Gospel Story Finder

It all began as a challenge issued by the Young Women to the Young Men. The event was collecting wood as a service project for the widows and needy of the Kanab Second Ward, Kanab Utah Stake. The Laurels claimed that the Young Women could haul more wood than the Young Men. The challenge was accepted, and rules and a date were set for what was dubbed the Wood Run.

The rules stated that each team could have as many class members, friends, advisers, or parents as they could muster, but each team could use only three chain saws at any given time. The winner would be the team that could return to the designated place first with four cords of wood.

On the appointed day, the two teams headed for the Kaibab Mountain. The Young Women arrived at the finish line with their four cords of firewood. Finding no Young Men or loaded wood in sight, they returned to their cutting area and began filling other trucks and trailers with wood. About 15 minutes later, the Young Men showed up, fully expecting to be the undisputed champions. Instead they found the Young Women’s wood at the finish line. After the shock wore off, the losing team joined in the spirit of the service project and helped the winners finish filling every available truck and trailer with wood. The group cut 16 cords of firewood to be used as winter fuel by those in need in their ward.

As one young man said, “We provided a much needed service, and we had a great time doing it.”

Many years ago, one of my best friends was in his very first class in law school. The teacher was a renowned intellectual to whom the students were paying close attention. During that lecture, she started to expose her views on religion—portraying it negatively. At a certain point, she even inferred that those “Mormon missionaries” you see in the streets were actually agents of a foreign government disguised as religious representatives. At that moment, my friend interrupted the lecture by raising his hand and saying, “Professor, I was one of those ‘agents’ in Portugal for two years.” He noticed that she was puzzled and confused. So he asked permission to explain, went to the blackboard, and started “sharing the gospel” with all present in that classroom.
He explained about the evidence of the existence of Heavenly Father, the creation of our spirits, the plans presented for us to come to this earth, the dispensations starting from Adam until Jesus Christ, and how His Church ended in apostasy. My friend taught about the Restoration through the Prophet Joseph Smith and bore his testimony—and then the class time ended. As a result of his approach, he received an apology from the teacher and he earned the respect of all his classmates that day. In fact, he was chosen to act as the class representative in the student body government and was later named to be the keynote speaker at their graduation a few years later.

I broke my arm while I was playing at school one day. I had to have surgery and stay in the hospital for two days. After I got out of the hospital, my mom and dad told me that one of my friends from my class had died that day. I was so sad because he was one of my best friends. My dad gave me a priesthood blessing. The blessing made me feel good inside. I am thankful that we know Heavenly Father will let us see our families and friends again.
Ethan L., age 9, Nevada, USA

When I was young, I always wanted everyone to feel included. If children on the playground were being picked on, I wanted to be their friend. I remember befriending one girl other children were mean to. Years later, after I was married, she was my neighbor. When I saw her, we happily greeted one another. I thought, “Look at her now. She’s a wonderful mother who serves well and works hard to teach her children.” I am so glad that when I was little I was nice to her. Then when I saw her again, I didn’t have any regrets. We were still friends.

Another learning experience happened after I graduated from high school in Lima. I went to Ricks College on a basketball scholarship. I had the opportunity to go to other schools, but I went to Ricks because my parents moved nearby. Basketball and baseball were all that I was concerned with at that age. I loved playing. The fall that I arrived, to help me with my finances, my coach got me a job outside of Rexburg, working at a beet dump. The first day of work, I rode there on a motorcycle with another team member. On October 15, 1951, we finished work at 10:30 P.M. and were coming back into town, going about fifty miles (80 k) an hour. It was storming, and we ran head-on into a car. I was thrown about seventy feet through the air and landed on my back on the pavement. As I flew over the top of the car, my right foot went through the windshield. I broke a number of bones and came within a fraction of having cut off my right foot.
At the hospital, the doctors decided that they would have to amputate my foot. My mother stepped forward and said, “Not until he’s received a blessing.” So my bishop and my stepfather gave me a blessing. My bishop told me that I would keep my foot and that I would be able to run and enjoy many of the things I’d always loved. The doctors then decided to try to save the foot. After they operated, I was in bed for three months, then spent six months on crutches, waiting for my foot to heal. It did. I never was able to compete in sports as I had before, but I could still play.

I have a dear friend with whom I grew up. Although bright and able, he was not a scholarly type. The press of family needs and concerns limited his educational opportunities. He did not graduate from high school. He acquired an old, beat-up truck and began hauling sand and gravel for a few of the contractors. The work was seasonal and not at all productive. The old truck would frequently break down and need repairs.

In his teenage years he drifted some, but married a good woman and settled down. Their circumstances were economically straitened, but somehow he managed to get a house built on part of the family property. I was bishop and called him to be the Aaronic Priesthood adviser. He took his calling seriously. He literally wore out the handbook, studying it. He had a notebook filled with dates when all of the young men in the ward would reach the age to be advanced in the Aaronic Priesthood. He kept good track of the young men and kept the bishopric informed of their activities.

Some years after I was released, he became a member of our bishopric. He needed a little nudging to become a full tithepayer, but responded faithfully as he had done before. Subsequently, he became our bishop. He served wonderfully and well. In the meantime, he and an associate had learned how to lay bricks and formed a brick-contracting partnership. The difference between their work and the work of others was in the quality. They did beautiful work. They were in demand. He prospered and became very respected in the community. He became the president of the local water company. After many successful years as a bishop he was called to the high council and served well and faithfully. He is now a man of affairs, respected and honored, although his formal education ended before high school graduation. With the advantage of a college education he, no doubt, would have achieved even more.

What caused him to succeed? Industry? Thrift? Self-reliance? Yes, but there was more. Conscientiously and untiringly, he sought to know and do the mind and the will of the Lord. He had a simple, untroubled faith.

I love to read Latter-day Saint religious books. And because these books are not readily available in Nigeria, I borrow them from a friend. Desiring to return my friend’s books within a few days, I always carry them with me and use spare moments to read.
One Sunday I had a borrowed book with me as I attended sacrament meeting in the ward where I am assigned as high councilor. I read the book while I waited to give the bishop a message from the stake presidency. When the bishop arrived, he asked me to speak to his first counselor since he needed to greet some visitors. After passing the message to the first counselor, I took a seat on the stand.
No sooner had I sat down, however, than I realized my friend’s book was gone. With about five minutes before the meeting was to begin—and with the presiding authority seated on the stand—I thought I shouldn’t leave. Sick about disappointing my friend, I thus started my ordeal in the longest sacrament meeting I have ever attended.
I hoped that time would pass quickly, but every item on the meeting agenda took what seemed like a lifetime. I was restless, praying silently that God would keep the book safe. Truly, the talks were not long, but an unreasonable anxiety had taken over my mind. Five minutes before the end of the meeting, I could bear it no more. I passed a note to the first counselor asking if I had left the book by him. I wished he would nod his head yes. He shook it instead.
I did not close my eyes during the benediction but closely monitored the two remaining places where I thought the book might be. Meanwhile, I decided that, if necessary, I would go to the Sunday School classes to announce that I had lost a book.
Surprisingly, however, when sacrament meeting concluded, my feelings had changed radically, and I wasn’t worried about the book. The Holy Spirit showed me—in just a few short moments of spiritual enlightenment—that my concerns were misplaced. I learned that what truly mattered was whether or not I would protect those things that God had put into my care. My mind immediately listed what I could remember God entrusting to me: my soul, my family, those I home teach, those I should share the gospel with, ward members I serve, my departed ancestors who need temple work, and so on.
I did find the book after what became an important soul-searching experience. But at the end of the longest sacrament meeting, I also found areas of my life that needed improvement. And I found the commitment to work on the priorities Heavenly Father desires.

One other perspective. Some years ago I knew a young woman whose life kind of wandered off the fairway and into the rough. She made some serious mistakes, but repentance and the Savior could have helped her come back. However, in utter frustration, her mother once said to her, "You are damaged goods! No worthy priesthood holder will ever want you!" The girl burst into tears. I'm sorry to say that she believed her mother, and she went on living as if she really were damaged beyond repair. If anyone today feels even a little as she did, or if you have a friend who does, please know that no matter what damage you have known, your condition need not be permanent. You are God's literal son or daughter. He loves you and He can completely heal any damage. If you need to repent or you need to forgive, you will discover that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, you can learn from your mistakes without being condemned by them.

May I share with you tonight, brethren, a letter which I received some time ago, written by a husband who strayed far from the priesthood path of service and duty. It typifies the plea of too many of our brethren. He wrote:
“Dear President Monson:
“I had so much and now have so little. I am unhappy and feel as though I am failing in everything. The gospel has never left my heart, even though it has left my life. I ask for your prayers.
“Please don’t forget those of us who are out here—the lost Latter-day Saints. I know where the Church is, but sometimes I think I need someone else to show me the way, encourage me, take away my fear, and bear testimony to me.”
While reading this letter, I returned in my thoughts to a visit to one of the great art galleries of the world—even the famed Victoria and Albert Museum in London, England. There, exquisitely framed, was a masterpiece painted in 1831 by Joseph Mallord William Turner. The painting features heavy-laden black clouds and the fury of a turbulent sea portending danger and death. A light from a stranded vessel gleams far off. In the foreground, tossed high by incoming waves of foaming water, is a large lifeboat. The men pull mightily on the oars as the lifeboat plunges into the tempest. On the shore there stand a wife and two children, wet with rain and whipped by wind. They gaze anxiously seaward. In my mind I abbreviated the name of the painting. To me, it became To the Rescue.
Amidst the storms of life, danger lurks; and men, like boats, find themselves stranded and facing destruction. Who will man the lifeboats, leaving behind the comforts of home and family, and go to the rescue?
President John Taylor cautioned us, “If you do not magnify your callings, God will hold you responsible for those whom you might have saved had you done your duty.”
Brethren, our task is not insurmountable. We are on the Lord’s errand, and therefore we are entitled to the Lord’s help. But we must try. From the stage play Shenandoah comes the spoken line which inspires: “If we don’t try, then we don’t do; and if we don’t do, then why are we here?”
When the Master ministered among men, He called fishermen at Galilee to leave their nets and follow Him, declaring, “I will make you fishers of men.” And so He did. Tonight He issues a call to each of us to “come join the ranks.” He provides our battle plan with His admonition, “Wherefore, now let every man learn his duty, and to act in the office in which he is appointed, in all diligence.”
I love and cherish the noble word duty. Let us hearken to the stirring reminder found in the epistle of James: “Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.”
There is an old song of my vintage. It’s entitled “Wishing Will Make It So.” It’s not true. Wishing will not make it so. The Lord expects our thinking. He expects our action. He expects our labors. He expects our testimonies. He expects our devotion. Unfortunately, there are those who have departed from the track of priesthood activity. Let us help them back to that path that leads to life eternal. Let us build that strong Melchizedek Priesthood base which will be the foundation of Church activity and growth. It will be the underpinning to strengthen every family, every home, every quorum in every land.
Brethren, we can reach out to those for whom we are responsible and bring them to the table of the Lord, there to feast on His word and to enjoy the companionship of His Spirit and be “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.”
The passage of time has not altered the capacity of the Redeemer to change men’s lives—our lives and the lives of those with whom we labor. As He said to the dead Lazarus, so He says today: “Come forth.” Come forth from the despair of doubt. Come forth from the sorrow of sin. Come forth from the death of disbelief. Come forth to a newness of life. Come forth.
We will discover that those whom we serve, who have felt through our labors the touch of the Master’s hand, somehow cannot explain the change which comes into their lives. There is a desire to serve faithfully, to walk humbly, and to live more like the Savior. Having received their spiritual eyesight and glimpsed the promises of eternity, they echo the words of the blind man to whom Jesus restored sight, who said, “One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.”
How can we account for these miracles? Why the upsurge of activity in men long dormant? The poet, speaking of death, wrote, “God … touched him, and he slept.” I say, speaking of this new birth, “God touched them, and they awakened.”
Two fundamental reasons largely account for these changes of attitudes, of habits, of actions. First, men have been shown their eternal possibilities and have made the decision to achieve them. Men cannot really long rest content with mediocrity once they see excellence is within their reach.
Second, other men have followed the admonition of the Savior and have loved their neighbors as themselves and helped to bring their neighbors’ dreams to fulfillment and their ambitions to realization.
The catalyst in this process has been—and will continue to be—the principle of love.
Another principle of truth which will guide us in our determination is that boys and men can change. I’m reminded of the words of a prison warden who taught this fact. A critic who knew of Warden Duffy’s efforts to rehabilitate men said, “Don’t you know that leopards can’t change their spots?”
Warden Duffy responded, “You should know I don’t work with leopards. I work with men, and men change every day.”
Many years ago, before leaving to become president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, I had developed a friendship with a man by the name of Shelley, who lived in my ward but did not embrace the gospel, irrespective of the fact that his wife and children had done so. Shelley had been known as the toughest man in town when he was young. He was quite a pugilist. His fights were rarely in the ring but rather elsewhere. Try as I might, I could not bring about a change in Shelley’s attitude. The task appeared hopeless. In time, Shelley and his family moved from our ward.
After I had returned from Canada and was called to the Twelve, I received a telephone call from Shelley. He said, “Will you seal my wife and me and our family in the Salt Lake Temple?”
I answered hesitatingly, “Shelley, you first must be a baptized member of the Church.”
He laughed and responded, “Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. My home teacher was a school crossing guard, and every weekday as he and I would visit at the crossing, we would discuss the gospel.”
The sealings were performed; a family was united; joy followed.
Abraham Lincoln offered this wise counsel, which surely applies to home teachers: “If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend.”
A friend makes more than a dutiful visit each month. A friend is more concerned about helping people than getting credit. A friend cares. A friend loves. A friend listens. And a friend reaches out.
There are brethren in every ward who seem to have a special skill and aptitude to penetrate the outer shell and reach the heart. Such was Raymond L. Egan, who served as my counselor in the bishopric. He loved to befriend and activate in the Church the father of a family and thereby bring into the fold a dear wife and precious children as well. This wonderful phenomenon occurred many times right up until Brother Egan departed mortality.
There are other ways as well by which one might lift and serve. On one occasion, I was speaking with a retired executive I had known for a long time. I asked him, “Ed, what are you doing in the Church?” He replied, “I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.” Short in stature, “Little Ed,” as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.
I truly believe that those who have the ability to reach out and to lift up have found the formula descriptive of Brother Walter Stover—a man who spent his entire life in service to others. At Brother Stover’s funeral, his son-in-law paid tribute to him in these words: “Walter Stover had the ability to see Christ in every face he encountered, and he treated each person accordingly.” Legendary are his acts of compassionate help and his talent to lift heavenward every person whom he met. His guiding light was the Master’s voice speaking, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … , ye have done it unto me.”
Brethren, acquire the language of the Spirit. It is not learned from textbooks written by men of letters, nor is it acquired through reading and memorization. The language of the Spirit comes to him who seeks with all his heart to know God and keep His divine commandments. Proficiency in this “language” permits one to breach barriers, overcome obstacles, and touch the human heart.
In a day of danger or a time of trial, such knowledge, such hope, such understanding bring comfort to a troubled soul and a grieving heart. Shadows of despair are dispelled by rays of hope; sorrow yields to joy; and the feeling of being lost in the crowd of life vanishes with the certain knowledge that our Heavenly Father is mindful of each of us.
In closing, I return to the painting by Turner. In a very real sense, those persons stranded on the vessel which had run aground in the storm-tossed sea are like many young men—and older men as well—who await rescue by those of us who have the priesthood responsibility to man the lifeboats. Their hearts yearn for help. Mothers and fathers pray for their sons. Wives and children plead to heaven that Daddy and others may be reached.
Tonight I pray that all of us who hold the priesthood may sense our responsibilities and, as one, follow our Leader—even the Lord Jesus Christ, and His prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley—to the rescue.
In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One night Moisés came home late from Papá’s shop. Mamá was sitting at the table. She looked worried.
“Is everything OK?” Moisés asked.
Mamá sighed. “Yes, we will be all right.” She gave Moisés a tired smile. “Money is tight this month. I’m worried that we can’t afford to pay tithing.”
Moisés remembered what the missionaries taught them about tithing. They said it was giving 10 percent of your money to God to help do His work.
Mamá put some pesos in an envelope and sealed it closed. “This is sacred money,” she said. “We need to pay our tithing.”
Moisés thought about the pesos he had earned at the car shop. He pulled them out of his pocket. “Can I pay my tithing too?”
Mamá smiled. “Of course you can.”
After that Moisés always paid his tithing. Sometimes it was hard. But Moisés had faith. He was a pioneer! He kept paying his tithing, and his family always had enough. Moisés was grateful for the ways Heavenly Father blessed him for being obedient.

My parents moved to St. George a few years after they retired. I loved to visit them and escape from the cold and the smog of the Wasatch Front. After one visit with them, my daughter Laura and I left to drive home. We had just passed the fourteen-mile marker on I-15, north of St. George, when we got a flat tire. I pulled over to the shoulder and quickly reached for my cell phone to call my dad and ask for his help. He was at the neighbors’, but my mom went over to tell him of our plight.

In the meantime, a couple of nice men stopped and began to change our flat tire. They were just finishing when my dad pulled up behind us. He got out of his car and thanked the men for helping me. My dad and I visited briefly and then said our good-byes once more.

I got in my car, started it, and tried to pull forward but could not. Something was wrong. My dad was behind us, so he had not yet moved. We got out of our cars, and he took a quick look at my tire. He went to his trunk and removed a two-by-four piece of wood and a hammer. Something was hanging underneath my car in the wheel well against the tire, preventing it from rotating. He placed the two-by-four along the top of the tire and hit the other end of the board with his hammer, moving the dangling piece out of the way so the tire could rotate freely.

When I looked at my dad, I noticed he was a bit teary. I thanked him, and he said, “There is something you need to know. When I entered the garage to get in the car and come to you, I felt prompted to take a two-by-four and a hammer. Although I wondered why in the world I would need a two-by-four and a hammer to change a tire, I gathered them and put them in the trunk. They were exactly what I needed to fix your car.”

I became teary too. A loving, watchful Heavenly Father had communicated to my dad through the Holy Ghost to help me with a need that neither my dad nor I knew I had when the prompting was given. My heart filled with gratitude for my Heavenly Father, for my wonderful earthly father, and for the Holy Ghost. I felt so loved, so protected, and so safe. Our Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost care about the details of our lives.

Dan wasn’t always as helpful as he is now. The “old” Dan didn’t like to work. He was sometimes disobedient and impolite, and he didn’t study very hard. Then one day his father, Jones, met two Latter-day Saint missionaries on the street. In time, the whole family joined the Church. Learning that he was a child of God who could grow up to be like his Father in Heaven gave Dan a new point of view. His baptism and confirmation helped it grow. “I felt forgiven and clean and good, and since then, the Holy Ghost has helped me do what I should. And when I repent, He helps me know that I’m forgiven.”
Seeing himself differently, Dan began seeing others that way as well. “I love my brothers and sisters like I love myself. I would do anything for them.” Dan changed in other ways, too. Barely able to read, he studied hard and became a good reader and a good student.
Brother Balyejusa has noticed a change in all his children. “Since we joined the Church, I don’t have as many problems with my family. We are now like one person. Before we were divided.”

On one occasion, a missionary in the final week of his mission reminded me that I had given him clearance two years previously to serve a mission. The clearance had been extended with some reservations on my part because he had indulged in a number of transgressions before his mission. He said: “Elder Asay, you allowed me to go into the field after due repentance and after I promised that I would be strictly obedient and would work diligently. I can assure you that I have worked hard and have obeyed every rule.” Then he said something very significant. “I feel that my sins have been forgiven. I feel perfectly clean.” He had been cleansed through selfless service and by developing a close association with the Holy Spirit. He had been through the refiner’s fire, and impurities had been burned away.

Early in President Gordon B. Hinkley’s life he experienced much tragedy. He was living in the midst of the Great Depression when few young men were serving missions. His mother had died 3 years earlier of cancer, and the family was experiencing a lot of hardship not only financially but in every other way President Hinkley recalled. His father and brother promised to support his efforts to serve a mission, and they found a small savings account from their mother. The funding that supported his mission was sacred to him. He left for his mission to England in the summer of 1933. When he got there, Elder Hinkley experienced a lot of discouragement and failure. He was feeling miserable and, I imagine, a bit guilty for what he felt like was wasting sacred money. He wrote home to his father stating, “I’m not doing any good here. I am just wasting my time and your money. I don’t see any point in staying here.” His father wisely knew how to respond. He wrote back, “Dear Gordon, I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work. With love, Your Father.” These words weren’t meant to patronize or scold. Elder Hinkley’s father must have known the value in getting out of your own head and helping others. The next day Elder Hinkley pondered the response from his father and while reading his scriptures came across this statement:
For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it. [3]
This hit Elder Hinkley like a load of bricks. He prayed to his Heavenly Father that he would give himself over to the Lord. He states that “the whole world changed. The fog lifted. The sun began to shine in my life.” [4] This sounds exactly like the promise from Isaiah: “Then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noonday.” [5] There it is. President Hinkley experienced it on his mission: the joy of looking beyond yourself and helping others.

In the fall of 1935 Amelia took a position with Purdue University as counselor in careers for women. The young people loved her and she became the idol of the campus.
Purdue honored Amelia with a variety of special gifts, including a Lockheed Electra, a plane that would seat ten passengers.
“I’m so overwhelmed with all this,” Amelia exclaimed. “It doesn’t seem possible! I’ll have to repay you for all of these gifts.”
Amelia soon decided that the logical way to repay everyone was to make a truly spectacular flight. She began making plans to fly completely around the globe, following an equatorial route. By March of 1937 all was ready. Amelia took off with Captain Manning as navigator. But trouble with the landing gear sent the Lockheed Electra back to California for repairs after the second stop. When the plane was repaired, Amelia and a different navigator, Fred Noonan, flew across the continent to Miami, Florida. Meeting with reporters, she said, “I have a feeling that there is just about one more good flight left in my system, and I hope this is it. After it is over, I plan to give up major long-distance flights.”
At about six o’clock on the morning of June 1, 1937, Amelia climbed into the Electra at Miami Airport. The plane zoomed across South America, over Africa, and on over Asia. Amelia and Noonan were eagerly welcomed everywhere they landed.
Setting down at Lae, New Guinea, Amelia and Noonan prepared for their final long flight. Their route was to take them to Howland Island, twenty-five hundred miles away in the Pacific, back to Honolulu, and then on to California. America was planning a gala homecoming.
The first few hours after takeoff from Lae were ideal. Then trouble began. It seemed as though nature threw all her obstacles at the two fliers—rains, fogs, and squalls pelted the aircraft.
Then, when the Lockheed should have been close to Howland Island, the Coast Guard picked up Amelia’s frantic message. “Cannot hear you. … Please take a bearing on us and answer. …” The small aircraft was having radio trouble and could not hear the Coast Guard. A final message came. “Circling … cannot see island. … Gas is running low … running north and south. …”
Then silence.
A nation mourned the loss of a brave lady and her copilot whose watery grave and its location still remain a mystery. But Amelia would have chuckled at the numerous earthbound monuments built in her honor since her disappearance. For her true monument is the sky.

When I was 11 years old, my brother and I had a fight, and I refused to forgive him. For three long years, he worked to win my forgiveness, but I kept snubbing him and ignoring his efforts. I always felt guilty—as though I were carrying the heaviest load of my life. But I was selfish, and I had too much pride to admit I was wrong. I don’t know how my brother was so patient with me.
Now I am 14. Recently I was given the opportunity to prepare to go to the Manila Philippines Temple to be baptized for the dead. I realized I had to do something to fix the situation with my brother. I wanted to repent and be friends with my brother again, but I didn’t know how. Every night I thought about how to tell him I was sorry, but I was too shy to talk to him about it. For several nights, I struggled with what to do. Finally, after praying about it, I decided to write him a letter. I put the letter in his room before leaving to attend the temple.
I felt lighter than ever before. My heavy burden was gone, and I was filled with joy. More important than that, I felt worthy to enter the house of the Lord. I realized that if I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I would have forgiven my brother long before. And I prayed that my brother and the Lord would forgive me for holding the grudge so long.
I am grateful for the power of forgiveness and that the Atonement of Jesus Christ can help our family be happy once again.

Years later, when Sister Ellis and I had young children and I was starting a new career, my employer changed medical insurance plans. The old plan would end on June 1 and the new one would start on July 1, leaving us without insurance for one month. We did not know what to do, but at that point we remembered a talk by President N. Eldon Tanner (1898–1982) in which he counseled Church members to always have health insurance.3
I talked with the company, and we negotiated a contract to ensure continuous insurance coverage throughout June. On June 28 our oldest son, Matt, fell off the high diving board at the neighborhood pool and hit the concrete deck. He suffered a fractured skull and a brain concussion. He was rushed by helicopter to the hospital, where he was treated by specialists. The costs were astronomical and would have ruined us financially. Fortunately, health insurance paid for most of his treatment.

Each week Melissa looks at the family home evening chart to see what her assignment will be. When it’s her turn to give the lesson, she likes to use the Friend magazine. “If I use the Friend, I don’t need any help from my mom or dad,” Melissa explains. She often invites a friend to share family home evening with her family. One of her friends enjoyed coming so much that she asked her parents if they could have their own family night.

One of my best friends invited me to attend his ward on a fast Sunday to participate in the naming and blessing of his son. Following the blessing, it was time for the sacrament.
While the sacrament was being passed to the congregation, I noticed my friend’s six-year-old nephew, who has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). He was wandering in the back of the chapel but then quietly began interacting with one of the older men passing the sacrament.
Uncertain if the boy had received the sacrament, the man gently extended the sacrament tray to him. The boy reached out, paused for a moment, and then withdrew his hand. A slightly awkward back and forth followed for the next few seconds as the boy again reached out and withdrew his hand. He seemed unsure of what to do. The older gentleman patiently waited.
Finally, the boy asked, “Do you want me to take the sacrament?”
In a compassionate voice, the older gentleman replied, “Do you want to take the sacrament?”
The boy said yes and then, without hesitation, reached out his hand and took the bread. As the man passing the sacrament took the bread to others, the boy returned to his family and sat down.

“Remember to keep your eyes on your own paper,” Ms. Mori said.
Nathan stared at his test. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friend Jason flip open his math test and start writing. Nathan sighed.
“Something wrong?” Ms. Mori asked.
“No, ma’am,” Nathan said quietly. But that wasn’t totally true. Unlike Jason, Nathan couldn’t stand math. He didn’t hate all schoolwork—someday he wanted to paint like Da Vinci or write like Shakespeare. In those subjects, there was usually more than one right answer to a question. But in math, there was only one correct answer. Just one! And Nathan never seemed to get it.
“Psst!” Jason whispered. He flicked a crumpled paper under Nathan’s chair. At first Nathan thought Jason was teasing him. But then Jason grinned and tapped his test, and Nathan knew what was on the paper—the answers!
He looked up. Ms. Mori’s back was turned. Now was the perfect time to grab the paper! This could be one math test he didn’t fail.
Nathan stretched to snatch the paper off the floor …
To cheat or not to cheat—that is the question, Nathan thought, borrowing a line from Shakespeare. As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Nathan kicked the answers back under Jason’s desk. He had already decided to never cheat, no matter how tempting it was.
At the end of class, Nathan still didn’t like math. But he was glad he chose the right, even though he probably didn’t do well on the test. Maybe Jason could help him study for the next one.
Just like math, Nathan thought, when it comes to choosing whether to cheat, there’s only one right answer. He was glad he’d passed.