Gospel Story Finder

From the first time she came to church, 16-year-old Moema Duberley loved it. “The girls were very receptive and tried to help me get to know everybody,” she says. “It made me feel like the Church was my second home.”
But it became difficult for Moema to come to church when her mother became inactive a few months after their baptism. Partly because of her calling, but mostly because of their friendship, Katarina began calling Moema.
“Sometimes I felt like I was bothering Moema,” says Katarina, “but I kept trying because I felt it was important, and I knew God was going to help because I was also praying.”
After months of Katarina’s and other girls’ fellowshipping, Moema returned to full activity. “I came back because I was missing everything I had been learning at church, and my relationship with God and the people.”
Now Moema and Katarina share a special bond. “I’m really grateful because I needed a friend when I was inactive,” says Moema. “I’m very thankful for Katarina being like this for me. When you spend time away from the Church, you begin to feel that maybe you won’t be well accepted. But when people call, it feels good to know you’re not forgotten.”
As for Katarina, “I feel really happy and thankful that she came back. And it worked! I prayed and it worked.”

The group entered a beautiful basin where snow-fed lakes connected by small waterfalls descended like huge stairsteps. The trail faded and disappeared altogether as it led across flat, slick rock. By this time, the girls were gaining confidence and, instead of following the lead horse, they spread out in groups of twos or threes, picking their own ways across the rock. But they soon found that taking off on their own didn’t always work well. What looked like a good way to go often led to the edge of cliffs or into an impossible thicket of trees that forced them to turn back and retrace their routes.
A forest ranger had gone over the trail before and had marked the best way across the slick rock with small pyramids of stone. These markers, or cairns as they are called, were easy to spot and if followed led safely across the section where the trail was obliterated. The girls found they could not rely on their own instincts or observations to select a good path. They found they had to trust the one who had gone on before to show them the best way. The girls started talking about following the cairns. “This is like our leaders giving us lessons about how to live our lives,” said one. “Yes,” said another catching on to the symbolism, “it’s like learning to follow the prophet. By listening to him, we can follow the right trail even when we can’t see where it leads.”

“I beat you,” Ed said triumphantly as he pulled the last head of broomcorn on his row with a quick snap of his wrist. Then he set it upright on the ground, leaning it against the stalk.
“Just barely,” I replied. “I only have three more to do.”
“I can see Frank and Georgie coming too. We’re getting pretty fast. That’s eight rows apiece this morning. Jake’s the fastest boy I know, and he can only do nine.”
“He hires out, too, doesn’t he?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Why don’t we? We do good work and could use some money.”
“You’re right about that, but who’d hire us?”
“Lots of people.”
“I’m not so sure. We don’t stack the same as everyone else, so some people might not hire us.”
“Our way is best, though. Papa says if the brooms are piled standing up like we do it, any rain will run off without hurting them. But if they’re lying flat on the ground, the moisture doesn’t dry between them and they get moldy and rot.”
“Papa is right about lots of things that other folks don’t like to believe. They’ve been stacking corn the wrong way for a hundred years and wouldn’t change for anything.”
“Do you remember the time we had the late frost and Papa knew it was coming, so he didn’t plant early like everyone else did?” I asked.
“Yeah, I remember. Their crops froze and ours didn’t.”
“He tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“How does he know when it’s going to freeze?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe Heavenly Father tells him,” I suggested.
“Maybe so,” Ed agreed thoughtfully. “I can’t figure it out any other way.”
Frank and Georgie finished their rows, and we all started back to the house for lunch.
“How’d you guys like to earn some money?” Ed asked the boys.
“How?” Frank wanted to know.
“Pulling corn. We’re all getting pretty fast now.”
“I would,” Georgie said. “Then we could go to the circus.”
The circus! I hadn’t thought about that. I couldn’t believe it might be possible to go to the circus. My heart began pounding.
“Who could we work for?” Frank asked.
“How about Mr. Clarke?” Georgie suggested. “He’s always been real nice to us.”
“You’re right!” Ed exclaimed. “He’s just the one.”
“Let’s ask Papa when we get home,” I suggested.
“No, let’s see if we can get the job first and surprise him. Tomorrow, while Papa’s in town getting his wagon fixed, we can go over and see Mr. Clarke.”
“I want to see the lion tamer most,” Frank said.
“Not me,” Georgie countered. “I’m going to watch the clowns.”
I wanted to see the beautiful lady in the fancy dress, standing pointy-toed on the back of a running horse with her long hair flying behind her. I’d seen a circus poster at the Piggly Wiggly Market.
“C’mon, let’s hurry,” Ed said, and we ran the last few steps to the house.
The next day after Papa had left for town, five of us started out in the direction of our field. Helen had coaxed to come along too.
“Break her in easy,” Mama said. “When she gets tired send her home.”
At the end of the lane we turned off toward Clarke’s and arrived just as he was coming out from breakfast. When he saw us he said, “Well, now, what can I do for you folks?”
“We wondered if you needed someone to pull your corn,” Ed said.
“Think you could do it? None of you is very big.”
“But we can work hard,” Frank insisted.
“And fast,” Georgie added.
“And we pile it the good way,” I said.
“How’s that?” Mr. Clarke wanted to know.
“Standing up,” Ed said and explained why that was best.
Mr. Clarke nodded. “Makes sense, all right.”
“Try us out,” Ed bargained. “We’ll work till noon, and if you’re not satisfied, you don’t have to pay us. We don’t charge for Helen. She’s just learning.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Clarke said and led us to the field he wanted us to start on.
When Papa came home that night, Ed pulled our wages from his pocket and put them on the table.
“Where’d you get that money?” Papa asked.
“Working for Mr. Clarke,” Ed replied.
“Pulling corn?” asked Papa.
“Yep. He wants us back tomorrow. He’s paying us twenty cents a row.”
“How many of you went?” Papa wanted to know.
“Me, Dora, Georgie, Frank, and Helen,” Ed replied.
“Helen, too?”
“She helped some.”
“But my arms got tired and Ed let me come home,” Helen explained.
Papa reached down to give her a hug. “Good girl,” he said. “I’m proud of all of you. Go ahead and help Mr. Clarke. I can finish our crop. We’ll all have to work fast to get done before the storm gets here.”
“What storm?” Ed asked.
“The one that’s coming before too long.”
“How can you tell?” I wanted to know.
“I can just feel it,” Papa answered.
The golden harvest weather held all week, and we worked from dawn until dark every day. By Friday night the flat corn heads were all pulled and stacked in the fields. Mama had been cooking all day for a picnic, and we could hardly wait for morning to come.
Before daylight, Papa climbed the ladder to our barn loft. “You’d all better get up,” he said. “I need lots of help today.”
“But you promised we could have a picnic, Papa.”
“Can’t help it,” Papa said. “We’ve got to get the corn in. A humdinger of a storm is on the way. Dora, I want you to come with me to warn the neighbors. Ed, you go hitch up the wagon and take Frank and George over to Clarke’s. Use his wagon, too, and after his crop is in come back and start on ours.”
There was a tone in Papa’s voice I’d never heard before. It sent shivers down my back. I dressed as fast as I could and hurried the boys along. We gulped down the breakfast Mama had waiting and flew out the door just as the sun peeked over the sand hills.
“There’re no clouds, Papa,” Ed said.
“They’re coming,” Papa declared. “Now get going!”
The boys ran toward the barn. I jumped on the horse that was waiting for me, and Papa and I rode off to warn the neighbors that a big storm was on the way.
“You’re crazy,” Mr. Cooper told Papa. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“Not yet,” Papa said, “but there will be.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mr. Cooper said and closed the door. We jumped on our horses and rode to Mr. Younger’s store. He could help us spread the word.
“Doesn’t look to me like any storm is coming,” he drawled as he gazed up at the cloudless sky.
“You’re right,” Papa agreed. “But mark my word, it’ll be here before nightfall, and it’s a big one.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
And this was the answer everywhere we went. Papa finally decided that it wasn’t any use to warn the people, so we went on home to help the boys. “The price of corn will be sky-high this year,” he said, “and we can’t afford to leave it in the field.”
We worked like demons and were piling on the last wagonload when the wind came up and nearly tipped it over.
“Head for home!” Papa shouted.
We all jumped on the wagon and by the time we pulled into the barn, hail was peppering the ground and beating everything flat. It was the worst storm I can remember. Some of the hailstones were the size of eggs. What the hail didn’t flatten the wind did. The broomcorn crop was a total loss that year except for the few fields that were brought in as a result of our warning.
Papa was right about the price. We made a big profit that year, and the other farmers were sorry they hadn’t listened to him.

One day while talking to a recently returned missionary, I asked her how she had changed since I had last seen her before her mission. Her answer was memorable: “I have a soft heart now.”

She talked about how she was ready, willing, and excited to do anything the Lord wanted her to do. There was a conviction in her eyes that was powerful.

Her year and a half of study, prayer, service, obedience, and yielding herself to God had changed her. The Lord had given her that soft heart. She had become a true disciple of Jesus Christ.

She, like so many of us, had “felt to sing the song of redeeming love.”12

And now Alma would ask her and each one of us, “Can ye feel so now?”13

My mom told my brother and me that if we would read two issues of the Friend from cover to cover she would let us pick something from our school book order. I read the November and December 2005 issues. When I was looking through the book order to choose a book, I saw some Christmas books that I knew my little sister Emmalie would like. Christmas was just a few weeks away. I asked my mom if I could choose those books and give them to my sister for Christmas. My mom said that would be very generous and something that Jesus would do. It felt good to see my sister’s face when she unwrapped her books on Christmas. I made someone else happy, and I think that’s what Jesus would do.

When our friend Bilbo Baggins felt the call to adventure stir within him, he decided to get a good night’s rest, enjoy a hearty breakfast, and start out first thing in the morning.
When Bilbo awoke, he noticed his house was a mess, and he was almost distracted from his noble plan.
But then his friend Gandalf came and asked, “Whenever are you going to come?” To catch up with his friends, Bilbo had to decide for himself what to do.
And so, the very normal and unremarkable hobbit found himself darting out his front door to the path of adventure so quickly that he forgot his hat, walking stick, and pocket handkerchief. He even left his second breakfast unfinished.
Perhaps there is a lesson here for us as well.
If you and I have felt the stirrings to join the great adventure of living and sharing what our loving Heavenly Father prepared for us a long time ago, I assure you, today is the day to follow God’s Son and our Savior on His path of service and discipleship.
We could spend a lifetime waiting for that moment when everything lines up perfectly. But now is the time to commit fully to seeking God, ministering to others, and sharing our experience with others.
Leave behind your hat, walking stick, handkerchief, and messy house.
To those of us already walking that path, take courage, exercise compassion, have confidence, and continue!
To those who have left the path, please come back, join again with us, make us stronger.
And to those who have not yet begun, why delay? If you want to experience the wonders of this great spiritual journey, set foot upon your own grand adventure! Speak with the missionaries. Speak with your Latter-day Saint friends. Speak with them about this marvelous work and a wonder.
It’s time to begin!
If you sense that your life could have more meaning, a higher purpose, stronger family bonds, and a closer connection with God, please, come, join with us.
If you seek a community of people who are working to become the best versions of themselves, help those in need, and make this world a better place, come, join with us!
Come and see what this marvelous, wondrous, and adventurous journey is all about.
Along the way you will discover yourself.
You will discover meaning.
You will discover God.
You will discover the most adventurous and glorious journey of your life.
Of this I testify in the name of our Redeemer and Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.

Some years ago in our meetinghouse in Darmstadt, Germany, a group of brethren was asked to move a grand piano from the chapel to the adjoining cultural hall, where it was needed for a musical event. None were professional movers, and the task of getting that gravity-friendly instrument through the chapel and into the cultural hall seemed nearly impossible. Everybody knew that this task required not only physical strength but also careful coordination. There were plenty of ideas, but not one could keep the piano balanced correctly. They repositioned the brethren by strength, height, and age over and over again—nothing worked.
As they stood around the piano, uncertain of what to do next, a good friend of mine, Brother Hanno Luschin, spoke up. He said, “Brethren, stand close together and lift where you stand.”
It seemed too simple. Nevertheless, each lifted where he stood, and the piano rose from the ground and moved into the cultural hall as if on its own power. That was the answer to the challenge. They merely needed to stand close together and lift where they stood.

Meet Mike Johnson and Curt Brinkman, two of the greatest wheelchair athletes. They’re breaking records and winning an impressive number of medals and trophies, not only in United States competitions, but at the Olympics as well. They were among the few undergraduates to see the “Y” lighted in their honor during a BYU halftime. But before chalking up their numerous awards, let’s get acquainted.
First, here’s Curt. Today he is 25, but he has no difficulty recalling his 16th summer. “I was six foot seven inches tall, and I loved to play ball, especially basketball. I lettered as a sophomore in high school and even had dreams of playing with the New York Knickerbockers.”
Curt grew up in Shelley, Idaho, where he could always find work on the neighboring farms. “I enjoyed working. I saved every penny as a kid, trying to get my missionary and college funds together,” he recalls. His wife, Bonnie, says that when they got married, Curt had saved six thousand dollars.
Curt’s accident happened one day during a break in his job. “You know, sometimes young kids try crazy things. I looked at an electrical pole and thought, ‘That looks like something challenging to climb.’ So I did.” Witnesses told him that three electrical shocks held him in midair before he fell 25 feet and landed in mud. “The doctor said the impact of falling that far started my heart again, so now I’m alive. I lay there in the mud and thought, ‘I’ll never play ball again.’”
Curt spent six painful months in the hospital. He recalls that his family and friends helped greatly during that time. His close friends visited him regularly. His father kindly insisted he learn to be independent. The town held fund-raising campaigns to help pay medical expenses. When he returned to school, his classmates encouraged him and helped him see the brighter side of life. Curt graduated with his class.
Curt’s testimony helped him, too. His hazel eyes sparkle when he says, “I’m grateful to be a Mormon. I know this life is just a small speck in eternity. Someday I’ll have my legs and run again.”
Curt majored in business at Ricks College for a couple of years. There he met Bonnie Hymas. They were married December 20, 1975, in the Idaho Falls Temple. By coincidence, Mike and Jan Cryer were married a day earlier in the Provo Temple. The two couples had not met at that time. Bonnie and Curt now have a son, Gregory Adam, two years old, and a daughter, Lorian, five months. Gregory likes to somersault over the back of Curt’s wheelchair into Bonnie’s arms.
Mike and Jan have two sons, Seth, 2 1/2, and Matt, 1 1/2, and a daughter, Rachel, eight months. Mike is a few years older than Curt. He just turned 31, and Jan kids him about that. But he isn’t too old for wheelchair competitions. Mike says a man in his 50s won the slalom for class two in California.
Mike grew up in West Virginia, where his parents are members of the Church. He came to BYU as a freshman and fell in love with the mountains. He spent many hours hiking and hunting. Now he makes up wildlife stories each night for his sons. “I’d rather do that,” says Mike, “than just read a story from a book.”
Jan says Seth will listen carefully and then when a story is finished, say, “I didn’t like that story. Tell me another one!”
After his freshman year at BYU, Mike joined the marines. In Vietnam he stepped on a booby trap. Both of his legs had to be amputated. Like Curt, Mike’s recovery was a rough time. He, too, is grateful for the support of his family. Mike recalls: “My folks helped a lot. Dad told me to do my best and not to quit. He helped me have a desire to live.”
Mike returned to BYU in 1971. It was there he first saw Curt. “I watched him get out of his car. He really handled himself well, and I thought he’d make a good player on our wheelchair basketball team. I left a note on his car inviting him to come play.” That invitation started a continuing friendship.
They became involved in other competitions after a man they played basketball with in Denver told them they ought to get involved in track. This man sent information about national wheelchair competitions, and the two started working out on the BYU track. That was in 1976.
That same year they went to Denver and placed first in some track events there. Then they went to San Jose and placed and on to the Nationals in New York and the Olympics in Toronto, Canada. Forty-six countries participated in the Olympics. Together, Mike and Curt brought home three gold, one silver, and three bronze medals. That’s quite a record for their first year of competition!
Mike and Curt do not compete against each other. Curt competes in class five, and Mike in class four. Each athlete is put in a class according to his disability. The classes span from one to five, with class one for the most disabled.
Now look at their accomplishments individually.
Mike shines in javelin. He holds the national record of 87 feet, 9 inches for class four. Mike is also the best wheelchair competitor in the United States in the slalom. The slalom is an obstacle course to test skill and quickness, and Mike is quick. Very quick. Jan loves to watch the slalom competition. She exclaims: “It’s so exciting! Everybody watching it just goes wild.”
Jan recalls that because she couldn’t attend the Olympics, Mike called her after each event, and he placed in each event! He took first place in lawn bowling, even though he’d never competed in that before. He placed first in table tennis, second in the 100-meter dash, and third in javelin. Mike also holds gold medals in the one-half mile, the 100-yard dash, and swimming.
At the Denver meet in 1976, Mike won five golds and one silver medal and the trophy for the Most Outstanding Male Athlete at the meet.
This year, Mike played 30 basketball games around the country. He is second in the nation for scoring. He also played tennis and has never been defeated in tennis in Utah in a singles match. How does he win at tennis? He says, “As soon as the ball leaves the other player’s racquet, I’ve got to know where it’s going. And I have quick reflexes.”
Mike didn’t travel to compete in track or field this year, even though he especially enjoys that area of competition. He says, “The games kept me away from home too much. I miss my track and field, but my family comes first.”
Jan adds, “Mike made the decision. He was the one who decided to stay home and be a husband, father, and gardener.”
Mike and Jan have a beautifully landscaped yard and garden. Jan sewed two pairs of Levis together for Mike to keep the burrs out while he works in the yard. His young sons and Jan work with him.
Curt’s record is impressive, too. He placed second in the wheelchair division in April 1977 and again in 1978 at the Boston Marathon in Massachusetts. He completed the 26-mile, 385-yard race in two hours, 34 minutes, and 15 seconds. That’s right! Over 26 miles!
The Boston Marathon is the biggest and oldest race in the U.S. This is it’s 83rd year, and only the top athletes are selected to participate. This year there were 20 wheelchair competitors racing in temperatures below 40° Fahrenheit. Five of the athletes had to be hospitalized for a brief period after the race for hypothermia. Curt says, “After the first mile of soaring downhill, each wheelchair contestant was covered with mud and water from the chairs in front.” He also explains that wheelchair marathoners have more problems than regular runners because their circulation is poorer.
The wheelchair winner of the Boston Marathon this year was Ken Archer, a Mormon from Akron, Ohio. Curt says: “Ken is one of the greatest fellows I’ll ever meet. When he won, he came across the finish line with his hands raised in triumph and his head bowed in humility.”
In 1977 Curt placed in every event in Denver, taking two first places in the 100-yard dash and the mile push. In San Diego he placed either second or third in five events. At San Jose, he took first in the 100 meters, breaking the world record. He also placed third in lawn bowling and discus and fourth in shotput.
The same year, Curt placed first in the wheelchair division at both the Deseret News Marathon in Salt Lake and the Pioneer Marathon in St. George, Utah. In 1978 he took first in the New York City Marathon and now holds the national record in the 1500-meter run.
Curt was voted Most Outstanding Athlete in 1978 and 1979 at the Denver Rocky Mountain Regional.
Both Mike and Curt are also involved in their careers. Mike has counseled at the State Hospital in Provo, worked as a draftsman for the Bureau of Reclamation, and is now majoring in health sciences at BYU. His goal is to coach college basketball.
Curt has gained experiences in various jobs. He was a resident assistant at Ricks College, an insurance salesman, a desk clerk at a motel, a switchboard operator, and an insurance clerk for a hospital. Now he works at Handicapped Awareness, Inc. in Provo. He graduated with a B.S. degree in psychology from BYU in 1978 and is in the process of getting his masters in rehabilitation administration.
Church activities form another part of their lives. Mike works with the Explorers in the Alpine Fourth Ward, Alpine Utah Stake. He and a couple of other members in the stake took the Explorers to the National Explorer Olympics at Fort Collins, Colorado, for a week in August 1978. Mike coached basketball and helped coach volleyball during the Olympics. Mike says some of the Explorers in his ward like to double date with Jan and him.
Curt and Bonnie are members of the Provo West Stake, Sunset Third Ward. Curt was the elders quorum president in a previous ward and is now the first counselor in the quorum presidency. Bonnie has served as a Relief Society president. Now she is the first counselor in the Young Women organization.
Service is another important part of their lives. To earn money for a specially equipped bus for the handicapped in Utah County, Mike and Curt earned pledges and then wheeled 115 miles around Utah Lake in 16 hours. As a sidelight they shattered the world record which was 108 miles in eight days.
In May of 1978, Curt wheeled 284 miles from Cedar City, Utah, to Salt Lake City in five days, raising nearly twelve thousand dollars in pledges for Easter Seals.
Both athletes have spoken to large groups on a number of occasions. Mike addressed the Orem High School student body during their Freedom Week. He told the students they could go as far up as they want to in life, or they could stand still and not progress at all. Mike says, “The choice is theirs. We live in a country with that freedom. The degree of excellence we attain depends mainly on how willing we are to work.”
Last July, Curt was the keynote speaker during the National Olympic Academy at BYU. He has spoken across the United States at meets and says: “I’ve really seen a lot of the country. If I’ve impressed just a few people the way that I’ve been impressed by others, then it’s been a blessing to be in a wheelchair.”
Curt says traveling has also provided an opportunity for missionary work. He was invited to a party in Boston for 50 top athletes. When asked why he wouldn’t drink, he had the opportunity to share the gospel.
Curt finds it interesting that people are so concerned about what to do and say when they meet a handicapped person. He says that usually it’s what people don’t say that hurts. For example, when a child runs up and asks why he doesn’t have any legs, Curt wishes the parents would let him answer the question rather than hushing the child and rushing off. He explains, “The child grows up feeling he shouldn’t associate with the handicapped, and that’s not good for either one.”
Mike has some advice of his own, and he says it applies to everyone, whether they’re handicapped or not. First, he says, he doesn’t like quitters. Then he adds: “Don’t be afraid to try things you think you might not be able to do. Whatever you want, go after it one hundred and ten percent. Whether your goals concern work, church, school, jobs, marriage, or whatever, just don’t, don’t, don’t ever quit!”

Here is a story about what has happened to reverence in our time: You—living here in Provo at the foot of the mountains, going to BYU—don’t have to be reminded that there is something about a mountain that uplifts the human soul. It seems to speak of the effort of the earth to rise up to heaven to meet God halfway, which is why revelations take place on mountaintops.

The story is told of the first two white settlers to travel across the country to Seattle and see Mount Rainier. They looked at it and were absolutely stunned by this beautiful, symmetrical, snow-capped mountain in the Northwest. And they responded, as typical Americans would respond, “Gee, that’s beautiful. Let’s climb it. Let’s show that we’re stronger than the mountain.”

They went to the local Indian tribe and said, “We’d like to hire a guide to lead us up to the top of the mountain.”

The Indian said, “I’m sorry. We can’t do that. That’s our holy mountain. We believe the gods live at a lake of fire [apparently an extinct volcano at the top of the mountain], and it’s not proper for us to intrude on the home of the gods by climbing to the mountaintop.”

The two settlers said, “Now, you guys don’t seem to understand. We’re offering you real money to lead us up to the top of the mountain.”

The Indian said, “No, you don’t understand. There are some things that are not for sale. And the home of the gods is one of them.”

But the two settlers kept on insisting and adding to and upping the price, and finally they found an Indian guide who said he would lead them. He led them astray for a while, down into valleys and up hills, trying to tire them out so they would give up. But they were persistent. So he led them partway up Mount Rainier, and he said, “My religion forbids me to go any farther. You are on your own.”

He thought he would never see them again, but these guys were very determined. They got to the top of the mountain, planted a flag, took pictures of each other at the peak, and came down again.

That story was told to me by a forest ranger in Mount Rainier National Park outside of Seattle. She told us the story to make a point about the courage and the dedication of the two mountain climbers. But the message I got from that story was a very different one. I felt very sad that we are so good in this century at putting out sacred fires. We are so good at minimizing the domain of the gods and intruding on holy space and claiming it for our own until we end up with a lot to feel proud about as men and nothing to inspire us—no sense of awe for that which is beyond us.

One day in July 1989, I was sitting in my office in Tarawa, Kiribati, pondering my ministering responsibilities when a strong impression came to my mind telling me to go to the hospital. It was strange, but I knew the peaceful voice was from the Spirit. I decided to act upon the prompting without delay.
As I was preparing to leave, a former missionary companion, Founuku Kitiona, came by just as I needed him. I asked if he would accompany me to the hospital.
“Someone sick?” he asked. I told him, “I don’t know, I just had this strong feeling that we should go there.”
As we drove up to the hospital, fifteen minutes away, I didn’t know what to expect. It reminded me of the words of Nephi when the Lord told him to return to Jerusalem to obtain the brass plates, “And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do.”8
We arrived at the hospital and noticed a white van parked in front of the emergency room. It belonged to Elder and Sister Trethowan, a wonderful and faithful senior missionary couple from Australia. We wondered why it was there!
As we walked into the emergency room, we saw Elder Trethowan on a bed, half conscious and perspiring! His wife was kneeling on the floor beside him, praying.
They had been there for almost an hour waiting for assistance. She was desperate, but never gave up hope for heavenly intervention. You can imagine her relief, at least, when she saw us. “Thank you, brethren. God answered my prayers,” she said.
At that moment, I knew why the Lord sent us there. We laid our hands on Elder Trethowan’s head and gave him a priesthood blessing.
A moment later, several nurses and a doctor arrived. After examining him, the doctor told us that the missionary had a serious heart condition and needed to be admitted.
Knowing the limited medical facilities on the island, I immediately returned to my office and called the area office for advice. The immediate response was to get Elder Trethowan on the next flight out of the country. The problem was, there was only one international flight a week, and the flight for that week had already gone.
As I wrestled further with the issue, the Spirit whispered to my mind again to “go to the travel office.” I left immediately and got there just before the office closed.
I enquired about flights and was surprised to learn about a special flight leaving for Honolulu the very next day. I immediately booked the couple on that flight.
The next morning the couple left Tarawa and landed in Honolulu a few hours later. Elder Trethowan was taken directly to a hospital where he received medical procedures which miraculously saved his life.
A few years later, I was thrilled to see Brother Trethowan at the Sydney Australia Temple. He was in excellent health and he and his wife continued to serve the Lord there as temple ordinance workers. He told me that if he had not left the island on that flight, his mortal life would have ended there.

Listen to general conference. Once, just before general conference, I was feeling discouraged and prayed to know if anyone understood my situation. That very conference, Elder David S. Baxter of the Seventy said: “There are, of course, some single families where it is the father who is the single parent. Brethren, we also pray for you and pay tribute to you.”3 That helped me understand that the same love and support given to single mothers is available to single fathers too.

May I conclude with a heart-tugging account of one small boy, a Cub Scout whose love of Scouting brought him and those who knew him and loved him closer to God as he reached upward and stepped over the limits of mortality and entered the broad expanse of eternity, clad in the uniform he loved and wearing the honor he had won—in Scouting.
In October 1992, nine-year-old Jared Barney passed away as a result of brain cancer. He had, in his short life, endured multiple surgeries, along with radiation and chemotherapy treatments. His last surgery was August 9, 1992. A month after that, an MRI picked up six new tumors, two of which were already quite large.
The radiation and chemotherapy made Jared very ill. The surgeries were difficult, but he always bounced back very quickly. Although he suffered much pain, the Lord blessed and sustained him.
Jared had a special spirit that drew others to him. He never complained about how he felt or about having to be sick or about the treatments he had to have. When asked how he was doing, he always said, “Good,” no matter how he felt. He was ever known for his contagious smile. The Light of Christ was in his eyes.
May I quote from Jared’s mother, Olivia, who wrote concerning his last days: “Our many prayers were answered in behalf of our little son. We prayed that he would be able to walk, talk, and see until the end, and then that the Lord would take him quickly. He was able to do all of these things, and we are so thankful to the Lord for answering our prayers. Jared loved life so much, and we wanted him to be able to enjoy it fully until the end.
“Jared had earned some Cub Scout awards three weeks prior to his passing. He had earned his Bear badge, his Faith in God, a Gold Arrow Point, and two Silver Arrow Points. We know that he loved to get those awards. He was failing quickly, and he wouldn’t even let himself sleep until he could attend the pack meeting held on October 14, 1992, to achieve his awards. At the pack meeting, he raised his hand three times and told everyone how long he had waited for these awards and how happy he was to get them. When we returned home, he asked me to sew his badges on that very night. I did. Then he prayed that Heavenly Father would let him sleep because he was so tired. He said that three times. He went to sleep and never moved all night. From then on he slept most of the time until his passing.
“We buried him in his Cub Scout shirt with those long-awaited emblems sewn and pinned on the front. He had a beautiful service. Many were present, for he had made so many friends in the community through his example of courage and faith.”
Such was the influence of an inspired program in the life of a tiny boy and his family.

Before he was called as a General Authority, Marion G. Romney was a state legislator and a prominent member of the Democratic Party in Utah. As the 1936 election neared, it was viewed by both parties as a referendum on the record of the administration of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Roosevelt's opponents pressed him to declare himself willing to abide by the decisions of the Supreme Court. When he would not do that, the Deseret News published an unattributed front-page editorial the Saturday before the election (without mentioning Roosevelt by name) saying that the record of one of the candidates could be construed to indicate he would press for unconstitutional legislation. The editorial urged Church members to vote to protect the Constitution.

President Romney's biographer records that, when the editorial appeared, Romney was stunned. As a Democratic politician working on the re-election committee of the democratic governor of Utah, he felt that his political life had collapsed around him. It was only an editorial, and some would argue it was a legal matter and not an ecclesiastical one, but it was on the front page of the newspaper considered the voice of the Church.

He began to fast. He went to his law office, locked the door, and when he left after three hours of anguished prayer, he had received an assurance that the editorial was inspired and had been written by the Church President. He believed he had no choice but to resign from the governor's committee, which he did, and then spent his efforts from that time until the election trying to dissuade his friends from voting for Franklin Roosevelt. The election was a landslide. Democratic party candidates were swept into power at all levels of government. President Romney soon realized he'd made a costly political decision, but he believed he had done the right thing and that was enough for him.

I went through a time when I began to wonder if the Church was really the only true church on the earth. My friends all seemed to believe that their churches were true, and they are good people with high standards.
I set a goal to gain a testimony. I knew it would take time. I prayed, studied the scriptures, and made sure I attended all my Church meetings and activities. I really listened and asked questions, and I thought about all my parents had taught me. After I truly understood the gospel, I began to learn more about my friends’ churches. As I talked with my friends, I realized how fulfilling the gospel is in my life. As I shared with them my beliefs, I realized that I did know that the Church is true. A feeling came over me that was so great.
Don’t ever give up. A desire to gain a testimony is a sign that you are building one already.
Kerianna Copeland, 14Franklin, Pennsylvania

Last year the children in Clara’s grade-four class were assigned to give four-to-five-minute speeches. Clara chose to give a speech on the Holocaust, which she presented as if she were a girl in a concentration camp. When she first rehearsed her speech, it took eight minutes and 40 seconds to give because many of the words were hard to say. She practiced it over and over. The speech slowly grew shorter as she learned to say the words fluently. She finally presented the speech in four minutes and 40 seconds, and her classmates chose her to represent them in front of the whole school. When she did, the entire student body broke into wild applause. Many of them had known Clara since grade one, and her progress seemed miraculous. “The principal was crying,” Clara’s mom recalls. “Clara’s grade-two teacher was crying. Her grade-four teacher was cheering. It was such a victory—one of the greatest moments of my life!”
What did Clara learn from the experience? “Keep trying,” she counsels children everywhere. “Never give up.”
Of course, prayer was also a vital part of Clara’s triumph. She has great faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Primary, home evenings, scripture study, and her parents’ teachings have helped. Her older sisters have made a difference too, both through their good examples and their reading materials. As soon as Carly, 18, and Josie, 15, turned 12 in their turn, they began putting New Era Posters on their mirrors. Clara has also memorized seminary scripture mastery scriptures and learned President Hinckley’s six B’s with her sisters.

Through EnglishConnect, Haustia Rocha Ballam took responsibility for her education as she increased her testimony of the gospel.

“Don’t give up on your dreams,” says Haustia, who completed a degree through BYU–Pathway Worldwide.

Photograph courtesy of BYU–Pathway Worldwide
Haustia Rocha Ballam wanted to learn English so she could pursue a university degree through BYU–Pathway Worldwide. As a new member of the Church, she also wanted to learn more about the gospel. EnglishConnect was her ticket to do both.
“I did not speak English,” recalls Haustia, from Bahia, Brazil. “I could only say ‘Hi’ and ‘How are you?’”
Haustia says she will always remember her first EnglishConnect in-person gathering, where she wondered if she would ever expand her English beyond simple greetings. That changed when one of the service missionaries bore his testimony at the end of the gathering.
“I was not understanding anything during the class, but I understood everything he said because I felt the Spirit,” she says. “That helped me not to give up. When I left the gathering, I was so happy, with determination to learn English and to keep studying with EnglishConnect.”
Photograph courtesy of BYU–Pathway Worldwide
With that determination—and a lot of hard work, prayer, and faith—Haustia overcame her shyness and fear. She learned gospel principles “that helped me take responsibility to become what I want to be in the future.” And she became a “lead student,” making lifelong friends, helping others, and gaining confidence.
After EnglishConnect, Haustia continued to BYU–Pathway Worldwide, where she completed foundational courses (called PathwayConnect) and then a bachelor’s degree online in applied health from Brigham Young University–Idaho. She said her education has opened doors to many job opportunities. Today she works in health-related customer support.
“When we learn English and learn about the gospel at the same time, Heavenly Father helps us by giving us revelation to learn,” she says. “I would tell new students, ‘Don’t give up on your dreams. Embrace this incredible opportunity to study through EnglishConnect and BYU–Pathway Worldwide. It will bring you important opportunities to achieve your educational and spiritual goals.’”

President Thomas S. Monson shared with us the story of the first President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Thomas B. Marsh. He related to us, in his talk in October 2009 General Conference, the following:

“I believe most of us are familiar with the sad account of Thomas B. Marsh and his wife, Elizabeth. Brother Marsh was one of the first modern-day Apostles called after the Church was restored to the earth. He eventually became President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
While the Saints were in Far West, Missouri, Elizabeth Marsh, Thomas’s wife, and her friend Sister Harris decided they would exchange milk in order to make more cheese than they otherwise could. To be certain all was done fairly, they agreed that they should not save what were called the stripping’s, but that the milk and stripping’s should all go together. Stripping’s came at the end of the milking and were richer in cream.
Sister Harris was faithful to the agreement, but Sister Marsh, desiring to make some especially delicious cheese, saved a pint of stripping’s from each cow and sent Sister Harris the milk without the stripping’s. This caused the two women to quarrel. When they could not settle their differences, the matter was referred to the home teachers to settle. They found Elizabeth Marsh guilty of failure to keep her agreement. She and her husband were upset with the decision, and the matter was then referred to the bishop for a Church trial. The bishop’s court decided that the stripping’s were wrongfully saved and that Sister Marsh had violated her covenant with Sister Harris.
Thomas Marsh appealed to the high council, and the men comprising this council confirmed the bishop’s decision. He then appealed to the First Presidency of the Church. Joseph Smith and his counselors considered the case and upheld the decision of the high council.
Elder Thomas B. Marsh, who sided with his wife through all of this, became angrier with each successive decision—so angry, in fact, that he went before a magistrate and swore that the Mormons were hostile toward the state of Missouri. His affidavit led to—or at least was a factor in—Governor Lilburn Boggs’ cruel extermination order, which resulted in over 15,000 Saints being driven from their homes, with all the terrible suffering and consequent death that followed. All of these events followed because of a disagreement over the exchange of milk and cream.”

On one occasion when I arrived home late from an assignment, my wife expressed concern about one of our sons. She was worried that his mind was not riveted upon serving a mission, and she said as much to me. Her concerns certainly captured my attention, and I asked where the son was. She told me that he was in his room preparing to retire. Immediately I went to the room and sat on the edge of his bed. When I asked if I could speak with him a moment, he said, “Certainly.”

The hour was late. He was tired, and so was I. I, therefore, could see that nothing would be gained by a long conversation. And following the direct Alma-and-Helaman approach, the conversation went something like this:

“Son, are you still planning on serving a mission?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I’ve always planned on serving, and I haven’t changed.”
“Son, do you know what qualifies a young man to serve a mission? Do you know what worthiness means?”
“Yes, Dad,” he said. “I understand the requirements and standards of worthiness that must be met.”
I said, “Thank you. I have one last question: Are you clean and worthy to serve? Could you accept a call if one were issued you today?”
There was a moment of reflective silence; then he declared: “It isn’t easy. Temptation is real and found everywhere. However, since you’ve asked, I am clean and I am worthy to serve.”

This was a wonderful, beautiful, spontaneous, and sanctifying experience.

I thanked my son, kissed him, assured him of my love, and bid him good night. I returned to my bedroom and told my wife that all was well and that she could go to sleep.

Deciding to Be Baptized
Kerry Johnson, 16, Farragut Ward
I remember when I was deciding whether or not to be baptized. One day, I got up really early. It was a Saturday. I went out into this field we lived by. The sun was just coming up. I was lying down, really praying a lot about if the Church was true or not. I lay there awhile just thinking. I didn’t know whether to ask for a sign or what, but I started getting a good feeling. When I opened my eyes, all these little butterflies were flying up from the grass. It seemed to fit how I felt. I knew in that moment that the Church was true.

“I’m just a man like you,” the voice replied. “I’m in an adjacent chamber. When I lived on Earth I was called Desmond Jeffress.”
“Desmond Jeffress?”
“My, but that is sweet. That’s the first time I’ve heard my name spoken in more than 300 years.”
“You’ve been in space that long?” I asked, gasping at so profound a claim. Only the reality of hyperspace would allow such a thing.
The voice simply answered, “Yes.”
Looking directly at me with soft, brown eyes, he said, “I’m dying. I’ve lived more than 300 years, and I’ve barely an hour left.”
“I’m sure,” he responded. “That’s why I sent the SOS. I didn’t want to die alone, and, more important, I didn’t want to have lived in vain.”
“Three centuries before you were born I began my chronicle of the universe. Though there are countless planets, stars, and galaxies that I have never approached, I have nevertheless chronicled a total of 237 galaxies with 100 trillion stars and 600 trillion planets. I was able to visit exactly 200,000 of those planets, if only for a moment. If it sounds like I’ve been busy, I have. Never for an instant have I been idle. My last wish was to see all that I have learned safely delivered into another human’s hands. Since that is now assured, I should be able to die knowing that my life was not in vain. Still … still, something is not right.” He paused a moment, wheezing slightly. “I should feel at peace, but instead I’m more anxious than before.”
“Do you know why?” I asked.
“I believe,” he said, “that my mind is still troubled on one matter, on one foolish little matter.”
“What is that?”
“I had,” the old man recalled, “before I went into space, been somewhat of an atheist. I’ve always been analytic and cannot accept anything as true until it has been proven by experimentation. Not long after my voyages began, I found myself believing in God. I had become aware of a pattern, of a design in the universe, and observing mankind’s potential to control it, I felt a relationship, a descendency if you will, with some remarkably infinite power, maybe even a living, tangible being.
“From then on all of my experiments and voyages, of which my journals and chronicles became but by-products, were whole-hearted efforts to prove the existence and nature of God. All my knowledge was continually applied to this single purpose. I was determined to prove God, so that I could know, and not just feel, that he lives.
“However, despite all of my efforts, the most powerful evidence was nothing more than a strong indication of what I believed. It always left room for doubt.
“I’ve been almost everywhere and seen almost everything, and still have no proof that God exists. I’m a scientist believing something with no definite proof of its validity. That is my anxiety.”
“Have you ever asked God?” I inquired.
“How is that done?” he replied.
I then proceeded to bear my testimony to him. My testimony of God, that he is the Creator, that he is everyone’s Father in Heaven, of the premortal existence, of the plan of salvation, and of the atonement of Christ, and that Jesus is the Only Begotten Son of God; my testimony of all these things fell from my lips with more power than it ever had before.
We talked. In the short time available, our conversation must have touched upon nearly every principle of the gospel.
I told him that I did not just believe the things I’d said. I explained that I knew them by the power of the Holy Ghost, through prayer, that being the only way that anyone could know.
He then prayed one of the most fervent prayers that I’ve ever heard. He ignored my presence in the room as the words of supplication rolled smoothly off from his tongue, and when he ended his prayer, he knew! One quick glance at his tear-washed eyes and it was clear: he knew!
He looked up, right at me, and he said, “Young man, contained in this spacecraft is knowledge accumulated from more than three centuries of constant research, as I traveled from one galaxy to another, and never has it meant more to me than it does now.”
His eyes held mine in a firm stare as he continued, “The knowledge that you have shared with me for the last hour is more important than all the rest of the knowledge I’ve gathered put together. Thank you,” he said.
The moment that he finished uttering those words his final breath wheezed from his lungs. Silence permeated the air.