Gospel Story Finder

In 2017, I became pregnant with our first child. My husband, Lucas, and I were excited but scared for the arrival of little Juan Lionel.
Late one night at the beginning of February 2018, I began having contractions. I was only eight months along, but it looked like our baby would come earlier than expected. We grabbed a few things and quickly left for the clinic. I didn’t feel ready to go into labor, but I prayed, asking God that His will be done despite our fears.
When we arrived at the clinic, my gynecologist was notified but said he would not arrive until later. My husband called and texted messages to our parents and siblings, but none of them were awake. He continued calling and texting throughout the night, but no one responded. That made me feel very lonely.
As the pain from my contractions increased, I felt more and more alone. Suddenly, however, something wonderful happened. I began to think of my ancestors—especially my maternal grandmother, Rosa Mercado, and her mother, Javiera Balmaceda.
As I remembered them, I felt in my heart and mind that they were both with me at that moment. I felt their presence in such a strong and sweet way that I cannot fully express in words what I experienced. I did not see them, but I felt them nearby, giving me courage, support, and love as my mothers and as part of my family. I felt that they were angels ministering to me in my time of need.
Years before in the temple, my mother, father, siblings, husband, and I did their vicarious work and the vicarious work of other ancestors. I feel that the courage I received and the feeling I had that my ancestors were near was a gift through the power and authority of God.
Since then, I have felt the spirit of my ancestors on other occasions, helping me and guiding me as a mother and a wife and in other important aspects of my life.
I testify that God will never leave us alone on the path of our lives. If we do His work, we will be given help from the other side of the veil. We will receive love, knowledge, strength, and the peace “which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7).

Allow me to share the experience of a faithful member of the Church who occupies a prominent position among the world’s microneurosurgeons. This is a position he has obtained, according to his own testimony, with the help of the Lord and through obedience to the Word of Wisdom. He joined the Church at an early age and promised himself to faithfully live the commandments. As the years went by, he had the opportunity of fulfilling two of his great goals—the opportunity to pursue a university education and to marry the woman of his dreams.
During this period of time something happened that totally changed the course of his life. One of his daughters became seriously ill with a brain disease which ultimately took her life. None of the efforts made in her behalf were sufficient to save her. During this frustrating and painful experience, which happened while he was a medical student at the university, he set a new and challenging goal, that of becoming a neurosurgeon. The fact that his daughter had suffered and died through a brain disease awakened in him the desire to study microneurosurgery, schooling that would be long and difficult.
Microneurosurgery requires, among other things, a great deal of physical discipline and dexterity. At this point in his life, while he was pursuing his studies, he discovered the blessings that come through obedience to the Word of Wisdom. He asked the Lord in humility and love that the promises contained in section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants would be made manifest in him so he could bless the lives of those who would depend on his skill.
During those difficult learning years, he worked untiringly to become the best in his area of specialization. As the years went by, he gained great dexterity in his hands and mastered the art and the skill necessary to work on the human brain. As we can imagine, any physical slip or unsteadiness in his hands could cause damage to his patients, perhaps injuring them for life.
As he studied section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants, he obtained a strong testimony that when we refrain from taking into our bodies substances that are harmful to it, we are blessed with intelligence and a healthy and strong body. As a doctor, he knew that these promises were there, within his reach, and he had earnestly sought them in his own behalf.
As the time arrived for his proficiency exam, the final exam in his chosen career, he prepared himself with great care in order to perform to his very best and to demonstrate to the examining doctors the skills he had acquired. The day prior to the examination, he noticed some heavy trembling in his normally skillful hands, and in humility he prayed to the Lord, asking Him to make his hands firm and sure as they had always been to this point. The following day, he discovered with great alarm that there were unsure movements in his hands. He went off to a solitary spot, and, in deep meditation, he mentally searched for any sin he may have committed that would cause him to experience this problem. But in his search, he found nothing that might be contrary to the Word of Wisdom. Then he thought, “I need these promises to come to me now,” and he prayed to our Father in Heaven with all his heart that His guidance and protection would be with him.
The time came to perform brain surgery on his patient, and when the doctor saw his hands through the microscope, he noted with great emotion that his prayer had been heard and that his hands were steadier than they had ever been.
He felt a great surge of gratitude, and his sure and skillful hands flew in their activity, healing the damaged brain of his patient. The blessings and the promises of the Word of Wisdom were with him, and he was able to carry out this difficult surgery in an hour less than the normal expectation. It was a complete success, and he humbly accepted congratulations from the examining physicians. With gratitude in his heart for the success he had achieved, he returned to his home, and there, with his family, he reviewed the promises of the Lord that “all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint” (D&C 89:18–20).
Today as he visits some of the famous clinics and hospitals, and his colleagues have the opportunity of listening to him, he expresses to them and to members of the press: “First, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and then I am a microneurosurgeon.” Not all prominent men achieve the humility to be able to recognize the blessings of the Lord in their lives, which are the result of obedience to the commandments, as this good member of the Church has done.

“Want to come sliding after school?” “Sure,” I said. I was seven years old and the newest boy at Garnet Hill School in Glasgow, Scotland. I wasn’t sure what sliding meant, but I was eager to make friends.
Soon we stood by an iron fence. Beyond it, a steep concrete slope fell away between high walls to the base of a building. The slope had been polished like glass by countless children’s leather-soled shoes, making it smooth and slippery—perfect for sliding.
I was a little afraid as I followed my new friends over the fence. I knew that we were trespassing. But I quickly forgot my fear as I hunkered down and pushed off on my first thrilling, wind-whistling, world-blurring slide. Getting back up the slippery slope was a lot harder. I had to push away from the building, run as fast as I could, and grab the iron fence when I reached the top to keep from sliding backward.
Sliding and climbing, I lost all track of time until the rain started falling. We took shelter against the building at the foot of the slope, waiting for the rain to stop. Soon it started getting dark. “I’ve got to go home,” I said. “Mum and Dad will be worried.”
But I made it only halfway up the slope before sliding back down. The rain had made the concrete slipperier than ever. After several desperate tries, we all gave up. We were trapped! The night grew darker as rain continued to drizzle. We didn’t dare call for help, because we were afraid we’d get in trouble for being there. Huddled at the bottom of the slide, cold and fearful, we began to cry.
After what seemed like a long time, a beam of light shone down on us and we heard the gruff voice of the local bobby, or police officer: “Get on up here!”
“We can’t! It’s too slippery!” a quavering voice answered.
Climbing over the fence, the bobby took hold of the iron fence with one hand and leaned down as far as he could. One at a time we scrambled halfway up the slope and grabbed his outstretched hand. After pulling us all to safety, he gave us a friendly scolding and sent us hurrying home to our parents.

Examples of pure religion can be found on every hand. At a funeral about a month ago, I learned of a valiant young lady on a mission in a distant land who, after much prayer and many tears, wrote to her dying mom just before the terminal illness took its toll, and told her that even though she would like to be at her bedside, she would follow her mother’s teachings and stay in the mission field to finish her assignment and search out those who wanted to hear the gospel.

As I read about my ancestors, I learned that they apparently had the typical Kirschbaum trait of a quiet, good-natured disposition—except when aggravated. I read with amusement about a local notary who apparently played a mean trick on one of my ancestors. The man later found himself shut up in his own house by a cartload of “natural fertilizer” that was delivered to his doorstep by Herr Kirschbaum himself—the mayor.

“When I worked at the candy shop,” his older sister began, “I practically ate my paycheck each week in candy. I couldn’t help myself, it tasted so good. Finally after praying about it, I decided to set a candy quota for each day. If I stuck to my quota, I rewarded myself by taking the money I would have spent on candy and putting it toward a new pair of jeans. Some days I didn’t make it, but gradually I ate less candy. And I got the jeans!”

I went to seminary and later to institute, I attended Church activities, and I even started my own Personal Progress. I couldn’t wait to go to Young Women activities. I will never forget the hours we spent cooking, making postcards or bookmarks, decorating our classroom, or playing games, as well as the wonderful spirit of friendship between us. Each activity helped me understand my divine nature and role in life.

Another great example from the scriptures is Nephi. From him, I learned to trust the Lord rather than complain. Let me explain. When I left the Philippines to get a master’s degree at Brigham Young University, I promised that I would come back. When the time came for my family and me to return, the decision was not easy because I thought that opportunities in my home country were not as promising or rewarding as those in the United States. But because I had given my word, my wife and I decided to exercise faith as Nephi and do what the Lord would have us do.
Even though I had already worked before, I had to start over financially. Money was scarce, and opportunities took time to bear fruit. Then all three of our children got sick, and our savings disappeared. It was one of the toughest times of our lives.
Our youngest son developed a type of tuberculosis. He had to have medicine that was expensive, and he had to take it for nine months. I remember looking in my wallet, and there was no money. My wife asked me how we would be able to feed the children.
During those times, you ask questions. And if you’re not careful, you can become like Laman and Lemuel and start murmuring and become bitter. You feel like life is unfair. It would have been easy for me to think: “I’m a returned missionary. I served the Lord. We pay our tithing. We serve in the Church. Where are the blessings?” But we remained active, we served in our callings, and we got by. My brother and his wife helped us financially, and I finally found a job. It was barely enough, and it paid less than what I had earned before I left for school. I felt I was a failure.
Finally, after several years, my wife and I decided that wondering and worrying weren’t helping. We said, “Let’s stop murmuring, trust in the Lord, and be happy with what we have.” And right after that, things turned around. I got several job offers and was able to choose the best one. I was called as the bishop of our ward. It seemed the blessings just flowed.

On a quiet November night in 1943, Nellie Middleton heard her doorbell ring. It was dark outside, but she knew enough not to have the lights on when she opened the door. Nearly three years had passed since German bombs had first fallen near her home, and Nellie continued to darken her windows at night to keep herself and her daughter safe from air raids.
With her lights out, Nellie opened the door. A young man was standing on her front step, his face in shadow. He extended his hand and quietly introduced himself as Brother Ray Hermansen. His accent was undeniably American.4
A lump came to Nellie’s throat. After their branch disbanded, she and other women in Cheltenham had longed to take the sacrament more regularly. The United States had recently sent troops to England to prepare for an Allied offensive against Nazi Germany. Once it had occurred to Nellie that some of the American soldiers stationed in her town might be Latter-day Saints who could bless the sacrament, she had asked her stepsister, Margaret, to paint a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and place it in town. Below the picture was a message: “If any soldier is interested in the above, he will find a warm welcome at 13 Saint Paul’s Road.”5
Had this American seen her poster? Did he have authority to bless the sacrament? Nellie shook his hand and welcomed him inside.
Ray was a twenty-year-old Latter-day Saint soldier from Utah and a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. Although he was stationed ten miles away, he had heard about the Salt Lake Temple painting from another Church member and obtained leave to visit the address. He had walked to Nellie’s home on foot, which was why he had arrived after dark. When Nellie told him about her desire to take the sacrament, he asked her when he could come to administer the ordinance to her.
On November 21, Nellie, her daughter, and three other women welcomed Ray to their Sunday meeting. Nellie opened the meeting with prayer before the group sang “How Great the Wisdom and the Love.” Ray then blessed and passed the sacrament, and all four women bore testimony of the gospel.
Soon other Latter-day Saint soldiers heard about the meetings at Saint Paul’s Road. Some Sundays, Nellie’s living room was so full that people had to sit on the staircase.6

I decided to stay close to home for college. I was excited to play the sport I loved at the next level while knowing my family would be in the stands watching and supporting me. I came from an amazing family, and my parents taught us the values and standards of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
But as a 20-year-old student-athlete playing football and living “the college life,” I abandoned those principles I was taught. I went to class and played football on the weekdays and then partied on the weekends, believing I had found true happiness. How wrong I was! But that is what Satan does—he makes wrong things so enticing that after a while they look right.
My life spun out of control in my third year of college. I was making poor choices and found out I was pregnant. My whole perspective about life shifted. It was no longer just about me, but about the baby I was carrying. The words in Alma 36:17–21 spoke directly to my soul because I felt so much godly sorrow and guilt for my choices, similar to how Alma felt.
The road through repentance can be hard and trying. I found it hard to admit that I was wrong and had made a mistake. Facing those I love and telling them I was pregnant was one of the scariest moments of my life. I also met with my bishop and had to face a disciplinary council, which ended with me not being able to take the sacrament for quite a while. I just wanted to run away and pretend this wasn’t real life. But it was. This was my new reality. I had a hard road ahead of me no matter what.
My family was disappointed in my choices, but they also loved me and wanted the best for me, just like our Heavenly Father. Many times I asked myself how He could forgive me after I fell short so many times. The answer I received every time was, because He loves me and wants me to return to Him. I knew I had disappointed my earthly parents, but the thought of how much I disappointed my Father in Heaven was gut-wrenching.
Still, I felt so alone and lost those first couple months of my pregnancy, unsure of where to go from there. As I began to pray more sincerely to Heavenly Father for guidance and help, I learned that I was never really alone. He was always there just waiting for me to seek Him. I had a drastic change of heart. I wanted to live a different life. I wanted to live for Christ. I wanted to be worthy to take the sacrament again. I wanted to be worthy of marrying in the temple someday, something that I thought was so far out of reach due to my mistakes.
It was then that I learned the true power of Jesus Christ as my Savior. I saw so many tender mercies from the Lord during those short nine months. I gained more faith than I ever had before in my life. It was that faith in Jesus Christ that allowed me to choose adoption for my sweet baby girl. The pain of placing my daughter for adoption was immense. But the joy I felt in helping another daughter of God get to her eternal family was even greater. I was changed for the better from that experience, as we can all be if we are truly sorry and repent—allowing the Lord to make us whole again.

The hospital was tall, five stories tall. It was a new building with hundreds of windows in uniform rows. I stood before it, my head bent back as my eyes scanned the top row of windows. So many windows, each with a personal story behind it. Which one housed my grandpa, my childhood, my life? I looked to the pavement below my feet and slowly shook my head. My hand wiped away a tear, and I entered the modern, colorful house of birth, of joy, of pain, of loneliness, and … I shuddered … and hoped I would never have to come here again.
“Room 363, intensive care.” The woman’s face was blank, expressionless. Again I felt the tightness in my chest. Something wanted to explode there. I leaned against the elevator wall, my eyes shut tight.
The nurse was a little more human. “You’ll have to wait a moment, dear. The doctor is with him,” she whispered. The hall, the air was hushed and still. At the end of the hall in the corner, a quiet bottle rack stood with rows of empty pop bottles. It made me think of Grandpa’s store. Grandpa kept all the empty pop bottles in a bushel basket just inside the back door. It didn’t take me long to figure out that if I went in the back door, took a couple of bottles, went out the back door and around to the front door, I could give Grandpa the bottles and buy a candy bar. Then Grandpa would take the bottles out back and put them into the bushel basket to wait till the next time I got a craving for a Hershey bar. Back home we had to search up and down the streets, in and out of alleys, through garbage cans to find an empty pop bottle. Life was just easier all the way around here with Grandpa and Grandma.
Thinking of Grandma made me feel a little apprehensive. She was in with Grandpa now, but sooner or later I would have to see her, I would have to say something. It doesn’t seem possible that two people could live in the same house together for 13 years and still be strangers. How could she be so unlike Grandpa? She’d never been cross or impatient, but I couldn’t talk to her. I secretly suspected that she’d been relieved to see me go. I sighed tiredly. Grandma wouldn’t understand my hurt. How could she? She didn’t know me.
The door swung silently open. The doctor walked through the doorway and looked kindly at me. “You must be Janie,” he said. “Your Grandpa has been asking for you.”
I let out a long breath and stood. I felt light-headed. My legs felt like jelly. I looked to the doctor for strength. But he didn’t know me either. He smiled and walked down the hall.
I entered the room. Grandpa was not small and shriveled. He was not senseless. He smiled at me. He looked very pale.
“Oh, Grandpa,” I cried and ran to his open arms. He held me, patting my back.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I have no regrets.” I looked at him with a teary face. His eyes were clear. He looked tired.
“Don’t cry, Blondie Boo. Don’t cry.” His eyes closed. He held me a moment longer, then his hands, his arms, relaxed. They lay heavy on my back.
“Grandpa,” I sobbed. I could see him lying still. But someone’s warm hands were on my shoulders. I turned to look into Grandma’s face.
“For the first time in his life he was wrong,” she said. “It’s all right to cry.” Surprised, I saw that she was crying, too. I could only stare.
“Come stay with me for a while,” she said suddenly. I was confused.
“Please,” she said. “It will be kind of like wiping up raindrops. I’ll help you … and you can help me.” I couldn’t believe it. She did understand. And in her quiet way she probably always had.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll stay.” I had a grandmother to get to know.

Years ago I was an air force officer serving for two years in an office with a marine colonel, an army colonel, and a grizzled navy commander. They had learned to speak in war and in peace in a way which offended me, and I know it repelled the Holy Ghost. I was at the time serving as a district missionary, trying in the evenings to go out to find people and teach them under the influence of the Holy Ghost. It was very hard. I was only a lieutenant. They were very senior to me. I had no way of changing their language. But I prayed for help. I don’t know how God did it, but in time their language changed. Slowly the profanity disappeared and then the vulgarity. Only when they drank liquor did it come back, but that was in the evenings, so I could excuse myself for missionary work.

When my parents told our family of the many people hurt and killed by the tsunami in Asia in December 2004, I felt sad for the children who didn’t have parents to help them anymore. Our family wanted to help the people hurt by the tsunami. We decided not to buy any groceries for one week and give our grocery money to the Church so it could be used to help. I wanted to give all the money that I had to the survivors. I opened my wallet and dumped all my money out. It was hard because I had been working and saving my money for a long time. My mom helped me count it, fill out the donation form, and put it in a tithing envelope. I felt good afterward because I knew that I had helped other people who had lost everything, and I knew that is what Jesus would do.

Almost a decade ago, I read a letter from a returned missionary who described this process in his life. He had written to thank those who direct missionary work “for daring to send me where the Lord required rather than where I had deemed appropriate.” He had come, he said, “from a background of proud, competitive intellectualism.” Before his mission he was a student at a prestigious university in the eastern United States. Quote:

“I guess out of a sense of obligation and inertia, I filled out my [missionary] papers and sent them in, extremely careful to mark the column indicating greatest desire to serve abroad and in a foreign language. I was careful to make it apparent that I was an accomplished student of Russian and fully capable of spending two years among the Russian people. Confident that no committee could resist such qualifications, I rested confident that I would enjoy a wonderfully mind-expanding cultural adventure.”

He was shocked to receive a call to serve in a mission in the United States. He didn’t know anything about the state where he would serve, except that it was in his own country speaking English rather than abroad speaking the language he had learned, and, as he said, “The people I would work with would likely be academic incompetents.” He continued, “I almost refused to accept the call, feeling that I would be more fulfilled by enlisting in the Peace Corps or something else.”

Fortunately, this proud young man found the courage and faith to accept the call and to follow the direction and counsel of his fine mission president. Then the miracle of spiritual growth began. He described it thus:
“As I began to serve among the uneducated people of [this state], I struggled mightily for several months, but gradually the sweet workings of the Spirit began to tear down the walls of pride and disbelief that had wrapped themselves so tightly around my soul. The miracle of a conversion to Christ began. The sense of the reality of God and the eternal brotherhood of all men came more and more powerfully to my troubled mind.”

It was not easy, he admitted, but with the influence of his great mission president and with his growing love for the people he served, it was possible, and it occurred.
“My desire to love and serve these people who in the ultimate scale were at least my peers, almost definitely my superiors, waxed stronger and stronger. I learned humility for the first time in my life; I learned what it means to make our valuations of others [without relying on the] irrelevant details of life. I began to feel swelling within my heart a love of the spirits that came here to earth with me” (letter to General Authorities, Feb. 1994).

Kayden’s family life has also taught him to serve and care for others. During one tournament, a friend of Kayden’s became really upset about the competition. Kayden was in the middle of a match, though, so he couldn’t stop playing to help his friend. As he saw his friend storm away from the tournament with tears in his eyes, Kayden knew that the only thing he could do if he didn’t want to forfeit his game was to pray. So, during the middle of his chess match, Kayden silently prayed that the friend would find Kayden’s mom. Immediately the friend walked right by her, and she was able to help. By serving and praying for the well-being of his friend during a critical moment, Kayden realized that helping others is the true victory. This has helped him prepare to serve and learn that “the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).

The COVID-19 pandemic has drastically changed the way we live our daily lives. The virus has disrupted all sectors of society and its impact has also been felt in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Missionary service is one of the areas that has been significantly affected. On March 12, 2020, the leadership of the Church issued a statement requiring all senior missionaries and young missionaries with serious or chronic medical conditions serving in twenty-two areas in Europe to return home. Elder Michael Coley was among the many missionaries who had to leave.
Elder Coley had been called to labour in the England London Mission on August 6, 2019. It had been anticipated that he would serve for two years. Elder Coley was often told that his mission would be over before he knew it and that he should treasure every moment. However, he never imagined it would be over that soon.
He began his life-changing missionary journey on January 8, 2020, trying to embody Christlike attributes as he prepared to serve the people of England. He experienced much personal growth and greater generosity and humanity towards those he met.
Elder Coley could not fathom leaving his mission at that specific time just when he was forgetting himself and doing the Lord’s work. At the time, he dreaded going back into the world and being exposed once again to all the vileness of it. Elder Coley confided that when he expressed this to his missionary companion, he was told that the only person that can control how much of the world he indulges in is him. For Elder Coley that is a message that he would never forget.
On March 16, he departed London’s Heathrow Airport and began the long journey back to Jamaica. The journey home was stressful to him, especially due to the different avenues of travel he had to endure. The original travel plan included a flight from the United Kingdom to the United States and then to Jamaica. However, the United States had closed its borders to noncitizens. As a result, Elder Coley travelled to Mexico, then to the Dominican Republic followed by Turks and Caicos. On March 17, he finally arrived in Jamaica.
Even though he knew that he would be quarantined for 14 days, it was a relief to be home. This experience taught Elder Coley to be more optimistic and to trust Heavenly Father more. He came to realise that when we do the Lord’s work to the best of our ability, He helps tremendously.
When asked to share his thoughts on what has been happening in the world, Elder Coley said, “In these difficult time,s the only person that can control how this pandemic is viewed is you. You can either let this difficult time strengthen your testimony in God or weaken it. Let us enjoy each moment here on earth doing the Lord’s work and being with our families. We do not know fully what the Lord has planned for each of us. I know however, that God loves His children and enables them to go through experiences to learn from them and to evolve into better versions of themselves.”
This message of hope and steadfastness is one which Elder Coley wishes that everyone will be able to embrace during this time of uncertainty and turmoil.

I was back in Omaha, Nebraska a few years ago on Church assignment to attend the groundbreaking exercises of the Mormon Memorial Bridge over Winter Quarters. I met a man there who was a district president in the mission area. He had lived in Salt Lake City, Utah for 17 years, and had worked in the Union Pacific Railroad office until it was transferred to Omaha. He did not join the Church in Salt Lake. When he moved to Omaha, he met the missionaries. I asked him, “Why didn’t you join the Church in Salt Lake?” He said, “No one ever invited me to.”

Fifty years ago, I knew a young man—even a priest—who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. Robert stuttered and stammered, void of control. Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, this impediment was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always he would gaze downward. Then one day, through a set of unusual circumstances, he accepted an assignment to perform the priestly responsibility to baptize another.

I sat next to Robert in the baptistry of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I leaned over and asked him how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost uncontrollably that he felt terrible, terrible.

We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Suddenly the clerk said, “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.”

Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand and helped her into that water which cleanses human lives and provides a spiritual rebirth. He spoke the words, “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Not once did he stutter! Not once did he falter! A modern miracle had been witnessed. Robert then performed the baptismal ordinance for two or three other children in the same fashion.

In the dressing room, as I congratulated Robert, I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.

To each of you brethren this evening, I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.

As a young man, I was in the National Guard. I went to Fort Knox, Kentucky, to learn all about tanks and helicopters so that I could be an officer in an armored cavalry unit. While I was there, I made friends with a soldier who was not a member of our church. My friend often teased me because I did not drink or smoke, as he did. I told him about the Word of Wisdom and about other Church teachings.
One day our troop had to run a special kind of race. Every so often along the ten-mile course, we had to stop and pass a test. For example, we might have to figure out why a tank wasn’t running, adjust a machine gun, or do something else we had been learning in our training. My friend and I agreed that this race would be a good test of whose lifestyle was healthier—his or mine.
The men started the race one at a time in alphabetical order, with about a minute between each man. My friend’s last name started with A and mine with C, so he started the race a few minutes before I did. About a third of the way through the course, I saw a truck with a red cross on its side. Inside the ambulance was my friend. Because he did not take good care of his body, he was not physically fit and could not finish the race. I finished in good shape because I had always lived the Word of Wisdom.

“Bonjour, Maman (Good morning, Mother),” said Nicole as she ran into the kitchen.
“Good morning, little one,” said her mother, who was slicing a long loaf of bread. Its shiny crust snapped and crunched as the knife cut through it.
“Today is the first of May, n’est—ce pas (isn’t that so)?” asked Nicole.
“Yes. I know you’ve been waiting for a long time for today to come. Would you like to make the bouquets this year?”
Each year on May first, Nicole’s family took small bunches of flowers to their friends and neighbors to show their friendship.
“Oh, yes, Maman,” said Nicole. She started to run into the garden.
“Just a minute. Don’t forget your breakfast.”
Nicole’s mother took a slice of the fresh bread and spread it first with pale butter and then with currant jam. She poured Nicole a cup of hot chocolate.
“While you eat, I’ll get the things you will need.”
Nicole ate quickly so that she would be ready when Maman returned. Her mother soon brought a basket with a pair of scissors and some string in it. Nicole took the things and went into the garden.
Under the almond tree, where the garden was the shadiest, Nicole put her basket by a bed of shiny green leaves. When she pushed the leaves back with her hand, she saw the tiny white flowers called muguets (lilies of the valley). They smelled even more delicious than fresh bread with currant jam.
She began to cut the flowers and leaves and put them into her basket. She was careful not to disturb the roots. Her papa always told her that the roots would make more muguets the next year if she did not pull them out of the soil. After she had cut a basketful, she tied the flowers and leaves into small bundles with the string. When she finished, she picked up a tiny flower that had fallen off its stem. It looked like a tiny china cup.
Taking the basket full of little green bundles into the house, she showed it to her mother.
“They are well-made, Nicole,” Mother said. “Would you like to deliver them too?”
“Will you come with me?” asked Nicole.
“Well, I am busy now. You would have to wait.”
Nicole didn’t like waiting, but she didn’t know if she could deliver them all by herself. “Where would I go?” she asked.
“Oh, to our friends in the neighborhood: Madame (Mrs.) LaCroix, Aunt Marie-Claire, the Armands. Do you think you can do it?”
Nicole knew all those houses well. And Maman had not mentioned grouchy Madame Victor, their next-door neighbor. Nicole didn’t want to take flowers to her. When Nicole’s ball went over the garden wall, Madame Victor complained that it hurt her roses. And if Nicole made a lot of noise playing, Madame Victor always told Nicole’s mother.
Nicole took her basket and went to the Armands’ house first. Monsieur and Madame (Mr. and Mrs.) Armand were glad to see her. They gave her an apple and told her that she was growing up. At Aunt Marie-Claire’s house, Nicole’s cousin, Jules, was out in his baby stroller. Aunt Marie let Nicole push him around the yard. Then she went to see Madame LaCroix. Madame LaCroix thanked her and gave her a kiss on both cheeks.
Nicole was having such a good time that she decided to deliver flowers to some of her school friends. Her basket was almost empty when she started back home. As she reached her own gate, she could see Madame Victor reading her newspaper. She looked lonely.
If I give her the muguets,she will only yell at me, thought Nicole. Besides, Maman didn’t say that I had to give her any.
Nicole opened the heavy iron gate into her own yard. Maman was pulling weeds out of the leek bed. “Nicole, you must have made a lot of deliveries. Your basket is almost empty.”
“I visited all the people you told me to, and I went to a lot of my friends’ houses too.”
“And did you deliver flowers to everyone?”
As Nicole looked at her maman, she thought about Madame Victor. She didn’t feel as happy as she had felt when she was delivering the flowers. “I missed one person. I’ll be right back.”
Nicole grabbed one small bunch of muguets and ran to Madame Victor’s. Madame Victor had gone inside, and Nicole had to pull the rope to ring her bell. Nicole’s heart pounded as she waited. She was about to go back home, when Madame Victor came out of her house. “Oh, it’s you! I don’t need any muguets today. Go sell them somewhere else. And don’t bother me again.”
“But, Madame Victor, they are not for sale. They’re for you, for the first of May.”
Nicole pushed the flowers through the bars of the gate and turned and ran. She was crying by the time she got home. Nicole told her mother what had happened. “I tried to do the right thing, Maman.”
“Sometimes even the right thing doesn’t work,” said Maman. “Now let’s go inside and make a special dinner for your papa. He will be proud that you have done such a good job today.”
Nicole was making a vegetable salad when she heard the bell ring. Madame Victor stood at the gate with a great armful of roses.
“Go open the gate, Nicole,” said Maman. “She is here to see you.”
Nicole ran to the gate.
“For the first of May, Nicole,” said Madame Victor. She had Nicole’s flowers pinned to her dress. “May I be your friend?”
“Of course,” said Nicole. “Of course you may!”