Gospel Story Finder

I have had similar experiences in my spiritual life. At Christmastime, after my first child was born, Margo and I traveled back to Utah from Wisconsin, where I was studying physics. When my daughter, Melanie, got an ear infection, we found that we were missing two really important things: insurance coverage and money—two things that many of you have trouble with, too. She cried and cried, and it started to look like a budget-busting Sunday night trip to the emergency room was going to be required. In desperation I went to a bedroom in my in-laws’ house, where we were staying, closed the door, held her in my arms, and gave her a priesthood blessing. She immediately settled down and went to sleep, and the next day a kind doctor treated her ear infection (for cheap) in his office.

We have met many other consecrated Church members who exemplify dedication and faithfulness. Some time ago a group of Saints from Punta Arenas, Chile, went to the Santiago Chile Temple. This trip requires some 80 hours by bus and often uses up the only vacation time people have during the year. One member of the group was a woman named Hermana Álvarez, who is less than four feet (1.2 m) tall and has difficulty walking. She carried with her some 27 family names for whom she wanted to do the vicarious work. What a thrill it was to be able to help her fulfill her worthy dream and to realize the extent to which so many Saints dedicate themselves to living and defending the principles of the gospel as a reflection of the law of consecration.

All of this came together for me in a very personal way a year or so ago in Manila in the Philippines when a telephone call from my wife reached me in the middle of the night in a hotel room telling me that our only son had suffered a severe accident that threatened his mobility and perhaps his life. He was being flown home to be operated on.

About the time of his anticipated arrival home, I telephoned. There was a brief delay, then the sound of my wife’s voice, quiet and subdued. “Your four sons-in-law are standing around your son administering to him,” she said. “Paul has anointed him, and John is about to give him a blessing. He was worried because you’re not here. This will be the first administration he’s had from anyone but his father—but he’s comforted now.” I joined them in that prayer of blessing on my knees in a lonely hotel room half a world away, a room suddenly made sweet and warm.

On 28 February 1998 Judy Marie Guzmán Pérez was one of some 800 young athletes from 200 schools on the islands of Puerto Rico, St. Croix, and St. Thomas invited to a prestigious athletic competition at the University Inter-Americana. The athletes were divided into three groups and judged on personal characteristics such as effort and overall performance as well as on race times. The judges selected Judy Marie as the most outstanding athlete in her group. During her athletic career at Jardines de Ponce High School, she has collected 110 gold, silver, and bronze medals and 6 trophies; but, she says, her plaque from the University Inter-Americana is one of her most prized possessions.

It may not look like Joseph Ahuna is getting ready to go on a mission, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. Joseph earns money for his mission fund performing Polynesian and Native American dances for tourists at Waikiki on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, where he and his family live. This 17-year-old has saved nearly half of what he needs to pay for his mission.
But Joseph knows that money is just a small part of being prepared for a mission. “You have to live the standards of the Church,” he says. Joseph keeps a “For the Strength of Youth” card in his wallet to remind him of those standards.

We have some sense of the rejoicing that is going on in Quito, Ecuador; Harare, Zimbabwe; Belém, Brazil; and Lima, Peru, both with members and missionaries, based on what happened in Bangkok, Thailand, a year ago when that temple was announced. Sister Shelly Senior, wife of the then-president of the Thailand Bangkok Mission, David Senior, emailed family and friends to say that after she and her husband had listened to President Monson announce that temple, there had been “12 sleepless hours and lots of tears of happiness.” They called their mission assistants at 11:30 p.m. and informed them. The assistants called all the missionaries. The report came back that the “whole mission was awake in the middle of the night jumping on their beds.” Sister Senior humorously admonished family and friends, “Please don’t tell the Missionary Department!”4

You’re unusually quiet,” Mark’s mother observed on the drive home from Church. “Is anything wrong?”
Mark found tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Today in Primary our teacher talked about testimonies and challenged us to bear ours. I really wanted to do it in fast and testimony meeting today, but I just couldn’t. When I thought about standing up in front of all those people, I got scared. Besides, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I guess I don’t have a testimony, after all.”
“It is frightening to stand up in front of all those people, especially if you don’t know what you’re going to say,” Mark’s mother agreed with him. “But it doesn’t mean that you don’t have a testimony. Do you know what it means to ‘bear a testimony’?”
“My teacher said it means to stand as a witness for something, like at a trial.”
“That’s one meaning. But another meaning of bear is ‘carry it with you.’ Our testimonies show in what we say and do every day of the week, not just on Sundays. Do you want to know if you have a testimony?”
“Yes.”
“Pay attention to how you live your life this month. I think you’ll discover that you are bearing your testimony all the time.”
Mark hoped that what his mother said was right. He thought that he had a testimony, but he wasn’t sure. He decided that each Sunday he would write in his journal about anything that happened to him that week involving his testimony.
The first week he wrote about something his friend, Jay, had said to him. He and Jay shared a paper route after school and split their paycheck. That week Jay had said to him, “I can’t understand why you always have more money than I do—we get paid the same amount.”
“You always spend yours right away on little things,” Mark pointed out.
“I know,” Jay said. “But a lot of yours goes to your church for—what do you call it again?”
“Tithing.”
“Yeah, tithing. And into your mission savings. But you still have more left than I do.”
Mark had never thought about it before, but it was true. He did seem to have more spending money than Jay. He guessed that he was just more careful with what he had left after tithing and savings.
The next week he didn’t know what he’d write about in his journal until Saturday night. That night his friends came over and invited him to go to the movies with them. He was excited until he heard the name of the movie. “I can’t see that movie,” he told his friends.
They were surprised. “Why not? It’s a really funny movie.”
“Because the rating tells me that it has something in it that we shouldn’t see.”
“It’s just a movie,” his friends tried to persuade him.
Mark thought about a lesson his family had had at a family home evening. He knew that the prophets had warned about watching bad things on TV and in movies, or looking at bad things in magazines or books. It was almost impossible to erase those bad images from your mind.
“I’d rather not see it,” he said, and his friends went without him.
The third week, Mark knew what he was going to write about in his journal long before Sunday. It was Monday morning, in fact, when one of his friends, Rob, had come to school looking very tired.
“What’s wrong,” Mark asked him. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Rob yawned. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I ate too much candy, and my stomach was upset for a long time.”
“Too much candy isn’t good for you,” Mark said. “It’s better to snack on fruit or eat a cheese sandwich or something.”
“I know that now,” Rob said as he put his head down on his desk.
The last week of the month, Mark wrote about a very frightening thing that had happened to him. He had been out delivering his papers in the rain and was almost hit by a car. Later he remembered that in their family prayers that morning, his little sister had prayed that they would all be safe in the rain.
When fast Sunday came again, Mark was prepared. His family sat close to the front of the chapel so that he could be first to the podium when it was time for bearing testimonies. During the meeting, he offered a prayer in his heart that he would know what to say.
When it was time, he stood and walked up to the microphone. At first, he was nervous at seeing all the people looking back at him, but most of them were smiling, and he knew that they were his friends.
“I have a testimony of the law of tithing,” he began, “and of the Word of Wisdom. I know we have a living prophet today, and I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.” Mark ended his testimony and sat down. His mom patted him on the knee.
He still felt a bit shaky, but mostly he had a really good feeling, like he was glowing from head to toe. He was glad that he had a testimony and that he could bear it every single day.

By late afternoon the next day, 30 backpacks formed a long, brightly colored line that moved slowly up toward the clouds. We were with Varsity Scouts from the South Cottonwood Third Ward, Salt Lake Cottonwood Stake, and Explorers from the Granger 22nd Ward, Salt Lake Granger Central Stake. We were hiking in the Wind River Mountains, which are close to the Tetons and to the camp.
The weight of the packs and the slipping rocks underfoot kept heads bent toward the trail. Sweat streamed down everyone’s face. All of us walked one step at a time on a path that had started steep and was getting even steeper.
“We’re getting high enough to meet the angel Gabriel,” Robert Beeler joked. The rest of the group didn’t do much talking. Behind lay the valley floor, where we had started that morning. It seemed incredibly distant. But even though everyone was exhausted, the guides kept us all moving.
“There wasn’t just one big push,” Ron Wood remembered later. “The whole day was the push. A lot of us wondered if we were ever going to make it.”
“My pack was way too heavy,” Steven Aslami admitted. “So the other guys divided up some of my things and carried them for me. Next time,” he laughed, “I’ll leave my stereo home.”
Rest stops were kept short, just long enough for everyone to catch their breath and for our guides, Richard Jones and Greg Longson, to check maps. Both Richard and Greg are returned missionaries. Like Bob Burk, they had come to the base as young Scouts. Like Bob, they had now returned for the summer to share what they’d learned.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Kelly Crowther asked.
“Not too far.” The guides had been saying the same thing since the first hour.
The trail continued into the alpine zone, the highest region of the wilderness. A red-tailed hawk drifted in the warm evening air. The mountain was beautiful, but later, when asked about the scenery on the first part of the hike, Doug Tolman summed up what most of us had experienced: “Scenery? I don’t know. All I saw were my feet.”
The incline became less steep, dropped down, and finally ended at Coyote Lake. It was evening, and the sun was going down. Fish were turning in the water. We took off our packs, drank from an icy stream, and built our campfires. As a precaution against marauding bears, we hung our food in trees. Soon the rich aroma of stew mixed with the fragrance of mountain air. There was a relaxed feeling of accomplishment. All of us felt it, the kind of feeling that comes only when you’ve worked hard for something. Sleep came easily that night.

For a few brief seconds after he woke up, Steve Caldwell felt fine. He’d been dreaming that he was hairy beyond belief, a recurring dream since his mission and the loss of some of his hair.
Then the memory of the date he’d had the night before thudded into his memory like a lead ball. He sat up on the edge of his bed and gloomily looked out at the snow swirling past his window.
“Big snowstorm today,” his roommate announced. “The interstate’s already closed.”
“Do you know how many girls at BYU have told me that they like me only as a friend?” Steve asked. But his roommate breezed out of the room, leaving the question hanging in the air.
Steve sat and brooded.
An hour later, however, a sudden great idea flashed into his mind, causing him to hurriedly get dressed.
“Where are you going in this weather?” his roommate asked as Steve bundled up in his parka.
“If they can send a man to the moon, the least they can do is give me hair!” With that, he was out the door.
His car wouldn’t start, but undaunted, he trudged through knee-high drifts.
The first thing he noticed about the usually busy BYU health center was that there were no cars in the parking lot. In fact, there was no parking lot, only a field of snow. He climbed over a drift near the front door and walked in.
“I’m sorry,” the girl at the reception desk told him, “but the doctors aren’t in yet because of the storm. You’ll have to wait.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. I’m only the receptionist.”
“Do any of the doctors do hair transplants?”
“I don’t know. I’m just the receptionist.”
“I see.”
He walked into the waiting room. It was empty except for a girl reading a magazine while breathing noisily through her mouth.
He sat down on a chair opposite the girl and alternated between reading a magazine about tooth decay and watching her struggle for breath.
She looked up from her magazine suddenly to catch him staring at her.
“You’ve got a bad cold,” he said.
She burst out crying.
“Nothing to cry about. Everybody gets ‘em.”
“It’s not that!” she sobbed, fumbling for a tissue in her purse. “I was going with a guy, and last night he broke up with me. I cried all night.”
“Really? The same thing happened to me last night.”
She stared at him, and then asked, “You cried all night?”
“No. My girl broke up with me, too.”
“It’s rotten, isn’t it? Had you been going together very long?”
“Two weeks,” Steve admitted.
“That’s not very long.”
“It was to her. Last night she told me she could never get serious with a guy who had less hair than her grandfather.”
“How cruel.”
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Susan Benson.”
“I’m Steve Caldwell.” He stood up, walked over to her, put out his hand, had second thoughts, and withdrew it. “Okay if I don’t shake your hand? You can’t be too careful these days.”
She looked at him strangely.
“Germwise, I mean,” he clarified.
He returned to his chair. “Well, there are always other fish in the sea, hey?”
“Not for me,” she cried. “I need tall fish.”
He lowered his eyes to the magazine and tried to figure out what she meant.
“I’m taller than your average coed,” she explained.
“You don’t look so tall to me.”
“That’s because I’m sitting down.”
“Oh sure. Well, even so, you’re no King Kong.”
Her lips began to curl downward, and he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Hoping to smooth things over, he added, “I mean from here you don’t look that abnormal to me.”
She started to cry again. He felt terrible.
“I’m not that tall,” she finally said, “but guys don’t date a girl unless they’re at least two inches taller.”
“I’ve never heard that.”
“Have you ever dated anybody taller than you?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got enough problems.”
She began crying again, and he read the same paragraph about gum diseases for the seventh time.
Finally unable to stand her crying, he put down his magazine. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I’m sure you’re a very nice person.”
She blew her nose and looked up at him. “Do you really think so?”
“Sure. And you shouldn’t worry. There are plenty of tall guys on campus. I mean, just look at the basketball team.”
“There are 47 guys in school who are at least two inches taller than me. Twenty-six of them are already married. Nine are waiting to go on missions. Eight of them are either engaged or going steady with someone else. I broke up with one last night.”
He added the numbers up in his head. “That still leaves three.”
“One is my cousin.”
“Two.”
“One is 42 years old.”
“One.”
“One eats only yogurt and sesame seeds and always carries an orange in his left hand.”
“Zero. I see what you mean. You’re really in a pickle.”
She cried while he read. A few minutes later, he tried again. “I never knew there was so much tooth decay.”
“Where I grew up, we had fluoride naturally in the water.”
“I bet you don’t have very many cavities, do you?”
She started to answer but stopped to touch her cheekbone. “My sinuses are killing me. It feels like my whole head’s been pumped with Jello.”
“I’ll see what’s keeping the doctors.”
On his way to the reception desk, he stopped at a window and surveyed the raging blizzard. It was impossible to see 20 feet beyond the building.
“Nurse?” he asked the girl at the desk, who was listening to her small portable radio.
“I’m not a nurse. I’m just a receptionist.”
“Right. Where are the doctors?”
“I don’t know. The storm may have blocked the streets.”
“Say, have you got anything for that girl? She’s got a sinus problem.”
“This isn’t a drugstore, you know. I’m not a pharmacist.”
“Miss Williams, is that your name?” he said reading the name tag on her uniform. “Don’t doctors get little samples of medicine?”
He walked to a cabinet and opened it. “Do you have a first name?”
“Of course I do.”
He looked at all the packets of medicine.
“You’re not trained to look in the cabinet,” she said.
“Miss Williams, do you have any idea the suffering that poor girl is going through in there? Don’t you have any empathy?”
“If we have any, it’ll be there.”
He finally found a sinus pill. He read the directions out loud: “‘Drowsiness may occur. Use caution in driving or operating machinery.’”
He took a glass of water and the pill back to Susan. She took it and thanked him.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I came to get a hair transplant.”
“Do they do that now?”
“Look,” he answered, feeling himself tense up, “they sent a man to the moon. They ought to be able to grow hair on my head.”
“It’s not that bad, really. What are you, 26?”
Steve bit his lip. “I’m 22.”
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s not the hair that bothers me. It’s what people say. They’re so cruel.”
“I know about cruel,” she agreed. “I was five ten in the eighth grade.”
“If you’re tall, you should play basketball.”
“I do.”
“I mean for BYU.”
“I do.”
“Oh. You really are an athlete. I always used to dream about being an athlete. Tell me, do guys ever wait outside the gym and ask you for your autograph?”
“No.”
“That was the only reason I wanted to be an athlete—to sign autographs for girls.”
Susan yawned. “Wow, that pill really made me sleepy.”
A few minutes later, she was asleep in her chair.
Steve finally gave up on his magazine and turned on the TV in the waiting room, but after four commercials, the screen went blank, and he turned it off.
A little later, Miss Williams came into the waiting room. “May I have your attention?” she asked formally as if there were a hundred people in the room. “Dr. Rawlins has asked that I close the health center and send all of you home.”
“Okay.”
“But just after I talked with him, I heard on the radio that they advise everybody to stay where they are.”
“Do we go or stay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Miss Williams confessed. “What do you think we should do?”
He looked out again at the raging blizzard and said, “We’d better stay.”
“Okay, we stay.” Suddenly she noticed Susan with her head tilted back against the back of the chair, breathing through her open mouth. “Is anything wrong with her?”
“No, she’s just tired. Did you know that where she came from they had natural fluoride in the water? I bet she doesn’t have many fillings in her teeth.”
“Really?” Miss Williams asked.
“I’ve been reading about tooth decay. I wonder if she’d mind if we looked into her mouth,” he said.
They both leaned over and peered into Susan’s open mouth.
“Isn’t that amazing?” he whispered.
“It’s breathtaking,” Miss Williams agreed.
“I’ve never seen teeth with absolutely no fillings,” he continued. “I wish I had my camera.”
“Really.”
“She has a nice face, too, don’t you think?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess we both need someone right now.”
“We don’t get many romances here.”
“Oh, it’d never work out. She’s taller than me, and I don’t have all my hair. People’d always be making fun of us.”
“Do you really care about people who do that?”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, looking at Susan’s upper molars. “Oh, look! I see a filling way in the back. You have to get down and tilt your head over like this.
Miss Williams also looked. “Where?”
“Way back, where my finger’s pointing.”
Just then Susan woke up, saw them peering into her mouth, and screamed.
Steve grabbed his ears and moaned.
“Why were you looking into my mouth?” Susan demanded.
“We were looking at your teeth,” he confessed.
“Why?”
“The TV wasn’t working,” he answered lamely.
“You scared me to death. I thought at first you both were vampires.”
Miss Williams went back to the reception desk. Steve sat down and picked up his magazine.
“I’m sorry, Susan. I had no right. The least I could have done was ask your permission. You can look at my teeth if you’d like.”
“No thanks.”
“You have amazing teeth. You can truly be proud.”
“I brush regularly and watch my snacks.”
He looked up from his magazine. “I bet you’ll teach that to your children, too, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You’ll be a wonderful mother. If you have boys, you can teach them basketball.”
“Girls, too.”
“Oh, sure, it wouldn’t matter, would it?”
“And you could show them how to be interested and concerned about other people …” Suddenly she stopped and blushed. “I didn’t mean to imply that we’d get married.”
“It’s all right.”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I think you’re a nice guy, but it was dumb of me to imply that we’d be married in the temple and have a wonderful family.”
“No, really, it’s fine.” He put down his magazine, walked over and sat down beside her. “Susan, I’ve never said this before to any girl, but I think you’re nice.”
“Thanks. That’s good to hear, especially after last night.”
“You know,” he said, holding her hand, “you remind me of a greyhound.”
“I do?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, not the bus,” he said quickly. “I mean the dog … that is … I mean … you look like you probably run gracefully.”
“People say that on a fast break heading for the basket, I remind them of a gazelle.”
“One thing’s for sure. Next home game you have, I’m going.”
She looked down at his hand clasping hers. “Is that a very good idea?” she asked quietly.
He looked at her strangely.
“Germwise, I mean,” she added.
“I can take it.”
They sat in silence together for several seconds before she whispered softly, “Steve, could you let go of my hand? I have to take care of my nose.”
While she did that, he stood up and walked to the window. Moving aside the drapes, he saw a seven-foot snow drift.
“Susan, you’ve got to see this drift.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, remaining in the chair.
“No, come here and see it.”
“I’m afraid,” she confessed.
“Snow can’t hurt you.”
“I’m afraid of standing up.”
He turned to face her and asked gently, “You are?”
“When I stand up, you’ll see how tall I am, and I’m afraid that’ll change our friendship.”
“But we can’t go through life together with you in that chair.”
“All right,” she sighed, “but turn around while I stand up and walk to you.”
He turned around.
“I’m walking toward you now, but don’t turn around until I say. Steve, I don’t think of you as a person who’s shorter than me.”
He could tell that she was just in back of him.
“All right, you can turn around now.”
He turned around, looked at her, and whispered, “Good grief!”
She ran from the room. A second later, he ran after her. He heard a door slam, but by the time he reached the hallway, he couldn’t tell which room Susan had entered.
“Where is she?” he asked Miss Williams.
“Second door to the right.”
He ran to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked.
“Susan!” he yelled. “Listen to me! I’m sorry!”
From inside the room, he could hear her crying.
Miss Williams appeared beside him. “I’m sure the medical staff would frown on this kind of activity going on in the medical center.”
“Susan, it doesn’t matter! Susan! Come out so we can talk!”
“No,” a muffled voice answered.
“Susan, if you don’t come out, I’m going to do something drastic!”
Just then the electrical power throughout the building went out as the blizzard raged on.
Susan opened the door a few seconds later. “How’d you do that?”
“It was the storm. The power just went out.”
“Oh, no,” Miss Williams moaned. “What are we going to do now? We’ll freeze to death.”
“We’ll survive! Don’t worry. First thing, get some doctor’s smocks for us to put on to keep us warm.”
A few minutes later, each wearing a doctor’s white smock, they sat down behind the reception desk. Steve took charge. “Now we’re going to tell stories and play games and have a nice LDS get-together until the storm lets up. It’ll be just like a long ward activity.”
“How long?” Susan asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Can we play Simon Says?” Miss Williams asked eagerly.
“Later. First I want to tell you about my mission.”
“Then can we play Simon Says?”
Suddenly they heard yelling outside. The door opened and a student staggered in, his clothes caked with snow. He wearily stumbled to the reception desk, saw Steve, and cried out, “Doctor, you’ve got to help me!”
“Well, actually …” Steve began.
“I’ve been so depressed lately. This morning I even thought about committing suicide. You’ve got to help me, or I don’t know what I’ll do!”
Steve glanced down at the name tag reading Dr. Rawlins on the smock he was wearing, and then up at the student. “What would happen if you couldn’t see a doctor today?”
“Don’t you understand what I’m saying?”
“I see,” Steve said. “All right, I’ll see you. What’s your name?”
“Frank Henderson.”
“Before we start an examination, we need you to fill out a form. Miss Williams, get a form.”
“What form?”
“Any form!” Steve whispered. “Have him fill it out in a room down the hall.”
As Miss Williams escorted Frank down the hall, Steve called out, “Frank, take all the time you want to fill out the form.”
After depositing Frank in a room down the hall, Miss Williams ran back to the reception desk, nearly hysterical. “What are we going to do?”
“Don’t ask me! I’m not a doctor!” Steve said.
“We could phone a doctor and ask him what to do,” Susan offered.
Miss Williams dialed the number and summarized the situation concisely: “Dr. Rawlins, there’s a student here who says he’s terribly depressed! What do we do?” A long pause followed. “I see.” Another long pause. “Yes, doctor.” A few seconds later. “Oh, rats!”
“Oh, rats?” Steve asked.
“The phone just went dead.”
“Well, what did he say before the phone went dead?” Steve asked.
“He said for us not to let him leave the building. Dr. Rawlins will try and find some way to get here.”
Just then, Frank returned with the completed form, which he handed to Steve. “Now what? I’ve had plenty of counseling before, but none of it’s done any good. What do you people do?”
Steve felt all three of them staring at him. He cleared his throat. “Of course it varies with the individual case. There are a number of different treatments possible.”
“Believe me, I’ve had ’em all. What will you do for my case?”
Steve picked up the form and pretended to be examining it. Finally, he cleared his throat and announced as officially as he could, “We could play Simon Says.”
“Oh, good!” Miss Williams said.
“Wait a minute!” Frank said suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of that therapy before.”
“It’s new,” Susan said. “You could say we are the pioneers in Simon Therapy.”
“Okay, everybody line up against the wall,” ‘Steve said. “I’ll be Simon.”
“Really, you should be Dr. Simon,” Frank suggested as they lined up.
“Simon will do. By the way, Frank, why were you so depressed this morning?”
“Because I’m a failure.”
“I see. Well, let’s begin. Susan, Simon says, take two regular steps forward.”
Susan took two steps forward.
“Frank, Simon says, take two regular steps forward.”
Frank wiped his brow, put his fingers over his mouth, and stared at the floor. “No, I can’t do it. You’re trying to trick me.”
“No, I’m not. Go ahead, you can do it.”
Frank took two steps forward. “Look, I did it!”
“Good. Okay, Miss Williams, Simon says, take two tiny steps forward.”
She did so.
“Frank, Simon says, take two giant steps forward.”
“How big is a giant step?” Frank asked apprehensively.
“It’ll vary with the individual.”
Frank nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I don’t trust giant steps. Go on to someone else.”
“All right then. Frank, just take two regular steps forward.”
Frank took the two steps.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Miss Williams yelled. “He walked, and you didn’t say Simon says!”
“Miss Williams!” Steve warned.
“Those are the rules! He has to go back and start all over again.”
“I knew you were out to get me!” Frank yelled.
“Nobody’s out to get you!” Steve yelled back.
Frank slumped to the floor in utter defeat. “I’ve failed again! Everybody is ahead of me, in every class, in every job, in everything!”
“For crying out loud! Frank, get up! Don’t you know that you’ve got to have failures in order to succeed! There’s nothing wrong with having to start all over again. It’s a part of life. You only fail if you quit. And doing yourself in would be the ultimate in being a quitter.”
Frank stared at the floor for several seconds and then said quietly, “But I’ll never be a nuclear physicist.”
“So what?” Steve said. “Neither will I.”
“But it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do all my life, ever since I started to watch science fiction movies about the brilliant scientist who saves the galaxy from destruction.”
“What’s the problem?” Susan asked.
“Calculus. I can’t pass first semester calculus.”
“Calculus? What’s that?” Susan asked.
“If I knew what it was, I could probably pass it.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Miss Williams said, “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again.”
“I have. This is my fourth time to take it. I flunked the first three times.”
“Oh.”
“It isn’t fair,” Frank complained. “Life isn’t fair. I want to be a nuclear physicist, but I can’t do math.”
“I know what you mean,” Steve agreed. “I want to have lots of hair, but look at me now.”
“And I want to be average in height, and look at me,” Susan added.
“I want to be a nurse, and I’m only a receptionist,” Miss Williams said.
They all went into the waiting room and sat down and brooded.
“So, what do we do?” Frank asked. “Give up?”
“The things that are important to you aren’t important to me,” Susan said. “I mean I don’t care if Steve has a whole head of hair or not. If he hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have paid any attention to it. Life is more than hair.”
“That’s right,” Steve added. “I don’t care if Susan is tall or not. Life is more than being average in height.”
“And I certainly don’t care if Frank is a … what?” Miss Williams added.
“Nuclear physicist,” Frank said. “That’s it!” Steve said. “We’ve all been worried about what we can’t be. What we ought to concentrate on is what we can be! I’m a nice guy, and I like working with people.”
“And I’m a good athlete,” Susan said.
“And a good receptionist is very important to a medical staff,” Miss Williams said cheerfully.
“And I can be a science fiction writer and write about the brilliant scientists who save the galaxy from destruction!” Frank added.
The electrical power went back on, and Frank and Miss Williams hurried to see if the phones were working yet.
Steve and Susan sat across from each other.
“I should apologize,” Susan began. “I’ve been acting as if I were shipwrecked and you were the only life raft in the sea.”
“And I’ve treated you badly,” he admitted.
“You know, I feel much better now. I found out that I was the one who was making height a barrier to my own happiness.”
“And I was doing the same thing, being so self-conscious about my lack of hair that I drove girls away.”
“I can hardly wait to use my new insight to meet other guys.” Susan said grimly.
“Me too,” he added sadly.
Then he walked over and sat down beside her. “Susan, don’t walk out of my life. We should be more than two life rafts passing in the night. Will you go out with me, at least until someone taller comes along?”
“Oh, I’d like that,” she said, suddenly happy. “Besides, I really look up to you.”
Ten minutes later, four snow-mobiles pulled up in front of the building. Dr. Rawlins jumped out first and ran to the door. “I just hope we got here in time!” he yelled to the two policemen following him.
They rushed in to save the day but instead found four students in doctor’s smocks dancing to music from Miss Williams’s portable radio.

Even though I’ve known that I should always notice and recognize the hand of God in my life, there have been times when I have felt that things in my life were happening just because I was in the right place at the right time or because of other circumstances. At times I’ve felt like an imposter or a fraud in different situations when I haven’t felt that I was smart enough, intellectual enough, spiritual enough, or good enough.

During the first year of my master’s program in German literature at BYU—while my dad was serving as president of the Austria Vienna Mission—I eagerly accepted an invitation to be a graduate teaching assistant for the six-month Vienna study abroad program. Later I learned that the department chair had chosen me not because of my strong German proficiency or teaching skills but simply because my family was there and they assumed I’d be willing to go. However, recognizing God’s hand in this experience helped me see that regardless of their reasoning, He had orchestrated this incredible opportunity for me.

Another pivotal moment came when I was admitted to the interdisciplinary PhD program in second-language acquisition and teaching at the University of Arizona. I had been hired for a one-year position at Arizona State University to teach German and to oversee the TAs. During my first semester the dean expressed interest in keeping me on staff but explained that without a PhD, I would need to enroll in a doctoral program to continue teaching. Since ASU didn’t offer a German PhD program that interested me, I began exploring other options. Someone mentioned the PhD program at the University of Arizona in Tucson, so I met with the director—a professor from Germany—to learn more. The program sounded intriguing, so I applied.

While awaiting admission decisions, a French professor at ASU mentioned that the program only accepted about 5 percent of applicants, making my chances seem slim. Despite this, I was admitted. The first semester was challenging yet fulfilling, and I felt I had finally found my true academic path. Later I learned that one key factor in my acceptance was my faculty position at ASU. Since both the University of Arizona and ASU are state institutions, the hope was that if I completed the program, I could contribute to training my language colleagues at ASU.

Throughout my studies I often doubted my intellectual abilities and writing skills compared to those of my peers. However, over time I came to see this experience through a different lens—one that recognized God’s hand in guiding me and in opening doors I hadn’t even known existed. To this day I recognize that if I hadn’t been admitted to and completed this PhD program, I wouldn’t have met my husband, we wouldn’t have our two wonderful children, and we wouldn’t be at BYU today.

By reflecting on these experiences and by recognizing God’s hand in every aspect of my life, I have come to understand that my achievements and opportunities have been made possible through His guidance.

Ezra stopped paddling his small outrigger canoe and watched the sun sinking toward the Pacific on the other side of the bay. For years he had fished these waters with his father, but today he had trouble seeing the familiar sight through his tears.
Today he was alone.
As the canoe rocked gently on the water, he could hear the words his father had often spoken: “Watch carefully, Ezra. Someday when I am gone you will need to know how to support the family.”
Today was the day his father had warned him about and tried to prepare him for. But it had come too soon. He was only 16. He wasn’t ready.
Ezra idolizes his father. He had waited impatiently for years until his father said that at age seven, Ezra was finally old enough to help him set and check the fishing nets.
Fishing didn’t provide a lot of money, but it was enough to feed Ezra, his five sisters, and their mother; support Ezra’s oldest sister on her mission in the United States; and help their neighbors. Ezra was even able to begin saving for his own mission.
But now his father was gone. His death was unexpected, and it broke Ezra’s heart. Losing his father meant losing his hero, his bishop, his mentor.
But added to the heartache was a terrible realization: the responsibility his father had tried to prepare him for was suddenly his. Ezra would have to support the family now.
He couldn’t even consider fishing that first week after his father’s passing. His emotions were too raw. The thought of taking his father’s canoe, using his father’s nets, and doing his father’s work without him was unbearable.
By the following week he knew his family needed him to go, but the burden was overwhelming. For as much as Ezra wanted to be like his father, he recognized more than ever just how far he was from achieving that goal.
“I felt like there was no hope,” he says. “I found it difficult the first time to walk in the steps of my father. As I took the canoe out into the sea, I felt his absence. Those words my father had spoken came back to me, and I felt the weight of responsibility for my family.”
Standing in the shallows of the Pacific, he turned to the only Person who could help him—the One his father had taught him to trust.
“Show me where my father stood,” Ezra prayed. “Help me fulfill my father’s wish for me.”
In the early evening silence after that prayer, Ezra felt something change. He felt led to his father’s fishing spot, and the things his father had taught him came to mind when needed.
“After that prayer, I felt extra strength,” he says. “I knew Heavenly Father would help me.”
Just as the Savior showed His ancient Apostles where to cast their nets, Ezra received help too. “I caught a lot of fish that day,” he says.
Though he had doubted he could do what his father did, Ezra learned that he could do more than he thought.
“It’s been a big change in my life—the way I think, see things, and do things,” Ezra says. “I realized I can do what my father did.”
Ezra has become more like his father than he believed he could. He has followed in his father’s footsteps as a fisherman—and as a teacher.

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 an 11-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.” 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, attend church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined.

Polly and Ruth were blessed by their contributions. Their mutual generosity created a strong bond that lasted their whole lives. When Polly was 77 years old, she was still living in Boston, but she wanted to gather with the Saints in Utah Territory. So Ruth traveled to Boston and accompanied Polly to the Salt Lake Valley in 1857. “Aunt Polly” was beloved among the Saints in Utah until her death in 1866. When Ruth died in 1884, she was buried alongside Polly.7

Now 18, Kyle sprang into action at a very early age. It all started when he was in kindergarten and a U.S. jump rope team performed at his school in Bellevue, Washington.

“He came home with his eyes as big as saucers and said, ‘Mom, can we buy a rope?’” says Kyle’s mom, Chandra. He practiced and practiced and made it when he tried out for the team.

After winning his first international title when he was in second grade, Kyle and his team, Hot Dog USA, have gone on to win five grand-national titles, and they have won the world championships three times. Kyle was also named the most valuable player for the United States in his sport.

As Bryce and Danielle made wedding preparations, they wanted to be sure Danielle’s dad was a part of every detail. “We had a family talk and went over the details of the day and made sure my dad was comfortable with everything,” Danielle says.

Danielle and Bryce also shared with her dad what they could appropriately tell about temple sealings. “We let him know that the sealer would give us a few words of counsel and then perform the marriage. We made it relevant to him and his experiences,” Danielle says.

As the wedding day approached, Danielle and her mom received their endowments on the same day. During Danielle and Bryce’s marriage at the Salt Lake Temple, Danielle’s dad and grandparents toured Temple Square and the visitors’ center. “The most important thing is making sure they’re not alone,” Danielle says. “A few of my relatives offered to stay with my dad instead of coming to the sealing. That helped.”

After the wedding, Danielle and Bryce had pictures taken in front of the temple, including some photos of Danielle and her parents. The group then went to a wedding luncheon, where Danielle’s dad spoke to the group about his daughter and her new husband. “Having my dad speak at the lunch made him a part of things,” Danielle says. Before and after the wedding, Danielle made sure her dad knew how much she loves him. “I think expressing that you love your parents, that you want them to be part of your day, that they’re not any less a part of your life because they can’t come to the ceremony—I think that is the most important thing.”

Danielle suggests that preparing parents for your temple marriage begins long before your engagement. “I would make sure that your parents know that it’s a priority for you, so it’s not a surprise when it comes up,” she says. “I would pray a lot. Not only do you need to be blessed with the right words, but your parents need to be softened to understand that you’re not doing this to hurt them. Be patient and loving and understanding.”

They Care about Helping
Children from the Dartmouth Nova Scotia Stake got together to make warm, soft pillowcases for children in a local hospital. “It helped us think about how they feel,” said Ben S., age 11.
Using stencils, fabric pens, and sewing machines, everyone worked hard designing and decorating their gifts of love. “I feel happy that we are caring about others and not just about ourselves,” said Cora C., age 10.

When I was a bishop, being obedient meant sacrificing to attend the temple. My wife and I were invited to attend general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. We did not have enough money to make the trip, but we greatly desired to be sealed for eternity in the Lord’s house. We prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to provide a way for us to be obedient and answer His invitation to all Saints to go to the temple. We were blessed to find additional jobs. We earned enough to make the trip to Salt Lake City. Kneeling in the temple, all in white, with my wife, Cristina, was one of the most special experiences of my life. Our marriage was different after we had been to the temple and felt the Holy Spirit of the Lord seal us to each other for eternity.

“Three weeks until summer break, Ryan!” my friend Logan said after recess. “I can’t wait to swim and hike!”
“Me too!” I said. I walked into the classroom smiling, but then I saw the chairs set in circles. That meant reading groups.
“Everyone get in your groups!” Mr. Carson said. “Blue group, Mrs. Bush is waiting for you in room 205.”
I trudged to my desk and grabbed my book. Most of my classmates had been able to read this book years ago. Everyone knew the blue group was for kids who couldn’t read well. I’d been part of it since kindergarten. That was when I found out I had a learning disability. Mom says it means my brain just understands things differently.
It’s not fair, I thought as I walked to room 205. I held the book to my chest so no one could see it was for little kids. I hated being different. I worked twice as hard as any of my friends. But I was still one of the worst readers in the whole grade!
After an hour of reading, Mrs. Bush said we were done. “Good work,” she told us. “I know reading is hard, and it would be easy to give up. But keep working at it! You can improve. And don’t forget your summer reading packet.”
I took the packet and walked back to my classroom. Every summer I got a reading packet with stories to read out loud, questions to answer, and other things to help me with my reading. None of my friends had homework over the summer. But I really wanted to be able to read, so the extra work was worth it.
At least I’ll still have some time to play this summer, I thought.
But when Mom picked me up from school, she had some news. “I just learned about a new computer program that can help you read better,” she said as I got into the car. “It will help your brain make better connections.”
“That sounds cool,” I said.
“You’ll need to work on it for a few hours every day.”
More homework over the summer? Part of me wanted to just quit trying. But an even bigger part of me knew I really wanted to read better. And that would take a lot of work. I took a deep breath. “OK, I’ll do it.”
It was a long, hard summer. I spent most of my time working on my reading exercises or the computer program. And I prayed every day for Heavenly Father’s help.
When school started again, I tried my hardest to follow along with the class reading. I was still pretty slow, but I could do it!
Soon my teacher asked to talk to me at lunch. That made me nervous. What would she say?
“Ryan, I’ve seen you reading along with the class this week. I know how hard you worked this summer,” Ms. Andersen said. “I’m going to put you in a higher reading group.”
“Really?” I said.
She nodded. “You’ll have to work a little harder than some of the other kids and promise to read every single day, but I think you can do this. Are you up for the challenge?”
Ryan finished high school and went to college. He had to work hard at reading. But it was worth it!
“Yes!” I said. I walked out to lunch feeling happy and strong. My hard work during the summer had helped me! And Heavenly Father had answered my prayers. I knew I could keep working hard. And I knew Heavenly Father would keep helping me.

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.

She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.

Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

I was living with my mom in a little town in Mexico where everyone knows each other. I knew right from wrong, but I was confused and the only active young woman in the whole town.
I wanted to fit in, so I did one thing that made sense back then: have a boyfriend. This was only one of the first mistakes I started to make. I started giving in to peer pressure and believing I was old enough to think for myself, which meant becoming an inactive young woman who lived in darkness.
I lived in darkness for a year, with every passing day becoming darker. My poor decisions led to arguments with my family, and I realized I couldn’t keep living with them. But it wasn’t until the death of a close Latter-day Saint friend that I realized something was missing. Unfortunately, I blamed God and the gospel. I stopped believing that blessings came from being obedient. I knew that if I didn’t decide to start living the gospel, I would continue ignoring my connection with the Church and keep living in a worldly manner.
I was sitting on my bed in a dark room, crying and feeling sorry for myself when I realized that I was afraid—afraid of being there alone with no one to talk to, afraid of not being able to fix all the wrongs I had done, afraid that no one was going to forgive me, especially God.
Eventually, I moved to Minnesota, USA, with my grandparents, who are not members of the Church. My stepdad flew with me, and my first Sunday there, we went to church, but only for sacrament meeting. By the end of the meeting I had already decided to leave the Church, but to my surprise, just when we were going to the car, we saw the bishop running to catch up to us. He asked us a few questions and invited us to come back next Sunday—and we did.
The next Sunday, just as sacrament meeting was ending, before I could stand up, I was surrounded by the young women from the ward—young women who would help me change my life.
Illustration by Alberto Ruggieri
I suddenly entered a completely different world: a world with a bishop and a Young Women president who cared for me and, most of all, young women who tried to live the gospel daily, who strived to live high standards and stand for the right. They shined so much that they could brighten the path before me.
That’s when I realized what I had to do: “Let [my] light so shine before men, that they may see [my] good works, and glorify [my] Father which is in heaven” (see Matthew 5:16). And so I started by going to church and Mutual every week, reading the Book of Mormon and praying every day, dressing modestly, using better language, going to the temple, and preparing myself to get my patriarchal blessing.
I had completely changed, but I didn’t realize it until Young Women camp, when I felt the Holy Ghost and discovered that I had a testimony—a testimony that would remind me that God loves me, that He has a plan for me, and that He doesn’t want me to be alone. A testimony so bright and strong that it changed me. A testimony to share and light not only my path but others’. A testimony that is not afraid to shine in the dark.