Gospel Story Finder

My soccer team went to a tournament on a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. My mom asked me what I was going to do about Sunday’s game. I said I didn’t know what to do. My dad encouraged me to pray, so I prayed about it. That night, the song “Nephi’s Courage” got stuck in my head. I knew Heavenly Father answered my prayers through that song so I would remember to have courage to obey His commandments. On Sunday after church, I knew my team was playing. I was a little sad that I couldn’t help my team, but I knew I was doing the right thing. I am glad that Heavenly Father helped me make the right choice, even though it was hard to make.

While a stake president is normally found among the current leadership of the stake, there are exceptions. On one occasion we interviewed brethren into the late evening, unable to feel the confirming Spirit among the outstanding men we were meeting. Finally, after exhausting the prepared list of those to interview, we turned to respected men not currently serving in leadership positions. As we met with a Gospel Doctrine teacher at 10:00 p.m., the Lord powerfully confirmed this was His selection. Only after extending the call did we learn that he had been at his home, awaiting our phone call. Several months earlier, before any announcement of a change in the stake presidency, he and his wife were awakened in the night knowing that the calling would come to him.

Twenty-three-year-old Tom Monson, relatively new bishop of the Sixth-Seventh Ward in the Temple View Stake, Salt Lake City, was unusually restless as the stake priesthood leadership meeting progressed. He had the distinct impression that he should leave the meeting immediately and drive to the Veterans’ Hospital high up on the avenues of the city. Before leaving home that night he had received a telephone call informing him that an older member of his ward was ill and had been admitted to the hospital for care. Could the bishop, the caller wondered, find a moment to go by the hospital sometime and give a blessing? The busy young leader explained that he was just on his way to a stake meeting but that he certainly would be pleased to go by the hospital as soon as the meeting was concluded.
Now the prompting was stronger than ever: “Leave the meeting and proceed to the hospital at once.” But the stake president himself was speaking at the pulpit! It would be most discourteous to stand in the middle of the presiding officer’s message, make one’s way over an entire row of brethren, and then exit the building altogether. Painfully he waited out the final moments of the stake president’s message, then ran for the door even before the closing prayer had been said.
Running the full length of the corridor on the fourth floor of the hospital, the young bishop saw some extra activity outside the designated room. A nurse stopped him and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?”
“Yes,” was the anxious reply.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “The patient was calling your name just before he died.”
Fighting back the tears, Thomas S. Monson turned and walked back into the night. He vowed then and there that he would never again fail to act upon a prompting from the Lord. He would acknowledge the impressions of the Spirit when they came, and he would follow wherever they led him, ever to be “on the Lord’s errand.”

May I refer to a modern “last days” testimony? When Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum started for Carthage to face what they knew would be an imminent martyrdom, Hyrum read these words to comfort the heart of his brother:
“Thou hast been faithful; wherefore, … thou shalt be made strong, even unto the sitting down in the place which I have prepared in the mansions of my Father.
“And now I, Moroni, bid farewell … until we shall meet before the judgment-seat of Christ.”
A few short verses from the 12th chapter of Ether in the Book of Mormon. Before closing the book, Hyrum turned down the corner of the page from which he had read, marking it as part of the everlasting testimony for which these two brothers were about to die. I hold in my hand that book, the very copy from which Hyrum read, the same corner of the page turned down, still visible. Later, when actually incarcerated in the jail, Joseph the Prophet turned to the guards who held him captive and bore a powerful testimony of the divine authenticity of the Book of Mormon. Shortly thereafter pistol and ball would take the lives of these two testators.

A while ago I met a special boy, and this week I had the privilege of spending some time with him and his family. This boy has muscular atrophy. He is a remarkable young man, loved by everyone in the ward. He has always wanted to do the things the other fellows do. He has succeeded in Cub Scouting. He is now a First Class Scout and is progressing.
While Jay was a deacon, he passed the sacrament with the others. He can’t walk or stand on his feet, so his dad lined up with the other boys, holding Jay with his strong arm around his waist and helping him hold the tray, since his hands are not strong enough to support it. Jay’s father thus assisted his son from row to row as he passed the sacrament. Jay did a great job as a deacon collecting fast offerings too. His dad carried him from door to door. Can you imagine that scene on the doorstep?
Jay bears a strong testimony; his attitude and outlook are amazing. He gives talks and does well. He has sung in Church, and always when he does these things, his dad is there to hold him in his arms and stand by him and support him.
In all my life I never heard a sweeter story nor a more moving one. God bless such a father, and God bless such a son, and God bless us who have so much and who have yet a little time, that we may take another look at our boy or at the boy who needs some additional help outside his home. God bless you boys to appreciate your dads, to be patient and gracious and forgiving. God bless us all, boys and men, now and in the future, always to act in a way that will help others enjoy the special blessings God wants them to have.

Another example was with the young women. When each young woman reached her 16th birthday, together we reviewed her thoughts and concerns about dating. Then we looked at her eternal goals and encouraged her to discuss them with her parents and to remember them on her dates. As the years have gone by, a number of young women have told me how much it helped to remember their “sweet sixteen bishop’s interview” and the commitments they made to themselves and the Lord for achieving eternal goals.

Then one day, about a year later, one of Olivio’s American teammates said, “Hey—you’re Mormon. Don’t Mormons go on missions? Are you going to quit the team and go too?”
That started Olivio thinking. “The things I learned made sense to me, and I said, ‘Well, if these things come from God. I have to explain them to other people.”
But leaving basketball—that would be tough. Olivio had just made the Portuguese national team, and his professional team had offered him a very lucrative contract—lots of money, a car, and a luxurious apartment.
“It was a difficult decision to leave basketball, so I decided to get my patriarchal blessing. There it said that I was going to serve the Lord, so I decided to do it. God prepared me to come here and find the gospel by giving me these talents to play basketball. I don’t have a problem leaving it to serve him. I think I can help many people.”
And now, Elder Olivio Gomes Manuel, who left northern Portugal almost two years ago to serve in southern Portugal, is helping many people. He’s well known throughout the mission for his good nature and easy smile, his hard work, and his gentle rapport with the people he towers over.

My mum tells us that as she was growing up, she got used to the promptings and influence of the Holy Spirit in her life. Sometime in July 1983, she was sitting by the roadside in front of her friend’s house, while the friend was platting her hair. What makes that day so special is her attitude and how she started the day. She was fasting for the Lord’s guidance in her life. She was used to this principle and knew that if she wanted something special from her Father in Heaven she needed to fast and to pray.
As she sat with her friend on the side of the road, the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit came to her, saying, “Winnie, count the cars that pass by, the fifth one is a pink-colored car. Follow and talk to the person driving it and you will have your freedom forever”.
She was more concerned about what it meant by being free forever and did not do the first part of the instruction. The third prompting a few seconds later was stronger and made her more attentive to the instruction she had received. It only took a short while before the fifth car came by and, lo and behold, it was as the Spirit had said to her—a pink-colored car. Winnie was an athlete in high school and ran. She used her amazing speed to chase the car as it passed by. After a few seconds, the car slowed down and stopped by the side of the road and then he took off. Frustrated that the Holy Spirit would give her instructions and not make it easy for her to reach him, she stopped by the kiosk to talk to the other man, inquiring if he knew the driver of the car that just sped off. He gave her the man’s name and told her where he lived. The residence was very far from her neighborhood, but she decided to walk to his home that same day.
When she arrived, Winnie was told that he was not at home. She came each day for close to a month and was told the same thing.
One day as she was about to leave, the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit whispered to her, “Winnie, he is at home, wait for him”. She politely told his wife that she would wait outside for him. A few minutes later, the man opened his front door, looked straight at Winnie, and called her by her full name. He explained to her that he knew why she was looking for him and told her that the only way to continue their conversation was to come back with Atobora Peter Brown.
This man was Joseph William Billy Johnson. He stands as a great pioneer in Ghana, introducing the Church and teaching from the Book of Mormon and writing to the brethren in Salt Lake City, Utah, U.S.A, long before the Church was officially organized in Ghana.
A few days later, as Winnie and Atobora were going around looking for an apartment to rent because their scheduled marriage was nearing, they met a pastor of a church. While they talked about the rent, the pastor stopped mid-sentence, looked directly at Winnie, and in a state that was obvious to them that he was overcome by the Holy Spirit said something like “You were told to go see a certain man and when you saw him, he told you to bring this young man with you and he would have a conversation with both of you together. You have not done that yet. When you go to him, he will introduce you to a church and that church is the true church of God.”
Atobora then asked the pastor why he was not a member of that church knowing that it is the true Church of God. The pastor admitted that the true Church did not have a paid clergy and he needed the offerings from his congregation for his upkeep. As soon as they left that pastor, they went to Brother Johnson’s home. Over the course of three weeks, he taught them all six missionary discussions and they were ready for baptism.
In September of 1983, because of pressure from her family, Winnie cancelled her baptism date, but Atobora went ahead. The following Sunday, Atobora was ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood and the week after that, he baptized Winnie.
It has been more than 40 years since Winnie heard the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit who urged her to look for Brother Johnson and thereafter experience joy and rejoicing. Winnie and Atobora were blessed with four sons, two daughters, and nine grandchildren. All four sons served full-time missions. All six children have received their endowment in the house of the Lord. The fruits of the seed that was planted on that blessed day in 1983 keeps growing and spreading.
This is a legacy of love. It is a legacy that has blessed many of their ancestors and will bless generations to come.

Several years ago at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, the participants were expressing gratitude to the ranch chairman, who happened to be me. They had asked my son, Scott, married with children, to say something. He came up on the stand, dressed in his Scout uniform, stood in front of me, raised his arm to the square in the Scout sign, and said:
“Dad, on my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight” (see Boy Scout Handbook, Boy Scouts of America [1998]). He said it with sincerity and as an oath, tears glistening, his voice filled with emotion. I knew he meant it with all his heart and soul.
Before you take an oath, it’s important to know what it means. “On my honor” means that we will keep the oath—that our honor depends upon it. If we fail to keep the Scout Oath, we are violating a solemn promise. It continues, “… to do my duty to God.” This means, from a Church point of view, that we attend Church, pay tithing, accept callings, honor the priesthood, keep God’s commandments, and keep the standards of dress and conduct. Then the oath states, “… and my country.” Wherever we live in the world we should do our duty to our country by obeying the laws, sustaining good leaders, honoring the flag, and being good citizens.
An important part of the oath states, “… to obey the Scout Law.” The Scout Law is a wonderful model for life.
A Scout is trustworthy. Imagine if every Scout practiced this first principle of the Scout Law with all his heart. There are millions of Boy Scouts and leaders around the world. What a dramatic impact we could have on those around us if we all were trustworthy.
Each principle of the Scout Law is a sermon and demands action if we would live and practice the oath we take: a Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.
A Scout who takes the Scout Oath weekly should remember it is something he is committing his soul to. Imagine what a blessing it is to be loyal to Scouting, family, Church, country, and friends!
We take an oath to be friendly, kind, and courteous. At a national jamboree a 12-year-old Scout got separated from his patrol. He was standing alone in a sea of Scouts and about to break into tears. An older Scout saw him and went over and introduced himself. “I have a gift for you,” the older boy said. “It is a hand-carved bolo tie. A great Scouter, Bill Burch, carved it. He numbers each one. He has carved over 40,000.”
The older Scout presented the tie to the young scared Scout. About that time the patrol found the boy. They gathered around him, and for a few moments he was the center of attention with his new bolo tie. The tears had disappeared; he felt important. The older Scout had truly been friendly.
Not one of the 12 points mentioned in the Scout Law is selfish; the prophets of God in the Book of Mormon and other scriptures have taught each point. I believe the Scout Oath is an inspired oath for all young men.
For example, to be obedient is a great and wonderful blessing. It is a privilege to be obedient. It is not a “have to do” because of the standards; it is a “get to do.” We really are free when we are obedient to God’s commandments and to the Scout Law.
It is a blessing, as well, to be cheerful. I recall Elder Loren C. Dunn (1930–2001) of the Seventy several years ago suggesting in a talk “that a certain man looked like he had been weaned on lemon juice through a dill pickle.” Cheerfulness is contagious and is a strong positive influence for good. People enjoy being around others who are happy. In Proverbs we read, “A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance” (Prov. 15:13). Also it states, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine” (Prov. 17:22).
If being cheerful is good for the soul, being thrifty is good for our financial well-being. Wastefulness and indulgence are not of God. They are negative influences and have serious consequences on us by and by. When we are thrifty we are self-reliant, able to be free to assist those in need. Scouting instructs us to be wise with our resources.
Profound knowledge and direction come from the Scout Law. A Scout is brave, clean, and reverent. Bravery is usually not sensational, although it may be. Bravery is manifest in many small acts, such as defending a young man against those who would mock or physically abuse him. It is standing up for an ideal and letting your voice be heard.
Bravery is a trait every young man can develop. It is based on love for others more than safety for self. One Venturer Scout who is blind signed up to go on a hike in southern California with his Scout troop. They hiked to Lord Baden Powell Peak over a steep trail. The young man held on to the shirt of a fellow Boy Scout every step of the way. It was a long hike and took two full days. This boy did not complain, did not seek pity, just kept grinding on and on until they came to the trail’s end. Equally as brave was the Scout who volunteered to lead his friend over a steep and challenging trail. He felt honored to help.
The traits of cleanliness and reverence complement each other. To be clean refers to body cleanliness, clean clothing, being well groomed and wearing appropriate attire.
To be reverent demands that we acknowledge God, that by our actions we express our devotion to Him. Reverence for the Lord has a profound impact on our conduct, our language, our personal prayers, and our standards. It is interesting that reverence is the 12th point in the Scout Law. It sums up all the others. Violating any of the other 11 points would be irreverent.
We declare in the Scout Oath that we will “help other people at all times.” A 12-year-old Scout went to troop meeting at Mutual one Tuesday evening. When Mutual was over, he did not show up at home for about an hour and a half. His parents were concerned and were about to go look for him when he came through the door. “Where have you been?” the anxious father asked.
“One of the members of the bishopric was putting up the chairs all alone,” he replied. “You remember my patriarchal blessing states, ‘You were born to serve your fellow men.’ I stayed and helped him put away all the chairs. I sure love him.”
We do love those we serve. Imagine millions of men and boys helping other people at all times.
If we are true to the oath, we will also keep ourselves “physically strong.” We will eat wholesome foods, stay in good physical condition, and not abuse this wonderful body we have. Physical health brings happiness. It increases our capabilities in so many ways.
The Scout Oath includes being “mentally awake.” We must have good health to be mentally awake. Our eyes reflect whether we are awake or not. To be mentally awake we must see what is going on around us. We must be alert and aware.
The oath concludes with being “morally straight,” which means we do not deviate or compromise standards of chastity, virtue, or wholesomeness. We stand on higher ground and remain morally clean. A Scout who makes an oath that he will be morally straight is duty bound to live that way. The Scout Oath prepares us for the priesthood oath and covenant. Virtue is an essential part of our priesthood oath.
Think with me about President Gordon B. Hinckley, President Thomas S. Monson, and President James E. Faust taking the Scout Oath. Can you think of anything in the oath that they are not living daily? Do the other great men you know—your fathers, bishops, stake presidents, seminary teachers, and Scout leaders—live in harmony with the Scout Oath? They do.
Fellow Scouts, remember the sacredness of an oath. It is violated only to the detriment of your character. By living the Scout Oath and preparing for the oath and covenant of the Melchizedek Priesthood, you are truly preparing yourself to serve God, your fellow man, your family, and your community. Taking the Scout Oath is a sacred trust endorsed by the First Presidency. Living the Scout Oath will help you become the kind of man God can use in building His kingdom on earth.

Keeping the Sabbath day holy became a challenge for Annabelle Hyatt when she was hired for an internship with an amusement-park company. Growing up in Texas, USA, Annabelle was taught to worship, rest, and serve others on the Sabbath. But when she moved to Florida to start her internship, she had to work on Sundays.
She explains, “At first I dutifully went to work, just as everyone else did. After a few weeks, I started to notice how sad I was feeling during the week without taking the sacrament or hearing inspiring words that I needed more than ever.”
One day she prayed for help and mustered the courage to talk to her supervisor about her desire to attend church and not work on Sundays. Her supervisor didn’t understand why it was so important to her. But Annabelle persisted. Every time she saw her manager or scheduling supervisor, she mentioned that she needed Sundays off and was willing to work extra hard other days in order to make it happen.
“Eventually, by a miracle it happened!” she says. “My days off work became Saturday and Sunday, which is unheard of for a seasonal intern who was barely a month into the program. The privilege of having the weekends off was normally reserved for those with seniority status.”
She testifies of the blessings: “Being able to bring the light of going to church back into my life, I could see and feel a dramatic difference. When my co-workers asked why I go to church or why it’s so important, I would tell them to come with me. I started bringing some of my co-workers to church. I know without a doubt that the gospel of Jesus Christ is worth standing up for. Sabbath day observance is a necessity to have the Spirit in your life and become a better person.”
Annabelle, like many young adults, was blessed as she remained committed to keeping the Sabbath day holy. Although it can be a challenge to withstand pressure to work or participate in activities we normally enjoy during the week, keeping the Sabbath day holy is ultimately a matter of obedience, attitude, and choice. Great blessings will come. These three young adults share their testimonies that the Lord helps His children keep His day holy.

One Sunday a small child handed the bishop his family’s donation envelope as he entered the chapel before the sacrament meeting. The family had just learned of someone in the ward in need. The boy’s father had said something like this to the child as he placed a generous fast offering in the envelope: “We fasted today and prayed for those in need. Please give this envelope to the bishop for us. I know that he will give it to help those with greater needs than ours.”

I could tell from the boy’s smile and the way he held the envelope so tightly that he felt the great trust of his father to carry the family offering for the poor.

This year I was asked to be Santa in the school play. I was thrilled! I borrowed my papa’s Santa suit. All the little kids were excited when I walked into the gym all dressed up in the white beard and red suit. It was really fun being Santa. The best part was yet to come.
My papa dresses up like Santa every year and visits the nursing home in our town. It makes the older people there so happy. He told me that I should go to the nursing home dressed in the Santa suit and that it would probably be my favorite part of Christmas.
So after the play at school, my mom brought some oranges and we went to the nursing home. My little brother, Jaden, came along as Santa’s helper. I already knew a lot of the people there because our school class had visited the nursing home several times. I hoped that they wouldn’t recognize me!
When I walked in the door, I started ringing some Christmas bells that I had brought and shouting, “Merry Christmas!” A group of little grandmas was sitting at the end of the hall. When they heard the bells, they all looked at me and smiled. I gave them each an orange and visited with them. One lady asked, “Why have you come to see me?” I told her that I had come because it was Christmas and I wanted to make sure that she was being good. They all wanted their picture taken with Santa.
But the best part was when I went to visit Bill. He wasn’t in the hall. He was in his room with the door closed. That’s where Bill always is. He never speaks, and he usually doesn’t like visitors at all. I knew that because I had tried to make friends with him before but had never had any luck. The nurse was worried about me going into his room. I asked her if I could see him for just a minute. She opened the door, and I could see Bill lying with his back toward me, watching TV. I started to jingle the bells. As soon as Bill heard the bells, he slowly turned toward me. He sat up on his bed, and he got the biggest smile on his face. I wished him a merry Christmas and gave him a hug. He looked just like a little boy on Christmas morning. The nurse who was with me had a tear running down her cheek. She said that she had never seen Bill smile before.
My papa was right. I had the best feeling that night. I think that visiting the nursing home as Santa was one of my favorite parts of Christmas.

Sister Glazen smiled at Tyler as she nudged him toward Jason’s bedroom door.
“Tyler,” he heard Jason call, “is that you?” His best friend’s voice sounded normal, considering he had been in the hospital for two months.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Tyler’s voice squeaked.
Tyler would never forget the day the Bishop had come into his Primary class and told them that Jason had been hit by a car and seriously injured. The bishop had added that the doctor believed that Jason might never walk again.
Beth raised her hand. “Bishop, didn’t you give Jason a blessing?”
“Yes, his dad and I blessed him that night.”
“Then he’ll be all right,” Beth said.
“You have great faith, Beth. Heavenly Father truly blessed Jason, and I believe that he will live. But I can’t say whether it’s His will that Jason walk again. The Lord’s will is not always our will.”
Bishop Johannsen’s words hit Tyler like a sledgehammer. Jason? Not walk? It didn’t seem possible. Jason could jump higher and run the court faster than any other kid on the basketball team!
“Jason needs your help,” the Bishop said. “Will you all pray for him?”
Tyler had been praying for Jason for two long months, but his friend still couldn’t walk. …
Bright sunlight filled the bedroom. Tyler had to blink before he could see Jason sitting by the window. But what was Jason sitting in?
A wheelchair! It was black with big steel and rubber wheels. Jason looked so small in it! Tyler tried to smile but couldn’t.
“Thanks for coming.” Jason looked up at him.
Tyler sat on the bed. “No problem. How do you feel?”
Jason shrugged. “You heard that I can’t walk?” Tyler nodded. Jason continued, “My spinal cord was injured. I can feel a little bit in my legs, but the feeling is sort of fuzzy. Dr. Miller says I might get some movement back in them if I work hard.”
Tyler felt an ache in his chest but managed not to cry. After all, he wasn’t the one who couldn’t walk, who’d never play basketball again.
The room was quiet for a few seconds before Jason said, “Tyler?”
Tyler felt his lip quiver. “What?”
“It’s been a real long time since I’ve been down to the playground. Would you push me there? Mom said it would be OK … if you wanted to.”
Tyler stood up and pointed at the wheelchair. “How do I work this thing?”
Jason smiled. “First, I release the brake, then you grab the handles and push. I can do it myself by pushing on the wheels, but you need the exercise.”
“Oh yeah? You’re the one who never could do chin-ups in PE,” Tyler teased, surprised he was able to kid around.
“Look whose talking!” Jason joked back, “A guy who can’t do five chin-ups!”
“I can too!” Tyler said. “I’ll prove it at the playground.” Jason looked happy.
Sister Glazen held open the door as Tyler pushed Jason outside. “I’ll come for you soon,” she promised. “I wouldn’t want you to miss lunch.”
When the boys reached the playground, they saw Ian, Juan, and Beth playing basketball. Ian dribbled the ball off his foot when he saw Tyler pushing Jason across the asphalt.
“Surprise!” Jason called with a wave.
The other kids stopped playing. Tyler worried that their glum faces would make Jason feel bad, so he blurted, “Jason thinks I can’t do five chin-ups. Excuse us while I teach him a lesson.” Tyler jogged the wheelchair to the chin-up bars.
“Prepare to apologize,” he told Jason, jumping up and grabbing the bar. His palms burned as he pulled himself up. He did ten chin-ups before collapsing on the grass.
“Not bad,” Jason said, surprised, “but you’re still not as good as me.”
“What are you talking about?” Tyler panted. “You never could do more than eight or nine.”
“That was before the accident. Now I can do twenty.”
“How can you do chin-ups when you can’t even get out of that wheelchair?” Ian asked.
“I’m not glued to this thing. Besides, chin-ups are part of my physical therapy. You wouldn’t believe all the exercises I have to do every day!”
“You exercise?” Beth was surprised.
“Of course. I have to strengthen my arms so I can do things for myself, like transfer out of my wheelchair. My physical therapist also helps me exercise my legs and back. To tell the truth, it hurts a lot sometimes, but I need to be strong so I can do all the things I want to do.”
Tyler stood up. “What do you want to do?”
Jason grinned. “I want to beat you at one-on-one basketball again.”
The other kids stared at Jason. Did he really expect to play basketball again?
Jason understood their thoughts. He began pushing himself toward the court. “Tyler, would you get the ball for me, please?”
Tyler retrieved the ball and walked toward Jason.
“No—pass it to me.”
Tyler gently lobbed the ball to Jason. “Not like that,” Jason said, firing the ball back to Tyler. “Pass it to me like you mean it.”
Tyler looked at the other kids, shrugged, then passed the ball hard. Jason caught it easily.
“See—I don’t break.” Jason wheeled himself to the free throw line. “Watch this.”
He shot the ball.
They all watched as it sailed through the air—and fell short of the basket. Tyler started after it, but Jason said, “I’ll get my own rebound.” Bending at the waist, Jason picked up the ball and shot again … and again, … but missed every time. His friends stared. Jason had never missed this often before. Jason was just as surprised. His head fell to his chest.
Beth said, “Jason, we don’t care if you can’t shoot a free throw. We’re just glad you’re here. My mom says you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Funny,” Jason replied, “I don’t feel very lucky.”
Wanting to help Jason, Tyler prayed silently. Then, remembering what the bishop had said that day in Primary—“The Lord’s will is not always our will”—he said softly, “Jason, there must be some reason Heavenly Father let this awful thing happen. Sure, it’ll be hard to learn to play basketball from a wheelchair, but you can learn.”
“Tyler’s right, Son,” said a gentle voice behind them. “You can learn.” Jason’s mother had quietly joined them. “In fact, this has been a lesson for us all—a lesson about the difference between being lucky and being blessed. You weren’t lucky to be in that accident, but you are blessed. Just look at the kind friends you have.”
Jason raised his head and looked at the people around him. He locked eyes with Tyler, then whispered, “I’m scared.”
“Me, too,” Tyler admitted softly.
Sister Glazen paused, then said, “Remember that scripture in the Book of Mormon—the one about our weaknesses becoming strengths?”
“I remember it,” Juan said. “Does that mean Jason’s legs will become strong again, since they’re weak now?”
“I don’t know what the Lord’s will is for Jason’s legs, his mother said, “but it looks like His will, at least for now, is a wheelchair.”
Jason and his friends all nodded slowly. Then Jason spoke. “I think the scripture means that Heavenly Father will strengthen me when I need it. I never really understood what faith is until now. I need Heavenly Father like I never have before.” Jason looked at his mother, then at Tyler, then at his other friends. “I need all of you, too. I need you to help me learn to play basketball from this chair.” He paused, thinking. “But what I need most is for you to keep praying for me.” His smile was small, but real.
Tyler smiled back. “Sure thing!” He turned Jason’s wheelchair toward the chin-up bar. “Right now you’re going to prove that you can beat my ten chin-ups.” His smile turned into a grin. “And tomorrow we’ll all meet back here, same time, for a little basketball practice.”

In the summer of 1941, when Alexandria Safronova was just seventeen years old, German armies tuned their attention to the east and swiftly invaded her Russian homeland. Even though she had sensed for some time that the growing conflict in Europe would affect her life, the disruption it brought to her and her family was more devastating than she could have imagined.
Born in the Ukrainian Republic in 1924, Alexandria was one of four daughters born to Michael and Hannah Safronova. Michael was a kind neighbor and hard worker who loved horses. Hannah was a woman of great faith who prayed frequently but always in silence, because in the Ukraine it was forbidden to practice or teach religion in the home. Alexandria learned valuable lessons from both parents, but it was from her mother that she learned to trust in God.
One example of her mother’s faith left an indelible impression on nine-year-old Alexandria. Her father, who had been working hard in the field one day, came home early with a burning fever. Hannah immediately gathered the children, asked them to remain quiet, and then knelt beside her husband’s bed and said a silent prayer. When she arose, she smiled at her concerned children. “Your papa will be well soon,” she said. That very day his fever subsided, and he was able to return to work. Alexandria never forgot that experience.
By November 1941, German forces had penetrated as far as Moscow and Leningrad. That month Alexandria married a Russian soldier who had escaped from captivity. With war at their heels, they fled north to live with Alexandria’s husband’s family. But soon the war reached them, and they and many other families were forced to hide in the nearby forest for four months.
Often Alexandria would not see her husband for days. Along with many other young men, he had joined an underground resistance force that attacked enemy convoys. Alexandria feared for his life but was powerless to do anything about it. Further darkening her condition was the resentment her in-laws felt towards her. Because she was from the Ukraine and spoke a different language, they considered her inferior. “It was all very depressing,” she recalls. “I cried all the time.”
One night Alexandria’s husband came home and gave her the shock of her life: not only did he tell her that he had joined the Nazis, but he also demanded that she leave and never return. Alexandria, frightened by her husband’s threatening, hostile behavior, left. She never saw him again.
The journey to her parents’ home some five hundred miles away seemed impossible. The distance was disheartening, and she had no provisions. To make matters worse, it was winter. But those fears were nothing compared to the thought of traveling alone through a war zone. Alexandria remembers sitting alone in the snow, hungry and weak, with cold tears on her cheeks. She was inconsolable until, remembering her mother’s prayers, she decided to offer her first: “Help me. Help me find my way home.” She wasn’t sure her prayer had been heard, but she nevertheless began the dangerous trek.
The winter days passed slowly. As if in answer to her prayer, someone along the way gave her a map. That spark of hope kept her going, from farm to farm and town to town, day after day. At dusk she pleaded with strangers for a place to sleep—floor or barn, it didn’t matter, as long as it was inside, so she wouldn’t get caught—and shot—for breaking curfew. Food was so scarce that she had nothing to eat but the meager scraps of stale bread and potato peelings that she scrounged from scrap buckets after her hosts had retired to bed. At first light she would resume her journey, often with her clothing wet because of the damp, leaking barns in which she had slept.
Late one afternoon, after an unusually long walk in deep snow, Alexandria was exhausted and knew she would not reach the next town on her own before curfew. She was afraid because she had learned that German soldiers were in the area. Suddenly, three horse-drawn hay wagons driven by German soldiers appeared on the narrow road. As Alexandria hid nearby, she got an idea. If she hopped onto one of the wagons without being seen, she could make it to the next town before dark. The last wagon passed, and she put her desperate plan into action. Running with all her strength, she managed to grab a pole attached to the back of the wagon and climb aboard.
Alexandria rode in relative comfort until, a few miles later, the wagons came to an abrupt halt. She froze with fear. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. “Please help me, dear God!” The footsteps came closer, then stopped right next to her. Alexandria lifted her head to look into the compassionate eyes of a young soldier who motioned for her to remain still. Then he turned to rejoin his comrades without making his discovery known. The company moved on, and Alexandria safely reached the next town.
“I know Father in Heaven was watching over me and was helping me,” she says, her eyes misty with emotion.
After weeks of traveling, Alexandria arrived home, thin and weak but overjoyed to see her family again. Before long, however, the Germans rounded up all young, able-bodied people and sent them by train to Germany to work for the war effort. Alexandria was no exception. She didn’t know that the camp where she was housed for three months, Dachau, held unspeakable sorrows for other people. From there Alexandria was moved from farm to farm on various work details until American liberation forces entered Germany in the spring of 1945.
The war over, Alexandria planned to return to her parents. But she became ill, spent two weeks in a hospital, and missed her train. That was a blessing, she now realizes; returning Russians faced great struggles, and living conditions were much better in Germany than in Russia. While living in a displaced-persons camp in 1945, Alexandria met a handsome American soldier on a blind date. After months of courtship, they were married, and two years later Sergeant Ronnie Graybeal brought his young bride to the United States.
When two Latter-day Saint missionaries visited the Graybeal home in 1959, Alexandria knew their message was special. Her husband and two children were touched, too, and the Graybeals progressed toward baptism. When Brother Graybeal learned that the Air Force was transferring him to Germany, he decided to be baptized before he left. Alexandria, however, was struggling to know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. Some time later, after the family had moved to Germany, her husband said, “If you really want to know, go to Heavenly Father and ask him.” That night Alexandria did just that. “I don’t know what happened,” she explains, “but the next morning I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet.” Alexandria and the two children were baptized a short time later in Kerlsrue, West Germany, in June 1960.
“I just felt wonderful,” Sister Graybeal says, remembering her baptism. “My testimony was strengthened after that, and I couldn’t get enough of the gospel. I studied and studied. It was like walking through a door and finding that the light was shining. It was beautiful.”
Alexandria had not seen her homeland for twenty-nine years. During those years, however, she had corresponded with her parents and one sister. Although she wanted to visit them, she was repeatedly denied a travel visa. Finally, in 1972, she was granted permission to visit her family. The reunion was bittersweet: her mother and two of her sisters had passed away, and her aging father was blind. Still, it was good to be home again with her father, her sister Katrina, and her relatives and close friends.
On one occasion the family visited the cemetery where Alexandria’s mother was buried. Overcome with emotion, Katrina fell upon the grave and wept. Alexandria knelt beside her and explained that death was not final, that their mother still lived in spirit, and that in time they would be with her again. Katrina was puzzled, but the look in her eyes expressed hope, so Alexandria explained the plan of salvation as simply as she could. Katrina listened intently, then turned to her father, who had been listening too. “Papa, do you believe what she says?” He nodded yes as he shed tears. Alexandria bore her testimony and saw a glimmer of enlightenment register on their faces. Never had they spoken of such things before. A seed of truth had been planted.
Today, Alexandria’s happiness, spiritual strength, and deep sense of gratitude attest to the remarkable way that commitment to the gospel has shaped her life. The memories of her trials as a youth of seventeen are still tender, but her sadness vanishes as she talks brightly about the recent changes in Europe and the former U.S.S.R. She is certain that like her own family, many Russian people are being prepared for the time when there will be a great harvest of souls in her homeland.
In fact, Sister Graybeal has already thrust in her sickle. For several months the Graybeals, with the help of others, have been sending to Russia an average of one hundred gift packages each month. Each package contains a copy of the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the book Gospel Principles, as well as a pamphlet on the First Vision, a picture of Jesus Christ, and a personal letter and testimony from Sister Graybeal.
The response has been overwhelming, Sister Graybeal remembers fondly the first thank-you letter she received from Russia and how she felt. “We were so thrilled! No words can express. I cried and cried.”
Today the Graybeals continue to receive numerous requests for literature. One such letter reads, in part: “I have a burning hunger for knowledge of God. I have never had this kind of desire before. I pray that the Lord might inspire you to help me. I would like to know more about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and how they can help me to find peace and contentment in life. Please send whatever you can.”
In her endearing Russian accent, Alexandria quotes a favorite scripture: “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). She knows that wherever we live, the Lord is near and able to assist us.

As I headed back to Provo that Sunday night, I thought about Kelly, the young man that Elder Neal A. Maxwell had talked about that morning in stake conference. I had gone home from BYU for the weekend to attend the conference with my family. I needed a spiritual boost, and the conference was no disappointment. Elder Maxwell had talked about facing and overcoming challenges, and he had told us about a young man named Kelly.
Kelly had fought through many physical difficulties. He had been born without a jaw, chin or ear on the left side, and was operated on 11 times before graduating from high school. A jaw bone was made with bone from his hip, and an ear was also made for him.
For Kelly to serve a mission he had to have special permission to wear his hair over his ears. They were uneven because of the effect of gravity on his left ear, so they needed to be covered. He received permission to wear his hair longer, and he served a mission. He was now attending BYU. I hoped that I would get the chance to meet him. I was so impressed by his story that I wondered over and over if I had passed him on campus.
For weeks I thought about him and hoped I would meet him, but with 26,000 students and the semester nearing the end, it didn’t seem likely. I had mostly forgotten about it until one afternoon in my history class.
I was late that day. I hated being late, especially for my history class. Uncle Joe, as everyone called the professor, was the kind of teacher who could make just about anything interesting.
Every person in the class had to do an oral report on one of the presidents of the United States. Each class period we discussed the life of one of the presidents, and the student who had chosen to study that president started off the class discussion with his report.
As I slipped into the classroom and into a chair, I noticed who was up at the front of the class. It was that boy with the long hair. He had already given his oral report, so I couldn’t imagine what he was doing up in front of the class again. He didn’t look like the type that would have done another report for extra credit. “It doesn’t even matter that I’m late,” I thought as I arranged my books, “if it’s just him up there talking.”
I got settled and sat back to listen. “Why does he wear his hair so long?” I self-righteously wondered. “Doesn’t he know about the dress and grooming standards here?”
He was telling us his own story. “I was born without a jaw and had to have extensive surgery to have one made from bone from my hip. I had 11 major operations before …”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. An uncomfortable feeling was growing inside of me. It couldn’t be him!
I listened to much of the story that I had heard Elder Maxwell tell in stake conference. He spoke of gratitude and appreciation for health and the sweet, simple things of life. When he finished and sat down, Uncle Joe stood up and said, “Thank you, Kelly, for sharing your story with us.”
I don’t remember anything else we talked about that day. I sat there thinking about how much I had wanted to meet Kelly, and all semester long he’d been in my class. But from the first moment I saw him, I had counted him out as anyone I’d like to get to know because he looked a little bit different.
As I nervously waited after class to finally get to meet Kelly, the words came into my mind: “for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7). I realized I had almost missed meeting Kelly because I was looking in the wrong places.

With these thoughts still on his mind, William had his solitude interrupted when a weak voice nearby called out, “Help me, please!” He turned to see a well-dressed woman who appeared to be in her early 30s staggering toward him. She was just barely being supported by a girl younger than himself. The woman pleaded to be put ashore, and then she collapsed in William’s arms. William summoned the ship’s doctor and the captain. It was too late to turn back, so she was carried to her bed below and made as comfortable as possible. “Please look after my daughter,” she urged of William, “and see she gets to the Valley if I cannot.” He promised to do so, even though the thought of being responsible for a 12-year-old girl on such a journey distressed him. He learned from the little girl that the woman, a Sister Wakefield, had joined the Church much against the wishes of her husband and had also influenced her daughter to be baptized. The irate father and husband had forbidden them to go to Zion, but they departed without his knowledge. Now Sister Wakefield was very ill and feared for the well-being of her daughter.
The charge of the pair fell mainly upon William’s shoulders. Whether he was ready for such responsibility or not, he would bear it. That first night aboard ship was an experience he never forgot. Some 65 years later he would write about it in the form of a personal life history that he would leave for his posterity to read and ponder. Seeking solace for himself, or perhaps wanting to comfort his afflicted friends, he took the tin whistle from his bag and played several tunes for the little girl and for her mother who would never walk again.
Six weeks later their ship landed in New York, ending the sea voyage of all but one of the passengers whose journey had ended prematurely when he took ill, died, and was buried at sea. Now the westward-bound Saints would embark on their three-month journey overland to Zion.
William looked after the Wakefields as best he could throughout their travels by steamship and train until they reached the “Old Winter Quarters” on the Missouri. No one was able to determine what illness Sister Wakefield had, but it grew progressively worse. He recorded in his journal, “The worn-out, blessed mother was laid in a tent for the sick. By this time my clothes had to be washed. I went down to a stream and stayed in the water too long, then an awful cramp seized me. I grew very light-headed and was brought to the tent and laid by the side of the sick woman. I remember asking the girl to keep the flies out of her mother’s mouth, then I lost all consciousness and was out of my head for three days. When I came to, I asked for Sister Wakefield and they told me she had been buried the day before. When I asked about the little girl, they informed she had been given to another family and had gone on to The Valley.”
William was remorseful that he would not be able to keep his promise to see the daughter safely delivered to Zion, but he knew she was in good hands and would get there with or without him as the Saints had made a pact to “look after one another throughout all difficulties.” He had heard stories of how effective “the pact” was, and now he was beginning to witness it for himself.

Janet was new in my class. I knew right away that she wasn’t someone I wanted for a friend because whenever Mrs. Shell said anything to her, she put her finger in her mouth and said, “Duuuuuh,” then laughed as if it were really funny. A lot of other kids laughed too. Mrs. Shell didn’t.
On the playground, Janet was a bully. One day she was pushing a little kid around until a teacher stopped her. When she called the teacher a name, she was sent to see the principal. From then on, it seemed that Janet spent almost as much time in the principal’s office as she did in our classroom.
I stayed away from her because she was always getting into trouble. She didn’t like me, anyway. She couldn’t call me by my name, Esther—she called me Redhead-Wet-the-Bed. I thought she enjoyed being mean.
In January I went into the Merrie Miss class in Primary. There were seven girls in my class, but only six of us came. Janet was the seventh. When Sister Card asked us about Janet, we told her what kind of a girl Janet was. She hadn’t been to church since her family had moved into the neighborhood, so we hadn’t even known that she was a member.
Sister Card went to Janet’s house several times to invite her to Primary, but she didn’t come. Nobody in her family came to church. Sister Card suggested that we try something as a class to see if we could get Janet to come to Primary. We weren’t very eager to do it, because we were all a little bit afraid of her. She was different from us, and we didn’t understand her. But Sister Card said she would help us, so we finally agreed.
We had a hard time deciding what to do. “Maybe we need to try to understand why Janet acts and talks the way she does,” said Sister Card. “That might help us come up with a good idea.”
I knew why she acted and talked like she did. I said, “Her whole family acts and talks like that, even her mother and father. I’ve heard them when I walk past their house.”
“Yes, I suppose they do,” said Sister Card sadly. “Do you think there are any other reasons for her behavior?”
“Maybe she’s lonely,” said Christina.
“Maybe she is,” said Sister Card. “What do you think we could do to help her realize that we like her?”
“Let’s be pixies to her for a week!” said Mandi excitedly.
“That’s a good idea,” Sister Card said, smiling.
Well, we planned to deliver something to Janet every day for a week, beginning on Sunday. It was kind of scary going up to her porch after dark to ring the doorbell and hope we could run and hide fast enough to not get caught. Each night it got to be more and more of a challenge because everyone in her family began watching for us. We decided to reveal ourselves on Saturday and take her a necklace with a little gold heart and a note telling her that we loved her and wanted her to come and be part of our Primary class.
Ringing the doorbell and hiding had been fun, but meeting Janet face-to-face was going to be different. We were all nervous, even Sister Card, because we didn’t know what Janet would do or say. As we stood on the porch, getting ready to ring the doorbell, the door flew open and Joel, Janet’s eight-year-old brother, yelled, “I caught you!”
We must have all jumped a foot in the air. Then we started laughing. Finally Sister Card asked if Janet was home. Joel left us standing on the porch while he went to look for her.
Just when we began to think they had forgotten us, Janet appeared at the door. She looked a little uncertain when she saw all of us standing there.
“Hello, Janet,” Sister Card said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I’m Sister Card, your Primary teacher. You remember me, don’t you? And I think you already know all of these girls from school.”
Janet barely nodded her head.
Sister Card then looked at us expectantly. We had decided earlier that we couldn’t let Sister Card do all the talking, or Janet might think it was only the teacher who wanted her to come to Primary. We looked at each other, and then Kelly said, “We wanted to do something special for you so that you would know that we like you.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling a bit more courageous. “We hope you got all the things we’ve been bringing you.”
Before I could go on, Janet said, “Oh, so it was you guys who were bringing that stuff. I guess you’re trying to bribe me into going to Primary. That’s kind of what they tried to do where we lived before, too, but it didn’t work. I just don’t like to go to church.”
We were all stunned. No one said anything. Janet looked triumphant, like she had just scored a crucial point.
Then Sister Card spoke. “No, Janet, we’re not here to bribe you. We brought you those gifts to let you know that we like you, just as Kelly said. We brought one more today.” She handed Janet the necklace, beautifully wrapped in a small box, accompanied by a card with the note we had all signed.
“Thanks,” Janet said, as she took the gift, “but don’t expect to see me at church.”
And she went inside and closed the door.

President Hunter has always had a special love for the Holy Land. The First Presidency assigned President Hunter to spearhead two special projects in Israel. One was to work with Elder LeGrand Richards in raising money to build the Orson Hyde Memorial Garden, which was dedicated in 1979. The other was to negotiate for a site for a center to house the Brigham Young University semester-abroad program, which had started ten years earlier. Sites in Jerusalem were at a premium, and when at last a choice one was found and a lease obtained, the representative of the land authority received the lease payment and said, “This is a lot of money.” Joseph Kokia, the Church’s distinguished Israeli attorney, responded, “Yes, it is a lot of money, but my family has lived in Jerusalem for fifteen generations, and the property that you have is beyond price.” Upon that special site the magnificent Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies was built, despite much opposition. President Hunter’s close personal relationship with Mayor Teddy Kollek and other leaders helped make possible the building of the center. President Hunter dedicated the Jerusalem Center on 16 May 1989.

In 1838 the Saints in Missouri were ordered to leave the state or be killed. In October of that year, while meeting with the state militia (army) to resolve some problems, many Church leaders, including the Prophet Joseph Smith, were arrested for crimes they had not committed.
Towards evening I was waited upon by Colonel Hinkle, who stated that the officers of the militia desired to have an interview with me and some others. … I immediately complied. … Instead of being treated with … respect … , we were taken as prisoners of war, and treated with the utmost contempt.
Myself and fellow prisoners were taken to [Far West]. … I found my wife and children in tears, who feared we had been shot. … I was then obliged to take my departure. … My [wife] wept, my children clung to me, until they were thrust from me by the swords of the guards.
The prisoners were taken first to Independence, Missouri, then to Richmond, Missouri, where they were jailed while awaiting trial.
[We] were brought … for trial, charged with … high treason … , murder, burglary, arson [setting fires], robbery, and larceny [a kind of stealing]. …
Those of us who had been sentenced thereto, were [moved] to Liberty jail. …
After we were cast into prison, we heard nothing but threatenings, that, if any judge or jury, or court of any kind, should clear any of us, we should never get out of the state alive. …
Those who have not been enclosed in the walls of prison without cause … , can have but little idea how sweet the voice of a friend is; … and when the heart is sufficiently contrite, then the voice of inspiration steals along and whispers,
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment. …
“If thou art called to pass through tribulation; …
“If thou art accused with all manner of false accusations … and thou be dragged to prison, and thine enemies prowl around thee like wolves for the blood of the lamb;
“And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; … and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.
“The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?
“… Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever.” (D&C 121:7; D&C 122:5–9.)
In April 1839, after being in prison for about five months, the prisoners at Liberty jail were transferred to Boone County, Missouri, for another trial. They escaped with the assistance of the sheriff and the guards and fled to Illinois to join the other Saints who had been driven from Missouri.
(See History of the Church, vol. 3, pages 188–189, 193, 209, 215, 242–243, 293.)

I was very sick when I was pregnant with my youngest child. But one afternoon, my daughter wanted to go hiking. My husband told her I was too sick to go. My daughter prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me feel better and promptly got ready to go. Minutes later, my husband was surprised to see me awake. He told me about our daughter’s prayer, and her sincere faith inspired me to try to hike. Somehow, I made it to the top of the mountain.