Gospel Story Finder

During the tears and other hubbub of leaving from the airport, I paid little attention to all the words of advice and caution everyone was giving me. All I could see was the jet pulling up to the gate and visions of converting the entire countries of Guatemala and El Salvador. Finally, we were told to board. There was a rush of last minute hugs, kisses (from my parents and sisters), and, of course, that special handshake from a smiling beauty with a quivering chin.
When I reached the door leading to the boarding area, my father said, “Son, obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy in life.” I nodded a hurried “Sure, Dad” and was off. As I walked to the plane, I laughed to myself. “Dad, you got your ‘mords wixed’ again. You meant to say, ‘Obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy on your mission.’” With that, I tossed his advice into the oblivion of my memory, filed under “Parental Counsel.”
Seven months later, my father was dead.
In those first wavering hours after my mission president told me of the tragic plane accident, I found myself much like the cartoon character who has a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The devil said: “What are you doing here? All that life after death bit is a bunch of bunk. You go on a mission and what happens? You break your foot; go to the hospital; come to a strange land, with strange people and strange customs; and your father gets killed. Sure it’s the happiest two years of your life. Two thousand miles away from home, and you’re all alone.”
Such thoughts were foreign to me. I had been a faithful member of the Church all my life; yet, the thoughts were there.
The angel on my other shoulder said: “Stand tall, Elder. You had a great father you can be proud of, a mighty patriarch who taught you the gospel in all things. You know eternal life is a true principle of the gospel, and you know your father will be waiting for you. You’ve had a testimony of the gospel since you were old enough to cry. This is no time to start doubting.”
In the midst of this struggle between doubt and reality, my father’s last words at the airport came echoing into my mind: “Son, obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy in life.” Dad hadn’t mixed his words up at all. Those final words to me were inspired counsel that would guide me for the rest of my life. My father lived as he taught, and a few weeks following his passing, the full testimony of his life was made manifest to me.
Finances became a major concern. I had enough money in the bank to cover 11 of the remaining 15 months of my mission and hoped Mom could get enough together for the remaining four. My plans for college were now pushed back into the realm of hopes and dreams. However, the Lord takes care of his missionaries.
I received a letter from my mother telling me that I needn’t worry about finances anymore. A man had contacted my bishop and asked if he could support me for the rest of my mission. This is not too unusual, since there are many good-hearted men in the Church, but the twist in this instance was in what the man told my bishop: “I’m not a member of your church, but out of the love and respect I have for Horace Rappleye, I’d like to support his son for the rest of his mission.” And he did. For 15 months the money was placed regularly in my bank account by the anonymous benefactor.
He remains anonymous to this day.
My father’s life of obedience brought blessings to him even after he died. His death became the highlight of my mission. That may be a strange thing to say, and I wish my father were still alive, but my mission thereafter became a living testimony to my father’s life. I soon found how precious it is to live “all the rules.” No matter how small or insignificant the rule seemed, if I obeyed, I was happy.
We are told by the Lord, “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” (D&C 130:20–21.)
This scripture is true. Whenever I find myself slipping into depression or unhappiness, I usually find it is because I am not being obedient in all things as I should. At these times a comforting echo reverberates in my head: “Son, obey all the rules, and you’ll be happy in life.”

I am very grateful to be able to read the New Era. I went to pick up my mail at the mission home today and found out that there wasn’t any mail for me. It’s been over a month since I have had a letter from home, but I was happy to see that my March New Era had arrived. I started reading it while walking down the street, and I walked into a wire that anchored a telephone pole! I read the magazine that day, and before nighttime I had read it from cover to cover. I always used to skip a few articles that didn’t seem interesting, but this time I read every article, and they were all interesting.
Elder Joseph Richard Wright, Jr.Philippines Manila Mission

Until about seven years ago, I was fit and healthy, happily raising a family and enjoying a successful career. Then my life was turned upside down as I suddenly became very ill. Gratefully, I survived but in a matter of weeks I was left with a wide range of health issues, significant limitations, and disabilities, most of which are permanent.
As I struggled to cope with those drastic changes in the ensuing months that turned into years, the Lord initially told me that my afflictions were given to make me humble. Without doubt, I could feel—and grieve over—the substantial loss of independence, fitness, and ability. With the loving support of my family and a caring, Christlike bishop, I turned to and clung to the Saviour for strength, guidance and understanding.
Several years into my disability, the Lord shed further light on the purpose of my trials. He revealed to me that He had given me the mighty challenges and enduring limitations so that I would feel what it was like to live with such disabilities, and thus be better able to reach out to those who were suffering equally from their afflictions.
Indeed, before the onset of my disability, I thought I could understand other people’s suffering and empathise with them. Yet, it is only by experiencing or living with my ongoing health issues that I have been able to connect with people experiencing similar challenges, in a way I couldn’t have done without experiencing them myself.
Through personal experience, I have come to understand that some situations, and moral values and Christlike attributes (such as faith, empathy, compassion, patience and resilience) can only be superficially appreciated from an intellectual perspective. They are only truly acquired through personal, stretching experiences involving both mind and body.

When I was about seven years old, I asked my mother, “When you and I die and go to heaven, will you still be my mother?” She was not expecting such a question. But answering to the best of her knowledge, she said, “No, in heaven we are going to be brothers and sisters. I will not be your mother.” That was not the answer I was hoping for.
Sometime after that short interaction, two young men arrived at the gate of our home. By some miracle, my father allowed them to come in. They said they were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
These elders, as we learned to call them, started to teach our family. I vividly remember our feelings of happiness and excitement every time they came to our home. They told us that a young man had gone to a grove to ask God which church was true and that he saw God and Jesus Christ.1 The elders showed us an illustration of that vision, and when I saw it, I knew that Joseph Smith had indeed seen God the Father and Jesus Christ. The missionaries said that because of this vision, the true Church of Jesus Christ was again upon the earth.2
The missionaries also taught us God’s plan of happiness and answered our family’s questions about religion. They taught us that families truly can be together after this life as father, mother, and sons and daughters.
Our family was baptized. The road to changing old habits, giving up traditions, and becoming active members of the Church was at times bumpy. But because of the mercy and love of God and with the help of many leaders and members, we made it through the first challenging years.

President Nelson told about how he operated on a baby patient who died. He went home and cried and said he would never do another heart operation. His wife helped him go back to work and keep learning. Eventually he was able to save President Kimball’s life because he had learned enough about heart surgery. The moral of this true story is, “Don’t give up!” Sometimes I want to give up, but I’m going to keep trying, like President Nelson.
Thomas T., age 8, Washington, D.C., USA

While the Mayflower skimmed westward with the breeze in her sails, Ellen played on deck with four-year-old Mary Allerton, the youngest passenger on board.
“Mary,” Ellen said, “shall we play pretend?”
“How do we play pretend?” Mary asked.
“Well, first, you make believe you’re my sister. Now I need to find a brother. Let me see … John Howland will be just right.” Walking briskly up to him, she said, “Ahoy, mate. A jolly good day it is.”
“Righto!” replied John, grinning. “That it is.”
“Aye, and a jolly good day for pretending,” Ellen added. “Would you like to pretend you’re my brother?”
“I’d like that very much,” the boy answered.
“Then it’s all settled. We are a family. Families stick together on ocean voyages and help each other.” Pretending helped ease Ellen’s homesick longing for Sarah and Roger.

Our benefits from worship in the temple have extended beyond blessing our children. On one occasion, my husband faced a very perplexing employment problem that he decided to take to the temple. On that day, the Lord blessed him with the impression that a particular scripture was the answer to his question.

Upon arriving home, he anxiously opened the scriptures and, to his delight, found help for his problem. This experience opened up a whole new application of the scriptures. The Lord can speak to His children by reminding us of scriptures that contain answers to our challenges. We appreciate this principle we learned in the temple.

Jimmie has stuck with Highland dancing even though it took a back seat to soccer for a while. Now he’s working on qualifying as a dance instructor. He could have qualified four years ago, but changing teachers twice slowed him down. Of course, he has learned a wide variety of styles by having three different teachers.
Jimmie still competes with his band, which has won most of the competitions around, but he has given up dance competitions for a while. “My main aim is to become a qualified dancing teacher,” he says.

Although his acting career is just starting, Tracey is already receiving praise for his ability. He is also drawing attention to his way of life. Wherever he has worked, he has influenced other members of the casts and crews. On one occasion a cast member told him, "Everybody on this set is searching for what you already have." A cast member of Joe Panther wouldn’t even drink coffee when Tracey was on the set. "I’ve taken up drinking orange juice because that is what you drink," he said.

A few years ago a member of the Church shared a copy of the Book of Mormon with an Amish friend in Ohio, USA. The friend began to read the book and could not put it down. He and his wife were baptized, and within seven months two more Amish couples were converted and baptized members of the Church. Their children were baptized several months later.

These three families decided to remain in their community and continue their Amish lifestyle even though they had left the Amish faith. However, they were subjected to “shunning” by their close-knit Amish neighbors. Shunning means that no one in their Amish community will talk to them, work with them, do business with them, or associate with them in any way. This includes not just friends but also family members.

Initially, these Amish Saints felt alone and isolated as even their children were subjected to shunning and were removed from their Amish schools. Their children have endured shunning by grandparents, cousins, and close neighbors. Even some of the older children of these Amish families, who did not accept the gospel, will not talk to or even acknowledge their parents. These families have struggled to recover from the social and economic effects of shunning, but they are succeeding.

Their faith remains strong. The adversity and opposition of shunning has caused them to be steadfast and immovable. A year after being baptized, the families were sealed in the temple and continue faithfully attending the temple on a weekly basis. They have found strength through receiving ordinances and entering into and honoring covenants. They are all active in their Church group and continue searching for ways to share the light and knowledge of the gospel with their extended families and community through acts of kindness and service.

Even the committee’s biggest worry—where to house everyone—was resolved in laughter. Member homes are scarce in Fairbanks, and some are only rustic log houses.
“It was really funny,” chuckled one girl on the steering committee. “Some families were called and asked to take youths, and they would say, ‘Well, I can, but all we have is a honey bucket, and I don’t think girls would want to stay here.’” Everyone was finally given a place to stay, although it was real Alaska frontier-style for some—no running water, electricity, or telephone, but clouds of mosquitoes.

It was the girls themselves who decided that Mormons ought to be involved in doing something for people in underdeveloped lands. So after discussing it with their MIA teacher, the girls of San Jose (California) Ward wrote to a nonprofit foundation that specializes in collecting medical discards, packaging them, and sending them all over the world. The girls decided to make Johnny coats (hospital gowns) and torn-sheet bandages, and to gather soap to send to those in need. They asked two motels in their area to save soap for them. One motel also volunteered to save old sheets from which the girls could make bandages. The first load of soap from one motel weighed 500 pounds. Then one Saturday nineteen girls got together and knitted, made bandages, and boxed soap. Their own ward Relief Society donated dozens of men’s shirts for Johnny coats. Now they want to learn how to make leper bandages …

Sometimes Charlie played army guys nicely with our big brother, Sean. But sometimes he kicked them all over the room. Sometimes Charlie sat beside me, coloring carefully in the lines of his coloring book. But sometimes he scribbled all over his page. And mine!
One thing was certain: our three-year-old brother, Charlie, was a mystery. None of us knew how to help him.
The solution to helping Charlie came unexpectedly. As our family stood watching a fireworks display one evening, Mom started thinking about how Charlie was sort of like a firecracker. When Sean or I did something to hurt Charlie’s feelings, he would “explode.” And he wouldn’t quit until we made him feel loved again.
The next day, when Charlie was taking his afternoon nap, Mom called Sean and me to a secret meeting. She asked Sean how Charlie had acted that morning.
“He stomped on my clay creations and ruined them!” Sean said.
“How about you, Paige?” Mom asked me.
I frowned. “Charlie spilled water all over the picture I was painting.”
“Do you remember the fort you made yesterday?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Sean said. “It was the best fort ever!”
“We used all the blankets and chairs in the whole house,” I added.
“Did you let Charlie play with you?” Mom asked.
Sean and I looked at each other and then at the floor. We hadn’t let Charlie play.
“Would you like to see a miracle happen when Charlie wakes up?” Mom asked. “Let’s think of nice things we can do for Charlie to show how much we love him.”
When Charlie woke up a little bit later and wandered out of his room, we were ready.
“Hey, Charlie,” I said as I hugged him. “Would you like me to read you some stories?”
“Sure!” Charlie said. He cuddled up with me on the sofa, and we looked at pictures while I read him a stack of his favorite books.
Then Sean came in, grinning. “Charlie, would you like to play a game of army guys with me?”
“OK!” Charlie shouted as he scrambled off the sofa.
Later, while Mom cooked Charlie’s favorite dinner, Dad was Charlie’s “horsie” and then his “bucking bronco.” Charlie giggled and squealed, and Sean and I laughed too. It was fun to watch Charlie having such a good time.
After dinner, Dad stood Charlie on a chair, and we all sat around him. We took turns telling Charlie all the things we loved about him. Charlie smiled and smiled. He was so happy.
The most wonderful thing of all was that every one of us felt the same.
After that night, Sean and I tried a lot harder to invite Charlie to play with us. Sometimes Charlie messed things up, but he also sometimes made the games more fun.
Now when Sean and I forget to be kind and Firecracker Charlie starts to come back, we know that we can change things with one little word: love.

In 1841 the Walker family consisting of father, John Walker, the mother, Lydia Adams Holmes Walker, and their ten children, moved to Nauvoo. This faithful family had survived the Haun’s Mill Massacre and the persecution of the Missourians in those terrible days of 1838 and 1839. Now very poor, they arrived in the Mormon capital filled with hope and expectation. Staying with their father’s brother they were introduced to Joseph Smith that first evening. Summer brought chills and fever into the Walker home and left Sister Walker in a helpless condition. Joseph, upon hearing of her delicate health, came with Emma and took this good sister into his own home believing that the change might lead to an improvement in her health. Not content to be away from her children for very long, the still ill Lydia persuaded the Smiths to return her to her home. Placing the bed in a sleigh, covering her with blankets, because now winter had come, she was carefully taken there; and calling her children together, exhorted them never to depart from the truth and to so live that she might meet them “in the world where there will be no more suffering, no more tears of anguish.” Closing her eyes, she died leaving a heavenly smile on her dear face.
Sister Walker’s death left ten motherless children, the youngest not quite two years old. The weight of sorrow seemed to break the health of Brother Walker and soon the family feared that he would die.
Learning of their great distress, Joseph again came to help. He told Brother Walker that unless he went away for a rest he would join his wife and then said, “You have just such a family as I could love. My house shall be their home, for the present, I would advise you to sell your home, place your children with kind friends, and the four eldest shall come to my house and be treated as my own children. And if I find the little ones not content, or not treated right I will bring them home and keep them until you return.”
This was done and Lucy records that frequently the Prophet would loan them his carriage so that they could go visit their brothers and sisters now living in other parts of the city. Then Lydia, just eight years old, got brain fever. Fearing for her life and true to his promise, the Prophet took her into his home where he prayed for her recovery, nursed her as one of his own, only to see her linger a few days and then join her mother in the spirit world. Emma and Joseph accompanied the children as the body of little Lydia was taken to its final resting place. One by one all the remaining children found their way into the Prophet’s home where they remained until he, too, was taken by death. Then their father returned in good health and in due time they accompanied him across the plains. They would never forget the kindness, love and genuine concern Joseph and Emma had shown their family.

When I was a new ninth-grade high school student, my English teacher announced that we were going to watch a movie as part of our study of Shakespeare and his works. She told us the movie was R-rated and asked if anyone had any objections. I built up the courage to raise my hand and told my teacher that I did not watch R-rated movies. My face felt like it was about to burst and my whole body felt like it was sweating, but inside I knew I had done the right thing. My objection seemed to silence the class, and I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
Later, my teacher questioned me further on the subject, and I told her that I would not watch the movie. My teacher left it up to me to choose between watching the movie she selected or accepting a lower grade for the assignment.
On the day before the movie was scheduled to be shown, I thought I was going to have to walk out of class and take the grade penalty. When my teacher announced that she had decided to show a different version of the movie, I felt relieved. There was plenty of moaning and whining from many of the students because of the change in plans. I thought everyone would be mad at me.
Instead, the students quickly quieted down, and my friends called me over to sit with them. Their support made me feel great. After class, I thanked my teacher for her decision to show an appropriate version of the movie.
I’m thankful for the standards of the Church. I know that when we keep high standards, we can make a difference in the world in our own small ways.

“Hello! This is Radio Halton. Jenny speaking. Are you happy and raring to go? I’ve got great things lined up for you today. But first, let’s hear some music.”
This cheery message is the way patients in Halton General Hospital, Runcorn, England, tune in to 17-year-old Jenny Ireland, their disk jockey for several hours each week.
What many of those patients don’t realize, as Jenny sends out bridges of comfort and hope along radio waves, is that she operates that complex equipment without the use of arms.
At Jenny’s birth, when her father saw only hands at shoulder level, his thoughts were, “Oh, how we shall miss hugs from this lovely daughter.”
Now, he says, “I have never been more wrong. Jenny’s hugs were whole body hugs. She couldn’t have been a more loving child.”
And this love for others now motivates Jenny in all areas of life. “I’d like to be everyone’s friend,” she admits. “My greatest ambition is to become a radio presenter, broadcasting to the public. A lot of lives can be touched that way.”
Touching lives is something she’s already doing. Nothing is too great an obstacle. She even completed the physically demanding Gold Duke of Edinburgh Award, setting an amazing example to the rest of her school friends. The final hike in Snowdonia, Wales, was gruelling—days of trekking over mountains in all weathers, with only a compass and map to guide. Jenny also has no ligaments in one knee, which causes problems. But sheer determination keeps her going.
Maybe growing up on Runcorn soil has added a will to win to Jenny’s life. It’s the sort of town that’s had to build bridges to go places. The fourth largest fixed arch suspension bridge in the world crosses from Runcorn, south of Liverpool’s River Mersey, to Widnes, on the north side. Without that link across the waves, much trade and communication would be lost.
Without Jenny’s sociable nature, many opportunities for missionary work would be lost. She has a gigantic testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And she doesn’t mind who knows.
Jenny also knows how to make people feel special. Even those embarrassed by her disablement.
“Sometimes children will point at me and talk behind my back or make fun. It really doesn’t bother me one bit. I just laugh. My lack of arms is no problem to me. If I believe in myself, then I can accomplish as much as the next person.
“There was no medical explanation for my being born this way. No one is to blame. I’ve learnt a lot about myself in seminary. I feel I have things to do, and my disability is not a trial but somehow a help to others. It’s making me a much stronger, more patient person and keeps the family close together.”
Jenny has a younger brother, Jared, age 15, and two sisters, 13-year-old Maxine and Kirsty, age 9.
“The only chore I get out of is washing dishes,” laughs Jenny, “because I get a little wet—more like soaked! But, like Jared, I love to cook, and I really don’t need any help.”
Jenny once watched a video of herself and understands how people feel. “My immediate reaction was, ‘That girl needs assistance; she looks so clumsy.’ But when I’m doing things, I don’t feel clumsy. I’m just getting on with it.
“Of course there are days when I’m blue, too,” Jenny admits, “but my parents have taught me that my best friend is my Heavenly Father, and he’s always there when I need him.
“I can remember at primary school when everyone could write much faster than I. The teacher would be dictating, and I never could keep up. I’d come home crying. Mum said, ‘Ask Heavenly Father to help you.’
“Well, he didn’t seem to be helping—at first. Then a few weeks later I noticed I could do it! And I’ve kept up ever since, writing faster than others at times.
“When I was even younger,” she recalls, “I couldn’t reach to put on socks. So I sat there trying for hours until success came.”
School has presented many challenges for Jenny. But Church teachings and activities and loving parents and leaders have developed such self-esteem that nothing is a threat to progress.
“I can remember a school debate,” she smiles, “when we had to speak on a favourite subject. I chose the Church. When I mentioned ‘Church is fun,’ everyone gasped. During question time someone asked, ‘Do you really get up at six o’clock every morning for seminary?’ At the end, the teacher commented, ‘That was an excellent advertisement for your church.’
“On another occasion,” Jenny continues, “during the Duke of Edinburgh practice walks with a backpack, I felt so weighed down that I very nearly quit. Usually, before such a big trial, I ask Dad for a blessing. This time I realized I’d forgotten. I was just about to look for a phone to call Mum to come and get me when a line from my patriarchal blessing came into my head: ‘You can achieve anything you set your heart to do.’ And with help from my Heavenly Father, I did it.”
Accepting President Kimball’s “do it” challenge takes Jenny wherever she wants to go. She hikes, swims, skates, dances, camps, paints. Also on that list are graduating from seminary, learning to drive, saving for a trip to America, temple marriage. But foremost is her goal of conquering the waves—sound waves.
Jenny’s voluntary work as a hospital radio deejay has whetted her appetite for sharing music and words with anyone willing to listen. She loves all types of music from classical to modern and has a calm, humorous, slightly Liverpudlian approach to the microphone.
“I think giving talks at church from an early age has helped me feel comfortable speaking into mikes,” she smiles. The chairman of Radio Halton, Derek Owens, agrees. “She joined us five months ago as an assistant. Then one day the other deejay was absent, so Jenny was thrown in at the deep end. Being the smashing girl that she is, she stepped right in without hesitation and put on a great show. Now she has her own show each week.”
With such praise from the boss, it’s no wonder Jenny feels an obligation to set the best possible example of being a Latter-day Saint.
Sometimes temptation to slacken can be almost overwhelming, especially when a cherished goal comes in sight. Like the time Jenny was invited to meet with top deejays from Independent Radio City, Liverpool—on a Sunday.
She wanted so much to be there, supporting her hospital team and meeting influential people, possibly furthering career opportunities. Workmates kept pressing invitations. But she refused, at the same time explaining her feelings for the Sabbath.
“I felt awful letting them down,” she says, “but I’d have felt even more awful letting myself and Heavenly Father down and my workmates, too, in the long run, because they’d have witnessed a bad example.”
And Jenny knows bad examples knock down bridges. As she’s more interested in building them, she rejoins the radio waves with another cheery message.
“Time to close for today, but before we go, I’d like to interview the lady who’s been interviewing me for the past two hours. She, too, is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes known as the Mormons. Let’s ask her a few questions about the Church and a magazine called the New Era. …”

Young women in Cincinnati, Ohio, joined with young women in Reading, England, to do something to comfort the families of 16 young children killed in a shooting at their school in Scotland last winter. But what could they do or say from so far away and with limited resources? They decided that a message of sympathy and a short testimony of the plan of salvation would be the very best gift they could give to anyone who was grieving, whether they were across the ocean or right next door.
“Helping out the families that lost their beloved children by writing small notes of sympathy was an experience that really strengthened my testimony of the gospel,” says Beehive Tara Swift. “It made me realize that I am very lucky to have the truth of the gospel, to know that I can be with my family forever and not just for a short period of time on earth.”
The town of Dunblane, Scotland, plans to tear down the gymnasium where the children were shot and put a memorial park in its place. The girls have pooled their loose change and sent the money to be donated in purchasing a memorial item, perhaps a tree or some flowers, to be placed in the park.

At the end of 2014, I read Doctrine and Covenants 31:2–3 that states. “I will bless you and your family . . . and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church.
“Lift up your heart and rejoice, for the hour of your mission is come; and your tongue shall be loosed, and you shall declare glad tidings of great joy unto this generation.”
I knew that I had to fulfill the priesthood duty by serving a full-time mission. I informed my siblings and my mother of my desire to serve. My mother initially opposed the idea and threatened to disown me if I left. Through prayer and fasting, she eventually relented. I was called to serve in the Accra Ghana Mission, and the promise of seeing my father again became a reality after he was baptized by proxy in the Accra Ghana Temple.

We need to help our children gain a sense of their relationship with Heavenly Father. They can know that each person is a literal child of God, that each is born with a divine birthright and unlimited potential. When my nephew was four years old, his father took great delight in asking him to repeat his name. Rich would ask, “Mark, what is your name?” Mark would stand up tall and answer with a happy grin, “My name is Mark Andrew Broadbent, Child of God.” When our children understand that Heavenly Father is real and that He loves and cares about each of them, they will want to walk uprightly.

A short time ago I attended the funeral of a friend’s son. Earlier in the week, the young man was traveling home late at night with friends when the driver of another car fell asleep. The second car crossed the median and smashed head-on into the first. The accident occurred with such swiftness that few, if any, brake marks showed on the highway and both cars were demolished. The accident took three lives, including my friend’s 17-year-old son.
In reflecting on the accident, I have thought about the lessons taught by death—particularly the death of a loved one.
Another lesson taught by death concerns the importance of eternal families. Just as there are parents to greet a newborn on earth, the scriptures teach that caring family members greet the spirits in paradise and assist them in the adjustments to a new life (see Gen. 25:8; Gen. 35:29; Gen. 49:33). While I was standing before the casket, the thought came that separation was not only a shock for the parents but also for the young man as he suddenly found himself on the other side of the veil. I suspect that he would like to tell his parents once more how much he loves them. Brothers and sisters, heaven exists only if families are eternal.
Last week I received a letter from the boy’s parents telling me of the peace they have found through their faith in Christ. They know they will see their son again and be with him in the eternities. As Isaiah stated concerning the Savior, “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: … and with his stripes we are healed” (Isa. 53:4–5).