Gospel Story Finder

The Lion King is a classic animated film about the African savanna. When the lion king dies while saving his son, the young lion prince is forced into exile while a despot ruler destroys the balance of the savanna. The lion prince reclaims the kingdom through the help of a mentor. His eyes are opened to the necessity of balance in the great circle of life on the savanna. Claiming his rightful place as king, the young lion followed counsel to “look beyond what you see.”1

One day I came home from track practice exhausted. I had a lot of homework due the next day, practice had been grueling, and I was hungry and tired. Trying not to think of all the chores I still had to do, I made it through the doors of my house. My thoughts weren’t so happy as I marched down to the basement. I was ready to lash out at anybody who was in my way. As I made my way into the kitchen, I smelled dinner, which was nearly ready, and saw that my sister was just finishing the dishes. The other rooms were also clean, and good music was playing on the radio. I dropped my stuff in my room and came out to see who had cleaned the place. I asked my sister about it, and she said, “I decided that you might like some supper. And the dishes needed to be done, and you weren’t going to be home for a while, so I just decided to surprise you.” I was overwhelmed. I hugged her. Making my way to my room, my entire attitude changed. Although my day had started off not so great, it ended well, because my sister decided to show an act of kindness. I knelt down and poured out my gratitude to my Father in Heaven.

The story that stood out to me in the November 2010 New Era was “He Is My Savior Too.” The story is about a young woman in a choir class who hears someone else take the Lord’s name in vain. When she asks the girl not to swear, other classmates agreed. The reason that this story is my favorite is because it made the girl who took the Lord’s name in vain stop and realize what she was saying.
Bradi M., Utah

On September 11, 2001, the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City were hit by terrorist-controlled airliners that caused both towers to collapse. Thousands of people were killed. Out of this tragedy have come hundreds of stories of courageous, unselfish acts. One very poignant and heroic account is the Washington Post’s story of retired army colonel Cyril “Rick” Rescorla, who was working as vice president for corporate security of Morgan Stanley Dean Witter.

Rick was a very experienced ex-military combat leader. He was in his office when “the first plane struck the north tower at 8:48 a.m. … He took a call from the 71st floor reporting the fireball in One World Trade Center, and he immediately ordered an evacuation of all 2,700 employees in Building Two,” as well as 1,000 more in Building Five. Using his bullhorn, he moved up the floors, working through a bottleneck on the 44th and going as high as the 72nd, helping to evacuate the people from each floor. One friend who saw Rick reassuring people in the 10th-floor stairwell told him, “Rick, you’ve got to get out, too.”

“As soon as I make sure everyone else is out,” he replied.

“He was not rattled at all. He was putting the lives of his colleagues ahead of his own.” He called headquarters to say he was going back up to search for stragglers.

His wife had watched the United Airlines jet go through his tower. “After a while, her phone rang. It was Rick.

“‘I don’t want you to cry,’ he said. ‘I have to evacuate my people now.’

“She kept sobbing.

“‘If something happens to me, I want you to know that you made my life.’

“The phone went dead.” Rick did not make it out.

“Morgan Stanley lost only six of its 2,700 employees in the south tower on Sept. 11, an isolated miracle amid the carnage. And company officials say Rescorla deserves most of the credit. He drew up the evacuation plan. He hustled his colleagues to safety. And then he apparently went back into the inferno to search for stragglers. He was the last man out of the south tower after the World Trade Center bombing in 1993, and no one seems to doubt that he would’ve been again last month if the skyscraper hadn’t collapsed on him first.”

Amid the great evil and carnage of September 11, 2001, Rick was not looking for what might be in it for him; instead he was unselfishly thinking about others and the danger they were in. Rick Rescorla was the “right man in the right place at the right time.” Rick, “a 62-year-old mountain of a man cooly [sacrificed] his life for others.” As the Savior Himself said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

At a conference championship game of American football, Joseph B. Wirthlin had what he called “a defining experience” during a crucial play.
Illustrations by Ben Sowards
“The play called for me to run the ball up the middle to score the go-ahead touchdown,” he said. “I took the handoff and plunged into the line. I knew I was close to the goal line, but I didn’t know how close. Although I was pinned at the bottom of the pile, I reached my fingers forward a couple of inches and I could feel it. The goal line was two inches (5 cm) away.
“At that moment I was tempted to push the ball forward. I could have done it. … But then I remembered the words of my mother. ‘Joseph,’ she had often said to me, ‘do what is right, no matter the consequence. Do what is right and things will turn out OK.’
“I wanted so desperately to score that touchdown. But more than being a hero in the eyes of my friends, I wanted to be a hero in the eyes of my mother. And so I left the ball where it was—two inches from the goal line.”1 Elder Wirthlin (1917–2008) later served as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

Let me share with you a personal experience from my own youth about the power of righteous motives.
After the turmoil of the Second World War, my family ended up in Russian-occupied East Germany. When I attended fourth grade I had to learn Russian as my first foreign language in school. I found this quite difficult because of the Cyrillic alphabet, but as time went on I seemed to do all right.
When I turned 11 we had to leave East Germany overnight because of the political orientation of my father. Now I was going to school in West Germany, which was American-occupied at that time. There in school all children were required to learn English and not Russian. To learn Russian had been difficult, but English was impossible for me. I thought my mouth was not made for speaking English. My teachers struggled. My parents suffered. And I knew English was definitely not my language.
But then something changed in my young life. Almost daily I rode my bicycle to the airport and watched airplanes take off and land. I read, studied, and learned everything I could find about aviation. It was my greatest desire to become a pilot. I could already picture myself in the cockpit of an airliner or in a military fighter plane. I felt deep in my heart this was my thing!
Then I learned that to become a pilot I needed to speak English. Overnight, to the total surprise of everybody, it appeared as if my mouth had changed. I was able to learn English. It still took a lot of work, persistence, and patience, but I was able to learn English!
Why? Because of a righteous and strong motive!

Cardiff, Wales—
I had an experience that I thought was going to be awful, but from it I gained my testimony.
I’d been having some hassles in school. One of my teachers was making anti-Mormon comments and telling people that since I was a Mormon I wasn’t Christian. A few of my friends started asking me if what I believed in wasn’t a bit farfetched. All these questions made me wonder about the Church.
About this time, I got a letter from the stake president asking me to bear my testimony in our stake conference. I thought, What am I going to do? I wasn’t even sure I had a testimony.
The more I thought about it, the more unsure I was. I started fasting and praying about it, and I just wasn’t getting an answer. I had grown up in the Church, but I had relied on my parents’ testimonies. Up until then, I had never tried to find out for myself.
The more I prayed, the more disheartened I became. I wasn’t getting an answer at all. I was thinking that if there was really someone there, he would answer me.
The day before stake conference, I was fasting, and I still hadn’t received an answer.
We drove to stake conference, and I still didn’t have an answer.
I was sitting on the stand, waiting to bear my testimony, and I still hadn’t received an answer.
Then as the speaker before me was closing, this feeling just came over me that was fantastic. I was filled with the Spirit. I got up and bore my testimony. I was only supposed to speak for five minutes, but I went on for about ten.
I’m glad I have my answer, and I know that Heavenly Father knew about me and answered my prayer.

When my wife, Blanca, and I were married, the laws of Guatemala required that we be married civilly first. I didn’t like that ceremony—it said that we were married only until death. The next day we left for Arizona, though we had to sell some of our possessions to afford the trip. Being sealed to my wife in the temple for eternity was one of the most joyful experiences of my life.
But we soon discovered that we didn’t have enough money to return to Guatemala. When we went to church, a man shook my hand and left a U.S. $20 bill in it. Another man did the same. I had said nothing of our problems. But we had told Heavenly Father.
I was a stake president when the temple in Guatemala was announced. It was my privilege to help raise funds for the temple and prepare the people to be worthy to enter it. We were asked to raise U.S. $10,000. Children, young people, and adults all participated. The people of the stake were so enthusiastic that we raised about $27,000—almost three times as much as our goal.
When our youngest child, Daniel, was 11 years old, he told us he wanted a special gift when he turned 12. He wanted to go to the temple and be baptized for some of his ancestors. The whole family got involved in family history. We grew closer to our living relatives and found several ancestors whose temple work had not been done. On my son’s 12th birthday, he was baptized for these people. I performed the ordinances. Daniel gained a greater testimony of temple work.
As you can see, many of the best moments of my life have been spent in the house of the Lord. It can be the same for each of you.
Always remember that our Lord Jesus Christ loves children. When we read about His visit to the Americas after His Resurrection, we learn that He called the children to Him and blessed each of them. There are not many times in the scriptures when the writer couldn’t record the things that were said, but this was one of them. The words and the blessings were so sacred they could not be written. (See 3 Ne. 17:12–23.) Jesus loves you just as He loved those children.
I believe that my testimony was just as firm when I was 12 years old as it is today. You do not have to be a grown-up to have a testimony of Jesus Christ or to make a difference. Perhaps sometimes you don’t realize how much good you are doing for your parents, for your relatives, and for the world.

Some years ago I met a young man who had been in the armed forces and had flown a plane that completed one of the first bombing trips over Germany. In England after the war was over, he was selected to represent the American soldiers in an introduction to the Queen Mother and her daughters. He was put through a training course on how he should salute them. When he was finally introduced to them, he said, very naturally, “Hello, girls, how are you?” That won them over for him. I heard this same young man speak at a youth fireside. He held up the Book of Mormon and said, “This is what brought me home clean. I read it day after day.” Then he advised the young people to catch the spirit of that book, as it would keep them on the straight and narrow path.

John’s a senior in high school, and he’s worried. He’s worried because it’s time to make some important decisions, and he doesn’t know yet what he wants to do for a living. He doesn’t know if he should go to college or trade school or get into the service, or maybe just grab the first job he can find after his mission and hang onto it. He really doesn’t know for sure what his goals in life are, but he knows he’s got to start preparing himself right now one way or the other. So he takes his dad’s advice and prays about it.
No answer.
And yet he has consulted the best career counselor who ever lived. Nobody’s a nobody. The Lord has prepared everybody to do something in an excellent way. It’s our responsibility to find out what that something is. A man’s occupation is an important part of his foreordained mission in life, and he owes it to himself to seek the Lord’s help in choosing a career.
But too often we ask the Lord to tell us what he’s already told us. Like John we expect to receive a neat typewritten answer without ever studying what’s already been given to us. When Oliver Cowdrey asked why he was unable to translate the Book of Mormon plates, the Lord told him:
“… you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.”
“But, 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 9:7–8.)
The Lord has already revealed a great deal about our individual missions in life. We each receive a patriarchal blessing that helps clarify our future. When we are confirmed, ordained, set apart, administered to, given a father’s blessing, or otherwise blessed by the power of the priesthood, we often receive instruction and advice that help illuminate our callings. We have received inspired counsel from parents, friends, and Church leaders from time to time, and each of us has enjoyed personal impressions through the Spirit. All these guideposts have been given to us so that through prayerful consideration we can understand God’s plan for us. Our likes, dislikes, and talents are also aids that we should use in reaching a decision. Our talents are given to us for a reason, and we are expected to use them.
Here is an exercise that may help you study out in your own mind what the Lord would have you do with your life, based on these sources of revelation. Fill out a chart according to the directions. When you reach a plan that feels good to you, pray about it. If it continues to grow and feel good during your best spiritual moments—then you will have some faithful goals and plans for your life.
The next step will be to start preparing for the future you’ve chosen. It may take some courage—courage to change your plans, to earn less money than you could expect from another field, to work hard, to disappoint some people who had different dreams for you, or even to create a whole new profession to fit your destiny. But if you know it’s right, do it.
Column 1:
Things I Love to DoList everything you really love to do. (Examples: tennis, paint, build things, music, play with kids.)
Column 2:
Things That Really CountIf you knew you had a week to live, how would you spend your time? List the things that you think are really important.
Column 3:
Things I Do WellList things you feel you do well or others tell you that you do well. (Examples: sing, smile, “way with kids.”)
Column 4:
Talents I HaveFrom your patriarchal blessing and other blessings you have received (when you were blessed as a baby, confirmed a member of the Church, etc.), list those things that might have been mentioned by way of gifts or talents. (Examples: mother, teacher, missionary, leader of people.) List any of these things you feel inside, whether or not they have been mentioned elsewhere.
Column 5:
My Missions or Callings in LifeAlso from blessings, counsel, or personal impressions, list any missions or callings you feel might be in store for you. (Examples: missionary, father, friend to needy.)
Column 6:
Warnings: Things to Watch Out ForFrom your blessing or elsewhere, list those things that you really need to be careful of. (Examples: humility, material things, pride.)
Column 7:
?Head this column any way you want, with things that might help you see your life better. (Examples: strengths, things I don’t like, unusual weaknesses.) Many times unusual weaknesses are signs of potential strength. Many great public speakers got that way by working on their speaking because they were so frightened and did so poorly when they began.
Column 8:
BrainstormJust jot down any idea that comes into your head that might fit a pattern you see in the information you have just collected. For instance, if you really love the outdoors, your family really counts, and you have a talent for writing, a brainstorming idea might be to be a park ranger and do free lance writing about wildlife, and spend time with your family.
The brainstorming session is the cutting edge of the system. It’s through carefully and spiritually pondering the alternatives arrived at in this session that you’ll evolve an inspired plan that you can take before the Lord for his approval. So be creative and prayerful in finding alternatives that fit the guidelines you jotted down on the chart. Remember that while the job itself need not provide all the opportunities you want, it should at least allow them and, hopefully, facilitate them.
For instance, if you love to write, have a strong interest in science, and have been inspired to do genealogical research, you could perhaps plan to be science editor of a newspaper in an area where there is a genealogical library. If you also like children, you might choose instead to teach science in school and do freelance writing as well as keep up your research. You might even choose to be a professional genealogical researcher, do volunteer work with retarded children, and keep writing and science as hobbies.
I once asked a man in a fireside group what he would like to do more than anything else if he could just do whatever he wanted. His face lit up, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands came to life, and he told me that he’d just love to have a whole room full of power tools and bring all the kids in the neighborhood in to help them build birdhouses, playhouses, chicken coops, or anything in the whole world they wanted to build. He loved kids; he loved tools; he loved building things; his whole face was aglow with it. I asked him what he was studying at school; the light went out, and he told me he was studying to be a civil engineer. Why? Because his father was one, it paid good money, and so on. I knew he had the capability of being a good civil engineer, but I asked him, “Have you ever thought about teaching shop instead and spending all day working with power tools and teaching kids how to build things?” He just about fell off his chair. His mouth hung open. His eyes lit up again. It had simply never occurred to him to take stock of what he really liked to do, of what really mattered to him in choosing a career. He had never stopped to think that his wonderful love for young people might be there for that kind of a purpose. He had decided the biggest part of the rest of his life with his eyes closed.
It’s a mistake we can’t afford to make. Pray, study, ponder, choose, and pray some more. And then do it all over again if necessary. If we plan our lives and professions in harmony with the Lord’s wisdom and our own deepest and truest values, we will have a much better chance of doing what we were sent here to do.
Remember, this is just a way to learn to “study it out” and find out more about you and your life. Try; don’t be afraid to dream and ponder. The Lord will help you find that which you can be happy doing, and do it in a special way.

I still have a small set of scriptures that my mom and dad gave me when I turned seventeen. I will always remember one time as a young woman when I read the Book of Mormon. I had read it before, but this time it was different. Perhaps I was more in tune with the Spirit, or maybe I had studied more diligently or prayed more fervently. This time I wanted to know for myself if the Book of Mormon was true.
As I finished Alma chapter thirty-two, with that wonderful passage about faith, I had a feeling that I recognized as a witness from the Holy Ghost. I knew the Book of Mormon was true. I wanted to tell the whole world how I felt, but I was alone. So with tears of joy streaming down my face, I wrote a big red star at the top of the page and wrote, “May 31, 7:30 A.M. This I know, as if written to me.” Then in the margin on one side, “I have received a confirmation. I know the Book of Mormon is true!” In the other margin I wrote, “One month ago I began fasting each Tuesday for a more sure knowledge. This I know.”

Alma Elizabeth’s father had trouble walking. In Sweden he had been a concert violinist and an orchestra director. Then rheumatism crippled him. Slowly he learned to use his hands and feet again, but it was difficult and painful. Elizabeth’s father was unable to walk as fast as the wagon train was moving, and he insisted that his family continue with the wagon train, promising to overtake them later.
Her father struggled on until he saw a light. It was a camp of soldiers on their way to the Civil War. One soldier spoke Swedish. When they learned that Alma Elizabeth’s father was a musician, they found a violin and he played it for them. In the morning they took him on horseback and overtook the wagon train.

The hills in southern Utah are as round and smooth as apples. In winter, snow blankets the rock. Even in spring, there are few plants. Wind-whipped, a level surface suddenly turns into gulches and blind canyons, cliffs falling thousands of feet to the rare river. In the winter of 1879–80, 230 people, 83 wagons, and 1,000 head of livestock made this unbelievable journey.

After the first four weeks of travel, their road ended at 40-Mile Spring. Snow filled the mountain passes behind them. The only possible way was through the rocky canyon lands to a crack, or hole, in the cliff that dropped 1,000 feet (over 300 m) down to the Colorado River. Using hand tools and the little bit of black powder they had, the men divided into three teams and began to work. The first team widened the crack.

The second team chiseled, blasted, and filled the trail, which they called a dugway. At first it couldn’t even be walked down. Men were lowered in half barrels to where they chiseled holes two inches (five cm) wide and 10 inches (25 cm) deep. Stakes were pounded into the holes, then covered with poles, brush, and dirt, thus tacking 50 feet (15 m) of road onto the cliff face. The finished road was 1,800 feet (550 m) long.

The third team worked on a steep dugway rising from the other side of the river for use once the wagons were ferried across the river.

After six weeks of hard work, on January 26, 1880, they started down through the hole-in-the-rock. The rear wheels of the heavily loaded wagons were chained. One man drove each wagon while as many as ten men held it back with ropes. The women and children preferred to walk and slide to the river. Not a single wagon was lost.

The first day of my senior year, I felt lucky to discover that Alyce Pringle was in two of my classes. I say lucky because a class with Alyce meant a class with pizzazz. No one ever knew what to expect from her. Alyce was Hollenda High’s school clown, a true comedienne who, with the raise of an eyebrow, could create hysteria. The teachers, therefore, weren’t particularly wild about her, but we, her classmates, loved her.
It was Alyce who was chosen to play the part of the domineering mother in our school play Goodbye Birdie and who brought down the house just by walking out on the stage wearing a gray wig and big sloppy shoes. It was Alyce who ran for cheerleader in her dad’s old army uniform. It was Alyce who outwitted all the candidates for secretary of the school by using portions of all their speeches for her speech. “Did you hear what Alyce did (or said) today?” people would ask each other in the halls. No one asked which Alyce. Everyone knew it was the Alyce.
Why Alyce began picking on me, I’m not sure. Perhaps it was because I was shy and blushed easily. She always mentioned my blushing, which made me blush more. Maybe it was because I was too stoic and serious for my own good. “Here’s Bill,” she’d say, mimicking the way I pushed my glasses back, my nose in a book. Maybe it was because she had found out that I am a Mormon.
One day when Mr. Jackson asked me to work out a problem on the blackboard, I unthinkingly put the chalk in my mouth for a moment. Alyce noticed it right away. “Bill!” she said loudly. “What will people think!” I took the chalk out quickly and blushed as 25 students giggled. When I got back to my seat, I surprised Alyce by joking back. I faked a cough. Alyce liked that.
I didn’t really mind Alyce’s teasing. I’d never been in the limelight before, and it was fun and exciting. If Alyce had been malicious in her teasing, it might have been a different story, but she was never cruel. She never teased behind anyone’s back. Being teased by Alyce, I felt, was a compliment. Because we sat next to each other in one of our classes—algebra—we began talking once in a while before class. At first Alyce only joked, no matter what I said. But then in time she let her mask slip once in a while, and I saw that Alyce wasn’t all clown. I doubted that many people knew that. It was just when I thought Alyce and I might become fairly good friends, however, that I did something that almost ruined our friendship.
Mr. Thorndike had thrown a surprise Spanish vocabulary test at us. It had surprised even me. Usually I was one step ahead of Thorndike and anticipated his tests, but this time he had fooled me. I had only read over the words once and had worked on my physics project the night before instead.
After the test was over, I knew I’d flunked it royally. I’d missed at least 14 of the words. Then, to my humiliation, Mr. Thorndike had us correct the tests in class. He gathered them up and then passed them around haphazardly. I wondered self-consciously who would get mine and think I was a real dunce.
The next day after he had recorded the grades, Mr. Thorndike passed the tests back to us. “Congratulations, Bill. You got the only 100,” he said, as he handed my test back.
“I couldn’t have.”
“Well, you did.”
“No, I …” I looked at the test. It definitely had my name on it, and it also had a big underlined 100 percent in the corner. I controlled a gasp. All the spaces I had left blank had been carefully filled in. Someone had cheated for me. But why? I looked around the room and saw that the students sitting around Alyce were looking at me and giggling. Alyce had her head down but was grinning widely. I realized what I should have known. Somehow Alyce had managed to get my test paper and had corrected it. As a prank she had filled in the right answers. Now what do I do, I wondered. Alyce, why did you have to do that? I thought unhappily. I looked back down at the test. I couldn’t accept an A, and the grades were already recorded in Mr. Thorndike’s roll book. Yet, I couldn’t tell on Alyce either.
“Thought you said you flunked it.” Ralph, my buddy, walked out of class with me. I still had the test paper in my hand, my fingers covering the 100 percent.
“Alyce has really done it,” I said.
“Oh, no.” Ralph began to laugh.
“What can I do? What would you do?”
“I don’t know. Just forget it, I guess.”
“Ralph, I can’t accept an A. I told you, I flunked it.”
“Sneak up and change the grade when Thorndike isn’t looking?”
“Sure.”
“Then just forget about it. You get Alyce in trouble and the whole school will be down on you.”
“But most people know what you and I stand for. They know who all the Latter-day Saints are. Even if I didn’t mind being dishonest personally, and I do, I still can’t cheat because it would put the Church in a bad light.”
“Having everyone in the school hate you wouldn’t help the Church much either, would it?”
“No.”
“Just forget it.”
“You’re probably right.” Sure, I thought, Ralph is right. I won’t make waves. I’ll just forget it. But by the end of the day, by algebra, I still hadn’t been able to forget it. I knew I’d have to talk to Alyce about it.
“Got a 100 on the Spanish test, huh?” Alyce said grinning. Her dark eyes crinkled mischievously. When she wasn’t pulling faces, Alyce was a pretty girl.
“Yes,” I said. “Amazing isn’t it, since I didn’t study?” She could sense my misery.
“You don’t sound very happy for someone who just got an A on a test he didn’t even study for.”
“I’m not,” I said. “Alyce, you’ve put me in a spot. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t accept that A. Now what do I do?”
“Oh, brother! I should have known better. You’re such a bore, Bill, so predictable.” She tried to laugh it off. “Well, go ahead and tell. I don’t care.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I said I don’t care. Do what you feel you have to do.” I could tell she did care. Talking to her hadn’t made the situation any easier. Then, in the middle of one of the algebra problems, I thought of something. Mr. Thorndike would have no way of knowing that Alyce had corrected my test unless I told him. I could simply tell him that someone had changed my answers and that I deserved an F, not an A. He wouldn’t ask me if I knew who had corrected the test because he wouldn’t think I knew. How would I know? Even if he suspected Alyce, he had no proof. And, if he asked me if I knew who had done it, I’d just tell him outright that I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. After algebra, I smiled at Alyce and touched her arm.
“Don’t worry,” I said.
After school I went right into Spanish and told Mr. Thorndike what had happened. He seemed angry, but he didn’t ask me if I knew who had done it. I stood and watched as he crossed out the A and put an F in its place.
“Next time maybe I’d better be prepared,” I said sheepishly.
“Yes,” he said.
I thought that was the end of it, but it wasn’t. The next day I could tell by the way Thorndike stood up that he was wearing war paint. I held my breath.
“Day before yesterday someone corrected Bill McKinley’s vocabulary test,” Mr. Thorndike said slowly. “That person filled in some right answers and gave Bill a grade he didn’t deserve. Now I want to know who that person is.” The color must have drained from my face. I didn’t dare look to see what Alyce was doing for fear I’d give her away. “Let me continue,” Mr. Thorndike said. “If that person does not identify himself, this whole class will be punished. I don’t know how right now, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. Now who did it?”
I put my head in my hands and began moaning inwardly. Why did this have to be happening. Tension increased in the room as no one spoke. My chest felt thick inside. Then I surprised myself. “Look,” I spoke out. “I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble.”
“Quiet, Bill,” Mr. Thorndike said sternly. “Once again, I ask, who did it?” he said dramatically.
“I said I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble,” I repeated, once again surprising myself and Mr. Thorndike who still had his mouth open and was staring at me.
Before he had a chance to rebuke me, a clear voice said, “I corrected it.”
“Who said that?” Mr. Thorndike looked around the room.
“Me. I did it,” Alyce said bravely. “It was just a joke.”
Mr. Thorndike, who had never liked Alyce much, nodded. Anger flared in his eyes. “I should have known. Yes, I should have known. Well, I’m tired of this kind of thing, young lady, and we’ll have no more of it.” He was speaking loudly. “You’re seniors now, and I’m tired of this kind of business. It’s thoroughly immature. Next year you’ll be going out into the world, and you are still acting like children. Alyce, you’ll see me after class. I’ll have to take measures. I’m sick of it, and I’ll have no more of it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
The rest of the day I was miserable. I should have listened to Ralph, I thought. It was such a small thing, one lousy test. Such a stupid thing to make such a big deal about, to have been such a stickler over. Why hadn’t I just kept my mouth shut?
I didn’t know what to say to Alyce later when I sat next to her in algebra, and she wouldn’t look at me. She had her head down, and her hair had draped down in front of her face. “Alyce,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d do that. It makes me sick. What did he say after class?”
“Oh, he said it would affect my citizenship for the semester. He was mad.”
“You know I didn’t want anything like that to happen.”
“I know,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.” But it did matter, for my relationship with Alyce changed. Although she still joked with others, she quit teasing me, and though we still spoke, she seemed aloof. At the time I thought it was because Alyce was angry, but now I realize she was probably just embarrassed. It saddened me to have a barrier between us, but I figured that in time, maybe before the end of the school year, our friendship would be back to normal.

When I was nearly 20 years old, being a Latter-day Saint from an LDS family and attending BYU–Idaho, the questions started coming. “Have you put your papers in?” “Are you excited about going on a mission?”
I had always thought I would serve a mission, but when the time came to serve, I just avoided the matter.
For a long weekend, I made the four- to five-hour drive from Rexburg to my family’s home in Orem, Utah.
That weekend, home was filled with family and friends coming and going. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends added to an almost holiday feel. I seemed to keep getting pulled aside by family members and asked the usual mission questions. It was usually followed by offers of encouragement and support.
My Uncle Rick talked about how, as the oldest boy in the family, I would be setting an important example for my younger brother by serving a mission. Uncle Bob offered a fun anecdote from his mission to Sweden and said he was excited for me to get my call. My mom tenderly reminded me how much she loved me and how happy it makes her when I make correct choices.
I knew the word was getting around to “remind Rob about a mission.” I might have felt some resentment, but their promptings were delicate. I only felt love and concern when each of them approached me.
It was Sunday afternoon after church. I knew if I left at around 3:30 p.m., it would put me back home in Rexburg by 8:30. I was surprised having so much family around that there wasn’t a big dinner planned after church. In any case, I made a sack lunch for the trip and packed my old blue car for the ride back to school. It hurt to leave so many loving people, and I felt a little guilty I hadn’t come with news that I had put in my mission papers.
My car was dependable most of the time, but it had shown signs of unpredictability. Somewhere past the city of Pocatello, surrounded by the flat farmlands of eastern Idaho, my car began to cough and sputter. I glanced down for a minute, scanning my dashboard for red lights or needles that pointed out perils. Everything seemed OK, but the car continued to hesitate and began to lose power. I looked in my rear view mirror—nothing but darkness.
Surveying the horizon in front of me also reminded me that there were some vast unoccupied areas in Idaho.
My car sputtered and jerked. I was lucky enough to be by a ranch exit. I pulled off and stopped the car under the lone streetlight on the exit. The car shuttered for a minute more before I turned the key off. It was deadly silent, and snow was beginning to fall, which made any traffic on the freeway seem distant.
From experience I knew that if I gave the car a few minutes, I might be able to start it and carry on my trip, but I would have some time to burn. I grabbed my coat and laid it over the top of me and pushed my seat back as far as it would go.
As I lay in the quiet night, the first thing that came to my mind was the conversations I had had that day. The feelings of love and concern that had come from my family seemed to linger and to grow in me. Soon my heart began to swell as I remembered the warmness I had felt from family that day. Soon I knew that it was more than the love from my family I was reflecting on. The story of Alma the Younger came to me. He remembered his father preaching of the “the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world” (Alma 36:17).
My thoughts soon turned toward my Savior and how much He loved me and wanted good things for me. I began to pray and thank Heavenly Father for my family and the opportunities I had. My prayer was reciprocated with an even deeper awareness that Christ loves me and Heavenly Father knows me personally. I found myself having a meaningful spiritual experience I would never forget.
After about an hour had passed, I felt I had restored myself enough to try to drive on. I turned the key, and the car came to life. I revved it a few times and pulled the car back onto the road and then onto the freeway. What was sure in my mind after getting back onto the road was that, first thing the next morning, I wanted to get ahold of my bishop and start getting my mission papers ready.
When I got home, I was eager to call my mom and let her know the news.

Robert M. Veylupek II, a Latter-day Saint from San Gabriel, California, has earned the distinction of being one of the youngest Eagle Scouts in the United States. When he became a Boy Scout at age 11, Robert set the goal of obtaining the award by his 13th birthday, the youngest age at which the Eagle Scout award may be given. Robert, the senior patrol leader of San Gabriel Troop 268, completed the Eagle Scout requirements by earning his 24th merit badge more than 6 months before he turned 13.

Let me share an experience of a Relief Society sister who made a difference and exemplified the objectives of our organization.
This young adult sister, who was teaching English language classes in Japan, found herself on the playground surrounded by a group of Japanese children who were full of questions. “Do you like Japanese or American kids better?” “Do you eat sushi?” “How do you say basketball in English?” Amid the commotion, the young Relief Society sister felt someone tapping her arm. She turned around to see a little girl with pigtails and glasses. “I bent down to look her in the face and waited for what was sure to be some trivial question,” she says. “It was as if all the commotion stopped when she asked in a soft, almost timid voice, ‘Do you know Jesus?’ I was stunned by such a poignant and important question. I smiled and felt amazing love as I told her, ‘Yes, yes, I know Jesus.’”
Dear young adult sisters, you know Jesus. And with that knowledge you bring a clarity, a freshness, and an energy that our sisterhood needs. We value your membership in Relief Society, and you bless us with your faith in the Savior and in His work. An older sister described you in these words: “We are spiritually nourished as we observe you younger, vibrant women who not only have so much vigor and vitality but also who are spiritually mature, with tremendous inner strength of character and testimony—just beautiful to behold. We count our blessings because you are the ones who reassure us and give such faith and ‘a perfect brightness of hope’ for the future” (see 2 Ne. 31:20).

For Caitlin Carr of Utah, some of the admonitions in her patriarchal blessing weren’t immediately clear, but later study of her blessing yielded new insights.
“When I received my patriarchal blessing, I was warned about people who would try and sway me from the truth with pleasing talk. I didn’t think much of it; I had a firm belief in the doctrines I’d been taught.
“However, the following year I was confronted with ideas and philosophies that, on the surface, seemed rooted in fairness and love but were not. These messages seemed to be coming from everywhere: the media, school, even close friends. Even though I knew these philosophies were contrary to God’s plan, I found myself wanting to support both these new worldly ideas and the Church. I soon realized that ‘no man can serve two masters’ (Matthew 6:24) and that I shouldn’t rely on the wisdom of men. Heavenly Father resolved my doubts through the scriptures and spoke peace to my mind and heart. As a result, my testimony has been strengthened and I have become more firm in defending that which I know to be true.”

I have many good memories with my dad. My second birthday was his first day of dental school. Old photographs show us hard at work: Dad with his textbook and model teeth, and me with my clay dental set. I also remember reading the scriptures with Dad. I knew words like and, the, and I, so he would read everything else and pause when he came to words I knew. I was definitely a daddy’s girl.
After Dad graduated, he worked as a dentist in his hometown. As his dental practice grew, so did our family. But over time, I noticed that something seemed wrong. Dad was always gone. And when he was home, he was sleeping. Mom cried a lot, and I could tell she was upset. When I was nine, I demanded to know what was happening.
It was then that I learned my father was severely addicted to narcotic drugs.
At first I didn’t understand the situation. As I learned more, I grew angry with my dad. How could he be so selfish? Why wouldn’t he just stop? Didn’t he love us more than he loved the pills?
I felt so scared and lost. You know how when you lean too far back in a chair, there’s a fraction of a second where you know you’re about to fall, but there’s nothing you can do about it? That’s how it felt. I felt helpless and angry and uncertain all the time.
Dad went to rehab, which didn’t work. He started falsifying prescriptions to feed his addiction. A pharmacist reported him to the authorities, which prompted a criminal investigation. Dad was arrested and charged with several felonies.
He began his prison sentence on my little sister’s ninth birthday. I remember it clearly. Our family went to Grandma’s house for a birthday breakfast—she made homemade orange rolls, which I don’t think she’s made since that day. After breakfast, we tearfully hugged Dad goodbye and watched our parents leave for southern Colorado, to drop Dad off at prison.
I can’t imagine what that drive, and the lonely trip back home, was like for my mom. But she didn’t let herself wallow in negativity. Instead, she decided that our family was going to succeed. I rarely saw her falter in her faith or her resolve to provide for us.
As for me, I didn’t care what happened to Dad—I wanted him gone. I wanted my life back. In my eyes at the time, all the turmoil, heartache, and tears we experienced were his fault.
For a while after Dad left, we kept our heartbreak to ourselves. Then our family’s story hit the front page of the local newspaper. When details were publicized, vicious rumors about my family started floating around. People started treating me differently, as if they pitied me. Girls in my sister’s class at school bullied her. I felt embarrassed for me and my family.
But there was kindness too. Family members took my siblings to school, took care of my little brother while Mom worked, and helped pay bills. My Young Women leader drove me to activities every week. Mom’s coworker bowed out of a job opportunity because she knew Mom needed it more. Members of our stake wrote to Dad every week. Several dentists helped with Dad’s patients. Teachers at school offered to be an emotional “safe place” if I needed one. So many people emulated the scripture that says to “lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees” (Doctrine and Covenants 81:5).
Dad was in prison for about 18 months, at a halfway house for three months, and then on house arrest for three more months. We visited him and talked with him on the phone from time to time, but his homecoming was still a time of anxiety for me. He had been gone for so long! We all had to get used to each other again. I felt uneasy about letting Dad back into my life, as I still felt so angry toward him.
I don’t remember a specific day or moment when I felt whole again—it took time. I didn’t know where to turn, so I learned to pray like I’d never prayed before. I learned to listen to the promptings of the Spirit. I learned to take the spiritual “leap of faith” we sometimes hear about.
Over time, I realized that the plan of redemption is based on Heavenly Father’s understanding that we will all struggle. We all need to be redeemed and to be made whole again. That’s what Jesus Christ can do for us. And that’s what I finally allowed Him to do for me. As I trusted Him, He helped soften my heart. He put me back together again. He helped me heal and forgive.
Today my family’s trials haven’t ceased, but we’ve learned how to do hard things together. I’ve learned that every family, and every person, has struggles and imperfections. I’ve seen how we can use those experiences to strengthen one another rather than hide from one another.
Because of the Savior, my dad has become one of my heroes and trusted confidants. He’s used his experiences to strengthen others around him. He works at his dental practice and serves in a branch presidency, guiding others through their struggles. In many ways, he’s still the same dad I used to read the Book of Mormon with as a daddy’s girl. He’s with our family again, and that’s what matters to me.
Recently, we celebrated 10 years of Dad’s sobriety—that’s how powerful the Atonement of Jesus Christ is. We’re no longer consumed by pain. Rather, my dad and I have grown closer to the Lord. We’ve experienced a mighty change of heart (see Alma 5) because of the Savior. And I know that regardless of what you might be going through, He can always do the same for you.

When I was 10 years old, my mother had a massive heart attack. She spent many weeks in the hospital fighting for her life.
During this time, my Primary teacher, Sister Ellen Johnson, came to my home once a week to see me. I had just started attending Primary and had limited understanding of the gospel. Every week Sister Johnson bore her testimony to me and talked about prayer. She taught me that if I prayed, Heavenly Father would answer.
After several weeks, Mom’s health deteriorated further. She had a damaged heart valve that needed repair. Her doctor said she would die without experimental heart surgery. Her chances of recovery, however, were only about 50/50.
Open-heart surgery was new and risky in the early 1960s. Surgeons planned to cut Mom open from her chest to her backbone and then split her rib cage to access her heart. Many patients did not survive the surgery. I was upset and afraid my mother would die.
Dad was mostly at work or at the hospital with Mom. My older sister, Pam, took care of my brother and me. At night, I felt lonely and afraid, but I thought about what Sister Johnson had been teaching me about prayer. I often knelt by my bed and cried, pleading with Heavenly Father to spare Mom’s life.
During one such crying prayer, a great peace came over me and I stopped crying. I felt that everything was going to be OK. I felt reassured that my mother would live to see me grown and that I need not worry. I didn’t hear a voice or see a vision, but I had quiet, peaceful feelings. I did not doubt them. Heavenly Father had answered my prayer, and I knew it.
Mom survived the surgery. She was weak and sickly most of her life, but Heavenly Father had answered my prayers and spared her life. She lived to see me grow up, marry, and have children.