Gospel Story Finder

Several years ago a young returned missionary came to see me. I had been his bishop several years before and had helped him to work through some problems from his youth and to prepare to serve a mission. By the time he began his mission, he was ablaze with the fire of the gospel and served enthusiastically and honorably. It was now a year or two after he had returned home, and he told me that his excitement about the gospel and the Church had been growing dim. He also told me of a strained relationship with his parents and of his general discouragement and bitterness. He asked me in frustration, “Bishop, why am I losing my testimony?”
In response to his question, I asked him, “Are you nourishing the tree?” At first he didn’t understand, so we talked about the principle taught in chapter 32 of Alma. Looking back on our conversation, I wish now that I had said more and read more to him. Perhaps he is listening this morning or may see a replay of this devotional. Perhaps some of you have had or are having feelings similar to his.
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The young returned missionary who came to see me and to seek help with his weakening testimony admitted that he had lost the good habits practiced during his mission—habits of daily personal prayer and daily scripture study. He was spiritually malnourished and was displaying the symptoms of that condition. His vision was cloudy and his strength was too low to overcome the dark influences of the evil one and to maintain an eternal perspective.

President Russell M. Nelson has said, “For us as Latter-day Saints, gaining an education is not just a privilege; it is a religious responsibility.” Many Saints dream of getting an education but are unable to do so because of cost, time constraints, limited options where they live, or the inability to travel to pursue education elsewhere.
With flexible, low-cost online courses available through BYU-Pathway Worldwide, obtaining an education is possible for more people than ever, including Samantha Winterdal.
Samantha, from the Dominican Republic, always planned to go to university, but her plans didn’t work out the way she envisioned. After high school, she got a job but felt like something was missing. “Every year that passed, I saw my schoolmates graduating, and I was just working,” Samantha said. “I thought, ‘What am I doing with my life?’”
She decided to pray for guidance. One Sunday, a sister from church mentioned BYU–Pathway to her. Samantha registered and began her first course. Although she couldn’t complete it at that time, she returned to BYU–Pathway years later to resume her studies.
In 2014, a pilot program of BYU–Pathway was launched in the Caribbean with 17 students. Since that first pilot, 3,786 students in the Caribbean Area have enrolled, gaining skills to improve their job prospects and better serve their families, Church, and communities.
So why BYU–Pathway? It provides access to online courses so students can earn certificates and degrees from Brigham Young University–Idaho and Ensign College. Nearly 75,000 students in 180 countries study through BYU–Pathway each year. All students receive significantly reduced tuition (tuition varies by country) and guaranteed scholarships. The Heber J. Grant Tuition Discount gives a 10–50 percent discount (amount based on need), and recently returned missionaries receive an extra 25 percent discount. BYU–Pathway is designed to remove barriers, including time and money, that prevent students like Samantha from pursuing a degree.
Bachelor’s degrees offered through BYU–Pathway can be completed in three years. Each degree is made up of three professional certificates that help students gain marketable skills and a better job before graduating.
When Samantha was ready to start classes again during the COVID-19 pandemic, she enrolled at a local university. However, the school wasn’t designed to run online and wasn’t accommodating of her schedule, so she left. With the encouragement of her husband, Mario, she decided to go back to BYU–Pathway—she loved it so much that Mario enrolled too!
“We love the flexibility of BYU–Pathway because it allows us to work and take care of my 94-year-old grandfather, who has cancer,” Samantha said. “I know that I will continue to climb to the work level I want, and it will also help me with my own business.”
BYU–Pathway was also an important part of Kimika Blake’s journey to a degree. A university education in her home country of Jamaica is expensive, so she was excited to learn about BYU–Pathway’s low-cost tuition and enrolled. “There were many challenges along the way,” she said. “However, I am grateful for the lessons I have learned about finding joy in the journey and enduring well.”
Kimika graduated with a bachelor’s degree in applied business management in 2022 and looks forward to pursuing a master’s degree and entrepreneurship in the future. “I am a better disciple of Jesus Christ,” she said. “As I go forth with faith, I know many doors will be opened.”
BYU–Pathway’s curriculum is designed to help students grow as disciples of Jesus Christ and to build hope and confidence through faith-based academic courses and religion courses. Brian K. Ashton, president of BYU–Pathway, said, “Jesus Christ is at the center of all we do at BYU–Pathway. Whether it’s to help students get a better job or learn skills, drawing closer to Christ helps students improve their circumstances and reach their potential.”
At the end of his mission, Edward Angeles’s mission president encouraged him to pursue higher education when he returned to the Dominican Republic.
“I started BYU–Pathway right after I got home, and it was without a doubt one of the best decisions of my life,” he said. “I am on my first certificate in web and computer programming. I already had a job as a web developer. I got a salary increase, and I have been offered jobs at many other companies.”
Allison Caicedo, a wife and mother from Venezuela, said that studying at BYU–Pathway has helped her grow by overcoming her limits and fears. “I realized many of the things I considered to be my weaknesses turned out to be my strengths as I worked on them in the Lord’s way,” she said. “BYU–Pathway has made me a better wife, daughter, mother, friend, member of the Church, and above all, a better daughter of God.”
Elder Clark G. Gilbert, Commissioner of the Church Educational System, said, “BYU–Pathway is one of the resources the Lord has prepared for His great gathering ahead of His return to the Earth. One of the ways this will happen is by helping students all across the Church deepen their discipleship so they can, in turn, build others and build the Church.”
Learn more about BYU–Pathway Worldwide at byupathway.edu.
BYU–Pathway’s courses are currently offered in English. For those who need it, EnglishConnect is a three-course program that helps you learn English and prepare for future education opportunities through BYU–Pathway.
Lafague Augustin, a friend of the Church from Haiti, took EnglishConnect 3 after losing his job because he couldn’t speak English. The service missionaries at his gathering place encouraged him to continue with BYU–Pathway, attend church, and read and listen to the Book of Mormon. In return, they promised he would feel the power of God and his English would significantly improve.
As promised, Lafague has seen the blessings. He was able to get a job as an interpreter with his new English skills. “EnglishConnect blessed my life so much. It allowed me to enroll in BYU–Pathway Worldwide, which has helped my confidence when speaking with native English speakers.”
He added, “In church, I feel peace, love, and respect. As I pray, read the scriptures, and study the gospel with the missionaries, I’m becoming closer to Jesus Christ.”
Learn more at EnglishConnect.org.

I too was questioned by my friends, classmates, and even my teachers in school about our standards. They said that our Church standards are so strict. Instead of arguing with them, I asked for their time to share with them all about our Church standards. I simply showed them that I am very happy and comfortable living with our standards. I also did not use our standards as an excuse to miss some school activities. Instead, I suggested some ideas for the school activities to follow our Church standards. I also shared with them the advantages of following those standards.
Ailyn L., 19, Davao, Philippines

I once met with an attractive woman in her early 20s. She was very much in love with her handsome fiancé and their wedding was quickly approaching. During their courtship, there were a number of times when he had been verbally abusive and his temper had flared. On one occasion, he shoved her. Although she loved him and was attracted to him, she began to seriously consider breaking off the engagement. She went through many difficult days of pitch darkness, not knowing what to do. Then she followed the counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 9: 7-9:

"Behold, you have not understood; 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.

But if it be not right, you shall have no such feeling, but you shall have a stupor of thought that shall cause you to forget the thing which is wrong."

So we don't ask, "Lord, what should I do?" but we use our own ability to think and make a plan and present it to him and He will let us know if it is right or not.

The young woman studied it out in her mind. She put facts together; she considered all sides of the situation. Then she made a decision that she should not marry him because of his temper, abusive nature and selfishness. In prayer, she presented this decision to the Lord and asked him if this was right. What happened was exactly like the scriptures say. She had a burning in the bosom, a strong feeling that her decision was right that she should not marry him. She then lost the desire to marry him, which was the stupor of thought, and although it was a late decision, she cancelled the wedding. That decision, although very difficult, led her to wonderful opportunities and she later married a patient, kind, humble, faithful man in the temple. She listened and obeyed and it made all the difference in her life.

Listen to the kind of recreation the Saints held under the Prophet’s direction in Nauvoo. On February 20, 1843, a “woodcutting bee” was held at the Prophet’s home. Seventy brethren attended. They sawed, chopped, split, and piled up a large stack of wood in the yard, which served not only the Prophet’s family, but also the many persons they helped out. “The day was spent by them with much pleasantry, good humor, and feeling,” says the record. “A white oak log, measuring five feet four inches in diameter, was cut through with a cross-cut saw, in four-and-a-half minutes, by Hyrum Dayton and Brother John Tidwell.” This tree had been previously cut by the Prophet himself, and he had hauled it to the yard with his team.13

I guess I had my first run-in with a bee on a hot summer day when I was about five years old. I was minding my own business when suddenly an angry bee flew into my shirt and stung me on the stomach. At least that’s what I told my mom. Actually, I was pulling the petals off of her yellow roses. You know, “She loves me not.” Pluck. “She loves me—ooh, yuck.”
I was just getting ready to prove once and for all that no yucky girl loved me when apparently I found a rose that was already in use. A bee came buzzing out and crawled through a tiny hole in my shirt. I tried holding still, something I’d always been told to do by my brave and more experienced brothers. But I panicked and frantically tried to brush the bee out from under my shirt. Unfortunately, the bee panicked too and stung me.
Inside, as Mom pulled out the stinger and dried my tears, she said, “I know you feel bad. But you should feel sorry for the bee. Once a bee has stung somebody it dies.” As I sniffled and thought about her words, I decided that maybe the score was about even. But nearly ten years later I wasn’t so sure.
When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”
In my spiritual life, I have learned the whole armor of God is essential to our salvation. We need to check our armor daily to see that it’s in place and in good repair—and that it doesn’t have holes in it. Prayer, daily scripture study, and repentance are just a few of the things that will help us win the spiritual battles we face.
It’s been a while since I’ve been stung by a bee, but I suppose if it happens again it will serve as a pointed reminder of the importance of putting on the whole armor of God.

Bonnie H. Cordon
Growing up, my father was a career Army officer. The only downside to his job was that he had to go to war. I was 13 years old when my dad left for Vietnam for the second time. The fear of him not returning was always on my mind, but so was my trust in the Lord. Before leaving, my dad gave me a father’s blessing assuring me that the Lord would be with me and help while my dad was away. I felt peace. Although I did not know for sure that my dad would return home safely, I trusted that everything would be OK, regardless of what happened.

Jackeline Martinez Roman of the Colon Ward, Quito Ecuador Colon Stake, was recently selected as second runner-up in the Miss Quito contest, part of the annual celebration of Ecuador’s capital. She was nominated by her employers. Jackeline, along with the girls selected as Miss Quito and first runner-up, will spend time during the year raising funds for the elderly and underprivileged and attending activities sponsored by the city.
Jackeline hopes her new position will offer some good opportunities for missionary work. In fact, Miss Quito and the first runner-up have already asked about the Church and its beliefs, and Jackeline was happy to explain.
Although born in Ecuador, Jackeline lived for nine years in Maryland in the United States, where she attended school. She has served as seminary president and as a teacher in the Primary and Sunday School, and she is presently serving as Primary secretary.

Christmas is a giving time of year for the young people of the Mt. Pleasant Second Ward, Mt. Pleasant Utah Stake. The youth were involved in service projects that helped emphasize the true spirit of giving.
The Mia Maids of the ward spent weeks collecting pictures of all the children of the ward, which they used to make special Christmas tree decorations. The ornaments were presented to the parents after they were used to decorate the ward Christmas tree.

Ultimately, our lives can be healed only through the Atonement. A member described his feelings as he went through the repentance process and discovered the healing power of the Atonement: “The time between transgressing and confessing was terrible. I constantly lived in the knowledge of the terrible thing I had done. I was in a state of deep darkness, depressive and lethargic, first hopeless and tortured by fears, however, never doubting the truth of the gospel and the saving power of the Atonement. I knew that for me there was only one way to get healed.

“To confess to my wife and my children what I had done was the most difficult thing that I ever did in life. Thereafter, the further way of repentance, to confess before my bishop and the stake president, was not so difficult. Finally, I could relieve myself of the burden which I had brought upon myself. I felt relieved with the excommunication and the resulting perspectives.

“What joy it was when I was permitted to be baptized and again could have the Holy Ghost with me. Finally, the promise of the Atonement was fulfilled in the clearest and most beautiful way when my blessings were restored again.

“During the course of years, my wife and I experienced that the Atonement brings relief and healing not only to the sinner, but further than that, it has the power to heal and restore the victim as well. Of this I testify with deep gratitude.”

A-Pui’s face was bruised and swollen. He had three teeth missing and a bandage on his chin. Four days before Fast Sunday, he fell off a bicycle. But during the meeting he stood and bore his testimony that he knew that God lives and answers prayers. His beautiful spirit touched the hearts of many others that day.
Even before A-Pui joined the Church, he was always eager to help the missionaries in Hong Kong. His older brother and two older sisters were baptized first and then A-Pui became a member.
Now A-Pui and his brother and sisters have accepted the challenge of helping their parents learn more about the gospel so that they too might become members of the Church. The missionaries in Hong Kong feel sure they will be successful!

After months of preparation, the day finally arrived. While I sat in the baptistery awaiting my turn, excitement overcame me as I realized how long Maren, who died nearly 200 years ago, had anticipated this day. It was her day of baptism, and I had the inspiring opportunity of performing the ordinance in her behalf.
Maren Christensdatter became a special person to me because of a Young Women project. The first time I encountered her name was at our stake Family History Center. I was searching through computer files for family names to prepare for temple ordinance work. After having gone through a few family lines with no success, I decided to check the line of my great-grandmother who had recently passed away. To my surprise, I actually found one female name for whom no temple work had been done—my great-great-great-grandmother, Maren Christensdatter.
Over the next few weeks, my Mia Maid class returned to the Family History Center several times to complete our work. We then had to enter the names, along with other information, into a file and submit them so temple cards could be prepared.
Doing baptisms for the dead is always a spiritual experience. But when you do it for your own ancestor, whose name you have found and prepared yourself, it becomes incredibly personal and satisfying. As the young women from our ward entered the baptistery room at the temple that day, I could feel a special spirit there.
And when I was baptized by proxy for Maren, I felt a closeness to her, even though I had never met her. It was an awesome experience to give her this most priceless gift, the opportunity to become a member of the Church.

Throughout her life, our youngest daughter, Joéll, has been a good influence on our family. She was the one who reminded us to have family prayer. She was the one who tried to get us excited about family home evening. She devised treasure hunts; she fixed treats; she would do anything to try to get the family excited about having family home evening. Occasionally her older brothers resisted, but even as they were resisting, there was a respect for what she was trying to do.

This kind of family closeness can continue even after you grow up and leave home. While my wife and I were on our mission, our married children did a lot to support us. They stuck together and held monthly family home evenings. They published a monthly family letter that we all sent back and forth. None of them ever complained about our absence, and it was evident that their testimonies brought them closer together as siblings and to us.

Not even death should separate loving family members for long. The First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles issued a proclamation to the world concerning families. Part of it states: “The divine plan of happiness enables family relationships to [continue] beyond the grave. Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.”

One day at the end of November 2000, I went to school and found out that my friend Jonathan B.’s house had burned down during the night. He and his family had gotten out safely, but their house and all the things in it had burned to the ground. I felt very sad for him, and I knew I had to do something to help. I thought about it all that day.
When my mom picked me up from school, I told her what had happened and that I wanted to buy a new backpack and some toys for Jonathan. She said that she would be happy to take me shopping for these things.
When we got home from school, she called my teacher and asked for the phone number and address of Jonathan’s grandma’s house, which is where his family was staying. She then called there and asked if we could come over later and see him. She found some nice clothes that I had outgrown but that were just the right size for him. Then Mom, my sister Michelle, and I went shopping.
I chose a backpack that I knew he would really like. Then I picked out some toys to fill the backpack. I felt really happy when we took everything to Jonathan. He did really like the backpack, and he was happy to have some toys to play with.
His mom hugged me and thanked me for being so kind to him. My mom and dad told me that they were very pleased that I had chosen to do something so nice for somebody else. I knew that the good feelings I had inside were from the Holy Ghost, letting me know that I had done the right thing.

Let me tell you about the saints of the Punta Arenas Chile Stake. Punta Arenas is located on the Straits of Magellan near the very southern tip of South America. It is 2,200 km from the Santiago Chile Temple. That's like living in Los Angeles and traveling to the temple in Kansas City, Missouri. In spite of the distance, every summer the stake sends at least one, and sometimes two, buses to the temple. It takes them three days to get to Santiago. They cross the Argentina/Chile border twice. They spend three days in the temple and make the three day trip back. They are grateful the temple is not further away.

William’s 12th birthday was coming. He couldn’t wait! There were six other boys in his class at church, and he was excited to be a deacon with them. It was nice to have so many good friends at church.
One day, the stake president came to William’s house. William heard him talking to Mom and Dad. “The Lord would like to call you to be the president of the sign-language branch,” he said.
William’s heart pounded in excitement. His family was going to go to a branch with members who spoke sign language! He had been learning sign language at school. It would be fun to learn more. His little sisters were excited too.
But then, William’s heart sank. He thought about all his friends in his ward. He wouldn’t get to be a deacon with them, or pass the sacrament with them. His excitement quickly melted away.
Later that night, William was practicing the piano. Mom came in and scooted next to him on the piano bench. “How do you feel about Dad’s new calling?” she asked.
William stopped playing. He looked down at the piano keys and sighed. “I’m kind of sad,” he said. “The sign-language branch will be nice, but what if there isn’t anyone my age there? I’ll miss my friends.” He felt bad for complaining, but he was really worried. “I want to do what Heavenly Father wants. But it’s going to be hard.” He tried to blink away the tears in his eyes.
Mom put her arm around him and smiled. “You remind me of your great-great-great Grandpa Turner,” she said. “When he joined the Church in England, he had to leave his friends and family to go to Utah.”
Mom got up and walked over to the bookshelf. When she came back, she was flipping through the pages of an old photo album. She pointed to an old black-and-white photo of a man with a beard.
“This is Grandpa Turner,” she said. “When he got to Salt Lake City, Church leaders asked him to move to a small town in the desert several hundred miles away. He didn’t like it there. He thought it was dry, hot, and ugly, and he missed his friends. But he stayed there because he wanted to obey the Lord.”
William looked up at Mom with wide eyes. He imagined moving to a desert without any friends. It sounded miserable.
“What happened after he moved?” he asked.
“He lived there for a few years. But then he had to move back to Salt Lake City because they couldn’t grow enough food in the desert,” Mom said.
William frowned. “But why did Heavenly Father tell him to move somewhere he didn’t like, when he was just going to leave a few years later?”
“I don’t know,” Mom answered. “But I do know Grandpa Turner got a lot of blessings by obeying Heavenly Father— like meeting his wife in that small desert town. And he learned important things that helped him serve the Lord for the rest of his life.”
William thought for a moment and looked at the old photo of his great-great-great grandpa again. Leaving my friends is going to be hard, he thought. But if Grandpa Turner could do it, Heavenly Father will help me too. He felt happier inside. He knew he could be brave and follow the Lord. Just like Grandpa did.

Many years ago I read of an experience at Christmastime which took place when thousands of weary travelers were stranded in the congested Atlanta, Georgia, airport.1 An ice storm had seriously delayed air travel as these people were trying to get wherever they most wanted to be for Christmas—most likely home.
It happened in December of 1970. As the midnight hour tolled, unhappy passengers clustered around the ticket counters conferring anxiously with agents whose cheerfulness had long since evaporated. They too wanted to be home. A few people managed to doze in uncomfortable seats. Others gathered at the newsstands to thumb silently through paperback books. If there was a common bond among this diverse throng it was loneliness: pervasive, inescapable, suffocating loneliness. …
The fact of the matter was that there were more passengers than there were available seats on any of the planes. When an occasional plane managed to break out, more passengers stayed behind than made it aboard. …
Gate 67 in Atlanta was a microcosm of the whole cavernous airport. Scarcely more than a glassed-in cubicle, it was jammed with travelers hoping to fly to New Orleans, Dallas, and points west. Except for the fortunate few traveling in pairs, there was little conversation at gate 67. A salesman stared absently into space as if resigned. A young mother cradled an infant in her arms, gently rocking in a vain effort to soothe the soft whimpering.
Then there was a man in a finely-tailored gray flannel suit, who somehow seemed impervious to the collective suffering. There was a certain indifference about his manner. He was absorbed in paperwork: figuring the year-end corporate profits perhaps. A nerve-frayed traveler sitting nearby observing this busy man might have indentified him as an Ebenezer Scrooge.
Suddenly the relative silence was broken by a commotion. A young man in military uniform, no more than 19 years old, was in animated conversation with the desk agent. The boy held a low-priority ticket. He pleaded with the agent to help him get to New Orleans so that he could take the bus to the obscure Louisiana village he called home.
The agent wearily told him that prospects were poor for the next 24 hours, maybe longer. The boy grew frantic. Immediately after Christmas, his unit was to be sent to Vietnam—where at that time war was raging—and if he didn’t make this flight, he might never again spend Christmas at home. Even the businessman looked up from his cryptic computations to show a guarded interest. The agent clearly was moved, even a bit embarrassed. But he could only offer sympathy, not hope. The boy stood at the departure desk casting anxious looks around the crowded room, as if seeking just one friendly face.
Finally the agent announced that the flight was ready for boarding. The travelers who had been waiting long hours heaved themselves up, gathered their belongings, and shuffled down the small corridor to the waiting aircraft: 20, 30, 100, until there were no more seats. The agent turned to the frantic young soldier and shrugged.
Inexplicably, the businessman had lingered behind. Now he stepped forward. “I have a confirmed ticket,” he quietly told the agent. “I’d like to give my seat to this young man.” The agent stared incredulously; then he motioned to the soldier. Unable to speak, tears streaming down his face, the boy in olive drab shook hands with the man in the gray flannel suit, who simply murmured, “Good luck. Have a fine Christmas. Good luck.”
As the plane door closed and the engines began their rising whine, the businessman turned away, clutching his briefcase and trudged toward the all-night restaurant.
No more than a few among the thousands stranded there at the Atlanta airport witnessed the drama at gate 67. But for those who did, the sullenness, the frustration, the hostility all dissolved into a glow. That act of love and kindness between strangers had brought the spirit of Christmas into their hearts.
The lights of the departing plane blinked starlike as the craft moved off into the darkness. The infant slept silently, now in the lap of the young mother. Perhaps another flight would be leaving before many more hours. But those who witnessed the interchange were less impatient. The glow lingered gently, pervasively in that small glass and plastic stable at gate 67.

Will you imagine something with me? Imagine that I have decided to present to a typical teenager a car such as this, and you are the one who has been chosen. On the evening of the presentation, I see that you are not quite financially able to run such a car, so I generously include free gas, oil, maintenance, tires, anything your car will use. I’ll give you all of this, and the bills will come to me.
How you will enjoy that car! Think of driving it to school tomorrow. Think of all the new friends you will suddenly acquire.
Your parents may be hesitant to let you use this car freely, so I will visit with them. I am sure they will be reluctant, but because of my position as one of the leaders of the Church, they will consent.
Let us imagine, then, that you have your car, everything to run it, and freedom to use it.
Suppose that one evening you are invited to attend a Church social. “There are just enough of you to ride in my station wagon,” your teacher says. “You may leave your car home.” When they come to take you to the party, you suddenly remember your new convertible, with the top down, parked at the curb. You run back in the house and give the car keys to your father, asking that he put it in the garage, for it looks as if it may rain. Your father, of course, obediently agrees.
Later you come home and notice your car is not at the curb. “Dear old Dad,” you muse, “always willing to help out.” But as the station wagon pulls into the driveway and the lights flash into the garage, you see it stands empty.
You rush into the house, find Father, and ask where your car is.
“Oh, I loaned it to someone,” he responds.
Then imagine a conversation such as this.
“Well, who was it?” you ask.
“Oh, that boy who comes by here regularly,” Dad says.
“What boy?”
“Oh, that … well, I have seen him pass here several times on his bicycle.”
“What is his name?”
“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t find out.”
“Where did he take the car?”
“That really wasn’t made clear.”
“When will he bring it back?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any agreement on that.”
Then suppose that your father should say to you, with some impatience, “Now you calm down. He rushed in here. He needed a car. You weren’t using it. He seemed to be in a frantic hurry over something, and he looked like an honest boy, so I gave him the keys. Now relax. Go to bed. Calm down.”
I suppose under the circumstances you would look at your father with a puzzled expression and wonder if some important connection had slipped loose in his thinking mechanism.
It would take a foolish father to lend such an expensive piece of equipment on an arrangement such as that—particularly a car that belonged to you.

During my first two years of teaching seminary in Nevada, I assigned two students in each class to be what we called “seminary phantoms.” They were to do nice things throughout the year for their fellow students, without anyone knowing.
Most of the students in my early-morning class were from the same two wards, except for one freshman. His name was Clark, and every day he sat by himself near the front of the room. About three months into the year, I had the class grouped into teams. I asked one boy to let Clark be on his team, and he asked, “Who’s Clark?” It was then that I realized how few people knew Clark.
A few weeks later, as the Christmas season drew near, we geared up to do our annual seminary Christmas activity called “secret Santas.” Students who wanted to participate signed up to do nice things, anonymously, for another student during the week before Christmas break. As the sign-up list went around, nearly everyone signed up. Everyone except Clark.
After class, I pulled aside my two seminary phantoms and asked if they would do a favor for someone in the class. They both willingly agreed. I explained about Clark and asked if they would mind doing just one nice thing for him from his secret Santa.
The following Monday, Clark’s book slot was decorated with ribbons and candy. Tuesday, there were small gifts. As the class came in both days, they crowded around him to see what he had received. Again on Wednesday, there was a small surprise left for him on my desk. When Thursday came, he found a gingerbread house on his desk. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The next morning was Friday, the last day before Christmas vacation. Clark came into class with a present of his own. It was a huge gingerbread house that must have taken him and his mother all evening to make. He asked if I would please give it to his secret Santa. When class was over, Clark was slow in leaving, hoping to find out who I would give his gift to. But I convinced him that his Santa wanted to remain a secret. As he walked down the street, a car which a few minutes earlier had appeared to drive off, turned into the parking lot again, and two girls got an early Christmas present.
Seminary became Clark’s favorite class. Throughout the remaining three years, he had some wonderful friends in seminary. I can’t help but think that it was partially the result of those two seminary phantoms. The year that he graduated from high school and seminary, I was transferred to another state.
The following summer, my family and I came back to visit. Late one evening, at the home where we were staying, we heard a car drive by. The horn honked and someone yelled, “We love you, Brother Fowler!” In the morning, I found my car “decorated” with toilet paper. Inside was a note with a copy of a mission call attached to it. It was from Clark. It read, “Seminary was the inspiration for the day and for my life. Thanks!”

“For me, an eating disorder is as physical as it is mental. When I was in the middle of my eating disorder, food seemed to have lost its savor. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to eat, but I physically couldn’t get myself to eat. There was a constant lump in my throat that prevented me from indulging in anything.
“I felt alone and trapped, like nobody could possibly understand why I couldn’t eat an adequate amount of food—it was just me and my eating disorder. In the end, I realized that this was how I was coping with various things in my life. I felt the only thing I was able to control in my life was what I did (or in this case didn’t) put in my body.”

“I had a friend who must have been moved by the Spirit to talk to me. One day as we were chatting, she told me that she had noticed my peculiar eating habits—small bites, skipping meals, etc. Even though that conversation didn’t cause me at that moment to get the help I needed, it opened a door that allowed me to finally accept the fact that I had an eating disorder and needed to get help.
“I started exercising regularly and praying more intently, and I told my closest family members about my eating disorder. The exercise helped me clear my head, and the honest conversations I was having helped me address the underlying issues. It was a process, but I can finally say my favorite food is pizza again!”