Gospel Story Finder

I know the blessings I enjoyed on my mission came partly from a defining moment in the MTC. When I first arrived, I was told of the great work other welfare service missionaries were doing around the world. In my heart, I said I would be one of those missionaries they talked about. But the good Spirit of the MTC humbled me as the weeks went by and by the end of my stay, I promised the Lord that I would serve Him in any way, no matter how small, even if it was only to help one person take one step. Wouldn't you say that it is a credit to the Lord's sense of humor that our work in the refugee camp made it into the Church News?
Like Elder Maxwell, I feel I have fulfilled my pledge imperfectly, but I do recognize that every good gift and blessing in my life has come from following the teachings of the Savior.

We had a son, Joe, who was at the Alpine Slide. He was up at the top with the children, bringing them down the slide, and his mother was waiting down at the bottom. She saw a woman at the side fumbling in the grass looking for something. She went over and asked if she could help her find something. Apparently the woman had lost the lens cap off her camera and was looking for it. Merlene got down and helped her. The woman spoke in very broken English. Merlene said, “You’re not from the United States. Are you from Mexico?”

The woman said, “No, I’m from Ecuador.”

Merlene asked, “What are you doing here from Ecuador?”

The woman answered, “I have come to find the beloved missionary who baptized me into the Church. I will love him as long as time lasts.”

Merlene said, “How long ago were you baptized?”

The woman said, “About 20 years.”

Merlene told her, “We have a son who served about 20 years ago in Ecuador. I’ll bet he’ll know him. What was the elder’s name?”

She answered, “Well, it was a peculiar name: Elder Joseph Featherstone.”

Merlene said, “Come on over to the bottom of the slide. I want to introduce you to someone.”

About that time Joe came down the slide. He saw his mother standing there with a woman he didn’t recognize. As he got closer, he did recognize her. They ran and fell on each other’s necks, but they couldn’t speak because their hearts were full.

In January of this year, my husband was hospitalized with a very bad case of pneumonia. Shortly after we were able to get him home, I was scheduled for surgery on my shoulder. The day before my surgery, a good friend of ours asked if they could bring dinner for us. I declined the offer.

The next day, our daughter went with me to the hospital because my husband was still recuperating. She asked if I had anything planned for dinner, knowing her dad was still too weak to do much and I would not be in shape to fix anything. I told her our friends had offered to bring dinner for us but I had turned them down so I would just figure something out.

She reminded me of something I know I myself have said to other people many times: we need to accept help from others when we need it, because they get blessed when they serve others, too. So, I asked her to contact our friends and tell them if the offer was still open, we would appreciate it if they brought us dinner that evening. At 6:00 pm the doorbell rang, and there they were, dinner in hand. In thanking them, I apologized for the short notice and inconvenience that I felt we had put on them. Our friend replied she had prayed that morning and had asked Heavenly Father to bless her to be aware of someone who needed her help. She said until our daughter had called, she had not been able to think of anyone. She thanked me for the opportunity to serve, which was an answer to her prayers.

Although many of our activities are the same as those of other boys around the world, we get to see and do different things because of the unique land we live in. For example, a few weeks ago the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts hiked through Wadi Kelt. A wadi is a riverbed at the bottom of a valley that is usually dry except during the rainy season. This wadi winds through part of the Judean wilderness, and is it hot! All you can see for miles around are bare, rocky hills and clear blue sky.
Many people believe that Wadi Kelt is the place where Elijah, an Old Testament prophet, was fed by ravens when he sealed the heavens so that no rain would fall.
After hiking through this wadi, I can see why Heavenly Father had to provide food for Elijah—there is nothing out there to keep a person alive! So before we started, we made sure that we packed a lunch and filled our canteens full of water. Our Cub Scout leaders kept reminding us to drink lots of water so that we wouldn’t get sick from the heat.
Our hike began fifteen miles away from Jericho and took us about four hours. We had lots of fun as we followed the wadi through the desert. Some of the boys spotted ibex on the steep cliffs. They look like wild goats, with huge horns that they butt with.
My friends and I also saw a bedouin shepherd with a herd of goats. Bedouins are desert people who live in tents and wander from place to place. Many of them still wear long robes and veils to protect them from the scorching sun.
About an hour after we had started, we came to a small waterfall that tumbled into a green pool below. Swimming in it was my favorite part of the hike, because that’s my best sport, besides basketball. The cool water felt good after our climb down the hillside, and before long we were all in the pool, splashing around and sliding down mossy rocks.
Ryan and Shaun Dennett, two friends in my den, found some dead crabs in the water. They scared some of the boys when they threw the crab legs at them. We also found some frogs, only they weren’t dead.
We sat on big rocks in the sun and dried off while we ate our lunches. Boy, did the cheese sandwich my mom packed taste good! I was starving! Just as I finished my last mouthful, Joel Galbraith, one of the older Scouts, called out, “Time to go. We still have a lot of hiking to do.”
As we climbed deeper into the dry valley, Shaun, Aaron, and I pretended that we were in the army. Aaron was a general, Shaun was a sergeant, and I was a colonel. We ran ahead and hid and dropped off cliffs, scaring the others as they came by.
Sometimes we would march along in the wadi, which was full of water from desert springs. The bottom and sides of it were slippery, and we pretended that we were ice-skating. At times the water was flowing so fast that it would push us along. The moss along the bottom was great to throw, and we had the best water and moss fight. We called it slime fighting.
Some parts of the hike were really steep, and a lot of us slipped on the loose rocks on the path. Joshua Rona, another Cub Scout, fell and hurt his foot. But Ian Boyd and Steve Rona, two older Scouts, made a foot brace for him out of a bandanna. It was pretty tricky.
The last part of the hike was the hardest. The sun beat down on us, and my feet hurt. But I continued to run ahead and look for the place that marked the end of our hike—St. George’s Monastery.
On my way I saw a man and two donkeys by the side of the wadi. The wadi is the only place where desert people can obtain water, and donkeys and camels are the only means by which water can be carried from the wadi to their tents.
At last I saw the great monastery, built on the side of the cliff. It sure looked neat, but I was just as interested in getting to the top, where a stand with cold drinks and ice cream was waiting.

Recently my boyfriend left on his mission, and despite the fact that I’d been encouraging him to go for 3 1/2 years, I found myself almost pleading with him to stay home. He stayed with some friends before entering the MTC, and I knew that if I tried hard enough I could convince him to come home before he entered the MTC. But instead of trying to think of ways to get him home, I turned to my Heavenly Father, the scriptures, and the New Era. I have been receiving the New Era for five years, and until now I had never completely read one. I was truly amazed at the comfort I received from the articles. Now I’ve gone through the whole house and found all my old issues. Whenever I feel lonely and start missing my missionary I read a New Era, and like an answer to prayer there is always something to comfort me. It usually has to do with missionary work, and it makes me realize how important it really is that I support my boyfriend so that we can both grow close to our Heavenly Father. Now, thanks to the New Era, when I write to my missionary I can encourage him!
Mindy DartonKnoxville, Tennessee

Harriet stared at the picture of Papa on the wall. It had been eight months since he died. She wondered if she would ever see him again. She missed him so much.
Knock, knock, knock.
Harriet opened the door of their little apartment. Two young men stood outside.
“Guten Tag! Hello! We’re missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We’d love to talk to your family about Jesus Christ.”
Harriet smiled. Something about what they said made her feel good inside. “I’ll ask Mutti (Mom).”
Harriet found Mutti. “Missionaries are at the door,” she said. “They want to talk to us about Jesus.”
Mutti frowned. “Tell them we don’t have time.”
“But they seem so nice,” Harriet said. “It won’t take long.”
Mutti glanced at the clock. “All right. For a few minutes.”
The missionaries came in and talked to Mutti, Harriet, and Harriet‘s sister, Carmen. They told them about Jesus and a book called das Buch Mormon, the Book of Mormon. Then they gave Harriet’s family a copy to read.
“I guess we can read a few pages,” Mutti said, opening the book. Over the next few days, Mutti kept reading and reading. She read parts out loud to Harriet and Carmen.
I wish Papa could read this. He would love it, Harriet thought.
When the missionaries came back, they taught about God’s plan. “We lived with God before we were born. We came to earth to learn and become like Him. When we die, we can be with Him again.”
What about Papa? Harriet wondered.
The missionary looked at Harriet. “Because Jesus died and lived again, we can be with our families forever. Even with loved ones who have died.”
Harriet felt a rush of hope. She could be with Papa again! Mutti had a big smile too—the first in a long time.
Harriet, Mutti, and Carmen kept learning from the missionaries. They went to church. Harriet became friends with a nice boy named Dieter.
Now Harriet’s apartment felt like there was sunshine in every room. Soon Harriet and her family decided to be baptized.
The night before their baptism, Harriet knelt with Mutti and Carmen to pray. “Heavenly Father,” Harriet said, “we are so grateful for the missionaries, the gospel, and our family. We can’t wait to be baptized.”
When Harriet opened her eyes, she looked at the picture of Papa and smiled. She couldn’t wait to see him again someday.
When Harriet grew up, she married the nice boy named Dieter.
Dieter is now one of the Apostles—Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf!
Elder Uchtdorf says Harriet is “the sunshine of [his] life.”

In the spring of 1837, for reasons that seemed legitimate to him, Apostle Parley P. Pratt turned his back on the Prophet Joseph Smith and tried to take others with him, including a young convert from Canada whom Parley had taught and baptized just one year earlier. In your mind, I want you to think of someone who has been instrumental in bringing you unto Christ and strengthening your testimony. What if that person reached out to you personally, announced his or her departure from the Church, and tried to persuade you to leave? Would it rattle you? How would you respond? Many of you have already faced this. Here is how that young Canadian convert responded:

“I am surprised to hear you speak so Brother Parley. Before you left Canada you bore a strong testimony to Joseph Smith being a Prophet of God, and to the truth of the work he has inaugurated; and you said you knew these things by revelation, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. . . . Now, Brother Parley, it is not man that I am following, but the Lord. The principles you taught me led me to Him, and I now have the same testimony that you then rejoiced in. If the work was true six months ago, it is true today; if Joseph was then a prophet, he is now a prophet.”

The young Canadian convert was John Taylor, and his response to Parley was instrumental in Parley’s quick return to the Church. John Taylor and Parley P. Pratt were both young adults at the time. Each was faced with what might have been a compelling reason to doubt. I marvel at John’s strength to stay, and I marvel at Parley’s courage and humility to return.

Last summer the youth in our ward were challenged to read the entire Book of Mormon. Eventually the summer came to an end, and I finished the Book of Mormon. As I kneeled to pray and asked if the book was true, I remember thinking that this was it—I would finally have the experience that everyone seems to talk about where they are overcome by the Spirit.
The truth is, when I prayed, I didn’t feel that way. At first I was a little upset. Why hadn’t I received such a witness? Was I not worthy? But I soon realized that though many people might feel the Spirit confirming truth to them very strongly when they pray about the Book of Mormon, there are many others who don’t have that same experience. Just because you may not receive an extremely strong confirmation does not mean the Book of Mormon isn’t true or that your testimony is not as strong as someone else’s. It simply means that the Spirit can speak to people in different ways and at different times.
For me, this experience taught me that we don’t always receive answers in the way we expect. I thought I would feel an overpowering spiritual impression after I prayed about the Book of Mormon—but I didn’t. Honestly, I believe I already knew it was true.
Though I may not have felt the Spirit very strongly at that time, I knew I had felt it while reading about Alma’s conversion and about Ammon and his brothers bringing thousands of Lamanites to the gospel, and about Christ teaching the Nephites after His Resurrection. I realized that feeling the Spirit while reading different parts of the Book of Mormon also confirmed to me that the entire book was true.

—A pot-holdered-hand pulled a door down, an oven light went on, and a wonderful, sweet smell filled the room. Another concoction was complete to add to the menu of a tea the young women of the Ashington Branch, Sunderland England Stake, were preparing for senior citizens in their community.
Not only did the young women share food, but they also shared a program of songs, thoughts, and prayers. “We wanted to show them how much they are appreciated for all their hard work,” says Rachel Woodward.

A few years ago my father had a serious operation and spent several weeks in the hospital. This was during the winter months. My sons and I had made several trips down to my parents’ home to keep the snow cleared from the driveway and walk, but one day while I was working and my sons were in school, we had a very heavy snowfall. My mother was trying to clear the walks when a young university student came by, laid his books down, gently took the shovel from her, and cleared all the walks and driveway. As my mother thanked him he said, “That’s all right. I am away from home going to school. Maybe someone else’s son will be there to help my mother.”
As my mother told me how this young man had helped her, I remembered the words from my childhood: “God bless you, my son. I pray that some young man will be there to help your mother.”
And he was.

Thirty-eight years ago this month, Dean and I, then newlyweds, traveled to New Mexico to visit my parents. While there, my father took us on a day trip into the mountains in the northern part of the state. In the afternoon, we encountered a car stranded on the roadside with a flat tire. The driver told my father that his spare was also flat and he needed a ride to the nearest town to get the tire fixed. My father, seeing the man’s family inside the car, said to him, “You’ll never be able to get to town and back before dark. But listen, you have the same size wheel as mine. Take my spare, and the next time you come to Albuquerque, bring it back to me.”
The stranger, shocked by the offer, said, “But you don’t even know me.”
Daddy’s response, typical for him, was, “You’re an honest man, aren’t you? You’ll bring the tire back.”
A few weeks later I asked my dad about the spare tire. He told me that it had been returned.

Contrast that to the scene which I viewed in Munich, Germany, many years ago. It was a Sunday morning, and we were en route to a missionary conference. As I looked out the window of the mission president’s automobile, I saw a shepherd with a staff in his hand, leading the sheep. They followed him wherever he went. If he moved to the left, they followed him to the left. If he moved to the right, they followed him in that direction. I made the comparison between the true shepherd who led his sheep and the sheepherder who rode casually behind his sheep.

By candle glow and fireplace glare, 13-year-old Erastus Snow scrutinized the two overnight guests in his Vermont home. Orson Pratt and Lyman Johnson, both about age 21, told about a new church barely two years old. Erastus’s parents listened intently, knowing that two of their married sons had already converted to the LDS church. Erastus, familiar with the Bible despite his youth, liked what he heard and then experienced something powerful: “They bore their testimonies, which I readily received,” he said; “the Holy Ghost descended upon me, bearing witness that it was true, and that they were messengers of God.”

During the Christmas season last year, I found myself praying for a lot of things for myself. But as I prayed on the night of 23 December, I felt something wonderful inside, an indescribable joy. The feeling grew as I continued my prayer. I didn’t say anything about the things I wanted. In fact, my prayer changed completely; I started praying for other people, for all those around me, and I asked Heavenly Father to forgive me for my selfishness. When I finished, I realized that an hour had gone by. I had never felt the Spirit so strongly.
From this experience, I learned that Christmas is a time to give, not to receive. I didn’t give anything material to anyone, but I later realized that my humble prayer had been answered. Almost everyone I had prayed for on that night, when my heart was overflowing with joy, received what I had asked for.

Not far from this tabernacle there lived two sisters. Each had two handsome sons. Each had a loving husband. Each lived in comfort, prosperity, and good health. Then the grim reaper visited their homes. First, each lost a son; then the husband and father. Friends visited; words brought a measure of comfort; but grief continued unrelieved.
The years passed. Hearts remained broken. The two sisters sought and achieved seclusion. They shut themselves off from the world which surrounded them. Alone they remained with their remorse. Then there came to a latter-day prophet of God, who knew well these two sisters, the inspiration of the Lord which directed him to their plight. Elder Harold B. Lee left his busy office and visited the penthouse home of the lonely widows. He listened to their pleadings. He felt the sorrow of their hearts. Then he called them to the service of God and to mankind. Each looked outward into the lives of others and upward into the face of God. Peace replaced turmoil. Confidence dispelled despair. God had once again remembered the widow and, through a prophet, brought divine comfort.

Although we planted the seed, we were totally dependent upon the Lord for the harvest. A young man whose wife was a member of this Church consented to listen to the discussions. He received the first few with great delight. Then, suddenly, before our next appointment, the world got to him and he sent word for us not to come again.

We prayed and felt that we should go back, but not just then. We continued to ask the Lord for direction, and three weeks later we felt the Spirit’s confirmation that we should go to him on the following Wednesday. We prayed to know the right time, and again felt the influence of the Spirit. We knew Wednesday morning wasn’t the right time. In the afternoon we prayed again, and the answer came with urgency, “NOW.”

We immediately left our apartment, but on the way I stopped at a store to drop off a roll of film. As I put that roll on the counter a feeling of force enveloped me and the Spirit seemed almost offended as the word was repeated in my mind, “NOW!” I felt propelled out of that store and into our car. Three minutes later we were at the door of our friend. He had been reading the Book of Mormon and was thinking about us. As we talked, he became willing to listen to the discussions again.

We loved our association with the splendid elders and sisters of our mission. We were touched when an elder who was being transferred from our district said, “I looked up my new district to see if there was a missionary couple there. I hoped there would be, but there isn’t.” He was genuinely disappointed.

We are thankful for President Kimball’s message and the impact it had on us. A mission for couples? Certainly! What is it like? It is filled with wonderful surprises.

Sometime later, touched with the remembrance of that moving Sabbath morning, I told the story to a group of people in another city. Before I left that small community the next day I had a visit from a man who had heard the message and understood it. Later a letter came from him. He had gone home that night and prayed and prepared himself and had then made a visit to the place of a man in his community who had years before imposed upon the sanctity of his home. There had been animosity and revenge in his heart and threats made. That evening when it was made known that he was at the door, his frightened neighbor appeared with a weapon in his hand. The man quickly explained the reasons for his visit, that he had come to say that he was sorry, that he did not want hatred to continue to consume his life. He offered forgiveness and sought forgiveness and went his way in tears, a free man for the first time in years. He left a former adversary also in tears, shaken and repentant.
The next day the same man went to the home of a relative in the town. He said, “I came to ask your forgiveness. I don’t even remember why we have been so long angry, but I have come to tell you that I am sorry and to beg your pardon and to say that I have learned how foolish I have been.” He was invited in to join the family at their table, and was reunited with his kin.
When I heard his story I knew again the importance of qualifying ourselves for the forgiveness of Christ by forgiving.

“May I open it?” Rachel* could hardly contain her excitement as she watched Mom turn the white envelope over in her hand. Rachel was often allowed to help open the mail.
Mom smiled and handed her the letter. “I’m afraid it will never make it in time at this late date. I wonder how it ever came to be in our mailbox?” Rachel wasn’t sure what her mother meant.
Taking the envelope, she slit it open carefully so as not to disturb the New Hampshire return address. Mom took the letter and read it silently. Rachel could see tears in her mother’s eyes.
“Is it sad, Mom?” Rachel felt her own eyes start to sting.
Mom gave the letter back to her. “Why don’t you read it aloud?”
Rachel was just learning to read cursive. Slowly she began.
“‘Dear Santa,’”—Rachel paused—“Mom, is this what you meant when you said it wouldn’t make it?”
“Yes, Rachel. It’s already December 22. I want you to know that as I held the letter, my first thought was to return it to the post office, but the Holy Ghost whispered to me that I should open it.”
Rachel continued to read: “‘I am a single mother on welfare. I have one child, a boy, four years old. I can’t afford to buy him Christmas presents. Will you please help me? He is in need of clothes and shoes. His shoe size is 9 1/2, and in clothing, he is a 4 or 5. He also needs a winter coat, gloves, boots, and socks. Sincerely, Salina ReabaldP. S. A toy or two would be nice. Thank you.’”
Rachel set the letter down and threw her arms around her mother. They were both silent for a moment.
“We have to help them,” Rachel said finally.
“I know,” Mom agreed. “I noticed a return address—534 Pilgrim Street, Salem, New Hampshire. That’s a long way from southern Utah. How did it ever get here?” Mom stopped. “Rachel! Look at this. The letter is addressed to Santa, in care of The North Pole 84745. That’s our zip code!”
Rachel stared at the envelope. “Did you notice that she didn’t ask for anything for herself?”
Mom put an arm around her. “How would you like to play Santa this year?”
“Oh yes! Do you think we have enough time? There are only three days until Christmas.”
“I have an idea.” Mom walked over to the phone and punched in a number. “Hello. This is Sister Marjorie Banks. Would you please connect me with the Missionary Department?” Rachel waited quietly. “I was wondering if you could give me the name and telephone number of the New Hampshire Mission president. It’s important that I get in touch with him right away. Thank you. I’ll hold.”
Mom picked up the letter from the table and wrote quickly on the back as the information was given to her.
“Well, young lady,” Mom exclaimed as she hung up the telephone a second time, “we have our work cut out for us! President Hafen of the New Hampshire Manchester Mission will help us locate Salina and her son. If we can get a package together and send it by overnight mail to the mission home, he will see that it is delivered.”
They canceled all their plans for the day. Rachel even gave up the afternoon she had planned with her best friend.
Together Mom and Rachel bought some nice clothes and shoes for the little boy. Mom got a gift certificate from a nationwide clothing store for the mother. Rachel’s little brother, Alma, gave up one of his favorite toys for the package. Tucked inside two bright-red, fur-trimmed stockings were several pieces of Mom’s wonderful Christmas candy. After a trip to the local bookstore and toy outlet, the package was almost complete.
“Rachel,” Mom said as she wrote the address of the mission home on the package, “do you think you could write your testimony on this stationery? I’ll glue it to the inside cover of the scripture reader we bought for the little boy.”
Rachel took the stationery and wrote in her best cursive:
Dear Friend,I know you don’t know me. I am a little older than you. I am going to be eight in just one month. This is a special age for me, for I will be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You probably don’t know much about my church, but I love it! I want you to know that I love Jesus and Heavenly Father. They are always there to look out for me. I know that They love you, too, and will keep you safe. Merry Christmas! Love, Rachel
Rachel watched as her mother tucked her own testimony into a Book of Mormon for Salina.
“Mom,” she said quietly. “Do you think they will understand how much we love the gospel?”
“There’s really no way of knowing,” Mom said, giving Rachel a big hug. “Perhaps if they feel the love of someone who sincerely cares, they will accept the truth when it is presented to them. Now, what do you say we get this in the mail?”
Two days after Christmas, the mission president in New Hampshire called.
“Sister Banks? This is President Hafen. I wanted to let you know. …” President Hafen said that the package had been delivered by two fine young missionaries on Christmas Eve. When the young mother saw what was in the box, she was overcome with gratitude. Tears of joy streamed down her face. The box was the only Christmas gift she would have, but at least now she had something to share with her small son.
President Hafen went on to say that it was a very touching moment for the elders. They asked if they could call on her after the holidays, and she gladly said yes. The mission president added that the woman was very grateful and wanted to express her thanks for the nicest thing that had ever happened to her.
“And let me thank you, too,” President Hafen told her, “for making this one of the most memorable Christmases we have ever had.”
Mom hung up the phone and wiped her eyes.
“Do you think she will join the Church?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know,” Mom replied. “But I do feel that the Lord had a hand in that letter coming to our mailbox.”
Rachel beamed. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had!”
“Me, too,” Mom said, gathering her daughter into her arms. “Me, too.”

Connie, my wonderful loving wife and mother of our children, is not here with me today. She is home listening to this devotional on the radio as she lies on her couch. She cannot walk. In fact she is unable to sit for more than about an hour a day. Her body is frail and withered, it moves slowly or not at all because it has difficulty responding to the messages sent from her brain, she needs help with the most basic of life's processes. She suffers from the slow, progressively debilitating, and humiliating effects of multiple sclerosis, a disease that randomly attacks and destroys her nervous system.

Once we were young as you are and our hearts were full of dreams and our minds full wonder as we studied and prepared for the future. While attending Ricks College, Connie served as a student body officer and had many wonderful experiences that she shared with me in cherished letters while I served a mission in Finland. Here she is enjoying a devotional luncheon with President Joseph Fielding Smith. One of my dreams was to take her to Finland someday. We did that; in fact, we were able to live there for almost a year. In this picture we are attending an event at the U.S. Embassy in Helsinki.

As a young mother she would share her love of nature with our children walking through the forests and fields naming and explaining the individual characteristics of virtually every wildflower they could find. She loved to cook and I loved her thoughtfully prepared meals. She shared her musical talent with our children as she accompanied their string quartet on many occasions. She even tolerated the emptying of spit valves on her plants as she accompanied our son's Boy Scout brass band practices in our living room.

After our children were in school, she graduated from college and taught kindergarten for 13 years. She was always ready for a good hike into the forest to find a hidden waterfall or a secluded lake. She seemed interested in so much of the goodness and beauty in the world around her. Most of all she loved her family and the people in her life. She was a happy, fun, wonderful mother. She was quick to offer service, to provide a delicious meal, or lend a listening ear.

She can do none of those physical things now. She is confined to her bed and her couch and has difficulty talking but maintains a positive attitude even as the beauty of her smile fades with disease. We have a firm hope in the resurrection and an eternal relationship. I know when she is freed of this disease she will once again fill our home with music and accompany her daughters who now thoughtfully bring their instruments and play for their mother. I hope she will once again cook me a delicious "Connie meal," run with her children and grandchildren, and enjoy all the goodness that abounds in eternity. I have faith and trust in who she really is.

I look at this painting and see a very familiar languishing foot attached to a leg in an unnatural position. I see a familiar weakened reclining posture needing support and protection. I see my wife at the pool of Bethesda with her frail helpless body and constricted hands that can no longer make music, cook food, or move as they once did. I know how desperately she wishes things were different and how patiently she waits to be whole. I also have complete faith and trust that although she can do nothing physically, she does her best and tries her hardest. I know this because that is who she is. My service to her is made easier because I have faith and trust in her.

Then I wish as did Alma: "Oh that I were an angel and could have the wish of my heart" (Alma 29:1). But I am not quite so missionary minded at the moment. I only wish I could take the sorrow and disease away from my dear companion. I wish Christ would have her pick up her bed and walk again as he did with the man at Bethesda. I know He can and I know He will; it just may take more than 38 temporal years. But like Alma I recognize I sin in my wish. I am only a man, only a person, but that is what my wife needs: someone to lift her into the pool. There will be someone in your life who also needs to be lifted or blessed by you I hope you will be sensitive to that need.

I am learning to be content with things which the Lord has allotted me and to have a firm faith and trust in all He has promised: the resurrection into a perfect body, eternal life and progression. And, I cannot deny his hand in blessing our lives for many, many years with all that we ever dreamed of: a companion to love, knowledge of the gospel, a good education, children, a comfortable home, rich memories of good experiences, good work, and opportunities to serve. For this I am eternally grateful.

As my wife's health continues to deteriorate and her condition requires more assistance, I take heart in the fact that I know she is doing all she can physically and emotionally. She has always done her best and worked her hardest. There is no question in my mind she continues to try her best, when her body will not respond to her signals and desires.

The loss of my wife's health and abilities has played an important role in my personal and spiritual growth. The experience has brought me to my knees in tears and pleading on many occasions because I needed further instruction from a wise Heavenly Father. It has opened my heart to truths I had desired to better understand. I do not yet have all the answers to "Why me?" or "Why her?" I do, however, have an increased understanding of many principles; an understanding that is priceless to me.

I knew of a couple in the Tongan islands who discovered what their mission together was. Years ago as a young missionary, I was impressed by this couple who were always helping the missionaries and others. Every time I went to their home I would find them reading the scriptures or making a meal for a missionary or taking care of a neighbor’s child or preparing a Relief Society lesson or doing some sort of service. They were not blessed with children of their own, but they were always helping other people’s children.

Years later, back in Tonga as the mission president, I was asked if I would visit an elderly widow named Luisa. When I was given the address, I realized it was the lady I had come to appreciate so many years before.

It was late afternoon when we drove up to her home. I was surprised to see that hardly anything had changed. It was a neat, clean home, but a very humble one. As I walked up to the house I noticed her waiting by the open door. As she held her hand out I realized that she had gone blind. Embracing her, I realized also that she had not long to stay in this life as she had a frail body of skin and bones.

We sat and visited, and she talked about her desire to help the “poor” people. I suggested that she may need some help herself. She kindly informed me that she was rich and had nothing to worry about.

I was a little confused and began to inquire. I found that she and her husband had often saved money to pay their air fare to the New Zealand Temple only to end up lending it to someone else who needed it more. When all the facts came out, I said to her, “Luisa, how can you say you don’t have anything to worry about? You have no husband, you have no children, you’re blind, you are in poor health, you live in a poor home, you haven’t been to the temple. How can you say you’re rich?”

Then she stopped all of my questions by quietly informing me that she was rich because she knew the Lord was pleased with her life. She said, “I know I will be with my husband soon. I know the Lord will bless us with a family. I may not have done all that I could do, but I know that the Lord is pleased with what I have done.”

Consider D&C 6:7, wherein the Lord says, “Seek not for riches but for wisdom, and behold, the mysteries of God shall be unfolded unto you, and then shall you be made rich. Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich.”

Luisa had taken the time to discover her mission and calling in life and had done whatever was necessary to fulfill it. She had obtained the “wisdom” spoken of.