Gospel Story Finder

It was ten-year-old Joshua’s turn to teach the family home evening lesson. It was on faith. When he finished, he told his family, “If you have faith, you can do anything.”
His mother replied, “Well, almost anything.”
“No, Mom.” Joshua said. “You can do anything.”
Little did the Dennis family know that within days, their faith would be tested. On Friday, 22 September 1989, Joshua went with his dad and other leaders and members of a Boy Scout troop from Kearns, Utah, to explore an abandoned mine. After looking around inside the mine for some time, Joshua and some of the Scouts decided to turn back. They met Joshua’s dad and some other Scouts heading out of the mine, and Joshua gave his flashlight to his dad, who was leaving the tunnel with a visually handicapped boy.
Then Joshua decided to follow some older Scouts back into the mine tunnel, but they did not know that Joshua was behind them. They began to run. Joshua couldn’t keep up with them and was soon left behind in total darkness. He couldn’t even see his hand in from of his face.
He turned around and tried to feel his way back to the entrance, but he made a wrong turn and slid down a slope. He climbed back up but went too far and ended up in an ore stope—a cavity where ore has been mined out—about two meters wide and seven meters deep. The stope was almost impossible to see from the main tunnel below because of rocks.
“I tried to find my way out for a long time,” Joshua recalled. He yelled, but his cries were muffled and no one heard him. By this time, he was tired and cold and his feet were wet. “I knew I was lost, and I realized I had better just sit down and wait,” he said.
Joshua slept a lot. Sometimes he would stand up and stretch or just sit and think. For five days Joshua had no food or water and only his coat to keep him warm in the 10° C temperature.
But he wasn’t afraid. “I prayed a lot that Heavenly Father would help me,” he said, and his prayers were answered with a feeling of comfort and with faith that he would be found. “I felt that I was being watched over by Heavenly Father.”
While Joshua was praying, friends and family were also fasting and praying that he would be found in safety. His parents waited anxiously for reports on the search for their son.
Many volunteers helped search the surrounding foothills, which are full of abandoned mines and air shafts. At least seven times some of them passed within forty meters of Joshua.
The longer the search continued, the more certain many people became that Joshua was not in the mine but had wandered away from it. Search dogs, helicopters, and people on horseback and on foot searched the cliff-lined hills of nearby Dry Canyon. There was no trace of the boy.
Inside the mine, Joshua waited calmly for someone to find him. To help pass the time, he sang “I Am a Child of God” and other songs that he had learned in Primary.
As each day passed, the chance of finding Joshua alive grew less, but members of the rescue team were determined to not give up.
When the search party came out of the mine after another unsuccessful rescue attempt on the afternoon of the fifth day, a Church member, John Skinner, persuaded the men in charge to let him go in with the other searchers for a final attempt. “I just had a feeling that he was still in the mine and that he was still alive,” he explained.
John Skinner had explored the Hidden Treasure Mine 120 times and was very familiar with the dozens of passages that wind through the eight levels. He could picture in his mind at least three places where Joshua might be. One of those places was the ore stope.
As the other searchers made another sweep through the mine, he, Ray Guymon, and Gary Christensen separated from the group, and John Skinner led them to the sections of the mine where he thought the boy might be. When they finally came to the ore cavity, they heard a faint cry for help but were not sure what it was. They remained still until they heard it again. The excitement grew as they and Joshua yelled back and forth, trying to find each other in the darkness.
“My heart just started pumping and pounding,” recalled Gary Christensen, the first to reach Joshua. “I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around me.”
“I felt like we were led there by the Lord,” Ray Guymon said.
All three men said it was very difficult to describe the feelings they had when they found Joshua, whom they had never seen before.
“I felt like he was my own,” Gary Christensen said. “I was just really happy inside.”
“It was an overwhelming feeling when we found him,” John Skinner said.
As Joshua was brought out of the mine, there were tears of joy and relief on the faces of many. Joshua, although excited, remained calm—he had not doubted that he would be found.
Because there was no light inside the mine, Joshua had lost track of time. He was surprised when he found out that he had been lost for so long. Dehydrated from going so long without water, and suffering mild frostbite on his feet, he was flown to a hospital, where he rested and doctors examined him.
At first the doctors thought they would have to amputate his little toes. But all he lost was some skin from his feet. He had to be in a wheelchair for about a week. Physical therapy strengthened his leg and foot muscles, and before long he was walking, running, and even riding his skateboard again.
Joshua received more than a thousand letters, many from other school children who wanted to know more about him and his experience. While he was lost, the students at Fox Hills Elementary School, where he was in the fifth grade, tied yellow ribbons on the fences all around their school to show that they were thinking about him and hoping that he would be back soon. It really made Joshua feel good to know that so many people cared about him. He tells everyone, “Heavenly Father does answer your prayers. Have faith and don’t give up.”

With the homeless in the streets and refugees sleeping in the parks of Paris, France, the need for help is present daily before our eyes, even during the Christmas season. Two friends and I decided to form a community group called Solidarity to Act Together to help where we can.
With the support of many volunteers throughout the community as well as Latter-day Saints from the three stakes in Paris, we organized Light the World activities to help our brothers and sisters in need.
For three years in a row, we’ve held a year-end Light the World event where artists, volunteers, and guests from a variety of churches and organizations in Paris come to perform and donate supplies to those in need. It takes months of preparation, but volunteers and performers have experienced such immense joy participating in the event. None of them want to miss it. For our third Light the World event, 82 participants came despite a transportation strike!
Before the event, we prepared and gathered backpacks filled with hygiene products to distribute to refugees and homeless people in Paris. We also gathered blankets, sheets, pillows, sporting goods, shower sandals, and even a bicycle, which were given to refugees.
Last year we also put on a fashion show during the event. A 22-year-old stylist who participated said the support he received gave him strength to believe in his abilities. As he spoke with me, I was reminded that everyone needs to feel needed and that all of us are in need in some way.
We look forward to next year. We expect even more participants and activities. Some have even offered warehouses and refrigerated vans to help us as we work with community agencies and partner with a large international catering company to provide balanced meals for those in need. We are also organizing a way to provide free French lessons for those learning French as a second language.
I find that serving in a noble cause brings indescribable joy. Small actions can build individuals in remarkable ways. The smiles and gratitude we have received motivate us to do even more.

Julio Cesar Merlos of the Arlington Texas Stake writes: “I remember when my brothers and sisters and I were growing up. We were new members of the Church, and our family didn’t have many financial resources, but we had faith in the gospel. My father set the example for us by his scripture reading. For him, family home evening was an opportunity to teach us what he himself was learning.
“One of my father’s family home evening lessons really made an impression on me. That was the time he taught us about agency. I remember the words my father spoke: ‘I want to give you a piece of advice to remember for the rest of your lives. When you are tempted to disobey the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity or any other commandment of God, think about whom you are sinning against. Is it God, the Church, your parents, your family, or yourself? I want to tell you that the one you are sinning against the most is yourself.’
“As I grew up, tests came to me that were as serious as the ones my parents warned me about. I tried to remember the advice my father gave us that night. Twenty-five years after hearing my father’s counsel, it still fortifies me greatly and makes me stronger. Now my children are hearing the same advice from me.”

Our family has a tradition when we go to bed at night. We have a spiritual time where we read something from the scriptures or the Friend, sing a Primary song, and say a prayer together.
We decided to read the Book of Mormon children’s book with pictures. The last chapter talks about Moroni putting the gold plates in a stone box and burying them in the ground for someone to find someday. He wrote a promise to whoever reads the plates that if they ask Heavenly Father about the words written on the gold plates, they will find out the words are true and come from Heavenly Father.
At the end of the book, there’s a painting of a little boy kneeling by his bed, praying. Dad showed us the picture and told us that when he was young, he also prayed about the Book of Mormon and found out that it was true. He said that Heavenly Father doesn’t usually speak to us with words. Instead, He speaks to our hearts and minds with feelings from the Holy Ghost.
After we finished reading, we sang a Primary song. Then I asked Dad if I could be the one to say the prayer. I knelt next to my bed with my dad and my little brother. During the prayer, I asked Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon is true. I felt warm inside and very good.
After the prayer I told my dad how I felt. He told me that he felt the same way and that Heavenly Father was speaking to us to let us know that what we just read was true.
That’s how I know the scriptures are true.

The sudden jerk about knee height on my pant leg told me I was in trouble. Caught in a power take-off shaft that powered a hammering hay baler, I scarcely had time to realize what had happened when I was pulled in tight against the machine and thrown around it.
The day had begun quite routinely. I had gotten up early to bale a hillside piece of hay. There would be a little dew on the hay, and I knew this would keep the leaves from falling off as the hay was compressed into bales.
But the moisture always made hay tough to bale, and so as I made the first round, the frustrations of broken bales of hay coming out of the baler confronted me. Several periodic adjustments to the knotter didn’t seem to help, and I knew a growing row of broken bales wouldn’t ever get the job done.
It was a typically frustrating situation as I jumped from the tractor, leaving the baler running so that I could examine the knotter at work. The hay plunger pounded in rhythm as I watched the mechanical knotter pull a loop in the twine and bundle the leafy hay into a rectangular bale.
“Just temperamental; whenever you watch it, the bales come out perfect,” I thought as I watched a seemingly well-knotted bale move through the bale chamber.
“Try it one more time,” I decided as I walked toward the tractor again. With my mind still back at the knotter, I stepped forward, past the flywheel, and approached the tractor hitch.
Suddenly I felt my pant leg tighten and heard the heavy denim trousers tear from my leg. Instantly I knew what had happened. I had brushed against the power take-off shaft near the second universal joint, and it had caught my clothes. I remember the split-second thought that raced through my mind as I knew I was caught and hoped that it would tear off just a piece of the trousers and release me. But it didn’t.
Before I had time to brace myself, it pulled me in tight, and my clothes began wrapping around the shaft as it tore them from me. Turning clockwise, it worked down my leg toward my right foot and caught my sock and leather work shoe. Completely overpowered by the strength and persistence of the machine, I found myself defenseless as it twisted my ankle until the heavy work shoe shredded loose. I hardly remember being thrown by my foot across the menacing shaft, eventually landing on the short alfalfa stubbed ground.
Fortunately, my shoe had torn loose, and though my ankle was dangling disjointed on the end of my leg, I was free of the still spinning machine. I lay on the ground for a moment barely comprehending the fact that all of my clothes except my upper shirt collar and rolled up arm sleeves were still flapping around the shaft.
Unaware of how or where I was injured, I tried to get up to turn the machinery off. My right foot wobbled out from under the weight of my body, and I realized as I stumbled to the stub of my leg that I couldn’t walk. Pulling myself up to the tractor seat, I pushed in the power take-off gear and flipped the switch to turn the tractor off.
When the momentum of the baler stopped, I began tugging at my clothes that were tightly narled around the power take-off shaft. Not really thinking, I expected to pull a complete pair of trousers off, but torn pieces were all I could salvage to wrap around me.
Had I been at the far end of the field, it is doubtful that I would have been able to drag myself to find help. The pain sharpened as I hopped on my left foot and watched my cut and bleeding ankle swell up with fluid. I limped to the nearest fence post and clung to it. As a truck rounded the curve and headed down the road not far away, I waved frantically, and the driver, my neighbor, saw me and stopped.
I was conscious throughout the painful, ten-mile ride to the hospital. The terrifying fear of losing a limb and the despair of at best being laid up for months plagued my mind as they wrapped me in a blanket and hurried me to the emergency room.
The operations that followed, the plaster casts, and the awkward crutches are but a few of the memories of that tragic experience. However, the greater memory is not one of pain and hardship, but rather one of gratitude to the young men in an LDS priests quorum whose service in a moment of misfortune was remarkable.
Recognizing that I wouldn’t be able to return to my carpentry job of building a house, the priests quorum, whom I serve with as an adviser in the Mendon (Utah) Ward, responded with the ambition of youth, determined that they could provide the manpower to complete the house-building project if someone with experience would offer the direction.
“It didn’t matter how big the job was,” commented Michael Anderson, one of the organizers of the project, “we knew we could do just about anything if we had the cooperation of the quorum.”
And so, with some help from Bishop Stanton Barrett, who is also a building contractor, a spirited quorum of priests, armed with hammers and saws, undertook to finish the framing of a 1,200-square-foot home.
“As fast as the bishop laid it out, we’d nail it together,” Michael stated in explaining afterwards how the group succeeded in framing the complete house, from foundation to roof trusses, in only two days.
“Of course it took some organizing,” he added, “We called each quorum member, told him our plans, and got a commitment from him. The commitment was important.”
The owners of the home in progress, Mr. and Mrs. Bob Findlay, helped out too. “Bob was in there working with the rest of us, and his wife brought us lunch. That kept a hungry crew going,” Michael said. “Sure, there were a few bruises and some thumbnails got whacked, but there was just a special spirit there despite the hard work. The guys planned it and came out because they wanted to help, and that made it fun,” he added. “It was something I’ll remember all my life.”
Bishop Barrett suggested one reason for the success of the undertaking when he said, “The young men were working not because their adviser had planned a service project for them but because they had planned one for him … and that made all the difference.”
As the last nail went into the roof late Saturday, the physical work was done, but the surprise in announcing their accomplishment was still to come.
An unusually quiet quorum of teenage boys greeted me as I met with them the first Sunday after being released from the hospital. A shy and somewhat out-of-character member of the quorum stepped forward and said, “We’ve got something for you … because we wanted to help.” He handed me a homemade, booklike get-well card consisting of a set of photographs that documented their construction work. The room was silent as they anxiously watched me thumb through the pictures.
In the powerful moments of silence that followed, my mind went back to the many times before, when, in the same classroom, I had unconvincingly talked from the lesson manual on the subject of service. Suddenly we were experiencing that joy which before was only a subject of discussion. The lesson that day wasn’t expressed in words.
Finally, I broke the silence by saying, “Now you know the real joys of service—but let’s leave the hay baler out of the next project!”
What began as a tragedy was suddenly forgotten. Long after the plaster casts and crutches are gone, the memory will live of the young men who wanted to help and did.

If we can understand what was inside of him in love for his brethren, we will understand why his soul was wounded to the core when men came across the river at Montrose and accused him of cowardice—said that, despite his words about standing up for them, now that trouble had come he was the first one to run. That’s when he replied, “If my life is of no value to my friends it is of none to myself.” That was when the resolve was made to return. He had had light in his decision to leave—“It is clear to my mind what to do.” We can certainly say that the death of the Prophet was brought on by his enemies. Perhaps we must also say that it was brought on by some of his friends.

After all that the Saints had received from Joseph, there were some who at that stage could not believe him when he said, “All they want is Hyrum and myself. . . . They will come here and search for us. Let them search; they will not harm you . . . not even a hair of your head. We will cross the river tonight, and go away to the West.” But the pot was boiling. Reports were coming in every hour telling of increasing numbers of men who had come from Missouri to join the Illinois mobs; the mobs that were being gathered, the cannons they had available, the threats they were making. In the midst of that flood of evidence, Joseph’s statement, “You will be safe,” could not be believed. More than a hundred, Vilate Kimball wrote, had left Nauvoo. Seeing them go, the Prophet said, “Look at the cowards.” Now he himself was called a coward. And against the light, he came back. “The light he had was toward the mountains.”

Porter Rockwell, when asked what he thought should be done, replied to the Prophet in a nineteenth-century phrase—“As you make your bed, I will lie with you.” Said Joseph, “Hyrum, you are the oldest, what shall we do?” Hyrum answered, “Let us go back and give ourselves up.” The Prophet, probably thinking of the governor’s stern, uncompromising letter, said, “If you go back I will go with you, but we shall be butchered.” “No, no,” said Hyrum, “let us go back and put our trust in God, and we shall not be harmed.”

Nanette gazed out the rain-spattered living room window from her perch on the big wooden moving crate. She hugged her knees a little closer and gloomily watched the storm drench her new neighborhood.
“My, this rain is refreshing,” Nanette’s mother exclaimed as she scooped an armful of towels out of one of the packing boxes. Then she paused, put down the towels, and climbed over a box to reach Nanette.
“Honey, I know it isn’t easy to leave your friends and school and the only home you’ve ever known, but it could be a wonderful new beginning for you.”
“But, Mom, I don’t even know anyone here,” Nanette said, tears filling her eyes.
“Nanette, we’ve been here only two days,” her mother said kindly. “It takes time for us to feel at home. Now, would you like to help me put away the linens?”
As they put away the last stack of sheets, Todd woke up from his nap and began calling, “Nan! Nan! Nan!” Nanette lifted him out of bed and held him close for a while. Then she put him in his playpen with some toys. But he was not happy and began to cry. He had been unusually fussy ever since they had arrived at their new home.
Maybe it’s hard for babies to move, too. But not as hard as it is for a ten-year-old girl to start a new school near the end of the year without a single friend! Nanette decided.
“Nan,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Now that the storm has let up would you please run to the store for a loaf of bread?”
“Can I take Todd in the stroller?”
“Oh, he’d love it!” Mother answered. “His warm clothes are in the bottom drawer.”
The store was only a couple of blocks away, but Nanette pushed the stroller slowly so she could look around the neighborhood, hoping to see a boy or girl about her own age. The big evergreen trees lining the street had a spicy smell that made her nose tingle, and everything was green and glistening from the rain.
Nanette was taking a deep breath of the cool and fragrant air when suddenly a furry little black dog came bounding toward them. He slid on the slick grass and landed in a puddle in front of the stroller. Todd squealed with delight as Nanette gathered the dripping ball of fur into her arms and held him for her brother to see.
In another minute a girl wearing a bright-colored raincoat came running down the sidewalk toward them. She was about Nanette’s age and she stopped a few feet from Nanette to gaze at her from under her raincoat hood.
Nanette held the dog out and the girl took it, tucked it under one arm, and muttered shyly, “Thanks.”
“Sure,” answered Nanette, trying to sound casual. Both girls stood for several moments waiting for the other to speak. Finally, the girl in the raincoat turned and ran to a nearby house.
On the way back from the store, Nanette saw the girl sitting on the curb tossing leaves into the water. She slowed the stroller and the girl stood up and turned as though she were going to speak, but they only stood face to face again in awkward silence. Relieved a little when Todd began to fuss, Nanette made him comfortable, bit her lip, and began walking toward her new home.
Why didn’t she talk to me? She certainly knows I’m new in the neighborhood. I wonder why she doesn’t like me! Nanette thought as she turned into their driveway.
“I don’t like this place at all!” Nanette exclaimed as she lifted Todd out of the stroller and carried him into the house. She dropped the bread and sank into the nearest chair and complained, “I want to go back to our old neighborhood.”
“What happened?” questioned her mother.
Nanette related the whole episode, becoming even more upset as she talked about it.
“Perhaps the girl is shy,” her mother suggested. “Why don’t you be a little more friendly when you see her again?”
The next morning Father called to say he would be there that night with Nanette’s two older brothers. After Mother was through talking to Dad, Nanette suggested, “Let’s make some chocolate chip cookies for Dad and the boys.”
“That’s a great idea! You can start them while I finish the vacuuming,” Mother agreed.
It wasn’t long before the aroma of freshly baked cookies began floating through the house. After the last batch of cookies was out of the oven and carefully moved to the cooling rack, Nanette said, “I wish I had at least one friend before Dad and the boys get here tonight.”
“Perhaps you will have one,” her mother answered.
“Maybe,” said Nanette as she munched on a warm cookie. Suddenly her eyes brightened. “I have an idea, but I’ll need a few of these cookies. I’m sure Dad and the boys won’t mind!” She quickly chose some of the larger ones and put them on a covered plate.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she called as she hurried out of the door.
When Nanette stopped running to catch her breath, she was almost at the house where the girl lived who had the little dog. But her courage that had carried her this far began to disappear as she walked up the steps toward the big white door.
What if she still won’t talk to me? Nanette wondered. But she hesitated only a minute and then knocked very lightly, hoping that no one would hear and she could just leave the cookies and slip away quietly. However, the door quickly swung open and there stood the girl, staring wide-eyed in surprise.
“I—I—made something for you,” Nanette’s voice trembled.
The girl took the cookies and then stepped back and said with a warm smile, “Please come in.”
Nanette followed her into a cluttered living room and found a place to sit on the sofa between two big boxes of books.
“My name is Cindy,” the girl began, “and I’m so glad you came. After yesterday I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. You see, we just moved here last week and I don’t know anyone yet.”
“What!” exclaimed Nanette. “We just moved here too.”
Both girls began laughing.
“I brought you some friendship cookies,” Nanette explained.
“I’m glad you did,” said Cindy.
The girls smiled at each other. Then they both began asking questions and talking as fast as they could to learn all about their new-found friendship.

President Harold B. Lee told this great story
In a . . . meeting I listened to a young girl’s heartwarming testimony. Her father was afflicted with what the doctors had pronounced was an incurable malady. To his wife one morning, this stricken father, after a night of pain and suffering, had said with great feeling, “I am so thankful today.” “For what?” she asked. He replied, “For God’s giving me the privilege of one more day with you.”

Today I . . . desire with all my heart that all within the sound of this broadcast would likewise thank God for one more day! For what? For the opportunity to take care of some unfinished business. To repent; to right some wrongs; to influence for good some wayward child; to reach out to someone who cries for help—in short, to thank God for one more day to prepare to meet [Him].

It was probably the most spiritual experience the youth from the Baton Rouge Louisiana Stake can remember. Nearly 200 of them piled into five buses and traveled to Dallas for a few days of temple work and scripture study.
When not doing baptisms for the people on the four-generation sheets they’d prepared, they were reading the Book of Mormon, studying it, discussing it, even making skits from it. With each person in the group reading assigned pages, they read the Book of Mormon in a combined effort more than five times during the trip.
For many, it was their first time in a temple.

Sheryl Hague of Yakima was also at church when the volcano erupted. “I thought it was a blessing that we were all in church when it happened, in a safe place,” she said, “I go to a singles’ branch, but I knew my family was in church at their ward, and my dad, who’s a stake president, was in church somewhere. My bishop was making sure we had wet paper towels over our mouths so we didn’t breathe the dust in, and people were making sure that everyone who wanted a ride home had it and that we were all okay. Right away we organized a calling committee to make sure that everyone had food and any help they needed.”
Many of the Young Adults at Sheryl’s ward opted to stay at the institute building where church was being held, until things quieted down. Food was brought in to the group by the Relief Society and elders quorum presidents.
“The prophet tells us constantly to be prepared, but often we don’t really listen until something like this happens, which is too bad,” added Sheryl. “During the first day especially I thought a lot about the Second Coming and how if you’re not prepared you’re going to panic, like a lot of unprepared people here did. I found out how important food storage is, too. Some people here didn’t have enough food to last them for even a couple of days. On the radio people were advised to store water, which our family had already done long before. We stored quite a bit more, though, including a bathtub full.”

I have seen that faith and courage many times when believing Latter-day Saints have faced fearsome trials. For one example, I was in Idaho when the Teton Dam broke on June 5, 1976. A wall of water came down. Thousands fled from their homes. Thousands of homes and businesses were destroyed. Miraculously, fewer than 15 people were killed.
What I saw there, I have seen whenever Latter-day Saints stand firmly on the rock of a testimony of Jesus Christ. Because they have no doubt He watches over them, they become fearless. They ignore their own trials to go to the relief of others. And they do so out of love for the Lord, asking no recompense.
For example, when the Teton Dam broke, a Latter-day Saint couple was traveling, miles away from their home. As soon as they heard the news on the radio, they hurried back to Rexburg. Rather than going to their own home to see if it was destroyed, they went looking for their bishop. He was in a building that was being used as the recovery center. He was helping to direct the thousands of volunteers who were arriving in yellow school buses.
The couple walked up to the bishop and said, “We just got back. Bishop, where can we go to help?” He gave them the names of a family. That couple stayed mucking out mud and water in one home after another. They worked from dawn to dark for days. They finally took a break to go see about their own home. It was gone in the flood, leaving nothing to clean up. So they turned around quickly to go back to their bishop. They asked, “Bishop, do you have someone for us to help?”
That miracle of quiet courage and charity—the pure love of Christ—has been repeated over the years and across the world. It happened in the terrible days of the persecutions and trials at the time of the Prophet Joseph Smith in Missouri. It happened as Brigham Young led the exodus from Nauvoo and then called Saints to desert places all over the western United States, to help each other create Zion for the Lord.
If you read the journal entries of those pioneers, you see the miracle of faith driving out doubt and fear. And you read of Saints leaving their own interests to help someone else for the Lord, before getting back to their own sheep or to their own unplowed fields.
I saw that same miracle a few short days ago in the aftermath of Hurricane Irma in Puerto Rico, Saint Thomas, and Florida, where Latter-day Saints partnered with other churches, local community groups, and national organizations to begin cleanup efforts.
Like my friends in Rexburg, one nonmember couple in Florida focused on helping the community rather than laboring on their own property. When some Latter-day Saint neighbors offered help with the two large trees blocking their driveway, the couple explained that they had been overwhelmed and so had turned to helping others, having faith that the Lord would provide the aid they needed at their own home. The husband then shared that before our Church members arrived with offers of assistance, the couple had been praying. They had received an answer that help would come. It came within hours of that assurance.
I have heard a report that some have started calling the Latter-day Saints who are wearing yellow Helping Hands T-shirts “The Yellow Angels.” One Latter-day Saint took her car in for service, and the man helping her described the “spiritual experience” he had when people in yellow shirts removed trees from his yard and then, he said, they “sang some song to me about being a child of God.”
Another Florida resident—also not of our faith—related that Latter-day Saints came to her home when she was working in her devastated yard and feeling overwhelmed, overheated, and close to tears. The volunteers created, in her words, “a pure miracle.” They served not only with diligence but also with laughter and smiles, accepting nothing in return.
I saw that diligence and heard that laughter when, late on a Saturday, I visited with a group of Latter-day Saints in Florida. The volunteers stopped their cleanup labor long enough to let me shake some hands. They said that 90 members of their stake in Georgia had created a plan to join in the rescue in Florida just the night before.
They left Georgia at 4:00 in the morning, drove for hours, worked through the day and into the night, and planned to labor again the next day.
They described it to me all with smiles and good humor. The only stress I sensed was that they wanted to stop being thanked so they could get back to work. The stake president had restarted his chain saw and was working on a downed tree and a bishop was moving tree limbs as we got into our vehicle to go to the next rescue team.
Earlier that day, as we pulled away from another site, a man had walked up to the car, taken off his hat, and thanked us for the volunteers. He said, “I’m not a member of your church. I can’t believe what you have done for us. God bless you.” The LDS volunteer standing next to him in his yellow shirt smiled and shrugged his shoulders as if he deserved no praise.
While the volunteers from Georgia had come to help this man who couldn’t believe it, hundreds of Latter-day Saints from that very devastated part of Florida had gone hundreds of miles south to another place in Florida where they had heard the people were harder hit.
That day I remembered and understood better the prophetic words of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith [2007], 426).
We see such love in the lives of Latter-day Saints everywhere. Each time there is a tragic event anywhere in the world, Latter-day Saints donate and volunteer to the Church’s humanitarian efforts. An appeal is seldom needed. In fact, on some occasions, we have had to ask would-be volunteers to wait to travel to the recovery site until those directing the work are prepared to receive them.
That desire to bless is the fruit of people gaining a testimony of Jesus Christ, His gospel, His restored Church, and His prophet. That is why the Lord’s people doubt not and fear not. That is why missionaries volunteer for service in every corner of the world. That is why parents pray with their children for others. That is why leaders challenge their youth to take President Monson’s request to immerse themselves in the Book of Mormon to heart. The fruit comes not by being urged by leaders but by the youth and members acting on faith. That faith, put into action, which requires selfless sacrifice, brings the change of heart that allows them to feel the love of God.
Our hearts, however, remain changed only as long as we continue to follow the prophet’s counsel. If we stop trying after one burst of effort, the change will fade.
Faithful Latter-day Saints have increased their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, in the Book of Mormon as the word of God, and in the restoration of priesthood keys in His true Church. That increased testimony has given us greater courage and concern for others of God’s children. But the challenges and the opportunities ahead will require even more.
We cannot foresee the details, but we know the larger picture. We know that in the last days, the world will be in commotion. We know that in the midst of whatever trouble comes, the Lord will lead faithful Latter-day Saints to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. And we know that the Lord’s true disciples will be worthy and prepared to receive Him when He comes again. We need not fear.
So, as much as we have already built faith and courage in our hearts, the Lord expects more from us—and from the generations after us. They will need to be stronger and braver because they will do even greater and harder things than we have done. And they will face increasing opposition from the enemy of our souls.
The way to optimism as we go forward was given by the Lord: “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not” (D&C 6:36). President Monson told us how to do that. We are to ponder and apply the Book of Mormon and the words of prophets. Pray always. Be believing. Serve the Lord with all our heart, might, mind, and strength. We are to pray with all the energy of our hearts for the gift of charity, the pure love of Christ (see Moroni 7:47–48). And above all, we are to be consistent and persistent in following prophetic counsel.
When the way is difficult, we can rely on the Lord’s promise—the promise President Monson has reminded us of when he has often quoted these words of the Savior: “Whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
I testify that the Lord goes before your face whenever you are on His errand. Sometimes you will be the angel the Lord sends to bear others up. Sometimes you will be the one surrounded by angels who bear you up. But always you will have His Spirit to be in your heart, as you have been promised in every sacrament service. You have only to keep His commandments.
The best days are ahead for the kingdom of God on the earth. Opposition will strengthen our faith in Jesus Christ, as it has since the days of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Faith always defeats fear. Standing together produces unity. And your prayers for those in need are heard and answered by a loving God. He neither slumbers nor does He sleep.
I bear my witness that God the Father lives and wants you to come home to Him. This is the true Church of the Lord Jesus Christ. He knows you; He loves you; He watches over you. He atoned for your sins and mine and the sins of all of Heavenly Father’s children. Following Him in your life and in your service to others is the only way to eternal life.
I so testify and leave you my blessing and my love. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Girls in the Idaho Falls Idaho East Stake, working for their Summiteer Award in the Young Women camp program, mounted horses and headed for Dead Horse Point on a riding adventure.
For most, riding horses on mountain trails with a sleeping bag tied on behind was a new experience. After receiving instructions on the care of her horse (each girl was expected to brush, saddle, bridle, feed, and hobble her assigned horse during the trip), they headed into the mountains. Past camp experience prepared them for making camp with a minimum of equipment, but long hours in the saddle had the girls discovering new, untested muscles.
After maneuvering up a steep trail to a site appropriately named Dead Horse Point, the group was treated to a spectacular view of the Teton Range from the summit.
At the end of the three days, the girls and their leaders were becoming accustomed to the skills needed to ride the mountain trails. With rain threatening, the group broke camp, loaded the horses, and headed home from an adventure that brought them closer together and left them confident of their abilities to survive and enjoy the outdoors.

Having friends with different standards can be hard sometimes. “Denmark is a country where a lot of youth drink alcohol from a young age,” Liam explains. “It can be hard as a teenager to say no to things like that.” But Liam tries to be open about what he believes so others can better understand his choices.

“Sometimes at school when we have classes about Christianity, teachers or friends have asked me about my faith. I’ve tried to explain it as well as I can,” Liam says. “I also invited one of my best friends to my baptism. I gave him and his mom a Book of Mormon and talked with them about some of the things I believe. It’s up to them to decide what they do with it. I felt that I did the right thing to invite others to feel the same joy I do, because who doesn’t want joy?”

Later, in Pilkana, a suburb of Calcutta, Cécile found scorching temperatures, flood conditions throughout the monsoon season, and a level of poverty that dumbfounded her. “But I also found so much hope, because the children still know how to laugh and have fun like children all over the world.”
There Cécile also met a European couple who had been working for twenty years to help the most destitute Indians become self-reliant. “They had started a wholly Indian welfare project, and I was lucky to be allowed into that undertaking,” she says. “I found a training center where girls fourteen to seventeen are taught to make batik prints, so that one day they may be able to provide for their families.”
With her experience in fashion design, Cécile also trained the girls to make patterns and cut and sew their own clothing. The girls now make clothes for the children in the orphanage.
Cécile also helped with the opening of a soup line for the poor—and free medical examinations. “There,” she says, “those who have little give to those who have nothing.”

As usual, my alarm went off at 4:30 A.M. And as usual, I reached over and shut it off. I sat up in the dark and asked myself why I did this to myself every morning. After complaining about how stupid early-morning seminary was, I got up and got ready to go. My brother was already up.
As usual, we arrived five minutes late. I sat in the back row farthest from the teacher. Lately my testimony had been shrinking. Things had not been going right, and my grades had been going down. I thought that if I was living right, everything else in my life should be good too.
As I sat there, not listening to the lesson, I began to wonder if the Church was really true. The thought scared me. I was worried that the things I had been taught all my life were wrong. Right there in class, I started praying silently for help in finding out if the Church was true. By this time, I had stopped listening to the lesson being taught. Finally seminary was over, and I left the building with my brother.
We were getting into the car when I noticed a piece of paper on the windshield. At first I thought it was an advertisement. I opened the paper, and in big bold letters at the top it said, “In Which Shall We Believe?” I began reading. It was a list of verses from the Book of Mormon and quotations from other Church books and leaders that seemed to contradict each other. I realized that the paper was from another church that had a building down the street.
My brother and I took the paper home and went straight to our parents. They read through it. We talked for a few minutes about one of the statements, which they helped answer. Then they put the paper on the desk. We had to leave for school.
A couple of days later, I picked up the paper and began looking up each quotation. The paper was wrong. I found that the statements did not contradict each other. The people who had collected the quotations had printed only part of a scripture or part of a statement—only the parts that seemed to contradict one another. This made me remember what one of my Primary teachers had told me: “Read the scriptures as a whole and not a part.”
I knelt down beside my bed and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true and if what I was reading in the Book of Mormon was correct. I said amen and stayed on my knees for a few minutes and listened. When I got up, I felt energized. I felt terrific. I felt happy. I knew by how I felt that the Church and the Book of Mormon were true. That was my answer.
In a way, I am grateful to those people who were trying to tear down the Church. Because of them, I was motivated to find out for myself—and I found that what I had been taught really was true.

My husband and I have three children—Thomas (6), Tucker (4), and Madison (1). Thomas and Tucker are learning in Primary about baptism and sharing the gospel.
One day, the children and I were at the doctor’s office. A woman with a very small baby came in. The boys love their younger sister, and they were interested in the woman’s baby. I told the boys to sing the baby a song instead of trying to touch it. They looked at each other, then started to sing “I Am a Child of God.”
Upon finishing the song, Thomas looked straight into the mother’s eyes and said, “You know, we are all children of God. Me, my brother, you, your baby, my mom, my sister. Do you go to church? We should all go to church.”
The mother sat there smiling. It was a very touching moment that ended when the nurse called us in to see the doctor.
We don’t know if we’ll ever see the mother and her baby again. What I know is that Thomas and Tucker are practicing the lessons they are learning in Primary and at home about sharing the gospel. And that I should feel comfortable sharing the gospel whenever possible. I pray that they will continue to share the gospel as they grow and that they will always love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ as they do now.

Then in January 1999, the Lindon 17th Ward, Lindon Utah Stake, was created. The new ward members didn’t talk much to Fernando. He was just beginning to speak again, and his words were not clear and came very slowly.

The leaders of the new ward, however, felt very strongly that President Gordon B. Hinckley’s directive that new members of the Church need “a friend, a responsibility, and nurturing with ‘the good word of God’ (Moro. 6:4)”* applied to all the members of their newly formed ward—including Fernando. He was called to be the Primary greeter. That calling has been a great blessing in his life and in the lives of the children in his ward.

Fernando welcomes each child and adult to Primary. “The first time he was there,” said Sister Terris, a counselor in the Primary, “the Spirit was so strong that I had tears in my eyes. He was so excited about his calling!”

That first Sunday Fernando struggled to speak and shake hands with everyone. But each week, his arms and hands grew a little stronger and his speech became a little clearer.
“Even though the little kids don’t always understand him,” Tasha Hansen (11) said, “they feel his spirit and pay attention. You really feel it.”
“He’s nice,” Britton Green (6) added. “He always gets so excited when he sees us.”
“And he knows my name,” Cade Terris (7) said.
“The calling as a greeter let me get to know the little children,” Fernando pointed out. “They are the greatest! Then I got to know their parents. They are all my friends now.”
The children are very comfortable around Fernando because they know that he loves them. Once, the Primary chorister asked him to hold up a poster for a song. Fernando tried, but he did not have the strength to do it. One by one, the children came up and encircled him so that he could rest the chart in his lap and they could still see it.
As they came to know him better, the children wanted to help him recover. They wanted to help him fulfill his desire to serve the Lord with all his heart. They wanted him to be able to serve a mission, which he still hopes to do one day.
“The children are always there to help me. I’m learning to speak better because they are always speaking to me,” he said.
“At first, sometimes I would know what he was going to say and answer him before he finished,” Tasha Hansen said. “But I don’t do that now because I know that he needs to practice talking.”
“Once I walked into Primary and he gave me a special handshake,” Jake Green (9) said. “Now he does it with all the boys.” The children created other new handshakes to help Fernando strengthen all the different muscles in his hands.
One Sunday, when Fernando entered the Primary room dressed as Abinadi, the children suddenly quieted down. Knowing how hard it is for him to speak, they know that each word is important.
Now Fernando has also been called to help teach two classes of eleven- and twelve-year-olds. “He’s getting really good at talking,” said Tori Hansen (11).
But Fernando isn’t the only one with new responsibilities in his ward. Families and individuals, including Primary children, have been asked to help with his therapy. They listen to him read, play with him to exercise his muscles, and talk with him. Or they may take him walking.
Jake Green enjoys playing Chinese checkers with him, “but Fernando always wins. He’s too good!”
“It’s quite a sight when we take Fernando walking,” the Terris family laughs. “We squeeze everyone and everything into the car—his wheelchair, his walker, Fernando, and, of course, all of our family. Then we drive to the place where we walk.”
Once the Green family was walking with Fernando by the Provo River. He stood by a fence and threw a stone into the water. It gave him such pleasure to at last be able to stand balanced against the fence and throw a rock, that Britton and Jake picked up several more stones for him to throw.
“We feel good when we help him,” Jake explained.
“The first time I saw him walk with his walker was really special,” Sammy Whirley (7) said. “We have also tried flying kites. We still need to work on that.”
Shayly Terris (11) was asked to read with him and help him practice pronouncing words. “He asked me questions, and I got to know him better. After we finished reading, my mom and I went to help him get back into bed, and he fell and hit his head. He just said, ‘Shhhh, don’t tell Mom.’ He never complains!”
“He helps me look at other people in wheelchairs differently,” Eddie Terris (14) said. “They really can do a lot of things!”
Meagan Hansen (15) remembered the first time her family took him walking at the track. “There is a chain that prevents people from driving cars onto the track. My Dad asked Fernando, ‘How do you get over that?’ ‘I jump,’ he answered. Dad gave him a look, and Fernando said, ‘Seriously.’ So we wheeled him up to the chain and waited to see what he would do. He just lifted the chain up and rolled under it.”
Conner Hansen (8) said, “Sometimes I think my problems are really bad, but when I look at Fernando’s problems, I don’t complain.”
The Hansens add, “No matter what comes up, we don’t miss walking with Fernando. He’s amazing! He helps us keep an eternal perspective. It’s the best thing we do each month.”
Fernando works hard every single day to improve. “I always believed I would get better. I just take it one day at a time.”
“In time he will get better,” Talmage Hansen (11) declared. “He believes it, and so do I.”
Having so many friends in the ward who love and help him, and knowing that he is an invaluable influence in their lives, has helped Fernando continue trying. His strong spirit and testimony have spiritually strengthened those who have helped him strengthen his physical body.
Fernando may have to wait to serve a full-time mission, but he is touching the lives of the Primary children in his ward right now by his example of faith, patience, and trust in the Lord. And they are touching his with their patience, love, and service. “I hope that the children know that they really can help others,” he said.

Illustrations by Val Bagley
Brigham’s feet were always going the wrong way. When he woke up in the mornings, his feet were on his pillow and his head was where his feet should be. Sometimes his feet ended up in the wrong shoes. Brigham walked in circles. “Brigham,” Mom said, “Your left shoe is on your right foot and your right shoe is on your left foot.” When Dad took Brigham to the library, Brigham’s feet made a clopping sound on the hard floor. “Shh,” Dad said to Brigham. “Shh,” Brigham said to his feet. On Sunday morning, Brigham dressed himself for church. He put on his pants and his shirt. He put his right foot in his right shoe and his left foot in his left shoe. Brigham walked between Mom and Dad on the way to church. He looked up and saw the church. He looked down and saw his feet. “My feet are going the right way,” Brigham said. “They are going to church.”

Life isn’t always smooth sailing, even for these girls. Of all the problems this group has faced, they agree that Erin’s was the most dramatic. During a youth conference trip to the Toronto Ontario Temple a few years ago, Erin noticed that she was suddenly covered with what looked like huge bruises from head to toe. But she hadn’t been injured, or even jostled, in any way. It was only a matter of hours after she discovered these bruises that Erin was in a hospital in Ottawa—a day-long drive from St. John. She had acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
“Since I was so far away, I lost touch with friends from school, but Melissa and Sacha both came to see me,” she says. The years following weren’t always easy. Erin’s treatment was aggressive and tiring.
“Your perspective really changes after something like this,” she says. “Having good friends, good family, and the gospel is really what’s important.”

My father was called as stake president when I was fairly young. In those days they were not called as stake president for only a few years. He served for twenty years as president of the Tooele Stake. He was called when I was six and released when I was twenty-six. He had some great experiences associated with that service. I think it was Joseph F. Merrill who called him. Brother Merrill was a member of the Quorum of Twelve. He told of going down the list of priesthood leaders in the stake and coming to the name of my father and feeling, as it were, an electric shock. This was before he had met him. Later, in telling this experience, he said he also heard a voice that indicated to him that this was the person who should be called as president of the Tooele Stake. He extended the call to him, and my father became the president of the Tooele Stake.

The whole story becomes, to our family anyway, a little more significant when we reflect on the fact that, before my father was born, his mother passed away. She told in her diary and to her children of passing through the veil and being met by her loved ones and family and having them tell her that it was not time for her to come there yet. They said she needed to bring another child into the world, a child who would play a significant role in the building of the kingdom. In this way she would fill the measure of her probation. She tells some interesting things associated with this experience. She was given the opportunity, of course, to come back. She was told that, if she did come back, she would not be without pain. She told of how peaceful it was to cross beyond the veil, how pleasant and peaceful an experience it was. On the other hand, she said that it was painful to come back. I’ve often reflected upon that. You know, sometimes we’re prone, because of our love and anxiety for people, to anguish over them and maybe try to intercede on their behalf as they hover between life and death. How wise it is for us to allow the Lord to accomplish for a person what He will accomplish rather than ask that our loved one may be kept on or held in mortality. I know in some cases we keep them on in pain rather than allowing them to go in peace.

She also said that there were people a short distance from her who couldn’t come to her, and she couldn’t go to them. She recognized them from her native Scotland. They called to her when they knew that she was going to return from beyond the veil. “When you go back, please, please have someone do our work for us,” they said. “Have someone do our temple work for us.” Sometimes I think we look upon the programs of the church as duties that just keep us busy. We don’t always realize that they are indeed a part of eternity, that specific things bring blessings to specific people, and that it is important for us to be involved in the work of the gospel. Very important.

Well, she came back, and my father came into the world (an event for which I am grateful), and my father fulfilled his destiny, to a large extent, when a member of the Twelve who did not know him received the specific prompting to call him as a stake president. I learn from that experience that, although we look on the face of things and we look on the faces of people, we don’t always understand that a calling in this Church, no matter to whom or where it comes or where the person is to serve, is fundamentally and basically a divine matter. “We believe a man must be called of God, by prophecy” (Articles of Faith 1:5). We believe that this is the gospel of Jesus Christ and that the Savior directs His own Church. The reality of the divine nature of a person’s call is very significant to me because of some of these experiences.