Gospel Story Finder

I auditioned for a play at my school. A few weeks later, I found out I had gotten one of the main parts! I was really excited, and rehearsals were going to be really fun. When I got a letter about when rehearsals were, I found out that loads of them were on the Sabbath day. I was so disappointed, so straightaway I told the teacher in charge that I could only go to a few rehearsals, so there would be no point in me being in the play. I may have been a bit sad about losing such a good part, but now I don’t care because I love church and nothing would stop me from going!

“We didn’t have a lot of material things, but we were rich in the things that mattered. We didn’t have much land, but we squeezed everything onto it. We had chickens and cows and pigs. Raising pigs taught me how to work, and I learned about the law of the harvest. I also discovered that farmers have to work very hard to make money. After our pigs were sold and the cost of raising them was calculated, the profit on them was very little—sometimes nothing.”
Elder Maxwell won so many award ribbons for his prize pigs that when they were pinned to a blanket, they filled its entire surface. “I was proud of those ribbons,” he said. “And I still have that blanket.
“The part I didn’t like about farm work was that you were never through with it. If you milked cows or fed the animals in the morning, you knew that you had to do it again at night. Our turn to use the irrigation water for our crops would often come in the middle of the night. It was hard work, but it was good discipline.”

Recently I traveled to Mexico City with the Northern Wasatch Youth Orchestra for a series of concerts. While there we all stayed in one hotel. There was an intellectual, refined old lady who lived in the hotel alone, and each night she and a few others would come to the lobby and watch the funny, loud American kids. By the time the orchestra had been there a week, she said to my mother in broken English, “Oh, please take these young people all over our country so our young people can see how they behave, for before this we have had little but bad examples from the United States for our children to follow.” And she begged to learn where she could go to hear our symphony play.
After we played a concert with the Ballet Folklorico, some of the performers came to the hotel to visit and learn more about what they called “those clean-looking, talented American kids.”
Later as we came through customs at Dallas, Texas, at 3 A.M. on our way home, they informed us that every piece of luggage must be removed from the plane, including all the instruments—even the large percussion pieces—as many drugs were being smuggled into our country from Mexico. As tired as we all were, each one began helping others, calling out the names of suitcases coming down the belt ramps. Everyone cooperated and willingly lined up for inspection. While the plane was being unloaded and this was taking place, several of the customs inspectors stood together watching us, and suddenly the man in charge came over to some of our tour leaders and asked if we were LDS. He had noticed that no one smoked or used bad language, and when they told him that all but three or four of us were LDS, he said that he had great respect for the members of our church. He remarked to his fellow workers that kids who didn’t smoke wouldn’t be carrying marijuana. They opened very few of our cases after that and hurried us through with dispatch.

In Zimbabwe a fellow crawled on his elbows for 17 kilometers to get to us. We put him in the wheelchair, and he was going around and around with a big smile on his face. After a while he pulled himself out of it and sat on the ground. We asked him why. He said, “I’ve had my turn.”
He didn’t realize he could keep it.
This year he came back with his children to show us that he had cared for the chair so well that it was just like new.

Experience #1
A caring student asked my suggestions one day of how she could help her inactive sister. This sister had fallen away from the Church and wanted nothing more to do with it. As the student explained her sister's tragic situation, I simply said, "I wish your sister could come to Ricks College. This is such a great place for young people to gain a testimony. I just know that would help." With a sad face the student responded, "Sister Bednar, my sister has been a student at Ricks College."
A sower goes out to sow seed. Some seed falls by the wayside and is eaten by the birds. Maybe the heart that is long and skinny could represent this sister. She hears the word of God. But with no room in her heart for the gospel, she allows Satan to take the word from her heart, and she falls away.

David chuckled at them and rolled over onto his back, remembering how it was when he was only five and his mother was teaching him to swim. He had clung to her, scared but excited, until she finally went under the water and he went under with her, holding his breath for the first time. When they came up, he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t stop.
“What’s so funny?” she’d demanded. “You—your hair was going straight up!” It was the first of many days spent at the pond, giggling and splashing and laughing.

After Elder Kimball had surgery on his vocal chords, he traveled with fellow Apostle Elder Harold B. Lee.
Elder Lee: I’d like to invite Elder Kimball to bear his testimony.
Elder Kimball: I’m too embarrassed to keep speaking. I rasp and make terrible noises. Maybe in our next meeting I shouldn’t speak.
Elder Lee: Spencer, your testimony needs to be heard. You better get your voice back.
Elder Kimball did all he could to regain his voice. He followed his doctor’s orders, received priesthood blessings, and took voice lessons.
Elder Kimball: Camilla, I realize I cannot quit for anything, though the temptation is terrific when I stumble and stammer and halt.
The true test came when Elder Kimball returned to his home—the Gila Valley in Arizona.
Elder Kimball: Forgive my voice. While in the East, I fell among cutthroats.
Woman: His voice is different, but he still has the same sense of humor!
President Spencer W. Kimball never stopped preaching. In fact, his soft, deep, mellow voice became something people loved about him.

Consider the example of this young deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood as shared in his talk in the Benin Ikpopan Stake conference, where I recently presided. The young deacon, Nelson Wonodi, had always admired how young men dressed and served at the sacrament table every Sunday. I share his first day experience with approval from his parents in his words:
“Ever since I was a little boy, I watched the young men in my ward pass the sacrament, and I longed for the day when I could do the same. I would sit in my seat, staring at them thinking, ‘One day, that’s going to be me.’ I even practiced at home, carefully pretending to pass an imaginary tray to my family members, just to make sure I got it right! Then, finally, my day came. I had received the Aaronic Priesthood and was asked to pass the sacrament for the first time. I was so excited … but then something strange happened. As I stood there, holding the tray, looking out at the congregation, my legs started shaking, and my hands felt sweaty. I thought to myself, ‘Wow, is this me? Or am I dreaming?’ It felt surreal. Here I was, finally doing what I had dreamed of for years, but suddenly, I realized just how sacred this responsibility was. This wasn’t just a routine or something I had seen others do. It was real, it was sacred, and it was my privilege to help others remember the Savior”.
Fortunately, a caring congregant, noticing the predicament of the anxious young man, stretched forth her hand, took the tray, and passed it on, thus emboldening young Nelson to continue and successfully accomplish that assignment. Nelson testified that his life of service is preparing him to serve a mission at a later day.

When I was nine years old, I attended general conference in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City, Utah. My family and I couldn’t get into the Tabernacle and had to listen outside the building. After the conference, when the General Authorities left the Tabernacle, I was able to stand close to many of them. I felt the same way I had when I shook Elder Kimball’s hand, and I knew that these men had been “called of God, by prophesy, and by the laying on of hands,” as it says in Articles of Faith 1:5.

I am a level 5 gymnast at my gymnastics club, and I was having a very good season. The state meet was coming up, and if I did well in the state meet, I would qualify for region. But the region meet was going to be on a Sunday. I had been working so hard to get to this point, and I wanted to go, but I felt like I shouldn’t.
A couple days later was fast Sunday, and I told my mom and dad what I was going to fast for. Together with my family we fasted that I would know what the Lord wanted me to do. I fasted Saturday night, all the way to Sunday dinner. Boy, that was hard.
That night when I was sitting with my mom, I decided that I shouldn’t go. I felt good and peaceful about my decision. The next day my mom got an email saying the region meet was changed to Friday. The following week I competed at state and took first place all-around, and now I get to go to regions in Colorado.
I know my prayer was answered. My faith in fasting and prayer is a lot stronger.

It started innocently enough. Like most other children, I would sit by the window, look out at the stars, and repeat the chant:
“Star light, star bright
First star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight.”
Then I would close my eyes and make my wish. I wished for everything my childish mind could dream of: a pony, a puppy, the eradication of spinach, a fairy godmother. I never got my wishes, but that was okay because it was all done in fun.
I grew older and stopped wishing on stars, but, unfortunately, I didn’t stop wishing. Now it took on a definite greenish tint. I wasn’t wishing for a puppy or a pony, but I wished I could be more like Kathy, because all the boys liked her, or I wished I had clothes like Linda’s.
Whenever I saw someone with something I didn’t have, I thought of how much happier I would be with it, so I’d start wishing for it. Almost everyone I met seemed to have something I didn’t have. I began to believe that everyone else had everything, and I had nothing.
Of course I began to feel sorry for myself. I’d whine, “If only things were different.” Or, “It’s just not fair!” Or, “Why me?”
So how did I ever find my way out of this quagmire of envy and self-pity? Believe it or not, I found my answer in the Church hymnbook. One Sunday I was sitting behind a girl who had the most beautiful hair. I was wishing that mine were that long and shiny, when we began singing “Count Your Blessings.”
Now, I had probably sung that song dozens of times, but it never meant anything to me until then. For the first time, I paid attention to the words. Why was I always wishing for things I didn’t have? Why did I feel angry and cheated because life wasn’t treating me fairly? The answer was right there in the hymn. I wasn’t counting my blessings. All I ever thought about were the things I didn’t have, which completely obscured my awareness of all the things I did have.
I went home from church and did exactly what the hymn said to do. I made a list of all my blessings. First came the obvious ones like home and family, and food and clothing. But then I wrote down other things like my personal strengths and assets, the many opportunities and positive experiences I’d had, my understanding of the gospel and the unique perspective that added to my life. When I added them up, I counted more than 100 blessings. Like the hymn says, I really was surprised.
I carried this list for a long time, and whenever I found myself slipping back into my old wishing habit, I would read the list. It always helped me to have a feeling of gratitude rather than one of envy and self-pity.
Finally the day came when I didn’t have to carry the list anymore because I no longer needed to wish for things. I was happy for others and their blessings, because I was more aware of my own blessings. I became so much happier once I finally quit wishing.

I appreciate President Uchtdorf's words, and I know they are true. In 2009, I experienced them for myself as I had the opportunity to work at Walt Disney World as part of the Disney College Program.

When the opportunity first came up, I thought it sounded fun but did not expect to go. However, I was surprised at how direct of a prompting I received about accepting a position. I traveled down to Orlando, Florida, on my own and was assigned to work as a Jungle Cruise Skipper. For those of you who do not know what a Jungle Cruise Skipper is—I wore safari attire, drove boats, and told cheesy jokes. It was awesome!

Actually, it was not quite so awesome at the beginning. My name tag said Brigham Young University-Idaho, and the first few days at the Jungle Cruise, many of my coworkers asked if I was Mormon. I had no problems confirming the question, but it seemed that many of them were uncomfortable and didn't want to talk to me afterwards.

One moment in particular, I walked into the break room in time to hear a girl say, "I don't want to hear about their golden bible." With that, the room went silent, and people avoided eye contact with me. Needless to say, things were a little rocky.

A few days later, I was scheduled to work all day on a Sunday. It was a long, discouraging day, and at the end of my shift, I sat alone at the bus stop waiting to get home. I was confused as to why I had felt so strongly that I needed to come when it seemed like I would be missing church often and I felt like no one wanted me around because of my religion. What was I doing here?

In my moment of despair, I felt a flood of courage come into my heart, and I thought to myself, "This will not break you." I made a choice that I would do all that I could to feed my spirit each day. I would study my scriptures more intently, attend all the meetings I could, and be an active participant in my ward even though I would only be there for a few months. I also decided that regardless of how my coworkers treated me, I would choose to love them and pray for the gift of charity every day.

I did have to work on most Sundays, but I was blessed with late-night shifts that allowed me to attend all of my church meetings, for which I am grateful. I look back on that summer with great fondness. I saw the hand of the Lord in my life, and I made wonderful friends at work. Even though our beliefs and our choices differed, we had fun being together and I knew how much the Lord loved them. I hope they felt that love through my love for them.

I was also blessed to make wonderful friends from my ward with whom I shared many adventures. That summer was a spiritually enriching and fun experience for me. I am still grateful for the opportunity, mostly because I learned so much about how my personal choices for righteousness helped me overcome challenges and increase in happiness.

Cambodia has gone through many tragic civil wars. I was born right after the conflicts ended. Life was difficult and food was scarce as my parents struggled to raise eight children. At times, I wondered what my future could possibly hold under such conditions.
In1998, my life changed when I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was baptized one year before finishing high school. Lacking the financial means to attend college, I chose to serve a full-time mission. While serving, my spiritual eyes were opened. I came to understand God’s eternal plan for His children and how I could prepare to establish an eternal family of my own.
The spiritual truths of the restored gospel allowed me to know that one day I would marry in the temple and be sealed to my wife and children forever. I pictured us going to church together, singing hymns together, studying the gospel together, and one day sending my children on missions and then seeing them start their own families sealed in holy temples. What a beautiful vision I had for our family. I hope everyone has this kind of vision.
My dream began to be fulfilled in 2005, when I was sealed to a lovely woman in the Hong Kong China Temple. Since then, the eternal path has become clearer. The Lord has blessed us with five energetic sons.

Ryan Periga was grinning as he walked to the front of the classroom. Ryan was the president of our deacons quorum, and it was his turn to present our priesthood lesson.
“We’re going to do something a little different today,” he announced. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle, and Brother Warner said we could spend a few minutes putting it together.”
He opened the box and spilled the contents out on the floor. He dropped to his knees and looked around. “Well, give me a hand!” he said.
He didn’t have to ask twice. Typical deacons, we were always eager for something to do, even if it meant working on a simple jigsaw puzzle.
According to the box, the puzzle was designed for three- and four-year-old children. It contained only about thirty large pieces, so it wasn’t long before we had the whole thing finished. The only problem was that one large piece was missing, right in the middle.
“Oh, great,” someone protested. “There’s a piece missing!”
“That’s okay,” Ryan said. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“What are you talking about?” someone asked. “It looks silly.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not all there!”
Ryan tried to look surprised. “Is that important?”
“Of course, it’s important! You can’t have a puzzle without all the pieces.”
Ryan nodded. Then he pointed toward the one empty chair in the room. “You might have noticed that Kevin hasn’t been to priesthood meeting for a while. So in a way, we’re just like this puzzle. We’re not complete. Without Kevin we’re not a whole quorum.”
Ryan had made his point. He had taught his lesson so well that each of us understood it perfectly. And we spent the next several minutes discussing ways to bring Kevin back into the quorum.
Ryan proved that you don’t need to be a General Authority to teach a good lesson, whether it’s for a class or for family home evening. Everyone has thoughts, insights, and experiences that can help shape and influence others. Don’t be afraid to ask your adviser, seminary teacher, parents, or companion for their ideas and input. Most importantly, remember to be prayerful. Seek the help of the Lord and invite his help in your preparations and your presentation.
Look for ways to relate the topic to the lives of those you’re teaching. Ryan’s lesson was effective because he didn’t just talk about quorums. He talked about our quorum. He didn’t simply talk about activating people. He talked about helping Kevin. Quorum unity was suddenly something each of us could relate to.
Next, look for ways to make your lesson come to life. Use object lessons, activities, stories, and discussions. Try to involve everyone. Ryan’s lesson is a good example. While we were busy working on the puzzle, we had no idea there was a point to what we were doing. But we were all involved; everyone was participating.

Eritai Kateibwi is making life better for the people of his homeland of Kiribati.
“People on my island have a strong bond to each other,” he explains. “The word ‘family’ is very important, and it drives me to help my own people.”
Eritai learned about hydroponic sustainability while attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii. He spent hundreds of hours developing that idea into a solution to take to his people.
In 2017, he returned to Kiribati and introduced innovative hydroponic gardening to families and communities in response to the challenges faced in accessing healthier food options. He explained that “it provided a healthy alternative to the processed foods that people were eating.”
Although Eritai continues to work on developing a sustainable hydroponics model on his home island, Marakei, his primary focus changed from hydroponics to construction with the mentorship and support of Jeff and Judy Brock.
They were serving as humanitarian missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Judy said, “Jeff loaded him up with tools and now Eritai is their go-to for all things construction.”
Her description of Eritai fits perfectly for the path his life has taken: “Eritai is now a leading local contractor and is working miracles,” she says.
Eritai says he feels happy and accomplished after overseeing the construction of a solar-powered Church building and missionary housing in Tabonibara, North Tarawa.
“I have never done anything as critical as this,” Eritai explained.
He told of answers to many prayers during the construction. He found it remarkable the way “every detail of the plans came together, and they were able to finish it so quickly despite setbacks with construction and weather.”
He is also working on a desalination project which is funded by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints working in collaboration with the government of Kiribati and the SUEZ Group.
“The mentorship provided by Elder and Sister Brock came full circle, as some years later they became project managers for the national desalination project,” says Ruth Cross, welfare and self-reliance manager for the Church in Kiribati and local coordinator for the desalination project.
“Eritai Kateibwi is a great example of hard work and determination built upon faith in God,” Cross continues. “Eritai’s deep sense of commitment propels the urgency of a shared vision to help people.”

I just knew that we were going to have a baby brother. After all, there were already five boys in our family—James, Joseph, Ammon, Adam, and me, Alex—so we were ready for another baby brother.
Every night for weeks we talked about Benjamin David—that’s what we were going to call the new baby. At night the five of us would lie in bed and talk about little Benjy.
“Alex, do you suppose he’ll be able to go fishing with us this summer?” James asked.
“Well,” I answered, “I don’t know about this summer. He won’t even be able to walk by then.”
“Then I’ll bring him back a big crawdad,” Ammon insisted, sitting up in bed. “He’ll want to play with something.”
I laughed. “Maybe we’d better wait awhile before we bring him any crawdads.”
“Yeah, they might bite his toe or something,” Adam said and giggled as he hugged his green blanket.
“We’ll have to teach him to ride a bike,” Joseph suggested, “so he’ll be able to ride down to the park with us.”
“I’ll let him ride with me for a while,” I volunteered.
“And we’ll teach him to wrestle,” James added.
“Why, Benjy will be the best wrestler around,” I bragged. “And he’ll play football and baseball just like a pro.”
Sometimes Dad stayed in our room after tucking us into bed and telling us good night. He listened while we talked and bragged about little Benjamin David. Dad didn’t say much at first. Then one night, just a little while before Mom went to the hospital, he asked, “What are you going to do if you get a little sister?”
Our talking stopped. “Oh, we’re not going to have a sister,” Ammon said. “We’ve already decided that. There are going to be ten boys in our family. If you and Mom want some sisters after that, it’s OK with us, but we need to get the ten boys first.”
Dad thought for a moment. “Sometimes Heavenly Father sends a girl,” he said quietly.
“A girl!” Joseph said. “We can’t have a girl. A girl can’t wrestle and play football and fish and race and ride to the park with us on our bikes. Besides,” he grumbled, punching his pillow, “girls are sissies.”
“Yeah,” James agreed. “And we’ve already told everybody that we’re going to have a brother. We’ve already picked out his name.”
“But if you do get a little sister—”
“Dad,” James cut in, trying to be patient, “we’ve already decided on a brother. Besides, what would we tell our friends?”
“Your friends have sisters,” Dad said.
“Yeah,” I said, “but we don’t want to be like them. We’re the only family around that has five boys in a row.”
“And we don’t want to mess things up with a sister,” James added. “Our family’s just for boys.”
“Your mom’s a girl,” Dad pointed out.
“Oh, it’s all right for moms to be girls,” Joseph said. “We’re not saying that Mom can’t stick around.”
“Yeah,” I chimed in, “Mom’s super, even if she is a girl; but a family only needs one mom, so we only need one girl, and Mom’s it.”
The next week Grandma Cluff came to stay with us, so we knew it was almost time for Benjamin David to show up. We were getting so excited that we could hardly go to sleep at night. Adam had already started sleeping in my bed. He was getting too big for the crib anyway, and we wanted the crib ready for Benjy.
Then one morning when we got up, Mom and Dad were gone. Grandma was in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She smiled at us and announced, “Your dad took your mom to the hospital last night.”
“Benjy’s here!” Adam squealed.
Grandma smiled again and dropped another slice of bacon into the frying pan. “I hope so,” she said. “We’ll know as soon as your dad comes home.”
It wasn’t five minutes later that we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway and the car door close. All of us rushed to the door as Dad came in. He looked really sleepy, and he hadn’t shaved his whiskers, but he had a big smile on his face.
“Where’s Benjy?” Adam shouted, climbing into Dad’s arms. “I want to see Benjy.”
Dad laughed and gave him a squeeze.
“Where’s Mom?” Ammon pulled on Dad’s trousers until Dad lifted him up with Adam.
“How big is he?” Joseph asked.
“Does he look strong?” I wanted to know.
“Does he look like he’ll be a good wrestler?” James demanded.
Dad laughed again and walked into the kitchen, still carrying Adam and Ammon. He sat down at the table, and we all crowded around him so that we could hear all about Benjamin David.
“When can we see Benjy?” Joseph asked.
Dad looked around at us and held up a hand. “Hold on a minute,” he said, grinning. “Benjy didn’t come this time. Marni Nadine came instead,” Dad said proudly.
“Marni Nadine?” James asked, pushing away. “Why, we’ve never talked about any Marni Nadine.”
“And who wants to name a perfectly good baby brother Marni Nadine?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Joseph spoke up. “That’s a sissy name. Everybody would think he was a girl. Let’s just call him Benjamin anyway.”
“But you don’t have a baby brother,” Dad said. “You have a little sister.”
“A sister!” We stared at each other and then at Dad.
Dad gave a huge sigh. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always send what we expect, but whoever He sends is always very special. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl.”
“But why did He have to send a girl?” Ammon muttered, getting down from Dad’s lap. “Who’s going to play football with us?”
“And who’s going to go fishing with us?”
“And why have a girl right in the middle of ten boys?”
“Because,” Dad explained patiently, “a girl is what Heavenly Father wanted to send.” He thought for a minute. “This must be a very special baby girl. Not just everyone gets to have five big brothers.”
We didn’t say much after that. We ate our breakfast quietly while Dad and Grandma talked about Mom and Marni Nadine. I had never been more disappointed. All I could think of the rest of the day was that we had been cheated out of getting out baby brother.
The next morning, when Dad went to get Mom and Marni Nadine, we stayed home with Grandma. I tried to get the others to play football with me, but they just sat on the front steps and stared glumly down the street.
Adam was the first to see the car. He jumped up and rushed out to greet Mom and Dad. I guess he’d forgotten that Benjy wasn’t going to be in the car. Dad picked him up and carried him around to Mom’s side and opened the door. The rest of us crept around the car while Dad helped Mom out.
Mom smiled at each of us and hugged the bundle as she carried it into the house. Even though I was still disappointed that Benjamin David hadn’t come, I was curious to see what a baby sister would look like up close.
Mom sat down on the sofa, and we all pushed up close as she began peeling the covers back. Mom held up a little mouse of a girl with a round head and just a tiny bit of brown hair. Her eyes were shut tightly, her cheeks were soft and fat, and she was kind of red all over.
All of us just stared. Then Ammon went close and touched Marni on the cheek with his fingertips. He turned around and grinned. “She’s soft.” He touched her again. “Real soft.”
Mom looked at me. “Would you like to hold her, Alex?”
“I’ve never held a sister before,” I mumbled, backing away.
“Then I’ll hold her,” James volunteered.
“No, I’ll hold her,” I declared, pushing forward. “Just because I’ve never held a sister doesn’t mean that I don’t know how.”
I sat on the sofa next to Mom, and she laid Marni Nadine in my arms. My baby sister was so tiny and light that I hardly knew I was holding her. I was afraid to squeeze hard, because I didn’t want to break her.
“What do you think Alex?” Dad asked as Marni stretched and rubbed her fist against her cheeks. Her eyes cracked open a little, and then she closed them.
“She’s all right, I guess,” I mumbled. “She’s kind of cute—for a girl.”
“Girls are supposed to be cute,” Dad said.
“Then she’s not ‘kind of cute,’” James argued. “She’s the cutest sister in the whole world.”
“You’re right,” Joseph agreed. “If we’re going to have a sister, she’s not going to be just an ordinary sister. She’s going to be the cutest sister around.”
“Yeah, and besides,” I added, “there’s no reason why we can’t teach her to fish, ride a bike, and play football. Just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean that she has to sit around and do nothing. Our little sister will be able to do anything she wants, because we’ll help her. And remember what Dad said. Not just every sister gets to have five big brothers!”

I love running, and in the fall of 2019, I signed up to run the Boston Marathon. I started training the following January, but in March 2020, COVID-19 put a halt to almost everything—including this storied race. When it became clear there would be no marathon that year, the organizers offered us the chance to participate virtually. To be eligible for the T-shirt—and I really wanted the T-shirt—each participant needed to run a 26.2-mile course during the month of September. So I resumed my training and mapped a course that started in the middle of Zion National Park and finished 26.2 miles away, near my parents’ house.

Southern Utah is still warm in September, and I knew I needed to start early. So, at 4:30 a.m. on my self-appointed race day, my good parents drove me to my starting line. Only when we arrived did I realize the depth of darkness in that canyon. As the weakness of my headlamp became apparent, my mind called up stories about a recent cougar sighting in the area and then scenes from every true crime show I had ever seen. My facial expressions must have revealed my growing concern because right then my parents offered to drive behind me so I could run in the stream of the truck’s headlights until the sun rose. Grateful, I agreed. Then I started my watch and began to run.

I have never felt slower than I did that morning, running in front of that diesel truck. I also didn’t get very far before I recognized parallels between that moment and our mortal journey. The darkness is real, and we don’t know what’s around us on any side. But, knowing better than us, our loving Heavenly Father devised a way to illuminate our paths and provide enough light for us to move forward one step at a time. Whether we realize it or not, He’s watching over us amidst our wobbles and providing what we need to make it to the end—at whatever pace we need to travel. We just need to focus on His light and do our best to keep moving forward.

In the mornings, my dad calls us for scripture study and family prayer. It sometimes takes us half an hour or more to finally get up and move to the living room. One morning, instead of calling us with his voice, he called our cell phones. Before my sister’s phone even rang three times, she was up, and she responded to the caller in a soft and sweet voice only to find out it was my father calling from the living room.
Can you see how we sometimes follow the wrong influence? How much easier it is for us to respond to the ring of the mobile phone than to be on our knees praying to our Heavenly Father. We enjoy a long conversation on our phones but don’t want long prayers. We enjoy a text message from friends but neglect the written message of a loving Heavenly Father through the scriptures. We must listen to our prophet and leaders and give heed to their message.

Many years ago, I observed a heartbreak—which became a tragedy. A young couple was nearing the delivery of their first child. Their lives were filled with the anticipation and excitement of this monumental experience. During the delivery, complications arose and the baby died. Heartbreak turned to grief, grief turned to anger, anger turned to blame, and blame turned to revenge toward the doctor, whom they held fully responsible. Parents and other family members became heavily involved, together seeking to ruin the reputation and the career of the physician. As weeks and then months of acrimony consumed the family, their bitterness was extended to the Lord. “How could He allow this horrible thing to occur?” They rejected the repeated efforts of Church leaders and members to spiritually and emotionally comfort them and, in time, disassociated themselves from the Church. Four generations of the family have now been affected. Where once there were faith and devotion to the Lord and His Church, there has been no spiritual activity by any family member for decades.
In the most difficult circumstances of life, there is often only one source of peace. The Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ, extends His grace with the invitation “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). He further promises, “My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you” (John 14:27).
My paternal grandparents had two children, a son (my father) and a daughter. After serving a mission and military service in Hawaii, my father returned to the islands in 1946 to establish himself professionally and raise his family. His parents lived in Salt Lake City, as did his sister. She married in 1946 and four years later was expecting a child. There is something very special for parents to anticipate a daughter (in this instance an only daughter) giving birth for the first time. No one knew that she was carrying twins. Sadly, she and the twins all died during childbirth.
My grandparents were heartbroken. Their grief, however, immediately turned them to the Lord and His Atonement. Without dwelling on why this could happen and who might be to blame, they focused on living a righteous life. My grandparents never had wealth; they were never among the socially elite; they never held high position in the Church—they were simply devoted Latter-day Saints.
After retiring professionally in 1956, they moved to Hawaii to be with their only posterity. The ensuing decades found them loving their family and serving in the Church, and mostly they just enjoyed being together. They never liked being apart and even spoke of whoever died first finding a way to help them reunite soon. Nearing their 90th birthdays and after 65 years of marriage, they passed away within hours of each other by natural causes. As their bishop, I conducted their double funeral.
The faithfulness of Grandpa Art and Grandma Lou, especially when faced with difficulty, has now influenced four generations that have followed. Directly and profoundly, it affected their son (my father) and my mother when my parents’ own daughter, their youngest child, died due to complications caused by giving birth. At 34 years of age, she passed away 10 days after childbirth, leaving 4 children, 10 days to 8 years old. With the example that they had seen in the previous generation, my parents—without hesitation—turned to the Lord for solace.

Several years ago, while on vacation, I wanted to go kayaking for the first time. I rented a kayak, and full of enthusiasm, I launched into the sea.
After a few minutes, a wave overturned the kayak. With a great deal of effort, holding the paddle in one hand and the kayak in the other, I was able to regain my footing.
I tried again to paddle my kayak, but just a few minutes later, the kayak tipped over again. I stubbornly kept on trying, to no avail, until someone who understood kayaking told me that there must be a crack in the shell and the kayak must have filled up with water, making it unstable and impossible to control. I dragged the kayak to the shore and removed the plug, and sure enough, out came a large amount of water.
I think that at times we move through life with sins that, like the leak in my kayak, impede our spiritual progress.
If we persist in our sins, we forget the covenants we have made with the Lord, even though we keep capsizing because of the imbalance that those sins create in our lives.
Like the cracks in my kayak, the cracks in our lives need to be dealt with. Some sins will require more efforts than others to repent of.