends, and to everybody around the world.”
Sister Lant had a question for Emma. She showed Emma a painting of Jesus with children. “Can you think why that’s my favorite thing to look at every day when I come into my office?”
Emma: “Maybe because it shows the love Jesus has for children.”
Sister Lant: “That’s right. In Primary, the most important thing that we want to teach the children is that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love them. All the children in this picture come from different places, so they represent all the children around the world. Heavenly Father and Jesus love all of us, no matter where we live. We’re all His children.”

William Lee came from the old sod in 1745. He must have had an unexplained urge, because he could not know really why he came. He might think it was to better his condition. He fought in the American Revolution and was wounded. Many of us have ancestors who are reported to have fought in the Revolution, but few of them were wounded. This man was left for dead in the battle of Guilford County Courthouse in the Carolinas in March 1781. Thanks to good nursing he recovered and as in all good endings, married his nurse. Four sons came to him, one of whom was Samuel, who was the youngest.
Samuel’s sons, Francis, Alfred, and Eli, and their families joined the Church in 1832, about the time that my great-grandfather joined. They suffered through all the vicissitudes and the troubles and persecutions and mobbings of Jackson County, Far West, and Nauvoo, and finally came west. At Winter Quarters their father joined them. He had not joined the Church until this time but joined shortly afterward. Francis married a young woman by the name of Jane Vail Johnson. I shall speak of her later.
They all came to Utah and settled in Tooele County. They were just getting settled and making things go when they were called by President Brigham Young to St. George, and they went, like all good Latter-day Saints did in those days. But they had not been in St. George very long when they were called to settle in Meadow Valley. That is a place you folks probably have not heard about. It is now known as Panaca, in what they thought was southwestern Utah, but which actually later came to be Nevada. These people, obeying the call, again without question, were the first family to move to Meadow Valley, and they made a dugout house. Sister Young said that you may not know what a dugout house is. I replied that most of the folks would know: One digs a cubical hole in a hillside and covers it with a roof of wooden poles topped with clay.
Troubles of the few settlers with the Indians caused the authorities in St. George to give them permission to abandon the project, but Sister Jane Johnson Lee refused to leave. She said she was there to stay, and stay they did. Later two Indians came into her dugout home, and one of them, seeing a rifle in one corner of the room, demanded it. Sister Lee refused to give it to him. He started for the gun, but she struck him so hard with a piece of stove wood, it knocked him down. He staggered to his feet and drew his bow, aiming the arrow at her. She let him have another piece of wood, which smashed the bow and arrow. Both Indians departed.
Two sons of this brave couple married sisters. Samuel Marion Lee married Margaret McMurrin, and Francis Lee, Jr., married Mary McMurrin. The McMurrins were converts from Scotland who had crossed the plains with the hand-cart companies. Brother McMurrin, a cooper, which is a man who makes barrels and bends wood, repaired many a handcart wheel en route, which helped get the carts to the valley but delayed him and his family. They also settled in Tooele. Each of the Lee brothers took his bride to Meadow Valley.
I speak of Margaret’s bravery.
Eleven times she placed
Her life upon the block
And offered it that
Children might be born.
No sterile chamber
Where the doctor waits,
The anesthetic cone
And nurse in readiness,
Could be her lot.
The cabin walls absorbed
The agonizing cries,
With Death close by.
He did not claim her life.
Instead he took each child—
Each little one to heaven—
All eleven.
Then came the twelfth.
For her the light burned
Dim, then flickered low,
And out—
But she had filled her life, and
Given all that she could give.
Her mission was performed;
A son was born.
The only child to live.
He was named his father’s name—Samuel Lee.
Mary McMurrin Lee took the child and let him nurse along with her own child, but after a time the strain was too great, so they took the baby to Salt Lake City to Grandmother McMurrin.
“I’ll give him one last nursing,” she said, and then laying him in his crib, she went back to Meadow Valley.
Under his grandmother’s care the baby Samuel grew into a stalwart boy, and when sixteen went to Clifton, Idaho, in Cache Valley, where he worked on a farm and there later met Louisa Bingham.
The Bingham family, stalwart in the faith, were pioneers. They endured the hardships of the plains and the difficulties of conquering the new land. They were among the early settlers of Clifton.
Out on the farm
Louisa Bingham
Grew and blossomed
Into girlish womanhood.
Her eyes
Caught the color of the
Somber hills in spring,
And in the fall they
Danced with joy
At autumn’s coloring.
At home she learned
To wash and cook and sew.
And winter
Saw her
Skating, sledding, and
Riding the bobsleigh
Through the snow.
Then Samuel Lee, now
Working on this nearby farm,
Watched her grow,
Saw with his heart
As well as with his eyes
The slow unfolding
Of her girlish charm,
The bloom of girlhood
High upon her cheeks,
A budding woman,
Gentle, soft, and warm.
And she saw him,
The young, strong, steady hands,
The head well set,
The shoulders square
And broad,
The muscles strong
And firm.
A good young man.
She knew his story well—
The twelfth and only child
Which lived.
And so they came together,
Drawn by a magnet
Neither one could see,
To be the parents of a
Man of destiny.
And so, in good time, and in his turn, there came into the family circle on a windy day in late March 1899 a son. They named him Harold Bingham Lee.
It is fitting this day that we speak briefly of this heritage. The Lord prepared the lineage through which President Lee came that he might inherit their bravery, their loyalty, their integrity, and their devotion to the truth.
Twenty-five hundred and seventy-two years ago, give or take a year, a prophet accepted of the Lord began to write his history: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents. …” And then he went on to say, “I make a record of my proceedings in my days.” (1 Ne. 1:1.)
And so the first prophet of our times might have said the same words: “I, Joseph Smith, having been born of goodly parents … make my record.”
And now, so it is today. Beginning his work as the prophet of the Lord, this modern seer and revelator may thus also begin his history: “I, Harold Bingham Lee, having been born of goodly parents, begin my work.”
Prophets are born of goodly parents. Before the earth was formed the heavenly hosts gave shouts of joy, both because they could come to the earth and that their leaders were chosen and recognized. …
Said the Lord: “Abraham, thou art one of them; thou wast chosen before thou wast born.” (Abr. 3:23.) And the Lord designated the others who have been chosen. I do not presume; rather, I am sure, President Lee, thou wast chosen before thou wast born.
I pray that the whisperings of the Spirit, the visions of eternity, the mighty words of Christ our Lord will come to and be with you, even as they were with Nephi and with Joseph Smith. And I pray too that the disloyal and the disobedient will lose their power to hurt or make afraid.
I know that President Lee is a prophet and a seer and a revelator. I have seen with my own eyes the mantle fall upon him and have had a witness borne into my soul that the Lord has chosen him and sustains him.
God our Father, through his Son, Jesus Christ, directs the work of this the true and living church established by the Lord Jesus Christ on the earth. I know it, and bear witness of it, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

For example, when we first started having discussions about faith, one of Meghan’s concerns was around our children having priesthood interviews without one of us present.
We started by asking, “What’s working?” and we agreed that we both love our children and care about them. We both want what is best for them. We want them to progress and to grow. And we reestablished the fact that we are on the same team.
Then we focused on “What’s not working?” For instance, Meghan didn’t feel comfortable with some of the questions our teenage children would be asked in bishop interviews without us there.
That brought us to question 3: “What do we want to do or think differently?” Meghan and I sat down and discussed a plan. We agreed that one of us would be present with our children if they had interviews with members of the bishopric. We spoke to our bishop about this, and he was supportive. He reminded us that he had all of our growth and welfare in mind.

When it comes to tools for teaching about the gospel, orange juice may seem like an unusual choice. But for Kayden’s family, it’s been just that. Kayden and his family celebrate his victories with a glass of orange juice. Such an odd beverage of choice has garnered attention and allowed Kayden to share his standards with others. In fact, after Kayden won the world championship, his mom exclaimed, “Orange juice and root beer all around!” When somebody asked, “Can’t you stop being Mormon for just 10 minutes?” Kayden and his mom explained that, no, they could not loosen their standards for even a few minutes, because their standards are part of who they are and what they stand for.

In 1964, I had finished my courses at LDS Business College, graduated, attended a year at BYU, served a mission to Denver, Colorado, and returned home to re-enter BYU. I've met and dated many fine young women but I'm confused, I can't seem to find the "right one." One afternoon in the bedroom of a rented home on 7th north in Provo, I really feel the need to offer a significant prayer to Heavenly Father. I'm all alone in the house. I kneel down and this time, which has not happened that many times in my life, I said a vocal prayer, reverently but out loud. I really poured out my heart. I ask Heavenly Father to lead me to my future eternal companion. I have not been able to find her and would He lead me to her. I covenant to stay extremely clean and pure in thoughts and actions, to be morally clean in every way, to keep the highest standards of dating, and to show respect to all young women I date; and to keep ALL the commandments of Heavenly Father to the best of my ability. He hears my prayer and covenant. Within six months, in a J.C. Penney shoe department, my beautiful future companion walks into my life. We date for three months, get engaged, have a four-month courtship and marry August 19, 1965. During our courtship, we never do anything inappropriate. In fact, I am so committed to my covenant with Heavenly Father that we do not kiss on the lips until the sealer in the Arizona Temple tells us "you may now kiss as man and wife." And I gave her a big one! I had waited a long time for that.

I'm so grateful for that covenant.

José felt Carmella nudge his ribs. “We’re going to be late for school!”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to go, anyway.”
“Why not?” Carmella’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You like school.”
José sighed. “We’re having a review test in math today, and I’m afraid I’ll forget everything.”
Soon the children were waiting in the car for their father. When he got in and turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened. The car just sat there.
“It’s probably the battery,” he said. He went back into the house to call an auto repair shop.
The bright blue tow truck arrived very quickly. Jim’s Auto Service was printed in red letters on its door. Out jumped a smiling man in a red cap and blue coveralls. Those, too, had his name on the front pocket.
“Now then, let’s see if we can get you folks on your way,” he boomed, looking under the hood.
“Is it broken?” asked José.
Jim shook his head. “Nope. It just needs a jump-start.”
“A jump-start!” Carmella giggled. “What a funny name. Do you jump up and down on it to make it go?”
“Now wouldn’t that be a sight?” Jim’s laughter rumbled in his chest. “We want to start it—not crush it!” Then he explained, “If the battery is low, sometimes it needs help to turn the motor over.”
Carmella hopped out of the car to watch, her wide brown eyes full of wonder. She’d never seen anyone turn over a motor before. “You must be very strong!”
“No, no!” he laughed. “We don’t actually turn it over. That’s just an expression. It means ‘start the motor.’ That’s what these are for.”
He hooked up fat black and red cables between his truck and their car. “Once we get it running, it’ll do just fine.”
Sure enough, the motor was soon humming with quiet power.
“You’d better bring it in for a battery charge, though,” Jim cautioned.
José and Carmella got to school in plenty of time, but that didn’t cheer up José. He felt just the way he had when he had the flu last winter—miserable! His stomach seemed all knotted up, and his head ached. He just knew that he wasn’t going to pass the test.
When he and Carmella got home that afternoon, their mother gave them each a hug. They kissed their brother, Miguel, who drooled happily at them from his high chair, and sat at the kitchen table for their after-school snack.
“How did your big math test go, José?” Mother asked. “I know you were nervous about it.”
“Boy, was I ever! And when Miss Chung passed out those test papers, I couldn’t remember anything I’d learned. I thought if I could just get started, I’d be OK, but I kept looking at the test and all the problems seemed so hard. It was as though I couldn’t move. I sure couldn’t think!”
“What’d you do?”
“I said a prayer. Right away, I found a problem I could solve. Then I finished another one and another one. Everything came back into my mind. Pretty soon I was done. It wasn’t so awful, after all.”
“Wow!” Carmella was impressed. “That was neat! What did you say in your prayer?”
José licked the milk-moustache from his upper lip. His eyes twinkled. “I told Heavenly Father that I could really do all right if He would please give me a jump-start—and He did!”

Michael Flynn and son Elder Jaswant Flynn (from the Meltham Ward in the Huddersfield Stake) experienced a unique opportunity to appreciate God’s creations and to serve Heavenly Father from opposite ends of the world. At Rothera Antarctica, Michael, an instrument specialist at The University of Manchester, spent three weeks in January making airborne measurements of clouds over the Southern Ocean from a British Antarctic Survey Twin Otter aircraft.
He says Antarctica is completely different from anywhere else in the world, partly because it is so remote. It has no permanent inhabitants and has penguins rather than polar bears, and the huge floating ice shelves that are unique to Antarctica.
Of his experience in Antarctica, he says, “I am in awe of the complete white expanse and wilderness and have an appreciation of the place, a place I would go back to. Experiencing the beauty of nature and its variety in different parts of the world increases my appreciation for what Heavenly Father has created for us and strengthens my testimony in Him.”
Near the North Pole, Elder Flynn, or Vanhin Flynn as he is addressed, serves as a missionary in the Helsinki Finland Mission. He says, “I‘ve been serving in the Finland Helsinki Mission since September 2022 — I‘m so happy to be here! It got VERY cold in the winter where I served in Kemi in Northern Finland, but I guess it gave me a feel for what my dad felt at the same time in Antarctica.
“The language is very difficult, but I‘ve seen the blessing of hard work, perseverance and enduring to the end, so much, as I‘ve tried to learn and speak more. Having also served in the Swedish speaking area of Finland, therefore being assigned to learn Swedish and Finnish, I‘ve really had to develop my faith and understanding of God, as well as striving to be obedient and doing everything I can to be blessed with the gift of tongues.
“I‘ve also grown in my testimony more on my mission so far more than I did my whole life before. I‘ve already seen so many blessings of serving a mission, and even though there are many trials, so many more blessings come as we endure through them. It was interesting being basically on the other side of the world to my dad — but such a blessing that, through technology, even though we were tens of thousands of miles apart, we could still communicate.
“The blessings of being a missionary have been evident to not just me, but many family members and friends also. And they are not limited. If you can serve a mission, do! The Lord will bless you and so many others for it, family, friends, members, nonmembers — on both sides of the veil!”
Helsinki Finland Mission President Ville Kervinen, a native of Finland, provides insight into the climate and culture of Finnish people. He says they are most loyal, with Church statistics reflecting this, which helps to shape missionaries’ attitudes towards service and missionary work generally. The North is a quality of mind. He grew up in Rovaniemi, near the Arctic Circle and he and Sister Leena Kervinen, through inspiration, spent their married life there. He says,“There is a difference in attitude about life even between northern and southern Finland. All the Finns are very independent-minded, but those living in the more extreme climate and isolation of the North are even more so. They hold onto their culture more naturally, being further away from Helsinki and the cosmopolitan influences there. We have the identity of a northern person, and we are grateful for it. After our mission we will return to the North to continue serving there.”
Even though father and son were far apart, they still found a way to appreciate the gospel and to serve others.

The navy had experienced difficulties with the safety of newly installed equipment on its systems. These difficulties had at times threatened their lives. You may recall that the air force has had similar problems of late with some of their aircraft. The navy pondered what additional safety precautions were necessary and concluded that there was a simple solution. The civilian designers and manufacturers of the new systems would be required to test them. This is similar to the old approach used by ancient kings who employed tasters to shield them against the possibility of poison in their food. I was elected for this honor by my group to test a new computer system designed to enhance the capability of sonar to respond to underwater sounds.

I took the equipment and flew to the East Coast to board a ship known as a destroyer escort. It was named the USS Connole. On each ship was a plaque that gave the traditions and heroism of those who had contributed to its name—in other words, the heritage for the current crew. Names are important, even on U.S. Navy ships. As I boarded, I was asked to give my name, social security number, and next of kin. I was somewhat sobered by the last question. This was not an experience I looked forward to, but my colleagues and I proceeded to install the computers, hoping to improve the sonar system’s sensitivity.

Our ship left port and joined a task force of several ships and submarines, and we got underway. After the first day I arose and went out on deck. Everything was calm. I had never observed such a smooth ocean surface before. I felt fine, with no trace of seasickness. As the day wore on, though, the sea became more troubled, the waves increasing in height to nearly five feet. When the ship hit the waves head-on, there was little undulation of the ship and I could keep my seasickness under control. But as more waves began to hit from the side, the ship tossed to and fro. (In life we tend to believe it is easier to confront problems head-on, but it often occurs that problems come from directions we least expect.) I went to my room and lay in bed, bracing myself between the wall and the side rails on the bed.

Then I noticed that the ship seemed to calm down even though the sea remained rough. I was informed that the ship had just actuated some small stabilizers that protruded from the hull to lessen the roll of the ship. Similarly, as we navigate through life, the gospel of Jesus Christ provides just such stability in our lives. Without it we find ourselves spiritually seasick.

I then observed another phenomena. The propeller and shaft of the ship were made of different metals than the hull. This creates a voltaic effect, giving rise to electrical currents that corrode the hull and shaft. To counteract this corrosion an opposing voltage is applied to the hull to cancel this current. So, too, do we need constant protection available through prayer to prevent spiritual erosion. Prayer keeps us intact spiritually.

As the cruise continued, I went to the sonar shack to talk with the operators. I was anxious that the test of our new system go well. I found the sonar crew relaxed and talking about the upcoming meal and about returning home after the cruise. There was no stress. Spirits were high.

Nevertheless, it was not unusual for Russian trawlers and occasionally Russian submarines to silently appear during tests of new systems. Whenever there was a task force of several ships present, this likelihood increased. But we were at peace, and there was no threat. Further, the task force was moving at moderate speed. Between the noise of the waves and the sound of the ship thrashing through the water, it would be difficult for a surface ship to hear an enemy submarine anyway. The sonar men took advantage of the calm situation, knowing that not much was expected of them.

Suddenly there was a loud alert on the ship’s public address system. It was the captain. He announced, “Attention, all hands! The sonar shack has just detected a Russian submarine. I have contacted the commander and requested permission to break from the task force and head in pursuit of the submarine. Permission has been granted. Man your stations!”

The mood in the sonar shack changed immediately. Had the captain misunderstood that we did not have any contact, or did he have a hunch that there must be an enemy submarine nearby? The sonar crew snapped into operation. Suddenly they began to look intently at the sonar displays they had previously only glanced at. This was the real test for the newly sensitized sonar system. Then, after a few moments, one of the sonar men called out, “I have a contact.” The ship set out in pursuit, joined by other members of the task force, several transmitting loud bursts of sound at the enemy submarine. Sound blast after sound blast was transmitted to cloak our own submarines’ sound signatures and chase off the enemy submarine. Again, comparing this situation to life, we are often called upon without warning to answer unexpected challenges. Being prepared in advance is the surest guarantee that we will be successful.

Having completed the testing of the sonar equipment in a fashion more adventurous than I had planned, I asked if there was some way to leave the ship and get home early. Not only were the waves of the sea continuing to worsen, but also a hurricane was forecast. The lieutenant commander assigned to watch out for me informed me that a helicopter was coming, and I could go home on it. We were about 200 miles out at sea, however, and this was near its maximum operating range.

As the helicopter arrived and hovered over the rear deck, the ship turned into the wind, cutting off the breeze to it. The helicopter dipped, then caught the deck, and crashed. That day I found that, just as in life, we often look for the easy way out, but we may have to stay the course. The trip home was rough, and when the ship finally arrived home in Norfolk, Virginia, I was relieved to be back on solid ground.

Time after time since this voyage, as I have struggled through life’s trials, I have been greatly comforted by the knowledge that Jesus Christ is our Savior—the enabler of our postmortal existence and the great stabilizing force in our lives when we are hit by life’s vagaries. Prayer provides the daily protection to help us remain spiritually intact and maintain our course, our direction made certain.

During a drive to amass warm clothing to ship to suffering Saints, Elder Harold B. Lee and Elder Marion G. Romney took President George Albert Smith to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City. They were impressed by the generous response of the membership of the Church to the clothing drive and the preparations for sending the goods overseas. They watched President Smith observing the workers as they packaged this great volume of donated clothing and shoes. They saw tears running down his face. After a few moments, President Smith removed a new overcoat that he had on and said, “Please ship this also.”
The Brethren said to him, “No, President, no; don’t send that; it’s cold and you need your coat.”
But President Smith would not take it back.
The Apostle Paul’s admonition surely was fulfilled that day: “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.”

A letter written by my father, Haydn Morgan (1926–2010), to Sister Joyce Clarke, reads:
“October 2001.
“This month is special to me, since it’s 40 years ago that I took the 76 bus from the market in Swansea to Brynmill. As I sat upstairs while the bus waited a while, I noticed that Elena Neale got on; at the next stop it was your turn; further on Margaret Berry joined the bus. When I got off at St Gabriel’s church, I was delighted when the three of you alighted as well. It was such a joy to see you and eagerly ask after your families. I do not think you remembered this man accosting you, but how much I remembered you all from those few short meetings attended in that scruffy little hall in Manselton, two years earlier.
“It was mentioned that you were on your way to a Relief Society meeting with a missionary couple living in the next street. When you got there you told the Bronsons of our meeting, with the result that some weeks later they called, and we were in touch with the Church again.
“I believe that like Saul we all have our own Damascus Road (See Acts 9), maybe not with a blinding light, etc. Mine was two years earlier. During that time, I knew that the Church was true, and I yearned to be part of it, but lacked the courage. You three lovely ladies were my Ananias, who opened my eyes, changing my life and that of my loved ones. In these past 40 years, we have had some wonderful experiences, often great challenges, but never any regrets.
“I shall be eternally grateful for that wonderful bus ride with its meeting and later friendship and associations.”
Haydn Morgan and his wife, Joy, were baptised in the spring of 1962.
(Edited for punctuation.)

First is a story about my son, Michael, who did something wrong when he was six or seven years old. He’s my only son, and I’m hard on him. I want him to be better than his dad was, even as a boy, and so I lean on him and expect a great deal. Well, he had done something I thought was incredibly vile, and I let him know how terrible it was. I sent him to his room with the instructions, “Don’t you dare come out until I come and get you.”

And then I forgot. It was some hours later, as I was watching television, that I heard his door open and heard the tentative footsteps coming down the hall. I said, “Oh, my gosh,” and ran to my end of the hall to see him standing with swollen eyes and tears on his cheeks at the other end. He looked up at me—he wasn’t quite sure he should have come out—and said, “Dad, can’t we ever be friends again?” Well, I melted, ran to him, and hugged him. He’s my boy, and I love him.

Like Michael, we all do things that disappoint our Father, that separate us from his presence and spirit. There are times when we get sent to our rooms spiritually. There are sins that maim; there are sins that wound our spirits. Some of you know what it is like to do something that makes you feel as if you just drank raw sewage. You can wash, but you can never get clean. When that happens, sometimes we ask the Lord as we lift up our eyes, “O Father, can’t we ever be friends again?”

The answer that can be found in all the scriptures is a resounding “Yes, through the Atonement of Christ.”

The Relief Society general presidency met with some young women to learn how they feel about making the transition from the Young Women organization into Relief Society. Their comments reflect a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation.
“I’m a little bit scared to go into Relief Society,” said one young woman. “In Young Women, the lessons pertain to what I’m going through. But when I think of Relief Society, I think of older women talking about what concerns older women and maybe not what concerns me.”
One young woman commented: “I think I’ll be entering into a formal situation in which the ladies are quiet and always well behaved. I just hope I’ll be able to belong and have fun with them.”

A true story from Mexico.
“Time for bed,” Mamá said with a smile.
Logan went into his room. He said his prayers and crawled into bed. Then Mamá read him a story. He slowly closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep.
But Logan had a scary dream. He was alone in a dark place. He saw a big, spiky monster with huge teeth. It growled at him. Then it started running toward him!
Logan tried to run away. But he slipped and fell! The monster got closer and bigger until—
Logan woke up and sat up in bed. He wiped tears from his eyes and saw it was still dark outside.
He wanted to talk to his parents about the dream. But he didn’t want to leave his bed. The darkness made him feel like a monster was hiding somewhere. Every shadow looked scary. A dog barking outside sounded like a monster growling.
Logan pulled the sheets up to his nose. He was too afraid to move.
He wanted to fall back to sleep. But each time he closed his eyes, he saw the monster’s angry face and sharp teeth. He couldn’t stop looking at the scary shadows.
Then he saw a picture on the table by his bed. It was a photo of him, his two brothers, Papá, and Mamá outside the temple in Monterrey, Mexico. They looked so happy.
Suddenly, the words to his favorite Primary song popped into his head. “I love to see the temple,” Logan started singing quietly. “I’m going there someday. To feel the Holy Spirit, to listen and to pray.”*
While he sang, Logan thought about that day at the temple with his family. He had felt so peaceful. Because of the temple, he could be with his family forever.
Logan couldn’t hear the dog barking over the sound of his voice. He closed his eyes and kept singing. “As a child of God, I’ve learned this truth: A family is forever.” He felt a peace in his heart that made him smile. He knew there was no monster.
The room had been dark and scary. But now it was a calm, safe place. Logan leaned back on his pillow and fell peacefully asleep.
When he woke up, it was sunny outside. He got up and looked at the sunshine reflecting off his photo of the temple. He hummed his favorite song as he got ready for church.
On the way to church, he told his family about his nightmare and the song he sang. He listened to talks and sang hymns in the chapel. Then it was time to go to Primary.
Logan loved listening to the piano. And now he knew that some songs are powerful enough to make even scary monsters go away.
“Welcome to singing time,” said the Primary leader. “What song should we sing first?”
“I know!” said Logan, raising his hand high into the air. “Let’s sing ‘I Love to See the Temple.’”
Illustrations by Carolina Farías

For a long time, something else puzzled me. Forty-six years ago I was a 37-year-old seminary supervisor. My Church calling was as an assistant teacher in a class in the Lindon Ward.
To my great surprise, I was called to meet with President David O. McKay. He took both of my hands in his and called me to be one of the General Authorities, an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
A few days later, I came to Salt Lake City to meet with the First Presidency to be set apart as one of the General Authorities of the Church. This was the first time I had met with the First Presidency—President David O. McKay and his counselors, President Hugh B. Brown and President Henry D. Moyle.
President McKay explained that one of the responsibilities of an Assistant to the Twelve was to stand with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as a special witness and to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ. What he said next overwhelmed me: “Before we proceed to set you apart, I ask you to bear your testimony to us. We want to know if you have that witness.”
I did the best I could. I bore my testimony the same as I might have in a fast and testimony meeting in my ward. To my surprise, the Brethren of the Presidency seemed pleased and proceeded to confer the office upon me.
That puzzled me greatly, for I had supposed that someone called to such an office would have an unusual, different, and greatly enlarged testimony and spiritual power.
It puzzled me for a long time until finally I could see that I already had what was required: an abiding testimony in my heart of the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that we have a Heavenly Father, and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer. I may not have known all about it, but I did have a testimony, and I was willing to learn.

But what of this angel? In my teenage years, Mary would become a second mother to me. She would guide me, love me and make me her own. Through my teenage eyes she was perfect. Little did I know at the time that my angel also had her trials and challenges. Mary grew up a Buddhist. She married a fine young LDS man and the following year was converted to the church. This was during the beginning of World War II. Mary's husband, Tommy, enlisted in the service and was stationed in Minnesota preparing to go overseas.

In a freak accident, Tommy lost his sight during a training maneuver. Mary was devastated. None of this was her fault. But Mary faced her challenges with courage and faith. Tommy graduated from college and began his own poultry business with Mary at his side. They had three sons and a daughter. Mary worked with Tommy, rising at 4:00 in the morning in order to accomplish all that needed to be done and still have time for her family. She became a community and church leader, as did Tommy. She served with love and honor. She took what life had given her and made of it a monument. She reached out to those around her, including me, a shy, insecure, non-member of the church. Through all the years of our association, I saw only her positive, cheerful attitude in the face of her trials. She trusted in the Lord.

“I love to do the dishes!” Brother Eves announced each week in our Sunday School class. He was in his 60s and taught our class of 14- and 15-year-olds. I was doubtful about learning from someone who was so far removed from my own age. He always shared his testimony and stories of faith. Each lesson ended with a challenge for all of us to go home and learn to love washing the dishes, or to learn to love some other chore that we didn’t enjoy.
I didn’t believe Brother Eves could really love to do the dishes. I figured he was just saying that to inspire us to go home and do the dishes for our parents. I listened each week as he repeated this to us, and I decided to put his words to the test.
I had moved into Brother Eves’s ward because of my parents’ divorce, and at the time I was embarrassed and sad. My mother, my sister, and I had moved from our comfortable family home into a little trailer that was several decades old. I was scared of the changes that lay in front of me, and I was ready to cast a negative attitude on my new situation.
We did not have a dishwasher in our new home, which meant we had to wash all of the dishes by hand. While I completed this chore, I repeated over and over in my head that I too loved to do the dishes. A few weeks went by, and I continued my experiment. I was shocked to discover that doing the dishes did actually become more enjoyable.
I felt this pattern of work and positive attitude growing inside of me. I began thinking positively about all the good things that I had. I quit focusing on what I didn’t have and put my energy into making ordinary daily tasks into something that I enjoyed. My faith increased. I prayed for guidance to face each day’s challenges. I began reading the scriptures with more purpose. I felt my own testimony grow to a firm belief in the truth of the gospel.
Like Moroni, Brother Eves taught that faith needs work (see Ether 12:29–30). The fruit of my faith and work was the attitude I needed to be successful in life. I will always be thankful for that.
See “What I Learned as a Corn Dog,” New Era, July 2006, p. 24.

I have been reading almost every word of all the issues of the New Era since I have come on my mission, and I think it’s great. I especially enjoy the fiction stories. The photography and art are fantastic too. My mission work would be greatly hindered without the New Era because when we run out of copies of the Book of Mormon, we tract with New Eras. The English people love them. I remember one lady who read a whole stack of old issues of the New Era and the Ensign. She was baptized two weeks ago!
Some of the creative ideas in the New Era are very useful in my mission work. We use them when we share family home evenings with people we teach. One particularly good idea was making personalized envelopes. For a missionary on a strict budget, it comes in handy.
Mormonisms—wow! I almost died laughing when I read the one about the two years supply being eaten by a returned missionary. You want to know what I think would improve the magazine? Make it bigger. These English people are starving for the gospel, and the New Era feeds them the gospel with a spoonful of sugar.
Elder Danny T. EvansEngland Central Mission

After coming home from work one evening, I saw two young men at my door. They announced themselves to be missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I shouted at them loudly, then took one of them by the back of the neck and ordered them off my property with the threat, “And don’t let me see you in this neighborhood again, or I’ll make you sorry you ever came here!” They left my property quickly.

The incident, typical of many of my days, was soon forgotten. The following week, as my wife and I were about to sit down for our evening meal, the doorbell rang. I answered it, and much to my surprise, there stood the same two young men I had ordered off the property a week ago! Before I had a chance to say a thing, one of them looked me straight in the eye and said very sincerely, “I know you don’t want to hear what we have to say, but we have a very important message for you from our Savior, Jesus Christ. He wants you to hear it.”

The confident, yet humble tone in his voice took me by surprise, and I listened. Then they listened as I expressed my anger and bitterness. They seemed to understand. They talked to me about “free agency.” My heart responded. And thus began my search for truth.

I was eager for each weekly visit. My soul hungered for the answers to the questions Who am I? Where did I come from? Why am I here? And after death, what? The missionaries helped open the eyes of my understanding through the scriptures. My longing, aching heart began to heal.

They explained my unanswered questions. I came to understand that although my little boys had died so early in life, they had had the privilege of earth life and had chosen to come here. They were not victims of a revengeful God who mercilessly let them drown, but were party to a great plan long before they became my David and my Boyd. This life was merely a step forward in their eternal progression. The magnitude of this idea made a great impact upon me.

Today tears still fill in my eyes when I think of my boys. But they are not tears of anger or hate. They are tears of love and understanding. This new knowledge of the plan of salvation has transformed my life, and I have joined the ranks of the believers.