Gospel Story Finder

Last fall I watched the example of a 10-year-old boy in Armenia. As we waited for sacrament meeting to begin, he noticed the oldest member of the branch arrive. He was the one who quickly went to her side, offering his arm to steady her faltering steps. He assisted her to the front row of the chapel, where she could hear. Could his small act of kindness teach us that those who are greatest in the Lord’s kingdom are those who look for opportunities to serve others?

A few days ago Elder Butler and I were at the grocery store and started talking to a man named Frank Cooper. He said that he had always been curious about the Hill Cumorah Pageant but had never gone to it. So we invited him to go to it with us. As we sat on the lawn at the foot of the Hill Cumorah with hundreds of other people, Book of Mormon stories came to life before our eyes. The music was beautiful, and the costumes were colorful.
Mr. Cooper was deeply touched by the pageant and wanted to know more about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith and the Church. The very next day we went with him, first to the Joseph Smith house and then to the Sacred Grove, where we taught him a discussion about Joseph Smith. It was a powerful experience for all of us. Helping just one person like Mr. Cooper find real meaning in his life is worth all the hard times and discouragement that we might have on a mission.

I didn’t know what to expect when Susie, my wife, nervously called me over to the bathroom one evening. We’d been married only a short time, we were living at my mother-in-law’s house rent free, and both of us were working jobs to save money for college.

So when my wife told me she was pregnant, I was shocked. It still seemed too soon for us to have a baby. We felt so unprepared. In that moment, I knew I needed to step up and help my wife prepare for a baby. So I focused on the one feeling that was most positive then: my excitement at the idea of being a father.

I’ve always been disturbed by the way fatherhood—and parenthood in general—is often portrayed in media. Fathers seem unaware of their spouse’s and children’s needs and feelings. They’re shown as incapable of caring for others and even themselves. Plus, becoming a parent has been described in media and in real life as the end of the “fun” phase of marriage. I often hear that life just gets harder, you don’t get any sleep, you get no time to yourself, and so on.

I now recognize that these portrayals are powerful tools of Satan to discourage us from building families. While there are challenges after having a child, there is also joy and fulfillment unlike any other.

I decided to reject every terrible thing I’d been told concerning fatherhood. Instead, I embraced everything positive about it and was committed to working through the difficult parts. Parenthood isn’t easy for many people, and I won’t tell you it was a piece of cake for me. Some fatherly traits didn’t come naturally. But before our baby was born, I did what I could to prepare myself and help my wife prepare as we stepped into our new role as parents.

I searched the scriptures to know how to prepare. I read other books about being a father as well. I studied how to change diapers. I made every effort to understand and sympathize with the pregnancy pains my wife would go through. And I did my best to stay optimistic. Turning to Heavenly Father in prayer helped me feel the peace I needed to get through the fear of becoming a parent.

I don’t consider myself an emotional person, but as I watched my wife hold my baby girl on the day she was born, I cried with joy. In that moment, I realized that this baby girl would be with us forever, and I thanked Heavenly Father that she was safely here with us.

Looking back on that experience, I remembered a video about families that I’d shared often during my mission. The video, “Earthly Father, Heavenly Father,” showed a father going through his daily routine. What made the video so spiritual for me was how it related the daily routine of the family to the relationship we have with our Heavenly Father. It ended with this statement: “Of all the titles of respect and honor and admiration that are given to Deity, He has asked us to address Him as Father.”1

That quote meant even more to me once I actually was a father. Before, I simply thought of it as a relationship between God and me; He cares for me and guides me every day as my Father in Heaven. But being a father myself and feeling the indescribable love I have for my daughter made me realize even more how much love my Heavenly Father has for me. The gospel is a model for families, and once we have a family of our own, we can understand more of the love that Heavenly Father has for us within our own lives.

Today my daughter is over a year old and growing up fast. Being a father has made me grow too, in ways that I didn’t even know were possible. Fatherhood brings me more joy than any amount of free time and sleep I could have had otherwise. Despite feeling unprepared for fatherhood, Heavenly Father’s love motivated me to prepare as much as I could. That love has kept me going. As it says in Luke 12:31, “Seek ye the kingdom of God; and all these things shall be added unto you.” I sought first to do everything that would prepare me to be a parent, and then came the peace and joy that accompany fatherhood. The negative can never outweigh the positives of such a divine role. Fatherhood is meant to be embraced and enjoyed, and that is the greatest lesson I have learned and continue to learn in this role as a father.

“I forever am amazed by nature and its beauty,” says Marlies Hammerl, Laurel class president from the Salt Ash Branch, Newcastle Australia Stake. “One aspect of nature I especially enjoy is the night sky and the glorious stars.” Marlies will now get to study those glorious stars more in depth after being awarded one of only 12 Stellar Astronomy Scholarships offered to young women in New South Wales, Australia.
“It is easy to be grateful for all the blessings I have and realize that I, like the stars, need to let my light shine even though my two sisters and I are the only members at my school.” Marlies travelled to Sydney last April, where she was awarded her scholarship by the Governor General of Australia.
Marlies adds, “I am just so grateful that I have taken heed of our prophets’ counsel, to gain the best education that we can. It’s definitely important to strive in all you do.” In other words, we should reach for the stars.

Professor Bloom complimented the patience of our Church leaders. Patience is born of justified optimism. Elder Heber C. Kimball, an early Apostle, provides an impressive illustration. He returned from a mission to England in 1838 to find that half of the members in Kirtland, Ohio, had left the Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith and several key leaders were imprisoned for five months. Five of the Apostles and two of the Three Witnesses had apostatized. Thousands of the Saints in Missouri were being mobbed and driven from their torched homes. Entering this bleak situation, Elder Kimball wrote: “I can truly say that I have never seen the Church in a better state since I have been a member of it. What there [is] left are firm and steadfast, full of love and good works. They have lost all their earthly goods, and are now ready to go and preach the Gospel to a dying world!” (in Orson F. Whitney, The Life of Heber C. Kimball, 3rd ed. [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1967], p. 246).

At that same time, Joseph Smith penned these inspiring words from Liberty Jail: “What power shall stay the heavens? As well might man stretch forth his puny arm to stop the Missouri river in its decreed course, or to turn it up stream, as to hinder the Almighty from pouring down knowledge from heaven upon the heads of the Latter-day Saints” (D&C 121:33).

Mom and Dad have called Hannah and her siblings for a family meeting.
Our Church leaders have asked us to prepare for emergencies. But we don’t have much extra money. We’ll have to make a sacrifice.
We’re giving up cereal for one month. We’ll use the money to buy supplies. OK?
What will we eat for breakfast?
Oatmeal! We have lots in our food storage.
Oatmeal? Blegh!
The next morning
Try mixing something in. I like raisins in mine.
*sigh* OK …
Day 1: Raisins
Gross!
Day 2: Banana
Yuck!
Day 3: Coconut
Ew!
Day 4: Berries
Nope!
Try this. It has apples, cinnamon, and brown sugar. It tastes like apple pie!
Mmm, that’s good! I’m having this tomorrow too.
I bought first aid supplies for our emergency kits yesterday. Thanks for being good sports. I know giving up your favorite cereal was a sacrifice.
I guess all this gloppy oatmeal was worth it.
Besides, it’s not so bad after all!

The clock was running out in my New York high school wrestling match, and the score was 13 to 2. I was behind, and even though I had tried everything, I was no match for my opponent, Elmer. Yet I thought to myself, I can’t afford to lose. Everything depends on my match. If I lose, we can’t possibly get enough points in the rest of the matches to win. And there will go our undefeated season.
This was supposed to be our high school’s 99th consecutive wrestling team match win, and the 100th team match was scheduled later that day. It took many years of undefeated seasons to have a school record like that. Reporters from local newspapers and several radio stations would be at the 100th match because we were about to make Long Island wrestling history. No one ever expected us to lose.
Unfortunately, for publicity’s sake, the coaches had decided to save all the first-string wrestlers for the upcoming 100th match and let the second string wrestle the 99th. We watched in horror as many of our teammates lost their individual matches. It became painfully obvious to all of us that everything was going to depend on my bout. To make matters worse, I was not only the last-minute substitute for our sick, 165-pound wrestler, but my opponent outweighed me by 13 pounds.
Throughout each period, I worked extremely hard to leverage speed and skill to put Elmer on his back. Instead I fought most of the time to keep my own back off the mat. I simply could not compete with Elmer’s size and strength.
In the final moments of the match, Elmer was on his knees with his chest pressed against my back. He must have figured he could contain me there while he caught his breath and ran out the clock. Meanwhile, my coach sat despairing with his head in his hands. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they cheered Elmer’s imminent win and Brentwood’s upset.
By chance, my eyes caught sight of the clock. There were only 20 seconds to go. I wondered, What do I do now?
Just then, Elmer’s head dropped to obscure my view. He was exhausted. Instantly, both of my hands grabbed Elmer’s head. I tucked it into my chest and arched my back. Over he went like a sack of potatoes. “Pin!” shouted the referee as his hand slammed the mat and the buzzer sounded. I’d pinned Elmer before his feet ever hit the mat. Victory was mine. With only seconds left, I had glued Elmer, and our high school won its 99th in a row and went on to win the 100th team match.

Recently, I read about Erik Weihenmayer, a 33-year-old man who dreamed of climbing Mount Everest, a feat that defies many of the world’s most expert climbers. In fact, nearly 90 percent of those who attempt the climb never reach the summit. Temperatures sink lower than 30 degrees below zero. Besides extreme cold, 100-mile-per-hour winds, deadly crevasses, and avalanches, the climber must overcome the challenges of high altitude, lack of oxygen, and perhaps unsanitary food and water. Since 1953, at least 165 climbers have died in the attempt to scale the 29,000-foot-high summit.

In spite of the risks, hundreds line up each year to make the ascent, Erik among them. But there is an important difference between Erik and every other climber who had attempted to ascend before: Erik is totally blind.

When Erik was 13 years of age, he lost his sight as a result of a hereditary disease of the retina. Although he could no longer do many of the things he wanted to, he was determined not to waste his life feeling depressed and useless. He then began to stretch his limits.

At age 16 he discovered rock climbing. By feeling the face of the rock, he found handholds and footholds that allowed him to climb. Sixteen years later, he began his ascent up Mount Everest. The story of his climb, as you might imagine, was filled with many harrowing and life-threatening challenges. But Erik eventually scaled the south summit and took his place with those who had gone before him, one of the few to stand on top of the highest mountain on the face of the earth.

When asked how he did it, Erik said, “I just kept thinking … keep your mind focused. Don’t let all that doubt and fear and frustration sort of get in the way.” Then, most importantly, he said, “Just take each day step by step.”

Yes, Erik conquered Everest by simply putting one foot in front of the other. And he continued to do this until he reached the top.

Like Erik, we may have obstacles that would hold us back. We may even make excuses why we can’t do what we want to do. Perhaps when we are tempted to justify our own lack of achievement, we can remember Erik, who, in spite of having lost his sight, accomplished what many thought was impossible simply by continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

A few months ago, I was invited to go up to a cabin with a few other girls. One of the girls brought about 10 gorgeous dresses for us to model so she could photograph them and rent them out. There was only one problem: all but one of the dresses were immodest, and the only modest one didn’t fit me. Dread washed over me. I started thinking, “Oh it’s only once. It’s only for her Instagram. No one will know.” I soon realized that wasn’t true.
When we were preparing to model the dresses, I started making up reasons to not wear one. Everyone kept finding solutions to all of my excuses. At last I decided to take the photographer aside and explain, “I just don’t feel comfortable wearing something immodest.”
All the other girls put on a dress and went outside to start modeling. I stood watching them, feeling stronger spiritually than I had in a long time. Even though I was alone, I never felt alone; I felt the Spirit surrounding me, encouraging me, and building me up. I knew without a doubt I had done the right thing.
Sarah C., Idaho, USA

Last summer a group of young women from Alpine, Utah, decided that they would become “more fit for the kingdom.” They determined to focus on the temple by walking from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple, a total distance of 22 miles (35 km), just as one of the pioneers, John Rowe Moyle, had done. Brother Moyle was a stonemason who was called by the prophet, Brigham Young, to work on the Salt Lake Temple. Each week he walked the distance of 22 miles from his home to the temple. One of his jobs was to carve the words “Holiness to the Lord” on the east side of the Salt Lake Temple. It was not easy and he had many obstacles to overcome. At one point, he was kicked in the leg by one of his cows. Because it would not heal, he had to have this leg amputated. But that did not stop him from his commitment to the prophet and to work on the temple. He carved a wooden leg, and after many weeks he again walked the 22-mile distance to the temple to do the work he had committed to do.
The young women in the Cedar Hills Sixth Ward decided to walk that same distance for an ancestor and also for someone who was their inspiration to remain worthy to enter the temple. They trained each week at Mutual, and as they walked, they shared what they were learning and feeling about temples.
They began their walk to the temple early in the morning with a prayer. As they started out, I was impressed with their confidence. They had prepared well, and they knew they were prepared. Their eyes were set on their goal. Each step they took was symbolic of each of you as you too are preparing now to enter the temple. Your personal training has begun with your daily personal prayers, your daily reading of the Book of Mormon, and your working on Personal Progress.
As these young women continued to walk, there were distractions along the course, but they stayed focused on their goal. Some began to feel blisters forming, and others felt knees starting to protest, but they kept going. For each of you, there are many distractions, hurts, and obstacles along your path to the temple, but you too are determined and keep going. The route these young women took was mapped out by their leaders, who had walked and driven the course and determined the safest and most direct way to go. Again, your course is marked, and you can be assured that the Savior has not only walked the course but will again walk it with you—every step of the way.
Along this journey to the temple there were fathers, mothers, family members, and priesthood leaders acting as guardians. Their job was to ensure that everyone was safe and protected from danger. They made sure each young woman stayed well hydrated and had enough nourishment to maintain her stamina. There were aid stations provided by their priesthood leaders, with places to rest and to drink water. Young women, your fathers, your mothers, your bishops, and so many others will be your guardians as you walk your path to the temple. They will call out cautions and direct your course, and should you become injured or hurt or get off course, they will help you.
I was impressed that in the final miles of their walk, brothers, other young men, and friends came to support these determined young women and to cheer them on. One brother lifted his sister, who had large blisters on her feet, and carried her on his back the final distance to the temple. As these incredible young women reached their goal, tears were shed as they touched the temple and made a silent commitment to always be worthy to enter there.
The temple walk is a metaphor for your life. Parents and priesthood leaders stood guard along the route. They provided support and aid. Young women guarded and encouraged each other. Young men admired the strength, commitment, and stamina of the young women. Brothers carried sisters who had been injured. Families rejoiced with their daughters as they ended their walk at the temple and took them safely home.

This is best described with a story. When Sister Kaitlyn Palmer received her mission call last April, she was excited to be called as a missionary but felt it equally important and special to go to the temple to receive her endowment and make sacred covenants. Shortly after she scheduled her endowment, the announcement came that all temples would temporarily close due to the worldwide pandemic. After receiving this heartbreaking information, she then learned she would attend the missionary training center (MTC) virtually from her home. Despite these disappointments, Kaitlyn focused on keeping her spirits high.
In the intervening months, Sister Palmer never lost hope of attending the temple. Her family fasted and prayed that temples would open prior to her departure. Kaitlyn would often start her home MTC mornings by saying, “Is today going to be the day we receive a miracle and temples open back up?”
On August 10, the First Presidency announced that Kaitlyn’s temple would reopen for living ordinances on the exact day her early-morning flight to her mission was scheduled. She would not be able to attend the temple and make her flight. With little hope for success, her family contacted temple president Michael Vellinga to see if there was any way the miracle they had been praying for could be realized. Their fasting and prayers were answered!
At 2:00 a.m., hours before her flight departure, Sister Palmer and her family, in tears, were greeted at the temple doors by the smiling temple president with the words, “Good morning, Palmer family. Welcome to the temple!” As she completed her endowment, they were encouraged to move quickly, as the next family was waiting at the temple doors. They drove directly to the airport just in time to make her flight to her mission.

Here is another example of the effect on the future of decisions made in the present. This example concerns the choice to make a present sacrifice to achieve an important future goal.
At a stake conference in Cali, Colombia, a sister told how she and her fiancé desired to be married in the temple, but at that time the closest temple was in faraway Peru. For a long time, they saved their money for the bus fares. Finally they boarded the bus to Bogotá, but when they arrived there, they learned that all seats on the bus to Lima, Peru, were taken. They could go home without being married or be married out of the temple. Fortunately, there was one other alternative. They could ride on the bus to Lima if they were willing to sit on the floor of the bus for the entire five-day and five-night ride. They chose to do this. She said it was difficult, even though some riders sometimes let them sit in their seats so they could stretch out on the floor.
What impressed me in her talk was this sister’s statement that she was grateful she and her husband had been able to go to the temple in this way, because it changed the way they felt about the gospel and the way they felt about marriage in the temple. The Lord had rewarded them with the growth that comes from sacrifice. She also observed that their five-day trip to the temple accomplished a great deal more in building their spirituality than many visits to the temple that were sacrifice-free.
In the years since I heard that testimony, I have wondered how different that young couple’s life would have been if they had made another choice—forgoing the sacrifice necessary to be married in the temple.

I say to you what I said to the boys—avoid pornography as you would a plague. I recall an assignment some years back to restore the blessings of a man who had been excommunicated from the Church because of his sin. He came to my office with his wife. I spoke with them individually. I asked him how it all began. He held a responsible position in the Church. He was likewise a professional man with high responsibility in the community.

His trouble began, he said, when he picked up a pornographic magazine to read on a plane. It intrigued him. It appealed to him. He found himself buying more of these things. Then he sought out movies which titillated him and excited him. Knowing that his wife would be a party to none of this, he went alone. He found occasion to leave town and go to other cities where he could more easily indulge his desires. He then found excuses to stay late at his office and asked his secretary to stay with him. One thing led to another until he succumbed.

With tears rolling down his cheeks, he sat across the desk from me and cursed the day he had read that first magazine. He spoke of his love for the wife who had forgiven him and remained true to him. He spoke of his love for his children, who had been shamed and embarrassed by his actions. He told of the hell through which he had walked for some four years from the time of his excommunication. He spoke of his love for the Church and of his desire to again enjoy its full blessings.

In the presence of his wife, I placed my hands upon his head and in the authority of the holy priesthood restored his priesthood, his temple endowment, his temple sealing, and all other blessings which he had formerly held. This great, strong man sobbed like a baby under my hands while his wife, holding her hand in his, wept like a child.

At the conclusion of that blessing, they embraced one another and he asked her to forgive him. She said she had forgiven him, and that she loved him and always would.

They were happy when they left, happier than they had been in years. And I was happy, too. But I thought of the terrible price he had paid and of the price he had exacted of his family through his foolishness and transgression.

I give my aloha to Kahoku Haverly, my wife, my love and companion; she is quite literally the reason why I am standing here in this suit and arguably with this stress, speaking to you in this capacity as stake president.

I have lost many a Gospel discussion with this woman. From the days where I'd ask, “You don't REALLY believe that Joseph Smith actually SAW God do you?” and her calm and confident responses, I'm not gonna lie, they kind of irritated me. Not because she was sharing them as a “know it all,” but more because I could feel her answers were correct, and fought it. Other questions; as an active Protestant, I'd ask, “Well in Revelations at the end of the Bible it says that you can't add to this Bible, and here's your church adding this whole other book, The Book of Mormon. Explain that.” And with calmness and confidence, she'd explain that well, that same promise was stated in Deuteronomy; the word Bible means collection of books; Revelation was written much earlier chronologically than other books in the New Testament; John meant that no one should add to the revelations of what he was describing… ugh. Again, it was irritating yet convincing. My spirit told me she was right. I knew she was right. Again. And again.

The discussions turned from, “Why does your church…?” to “Tell me about…?” Notice the difference in tone. A young woman's prayers of faith to be that instrument in conversion of a friend were now prayers being answered to soften that young man's heart, demeanor and perspective. I look back at those times with such surprise and awe, knowing it definitely was critical that the prayers of a young woman, True to the Faith8, inseparably connected to the concepts of what is now For the Strength of Youth, followed the Spirit, paid attention in seminary and used her quiver of spiritual tools to help a very hard headed young man allow his heart to be softened. They were so very different. Yet they became the same.

Years later, after a baptism, a mission, a temple marriage, and 6 children, I'd draw upon these experiences as I counseled with many couples as they prepared to get sealed in the temple.

The vast snow-covered plains loomed against a frozen blue-white sky. For as far as the eye could see, there were no signs of life, and the sun was a mere sliver of white in a frozen dome of sky.
Sentar shivered, then followed Bratsk from the pine-covered lean-to. He stood and brushed the snow from his knees. “Put your eye shield on, or the snow will blind you!” Bratsk growled irritably. “It is bad enough that I have to cross these mountains—but to drag a youth like you along makes it even worse!”
Obediently Sentar did as he was told, then pulled his cap snugly down around his ears. “Yes, that is better,” he agreed as he breathed puffs of frozen air.
Bratsk attached his snowshoes to the bottom of his fur boots. “We will have to follow that trail,” he grumbled, pointing, “up through the high pass and beyond to the village of your grandmother. We must reach our destination before nightfall, for there is little shelter for anyone who tarries on the mountains after dark. Use your energy wisely, lad, for you will surely need every bit of it to get to your grandmother’s village.”
Sentar nodded. He followed Bratsk through the unbroken snow. For hours they trudged across the vast snow-covered mountain, struggling step by weary step. Each peak looked like the one before it. Sentar felt as if they were moving across a very narrow trail over the very top of the world, as if one careless step in either direction could send him sliding down the side of a hundred icy ravines to his death. At a stand of rocks, Sentar finally paused to catch his breath. As he stood panting, he heard a small noise and looked down. There, on a narrow ledge, was a boy half-buried in the snow.
“Look, Bratsk! Someone has fallen over the cliff!”
Bratsk turned and looked over his shoulder. “That is nothing to us! We need all our energy just to reach our destination. It would seem that he has already reached his!” With a gesture, he turned back along the trail, anxious to continue.
“Wait, Bratsk,” Sentar pleaded. “It will be no danger to you—I will climb down and see if I can help!” He knelt and swung his legs over the side of the ledge. “Hello!” he shouted hopefully. His words reached out in all directions and bounced back hollowly. Still, he thought he saw the boy’s hands move ever so slightly. “He is alive!” he shouted. “I saw him move!” Again his words echoed from every frozen surface. Quickly Sentar slipped his pack from his shoulders and crawled carefully but eagerly over the side.
Bratsk stopped on the trail above. “Do not do this thing!” he warned angrily. “If you do, you do it alone!”
Sentar looked up into Bratsk’s face. “We cannot pass him by and leave him here to die!”
Bratsk’s eyes narrowed. “You do not know the way of the mountains!” he thundered. “You are young and do not understand. The boy is as good as dead already! If you attempt to rescue him, two bodies will freeze in the snow instead of one! Then what will I tell your grandmother? Save your strength for yourself!”
Sentar then looked down again and shook his head. He knew that if he left the boy to die, part of him would die too. He had to do what he knew was right. “I cannot leave him.”
Bratsk scowled. “Then good-bye, Sentar. I will tell your grandmother that wolves ate your hide!”
“Bratsk!”
But the guide had already turned his back on Sentar and was continuing silently through the snow.
With a sinking heart, Sentar watched Bratsk disappear along the ridge. Then the youth uncoiled his rope and tied it to a rock. Slowly he lowered himself onto the ledge. Carefully he turned the boy onto his side. The boy moaned softly, and Sentar was encouraged. “You will be all right,” he promised as he gently rubbed the boy’s hands together. “I will help you.”
Sentar strapped the boy to his back and struggled back up to the trail. Gasping, he collapsed on the snow and rested. As soon as he had caught his breath, he staggered to his feet again and, carrying the boy on his back, trudged along the trail. As nightfall came, the snow began again, driving in blinding waves. Sentar stopped and lowered the boy to the ground, for he could no longer see the way. Desperate, he hollowed an opening in the snow and crawled inside it, dragging the boy with him.
The next morning, Sentar moved on with his burden. As he traveled, he spoke reassuring words, not only to the unconscious boy but also to himself. “I can do it,” he mumbled wearily. “I know that I can do it! If I do not try, I would not be able to live with myself. Even if we do not make it, well, at least we tried.”
Finally Sentar stood gasping on a slope. He could see his destination below, where smoke spiraled from stone chimneys. “We’ve made it, my friend,” he exulted. “Soon you will have hot food and the shelter you need. You will be cared for properly.”
The people greeted Sentar joyously, and his grandmother quickly took them into her home. Later, as Sentar sat by the fire, his grandmother came from the other room. “The boy will live?” he asked.
Grandmother nodded and smiled. “Yes, he is young and will be fine.”
“But what was he doing on the mountain?” Sentar wondered.
“We will have to ask him when he is well enough to talk,” Grandmother replied. “Perhaps he was lost. Bratsk, however, was not as fortunate as you.”
Sentar’s forehead creased. “What of Bratsk?”
Grandmother shook her head slowly. “His feet were badly frostbitten, and he is in much pain.”
Sentar frowned. “How can that be? Bratsk knows the mountains far better than I, and I reached my destination even without his guidance and with a burden he would not share.
She nodded. “When you cared enough to carry an unknown boy over the snow-covered mountains, you drew warmth from your efforts, and the boy you carried drew warmth from you. You helped each other live. You see, many times a burden is also a blessing. Always remember, my son, reaching your destination is rarely more important than what you do along the way.

In the general conference of October 1856, word came to Salt Lake of the plight of the Willey and Martin handcart companies. They had started out late, and had been struck by an early winter storm in the plains of Wyoming. President Brigham Young adjourned the conference and called able-bodied men to quickly gather supplies and organize a rescue party. They left early the next morning to ride to the stranded Saints. Among the many valiant men who rode out of Salt Lake City that day were young men by the names of C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, David P. Kimball, and Steven W. Taylor. They could not have known on that day what would be required of them or what contribution they would make to the building of the kingdom.
Arriving at the banks of the ice-filled Sweetwater River with many others who sought to rescue the stranded travelers, they found the handcart companies bogged down in snow 18 inches deep. Men, women, and children among the group were too weak to cross the river. Their energy was spent, their strength was gone, and no doubt they felt the effects of frostbite, hypothermia, and chronic fatigue.
It was then that these strong young men made a sacrifice for others that few are ever called upon to make. They waded into the stream time and time again, carrying almost every member of the company across the icy stream. Back and forth they crossed until every member was safe on the other side and on their way to shelter and finally into the Salt Lake Valley. These young men, by then cold, wet, and suffering themselves, joined the ranks of the heroes that day. They were not perfect—they were probably “regular” young men with faults and shortcomings, with their own problems, fears, and weaknesses. But they answered the call of the prophet—they were where the Lord could find them when they were needed to bless the lives of others.

Flora first saw “T,” as she affectionately calls her husband, when she was attending Utah State Agricultural College (now Utah State University) in Logan. He was standing on the corner with his cousin, one of her friends, as she drove by in her car and waved pleasantly. “T” was visiting the campus, taking college courses by home study until he could afford to attend school full-time.
“Who is that girl?” he asked.
“Why, that’s Flora Amussen,” his cousin replied.
“When I come here to school, I’m going to date her.”
“You’ll never make it; she’s too popular for you.” “That makes it all the more interesting,” the future prophet answered. He already knew she was the girl he was going to marry.
But the farm boy from Idaho found rigorous competition for Miss Amussen’s time. During her college years, she was vice-president of the Utah State Agricultural College student body and president of the girls’ athletic club. She also won the girls’ singles tennis championship, was elected to the honorary dramatic fraternity for Shakespearean acting, and was in constant demand for her natural ability to play almost every musical instrument—without having to read music.
President Benson recalls arriving for his first date with the “most popular girl in town.” Through the graciousness of Flora and her “queenly mother,” the farm boy was soon at ease in the large home of culture and refinement.
“As we left the house and she kissed her mother tenderly, I knew I was the escort of a choice girl, and I determined to make the best of it,” he remarks.
“Nothing in Flora’s life impressed me more deeply than her reverent kindness to and deep love for her mother,” continues President Benson. “Their companionship was an inspiration—the sweetest relationship I have ever known between a parent and child.”
Likewise was Flora impressed with this courteous, good-looking, deeply spiritual young man. “I wanted to marry a farmer and learn how to work and cook and sew,” she says, adding emphatically, “and I learned!”

That care and love I have been fortunate to observe as the blessings of ministering were poured upon my family.
While I was travelling for work some time ago, my wife fell very ill and I could not immediately be with her and the children. Her situation became so dire that she was almost admitted to hospital. All I could do was to phone her and try to comfort her.
As soon as my wife missed this one Sunday when she was ill, I got a reassuring message from one of her Relief Society sisters: that they would immediately set in motion a chain of actions to help a sister in need.
I still get emotional as I re-read a series of WhatsApp messages of that very tough day. As soon as word spread that all was not well in my household, one of her ministering sisters asked on WhatsApp two simple but poignant questions: “Are the kids sick, too? Would you like a meal or two?”
Unsurprisingly, my wife felt helpless. All she could say was, “Yes.”
This “Yes” I now know was an affirmation of her belief that, with ministering, help is never far away. In the end I realized that not only was my wife ill that weekend, but our three children as well because everyone had contracted a very bad strain of flu.
The help was generous, and my wife assured me that it was sufficient enough that I would not have to cut my business trip short to rush home.
I knew these women who were her ministering sisters. Their diligence often inspired me to do my own ministering service as they never missed an appointment with my wife.

Devastating earthquakes and tsunamis have recently occurred in diverse places, including Chile, Haiti, and the islands of the Pacific. A few weeks ago Presiding Bishop H. David Burton, Elder Tad R. Callister, and I were able to meet with the Saints who had lost family members as a result of the tsunami that hit the eastern side of Samoa last September. The chapel was full, and it was an emotional meeting. We were able to assure these choice members that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, they can be reunited with the loved ones they have lost.

The stake president, Sonny Purcell, was driving his car when he saw the enormous wave coming far out at sea. He honked his horn and stopped children on the road walking to school and warned them to run for higher ground and safety as fast as they could. The children followed his instruction. He frantically drove, reached his four-year-old daughter, put her in the car, and then tried to get to his mother. Before he could reach his mother, the wall of water picked up his car and swept it over 100 yards (91 m), where it lodged in a tree. He scrambled to secure his daughter on top of the car and then swam to rescue his mother, who was clinging to a branch of another tree near their house. With great effort he swam with her to the car and safety. Many were not as fortunate. They did not have time to get to higher ground and safety. Many lost their lives, particularly the young and the elderly.

We told the Samoan families that members all over the world expressed love and concern and had prayed for them and contributed fast offerings and humanitarian aid for both the members and their neighbors. The same is true for the members and their neighbors in Chile and Haiti. We do this because we follow Jesus Christ.

As we met with the families in Samoa, the significance of spiritually going to the higher ground, living a better life, and clinging to saving ordinances was abundantly clear. The Savior’s example and life teach us to spiritually avoid the low pathway, where the things of this world dominate. As I shook hands with the members after our meeting, one sister told me her family had not been to the temple and they had lost a daughter. She tearfully said their goal now was to prepare themselves for the sacred ordinances of the temple so they can be together eternally.
As I have pondered what this sister said and the current condition of the world, I have felt an urgency to counsel each of us to seek the higher ground—the refuge and eternal protection of the temple.

Elder Zivic faced another difficult decision when it came time to choose a vocation. For four straight years of secondary school, he had to take an additional end-of-year test in accounting because he did so poorly in the subject during the year.
“I really didn’t like accounting,” he says. But when he prayerfully considered his career path, he felt strongly that he should go into accounting. Trusting in the Lord, he received his accounting degree from the University of Buenos Aires and enjoyed a career as a certified public accountant.