Gospel Story Finder

Mark Halladay, 13, learned a lot about the Christmas spirit by organizing hot meals and Christmas baskets for 70 homebound senior citizens. The meal was prepared by a local hospital, and the baskets were delivered by volunteers Mark recruited. A local florist donated cut flowers for the baskets, and a businessman donated a pen for each. Mark was impressed by the willingness of people to help other people and found that he had twice as many volunteers as he’d anticipated. The people who delivered the baskets stayed and talked with the senior citizens for a while, and all the participants made new friends. Mark is a member of the Meridian Fourth Ward, Meridian Idaho Stake, and is deacons quorum president. The Christmas baskets and meals were part of his Eagle project.

I watched firsthand how Lesa extended her friendship to a family in a very normal and natural way. It was and continues to be for me a remarkable model of love, share, and invite. While we were living in Japan, her invitation to a friend—the mother of one of our son’s fourth-grade classmates—to attend a concert of a Latter-day Saint performer led to remarkable outcomes. Here is a picture of that night after the concert in the mission home. [A photo was shown.]

Nearly three years later—after the simple invitation to an activity and after countless missionaries and missionary lessons—the two boys who attended school with our son Kyle were baptized by their now fully participating father. Eight years later their mother was baptized. One year after that we took this picture with their family following their sealing in the Taipei Taiwan Temple. Our sons—who were both fourth graders when they met—were then serving as missionaries in Taiwan. [A photo was shown.]

Remarkably, this was a journey that had begun nine years earlier with a simple invitation by Lesa for this family to attend an activity at our meetinghouse in Japan.

Michael gazed at the tiny, soft bed of straw. “I am glad that baby Jesus will have a soft, warm bed for Christmas Eve,” he thought.
For the past week Michael had carefully tucked little pieces of straw into this tiny manger, one piece at a time. Michael thought that it just might be the best Christmas he ever had because now he was old enough to understand what Christmas was all about.
A week ago Mom had given a family home evening lesson about the true meaning of Christmas. She said that Jesus Christ was the greatest gift Heavenly Father gave to the world. Then she presented each child in the family with a small, empty manger and a tiny figure of the baby Jesus.
“For the next week you will each have a chance to give a present back to Heavenly Father,” Mom said.
“How can we do that?” Michael asked.
“Your gift to Heavenly Father will be to serve others,” she said. “Each time you do a good deed or help another person, you may add a piece of straw to your manger. The more kindness you show to others, the softer the manger will be on Christmas Eve.”
“I hope I can get more straw in my manger than anybody else!” Michael thought.
The next day Michael started working to collect straw.
“Mom, can I help you sweep the floor?” Michael asked, when he saw her cleaning the kitchen.
“I’ll help you find your teddy bear,” he told his little brother when he cried for his lost toy.
“I want to shovel some snow too,” he said when his dad went outside to shovel the driveway.
Within a few days Michael’s little manger looked very different. It was stuffed full of straw! But Michael noticed a change in himself too. He started to enjoy doing kind things for others because he knew it was what Heavenly Father wanted him to do. Sometimes he even forgot to add a piece of straw to the manger when he helped.
Michael decided that doing nice things made him feel good inside. On Christmas Eve, as he stood by the soft lights of the Christmas tree, Michael gently laid his tiny baby Jesus in the manger, which was now overflowing with straw.
Michael knew he had done the best he could to show his love for Heavenly Father and Jesus. This was the best Christmas ever.

If you were out for a drive in Rockledge, Florida, and happened to turn onto Faull Lane, you probably wouldn’t think twice about what you saw. Sure, the houses in the neighborhood are neat and clean looking, and the yards are well kept. But there’s nothing particularly unusual about them. Except, perhaps, for number 812.
Was that house there last week? Yesterday?
You think about it for a minute and realize that not long ago, there was nothing where that house is now standing but an empty lot. You’re almost certain that the house, complete with a fully finished yard, was nothing but a patch of dusty ground just a few weeks before. But how does a house appear out of nowhere?
Flash back to a very warm summer afternoon in Cocoa, Florida, at the Cocoa stake center. Ashley Foss, a Laurel, is giving what amounts to a pep talk to the youth from the Cocoa and Orlando South stakes.
“Remember, Florida is the Sunshine State,” she says. “It’s going to be hot tomorrow, so be ready and bring a squirt bottle!”
Ashley goes on to give other good advice for the outdoor activity they’re planning—like wearing clothes that can get dirty, drinking plenty of water, using sunscreen. Then Ashley delivers the clincher.
“It usually takes seven or eight months to build a house, and we’re going to do it in a day!”
Building a house in one day. They’ve been hearing about it for months, and the next day it will finally materialize.
Although the room is warm and the youth are perhaps a bit drowsy, there is a real change in the feeling in the room.
But you need a lot more than smiles and enthusiasm to build a house—especially when you’re doing it for youth conference. In fact, in many stakes a project like this wouldn’t be possible. But the Cocoa Stake is home to a lot of adults who are experts in construction, so with their help, the youth committee decided to give it a try. The young men and young women teamed up with Habitat for Humanity, a Christian organization dedicated to building decent housing for families who couldn’t otherwise afford it.
Sara Judd, a Laurel on the youth committee, was in charge of finding donors for materials, goods, and services to be used during the building. But where do you go when you have to find things like a crane, bottled water, T-shirts, two-way radios, sod and landscaping materials, tents, tables, chairs, and portable rest rooms? With items that diverse, there’s not exactly a place for one-stop shopping.
“Brother [Kerry] Gilger, the stake Young Men president, and I opened up the yellow pages at one of the youth committee meetings,” says Sara. “We made a list of the businesses that might be willing to donate something, and then we started making phone calls.”
Because many of the people Sara and the others on the committee worked with were members of other faiths, the project wasn’t just a good leadership and organizational skills builder; it was also a great missionary project.
“I went to all the Habitat for Humanity meetings we were required to attend as part of this project,” says Sara, who used her involvement as a Laurel project. “I learned a lot. Many of the people involved, including the family we were building for, were from different religious faiths. It was neat to work together toward the same goal.”
Although the homes built by Habitat for Humanity are simple and relatively small, construction usually takes at least a few months. But the youth committee knew that youth conference wouldn’t last longer than a few days. Their solution? Get the house done, start to finish, in one day.
“A ‘blitz build’ like this has been done before in other areas,” says Logan Newby, a priest on the youth committee. “But the people in charge of the Habitat chapter here weren’t sure that we could do it, especially with so many teenagers helping. We knew it would be great, and that everyone would really get into it, so we made a plan and presented it.”
The plan included an early start, 6:00 A.M., and a solution for every conceivable problem. For instance, most teenagers don’t know the first thing about building a house. So the youth were divided into groups and then paired with skilled laborers—people who volunteered to work for free—to oversee everything they did. There were so many teens involved that they couldn’t all work on the house at the same time, leaving them with a lot of time that wasn’t filled. No problem. The youth committee devised other projects to work on, things like putting in the yard, building a shed, and cleaning nearby vacant lots. Finally, there were countless safety issues to be addressed. That seemed to be the highest hurdle to clear.
“We thought that might be the end of this idea,” says Sara. “But the police, the Red Cross, and a local ambulance service all donated their time to help us. Once that was taken care of, we were ready to go.”
On the day of the build, more than 300 teens are up before the sun. In the darkness, the cement foundation—poured a few days earlier to give it time to cure—is barely visible. By the time the sun is shining, the cement is surrounded by studs, and the framework for the roof is being put on. Skilled laborers do the technical work, while teenagers happily sweep, nail, and paint where they are told.
By lunch, the house is starting to take shape. Housing inspectors are on hand to approve each phase of the project as it is finished. And though it’s scorching hot, smiles are seen all around.
“I think everyone really likes coming together for something like this. It makes us feel good to be here, helping a family out,” says Mia Maid Kristin Turley.
By mid-afternoon, youth are helping with finish work. One paints trim; another helps put house numbers on. One even tests the porch light to make sure it’s working. Soon, kitchen cabinets and fixtures are installed by an expert. He is cleaned up after by several broom-toting teenagers.
Later on, most everyone helps lay sod. A few people plant flowers and trees, and everyone—plants and people—gets a long drink of water.
By this time, some of the local media have come to see what all the excitement is about. Other important people in town have come to see, too. A few of them, including Rockledge Mayor, Jack Oats, even roll up their sleeves and help.
“These kids are unbelievable,” says the mayor. “With kids like this, who aren’t afraid to talk about and live what they believe in, we don’t have to worry about the future.”
Soon the building inspector comes for a last walk-through. He declares it not only up to code but one of the most soundly built houses he has ever seen.
At 6:00 P.M., just 12 hours after the project began, there is a house standing where there was just an empty lot. The youth gather in the yard and watch as the homeowner, Karol DeKlercq, is presented the keys to her new house.
“Your love will forever be a part of our lives,” she says. “For the rest of my life and as my [four] children grow and their hands touch all you have built, the prints of your love will forever be there.”
There are tears in just about everybody’s eyes as the reality of what has happened sinks in. The DeKlercq family had previously rented a house that had fallen into disrepair, and they had no hope of ever having a place of their own. They now have 1,200 square feet—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and an eating area—to call home.
Every time a new house is finished, representatives from Habitat for Humanity present the homeowner with a Bible to keep as a family treasure. This time, in addition to the Bible, the family also received a triple combination and a framed copy of The Family: A Proclamation to the World.
After these gifts have been given and the youth have a chance to hug or congratulate Karol, they load up into waiting vans and head for a park where a well-deserved barbecue is being prepared. After they leave, the neighborhood is still—the first time all day that the hubbub has quieted down to anything less than a dull roar.
After the dust has settled and the youth and their leaders have had a few days to rest, they’ll meet and discuss the conference. They’ll talk about things that were successful, things that could have been done differently. But by all accounts, the project was a huge hit.
“I love missionary work, and I love service,” says Laurel Kelli Baker. “What could be more fun than a youth conference project that combines both of them?”
And so when you’re taking that drive through a small neighborhood in the middle of Florida, you can be sure that your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. Yes, that house did spring up overnight.
To be sure, the lot the house sits on is a fairly ordinary piece of land, nothing special really. Nothing special unless you consider what the helping hands of hundreds of teenagers accomplished there: they’ve given a family a place to call home.

This morning, you decide, is an omelet morning. You hop out of bed and chop the veggies. You heat the frying pan. You crack the egg … and your little brother cackles with laughter.
“You did it again!” you groan. Yes, he boiled some eggs in their shells and then snuck them back in with the fresh eggs. It’s his favorite trick. If only there were a way to tell the difference between fresh eggs and hard-boiled ones. Why, that’d be almost as useful as being able to discern between “real” and “fake” information.

I once asked a man in a fireside group what he would like to do more than anything else if he could just do whatever he wanted. His face lit up, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands came to life, and he told me that he’d just love to have a whole room full of power tools and bring all the kids in the neighborhood in to help them build birdhouses, playhouses, chicken coops, or anything in the whole world they wanted to build. He loved kids; he loved tools; he loved building things; his whole face was aglow with it. I asked him what he was studying at school; the light went out, and he told me he was studying to be a civil engineer. Why? Because his father was one, it paid good money, and so on. I knew he had the capability of being a good civil engineer, but I asked him, “Have you ever thought about teaching shop instead and spending all day working with power tools and teaching kids how to build things?” He just about fell off his chair. His mouth hung open. His eyes lit up again. It had simply never occurred to him to take stock of what he really liked to do, of what really mattered to him in choosing a career. He had never stopped to think that his wonderful love for young people might be there for that kind of a purpose. He had decided the biggest part of the rest of his life with his eyes closed.

Michael J. Parry, 17, of Orem, Utah, applied direct pressure to a laceration on his sister’s arm, controlling bleeding until paramedics came. “It was frightening to see my sister lying hurt and to know she could die. I kept praying she would be all right, and when I heard the ambulance, I had a burning sensation in my heart that told me she would be okay. I think the Lord was directing me the whole time in order to save her life.” Mike is in the Orem 47th Ward, Orem Utah Windsor Stake, and is a member of Post 1447.
All of the Scouts had advice to offer to others who might find themselves in emergencies. “I would never have thought it would happen to me,” Mike Parry said. “I think people should be ready for things like this and get proper training in advance because things like this will happen.”
“I found the experience to be very humbling,” Brother Crockett said. “I feel that through the Church programs the Lord provides for us, including Scouting, that I was prepared to act in this emergency.” Mike Parry said, “It strengthened my testimony to know that the Lord helped me to be in the right place at the right time.”

As we think about the imagery of succoring the weak, lifting up the hands which hang down, and strengthening feeble knees, I am reminded of a sweet seven-year-old showing her grandfather a small tomato plant she had started from seed as part of a second-grade school project.
She explained that from one tiny seed would come a plant. And if the plant were cared for, it would grow many tomatoes that would each have many seeds.
She said, “And if all of those seeds were planted and grew more tomatoes, and you planted all of those seeds, in a few seasons you would have millions of tomatoes.”
“All,” she said in amazement, “from one little seed.”
But then she said, “I almost killed my plant. I left it in a dark room and forgot to water it. When I remembered the plant, it was all wilted and dead looking. I cried because I thought of all of those millions of tomatoes that would never grow.”
She was then excited to tell her grandfather about the “miracle” that happened.
She explained, “Momma said maybe the plant wasn’t dead. Maybe all it needed was some water and some light to bring life back.
“And she was right. I gave the plant some water, and I put it in the window for light. And guess what?” she asked. “It came back to life, and now it’s going to grow millions of tomatoes!”
Her small tomato plant, so full of potential but so weakened and wilted from unintentional neglect, was strengthened and revived through the simple ministration of water and light by the little girl’s loving and caring hands.

As a young boy I grew up in the Mormon colonies in Mexico. Our family lived in Colonia Dublan, Chihuahua, Mexico. We lived in a big two story brick house surrounded by all sorts of trees and flowers-my mother's family called the home Tanglewood. Tanglewood was a kid's dreamland. We had huge trees all around that were fun to climb, one of them even had a woodpecker living in the top. We had great games of hide and seek in the big yard-with all the trees, bushes, and structures, including an old barn, chicken coop, we even had our own outhouse! Most of these old structures were connected with tall adobe fences. What I remembered most was running around the big yard and spending time running through the big barn behind the home. Everyday we spent hours running around on the adobe walls connecting the barn and other storage buildings. As children we would jump from the barn to the walls, and race each other around the walls-seeing who could combine speed and balance! When I was six, someone started the barn on fire-fortunately the fire was stopped early and there was not a lot of damage. After the fire, I started to have nightmares, dreaming every night that the people who had started the fire in the barn were after me. They were chasing me around trying to catch me and I was sprinting on these narrow walls. It was terrible, I couldn't sleep at all. As young children my mother had taught us about prayer. She use to say that in her father's patriarchal blessing it stated that he had the faith of the brother of Jared-the power to move mountains, control the elements, and raise the dead. My brother and I use to say to each other, wow our grandpa must be strong if he can move a mountain! Many people remember times when the community needed rain and they would call on my grandfather to pray " even as he started to pray, the weather would change, and the rain would come. My mother told us numerous stories of my grandfather and others to help strengthen our testimony of prayer. As a six your old, these bad dreams were a big issue to me. My mother had told me to ask Heavenly Father to have good dreams and not bad ones, and I would be able to sleep without having bad dreams. I followed her council. To this day, I always pray to have good dreams and I always do. My testimony in prayer was never questioned after this point in my life. No matter what trials or help I have needed, I have always felt I could turn to the Lord.

The next few years were hard for a variety of reasons. I was exposed to many paths that were contrary to the teachings of the gospel. Even though my parents were supportive of our church attendance, they were not members of the Church and didn’t have the same standards. So I didn’t have a foundation at home for spiritual growth.
During that time, attending seminary and connecting with my youth leaders really helped me push through the hard times and stay committed to the gospel. I grew spiritually, thanks to the efforts of teachers and other members of the Church who loved me and cared about my growth.

We take an oath to be friendly, kind, and courteous. At a national jamboree a 12-year-old Scout got separated from his patrol. He was standing alone in a sea of Scouts and about to break into tears. An older Scout saw him and went over and introduced himself. “I have a gift for you,” the older boy said. “It is a hand-carved bolo tie. A great Scouter, Bill Burch, carved it. He numbers each one. He has carved over 40,000.”
The older Scout presented the tie to the young scared Scout. About that time the patrol found the boy. They gathered around him, and for a few moments he was the center of attention with his new bolo tie. The tears had disappeared; he felt important. The older Scout had truly been friendly.

I had just turned 18 when a member of my bishopric, Mark, hired me to help him transport some business supplies. It required a lot of driving, so I was often left alone with my thoughts. During that time I wrestled with a couple of big questions, especially “Should I serve a mission?” and “What should I be when I get older?” These questions became a burden because I was unsure and needed to decide soon.

One day as Mark and I drove around a corner, we came upon an accident. A truck had just smashed into the side of a small car, and both vehicles were still sliding to a halt. The accident looked severe. When the vehicles stopped sliding, Mark pulled to the side of the road, and we both rushed to the scene. Inside the crumpled car, we found a young boy and girl in the backseat, with their babysitter behind the wheel. All of them were unconscious.

Mark had been a volunteer firefighter for years, and I was a lifeguard trained in emergency rescue. As we assessed the wreck, we noticed that others were stopping to help the couple in the truck, so we focused on the three people in the car.

Mark went to the driver, and I opened the back door to check on the children. The boy, who was in a car seat, began to move. I unbuckled his seat belt and quickly checked for injuries. Miraculously, he was unhurt. I set him down next to the driver, whom Mark had just helped out of the car. On the crushed side of the car, the little girl was still unconscious. She eventually started to wake up, and relief swept through me. That relief was short-lived, however. I looked down and saw that her legs were caught in the twisted wreckage of the car. I stifled my tears and the lump in my throat as I thought, “Even if this girl survives, she will never be able to walk again.”

As the girl regained consciousness, she started to realize what was happening and began to go into shock. She screamed in fear and then struggled to free her legs. I knew that because her legs were probably severely injured, moving them was one of the worst things she could do. I had to calm her down, but I didn’t know how.

Suddenly the thought entered my mind, “Did you think to pray?” (see Hymns, no. 140). I took a deep breath and held the girl’s head close to mine. As I closed my eyes, I quietly prayed, “Father in Heaven, please help. Please, let Thy daughter live. And if it be Thy will, let her legs be freed.” As soon as the words left my lips, the girl stopped screaming. I could see calmness in her eyes.

The paramedics arrived and started preparing to cut the girl free. But instead of leaving, I felt that I should try to free her by positioning my hands in a certain way between the girl’s legs and the passenger seat, which was trapping them. I didn’t know how it would work, but I followed the prompting, and, under the supervision of the paramedics, I pushed and pulled as hard as I could. Nothing happened. I pushed and pulled again. I was about to give up when her right leg suddenly popped free. I was astonished, and I was even more surprised to see that her leg was unharmed. I pushed and pulled again and her second leg came free, also in seemingly good shape. The paramedics and I fitted her onto a backboard and loaded her into an ambulance, which rushed her to the hospital.

Afterward I sat on the curb and reflected on what had happened. A paramedic patted me on the back and said, “That was quite the miracle.” As his words sank in, I thought of what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles once said: “Young men, you will learn if you have not already, that in frightening, even perilous moments, your faith and your priesthood will demand the very best of you and the best you can call down from heaven. … You must be ready and clean, worthy to act.”1

I now have a burning testimony of the principle he taught. The Lord hears and answers our prayers. The accident that day reminded me that Heavenly Father loves every one of His children. He needs our help, especially in “perilous moments.” This experience strengthened my desire to be a missionary and faithful priesthood holder so that I will always be ready to help others get through the “perilous moments” of life.

Shonesty came into the family in a very special way, About a year before she was born, Brother Johnson had a strong feeling while in the temple that there was to be a little girl in the family, He felt so sure that he went home and wrote about her in his journal. When he and Sister Johnson heard that Shonesty was available for adoption, they knew that she was the girl. She was sealed to them in December 1985 in the Atlanta Georgia Temple, a wonderful Christmas gift for the whole family.

Our family is learning from a close relative, six-year-old Liam. This past year he has battled aggressive brain cancer. After two difficult surgeries, it was decided that radiation would also be necessary. During these radiation treatments, he was required to be all alone and lie absolutely still. Liam did not want to be sedated because he disliked the way it made him feel. He was determined that if he could just hear his dad’s voice over the intercom, he could lie still without the sedative.

During these anxious times, his dad spoke to him with words of encouragement and love. “Liam, although you can’t see me, I am right here. I know you can do it. I love you.” Liam successfully accomplished the 33 required radiation treatments while holding perfectly still, a feat his doctors thought would be impossible without sedation for one so young. Through months of pain and difficulty, Liam’s contagious optimism has been a powerful example of meeting adversity with hope and even happiness. His doctors, nurses, and countless others have been inspired by his courage.

We are all learning important lessons from Liam—lessons about choosing faith and trusting in the Lord. Just like Liam, we cannot see our Heavenly Father, but we can listen for His voice to give us the strength we need to endure the challenges of life.

Could Liam’s example help us to better understand King Benjamin’s words to become as a child—submissive, meek, humble, patient, and full of love? (see Mosiah 3:19).

Four months later, Trevor entered the font again—this time to baptize his own mother. Once again, his best friends were there for Trevor, with Cody baptizing Trevor’s younger sister and Justin baptizing his younger brother.
Seeing Trevor with his mother was a powerful experience for Justin. “There was a glow around them,” Justin said. “They were extremely happy because they knew that they were on the path to being together forever.”

While on a lecture tour some time ago, I noticed that one of the other lecturers had attended my discussion on adversity for three consecutive days. After the third lecture, she told me, “I’m concerned that I’ve never had a real trial or test in my life. It’s almost frightening to think about it.”

We talked for a while about the fact that we have no control over when trials come to us, only over how we respond to them. I said that we need not seek trials; over a lifetime, we will have our share of them. And although we have been assured that the Lord will not require more of us than we are capable of handling (see 1 Cor. 10:13), we need to prepare by gaining a good understanding of the Lord’s plan and develop a faith that can carry us through our crises.

Little did this good woman realize how soon she would be faced with a tremendous test. Only a few months later, she and her husband stood at the side of a small coffin containing the body of their only son. As her friends mourned the death of the infant, killed in an unexpected farm accident, this woman was the one who lifted their spirits. She and her husband sorrowed, but they did not blame God or others or react bitterly. Rather, they displayed a quiet strength born of the Spirit.

I met Brent during a blind date while we attended Brigham Young University. From the beginning of our relationship, we talked a lot about our shared patriotism. He enlisted in June 2003, three days after proposing to me.
Three months after we were married on September 18, 2003, Brent left for basic training. Once he returned the following November, we started having children. By the time we were expecting our second baby, he was preparing for his first deployment. He did two consecutive tours from 2007 to 2008 in Iraq.
In 2009, Brent got involved in politics. He ran for the city council in North Ogden, Utah, and won. Halfway through that four-year council seat, he was again deployed to Afghanistan for a year.
After Brent returned, he ran for, and was elected, mayor. As he was running for reelection four years later, we learned that he was being deployed yet again. At the time, I was pregnant with our seventh child. Despite the difficulty of leaving his family and office behind, Brent answered the call. He left in January 2018 for another yearlong deployment.
The day after I learned that Brent had been killed, one of my former bishops gave me a blessing that changed my perspective. In his blessing, he said that my purpose as a wife, mother, and daughter of God had not changed. Then he promised that Brent’s purpose as my husband and our children’s father had not changed either.
After the blessing, I remember chanting in my mind: “My purpose has not changed. My purpose has not changed.”
The next morning, as I repeated those words to myself, a phrase came into my mind: “Only the details have changed.” And as I tried to accept the fact that the details of my life had changed from what I thought they would be, another impression came: “God is in the details.”
The Lord was giving me line-upon-line revelation. When He does this, it’s not because He is keeping secrets from us. It’s because He is going at our pace.
In the months after Brent died, I was anxious about what would come next. But I knew that I could take one step forward at a time and that I could trust that the Lord would give me one line of revelation at a time. It might not be the line I thought He was going to give me, so I had to keep making a conscious choice to trust Him with the details of my life.
While on my mission, I served in a ward that needed a bishop. Stake leaders were looking for someone who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, paid his tithing, and had a supportive wife. Leaders considered one worthy priesthood holder, but his wife did not say yes to the calling.
Because of that experience, I promised the Lord that I would never get in the way of what He needed my future husband to do. I promised to always support him in his calling. I’m grateful I didn’t know the future. I don’t know what I would have done if––when I was making that promise––the Lord had said, “That’s a great promise to make because I need your husband to die for his country.”
I thought I was going to be a bishop’s wife. Instead, I became the wife of a worthy priesthood holder who answered the call to serve and sacrifice in a way I had not imagined.
The Lord has made it clear that the priesthood power of my temple sealing to Brent is still available to me. I have felt the power of our marriage covenant sustain me physically. I miss him so much, but I know that with him on the other side of the veil, I can move forward.
Brent is still supporting me. I feel that I’ve inherited many of his strengths. I’m no longer just me, and I’m certainly not him. Rather, I feel that I am both of us. To me, this is a testament of our marriage covenant.
When the world feels in chaos, we have to remember that our covenants are our constant.
I have learned from this experience that there is a beautiful power in letting people help us. It can be a humbling experience, but it blesses both those serving and those being served. We need to let others help us.
“When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God,” King Benjamin taught (Mosiah 2:17). This scripture is also true in reverse. When you are served by your fellow beings, you are being served by the Lord.
Sometimes we worry too much about what we can do or say to help someone. After Brent died, people who just showed up were the most helpful. They weren’t pushy, they paid attention, and they saw a need.
If you feel prompted to serve, don’t overthink it. Show up. Drop off a quick note. Don’t worry that your efforts aren’t perfect. Help anyway. Even if you say or do the wrong thing, those you serve will know that you meant, “I love you.”
We can all do better at letting people serve us imperfectly.
Photograph by Kaitlin Westbroek
Faith starts as a choice. Sometimes we might not see or feel the Lord in difficult times. In those moments when I don’t feel Him, I make a conscious choice. I choose to trust Him. I choose to be happy. I choose to let people help. I choose to ask for help. I choose to let the peace of the gospel guide me. It’s hard, but we have to make these choices. The Lord encourages us to make them, but He never forces us to.
It’s difficult to say that this tragedy has been a blessing. I hate being blessed by tragedy, but I have been. We might say we want the blessings and no trials, but that’s not how mortality works. “For after much tribulation come the blessings” (Doctrine and Covenants 58:4). For me, the Lord has taken this horrible tragedy and turned it into something beautiful.
I had less time with Brent than I thought I would have, but I know that the Lord is not going to shortchange us eternally in any way. I don’t know how, because I don’t have His knowledge and wisdom, but I know that His promises are sure.
Our Losses Will Be Made Up
“All your losses will be made up to you in the resurrection, provided you continue faithful. By the vision of the Almighty I have seen it.”
Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith (2007), 51.

Marin Watt was a direct descendant of George D. Watt, the first member of the British Isles to be baptized. He visited from his home in the USA and met the cast member playing his ancestor in the show. He commented, “It truly was an experience of a lifetime for me personally. Having been told of the event of George D. Watt and the race to the River Ribble and his being the first person baptized has always had a special place in my heart. But, now I have been there. I have walked the footsteps of my Great Great Grandfather. I have been at the Temple which is there because of baptisms over 186 years ago involving my ancestors. I heard and witnessed how the people of the British Isles know of that baptism and what it still means to them today. I was able to watch the pageant, in England, of those events surrounding the introduction of The Gospel of Jesus Christ in my ancestral land and so much more.”

Sister Amy A. Wright remembers a night several years ago when she was undergoing treatment for stage 4 ovarian cancer. She was in so much pain that she was past feeling. Despite her testimony and her faith in Heavenly Father, the Savior, and the plan of salvation, she was in need.
As a young child, Sister Wright had been taught by her mother and Primary leaders that when feeling afraid, lonely, or in need of the Spirit, she should sing a Primary song.
“But that’s for children,” she thought now. “Does that really apply to me?”
Then came the answer—and the song.
“I am a child of God too,” Sister Wright remembered. “So, in my mind, I started singing, ‘Heavenly Father, are you really there?’1
“That’s as far as I got. Every fiber of my being was enveloped with the love of God. It was tangible, which was strange because I couldn’t feel anything else. I knew He was there, that He knew exactly what I was going through, and that He was a loving God.”

Yoshio and Kikuno Nishihara exemplified what they preached as their children were growing up. Satoshi remembers well an argument with his mother when he was young; it was resolved when she asked him to kneel and pray with her. That was a sweet learning experience. Now it comes naturally for Satoshi to counsel and pray with his own wife, Noriko, and their children in handling family business. They handled one recent decision this way after a family fast; as they prayed together and as he listened to his wife and children express their feelings, it became clear to him what the family should do.