Gospel Story Finder

Life seems to have a way of changing the most carefully made plans, but no one would have expected the traumatic experience that awaited Don. His fun on the reservation was cut short by painful events, and his mission began in a much different way than one would have imagined.
While riding in the back of a small truck with some of his friends, Don accidentally fell out onto the hard, black pavement and skidded painfully along its rough surface. That was the last thing he remembered until he awoke in a hospital bed, his body in physical torment.
An excruciating pain in his back persisted through the long night, and as the new day began, Don found himself unable to move his arms, hands, or legs. He was paralyzed from his neck down!
Following an emergency operation, he awoke in a recovery room conscious that the pain in his mended back was subsiding; but he was also painfully aware of his helpless limbs that refused to respond to his efforts to move them.
Don’s concerned doctors had little hope that this condition would ever change. As he lay helpless in his hospital bed, fighting back the tears of discouragement, he expressed the feelings of his heart to his Heavenly Father, asking for strength to endure and for a recovery from his affliction if it were His will.
Night after night while others slept, Don struggled through the long, dark hours attempting to move his helpless hands that lay inertly by his side. He would pray and try, pray and try, repeating over and over in his mind, “I can do it, I can do it, I can do it!” Then, as the early morning light filtered softly through the blinds of his window, he would surrender himself wearily to a merciful sleep.
On one such interminable night, Don’s heart suddenly pounded with excitement as an almost imperceptible movement was made by one of his fingers! Holding his breath in suspense, he moved his finger again!
There was no sleep for Don that night. A wonderful, elated feeling of hope buoyed his troubled spirit and gave him renewed determination to regain the use of his hands.
Each night became a new adventure as gradually, with great effort and perseverance, the use of his hands and arms slowly returned to him.
In the meantime, Don’s doctor had procrastinated the unwelcome task of informing him that he must mentally prepare himself to accept his paralysis as an unalterable fact of his young life.
With great difficulty, the doctor told this news to Don. It was a poignant moment for the good doctor who turned quickly to leave the room to conceal his emotion. As he left the room he stole a last glance at Don lying quietly in his bed. Just at this moment, Don reached his arm up to the head rail of his bed and pulled himself into a more comfortable position. The startled doctor could not contain himself. “Do that again, Don! Do that again!” he shouted with excitement. Soon the room was filled with nurses and doctors who came running to learn the cause of the great commotion. It was a moment to be remembered.

I must have recited the Young Women theme more than five million times before I had an experience that helped me learn to appreciate its importance.
Usually in Young Women opening exercises, we all recited the 90-word theme without really thinking about what we were saying. But one particular day, during my junior year, those inspired words rang through my mind as I faced an important decision.
In my speech class, my teacher assigned group projects. Each group picked a scene from a play to perform for the class. As we spent the next four days preparing for our performance, rumors started that one group of boys had chosen a risque play dealing with morality issues. A lot of us were surprised when our teacher allowed them to keep their selection. He argued that it was a well-known play, and “for art’s sake,” he must allow them to perform it.
On the day of the performances, our teacher again discussed the controversial play. He agreed it may be offensive. Then he added, “Those of you who feel uncomfortable have my permission to leave the room.” Jokingly, half the class stood up and pretended to walk out. Who wouldn’t take advantage of going out to lunch an hour early?
I began feeling a little nervous as the boys started their performance. At first, several of my classmates blushed and giggled uneasily, but as the piece went on, people began to relax. I was shocked that no one was leaving the room. I looked over at a few of my LDS friends, watching for one of them to give the signal for all of us to walk out together. However, none of them seemed to be preparing for departure. I remained at my desk, holding my head down so no one could see my crimson cheeks. I felt very uncomfortable in the situation, but I was also afraid to leave. After all, it was art, right?
At this moment, the Young Women theme came into my mind: “We will ‘stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places’” (Mosiah 18:9). Immediately, I knew what I should do. “All places” meant everywhere, even in a classroom with my friends.
Quietly, I got up and left the room. That was it. No one got up and followed me. No one applauded my valiant act. No one was converted by my example. But inside I knew I had done the right thing, even though people teased me for the next two weeks. I felt good about standing up for my beliefs “at all times, and in all things, and in all places.”

Another sister wrote:
“It’s all over now! What? The area conference! I wish they could stay longer here,” she said. “Believe it or not it has been raining cats and dogs, but the sun shone brightly just before the prophet’s plane landed at the airport. There was a typhoon forecast, but it didn’t come until after the Brethren had left the country. I walked with Sister Kimball. I told her I could hardly believe I was walking with her. Know what she said? Well, she told me she is no different than I am. That she washed clothes, washed the dishes, and cooks food, plants vegetables, and does all the same things that I do.”

Make good friends. Cathy Geigle, 15, also of the Sugar Hill Stake, has moved a lot and has had to make new friends many times—member and nonmember alike. “It is always so much fun to go out with Mormons,” she says. But right now those occasions usually occur when there is a church activity, since there are not a lot of LDS students in her school. But that hasn’t kept Cathy from making good friends. “If you have a good, clean spirit and are living righteously, you will be attracted to other good spirits, even if they aren’t Mormon,” she says.
On Cathy’s first day of high school, she met Kelly. “We started talking, and I could just tell from the way she talked and acted we were a lot alike. Our spirits are alike. She’s been a good friend ever since.”

When I was eight, I chose to be baptized. As I was immersed in the water, I felt a special happiness that came from the Spirit. Shortly after my baptism, my mother passed away. I felt sad, depressed, and frustrated. No child should have to know how it feels to lose their mother.
However, three years later we went to the temple and were sealed as a family. The special feeling of the Spirit came back that day, and I felt that my mother was there by my side in the temple. I have faith that I will see her again someday.

While on a mission tour late last year, on a Wednesday evening, I met the faithful parents of a newer missionary serving in that mission. On Friday, I met the fine young missionary. He was born in the covenant and raised in the Church by those goodly parents. Early on Saturday morning, the mission president informed me that the father had died, and the mother was critically injured in a car accident the night before.
With the approval of the Area Presidency, the mission president arranged for this young elder and his companion to attend the funeral of his father. As travel arrangements were being made and while still dealing with the tragic news, the young elder said, “I want to be a missionary; can I come back?” His question and subsequent actions reflected his desire and determination to press forward in faith and continue his service. For him, with faith in the Resurrection and the sealing ordinances of the temple, his father’s death was not the end, though it was such a hard thing for any young person to bear. He knew that his father was alright and that, regardless of what happened with his mother, their family could be together again. Following the funeral, he promptly returned to his missionary work and is serving with the faith and hope found in message of the restored gospel that he teaches every day.

Elder Stolt’s grandfather was Vernon Carl Poulter II, who served a three-year, Mandarin-speaking mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1957. Elder Poulter’s first assignment in the Far East Asia Mission was in Taipei, Taiwan. It had only been open to missionaries for a few months, and because none of the Church’s Latter-day revelations had been translated into Chinese yet, teaching the gospel required an extensive 17 lessons before baptism and another 20 after.
Many of Elder Poulter’s contacts showed great potential, but he was always transferred to a new area before they progressed in their conversion. After one transfer, he and his junior companion decided to put their prayers to the test. Elder Poulter suggested: “Let’s pray specifically to be led to someone prepared to hear the gospel, then stay on our bikes until we receive the Spirit’s direction.”
An hour later, at a busy intersection in congested Taipei traffic, Elder Poulter had the distinct impression to turn right. When he caught up with his companion, the impression returned—stronger this time—that they should turn around.
Elder Poulter recorded: “We plunged back into traffic, made a ‘U-Turn’ across four lanes . . . back to the intersection, and turned left through another eight lanes of traffic.”
The elders eventually found themselves on a street that was too narrow even for bicycles. “As we continued on foot, I saw a man a few feet away watching us very intently through an open window. Our eyes met and I knew he was the person to whom we had been led.”
Mr. Hu invited the missionaries in and accepted, without question, their first lesson about the need for latter-day prophets. “Since Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and is the most important person of our time,” Mr. Hu wondered aloud, “how should I honour him?”
At his request, the missionaries returned the next day to continue teaching Mr. Hu and his family. During the lesson, Elder Poulter recalls that a ‘pure white light’ emanated through the window, but from no apparent source. He writes: “It was clear to my mind that we were in the presence of the Holy Ghost, whose radiance could actually be seen as well as felt.”
After the elders repeated the story of Joseph Smith for his wife and children, Mr. Hu bore his testimony and gave his own lesson to his family based on his reading of a pamphlet the missionaries had left him the day before. “His understanding and sincerity were most impressive,” Elder Poulter recalled. Mr. Hu closed by stating that these elders were bearers of the truth, then asked for permission to translate the pamphlet so he could share it with his friends and neighbours.
“Not knowing better, I said OK . . . we were pleased to see Mr. and Mrs. Hu with their two girls at church the next Sunday.” Then, Elder Poulter was transferred again. Prepared to leave the area, he started to pack a set of books his father had given him for the mission. Along with the standard works, they included, Articles of Faith, Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story, and James E. Talmage’s, The Great Apostasy. “I had the strong impression to take them all to Mr. Hu the next day . . . the [books] were received with joy and gratitude. That was the last I heard of the Hu family on my mission.”
When he finally returned home, Elder Poulter felt discouraged and embarrassed about the meagre results of his three years in the mission field. In time, his perspective changed and some 40 years later, he was inspired to share this experience in a Sunday School class.
“I bore my testimony that our part in the Lord’s plan is not always apparent. I never learned what had become of the Hu family, [but] I don’t have to; doing the Lord’s work is its own reward.”
Three days later, Elder Poulter received a letter that had been forwarded to him via a missionary in Taipei. It was from a Mr. Hu Wei Yi. In the letter, Brother Hu, now in his 80s, recounted his family’s baptism and reported that he had been a patriarch, a temple sealer and was even set apart by President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) to be a translator.
The list of titles Mr. Hu translated included all the books Elder Poulter had given him, plus many more, “and then I read, The Book of Mormon. I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Elder Poulter writes. Yes, the Book of Mormon, the revealed word of God was translated into the second most spoken language in the world, by a humble man who had been prepared by the Lord to meet a pair of faithful missionaries.

One day when I was riding home from school on the bus, my friend started talking about the person sitting next to me. She said that because he wasn’t a member of our church, she did not like him. I told her that it’s OK that he’s not a member of our church and that he’s still a good person.
When I got home, I talked with my mother about what had happened. She suggested that I call him and apologize for the way my friend had acted. He wasn’t home, so I talked with his mother, instead. Later, I saw him with some friends playing basketball with our basketball hoop. When I walked outside, his friends thought I was coming to tell them that they had to leave. He said, “She won’t say that. She’s nice. She apologized for the way her friend acted.” I felt very good inside for choosing the right.
Chelsea Michele Bryant, age 8Midway, Utah

Elder Steven Hanks and Sister Jean Hanks are serving in Liberia and are living in Kakata, a village outside of Monrovia. They recently had the joyous opportunity and privilege of helping two young men in their mid-20’s, John Gbakoya and Baby Ya, receive new wheelchairs.
Elder and Sister Hanks left their apartment one morning at seven and drove to Bong Mine, an old mining town 30 miles northwest of Kakata, out into the bush, to pick up the two men with medical conditions requiring wheelchairs. Their current chairs were running on the rims and falling apart.
The Teerlink family, in collaboration with LDS Charities, had recently shipped 350 new wheelchairs to JFK hospital in Monrovia. It was a 3-hour drive through country roads and snarled African city traffic jams to the hospital where John and Baby were measured and fitted with brand new chairs.
The Hanks disassembled the chairs, loaded them and the men back in their truck, drove back to Bong Mine and then reassembled the chairs. John’s wheelchair took a little work, but they got it done, thanks to some bicycle-repair experience.
John and Baby Ya were overjoyed and so thankful. Their community gathered to rejoice with them. Everyone in town knows them and everyone was thrilled they were given these beautiful new wheelchairs.
It was a beautiful, sweet day. Special thanks to LDS Charities, the Teerlink family for their generosity, and to the Hanks for serving in Liberia and being just the right people to bless these young men and assemble their chairs.

When I was called to serve as a General Authority, I had an interview with President Faust. He noticed that I was concerned because I felt inadequate for such a call. In his tender way, President Faust told me, “Athos, be yourself. Be yourself.” That night I lay awake in bed, thinking of my new responsibilities and of President Faust’s words. And I prayed. I asked myself, Who am I? And the answer came as clear and bright as the dawn of that brand-new day. I am, like each one of you, a child of God who wants to obey the Lord and serve wherever He sends me and thus be a better child of our Heavenly Father and a faithful member of the true Church of Jesus Christ.

After translating the Book of Mormon, the Lord commanded Joseph to revise the Bible.
As he read the Bible, Joseph was inspired by the Lord to make some changes.
Joseph asked scribes to help him.
The work was delayed when the Lord commanded the Saints to move to Ohio.
After moving to Ohio, Joseph started his revisions again with Sidney Rigdon helping as scribe.
“We need to resume our work on the Bible.”
On February 16, 1832, Joseph and Sidney were revising the book of John in the New Testament.
“… they who have done good, in the resurrection of the just; and they who have done evil, in the resurrection of the unjust.”
“What does this mean?”
An incredible vision opened up to them.
They saw Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.
They also learned that there are three kingdoms in heaven.
They were shown that those who will inherit the celestial kingdom will be resurrected first.
“These are they who are … made perfect through Jesus.”
When the vision was over, they were amazed. Sidney was tired.
“Sidney is not as used to this as I am.”
President Wilford Woodruff said that this vision “gives more light, more truth, and more principle than any revelation contained in any other book we ever read.”
Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Wilford Woodruff (2004), 120–21.

“Wow, what an army!” David looked excited as he knelt next to the small trenches and plastic men Brady was playing with.
“Yeah,” Brady said, grinning proudly. “I’ve been digging these trenches for an hour. I wondered where you were.”
“You should’ve called. I was helping Mom sort some books for her bookstore. She got an order in yesterday.”
“Oh, you are always reading a book!” Brady knew that David didn’t mind his teasing. David was the best reader in the third grade and he was proud of it.
David started digging in the warm dirt with his hands, and soon he was busy building trenches too. Books were forgotten as the boys worked in silence for several minutes. The only sound was Brady’s loud sneeze when he stirred up too much dust.
“What’s your general’s name?” David asked, pushing a lock of hair back with a grimy hand. “I think I’ll call mine General Lee.”
“Mine’s General Moroni,” Brady said without looking up. He moved a plastic man in uniform into position at the front of the battle line.
“Moroni? What kind of name is that? Lee was a famous general. I’ve read a lot of history books, and I know a lot of real generals’ names. There’s Alexander the Great and Napoleon and–”
“I like Moroni.” Brady looked up then. He looked quickly at David and the trench he was digging, then went back to his own work. “Moroni was the best.”
“You mean there was really a general named Moroni? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Yes, there was. He once fought the Lamanites, or Indians, but only when he had to. He liked to live in peace.”
“He fought against Indians? Was he a cowboy?” David had read a lot of cowboy stories too.
“No, he was a Nephite.” Brady smiled and proudly held up the plastic man. “He was strong and brave, and he made his own flag and everything.”
“Who told you about him?” David was curious now. He didn’t know anything about Nephites or a general named Moroni.
“My Primary teacher. Dad and Mom told me a lot more about him, too.” Brady had asked David to come to Primary when his friend first moved in several months ago, but David had said no. He liked to read on Sunday.
“They tell you stories like that in Primary? I thought it was just prayers and bible stuff.”
“Oh, sure, we have those things. But we also have the Book of Mormon, and it has a lot of good stories in it.” Brady could see that David was interested. He had put down his men, and his hands were still. “Do you want to come to Primary with me next Sunday?”
“No.” David bent his head and started digging extra fast. He wasn’t going to let Brady trick him into going to church. Nobody mentioned Moroni again while they played.
On Saturday Brady and David went exploring at the old park. They kicked a soccer ball around for a while, played hide-and-seek in the overgrown bushes, and climbed up on the old rock wall at the east corner of the park.
“Hey, look!” Brady shouted. He spread his arms wide and lowered his voice dramatically: “Behold, I am Samuel the Lamanite. …”
David asked, “Who are you talking about now?”
“Samuel the Lamanite. He once preached from a high wall that surrounded the city because the Nephites had chased him out of the city.”
“Why did they chase him away? I thought Moroni was a Nephite and that the Nephites were the good guys.” David scratched his head and lay back on his elbows. He squinted his eyes half-shut and watched Brady standing on the wall.
“Yes, Moroni was a Nephite when the Nephites were righteous. But Samuel was preaching to a group of Nephites who were wicked. He told them to repent and quit doing wrong. So they chased him from their city. That’s when he climbed up on the wall and preached from there. The Nephites shot arrows and threw rocks at him, but they couldn’t hit him. Good, huh?”
David didn’t answer for a minute. He picked up the soccer ball and passed it from one hand to another. “Another Primary story, right?”
“Yes. I think Samuel was great, and he didn’t give up easily.”
Brady didn’t ask David again to go to Primary with him. They played soccer until the sun got too hot, then rode their bicycles back to Brady’s for a drink of lemonade. Mom even let them put up a tent in the backyard.
Three weeks later was David’s birthday. He got a new fishing pole from his dad, a baseball mitt from his older brother, and a book about trains from his mom. Brady gave him some building blocks that snapped together, just like the set Brady had received last Christmas. Brady knew that David would like them. The next day they played for hours with the blocks, making trucks and buildings and even a huge tower.
When David had finished his tower, he ran to his closet for a plastic man. He put him on top of the tower and grinned mysteriously at Brady. “Do you know who that is?”
“Who?” asked Brady. He wasn’t paying much attention to David, because he was busy linking his ship together with some yellow blocks.
“King Benjamin.” David paused to wait for Brady to listen. “I built a tower for King Benjamin.”
Brady looked at the tower. It was sturdy, tall, and magnificent. “Wow!” Brady whistled through his teeth. “Nice job!” Then a puzzled expression replaced Brady’s smile. “But how did you know about King Benjamin?”
David smiled a smile that covered his whole face. “Mom got me a copy of your Book of Mormon. We’ve been reading it together. I really like the story of King Benjamin.”
Brady left his ship and went over to study the tower. “Wow! A tower for King Benjamin.”
“You know,” David said, “I like Moroni too. The missionaries told us about him. I can see why you used him to lead your army. I can’t wait till we get to that part in our reading. He was the best.”
Brady agreed. He didn’t have to ask David if he wanted to come to Primary on Sunday. He knew he would come.

Josh: When we first went to Camp Tatiyee, we were all a little uncomfortable. As we were introduced, it was amazing to see how happy the participants were. I remember thinking to myself, “How can they be so happy when they have serious disabilities and other challenges?” But they were genuinely happy to see us. We played football, softball, and kickball, and we even arm wrestled with them. I learned pretty quickly that the camp participants have a special purpose in life.
I’m sure that as a missionary, I will find myself in uncomfortable circumstances. This experience has helped prepare me to not fear those situations on my mission when that time comes.
Our football team visits Camp Tatiyee each year as an act of service, but I believe the camp participants are also serving us by their examples. I have learned that if you really want to be happy, then you forget about yourself and serve someone else.

I was 18 when I received my national service call-up papers. They instructed me to report for my medical. At the time, I was working as an apprentice cooper, had a great group of friends and was surrounded by a close-knit, loving family.
Although I had known that it was only a matter of time before I was called up, when it came, I was very apprehensive, being concerned about the expectations of army life, and sad about leaving my family and friends. However, it gave way to excitement at the thought of going abroad, making new friends, and learning new skills.
After being found medically fit, I was immediately required to report to the Royal Fusiliers barracks at the Tower of London, where their training unit was based. A four-month military training course followed, with about 80 other recruits, to prepare us for active service, anywhere in the world. We were then transferred to a transit camp in Kent to await our orders to be shipped to the battalion located in Khartoum, Sudan. This was subsequently changed and instead a group of us were transferred to the Queen’s Royal Regiment. They were serving in Malaya (now Malaysia) assisting the Malayan Police in combatting raids by insurgent groups. These groups were carrying out attacks on the local civilian population, including farmers, rubber plantation workers, and others.
At the end of World War II several British colonies were seeking for independence. In the case of Malaya, the Communist-influenced Malayan National Liberation Army initiated armed guerrilla insurgencies. As a result, Britain, along with other Western allies, sent military personnel to Malaya to act as an anti-insurgency force. Hence our deployment to Malaya. On 13 December 1954 we set sail aboard HMTS Asturias, heading for Singapore. We arrived on 1 January 1955 after a wonderful three-week journey, though military training continued throughout.
During this period, I gained a greater realisation of what it meant to be on active service, namely carrying a rifle and possibly being engaged in gun battles. That made it a little scary, but I was mindful that my personal safety and that of my comrades was paramount. Overnight we travelled by military train from Singapore to an area called Negri Sembilan in the west of Malaya. We were required to take anti-malarial medication daily, failing to do so being a disciplinary offence. Carrying our rifles was also compulsory.
At base we commenced the next part of our intensive training. This included four weeks of acclimatisation to the Malayan weather and jungle training, where the heat averaged 90-95F at midday. This was essential given the hostile environment in which we would be working. I was also detailed to begin training as a signaller, responsible for military communications, which meant carrying a military 68T radio wireless set on all operations.
During the remainder of my service in Malaya, approximately 18 months, I worked as part of a 200/300-man ambush unit. Our role was to protect the civilian population from insurgents who got into their kampongs (traditional villages), often to steal food. On other occasions, for about ten days each time, our duties involved patrolling specified areas deep in the jungle. In hot, humid, and wet conditions, while carrying our rifles, ammunition and ration packs of food, a path had to be cleared by chopping down trees and bushes as we walked. My load was heavier due to the 68T wireless set, to send situation reports back to headquarters.
There were many highs and lows, especially when two members of our unit were killed, but we had to remain strong and focussed. These activities continued until I was demobbed in 1956. I returned home with mixed emotions, sorry to be leaving fellow soldiers behind, but very elated to be reunited with my family and friends.
Within a week of my return, my mother organised a party. It was wonderful. I eventually settled back into civilian life. I worked as a labourer until I was employed as a wood worker; I continued doing this for the next 46 years, until I retired. Undoubtedly, the dedication, loyalty, and discipline I had learnt in the army influenced my work ethic.

It was four days before Christmas, and the excitement in our family was almost tangible. Heidi was busy wrapping her gifts for Mom, while Erin was fascinated by the brightly colored lights twinkling in the window. I was excited because tonight the company John worked for was treating the employees and their wives to dinner and a show.
After dropping the girls off at the baby-sitter’s, John and I were on our way. We used the time as we drove to the company party to reflect on our many blessings.
The party was a huge success. It was well after midnight when we pulled into the driveway. John went ahead to open the door and turn the lights on, while I wrapped our two sleeping girls in blankets to protect them against the wintry night air.
Suddenly, John came running back to me, shouting, “We’ve been robbed!” With Erin in my arms, I felt a chill run through me. After checking the house, we discovered that all our Christmas presents were gone. The thieves had taken everything—even our tithing receipts and patriarchal blessings. We were devastated! What could we do? We felt so helpless.
Instead of enjoying the fun of customary family events connected with the celebration of the birth of our Savior, we struggled with a cold and empty feeling. The gifts could surely be replaced, but the love and care that went into each gift and its wrapping could not.
We held a family council and decided to stay indoors and celebrate Christmas quietly, keeping our focus on a celebration of the Savior’s birth.
That Sunday, news of the robbery spread. Sunday evening, as John and I sat in the living room with the lights out, we heard the sound of car doors slamming. We both jumped, thinking the burglars had come back. Quickly we dashed to the front door. We couldn’t believe what we saw.
Tiny reflections of lighted candles flickered in the frosty air as 25 ward members sang carols to brighten our spirits. It was hard for us to hold back our tears.
As they drove off, we felt joy replace the bitterness in our hearts. When we walked back into the house, the phone was ringing—the first of many phone calls that night from neighbors wondering how they could help us. We turned on Erin’s favorite twinkling lights and decided to have a Christmas celebration, no matter how small.
The following day was Christmas Eve. About 11:00 A.M. it began—visit after visit from Church members with presents and food. One sister was prompted to give us money, and it turned out to be the same amount that had been stolen. Boy Scouts came and made their contribution. Members from a neighboring stake heard of the robbery and sent Santa himself. Heidi could not believe her eyes. This parade of love and aid continued until about midnight.
By the time we went to bed that Christmas Eve, our hearts were filled with gratitude to others. Exemplifying the spirit of Christmas, those who responded to our need had turned a nightmare into a festival of Christlike love.

I have experienced this for myself. I remember a time when a personal disappointment had left me exquisitely lonely. One day while searching the scriptures for consolation, I had the impression that I needed to focus on one particular verse. That verse led me to hundreds of others in what became a period of intense searching. But it wasn’t until three years later that another passage leaped out at me as if in neon. Only then was I given to understand what the Lord had been trying to teach me all that time about the power of the Atonement to ease our burdens. Some of the clearest promptings I have ever received have come while being immersed in the scriptures. They are a conduit for revelation. They teach us the language of the Spirit.

I recently was made aware of a touching example of loving kindness—one that had unforeseen results. The year was 1933, when because of the Great Depression, employment opportunities were scarce. The location was the eastern part of the United States. Arlene Biesecker had just graduated from high school. After a lengthy search for employment, she was finally able to obtain work at a clothing mill as a seamstress. The mill workers were paid only for each of the correctly completed pieces they sewed together daily. The more pieces they produced, the more they were paid.

One day shortly after starting at the mill, Arlene was faced with a procedure that had her confused and frustrated. She sat at her sewing machine trying to unpick her unsuccessful attempt to complete the piece on which she was working. There seemed to be no one to help her, for all of the other seamstresses were hurrying to complete as many pieces as they could. Arlene felt helpless and hopeless. Quietly, she began to cry.

Across from Arlene sat Bernice Rock. She was older and more experienced as a seamstress. Observing Arlene’s distress, Bernice left her own work and went to Arlene’s side, kindly giving her instruction and help. She stayed until Arlene gained confidence and was able to successfully complete the piece. Bernice then went back to her own machine, having missed the opportunity to complete as many pieces as she could have, had she not helped.

With this one act of loving kindness, Bernice and Arlene became lifelong friends. Each eventually married and had children. Sometime in the 1950s, Bernice, who was a member of the Church, gave Arlene and her family a copy of the Book of Mormon. In 1960, Arlene and her husband and children were baptized members of the Church. Later they were sealed in a holy temple of God.

As a result of the compassion shown by Bernice as she went out of her way to help one whom she didn’t know but who was in distress and needed assistance, countless individuals, both living and dead, now enjoy the saving ordinances of the gospel.

The Whitneys began to see a clearer picture of their eternal identity. Later that year, the Lord revealed to the Prophet Joseph that Newel was to serve as the bishop in Kirtland. Newel said, “I cannot see a Bishop in myself, Brother Joseph; but if you say it’s the Lord’s will, I’ll try.”

Joseph replied, “You need not take my word alone. Go and ask Father for yourself.”

After praying, Newel heard a voice from heaven say, “Thy strength is in me.”

Prior to my introduction to the restored gospel, I spent much of my time playing football, including games on the Sabbath day. Even though I had been brought up to have respect for the Lord’s day, it was through applying the principle after I came in contact with the Church that I gained an understanding of the doctrine and its blessings. Withdrawing from the Sunday league team was one of the significant sacrifices that led to my conversion. It helped me appreciate the value of the gospel in my life.
Three years later, when work commenced on building the chapel in Norwich, England, I also withdrew from the Saturday league team so that I could make my contribution to the building project. The mist of self-interest that had previously restricted my vision was beginning to disperse, and a new panoramic view was emerging, bringing with it a deeper appreciation for and an increasing love of life.

Dear Mom and Dad,
These last two months at school have been tough living away from home. I miss you. You trained and brought me up well.
I realize that you really had a hard time with me. I remember I was always bucking the system, doing the opposite of what you wanted. Now that I’m taking all these family living courses for my major, I realize that I didn’t turn out all that bad. The one main reason is that you cared about what happened to me. I realize now that you both never punished me without love.
Mom, I am sorry for the times that, after you had spanked me with good reason, I told you that I hated you. I would write it on a piece of paper and then give it to you. I was just mad that I didn’t get my way, but I really did love you.
Thanks for teaching me how to work and how to clean up after myself. I really was a slob and lazy when it came to picking up after myself, but now at college my room is clean, and I can’t stand a mess. I almost never helped with the yard work, but the rare times that I did you were always there helping too. It was fun. Even after you hurt your back, you were out pulling weeds. I really missed that this summer.
When people ask me about my adoption, they always ask the questions. “Do you want to know or meet your real mother?” I tell them, “I already have.” You are my real mother. I would like to know more about my natural mother, but for “real” parents—you both are mine. I am so grateful for that woman who brought me into the world. As I grow and understand the gospel more, I believe that this is the way the Lord wanted it, and how we wanted it. We are a special family—three of us adopted, and a very special little brother. It is so important to have a family sealed like we were in the temple.
One thing I like about our family is that we have always done things together. Remember the summer we went to the East Coast? Mom, you told stories about when you were a little girl and Grandpa took you back there. That summer was also the year after you hurt your back. In a way I was glad because I got the chance to pay you back in a way for everything you’ve done for me.
My earliest memories always have you both in them—helping me tie my shoes, playing on the beach, playing games, camping and fishing. Remember when I caught my first fish? You had to put it on a stick so we could take my picture with it.
Then as I got older and was in junior high, you came to those mini-gymnastics meets. You put my ribbons in my book and made me feel like somebody special. You always supported me in everything I did, driving me to and picking me up from play practice, or just being there when I got home.
Then came high school! East was big and scary, but you told me I could do it, and if you knew I could then I could. You came to all my gymnastics meets. Then we would come home and talk about it. Mom, you didn’t get as nervous as Dad did when I was flying between bars or tumbling on the floor. But my favorite, the one that scared you both the most, was the vault.
Now I am in college. I was excited to get to Ricks College. That last little bit before I left, you were there letting me cry on your shoulder and telling me things about when you were young.
Thanks, Mom and Dad, for always being there when I needed you and even when I didn’t. You are great. I hope I can live my life the way you have taught me. I know I never really took all the chances that I have had to tell you how much I love you, but I really do love you a lot.
Love,
Your daughter