Gospel Story Finder

One beautiful morning a salesman sold us a can of chemical cleaner to be used on stainless steel sinks, drinking fountains, and other types of metal. I decided to try it out on the brass light switch plates, which were covered with film and grime. After polishing a half dozen with good results, I went into the boys rest room where there was a larger plate with three switches on it. I wiped it off with the chemical, and was reaching for my damp sponge, when I heard a crackling sound. I turned to see flames shooting out of the plate clear to the ceiling! I raced down the hall shrieking. “Fire! Fire! I’ve set the church on fire!” Ace came bounding down the hall into the rest room. The fire was out and it was pitch dark. The switch box had completely burned out. I learned that chemicals and electricity don’t mix.

One such experience I had was in the Wasatch Mountains by Provo, Utah. While I was a new freshman at BYU, my apartment was down the hill from the temple, so I would quite often take a jog or walk up around the temple. One time I kept going beyond the temple, up Rock Canyon. I had my scriptures with me, so when I had gone far enough to where I felt all alone, in my own little Sacred Grove, I sat down and started to read. I remember reading in the book of Abraham the chapters about the creation of this wonderful world we live in. As I read those verses, while experiencing the beauty around me, I truly felt of God’s love. I said a little prayer giving thanks. I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember feeling the Spirit warm my soul. This was before my mission, and it was one of those moments that helped strengthen my resolve to go on a mission, for I felt God did know me and love me.

The Lord is ever aware of our needs and eager to help. One sister relates how she prayed to Heavenly Father and was blessed by the power of the Atonement: “I had no one to turn to, no place to go, except on my knees. I prayed as I had never prayed before. I fasted faithfully, meaningfully, and often. I read and studied the scriptures from cover to cover for the first time in my life. … And he was there. He heard my humble pleadings. He put his arm of love around me. He forgave me of my sins and showed me a better way. I was amazed at the happiness, success, and opportunity that came into my life” (“After Divorce: Clearing the Hurdles,” Ensign, August 1985, 50).

I have always had a difficult time wading into a lake or river slowly. It is just like cutting your finger off a little bit at a time! I would rather have one giant breathtaking shock than the dozens of painful ones that come from slowly wading into the river.
A few years back I was at a Young Men’s camp in Canada. At that time, local Church members furnished all of our instructors and youth leaders and ran the camp with wonderful members of the Church.
During the week I was there, the staff organized a “Polar Bear” club. In order to qualify you had to swim at 6:00 A.M. four mornings in a row in the cold Elbow River. It had snowed eight inches at an elevation 1,000 feet higher than our camp. Of course the staff thought I ought to join the club.
At 6:00 A.M., down to the river we went. I filled my lungs with all the air they could hold so I could not suck in anything else when the shock of the cold water caused me to catch my breath. I dove in, and it was ice cold. I swam to the middle of the river where it was almost chest deep.
In a moment a stake president dove in and came up right beside me. After the shock of cold, he asked, “Did I have my glasses on?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Did you?” He said he thought he had.
“Swim over to the bank and see.”
In a moment he came back and said, “I did have them on.”
The Elbow River was flowing about 10 to 12 miles an hour. I imagined it would have carried his glasses down the river toward Calgary.
Here was a stake president who had spent his own money to drive from western Canada to Calgary, had brought his whole family with him in an older wood-paneled station wagon. He had all the gasoline, lodging, and meal expenses coming, and the training fees. I knew it must have been a terrific financial strain on him. I was certain he could not afford $200 or $300 for a new pair of glasses.
I walked upstream about 20 or 30 feet. I offered a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me find his glasses. Mind you, it was 6:00 A.M., the water was cold and clear but flowing relatively fast. I lay down on my back and floated downstream. I had an impression and stopped. I looked down in the water and thought I could see something glistening on the bottom of the river. I dove down and came up with the stake president’s glasses and handed them to this great man.
I have thought of this incident many times since. I believe it was an experience that taught me to see more clearly how much the Lord loves those who, like this stake president, do their best to serve him. He who knows when the sparrow falls also knows when his children are in need of even the smallest things. (See Matt. 10:29–31.)

How do three lovely young ladies who are completely deaf speak fluently with confidence and joy?
The answer? With patient faith, hard work, and tender help from parents, sisters, teachers, and their Heavenly Father.
The Ferguson sisters, Deborah, 23, Julie-Ann, 18, and Heather, 15 are from Bangor Branch, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake, and were born with hearing impairments. Two more sisters, Amanda, 22, and Gail, 20, along with parents Peter and Lillian have normal hearing. The girls’ grandparents were also born deaf and mute.
But communication is no problem for this outstanding family. Trust in the Lord and determination are working miracles in their lives.
Proof of this is abundant in Deborah’s many achievements. Her happy personality and eagerness to live life to the fullest have overcome some hearing problems. Since graduating from seminary, she has participated in the Church Scouting program, serving in assistant leadership positions.
Among other hard-earned awards are trophies of all shapes and sizes for numerous sports, including soccer, badminton, squash, and swimming.
“When we held a youth dance festival,” said Young Women president Sister Geddis, “Deborah was the best at keeping on the beat, moving perfectly with the music.” Deborah explains, “Although I can’t hear sound, I feel vibrations through the floor, and with care I can dance as well as anyone else.”
Whether dancing or studying, no obstacles will prevent Deborah from enjoying every program the Church has to offer. “I hope to be a missionary,” she says. “I love to serve and have a great desire to spread the gospel amongst other people with hearing disabilities.”
Her younger sister Amanda feels the same way. Although able to hear perfectly herself, she has seen her family achieve goals they have set and she is determined to help others less fortunate. She is taking a three-year university course in sign language for the deaf so that she will be qualified to interpret and teach.
“I’d like to begin by sharing the gospel with my grandparents, aunt, and uncles who are also deaf,” Amanda explains. “I feel they’re missing so much. I’d love to help them learn the truth.”
Learning plays an important part in sister Gail’s life too—especially in seminary. “It’s a great program. I gain such a lot. Reading the experiences of people in the scriptures has helped me appreciate my own family and their present struggles.”
Gail has an outstanding talent for dealing with children. Acting as “ears” for younger sisters for many years, she has developed patience, kindness, and sharp sensitivity to others’ needs.
Those listening ears are greatly missed by Julie-Ann and Heather for many months each year. These two leave home and family behind and attend school at the renowned Mary Hare United Kingdom Grammar School for the Deaf in Newbury, England. Due to the high academic standards, for one pupil to be accepted at this outstanding school is an accomplishment, but for two from the same family to attend is almost a miracle.
“Letting the children be educated so far away has been a traumatic experience for us all,” Brother Ferguson says. “But through prayer we found comfort and confirmation that our decision was right.”
“We all send letters once or twice a week,” says Julie-Ann, “and there’s a special telephone at school which allows three-way conversations between pupil, interpreter, and parent, so we don’t have to go too long without help from home on any problem.”
“Brother and Sister Williams from Newbury Branch pick us up for church each Sunday,” says Heather. “We enjoy that. There’s a lovely feeling among the members.”
“I love learning everything I can about the Savior and his church,” says Julie-Ann. “I do home-study seminary, and it always helps me. I find sacrament meetings a bit frustrating sometimes, especially when I can’t understand every word the speakers say. People are kind and write things down for me, but often speakers go too fast for me to get all the details.”
Both girls are excellent lip readers, however. In addition, they use hearing aids. They are becoming so expert at understanding others that they are even learning another language—French. “It’s difficult,” says Heather. “I have to concentrate much harder than students with normal hearing.”
Reading music has been part of their lives since infancy. “Our mother used to point out how notes go up and down in hymnbooks at church,” says Julie-Ann, “and if the congregation doesn’t sing louder than the piano, I can pick out the beat and sing hymns.”
“We play recorders the same way,” comments Heather. “I feel pulsation of sound through my feet and legs, and with plenty of practice, we get the tunes right. We have a good orchestra here.”
Although Julie-Ann, Heather, and Deborah use their talents to achieve results in life equal to, and often better than, those of people without hearing impairments, they are sometimes disappointed and hurt by the attitudes of many people towards their disability.
“I prefer to be treated just like everyone else,” Heather says. “It’s really embarrassing when I’m in a crowd and someone starts speaking to me very slowly, waving their arms to emphasize what they are saying. It’s as if they think I am stupid and couldn’t understand them otherwise.”
“Yes,” agrees Julie-Ann, “it’s nice to be accepted as part of the group, spoken to normally, and not stared at as if we’re odd. I often feel like telling people, ‘I’m exactly the same inside as you are.’ It makes me heartbroken and depressed when they are afraid or don’t want to understand me.”
“That’s right,” Heather adds. “I don’t always understand a question the first time someone asks. If I ask them to repeat it, they often say, ‘Oh, never mind,’ and go away! I’d rather they try again and again, so we can learn about each other. I don’t like brief conversations with only ‘Hi!’ or ‘How are you doing?’ I’d prefer to talk properly, long discussions, not too fast or too slow, but real conversations with facial expression and feeling.”
Perhaps because of a certain isolation that deafness creates for them, all three girls have developed a close, personal relationship with their Heavenly Father.
“I talk to the Lord in prayer much of the time,” says Julie-Ann. “I feel the presence of the Holy Spirit strongly and am constantly grateful for the promptings I receive. We watched a video of general conference. During remarks about keeping high standards and avoiding friendships with the wrong crowd, I felt so warm inside as the Spirit testified this was important advice. I could have cried. I didn’t want that wonderful feeling to go away.”
The Fergusons seem to be a part of fulfilling prophecy. In Isaiah 29:18, the prophet wrote, “In that day shall the deaf hear the words of the book.” [Isa. 29:18] Not only are the Fergusons hearing the truth of the gospel themselves, they are becoming well educated and prepared to share those words with all who care to listen with ears, eyes, hands, and hearts.

I think the most classical account illustrating this point is the great story of President Hugh B. Brown and the currant bush. There are several versions of this story, but let me tell it the way that I remember it from the time I translated it for President Brown in South America. He said that, when he was a young married man, he lived in a humble home, but he had a garden in front of the home that he was very proud of. This garden had a lawn and flowers; it had some shrubs and fruit bushes, and it had some trees, large trees for shade. One day he noticed the currant bush, which he had pruned to a certain shape in order to keep the majority of the strength of the tree in the roots and to produce good fruit, had lost its shape. Apparently several months had gone by without due attention to it, and it was sprouting irregular branches. He got the pruning shears and proceeded to cut back the branches of that currant bush. As he cut them, he seemed to hear the bush say to him, “Oh, don’t do that, don’t do that to me! Don’t cut me back. I want to be tall and big like the shade trees. Let me grow!”

And he said, “No, my little bush, I’m the gardener here, and I want to prune you back to the size that I have decided is right for you.”

A number of years later President Brown was a colonel in the British Forces in World War I in France. He was the ranking colonel of the Canadian forces. He had decided to make the military career his life’s profession. He had studied hard; he had worked hard. He had had great success; he had been promoted and advanced. He was now colonel, and the next position would be general. In fact, he dreamed of being perhaps the first Mormon general since Book of Mormon days. A sudden vacancy occurred, and it was his turn to be promoted. He knew it, and yet they called him in and advised him that someone else was being promoted over his head. He wondered if it was because they had never had a Mormon general and probably were now deciding that they would not have a Mormon in that position of rank and authority. He returned to his tent, knelt by his cot, and cried to the Lord, “Why couldn’t my prayers have been answered? I’ve been faithful to my covenants. I’ve been active in the Church. I’ve done all the things I should do to merit this promotion. It’s been my ambition. There’s no reason why I should have been denied this. Why couldst Thou not have answered my prayers?”

And then he seemed to hear a voice saying, “I’m the gardener here, and I’m going to prune you to the size that I want you to be in my garden.”

Do we have the trust in the Lord that we can see His purposes fulfilled even in disappointment and in discouragement? Not to say anything against the military profession, of course, which is noble and honorable and much needed, but had President Brown followed that particular career, I doubt that he would have developed those characteristics, qualities, attributes, and skills which made him one of our greatest apostles, one of our greatest counselors in the First Presidency, one of the most eloquent orators that we ever have had in the Church.

When I was a boy, my father (Gordon B. Hinckley) often would use an interesting phrase when he was offering the family prayer. He would say, “Heavenly Father, please bless us that we may live without regret.” I did not understand what that phrase meant for many years. Then, when I was about ten, I had an experience that helped me understand it better.
On warm summer nights, my friends and I enjoyed sleeping out under the stars. Our favorite camping spot was “the hollow,” a steep, wooded gully near our homes. There were no houses or businesses in the hollow, so we boys felt like real adventurers. Over the years we constructed several huts there—tree forts and ground forts—from scrap wood we collected.
One night after dark, one of my friends suggested we explore the new homes under construction on the other side of the hollow. We scrambled up the bank, raced across an alfalfa field, and began tiptoeing through skeletons of just-framed houses. It was exciting to wander through other people’s homes, imagining the families who would soon move in. We were about to learn an important lesson, a lesson that, in part at least, would teach me about regret.
In the corner of one house we found a pile of wood—perfect for building our huts. The wood had been used in pouring cement for the home’s foundation. We convinced ourselves the workers would throw it away. My friends and I grabbed the wood and dragged it to the hollow, talking all the way about what sort of hut we would build with it. We hid the wood among some trees and soon fell asleep.
The next morning we heard a loud groan. One of my friends was standing at the top of the hollow looking over the alfalfa field.
“We’ve left a trail!” he shouted. “We’re going to get caught!”
Hurrying to his side, I saw a wide path of trampled alfalfa, leading to the edge of the hollow above our hideout. If the builders wanted to know who had taken their wood, they need only follow our tracks.
My friends and I decided to go straight home and not return to the hollow for several days. For hours I hid in my parents’ closet. Every police siren in the distance was surely coming for me!
“Why are you staying in here?” my mother asked.
“Oh, I’m just a bit tired,” I fibbed. “It’s quieter in the closet.”
By the end of the week we figured no one had discovered that the scrap lumber was missing. We met at the hollow and went to work on our new hut. But I think we all felt embarrassed about what we had done.
That Saturday my father went to his office to catch up on some work. As he often did on a Saturday, he invited me to come along. He was then an employee of the Church and worked in the Church Administration Building. The office of President David O. McKay was down the hall. I had been introduced to President McKay and had spoken with him on several occasions. A tall man with wavy, white hair, he looked just like I imagined a prophet should. He spoke kindly, and I always hoped to see him when I visited Dad’s office.
But that Saturday was different. We were leaving the building when President McKay stopped us in the hallway. I couldn’t look at him. As I reached up to shake his hand, I felt as if his eyes were reading the words “wood thief” on the top of my head. How I regretted taking that wood! Even though we knew that wood was going to be scrapped, we also knew we should have asked before taking it.
My father’s prayers finally made sense! I knew that when my time came to stand before the Lord, I wanted to feel worthy.

As I drove to the hospital last night to visit my sister, who was very ill, I had in the back of my mind the assignment given me by the New Era editors to prepare this article, and I realized that the deadline had arrived.
At the hospital I had a humbling spiritual adventure that gave dimension to what I would like to say to you. In a room there I found a wonderful family gathered around the bed of their very ill wife and mother, having their family home evening. A choice son, just returned from missionary experience abroad, was telling about his mission and showing some slides on the wall of the hospital room. I was privileged to join with the family.
When I arrived home, my own family gathered for the home evening we had postponed while I visited the hospital. We talked and sang together and read the scriptures, and then, having fasted for the occasion, we knelt in our home to join our faith in seeking the Lord’s blessings for our dear one who so desperately needed his help.

Let me share an example from my own life that demonstrates the importance of attitude. When I returned from my first mission, I went to work for my father as a salesman. I was attending the University of Utah and working part-time. I had a bad two-week period in which I earned less than ten dollars. My father handed my paycheck to me at a sales meeting in the presence of all the salesmen.

At the time, I thought he was being very hard on me. But later, I could see that this was his way to help me take a second look at myself. I was having a good time and not paying attention to my sales work. I determined that never again would I be the lowest paid person. My income increased from that day.

Now, what happened? I was selling the same merchandise from the same store in the same season of the year. What had changed? My new attitude made the entire difference. William James said that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes of mind. (See Vital Quotations, comp. Emerson Roy West, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1968, p. 19.)

When I was on a high adventure camping trip, our bishop gave us each a small copy of the Book of Mormon. Every morning, I would grab my camping chair and do a private reading retreat in the middle of the woods.
One morning, I had no idea what to read and thought that maybe Heavenly Father wanted me to know something. I asked God what I should read and if there was something I needed to hear.
Shortly after I uttered amen, I looked back at my scriptures and noticed that the corner of a page in the middle of the book was folded down. Dumbfounded, I flipped open to the page and read the whole chapter. That chapter of Alma talked about the armor the Nephites put on every morning before they went out into battle. I realized that scripture study (which I had been slacking in) could be my spiritual armor. I knew that my prayer had been answered and that I needed to continue spending time in the scriptures.
Sam R., California, USA

A few weeks ago as I approached these temple grounds where I was to meet a friend, a young woman—a stranger to me—stepped up and said, “Would you like to know what kind of people these Mormons really are?”
I responded with, “I think I already know a little bit about what they really are.”
To this the heckler retorted, “They surely don’t live the teachings of Jesus Christ as they should.”
My concluding comment was, “Who does?”
As I continued my walk to the visitors’ center, I began to ponder the actions of those persons who are giving time and money to discredit, embarrass, ridicule, and shame those who have religious views that differ from their own. Sometimes such actions can unify and strengthen those who are attacked. However, in some few instances they plant seeds of discord, and at times righteous people are hurt by their slander.
I doubt that such actions can be called Christlike. At no time did Jesus Christ encourage us to spend time participating in damaging, destructive criticism. His message was to encourage us to seek, learn, and share all that is praiseworthy and of value as we associate with our fellowmen. Only those who are vindictive and cantankerous participate in ferreting out and advertising the negative and unsavory.
I will be forever grateful for the wise counsel my mission president gave me as I arrived in England to serve as a missionary. He said, “Elder Ashton, these people in this land have been at it a long time. If you will keep your eyes, ears, and mind open, you can learn much while you are here. Look for the good and overlook that which is different from your ways.”
The longer I stayed in England, the more I appreciated his advice. Day by day I grew to love and appreciate that great country and its people. For example, instead of freezing in the raw winter weather, I did as the English did—I put on another sweater rather than wasting time murmuring and complaining.

My mind tuned in and out as the teacher explained the finer points of perspective drawing. I tried to concentrate, but to no avail. My mind kept wandering.
My thoughts were interrupted by the girl sitting next to me. She was tapping my shoulder, wanting to borrow an eraser. I complied and watched my eraser terminate an entire line of notes from her drawing pad.
As she handed it back, I noticed the eraser. It was gray, made of kneaded rubber, malleable and stretchy. These erasers seem to be a bit of magic. They never wear out; they just keep cleaning up your mistakes, no matter how dark. They’re better than any kind of eraser I’ve ever used.
Then a forceful thought came to me: how this small, gray eraser paralleled repentance. I recalled the words to a scripture in Isaiah: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isa. 1:18). Perhaps Isaiah’s plea for repentance would have been more easily understood if it went, “Though your sins be as graphite …”
Suddenly I heard people moving around me. I came out of my meditation. Class was finally over. As I gathered my materials, I heard the teacher say: “The best artist is the one who can see his mistakes and correct them.”
The day’s lesson was well learned.

As I look back over my life I can see the guiding hand of the Lord in many things. Let me relate just one such instance. Sister Cullimore and I have lived most of our married life in the missions of the Church. At one time, when we lived in Oklahoma City, we were concerned that our teenage children were not able to have proper association with other children of their age who were members of the Church. Their association was almost entirely with nonmembers, and although they were wonderful young people we worried about them being able to marry in the temple without proper association with members of the Church. Our concern was so great we were considering leaving my employment and moving to an area where they would have this association.
About this time Elder Joseph F. Merrill of the Council of the Twelve was traveling through the mission with the mission president, and he stayed overnight with us. Sister Cullimore poured her heart out to Brother Merrill about our concern over the children. Elder Merrill said, “Don’t be concerned about it; this is where the Lord wants you. I promise you that if you teach your children the gospel, see to it that they attend their meetings in the Church, set a proper example for them in your home, and then when they are ready, see that they attend a Church school, they will marry in the temple.”
I had already made some rather serious commitments in reference to a change in employment that would have necessitated a move from the area. The next morning, after the conversation with Elder Merrill, I coincidently met a real estate dealer who told me of a building available that would be suitable for a furniture business. (I had previously asked him to watch for such a building for me.) In three days I had signed the lease on the building and given notice to my employer that I was leaving. Within thirty days our business was opened.
The Lord blessed us abundantly in the business. We saw the Church grow in the area. Our children have each married in the temple and are all active and involved in the Church.

In the Jerusalem Center we employed both Israeli and Palestinian workers. They worked side by side—respectfully, for the most part; hopefully; and with responsibility. That microcosm of Holy Land society leads me to believe—to hope—that there is a solution to the anger between the two peoples. As I discussed such things with my friends on both sides of the issues, I was amazed to discover that everyone—really everyone whom I knew—wanted peace. They wanted the leaders to work out solutions. They didn’t hate each other. They knew there was some way to live together to the mutual benefit of both sides without encroaching on each other’s beliefs.

I watched Abdullah, a Palestinian worker, stand respectfully at attention on the balcony of the Jerusalem Center as the siren sounded for Prime Minister Rabin’s funeral after he was assassinated. I saw our Israeli security chief hire Palestinian workers to help guard the center, and on one occasion when fire broke out because children were playing with matches under some nearby brush, my Israeli friend watched one of our fine Palestinian workers wade into that fire with our fire hose, remarking to me, “When I’m in trouble, I want Ali to be right there. Ali is a brave man.”

To the west of our home was our garden plot. Part of the garden was in potatoes. One day my father said to my sister and me, “There are more potatoes than we can use. If you would like to sell some, you may do so.” My sister Alice and I dug some up and hauled them down to a hotel and sold them. When we showed the money to our father, he asked what we were going to do with it. We said we would divide it before buying some things we wanted. Then he questioned, “What about your tithing?” He said, “The Lord has been good to us. We planted and cultivated and harvested, but the earth is the Lord’s. He sent the moisture and the sunshine. One-tenth we always give back to the Lord for His part.” My father made no requirement; he merely explained it so convincingly that we felt it an honor and privilege to pay tithing.

This story happened in Aruba.
Henry slowly walked into the Primary room. His feet felt heavy as he reached his seat.
His teacher, Brother Rass, smiled at him. “Are you ready to talk about temples?” he asked.
“Yep,” Henry answered.
Why did I say that? Henry thought as he sat down. He didn’t feel ready. At all.
Henry’s Primary was learning the song “I Love to See the Temple.”* His class had been asked to talk about going to the temple.
But Henry felt sad. He wanted to go to the temple when he was old enough, but he felt like he made too many mistakes.
One by one, Henry’s friends stood up. They were happy and excited as they talked about going to the temple someday. Henry felt worse and worse.
Then it was time to sing. Henry sang along with the rest of the Primary: “I’ll prepare myself while I am young; this is my sacred duty.”
How can I prepare to go to the temple when I make so many mistakes? Henry thought. He slumped lower in his chair.
When the song ended, Brother Rass leaned over. “Are you OK?” he asked Henry.
Henry stared down at his hands. Then he said softly, “I want to go to the temple, but I’m afraid that I’m not worthy.” He took a big breath. “I don’t always get along with my family. I forget to do my chores. I make too many mistakes. Do I really have to be perfect?”
Brother Rass smiled gently. “Being worthy to go to the temple doesn’t mean you have to be perfect. We can be worthy by trusting Jesus Christ and sincerely trying to keep the commandments. We all make mistakes, but we can repent and be clean again.”
Henry sat up a little straighter.
“I’m sure Heavenly Father is proud of you for trying to be good,” said Brother Rass.
Henry thought about some of the good things he had done that week. He cooked dinner with Mom, helped his sister with her homework, and said hi to a new boy at school.
The weight of Henry’s worries began to lift. He knew the Holy Ghost was helping him feel peace.
When it was Henry’s turn to share, he smiled and stood up. “I want to keep repenting and becoming more like Jesus Christ so that one day I can enter the temple,” he said.
Henry felt happy as he sat down. One day, he would be able to make sacred covenants with God inside the temple. He wanted to try his best to prepare!

“Come over after school,” Caroline said. “I have the new CD by Alisha.” (Singer’s name has been changed.)
I gasped. “OK!” Even though Grandma was taking me shopping for my birthday on Saturday, I couldn’t wait that long. I was desperate to hear the new CD right away.
Alisha was my hero. Caroline and I pretended to be her, holding hairbrushes like microphones and singing along with her music. Sometimes Mom asked us to keep it down, but she didn’t mind our noise that much because Alisha’s lyrics were so good. Alisha was religious—I had read it in a magazine.
After school I hurried to my room and finished my homework. Alisha’s smile beamed down at me from the poster tacked above my desk.
When I finally bounded across the street to Caroline’s house, she handed me the CD cover and bubbled, “Isn’t she so pretty?”
I nodded, but my stomach felt funny. Alisha wasn’t smiling this time; her expression was more like a sneer. And I had never seen a photo of her dressed like that.
“Don’t you think her outfit is a little immodest?” I asked.
Caroline frowned. “Yeah, but maybe her church doesn’t care about stuff like that. She probably doesn’t know any better. Now listen—this is my favorite song.” She pushed the play button as I skimmed the lyrics printed in the CD jacket. I felt relieved that there weren’t any swear words.
“See? This CD is fine,” I told myself. But a dull feeling followed me home that night.
On Saturday morning I watched cartoons, waiting for Grandma to pick me up for our shopping trip. During a commercial, an announcer said that Alisha’s new music video would be shown at the end of the program!
Mom came into the family room just as the music started. “What are you watching?” She smiled and sat down.
“It’s the new Alisha video.” I tried to sound casual.
Mom’s smile disappeared as she watched Alisha dance across the screen. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows.
I squirmed. “Just because she’s wearing that outfit doesn’t mean the song is bad.”
“Are you sure?”
I wished the video would hurry and end, but it kept going. Finally I switched the TV off. Mom was silent, watching me.
“I read the lyrics,” I mumbled. “There weren’t any swear words.”
She pointed at the darkened TV screen. “But Alisha is still sending a message. You don’t have to say bad words to drive away the Spirit.”
A feeling inside told me that Mom was right. Maybe I didn’t understand what Alisha was suggesting, but the Holy Ghost knew—and His influence had left.
I trudged to my room and looked at my poster of grinning Alisha. I didn’t grin back. Why had my hero changed?
A car honked in the driveway, so I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and ran outside.
“Hi, birthday girl,” Grandma greeted me as I climbed into her van. “Where to?”
All week my decision had been made, but now I wasn’t sure. “Let me think for a second.”
Caroline’s words about Alisha popped into my head: “She probably doesn’t know any better.” It had sounded like a good excuse, but now I knew why it wasn’t—because I knew better!
The dark feeling melted away as I realized something important. I was a daughter of God, and I didn’t need another hero. Why should I admire someone who didn’t even know who she was? “I should be Alisha’s hero,” I thought with a giggle. Grandma gave me a questioning look.
“Can we go to a clothes store?” I asked. “I’ve almost outgrown my favorite blue church dress.”
“Good idea. You look really pretty in blue.”
I smiled. I looked pretty with the Spirit glowing inside too—prettier than a famous pop star could ever be.

One stormy winter day, President Spencer W. Kimball was at an airport in Chicago. A bad storm had caused thousands of people to be stranded or delayed. One young woman was standing in a long line. She was going to have a baby soon, and she was sick and very, very tired.
She had a two-year-old child, who was sitting on the dirty floor. Because her doctor had warned her that she must not bend over and pick up anything heavy, all the woman could do as the line slowly moved forward was push her crying, hungry child with her foot.
Other people who saw her only made nasty remarks, but President Kimball smiled at her and said, “You need help. Let me help you.”
He picked up the little girl, soothed her, and gave her a piece of gum. He talked to the people in line about how the woman needed help. He talked to the ticket agent, too, and the woman was soon checked in. He found a place where she and her little girl could be comfortable until they could get on their plane. Then he quietly left.

This call to bring a distinctive light into the world, as taught by President Kimball, brings to mind the example of Ida Lewis, a humble American lighthouse keeper known for her bravery in rescuing those in peril at sea. Off the coast of Rhode Island, she faithfully tended a light that guided ships through dangerous waters. But she did more than keep the light. Beginning at age 15, she ventured into churning and frigid waters to rescue those who could not save themselves. Over time she became known not only for keeping the light but for becoming part of it—bringing safety, hope, and life to others.

In many ways her life reflects the very mission President Kimball described. The world you now enter is filled with uncertainty, shifting values, and spiritual storms. As was that faithful lighthouse keeper, you are not only called to preserve the light, but you are called to beam it forth, to act upon it, and to bless and sometimes rescue others because of it.

If you need miracles or blessings, family history can help you. Sam and Betsy (names have been changed) experienced such a miracle in their family. They had a child who was estranged from them for years. Inspired by the talk “Family History and Temple Work: Sealing and Healing” by Elder Renlund, they decided to dedicate time each Sunday to work on family history. After many months, they were reunited with their child and are rebuilding their relationship. The Spirit confirmed to them that this miracle came because they followed Elder Renlund’s invitation to do family history work.