Gospel Story Finder

During this time I researched the effects of anoxia on the brain. I searched the rehabilitation research literature trying to find the therapy we needed to help Josh. I was surprised to learn that there was very little practical information regarding rehabilitation following anoxic brain injury. Further, the existing literature stated that the outcomes following anoxic brain injury were bad—dismal, to be exact. I thought that maybe I needed to look at the basic science literature on anoxia. There were scientific articles that discussed the possible mechanisms of anoxic brain injury and a few articles that provided information about anoxia and associated cognitive, neurological, behavioral, and motor morbidities—with which I was already well acquainted. None of the articles provided information regarding how to best help Joshua. I was frustrated and tired and felt I had reached a dead end.
A typical daily schedule for me involved getting myself up and ready, feeding and dressing my two-year-old, then feeding and dressing Joshua so we could drive to Primary Children’s Medical Center for physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy. We would spend four to six long hours at the hospital every day and then come home to start dinner, do laundry, clean the house, and do our “therapy homework”—yes, more therapy.
One day I was home at noon eating lunch, and I turned on the TV. I have no idea why I was home that day. There on one of the channels was Jane Russell, an actress from the 1940s and 1950s—but I knew her from the TV commercials that she did for the Cross Your Heart bra, and, frankly, that did not inspire much respect or confidence. Jane Russell was on a TV talk show talking about the adoption agency she had founded: the World Adoption International Fund, which helps find homes for children. In the program Jane Russell stated something to the effect that “if God wants you to do something, sometimes He rubs your nose in it.” I knew at that moment that I needed to return to school and earn a doctorate degree so I could study the effects of the lack of oxygen on the brain. This was a startling thought, since I had no idea where to begin.
A friend suggested I talk to a professor at the University of Utah. I called and made an appointment. The professor and I had a long conversation about my interests in graduate school. He encouraged me to apply to the doctoral program in psychology. This was madness. We had no time, little money, and mounting medical bills, and I had the equivalent of a full-time job taking care of Joshua and taking him to therapy every day. Scott and I discussed it, thought it over, and prayed about it, and the feeling remained that I should attend graduate school.
I applied to the PhD program. I was not accepted. I was very depressed by this news. I knew this was what I was supposed to do. When I asked why I was not accepted to the program, I was told I had no psychology background and they had no basis on which to judge whether or not I could succeed in the graduate program. It was true. These were facts—I was a nurse.
When I visited again with the faculty member, he suggested that over the next year I take some undergraduate psychology courses and a graduate course and then reapply to the doctoral program. I followed his advice, did well in my course work, reapplied, and was admitted to the psychology doctoral program the following fall. This was the beginning of a long journey, and along the way I have learned many important lessons.
I completed my doctorate degree and continued to study the cognitive, psychological, and quality-of-life outcomes following anoxia and other medical disorders in order to improve outcomes for individuals and their families.

I first had contact with the missionaries in 1992. From their first discussion, I felt something special in my heart. As the discussions progressed, I learned of gospel principles that I never knew existed. The first time I attended a Church meeting, I was warmly greeted by the members as though they had always known me.
I was the first member of my family to be baptized. Now my two sisters are also members, and my father is reading the Book of Mormon.

I would like to share an experience that has had a profound impact on my life.
Seven years ago, my son Marc had an acute pain in the stomach area. It often woke him up late at night and we made regular trips to the medical clinic. The ultrasound examinations they performed on him did not provide any reason for the pain, and it continued until it began to seriously impact his schooling. The pediatrician suggested we put medicine in his bag and let the teacher give it to him when the pain got very bad.
One day, the teacher called me and was quite concerned because the pain was more excruciating than usual. He was going to send him to the hospital. Of course, I was very upset. The doctor prescribed some medicine and told my son to stay in bed at home because he could not walk. With tears in my eyes, I hurried to the pharmacy, not knowing if my son would live or not, his pain and moans were so bad.
When I got to the pharmacy, I saw a scene that greatly impacted me. There was a young mother there trying to purchase medicine for the baby she was holding that was about a year old and you could see that he was in very bad shape. Everyone in the pharmacy could hear the conversation between the pharmacy employee and the young mother when the employee told the mother that she did not have enough money to purchase medicine for both severe malaria and anemia. With tears in her eyes, the young mother said “my son must be hospitalized, and I only have 5000 f CFA, the last note I have left. If I buy two medications, my son will have nothing to eat to take his medication.” The employee could not help her. The young lady took one of her prescriptions and left sadly.
Listening to the exchange while standing in line, there was a battle going on in my head between two voices. One told me to buy the medicine for the young lady, while another dissuaded me from it, warning me of the risk of putting my own son’s life in danger without returning home with his medicine full.
After this internal fight of a few moments, another voice said to me: “She could be your daughter, or your mother. If you were in her place what would you have wanted someone to do for you?”
After thinking of this, I made my decision, to buy the drugs for the young stranger. I asked the guard who regulated the entries to call her back because she and her baby had left the pharmacy.
Before the mother returned, I asked the cashier to give her the entire medical prescription without mentioning my name or my presence, and I would pay the bill. The cashier respected my wishes and when the young mother asked for the identity of her benefactor, to offer thanks, she was simply told that she could return to her home.
I said a prayer within me: “May God strengthen your child and grant him healing”. After that, an indescribable deep peace and immense joy came into my mind. I was happy to see the lady leave with the medicine.
Given my now limited means, I bought a very small part of the medication prescribed for my son and went home with joy in my heart. I had arrived in tears at the pharmacy, but returned home joyfully, even though I was still feeling fear of knowing in what state I would find my son.
Imagine my surprise and joy when I returned home to see Marc sitting in the living room, quietly watching his favorite TV series called “Fireman Sam”. He was miraculously cured.
Later, becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and studying the scriptures, I was able to understand that the miraculous healing of my son was certainly linked to the gesture I made towards the unknown. While I was giving love to someone else, God was working for me.
Today my son is 13 years old and has not felt his pain since that day at the pharmacy.
There is power in the love we give to our neighbor without expecting anything.

A few weeks ago on a day when this area was experiencing one of its worst snowstorms, and that is saying quite a bit because we had plenty of severe weather this past winter, a handsome young serviceman and his beautiful bride-to-be encountered extreme difficulty in getting to the Salt Lake Temple for their marriage appointment. She was in one location in the Salt Lake Valley and he was to come from another nearby town. Heavy snows and winds had closed the highways during the night and early morning hours. After many hours of anxious waiting, some of us were able to help them get to the temple and complete their marriage plans before the day was over.
How grateful they, their families, and friends were for the assistance and concern in their keeping this most important appointment. My friend—we will call him Bill—expressed his deep gratitude with, “Thank you very much for all you did to make our wedding possible. I don’t understand why you went to all this trouble to help me. Really, I’m nobody.”
I am sure Bill meant his comment to be a most sincere compliment, but I responded to it firmly, but I hope kindly, with, “Bill, I have never helped a ‘nobody’ in my life. In the kingdom of our Heavenly Father no man is a ‘nobody.’”

Early one evening I walked into the kitchen where my parents were, and almost instantly I could tell that something was wrong. They had their heads bowed together in conversation.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, thinking it was nothing more than a leaky faucet.
“Kristen, Mrs. Johnson called today,” my mother began, her voice soft and gentle. Mrs. Johnson had been our friend and neighbor in Ohio, before we moved.
“Honey, remember when you used to baby-sit for the Herrera children? After we moved, the doctors discovered that Mrs. Herrera had a brain tumor that was in a place that couldn’t be operated on. By the time they found it she only had three months left to live. She died a little while ago.” I could tell that Mom was trying to break the news gently because she knew how much I had liked their family, especially Mrs. Herrera.
I nodded my head and half ran, half stumbled out of the kitchen. Once I was safely hidden in my room, I flopped down on my bed and the tears came. I thought of her children and how they were too young to be without a mother. I could remember nights that I baby-sat for them, when they would pretend to be asleep, but the moment their mom walked through the door they would jump out of bed and run to her.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared angrily up at the ceiling. It seemed so unfair that Heavenly Father would allow a mother to be taken away, especially from four small children who needed her so much.
Finally, in search of some comfort, I picked up my scriptures and flipped through the pages until three verses in the Doctrine and Covenants caught my eye. “And all they who have mourned shall be comforted. And all they who have given their lives for my name shall be crowned. Therefore, let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God” (D&C 101:14–16).
It was exactly what I needed to read, and it had been there all along in my scriptures. I’d always heard that the scriptures would help me in my life, but I never really understood how until that day. Throughout my life I know that I will have many challenges and obstacles that I must overcome, but now I will remember where to look when I am in need of comfort.

One night a number of years ago, a newly called missionary named Elder Swan and his Japanese senior companion came to visit our home. Fortunately I was home, so I invited them in. When I greeted them at the door, my eyes were drawn to the coat that Elder Swan was wearing. Without thinking, I said to him, “That sure is a nice coat you are wearing!” However, it wasn’t a new coat, and it was rather faded. I assumed that the coat was one that a previous missionary had left behind in the missionary apartment.
Elder Swan immediately responded to my words, and it was completely the opposite of what I had been thinking. In halting Japanese he replied, “Yes, this is a good coat. My father wore this coat when he served as a missionary in Japan over 20 years ago.”
His father had served in the Japan Okayama Mission. And when his son was leaving to serve a mission in Japan, he had given his coat to him. This picture shows that coat that two generations of Elder Swans wore in Japan.
I was touched when I heard Elder Swan’s words. And I now understood why Elder Swan wore his father’s coat while he was proselyting. Elder Swan had embarked on his mission having inherited his father’s love for Japan and its people.

It doesn’t sound like something that would lure youth to Mutual, but cleaning the meetinghouse every week is what they’ve been asked to do, and the youth keep coming.
When the bishop first asked the youth in the Bloomfield Hills First Ward to clean the stake center, they didn’t exactly shout with joy. Who wants to finish off each activity night by scrubbing the building? There are more exciting ways to end Mutual activities, like shooting hoops or just chatting with friends.
But after the youth had cleaned the building for several weeks, they realized it wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be. And after a few more weeks, they even began to enjoy it. Now they say cleaning the church has changed the way they feel about the building and about themselves.
Three years ago, the First Presidency requested that ward members take more responsibility for cleaning Church meetinghouses. They recommended that the youth take on the responsibility as part of their weekly activities. The Bloomfield Hills youth knew this meant them.
“It cuts costs so we can provide more money for missionary work and temples,” says Rob Montierth, a priest who helps clean the building each week. “But it also teaches us responsibility and to respect the house of the Lord.”
Rob’s words echo the promise the First Presidency gave in a letter sent to bishops and stake presidents in the United States and Canada when they requested that youth clean the buildings. “From this service, young people can deepen their reverence and feelings of respect for the house of the Lord.”
Christina Wirthlin, a Laurel, says taking the call from the prophet seriously and cleaning each week makes her feel personally responsible for the cleanliness of the building. “It just makes me look out for things more. When I see papers on the floor and when I see things that need to be put away, I feel more responsibility to do those things. Before, I would just look past it because I figured someone else would do it.”
The Bloomfield Hills stake center isn’t a small building. The task of cleaning it seems a bit overwhelming. There are windows to polish, carpets to vacuum, hymnbooks to straighten, floors to mop, chalkboards to dust, a courtyard to sweep and weed—the list goes on and on. But the youth are not only willing to clean; they’re anxious to get started.
It’s almost like a tornado has hit the inside of the stake center. But unlike other tornadoes, this whirlwind of activity puts things in place.
The storm of activity is intense for about 15 minutes as the sound of vacuums squealing adds to the chorus of a squeaky wheel on the mop bucket and the rhythmic sweeping from the brooms in the courtyard. People are wiping down cabinets in the kitchen, making sure there are hymnbooks at every bench, pushing mops across the gym floor, and pulling tiny weeds out of the cracks in the courtyard cement.
Then, just as quickly as the cleaning supplies came out of the closet, the activity settles, and Mutual is over. When the youth leave, the stake center is spotless. Everything is in its place, and the building is ready to welcome them on Sunday morning.
As people file into the meetinghouse on Sunday morning, everything is in its place. And if something is out of line, or there’s a scrap of paper on the floor, you don’t have to tell the youth to take care of it; it has become instinct.
“I think that since we’ve been cleaning the building, I notice more when it’s clean,” says Diana Parker, a Mia Maid. “And I think the fact that the youth clean it makes a big difference because it’s something we can do to help invite the Spirit into the building.”
All the youth agree that it’s easier to feel the Spirit in a clean place. “When the building is clean, it just makes a better feeling, and the Spirit is stronger,” says Christina. “The Spirit is more willing to come in when it’s clean.”
Cleaning the building in preparation for Sunday has taught the youth respect for the building, but they have also learned that the building isn’t the only thing that needs Sunday preparation.
Just as the building needs to be cleaned, so do the people attending church, says Kay Smith, a Laurel. “We don’t just come to church in regular clothes; we come in Sunday clothes.”
Rob says that, as well as cleaning up our appearances, we have to do some deep cleaning. “We clean up our thoughts and our minds so that when we come to church we can have more of a spiritual experience.”
Although the meetinghouse only takes a short time to clean each week, the youth have learned an important principle from doing it—respect.
“There are places in the world where they don’t even have ward buildings,” says Laura Hansen, a Mia Maid. “We are so blessed to have this building, and I think we should feel some responsibility, even if a janitor did what we do, because it is the house of the Lord.”
Just like the building, the youth know that their appearance can be a reflection of what they value and can influence how they behave. And they know that it’s more than just coming with a clean appearance to church; they also try to come spiritually clean. Cleaning the stake center has helped teach them this lesson. That’s why, when it’s time to get ready for church, they are eager to come clean.

I will tell you of an experience I had before I was a General Authority that affected me profoundly. I sat on a plane next to a professed atheist who pressed his disbelief in God so urgently that I bore my testimony to him. “You are wrong,” I said. “There is a God. I know He lives!”
He protested, “You don’t know. Nobody knows that! You can’t know it!” When I would not yield, the atheist, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. “All right,” he said in a sneering, condescending way, “you say you know. Tell me how you know.”
When I attempted to answer, even though I held advanced academic degrees, I was helpless to communicate.
When I used the words Spirit and witness, the atheist responded, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The words prayer, discernment, and faith were equally meaningless to him. “You see,” he said, “you don’t really know. If you did, you would be able to tell me how you know.”
I felt, perhaps, that I had borne my testimony to him unwisely and was at a loss as to what to do. Then came the experience! Something came into my mind. And I mention here a statement of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas … and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation, until you become perfect in Christ Jesus.”
Such an idea came into my mind, and I said to the atheist, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like.”
“Of course I do,” was his reply.
“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”
After some thought, he said, “Well, I, uh, it is not sweet and it is not sour.”
“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.”
After several attempts, of course, he could not do it. He could not convey, in words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt. I bore testimony to him once again and said, “I know there is a God. You ridiculed that testimony and said that if I did know, I would be able to tell you exactly how I know. My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to convey to you in words how this knowledge has come than you are to tell me what salt tastes like. But I say to you again, there is a God! He does live! And just because you don’t know, don’t try to tell me that I don’t know, for I do!”
As we parted, I heard him mutter, “I don’t need your religion for a crutch! I don’t need it.”
From that experience forward, I have never been embarrassed or ashamed that I could not explain in words alone everything I know spiritually. The Apostle Paul said it this way:
“We speak, not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual.
“But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned” (1 Corinthians 2:13–14).
The voice of the Spirit is described in the scriptures as being neither “loud” nor “harsh” (3 Nephi 11:3). It is “not a voice of thunder, neither … a voice of a great tumultuous noise,” but rather, “a still voice of perfect mildness, as if it had been a whisper,” and it can “pierce even to the very soul” (Helaman 5:30) and “cause [the heart] to burn” (3 Nephi 11:3). Remember, Elijah found the voice of the Lord was not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but was a “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12).
The Spirit does not get our attention by shouting or shaking us with a heavy hand. Rather it whispers. It caresses so gently that if we are preoccupied we may not feel it at all.
Occasionally, it will press just firmly enough for us to pay heed. But most of the time, if we do not heed the gentle feeling, the Spirit will withdraw and wait until we come seeking and listening and say in our manner and expression, like Samuel of ancient times, “Speak [Lord], for thy servant heareth” (1 Samuel 3:10).
There is something else to learn. A testimony is not thrust upon you; a testimony grows. We become taller in testimony like we grow taller in physical stature; we hardly know it happens because it comes by growth.
You cannot force spiritual things. Such words as compel, coerce, constrain, pressure, and demand do not describe our privileges with the Spirit. You can no more force the Spirit to respond than you can force a bean to sprout or an egg to hatch before its time. You can create a climate to foster growth, nourish, and protect; but you cannot force or compel: you must await the growth.
Do not be impatient to gain great spiritual knowledge. Let it grow, help it grow, but do not force it or you will open the way to be misled.
We are expected to use the light and knowledge we already possess to work out our lives. We should not need a revelation to instruct us to be up and about our duty, for we have been told to do that already in the scriptures; nor should we expect revelation to replace the spiritual or temporal intelligence that we have already received—only to extend it. We must go about our life in an ordinary, workaday way, following the routines and rules and regulations that govern life.
Rules and regulations and commandments are valuable protection. If we need revealed instruction to alter our course, it will be waiting along the way as we arrive at the point of need. The counsel to be “anxiously engaged” is wise counsel indeed (see D&C 58:27).
Now, do not feel hesitant or ashamed if you do not know everything. Nephi said, “I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things” (1 Nephi 11:17).
There may be more power in your testimony than even you realize. The Lord said to the Nephites:
“Whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost, even as the Lamanites, because of their faith in me at the time of their conversion, were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and they knew it not” (3 Nephi 9:20; emphasis added).
Several years ago I met one of our sons in the mission field in a distant part of the world. He had been there for a year. His first question was this: “Dad, what can I do to grow spiritually? I have tried so hard to grow spiritually, and I just haven’t made any progress.”
That was his perception: to me it was otherwise. I could hardly believe the maturity, the spiritual growth that he had gained in just one year. He “knew it not,” for it had come as growth, not as a startling spiritual experience.
It is not unusual to have a missionary say, “How can I bear testimony until I get one? How can I testify that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that the gospel is true? If I do not have such a testimony, would that not be dishonest?”
Oh, if I could teach you this one principle: a testimony is to be found in the bearing of it! Somewhere in your quest for spiritual knowledge, there is that “leap of faith,” as the philosophers call it. It is the moment when you have gone to the edge of the light and stepped into the darkness to discover that the way is lighted ahead for just a footstep or two. “The spirit of man is,” as the scripture says, indeed “the candle of the Lord” (Proverbs 20:27).
It is one thing to receive a witness from what you have read or what another has said; and that is a necessary beginning. It is quite another to have the Spirit confirm to you in your bosom that what you have testified is true. Can you not see that it will be supplied as you share it? As you give that which you have, there is a replacement, with increase!
To speak out is the test of your faith.
Bear testimony of the things that you hope are true, as an act of faith. It is something of an experiment, like the experiment that the prophet Alma proposed to his followers. We begin with faith—not with a perfect knowledge of things. That sermon in the 32nd chapter of Alma is one of the greatest messages in holy writ, for it is addressed to the beginner, to the humble seeker. And it holds a key to a witness of the truth.
The Spirit and testimony of Christ will come to you for the most part when, and remain with you only if, you share it. In that process is the very essence of the gospel.
Is not this a perfect demonstration of Christianity? You cannot find it, nor keep it, nor enlarge it unless and until you are willing to share it. It is by giving it away freely that it becomes yours.
There is great power in this work, spiritual power. The ordinary member of the Church, like you, having received the gift of the Holy Ghost by confirmation, can do the work of the Lord.
Years ago a friend told this experience. He was 17 years old and with his companion stopped at a cottage in the southern states. It was his first day in the mission field and was his first door. A gray-haired woman stood inside the screen and asked what they wanted. His companion nudged him to proceed. Frightened and somewhat tongue-tied, he finally blurted out, “As man is God once was, and as God is man may become.”
Strangely enough, she was interested and asked where he got that. He answered, “It’s in the Bible.” She left the door for a moment, returned with her Bible. Commenting that she was a minister of a congregation, she handed it to him and said, “Here, show me.”
He took the Bible and nervously thumbed back and forth through it. Finally he handed it back saying, “Here, I can’t find it. I’m not even sure that it’s in there, and even if it is, I couldn’t find it. I’m just a poor farm boy from out in Cache Valley in Utah. I haven’t had much training. But I come from a family where we live the gospel of Jesus Christ. And it’s done so much for our family that I’ve accepted a call to come on a mission for two years, at my own expense, to tell people how I feel about it.”
After half a century, he could not hold back the tears as he told me how she pushed open the door and said, “Come in, my boy. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”
There is so much more to say. I could speak of prayer, of fasting, of priesthood and authority, of worthiness—all essential to revelation. When they are understood, it all fits together—perfectly. But some things one must learn individually, and alone, taught by the Spirit.
I know by experience too sacred to touch upon that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, that the gift of the Holy Ghost conferred upon us at our confirmation is a divine gift. The Book of Mormon is true! This is the Lord’s Church! Jesus is the Christ! There presides over us a prophet of God! The day of miracles has not ceased, neither have angels ceased to appear and minister unto man! The spiritual gifts are with the Church. Choice among them is the gift of the Holy Ghost!

I’d like to share a bit of my story with you.

In a way, it began in my college days at Brigham Young University in Provo. Like many of you, I struggled with choosing a major. My dilemma, if one can call this a dilemma, was that I loved too many subjects – Math, English, History, Biology, Home Economics, Accounting, even Horticulture. Everything was fun and fascinating to me. So narrowing it down to a single major – that was tough. Like many of you, I changed my mind, more than once! After much prayer and careful thought, I eventually chose to pursue a Bachelor of Science degree in Geography with an emphasis in Travel and Tourism.

Did the Lord guide me in my decision? I believe so. The world of travel was an exotic choice of major for this small town girl. I come from a family of educators – parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles. Most of them teachers. I thought I too would be a teacher. So you may all chuckle, but back then for me, choosing a degree in Travel and Tourism was going out on a limb! However, as it turned out, the Lord guided me to choose a degree which would eventually help supplement my family’s income in a place where tourism was the number one industry – Hawaii.

The Lord continued to guide me in a way that would lead me here to Brigham Young University–-Hawaii. On September 11, 2001, the tragic bombing of the twin towers in New York City had a drastic effect on the tourism industry. Air travel almost ground to a stop for a time. Within a month of that tragedy, the agency for which I worked made the decision to shut its doors.

Now a year previous to this event, my husband’s employment seemed shaky for a time and so I sought out another part-time job and interviewed for the position of an academic advisor here on this campus. However, my husband’s job stabilized and I was prompted by the Spirit to withdraw my application. Months later, when I was facing unemployment in the travel industry, I admit that I questioned that earlier prompting I had received to withdraw that application! Why had the Lord told me to let that opportunity pass by? My ability to help sustain our young family was now uncertain.

I should not have questioned. The Lord was still mindful of me and helped me immediately secure part-time employment at a local elementary school. I say immediately because this new job opportunity came the week before my last day of employment at the travel agency. Upon the kind recommendation of a friend, I applied for an opening at the elementary school and was hired. The Lord does work in mysterious ways because the principal later told me that he had seen me working with his grandchildren in the Primary organization and that was one of the things which prompted him to hire me. So this is a testimony to everyone here that all experience is to our benefit. Every calling you receive from the Lord will add to your skills and help you develop into the person the Lord knows you can be.

So right now you are all thinking, “Wait, that can’t be the end of the story because Sister Ching is not yet here at BYU–Hawaii!” Almost a year passed when I once again saw an opening for the same position for an academic advisor that I had interviewed for 18 months previously. I immediately felt a confirmation of “now is the time” and fortunately, was offered the position when I applied. I knew that I was where the Lord wanted me to be. Part of my testimony that confirms this to me comes from my patriarchal blessing. I’ll share just a small part of it in which the Lord tells me that men and women will come to me for counsel and advice in the activities of their lives. To the shy, young girl who received this blessing, this sentence from my patriarchal blessing was almost unimaginable at the time. Now, this sentence of my blessing is clearer to me.

I haven’t shared this experience widely with a lot of people previously because it is very personal and sacred to me. Perhaps to others, my story may seem insignificant when you look at the big plan. It’s true, my story is a miniscule piece of the Lord’s larger plan. But to me, this is further testimony that He truly cares for each one of us individually and will guide our path if we allow Him to.

Running my hand over the tight, even stitches of Anna’s crocheted blankets still brings back those unhurried afternoons of my youth spent in her sparsely furnished apartment. Over 20 years have passed, but whenever I wrap one of Anna’s afghans around me, I am once again enveloped in the warmth of her friendship.
My relationship with Anna began when I was a Mia Maid. My father, a member of the bishopric, went out of his way every Sunday to greet the widows in our ward by shaking their hands as they came into the chapel. He exhibited a special love for the elderly and taught me, through his example, to notice and nurture them.
One day my father introduced me to Anna, a widow in her 70s. At the prompting of my parents, I began to sit with her at church. At first, I felt awkward and unsure. What could we possibly talk about? What could we possibly have in common? Making friends with an elderly woman was new to me, but I felt that reaching out to Anna was what the Savior wanted me to do.
With time I became more comfortable approaching Anna at church. She would always listen attentively as I told her about my school and family activities. Seeing her face light up when I spoke to her made me realize how much she appreciated having someone care about her. In return, I looked forward to the grandmotherly affection she never failed to shower upon me. At times I slipped my hand into her wrinkled palm and she would squeeze it tenderly. Eventually I began to visit her weekly, bringing cookies or other things I thought she might enjoy.
One afternoon I asked Anna about the multi-colored afghans draped over the back of her couch. With her ailing knees, crocheting was one of the few activities she could engage in during her hours of solitude. Her gnarled, arthritic hands were always busy making cheerful blankets for family, friends, or ward members. When I asked Anna if she would be willing to teach me her unique pattern, she was surprised that I would even show interest in her hobby. Week after week my mother would drop me off at Anna’s apartment where the two of us would sit together, talking and crocheting.
Over the span of many years our friendship developed. What began as a Personal Progress goal evolved into a remarkable friendship. My nonjudgmental friend always offered me a warm heart and a listening ear. Our weekly visits gave Anna something to look forward to and broke up the monotony of her isolation and solitude. But visiting Anna did something for me, too. For one hour each week, the world didn’t revolve around me. Anna gave me the opportunity to focus on someone else’s needs, and she helped me to see that no matter what our age or circumstances, we are all children of our Heavenly Father.
This concept of fellowshipping and serving one another is expressed in Colossians 2:2, where it describes how “[our] hearts might be comforted, being knit together in love, and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding.” I learned about those riches during the years of adolescence because Anna loved, accepted, and understood me. Our hearts were “knit together in love” through a process that only the Spirit could orchestrate. Although Anna’s blankets were lovingly crocheted so long ago, they continue to remind me of the gentle and humble woman who made them and the lessons she taught me.

Many moving accounts have come to our attention as a result of this open house; countless hearts have been touched. Over eight thousand individuals with special needs came in wheelchairs, bringing relatives or friends to assist them. One young son paused at the entrance to the temple to carefully clean and polish the wheelchair his father was in before entering the sacred interior of the temple. A devoted father lifted his frail fifteen-year-old daughter in his arms as he carried her from her wheelchair into the brides’ dressing room. She looked around and said, “Oh, this is so beautiful.” With a smile on her lips and with tears in her eyes, she gently laid her head on her father’s shoulder and said, “This is where I want to come to be married someday.” This young girl had come to the temple from the hospital, where she has spent most of the past five years, her wish to see the temple fulfilled.

This story happened in Canada.
“Mamá, guess what?” Ana’s older sister, Mila, said. She held up her report card from school. “I have As in all my classes!”
Ana rolled her eyes. Why did Mila always have to be so perfect?
“That’s great,” Mamá said. “I’m proud of you.” She turned to Ana. “And how are your grades?”
Ana handed Mamá her report card. “They’re fine,” Ana said, looking down. Ana tried hard in school. But she didn’t have perfect grades like Mila did.
“I’m proud of you too,” Mamá said. She gave Ana a hug.
She’s just saying that to make me feel better, Ana thought. Mila had always been smarter than her.
But Mila wasn’t just better at school than Ana. She was better at everything. She had more friends. She had prettier hair. She was better at sports. Everyone loved Mila.
Ana’s parents tried to help.
“You are so important, Ana,” Papi would say.
“You are beautiful and smart,” Mamá would say.
But Ana didn’t feel important or beautiful or smart. Not compared to Mila.
One day Ana and Mila were playing a board game. “Looks like you won again,” Ana groaned.
“Want to play something else?” Mila asked. “We could go outside. I bet you’ll beat me at soccer!”
“No!” Ana snapped. “I’m tired of losing, and I’m tired of you always being better than me.” She felt like there was hot water boiling inside her.
Mila’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry—”
Ana turned and ran to her room before Mila could finish. “I’ll never be perfect like you!” she said, and slammed the door.
Ana lay on her bed with her face in her pillow. She felt so angry!
She huffed some deep breaths. When she was calm, Ana knelt to say a prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she said, “please help me. I’m always jealous of Mila.” Her voice got quiet. “I feel like I’ll never be good enough. Do You really love me?”
A warm feeling spread from Ana’s head down to her toes. Then she had a thought. Heavenly Father loved people because they were His children. Not because they were the best. Maybe Ana didn’t have to be better than anyone else to be loved. She was loved right now.
Ana stayed on her knees. She didn’t want the good feeling to go away. Heavenly Father did love her—a lot.
Then there was a gentle knock at the door. It was Mamá. She sat on the bed next to Ana. “I heard you were upset.”
Ana nodded. “Yeah. I feel better now though. I know I shouldn’t be angry at Mila for getting good grades or winning. And I said a prayer, which helped a lot.”
Mamá put her arm around Ana. “How did you feel when you prayed?”
“Good,” Ana said. “I felt like I was really important to Heavenly Father.”
Mamá pulled Ana close. “You’ve always been really important—to Heavenly Father and to us. But I’m glad that you know that now.”
“Me too. I’m going to tell Mila I’m sorry for yelling at her.” Ana smiled. “And ask if she wants to play soccer!”
Illustrations by Marina Martin

Recently Sister Gong and I saw covenant belonging at its tender best in a hospital room. A young father desperately needed a kidney transplant. His family had wept, fasted, and prayed for him to receive a kidney. When news came that a life-saving kidney had just become available, his wife quietly said, “I hope the other family is OK.” To belong by covenant is, in the words of the Apostle Paul, “that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.”

Shortly after our marriage in the Salt Lake Temple, Jim and I found ourselves living in a rented cottage on the Oregon coast. Jim was a topographic engineer for the government, in charge of checking and correcting a map of the Oregon coastline. Each morning he would leave with another engineer to continue the work of the previous day. His work was difficult because the coast was heavily forested.
One evening as I was about to start dinner, a strong impression came into my mind that my dinner preparations were not important. Jim would not be home for dinner that night. Another thought followed: Jim was in trouble and needed my help!
I did not hear a voice, but the message came as clearly into my mind as if it had been spoken. I had to help him, but where was he? He worked each day along the coast, but I had no idea where he was working that day. I felt impelled to get in the car and drive to the main highway, but in which direction should I turn? With only slight hesitation, I felt that I should turn south. I then passed many side roads, any one of which could have been the area of Jim’s work.
I was impressed to leave the highway and follow one of the single-lane roads. It was raining, and after a mile or two the road became a muddy trail. I decided I had better turn around and head back. It was getting dark, and I thought, “It was silly of me to have come.”
But no sooner had I turned onto the highway than I came upon two tired, despondent engineers, so covered with mud that no one else would have wanted to pick them up. Jim and his co-worker told me that their truck had become stuck in a mud hole. They had tried to free it but finally left it and hiked through dense undergrowth back to the main highway.
“How did you know where we were?” they wondered, relieved that I had found them. My relief was equal to theirs as I explained how I had been guided by the Spirit.
As Jim and I knelt in prayer that evening, we gave thanks for the influence of the Holy Ghost, which had come to me in answer to my husband’s prayers for help.

Joseph’s father, Hyrum Smith, was the Prophet Joseph Smith’s older brother. Both the Prophet and Hyrum were shot and killed by a mob when young Joseph was only five years old. It is well known that Hyrum had been the Prophet Joseph’s great friend and support through much of their lives and that Joseph had loved his older brother as he loved his own life. The Lord also had expressed his love for Hyrum, “because of the integrity of his heart, and because he loveth that which is right before me” (D&C 124:15).
Throughout his life, Joseph F. Smith loved his father with a special devotion. His last memory of his father, as Hyrum rode off to Carthage, was vivid: “Without getting off his horse,” President Smith related later, “father leaned over in his saddle and picked me up off the ground. He kissed me goodbye and put me down again and I saw him ride away.” This experience was to be followed by days of uncertainty and then a night of terror. “I remember the night of the murder … when one of the brethren came from Carthage and knocked on our window after dark and called to my mother, ‘Sister Smith, your husband has been killed.’” Although this occurred when the boy was only five years old, many years later he still remembered the terror of that night.
Two years after Hyrum’s death, Joseph F. Smith and his widowed mother, Mary Fielding Smith, set off across the plains of North America with many other Mormon pioneers. Sister Smith had not only her own two young children, but she was also caring for the five children of her slain husband and his first wife, who had died earlier. At age seven, Joseph drove the family’s ox team to Winter Quarters, Nebraska. At age nine, he drove the wagon on to the Salt Lake Valley.
During the time on the plains, young Joseph learned many lessons of faith from his mother. Upon awakening one morning, the Smiths found that their best team of oxen was missing. The young boy and his uncle, Joseph Fielding, set out and searched an entire morning in vain. Fatigued and discouraged, they returned to camp. There they found Mary Fielding Smith on her knees, pleading for God to help them in this search, since the loss of the oxen would mean further delay in reaching their destination.
Arising from prayer, this youthful pioneer mother told her brother and her son to have breakfast, and she would bring back the cattle. She started toward the river, despite her brother’s protests that further search was futile. Ignoring first her brother and then a herdsman from a Missouri wagon train who tried to tell her that he had seen the oxen headed in the opposite direction that morning, Mary Fielding Smith continued walking to the river. Then, turning at the bank, she motioned to her brother and son to join her. As they did, they found the oxen tied to a clump of willows, hidden from sight. Someone had apparently put them there, planning to return after the pioneer group had moved on.
President Smith later said that this experience was “one of the first practical and positive demonstrations of the efficacy of prayer I have ever witnessed.” The impression it made on his mind was to aid him all through his life.
Four years after they entered the Salt Lake Valley—when Joseph F. was thirteen years old—his mother died, leaving him without father or mother.
During his fifteenth year, Joseph F. Smith was ordained an elder, endowed, and sent to serve as a missionary in the Hawaiian Islands. There he experienced illness and discouragement far beyond that which is usual for a young man of his age. But with these experiences came an increased deepening of his soul and a broadening of his capacities as new spiritual insights were added in his life.
One such experience was a dream, significantly centering on a family experience. This dream occurred during a time in his mission when he was greatly depressed. “I was … entirely friendless. … I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look a … man in the face.”
In the dream, Joseph saw his uncle, the Prophet Joseph Smith; his father, Hyrum Smith; and his mother, Mary Fielding Smith. He was comforted, and his testimony of the Prophet and of the plan of salvation were strengthened: “When I awoke that morning I was a man, although only a boy. There was not anything in the world that I feared. … That vision, that manifestation and witness that I enjoyed at that time has made me what I am, if I am anything that is good, or clean, or upright before the Lord. That has helped me out of every trial and through every difficulty.”
Joseph F. Smith was not to be alone nor deprived of a family all of his life. When he was twenty years old, he married Levira Smith shortly before departing for his second mission—this time to Great Britain. During this mission, he had the comfort of knowing that someone waited for him. He later married five other wives (living as they did during the days of the Church’s practice of plural marriage): Julina Lambson, Sarah Ellen Richards, Edna Lambson, Alice Ann Kimball, and Mary Taylor Schwartz. He became the father of forty-eight children. One son, Joseph Fielding Smith, grew up to become the tenth President of the Church.
A beautiful illustration of Joseph F. Smith’s love for his family comes from his early years as a father, when he was existing on a poverty wage and was paid only in commodities. In these destitute circumstances, he made a trip to town one day before Christmas to buy “something for my chicks.”
“I wanted something to please them, and to mark the Christmas day from all other days—but not a cent to do it with! I walked up and down Main Street, looking into the shop windows … everywhere—and then slunk out of sight of humanity and sat down and wept like a child until my poured-out grief relieved my aching heart; and after awhile returned home, as empty as when I left, and played with my children, grateful and happy … for them.”
Another experience illustrating his love for family occurred at the death of his firstborn, a little daughter, Mercy Josephine, whom he affectionately referred to as “Dodo.” Little Dodo died when she was three. After watching over her night after night, holding her, and encouraging her, Elder Smith grieved when she went sleepless one entire night. The next morning when she said, “I’ll sleep tonight, papa,” the words “shot through my heart.” Shortly thereafter, she died.
He expressed the sorrow of his heart in a letter: “I scarcely dare to trust myself to write, even now my heart aches, and my mind is all chaos; if I should murmur, may God forgive me, my soul has been and is tried with poignant grief, my heart is bruised and wrenched almost asunder. I am desolate, my home seems desolate and almost dreary … my own sweet Dodo is gone! I can scarcely believe it and my heart asks, can it be? I look in vain, I listen, no sound, I wander through the rooms, all are vacant, lonely, desolate, deserted. I look down the garden walk, peer around the house, look here and there for a glimpse of a little golden, sunny head and rosy cheeks, but no, alas, no pattering little footsteps. No beaming little black eyes sparkling with love for papa; no sweet little enquiring voice … no soft dimpled hands clasping me around the neck, no sweet rosy lips returning in childish innocence my fond embrace and kisses, but a vacant little chair. Her little toys are concealed, her clothes put by, and only the one desolate thought forcing its crushing leaden weight upon my heart—she is not here, she is gone! … I am almost wild, and O God only knows how much I loved my girl, and she the light and joy of my heart.”
Forty-six years later, just two years before his own death, President Smith wrote in his journal, “This is the 49th anniversary of the birth of my firstborn child, Mercy Josephine. A most beautiful and intelligent little girl. She died June 6, 1870, nearly three years old, leaving but the memory of the sweetest, happiest, loveliest three years of my whole life up to that time. O how I loved and cherished that little angel of love and light.”
For Joseph F. Smith, love of family was the highest joy. Shortly after becoming the prophet of the Lord, he said:
“There can be no genuine happiness separate and apart from the home, and every effort made to sanctify and preserve its influence is uplifting to those who toil and sacrifice for its establishment. Men and women often seek to substitute some other life for that of the home; they would make themselves believe that the home means restraint; that the highest liberty is the fullest opportunity to move about at will. There is no happiness without service, and there is no service greater than that which converts the home into a divine institution, and which promotes and preserves family life.
“Those who shirk home responsibilities are wanting in an important element of social well-being. They may indulge themselves in social pleasures, but their pleasures are superficial and result in disappointment later in life.”
In addition to making great contributions at home with his own family, Joseph F. Smith spent most of his life as a missionary or Church leader. After his first mission in the Hawaiian Islands at age fifteen, he served a three-year mission in Great Britain and was then ordained as an Apostle and counselor to the First Presidency at the age of twenty-seven. As an Apostle, he served as president of the European and British missions. At age forty-one, he again became a member of the First Presidency of the Church and served in the First Presidency for nearly forty years—half his lifetime—until his death at age eighty. Having served as a counselor to the First Presidency during the administration of Brigham Young, he also served as counselor in the First Presidency to John Taylor, Wilford Woodruff, and Lorenzo Snow. Then, in 1901, at age sixty-two, he became President of the Church.
During most of President Smith’s life, the Church was under great attack from the United States government because of its practice of plural marriage. President Smith became one of the Church’s most able defenders of the practice. For a time, he and other leaders went into voluntary exile—and it pained him to be unable to be with and care for his large family. Then, in 1888 and 1889, he went to Washington, D.C., attempting to negotiate with the United States government for relaxation of repressive laws against the Latter-day Saints.
After President Wilford Woodruff received the revelation known as the Manifesto, discontinuing the practice of plural marriage in 1890 (see OD 1), President Smith continued to work tirelessly to ease tensions between the Church and the government and to enhance public respect for the Church. President Smith presided over the Church during a time of great prosperity and growth. As prophet, he strengthened the role of priesthood quorums and emphasized the importance of the home.
One of President Joseph F. Smith’s greatest contributions to the Church was his forthright teaching of the gospel. While he served as prophet, he and his counselors in the First Presidency issued statements clarifying Church doctrine on such topics as the origin of man and the nature of God the Father and Jesus Christ. They also warned against false teachings. After his death, some of his most important messages were published as a book, entitled Gospel Doctrine.
His “Vision of the Redemption of the Dead” has been accepted as scripture and is now found in section 138 of the Doctrine and Covenants [D&C 138]. On 3 October 1918, only six weeks before his death, President Smith received a vision in which he saw the Savior’s ministry in the spirit world during the short time between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. (See 1 Pet. 3:18–20; 1 Pet. 4:6). President Smith witnessed the Savior ministering to the righteous Saints and prophets who had died; he also saw the Savior organizing missionary work to go forth among the spirits of the wicked and the unrepentant.
This wonderful revelation came to the aged prophet as he sat in his room, “pondering over the scriptures;
“And reflecting upon the great atoning sacrifice that was made by the Son of God, for the redemption of the world;
“And the great and wonderful love made manifest by the Father and the Son in the coming of the Redeemer into the world” (D&C 138:1–3).
In the vision, President Smith saw that “the saints rejoiced in their redemption, and bowed the knee and acknowledged the Son of God as their Redeemer and Deliverer from death and the chains of hell” (D&C 138:23).
Thus, he had hope for the salvation of all who love the Lord—from his own cherished daughter “Dodo,” to every one of our Father’s children.
And through President Smith’s witness, all of us can have that same hope in the eternal nature of God, in His plan for our happiness, and in His promise to the faithful of the blessing of eternal family relationships.

Jayson slumped in his seat. “This is so boring,” he thought. “I’m too old for Primary.” He looked around at the other children. Some were smiling or nodding. They actually looked interested in what Sister Simmons was saying. “How could anyone enjoy this?” he thought glumly.
For several months Jayson had dreaded Primary. He didn’t mind class so much; his teacher involved everyone with fun lessons. But singing and sharing time just weren’t interesting anymore. The lessons were for younger children, and the songs he used to love now seemed childish.
Jayson had talked with Mom about the problem. She told him that Primary was for everyone and that if he tried hard to listen, there would always be something just for him. Mom was almost never wrong, but this must be an exception.
He glanced at the clock—still 20 minutes to go. He started looking for ways to make the time speed up. He folded up his class handout. Pretty soon he started swinging his feet back and forth. Just as he was about to see how long he could hold his breath, Jayson heard something amazing. “I made a big mistake,” Sister Simmons said.
“Well, this is new,” Jayson thought. “Teachers don’t talk about their mistakes.”
“When I was 12 years old I had some friends who used bad language,” Sister Simmons said, “and I noticed that whenever I got mad a swear word would pop into my head. I wasn’t worried, because I knew that I wouldn’t actually say the words. But one day I got mad during recess and took the Lord’s name in vain. I felt so sad! I couldn’t believe that I had crossed the line between words in my head and words in my mouth.”
Jayson sat up straight, the clock forgotten. Sister Simmons told how she had talked with her parents that night and asked her father for a priesthood blessing. The bad words didn’t go away immediately, but as she crowded them out with good thoughts, they came less often. After a while, they went away completely.
Jayson couldn’t believe it! He had been having exactly the same problem. Lots of his friends at school swore, and cuss words always seemed to be floating around in his head. Just the other day he had called a boy a bad name for kicking a ball over the school fence. He felt terrible afterward! But he didn’t have the courage to ask his parents for help. He was afraid they would forbid him from hanging out with his friends.
Sitting there in Primary, he suddenly stopped being afraid. Sister Simmons had faced the problem, and so could he. Her parents had understood, and so would his. Maybe he could even get a blessing from his dad, just like Sister Simmons had. A happy feeling came over him, and he felt better than he had in weeks.
The next thing he knew, the closing prayer was being said, and all the other children were leaving the Primary room. Jayson sat thinking a few moments, then slowly got to his feet. He noticed that Sister Simmons was giving him a worried look. “Are you OK?” she asked.
Jayson grinned. “I’m great actually, and my mom was right as usual. Primary really does have something for everybody—if you just keep listening.”

I know a church school student who told me that in her dorm, she was basically the only student striving to keep the spirit of the Sabbath day. Maybe, by lack of understanding or faith in this commandment, the other roommates treated the Sabbath day like any other day of the week. Even though sometimes she had to seclude herself in the privacy of her bedroom to study the scriptures and pray, she was still very friendly with her roommates. She tried to be a good example of the light of the Savior, without judging or criticizing them but serving the best way she could. Some of her roommates responded well, others did not, but all of them respected her for being a friendly, good disciple of Jesus Christ.

Many years ago, a humble and faithful patriarch, Brother Percy K. Fetzer, was called to give patriarchal blessings to Church members living behind the Iron Curtain.

Brother Fetzer went into the land of Poland in those dark days. The borders were sealed, and no citizens were permitted to leave. Brother Fetzer met with German Saints who had been trapped there when the borders were redefined following World War II and the land where they were living became part of Poland.

Our leader among all of those German Saints was Brother Eric P. Konietz, who lived there with his wife and children. Brother Fetzer gave Brother and Sister Konietz and the older children patriarchal blessings.

When Brother Fetzer returned to the United States, he called and asked if he could come visit with me. As he sat in my office, he began to weep. He said, “Brother Monson, as I laid my hands upon the heads of the members of the Konietz family, I made promises which cannot be fulfilled. I promised Brother and Sister Konietz that they would be able to return to their native Germany, that they would not be held captive by the arbitrary decisions of conquering countries and that they would be sealed together as a family in the house of the Lord. I promised their son that he would fill a mission, and I promised their daughter that she would be married in the holy temple of God. You and I know that because of the closed borders, they will not be able to receive the fulfillment of those blessings. What have I done?”

I said, “Brother Fetzer, I know you well enough to know that you have done just what our Heavenly Father wanted you to do.” The two of us knelt down beside my desk and poured out our hearts to our Heavenly Father, indicating that promises had been given to a devoted family pertaining to the temple of God and other blessings now denied to them. Only He could bring forth the miracle we needed.

The miracle occurred. A pact was signed between the leaders of the Polish government and the leaders of the Federal Republic of Germany, permitting German nationals who had been trapped in that area to move to West Germany. Brother and Sister Konietz and their children moved to West Germany, and Brother Konietz became the bishop of the ward in which they resided.

The entire Konietz family went to the holy temple in Switzerland. And who was the temple president who greeted them in a white suit with open arms? None other than Percy Fetzer—the patriarch who gave them the promise. Now, in his capacity as president of the Bern Switzerland Temple, he welcomed them to the house of the Lord, to the fulfillment of that promise, and sealed the husband and wife together and the children to their parents.

The young daughter eventually married in the house of the Lord. The young son received his call and fulfilled a full-time mission.

When Grandma and Grandpa Johns left to serve a mission to the Bern Switzerland Temple, their family members resolved to follow their example. In their own way, they would be missionaries, too.
Kyle was in the fourth grade and took the challenge very seriously. When he asked his mother what he could do to be a missionary, she answered, “You have to find someone, be a good friend to him, and then wait and see what happens.”
When the new school year began, Kyle looked around at the members of his class. Pedro, a boy from Mexico, looked like he needed a special friend. Soon Kyle and Pedro were talking and playing together. Kyle invited Pedro to his home to play, and he often went to Pedro’s home.
Because Sunday was a special day for Kyle and his family, he and his brothers did not play in their neighborhood or have friends over to their home on that day. Instead, their family went to church and enjoyed family activities together afterward.
Pedro didn’t understand. His family didn’t have rules like Kyle’s family, and he could do whatever he wanted to on Sunday. Kyle’s mother suggested that he invite Pedro to Primary. Maybe then he would understand why Kyle’s family chose to do what they did on Sunday. Kyle told Pedro, “Come with me to Primary, and we can be together on Sunday mornings. You can ride with us, and we’ll take you home afterward.”
Pedro was interested. He asked Kyle to come with him to ask his father for permission.
When Kyle asked Pedro’s father, he answered, “If Pedro wants to go, then it is all right with me.”
The next Sunday found Kyle and Pedro together in Primary. The teacher was very kind and welcoming. When the class was ending, he gave an assignment to the class from the scriptures for the following Sunday. Kyle had his own copies of the scriptures and took them to Primary each Sunday. He was eager to do the assignment the teacher made. So was Pedro, but he didn’t have any scriptures of his own. He went to his father and asked if he could have a set. Even though Pedro and his family were not members of the Church, his father saw how much it meant to him to have his own set of scriptures. He decided that they were all good books and bought them for Pedro.
The boys continued to attend Primary together. One Sunday, the teacher gave the boys a list of scriptures to study and asked them to have their parents explain the meanings to them. He made new scripture assignments each week for several weeks.
As they studied, Pedro and Kyle became more and more interested in the gospel. They had a lesson on baptism and learned that the Lord requires it of everyone. They also learned how it is administered and by whom. As they helped Pedro with his reading assignments in preparation for his Primary class each week, Pedro’s family found this information new and interesting.
One day, Pedro asked Kyle, “Do you think my dad would let me be baptized?”
They decided that they would go ask Pedro’s father together. Imagine how surprised Pedro’s father was when they walked up to him and Kyle asked, “Can Pedro be baptized into my church?”
Pedro’s father said, “I’ll have to think about it before I give you an answer. I know a member of your church. I’d like to talk with him before I give my answer.”
Pedro’s father talked with his friend, who happened to be serving in Kyle’s ward as the mission leader. Soon an appointment was made for the missionaries to begin teaching Pedro’s family the gospel. The family studied and worked with the missionaries to gain testimonies. Pedro and his brother were ready to be baptized first. As their father and mother watched them enter the waters of baptism, the Spirit whispered to them that what was taking place was true and correct. They decided to prepare themselves for baptism.
As Kyle rode home with his family after the baptism of his friend, he told his mother, “Tomorrow Pedro and I will look around our class and find another person who needs a friend. Then we will invite him to Primary!”
Kyle was very happy to write to his grandma and grandpa in Switzerland and tell them of his experience as a missionary. He ended his letter by saying, “Everyone can be a missionary. You just have to be a good friend and then wait and see what happens!”

In 2013, we were living in Mesa, Arizona, in a nice home. I had a good job and six children at home; my wife and I started the PathwayConnect program. We both knew that we needed to complete our education, and the time had finally come. After a year of online classes and many nights up until the wee hours of the morning, we finished. I wish we could say we were getting a good night’s sleep during those late nights, but it took every precious hour to complete homework assignments. Upon completing the one-year PathwayConnect program, it was time to move on, and we had a choice: to complete our degrees through BYU-Idaho online or to come to Rexburg and take classes in person on campus.

My wife, who is not a fan of the snow, knew right away we needed to come to BYU-Idaho and take classes in person.

Now I, on the other hand, was struggling with that choice. I had a good job, a beautiful home, and our children were very settled in our community. And being a full-time student with children ranging in age from preschool to high school, it just did not make sense.

Every day my wife would ask, “Have you prayed about going to Rexburg?” My answer was always the same: “Yes.”

She would then say, “What answer did you get?”

Again, my answer would be one of two things: “I got nothing,” or, “I’m not getting any warm fuzzies about it.”

Of course, being a car guy and understanding the nuts and bolts of things, I looked at things in a more “natural man–logical way,” and it still did not make sense to go to Rexburg. Well, Sister Waldron is very persistent, so she would then ask me to watch Elder Bednar’s video “Patterns of Light.” [2] I must have watched that video a hundred times.

She finally booked a flight for us to come to Rexburg to see campus for ourselves. While here, I could not deny the spirit I felt—of course, it was August and great weather. You see, before we came to visit, my prayers were not very sincere because I knew what I wanted. I doubt many of those prayers made it past the ceiling (maybe some of you have had prayers like that?). But after visiting, my heart was changed, and I knew we should come here.

My prayers shifted. Instead of “Should we go to Rexburg?,” my prayer was now, “I know I should go,” but I was scared. I wanted to know how it was going to work, because I was pretty sure my six kids wanted to eat while we were college students. I wanted a laid-out plan of the details; I don’t know how many of you get answers of perfectly laid-out plans, but I seldom do.

In the whole process, I kind of knew what we should do, it just did not make sense on paper.

My thought was, “Give me an Excel spreadsheet and show me how it’s going to work,” because it just didn’t add up.

I was like Amulek when he said, “Nevertheless, I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know; therefore I went on rebelling against God.” [3]

My heart was softened, and my prayer had changed.

I did receive two answers: one was, “Don’t worry, I will take care of you,” which is nice to know. The other was, “You are not going for yourself.”

My initial thought to that second answer was, “Yes, I am going for myself.” But then my niece and nephew, who were attending school here, came to my mind, and my thought was, “Yes, I can help them.” I will tell you this, both of those answers have and are still coming to pass.

This is a photo of when we very first arrived here from Arizona. You may notice the shorts and flip-flops, and everyone is freezing: it was a low of 80 in Arizona and 32 in Rexburg that day.

As students, my wife and I were rushing from class to class and learning from the wonderful, loving faculty here. We saw hundreds of miracles that, if I had more time, I would share with you. For the record, none of our children starved.

I graduated in 2017, and Rolayne graduated in 2018.

After graduation, the struggle continued while working on a master’s degree, and I also had the blessing of teaching adjunct classes here.

And now, as I teach full-time and serve on campus, I have realized that I did not just come for myself; I came for you. I enjoy the blessings every day of working with so many students on campus.

I love you guys. But more importantly, know that our Savior loves you and is there for you. [4]

I know the answers I received were revelation from God, yet they came from one step of faith after another.