All Saints’ Day and an LDS Context

On November 1, some Christian faiths celebrate All Saints’ Day. Although we don’t officially recognize this holiday in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, there are some traditions of this day that we have inherited and can have meaning for us.

All Saints’ Day is also called “All Hallows” or “Hallowmas.” Thus, Halloween, or “All Hallows Eve,” is the day before All Saints’ Day, or October 31. According to tradition, November 1st is the time to celebrate the lives of the martyrs. Traditionally, this holiday is directly followed by “All Souls’ Day” on November 2, also called “The Day of the Deceased” or “The Day of the Dead,” although some cultures have blended All Saints’ and All Souls into one day. The context of these dates gives Halloween traditions a little more relevance. For example, Halloween obsessions with death make more sense when the next two days are supposed to be holidays about the dead.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we don’t have canonized Saints, but we do believe that we are all saints in the kingdom of God. This is why the tradition All Saints’ Day festival hymn, “For All the Saints,” is also included in our LDS hymnbook.

“For All the Saints” was written by Anglican Bishop William Walsham How and published in 1864. When we sing this hymn in our congregations, we think of “All Souls” as “All Saints”; we think of the “saints” in this hymn as the many beloved people we have known and loved who have departed from this life and are now at rest.

Below are the lyrics of “For All the Saints,” as included in our hymnbook:

For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

Oh, may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
Fight as the Saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor's crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

Thou art our rock, our fortress, and our might;
Thou, Lord, our captain in the well-fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, our one true light.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

This wonderful hymn expresses faith in Jesus Christ as “our rock, our fortress, and our might” and as our captain. As November begins, as the holiday season approaches, the words of this All Saints’ Day hymn can lend us strength, faith, and courage, even though during the next few months may be when we miss deceased loved ones most.

Among several other additional verses, Bishop How originally had these two beautiful additional verses appear between the two final verses in our hymn:

The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

In this season, we can remember all the saints, all our loved ones who have passed from this life. As Bishop How’s hymn says, “Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed. . . . But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day.” On this All Saints’ Day, we can remember the hope of that glorious day and the faith we can have in Jesus Christ which comforts all our pain and enlivens all our hope.

On the Marked Trail

Twenty-five miles east of the city of Seattle, Washington cascades 270-foot high Snoqualmie Falls. The force of the water crashing onto the rock gorge and river below the falls sends up a fine mist of water that, when caught on a soft breeze, lingers over three hundred feet above the river.

Several years ago my husband and I took a day trip to the falls. Driving up and down the rolling hills of Snoqualmie city, flanked to the right by mountains of rich evergreen forest, I remembered why people decide to settle in Washington. Views like that make all the rain worth all the green.

When we reached the Snoqualmie Falls Park, it was a fickle jacket sort of day—sometimes you wanted your jacket and sometimes you didn’t. The signs from the parking lot pointed us to the observation deck, what we later learned was the upper observation deck. We were amazed at the spray that drifted so far up and at the height of the falls. Far below, we could see people tramping among the rocks next to the river below. We knew there must be some way to get down and see the fall from the bottom instead of the top. We followed several pathways and signs and found ourselves on a trail that promised to lead us to the lower observation deck in half a mile.

Just a few steps onto the trail brought us deep into a gorgeous forest. Everything was dense with green on many levels—from tall, majestic trees to bushy clumps of fern and stray, simple wildflowers on the edge of the trail. It was Saturday, and the park was slightly crowded. We saw so many families of all ages—couples with infants strapped to their fronts, young children holding a parent’s hand, several teenagers slouching after their over-enthusiastic parents, and grandparents slowly making the climb up and down at their own pace.

In addition to the beauty of nature and the interesting people we passed on the way, the signs and signals of the trail also riveted my attention during our hike. The trail that took us down to the river was steep and winding. In quite a few places, usually at a bend in the path, the park officials had bolted a large log in the way of a misleading clearing. The logs blocked the path of shortcuts that cut too close to dangerous cliffs and hillsides. The most dangerous off-shoots of the path were marked with fences and signs, but the milder ones were only blocked by logs that suggested the true trail. Compared to the number of people we saw on the trail, few took the discouraged routes, but I was surprised that not everyone chose to stay on the designated path.

At the bottom of the trail we found the river. To get to the lower observation deck, however, we had to follow a chicken-wire tunneled boardwalk that led us around the backside of the lower power plant. This way was narrow but relatively straight. After we passed the power plant, the wire tunnel ended. On the next part of the path, a large sign had been duplicated and reposted every dozen feet or so. The sign warned us not to leave the fenced boardwalk path because the hazardous river could rise suddenly at any time.

Two or three minutes further down the path brought us to the lower observation deck, but the observation deck itself was a disappointment. We were still much farther away from the waterfall than all the people we had seen rambling among the river rocks, and the observation deck was much too small to accommodate all the people that were there at the same time that we were. As we squished and jostled on the deck just to strain a view of the waterfall at all, I realized why the signs had been so adamant. There were swarms of people that had forgotten its warning; they meandered all along the river and much closer to the falls than the observation deck’s confines allowed. There was even a man fishing in the middle of the river, quite close to the falls. Part of me wanted to join in, to hop the carefully placed wooden fences and freely roam the river’s edge as close to the waterfall as I dared. But, instead, my husband and I grimaced at each other and squeezed ourselves back onto the boardwalk trail to return to upper level of the park.

On the way back, the tedious signs weren’t facing us anymore, and for many people that were coming towards us the signs were as good as backwards for what little they would heed them. I knew that it was very unlikely that the river on that certain Saturday would catastrophically rise and wash all the daring people that had broken the rules away, but the “what if” kept me from joining them.

The trail back to the upper part of the park felt steeper on the way up. I couldn’t believe one dad who was pushing a stroller, with a child inside nonetheless, up the steep grade. I shouldn’t have been surprised when even more people veered onto shortcut trails on the way back up than had on the way down. I figured that for many of them they had already broken rules once by playing along the river, so why not do it again? But I couldn’t. Again, what if there was a rock slide, or I got lost, or I destroyed an important natural habitat?

Maybe our day trip would have been more exciting if we had taken a short cut. Maybe we would have felt the rush of danger, the excitement of breaking the roles, but somehow, even though the story of the day doesn’t seem that exciting, I don’t regret staying on the marked path.

All my life I’ve stayed to the marked path. Sure, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but nothing very daring. Sometimes I wonder if my life’s been boring because I’ve kept to well laid trails. Wouldn’t it have been more thrilling to take a short cut? But then I remember the trails at Snoqualmie Falls: Sure, by taking a short cut we might have had a thrilling, dangerous experience, but most likely we would have just gotten muddier. I’d rather save my nerve for the often rugged steepness of the safe road than squander my daring on the unneeded frivolous danger of a roguish thrill.

When I think back on the shortcuts at Snoqualmie Falls, I remember that I didn’t need the excitement of danger to improve the experience. The fantastic views of the falls from a safe location were enough for me. Unmarked trails aren’t don’t have a monopoly on significant memories and unforgettable journeys. Although it was the what-ifs that always seem to hold me back from unmarked trails, following the marked trail eliminates the haunting what-ifs, which also means no regrets.

Service in the Snow

It was snowing heavily, and I was very late. I hurried from the stake center foyer out into the flurry, turned on my car, and shivered as I brushed the snow off the windshield only a little more quickly than the snow piled back on. After clearing off my car as much as I could, I jumped back in and turned up the heater. As I reached out my hand to shift into drive, I felt an impression to go back outside and brush the snow off the car next to me.

I hesitated. The Saturday enrichment activity had started late because of the snow, so I was nearly an hour behind the time I said I would be home. My family had other plans for that day, and I was already really late. But, the Spirit said to my heart, cleaning the snow off the car next to me would only take five minutes, which wouldn’t make that much of a difference to my plans. I yielded.

I didn’t know whose car it was or who I was helping as I brushed the snow off the car next to me. I comforted myself with the fact that the inside of my care would be all the warmer when I finished and went back inside my own vehicle. As I scraped away the snow from the other car, I mused about how great the service I was giving could be. Maybe if I scraped one sister’s car, she would clear the snow from the car next to her, and soon there’s be this great, big, wonderful chain of service in our ward Relief Society that morning, all started by me.

When I finished clearing the snow I probably had more snow stuck to my coat than there was snow left on the other car, but my car had heated up nicely on the inside. I pulled out of my parking spot cheering by my visionary service domino effect. But just as I was leaving the parking lot, I saw a sister with a stroller hurry out of the building and unlock the car that had been next to me.

Suddenly I was so grateful, and very humbled, that I had followed the prompting to clear the snow off of this sister’s car. I didn’t know her very well, but I knew she was a new mother and hadn’t seemed as cheerful as usual that day. With an infant to care for, I knew that traveling in the snow, and just getting in and out of the car in any weather, was much more difficult for this sister than it was for me.

I’m sure the young mother didn’t scrape the car next to her, so the wonderful snow service chain I had envisioned, with me as the secret star, didn’t come about at all, but I didn’t care. Instead of gratifying my pride, doing service that snowy morning taught me a new lesson about the worth of souls. Heavenly Father didn’t need a service chain started in our Relief Society; he needed me to show love to one sister who needed some extra help. He knew this sister’s concerns, just as he answers my prayers in so many ways. I drove home, not thinking about my tardy to-do list, but of the multitude of His tender mercies all around me.

Dad’s Special Gifts

“Would you like to go for a drive with me?” Dad asked.

I smiled before I turned around and answered, “Sure.” Making this request was the most humble I ever saw my dad. We had been through this routine for three years in a row, but I knew that this time would be the last. I handed my bowl of pie dough off to my little sister, grabbed my shoes, and went out to meet Dad on the driveway.

Dad headed the car towards the mall. Along the way we talked, but not too much. We talked about my life at college and my plans for the future, but sometimes he fell silent. I knew he was focusing on the task ahead of us.

During each of these yearly trips to the mall with Dad we went through every store that sold nice women’s clothes—every one. It was the only time I ever went to the really nice stores. Some stores would only take a minute or less—a quick walk-through and Dad would know that they didn’t have what he was looking for. In some stores we’d browse for a while. Sometimes he’d brush off the smiling sales ladies with the usual, “Thanks, but we’re just looking.” But in others he’d accept their help and take the time to describe how he was looking for something really wonderful. Sometimes he asked my advice about style, colors, or patterns, but other times he didn’t even hear the advice I volunteered because he was too focused on finding his special gift.

In the end, we always walked away from the mall with at least one plastic-covered hanger that hid Dad’s secret. Sometimes we came back with two or three hangers. Dad placed the loot carefully in the trunk, where it stayed until he snuck it into the living room late on Christmas Eve while Mom was getting ready for bed. Then, on Christmas morning, those plastic-covered department store hangers came into full view the moment Mom walked into the living room. She beamed at Dad, even before she opened them, and I think that smile made all the effort worth it for the both of us.

The last time I went Christmas shopping for my mom with Dad was the Christmas before I got engaged. I knew the engagement was coming and that we would be married within the year, so I also knew that it would be my last trip with Dad to find his special gift for Mom. I knew that the next year things would be different; my duties as consultant and companion to Dad on his special mission once a year would be passed to my younger sister. Imagining his request to her still warms my heart.

Maybe I’m not giving my dad enough credit, but I don’t think he engineered this activity as daddy-daughter bonding time to teach me how much he loved my mom on purpose. I think he just needed the company. It felt good that he wanted me for company, that he trusted me with his secrets and his desire to make Christmas special for his sweetheart. He didn’t do it on purpose, but Christmas shopping with Dad did teach me how much he loved my mom, and that knowledge helped me know, understand, and love Dad better.

My Scripture Study Tradition

We are regularly reminded to spend time each day reading and pondering the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon. For many of us, these words of President Ezra Taft Benson are still familiar: “The Book of Mormon was written for us today. God is the author of the book. It [was] . . . compiled by inspired men for our blessing today. . . . [I]t was meant for us.” (“The Book of Mormon Is the Word of God,” Ensign, May 1975, 63).

As a child, my parents had a goal to read a chapter from the Book of Mormon as a family every night. This pattern usually meant that we would read the entire book aloud about every year. Family scripture study became a solid tradition. Even now, when I’m only home to visit a few weeks each year, every night our entire family gathers and Mom reads aloud from the Book of Mormon.

My family’s scripture study tradition helped encourage me to create my own personal patterns and traditions of scripture study. Studying the scriptures individually is also vital. Elder L. Tom Perry has said, “It is up to us to study the Book of Mormon and learn of its principles and apply them in our lives” (“Blessings Resulting from Reading the Book of Mormon,” Liahona, Nov 2005, 6–9). In the last five years I have developed a tradition of reading the Book of Mormon at a certain time each year. This pattern has made the Book of Mormon a miraculous influence in my life.

It all started four years ago. I was eighteen and getting ready to start my freshman year at BYU at the end of August. During June, July, and the first part of August I was still working my high school job and getting ready to move away from home for the first time.

As I started packing, I went through all the memories I had stored for all my growing up years. In a box under my bed I found a packet of envelopes I had received from a Young Women’s New Beginnings activity the year before. Inside each envelope was a spiritual thought with a scripture reading assignment from the Book of Mormon. Our leaders had called this scripture study program a “30-day Walk with Christ.” They challenged us to open an envelope a day and, by following the reading assignments, read the entire Book of Mormon in a month.

I had lasted less than a week. Swim practice and choir concerts got in the way, and I only opened a couple of envelopes. As I came across the packet again, I set it aside. I hadn’t been able to do the 30-day walk before, but wouldn’t this be a perfect time, right before I left for college? I felt like I could use a great spiritual boost just before I moved away from home for the first time.

I planned the thirty days so that I would finish reading the Book of Mormon right before my mom and I drove to BYU. I wasn’t perfect; some days I forgot or didn’t have time for the full reading assignment so I’d have to catch up and do double the next day, but I did it. After I reached the goal, I didn’t think too much about it—my mind was suddenly occupied with class schedules, buying textbooks, making friends, and settling into dorm life—but looking back I can see that reading the Book of Mormon in those thirty days just before I went to college did bless my life, immensely. This spiritual boost helped me remember who I was even though I was in a new place, far from home, and making my own decisions.

That was the first time I read entire the Book of Mormon during the month of August. A year later, August 2005, I was back home again and working for the summer. In the Ensign that month, the First Presidency message, by President Hinckley, was about the Book of Mormon. He said, “Today, a century and three-quarters after its first publication, the Book of Mormon is more widely read than at any time in its history. Whereas there were 5,000 copies in that first edition, about 5,000,000 are currently distributed each year, and the Book or selections from the Book are available in 106 languages. Its appeal is as timeless as truth, as universal as mankind. It is the only book that contains within its covers a promise that by divine power the reader may know with certainty of its truth.”

It is President Hinckley’s memorable challenge that we all remember the most: “I offer a challenge to members of the Church throughout the world and to our friends everywhere to read or reread the Book of Mormon. . . . Without reservation I promise you that if each of you will observe this simple program, regardless of how many times you previously may have read the Book of Mormon, there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to His commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God.”

August 2005 was the second August that I read the Book of Mormon, thanks to President Hinckley’s challenge. My summer job was the most monotonous employment imaginable: I was pulling staples for a large company’s record archiving project. It was good money, but very, very boring. I could listen to headphones at work, so I decided to listen to an audio recording of the Book of Mormon before I left my job and went back to BYU. The recording covered just about three work days. I decided to save this book for last.

My last three days of work were amazing! I had never read the Book of Mormon in so short a time before. Listening to the audio recording was a unique experience too. It only took about five minutes until I had to grab some scratch paper and take some notes. I kept a pen handy next to my work so I could write down phrases that had struck me or thoughts I had during the reading. What amazed me most was the entire book fit together so much better than it ever had before; because I was covering the whole history and chronology in just three days, I understood where all the flashbacks and break-off groups fit in with the book as a whole.

At the end of my three day Book of Mormon spree I had eleven pages, front and back, of notes, thoughts, and impressions from that reading. I still have those notes, the record of when I reread the Book of Mormon just after I turned nineteen years old. By fulfilling the prophet’s challenge, I, with the rest of the Church, truly felt “an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord” in my life for the rest of that year.

Because of these two previous experiences, when August rolled around in 2006 I felt an urge to read the Book of Mormon again. I had stayed in Provo that whole summer to work as an EFY counselor, and I finished my final EFY session the last week of July. I had a few weeks off of work before school started after Labor Day, so I decided to give in to that desire and challenged myself to read the entire book before school started. I spent all my free time reading the Book of Mormon. I remember how great it was to pull my picnic blanket onto the lawn in front of my student apartment complex on a free afternoon and read the scriptures just because I wanted to.

This year has been my fifth year in a row that I’ve read the Book of Mormon during the month of August, but this year, like every year, was a little different. President Hinckley’s challenge is a treasured memory for all of us now. This year has also brought new changes and challenges into my life. As I look back on the past five Augusts, I am so grateful for the inspiration I had to rely on the scriptures to give me the strength I needed to get through transitional times that seemed to come every year in August.

Reading the Book of Mormon in August may not become your tradition, but I believe that each of us can receive inspiration that not only urges but directs our scripture study. We are commanded to have personal scripture study because it blesses us and strengthens us. God has never given us a commandment that we do not reap both immediate and long term blessings from or that he will not help us to fulfill, if we ask him. Embracing patterns of scripture study so that they become firm traditions of spiritual devotion bring great spiritual power to our lives.

All Saints’ Day and an LDS Context

On November 1, some Christian faiths celebrate All Saints’ Day. Although we don’t officially recognize this holiday in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, there are some traditions of this day that we have inherited and can have meaning for us.

All Saints’ Day is also called “All Hallows” or “Hallowmas.” Thus, Halloween, or “All Hallows Eve,” is the day before All Saints’ Day, or October 31. According to tradition, November 1st is the time to celebrate the lives of the martyrs. 

Traditionally, this holiday is directly followed by “All Souls’ Day” on November 2, also called “The Day of the Deceased” or “The Day of the Dead,” although some cultures have blended All Saints’ and All Souls into one day. The context of these dates gives Halloween traditions a little more relevance. For example, Halloween obsessions with death make more sense when the next two days are supposed to be holidays about the dead.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we don’t have canonized Saints, but we do believe that we are all saints in the kingdom of God. This is why the tradition All Saints’ Day festival hymn, “For All the Saints,” is also included in our LDS hymnbook. 

“For All the Saints” was written by Anglican Bishop William Walsham How and published in 1864. When we sing this hymn in our congregations, we think of “All Souls” as “All Saints”; we think of the “saints” in this hymn as the many beloved people we have known and loved who have departed from this life and are now at rest.

Below are the lyrics of “For All the Saints,” as included in our hymnbook:

For all the saints, who from their labors rest,

Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,

Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

Oh, may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,

Fight as the Saints who nobly fought of old,

And win with them the victor's crown of gold.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

Thou art our rock, our fortress, and our might;

Thou, Lord, our captain in the well-fought fight;

Thou, in the darkness drear, our one true light.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,

Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,

And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,

Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,

Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Alleluia, Alleluia.

This wonderful hymn expresses faith in Jesus Christ as “our rock, our fortress, and our might” and as our captain. As November begins, as the holiday season approaches, the words of this All Saints’ Day hymn can lend us strength, faith, and courage, even though during the next few months may be when we miss deceased loved ones most.

Among several other additional verses, Bishop How originally had these two beautiful additional verses appear between the two final verses in our hymn:

The golden evening brightens in the west;

Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;

Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;

The saints triumphant rise in bright array;

The King of glory passes on His way.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

In this season, we can remember all the saints, all our loved ones who have passed from this life. As Bishop How’s hymn says, “Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed. . . . But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day.” On this All Saints’ Day, we can remember the hope of that glorious day and the faith we can have in Jesus Christ which comforts all our pain and enlivens all our hope.

August, and the Book of Mormon

August. The month makes me think of hot sunshine, weary air conditioners, lemonade cravings, cold backyard pools, premature back to school anxiety—and an urgent desire to read the Book of Mormon.

Weird, I know, and a very strange end-of-summer tradition. It all started four years ago. I was eighteen and was getting ready to start my freshman year at BYU. School started on August 30th that year. During June, July, and the first part of August I was still working my high school job and getting ready to move away from home for the first time.

As I started packing, I went through all the memories I had stored for all my growing up years. In a box under my bed I found a packet of envelopes I had received from a Young Women’s New Beginnings activity the year before. Inside each envelope was a spiritual thought with a scripture reading assignment from the Book of Mormon. Our leaders had called this scripture study program a “30-day Walk with Christ” and had challenged us to open an envelope a day and, by following the reading assignments, read the entire Book of Mormon in a month.

I had lasted less than a week. Swim practice and choir concerts had gotten in the way, and only a couple of envelopes had ever been opened. As I came across the packet again, however, I decided not to pack the envelopes away yet and set them aside, outside the cardboard box. I hadn’t been able to do the 30-day walk before, but wouldn’t this be a perfect time, right before I left for college? I felt like I could use a great spiritual boost just before I moved away from home for the first time.

I planned the thirty days so that I would finish reading the Book of Mormon right before my mom and I drove to BYU. I wasn’t perfect; some days I forgot or didn’t have time for the full reading assignment so I’d have to catch up and do double the next day, but I did it. After I reached the goal, I didn’t think too much about it—my mind was suddenly occupied with class schedules, buying textbooks, making friends, and settling into dorm life—but looking back I can see that reading the Book of Mormon in those thirty days just before I went to college did bless my life, immensely. The “spiritual boost,” as I called it to myself, helped me remember who I was even though I was in a new place, far from home, and making my own decisions.

That was the first time I read entire the Book of Mormon during the month of August. A year later, August 2005, I was back home again and working for the summer. In the Ensign that month, the First Presidency message, by President Hinckley, was about the Book of Mormon. President Hinckley began his message by talking about Parley P. Pratt’s experience with the Book of Mormon and how Pratt eventually wrote the hymns “An Angel From on High” (#13) and “The Morning Breaks (#1). President Hinckley’s message then continues as he adds his own praise for the Book of Mormon:

"Today, a century and three-quarters after its first publication, the Book of Mormon is more widely read than at any time in its history. Whereas there were 5,000 copies in that first edition, about 5,000,000 are currently distributed each year, and the Book or selections from the Book are available in 106 languages. Its appeal is as timeless as truth, as universal as mankind. It is the only book that contains within its covers a promise that by divine power the reader may know with certainty of its truth."

It is President Hinckley’s memorable challenge that we all remember the most about the August 2005 First Presidency Message: “I offer a challenge to members of the Church throughout the world and to our friends everywhere to read or reread the Book of Mormon. . . . Without reservation I promise you that if each of you will observe this simple program, regardless of how many times you previously may have read the Book of Mormon, there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to His commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God.”

August 2005 was the second August that I read the Book of Mormon, thanks to President Hinckley’s challenge. My summer job was the most monotonous employment imaginable: I was pulling staples for a large company’s record archiving project. It was good money, but very, very boring. We were allowed to listen to headphones as we prepared the documents for scanning, and so I spent most of the summer checking out books on tape and CD at the library and listening to them at work. After the August 2005 Ensign came out, I decided to listen to an audio recording of the Book of Mormon before I left my job and went back to BYU. The recording was about 24 hours long, so covered just about three work days. I decided to save this book for last.

My last three days of work were amazing! I had never read the Book of Mormon in so short a time before. Listening to the audio recording was a unique experience too. I remember I popped in the first CD and started pulling staples, but it only took about five minutes until I had to grab some scratch paper and take some notes. I kept a pen handy next to my work so I could write down phrases that had struck me or thoughts I had during the reading. What amazed me most was the entire book fit together so much better than it ever had before; because I was covering the whole history and chronology in just three days, I understood where all the flashbacks and break-off groups fit in to the book as a whole.

At the end of my three day Book of Mormon spree I had eleven pages, front and back, of notes, thoughts, and impressions from that reading. I couldn’t help writing things down as I listened. I still have those notes, the record of when I reread the Book of Mormon just after I turned nineteen years old. By fulfilling the prophet’s challenge, I, with the rest of the Church, truly felt “an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord” in my life for the rest of that year.

Because of these two previous experiences, when August rolled around in 2006 I felt this intense intrinsic urge to read the Book of Mormon again. I had stayed in Provo that whole summer to work as an EFY counselor, and I finished my final EFY session the last week of July. I had a few weeks off of work before school started after Labor Day, so I decided to give in to that desire and challenged myself to read the entire book before school started. I spent all my free time reading the Book of Mormon. It took me a couple of weeks because I had other things going on as well, but I remember how great it was to pull my picnic blanket onto the lawn in front of my student apartment complex on a free afternoon and read the scriptures just because I wanted to.

The same thing happened the next year. August 2007 began and I felt this habitual desire to read the Book of Mormon during the month, so I did. This year will be my fifth year in a row that I’ve read the Book of Mormon during the month of August. It’s become a given activity at this time of year for me now, but this year, like every year, is a little different. President Hinckley’s challenge is a treasured memory for all of us now. This year is also the first time I won’t be going back to school in the fall because I graduated from BYU in April. As I look back on the past five Augusts, I am so grateful for the inspiration I had to rely on the scriptures to give me the strength I needed to get through transitional times that seemed to come every year, in August. I hope I can always be sensitive to do what the Holy Ghost tells me that my spirit needs, and I hope that throughout my life I will always read the Book of Mormon in August.