Gospel Story Finder

“Kent?” I whispered into the dark, but my brother was already asleep. Just minutes ago we had raced downstairs, said our prayers, and hopped into bed. How could he fall asleep so fast?
“Kent!”
Still nothing.
I squirmed down under my covers until my eyes barely peeped out above my cowboy blanket.
I glanced to the left. There was my favorite stuffed animal. It should have made me feel better. But my stomach flip-flopped inside of me. What if a tiger crept out of the laundry room next door?
I glanced to the right. There was the hat I got at an amusement park this summer. But my heart was thump-thumping. What if spiders attacked from under the porch?
I glanced up. Hanging from the ceiling were the model airplanes Dad and I had pieced together and painted so carefully. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined them flying above me at night, warning me of danger.
My eyes popped open. I had an idea! On the dresser by my bed was a picture of Jesus that I had gotten in Primary. Slowly I reached out and propped up the picture. The light from our nightlight seemed to make the words at the bottom of the picture glow.
I am the way. Come and follow me.
I rolled onto my side so that I could see the picture and read those words again and again. I looked at Jesus’s hands and thought about how He blessed little children. My stomach stopped flip-flopping. I looked at Jesus’s feet and thought about how He went to find people who needed help. My heart stopped thump-thumping. I looked at Jesus’s face and thought about how He knew my name.
Tigers and spiders faded from my mind as I snuggled into my blankets. Heavenly Father and Jesus loved me! I felt warm and peaceful and safe.
And very, very sleepy.

“Why didn’t you bring me a horse, too, Grandpa?” Janey asked, reaching up to pat the horse’s soft forehead longingly.
“You’ll get a horse when you are a little bit older, Janey,” Grandpa told her. “I only had Glory to give away now, and Dusty has been waiting even longer than you have for a horse.” Janey didn’t see the twinkle in his eye when he added, “But you be patient, and you’ll get a horse, too, before long.”
Janey was sad not to have her own horse, but she was glad that her brother, Dusty, had Glory. And Janey had to admit that what she really wanted was a foal. Still, Janey loved Glory. The horse had large, dark eyes and a long bushy tail. Her white coat glistened when it was brushed. Her mane was long, and it waved on each side of her neck as she ran in the pasture.
Dusty was very generous. He let Janey ride Glory around the barnyard. She could feed Glory lumps of sugar and stroke her smooth, soft face. She loved Dusty’s mare, and it wasn’t so bad sharing a horse with Dusty. But Janey remembered what Grandpa had said about her having a horse of her own, and she wondered when “later” would come.
One day Grandpa told the children that Glory was going to have a foal! Janey and Dusty were happy and excited. Grandpa had a big smile, too, at first, but then he looked very serious as he told them, “The veterinarian says that Glory may have a hard time and be very sick. We must keep her in the stable close to the farmhouse.”
“So we can keep an eye on her?” asked Dusty.
“That’s right,” Grandpa answered.
The children and Grandpa watched Glory night and day. When Janey and Dusty were in school, Grandpa watched the horse. When the children were home, they gave her sweet-smelling hay and oats and corn. They brought her fresh water and fed her lumps of sugar. Each night they covered her with a warm blanket. They petted her and let her know that they loved her very much.
When Janey’s class was dismissed early one day, she went home and sat on the back porch and played with Angel, their cat. Suddenly she heard Grandpa calling to her.
“Is it Glory, Grandpa?” Janey asked as she hurried to the stable.
“Yes,” Grandpa answered. “I must stay and help her. Please go call Dr. Jameson. Hurry!”
Janey raced back to the house to call the vet. How glad she was to hear him tell her that he could come immediately!
When Dusty came home, he saw the veterinarian’s van. “Is it Glory?” he asked Janey. She nodded, and together they ran to the stable.
There, standing on wobbly legs close to Glory, was a tiny white horse! It looked kind of lost, like it needed someone to love it. Glory lay on the soft, mellow hay Grandpa had forked down for her. Her big brown eyes were closed.
“Glory?” Janey’s eyes searched her grandpa’s face, then the doctor’s.
“Glory is only tired. She’s resting,” Dr. Jameson explained. “She’ll be all right.”
When Janey looked at Grandpa again, this time she saw the twinkle in his eye when he said, “Well, Janey, it’s ‘later.’ Glory’s foal is yours. What will you call her?”
Janey blinked back happy, excited tears. She quickly put her arms around the little horse’s neck and said, “Her name’s Glory II. And I’m going to share her with Dusty.”

A faithful young woman decided not to compromise her standards when she was asked to dress immodestly to fit into the business division of the fashion company where she worked. Understanding that her body is a sacred gift from our Heavenly Father and a place where the Spirit can dwell, she was moved to live by a standard higher than the world’s. She not only gained the confidence of those who saw her living by the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ but also preserved her job, which for a moment was in jeopardy. Her willingness to do what was pleasing in the sight of the Lord, rather than what worked for the world, gave her covenant confidence amidst difficult choices.

Illustration by Sudi McCollan
One summer, I participated in an internship on an island in Bicol, Philippines. The view of the ocean was wonderful, and I looked forward to each morning.
I dreaded the evenings, however. That’s when the people in the camp would start drinking and having parties. Invitations to such parties were frequent, and my fellow interns and I had to attend, since not attending would be disrespectful.
The first party was a welcoming party for new interns. I was afraid to attend, because I was pretty sure that they would offer us drinks and I wasn’t sure how to decline. I called a friend in my home ward, and he gave me some wonderful advice that boosted my confidence.
When the party began, they offered us drinks but, fortunately, did not compel us to drink. Since my fellow interns accepted my stand of not drinking, refusing the next offers to drink was now easy for me—until one night. During one of the parties, the president of the company came. He was carrying a bottle of lambanog (a local wine made from coconut). Soon after his arrival, I saw him pouring some of the wine. He then said, “You must learn how to drink” and gave the glass to one of the interns. She quickly drank it.
My heart began to pound heavily. It would soon be my turn. I was whispering silently to myself, “I will not drink it. I will not drink it.” Then I saw the president extending the glass of wine to me. I didn’t know what to do. My fellow interns were looking at me, waiting to see what I would do. I smiled at the president and humbly said, “Sorry, sir, but I do not drink.”
I knew he was disappointed. He asked why I didn’t drink. I said, “I am a Mormon.”
He said, “I haven’t heard of that religion. It sounds like a type of food.” Everyone laughed.
I smiled too, not because of his joke but because I knew I had done the right thing.
No one ever offered me a drink again. But still the ridicule did not cease, even from my own friends. One even said that I was lying and that it’s unimaginable that members of the Church do not drink. During this time I felt the pressures that come to members of the Church.
My stay on that island taught me a lot of lessons, not just academically but spiritually. I learned that mockery may never cease, but the Spirit of the Lord will always guide you to do what is right.

The weeks before Christmas were predictably hectic. I knew from past experience that there would be heavy demands on my time, but I had hoped that this year would be different. I wanted to be well organized—to have my shopping and Christmas preparations done far enough in advance that the pressures of my busy life would not interfere with the spirit of the Christmas season.
And this year was different—in fact, the pre-Christmas season presented more challenges than usual. As a member of the Tabernacle Choir, I had learned years ago that I must be ready to spend many hours at the Tabernacle at this time of year. The month of December is always crowded with special programs, extra rehearsals, and Christmas concerts. But this year, in addition to these activities, the choir was also preparing to leave on a concert tour to Israel on the day after Christmas! We had difficult music to learn which required several months of extra rehearsals. All of this, combined with my full-time work schedule and preparations for a work assignment following the choir’s tour, allowed me very little time for the joyful preparations for Christmas or for my family.
My widowed mother watched quietly as I tried to juggle my life in order to work everything in. I knew that she would like to have had me make more frequent visits, take her shopping once in a while, or just find the time to call on the phone more often. We always looked forward to having her come to dinner on Sundays, and she never complained about any lack of attention to her, but I knew that she was lonely and longed for companionship. Since my father died four years ago, there had been a great void in her life. They were eternal companions in every sense of the word. Whether working in the temple, beautifying their home, enjoying their children and grandchildren, or singing, they did it together! And now again, I knew that she was remembering the years gone by and those joyous Christmases with Dad. Those were times full of love and music as they sang together at many Christmas programs and family gatherings. And now she was alone.
My sister and I had helped Mother put up her Christmas tree and decorate her home for the holidays. We had done most of her shopping for her, but about two weeks before Christmas, Mother called, apologized for infringing on my busy schedule, and asked if I would mind taking her shopping for one afternoon. She wanted to add her personal touch to a few of the items we had already purchased. It was a welcome and delightful break from the frenzied schedule I had been keeping. We had lunch and spent a lovely afternoon together. The joy and the spirit of the season which I had not had time for before filled our hearts.
Just a few days after our afternoon together, Mother became ill with the flu. We were very concerned and kept a close watch on her at her home. She did not want to come and stay with us or with my sister, but insisted that she would be well soon. She apologized for being ill and for becoming a burden on us at such a busy time. After she suffered for several miserable days, her health seemed to improve, and we relaxed our vigil somewhat. She had predicted that she would be fine by Christmas, and that seemed to be the case.
The tempo and burdens of my life had only increased during the week that Mother was ill. It was three days before Christmas, the choir had just finished two Christmas concerts, I still had last-minute shopping to do, there were many projects to complete at the office, and in only four days we would be on our way to Israel. When my husband came into my office that afternoon, shut the door, and told me that Mother had passed away just an hour earlier, I had difficulty comprehending what he was saying. He had no explanations why this had happened—only the devastating news that she was gone. All that had been so important only minutes ago seemed to evaporate. I felt that time had stopped and that I had been suspended in some sort of vacuum.
For the next two days, my sisters and I went through the necessary motions and made preparations for Mother’s funeral. It was to be held the day after Christmas—the day the choir was leaving for Israel! Family members and friends enveloped us with love and concern, and we struggled to acknowledge the reality of what had happened. Under the circumstances, I had assumed I would not be able to make the trip to Israel; but very late one evening I received a telephone call telling me that arrangements had been made for me to travel and join the choir a few days later. I was so grateful for kind friends and their efforts in my behalf!
For the sake of the young children in the family as well as our own, we wanted Christmas to be as normal as possible. We continued to make preparations for our traditional Christmas Eve family dinner and for Christmas day, but we felt so empty—so alone. It just could not be the same! Each of us—and especially the children—felt the terrible emptiness and tried to understand why our mother and grandmother had been taken at this time.
Because of the holiday, we were advised to postpone having a viewing until just before the services, but the funeral directors invited us to come to the funeral home at any time the day before—Christmas day—and spend some time alone with Mother. Following our dinner on Christmas night, we left the children playing with their gifts and went to the funeral home.
We stood quietly around her casket and looked at our beautiful mother in her temple robes. She looked so serene, so happy. There was a spirit of peace and of love in that room—even one of happiness and joy. I closed my eyes and tried to picture the recent glorious reunion that must have taken place between my mother and father. I had the impression that if I listened carefully, I could again hear the angels singing as they did on that holy night long ago, and that the beautiful voices of my mother and father had joined that heavenly chorus. I imagined I could hear them singing, “Silent night! Holy night! … Sleep in heavenly peace.”
The understanding and comfort I had prayed for seemed to come to me as I stood there, and my worldly cares seemed far away. On that silent night, gathered with my loved ones, I thanked my Father in Heaven for that moment of heavenly peace.

Since my wife and I didn’t believe in the dole system in any form of finance, we kept wondering how our young family could begin to become self-sufficient. It wasn’t long until we were offered an opportunity to collate and distribute advertising materials to 5,000 homes. We worked at the project after school, in the evenings, and on Saturdays. Everyone was involved in collating several pieces of advertising materials. Mom or dad assisted by driving the children to different locations and offering encouragement. The project was repeated several times. Our children were beginning to earn money, and we learned that we could have fun together while working.

Shannon loved her family’s Christmas Eve traditions. First they ate fried rice and dumplings at their favorite Chinese restaurant. Then they drove around the city to look at the Christmas lights. When they got home, they read the Christmas story from the Bible together. And before bed, they got to open one present each. It was Shannon’s favorite night of the year. She could hardly wait!

Until Mom made an announcement.

“We’re having a special Christmas Eve guest this year. Remember Ms. Reed?”

Shannon groaned. “The neighbor Dad invited to church last week?”

“That’s right. Dad’s picking her up now.”

Shannon plopped into a chair. How could she relax and have fun with a stranger around? Christmas Eve was ruined! Well, Ms. Reed hadn’t come to church when Dad invited her. Maybe she wouldn’t come this time either.

But when Dad came through the door, the “special guest” was with him. Ms. Reed looked tired and kind of sad. Shannon said hello. But she didn’t want to say anything else. At dinner she just focused on her food while Mom and Dad chatted with Ms. Reed.

“Have you ever taken dance lessons?” asked a soft voice. Shannon saw that Ms. Reed was waiting for her to answer. She nodded and looked back down at her plate.

“Me too,” said Ms. Reed, her voice still quiet. “What’s your favorite dance style?”

Shannon shrugged, poking at a dumpling with her chopsticks.

“I love jazz,” Ms. Reed said. “I was on a dance team in college. One year we traveled all over Europe. It was amazing.”

Shannon looked up. That did sound amazing.

“What else do you like?” asked Shannon.

Ms. Reed gave a small smile. “Playing the piano. And math.”

Shannon’s eyes got big. “Really? Math is my favorite subject!”

Shannon talked to Ms. Reed for the rest of dinner. She found out that Ms. Reed had a college degree in math and was studying to become a math professor when she met her husband. He had made some bad choices and was now in prison.

After dinner Shannon sat by Ms. Reed while they drove around to look at the Christmas lights. And when they read the Christmas story, she shared her scriptures with Ms. Reed so she could follow along.

Soon it was time to open presents. Shannon got some cozy purple pajamas. She couldn’t wait to put them on! But she felt a little bad that Ms. Reed didn’t have a present.

Just then Mom handed a gift to Ms. Reed. Ms. Reed smiled shyly and unwrapped a pair of dark blue socks. She looked up at Mom with watery eyes. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to get me anything.”

Shannon went to her bedroom and put on her new pajamas. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ms. Reed. She seemed so grateful to get socks for Christmas!

As Shannon slipped her own fuzzy socks on, she heard beautiful music begin to play. She ran downstairs to find Mom and Dad singing carols while Ms. Reed played the piano. Shannon joined in. As she sang, a warm feeling grew in her heart. I guess it’s not so bad to have a guest on Christmas Eve, she thought.

On Sunday, Ms. Reed came to church and sat with Shannon’s family during sacrament meeting. She looked really happy. Shannon smiled as she shared her hymnbook with Ms. Reed. Maybe it was time to add a new Christmas Eve tradition.

I am a member of the British Army based in West Germany. When I first arrived I found it hard being away from my family and home ward (the Catford Ward in London).
The nearest LDS chapel is 22 kilometers away, and it is only possible for me to attend when a member of the German-speaking ward in Celle can collect me and take me to the chapel. I don’t yet know how to speak German, but every Sunday a member translates for me.
I am grateful for the New Era, as I’ve only been a member for three years. When my brother Philip has finished with each month’s issue, he keeps it until I get home so I can take a stack when I return to Germany.
The New Era always strengthens me when I’m down and helps me keep the Spirit of the Lord close. Thanks for such a great magazine.
Allon William Shaftoe1st Armoured Field AmbulanceRoyal Army Medical Corps

1 When I was ten years old, I bought my horse Blaze. I never worked harder for anything than I did for the money to buy him.
2 One day when I went to the barn to feed him, he was lying on the ground, his mouth foaming, his stomach distended, and his legs covered with blood from thrashing against the troughs.
3 The veterinarian said that Blaze had swallowed some grass that had caused his intestines to twist. He said that Blaze would die if the grass in his stomach couldn’t pass through his system.
4 We had to try to keep Blaze on his feet. My father and mother and I walked my horse all through the night. I cried and pleaded with him each time he dropped to his knees in agony.
5 About 4:00 A.M. Blaze lay down and refused to get up. When I called the veterinarian, he told me that he would probably have to put Blaze to sleep later that morning.
6 My father, who works with the Quorum of the Twelve, had to go to his office. He told me to call and let him know how Blaze was. I called and said that Blaze still hadn’t gotten up.
7 Elder Thomas S. Monson overheard the conversation and asked to speak to me. Elder Monson told me to kneel and pray and said that he would pray too. “Then,” he said, “go out and walk that horse.”
8 When I went outside, I found that my mother had gotten Blaze back on his feet. I had walked him less than an hour when his problem was cured! I called my father with the good news, and my mother and I and my brothers and sisters knelt to thank Heavenly Father for His blessing.

After school one day Yuriya Kitahara’s friends wanted to show her a new comic book. It took only a moment for Yuriya, a Laurel, to realize that there was nothing funny about these comics—the book was pornographic.
Around the same time, Junko Saijo, a Mia Maid, was with her friends when one of them lit a cigarette and offered it to Junko.
Not long after, a group of students at Sho Watanabe’s school was arrested for selling drugs to other students.
Fortunately, Yuriya dropped the comic book. Junko refused the cigarette. And Sho, a priest, has tried to be careful in choosing his friends.
Though the Church is growing in Japan, these teens still have to face the temptations of the world every day. That’s part of the test we came to earth to take. The question is: are we up to the challenge? And if we aren’t, how can we be?
Breaking the Word of Wisdom is a common temptation in Tokyo, according to a group of young members from different stakes who have gotten together to talk about the challenges they face.
Several of the youth were faced with the temptation of tobacco as soon as they were teenagers. Others are lucky enough to have avoided it altogether so far. Not everyone faces the same temptations. But tobacco is a common trap for Tokyo teens.
“It’s so easy to buy tobacco here; it’s difficult for some not to buy it,” says Hikaru Watanabe, a deacon and Sho’s younger brother.
Alcohol is another problem presented early on to many youth.
“After a school activity ends, all the students usually go somewhere to have a party,” says Yuriya. “Sometimes my friends ask me to go. They don’t say they’re going to drink, but to many teens, going to a party means going to drink. They don’t think that’s bad.” The other youth all nod in agreement—they’ve been in similar situations.
The teens also agree that pornography and immorality are running rampant among their peers.
“Music is getting bad too,” says Keiko Saijo, a Laurel and Junko’s older sister. “The lyrics are just awful.”
These are temptations and challenges Latter-day Saint teens are facing all around the world. What are they doing about it? They are learning that through the gospel, they can find the strength they need to overcome all their challenges.
The youth agree that to overcome the temptations thrown at them every day, they need the guidance of the Holy Ghost.
“It’s not just my own strength, but relying on the Lord that gets me through,” says priest Yuuya Kitahara, Yuriya’s younger brother. “Coming closer to the Lord helps us avoid the temptations and overcome them.”
That is a valuable lesson. “If we don’t do things to be closer to the Spirit, we would probably end up just like many youth outside of the Church, smoking, watching pornography, and worse,” says Yuriya.
It’s a lesson taught several times in the Book of Mormon. Without the Spirit of the Lord, the Nephites became “weak, like unto their brethren, the Lamanites” (Helaman 4:24; see also Mosiah 1:13; Mormon 2:26).
“When I feel the Spirit, I feel like the temptations just go away,” says Hikaru. “That strength comes from the Spirit.”
Yuuya says praying morning and night helps bring the Spirit. Yuriya feels closer to the Holy Ghost by studying the scriptures every day. Yuuya’s twin brother, Yuuki, mentions youth activities and seminary. And Junko says going to church and family home evening have not only helped her feel the Spirit but have taught her ways to overcome temptations. And each says attending the temple has made a big difference. “I feel a special power when I come to the temple of the Lord,” says Sho. He says he can resist temptations better when he goes to the temple regularly.
For the past few years, Sho and Hikaru have tried to go to the temple every Thursday to perform baptisms for the dead. Keiko and Junko, and Yuriya and her brothers try to attend every Friday.
“Coming to the temple strengthens me,” Keiko says.

I remember I learned a lesson one evening in a little country ward in Idaho while I was traveling for the University of Idaho. I traveled that wonderful state for eight years. I’ve been to every town and hamlet in the state. It was not uncommon for me to be away for two weeks. Then I’d go home, and as a stake officer, I would take a bath, change clothes, and be gone again to a Stake meeting. My wife used to say, “Well, when you’re not away traveling, you’re away to meetings.” Once when this happened, one of my little girls came to the door, waved, and said, “Come visit us again, Daddy.”
I used to miss my family, and this particular time I was in Pocatello, Idaho, on Sunday. I got thinking about my family, so far away, and I thought, “Well, I’ll just run down to Whitney and see if I can attend sacrament service and renew my acquaintance with some of the wonderful people there.” So I drove down and arrived just as the meeting was about ready to start and the bishop was going into the church.
He invited me in with him. He had the custom of going up on the stand and sitting there ten minutes before the meeting started so he could see the people come in. He’d have his counselors down at the door. And as I sat there, I watched these groups come in. There were family groups with father, mother, children, and I knew practically all of them. I knew all of the parents and could identify the children by association.
Well, the meeting got started, and the counselor was conducting. He called on me to say a few words. And while sitting there, I’d been thinking, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could be home every Sunday and go to church with your family? Just think what a joy it would be.” Well, as he introduced me, he said, “Brothers and sisters, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all had a job like Brother Benson? He’s traveling this great state of Idaho all the time. He’s always on a trip.” I thought, “Yes, how true to life. Other blessings look better than our own.”
I hope we can be happy where we are, be grateful for our blessings—now—here, accept the challenge that is ours and make the most of it, and don’t be envious of others.
God help us to be grateful. Someone has said that an ungrateful man is like a hog under a tree eating apples and never looking up to see where they come from. Do we look up to see where our blessings are coming from?
God help us to be grateful for our blessings and never to be guilty of the sin of ingratitude.
“And he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea more.” (D&C 78:19.)

“Dad loves to take his grandchildren on an imaginary lion hunt, where they all try to find a make-believe lion. First, they pretend to sit on the seat of a car. Then when they arrive at the airport, they climb invisible steps to get on the airplane. Once inside the plane, everyone fastens his safety belt and leans way back in his chair as the plane takes off. When the plane lands, everyone comes down the stairs and walks over to a jeep. They climb in and, because the jeep ride is bumpy, everyone joggles up and down.
“When the jeep stops, everyone jumps out and gets an imaginary rope and gun to put over his shoulder. They wade through long grass and reeds—swish-swish-swish. They come to a bridge and everyone crosses over it—clump-clump-clump. Then they come to the place where the lions are, and they throw their ropes up around a rock to secure them. They all climb up the rope to get into a cave so they can creep up on the lion. The lion roars—GRRRR!! All of the brave lion hunters run out of the cave, slide down the rope, go clumping over the bridge, run swishing through the reeds, take off their ropes and guns, get back into the jeep, and take the bumpy ride back to the airport. Finally they arrive back home safe and sound after a great trip!”

The Warwoods always planned to go on a senior mission, and Sister Warwood was certain she knew where the Lord needed her to serve. As a neonatal nurse practitioner, she felt drawn to humanitarian work in developing countries.
“I always thought I would serve a humanitarian mission in a third-world country, something with mothers and babies,” she explains. But when they visited Africa a year before their mission call, something unexpected happened. “When I thought to myself, ‘We’ll be here in a year,’ I just had this dreaded feeling,” Sister Warwood recalls.
Back home, during a senior mission meeting, coordinators asked about their preferences. She answered, “Third world, something medical, saving lives.” The dread returned. “I thought, ‘I guess I don’t really want to serve a mission. This is a horrible feeling.’”
Everything shifted when coordinators learnt the couple’s backgrounds—he an accountant, she in healthcare. They explained that “the Mission Health Adviser (MHA) is the most coveted job in the mission because you get to know, love, and serve all of the missionaries.” Sister Warwood realised the MHA “did many of the things I did in the NICU—just with much bigger babies!”
“By the time we left the meeting, instead of feeling dread, I was very excited.” She realised: “The Lord’s been trying to tell you third-world humanitarian is not where you’re supposed to be. He couldn’t have made it more obvious.”
The Warwoods accepted a call to the Auckland New Zealand Mission, where that guidance proved itself many times. In one memorable incident, a sister missionary called with allergic reaction symptoms. She had eaten mussels and was experiencing throat itching and nausea. As they talked, her symptoms escalated.
“Her tongue and face were swelling, she could hardly swallow, was drooling, coughing and developed a rash,” Sister Warwood remembers. She coordinated care, managing four phones at the same time—with the missionary, her leaders, transportation, and the urgent care centre—so they would be prepared to treat her on arrival.
“The urgent care answered right away,” she marvels, “no eternal ‘on hold’, as usual.” The missionary received immediate treatment. “Everything went so smoothly,” Sister Warwood reflects. The Lord’s hand was undeniable in this event.
Meanwhile, Elder Warwood was discovering his own unexpected path. “When we came out, I didn’t know what I was going to do,” he admits. When another senior missionary couple had to return home early, Elder Warwood inherited their bicycle maintenance responsibilities, in which he had little experience. “I know enough about bike repair to get myself in trouble,” he laughs.
The solution came through family. His brother Dan was planning to visit New Zealand for just one week with his wife. Sister Warwood suggested they extend their stay. “Gary could really use some help with bikes.” Her sister-in-law’s response was immediate: “Oh, Dan would love that.”
Dan, a skilled mechanic, ended up staying almost three weeks, teaching Elder Warwood everything about bicycle repair. “He fixes anything,” Elder Warwood says gratefully. “The Lord just provided that help.” Now he manages both mission finances and keeps dozens of bicycles running.
As President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) taught, “Whom the Lord calls, the Lord qualifies.” Elder Warwood has learnt that this principle applies not just to the calling but to every challenge that arises, “for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish … them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
The Warwoods have four children, two with challenges, making it especially difficult to leave their family. But their setting-apart blessing included a promise that “people would come into their lives to help and serve them in ways that we are not able to from far away,” Sister Warwood shares.
That promise taught her new faith. “I find peace when I say, ‘OK, Lord, I can’t do anything about this, but you can. So I’m going to leave it with you.’ It takes the worry away.” The mission has shifted her perspective. “I’ve learnt to think more celestial, seeing what really matters in the end, and what doesn’t.”
Elder Warwood sees this divine orchestration everywhere. “The Lord puts people in our space—it’s this big jigsaw puzzle where He knows exactly where we’re all supposed to be to help others. He fulfils everyone’s needs.“
In that jigsaw puzzle, every piece has been shaped for its exact place. While they wondered at first how they might fit into the senior mission experience, the Warwoods have learnt that the Lord has been preparing them for this work their whole lives. They were already the pieces that He needed.

It happened every Sunday in church. No matter how hard Jeremy tried, he always got the wiggle-waggles. He tried very hard to sit still during Primary. He kept his arms folded as long as he could and sang all the Primary songs. Jeremy listened to the lesson in his class and tried to answer questions. But sometimes, even when he tried his very hardest to sit still, they still came—those bothersome wiggle-waggles!
It usually happened toward the end of Primary and carried on through sacrament meeting. Jeremy would start to fidget, then he’d play with his tie. He’d rattle his papers from Primary, then twist around in his seat. He tried talking to his best friend, Thomas, but Thomas would put a finger to his lips to tell Jeremy to be quiet. Thomas never seemed to get the wiggle-waggles.
Sometimes Jeremy would untie his shoes. When the wiggle-waggles were really bad, he would slip off his shoes and kick his stocking feet back and forth.
“Sit still, Jeremy,” his Primary teacher whispered to him.
“Shhh, Jeremy, I want to listen to Sister Bernard,” Thomas said quietly when Jeremy tried to tell him about his new toy dump truck.
“Put your feet down,” his mother cautioned in sacrament meeting.
“Leave your shoes on, son,” his dad told him.
Jeremy tried to sit reverently and quietly. He really did! But he still had those wiggle-waggles every Sunday.
One night at family home evening, Jeremy’s mother brought up the wiggle-waggle problem.
“I try to sit still, Mom. I really do!” Jeremy exclaimed.
“It seems to me that we need to figure out a way to stop those wiggle-waggles from bothering Jeremy,” Dad said thoughtfully. “Let’s all think about it, and maybe we’ll come up with a solution.”
On Sunday morning, just before the family left for church, Jeremy’s mother gave him a piece of paper and a pencil. Then she said, “Jeremy, I want you to write down a sentence about your lesson in Primary, and a sentence about the talks that you hear in sacrament meeting. Do you think you could do that?”
Jeremy nodded enthusiastically.
“We’ll talk about what you wrote on your paper for family home evening,” his mother added.
All through Primary, Jeremy sat very still. He listened carefully to the talks and scripture and wrote down the scripture reference. Jeremy sang with his best voice during singing time, and even wrote down a verse to one of the Primary songs. Then he wrote a sentence about sharing time. Jeremy didn’t talk to Thomas once. During the walk to their class, Thomas commented on how reverent Jeremy was. During his Primary class, Jeremy quietly wrote down a sentence about the lesson. Before he knew it, Primary was over.
“I didn’t get the wiggle-waggles once!” Jeremy proudly reported to his parents as they sat down for sacrament meeting.
During the next hour, Jeremy tried very hard to sit quietly. But after a while, he started to feel the wiggle-waggles creeping up on him. He glanced down at his paper and read the words of the Primary song he had written down: “It shouldn’t be hard to sit very still and think about Jesus, his cross on the hill, and all that he suffered and did for me; it shouldn’t be hard to sit quietly.”*
Jeremy thought about the song. That was the secret! He should think about Jesus. Jeremy knew that Jesus would want him to sit quietly and listen.
Jeremy listened as Elder Vasquez, one of the missionaries serving in his ward, related an experience about a 10-year-old girl who had recently been baptized. He listened when Elder Brown, the other missionary, told the congregation that he was from England and had been on his mission for only three months. As Jeremy listened to the missionaries, he decided that he would like to be a missionary, too.
Jeremy was surprised when the closing hymn was announced. He looked down at his paper and noticed that he hadn’t written anything about the missionaries. He had been too busy listening to them! And the wiggle-waggles hadn’t bothered him once!
As they were leaving the church after sacrament meeting, Jeremy’s parents told him how happy they were that he’d been so reverent. Jeremy told them how the Primary song had taught him to think about Jesus and what He wanted him to do.
Just then, Sister Harper came up to Jeremy’s parents and said, “Jeremy is so quiet! I wish my Kerry would learn how to be quiet and reverent like Jeremy. She gets so wiggly!”
Jeremy’s mother winked at him.
“It looks like the wiggle-waggles found someone else to bother,” she said.
“Yes.” Jeremy smiled and held up his piece of paper. “And I know just what she can do to fix it!”

Right after the accident, my sister Nicole showed up with her friend on another four-wheeler, and two boys who saw us crash quickly drove up on their four-wheelers.
“My dad’s a nurse!” one boy said. While he called his dad for help, Nicole and her friend hurried back to our camp to get my dad.
That morning, nurse Mike Staheli had planned to head home from a weekend campout with some friends. But they felt prompted to stay one more day. I’m thankful they did.
While Mike gave me first aid and checked my vital signs, someone called for an ambulance. Mike feared that I had broken my arm and femur, cracked several ribs, and that I was bleeding internally.
Mike said the ambulance from a nearby town would likely arrive first, but my condition was serious enough that I should be airlifted to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah. A medevac helicopter was also called for.
When my dad and his friend Hector saw me, they knew I needed a priesthood blessing. My dad asked me, “Do you have faith in the power of the priesthood? Do you have faith that the Lord can help you and heal you?”
“I do have faith, Papá,” I told him. But at the same time, I wondered, “What if I don’t have enough faith?”
My dad anointed me, and Hector blessed me. As soon as the blessing began, my breathing slowed, I calmed down, and I felt warmth even though it was cold outside. I knew then that I did have enough faith and that I was going to be fine either way.
When the ambulance arrived, paramedics cut off my favorite soccer shirt and checked my vital signs. They had stabilized. The helicopter arrived a few minutes later.
When the helicopter landed at the hospital, I was rushed inside. Nurses and doctors began examining me and doing lots of tests, including an MRI. My dad and I expected the worst, and so did they.
But they found nothing! No broken bones, no internal bleeding, no sign of concussion. My leg still hurt a lot, though.
“This is a miracle!” a nurse told me. Later, one doctor said, “OK, Alan, looks like you can go home tonight.”
I was like, “Really?”
Because I still had a hard time walking, I stayed in the hospital overnight. I left the next morning with only a brace on my left wrist. A few weeks later, I was training again for soccer.
I wonder what would have happened if my dad and Hector hadn’t held the priesthood. I could have been a lot worse off. That day I realized how important the priesthood is. I learned that faith in Jesus Christ and the power of the priesthood can do miraculous things.
I also learned that priesthood holders have to be good examples. If we have the priesthood but choose to do things that are wrong, we show that we do not respect or honor God’s power. But when we set good examples, we show others that we honor the priesthood and know that the Lord can work miracles through us.
I’m grateful for my family and for the Church. I always think about the sacrifices my parents have made for me and my brother and sisters. They think about us first. My dad recently hurt his knee playing soccer and can’t work. A lot of people, especially from the Church, have blessed us with food and other things we need. To keep my faith strong, I pray every morning, go to seminary, and read scriptures every night with my family. That really helps me.
Alan on a walk with his family a few months following his accident.
Since my accident, I often think about how much God has blessed me. Every time I have a problem now, the first thing I do is go straight to Him. I feel that if He loved me enough to bless and help me through my accident, He can help me through anything.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

My younger brother was in a small Utah city on business. He got a phone call at his hotel from President Spencer W. Kimball. It was late at night after what was a hard day of work for my brother and surely for President Kimball, who began the conversation this way. He said, “I heard that you were in town. I know it’s late and that you may be in bed, but could you help me? I need you as my companion to see the condition of all our chapels in this city.” My brother went with him that night, lacking knowledge of chapel maintenance or anything about chapels and not knowing why President Kimball would be doing such a thing after his long day or why he needed any help.
Years later I received a similar call late at night in a hotel in Japan. I was then the new commissioner of education for the Church. I knew that President Gordon B. Hinckley was staying somewhere in that same hotel on his separate assignment to Japan. I answered the ringing phone just after I had lain down on the bed to sleep, exhausted by having done all I thought I had the strength to do.
President Hinckley asked in his pleasant voice, “Why are you sleeping when I am here reading a manuscript that we have been asked to review?” So I got up and went to work, even though I knew that President Hinckley could give a better review of a manuscript than I could possibly do. But somehow he made me feel that he needed my help.
President Thomas S. Monson, at the end of almost every meeting, asks the secretary to the First Presidency, “Am I up to date on my work?” And he always smiles when the answer comes back: “Oh, yes, President, you are.” President Monson’s pleased smile sends me a message. It makes me think, “Is there something more I could do on my assignments?” And then I go back to my office to work.
Great teachers have shown me how to prepare to keep the oath and covenant when time and age will make it harder. They have shown and taught me how to discipline myself to work harder than I thought I could while I still have health and strength.
I can’t be a perfect servant every hour, but I can try to give more effort than I thought I could. With that habit formed early on, I will be prepared for trials later. You and I can be prepared with the strength to keep our oath and covenant through the tests that will surely come as we approach the end of life.

Some years ago I enjoyed a stake conference assignment as a junior companion to Elder LeGrand Richards, who had, under the influence of this directing Spirit, reorganized a stake presidency. We were driving home; he was very pensive. After a rather long period of silence, I asked him if there was something he would like to teach me. Quietly he said, “We have too many in the Church who deny the spirit of prophecy and of revelation.” That was it—he said no more about it. As I reminisced about the calling of the new stake president that day, it occurred to me then that this Church could not function for even one day without the spirit of prophecy and revelation.

After graduation Franklin received an appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. He wondered if he accepted the appointment if he would ever serve a full-time mission. It was a difficult decision to make. Elder Richards said, “I think unknowingly I was following the advice of the Lord to Oliver Cowdery:

“‘Behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right’ (D&C 9:8).

“In effect, I was doing that. I thought about a mission and about my grandfather, and I wondered, Do I want to go to Annapolis or don’t I? So I studied it out, talked to several people, and reached the decision that I would prefer to go on a mission. I made it a matter of prayer, expressing my feelings to the Lord, and the Holy Ghost bore witness to me that my decision was right.”

As a young man, I stood at the fence of an international airport and watched those magnificent flying machines.1 The take-offs and landings were a miraculous sight. One that stirred my soul! How I wanted to be in the cockpit of one of those impressive airplanes and feel the thrill of rising up from the ground, climbing above the clouds, and traveling unto new horizons.

But was that dream possible? I was not born into wealth. My family had twice been refugees, taking only what we could carry. I was considered by some to be an outsider. While other children played with their friends, I had to spend my afternoons and weekends working in our family laundry business, often as a delivery boy.

I say this because some of you might also be wondering if your dreams will ever become reality. I understand what you are feeling. If I could go back in time and talk to that young boy who stood on the other side of the fence yearning for a better future, I would say:
“It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it. You will be all right. The journey will be filled with challenges, Dieter. But the struggle itself will transform you into the person you want to be. Work hard. Be consistent. Focus on the things you can change, not so much on the things you cannot change. Have faith. Have hope. Trust in God. Know that if you do your part, things will work out.”
This is also my advice to you today.

Several years ago, as this Conference Center was being built and nearing completion, I entered this sacred building on the balcony level in a hard hat and safety glasses, ready to vacuum the carpet that my husband was helping to install. Where the rostrum now stands was a front-end loader moving dirt, and the dust in this building was thick. When it settled, it did so on the new carpet. My part was to vacuum. And so I vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed. After three days my little vacuum burned up!

The afternoon before the first general conference in this beautiful building, my husband called me. He was about to install the last piece of carpet—under this historic pulpit.
He asked, “What scripture should I write on the back of this carpet?”
And I said, “Mosiah 18:9: ‘Stand as [a witness] of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.’”

Years ago when I was vacuuming this carpet—trying to act well my small part—I didn’t realize that I would one day stand with my feet on the carpet under this pulpit.