When I was a boy, back in the early to mid 1950’s, my mother’s father, John William Dunn, told me about an experience he had regarding the Book of Mormon. Grandpa lived in Logan, Utah and was born in 1889. Martin Harris, one of the Three Witnesses of the Book of Mormon, lived in Clarkston,…
Years ago, when our children were young, I wrote a story for them. The Son of a King. There was once a man of little means who despised himself. His hair, shaggy and matted, drooped about a smudged, haggard face etched with frown lines. His eyes, dull and lifeless, were set deep beneath heavy brows,…
Fifty-seven years ago, in a small town outside of Brisbane, Australia, my missionary companion and I knocked on yet another door one hot summer day. The door opened, and we were greeted by a man in his 30’s. He had more than his share of tribulations and problems judging from the deeply etched lines on…
A few years after I was called as a stake president, I was home teaching a single, less-active woman and her daughter, Laney (not her real name). While the mother didn’t attend church, Laney, a senior in high school, did, and she was active in seminary as well. Her LDS peers encouraged her, and she…