The Owl Express

During my college days, I was one of a class of students appointed to fieldwork as a part of our prescribed courses in geology—the science that deals with the earth in all of its varied aspects and phases, but more particularly with its component rocks, the structural features they present, the changes they have undergone and are undergoing—the science of worlds.

A certain assignment had kept us in the field many days. We had traversed, examined, and charted miles of lowlands and uplands, valleys and hills, mountain heights and canyon defiles. As the time allotted to the investigation drew near its close, we were overtaken by a violent windstorm, followed by a heavy snow—unseasonable and unexpected, but which, nevertheless, increased in intensity so that we were in danger of being snowbound in the hills. The storm reached its height while we were descending a long and steep mountainside several miles from the little railway station at which we had hoped to take [a] train that night for home. With great effort we reached the station late at night while the storm was yet raging. We were suffering from the intense cold incident to biting wind and driving snow; and, to add to our discomfiture, we learned that the expected train had been stopped by snowdrifts a few miles from the little station at which we waited.

… The train for which we so expectantly and hopefully waited was the Owl Express—a fast night train connecting large cities. Its time schedule permitted stops at but few and these the most important stations; but, as we knew, it had to stop at this out-of-the-way post to replenish the water supply of the locomotive.

Long after midnight the train arrived in a terrific whirl of wind and snow. I lingered behind my companions as they hurriedly clambered aboard, for I was attracted by the engineer, who during the brief stop, while his assistant was attending to the water replenishment, bustled about the engine, oiling some parts, adjusting others, and generally overhauling the panting locomotive. I ventured to speak to him, busy though he was. I asked how he felt on such a night—wild, weird, and furious, when the powers of destruction seemed to be let loose, abroad and uncontrolled, when the storm was howling and when danger threatened from every side. I thought of the possibility—the probability even—of snowdrifts or slides on the track, of bridges and high trestles which may have been loosened by the storm, of rock masses dislodged from the mountainside—of these and other possible obstacles. I realized that in the event of accident through obstruction on or disruption of the track, the engineer and the fireman would be the ones most exposed to danger; a violent collision would most likely cost them their lives. All of these thoughts and others I expressed in hasty questioning of the bustling, impatient engineer.

His answer was a lesson not yet forgotten. In effect he said, though in jerky and disjointed sentences: “Look at the engine headlight. Doesn’t that light up the track for a hundred yards [90 m] or more? Well, all I try to do is to cover that hundred yards of lighted track. That I can see, and for that distance I know the roadbed is open and safe. And,” he added, with what, through the swirl and the dim lamplighted darkness of the roaring night, I saw was a humorous smile on his lips and a merry twinkle of his eye, “believe me, I have never been able to drive this old engine of mine—God bless her!—so fast as to outstrip that hundred yards of lighted track. The light of the engine is always ahead of me!”

As he climbed to his place in the cab, I hastened to board the first passenger coach; and as I sank into the cushioned seat, in blissful enjoyment of the warmth and general comfort, offering strong contrast to the wildness of the night without, I thought deeply of the words of the grimy, oil-stained engineer. They were full of faith—the faith that accomplishes great things, the faith that gives courage and determination, the faith that leads to works. What if the engineer had failed, had yielded to fright and fear, had refused to go on because of the threatening dangers? Who knows what work may have been hindered, what great plans may have been nullified, what God-appointed commissions of mercy and relief may have been thwarted had the engineer weakened and quailed?

For a little distance the storm-swept track was lighted up; for that short space the engineer drove on!

We may not know what lies ahead of us in the future years, nor even in the days or hours immediately beyond. But for a few yards, or possibly only a few feet, the track is clear, our duty is plain, our course is illumined. For that short distance, for the next step, lighted by the inspiration of God, go on!

James E. Talmage The Improvement Era, Sept. 1914, 1008–9

The Unwise Bee

Sometimes I find myself under obligations of work requiring quiet and seclusion such as neither my comfortable office nor the cozy study at home insures. My favorite retreat is the upper room in the tower of a large building, well removed from the noise and confusion of the city streets. The room is somewhat difficult of access, and relatively secure against human intrusion. Therein I have spent many peaceful and busy hours with books and pen.

I am not always without visitors, however, especially in summertime; for, when I sit with windows open, flying insects occasionally find entrance and share the place with me. These self-invited guests are not unwelcome. Many a time I have laid down the pen and, forgetful of my theme, have watched with interest the activities of these winged visitants, with an after-thought that the time so spent had not been wasted, for, is it not true, that even a butterfly, a beetle, or a bee, may be a bearer of lessons to the receptive student?

A wild bee from the neighboring hills once flew into the room and at intervals during an hour or more I caught the pleasing hum of its flight. The little creature realized that it was a prisoner, yet all its efforts to find the exit; through the partly opened casement failed. When ready to close up the room and leave, I threw the window wide, and tried at first to guide and then to drive the bee to liberty and safety, knowing well that if left in the room it would die as other insects there entrapped had perished in the dry atmosphere of the enclosure. The more I tried to drive it out, the more determinedly did it oppose and resist my efforts. Its erstwhile peaceful hum developed into an angry roar, its darting flight became hostile and threatening.

Then it caught me off my guard and stung my hand—the hand that would have guided it to freedom. At last it alighted on a pendant attached to the ceiling; beyond my reach of help or injury.

The sharp pain of its unkind sting aroused in me rather pity than anger. I knew the inevitable penalty of its mistaken opposition and defiance; and I had to leave the creature to its fate. Three days later I returned to the room and found the dried, lifeless body of the bee on the writing tablet. It had paid for its stubbornness with its life.

To the bee's short-sightedness and selfish misunderstanding I was a foe, a persistent persecutor, a mortal enemy bent on its destruction; while in truth I was its friend, offering it ransom of the life it had put in forfeit through its own error, striving to redeem it, in spite of itself, from the prison-house of death and restore it to the outer air of liberty.

Are we so much wiser than the bee that no analogy lies between its unwise course and our lives? We are prone to contend, sometimes with vehemence and anger, against the adversity which after all may be the manifestation of superior wisdom and loving care, directed against our temporary comfort for our permanent blessing. In the tribulations and sufferings of mortality there is a divine ministry which only the godless soul can wholly fail to discern. To many the loss of wealth has been a boon, a providential means of leading or driving them from the confines of selfish indulgence to the sunshine and the open, where boundless opportunity waits on effort. Disappointment, sorrow, and affliction may be the expression of an all-wise Father's kindness.

Consider the lesson of the unwise bee!

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." (Proverbs 3:5,6)

James E. Talmage "The Parable of the Unwise Bee" Improvement Era, Novemeber 1962, p. 817

The Necessity of Cleanliness

There is a saying that cleanliness is next to Godliness...

I remember, when I was a small boy, President Brigham Young was making one of his tours and arrived at a town in one of the southern counties. He had intended to stop there and speak to the people, but, as he drove along the streets, entering town, he noticed the unclean condition of the surroundings. He drove direct to the Bishop's home, stopped his team and said to the Bishop, who stood in front of his residence waiting the arrival of the president: "Why Bishop, I see the same old rocks upon the streets; I see the same old dirty surroundings; I see the same old gates off their hinges; I see the same old broken down fences; I see the same old puddles of mud before the tithing office and your public buildings, just as they were when I was last here; and, inasmuch as I called attention to these defects when I was here before, and it has had no effect upon the people whatever, I do not think it necessary for me to stop this time. Good-bye, Bishop. Tell the people when they attend to these things and rectify them, I will stop next time."

Reed Smoot. "The Necessity of Cleanliness" April 1903 General Conference

Individual Interest

I was very greatly impressed when President George Albert Smith became president of this Church. One of his early responsibilities as president was to attend a welfare meeting of the general committee on Friday evening. His conduct there was indicative of the life that he had lived, the service that he had rendered his people, the knowledge that he had of the individual members of this Church. That morning a case came before us for his consideration. It was the application for assistance of a humble Saint. He had come from a country in Europe, had labored as missionaries in that same country. In the presentation of his case we were just a little impersonal and had not particularly emphasized his name. The mere mention of it caused President Smith to ask if that was not a former resident of Berlin. And when we told him he was, he said, "How can we refrain from giving consideration to his case? His generosity in the Church deserves our help. It was my privilege to eat at that man's table." We found out that he and his family had saved of their earning for a week and had little or nothing to eat for that week, practically fasted in order that they might have the means with which to spread what they thought was an appropriate dinner before a servant of God who had been sent into their midst, one of the Quorum of the Twelve, George Albert Smith. I tell you, his interest in the people of this Church individually can hardly be excelled. He was interested in the smallest details.

Henry D. Moyle, "A Tribute to President Smith,' The Improvement Era, June 951. p. 453.

A Mormon Meeting

It was not often Brother Lund was bothered. Even in places where other Elders had suffered persecution, he succeeded in making friends. Sometimes, however, he also tasted the opposite. On one occasion, when he was out inviting people to a meeting in the evening, he came into a house and informed a woman he met that there would be a meeting that very evening, and invited her to attend.

"What kind of a meeting?" she asked.
"A 'Mormon' meeting," he replied.

There came a change over her face instantly and she became a perfect fury. She grabbed her firetongs and screamed, "I will give you a 'Mormon' meeting!" and flew at him.

He thought discretion the better part of valor, and ran out of the house, but the woman followed, and in her highest voice called on her husband to shoot the "Mormon." She made such a disturbance that the neighbors came running to see what was the matter.

Years afterwards, when Brother Lund had charge of the Ephraim Co-op, a lady came into the store and said to him, "You do not know ,e, but I have seen you once. Do you remember a woman who ran after you with a pair of firetongs?"

"Yes," he answered, "but you are not that woman, for her face I have never forgotten."

"No," she said, "I was her neighbor, and seeing her running after you, I asked her what you had done. She said that you had invited her to a 'Mormon' meeting. I became curious to learn something about the 'Mormons' and went to the meeting. I heard you speak and was convinced of the truth."

J.M. Sjodahl, "Memorial Address of Funeral Service of Anthon H. Lund" (J.Reuben Clark Library, BYU, Provo, Utah), pp.11-12.

Effects of Kindness and Harshness

In the bishops' meeting last evening in this hall, Bishop Marvin o. Ashton told two stories that deeply impressed me. Each story was about a bishop and some boys. In the first one, a group of boys engaged in some Halloween pranks of a rather serious, provocative nature. The bishop secured the names of the boys and charged them to come to the sacrament meeting and publicly ask forgiveness for engaging in the pranks committed, on pain of excommunication for failure to do so. In consequence there are in that community today a number of families that grew up outside of the Church.

In the second case a group of boys and a bishop were involved. A wedding party was held at the bishop's home. A big freezer of ice cream waited on the back porch for the refreshment hour. When the ice cream was to be served, it was observed that the freezer was empty. Pondering over the matter, the bishop decided to invite the guilty boys to an ice cream festival and provided two freezers of ice cream for the occasion. All the boys accepted the invitation. When the lads were seated at the feast, it was noticed that tears began to run down one boy's face. Soon all the other boys were in tears also. From among that group have come some of the finest leaders in their community.

Those were the factual stories told by Bishop Ashton. Hearing them I was reminded of section 121:39-41, D&C, which reads as follows:

We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion. Hence many are called, but few are chosen. No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned (D&C 121:39-41).

The two bishops of the story were undoubtedly actuated by the best of motives. Not for a moment would I question that. But one bishop was wise and the other unwise. The thought in the mind of one was to use persuasion, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, and love, so beautifully stated in the revelation quoted. In the case of the other bishop he seems to have acted impulsively, yielding to the influence of the evil power. He forgot the scriptural injunction found in the D&C 64:9-10:

Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men" (D&C 64:9-10).

Joseph F. Merrill, Conference Report, April 1945, pp. 111-115

I Wiggled My Ears

My brethren, I reiterate that, as holders of the priesthood of God, it is our duty to live our lives in such a way that we may be examples of righteousness for others to follow. As I have pondered how we might best provide such examples, I have thought of an experience I had some years ago while attending a stake conference. During the general session, I observed a young boy sitting with his family on the front row of the stake center. I was seated on the stand. As the meeting progressed, I began to notice that if I crossed one leg over the other, the young boy would do the same thing. If I reversed the motion and crossed the other leg, he would follow suit. I would put my hands in my lap, and he would do the same. I rested my chin in my hand, and he also did so. Whatever I did, he would imitate my actions. This continued until the time approached for me to address the congregation. I decided to put him to the test. I looked squarely at him, certain I had his attention, and then I wiggled my ears. He made a vain attempt to do the same, but I had him! He just couldn't quite get his ears to wiggle. He turned to his father, who was sitting next to him, and whispered something to him. He pointed to his ears and then to me. As his father looked in my direction, obviously to see my ears wiggle, I sat solemnly with my arms folded, not moving a muscle. The father glanced back skeptically at his son, who looked slightly defeated. He finally gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders.

I have thought about that experience over the years as I've contemplated how, particularly when we're young, we tend to imitate the example of our parents, our leaders, our peers. The prophet Brigham Young said: "We should never permit ourselves to do anything that we are not willing to see our children do. We should set them an example that we wish them to imitate."

Thomas S. Monson "Examples of Righteousness" April 2008 General Conference

Elder Wilson

Many years ago I spoke of one who took his example from the Savior, one who stood firm and true, strong and worthy through the storms of life. He courageously magnified his priesthood callings. He provides an example to each of us. His name was Thomas Michael Wilson, the son of Willie and Julia Wilson of Lafayette, Alabama.
When he was but a teenager and he and his family were not yet members of the Church, he was stricken with cancer, followed by painful radiation therapy, and then blessed remission. This illness caused his family to realize that not only is life precious but that it can also be short. They began to look to religion to help them through this time of tribulation. Subsequently, they were introduced to the Church, and eventually all but the father were baptized. After accepting the gospel, young Brother Wilson yearned for the opportunity of being a missionary, even though he was older than most young men when they begin their missionary service. At the age of 23, he received a mission call to serve in the Utah Salt Lake City Mission.
Elder Wilson's missionary companions described his faith as unquestioning, undeviating, and unyielding. He was an example to all. However, after 11 months of missionary service, illness returned. Bone cancer now required the amputation of his arm and shoulder. Yet he persisted in his missionary labors.
Elder Wilson's courage and consuming desire to remain on his mission so touched his nonmember father that he investigated the teachings of the Church and also became a member.
I learned that an investigator whom Elder Wilson had taught was baptized but then wanted to be confirmed by Elder Wilson, whom she respected so much. She, with a few others, journeyed to Elder Wilson's bedside in the hospital. There, with his remaining hand resting upon her head, Elder Wilson confirmed her a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Elder Wilson continued month after month his precious but painful service as a missionary. Blessings were given; prayers were offered. Because of his example of dedication, his fellow missionaries lived closer to God.
Elder Wilson's physical condition deteriorated. The end drew near, and he was to return home. He asked to serve but one additional month, and his request was granted. He put his faith in God, and He whom Thomas Michael Wilson silently trusted opened the windows of heaven and abundantly blessed him. His parents, Willie and Julia Wilson, and his brother Tony came to Salt Lake City to help their son and brother home to Alabama. However, there was yet a prayed-for, a yearned-for blessing to be bestowed. The family invited me to come with them to the Jordan River temple, where those sacred ordinances which bind families for eternity, as well as for time, were performed.
I said good-bye to the Wilson family. I can see Elder Wilson yet as he thanked me for being with him and his loved ones. He said, "It doesn't matter what happens to us in this life as long as we have the gospel of Jesus Christ and live it. It doesn't matter whether I teach the gospel on this or the other side of the veil, so long as I can teach it." What courage. What confidence. What love. The Wilson family made the long trek home to Lafayette, where Elder Thomas Michael Wilson slipped from here to eternity. He was buried there with his missionary tag in place.
Thomas S. Monson "Examples of Righteousness" April 2008 General Conference

Seventy-Five Mormon Boys

While I was acting as servicemen's coordinator, I was in London, England. I sent the following telegram to the senior chaplain of a large camp near Liverpool: "I'll be in your camp tomorrow morning at 10:00. Kindly notify all Mormon boys in your camp that we'll hold a meeting."

When I arrived the next morning, I met seventy-five young men, all in uniform. They were delighted to see me, although I knew none of them. They were glad to see someone from home.

"There stepped out from the crowd a man who, after shaking hands, said, "I'm the one to whom you sent your telegram. I'm the chaplain of this camp. I didn't get your telegram until this morning [that is, Sunday morning]. Upon receipt of it, I made an inquiry--a careful inquiry. I found there were seventy-six Mormon boys in this camp. Seventy-five of them are here; one is in the hospital."

He said, "I wish you'd tell me, Mr. Brown, how you do it. I have six hundred men in my church in this camp, and if I gave them six months' notice they couldn't meet that record. Tell me how you do it."

"Well," I said, "if you come into our meeting, we'll show you how we do it." And so he accompanied me into the quonset hut, and before us sat these seventy-five young men. I had the minister sit next to me.

I said, "How many of you fellows have been on missions?" Fully 50 percent of them raised their hands. I pointed to six of them and said, "Come here and administer the sacrament."
I pointed to six others and said, "Come here and be prepared to speak." I looked at my friend, the minister, and he had his mouth open. He had never seen such a thing.

And then I said, "Fellows, what shall we sing this morning?" And with one voice they said, "Come, Come, Ye Saints!" And I said, "Who can lead the music?" and most of them raised their hands. I selected one. "Who can play this portable organ?" And again there was a fine showing, and one was selected.

We didn't have any books, but the man at the organ sounded a chord, and those young men stood, shoulders back and chins pulled in, and they sang all the verses of "Come, Come, Ye Saints." I have heard that sung all over the Church many times, even by the Tabernacle Choir, to whom I apologize for what I am going to say. I have never heard "Come, Come, Ye Saints" sung with such fervor, such conviction, such power as those young men sang it. When they came to that last verse, "And should we die before our journey's through, happy day, all is well," I tell you it was thrilling. And as I looked at my friend again, I found him weeping.

After the prayer, one of the boys knelt at the sacrament table and said, "O God, the Eternal Father," and then he paused for what seemed to be a full minute before proceeding. At the close of the meeting, I went and looked him up. I put my arm across his shoulder and said, "What's the matter, lad?"

He said, "Why?"

"Well, you seemed to have difficulty in asking a blessing on the bread. Has something happened?"

"Well, sir," he said, "a few hours ago I was over Germany and France on a bombing mission. We had made our run, left our calling cards [meaning the bombs], and when we gained altitude and were about to return across the channel, we ran into heavy flak. My tail assembly was pretty well shot away, one of my engines was out, a number of my crew were wounded, and it looked like a hopeless situation. It seemed like no power in heaven or earth could get us back across the channel to a landing field. But," he said, "Brother Brown, up there I remembered what my mother had said to me. [And this I want to say to this vast audience, both those that are here and those that are listening in.] This is what my mother said, 'If ever you find yourself in a situation where man can't help you, call on God.'

I had been told that same thing in Primary, in the seminaries, in Sunday School: 'If ever you need help and man can't help you, call on God.' Although it seemed hopeless and impossible, I said, 'O God, the Eternal Father, please sustain this ship until we get back into England.' . . . Brother Brown, he did just that.

"When I heard of this meeting I ran all the way to get here, and when I knelt at the table and named his name again, I remembered shamefully that I had not stopped to say 'thank you.' And that's the reason I paused, to express my gratitude for the goodness of God."

Well, we went on with our meeting, and these young men spoke, and they spoke with power and conviction. Every one who heard them was thrilled by the evidence of their faith, and my friend, the chaplain, continued to weep. When they had finished talking, I said, "Fellows, we'll have to dismiss." (That meeting was not like this; it had to be dismissed on time.) I said, "We'll have to dismiss, or you won't get any chow."

They said, "We can have chow any time. Let's have a testimony meeting."

"Why," I said, "if you have a testimony meeting, you'll be here another two hours."

They repeated with one voice, "Please let us have a testimony meeting."

I turned to my friend, the minister, and said, "Now I know this is unusual for you. We've been here two hours, and we're going to be here another two hours. We'll excuse you if you prefer to withdraw."

He put his hand on my knee and said, "Please, Sir, may I remain?" And of course I encouraged him to stay, and then for two solid hours those young men, one after another, stood up and bore witness of the truth of the gospel. My only job was to say, "You're next, and then you, and then you," because all of them wanted to get up at once. It was a glorious occasion.

Finally there came an end. We dismissed, and this minister turned to me and said, "Mr. Brown, I have been a minister of the gospel for twenty-one years, but this has been the greatest spiritual experience of my life." And again he said, "How do you do it? How did you know which of those fellows to call on?"

I replied, "It didn't make any difference which one I called on. They are all prepared. And this could happen in any camp anywhere in the world where there are seventy-five young Mormon boys."

Hugh B. Brown "An Eternal Quest" May 13, 1969 BYU Devotional

Silverware

"Most of all, I think eternal marriage cannot be achieved without a commitment to make it work. Most of what I know about this I have learned from my companion. We have been married for almost 47 years now. From the beginning she knew what kind of marriage she wanted.

"We started as poor college students, but her vision for our marriage was exemplified by a set of silverware. As is common today, when we married she registered with a local department store. Instead of listing all the pots and pans and appliances we needed and hoped to receive, she chose another course. She asked for silverware. She chose a pattern and the number of place settings and listed knives, forks, and spoons on the wedding registry and nothing else. No towels, no toasters, no television—just knives, forks, and spoons.

"The wedding came and went. Our friends and our parents’ friends gave gifts. We departed for a brief honeymoon and decided to open the presents when we returned. When we did so, we were shocked. There was not a single knife or fork in the lot. We joked about it and went on with our lives.

"Two children came along while we were in law school. We had no money to spare. But when my wife worked as a part-time election judge or when someone gave her a few dollars for her birthday, she would quietly set it aside, and when she had enough she would go to town to buy a fork or a spoon. It took us several years to accumulate enough pieces to use them. When we finally had service for four, we began to invite some of our friends for dinner.

"Before they came, we would have a little discussion in the kitchen. Which utensils would we use, the battered and mismatched stainless or the special silverware? In those early days I would often vote for the stainless. It was easier. You could just throw it in the dishwasher after the meal, and it took care of itself. The silver, on the other hand, was a lot of work. My wife had it hidden away under the bed where it could not be found easily by a burglar. She had insisted that I buy a tarnish-free cloth to wrap it in. Each piece was in a separate pocket, and it was no easy task to assemble all the pieces. When the silver was used, it had to be hand washed and dried so that it would not spot, and put back in the pockets so it would not tarnish, and wrapped up and carefully hidden again so it would not get stolen. If any tarnish was discovered, I was sent to buy silver polish, and together we carefully rubbed the stains away.

"Over the years we added to the set, and I watched with amazement how she cared for the silver. My wife was never one to get angry easily. However, I remember the day when one of our children somehow got hold of one of the silver forks and wanted to use it to dig up the backyard. That attempt was met with a fiery glare and a warning not to even think about it. Ever!

"I noticed that the silverware never went to the many ward dinners she cooked, or never accompanied the many meals she made and sent to others who were sick or needy. It never went on picnics and never went camping. In fact it never went anywhere; and, as time went by, it didn’t even come to the table very often. Some of our friends were weighed in the balance, found wanting, and didn’t even know it. They got the stainless when they came to dinner.

"The time came when we were called to go on a mission. I arrived home one day and was told that I had to rent a safe-deposit box for the silver. She didn’t want to take it with us. She didn’t want to leave it behind. And she didn’t want to lose it.

"For years I thought she was just a little bit eccentric, and then one day I realized that she had known for a long time something that I was just beginning to understand. If you want something to last forever, you treat it differently. You shield it and protect it. You never abuse it. You don’t expose it to the elements. You don’t make it common or ordinary. If it ever becomes tarnished, you lovingly polish it until it gleams like new. It becomes special because you have made it so, and it grows more beautiful and precious as time goes by."

F. Burton Howard "Eternal Marriage" April 2003 General Conference

Surprise!

For many years it was my privilege nearly every week to attend stake conferences and to be in the home of a stake president or a counselor to a stake president. Sometimes, rather interesting things would occur. There were occasions when a tiny brother or sister, not knowing that Mother and Dad had given their bedroom and their bed to a General Authority, would creep in the bedroom early in the morning and think that he or she was crawling into bed with Mother and Father—only to be amazed and confused to find that such was not the case.

On one occasion many years ago, while visiting the Indianapolis Stake, I remember President Low, who was with Purdue University there, saying to me, “Brother Monson, would you like to come out to my home and stay with us Saturday evening, or would you prefer to forego the 40-mile drive and stay here with my counselor in Indianapolis?”

I responded, “Well, President Low, it’s late at night, and, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay with your counselor here in Indianapolis.”

The next morning President Low greeted me at eight o’clock and said, “Brother Monson, you made an inspired decision.”

I asked, “How’s that?”

“Well,” he replied, “we have a son away attending the university, and our anticipation was that we, of course, would have you occupy our bedroom on Saturday evening. But unknown to us and totally unexpectedly, our son returned home from school at two in the morning, came in the front door, walked up the stairs to our bedroom, turned on the light, and yelled, ‘Surprise!’ ”

I’m not certain who would have been more surprised on that occasion had I stayed with the stake president—the student or me! I think it’s rather a good thing we didn’t find out.

Thomas S. Monson "Decisions Determine Destiny" CES Fireside 2005

Matchmaker

"Many years ago I served as a mission president. I had 450 wonderful, dedicated missionaries. When we returned home to Salt Lake City after three years, my dear wife and I were a little surprised one evening as we ran a tally on our missionaries, only to find that there were some sister missionaries who had not as yet found an eternal companion. We determined we would do what we could to help out. I said to Sister Monson, “Frances, let’s plan with a purpose and invite three or four of our lovely sister missionaries to our home. We’ll have an activity where they can tell us who of all the single returned male missionaries they would like to have invited to a little fireside in our home. Then we will show pictures of the mission, and we will arrange the seating so that they can become well acquainted with one another.” This was done, and I might say that the four girls whom we invited eagerly responded to the challenge.

"In shoe boxes we maintained individual five-by-seven-inch photographs of every missionary. We had four such boxes, with missionary pictures in each. As those four girls sat around our living room, I said to each of them, “Here is a gift. Thumb through your box of pictures and tell me which of all the pictures represents the young man whom you would most like to have invited to come to this fireside.” My, that was an interesting scene. I think that the only way I could adequately describe it is to ask a question. Have you ever seen children on Christmas morning? We went forward and invited the chosen four young men to join these four young ladies in our home, and we had a glorious evening. At the conclusion of the evening, I noticed two of them slowly walking down our driveway, and I said to Sister Monson, “This looks promising.” They were walking very close together.

"It wasn’t long afterward that I received a telephone call from the young man. He said, “President Monson, do you remember that I promised you if I ever fell in love, I would let you know?”

I said, “Yes, sir.”

He continued, “President, I have fallen in love.”

I replied, “Good. With whom?”

He said, “You’ll never guess.”

"I was discreet; I didn’t guess. I said, “You tell me.” And he named the sister missionary with whom he walked side by side and hand in hand from our party that evening. They have now been married for 42 years and have five children and many grandchildren."

Thomas S. Monson "Decisions Determine Destiny" CES Fireside 2005

Letters to God

Little children can give us interesting examples of faith. Some time ago I jotted down from one of our national magazines a short compilation of “Children’s Letters to God.” I found them most interesting.

Little Mark wrote: “Dear God, I keep waiting for spring but it never [did] come yet. Don’t forget.”

Another child stated: “Dear God, If you made the rule for kids to take out the garbage please change it.”

Little Mickey wrote: “Dear God, If you watch in Church on Sunday I will show you my new shoes.”

Jeff wrote: “Dear God, It is great the way you always get the stars in the right place. Why can’t you do that with the moon?”

Joyce wrote: “Dear God, Thank you for the baby brother but what I prayed for was a puppy.”

I like this one from Matthew the best: “Dear God, I read your book and I like it.” Then he asked, “I would like to write a book someday with the same kind of stories. Where do you get your ideas? Best wishes.”

Thomas S. Monson "Decisions Determine Destiny" CES Fireside 2005

Wireless Message From Heaven

"My maternal grandfather, Alma Benjamin Larsen, was only 34 years old when he woke up one morning and noticed that he had problems seeing. Shortly thereafter, he lost his sight entirely. Grandfather had served a mission and been a faithful member of the Church. He was a farmer with a wife and three children, and he could not imagine life without sight. Grandfather's wife and small children now had to bear the extra burdens of helping on the farm, and money became tight.

"During this time of physical darkness, many people became instruments in God's hands to help my blind grandfather. One experience that had a powerful impact on his family happened in 1919. It was a year of great financial difficulty for all the people in Grandfather's town. Farms were being foreclosed, and businesses were going broke. There was a sizable mortgage on his farm, and Grandfather received a statement saying he would have to pay $195 in order to carry the mortgage over for another year. For him, paying this bill was like demanding a pound of flesh. Nearly everyone was in the same condition, and it seemed impossible to obtain that much money. If he had gathered everything that the farm produced—the horses, cows, and machinery—he could not have sold them for $195. Grandfather asked a neighbor to butcher two or three of his cows, and he sold them and some other products. He had extended credit to his neighbors with the understanding that they would pay at the end of the year, but none of his debtors was able to pay him. The economic situation for his family was bleak.

"In his journal, Grandfather recounts: "I shall never forget that cold evening, just before Christmas of 1919. It looked as though we would lose the farm. My daughter, Gladys, laid a slip of paper in my hand and said, 'This came in the mail today.' I took it to her mother and asked her what it was. This is what my wife read to me, 'Dear Brother Larsen, I've had you on my mind all day today. I am wondering if you are in financial trouble. If you are, I have $200 you may have.' The letter was signed 'Jim Drinkwater.' Jim was a small, crippled man, and he would have been the last man on earth that anyone would have thought had that much money on hand. I went to his house that night and he said, 'Brother Larsen, I received a wireless message from heaven this morning, and I could not get you off my mind all day. I was sure you were in financial trouble.' Brother Drinkwater gave me $200 and we sent the $195 to the mortgage company, and with the extra $5 we bought boots and clothes for the children. Santa Claus did come that year."

"My grandfather then goes on to bear his testimony: "The Lord has never let me down. He has touched the hearts of others as He touched the heart of Brother Drinkwater. I bear witness that the only safety and security that I have ever found has come through trying to keep the commandments of the Lord and upholding and sustaining the authorities of this Church."

"I have thought about Jim Drinkwater many times and wondered how he came to be one that the Lord could trust. Jim was a little, crippled man that God trusted to help a blind farmer with a heavy mortgage and three children. I have learned a great deal from my grandfather's experience with Jim Drinkwater. I have learned that a person does not need to have a Church calling, an invitation to help someone, or even good health to become an instrument in God's hands."

Don R. Clarke "Becoming Instruments in the Hands of God" October 2006 General Conference

Sister Daisy's Prayer

"Sister Daisy Ogando lives in New York City, home to more than eight million people. Some years ago Sister Ogando met with the missionaries and was taught the gospel. Gradually, she and the missionaries lost contact. Time passed. Then, in 2007, the principles of the gospel she had been taught by the missionaries stirred within her heart.

"One day while getting into a taxi, Daisy saw the missionaries at a distance, but she was unable to make contact with them before they disappeared from view. She prayed fervently to our Heavenly Father and promised Him that if He would somehow direct the missionaries to her once again, she would open her door to them. She returned home that day with faith in her heart that God would hear and answer her prayer.

"In the meantime, two young missionaries who had been sincerely praying and working to find people to teach were one day examining the tracting records of missionaries who had previously served in their area. As they did so, they came across the name of Daisy Ogando. When they approached her apartment the very afternoon that Sister Ogando offered that simple but fervent prayer, she opened the door and said those words that are music to every missionary who has ever heard them: “Elders, come in. I’ve been waiting for you!”

"Two fervent prayers were answered, contact was reestablished, missionary lessons were taught, and arrangements were made for Daisy and her son Eddy to be baptized."

Thomas S. Monson "Be Your Best Self" April 2009 General Conference.

Discarded Book of Mormon

"We were in St. George Sunday and attended a sacrament meeting there. A young man, a missionary laboring there, spoke. He held in his hand a well-worn copy of the Book of Mormon. He told us of that book. It had been left in his parents' home years before by missionaries. It was put aside without being read. His mother, in cleaning the bookshelves, dropped it with other books into a box on the back porch to be put in the garbage. Her son saw the box and, out of curiosity, looked at its contents and found the Book of Mormon. He commenced reading it. He was intrigued with it. It eventually led to his finding the missionaries. They taught him and he was baptized. He is now serving in southern Utah--an effective missionary. He stated that this same Book of Mormon passed about for reading by his friends and led to the conversion and baptism of seven other young men who are now serving in the mission field. They, with their associates, are literally carrying "a message of hope and reconciliation to a needy world.""

Gordon B. Hinckley "A Unique and Wonderful University" 11 October 1988. BYU Devotional.

A Matter of a Few Degrees

"In 1979 a large passenger jet with 257 people on board left New Zealand for a sightseeing flight to Antarctica and back. Unknown to the pilots, however, someone had modified the flight coordinates by a mere two degrees. This error placed the aircraft 28 miles (45 km) to the east of where the pilots assumed they were. As they approached Antarctica, the pilots descended to a lower altitude to give the passengers a better look at the landscape. Although both were experienced pilots, neither had made this particular flight before, and they had no way of knowing that the incorrect coordinates had placed them directly in the path of Mount Erebus, an active volcano that rises from the frozen landscape to a height of more than 12,000 feet (3,700 m).

"As the pilots flew onward, the white of the snow and ice covering the volcano blended with the white of the clouds above, making it appear as though they were flying over flat ground. By the time the instruments sounded the warning that the ground was rising fast toward them, it was too late. The airplane crashed into the side of the volcano, killing everyone on board.

"It was a terrible tragedy brought on by a minor error—a matter of only a few degrees.

"Through years of serving the Lord and in countless interviews, I have learned that the difference between happiness and misery in individuals, in marriages, and families often comes down to an error of only a few degrees."

Dieter F. Uchdorf "A Matter of a Few Degrees" April 2008 General Conference

25-Cent Newspaper

"Some 30 years ago, while working in the corporate world, some business associates and I were passing through O'Hare Airport in Chicago, Illinois. One of these men had just sold his company for tens of millions of dollars—in other words, he was not poor.

"As we were passing a newspaper vending machine, this individual put a quarter in the machine, opened the door to the stack of papers inside the machine, and began dispensing unpaid-for newspapers to each of us. When he handed me a newspaper, I put a quarter in the machine and, trying not to offend but to make a point, jokingly said, "Jim, for 25 cents I can maintain my integrity. A dollar, questionable, but 25 cents—no, not for 25 cents." You see, I remembered well the experience of three towels and a broken-down 1941 Hudson. A few minutes later we passed the same newspaper vending machine. I noticed that Jim had broken away from our group and was stuffing quarters in the vending machine. I tell you this incident not to portray myself as an unusual example of honesty, but only to emphasize the lessons of three towels and a 25-cent newspaper."

Richard C. Edgley "Three Towels and a 25-Cent Newspaper" October 2006 General Conference.

Three Towels

"In 1955, after my freshman year of college, I spent the summer working at the newly opened Jackson Lake Lodge, located in Moran, Wyoming. My mode of transportation was a 14-year-old 1941 Hudson automobile that should have received its burial 10 years earlier. Among the car's other identifying traits, the floorboards had rusted so badly that, if not for a piece of plywood, I could have literally dragged my feet on the highway. The positive is that unlike most 14-year-old cars in this time period, it used no oil—lots of water in the radiator, but no oil. I could never figure out where the water went and why the oil continually got thinner and thinner and clearer and clearer.

"In preparation for the 185-mile (298-km) drive home at the end of the summer, I took the car to the only mechanic in Moran. After a quick analysis, the mechanic explained that the engine block was cracked and was leaking water into the oil. That explained the water and oil mystery. I wondered if I could get the water to leak into the gas tank; I would get better gasoline mileage.

"Now the confession: after the miracle of arriving home, my father came out and happily greeted me. After a hug and a few pleasantries, he looked into the backseat of the car and saw three Jackson Lake Lodge towels—the kind you cannot buy. With a disappointed look he merely said, "I expected more of you." I hadn't thought that what I had done was all that wrong. To me these towels were but a symbol of a full summer's work at a luxury hotel, a rite of passage. Nevertheless, by taking them I felt I had lost the trust and confidence of my father, and I was devastated.

"The following weekend I adjusted the plywood floorboard in my car, filled the radiator with water, and began the 370-mile (595-km) round trip back to Jackson Lake Lodge to return three towels. My father never asked why I was returning to the lodge, and I never explained. It just didn't need to be said. This was an expensive and painful lesson on honesty that has stayed with me throughout my life."

Richard C. Edgley "Three Towels and a 25-Cent Newspaper" October 2006 General Conference.

Our Business Partner

"God is a wonderful partner, isn't he? He is wonderful. My, how I would like to have a partner like him in life. I would like to be in business with somebody like him, have my partner come up to me and say, "Here, I'll furnish all the capital to start the business. I will furnish all the blessings. Then, you look after the business. Don't forget me. When the increase comes, you keep ninety percent, turn over to me ten percent. You use your ninety percent any way you want to, and I'll put my ten percent right back into the business." My, wouldn't that be wonderful?; That's just the kind of partner we have in this Church. We keep the ninety percent and use it anyway we wish, sometimes to our destruction. We give him the ten percent, and here stands a temple; here stands a tabernacle. He puts it all right back into the business, into his business. God will finance this Church, brothers and sisters, if you will obey the principles of the gospel."

Matthew Cowley Speaks (Deseret Book Co., 1971), p. 77.

True Love

"You know true love is not looking at watch other in one of those old-fashioned loveseats --looking into each other's eyes. That isn't true love. True love is that love which comes into your heart and motivates your life when you arise from the alter and both of you look in the same direction, down through eternity. That is true love, where both are looking in the same direction.

"The Maori in referring to his wie says: "Taku hoa wahine." That means, "My companion wife." The wife, in speaking of her companion, says: "Taku hoa tane.""My companion husband." I like that a little better than just saying, "My wife," or "My husband."

""My companion wife," "My companion husband!" Companionship implies a oneness of direction, right down through eternity."

Matthew Cowley Speaks (Deseret Book Co., 1971), pp. 13-14.

God's Pearl Shell

"I would like to add a story or two to those which have been related by Bishop Richards. Down where I have recently visited, our people there have a seasonal occupation of pearl shell diving, and our men are the best shell divers in the islands of French Oceania. Why are they the best divers? Because they keep the Word of Wisdom, and they can stay under the water at a depth of ninety feet for upwards of two minutes and forty seconds. They dive to that depth and bring up the pearl shell which gives them part of their means of support for the remainder of the year until the next season approaches.

"This one young Latter-day Saint placed his pearl shells on the shore in two piles, one was a large one and one a rather small one, and when the trader came around with whom he had the contract to sell his pearl shells, the trader asked him about the small pile. He said "Is that yours?" He said: "No, that is not mine."

The trader said: "Where did it come from?"
He said: "Oh, I dove for it."
"Well, why is it not yours?"
He said: "That is God's pearl shell."
"Who has the right to sell it?"
He said: "I can sell it."
"Well, then, I will buy it."
"Yes you may buy it, but not at the contract price. You will pay the market price for God's pearl shell"; because the market price had gone up since he had signed the contract.

"And so he sold God's pearl shell at the market price and his own at the price for which he had contracted. And when I inquired what he would have done had the price gone down instead of up, he said: "I would have left it with mine. I would always see to it that God gets the top price for his pearl shell.""

Matthew Cowley Speaks (Deseret Book Co., 1971), pp. 5-6.

Family Prayer

"The integrity of the Mormon home is founded on prayer in the family circle. The Holy of Holies in this Church is not in this tabernacle or in the temple, but it is in your home. That is where you are testing the saving powers of the gospel of Jesus Christ."

Matthew Cowley Speaks (Deseret Book Co., 1971), p. 162

Using the Priesthood to Bless Others

"Consider how consistently you use your priesthood to bless others. . . .

"If you are married, are you faithful to your wife mentally as well as physically? Are you loyal to your marriage covenants by never engaging in conversation with another woman that you wouldn't want your wife to overhear? Are you kind and supportive of your own wife and children? Do you assist your wife by doing some of the household chores? Do you lead out in family activities such as scripture study, family prayer, and family home evening, or does your wife fill in the gap your lack of attention leaves in the home? Do you tell her you love her?"

Richard G. Scott, "Honor the Priesthood and Use It Well," Ensign, Nov. 2008, 45

He Was My Son Before He Was Yours

"Hasn't the Lord a right to call us home? Aren't we first of all His sons and daughters? I remember a father being unwilling to reconcile himself to the death of his only son. One day in the mountains he said to me that he had sought the Lord saying, "Why have you taken my boy, my son, my hope, my pride from me?"And there came to him the whisperings of the Spirit: "He was my son before he was yours. I loved him more than you will ever know how to love him, but if you are faithful I will give him back to you." And that father was reconciled. He was reconciled that God has a prior claim. When God calls us it is our business to say, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord." That is all we can do, and if we will desire it we will overcome and rise triumphant and victorious over all our sorrows. If we can only submit ourselves to that providence we will have peace in our hearts"

Bryant S. Hinckley, Sermons and Missionary Service of Melvin J. Ballard (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book CO., 1949) p 274.