Gospel Story Finder

Jennifer shut her bedroom door and threw herself on the bed. She wiped the hot, wet tears from her cheeks and tried to quiet her sobs.
She had just argued with her older brother and sister. Mom and Dad had left to go to the grocery store, and it felt like they would never come home.
Jennifer felt horrible. As much as she tried to stop her lip from trembling, she still felt very unhappy. “If Mom and Dad were home, things would feel a lot better,” she thought.
Then Jennifer remembered something she had learned about prayer in Primary. “You can pray anytime,” her Primary teacher had said. “You can pray when you feel happy and when you feel sad.”
Jennifer knelt beside her bed. She threw the blanket over her head so that she wouldn’t be interrupted if someone opened the door. She dried her tears again, folded her arms, and began to pray.
“Heavenly Father,” she said, “please forgive me for fighting with my brother and sister today. And please help me to feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Now Jennifer didn’t feel like crying anymore. Slowly, the hurt feeling inside changed into a warm, peaceful feeling. She felt as good and as loved as if someone were giving her a hug.
When her parents came home later, Jennifer had apologized and was playing with her brother and sister again. As Mom walked through the door, Jennifer ran and gave her a hello hug. A hug from Mom felt wonderful, but Jennifer had learned that even when Mom wasn’t home, she could feel the comforting love of Heavenly Father.

Some years ago I encountered a brilliant neurosurgeon whose task at a world-famous hospital was to help patients with chronic pain. He put together a team of medical specialists and worked long and hard on the problem. Out of all the efforts and failures, one insight emerged: If there was no significant other—one for whom the patient cared and who cared about him or her—the team could do little or nothing to reduce the pain. This physician has since become a Latter-day Saint. He told me one day that, for many sicknesses, love, especially family love, is the only preventive medicine and the only lasting therapy.

My own blessing is short, and it is limited to perhaps three-quarters of a page on one side, yet it has been completely adequate and perfect for me. I received my patriarchal blessing as I entered my early teenage years. The patriarch promised that my blessing would “be a comfort and a guide” to me throughout my life. As a boy I read it over and over again. I pondered each word. I prayed earnestly to understand fully the spiritual meaning. Having that blessing early in my life guided me through all of the significant events and challenges of my life. I did not fully understand the meaning of my blessing until I gained more maturity and experience. This blessing outlined some of the responsibilities I would have in the kingdom of God on earth.
President Heber J. Grant told of the patriarchal blessing he received: “That patriarch put his hands upon my head and bestowed upon me a little blessing that would perhaps be about one-third of a typewritten page. That blessing foretold my life to the present moment.”
Elder John A. Widtsoe said: “It should always be kept in mind that the realization of the promises made may come in this or the future life. Men have stumbled at times because promised blessings have not occurred in this life. They have failed to remember that, in the gospel, life with all its activities continues forever and that the labors of earth may be continued in heaven. Besides, the Giver of the blessings, the Lord, reserves the right to have them become active in our lives, as suits His divine purpose. We and our blessings are in the hands of the Lord. But, there is the general testimony that when the gospel law has been obeyed, the promised blessings have been realized.”
This was well illustrated in my father’s patriarchal blessing. He was told in his blessing that he would be blessed with “many beautiful daughters.” He and my mother became the parents of five sons. No daughters were born to them, but they treated the wives of their sons as daughters. Some years ago when we had a family gathering, I saw my father’s daughters-in-law, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters moving about, tending to the food and ministering to the young children and the elderly, and the realization came to me that Father’s blessing literally had been fulfilled. He has indeed many beautiful daughters. The patriarch who gave my father his blessing had spiritual vision to see beyond this life. The dividing line between time and eternity disappeared.

I love him for other things, for other places walking in his footsteps has taken me. I love him for a phone call from Idaho. A young couple had just had twins prematurely. One of them was doing fairly well, but the other was brought into the University of Utah Medical Center, weighing just a little over a pound and a quarter. Think of five cubes of butter, if you would, and you’re talking about the size of this little soul. I received a call from Idaho: “He has been administered to, but would you mind going to the hospital and giving him a blessing?” I found that about the only hour available that particular day was at 5:00 A.M. I went up to the medical center, went into the room, and found the oxygen canopy. I put my fingers—all that would fit—on the forehead of this little soul, gave a blessing, and had the impression from God that one day this boy—182 cm. tall, ninety-one kilograms—would be a young ambassador for the Lord.

There are other experiences. Once as I was leaving a conference, a sweet family stopped me. They knew a nonmember man who was having severe problems, and they wondered if we would give him a blessing. We went to his apartment. In the living room were two pieces of furniture, a bean bag chair and a stereo set—and nothing else. A little girl, nine years old was taking care of her father because the mother, when she heard her husband had cancer, had abandoned him and the girl and her younger brother. The girl took us down the hallway into his room, and there on the bottom of two bunk beds we saw this man, 182 cm. tall, thirty point four kg. We administered to him, feeling he would not live. But we felt impressed to bless him with the thing that would be of most worth to him: that his son and daughter would be protected, that angels would walk through this life with them, that they would be protected when he wasn’t there to do it any longer. You can’t buy those kinds of experiences with all the money in the world.

Seeking to walk in the Lord’s footsteps recently brought me in contact with a young man and his father. The young man and a friend were up hiking in the lower foothills near Cody, Wyoming. The friend jumped across a high-power line that was down, but the young man got tangled in it and was electrocuted. The friend turned and ran all the way back down to where the father lived—and it wasn’t a short distance—and told the father that his son had been electrocuted and that he was dead. The father, who was not a young man, ran all the way back up, taking about fifteen minutes. When he got up to where the boy was lying across the wires, he somehow removed the boy from the wires with a board or a large branch. Then he picked his son up in his arms and held him, saying, “In the name of Jesus Christ and by the power and authority of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, I command you to live.” The dead boy opened up his eyes in his father’s arms and was taken to the University of Utah Medical Center, where he recovered.

One day at recess, Madison saw a girl who was crying because someone had said something mean to her. Madison felt bad for the girl and walked over to comfort her. “Would you like to play with me?” she asked the girl.
That day, Madison served with her heart. She followed the example of Jesus Christ and showed love to someone in need. We can show our love for Heavenly Father by serving others with our heart, our might, our mind, and our strength. We can serve with our whole selves!

Let me give you an example from a trial Sue and I and one of our children faced together.

When our son Jonathan was in the third grade, he was diagnosed with a serious learning disability. The counselor who tested him told us that by his early twenties Jonathan would develop the ability to learn effectively, but until then he would have difficulty learning.

That turned out to be true on both counts. Throughout his years in middle school and high school, Jonathan really struggled with schoolwork. He coped with his frustration and disappointment psychologically by making school unimportant and by getting into trouble in a variety of ways.

Sue and I had not dealt with these challenges before, and we were often at a loss when new behaviors and new challenges would emerge. There were years when every time the phone in my office would ring I would get a knot in my stomach because I worried it was about some problem with Jonathan.

Sue and I turned to the Lord for guidance and strength. There were times when we did not know how we were going to make it. We needed more insight, more love, more firmness, more patience, and more resilience than we had. We prayed and trusted that the Lord would help us, and then we faced what we had to do every day head-on. We loved Jonathan, taught him, talked to him, disciplined him, worked with him, and prayed for him for many years.

Many blessings came. We had some wonderful times with Jonathan. We received new insights from the Lord, and many angels of mercy helped Jonathan and us. Through the strengthening power of the Atonement of Christ, Jonathan matured spiritually and emotionally. Sue and I gradually learned how to help Jonathan with more love and more structure. And we became more patient and more resilient.

Jonathan graduated from high school, did a year of college, and then served a mission. But the trials were not over. He had to come home from his mission because of a serious anxiety disorder that surfaced for the first time. That was a really difficult time for him and for us. Over a number of months, with lots of faith in the Savior, with priesthood blessings and the help of a wise physician, Jonathan made progress. He had learned to trust the Lord, and the Lord blessed him.

One of the most powerful blessings was Deborah, whom Jonathan had met in college and who became his wife. They moved to Minnesota so Jonathan could play football and go to school when another trial hit them, literally. Jonathan was out tubing one day with a friend from Church when he lost control of his tube and spun out onto a state highway. A truck hit him and crushed his left leg between the knee and the ankle.

He survived the crash and recovered through months of painful therapy with priesthood blessings and lots of faith. One day Jonathan called me on the phone and said the words his mother and I had hoped to hear for 14 years. He said, "Dad, I'm starting to really like school, and I am doing well. I think I need to go to a better school." He transferred to Boston College where he majored in economics. The boy who struggled mightily in high school later earned a master's degree in public health and a Ph.D. in health policy and management at Harvard. Today he teaches at Penn State, has a wonderful family, and serves in the bishopric in his ward.

President Kimball was a loving parent. His son Edward said: “My father was always very affectionate. I knew he loved me.” Edward remembered an occasion when both he and his father were in attendance at a solemn assembly in the Salt Lake Temple: “There were thousands of men there. As the meeting ended, [my father] spotted me where I was singing in a chorus. On his way out, he came over, embraced and kissed me.”24

I grew up on a farm in Washington State, where my parents raised kids and cattle. I was the youngest in our large family, and at 14 I was busy trying to balance chores at home with my budding social schedule.
Each day after school it was my responsibility to feed and count all 60 head of cattle to make sure that each was safe. To a 14-year-old girl, this was a tedious chore, so I avoided counting them. In the winter it wasn’t as dangerous because none of the cattle were calving, but when the spring hit, it was critical that the pregnant heifers that had never given birth were each watched carefully. But I was too busy worrying about my hair and braces to be bothered about a few cows.
I clearly remember the day I was pulled out of school and rushed home to help. One of our young heifers, my very own actually, had been in labor for three days, hidden in the woods, suffering with no food, no water, and no help. The unborn calf had perished days before, and the cow had been unable to birth it. So, with the help of a vet, my father and I had to remove it from her.
When I pulled up in the truck and saw my father standing there, I was sure he would be angry with me. He had told me thousands of times to count the cattle, always asking if they were all there and all safe. But I was too busy to listen. I was too busy with things I thought were more important, like basketball practice. Or I would wait too long and feed them in the dark, making it impossible to count the herd. At the time, my own things really did seem more important. I didn’t understand; I didn’t have the big picture yet.
When I looked at that poor animal suffering from starvation, crippled and ruined, never again to bear a calf, I knew my father had been right. I had chosen not to listen to his simple instructions, and the consequences affected far more than my own life. I spent the next two months nursing the animal back to health, working her through the paralysis, and doing my best to repair the damage I had caused.
My father? He loved me. He put his arms around me and knew that I would never do it again. He knew that I had learned the lesson the hard way, but it was learned. If only I had listened. It was my own laziness, my own selfish insistence on my personal comfort that had kept me from following my dad’s simple instructions that would have saved a life.

We are also blessed by temple covenants and ordinances, where “the power of godliness is manifest.” I visited a woman who had lost a teenage daughter in a terrible accident, then later her husband to cancer. I asked how she could endure such loss and suffering. She replied that strength came from spiritual reassurances of an eternal family, received during regular temple worship. As promised, the ordinances of the Lord’s house had armed her with God’s power.

The beautiful face of Sister Pai on the Altiplano in Bolivia fills my memory with a warm glow. I visited her and her family in January 1975. They had been members of the Church for only three months, but in that time they had learned that President Spencer W. Kimball had encouraged Church members to have gardens. I was thrilled to see their two small vegetable gardens and a flower garden. Each night they covered their three gardens with plastic sheets to protect their treasures from freezing.

I shall never forget their family home evening, held in the warmest spot in the home—on their bed. Of that experience I wrote in my journal: “The rain and the cold, the walk and the mud were all well worth it. I would have walked one hundred miles to visit with this family and have the privilege of feeling their spirit and their enthusiasm in being members of the Church and learning principles which help them to be healthier and happier.” Blessed, honored pioneers.

For a long time I stared at that white card, and I remembered what it was like to move into a new school. Two years earlier I had been the new kid. At first I was afraid and was sure that everyone in the whole school was staring at me. Then Brandon invited me to sit next to him in class. His friends became my friends. We sat in the cafeteria together. We played at recess together. That very first afternoon he even invited me to his house after school.

I thought about Darren’s first day. No one had spoken to him. No one had invited him to join them. No one had eaten lunch with him. No one had asked him over after school to play. And all during the day, he had been forced to face the silent, scary stares from the rest of us.

As I stared at Sister Murray’s white card, I realized that although I had thought Darren was different from the rest of us, he really wasn’t. He had a different color of skin, and darker eyes and hair, but he felt and hurt just like the rest of us. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to have friends. He wanted to play. He wanted to go places without everyone staring at him.

Suddenly I felt sorry for Darren. I decided that by really feeling sorry for him, I was doing what Alma talked about at the waters of Mormon. I told myself that that was all I needed to do, that that was all I could do without the whole school staring at me like I was someone extra strange. I changed my clothes and rushed outside to play.

The next day I grabbed my football and charged out of the house for school. Before I could leave the yard, I slid to a stop. There were Darren and Tanya coming down the street on their way to school. Barry and Trevor were fifteen or twenty steps behind them. I saw Barry pick up something and toss it toward Darren and Tanya. Then Trevor said something that I couldn’t hear, and both of them burst out laughing. Darren and Tanya just kept walking with their eyes straight ahead.

Instead of starting down the street close to Darren and Tanya, I pretended to have forgotten something and slipped back inside the house until all four of them were far down the street. I tried as hard as I could to not think about the white card stuck on the mirror in my bedroom.

During the day, there were several times that I could have said something to Darren, but I didn’t.
I didn’t stare at him and snicker like some of the other kids, but I didn’t try to comfort him at all. At lunchtime, I was right behind him in the line, and when he went to sit down, I almost followed him to his table. Then Brandon called to me from another table, and I went over to him.

By the end of the day, I was glad that it was Friday because I had a whole weekend without having to think about or to see Darren. On Saturday, I hardly thought about him. By Sunday morning when I was rushing about to get ready for church, Darren was the last thing on my mind.

As sacrament meeting started, I sat on the bench next to Mom. She teaches Primary and had her manual and lesson materials piled neatly on the floor in front of her. Right on top was a picture of Jesus wearing a red and white robe. And He was staring right at me. We sang the sacrament hymn, and I began to think about my white card with those special baptismal promises written on it, promises that I was about to renew when the deacons brought the bread and water around. I was going to promise to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and I knew—and I knew that Jesus knew—that for me that promise included Darren.

For a moment I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see that picture of Jesus looking up at me. But I could still feel His eyes staring at me. They didn’t stare at me like the eyes at school stared at Darren and Tanya. Jesus’ eyes were asking me to do something for Darren.

That Sunday was the first time that I was a little afraid to take the bread and water as it came down the row toward me. I knew that I wasn’t eating plain old bread or drinking regular old water. I was supposed to be thinking of Jesus and promising to do what I thought He would do if Darren was in His class at school.

I hesitated as Mom handed me the bread tray. In fact, I hesitated so long that Mom nudged me. Slowly I reached out and took a small piece of bread. When I did, I knew that I was repeating the promise I’d made three years ago, when Dad had led me down the tile steps into the baptismal font. For me, that shiny clean baptismal font was the same as the waters of Mormon for Alma’s people.

On Monday morning, I said an extra long prayer because I needed all the help and courage I could get. I grabbed my football, slipped out the door, and looked up and down the street. Darren and Tanya were still over a block away. Barry and Trevor were a few steps behind them.

I knew that I could start for school without running into Darren just yet. I could wait until I was in Mrs. Riley’s class and look for a chance to be nice to Darren there. Then I thought of that picture of Jesus, dressed in His red and white robe, staring up at me.

I gripped my ball and waited for Darren and Tanya. I was going to keep a promise.

“Hi, I’m Steve,” I said with a nervous smile. “I think you and I are in the same class.” I glanced anxiously down the street toward Barry and Trevor; then my gaze returned to Darren and Tanya. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

Darren thought a moment and then shook his head. I smiled and took a deep breath because my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking a little bit. I tossed my football to Darren and he caught it. “Good hands,” I said. “Do you like football?”

“I love it! I used to play at my old school.”

“He was good, too!” Tanya spoke up, grinning up at her brother and then over at me.

“Then you’ll have to play with us. We can always use a good football player.”

We started down the sidewalk. I heard Trevor and Barry snicker, and I knew that they were staring behind us, but I kept walking with Darren and Tanya.

“Did you think of a frightening experience to write about in class?” I asked, remembering an assignment that Mrs. Riley had given us on Friday.

Darren laughed. “I can think of a lot of scary experiences that I’ve had. I haven’t written anything down yet, though.”

“Mrs. Riley said we could work in pairs. Maybe you and I can work together,” I invited. “We can help each other come up with something really good.”

When we reached the school, we went over to where the guys were starting the morning football game before the bell rang. As we approached, the playing stopped for a moment and all eyes were on Darren, Tanya, and me. No one said anything, but I could feel all of those staring eyes on me.

For a moment, I wished that I had hurried to school without waiting for Darren and his sister. I wasn’t used to those staring eyes. Then I realized that ever since Darren had entered this school, he had been facing those same staring eyes all the time. There was no place for him to run and hide from them, and those eyes hurt him as much as they hurt me—probably even more.

“Darren’s going to play with us this morning,” I burst out boldly. “Before he came here, he played a lot of football. He’ll be on my team. We can play with my ball.” I silently prayed that my voice wouldn’t crack or shake as I spoke. I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was.

“We don’t need any extra guys,” Rusty spoke up, staring up at Darren and me.

“We can always use someone good like Darren,” I came back. “He’s playing,” I repeated. “Go out for a pass,” I said, turning to him.

While all eyes were on us, Darren raced across the field. I gripped the ball, cocked my arm, and threw with all my might. My pass was a little high and a little long. I figured that Darren would probably miss it. But just as it sailed over his head, he leaped and stretched out his arms. The ball touched his fingertips. It was as though they had invisible glue on them, because he held onto the ball, pulled it into his chest, and clutched it tightly as he fell to the ground.

“Awesome!” I heard someone mumble behind me. “What a catch!”

I grinned and waved Darren back to us. “Come on, Darren, we’ll kick off.”

The eyes still stared, but I didn’t mind them so much, because I remembered the promise I had made the day before, when I had taken the bread and water. Into my mind came the picture of Someone in a red and white robe with His eyes staring at me. As I raced across the field alongside Darren, I was glad for His staring eyes and how good they now made me feel.

I remember the smile of Sister Ruby Haight. She was the wife of Elder David B. Haight, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. As a young man he served as the president of the Palo Alto stake in California. He prayed over, and worried about, the girls in the Mia Maid class in his own ward.

So President Haight was inspired to ask the bishop to call Ruby Haight to teach those young girls. He knew she would be a witness of God who would lift, comfort, and love the girls in that class.

Sister Haight was at least 30 years older than the girls she taught. Yet 40 years after she taught them, each time she would meet my wife, who had been one of the girls in her class, she would put out her hand, smile, and say to Kathy, “Oh! My Mia Maid.” I saw more than her smile. I felt her deep love for a sister she still cared for as if she were her own daughter. Her smile and warm greeting came from seeing that a sister and daughter of God was still on the covenant path home.

I still miss my brother, Sergio. He, my sister, and I were very close. We spent a lot of time together and had a lot of fun. We loved to play and joke around. Before Sergio went on his mission, he baptized me. Sadly, though, he passed away while serving in Peru.
I believe that Sergio is in a better place and that he is an angel. My sister, Ximena, and I feel blessed to have him as a brother, and our parents feel blessed to have him as a son. I know that he is waiting for us. We must put forth our best effort to become an eternal family so that we can all be together forever.
I know our Father in Heaven loves us and wants the best for us. I love my parents and my sister very much. I try to take care of them and help them however I can, including working with my parents in our family store.
Sometimes I still get sad, but I can’t stay that way because I know that Sergio is happy, that he is in a safe place, and that he is all right. He loves us and protects us.
I have faith that we are going to be together again and be an eternal family. This faith helps me to stay strong.
Ruth O.,14, Argentina

I’m the only Latter-day Saint in the family, so it gets kind of lonesome sometimes. I never believed there was a God. I wouldn’t go to church or read the Bible, but when I met two missionaries through a friend of mine, I wanted to hear and learn more and become a part of this wonderful church. The greatest day of my life was the day of my baptism. It was so beautiful that I couldn’t understand why I had ever been scared about being baptized. It was so fantastic that I cried. I am sure that I have taken a step that I will never regret. I really do enjoy receiving the New Era. It’s a fantastic book. Every time it arrives, my mother says that it really makes her day.
Sue E. HaydenLondon, England

I speak next to those who are trapped in traditions.

When I met John Raass, he was not yet a member of the Church. His wife, Kailani, had catered a dinner for the stake presidency, and we invited them to join us. John appeared weary of entering a spiritual discussion, but I assured him we would become fast friends. You see, John was a former BYU football star, and I grew up cheering for him. We eventually asked John why he had never joined the Church. He cited the need to honor the faith traditions of his now deceased parents. We helped him realize that they now understood the Church and they would honor his decision. John then chose to meet with the missionaries. Two months later he was baptized. And a year later his family was sealed in the temple.

Welcome to Barrow, Alaska, northern-most town on the North American continent. A town where the polar bears that sometimes prowl the streets in the long Arctic night at least provide a little excitement. After all, this is a place where a typical date might consist of browsing through the large general store.

It’s so isolated that some of the locals call it “Planet Barrow.” But for now, the Gaylin Fuller family calls Barrow home. According to them, this may be the end of a continent, but it is not the end of the world. It’s the top of the world.

Like many others in the 1980s, they were forced off their Idaho farm by high operating costs. Gaylin needed work. He had been a university librarian before but had to reestablish his credentials. And the best opportunities at the time happened to be in Alaska.

So here they are in a town of about 3,000 inhabitants huddled on the far northwest coast. From the air, the surrounding land looks flat and soggy, as though it had just barely crawled from the Arctic Ocean and could sink back at any moment. The Alaska of travel posters, with its rugged mountains, immense forests, and misty fjords, is many miles to the south and might as well be on another planet.

Frankly, the kids really weren’t sure what to expect. When they moved Ronald, who is now 14, says, “I didn’t know if we’d be living in an igloo or what.”

Their snug home in Barrow is certainly no igloo, though it’s probably a good thing that the five older Fuller boys are either married, away at school, or serving missions. It’s hard to imagine fitting that many more people in this house. The six Fuller children living at home—Lyle (18), Clark (16), Ron (14), Linnae (12), Stanley (10), and Owen (7)—fill the house quite nicely.

The Fullers’ first home in Alaska was located in tiny Akiachuk, a village some 400 miles west of Anchorage—a place with fewer than 500 people and accessible only by air or snowmobile.

The isolation was tough. In Idaho, the Fullers had been able to get in the car and go to town to attend church, shop, visit friends, go to a movie—whatever. But in Akiachuk, church was at home, shopping was by mail, and movies were on TV. And friends? Well …

If the geographic isolation was tough, the social isolation was even worse. As outsiders, the Fuller children had to prove themselves. In the meantime, family was more important than ever. “We really had to be each other’s friends,” Brother Fuller recalls.

Fortunately, the Fuller boys are good athletes—and relatively tall. At least the Fullers were able to fit in on the court. A major sign that the ice had been broken (pardon the pun) came when Mark Fuller (now serving a mission in Italy) was invited to travel with a village team to play basketball in another village.

They traveled on snowmobiles in the dark, 20 to 30 miles across open countryside, in temperatures of 20 to 30 degrees below zero. Then they played hot, fierce basketball until 11:00 P.M., and returned home the same way they came.

By the time their two years in Akiachuk were up, the Fullers could say they had friends there. But then the opportunity came to move 700 miles north to Barrow.

By noon the group was hiking toward another lake. The trail switched back and forth gently, dropping down the slopes. Sometimes a lower part of the trail would be only a few feet away.
“We thought it was crazy not to take a shortcut,” Mike Worthington said. Some tried it. Greg stopped everybody.
“Stay on the trail,” he advised. “You think you’re saving time, but you’re not. And if the trail erodes the wrong way, you ruin it for people who come after you.”
“The next lake has golden trout in it,” Greg announced. “If we hurry, we might be able to catch a few before dark.” Packs were repacked and lifted to shoulders again.
Even though they’d been warned once about shortcutting, some of the young men thought the route back to the main trail was too roundabout and tedious.
“It looked like we could just cut through the trees,” Clay Drake said. “But we got lost. It took two hours for us to get back together with the rest of the group, and they all had to wait while the guides went back to look for us. The next time a guide tells me what to do, I’ll listen to him.”
There are times, the Explorers and Scouts found out, when you have to trust someone else, times when your safety and well-being depend on it. The young men also learned a little bit about perseverance. They hiked more than five miles each of the four days they spent in the Wind Rivers. Every day it became easier and more enjoyable.

When my son, Monty, was young, he had a strong desire to become an Eagle Scout. In his early years of Scouting he worked very hard and it appeared that by the time he turned 16 he would have his Eagle. Well, once he began driving and became interested in sports and girls, his desire to become an Eagle Scout began to fade.

About a month before turning 18, when he would no longer be eligible to receive his Eagle, he had one more required merit badge to finish. I remember one evening he came to me and said, "Dad, I only have one more merit badge to finish my Eagle and only one month to do it in. How can I make me do it?" Monty did receive his Eagle Scout award after some hard work and disciplined effort. Over the years I have thought many times of that statement: "How can I make me do it"?

Francisco Ayres Hermenegildo joined the Church in his native Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, at age 21 and later served a mission in São Paulo. After he and his wife, Kallya, were married, they moved to Sydney, Australia, in 2002. In 2006 Francisco was called to be the president of the Hyde Park young single adult branch. President Hermenegildo felt overwhelmed not only because he was still learning English but also because members of the branch were natives of more than 10 countries, and many of them were also learning English.
“I confess that we felt inadequate when we were called to look after the Hyde Park Branch,” President Hermenegildo says. “The language barrier seemed enormous, and we prayed to the Lord for His help. But I am learning that the Lord inspires, qualifies, and fortifies those who are engaged in building His kingdom.”
In addition to recognizing the Lord’s direction in his own life, President Hermenegildo sees it in the lives of the members of the branch—many of whom, like him, are first-generation members.
“Each of us has been brought here at this time in our lives for a reason,” he says. He explains that each member has an opportunity to grow in testimony, serve in callings, and share the gospel message with friends and loved ones.
“We believe that the prophecies related to the gospel filling the earth are happening,” says President Hermenegildo. “The members of the branch are and will be leaders wherever they go in the world. It is a great privilege to help prepare those leaders, which we do every time we teach and nurture members of the branch.”

When our three children were small, my husband and I experienced an economic crisis. We had done all we could, but we had run out of money—and there seemed to be no help available anywhere. One morning, I fed the children the last of the food in the house for breakfast. There was not even a drop of oil to cook them something for lunch. My husband left for work, hoping to get at least enough money to buy food for that day.
I began to ask myself why I was being given this trial. What was I doing wrong? Then I realized that even if I were guilty of something, my children certainly were not! Where was my faith? If Heavenly Father’s eye was on the sparrow, would He not take care of us? I offered a prayer that He would help us find some food. Then, exercising my faith, I went on about my work.
At mid-morning, a neighbor lady knocked on the door and began to tell me about the approaching visit of her mother-in-law. She mentioned that she had prepared a big noon meal of chicken, rice, and many other delicious things. Then she left in order to be home when her mother-in-law arrived.
A short while later she returned and said that her plans had changed. Her guest would not be coming after all. Instead, their family would be accompanying the mother-in-law on a two-week vacation. But now she had a problem. What could she do with all the food she had prepared? A bit embarrassed, she asked me if I would be offended if she gave it to me.
I had told her nothing of my situation. Now I told her not to worry, that I appreciated her offer very much. I knew that this was the answer to my prayer. My neighbor was pleased that I would take the food and then asked, “Can I leave you the food in the refrigerator, too? We’ll be gone so long that everything will go bad.”
When my husband arrived that day, he had had no success in getting money. Nevertheless, we ate well, and the refrigerator was filled to capacity.