Gospel Story Finder

Jake had waited all autumn, winter, and spring for the opening day of fishing season. Fishing was his favorite sport, and he was ready to go. His pole stood by the door, loaded with all the line his reel could hold. He had tied on a brand-new red-and-white lure with a three-pronged hook. He was going to catch the biggest cutthroat trout ever in the creek by his house.
But now—of all times—Mom said he had chores to do.
“Jake, if you want to go fishing, you need to clean your room first,” Mom said.
Jake hung his head, stomped to his room, and threw himself onto his bed.
“I just don’t get what the big deal is about having a clean bedroom,” Jake muttered. “I know where my things are. If I put them back in a drawer, I’ll just have to go to all the trouble of digging them out again. And what’s the sense of making a bed if I’m going to climb back into it again in a few hours anyway?”
Jake picked up two wrinkled shirts off the floor and threw them in his closet. Then he hurriedly pulled the bedspread up over his pillow. Cleaning his bedroom didn’t seem as important as not being late for the opening day of fishing season.
Jake listened for clues about where Mom was in the house. If she was in the kitchen, she might stop him to make sure he had done a good job cleaning. But if she went to the laundry room, he could make a quick getaway. After several long minutes, the washing machine buzzer finally summoned Mom to the laundry room.
Jake rushed for the door, grabbing his fishing pole on the way out. He paused for a moment to close the door as quietly as possible, then ran across the field. He hid in the thick willows that lined the creek. He had escaped without being caught. Maybe Mom wouldn’t even notice his room wasn’t really clean.
Taking a deep breath, Jake whipped the tip of his pole back behind his shoulder and flung it forward, allowing the line to spin off his reel. He listened to the soft splash of the lure as it entered the gentle ripples of the fresh, cold water in his favorite fishing hole. It was just as fun as he remembered. Soon he had no thoughts of his bedroom, Mom, or anything else.
Jake reeled in the line, watching his lure dance across the rocks at the bottom of the creek. He repeated the process several times. Suddenly, he felt the line catch on something, followed by a sharp sting on his shoulder. Two of the prongs on his hook had gone through his shirt and snagged the back of his shoulder.
“Oh no!” Jake thought. “Mom will have to help me get the hook out. What will she say? I’m supposed to still be cleaning my room.”
As Jake headed back to the house, he prepared himself for Mom’s lecture, but it never came.
“Hmm, Jake, it looks like you’ve been caught,” Mom said when she saw the hook.
He knew what she meant. He was not only caught by the fishhook, but he had been caught disobeying. “I know, Mom,” Jake said. “I’m sorry I didn’t obey you.”
Mom took Jake to the doctor. Jake whimpered a bit as the doctor removed the hook, but was quiet during the ride home. He knew what he needed to do. When they got home, Jake went upstairs and cleaned his bedroom.
The next day, Jake did all his chores before asking Mom if he could fish. From now on, the only thing getting caught would be a big cutthroat trout.

When I was younger, my family was not active in the Church. I remember very few instances when I went to Primary. I attended church on special occasions such as Christmas, Easter, baptisms, or blessings. Then, when I was about 13, my family moved from one end of town to the other. I attended the same school and had the same friends. The only difference now was our new ward. Because of this move, everything changed.
One girl in my new ward called me faithfully every week to invite me to church and Mutual. The meetinghouse was just through my backyard. Although I could have walked, she would offer me a ride. She fulfilled her calling as Beehive class president, and I started coming to church. At first, I came because I felt bad saying no. But it wasn’t long before I was coming on my own. I loved being in church, I loved the scriptures, and I loved the girls in our ward.
My freshman year in high school, however, I chose not to take seminary. I thought I didn’t have room in my schedule. I didn’t understand how important seminary was. My friends could say nothing but good about seminary, so I decided to adjust my schedule so that I could take it.
Seminary gave me a fresh outlook on the gospel. Through seminary my testimony of the scriptures developed. I read the entire New Testament and learned about the Atonement of Jesus Christ. My testimony grew at an overwhelming speed. Once again I felt the peace and love the gospel provided me, and I wanted my family to feel it as well.
I began to urge my family to come with me to sacrament meeting. I told them I wanted us to be an eternal family. To encourage them, I would wash everyone’s church clothes on Saturday night so that the excuse “I don’t have anything to wear” was no longer an option. I told them that I had a testimony of the gospel and that I wanted to share it with them. Most important, I prayed. I prayed that my family could know the Spirit the way I did. I wanted them to go to church so that we could someday be sealed in the temple.
It started slowly and took some time, but one warm August morning, my prayers were answered as we were sealed in the Portland Oregon Temple. I felt the Spirit stronger at that moment than ever before. I knew my family could be together forever. To this day I cannot thank my Heavenly Father enough for this wonderful blessing.
Now I am trying my best to be a good example and friend to everyone around me so that perhaps I can do for them what was done for me.

In 1967, Elder William Danner and I became two of the first 20 missionaries to serve in Colombia. We had little success until a man named Raúl, being taught by other missionaries, introduced us to the Muñoz family. The Spirit was strong as we taught the family, testifying of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration.
“I know that these young men are telling the truth,” Raúl said. “They have the same priesthood Jesus Christ had. They could go upstairs right now and heal your blind daughter, Margarita.”
Sister Muñoz looked at me and asked, “Is that true?”
A lump rose in my throat. My testimony had never been tested like this before. I knew that such a miracle would require strong faith. My companion and I found out later that eye specialists had told the family that Margarita, who had lost her sight six months before following an accident, would never see again.
“You have the same priesthood as Jesus Christ,” Sister Muñoz said. “My daughter is blind. Let’s go up and heal her.”
I had never witnessed such great faith. She was like the wife of King Lamoni, who told Ammon, “I believe that it shall be according as thou hast said” (Alma 19:9).
Elder Danner anointed Margarita, and I sealed the anointing. To my astonishment, the words that came out of my mouth were not my own: “You will be healed and receive your sight.” I also felt to pronounce other blessings, including that family members would help build the Church in Colombia. Afterward, I wondered if I had made promises that would not be fulfilled.
The next day, the family’s teenage son came running toward us on the street, shouting, “Miracle! Miracle! My sister can see!”
We baptized 13 people that week.
Brother and Sister Muñoz became faithful members of the Church. Their influence, including Brother Muñoz’s work as head of customs in Colombia, helped spread the gospel there. One daughter served a mission; her brother served as a bishop. Margarita retained her sight the rest of her life.
Jesus Christ has said of those who have faith in Him, “In my name they shall open the eyes of the blind” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:69). I know that “all things are possible to him that believeth” in the Savior (Mark 9:23).

After her husband died of cancer, Sun Huei Lin had to start working to support her three daughters. She cleans the Taichung stake center and does paperwork at a karate club, but the family still struggles economically. “This life is a time of learning and trials,” she says. “But God lives, and He will not give us greater trials than we can bear.”
One of her husband’s colleagues offered to regularly baby-sit Sister Sun’s youngest daughter. “I wanted to share the gospel in return,” she says. So she gave the family a subscription to the Liahona (Chinese), prayed for them, and put their names on the temple prayer roll. One of the colleague’s children joined the Church and remains active.
When Sister Sun was sealed to her husband before his death, she felt that God was watching the ceremony. “I know our marriage is forever and I am only temporarily separated from my husband,” she says. She serves in her ward Relief Society presidency.

This project led me to search for other rescue stories. The press at that time carried an account of the rescue of a woman who had been swept downstream by a strong river current. Three teenagers riding their bicycles on a path near the river spotted the woman. While one of them went for help, the other two tried to catch up with the woman, who was helpless in the river. After about a mile they waded into the river and pulled the exhausted woman onto the bank. It was only then that one of the boys discovered that he had saved his own mother’s life. This story should remind us that we never know who might need help.

One day while working around our home, trimming the hedges and vines, I had an interesting experience. I was at work with my electric clippers and long extension cord. I had done this often, each time reminding myself of the need to use these clippers with great care in order to avoid cutting things that I shouldn’t.
Suddenly the blades became jammed. Caught between them was the power cord itself. Because I had not seen it in the thicket I was trimming, I had cut into the very line that was providing the power to work.
“Isn’t that one of life’s great lessons?” I thought. “Power, if misused, can cut into the very source of that power.”
Just as the careless use of electrical power can sever the source of that power, so is it possible to misuse spiritual power to sever our spiritual power line. We would then lose that which enables us to generate success in our lives. Proper use of our spiritual power line allows us to learn, to labor, to be obedient to law, and to love. While these capabilities lead to fulfillment, at the same time they also carry risk.
Consider the power to learn. How essential it is for progress, whether one’s career is professional or that of a salesman, a farmer, or a homemaker.
But learning can be misused! A sharp mind, misdirected, can cut into that line of spiritual power. Some “learned” souls delight in leading others astray, all in the so-called name of learning. Years later their victims may realize that they have climbed their ladder of learning, only to find it leaning against the wrong wall. A prophet of the Lord has counseled us on this point:
“O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish.
“But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God.” (2 Ne. 9:28–29; italics added.)
What happens without spiritual learning? What happens to the pilot of a glider when he is cut loose from the power of his tow plane? There may be banks and turns, but ultimately there is only one direction he can go, and that is down!
We must gain learning, but we must apply it wisely. Otherwise, we have politics without principle, industry without morality, knowledge without wisdom, science without humanity!
Consider the power of labor. Labor well spent increases our capacity to do. President Heber J. Grant often said, “‘That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do; not that the nature of the thing itself is changed, but that our power to do is increased.’” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1901, p. 63.)
The Lord, through his prophet Lehi, said, “It must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.” (2 Ne. 2:11.) So, in reality, competition forces us to improve. It deserves our praise and our gratitude. Without it we could not reach the heights that are otherwise ours to achieve.
But our labor can be misdirected. One can be anxiously engaged in a meaningless cause. Or one can do something wrong a hundred times and call it experience! Some would avoid labor while pursuing the goals of wealth without working for it, or an honored position without preparing for it. The converted Lamanites taught this lesson: “Rather than shed the blood of their brethren they would give up their own lives; and rather than take away from a brother they would give unto him; and rather than spend their days in idleness they would labor abundantly with their hands.” (Alma 24:18.)
Next, consider the power of obedience to law. One of the great applications of spiritual power is obeying the laws of both God and man. Freedom to act and mastery of our actions both emanate from law. “When we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” (D&C 130:21.)
I relearned that so well from President Kimball. On one occasion when he needed an operation that I was to perform, he first asked me for a priesthood blessing. Following that, he said, “Now you may proceed to do that which must be done in order to make that blessing possible.”
He knew, and I knew, that not even for God’s prophet can anyone be exempted from law. Not even for God’s Son could divine law be broken!
Consider the power to love. I remember a mother I met once as I made a professional house call. This woman was confined in an iron lung. The ravages of polio had effectively destroyed all the breathing muscles so that her life was completely dependent upon this large metal tank and the electrical motor that powered its noisy bellows.
While there, I watched her three children as they related to their mother. The oldest interrupted our work to ask permission to go to a friend’s house for an hour. Later the second child asked her mother for help with arithmetic. Finally the youngest child, so small that she couldn’t see her mother’s face directly, looked up at her image in a mirror that had been placed over the mother’s head and asked, “Mommy, may I have a cookie?” I’ve never forgotten that lesson on the power of love. This woman, virtually disabled and certainly incapable of any degree of physical enforcement of parental authority, sweetly influenced that home solely with the power to love!
The power of love between a man and a woman is special. The love shared with my beloved companion, Dantzel, has increased the power of love for both of us. That love brought us to the altar in the temple of the Lord. Her love for me motivated her to teach school during the early years of our marriage. When things were tight, she held a second job at night. Once when things were exceptionally tight, she even sold her blood in between her two jobs to keep us solvent. (Her dear parents may have wondered what kind of a son-in-law they had on that occasion!) I thought of that many years later when she needed a transfusion urgently and her blood couldn’t be matched readily with donor blood from the blood bank. What a privilege it was for me to donate mine directly to her.
Can the power to love be misused? Sadly, yes. The illegitimate union of the sexes has, in my observation, been one of the greatest causes of grief. In some instances, the improper use of this sacred physical endowment has even destroyed its use in later years.
Misused, the power of love can cut off spiritual power. The abuse of the power to love can result in no love at all. Only its cheap facsimiles of lewdness and lust remain in the wake of pleasure without conscience. Instead of feasting at the banquet table of bounteous love with his own posterity, one is left with scraps from the table—only the refuse from what might have been.
The ashes of burned “love” smolder with the smoke of sadness. Yet the embers of evil still burn. But as loud voices argue on, let us remember that those who advocate abortion have already been born! Those who freely deny God with their amoral and agnostic practices will one day find that He may just as freely deny them! (See 3 Ne. 28:34.)
The source of our spiritual power is the Lord! The ultimate source of spiritual power is God our Father. The messenger of this power is the Holy Ghost. This power differs from electrical power. An electrical appliance consumes power. The use of His spiritual power replenishes our power. While electrical power can be used only for measured periods of time, spiritual power can be used for time and eternity!
Our spiritual power line is strengthened through prayer. As we counsel with God in all our doings, he will direct us for good. (See Alma 37:37.) Prayer is available whenever we ask for it!
But the Lord places the initiative upon us. He expects us to reach for his power, just as we must insert the plug in the outlet for electricity. He said, “If thou shalt ask, thou shalt receive revelation upon revelation, knowledge upon knowledge, that thou mayest know the mysteries and peaceable things—that which bringeth joy, that which bringeth life eternal.” (D&C 42:61; italics added.) Personal worthiness and scripture study enable us to do more with this power.
Rewards result from the righteous use of the spiritual power belonging to the priesthood! And they are so great that they are almost beyond human comprehension. To those couples who bear and share that priesthood worthily and remain faithful to the law of the everlasting covenant of eternal marriage, enduring the congested years and trials of diapers and dishes, crowded kitchen and thin pocketbook, service in the Church, education and the burning of the midnight oil, the Lord makes this promise: “Ye shall come forth in the first resurrection; … and shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities, and powers, dominions, … [and there] shall be a fulness and a continuation of the seeds forever and ever.” (D&C 132:19; italics added.)
The spiritual power line conveys revelation. Revelation is given to the President for the Church, and to leaders and teachers in their respective callings. Personal revelation is provided for the glorification of individual members and families in the Church. These lines are well insulated, and they are not scrambled! Our Father is a God of order! No one else receives revelation to govern the Church; that will be delivered only to the President of the Church. The father in the home next door will not receive revelation for his neighbor’s family.
It is possible to disregard or even misuse spiritual power. Some have misused the power of prayer by making that sacred communication trivial. Some well-meaning Saints even do the right things for the wrong reasons, if they narrowly center on the percentages they report rather than on the precious people they serve.
Like cutting the cord with clippers, it is possible to use spiritual power so carelessly as to destroy one’s very connection to that power. I know a husband who dominates his wife as though she were his possession. He seems to regard her about as he does his automobile or his suitcase, which he uses for his own purposes. And I know a wife who dominates her husband to the point that he has lost all feelings of worth.
Remember, “The rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and … the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.” (D&C 121:36; italics added.)
The unrighteous use of priesthood authority surely severs the connection to the Source of that authority. (See D&C 121:37.)
Worship strengthens our power line to deity. There can be no true worship without sacrifice, and there can be no true sacrifice without a cause. The cause that earns our love and priority is the cause of Jesus Christ.
Speaking of his own atonement, the Savior proclaimed, “To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world.” (John 18:37.) His example of worship, sacrifice, and commitment to cause becomes ours! His is the ultimate source of all our power to do good.
As we carefully and prayerfully protect the spiritual power line that links us to the Savior, we become more like him!
Of his sacred name and mission I solemnly bear special witness. Of his divine sonship I proclaim sacred testimony. That this is his church I fervently declare, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I used to farm with my dad. I didn’t always enjoy it, but when lunchtime came we’d sit in the shade of the tall poplar trees, eat our lunch, and talk. My dad didn’t use this as a golden teaching moment to lay down the law and straighten out his daughter. We just talked—about anything and everything.
This was the time I could ask questions. I felt so safe I could even ask questions that might provoke him. I remember asking him, “Why did you embarrass me in front of my friends last week when I had stayed out too late and you came and got me?”
His answer leads to another aspect of love. He wasn’t being arbitrary. There were certain standards of behavior I was expected to live. He said, “Having you out late worried me. Above all, I want you safe.” I realized his love for me was stronger than his desire for sleep or the inconvenience of getting dressed and driving down the road looking for me.

The concept of being filled with light and truth became particularly important to me because of an experience I had many years ago. I attended a meeting where members of the Young Women general board taught about creating spiritually strong families and homes. To visually demonstrate this, a Young Women leader held up two soda cans. In one hand she held a can that was empty and in the other hand a can that was unopened and full of soda. First, she squeezed the empty can; it began to bend and then collapsed under the pressure. Next, with her other hand, she squeezed the unopened can. It held firm. It didn’t bend or collapse like the empty can—because it was filled.

We likened this demonstration to our individual lives and to our homes and families. When filled with the Spirit and with gospel truth, we have the power to withstand the outside forces of the world that surround and push against us. However, if we are not filled spiritually, we don’t have the inner strength to resist the outside pressures and can collapse when forces push against us.

When I was a student here, I took a year off from my studies to tour with a USO group that entertained at military bases around the world. One trip took us to the Far East, and before we left, my father gave me a strong warning. “I am worried about this trip,” he said. “Be careful. Don’t go anywhere you shouldn’t go.” His words caught my attention, but, frankly, as our adventure in the Orient began, I forgot about his caution.

One day we were scheduled to perform at a base near the Demilitarized Zone that separates North and South Korea. Our escort officer asked if we would like to go into the DMZ and visit Panmunjom, where the peace treaty ending the Korean War had been signed. It was a place of great historical significance. Relations between the two Koreas were strained at the time, and we asked if it was safe. The officer assured us it was, but then promptly furnished waivers we were to sign that absolved the military of responsibility in the event of accident or death. I suddenly remembered Dad’s warning: “Be careful. Don’t go anywhere you shouldn’t go.” But not wanting to be the killjoy, and being a little curious myself, I shrugged off my worry, signed the waiver, and headed into the DMZ, where we were no longer under the protection of the U.S. armed forces.

That reality was immediately evident as we drove past rows of somber North Korean soldiers sporting machine guns. “Don’t look them in the eyes,” we were warned. “Anything can set them off.” As we joked about our bodies never being found, my stomach started to churn and my father’s warning played in my mind in digital, Dolby sound. I knew that I had indeed gone somewhere I shouldn’t have gone. The experience was nerve-racking. I felt as though I was behind enemy lines. And, as fascinating as the excursion was for a history major, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. It wasn’t until we crossed the border back into South Korea that I again felt safe. And, as it turns out, for good reason. Later that week three Americans were shot and killed in the Demilitarized Zone.

My father recounts the following story, which occurred early in the construction of the school:
We needed rock for aggregate for the blocks we were making to build the Liahona School. We had taken the compressor out to the quarry and drilled many holes so we could put in dynamite and blast out the rock to be crushed in our small crusher.
President Dunn asked me to go to the government quarry and pick up the licensed dynamite expert of the Tongan Government and take him over to our quarry to get our blasting done.
At the appointed time next morning (about sun up) I left for the government quarry about five miles away. It was raining quite hard and became more intense as time passed. By the time I reached the [government office] it was raining so hard I couldn’t see through the windshield of the jeep station wagon and I had to look out the side window to stay on the road.
I confronted the man I was to pick up but he protested because of the rain. I felt inclined to persist and in so doing we loaded up his gear and dynamite and started out. The rain continued making it almost impossible to drive. As we had to pass by Liahona I drove into the building area and stopped, but I was uneasy and felt that I should continue on to our quarry about a mile away.
I started the motor again and we were on our way. My passenger, for the most part, was silent. Upon reaching the gate to the fence around the quarry I stopped and turned off the ignition. It stopped raining instantly. My passenger, looking greatly surprised, got out and opened the gate. We drove down into the quarry, set the dynamite and fired it, getting out a good quantity of rock.
We gathered up the gear and put it into the jeep. I got into the jeep and turned on the ignition. The motor started and so did the rain.[Thomas P. Wilding, History of Thomas Preston Wilding, 1988, in author’s possession, 45]

Nestled on the southern edge of New Jersey are several small towns. Many of the families here earn their living from the sea. The Cape May Lighthouse guides the fishing boats and ferries around the dangerous rocks and shoals. Just as the lighthouse leads boats to safety, Chandler and Michael Altieri trust the gospel light to guide them past spiritual rocks and shoals.
Sister Christine Altieri joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was ten years old. Although she did not marry a Church member, her husband, John, supported her in her beliefs. One by one their children were born: Corie (15), Lauren (13), Brittany (12), Michael (10), Chandler (7), Ty (5), Abigail (2), and Drew (11 months). Their family shared a lot of happiness and love. But one thing was missing: Dad had never joined the Church. He attended regularly and participated as fully as he could without being a member. But his family wanted him to become a member so that they could be sealed together as an eternal family.
Michael was going on eight. His dad had never had the opportunity to give a name and a priesthood blessing to or baptize any of his children. A few months before his birthday, Michael decided that, “All I want for my birthday is for Dad to baptize me.” Michael, his mother, brother, and sisters fasted and prayed harder than ever that their father would decide to join the Church and be able to baptize Michael.
Weeks passed, then months. “We kept praying and praying and praying,” Michael recalled. The week before he turned eight, his mother said, “It didn’t work. We need to talk to the branch president about your baptism and who will perform it.”
“But Mom, we’re praying, we’re praying.”
The next Sunday Brother Altieri volunteered to talk to the branch president about Michael getting baptized and to take care of all the details.
In sacrament meeting, the family was stunned with joy when the branch president announced an upcoming baptism—not Michael’s, but his father’s! The family’s prayers had been answered! Brother Altieri was baptized that week, and the following week, Michael’s dream was realized when his father baptized him. Michael said, “I had really wanted him to baptize me, and it finally happened. It felt really good.”
Chandler had also prayed that her dad would be baptized. She is now looking forward to her own baptism. “I want to be baptized so that the Holy Ghost will be with me.” She is preparing to be baptized by listening to President Gordon B. Hinckley and following his counsel. “I try to choose the right and to be kind to others.”
The Altieri family was later sealed together in the Washington D.C. Temple. “When we were sealed, Mom and Dad had to go somewhere for about three hours,” Michael remembered. “We stayed in this nursery place. We picked out white clothes and put them on. A temple lady showed us a movie that explained what being sealed was all about. At first she put in the wrong film. It was in Spanish. I thought maybe we needed to learn to speak Spanish. But then she put in the film in English. After the film, we went into the sealing room. Some other people were there, even the stake president. Then we were sealed, and I was so happy!”
Chandler still has the white ribbon she wore in her hair that day in the temple. “We were sealed so that we can be together for all eternity.”
Besides seeing his family sealed together, Michael has another hope—of becoming a champion wrestler. He’s been undefeated for three years in his weight and age division in the South New Jersey Wrestling Association. But sometimes he has to make tough choices between two things he loves—wrestling and the Church.
A few years ago, a very important tournament was coming up. Michael’s parents thought that the tournament was on a Saturday, and he signed up to go. When they found out it was on a Sunday, his father asked him if he still wanted to be in the tournament. Although he knew that his team was counting on him to score some team points for it, he said, “Well then, I can’t go.” He explained, “It’s hard not to go to Sunday tournaments, but I don’t, because it’s against a commandment. And I’ve had a lot of blessings.” Since making that decision the first time, not competing on Sundays has been easier. And his decision has showed others that he lives what he believes.
Chandler also lives what she believes. Not long ago her family was fostering a dog they called Puppy. Puppy had been mistreated the first nine months of his life, then was taken away from the people who mistreated him. But he was now skittish and frightened of people. Before he could be adopted, he had to learn to trust people and to get along with children. Teaching him that was what the Altieri family volunteered to do.
One day, he got loose and ran away. “We looked and looked for him,” Sister Altieri said, “but we couldn’t find him. Some of us got in the car to go looking for him. As I was driving, Chandler said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help us find Puppy. We had driven miles, and I thought that we’d never see the dog again. We turned down a road that ran along railroad tracks. Beside the tracks were thick woods. And by the railroad track, we could just see this head sticking up—it was Puppy! I’ll never forget it.”
Mom said how amazed she was that they found Puppy. “But we said a prayer, Mom,” was Chandler’s simple reply. She knows that Heavenly Father answers her prayers. Eventually Puppy learned to trust people and to play with children, and he was adopted by a good family.
Michael tries to be like Jesus by staying out of bad situations. “Sometimes my friends go back into the woods, but I don’t go. They do things back in there that I don’t want to do, like shooting off firecrackers (which is illegal), starting fires, and smoking.” One fire that was started in the woods came right up to the back of the Altieri property before it could be put out. “I tell my friends, ‘Let’s not go.’ Sometimes they listen to me, and sometimes they don’t. But I won’t go.”
Both Michael and Chandler strive to follow the gospel light as they make their way through life’s sea of choices. And by their examples they try to help others find the way, too.

Emma Ray wasn’t sure when David would return. She and her cousin Belle were at a family reunion on an island in the Great Salt Lake.
Belle: Emma Ray, have you heard? David McKay arrives home tonight.
Emma Ray: I should meet him at the train station!
Belle: The boat won’t come back for us in time.
Emma Ray and her cousin Belle rigged a sail on an old rowboat and took turns rowing.
When David stepped off the train, Emma Ray was there.
Emma Ray: Welcome home, Elder McKay.
David: It’s so good to see you!

Last summer I attended a Young Women camp on Catalina Island off the coast of California. I met a group of 150 young women and leaders early in the morning when we boarded a chartered ferry to take us to a camp on a small beach called White’s Landing. It was a long, slow journey that gave many of our young campers upset tummies!
So, when the camp finally came into view, there were shouts of joy from very happy girls?we were almost there! When we got close enough to the landing dock, a thick rope was tossed into the front of the ferry where crew members began to pull the boat toward the small pier. As we inched our way closer to our destination, something odd happened. The rope snapped!
A spare rope would have so easily solved the problem, but there wasn’t one, and the boat could not be docked!
The question everyone was asking: “How is it possible that a rope that substantial could have broken?”
While we were carefully being cinched towards the pier moments earlier, most of the travelers had gone below to gather their gear and prepare to get off the ferry. A few of the girls and I stayed up top to enjoy the fresh air and watch our landing. We knew?because we had seen it?why the rope had snapped. For whatever reason, the ferry had backed up! And the pressure on the rope caused it to rupture.
We had been so close! Close enough, in fact, that we could have tossed all the sleeping bags and supplies onto the pier!
We ferried another 45 minutes past our desired destination to the main harbor, where we could dock and unload. With some effort, a small pontoon boat was found and hired to shuttle 20 girls at a time to the camp, a round trip that took two hours. And remember, we had 150 girls.
By 10 o’clock that evening, all the girls finally made it to camp, while supplies and gear continued to arrive through the night. We had lost a day of planned activities. But as a result of our experience with the ferry, we had found a lesson. Don’t back up!
Although we eventually arrived at our destination, the path taken and the time to get there was considerably longer and harder. We basically had to start over. All because the ferry backed up.

Pierre Anthian, son of a French army officer, was born in Algeria during that country’s war for independence. When he was four years old, his family moved back to Pau, a city in southwest France. A short time later his parents divorced, leaving his mother, Michka, with custody of their four children. When Pierre was nine years old, the missionaries found them. The children were baptized first, followed by their mother.
Sister Anthian taught gospel lessons, including Christlike love and service, the best way they can be taught: through personal application. She and her children served both in the Church and in the community. Sometimes the family would invite homeless people to share a meal. Pierre’s volunteer efforts included hospitals and rest homes, homeless shelters and hostels.
After graduating from dental school, Pierre served a full-time mission in Switzerland. Upon returning home, he began making dentures, first in the French Riviera and later in Paris. By then, helping others had become a way of life, and he volunteered to serve meals at the largest homeless shelter in Paris. It was here he became troubled over merely giving handouts. “It’s good to give food,” he says, “but what do we teach in the Church? We teach people to be self-reliant. So I began looking for an idea, a special tool, to give these people dignity and autonomy.”
Eventually, it occurred to him that music might be just the tool he needed. Not only was music part of Pierre’s religious culture, it was a personal passion for him. He had studied music, particularly choral music, in conservatories of Pau, Cannes, and Paris, and he had once directed a Church choir. He determined to start a choir among society’s outcasts.

Recently I read where an elderly man disclosed at the funeral of his brother, with whom he had shared, from early manhood, a small, one-room cabin near Canisteo, New York, that following a quarrel, they had divided the room in half with a chalk line and neither had crossed the line nor spoken a word to the other since that day—sixty-two years before! What a human tragedy—all for the want of mercy and forgiveness.

She was kneeling in the chrysanthemums when she saw them coming.
“Turn up!” she whispered. “Turn up!” They looked right and left, they both saw her and waved, and then together they turned away. Her heart sank like a rock in a lake. She felt as if a building was falling on her, making her hands and mind feel heavy. She watched silently as they rode a little way and then stopped. They were talking to one another. She just sat in the flowers thinking that they were gone and she’d have to try again tomorrow. She considered just going to their small apartment to talk with them.
“I could bring something nice like fresh cookies,” she whispered to her small spade, knowing that she would never find the strength to do it.
The elders sat on their bikes looking back at their neighbor.
“What makes you think she wants to talk to us, Elder? The only things she talks about are her flowers.”
“I know, but did you see the way she was watching us? Did you see her eyes? I have a little sister who used to wait by the big window every day when I came home from work, and I could see in her eyes that she wanted to tell me what had happened to her in kindergarten that day.”
“So?”
“Well, Elder, look at her eyes, and besides that, she didn’t even wave at us. She always waves.”
“Maybe she’s mad.”
“I don’t really think so. Let’s just ask her if we can help her in some way. Look, she’s still watching us.”
“Okay, let’s go chat.”
They turned their bikes around and came back. When they stopped, Elder Lyon said, “Ah, ma’am? Could we help you?”
She just looked at them, and her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, Elder,” she said, through a slightly cracking voice. “Let’s go in the house, and you … well … I’ve got some questions I need some answers to.”
They walked up the stairs and onto the front porch. Before they went in, a thought came to her, and she said, “I hope this won’t take all morning, because there is an old man I must see today, an old man who suffered a stroke in the early spring. He must be awfully depressed watching his beautiful lawn go unattended. I think I’ll take him some flowers, flowers of forgiveness.”

During one of my most challenging transfers as a missionary in Rwanda, I remember I recorded everything I was feeling at the time in my journal and I concluded my entry with this statement, “I did not come this far to only come this far”—Tom Brady.1
As I have remembered this distant and seemingly small memory of my mission, I have realised that I have actually unknowingly continued the application of that statement in many aspects of my life.
For instance, when I have come as far as being enrolled to study the degree of my choice only to feel that maybe I do not have what it takes to make it, I am reminded to keep working. When I have come as far as accepting a calling in the ward and being set apart only later to feel that I actually have a lot on my plate, I am reminded to keep my word and render that service anyway. When I have come as far as feeling a fraction of the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ only to make mistakes that bring me great sorrow, I am reminded to repent regardless of how hopeless I feel.
It is always at these crucial moments when I have forgotten how far the Lord has brought me because I am overwhelmed at how far I still have to go, the account in John 6 becomes extremely relevant to me. The Saviour had just finished teaching about Him being the true bread from heaven which was an uncomfortable teaching to many because “from that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.
“Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?
“Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.
“And we believe and are sure that thou are that Christ, the Son of the living God.”2
To imagine the Saviour asking me this question causes me to consider my ways and to desire to push forward. Even Peter understood that he could not have walked that far with Jesus Christ only to walk away at a moment of personal inconvenience or due to a lack of understanding.
Looking back, I wonder if I would have learned this important principle of endurance had I not been a missionary fighting to rise above her challenges and somehow something tells me, probably not. I doubt that statement in my journal would have affected me the way that it did had I read and written it under different circumstances. The prophet Joseph Smith felt the words in James 1:5 piercing him in his heart because at that time, he was going through something that prepared him to receive eternal truths. I have come to understand that there are eternal truths to be found and learned when we strive to do the will of the Lord no matter how hard it is. Serving a mission for me was not a sacrifice because I lost nothing, and I gained everything. I thought leaving my family for 18 months was a huge deal, but I came back and personally, I think my grandmother loves me more because she realised how boring the house is without my constant talking and occasional drama. My education, my friends, my hobbies, my social media etc. all these things have been restored to me but have been doubled because now they come with sanctifying mission experiences that help me to discern the attacks of the adversary hidden within them.
The adversary, the enemy of truth, seeks to discredit the blessings of serving a mission to prospective, current and returned missionaries because he knows that those experiences carry the children of God further than where they are now. I testify that we did not come as far as we have in the plan of salvation to only come this far. The Saviour Jesus Christ is willing to carry us from this telestial world to the celestial. But His scope of interest is not limited to those of us that are here. Collectively it extends to those that do not know of His restored gospel and individually it extends to our eternal families. I pray and hope that none of us will walk away from the promises we have made to our Saviour Jesus Christ. I love Him, I love His gospel and I am grateful that priesthood authority has been restored in our time.

One day Zoltán Szücs of Szeged, Hungary, surprised his kayaking coach by telling him that he wouldn’t be going to Germany for a competition.
“It was on the same day as my baptism, so I said no,” Zoltán said.
At age 17, Zoltán had won many competitions in kayaking. It’s a popular sport in Hungary, and Zoltán was good—good enough that becoming a professional was a real possibility. Beyond deciding to miss just one competition, Zoltán would soon give up kayaking entirely. He had something better to do.
Kayaking had been good for Zoltán. Over the years working with his coach, he had learned self-control, obedience, and hard work. Zoltán had also learned to avoid substances and habits that would hurt his performance. It wasn’t an easy life; it was lonely, and going pro would take up more time. Pros practice 12 hours a day and have to compete on Sunday.
“Kayaking took most of my time,” Zoltán says. “I was fanatical. Because of that, I left a lot of things out of my life.”
That’s why Zoltán decided that he couldn’t devote himself to both the gospel and kayaking. In 2004 he told his coach he wasn’t going to kayak anymore.
Earlier that year the missionaries started teaching Zoltán’s mom. He didn’t take part in the lessons. He grudgingly accepted his mom’s invitation to her baptism. But his heart was touched by what he felt once he entered the church building. Szücs agreed to meet with the missionaries, partly because he could identify with them.
“Missionaries were interesting to me because they were normal people but lived a higher standard,” he says.
Because of the higher standard that Zoltán was already living as a kayaker, he readily accepted the teachings of the gospel as valuable. He was baptized two months later.
At first he thought he could continue kayaking but not do competitions on Sundays. But because he’s the type of person who, once committed to an activity or course, wants to do well at it, he chose to give up kayaking entirely.
He tried once to kayak as a hobby after his baptism. When he did, his coach asked him to help teach others and organize trips since he wouldn’t compete. But he didn’t want to make commitments to kayaking—or any other activity—that could get in the way of his discipleship.
So Zoltán hung up his paddle and dedicated himself to Church service in a decision reminiscent of one President Howard W. Hunter (1907–95) made when he got married. President Hunter was an accomplished musician who played dozens of instruments. In the evenings he had been playing in an orchestra, but the lifestyles of those he associated with conflicted with gospel standards. So President Hunter put his instruments away and brought them out only occasionally for family sing-alongs.1
Zoltán misses kayaking, but he realized that his love for kayaking was strong enough to compete with, and possibly overcome, his love for the Lord if he stayed too close to the sport.
The same principle can apply to any activity that takes us away from who God wants us to be. For each of us it may be better to go through life without certain things—even if they are good things—rather than risk our eternal life to have them.
“The Church became my life,” Zoltán says. “Knowing that kayaking couldn’t be a living if I wanted to be active and that it would be just a hobby, it became easy to give up. Instead, I wanted to make Heavenly Father my focus.”
Zoltán began to study the gospel with the same intensity he brings to any pursuit. He set a goal to serve a mission. He wanted to stay in his country and teach others.
He served in Hungary and now works as a high school English teacher. He continues to set his priorities on the gospel. “There are things we need to give up because they get in the way of God,” he says. “It’s easy to give up the bad once we know we should. Often we don’t realize when we should give up something good for something better. We think that because it’s not bad, we can hold onto it and still follow God’s plan.” But Zoltán knows that we must give up the good if it keeps us from following God’s plan for us.

Cassidy sat on the living room floor examining all the items in her emergency backpack—granola bars, hard candy, canned tuna and crackers, a coloring book and crayons, a flashlight with batteries, a small travel game, a whistle, an emergency blanket, paper and a pencil, and other small things.
“Mom, is today an emergency day?” five-year-old Cassidy called out. “I want to use my backpack!” Cassidy and her family had gotten the emergency backpacks for Christmas from an aunt and uncle.
“No, not today,” Mom answered. “I know there are a lot of neat things you would like to use out of your backpack, but if we have an emergency you’ll be glad you’ve kept them all together.” Mom stood at the doorway. “Come on, let’s put all the backpacks on the top shelf in the hall closet. Then we’ll know where to find them in an emergency.”
Cassidy began putting things back inside her backpack. “I want to have an emergency so I can use my stuff,” she said.
Mom sat down on the floor to help Cassidy put the items back. “Do you remember hearing about the people whose homes were destroyed by a big wave called a tsunami?”
“Yes,” Cassidy answered, looking concerned.
“That was an emergency,” Mom explained as she zipped up Cassidy’s backpack. “It’s a situation that happens quickly when people are not expecting it.”
“Emergencies are bad things, aren’t they?” Cassidy asked.
“They can be very serious,” Mom replied. “But when bad things happen it can give us comfort to have something prepared—something we can grab quickly if we need to.”
“Like our backpacks?” Cassidy asked eagerly.
“Exactly,” Mom said. “You don’t need to wish for an emergency though. Let’s plan an emergency day drill. We’ll pretend there is an emergency and that we can only use the snacks and things we have in our backpacks. When we are done, we can replace the things we’ve used and plan another emergency day drill to keep us on our toes.”
“Yes!” Cassidy shouted. “That sounds fun!”
“The Lord promises us that if we are prepared we shall not fear,” Mom said.
“We should tell the rest of the family about our idea,” Cassidy said.
“Good idea. We’ll talk about it tonight at family home evening,” Mom said.
That evening just before dinner, Cassidy was reading a book in the living room. Her brother and sisters were finishing their homework in the basement. The lights flickered a few times, and then the electricity went out. The winter sky was already dark, and for a few moments it was impossible to see anything.
“Mom!” Cassidy yelled.
Mom answered from the kitchen in a calm voice, “It’s OK. Just stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”
Cassidy blinked her eyes several times to adjust to the darkness. Then her mother reached out and took her hand.
“There you are!” Mom said. “Now we need some light.”
“There’s a flashlight in my emergency backpack!” Cassidy said excitedly.
They walked carefully through the dark house toward the hall closet.
“Who turned out the lights?” Cassidy’s older brother, Adison, shouted.
“It’s dark down here!” her sister Olivia called.
“We’ll get a light for you!” Cassidy said as she held tightly to Mom’s hand.
When they reached the closet, Mom pulled down Cassidy’s backpack and got out the flashlight. “That’s better,” Mom said. She quickly pulled down everyone’s backpack, and Cassidy got out the flashlights so that everyone would have their own light.
Dad came in through the door to the garage. “Boy, it sure was dark out there. It took me a while to find the door,” he said. “Were you scared?” he asked Cassidy.
“Yes, but I knew where my flashlight was, so that made me feel better,” she answered.
Looking out the window, they saw that the electricity was out all over the neighborhood, and a thick fog had rolled in.
The family gathered in the living room with their emergency backpacks and everyone chatted excitedly. Dad searched his backpack for his emergency radio and began to listen for a weather report. After a few minutes he announced, “Well, it doesn’t appear to be a winter storm. Hopefully, the power will be back on by morning. Your mom and I have decided that we will use this opportunity to have an emergency drill. You each can use only the things you have in your backpacks. Use them wisely, just in case the power is out for longer than we expect. Now that we are all here, we will start family home evening with a prayer of thanks that we were prepared for this minor emergency.”
Cassidy pulled a granola bar out of her backpack. She leaned over to Mom and said, “It turned out to be an emergency day after all.”

I chose another hero in that little branch of the Church. He was a United States Marine who came to our meetings wearing his green marine uniform. It was wartime, so that alone made him my hero. He had been sent to Princeton University by the marines to further his education. But far more than admiring his military uniform, I watched him play in Palmer Stadium as captain of the Princeton University football team. I saw him play on the university basketball team and also watched him play as the star catcher on their baseball team.
But even more, he came to my home during the week to show me how to shoot a basketball with both my left and my right hand. He told me that I would need that skill because I would someday play basketball on good teams. I did not realize it then, but for years he was, for me, a model of a true priesthood man.