Gospel Story Finder

Photographs by Christina Smith
For violinist Claire Z. of Idaho, USA, music has always been important. “It just makes everything better,” she says. “It gives you something to focus on and enjoy and share with others.” Music also gives Claire a way to share her beliefs. “I’m not very outgoing. Music is a way to bear my testimony.”
Growing up, Claire loved playing the violin and thought about studying it in college. But a four-wheeling accident almost changed her path forever.
When Claire was 13, she and her friend were riding a four-wheeler together near Claire’s house. At a curve in the road, Claire lost control of the vehicle and it flipped. Claire’s friend was unharmed, but Claire’s left hand—the hand she most needed to play the violin—was crushed underneath a metal bar. Claire and her friend crawled out from under the vehicle and walked home, singing hymns and Primary songs to keep up their spirits.
It took several surgeries and a year of physical therapy before Claire could even think about playing the violin again. At first it seemed impossible because the fingers of her left hand were weak and most of her ring finger had been amputated. Between surgeries, Claire found comfort playing the piano with her right hand.
Claire struggled with feeling angry and sad at the beginning of her trial. She remembers one night when she was having a hard time. “I felt like I was suffocating,” Claire says, “like something really heavy was lying on my chest, and I couldn’t breathe. Finally, I just knelt down and prayed, ‘Heavenly Father, please help me to get through this and be OK.’ And immediately that weight, that pressure just lifted, and I felt like I could do it. That was a really amazing experience. You can get through hard things with Heavenly Father.”
Before the accident, Claire had been the youngest member of her city’s symphony. After the accident, she was worried she would never play the violin again.
Claire’s violin teacher started to research how to build a backward violin that could be held with the right hand instead of the left. Everything on and inside the violin had to be moved around. Other music teachers and professional musicians said it was impossible, but Claire, her mother, and her violin teacher knew it could be done and eventually found someone who would make the violin.
Once the new violin was ready, it was very frustrating for Claire to learn to play with her right hand. She’d spent years training her left hand and fingers to move quickly across violin strings. Now she had to start over and teach her right hand to do it all. She felt discouraged by her memories of playing, because she was now unable to play as well as she had before. But with time, practice, and prayer, she did improve.
After six months of daily practice, Claire eventually earned a spot back in the symphony with her friends. She also put on a piano and violin recital with her friends at the hospital where she’d been treated. Those who know her think of her as an inspiration and have learned from her example of hard work, determination, and faith in the Lord.
Claire has learned a lot from her trial, but she thinks the most important lesson is to stay positive. “Don’t let your anger control you,” she says. “You have to get negative feelings out because they’re all in there, but make sure you’re focusing on the good in your situation and finding the positive after you have those moments. You have to make yourself think positively and find the good things, however few or little you think they may be.”
Claire says that good support also helped her stay positive. “I have great family, friends, and neighbors who were just happy, visited me, and brought me lots of treats.”
Claire’s life is very different from the life she may have imagined a few years ago, but she says, “I don’t think I’d ever want it to change. I’ve met so many amazing people.” With the Lord’s help, hard work, determination, and a positive attitude, Claire can once again follow her dream and continue playing the violin.

I was shopping with my mom and I saw some money on the floor, so I told my mom. She picked up the bills, and it was $430! I did what Heavenly Father would want me to do and took the money to the service counter. They asked for our names and phone number. The employee called us about 10 minutes later and said the owner had claimed the money and had left $10 for me as a reward for being honest. It gave me a good feeling.

It’s the moment every high school athlete dreams of: cameras flashing, parents beaming, coaches applauding, a gold medal, laced with a ribbon, gently placed around your neck. But for Andrea Nelson, it just wasn’t right.
All runners had crossed the line for the girls’ 3,200-meter race at the Washington State High School Track and Field Championships. They had just caught their breath when the whispers started. Someone would be disqualified.
“Is it me?” each girl asked herself. They then waited in uncertainty for more than an hour.
At last, a judge ruled that the first-place runner, Nicole, would lose her place. She had supposedly stepped outside the lane for three consecutive steps. The other runners would move up, taking the stand one place higher than the order in which they crossed the finish line. Andrea had finished three seconds behind Nicole but would now be given first place.
At that moment two-time state cross country champion Andrea Nelson (17) of the Woodridge Ward, Spokane North Stake, made a decision that would catch the attention of out-of-state newspapers, land her on ESPN, and even cause her to be featured in Sports Illustrated magazine.
“My coach asked, ‘What are you going to do?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m going to give her the medal,’” Andrea remembers saying.
After being given the gold medal, she jumped without hesitation from the highest stand, ran over to Nicole and placed the medal around her neck, saying it belonged to her because she won the race.
The energy from Andrea’s simple gesture started a domino effect of selfless giving. Next, the second-place runner gave up her medal to Andrea, followed by third to second, and so on, until all eight girls gave up their medals. The eighth-place girl, who chose to forfeit her medal without a replacement in mind, later received a medal Nicole won in another race.
Andrea’s mother, Edie, says, “There is no way to describe how that felt and the way that people were responding. You just had to be there.” After the runners exchanged medals, Edie says, “A reporter ran past Brother Nelson with tears in his eyes saying he wished he could talk but was on deadline and, besides, he couldn’t get control of his emotions anyway.”
Ten days later, race officials reinstated Nicole as the winner after reviewing video of the race. But at the time Andrea made her decision, no one knew that would happen. The reinstated winner, Nicole, told Sports Illustrated, “It gave me chills. It was just an incredible, surprising thing for Andrea to do, because it wasn’t her fault. No one would have blamed her if she kept the medal.”
But Andrea knows how it feels to win a race. And that wasn’t what she felt that day. To her, violation or not, the other girl had earned a spot on the stand. “I’d rather win it the right way instead of having it given to me,” she says. She understands the Savior’s counsel: “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matthew 7:12).
For a girl nearly through high school, Andrea has received a lot of attention. After the track meet and before the beginning of summer vacation, newspapers and sportswriters were calling her high school to get her out of class as many as three times in a day. “I wasn’t expecting this to be a big deal. I just thought it was the right thing to do.”
But being looked up to or talked about isn’t really what motivates Andrea. When people mention her giving up the medal, she doesn’t break stride: “I don’t want to be the center of attention.” That’s Andrea. Like the eight other runners who followed her example, she’s just glad she could do the right thing when the moment presented itself.

One day in high school, I had a geography test where I was asked to recognize and name each continent and country in the world. Sounds tough, right? Well, it was. Especially since I am mostly blind.
I have tunnel vision, so my eyes—well, the one that works—can only focus on a small portion of a page at a time. Not ideal for a test where I needed to see the whole picture all at once.
I got frustrated pretty quick. I couldn’t tell Europe apart from South America or Africa from Australia. I got so frustrated that I started to cry, making the already jumbled shapes on my paper even more blurry. Thankfully, I was saved when my dad walked in to pick me up at the end of the day.
My teacher gave me extra time to complete the test at home. After dinner that night I sat at the table, ready to try again, while my siblings watched a video in the living room.
I started trying to fill in the map when something in the video caught my attention. A blind man was asking the Savior if He would give him sight. At that moment, that’s what I wanted more than anything.
Suddenly I realized that if anyone could help me, it was Jesus Christ. I didn’t have sight given to me that day, but as I listened to the Savior heal that man, I felt joy! I knew Jesus Christ cared about me and would help me finish my test.
I knelt down and offered heartfelt thanks to my Heavenly Father for the gift of His Son. Then, with newfound determination, I picked up my pencil, ready to try again.

One bright Saturday morning, youth from the Cardiff Wales Stake, with lunches stuffed in backpacks and plenty of enthusiasm for the outing, set off for a special activity to commemorate the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood and to uncover the roots of the gospel in the British Isles.
Those roots run deep—back 160 years—to the time when Wilford Woodruff (1807–98) and Brigham Young (1801–77) walked the roads their bus is now traveling. Both Elder Young and Elder Woodruff, who were members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at that time, became Presidents of the Church.
Since many teenagers are in one vehicle, the noise level is high as the bus crosses the border from Wales into England. Everyone is talking and having a great time. The youth love being together any chance they get. They love being around friends who share their beliefs.
Charlotte Forward, age 15, of the Cwmbran Ward enjoys being with her friends Kathryn Elliott of the Blackwood Ward and Rachel Griffiths of the Newport-Gwent Ward. They usually get to see each other only at stake activities, and spending all day together is a huge treat. Charlotte says, “Wales is a beautiful place to live. Everyone is so great to be with. We all get along in the stake. I’m something like the seventh generation in the Church. Some of my ancestors emigrated to Utah, but some stayed. Now I seem to have relatives everywhere here.”
The bus pulls into the village of Ledbury. It’s a fairly ordinary country town these days except for the charming old covered outdoor market on the main street. Andrew Dearden, the stake Young Men president, tells the youth that the first missionaries in this area preached in the market square. A few of the young men, who will be serving missions themselves in a few years, get out of the bus and walk under the old roof of the market. Would they have the nerve to stand in that spot and talk about the gospel to the townspeople? How would they react if the crowd did not listen?
Some of the people 160 years ago who heard Wilford Woodruff give a single sermon asked to be baptized. The youth are astounded that the missionaries had such success spreading the gospel. Clive Wilkinson, age 18, who is looking forward to his mission, is awed to think that back then hundreds of people in this area listened to the missionaries and believed.
“It’s amazing that people would be converted by listening to just one talk,” says Clive. “I’m a stake missionary, and when we go out with the missionaries now, it’s nothing like that. We’re lucky to get in the door. It’s amazing that the missionaries back then could come over here with this new religion that no one had heard about and people would have enough faith to believe them and be converted straightaway like that.”
The next two stops are different from each other, but both are mentioned often in Church history. The first stop is the Malvern Hills. This spot is where Wilford Woodruff dedicated the area for the teaching of the gospel. After eating lunch, the youth hike up a trail, leaving the roads and houses behind, to the grassy slopes at the summit. From there they look one direction and can see the county of Herefordshire, England, spread out at their feet. Then they turn toward their homes and can see into Wales.
The second stop is the John Benbow farm. Although the farm itself is privately owned now, the small pond where hundreds of converts were baptized has been purchased and is maintained by the Church. The youth relax on the freshly cut grass and try to imagine the impressive scene when Wilford Woodruff was a missionary here.
Although there isn’t a lot to see except the pond at the Benbow farm, the youth are quiet. The peaceful spirit of the place seems to penetrate every heart. “It feels really special,” says Suzy Taylor of the Blackwood Ward, “to think about those people who have been here before us. It is nice to see where our leaders were talking about.”
The final stop is at the remains of the Gadfield Elm chapel. At the time of their visit, just the rock walls are standing. The roof is gone, and nettles have grown up inside. The chapel was the first building owned by the Church outside the United States. It is easy to imagine what it must have been like 160 years ago, as people walked down the winding country road to the chapel. It is a little more difficult to imagine the power and spirit that must have been there when Wilford Woodruff preached. In one evening people learned the truth, and it changed the course of their lives.
The seeds that were planted then still bloom in the youth who come back to visit the places where such miracles took place. “It’s quite amazing, really,” says Joseph Parry of the Caerphilly Branch. “These places are around us. I’ve always thought of Church history as being in America. It was actually in Britain, too.”

“Oh no, not again,” I thought, as I saw the familiar face walking toward me in the hallway of my college dorm. “What this time?”
Angela [names have been changed] had accosted me in the hallway before, and each time I talked to her she left my stomach tied up in knots. I had been investigating The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for a month, and Angela had taken it upon herself to prove that I was making a big mistake.
Angela invited me to her dorm room for a talk, and I accepted warily, knowing from past experience that she would not leave me alone until I’d heard what she had to say.
“How are you feeling about the Mormons at this point?” she asked me, as I sat on her bed, folding my arms defensively.
“Fine. Actually I think what they believe is quite beautiful. I haven’t decided if I believe it yet …”
“Beautiful?” Angela choked on the word, her face turning red. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go on. Not after what I’ve found out about the Mormon religion.”
She handed me a pamphlet filled with lies and twisted truths about the Church. “Read this,” she confided, “and you’ll never want to talk to those missionaries again.”
I read it and the other things well-meaning people gave me to try to show me “the truth” about the Church. I always ended up feeling confused and sick to my stomach. How could I ever know what was right? The missionaries seemed so peaceful about what they believed. Yet Angela was convinced they were wrong. How could I find my own testimony of what was true? And why did there seem to be silence from the heavens when I prayed about my questions?
Ten years later, I sat in an LDS chapel looking at a young woman in my ward. She sat next to me, her hands folded in her lap and tears streaming down her face, asking me the same questions I had asked 10 years before. How could she know for sure if the things she had been taught were true? Why hadn’t she received any spiritual confirmations or found answers to her many questions about the Church?
This young woman had a boyfriend who had been trying to convince her the Church wasn’t true. He had been telling her the same things about the Church that had confused me so long ago.
I decided to write her a letter, telling her about a prophet who faced a similar situation. During the time of Alma the Younger, Korihor, an anti-Christ, came among the Nephites telling them Christ would not come and that their beliefs were false. Eventually, Korihor was brought before Alma, and he told Alma he would believe in God only if Alma showed him a sign. In answer to his request, Korihor was struck dumb, and he finally admitted that he had been deceived and had always known there was a God. (See Alma 30.)
Both Alma and Korihor knew the words of the prophets, but Alma acted on those words and obeyed the commandments. Alma knew that blessings come from following the ways of the Lord. (See Alma 32:21–43.)
Korihor refused to act on the word of the Lord and wanted to see a sign before he would believe and act. Alma believed first, acted upon that belief, and then received a confirmation of the truth.
We can have an unshakable testimony like Alma’s by following his example. Then we can stand before people and testify of the truths of God, and no clever words or temptations will convince us to deny what we know is true.
I believed the missionaries instead of the clever words of those who opposed the Church. Then I acted upon that belief. I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I rose up out of the waters of baptism, a warm feeling of peace enveloped me. I knew the Holy Ghost was telling me that what I was doing was good. I had found the truth. Even though I faced much opposition from my parents and friends, I was able to stand strong because of the testimony I had received from obeying the commandments of God.
When we ask in faith, we will receive answers from the Lord as we experiment upon His words. Testimonies do not come from seeing signs, as Korihor believed. They come from doing and obeying.
Pray regularly and sincerely about your questions.
It may help to write your questions in a journal. When you receive answers, write them down so you can remember and read them often. You will begin to see the hand of God in all things, just as Alma did (see Alma 30:44).
Live the gospel and keep the commandments. Attend your meetings, activities, seminary classes, and service projects. Stay away from things that take away the Spirit.
Regularly study the scriptures and the teachings of latter-day prophets, because you can’t have a testimony of something you don’t know anything about.

A dedicated Family History missionary could not read the microfilm information for one woman. He could not decipher it. He knelt at his work area to ask the Lord for help but still could not read the microfilm. He knelt again and petitioned the Lord but still could not read it. The third time he knelt down and suggested to the Lord that he felt that this woman was waiting for her work to be done and if he couldn’t read the microfilm, how could this take place? As he got up and looked at the microfilm again, it was perfectly clear. I believe that when you diligently seek after your ancestors—in faith—needed information will come to you, even when no mortal records of their lives are available.

“Danna,” Mamá called. “Ready for school? It’s scripture time!”
“Coming!” Danna slid her math book into her brightly colored school bag and slung it over her shoulder.
Danna and her family memorized a new scripture verse every week. Each day before they left for school, they practiced saying it together. Mamá said that learning a new scripture is like making a new friend. Once it’s in your heart, it’s there whenever you need it.
Danna and her younger sisters stood by the door and repeated this week’s verse. It was from the Doctrine and Covenants.
“‘Pray always, that you may come off conqueror,’” they said together.
“What does ‘come off conqueror’ mean?” Danna’s sister Tatianna asked.
“It means that you can do hard things!” Danna said.
Mamá nodded. “When we pray, Heavenly Father will help us.”
Danna repeated the scripture over and over in her mind as she hurried off to school.
Later that day, Danna’s teacher stood at the front of the classroom next to the blue and white Guatemalan flag. “Time for your math test,” Señora Morales said. She started passing out a stack of papers.
Danna liked math. And she was good at it! She had studied hard for the test, and she knew she could do well on it.
Danna grabbed her pencil and started working. She was feeling good about her answers. Then she got to the last set of problems. They were really hard. She couldn’t remember how to do them!
Danna felt a wave of panic. How could she finish her math test? She gripped her pencil and read the next problem again.
Then a thought popped into her mind. “Pray always, that you may come off conqueror. …”
Danna took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and said a quiet prayer in her heart. Heavenly Father, please help me remember what I’ve learned. Please help me to do a good job on this test.
Danna looked back at her paper. She looked at the problems she had already solved. Then she looked at the hard ones again. She started remembering how to do them! Her nervousness melted away. She took another deep breath and went to work.
After school, Danna was excited to tell her family about what happened.
“At first I couldn’t remember how to solve some of the problems,” Danna said. “But then I thought about the scripture we’re memorizing. I said a prayer, and Heavenly Father helped me.”
“Way to go!” Mamá said.
“You came off conqueror!” Tatianna said.
Danna laughed. “I did! No matter what score I get, I know I did my best.” She gave Mom and Tatianna a big hug. She couldn’t wait to see what scripture friend they would make next week!
This story happened in Guatemala. Go to page 10 to learn about that country!

Illustration by Jim Madsen
At the beginning of my mission, I served in a small city in South Korea. One rainy day we had not had a lot of success but wanted to keep working until it was time to go home. My companion and I decided that we would knock on a few more doors.
At one door a woman answered, and my companion started talking to her. As a new missionary, I had a hard time understanding, but after a few minutes she began speaking to us in English. We found out that she was from Chicago, Illinois, USA, and had moved here with her family. Her husband was a preacher for a church that did not have friendly feelings toward our beliefs.
The woman was nice but eager to disprove the Book of Mormon and convince us that our church was incorrect. I stood there with my companion as he tried to answer her difficult questions. My companion tried to testify to her that the Book of Mormon is true and that it could help her, but she insisted on believing that he was incorrect.
After about 30 minutes of discussion at the door, she asked my companion, “Where will we go after this life?” I could tell she was eager to refute my companion’s teachings, as she had before. My companion testified of the plan of salvation and that we can live with our families forever in the celestial kingdom. Before he could continue, she stopped him and asked him to repeat what he had just said about families being together. He again replied with the same response. I felt the Spirit so strongly, and I could see in her eyes that something had touched her deeply too. After that short but powerful testimony, she stopped arguing with us, took a Book of Mormon, and asked us to come back to talk with her and her husband about the Book of Mormon.
I remember walking home with my companion that evening, amazed by the effect of my companion’s testimony. I understood then that a testimony accompanied by the Spirit is the most powerful teaching tool we have. I’ll never forget my companion and his testimony that night. After that experience I decided that, even with my limited ability to speak Korean, I would try to bear my testimony no matter what. As I did, I began to feel the Spirit more and more. I learned that the best communication happens when you teach by the Spirit.

We moved into the Ogden Fourth Ward in the fall of 1937. As a home teacher (then called a ward teacher), I was assigned an old home that had been converted into ten apartments.
One December evening, while making the ward teaching visits, I noticed a trailer house south of the apartments. Not sure it was included in any ward teaching district, I wondered if the occupants of the trailer had been visited. I decided there was only one way to find out.
A blue-eyed, blonde woman answered my knock and explained that the family was not Latter-day Saint. She said they had recently moved from Kansas. I took a few minutes more to quickly explain the program of ward teaching.
Her reception was so kind that I briefly related the story of Joseph Smith’s First Vision and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. I suggested that she might like to read the book if she had a copy.
“Yes, I think I would,” she replied.
At first I intended just to loan her the book. But when I was home and took a copy from the shelf, I decided to make the book a gift to the woman, Maxine Protzman, and her husband, Paul. I wrote on the inside cover a few words of encouragement to study the book. Then I carried the book to the Protzmans’ home.
Church assignments soon took me elsewhere. Years went by. The incident faded from my mind.
Fifteen years elapsed before I was reminded of it again. My wife and I were attending our dancing club when during intermission, I noticed a blonde woman looking steadfastly at my wife. Finally, the woman spoke. “You don’t know me, do you? “she asked. My wife responded, “No, I’m sure I don’t.”
“Well, I know your husband,” the woman said. “He’s the one who is responsible for first bringing me the gospel.”
I broke in, “I’m sure you’re wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever met. …”
“Isn’t your name Morrell Clark?” she asked. With astonishment I replied, “Yes, it is.”
She continued: “Every time I see that Book of Mormon, I see your name in it, and your reference to the promise it makes to those who read it with a sincere heart.”
I began to remember the trailer, ward teaching, and the Protzmans. They had read the Book of Mormon I left, and had begun attending ward meetings. Stake missionaries taught them about the gospel, and the family joined the Church. Later they moved to North Ogden, where they built a home and became strong, active members in their ward.
What started that change in their lives was simply a few extra steps. That spiritual prompting that brought me to their door and that testified to them of the Book of Mormon brought them into the Church.

At an early age, my mother taught me how to understand that the feelings I was receiving were from the Holy Ghost, so I would be able to recognize His influence and be wiser in the decisions I made. As a pre-teen, I participated in a service project. We ended up serving coffee and tea to those that were eating at a reunion. Partaking of these drinks is contrary to what I believed, but I wasn’t partaking.

I felt sorrow, guilt, and I most definitely did not have a positive feeling in my heart. As I discussed my experiences and feelings with my mother, she pointed out to me that this was the Holy Ghost trying to help me know that it was not what Heavenly Father would have me do.

An apostle of the Lord made me a promise. “The Lord God will not leave you alone, nor will he be in debt. This you can count on.”
Those were the comforting words of Elder Richard L. Evans of the Quorum of the Twelve as he spoke at funeral services for my young husband. The “compensation” he spoke of was beyond my comprehension, and the thought remained in my memory for years. I could not see the end from the beginning.
That we are not alone, however, and that a loving Father in Heaven hears our prayers was more tangible. Our five children, ages four through sixteen, understood this. Their father, whose career had been in broadcasting, had often taught that their voices and thoughts are audible to the Lord, that they could reach the Lord through prayer if their lives were tuned in to the right frequency. Little David, the youngest, prayed at his grandmother’s knee on that first lonely night, “Please bless my daddy, so he will be well when I get there.”
We were on a family vacation in Utah when my husband died of a sudden heart attack. Still numb from shock, I faced my first major decision. Our home was three thousand kilometers away in Washington, D.C. “What do we do now?” I wondered. “Do we move back to Utah among family and old friends, or do we stay is Washington where we had established our home?” My ninety-two-year-old grandfather, a wise patriarch of a large family, offered good counsel. “Go back home to Washington for the present,” he said. “It is not wise to uproot your family until you think it through for at least a year.”
It was not a difficult decision to make. Our home, with its familiar surroundings, was a haven, and there was a memory in every room. It would have been more difficult for us to start over somewhere else.
Also, the Church in the Washington D.C. area was strong and growing fast. Members from adults to grade-school children felt a strong sense of identity with the Church. The opportunity to identify oneself as a Latter-day Saint promoted awareness of doctrine and practices and, through commitment to covenants, helped build strong testimonies of the gospel.
There was a feeling of missionary excitement. Our neighborhood is filled with beautiful churches of various Christian denominations. In the months and years after we returned to our home, school friends who were members of those churches invited our children to speak to their youth groups about Mormonism, and the interest and questions of the young people and their religious leaders challenged our children to expand their knowledge and test their faith. Many close friendships and several conversions resulted.
Looking back, I see the wisdom of remaining among supportive neighborhood, school, and Church friends. The great loss we had suffered did not disrupt the stability of our lives.
There was little time for grief that first year. The awesome responsibilities of my new role as sole parent were overwhelming. Ralph had been very much in charge, and I relied heavily on his judgment and leadership. Attempting to establish my authority was of prime importance. The children thought they were very funny when they made birthday and Mother’s Day cards depicting me in a general’s uniform. However, I knew my authority was finally recognized when I overheard one small child say to another, “What are Mother and Daddy going to do when they get together again, now that Mother’s the boss?”
But there was a special presence in our home. Father was considered to be out of reach but not out of touch. I realized this one day when teen-aged Alison said, “Mother, I can always get out of your range, but I can’t get out of Daddy’s.” This was a positive moment that reminded me of Elder Evans’ promise.
Our youngest child insists that he never felt fatherless. His departed father was always a real person to him, and he intuitively understood the eternal nature of the family unit long before he learned about the covenants and promises that can ensure its endurance. This awareness also translated into a desire on the part of our children to prove themselves so as not to disappoint the father they had come to idealize. As for me, I was determined to succeed in my stewardship. I could not fail my eternal partner or my Eternal Father. Our purpose bound us even closer together as a family as we shared our trials and successes.
Temple marriage was a subject of special interest. It was an anchor to which we could hold and a prize that all would one day attain. Our primary motivation was that we might all serve the Lord’s purposes so as to be reunited as a family once again.
A second major problem that had to be resolved soon after Ralph’s death was how to provide for my family. This is probably the most crucial and frightening reality that most newly-widowed mothers face. My options were whether to use our insufficient financial resources until they were gone, and then decide how to support the family, or to find employment in the near future and keep some funds in reserve. I chose the latter. Fortunately, it was possible for me to be away during the day because all the children were in school, and an older daughter was responsible until I arrived home. The children’s acceptance of this new situation and their faith in me was viewed as “God’s in his heaven and Mother will provide.”
I had limited qualifications, having married before completing college. But after a refresher course in business English and typing, I was ready to start at the bottom. I became a receptionist. It was a good beginning. Further training brought additional employment opportunities and added responsibilities. These experiences, along with subsequent years in the field of corporate communications at one of the government banking agencies, have broadened my interests, supplemented my education, developed my skills, strengthened my self-confidence, contributed to my financial independence, and provided for my future security. This is compensation I had never dreamed of.
When I first accepted employment, I came to a decision that accounts in great measure for any success I may have had as a single parent: giving prime time to the children. Prime time meant every evening, with few exceptions. Since I was away all day, I decided that I should be home at night. This was a marked change from former days when my husband’s position as a television network executive involved us both in a busy business and social schedule in and out of town. Time and again as I had appeared to be all attention during a conversation, I had been worrying about the children’s homework or how dinner was progressing at home.
As we had traveled, I had thought about where the children were. At length, after Ralph’s death, I concluded that the next year would be different. I was needed at home more in the evenings when the children were there.
All decisions that shaped our future were not mine alone. The children had choices to make, too. They learned to cook through trial and error and became quite adept at cleaning the house. With their mother at work during the day, they went places by themselves on foot, bicycle, or bus. “Ask not what your mother can do for you, but what you can do for your mother,” became the watchword in our home. All children worked at summer jobs as soon as they were old enough. We even caught the littlest one selling his carefully scrubbed rocks from door to door in the neighborhood. Self-sufficiency, they soon learned, was the way to live.
Although I found myself widowed at a relatively young age, I was blessed with a generous measure of faith and hopefulness. I tried to convey this feeling to my children. The entire family felt a strong sense of opportunity and of the Lord’s hand in our lives.
Friends and family members also contributed their suggestions and ideas for our welfare. There was valuable advice and assistance regarding summer jobs, schools, scholarships, and many other things. Friends were there in times of illness, trouble, and teenage crises. They included us in family activities, fathers and sons’ outings, and other events. Our bishops and priesthood leaders were always available for counsel. Being on the receiving end of so much kindness is often difficult, but it has taught me and my children that blessings from the Lord are not just dropped on our heads. They are brought to pass through the hearts and hands of others.
A woman in the role of single parent, whether widowed or divorced, has a very special calling, and she will be held accountable before the Lord for what she does with her stewardship. Although her spouse is absent, she stands nonetheless commissioned by the Lord to perform the charge he issued to all parents: “And they shall also teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord” (D&C 68:28; see also D&C 68:25–27 and D&C 68:29–32). She may feel at times that she carries a disproportionate share of that responsibility, yet she has the Lord’s assurance that he will prepare a way for her to accomplish her task. (See 1 Ne. 3:7.)
The principal lessons a parent must teach are those of spiritual values. Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Council of the Twelve has suggested that when children are interested or teachable we should immediately take advantage of that moment and teach them. (See Boyd K. Packer, Teach Ye Diligently, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1975, page 110.) When they are spiritually hungry, feed them. Without really knowing it, I followed this precept. We discussed gospel concepts freely while preparing the salad, walking to school, or sitting around the dinner table. It was not unusual for us to talk about the Atonement or the Second Coming any more than it was for us to talk about what was happening in the government or in the school classroom.
Through the years, I have proved the following scripture many times: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Prov. 3:5–6).
We view eternity through the small window of mortal time: “For now we see through a glass, darkly” (1 Cor. 13:12). The day will come when we shall each see our lives with clear vision and an eternal perspective. We shall then have a full knowledge of what we understand by faith now: That the Lord does not leave us alone when we seek him, that he is never in debt to us, and that he always compensates. By showing us our weaknesses and providing an opportunity to turn them to strengths, he exchanges our dross for gold.

One day my instructor was giving an explanation to five of us in the ready room. In order to explain a certain maneuver, he went to the blackboard. Inasmuch as he was smoking a cigarette, he handed it to me to hold while he made the demonstration, and by this means I had the “privilege” of holding my first cigarette. After he had finished his demonstration at the blackboard, he took his cigarette back, and then he said, “Mr. Bangerter, I apologize for handing you my cigarette. I know you don’t smoke, do you?”
I said, “No, sir, I don’t.”
He said, “You don’t drink either, do you?”
I said, “No, sir.”
He asked, “Do you drink tea?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you drink coffee?”
“No, sir.” He turned to the other four students standing together and said, “Now, men, that’s the Word of Wisdom. We would all be much better off if we lived that way.” You can appreciate that I felt uplifted by that experience.

Every year my parents took me to visit Aunt Ruby and Uncle George, who lived on a farm. I enjoyed visiting them because there were so many things to see and do. I played in the barn, helped feed the animals, rode on the tractor, and explored their big red shed.
One time when I was nine years old, I was helping Uncle George feed the animals in the barn. “You sure are quiet this morning, Justin,” he said.
“I was thinking about what my Primary teacher said last week,” I told him.
“What did she say?” Uncle George asked as he threw some hay to one of the cows.
“She said making right choices will help me keep the promises I made to Heavenly Father when I was baptized. But it’s hard to always make the right choice.”
Uncle George nodded. “It is hard to always make correct choices. But when we live the gospel standards and follow the ‘strait and narrow path’ like the scriptures tell us to, the Lord will help us.”
I thought about the “strait and narrow path” for the rest of the morning. When we finished feeding the animals, Uncle George said, “Thanks for your help, Justin. What would you like to do now?”
“I’d like to go over to my friend Jeff’s, but Mom and Dad usually take me there.”
Tilting his hat back on his head, Uncle George said, “They’ve gone into town with Ruby. I can’t take you either, because I have to fix the tractor.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and led me to a big dry ditch. “If you get in this ditch,” he said, “you can follow it all the way to Jeff’s house. Can you do that?”
I told him I was sure I could. Before I left, he gave me two warnings. One, I was to stay in the ditch. If I got out, I could get hurt or lost. Two, I was to keep going, even if I got tired. Then he promised me that if I followed his instructions, I would have no trouble reaching my friend’s house.
At first I was nervous. The grass on both sides of the ditch was so tall I couldn’t see over it. But soon I began to see interesting things all around me, and I wasn’t afraid of being in the ditch. I found a small white snail shell and a lot of interesting plants. Then I found a pebble and put it in my pocket.
After a while, though, it wasn’t interesting anymore, and my legs were getting tired. My faith in Uncle George’s words began to waver. Maybe I had already passed Jeff’s house. Maybe I wasn’t even going in the right direction. My uncle’s warnings were still clear in my mind, but I carefully climbed to the top of the ditch so I could see over the tall grass and find out where I was.
Happily, I saw that only a fence and a large pasture stood between me and Jeff’s house. All I had to do was walk through the pasture, and I would be there. With my goal in sight, I forgot my uncle’s warnings.
I slipped through a hole in the fence and started across the pasture. All I thought about was the fun Jeff and I were going to have. I paid no attention to what was going on around me until I heard a loud snort and the snapping of breaking sticks. I turned around and saw a large bull charging toward me from the edge of the pasture.
Now I had a new goal—to reach the fence before the bull reached me. I knew the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, so I ran straight toward the hole in the fence I had climbed through earlier. I ran so fast I could hear the air whistling around my ears. All the time, I was silently praying that Heavenly Father would bless me to run faster than the bull.
The fence was getting closer, but so was the bull. I was sure I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dived through the fence to safety. He snorted loudly as he pushed his nose through the hole and realized he couldn’t reach me.
My life had been spared. Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. My heart was full of gratitude to Him.
Now all I wanted to do was return to the “strait and narrow path” and follow my uncle’s instructions. I knew there were no bulls in the ditch. It was a safe place.
I had learned that my Primary teacher and Uncle George were right. There is great safety in choosing the right and following the correct path. I realized Heavenly Father would always help me stay on the “strait and narrow path” if I would listen and obey.

Consider the difference made by a shift in approach. Phil had regularly commanded my dad off the porch when the proposal was "Phil, you need the Church." But when the pitch was "Phillip, the Church needs you" , instantly he said yes.
What if Latter-day Saints began to ask those who aren't committed members of the Church, "could you please help me solve this problem?"  What might happen if you were a Primary teacher, and you called up a friend who is not a member of the Church to ask "I teach a class of 9-year-olds at our church. They're bouncing off the walls when I try to teach them. In two weeks I've got to teach them one of the most important lesson of their lives about the Good Samaritan. You are the best example of a good Samaritan I have ever known. Is there any way you can help me prepare and teach a great lesson on the Good Samaritan to these kids?" You know that your friend will be delighted to help you - and when she does, she will be able to feel the spirit, just like you can feel the spirit. Often, she will then realize that despite her prosperity there has been something missing in her life - and want to learn more.
Here's another example. Several times I had asked a friend, Paul, to come to our home to meet with the missionaries, each time explaining why I felt Paul would find our church to be interesting. Paul declined each invitation. Then a new missionary who needed to learn to teach the missionary lessons came into our ward. Rather than arranging for this elder to practice teaching the lessons to members, I asked Paul if he would let this missionary practice teaching the lessons to him." Sure," Paul responded." I'd be happy to." I urged Paul to be obstreperous, and told the missionaries that Paul had signed up simply to help them become better teachers and had no interest in the church. I went to the first practice session to be sure things went as planned. At the end of the lesson the missionary finished the rehearsal by handing Paul and his wife a copy of the Book of Mormon and asking, "Will you read this book?"  To our great surprise they accepted it and said they would. They did, and were baptized. When my invitation centered on how the church would interest them, Paul wasn't interested. But Paul said "Sure"  when I asked him for help.
God has not restricted to active members of the LDS Church the right to feel the Spirit. Those who are not members of our church, or those that are less active, can feel the same Spirit as we feel, if we just give them the chance to lose their lives for the sake of the gospel. The Yorktown NY Stake concluded, as the result of this observation, that the ward mission plans of each ward in the stake would focus members on inviting people who were not members to join with them in serving in the church. This stake covers some of the wealthiest communities in the world - and the number of people baptized into the church put the stake as the top stake in the mission in baptisms, whereas previously it always had been the lowest.

A few years ago, when I was 17, I was depressed and aimless. I wasn’t hanging out with good friends or doing good things. One day my dad told me that he had signed me up to attend a For the Strength of Youth conference in a nearby country. I didn’t want to go, but knowing that he wanted me to, I reluctantly went.
Surprisingly, the spiritual experiences I had at that conference changed my life completely.
At FSY I really saw what it means to be a disciple of Christ—to live differently than the world. All these faithful young people were such a contrast to the negative influences I was usually surrounded by. I felt like I actually saw the light these disciples were carrying. Each day, I felt the Spirit so strongly as I spent time with good people, studied the scriptures, learned more about the gospel, and got to know Heavenly Father and the Savior better.
I realized I needed to change my behaviors and really start to understand what the gospel of Jesus Christ could bring to my life.
After I went home, I didn’t want to lose the connection to the Spirit that I had felt during the conference, so I made a goal to do what was necessary to keep my newfound foundation in the gospel firm and keep the Spirit with me.
Making changes was a little hard at first. I had to stop spending time with certain friends because they were not a good influence on me. I worked to give up some bad habits. I started taking church seriously. Making these decisions helped me fill my life with goodness. What has helped me stay consistently connected to the Spirit is setting aside time each day to study the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon.
The teachings in the scriptures remind me what is really important in my life. When I feel lonely in my faith, especially with so few members here in Bulgaria, I allow the truths of ancient prophets to deepen my faith in Jesus Christ.
One of my favorite verses is Moroni 10:32: “Come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.”
It’s scriptures like this one that remind me of the light the gospel offers and keep me strong when I’m having a hard time. The scriptures always strengthen my foundation of faith.
Right now, I’m preparing to serve a mission, and I still face unknowns and challenges (like recently being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes). But prioritizing spiritual habits helps me feel Heavenly Father’s love more than ever.
President Russell M. Nelson recently reminded us that “thinking celestial means being spiritually minded.”
Striving to do the things that keep the Spirit with me each day really helps me to think celestial—to be spiritually minded. I’ve felt myself become more like Christ as I think about what He would do. Keeping the Spirit with me helps me have hope and remember the blessings Heavenly Father has in store for all who choose to follow Him.
Living in a wicked world where things feel dark can be hard at times. But it also helps me better realize the bright, contrasting warmth and light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was missing the significance of this amazing blessing in my life for years. I’m so grateful for the spiritual experiences Heavenly Father can lead us to, because now, I cling to the light and joy of the gospel more than ever.
I testify that if you trust the Lord and study from the Book of Mormon every day, your life will become much easier. You will begin to see the blessings our loving Heavenly Father gives us every day, and you will realize who you can become with the help of the Lord.

In that same inner-city ward, I observed a similar type of faith in the gentle, loving care of a bishop who wasted no time despairing over the vast needs of an ever-growing number of new converts. Rather, he pressed forward by rallying the more experienced members of the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood quorums to help prepare new converts from Africa and Latin America for their priesthood responsibilities. The newer brethren were taught how to hold the trays while passing the sacrament, how to kneel and reverently bless the bread and water. Their more seasoned, often younger brethren, practiced along with them the words of the sacramental prayers so they would feel confident in giving them. Then, together, all the brethren discussed the sacred nature of this important priesthood ordinance.

One morning I was rushing through a busy airport on my way to attend a stake conference. Just after I went through the immigration formalities, an announcement was made that my flight was delayed. I stood there watching many people rushing up and down and just as I turned around to continue walking towards my boarding gate, someone tapped me gently on the shoulder and said, “Sir, let me polish your shoes for you”. Before I could protest, he pointed out that my shoes were dirty, and it looked like I was heading out for a very important meeting.
I looked down and realized that he was right, and since I now had some extra time, I walked with him to his chair and sat down. As he polished my shoes, he asked me where I was heading to; I explained to him that I had a church engagement. He commented, “we live in a very busy world… everyone is rushing up and down and people just don’t have time for others and for God.” He told me how he used to make time to pray and to read his Bible. I asked him why he had stopped, and his answer was, “I am busy, we are busy, the world is busy as you can see. Everyone has somewhere to run.”
As I walked away from him, I thought to myself, “are we too busy for each other, for our loved ones and for God?” I have ever since pondered this question. How well am I doing in inviting all to come unto Christ, make and keep sacred covenants and become His lifelong disciples? Our Area vision asks that we extend this invitation to Father in Heaven’s children, who may be at different stages along the covenant path.

The 2008 - 2009 football season has just ended. What was once considered a fall sport now begins in August and ends in February. The recent bowl season has put me in mind of the 1969 Orange Bowl game between The University of Kansas (coached by Pepper Rogers) and Penn State University (coached by the now legendary Joe Paterno). That was 39 years ago as of this last season. I remember it for the intricate and complex manner in which it played out. I remember it because of the unusual and delicate circumstances upon which opportunity came or went for one team or the other.

At half-time the score was 7 to 7. In the second half, Kansas scored for a 14 to 7 lead which lasted until only 15 seconds remained on the clock. The Kansas coach had earlier passed up an almost certain field goal try at the Penn State five yard line with fourth and one to go. A field goal would have clinched the game for them. The play they ran instead failed — giving Penn State their opportunity. From the five yard line, with 15 seconds to go they scored. And now, rather than a 17-13 score, it was a 14 to13 and Penn State could win with a two point conversion. To quote a Sports Illustrated article, "At this point Joe Paterno, who will always go for broke, decided to try for two points. 'If we couldn't win, we'd lose', he said later. It looked like lose when Penn State's conversion pass...was knocked down."However, the umpire had noticed, before the play began, that Kansas had 12 men on the field. He knew he would need to throw a flag.

Again, from Sports Illustrated:
It was the fluttering red handkerchief.....that alerted Kansas and the world to the fact that the Jayhawks might not have won the Orange bowl after all. The penalty was marked off, and this time Penn State, not outnumbered, was able to get its two points.......The result was the 15-14 victory, (and) an undefeated season.

Penn State's opportunity had come as a result of unexpected and complex circumstances allowing them an adequate number of chances to win. In other words, they had been given the opportunity to repent! Without it they were certain losers. What was it worth—the privilege of doing again that which was not done well enough the first time? In linking football with the notion of repentance there is no disrespect intended. There is something to learn from the comparison. For one thing: the need for another chance on the part of Penn State was not due to any frivolous error or planned mistake—no lack of commitment or effort. They had, in the words of the scripture played with "a sincere heart and real intent."

Disagreeing with my older sister was not unusual for my nine-year-old self. As with most brothers and sisters, our disagreements were more for the challenge of being the winner than for the subject of the argument.
This time, however, it seemed vital to my intellectual esteem that I be right. We were arguing about the clouds in the sky and the earth’s rotation. I had learned in my science class that the earth revolves in constant motion so I just knew that it wasn’t the clouds we saw moving across the sky, it was the earth rotating beneath them.
Since my sister and I couldn’t come to an agreement, we took the problem to our fact source: Mother. “Mom, do the clouds move or do they stay in one position and the earth moves beneath them,” we asked in unison, each anxious for her theory to be the correct one.
To my sister’s delight and my disappointment, mother explained that although the earth is constantly revolving, the clouds moved as the wind blew them across the sky. My understanding of earthly laws was incomplete and I had to alter my thinking process. There was more I needed to learn.
Fifteen years later I see how silly my idea was. I thought I could base all my observations of the physical world on the partial knowledge I had of it and be accurate in those observations. That is, until they were corrected by a more knowledgeable source.