Gospel Story Finder

In Bolivia, a young mother with four small children expressed her testimony, saying:
“I am so grateful for the privilege of having the missionaries come into our home. It is a pleasure to feed them, even though I fear that sometimes we do not have enough for them. (I need to add here that members everywhere in the world have the same fear.) She continues: “However, I am so thankful for this opportunity, for, you see, my four little ones wait anxiously for the day to come when the missionaries eat with us. When it is our turn, two handsome young men dressed in white shirts, wearing ties, their hair cut neatly, come into our home. They are full of the gospel light. They play with the children. They tell us about their wonderful missionary experiences. They are gentlemen, courteous and kind. After about an hour with us, they leave to do the work of the Lord.”

In August of this year, the Aaronic Priesthood young men of our ward had the assignment to administer the sacrament to the residents of a local rest home. I went along with them in case they needed some assistance. Naturally, they didn’t. Everything was under control. But as a result of my attendance there, I had a great experience. After the meeting, the branch president came to me and asked: “Would you happen to be related to Billy E. Dunn?”
I said, “Yes, sir. He’s my father.”
He then said: “Your dad was one of my favorite missionary companions. We served on the mission board together. And I’ll never forget when President Murphy sent us out in the mission’s old Model A Ford to tour the island. …” And he went on reminiscing for some time, telling me of his missionary experiences with my father in Hawaii fifty years ago. By the way he spoke, the light in his eye, and the smile on his face, it was as though he lived those cherished experiences only yesterday.

The audience cheered and applauded in approval. The concert was over. The boys bowed to the crowds as beads of perspiration streamed down their faces.
They were satisfied with their performance. They had worked long and hard to prepare for this tour, and the effort was again paying off. The fans yelled for more as they clapped and whistled wildly in an effort to persuade the group to sing another song. The boys nodded their heads to each other and sprang once more to their instruments for an additional number.
This was one of their many moments of triumph. From Australia to Germany, from England to Japan, from Canada to South America, from California to New York, the Osmonds had become a household word. Everyone knew them all—or did they?
As the boys performed their encore, a young man stood backstage like a silent shadow and watched. He couldn’t hear the music clearly, but he could feel its beat. His excited smile was almost exaggerated as his eyes followed them and beamed with pride. He shuffled his feet as though to imitate the dance routine the boys were now performing.
He was their older brother, Tom. As he watched, he longed to be with them, but he knew that was impossible because he is deaf.
How does it feel to be a member of the famous and successful Osmond family without being able to be a part of their theatrical accomplishments? Tom explains it this way:
“People meet my famous brothers with excitement just beaming from their eyes. When they are introduced to me and find out I am one of the brothers, too, they briefly shake my hand, give me a look of pity, and quickly return to their first interest, my brothers. It really used to depress me sometimes. I felt so left out.
“As my family became more and more famous, their pace of life continued to increase. They were coming and going constantly. The phone was always ringing. People were always stopping by the house. Not being able to hear, I depend on lip reading a lot to understand what is going on. With everyone in such a hurry and things always happening so quickly, it got to where I couldn’t keep up with it all.
“I’d get frustrated. I’d yell at one of my family, stop them from their busy responsibilities, and insist they take time to tell me what was going on. They tried so hard to keep me informed, but it was impossible. The more popular they became, the more I began to realize that our lives were headed down two different roads. I found I was no longer content being just one of the other Osmond brothers. I wanted to be known as myself, liked for myself. I wanted to be me!
“But who was I? This soul-searching led to a question that arose in my mind time and time again: ‘Who am I, really, and why am I deaf?’
“I learned from my mother and father’s teachings that I am a child of God, that my Father in heaven loves me and will hear and answer my prayers.
“At first, faithfully believing but misunderstanding this, I fasted and prayed often that I would be healed from my infirmity so that I could be famous with my brothers. When my miracle didn’t come, again I asked why?
“Once my father said to me there was no question in life that could not be answered in the scriptures. And so I began to search them for some clue to who I really was, why I was here on this earth in this condition, and what my purpose in life was to be.
“I rambled through the pages of holy writ, reading here a verse and there a verse until one day I came across John 9:1–3:
“‘And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.
“‘And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?’
“Then Christ’s answer, like the thunder from heaven, hit me deep inside as I read:
“‘Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.’
“That’s when it finally came to me. I was an individual. I had God-given talents. And even though I couldn’t be a singer like the rest of my family, I still had something major to contribute with my life. I realized I had to stop pouting over my weaknesses. I needed to discover those talents, develop them, and use them to achieve my own success.
“I knew from the beginning it wasn’t going to be easy. But I found comfort in the words of the apostle Paul who suffered from his own problem, which he called a thorn in the flesh. He was told by the Lord that ‘strength is made perfect in weakness.’ (2 Cor. 12:9.) Paul said he took pleasure in his infirmities for ‘when I am weak, then am I strong.’ (2 Cor. 12:10.)
“I was determined I was going to make my own success in life. I wondered if there had ever been any handicapped persons who had. So I decided to do a little research.
“I discovered that about one out of every seven persons in the world has some kind of disability. I found out that there are about 25 million handicapped persons in the United States alone. But only about 10 million of them have the kind of handicaps that could keep them from leading normal, useful lives.
“With further study, I learned that there have been a lot of famous people in the world who have overcome handicaps to achieve success and make major contributions to mankind. For instance, Franklin D. Roosevelt was crippled by polio at the age of 39. He never walked again without braces or other artificial aids. Yet, Roosevelt became the only president of the United States ever elected four times.
“Helen Keller conquered not one, but three physical handicaps. She became blind, deaf, and mute before she was two years old. But she learned to read, write, and speak. She devoted her life to helping the blind and the deaf.
“Clarence Shepherd Day, Jr., was a famous American author. After the Spanish-American War, he suffered from arthritis and had to stay in bed for the rest of his life. But he did not let this interfere with his writing. He wrote the ironic and humorous books Life with Father and Life with Mother.
“Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Jose Feliciano, and Sammy Davis, Jr., are four individuals who partially or completely lost their eye sight, but they became famous actors and musicians.
“Handicapped persons have made great contributions to literature, music, and art. Lord Byron had a club foot, and Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an invalid. Each wrote some of the world’s finest poetry. After John Milton became blind, he wrote Paradise Lost, one of the world’s greatest epic poems. After Ludwig Von Beethoven became deaf, he composed some of his best-known music. Alec Templeton and George Shearing, both born blind, gained fame as outstanding popular pianists.
“Francisco Goya, the noted painter, was deaf. Actress Sarah Bernhardt held audiences spellbound even after losing a leg. Winston Churchill overcame stuttering to become one of the world’s most eloquent speakers.
“Many athletes have become champions in spite of handicaps. When Glen Cunningham was eight years old, his legs were scarred to the bone in a schoolhouse fire. Yet he became a great track star. Golfer Ben Hogan, injured in an automobile accident, was told he might never walk again. Four years later he won three of the world’s top golf tournaments. Two baseball stars, Grover Cleveland Alexander and Tony Lazzeri, had epilepsy. John Belmonte, the famous bullfighter, had a twisted and deformed body.
“In every case these people overcame a serious handicap to become noted in their fields. And there were hundreds more who were not so famous but who hurdled the insurmountable odds of their own handicaps to achieve personal success.
“After studying these cases, I found I could admit it without frustration: I had a physical handicap. And finally I accepted it and began to work hard each day to overcome its limitations and use the talents I did have to achieve success.
“My handicap became a blessing to me. It strengthened me as I learned to overcome my difficulties. I learned that I must work harder at everything I do because of my deafness. Even the simple task of speaking and expressing myself was a challenge.
“Have you ever thought of how difficult it would be to learn to talk if you could not hear the sounds of the words? It’s not easy, and it takes many hours of practice and patience. I am very grateful to my wonderful family for all the encouragement and assistance they have given me in helping me to improve my speech. I had to learn to be humble so that I could readily accept their criticism and correction.
“But in my struggles I have learned that there are more than just physical handicaps. There are handicaps of attitudes also that hold back far more people from success than the physical kind. Many individuals believe they can never achieve success, so they never try. Some even preprogram themselves to fail before they ever start.
“Against the discouragement of many who said it was impossible, I taught myself to play the piano, drums, and saxophone, and I learned how to tap dance for my own enjoyment and amusement and other people’s amazement. I conquered the skills of printing and the techniques of photography and turned them into a successful business that now provides me my livelihood.
“I learned to love people and wanted to associate with them and share my story with others so that they might learn and grow from my experiences. To do this, I started giving lectures and writing. In each case these things were and still are difficult to accomplish. But my life now has new purpose and meaning because I had the courage to try and be what I wanted to be. Through these efforts I am beginning to discover the real me.
“My parents always taught me, ‘Prepare yourself and the opportunity will come.’ John A. Widtsoe said, ‘Decide what you want to be, pay the price, and be what you want to be.’
“For those of us who are physically handicapped, the price is a little higher, but our goals can be accomplished. No one should let a disability hold him back or make him think he cannot achieve.
“Whenever the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window. Every weakness has its compensating strength. The Lord gives us this comforting promise in Ether 12:27:
“‘I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.’
“As I said, there are more than just physical weaknesses. Bad habits are weaknesses, too, and hold us back just as much as the physical ones. The love of money, lust, greed, envy, covetousness, dishonesty, criticism, unfair judgment, gossip, name calling—all are weaknesses that keep us from achieving and growing spiritually as well as temporally. Yet the Lord promises in this verse from the Book of Mormon, that if we will humble ourselves before him and seek his help, he will assist us in turning these failings into strengths.
“Impossible you may say? No, it is not. The Osmond family motto comes from Proverbs 3:5–6: [Prov. 3:5–6]
“‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“‘In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’
“I’m grateful we chose that for our motto. It’s been a strength for me in my life. It’s helped me to realize that there is no handicap in the world that can keep a person from achieving some measure of success if he or she will just keep trying, place his trust in the Lord, and never allow himself to get discouraged by self pity.
“I am often asked what advice I would give other handicapped people, and this is what I answer, although really, it applies to everyone:
“Meet with faith each challenge that comes to you. Have courage and don’t give up, no matter what your difficulties. Be independent and self-reliant. Educate yourself. Overcome selfishness and self-pity by dedicating your life to the service of others. And last, discover your talents and use them!”

One spring afternoon I was packing my car to begin shuttling my five young children to and from lessons and practices. As I loaded football cleats and dance bags, I noticed a mother duck and her ducklings waddling down the sidewalk of our suburban neighborhood.
As I watched, she began to cross the road. Unfortunately, she chose a gutter grate for her crosswalk, and as she passed over it, her babies followed. Four of her ducklings slipped helplessly between the bars of the grate.
When the mother reached the other side, she realized she was missing some of her little ones and could hear their muffled peeps. Totally oblivious of her mistake, she crossed back across the drainage grate, looking for her missing ducklings and losing two more. With horror and some disgust at her poor judgment, I went to the grate to see if I could lift it. Although I used all my strength, the grate barely budged, and I was late to pick up one of my kids.
Figuring I would have to fix the situation later when I wasn’t so rushed, I hopped in the car while muttering self-righteously, “She doesn’t deserve to be a mother.”
During the next hour and a half, I made many of my recurring parenting mistakes. These are mistakes I have begged forgiveness for many times from both my children and my Father in Heaven. Each time I resolve to do better and not to fall prey to these weaknesses again. When I snapped at one of my kids for teasing another, my words echoed loudly in my ears, “She doesn’t deserve to be a mother.”
Suddenly I felt overwhelming compassion for that mother duck. She was trying to navigate the world with the instincts she was given, just as I was. But sometimes those instincts simply weren’t enough, and it was our children who suffered.
I resolved to get the grate off somehow and lift the ducklings out. As I rounded the corner to our street, I saw a small group gathered. My neighbor had lifted the grate, climbed inside the drainage tunnel, and was gently lifting the ducklings out to safety. The frightened little birds scrambled to find their mother, who was pacing nervously in a nearby bush. She hadn’t asked for help, but my neighbor had stepped in when her protection was simply not enough. I was overcome with emotion as I thought of the Savior doing the same for my children and me.

Years ago when our youngest son, Clark, was attending a religion class at Brigham Young University, the instructor, during a lecture, asked him, “Clark, what is an example of life with your father that you best remember?”
The instructor later wrote to me and told me of the reply which Clark had given to the class. Said Clark: “When I was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood, my father and I went pheasant hunting near Malad, Idaho. The day was Monday—the last day of the pheasant hunting season. We walked through numerous fields in search of pheasants but saw only a few, and those we missed. Dad then said to me, ‘Clark,’ he looked at his watch, ‘let’s unload our guns, and we’ll place them in this ditch. Then we’ll kneel down to pray.’ I thought Dad would pray for more pheasants, but I was wrong. He explained to me that Elder Richard L. Evans of the Quorum of the Twelve was gravely ill and that at 12:00 noon on that particular Monday the members of the Quorum of the Twelve—wherever they may be—were to kneel and, in a way, together unite in a fervent prayer of faith for Elder Evans. Removing our caps, we knelt, we prayed.”
I well remember the occasion, but I never dreamed a son was watching, was learning, was building his own testimony.

One example of this process concerns the law of the fast. My parents were very supportive as I shared with them the details of my newly developing faith. My mother, however, became really concerned when I discussed with her my desire to participate in a 24-hour fast. She was shocked, not being able to accept that such a proposal was appropriate. She was adamant, saying she would not allow me to fast while in her home, fearing it would be detrimental to my health.
It was with a feeling of relief that I reported my mother’s objections to my member missionary, Pamela, informing her that unfortunately I would not be able to participate in the fast. Without hesitation, she responded, “We can easily take care of that. I’ll arrange with my parents for you to stay at our home for the weekend so you can fast with us.”
This was my introduction to the law of the fast. As I continued to observe this law each fast day, I gradually gained a testimony of the principle of fasting.

I grew up in a house on the corner of Main Street in a small Idaho town. Often during the summer we would spend our afternoons and evenings in the front yard, playing on the grass or visiting with our neighbors.
One afternoon while we were playing in the yard, my youngest sister, who was only two years old, bolted out into the street. At the same moment, a truck with a couple of teenage boys from down the street screeched around the corner. My dad acted quickly and pulled my little sister out of the truck’s path. The boys in the truck shouted unkind and inappropriate words as they sped down the street.
I was angry, to say the least. I remember thinking someone should go down to the boys’ house and put them in their place. My sister could have been hurt or killed by their careless, dangerous driving.
I was glad when I saw my mother walking down the street, and I followed her. I was certain that the boys were going to be in big trouble. When we got to the house, the boy who had been driving answered the door. He was angry and defensive. He asked what we wanted and, to my surprise, my mother began to apologize. She said she was sorry that she had allowed her daughter to be so close to the street and told him she would watch my sister more carefully in the future.
Immediately the boy’s countenance changed. He apologized for driving so fast and for putting my sister in danger. He vowed to be more careful as he drove. After the short conversation, we returned home.
I still have never seen such an immediate change come over someone as it did over that boy that afternoon. We lived in that house for 11 more years, and in that time I never again saw the boy drive carelessly around the corner. As Proverbs 15:1 teaches, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.” I imagine the outcome of the situation would have been very different if my mom would have approached angrily. Instead, two hearts were changed by the soft words of my mother.

I went on a two-day school field trip with other fifth and sixth graders to study paleontology. I shared a motel room with three of my friends. One of my friends found a Bible in the nightstand drawer. He flipped through some of the pages and then asked me if I would help him read it. I was surprised that he didn’t know any of the Bible stories I thought everyone knew. I taught him about the Creation, Adam and Eve, and the Resurrection. I also told him about Joseph Smith. I told him some of the stories I learned in Primary.
Afterward, I felt like we should have a prayer. I let my friend say the prayer. I led him through it by saying one phrase at a time and having him repeat it. I had a warm feeling, and my friend said he felt good inside.
I never expected that to happen on a school field trip. I was glad that when I had an opportunity to be a missionary, I was prepared and I wasn’t afraid to share my beliefs.

I remember my beloved grandmother, Mary Caroline Roper Finlinson, making homemade soap on the farm. Her recipe included rendered animal fat, a small portion of lye as a cleansing agent, and wood ashes as an abrasive. The soap had a very pungent aroma and was almost as hard as a brick. There was no money to buy soft, sweet-smelling soap.
On the farm, there were many dusty, sweat-laden clothes to be washed and many bodies that needed desperately a Saturday night bath. Bathing with homemade soap, you could become wonderfully clean, but you smelled worse after bathing than before. Since I use soap more now than I did then, I have developed a daily appreciation for mild, sweet-scented soap.

Lucy T., 15, from Utah, USA, says, “In my Young Women class, we were challenged to write a note to one of the widows in our ward. I decided to drop a note off at a widow’s house that I pass on the way to piano lessons. This woman loved the note so much that I decided to leave her a note every week. I also started visiting her in person. She tells me hilarious and inspiring stories and sends me cards every holiday. I’ve made a fabulous new friend.”

For example, when I was ordained a deacon, our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized was proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out.

As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told that we were assisting every member in a renewal of the covenant of baptism, with its responsibilities and blessings. We were also told how we should assist a particular brother—Louis—who had a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.

How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Louis sat. I was hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a piece of bread and pressed it to his open lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Louis made better deacons of us all.

Heather and Jodi wanted to see what rock formations they could find in the valley, but it was almost dark. They needed a light to help them find their way. Willie, DuShan, and Tommy brought a lantern, and soon they all discovered rocks that looked like the faces of people and animals. One rock even seemed to be wearing a hat!
The next day the five friends returned to see what Goblin Valley looked like in the sunshine. The strange rock creatures were still there! DuShan found a formation that reminded her of a man with a big nose. On the edge of the valley, the children saw how soft dirt and rock wear away to leave harder sandstone behind. That’s how Goblin Valley was formed.
These rock formations are in desert country where it is very hot. The heat didn’t stop Tommy from exploring right away, but DuShan needed a rest and found a carved rock that cradled her just right.
The rest of the afternoon was spent jumping, climbing, and hiking. Jodi discovered a rock that may soon lose its head! Another rock looked like an animal. Can you guess which animal? At the entrance of this valley is a group of rocks some people call the Three Wise Men. Other people call it the Three Ugly Sisters.
Many other rock creatures guard Goblin Valley, and the formations are constantly, though only gradually, changing.
Jodi, Willie, Heather, Tommy, and DuShan wanted to stay longer, but the sun was going down. Remembering how scary Goblin Valley had been the night before, they said good-bye to their ghostly buddies.

When I was nine years old, my mother announced that she wanted me to learn to play the piano. I thought there were better things for a nine-year-old boy to do, like riding my horse or roaming the hills behind our home. But I did not want to disappoint my mother, so I agreed to take piano lessons.
Every week my piano teacher gave me a new song to learn. I didn’t like to practice, but every day Mother set the timer to make sure I practiced the right amount of time. After a few months, my mother suggested that I learn to play some of the Church hymns. I agreed, and together we chose a hymn and I practiced playing it before my lesson. After that, my piano teacher assigned a new hymn for me to learn every week, along with the other music I practiced.
For the next few years, I learned to play a new hymn every week. By the time I turned 12 years old, I could play most of the familiar hymns in the hymnbook.
When I was ordained a deacon, the bishop taught me about the priesthood and that one of the things a deacon did was serve others. The bishop knew I had learned to play the hymns, so he called me to be a pianist during some of our church meetings. I enjoyed playing the hymns during our meetings. It made me feel that I could make a contribution to our worship services. Even as a young boy, I felt like an important part of the Church because I knew our ward needed me.
By the time I turned 16, our family had moved to Salt Lake City. Our new bishop asked me if I would be the ward organist. I told him that I did not know how to play the organ. “Well, you can learn, can’t you?” he asked. And I said, “Yes, I guess I can.” So I taught myself to play the organ by going to the church to practice.
That calling gave me a sense of service. That wise bishop who called me knew that playing the organ in sacrament meeting would help prepare me for a mission. And later, as a missionary in Germany, I played the hymns nearly every week in small branches that did not have a pianist.
That skill I learned as a nine-year-old boy really set a pattern for my church service through my whole life. Even today, long after I have forgotten the other music I learned to play, the hymns come easily to me. I can play them just like I did as a young boy.
I will always be grateful to my mother for encouraging me and helping me learn to play the hymns. Learning to play that sacred music had a profound influence on me, and it helped me learn to serve in the Church. I think that is the lesson my mother and my priesthood leaders really wanted me to learn. They knew that the sacred music would speak to my mind and my heart, and that the words and music would become familiar friends to bless me throughout my life.

While teaching the Saints in Costa Rica, I held up a copy of Teaching, No Greater Call and asked, “So how many of you have a copy of this manual?” Nearly everyone raised a hand. With a smile, I said, “And I bet you’re reading it every single day.” To my surprise, a sister on the front row raised her hand, indicating that she was reading it every day. I asked her to come to the podium and explain. She responded, “I read the Book of Mormon every morning. Then I read something in Teaching, No Greater Call so I can teach my children in the very best way what I’ve just learned.”
She wanted to learn and teach His word in His way, so she studied His word in the scriptures and then studied how to teach His word so that her children could be fully converted. Her pattern of gospel learning and teaching did not happen, I believe, all at once. She made a decision to do something. And the more she did what she knew she should do, the more the Lord strengthened her to walk in His way.

When I was in the first grade, I experienced what I thought was a rather tough day at school. I came home, walked in the house, threw my book on the kitchen table, and let forth [some bad words] that included the name of the Lord.
My mother was shocked. She told me quietly, but firmly, how wrong I was. She told me that I could not have words of that kind coming out of my mouth. She led me by the hand into the bathroom, where she took from the shelf a clean washcloth, put it under the faucet, and then generously coated it with soap. She said, “We’ll have to wash out your mouth.” She told me to open it, and I did so reluctantly. Then she rubbed the soapy washcloth around my tongue and teeth. I sputtered and fumed and felt like swearing again, but I didn’t. I rinsed and rinsed my mouth, but it was a long while before the soapy taste was gone. In fact, whenever I think of that experience, I can still taste the soap. I have tried to avoid using the name of the Lord in vain since that day. I am grateful for that lesson.

Jane Allgood Bailey wasn’t about to give up the light of her new religion. She would not be defeated by the cold, starvation, and sickness on the plains of Wyoming. She grasped hands with other women to wade through icy streams. They came out on the other side with their clothes frozen to them, but they carried on. On the trek, her 18-year-old son, Langley, became ill and was so weak that he had to be pushed on the handcart much of the way. One morning he rose from his bed on the cart, which had frozen canvas for bedding, and he went ahead of the company and lay down under a sagebrush to die, feeling that he was too much of a burden. When his faithful mother found him, she scolded him and told him: “Get on the cart. I’ll help you, but you’re not giving up!” Then the family moved on with what was left of the Martin-Willey Handcart Company.

Upon arrival in the Salt Lake Valley, Langley was still alive! He was 18 years old and he weighed only 60 pounds. That 18-year-old boy was my great-grandfather. I’m grateful for the preservation of his young life and for the fortitude and stamina of his noble, courageous mother, who was a light to her family and kept her son going in spite of deathly odds.

“I knew if anyone could save us, it would be the Mormons!” says Janine Petryliak, an administrator at the Canadian Diabetes Association.
Just weeks before the CDA’s annual donations drive, its records were destroyed, which put the fund-raiser in danger of being canceled. Although she is not a member of the Church, Janine knew she could count on the Latter-day Saints for help. She wasn’t disappointed.
“It seemed like a project that would be enjoyable,” says Tauni Schmirler, a 17-year-old Laurel in the Okotoks (Alberta, Canada) Ward, who organized the project. “I could do it with my friends and get them involved, and it gave them all service opportunities.”
Youth in other wards surrounding Calgary were quick to help the association as well. They were out on the streets collecting money just days after they were called on to help in the communities of Airdrie, Strathmore, Olds, High River, Vulcan, Morrin, Hanna, and Drumheller. Donning coats, mittens, hats, and scarves, they hit the streets in the early winter’s below-zero temperatures.
The winter cold, it seems, turned out to be an advantage.
“The colder it was, the nicer the people were,” says Shawn Matthews of Okotoks.

One evening several years ago, my wife and I were visiting the home of one of our sons and his wife and children for dinner. It was a typical event for a family with small children: there was much noise and even more fun. Shortly after dinner our four-year-old granddaughter, Anna, and I were still sitting at the table. Realizing that she had my full attention, she stood up straight on a bench and fixed her eyes on me. When she was sure that I was looking at her, she solemnly ordered me to “watch and learn.” She then danced and sang a song for me.
Anna’s instruction to “watch and learn” was wisdom from the mouth of a babe. We can learn so much by watching and then considering what we have seen and felt. In that spirit, let me share with you a few principles I have observed by watching and learning from wonderful, faithful marriages. These principles build strong, satisfying marriages that are compatible with heavenly principles. I invite you to watch and learn with me.

Katya carried a large box as she walked out of her apartment building into the sunshine. It was summer, and for a few months, the weather was warm in her city in Russia. She set the box down on a bench where her friends Dima and Sonya were waiting.
“Here’s everything we need for our play!” Katya said. She opened the box and pulled out a plastic crown and pieces of purple, blue, and red cloth. With some creativity, these would make great costumes.
“What play are we doing?” Dima asked.
Katya smiled. “I think we should do ‘The Frog Princess’!” It was her favorite fairy tale. Katya smiled as she imagined herself playing the beautiful Vasilisa.
Sonya grabbed the blue cloth from the box and draped it around herself. “I want to be Vasilisa!” she said.
“Wait,” said Katya. “It was my idea. That means I should be Vasilisa.”
“You can be her,” said Sonya. But then she giggled. “When she’s a frog!”
Katya frowned and pulled the blue cloth away from Sonya. “But it’s my play!”
Sonya put her hands on her hips. “Nobody wants to play with you if you’re bossy. You’re a better frog than a princess.”
Katya felt tears in her eyes. She grabbed her box and ran inside, all the way up the stairs into her family’s apartment. She slammed the door behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Mama said. Katya burst into tears.
“Sonya is ruining everything!” Katya told Mama the whole story. “She said I was a frog!”
“Oh, Katyusha,” Mama said. Katyusha was Mama’s nickname for Katya. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of her.”
Just then there was a knock at the door. Mama went to answer it, but Katya ran to her room. She heard voices, and then Mama called to her. “Would you like to talk to Sonya? She has something to say to you.”
“No!” Katya yelled.
She could hear voices again, and then she heard the door close.
“I think Sonya is sorry,” Mama said.
“I don’t care,” Katya said. She pushed her face deeper into her pillow.
Mama stood by the door for a minute. “You know, sometimes when I’m really angry, I don’t want to forgive other people. Sometimes I need to ask Heavenly Father to help me want to forgive.” Then she walked away.
Katya was too angry to forgive. Sonya had hurt her feelings! But … being angry didn’t feel very good either.
She sighed and knelt by the side of her bed. Katya knew Heavenly Father wanted her to forgive Sonya. It was the right thing to do. But maybe Heavenly Father wanted Katya to forgive because it would help Katya feel better too.
“Heavenly Father, please help me forgive Sonya,” she said. “I really don’t want to, but I also don’t want to stay angry.”
She finished her prayer and took a deep breath. Katya felt her anger start to melt away, just a little. She could do this. She could forgive. She walked to Sonya’s apartment and knocked on the door.
Sonya opened it and started talking right away. “Katya, I’m sorry for what I said.”
“I forgive you,” said Katya. “And I’m sorry I took all my costumes back. You would be a good Vasilisa too. We can take turns.”
Sonya smiled. “OK. Can we go practice now? I’ll get Dima!”
Katya smiled back. “I’ll get the costumes!”

I was halfway up a climbing wall, completely stuck. Moments earlier, I had been on the ground, chatting with friends and waiting in line. Although I’d never climbed a wall like this before, I hadn’t been nervous or concerned. Within a matter of seconds though, everything had changed. I now clung desperately to handholds, my progress stopped by inexperience and fear.
Only moments before, when the man ahead of me slipped in his own ascent and descended slowly to the ground, I readied myself to climb. As I strapped on the safety gear, my friend Kent tapped me on the shoulder. “Liz, I’ve been watching the climbers and studying the wall. I know how to get to the top. Take your first step with your left foot and grab high with your right hand …” Kent’s directions were detailed, like driving instructions, but I just nodded without really paying attention. The wall didn’t look hard. I was sure I could do it on my own.
Disregarding Kent’s instructions, I grabbed holds right in front of me and followed the course that seemed to offer the least resistance. Climbing quickly, I took three fairly easy steps, and then … nothing. The next handhold was out of reach, and I couldn’t find a toehold. I was only 10 feet up, and my options had entirely disappeared.
Cutting through my predicament, I heard Kent’s voice from below. “Liz, I told the instructor that you are a first-time climber. He said you can start over. Come down and begin again, this time with your left foot.”
I quickly descended, thanked the instructor, and started again. This time I listened to Kent’s instructions as he directed me up the wall. Following the course he charted, I climbed, stretched, and maneuvered my way up. Nearing the top, I made a sickening discovery. The bell that from below had appeared easy to reach was actually located on an overhang.
“Liz,” Kent called, “you’re going to have to jump up to grasp that handhold to the left of the bell. With your left hand on that hold, you’ll be able to ring the bell with your right. You can do it, Liz.”
Was he crazy? If I jumped for the handhold, I would be airborne for a split second. And if I could grab the handhold by the bell, my feet would be left dangling in the air.
As I felt my fingers slipping, I realized that I needed to trust Kent’s directions. He could see the entire wall. He had watched others before me. He knew this was the only way for me to succeed. I resolved to follow his instructions and trust my guide. Jumping high, I grabbed the left handhold and reached for the bell. I’m not sure which I heard first, the bell up high or the cheers down below, but both assured me that I had succeeded.
On the climbing wall, I was given permission to try again by an understanding instructor. In life, we are given the ability to try again by an even more understanding Savior. If we repent of our errors, heed the counsel of those He has called, and keep striving upward in faith and hope, each and every one of us can reach the top and ring the victory bell.