Gospel Story Finder

When I was called as a General Authority, my first assignment was to move to Moscow, Russia. I was very humbled to serve in the Area Presidency, especially as I thought of the history of the area. The countries in Eastern Europe were formerly under communistic rule, and many of the old attitudes still prevailed.

President Russell M. Nelson was assigned to advise our area. He has a wealth of experience, having opened Russia and most of the surrounding countries for the preaching of the gospel. Although he lived far away in Salt Lake City, I communicated with him on a regular basis by email or by phone while I served as the Area President. I was constantly reporting what was happening in Eastern Europe and asking for his inspired counsel.

After several weeks I began to see a pattern. Whenever I received an email from President Nelson, it contained more than just excellent advice. It always included some complimentary words and a positive message to encourage our presidency. His example made me want to lift others as he had lifted me. I learned that kindness is contagious.

I also learned that our modern-day apostles emulate the Savior in their lives, especially in the way they treat others. They are turned outward, not inward.

Gottfried Richter, now 79, looks back over nearly a lifetime of service in the Church that began for him when times were extremely difficult for Latter-day Saints in his country. After four and one-half years in Russian prison camps, he returned to Karl-Marx-Stadt (now Chemnitz), in the communist-controlled German Democratic Republic (GDR). Through a friend who would later become his wife, he found the Church and was baptized in 1951. In 1952 he and Gertraude had their first child. The following year he was called on a full-time mission. These were times when being a Latter-day Saint automatically brought one under the suspicion of the secret police. So it was for many years afterward while he served as a district president and then in the presidency of the Dresden mission. Now the former prisoner of war finds himself serving the Lord in a reunified Germany as a sealer in the Freiberg Germany Temple.
“After the war there were many older members but not very many young people, but that has changed greatly. Today there are many young members. And this is something really special,” Brother Richter says with a wide smile. “They are marrying each other within the Church and bringing up strong children in the gospel. The day after tomorrow I will seal a young couple in the Freiberg temple. Both are fifth-generation members of the Church.”

The winding ways Sister Secuya and her family traverse reflect her journey in bringing her family to walk the covenant path together. At first, Sister Secuya was the only Church member in the family, but she had become less active.
Then, one day, she saw the full- time missionaries. “I’m a member of the Church, come please,” Mitzi excitedly called them out. The missionaries set an appointment with the family, and invited them to hear about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
At first, Richard Secuya wasn’t that receptive to the missionaries, but as he thought of his wife and children, he became more responsive to the promptings of the Spirit. The entire family became members of the Church, and were sealed for time and all eternity in the temple.
“I know the Lord will not forsake us if we come to Him,” Brother Secuya testifies, “and it is truly wonderful that we are now members of the Church. He really is mindful of us.”

The Savior’s words were written for us. It’s OK if we’re weak, as long as we don’t stay weak, as long as we do something about it. Katie is a young woman who did just that. Let me share her story with you.
“All my life I have wanted to be good, but I got to the point where I wondered, ‘How can anyone really know if the Church is true?’ I took Moroni’s challenge and for five months prayed and read my scriptures every day. One night I sat on my bed almost in tears, giving up. I decided to pray. I said, ‘Heavenly Father, help me to please just know you are there. I’ve done what Thou hast asked according to the Church and I just really need to know.’ Immediately I felt like someone had wrapped their arms around me. I didn’t hear a loud voice or see an angel, but I felt Heavenly Father telling me, ‘Sweet Katie, you’ve known all along.’ It was like a kind and loving father comforting his little girl” (letter).
One of the main functions of the Holy Ghost is to testify of truth. The Spirit testified to Katie that the gospel is true. Katie had paid the price. As the Savior said, she went to her home, studied His words, and prayed—for five whole months. Katie is developing her talent for spirituality. She can use this gift to govern her life.

When I returned to school in my fifties, I was reminded that the university experience had changed from when I was young. My younger classmates were seemingly smarter, more clever, and certainly more adept at technological applications. In so many ways, I felt I didn’t belong. Study carrels gave way to learning pods, textbooks to e-books, libraries to online databases, conference calls to group chats, and in-person classes to online learning experiences. I acquired a big backpack, only to realize a bag not much bigger than my computer would suffice.

I remember my first online class experience—when I answered a question the professor had asked, everyone ignored and talked over me. I was discouraged and embarrassed. Was it my age or my limited credibility? My confidence was shot. It wasn’t until some minutes later I realized I had been on mute the entire time. I unmuted myself, waited my turn to interject, and jumped in to be heard. It wasn’t profound in any way, but at that moment I chose to belong.

Matt wasn’t alone at the fire. All of the youth and youth leaders of the Orem (Utah) Fourth Ward were there, each alone with his or her thoughts on the last night of the river trip.
Joseph Free, the Young Men president, was glad for the calming effect of the flames. He tugged at his jacket, amazed at how quickly mountain air can turn cool, and he breathed in deeply.
“It’s been a great week. But somehow, on a youth trip, there’s always one more last-minute thing. Have we all got life preservers? Check. Make sure the ranger knows we’re here to do the service project. Check. Prepare a talk for the fireside. Check. Remember to delegate. Check.”
Now the only checking left to do was to make sure everybody got home safely.
“I think the kids have had fun,” Joe Free thought, looking at the group. “But have they learned anything? Has it been worth it?”
Some sparks shot up.
At the far side of the circle he saw his son.
“I think he’s making some important decisions,” Brother Free thought. He looked at his son again and was proud.
“It’s been worth it,” he said.

My brother, Bruce, was just a year ahead of me in school. He was everything a high school boy might want to be: football star, class president, good looking, popular. I was known as “Bruce’s little sister,” and I thought he was way too cool to associate with me. Sometimes I even felt sorry for him—that people knew he was related to me. Most of the time I felt sorry for myself. I avoided him in the hallways so I wouldn’t feel bad if he didn’t say hi.
All that changed one night. After Mutual, while waiting for rides, a boy my age grabbed my sweater from me. As I was trying to get it back, he threw it on the ground and started to run away—right smack into my big brother. Bruce demanded he pick up the sweater, and growled to him, “That’s my sister! Don’t you ever treat her like that again!” In that one moment I realized he was protective and proud of me.
By the next year I had gained enough confidence to run for class president myself! Bruce helped with my campaign and cheered at my speech. Since he was Senior Class President, he helped count ballots. After the count, he pulled me aside to tell me I had lost by a small margin. “I cheered every time a vote came in for you,” he said. I realized my brother had always loved me. It was my own insecurities that made me think he didn’t. Even though I lost the election, I felt like a winner.
Denalee C., Nevada, USA

One warm summer afternoon a tiny girl reached on tiptoes to ring a doorbell. After a moment the door swung wide and there stood a beautiful twenty-year-old princess with golden hair and large, expressive blue eyes. To a small child she might have been Cinderella. But this princess was taller, more regal than any pictures of the cinder girl. And she was as real as her name—Sally Peterson.
“Elizabeth!” Sally smiled down at her little visitor. “How wonderful to see you! Come in! Come in!”
“I just brought you this,” the little girl beamed, as she thrust forward a letter, then turned happily and walked down the stairs murmuring, “Now that wasn’t one bit scary.”
It wasn’t scary. And it shouldn’t have been. Sally was her special friend. As Junior Sunday School chorister, Sally had taught songs to Elizabeth and many others like her over a period of five years. But now she wasn’t “Sally our song-leader”; she was Miss Utah of 1972. And one small girl expressed the feelings of many:
Dear Sally
I love you
Love
From Elizabeth
Sometime later while interviewing Sally for a local newspaper, I asked her to tell me about any special “happenings” since she became Miss Utah. Sally told me of Elizabeth and of other children who had come to see her.
“I love them,” she said warmly. “In fact, teaching them to sing is my first love. No one can know what I’ve learned from those children. Such eyes! Such voices! It’s a kind of musical experience that can’t be explained—only felt.”
Sally has shared other musical experiences with many who, like Elizabeth, have loved her. When she was seven, she sat with her mother at the piano and received her first formal lesson. Later she became a student of concert pianist Gladys Gladstone. When she was eleven, she was guest soloist with the Utah Symphony Orchestra and has since appeared with them on three other occasions. She has been first-place winner in the Utah State Fair music competition, was awarded the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce trophy, “Musician of Great Promise,” and in 1969 was named “Outstanding Teenager in the State of Utah.” Sally was also honored in Washington, D.C., where as a Girls Nation representative, she played at the vesper assembly; in St. Louis, Missouri, where she won the National Stillman-Kelly award; in Santa Barbara, California, where she enjoyed a summer scholarship to the Music Academy, studied with Jerome Lowenthall, and won the concerto audition and an opportunity to play with the Festival Symphony Orchestra. Again last January in Midland, Texas, “that Mormon girl from Utah” was honored when she won the National Young Artists Piano Competition.
In September Sally represented Utah in the Miss America Pageant in Atlantic City, New Jersey, where she performed with orchestra Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 1.
“I have always tried to practice on the piano three hours a day,” says Sally, then adds, eyes twinkling, “I know that seems like a long time to some, but that still leaves 21 hours in each day in which to do something else.”
Sally also water skis, swims, snow skis, rides horses, and plays paddle ball. She is a model, a seamstress, and an amateur painter and photographer. A senior at the University of Utah, she is an honor student and a member of several local and national collegiate organizations. Says Sally, “I’ve noticed that some people feel that the world is a sad and ugly place. Others whose examples I’ve tried to follow discover in it so much joy and beauty that it’s hard to find time for it all.”
In May, prior to her entering the Miss Utah Pageant contest, Sally found time to enjoy a two-week foreign language tour in Mexico.
There an older Mexican friend, charmed by the stunning blonde with an Acapulco tan, exclaimed, “You seem so happy all of the time. How can I be as happy as you?” Sally answered him without hesitation, “I am happy because I know that I am a daughter of God. And you are my brother. You can be happy too if you will become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Wherever she went in Mexico, Sally looked for a piano. At one place she received permission to use one that was surrounded by local Mexicans. She played for them. Later Sally reminisced, “Although we spoke a different language, they heard just as I heard. They loved the music just as I loved it. We were really communicating. That’s what is meant by music being a universal language.”
“Sometimes when I’m playing the piano,” Sally said softly, “I feel closer to the Lord than at any other time. I feel literally lifted up, inspired. Oh, everyone should develop a talent! Once I heard a girl complain, ‘But that takes eight or ten years. I’ll be 32 by then!’ True. It may take ten years. And she would be 32 by then. But she could still enjoy 40 or more years of sharing her talents with others. If she decides not to develop her talents, she will not have the blessing. And in ten years she will be 32 anyway.”
Three days after Sally arrived home from Mexico, she was crowned Miss Utah. A short time later a special letter for Sally came in the mail. It was one she had written to herself several weeks before as part of an assignment in an M Men and Gleaner class.
“Write something which will help you later in your life,” the teacher said. “And then, when the time is right, I’ll mail you your letter.” Appropriately, the letter came:
Hi Sally …
By the time you receive this letter, you will have been to Mexico and probably will have made some important decisions.
Just remember, the Lord loves you and he has a very special responsibility for you in the near future. Strive each and every day to draw close unto him and to let him guide and influence your life.
You have a very special talent that you should work at diligently. If you do, you will bring joy and happiness to those around you and will please the Lord.
Always keep your ideals high and be the kind of girl that a wonderful young Latter-day Saint man will love and cherish as his wife.
Honor your parents, and though there may be problems sometimes, remember to love and understand them and to be as patient and tolerant as you would want them to be with you.
People are aware of your example. Remember always to walk in the ways of the Lord and he will bless you beyond measure. You will have many opportunities to be in the public eye, so do nothing that would be contrary to Christ’s example.
Work hard. Use discipline. Have courage, faith, and pray always.
As you love yourself, you will love others.
Smile,
Sally
“Sally,” I exclaimed when she shared the letter with me, “you were positively prophetic when you wrote that!”
“Not really,” she replied thoughtfully. “It is the kind of letter any young Latter-day Saint person could have written to himself.
“Every one of us has important decisions to make,” she continued, “little decisions like whether to attend a bull fight or a Sabbath day meeting and larger ones like whether or not to attend college, go on a mission, marry in the temple—the list goes on …
“Each of us has special responsibilities, talents—and parents to love and to honor.
“Others look to our example. Each of us is ‘that Mormon girl or boy’ from someplace or other. Wherever we go, we represent ourselves, our parents, and the Lord.
“And each one is preparing himself (or herself) to be the eternal companion of someone special who is also preparing. Then when both are ready, we will find one another.
“But for right now, each of us has 24 hours every day in which to work, pray, practice discipline, and cause the wonderful experiences of life to happen.”
At the close of the Miss America Pageant in Atlantic City, New Jersey, Sally Peterson was named Miss Congeniality, a title valued second only to that of Miss America.
The Award was made after the 50 contestants had voted to select the girl who, throughout the exciting and sometimes exhausting week, had been most friendly, appreciative, genuine, cheerful. It is an honor which recognizes inward as well as outward beauty.
As Miss Congeniality, Sally received a $1,000 scholarship. She also won a $1,000 Grand Music Award for her performance with orchestra of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 1.

A human drama illustrating the bond between the teacher and the young women in her class has been an inspiration to me, as I know it will be to you. It is the account of a first-year Beehive in Young Women. I share it with you, using her own words:
“One day, a few months before my 12th birthday, I noticed a note card on the dresser of the room I shared with my older sister. It read, ‘I’m happy to be your teacher and hope that we have a great year in Mutual.’ It was signed ‘Baur Dee.’
“I soon learned that all of the girls loved Baur Dee. They visited her at home, wanted to sit with her in church, and stayed after Mutual each Wednesday to talk with her.
“Looking back so many years, I am amazed that I still have such a vivid memory of my earliest real meeting with Baur Dee. That first night, as I walked in the front door of our ward building to attend Mutual, she stood waiting to greet me. I noticed for the first time the smile which always transformed her appearance from average to beautiful. ‘Welcome,’ she said to me. ‘I’m so glad you’re in my class. We’re going to have a great time!’ There was no adjustment period for me from Primary to Mutual. I felt right at home from that moment.
“Over the next few weeks, I joined the other girls as one of Baur Dee’s fans. At the time, I didn’t try to figure out her popularity. So many years later, though, I believe I understand. She really, truly cared about each one of us, and we knew it.
“Baur Dee suffered from a disease called nephritis—a disease which not too many years later would be treated with dialysis and often cured with a kidney transplant. But for Baur Dee there was no cure, no miracle. She passed away peacefully. She was 27 years old.
“After the funeral services, as we girls stood somberly around the open grave at the cemetery, we made a vow that we would visit Baur Dee’s final resting place together every Memorial Day throughout our lives and that we would never, ever allow her memory to die.”
Forty years have gone by since Baur Dee, this teacher of girls, passed away—yet the pledge lives on. One of her girls has said: “Wherever I go, whatever I do, something of Baur Dee goes with me and with each of her ‘girls.’ She lives on in us and in those with whom we have shared her lessons.” As Henry Brooks Adams observed, “A teacher affects eternity; [she] can never tell where [her] influence stops.”

Jim and Helen Gebhard are from Grand Junction, a small town in western Colorado. Jim is an orthopedic surgeon and specializes in treating patients with spinal conditions.
Like the Tarrs, the Gebhards considered volunteering as area medical advisors and since they speak Spanish, they thought they could serve in a Spanish speaking country. However, they were also contacted about coming to American Samoa, where the hospital has not had anyone with a spinal specialty before. Upon arrival, Dr. Gebhard had a long list of patients to see.
“We have been able to help patients that have become paralyzed because their conditions were not recognized in time,” he says. “They will be helped even more when we get our surgery operations going here.”
Sister Gebhard has a master’s degree in child development and taught courses at the local community college in Grand Junction for parents with preschool children. She now teaches those same classes at the American Samoa Community College five days a week.
The Gebhards have already developed some very close relationships with patients. “We’ve even been invited to two weddings!”
Robert Keddington worked in emergency medicine in Utah and retired several years ago. In 2020 he got a call from a senior Church leader in Salt Lake City asking him if had ever thought about serving a medical mission.
“My wife, Sue, and I prayed sincerely to know if this was something we should do and got a lovely answer from our Father in Heaven that we should go.”
“I wasn’t too sure about getting back into practice after being away for so long,” Dr. Keddington says. “I was also concerned about seeing patients with conditions related to the tropics, something I had never seen in my practice in Utah. But before I left, my local church leader gave me a blessing and told me that I would be blessed with recall to help the people here. I found again and again that as I was examining a patient, I could recall something I learned in medical school more than 40 years ago that was just what this patient needed. Truly a blessing from the Lord.”
In July 2022, the Keddingtons completed two years of service in Pago Pago. They loved every minute of their time there.
Former Pacific Area President Vincent Haleck spoke at a farewell event for the Keddingtons. He remembered how difficult it used to be for patients in American Samoa to receive necessary medical attention. “I saw many islanders try to [go] to New Zealand to get treatment but so few were able to . . . I thought how wonderful it would be to have these medical treatments available right here at home in American Samoa.” With encouragement from President Russell M. Nelson, himself a physician, it was Elder Haleck who developed the programme that eventually brought the Keddingtons and other doctors to the Pacific.
In his final remarks, Dr. Keddington said, “I have seen the hand of the Lord in my service to the people here,” he says.
“It’s been a humbling, gratifying experience.”

Illustrations by David Habben
While serving in the Massachusetts Boston Mission, my companion and I were driving home one day after conducting some baptismal interviews in a town in southern New Hampshire. My companion asked me if we needed anything from the store since we had not been able to go grocery shopping on our normal preparation day. I replied, “Yeah. We need some milk and a few other things to tide us over for a couple of days.” We then went to a local supermarket and bought the items.
By the time we started driving home again, it was getting dark outside. As we came over a small hill, we noticed a car parked on the downhill side with some women standing outside it. The car had its hazard lights on, and from the look on the women’s faces, it was obvious they needed help.
As missionaries we are always looking for opportunities to serve others, so we pulled over and offered our assistance. The woman who owned the vehicle gladly accepted our help. We then noticed there were two small children in the backseat. The car had a flat tire, and although the women had tried many times to wave people down, no one had stopped to help. The area they were stranded in was also a very poor spot for cell phone reception. When they explained their situation, we felt glad we had decided to stop.
As I was changing the tire, one of the children in the backseat was screaming uncontrollably. My companion offered the mother some treats for the child, but she said, “No. She’s picky. She will only drink milk.” My companion replied enthusiastically, “We have milk!” He then got the milk we had just purchased, and the mother filled a cup with it and gave it to the child, who immediately stopped crying. The woman asked, surprised, “Why do you randomly have a gallon of milk in your car?” We briefly explained why.
After working on a couple of over-tightened lug nuts, I finally got the wheel off and replaced it with the spare. We wished the group luck and offered them a pass-along card. The woman who owned the car gladly took the card and said, “Just because of what you two did for us today, I will look into this.” Then we went our separate ways.
I was now filthy from working on the ground and wrestling with the wheel. I turned to my companion and said, “I knew I wore my good suit today for a reason!” I really didn’t mind, though, because the feeling I had was worth way more than any suit.
That night I learned a valuable lesson. I learned that we should always take the opportunity to help people in need and that even if they have never met us before, we just might be the ones they are counting on to give them a hand.

“In speaking of my father, who is now in his eighties, I would have to say that he is one of the most brilliant men I have ever known. He is a strong-willed man who can do anything he puts his mind to. A repairman was never called to our home because Father fixed everything. Father always emphasized the importance of work, and he always had chores available for me to do. When I was ten and eleven, I swept floors at my father’s automobile agency, where there was usually more work than I could get done. I used to think Father was a little tough on me, but looking back now, I believe the hard work was a great blessing.
“My mother is the oldest daughter of Hyrum Mack Smith, who was the oldest son of Joseph F. Smith, the sixth president of the Church. Both of my grandfathers were apostles. Hyrum Mack Smith died when he was only forty-four years old, and Grandmother Smith, my mother’s mother, passed away a year later. I never knew either one.
“Mother is a very soft, sweet, tenderhearted person. She has always been a good listener. I think that during my growing up years she was probably my best friend. She is now seventy-eight years old. My mother and I had many good talks. She has always been a good cook, and there was homemade bread or cookies for us to eat whenever we came home from school. The best thing, however, was that Mother was always there after school to greet us.
“One of my fondest childhood memories is of my dog. Mother and Father bought me a collie, and I named him Scotty. Collies are smart, but this dog had an uncanny ability to know what time it was. Every morning Scotty walked with me through the park to the corner and left me there to cross the street on my way to school. He seemed to sense that that was as far as he should go. I live close to school and came home for lunch, and every day at noon Scotty was there to walk home with me and then back to the corner after lunch. At 3:30 he was there again to walk home from school with me. He was as faithful a companion as you would ever want to have. Scotty lived with us many, many years. He and I were inseparable. He was my protector, and ours was a great relationship. I was very sad when he died. I never had a brother, but it didn’t seem to matter because my best pal was Scotty. I hope that other children have pets that mean as much to them as Scotty did to me.”
Elder Ballard concluded our interview by saying, “There are two messages that I would like to give to the children of the world. The first is that even though you are young, you must always strive to do all you can to live the teachings of the gospel and to be as close to the Lord as possible. We never know what the Lord may call upon us to do, and we must be prepared. Some of you may have received special ordinations and challenges before you ever left Heavenly Father’s presence. You must never lose sight of what your destiny is in helping to build the kingdom of God.
“The second thing to remember is that you are never too young to begin thinking about the kind of companion you will marry. To find a girl or boy who is worthy to go to the temple to be married is a very special quest. No decision, as far as I am concerned, is more important than your decision about whom you will marry.
“When you are a child, you can begin developing concepts of what a righteous and loving eternal companion should be. By staying active in the Church, it will be easier and more natural for you to find that right person. It was very clear in my young mind whom I was looking for, and when I found her, I knew that I had found her.”

After two industrious weeks, members of the Bulawayo and Nkulumane Zimbabwe stakes completed two service projects at two centres—the Ramstein Salvation Army Home of the Aged and Qinisani Daycare Orphanage.

The time period of the service projects was packed with clearing of the yard, cleaning of the centres and construction of a rabbit cage. Donations of four rabbits were made to the two centres.

President Mzingaye Ndlovu, a leader for the Church in Buluwayo, addressed the attendees at the handover, a joyful event where members of the Church sang Christmas carols for the elderly.

“Continue to follow the example of Jesus Christ and also light the world here at Ramstein Salvation Army Home of the Aged. Our Lord Jesus Christ, went about in a ministry that extended over a period of three years. [During that period of three years] nothing was about Him. He sought to lift others,” Ndlovu said.

One day while running some errands, I saw a homeless man in front of the bank. I had seen him there before, and I had always tried to make sure that I smiled and said hello. Although I didn’t usually give him money, I wanted him to know that I’m not trying to avoid him and that I recognized him as a real person. When I got out of the car, I went to put change in the meter, but all I had was a “loonie” (Canadian dollar coin) and a bunch of pennies.
As I stood there and pushed the pennies around, making sure there wasn’t a nickel or dime, I heard the homeless man ask, “Do you have change?”
I told him I didn’t, not even for the meter. Then he surprised me by saying, “Oh, here. I’m sure I have a dime for you.”
I had just tried to shake off this homeless man because I didn’t have any change for him, and then he handed me a dime. But his gift was more than monetary. He also gave me a change of heart. His simple act was charity and service in its truest form. A homeless man begging for change gave his change to someone who needed it more at the moment. I thanked him and then, even though he wasn’t expecting it, gave him my loonie.

I was raised with very liberal views concerning the gospel. There was no priesthood in our home, and although I studied the gospel as best I could, when the real trials came, I couldn’t seem to live up to gospel standards.
My husband was not a member of the Church, and for a long time, the gospel was not a part of our lives. There was tension and misunderstanding whenever we tried to discuss the Church, so we just didn’t.
I didn’t want these hurt feelings in our family, so five years ago, I decided to do something about the situation. At that time, my husband was sent to Vietnam. Our son was four years old, and I decided it was time for him to go to Primary. Gradually, we began to go to Sunday School and sacrament meetings. We didn’t feel too comfortable there. We didn’t know many people, and no one seemed particularly interested in us except one family. They invited us to their home for family home evening and dinner. In time, from this first exposure, I realized that there was something missing that I wanted in my home.
When I met my husband on leave, I told him how much the Church meant to me, how I believe it with all my heart, and how I would never demand that he go to church if he would just first give it a try.
When he returned from Vietnam, we were transferred to Kentucky, where we started going to church. My husband, Rich, was the friendly antagonist in class—asking all the questions that many teachers wish would be asked somewhere else, or at least in a different setting. I kept praying that when our next orders came, we would find ourselves in an area surrounded by Latter-day Saints. I wanted so much for Rich to rub shoulders with Mormons. I prayed about it a lot.
Well, when our orders came through, they were for Stillwater, Oklahoma. I cried for three days. I didn’t think there were any Mormons in Oklahoma. But the Lord does things in his own way. In Oklahoma, we again attended the investigator class, and home teachers started coming to visit us.
The real change came one very cold January night in 1970. I decided that 1970 was going to be my year for the Church—no more being a part-Mormon, I wanted to be a total one. So the first Monday night (this was when Relief Society was on Monday), I started out in the bitter cold. Rich said, “Please don’t go.” I said, “I’ve got to. If I don’t now, I never will.”
When I arrived, I felt quite uncomfortable, for I was the only one there. It wasn’t long, however, before three others came—the presidency. Finally, we had a total of seven sisters. They really made me feel welcome. They held a testimony meeting, and everyone except me bore her testimony. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my husband how I felt about the Church.
That experience kept me in Relief Society. I didn’t miss a single meeting for about six months. Finally, after testimonies were shared at the conclusion of one lesson, one sister said, “If you’re having trouble reading the Book of Mormon, start reading Third Nephi.”
I thought. Oh, am I having trouble? I can’t even get started!
That evening, I went home and opened Third Nephi and read the whole book. My husband and I were both students at the time, and after I’d finished reading it, I took it to the other room, where my husband was studying.
I handed the book to him and said, “Read this and tell me if you don’t think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever read.”
He looked at me as if to say, “You’ve got to be kidding—at this time of night?”
But he read it. Who could not be moved by chapter 11:
“And it came to pass, as they understood they cast their eyes up again towards heaven; and behold, they saw a Man descending out of heaven; and he was clothed in a white robe; and he came down and stood in the midst of them; and the eyes of the whole multitude were turned upon him, and they durst not open their mouths, even one to another, and wist not what it meant, for they thought it was an angel that had appeared unto them.
“And it came to pass that he stretched forth his hand and spake unto the people, saying:
“Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.” (3 Ne. 11:8–10.)
This book was the turning point. He went on to complete the Book of Mormon—we both did. We read other Church books, prayed, and started having family home evening. Within six months, he was baptized. A year later, he baptized our son—a dream I once thought was impossible for me. This year (1972), we were sealed as a family in the temple.
I can never fully express how I feel about those scriptures that started us down the road of happiness.

Scott had asked. He had begged. When he was in first grade he’d worn out the dog pages in our encyclopedias. He’d bought books on dogs, too, and read them from cover to cover. (Scott could do that because he’d been reading since he was four.) But he never got a dog.

Daddy and Mother explained to him a dozen times maybe how dogs belonged in the country, how they were a nuisance in the city, and how it wasn’t fair to dogs or people to have dogs cooped up. “And besides,” they’d finally say, “Tom wanted a dog once, and he had to learn that a boy can’t always have everything he wants.”

Scott begged a whole yearful, but all he got was a rabbit. He kept him a few months and then gave him to Uncle George’s kids who live on a farm. But I didn’t want a rabbit. Rabbits don’t love you back the way a dog does. Scott’s rabbit hopped away without a backward glance when we turned him loose in Uncle George’s field.

“Joey’s dog would have howled his head off if he’d been turned out and left like that,” I said as the rabbit disappeared behind a haystack.

When Sister Grassli was about eight years old, she was asked to give a talk in Sunday School. She practiced and practiced her talk about pre-earth life. “I talked about how Jesus Christ and Satan presented their plans and about how Christ’s plan was chosen. Satan got mad and said, ‘I’ll get them!’ I thought at the time, Well, he’s not going to get me! Even now I remember that decision. That feeling of determination that I had as an eight-year-old girl has stuck with me.

“That’s an important decision for adults as well as for children to make,” said Sister Grassli. “And giving talks and doing the things we are asked to do in the Church helps us grow and gain stronger testimonies.

“My message to the children of the world is that the teachings of Jesus have all the answers to all the problems of life. If we always follow His teachings, then no matter how hard life gets, we will be safe and happy. Even if there is unhappiness in our lives, we can have inner peace by living the gospel.”

Telii and Nabota were among the first Tubuaians to join the Church. They became Elder Pratt’s closest friends there and helped him preach the gospel. Telii translated Latter-day Saint hymns and scriptures and set them to himene, a local singing style. Many evenings, she gathered people together to teach them her songs. It was during these meetings, which sometimes lasted until midnight, that her relatives and friends first learned gospel concepts and scriptures. Several were soon baptized.

The story that follows really struck and touched me. It centers on two, highly competitive women's softball teams, Western Oregon University and Central Washington University. These teams were competing for a Division II Championship. Imagine in your mind's eye the following scene, Sarah Tucholsky of Western is a bat. She is small in stature and is at best, a below-average hitter, having achieved only 3 hits in 34 at bats for that season.

The first pitch arrives. It is a strike. Doing everything she can to silence the crowd noise and ignore a few avid hecklers in the park, she takes the next pitch. She knocks it out of the park. However, as Sarah begins her home-run jog, she misses first base. As she attempts to return to first base, she incurs an ACL tear and is unable to complete her trip around the bases on her own. Her pain is significant.

Her first-base coach and teammate, Shannon Prochaska, queries the umpires to see what she and others can do. Could Sarah crawl back to first base on her own? Her coach, Pam Knox, contemplates sending in a substitute runner and having Sarah's hit counted as a single, not as a home run. Then something remarkable happened.

Pam Knox, Sarah's coach, hears these words: "Excuse me, would it be OK if we carried her around and she touched each bag?"[21]

This is the voice of Mallory Holtman, a fierce competitor and very talented softball player for Central Washington University. Together with Liz Wallace, her teammate, they carry Sarah around the bases for her one and only home run of her life. You can imagine the response of all who witnessed this momentous act of generosity first hand.

In her own words, Mallory captures so much about what it means to evidence a generosity of spirit:

Honestly, it's one of those things that I hope anyone would do... She hit the ball over her fence. She's a senior; it's her last year... I don't know, it's just one of those things I guess that maybe because compared to everyone on the field at the time, I had been playing longer and [I] knew we could touch her, it was my idea first. But I think anyone who knew that we could touch her would have offered to do it, just because it's the right thing to do. She was obviously in agony.[22]

We also can look for spontaneous opportunities to touch, to lift, and to carry.

But the man himself—what was he like? The following incident will provide some insights. As a young Apostle, Elder Taylor went to speak to a number of Saints near Columbus, Ohio. Shortly before the hour arrived, some of the Saints reported to him that most of the townspeople were planning to gather at the open-air site. They expected that Elder Taylor would be tarred feathered—and advised him not to go. After a moment’s reflection, he replied that he would go, and that if his friends chose not to go with him, he would go alone.

When he arrived, he began by informing those gathered that he had recently come from Canada—a land under monarchal rule: “Gentlemen, I now stand among men whose fathers fought for and obtained one of the greatest blessings ever conferred upon the human family—the right to think, to speak, to write; the right to say who shall govern them, and the right to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences. … I see around me the sons of those noble sires, who, rather than bow to the behests of a tyrant, pledged their lives, fortunes and sacred honors to burst those fetters. …

“But, by the by, I have been informed that you purpose to tar and feather me, for my religious opinions. Is this the boon you have inherited from your fathers? Is this the blessing they purchased with their dearest hearts’ blood—this your liberty? If so, you now have a victim, and we will have an offering to the goddess of liberty.”

At that point, he tore open his vest and said: “Gentlemen, come on with your tar and feathers, your victim is ready; and ye shades of the venerable patriots, gaze upon the deeds of your degenerate sons! Come on, gentlemen! Come on, I say, I am ready!”

No one moved or spoke. Elder Taylor stood there, drawn to his full majestic six-foot height—calm, yet defiant. No one came.

After a pause he continued to preach for three hours! At the conclusion, leaders of the community approached him, expressing displeasure at any hostile intentions of their fellow citizens. (See Roberts, pages 53–55.)