Gospel Story Finder

My classmates and I were stationed near Hanover. Every month or so our unit of about 300 people would get together. Usually there was a unit party, and everyone would be drinking and smoking—except me. I didn’t know it at first, but our commander-in-chief watched me during these parties.
One day he asked me why I didn’t smoke or drink. I was a little shy, and I told him that I just didn’t believe in it. I think I was the only one who didn’t smoke or drink in the whole group, and I was the only Latter-day Saint.
“There must be a specific reason why you don’t do that,” he continued questioning me. I told him it was better for the body to abstain from those things, and I tried to evade the question a little bit. When you’re 15, it’s not so easy when people laugh at you and say you’re not a man if you don’t smoke and drink. My fellow soldiers had made fun of me quite often, and my commander had heard that.
“You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” he asked.
“I’m not that outgoing. I’m a little shy,” I explained. “You’ve seen what kind of reaction the others have.”
“Well, that might change if you just tell them,” he replied.
One night we were all sitting at a big table at a party, and everyone was drinking, except me. I think I had a soft drink that I had bought downtown. My commanding officer was watching me again.
He stood and said, “Rahde, get up.” Then he said to the whole group, “I would like to inform you that Rahde is a Mormon. He doesn’t drink, and he doesn’t smoke. And I would like you to respect that. If I see anybody making fun of him because of that, I will put you in jail.”
I was shocked. I turned red because everyone was looking at me. Then he said, “From now on, Rahde, it is your job to take care of these men and see that when they go downtown and have too much to drink they find their way home.”
From that minute on, I had a lot of groups that wanted me to go with them every night. They took me with them to the bars, and as soon as we went in they said, “No drinks for Heinz. He has to take us home. He doesn’t drink, and don’t you bother him.”
I didn’t have to mention anything anymore. I had more friends that way than I would have had any other way. Nothing could have done more good for me than this frankness, as my wise commanding officer had sensed. It was a testimony to me that the others trusted me so much that whenever something came up, they always asked me to go with them, and they protected me. No one dared offer me anything again.

The third week, Mark knew what he was going to write about in his journal long before Sunday. It was Monday morning, in fact, when one of his friends, Rob, had come to school looking very tired.
“What’s wrong,” Mark asked him. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Rob yawned. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I ate too much candy, and my stomach was upset for a long time.”
“Too much candy isn’t good for you,” Mark said. “It’s better to snack on fruit or eat a cheese sandwich or something.”
“I know that now,” Rob said as he put his head down on his desk.
The last week of the month, Mark wrote about a very frightening thing that had happened to him. He had been out delivering his papers in the rain and was almost hit by a car. Later he remembered that in their family prayers that morning, his little sister had prayed that they would all be safe in the rain.
When fast Sunday came again, Mark was prepared. His family sat close to the front of the chapel so that he could be first to the podium when it was time for bearing testimonies. During the meeting, he offered a prayer in his heart that he would know what to say.
When it was time, he stood and walked up to the microphone. At first, he was nervous at seeing all the people looking back at him, but most of them were smiling, and he knew that they were his friends.
“I have a testimony of the law of tithing,” he began, “and of the Word of Wisdom. I know we have a living prophet today, and I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.” Mark ended his testimony and sat down. His mom patted him on the knee.
He still felt a bit shaky, but mostly he had a really good feeling, like he was glowing from head to toe. He was glad that he had a testimony and that he could bear it every single day.

Lyona recalls an incident with a young cousin, not yet in his teens, who was faithfully poring over census records for a name Wilma had given him. All of a sudden he jumped up and ran to Aunt Lyona, excitement mirrored in his face. “Come look,” he said. “Is this really the name I was looking for?” Lyona quickly conferred with Wilma. It was the very name Wilma had unsuccessfully been seeking for a long time.
Many hugs and congratulations followed, as Wilma and Lyona took special pains to praise and thank him for his unexpected discovery.

Angela stormed into the house, slamming her books onto the kitchen table. Her younger brother Caleb watched in shocked silence.
“I’m never going to school again!” Angela yelled. Her anger turned to tears as she dropped into a chair. Between sobs, she wailed, “Sheela Kelly is making my life miserable. I tried to be nice to her when she called me names. I ignored her when she teased me about my clothes. Then today she told everyone that I told her secrets about Ammon Young. Now Ammon’s afraid to talk to me.”
Mom put her arms around Angela. Angela raised her tearstained face. “Mom, Ammon’s the only other Church member in my grade. We always help each other choose the right.” She laid her head against Mom’s shoulder and cried.
Caleb, trying to help, said, “Jesus said to pray for our enemies. Maybe you should pray that Sheela gets really sick and misses lots of school.”
“I don’t think that is what Jesus meant,” Mom gently corrected.
“Maybe you could pray that Sheela moves to another country,” Caleb suggested.
Mom shook her head. “No, Caleb—but you’re right that we should pray for our enemies. In fact, this Sunday is fast Sunday. Let’s use this opportunity to fast for Sheela. When we combine faith, prayers, and fasting, miracles can happen.”
Angela, who had calmed down a bit, sniffled and added, “Like the time we all fasted and prayed for Sister Smith’s baby when he was born two months too soon?”
“That’s right, Angela,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father blessed us for our faith. He always does.”
Angela prayed many times throughout the weekend that Sheela would stop being mean. As she fasted, she hardly noticed when her stomach growled.
Before leaving for school on Monday, Angela knelt once again. “Heavenly Father, please help Sheela to stop being mean. I’ve fasted and prayed. I have faith that Thou canst change her. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Angela bounced happily down the stairs.
“Have a great day,” Mom said.
“Oh, I will—I just know it!” Angela replied.
She was sure she would when she arrived at school and found her teacher had rearranged the desks. Angela was no longer sitting next to Sheela. Angela silently offered a prayer of thanks. Ammon even smiled at her as he walked past her desk. This really is going to be a great day! she thought.
After lunch, she stopped by the rest room to make sure no food was stuck in her braces. Her heart raced when she noticed Sheela. Summoning her courage, Angela smiled and said, “Hi, Sheela—did you have a fun weekend?”
Sheela just smiled—not exactly a friendly smile but a smile. The two girls left the rest room at the same time.
“Hello, Sheela. Hello, Angela,” Mrs. Keiter, the music teacher, said as she passed by.
“Hello,” the girls answered. Angela was glad Sheela had not said or done anything mean. She was happy, too, when Sheela went to the office instead of out to the playground. Again, Angela offered a quiet prayer of gratitude.
A few minutes before school was over for the day, Angela was called to the principal’s office.
As she walked past Sheela’s desk on her way to the office, Sheela smirked, “Good luck.” It made Angela feel cold all over.
Mr. Cooper was waiting for Angela when she arrived. “Angela, I’ve received a report that you scratched ‘Angela loves Ammon’ on one of the walls in the rest room. The student who reported this said Mrs. Keiter saw you leaving there during lunch. Mrs. Keiter confirmed you were there at that time.”
Angela was stunned. How could this be? Hadn’t she fasted and prayed and used all her faith for Heavenly Father to make Sheela be nice? Sheela had been in the rest room at the same time. She must have scratched the wall.
“Mr. Cooper,” Angela said softly, “I did go into the rest room after lunch, but I didn’t scratch anything on the wall.”
“I’m sorry, Angela, but I have your word against another student’s and a teacher’s. You will help the janitor, Mr. Hamblin, during recess for a week. Maybe that will help you respect school property more.”
Caleb knew by the look on Angela’s face that things had not gone well. He walked silently beside her on the way home from the bus stop. Entering the kitchen first, he blurted out, “Angela’s faith didn’t work.”
“Caleb! That’s not nice,” Mom scolded.
“No, Mom, Caleb’s right,” Angela sighed. “I must not have enough faith for Heavenly Father to make Sheela be nice.” She told Mom about her day.
“Angela, we can’t pray away another person’s agency, no matter how much faith we have,” Mom explained. “When we pray for our enemies, it changes how we feel about them and brings us peace. We change for the better, and sometimes our goodness helps our enemies to change. Sadly, some never change. But we should never let our enemies choose how we will act.”
“So what does Angela do about Sheela?” Caleb interrupted. “How does all this help her if Sheela is still mean?”
Angela nodded. “I thought faith could produce miracles.”
“It does. I promise you it does,” Mom assured her. “Do you remember the story of Alma and his people in the land of Helam?” Mom reached for her scriptures.
“A little,” Angela said. “Alma’s people were righteous, but they still were captured by the Lamanites. Things got even worse when the Lamanites put Amulon, one of the wicked priests of King Noah, in charge of Alma’s people.”
“And Amulon was Alma’s enemy,” Caleb added. “He knew Alma had believed the prophet Abinadi and had tried to save him from being burned.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Amulon made slaves of Alma and his people. He even put guards over them to kill anyone caught praying.”
“But they still prayed in their hearts,” Caleb added.
“And the Lord answered their prayers,” Mom continued. “He didn’t help them escape right away, but He helped them with their trials. Let’s read what happened in Mosiah 24:15: ‘And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.’
“So, what do you think you should pray for now?” Mom asked gently.
Angela sat quietly, then answered, “To endure my trials cheerfully.”
The next day, after sanding and painting over the writing in the rest room, Angela was emptying trash cans when Sheela walked by. Loudly she said to the girls with her, “It looks like we have a new janitor at our school.” The group left, giggling.
“Please help me to be cheerful and patient,” Angela prayed in her heart.
Just then Mr. Hamblin walked up. “Angela, you’re a good worker.” Then he smiled a big smile. “You didn’t scratch those words on the wall, did you?”
Angela shook her head.
“That’s what I told Mr. Cooper. And while we were talking, Ammon Young came to report he’d overheard Sheela Kelly bragging about doing it herself and getting you in trouble.” Mr. Hamblin smiled again. “Mr. Cooper wants to see you in his office. He’s a fair man. I think you’ll be happy to talk with him again.”
Patience and cheerfulness, prayers and faith, Angela thought. They really do produce miracles. I don’t think my troubles with Sheela are over, but I’ll keep trying to do what’s right. Maybe I’ll try to talk with her again. And as she hurried toward the principal’s office, she silently prayed, Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for helping me with my trials.

“Are General Authorities human?”
I suppose this is a question that is in many minds and has been from the very beginning. It arises, in the very nature of things, because of the high regard in which we hold the offices that these Brethren are called to fill.
I recall an incident from early Church history, from the days of persecutions and difficulties. Heber C. Kimball, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, found himself in circumstances where he sought hospitality from a member of the Church, a widow woman. She offered him what she had—bread and milk—and provided a room with a bed for him. He went to retire. She thought: “Here’s my opportunity. I would like to find out [and this is, in effect, the same old question: Are General Authorities human?] I would like to find out what an Apostle says when he prays to the Lord.” So after the door was closed, she crept quietly up to it to listen. She heard Brother Kimball sit down on the bed. She heard each of his shoes fall to the floor. She heard him lean back on the bed and then utter these words: “Oh Lord, bless Heber; he is so tired.”
… This is a subject about which people often have incorrect concepts. Many people had this same question in their minds during the time of Joseph Smith. He said: “I was this morning introduced to a man from the east. After hearing my name, he remarked that I was nothing but a man, indicating by this expression, that he had supposed that a person to whom the Lord should see fit to reveal His will, must be something more than a man. He seemed to have forgotten the saying that fell from the lips of St. James, that [Elijah] was a man subject to like passions as we are, yet he had such power with God, that He, in answer to his prayers, shut the heavens that they gave no rain for the space of three years and six months; and again, in answer to his prayer, the heavens gave forth rain, and the earth gave forth fruit [see James 5:17–18]. Indeed, such is the darkness and ignorance of this generation, that they look upon it as incredible that a man should [speak] with his Maker.”

Subhash and Roselyn Dass and their sons, Amit and Anand, wanted to travel to the temple to be sealed, but they couldn’t seem to save enough money. When Brother Dass was called as a bishop, he felt strongly that he needed to receive the endowment. The family had enough money for one plane ticket to Tonga, so Sister Dass encouraged her husband to go alone. “No,” he said. “We must all go together. The Lord will provide a way.”
The family fasted for the next two Sundays. At the end of the second week, Bishop Dass’ employer offered to lend him the money for all four plane tickets. “Going to the temple was the most beautiful experience we’ve had,” says Bishop Dass. “We know now that if we seek the kingdom of God first, the Lord will do the rest.”

Illustration by Alex Nabaum
My father is a good man. But when you’re 12 and you find pornography hidden in a remote file folder on your father’s computer, your emotions get sliced open. I felt like it would be difficult to see him in the same way again.
Two years later, when I was 14, I was looking through the computer’s history files and again stumbled upon a few websites he had viewed and was forced to admit that maybe my father had a problem. I knew I had to talk to my mother.
She and I were driving together in the car when I blurted it out.
To my astonishment, she was not surprised.
She sighed. “Your father’s been struggling with this for a while now,” she said. “He’d told me he’d stopped, but I guess not.”
When we got home, I watched as she typed a letter to my father explaining what I had told her. After that, I tried to put it out of my mind again.
My father and I argued bitterly during my early teen years. I didn’t trust him, I didn’t like him, I didn’t respect him. I mistakenly thought, “Nobody else’s dad looks at pictures like that. He must be a bad person.”
It escalated when I was 15. Sometimes I would come into the room and glance at his computer screen and see that a pornography site was minimized to the task bar. He would pretend to have been playing a game of solitaire. I watched as my father didn’t take the sacrament, and I listened as my mother explained how my father had finally been convinced to go to the bishop. I felt burdened by humiliation.
What I didn’t realize at first, of course, was that these were incredibly wonderful steps on the path to full repentance. I later stumbled once or twice upon my father deep in fervent, aching prayer. This image is burned into my brain just as deeply as that file I’d found when I was 12.
At 16, the problem had not gone away. Once, I was doing homework late at night and overheard my mother sobbing and shouting at my father.
I crept back to my room, knowing from my father’s silence that he was suffering. I felt his remorse radiate through the house, as well as his sense of helplessness.
My brother and sister knew nothing about it, and I wanted it to stay that way. The only thing they knew was that sometimes, especially when Mommy wasn’t home, Daddy would come out of his room in an awful mood.
My father was trying. The bishop sent him to a support group for men with problems like his. I had learned to respect him again, learned how, on the good weeks when we read scriptures as a family every morning and he whistled hymns, to like and even love him again. I saw that there was much more to him than simply this ugly problem. I learned to let him ask me about school without turning it into an argument. I learned to pray for him.
Good men can do wrong things. My father gives a generous fast offering, he’s always willing to lend a helping hand, he serves in his Church calling readily, he never swears or speaks vulgarly, but most of all he wants to be better. He knows that what he’s done is wrong, and he is hopeful that he will change.
To anyone else in my situation: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and He will carry you through. He will carry you through not only if you’re the one who struggles under the burden of sin, but also if you are the one who stands by, watching as the one you love fights for salvation.

Listen to the words of three young women as each had experiences that provided a chance to exercise her faith.

[A video segment was shown in which several young women spoke of events and challenges in their own lives and the effect of those things on their faith.]

The second young woman, Carly, experienced difficult family circumstances through a change in her father’s employment and a move to another state. She learned the value of family relationships and being together. Through united faith and prayers, she experienced the blessing of feeling our Heavenly Father’s love and support in bringing their family back together. Her faith was strengthened.

In April 1847, Sam Brannan and three other men left San Francisco Bay in search of Brigham Young and the main body of the Saints. They did not know exactly where to find them, but most emigrants followed the same trail west. If Sam and his small company headed east along the trail, they would eventually cross paths with the Saints.
After stopping briefly to pick up supplies at New Hope, the men trekked northeast to the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. People who knew the Sierras well had warned Sam not to cross them so early in the year. The mountain pass was still choked with snow, they said, which meant the journey could be a two-month ordeal.
Yet Sam was sure he could cross the mountains quickly. Urging their pack animals forward, he and his men hiked for hours up the mountains. The snow was deep but tightly packed, making it easier to find footing along the trail. The mountain streams ran high, however, forcing the men to risk dangerous swims or hazardous alternative routes.
On the far side of the mountain range, the trail led them along hulking granite crags to a view of a beautiful pine-wooded valley with a lake as blue as the sky. Descending to the valley, they found a few abandoned cabins at a campsite littered with human remains. Months earlier, a wagon train bound for California had become stranded in the snow. The emigrants had built the cabins to wait out a bad winter storm, but low on food and unprepared for the cold, many of them slowly starved or froze to death, while some resorted to cannibalism.1
Their story was a grim reminder of the dangers of overland travel, but Sam refused to let their tragedy frighten him. He was captivated by the wilderness. “A man cannot know himself,” he exulted, “until he has traveled in these wild mountains.”2
By mid-May, Brigham Young and the advance company had covered more than three hundred miles. Each morning, the bugle awoke the camp at five o’clock, and travel began at seven. Sometimes delays slowed the company’s progress, but most days they managed to travel between fifteen and twenty miles. In the evening they circled their wagons, gathered for evening prayers, and extinguished campfires.3
The dull routine was sometimes broken by buffalo sightings. The large, shaggy animals traveled in massive herds, rumbling across hills and bottomlands so fluidly that the prairie itself seemed to be moving. The men were eager to hunt the animal, but Brigham counseled them to do so only when necessary and to never waste the meat.4
The company traveled along an existing trail that other westbound settlers had blazed a few years earlier. With each passing mile, the grassy prairie slowly gave way to desert meadows and rolling hills. From the top of a bluff, the landscape looked as rough as a stormy sea. The trail followed the Platte River and crossed several creeks that provided water for drinking and cleaning. Yet the ground itself was sandy. Sometimes the company spotted a tree or a patch of green grass along the trail, but much of the land was stark and forbidding as far as the eye could see.5
Sometimes, a member of the company would ask Brigham where they were going. “I will show you when we come to it,” he would say. “I have seen it, I have seen it in vision, and when my natural eyes behold it, I shall know it.”6
Every day, William Clayton estimated the company’s mileage and corrected the sometimes imprecise maps that guided them. Not far into the journey, he and Orson Pratt worked with Appleton Harmon, a skilled craftsman, to build a “roadometer,” a wooden device that accurately measured distances through a system of cogs attached to a wagon wheel.7
Despite the company’s progress, Brigham was often frustrated when he saw the actions of some members of the company. Most of them had been in the Church for years, served missions, and received the ordinances of the temple. Yet many ignored his counsel on hunting or idled away their free time with gambling, wrestling, and dancing late into the night. Sometimes Brigham woke in the morning to the sound of men arguing over something that had happened during the night. He worried that their quarrels would soon lead to fistfights or worse.
“Do we suppose,” he asked the men on the morning of May 29, “that we are going to look out a home for the Saints, a resting place, a place of peace, where they can build up the kingdom and bid the nations welcome, with a low, mean, dirty, trifling, covetous, wicked spirit?”8 Each of them, he declared, ought to be men of faith and sober minds, given to prayer and meditation.
“Here is an opportunity,” he said, “for every man to prove himself, to know whether he will pray and remember his God, without being asked to do it every day.” He urged them to serve the Lord, remember their temple covenants, and repent of their sins.
Afterward, the men grouped themselves together in priesthood quorums and covenanted, by uplifted hand, to do right and walk humbly before God.9 The next day, when the men partook of the sacrament, a new spirit prevailed.
“I have never seen the brethren so still and sober on a Sunday,” Heber Kimball noted in his journal, “since we started on the journey.”10
While the advance company traveled west, roughly half the Saints in Winter Quarters were outfitting wagons and packing provisions for their journey. In the evenings, after finishing their preparations, they often gathered together to sing and dance to fiddle music, and on Sundays they met to hear sermons and talk about their coming trek.11
Not everyone was eager to go west, however. James Strang and other dissenters continued to lure Saints away with promises of food, shelter, and peace. Strang and his followers had started a community in Wisconsin, a sparsely settled territory some three hundred miles northeast of Nauvoo, where some dissatisfied Saints were gathering. Already several families in Winter Quarters had packed up their wagons and left to join them.12
As the presiding apostle in Winter Quarters, Parley Pratt begged the Saints to ignore apostates and follow the Lord’s authorized apostles. “The Lord has called us to gather,” he reminded them, “and not scatter all the time.” He told them he and John Taylor wanted to send companies west at the end of spring.13
Parley had to delay the departure, though. Before the advance company left, the Twelve had organized several companies according to revelation. These companies were composed mostly of families that had been sealed by adoption to Brigham Young and Heber Kimball. The apostles instructed them to pack enough provisions for the coming year and to bring with them poor Saints and the families of the men in the Mormon Battalion. If people would not keep the covenant to provide for these needy families, their wagons could be confiscated and given to those who would.14
But Parley saw problems in carrying out the quorum’s plan. Many Saints in these companies, including some company captains, were not ready to leave. Some of them lacked the resources to make the journey, and without sufficient supplies they would be a heavy burden on others in the companies who barely had enough provisions for their own families. At the same time, there were other Saints who had not been organized into companies but who were ready and eager to go, fearing they would lose more loved ones to sickness and death if they stayed another year in Winter Quarters.15
Parley and John decided to reorganize the companies, adapting the original plan to suit the roughly fifteen hundred Saints who were ready to go west. When some Saints objected to the changes, questioning Parley’s authority to modify the Twelve’s plan, the two apostles tried to reason with them.
In Brigham’s absence, John explained, the apostle with the most seniority had authority to direct Church members. Since Brigham was not in Winter Quarters, John felt it was Parley’s responsibility—and right—to make decisions for the settlement.
Parley agreed. “I think it is best to act according to our circumstances,” he said.16
As Wilford Woodruff traveled west with the advance company, he often reflected on its sacred mission. “It should be understood,” he wrote in his journal, “that we are piloting a road for the house of Israel to travel in for many years to come.”17
One night, he dreamed that the company arrived at the new gathering place. As he gazed upon the land, a glorious temple appeared before him. It appeared to be built of white and blue stone. Turning to some men standing near him in the dream, he asked if they could see it. They said they did not, but that did not diminish the joy Wilford felt in beholding it.18
By June, the weather turned hot. The short grasses that fed their cattle turned brown in the dry air, and timber was harder to find. Often, the only fuel for fires was dried buffalo dung.19 The company, however, remained diligent in keeping the commandments as Brigham instructed, and Wilford saw evidence of God’s blessings in preserving their food supplies, animals, and wagons.
“We have had peace and union in our midst,” he wrote in his journal. “Great good will grow out of this mission if we are faithful in keeping the commandments of God.”20
On June 27, the advance company encountered a well-known explorer named Moses Harris on the trail. Harris told the Saints that neither the Bear River Valley nor the Salt Lake Valley was good for settlement. He recommended that they settle in a place called Cache Valley, northeast of the Great Salt Lake.
The following day, the company encountered another explorer, Jim Bridger. Unlike Harris, Bridger spoke highly of the Bear River and Salt Lake Valleys, although he warned them that cold nights in the Bear River Valley would likely prevent them from cultivating corn. He said the Salt Lake Valley had good soil, several freshwater streams, and year-round rain. He also praised Utah Valley, south of the Great Salt Lake, yet he cautioned them about disturbing the Ute Indians who lived in that region.21
Bridger’s words about the Salt Lake Valley were encouraging. Though Brigham was unwilling to identify a stopping place until he saw it, he and other members of the company were most interested in exploring the Salt Lake Valley. And if it was not where the Lord wanted them to settle, they could at least stop there, plant crops, and create a temporary settlement until they found their permanent home in the basin.22
Two days later, as the men in the advance company were building rafts to cross a fast-moving river, Sam Brannan and his companions walked into the camp just before sunset, surprising everyone. The company listened raptly as Sam entertained them with stories of the Brooklyn, the founding of New Hope, and his own perilous journey across mountains and plains to find them. He told them the Saints in California had planted acres of wheat and potatoes to prepare for their arrival.
Sam’s enthusiasm for the climate and soil of California was infectious. He urged the company to claim the San Francisco Bay area before other settlers arrived. The land was ideal for settlement, and important men in California were friendly to the Saints’ cause and ready to welcome them.
Brigham listened to Sam, quietly skeptical of the proposal. The allure of the California coast was beyond question, but Brigham knew the Lord wanted the Saints to establish the new gathering place closer to the Rocky Mountains. “Our destination is the Great Basin,” he declared.23
Just over a week later, the company turned off the well-beaten trail they had been following to take another, fainter trail south to the Salt Lake Valley.24

Illustration by Ben Savage
Last February, one of our Sunday lessons was about the importance of making wise choices. My class discussed the value of deciding now what we will and will not do in several situations. We learned that by making our choices before the moments of decision arrive, we’ll have a stronger commitment to do what’s right.
At the end of the lesson, our teacher invited us to go home and make a list of things we will do and a list of things we will never do. I completed the assignment and made two simple lists. As I continued pondering, however, I felt the Spirit prompting me to add to my list by setting personal guidelines for dating. I want to get married in the temple someday—it’s something I’ll never be willing to sacrifice. So with that goal in mind, I added to my two lists, including that I’ll date only people with high standards.
Soon after, one of my great friends asked me to go to prom with him. Even though he wasn’t a Church member, I knew he had high standards and would help me keep my standards. So I said yes. We went as friends and enjoyed a fun night together. Since we both had high standards, I wasn’t tempted to do anything I’d decided I would never do.
Because I followed the Spirit and set these standards for myself, I’m able to look back on prom and be happy about the choices I made. I’m so grateful for my teacher’s invitation, because it’s helped me keep the temple as my focus.

Avery pressed her yellow crayon onto the paper. It was art time in class, and Avery was drawing a picture of herself with little flowers on her shirt. She drew six petals on each flower because six was her favorite number.
Avery put down her crayon and smiled at her drawing. It was perfect! Then she noticed that Jeremy, the boy who sat next to her, was frowning. He was hunched over in his seat. Avery smiled at him, but he didn’t look at her.
“What did you draw?” she asked. “Can I see?”
Jeremy didn’t say anything. He covered up his paper with his red-and-white striped sleeve.
Later Avery and her class went to lunch. Avery sat down with a group of friends. She saw Jeremy sitting alone at another table. His eyes were big, looking around at everyone. He looked sad. Avery thought about how Jeremy usually played alone at recess. What could she do to help him feel better?
That night Avery prayed and told Heavenly Father about Jeremy. She asked Heavenly Father to help her know what to do. She stayed still even after she said “amen,” just thinking.
Then she had an idea! Avery grabbed some crayons and paper. She drew a picture of herself and Jeremy playing with a basketball. They had big smiles on their faces! Avery carefully colored four red stripes on Jeremy’s shirt. Then she wrote Jeremy’s name at the top of the picture.
When she was done, she ran to the kitchen. “Look, Mom!” She held up the picture so Mom could see.
“That’s a happy picture,” Mom said.
Avery smiled. “It’s for Jeremy. He’s in my class. I hope he likes it.”
Avery looked at her drawing again. “Can I have a piece of candy?” she asked. “I want to tape it to the picture.”
Mom smiled and pulled out a box from the cupboard. It was filled with little candies of all colors. Avery picked a red-and-white peppermint and taped it to the corner of the picture.
When Avery got to school the next day, she gave the picture to Jeremy.
“This is for you,” she said. “I hope we can be friends.”
Jeremy took the picture and looked at it. Then he grinned.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve never gotten a present from a friend before.”
Avery’s heart felt happy. “Do you want to play with me at recess?” she asked.
Jeremy held up the picture. His smile was as big as the one in the drawing. “We can play basketball!”

I knew a man once whom I respected very much and who had this quality. On one occasion, a beggar came from out of town and appeared at his door and asked for money. My friend said, “I have an old barn that needs painting. If you want to paint it, I’ll pay you for it.” They went out to look at the barn, and then the man was sent to England’s paint store and arrangements were made for him to pick up the paint he needed.
The barn was painted, and the man was paid and left town. Shortly after, Mr. England called my friend and said that the man had picked up far more paint than was needed to paint the barn. In short, my friend had been taken.
Yet, he took the opportunity to teach his sons a lesson.
“Had I known what he did, I would have stopped him,” he said. “But we have our painted barn, and the painter, whatever his problems, will always know that there was someone willing to believe in him.”

During the Arab-Israeli Six-Day War of 1967, a midnight patrol of Israeli soldiers along the shore of the Sinai Peninsula spotted a faint green light hovering in the waters of the Red Sea just beyond a coral reef. Thinking that they had surprised a team of enemy frogmen, they fired explosive shells into the glowing area. The result, however, was not a spoiled enemy mission, but a beach strewn with the bodies of many small dark fish, from whose heads shone pairs of strange green lights.
What had fooled the Israeli soldiers was a school of flashlight fish, little known inhabitants of dark underwater caves and crevices that come to the surface of the sea on dark, moonless nights to forage for small organisms on the reef’s edge. Their sources of light are packets of a very unusual type of bacteria, billions of them in each packet, that give off a steady green glow. Located just under their eyes, they are used quite effectively by the fish as “headlights.” In fact, the fish can even turn them on and off by either blinking to cover them with an “eyelid” or by rotating them into protective pockets like the headlights of some automobiles.

The year we were baptized a friend bought a building lot for his family and ours by loaning us part of the money. We began to dream of having our own house. Eventually the Spirit prompted us, and we started calculating the cost of labor and materials. We felt that we would somehow manage to build a house where we could raise our children in the gospel, do missionary work, and receive visits from members.
After some time I got better acquainted with Brother Joel, a recently baptized member of our ward. His faith was amazing. Once when we were doing a service project, Brother Joel said to me, “José Luis, we can build your house.” I was on the verge of tears, but I contained myself until I told my wife. It was the answer to our prayers.
A few days later the friend who had purchased the land for his family and ours told me I could have the entire plot and pay for it later. Still I did not have the kind of job that would allow me to buy building materials, but I knew the Lord would provide a way. Several weeks later I was invited to work for a large company. Thus, our goal to begin building a house soon became a reality.
What a labor of love was Brother Joel’s. He did more than build a house for my family. He was ready to help us in any way. We worked only on Saturdays. It took 10 months, and it did not interfere with our Church work. Other Church members also helped us. My father came to help several times, which allowed him to get to know members of the Church better. He especially got to know Brother Joel, who had become our home teacher.
One Saturday my father praised Brother Joel for the way he worked.
I said, “Dad, do you know how much I have paid for his services?”
He said, “No.”
“I haven’t paid him a cent,” I said. “He has done this service because he loves my family. He is a good man.”
I realized my father was choked up, and he didn’t say anything. I felt he was probably remembering how he had treated the bishop and the missionaries and was embarrassed. He saw that the members of the Church had always treated us well.
On the day we finished the house, 16 men, most of them members of the Church, were there. My relatives and friends who were not members certainly learned a lot that day.

I remember coming home from the hospital that day. My parents helped me out of the car, through the house, and onto my bed. I remember lying there, feeling helpless for the first time in my life.
I grew up playing sports. I even hoped to run track in college someday. But toward the end of high school, I tore my anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) in my knee—for the second time. This required several surgeries and over a year of rehab to fix. My first surgery was right before I graduated, and I had to stay home while my friends started the next chapter of their lives studying at new colleges, serving missions, and moving to exciting cities. My future, once secure, was now full of uncertainty.
Admittedly, I knew these challenges were not unique or extraordinary, but they were my challenges—and they were hard! My immediate reaction was to reach out for any sense of certainty and create plans for my future. But in that process of striving for personal assurance or security, a process that is still continuing today, I’ve learned a few things.
Education has played an important role in helping me understand uncertainty. While I was recovering from surgery, I began taking Brigham Young University–Idaho courses online. I initially wasn’t sure if online learning was right for me, but the incredible experiences I had quickly changed my opinion.
I learned a lot from my classmates who were in different circumstances. My education helped me to think differently about myself and the world around me, and my priorities started changing. I began to enjoy learning rather than passively going through the motions, and the gospel of Jesus Christ had more significance in my life.
Without my education, I would not be who I am today. I believe that my decision to serve a full-time mission was because of those courses. I believe God was guiding me and will continue to work with me as I have faith in Him.
While the future is still filled with uncertainty, it isn’t as uncomfortable for me anymore. My experiences have strengthened my relationship with God and have helped me change my approach to life. Rather than overthinking everything (something I’m a master of), I’ve realized that sometimes I just need to act. This is not a carefree attitude, but confidence that I now know Heavenly Father will help me, inspire me, and open doors of opportunity for me as I step forward in faith.
President Russell M. Nelson recently said, “Positive spiritual momentum will keep us moving forward amid … fear and uncertainty.”3 With the momentum I’ve gained, the cloud of uncertainty has been replaced with a bright hope for the future. Looking back, I’ve realized that God has been with me—maybe not in the ways I’d expected, but He’s always been there in the way I needed Him most.

My mother was a great delegator. Each Saturday morning as my brothers and sisters and I were growing up, we received housecleaning assignments from her. Her instructions to us had been learned from her mother: “Be certain you clean thoroughly in the corners and along the mopboards. If you are going to miss anything, let it be in the center of the room.”

She knew very well if we cleaned the corners, she would never have a problem with what was left in the center of the room. That which is visible to the eye would never be left unclean.

Over the years, my mother’s counsel has had enormous application to me in many different ways. It is especially applicable to the task of spiritual housecleaning. The aspects of our lives that are on public display usually take care of themselves because we want to leave the best impression possible. But it is in the hidden corners of our lives, where there are things that only we know about, that we must be particularly thorough to ensure that we are clean.

I remember how the shrill scream of a siren excited me whenever an ambulance went rushing by. Oh, how I wanted to be at the wheel of that machine, rushing to the aid of sick and injured people. As I grew older, my dream became a reality. I took first-aid classes, human science classes, and finally, an emergency medical technician training course that would make my dream come true.
I was just out of high school when I got my first job as an ambulance attendant for a private ambulance company. I had many opportunities open up for me at such a young age, and I progressed rapidly in my knowledge of emergency treatments. I learned many things about life that most people never learn until later. I was also exposed to many trials and temptations that I’d never come across before.
I worked in a non-Mormon atmosphere. It was the type of atmosphere that my church leaders always had warned me about, but at the time, I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about it. My work began conflicting with my church attendance. I started asking myself questions and often wondered about my future. I could see myself progressing into higher fields of medicine, and it seemed that nothing stood in my way. Then, on my nineteenth birthday, I made my way to California and applied to a hospital paramedic program. I was accepted, and could enter in the fall semester. I knew then that was exactly what I wanted to do.
Suddenly all thoughts of going on a mission left my mind. It was as if the decision not to go had already been made. Oh, sure, I always told my friends and family that I would go. I even told my employer I was planning on a mission. But all of that seemed unimportant now. All I could see was personal satisfaction, and I didn’t care what kind of spiritual development I’d miss. The voice of the prophet still echoed in my mind, “Every young man is to fulfill a mission.” But the thought always came back, “In two years’ time, look how far you could be as a paramedic.”
I didn’t know what to do! I knew deep down in my heart that a mission was the right thing, but I was blinded by worldly greed. The decision to go or not to go was constantly on my mind. I thought about it from the time I got up until the time I went to bed at night. Because we worked 24-hour shifts, I had lots of time to think.
One night right after I had gone to bed, I was awakened by the ring of the telephone. The highway patrol was calling for an ambulance to respond to a car-truck accident on the freeway, and soon I was at the scene of a two-car accident. A small car had run into the back of a large truck loaded with wooden fence posts. The badly mangled car had two occupants—a young couple that had recently been married. The husband, who was driving, had been killed instantly. His wife was critically injured. We worked desperately to save the slowly fading life of that beautiful nineteen-year-old woman. I thought to myself, How could something so terrible happen to this fine couple and totally destroy their future plans and happiness?
We rushed her to the hospital, where a team of highly trained doctors and nurses were waiting. Soon a helicopter arrived to transport her to a hospital in Salt Lake City, where she could receive special treatment for a severe head injury.
After I calmed down from the shock of such a terrible accident, I remembered talking to the highway patrolman who would be responsible for notifying the next of kin. I’ll never forget the solemn look on his face, and the glaze of tears in his eyes as he drove away. I thought to myself, What a horrible assignment! What if they were my parents being notified? Then another thought came to my mind: What will be the look on my face when I give an accounting to the Savior of the time I spent here in mortality?
The night air was chilled with a late frost. As I gazed up into the night, I noticed how clear and calm the sky looked. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and I found myself pleading with the Lord for that young woman’s life. At that moment, when my heart actually seemed to swell painfully with love and compassion, I finally began to understand. Doctors and nurses and paramedics were wonderful, but they could only treat the body. They couldn’t heal the deeper wounds, the ones that would keep us from going home to our Father. Only one Physician could do that, and I was denying myself the chance to be his helper. I made a decision. I would do all I could to further the work of the Master Healer. I would serve a mission!
The days came and went. Finally, one month later, I learned my prayers had been answered. The young woman was released from the hospital, completely recovered. How I thanked our Eternal Father for that answer. But now came the biggest step of all, my mission.
As I prayed and prepared myself, the Spirit confirmed the fact that I was to serve my Heavenly Father in the mission field. I’ll never forget that calm, sweet feeling that came as the words fell from the lips of our stake patriarch, when he pronounced that blessing upon me. And I’ll never forget that same feeling as I opened the letter from a prophet of God, calling me to serve in the Pennsylvania Harrisburg Mission. Even as I served in Pennsylvania, as a representative of Jesus Christ, I had that special calm feeling, knowing that I had made the right choice.
Before I left for the mission field, I thought there was no feeling in the world like knowing someone was walking again because of your help, but I was wrong. There is no greater feeling in the world than knowing you helped someone in their search for true joy and happiness found in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I know this church is true with all my heart! I know that God lives, that he hears and answers prayers. I know that Jesus is the Christ, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is his church on the earth. My mission sealed those facts in my heart in a way no ambulance run ever could.

Youth in the Granada Hills California Stake took a different approach on the Church Sesquicentennial theme “Faith in Every Footstep” for their youth conference this year. Instead of taking steps of their own, they helped mentally handicapped children run, jump, and walk to the finish line at the Los Angeles Special Olympics.
The youth worked for nine hours, beginning at 6:00 A.M., but their good attitudes never wavered. “It was the best youth conference we have ever had because we’ve been able to give service,” said one participant.

Many years ago, 11-year-old Cori sat in front of the television listening to general conference. When she was younger, she drew pictures, but today she was listening closely for the things the prophet wanted her to do. President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) asked everyone to read the scriptures, go to the temple, spend more time with their families on Sunday, and have family home evening. Cori knew that if she followed the prophet, she could help make her family stronger. Today Cori knows that following the prophet’s counsel increased her family’s love for one another and for Jesus Christ.

This next example shows you do not have to be wealthy or old to be an instrument for good. Eighteen-year-old Marie “Djadjou” Jacques is from the Cavaillon Branch in Haiti. When the devastating earthquake struck near her town in August, her family’s house was one of tens of thousands of buildings that collapsed. It’s almost impossible to imagine the despair of losing your home. But rather than giving in to that despair, Djadjou—incredibly—turned outward.
Associated Press
She saw an elderly neighbor struggling and began taking care of her. She helped others clear away debris. Despite her exhaustion, she joined other Church members to distribute food and hygiene kits to others. Djadjou’s story is just one of many powerful examples of service carried out by youth and young adults as they strive to follow the example of Jesus Christ.