Gospel Story Finder

Elder Orton was born on 24 August 1936 to H. Frank and Gwen Riggs Orton and was raised in Panguitch, Utah. His parents had been married in the temple, but not long afterward his father became less active. It wasn’t until young Robert was 12 years old that his father determined to return to full activity. “That took place after many years of hoping and praying and pleading,” Elder Orton says. “He had always been a good father, but there was now a calmness and sweetness in our home because of the spiritual relationship that existed between my father and the rest of our family.”

As an 11-year-old, Victor Penafiel was playing at a train station in Colombia near his home. School was out, and he decided to jump on a train. The train operators told him to get off, but when they weren’t looking, he jumped on again. Two more times they caught him and told him to get off. It was God’s way of warning him to get off the train, he recalled.
When the train started with a jerk, he lost his balance and fell with his legs under the train. His automatic reaction to the intense pain was to reach down with his left arm. Victor lost both legs at the hip and his arm just below the elbow.
He was rushed to a small hospital nearby because he wouldn’t have arrived alive if they had tried to reach a larger but more distant hospital. He needed a blood transfusion, but blood supplies were scarce. A petition went out to a nearby naval base for someone to donate blood.
“They asked for 1, and 11 came,” Victor recalled, noting that all 11 blood donors had his blood type.
The doctors treated him, and despite losing three limbs, he miraculously survived.
“Ever since, my life has been a series of miracles,” Victor said. “I’m certain the Lord works miracles.”

The first story occurred many years ago when I was in graduate school studying economics. I took a course from a very famous and prominent professor named John Dunlop. I studied hard in that course, and I prepared diligently for the final exam. I also prayed for help and guidance. The day for the exam came. The final exam in that course was unusual. Instead of giving us essay questions or problems to work, Professor Dunlop simply gave us two recently published papers and asked us to critique them. I began to read. As I read, I experienced something I will never forget. I saw clearly, as though someone had laid it all out before me, exactly what the authors were trying to do, where the weaknesses in their argument were, and what I should write about their work. I began to write. I wrote and wrote and wrote. The words just flowed. It was like there was a conduit running from my brain down my arm through my hand into the pen and onto the paper. It felt like the words were just flowing down the conduit. I then picked up the second paper, and the same thing happened. I knew as it happened that the Lord had blessed me beyond my own ability. I experienced what the Prophet Joseph once called “pure intelligence” flowing from the Spirit to teach me and help me. At the end of that exam I knew that what was written in those blue books was beyond my own capacity.

It has been 31 years since that experience. I have had that experience many times since. I hope and pray that I shall have it many times in the future. As I look back on the day of that exam, I can see the hand of the Lord at work. Because of that exam Professor Dunlop opened many doors for me. Those experiences bear witness to me of the truth of the promises of the Lord, and of the importance of seeking knowledge and learning by study and by faith.

One Saturday afternoon in September 1985, our family was enjoying a restful afternoon under the shade of a tree after a late lunch at our new home in Gigiri, Nairobi. We had moved there earlier that year and found that the garden needed much work. We did not have the money to hire a professional landscaping contractor, and so we made it a family project to do the work ourselves. As we had done on most Saturdays for several months, we spent much of the morning and early afternoon digging up the lawn to level it in preparation for planting new grass and flowers.
It was in this situation that, without prior appointment, two gentlemen walked in through the gate. One was an extended family member whom we knew well. He introduced his companion as an engineer who had recently returned from the US where he had gone to study.
That engineer and his family became new family friends. We learned that he was a member of a church which was not yet established in Kenya at that time. A short while later, Sister Sitati and I felt the desire to check on him after visiting a relative who lived in his neighborhood. Soon after we arrived at his home, the senior couple missionary—who later baptized us into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—walked in. After answering our curious questions, the couple invited us to attend church in their home the following Sunday. We accepted the invitation. The rest is history—we have attended church every Sunday since then.
Out of the normal and natural interactions of our lives, our family came to learn about and join the Church.

One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.

The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.

From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.

At about the same time—by chance, or so I thought—my younger daughter convinced me to allow some scientists from Logan, Utah, to stay with us. They were in Russia to install equipment on the space station Mir. We became good friends, and every time they came to Moscow, they stayed with us.

They distracted me from my grief, but they were aware of my sorrow. Seeing my tears, Gail Bingham, one of the scientists, tried to comfort me: “Why are you crying?” he asked. “What can you do now? Don’t you know that God has taken your husband to be with him? Your husband was such an intelligent, good person—you will certainly see him again.”

Although I do not speak English very well, when he spoke about God, I understood everything he said.
Brother Bingham soon sent the missionaries to visit me. At first their prayers and testimonies seemed strange to me, and my interest in them was simply motherly concern. I thought of their mothers—what they must be experiencing having sent their sons and daughters to our cold Russia, so far from home. I wanted to feed and warm them.
As it turned out, the missionaries were not the ones who needed help—I was. I had lived my entire life without a real knowledge of God and his Son, and I was afraid to open my heart. But gradually, over the period of a year as the missionaries continued to teach me and as I began to attend church weekly, I turned more and more to God. The burden of my loss was eased.
Finally, on 10 December 1995, Brother Bingham baptized me. Now I know that although we may experience heartache and difficulties, such as the death of a loved one, the Lord gives us the strength to endure such difficulties. That strength, for me, is the faith that comes through finally having the Lord in my life—and the knowledge that through temple ordinances I can be with my husband again.

I take you back to the general conference of October 1856. On Saturday of that conference Franklin D. Richards and a handful of associates arrived in the [Salt Lake Valley]. They had traveled from Winter Quarters with strong teams and light wagons and had been able to make good time. Brother Richards immediately sought out President Young. He reported that there were hundreds of men, women, and children scattered over the long trail from Scottsbluff to this valley. Most of them were pulling handcarts. They were accompanied by two wagon trains which had been assigned to assist them. They had reached the area of the last crossing of the North Platte River. Ahead of them lay a trail that was uphill all the way to the Continental Divide with many, many miles beyond that. …
The next morning [President Young] came to the old Tabernacle which stood on [Temple Square]. He said to the people:
“… Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. …
“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess. It is to save the people.
“I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen. I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams.
“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”1
That afternoon, food, bedding, and clothing in great quantities were assembled by the women.
The next morning, horses were shod and wagons were repaired and loaded.
The following morning, Tuesday, 16 mule teams pulled out and headed eastward. By the end of October, there were 250 teams on the road to give relief.
Wonderful sermons have been preached from this pulpit, my brethren and sisters. But none has been more eloquent than that spoken by President Young in those circumstances.

Considering the horrific event that took place in Littleton, Colorado, in April of this year, you may wonder why we are writing about a shooting that took place in an Oregon high school in May of 1998. We had just finished this story and scheduled it for publication when the tragedy took place at Columbine High School. We knew then that this story needs to be told more than ever. This story is not about violence; it’s about the comfort and perspective the gospel offers. Here are thoughts and experiences shared by those who know both the pain and the healing firsthand.The Editors
It’s been just over a year since a tragic shooting occurred at Thurston High School in Springfield, Oregon. Two students were killed and 23 others wounded when a fellow student opened fire in the crowded school cafeteria.
Some 60 seminary students were in school at Thurston on the day of the tragedy—one of whom helped to stop the shooter. Of course, the seminary students wish the tragedy had never happened. But they also say they’ve learned priceless lessons they’ll never forget.
Although they’ve been reluctant to talk with the media about the shooting, the students were eager to share their testimonies with the youth of the Church through the pages of the New Era.
More than anything, the students talk about how they’ve come to know just how much they love—and are loved by—their families. Just after the shooting, students were instructed to go to enclosed rooms of the school until the situation was secured. In that long period of waiting, teens with brothers or sisters at Thurston found themselves consumed with thoughts of their siblings.
“When I thought that the last thing I said to my little brother was, ‘Don’t be late to class today’ instead of ‘I love you’ … You never understand how important someone is to you until you think they are gone,” says Lacy Stockwell, 18. Lacy had spoken to her freshman brother, Taylor, in the cafeteria just seconds before the shooting erupted. As she ran from the cafeteria, she’d been unable to find him.
Like Lacy, Melissa Piepgrass was also terribly concerned for her brother. “We were taken into the gym, and all of a sudden I was really scared about my older brother, because I know he goes into the cafeteria a lot. I was crying and praying for him.”
After what seemed like an eternity, the students were released. All around the school, emotional reunions took place as students found their siblings and their parents who had gathered outside. Melissa found her brother in a park across the street. “I ran over and gave him a big hug.” Her voice trembles as she says, “That’s the first time I ever really felt how much my older brother loves me.”
Of her reaction at finding her brother safe, Lacy says, “It was incredible when I saw him. We yelled each other’s names and ran down the hall to each other and hugged. I can’t express the emotions I felt.”
Kawika Lawther, 17, describes the reunion that took place between worried parents and their children. “When they let us out into the parking lot, I looked around and saw people hugging their parents. When I saw my dad I ran to him and gave him a big hug. The men in my family don’t really show their emotions, but when he hugged me my dad started to cry. I really felt how much he loves me.”
Adam Buchanan, 15, remembers a similar experience. “I didn’t realize the extent of what had happened until I saw my mom and dad in the parking lot. They were praying for me.
“That really stands out in my mind because it’s one of the very few times I’ve seen my dad cry. It’s meant so much to me that he loved me so much and that they were so worried about me.”
Perhaps Lacy speaks for all the students when she says, “I’m so grateful for an eternal family, because now I realize they are so essential to my life!”
The seminary students say they’ve also felt the love of their Heavenly Father. After 15-year-old Chad Durfee ran from the cafeteria to his classroom, he became even more frightened when he learned that his father, who teaches at Thurston, was in the cafeteria. “I realized then that I wanted to talk to my Heavenly Father. I dropped to my knees in front of everybody and prayed. I was so comforted and I felt the Spirit so much even after what had just happened.
“I probably prayed about 500 times that day. It totally strengthened my testimony of prayer,” says Chad. “Every time I’ve had a problem from that time on, the first thing that comes to my mind is talking to my Heavenly Father. It makes me feel so good to know He lives and loves us and wants us to be happy.”
Like Chad, many students talk about the comforting influence of the Spirit in their lives. Fourteen-year-old Kirk Blair was at his junior high school when he heard about the shooting at Thurston, where his sister, Katie, is a student. “We were worried for her, but I knew through the Spirit that she was okay.”
The Holy Ghost helped Tiffany Austin, 16, regain her sense of security. Several days after the shooting, “I was sitting in the pew at youth conference and felt the Spirit come over me. Then I knew that Heavenly Father wasn’t going to leave me alone no matter what happened. I finally got my security back.”
The example of the Savior and the power of His Atonement have helped students forgive and become whole again after such a trying experience.
“I was so mad that someone could do something like this, and I couldn’t make it go away,” says Alisha Stott, 16. “Forgiving is really hard, but I’m working on it. Being around others going through the same process and watching them forgive makes me feel that I can also. And remembering that Jesus Christ forgives our sins. He forgave people who wronged him, so I should be able to forgive also.”
“No matter what we go through, Jesus Christ knows how to heal us,” says Corwin Lewis, 17. “He can do that because of the Atonement.”
Many students gained stronger testimonies of the power of the priesthood. “The day they let us go back to school, I was afraid to go, so my uncle gave me a blessing,” says Jena Johnson, 16. “It gave me a sense of peace that I knew we were going to get through this. Then I had the confidence to face my fear.”
Adam tells how he felt as he watched his father administer a priesthood blessing. “My dad and I are the Rogerses’ home teachers, so Brother Rogers asked my dad to help him give his daughters a blessing.
“The Spirit was so strong. It was a really humbling experience. I was thinking, I’m going to be 19 in a few years. Will I be ready for the Melchizedek Priesthood? It’s such an awesome responsibility, but I think having it would be the best thing in the world.”
The seminary students also talk about their deepened appreciation for each other, for their ward families, for the scriptures, and for the gospel.
Fortunately, most of us will never experience the kind of tragedy the youth in Springfield have. But from their experience we can learn what matters most in life, and know that a loving Father in Heaven can bless us no matter what the trial.
“I had always taken things for granted before,” says Chad. “I went to church but didn’t really think about it. But now I’ve started to get very spiritual. I love the Church, every aspect about it. Sometimes at night I look up at the stars and think how wonderful it is to know our Father in Heaven lives.”
Melissa remembers, “On the night of the tragedy, I saw the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen. I just knew that Heavenly Father was showing his love for us, telling us that everything would be okay.”
After the tragedy in Littleton, Colorado, the Springfield seminary students wanted to do something to help. They wrote letters to the seminary students in Littleton, sharing their testimonies and messages of hope and encouragement.
The Springfield youth weren’t the only seminary students to give their support to Littleton. Letters, e-mail messages, and posters have poured in to the Columbine High School seminary from seminaries and Church members all over the world.
“It’s helped the kids to see that there are people all over the world who care about them,” says Rob Hildebrandt, seminary teacher at Columbine. “It has really hit them that in this Church we are truly a worldwide family.
“With every new poster, the first thing the kids want to know is where it’s from. When I tell them, they say ‘Wow! They know about us there?’ They’re overwhelmed at the people who love them whom they don’t even know.”
Brother Hildebrandt says the students have also felt the many prayers of support that have been offered for them.

Recently I met a young medical doctor who was completing his medical training as an intern in a hospital. He told us of himself as he bore his testimony in a stake conference. He said that as a young athlete he had set his sights very high. At only thirteen years of age he had started swimming competitively, and during his teen years he spent thirty to forty hours a week training during the summer and twenty to thirty hours a week in the winter. He told us that his desire to become a champion swimmer was so great that he would have done anything to accomplish it. His grades were not what they should have been, and the coach cautioned him; whereon he applied himself and brought them to a satisfactory level. During this period of time he excluded himself from Church activity because, in his words, “Swimming would improve my self-image and give me confidence and the Church would not.”
He went on to become a national AAU champion, winner of a bronze medal in the 1968 Olympics, and an All-American in college for three years. Again in his words:
I did well in college and was able to go to medical school. I would tell myself, “You are an Olympian; you have a good mind; you will become a doctor and have ‘the good life.’” I would tell myself this as I was contemplating suicide. I was full of false and vain pride.
In medical school I dealt with an indigent population. The people were completely different from me; they frustrated me terribly. I dealt with these frustrations first by hating the people, then by pitying them. As a medical student I frequently thought of taking my own life.
A country doctor in southeastern Ohio, with whom I lived for six weeks, talked to me about my family, about returning to my religious heritage and honoring my mother and father. He asked that sometime before I left we pray together. We did, and we started reading the Bible together.
I went back to Cincinnati, feeling very sure I could understand any work of literature, and started reading the Bible by myself. I was halfway through Genesis and was learning very little when I said to myself, “There must be chapters written in a way that will be easier to understand.” I then turned to Numbers and found that I understood even less. I stopped reading and started praying.
He then went on to tell that he fell in love with a lovely young woman, and they were married. This improved the way he felt about himself and gave him time to think about a future family and how to maintain a good family life. Again in his own words: “I knew that the Church helped tremendously in keeping family ties close. I didn’t really want to have to spend the time required to be a good Latter-day Saint. I was hoping to find another church whose gospel was easier to live and didn’t ask so much.”
He further stated that as they were driving west to take up residence, they were discussing the subject of raising their children; and his wife, though not a member of the Church suggested that the children be raised in the Mormon Church. He had hoped that she would wait for a while, as he was going to start his internship and knew he would be extremely busy.
By chance they moved next door to an active Latter-day Saint family—and, I might say, they were in a non-LDS community. He then explained,
The first question they asked us was if we would like to go to church with them on Sunday. Not being able to think of a good excuse, we went. Through this experience my testimony started to grow, first by studying and praying and listening to the testimonies of our stake missionaries. But the fastest growth in my testimony came from the opportunities I had to serve other people.
About six months ago, he was ordained an elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood, and he told of an experience that happened shortly after his ordination. His elders quorum president called him at 5:30 a.m., just before he was to begin a thirty-six-hour call day at the hospital, and asked him if he would please go over to the hospital early to give a blessing to a women who was about to give birth to a child. His first reaction was, “Why me? I’ll lose an hour and a half of sleep.” But he got up and dressed. Realizing that he was not in the proper frame of mind to give a blessing, he knelt and prayed, searching for the proper spirit. Then he said that as he walked to the hospital “the sun was just coming up on a beautiful new day. When I got to the bedside I saw a beautiful mother about to give birth to a beautiful spirit. After the blessing I thanked the Lord for preparing me.”
Do you recognize the miraculous transformation that had taken place in this young man’s life? He had finally achieved a relationship with the Savior. His priorities and values had changed so as to turn his life completely around.

Now I have a message that I hope to have inspiration to convey to you brethren. And I would like to tell of a little incident that happened to a great member of the Church in Germany, Karl G. Maeser, a great educator, a doctor of education, a man of great dignity and wisdom. It was he who founded Brigham Young University.
Under the direction of President Brigham Young he went to Provo, with the simple instruction that he was to found the university and to teach not even the multiplication tables without the Spirit of God. Beyond that, Brigham Young said, “Good luck and God bless you.” Brother Maeser had been converted here in Europe. This man of great dignity and prestige was a very humble man, and his attitude seems to me to characterize what we should be as holders of the priesthood.
I mention two incidents: On one occasion he was going with a group of young missionaries across the alps. They were crossing a high mountain pass on foot. There were long sticks stuck into the snow of the glacier to mark the path so that travelers could find their way safely across the glacier and down the mountain on the other side.
When they reached the summit, Brother Maeser wanted to teach the young elders a lesson. He stopped at the pinnacle of the mountain and pointed to those sticks that they had followed. And he said, “Brethren, behold the priesthood of God. They are just common old sticks, but it’s the position that counts. Follow them and you will surely be safe. Stray from them and you will surely be lost.” And so it is in the Church. We are called to leadership positions and given the power of the priesthood. And we are just common old sticks, but the position we are given counts. It is separate and apart from us, but while we hold it, we hold it.

Almost fifty years ago, I knew a boy, even a priest, who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. This boy, Robert, stuttered and stammered. … Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, he had an impediment of speech which was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through an unusual set of circumstances, he accepted an assignment to … baptize another.
I sat next to him in the baptistry of the sacred Tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked Robert how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost incoherently that he felt terrible.
We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Then the clerk read the words: “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 the water. … He then gazed as though toward heaven and, with his right arm to the square, [declared,] “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.” Not once did he stammer. Not once did he stutter. Not once did he falter. A modern miracle had been witnessed.
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.
I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.(See Ensign, February 2002, pages 2–5.)

Even worthwhile endeavors need evaluation in order to determine if they have become distractions from the best goals. I had a memorable discussion with my father when I was a teenager. He did not believe enough young people were focused on or preparing for long-term important goals—like employment and providing for families.
Meaningful study and preparatory work experience were always at the top of my father’s recommended priorities. He appreciated that extracurricular activities like debate and student government might have a direct connection with some of my important goals. He was less certain about the extensive time I spent participating in football, basketball, baseball, and track. He acknowledged that athletics could build strength, endurance, and teamwork but asserted that perhaps concentrating on one sport for a shorter time would be better. In his view, sports were good but not the best for me. He was concerned that some sports were about building local celebrity or fame at the expense of more important long-term goals.
Given this history, one of the reasons I like the account of Lucy playing baseball is that, in my father’s view, I should have been studying foreign policy and not worrying about whether I was going to catch a ball. I should make it clear that my mother loved sports. It would have taken a hospitalization for her to miss one of my games.
I had decided to follow my dad’s advice and not play intercollegiate sports in college. Then our high school football coach informed me that the Stanford football coach wanted to have lunch with Merlin Olsen and me. Those of you who are younger may not know Merlin. He was an incredible all-American tackle on the Logan High School football team where I played quarterback and safety and returned kickoffs and punts. In high school Merlin was recruited by most football powers across the nation. In college he won the Outland Trophy as the nation’s best interior lineman. Merlin was ultimately the third overall pick in the National Football League draft and played in an amazing 14 consecutive Pro Bowls. He was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1982.
The lunch with the Stanford coach was at the Bluebird restaurant in Logan, Utah. After we shook hands, he never once made eye contact with me. He talked directly to Merlin but ignored me. At the end of the lunch, for the first time, he turned toward me, but he could not remember my name. He then informed Merlin, “If you choose Stanford and want to bring your friend with you, he has good enough grades and it could probably be arranged.” This experience confirmed for me that I should follow my dad’s wise counsel.

I would like to share another of the challenges I have faced in my life. I started as faculty at BYU when I had one daughter at home and was expecting a second daughter. The first few years as faculty are grueling and overwhelming—at least they were for me. When my second daughter was several months old, I was struggling. I felt numb. It was hard to feel any emotion, especially hope. At this time, I continued pushing to do the things I knew helped me be the best I could be. I kept praying, even though I didn’t feel much response. I kept reading my scriptures, even though I didn’t feel anything. One day I was reading Nephi’s psalm,15 and a section of it stood out to me:

Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.
Do not anger again because of mine enemies. Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.
Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.16

When I read this, I didn’t feel a connection. I didn’t feel the Spirit. But I remember thinking intellectually, “Hmm, I should feel a connection to this. This seems like what I want to happen to me. I want my soul to feel awake. I don’t want to be burdened. Why can I not connect?”

I wrote the verses that I wanted to feel and put them on my cookbook stand in the kitchen. In hindsight, I can see this as a toehold the Savior created to help me scale this seemingly insurmountable cliff. At the time, all I could do was encourage myself to look at the toehold. I couldn’t attempt to use it. For months I would read these words in my kitchen, sometimes in casual passing, sometimes forcing myself to focus on them. During this time, I also met with my doctor, was diagnosed with postpartum depression, and started treatment.

Over time, this plea of Nephi’s became my plea. I was able to use this toehold, this connection to my Savior, and I slowly started to make the same heartfelt plea for my soul to awake. Eventually, these verses became precious to me, and I felt them in my soul. As I read them now, years later, they are a reminder to me that my Heavenly Father didn’t forget me. At a time when I couldn’t feel or hear His Spirit, He used another part of my brain—a clinical, logical part—to help me identify a scriptural passage that I could work toward feeling a connection with. When I couldn’t come up with hope myself, He gave me Nephi’s words to use as my goal.

Do not become blinded by common solutions. Be creative in identifying ways to press through or across your challenges. When struggling with postpartum depression, I asked to serve in the nursery. My bishop was surprised. But once I began serving in nursery, I suddenly wanted to be at church—those little children needed me. They often weren’t old enough to talk, so I didn’t have to worry about carrying on conversations. I could just go and be who I was at that moment and receive the gift of love from little ones in the form of a smile or a hug or sometimes a half-eaten Goldfish cracker.

It was beginning to get dark, and the softly falling snow was blanketing the busy New York streets. Tired office workers and shoppers rushed to the waiting horse-drawn streetcars. A driver viciously whipped the tired, thin horses forward, and the miserable animals, cold and hungry, struggled to pull the overfilled cars through the slippery streets.
Suddenly Henry Bergh, a tall, handsome gentleman in a black silk hat, stood on the tracks in front of the departing streetcar and ordered the driver to stop and unload the passengers. When the driver resisted, Bergh pulled him out of the car and threw him into a snowbank. Then Bergh unhitched the overworked, underfed horses. This action caused many streetcars to be stalled behind the first, now horseless, car. Bergh then stopped a car going in another direction.
The “man in the black hat” had been trying for many months to get the streetcar companies to treat their horses more humanely. He wanted them to assign more horses to each car and to not allow too many passengers on a car so that the horses wouldn’t have to work so hard. But no one at the companies would listen to him. Now, finally, after he had blocked traffic for two hours, at least one company listened! Henry Bergh had won a victory. A car was sent out with four horses pulling it, and the streetcar company agreed to treat its horses more kindly.

The story is told of a 14-year-old boy who had come to Nauvoo in search of his brother who lived near there. The young boy had arrived in winter with no money and no friends. When he inquired about his brother, the boy was taken to a large house that looked like a hotel. There he met a man who said, “Come in, son, we’ll take care of you.”
The boy accepted and was brought into the house, where he was fed, warmed, and was given a bed to sleep in.
The next day it was bitter cold, but in spite of that, the boy prepared himself to walk the eight miles to where his brother was staying.
When the man of the house saw this, he told the young boy to stay for a while. He said there would be a team coming soon and that he could ride back with them.
When the boy protested, saying that he had no money, the man told him not to worry about that—that they would take care of him.
Later the boy learned that the man of the house was none other than Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet. This boy remembered this act of charity for the rest of his life.

We are here to help ourselves and others make it home. I am thankful for all the people on this earth and on the other side of the veil that has helped me not give up. They are the ones that when I asked for help instead of giving me a pity party would cheer me on. On one occasion I was going through a tough time. To this day I cannot even remember what that challenge was but I have never forgot her words to me. She said, "Euleza, I see you looking at yourself from what may seem to you to be a deep, deep hole. As you stand there at the bottom of that hole I see your hand reaching up. You want so badly to be pulled up to where you know you need to be; where you can feel safety and peace. But I also see you at the top of that deep hole, Euleza. You are reaching down to grab your own hand and pull yourself up." Then my friend added, "Grab on Euleza. Grab on and pull yourself up. You know where you want to be, and where you should be, you know it! Let yourself be rescued."

Like him, many of us must learn to retain our faith in God’s justice and live worthy for blessings that do not come immediately. I remember a fine young man in Solingen, Germany, whom my companion and I taught diligently, fasted for, and prayed about. His parents originally denied him permission to be baptized, and he later lost interest in the Church. But thirteen years later, after the break-up of his marriage, he found the Church again; and when a business interview took him to Chicago he came on to Salt Lake City, and I had the immense joy of baptizing him.

When an earthquake struck Haiti in January 2010, Jean-Elie René raced home to make sure his family was safe. Upon arrival, he spotted one of his three sons crying in the street, and he could hear the screams of another son from beneath the rubble where the family’s home once stood.
The 32-year-old father followed the cries and dug through the rubble until he found his five-year-old son and the body of his pregnant wife, still sheltering their nine-month-old baby from the collapsed roof of their home.
Brother René serves as ward clerk in the Leogane Ward, Port-au-Prince Haiti Stake. Although he lost his wife, his unborn child, and his home, he doesn’t complain or get angry about his situation. Most days following the earthquake, Brother René could be found at the meetinghouse, with the baby on his lap and his two other boys at his side, helping the bishop coordinate relief to ward members and others who made the meetinghouse their temporary home.
The story of Brother René is touching, but it is not unique.

Number 50 Rock Street, Lowell, Massachusetts, could be the home of any one of thousands of southeast Asian families that have settled in this city of 100,000. But 50 Rock Street is the home of Chea Touch (pronounced Cheea Tooch), a 15-year-old Cambodian boy who was baptized three years ago. A member of the Lowell Branch, this remarkable young man has been directly responsible for the baptisms of many other Asian friends.
“It has not been easy for my family and me to come to a new country. There are many things we don’t understand, and we have many struggles. The elders have shown us that they care about us and they want us to be happy,” says Chea. He adds, “I’ve always known I have a Heavenly Father who loves me. It’s been wonderful to learn more about him and know what I must do to return to him. I want my friends to know the truth so they can have the happiness I do.”
Chea’s story begins in 1987 when two elders, Paul Gooch and Garrett Black, were assigned to the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since there had not been elders in Lowell for a number of years, they felt it was appropriate to seek special help from Heavenly Father on the missionary effort. At the time there were only two Cambodian families who were members of the Church in that area.
Elder Gooch’s journal entry of April 11, 1987, reads: “On this beautiful, clear, spring day, Elder Black and I went upon the top of Fort Hill overlooking the city. We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place of refuge for the Asian people where they could rest in peace and safety, where the Spirit could dwell amidst them in their homes.” Both elders felt inspired. The entry continues. “We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place where the Asians might come to know Jesus as their Savior.”
The elders’ first meeting with Chea was quite accidental. Looking for another family, they happened to knock on his door. Chea was the only family member who spoke English. In the course of their conversation, he told them that he loved Jesus, wanted to find a church, and made them promise to take him to church the next Sunday. Elder Gooch recalls, “I was very impressed with Chea. He was extremely mature and seemed like a 25-year-old in a 12-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son had visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.”
Chea’s maturity is no doubt a result of many of the things he has experienced in his young life. Like many Cambodians who have found refuge in the United States, Chea and his family are survivors. He was four and his sister Soph was ten in 1979 when they escaped with their parents from Cambodia and made their way to the Kavidan refugee camp in Thailand.
They lived in the refugee camp until 1984, when relief organizations sponsored their relocation to the United States. They’ve been in Lowell, Massachusetts, since then. Chea now has two younger sisters: Lundi, who is eight, and Dani, age six.
After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attended church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined the Church. (As a Buddhist monk, Chea’s father made certain commitments that he feels would be violated should he join another religion.)
After his baptism, Chea and the elders became very good friends. “Almost every day Chea would come to our apartment,” recalls Elder Gooch. “He would tell us about friends and relatives he wanted us to visit. Sometimes we had a hard time keeping up!”
Smiling, Chea recalls the first person he told the elders about. “Sothom Chea was in my class at school. At first I was afraid of him. I thought he didn’t like me. I asked him if he would like to meet my friends, Elder Black and Elder Gooch. When Sothom said yes I was surprised but very, very happy.” Chea accompanied the elders to all of Sothom’s discussions. He says, “I enjoyed translating the lessons. I learned so much. I could feel the Holy Spirit. Besides, it was fun.”
Old as well as young have benefited from Chea’s desire to share his new-found knowledge. His neighbor, Sophon Heng, a mother of four, and her elderly mother Hong Heng were baptized as a result of Chea’s efforts. Sophon recalls, “Chea was so kind to us. He asked us if we would like to meet two men who would teach us and make us happy. When we said yes, Chea and the elders came to our home each week and taught us the gospel.”
For Chea it is not a sacrifice but a real joy to share Heavenly Father’s message. “Each time I go with the elders I seem to learn something new. I enjoy learning about how to return to Heavenly Father—what I must do and what I must avoid.”
Irene Danjou, Chea’s former Primary president, remembers, “Each Sunday he would bring a different friend to church. He’d introduce them to me, spell their names, tell me their ages, and sit with them until they felt comfortable. Then he would go to his own class. He did this every week for a whole year!”
One example of Chea’s diligence and enthusiasm as a young missionary is recorded in Elder Gooch’s journal: “I was home for lunch, trying to prepare a talk for zone conference. Somehow I just couldn’t get my thoughts together. The telephone rang. It was Chea. He told me that he wanted Elder Black and me to visit the Vongs, a Cambodian family that had been in Lowell for a year. They were praying and fasting to find a church they could attend.”
Saveth Vong and her three children, Chetena, Chendra, and Tola, had narrowly escaped execution. Her husband, a pilot in the Cambodian Army, had been captured. Saveth and her children managed to get out of prison three days before they were scheduled to be shot.
Chea smiles as he recalls his and the elder’s first visit to the Vong home. “Everyone seemed so eager to learn. There were many questions. The Spirit was very strong.” Although the Vongs used a Book of Mormon printed in Cambodian, they needed help with gospel principles. Chea played an important role, assisting the elders as he translated discussions and shared his own experiences in the Church. Elder Gooch’s journal entry continues, “Day after day, Chea sat quietly by Saveth helping her understand the things we taught. He never seemed to tire of the message of the gospel.”
Indeed, as Chea taught the gospel his testimony grew. He recalls, “I remember reading 3 Nephi 27:7: ‘Therefore, whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do it in my name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; and ye shall call upon the Father in my name that he will bless the church for my sake.’ I thought, how could it be that I’ve never seen this scripture before? It makes so much sense. Heavenly Father’s true church must be named after his Son!”
This scripture also confirmed for Chea what he knew in his heart was true—that if he prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus and asked for help to share the gospel message, Heavenly Father would bless his efforts.
When the Vongs made the decision to be baptized, Chea was delighted. Elder Gooch recalls that evening, “While we were driving home, Chea asked Elder Black and me to stop by a grove of trees in a nearby park so that we could thank Heavenly Father. We took turns giving thanks and expressing our joy. When we were finished, Chea climbed on my shoulders. After a few quiet moments Chea lovingly looked down, flashed his big smile and said, “The Holy Ghost is with us, Gooch, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Chea, it sure is.”
“I know—I felt it!”
The Vongs were baptized a week later.
Chea loves to fish and play basketball and enjoys video games. Like other Cambodian youth in America, he plays an important role in helping his parents learn their new language and culture. The adults spend long hours working to make ends meet and don’t have much free time to learn English. The youth, on the other hand, pick up the language quickly and bring it home. Chea’s been particularly fortunate. Along with his regular public school classes, he’s in a special program at a private learning center. Director of the center Joan O’Brien sees Chea as a unique child. “I think he’s a youngster who will be a real leader in the Cambodian culture. He’s like a water pitcher that cannot be filled.”

I'd like to share a very recent example of encouragement. Our son, Mark, served his mission in Australia. One of his companions, Adam Brown, from Adelaide, Australia, came to Utah in order to attend general conference. He attended every session. In between two of the sessions, we introduced him to my father. This is an excerpt from the letter of thanks we received two weeks ago:

"As you were aware, when I returned home from Utah, I planned to propose to my beautiful girlfriend, Kellie. Her family is great, but I was still very, very nervous about asking her Dad for permission. I knew he would say, 'Yes,' but I was petrified. I think one of the things that got me over the line, because I chickened out the first two times, was President Monson's comment when I showed him a photo of Kellie while visiting with him in his office. He said, 'I approve.' I gained courage from this. I figured if Kellie's Dad were to say, 'No, you can't marry my daughter,' I would be able to reply with, 'Well, President Monson said that he approved.' With this added courage on my side, I asked, and after the twenty-minute interrogation, he said, 'Yes.'"

Adam Brown and Kellie were married on February 2nd in the Sydney Temple. My father was pleased to learn that his word of approval may have encouraged a temple marriage!