Gospel Story Finder

My wife, Kate, and I are both in the medical field. After our marriage, we looked at our circumstances and began to think of how to share our blessings with others. We both worked in the state hospital as a medical doctor and a laboratory scientist. We realized that it would not give us the full opportunity that we needed to share our love with others. After much consideration, we established our own hospital, Ensign Hospital, which has become a great avenue to show our love to others.

Have you ever gone on a hike? How about a 10-mile hike to the top of a mountain and back? Alex Wright achieved this awesome feat at the age of five!
Last summer, Alex’s dad took some older boys on a hike to Humphreys Peak in Arizona. Alex really enjoys being with the older boys, so he was excited to go along. He is a strong, athletic boy, and he was already an experienced hiker.
Alex packed his backpack with a water bottle, a change of clothes, and a few of his favorite action figures. His dad carried their tent and sleeping bags, along with all of their food and water.
On Friday evening, Alex and his dad set up their tent about a mile up the trail. Early the next morning, after a prayer, they started out for Humphreys Peak. Along the way, Alex shared his red licorice with the other boys.
Halfway through the hike, the group reached a dip in the mountain. It was a hot, windy day, and flying ants were on the attack. Then came the steepest part of the trail—above the timberline, where it is too high for trees to grow. After a few more hours, Alex, his dad, and the other boys reached the top of the mountain. Other hikers cheered for Alex as they saw him arrive.
On the return trip, the clouds grew dark, and hail started pounding the mountain. Alex and his dad took cover and said a prayer, asking to be protected. Everyone was safe.
When they finally reached the bottom, Alex was happy to hop into the van and go home to his mom and younger brothers. He had had an awesome adventure he will always remember.

While on a flight to Peru a few years ago, I was seated next to a self-proclaimed atheist. He asked me why I believe in God. In the delightful conversation that ensued, I told him that I believed in God because Joseph Smith saw Him—and then I added that my knowledge of God also came from personal, real spiritual experience. I shared my belief that “all things denote there is a God” and asked him how he believed the earth—this oasis of life in the vacuum of space—came into existence. He replied that, in his words, “the accident” could have happened over eons of time. When I explained how highly improbable it would be for an “accident” to produce such beauty and order, he was quiet for a time and then good-naturedly said, “You got me.” I asked if he would read the Book of Mormon. He said he would, so I sent him a copy.
Now, I do not know whether my atheist friend ever read the Book of Mormon or joined the Church. My second friend did. For both of them, my responsibility—my opportunity—was the same: hold up the gospel light—to love, share, and invite each of them in a normal, natural way.

My wife and I have seen our grandparents and then our parents leave us. Some experiences that we first thought to be burdens or trouble have long since been reclassified as blessings.
My wife’s father died in our home. He needed constant care. Nurses taught our children how to care for our bedridden grandpa. What they learned is of great worth to them and to us. How grateful we are to have had him close to us.
We were repaid a thousand times over by the influence he had on our children. That was a great experience for our children, one I learned as a boy when Grandpa Packer died in our home.

Photograph of hand from Getty Images
As a PhD student in Australia, I often traveled from my residence to nearby restaurants in the Melbourne central business district. During one of my shuttles, I saw on the ground a card with a portrait of Jesus Christ. A voice inside me insisted that I pick it up.
I obeyed and carefully perused the card. Then I looked for a better place to leave the small portrait of the Savior but found none. Consequently, I took the card home and placed it on my bookshelf.
Three days later, I met two missionaries while on my way to lunch. We set an appointment for them to teach me, and they handed me a card similar to the one I had found. When I returned home, I compared the two cards. They were both from the missionaries’ church.
When the missionaries visited me, they bore their testimonies about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Initially, I was not comfortable with their testimony. To me, it seemed blasphemous to say that the Church of Jesus Christ had been restored and was the only true church on earth, but two factors kept my interest.
First, I read from the scriptures that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Psalm 111:10). I needed wisdom and would like to fear the Lord so that I would get wisdom. I reasoned that I would not fear the Lord without knowing Him. Hence, what the missionaries were teaching me was important because I needed knowledge about the Lord.
Second, I concluded that the Lord had directed me to find the card I had picked up. Throughout the years I stayed in Melbourne, I never saw a similar card on the ground. I concluded that the cards were not thrown away carelessly.
As I took the missionary lessons, I became happier and overwhelmed with the knowledge I got from the new teaching. Soon, I was baptized. I’m now sealed to my wife and children for time and eternity, and today I have the same testimony the missionaries bore to me: The Church of Jesus Christ has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth and is guided by a living prophet.

No one else should have noticed it. That I was aware of it was odd. In the midst of a crowded church foyer filled with lively Japanese members hurrying to Sunday School, the tiny spider was truly insignificant. Having arrived at the church a few minutes early with my missionary companion, I was sitting on a flight of stairs observing the members as they arrived. The spider had first appeared from under a wall heater, a tiny brown speck slowly progressing toward the middle of the hall. By the time its painstaking progress had lengthened to three feet, most of the members had arrived and were socializing in the hall before meetings.
My first impulse had been to brush it back under the heater. This idea was followed by the more childish notion of stepping on it. Fortunately for the spider, cruelty was quickly substituted by curiosity. The spider’s remaining lifetime appeared to be limited, increasingly so as it continued in a determined course toward the center of the crowded foyer. I was fascinated into inaction, watching and wondering how it would end—that inevitable, accidental footfall.
I will never understand how Brother Tashiro, the district president, saw it. He was obviously late as he hurried through the outside door to yet another meeting, briefcase in one hand, cassette recorder and slide projector precariously positioned under the opposite arm. His mind was surely filled with the endless responsibilities of running a mission district; yet he, too, somehow saw the tiny spider among the crowd. Immediately stopping, he set aside his load and, excusing himself, parted the crowd, stooped down and gently scooped the spider into his palm, then released it outside to a more hospitable environment. As though hardly aware of the interruption, he hurried to the waiting meeting.
It was so simple, such a natural act for that humble servant of the Lord. Then a wonderful analogy unfolded before me. I saw in my mind’s eye the Savior, stooping down from the complex business of creating worlds without number, to personally teach, exhort, and sacrifice for the sake of an uncomprehending human race, a seemingly insignificant speck in the endless corridors of eternity. With Godly devotion, he lifted man from certain doom, transporting him to an environment of freedom and opportunity wherein he could live and grow.
I thought of all the thousands of Japanese people yet unaware of the Savior’s great love, people I had been sent to teach. A new resolve filled my breast as I hurried into Sunday School class. Next time, I resolved, I would save the spider.

Brother Ridd said his family’s work ethic has been a blessing in his life. So have mentors and priesthood leaders who have sometimes nudged him along the gospel path. While many of his classmates from high school accepted mission calls at age 19, Randall opted to enroll in college and enlist in the army. He later took a job as an X-ray technician while continuing his studies at the University of Utah. A few wise men were bold enough to tell him that his place was in the mission field. He followed their direction and put in his application to serve. Soon he was sharing the gospel in the Mexico North Mission. “I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I had not served a mission,” he says.

When I was 21 months old, I was diagnosed with bronchial asthma. Thankfully, my mom is a registered nurse and she takes good care of me. It gets really bad during the winter, and I missed a lot of school. When I entered the third grade, my mom prayed for me and my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. On the last day of school, I was awarded a Perfect Attendance Award. Heavenly Father really answers prayers.

“These are very fine candles, young man. I’m glad to see that you took special care in making them. How much are you asking for the large ones?”
Thane looked up at the tall man in the fringed buckskin suit. “Two dollars for three, sir,” he answered.
“That certainly seems reasonable enough. I’ll take twelve.”
One day I’ll have an outfit like his, Thane thought after the man left. And I’ll wear soft, beaded moccasins and have a beautiful black-powder rifle.
There was something Thane wanted even more, but for that he needed fifty-two dollars. For a long time now he hadn’t thought of anything else.
“Boy, are you ever lucky to have him buy his candles from you,” Thane’s sister Stephanie said. She had come to bring Thane his lunch. “Do you know who that was, or are you daydreaming again? He’s this year’s bushway!”
“The bushway!” Thane exclaimed. Each year a man was chosen to be the bushway, or leader, of the Mountain Men Rendezvous, but Thane hadn’t realized that the man he’d sold the candles to was this year’s bushway.
“They say he’s really strict about having things exactly as they were a hundred fifty years ago,” Stephanie continued. “That’s why you don’t see any cars closeby, and inside the tepees people are cooking their meals over open fires. It really looks neat. How are things going for you? Do you have enough money yet?”
“If I keep selling at this rate,” Thane replied, “I soon will.”
“Well, good luck. I’ll see you later.”
Thane shifted his position on the blanket. He had been sitting there a long time, and his legs were beginning to hurt. From his location on Traders Row he could see on top of the many tepees the colorful banners fluttering in the afternoon breeze. The scene made him feel as if he were living in another time.
The people around him enjoyed reenacting the times of the early-day fur trappers. Besides the shooting contests with black-powder rifles, other contests included setting traps, throwing tomahawks, and starting fires without matches.
Thane always looked forward to the rendezvous, but this time even more than usual. Ever since the last one, when he had first seen the hunting knife with the caribou antler handle and the long shiny blade, it had been on his mind. At school he often drew pictures of the knife on his writing pad. He wanted it more than anything else in the world.
Three afternoons a week after school he had worked painting wooden hives for the Jones Beekeeping Company. In payment he received a little cash and all the beeswax his boss could spare. Then he had learned to make candles, and now with the money he had earned from selling his candles, he had almost enough to buy the knife. If he could earn just nine dollars more, the knife would be his.
Mr. James, one of the other traders, was holding the knife for him. Each time Thane made a sale, he took his money over to Mr. James. Perhaps by tomorrow afternoon he could pick it up. Right now he would take the bushway’s money there and see the knife again. It was getting dark, and soon everybody would put away their wares until the next day.
Thane was close to Mr. James’s tepee when a large boy came running through the trees and almost knocked him over.
He sure is in a hurry, Thane thought. He was just regaining his balance when two large hands grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned him around.
“No, no, he’s not the one we’re after!” Thane heard a familiar voice exclaim. “As a matter of fact, he’s the one I was saving the knife for.”
Thane twisted loose from the tight grip. The knife! My knife? What about my knife?
“Did anybody come through here just now?” Mr. James asked. “Some youngster took off with that knife I’ve been holding for you, and we want to make sure he remembers to bring it back.”
The men did not notice the sick look on Thane’s face as he numbly shook his head. He had seen somebody, but he wasn’t going to tell. The boy was a bully he knew at school, and he was a “boomer.” That’s what the kids called him, too—Boomer.
Thane knew little about boomers, only that they were people living in mobile homes at the edge of town. They had come because of the oil boom. Many of the men worked on the drilling rigs. One night Thane had overheard his parents say that they wished the townspeople and the newcomers could be better friends.
This situation with the knife sure wasn’t going to help anything. The rendezvous would be over in another two days. Thane needed some time to think it through, and for that he wanted to be alone. It was a good thing that his feet knew the way home, because his mind wandered in circles, searching for a solution.
Things looked a little better when he awakened the next morning. Maybe, just maybe, he had found the answer.
Boomer was not the kind of boy who would readily admit that he had done anything wrong. Thane hoped that he could talk to him alone at the general store. Sooner or later everybody in town went there.
Luckily, Thane didn’t have to wait long at the store before he saw Boomer walking down the road.
“Do you have a minute?” Thane asked, falling in beside the bigger boy. “It’s important.”
“Sure. What do you want?” Boomer acted tough, and his hands were buried deep in his pockets.
Thane took a long breath. “I know that it’s you they’re looking for. I saw you, but I’m not going to tell, if you promise to return what you took.”
“You must be joking. Why should I?” Boomer was belligerent and cocky, not denying anything. “Who else knows about this?”
“Nobody. This is just between us.”
Boomer hesitated. He had never really meant to take the knife; even now he wasn’t sure why he’d done it.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Thane suggested. “I’ll challenge you to a tomahawk throw. If I win, you return the knife.”
“And if you don’t?”
Thane smiled. “Then it’s up to you and your conscience.”
“How good are you, anyway?” Boomer asked.
“Good enough to think I can beat you,” Thane responded firmly. “I’ll go get my tomahawk and meet you at that big cut log in twenty minutes.”
Boomer was already practicing when Thane arrived. Without looking up, Boomer made a line in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “We’ll throw from here,” he said. “You go first. Two out of three wins.”
Thane positioned himself behind the mark and took careful aim. The boys alternated throwing their tomahawks. After two turns their score was exactly the same.
Much depended on the next throw. Thane wiped the perspiration from his hands, gripped his tomahawk, and threw it as hard as he could. The blade sped through the air and bit deeply into the heartwood of the log. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not bad,” Boomer said dryly. Completely expressionless, Boomer stepped up for his final throw. The tomahawk flashed in the sunlight and landed far to the right of the log.
Thane was surprised. It’s almost as if he did it on purpose, he thought.
“Well, that decided it. You won fair and square,” admitted Boomer, “and I’ll keep my part of the deal. I’ll return the knife right now.”
“Can I come with you?” Thane offered.
“All right,” said Boomer quietly. His steps slowed considerably by the time they reached Mr. James’s tepee.
Boomer squared his shoulders. “Sir, I’m the boy who took the knife yesterday. It was the wrong thing to do, and I’m sorry. Here. I brought it back.” Boomer reached inside his boot and pulled out the knife. “Maybe I could make it up to you somehow,” he added.
“I’m sure you can, son. It takes a big person to admit his mistake. You’ve done that, so I’m not going to be too hard on you. If you want a knife like this, Thane can tell you how to get one. Right, Thane? As a matter of fact, for helping me recover the knife, Thane, I want you to have it now and to consider your account as being paid in full.”
“I don’t know what to say. How can I thank you?” Thane stumbled over the words.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Mr. James assured him. “Just sell me some more of your candles.”
“I’d be glad to,” Thane exclaimed. “I’ll go home and get some right now. Why don’t you come with me, Boomer? I think my mother is making ice cream.”
Boomer didn’t hesitate a minute. “Hey! That would be great, if you’re sure it’s OK. I haven’t tasted homemade ice cream for a long time.”
Thane was beginning to understand that, more than anything else, Boomer needed a friend.
The boys walked along slowly, each lost in his own thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Boomer.
“Maybe, just maybe, you’re not such a bad guy,” Thane answered.
“Well! I see you’ve got good taste, anyway,” Boomer said.
Both boys smiled and responded to an unspoken challenge to race home.
“Hello, Thane! Hi there, Wilbert,” Thane’s mother called from the doorway. She took the mail from its box and went back into the house.
Wilbert! Thane wasn’t sure that he could trust his ears. Had he heard right? A name like that explained a lot of things. But how does Mom know Boomer? Maybe she knows his mother. Thane decided to ask her about that later.
“Since I know your real name,” Thane said cautiously, “would you mind if I call you Will?”
For a split second Boomer hesitated, intently studying the expression on the other boy’s face.
“Sure,” he answered with a relieved grin. “But let’s keep my real name a secret, OK?”

Shortly thereafter, Joseph Smith went to Colesville to preach and hold meetings, probably because he knew that the Knights were ready to receive the gospel. While there, he challenged Newel Knight to pray vocally. In the attempt, Newel was attacked by an evil spirit that lifted him from the floor “and tossed him about most fearfully.” Neighbors gathered, and then saw the Prophet command the devil in the name of Jesus Christ to depart. Newel felt great relief and gladly accepted baptism. (This exorcism was the first miracle performed in the restored church.)7 He became the first of more than sixty of the Knight clan to join the Church.

Some years ago as our youngest son, Clark, was approaching his 12th birthday, he and I were leaving the Church Administration Building when President Harold B. Lee approached and greeted us. I mentioned to President Lee that Clark would soon be 12, whereupon President Lee turned to him and asked, “What happens to you when you turn 12?”
This was one of those times when a father prays that a son will be inspired to give a proper response. Clark, without hesitation, said to President Lee, “I will be ordained a deacon!”
The answer was the one for which I had prayed and which President Lee had sought. He then counseled our son, “Remember, it is a great blessing to hold the priesthood.”

Jenny and Peter are the oldest of Bruce and Margaret Flinn’s children. The others are Lindsey, 14; Neal, 12; Elizabeth (“Lizzy”), 9; and Rachel, 5. To visit the Flinns on their six-acre smallholding (family farm) is to see not two, but eight people who know a lot about working. To visit them is also to see much of what can make a family succeed.
“We moved here as much for the children’s sake as because of our own feelings,” explains Brother Flinn, who works full-time as a seminary teacher supervisor in addition to maintaining the smallholding. “Because of my work, I travel a lot. It would probably be easier to live in town.”
“But if we moved,” Sister Flinn says, “our quality of life would drop. We couldn’t keep all the livestock. We wouldn’t learn all the skills about being self-reliant. We might not know as much about how to love work.”
How to love work?
“We believe in the principle of work,” Brother Flinn explains. “We believe it’s a spiritual principle. It’s not just obtaining the end result; it’s the actual doing of the work. It’s good for you.”
And how does that fly with the children?
“When we complain about having to do things,” Lindsey says, “Mum will say, ‘Fine. Shall we move to the town?’ None of us has ever said yes.”
“There are pros and cons to everything,” Peter says. “But I’d say I’m fine here.”
Now all this talk about willingness to work may have you thinking the Flinns are ready to be translated. Far from it. They’re a typical family with teasing and quarrels and sometimes tears, just like any family. But they’ve learned to work at being a family, too.
“What do we gain from being together?” Jenny asks. “Patience, mainly.”
Does she ever think about being with her family forever?
“When they’re not annoying me,” she teases.
Her ability to laugh is typical of the entire family. They enjoy jousting verbally, but also know they have to do it with love so that feelings aren’t hurt.
“Everybody’s got their own personality,” Lindsey says. “We’ve learned to adjust for that. Besides, if you say anything negative, Dad makes you say two things positive on top of that.”
Other challenges? “One of the biggest ones is juggling time,” Jenny says. “I have to care for the animals twice a day, so that’s an hour each morning and evening, and in between I’ve got school. And there’s homework, two hours every night, and seminary is home study, so I have to find time for that, too.”
Church activity can be a struggle because of isolation. “We’re 50 miles from the stake center,” Peter explains. “There’s lots of traveling involved, and not everyone has a car. There’s only two of us in my quorum, and the other one lives 40 miles away. We make an effort to see if he wants to come out, but there are various problems, like parents who don’t want to bring him in because it’s out of the way. Distance is the major drawback.”
And in school, being a Latter-day Saint doesn’t mean that there isn’t temptation all around. Twelve-year-old Neal says a survey showed there were only two people in his entire class who hadn’t used alcohol. Jenny says there are “quite a few” girls in her year that have become pregnant.
What’s the counterbalance?
“We have good lessons at church,” Jenny says. “We have good lessons at seminary. And good home evenings at home. We live for Fridays (Mutual night) and Sundays to be with Church kids and strengthen each other.” And, of course, there are scriptures, and prayer, and family support.
“If I have a really major problem, I know I can turn to my family,” Lindsey says. “I suppose I’d call them my best friends. If I didn’t have them to turn to, where would I go?”
That’s an attitude Jenny exemplified when, even though she was sitting exams (taking finals) and needed to study, she walked down to the school to help Rachel. “Mum and Dad were late getting home,” Jenny said matter-of-factly. “I knew Rachael would panic if no one showed up.”
That’s part of being a family, part of what the Flinns learn every day.
Step into the Flinns’ family room, and you’ll notice one wall is adorned with corn dollies, the kind actually made from wheat.
“You have to braid the stalk while it’s flexible,” Sister Flinn explains. “When it gets old, it’s brittle and won’t bend.” It’s an analogy that isn’t lost on her.
“That’s what we’re doing as a family,” she says. “We live the gospel. We learn about family love. And the children braid them both into their lives.”

Somehow I had always imagined that the night before my wedding day would be spent sitting out under a star-filled sky with my “intended” sharing a private, quiet, romantic moment. Apple blossoms would be floating in a cool evening breeze, and an orchestra would be playing romantic melodies magically in the distance.
But things just weren’t working out the way I had planned. My “intended” was miles away getting a good night’s sleep before our bright and early 8:00 A.M. wedding in the Salt Lake Temple the next morning.
It was getting pretty late, and I still hadn’t been able to get anything ready. I hadn’t even been able to get into the bathroom yet. The hot water had run out long ago. The hot water always runs out after my sister Linda takes her 45-minute shower.
Mom and dad were on the phone calling all the people we had forgotten to invite to the reception. I couldn’t even get into my bedroom to get packed. One of my married sisters and her husband and children were camping out in my bedroom for the night.
I walked downstairs to try to find someplace where I could be alone. After all, I was getting married in the morning. I had a lot to think about. I walked into the family room, but my sister Joy was still there working on the last of the 14 bridesmaid dresses. I hadn’t asked a lot of friends to be bridesmaids. We just had 14 sisters in our two families.
Suddenly I heard the water from the upstairs bathroom turn off. I dashed up the stairs and down the hall to be sure to get into the bathroom before anybody else. Just as I reached the door, my sister Diane slipped in front of me. She turned and smiled as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
When I turned around to walk back down the hall, Dawnene, another sister, drooped by me dragging her sleeping bag. She was obviously mad.
“Lisa and Lori won’t quit playing around so I can get some sleep,” she pouted. “Mary and Sandy are in my room. So where am I supposed to sleep?”
“Try the backyard,” I answered.
“That’s where Lisa and Lori are,” Dawnene frowned.
“Well, try the front yard,” I said again.
“Grant’s out there!” she answered. “He said if one more person steps on him, they’ll be sorry.”
“What about the kitchen?” I asked.
“Aunt Sara said it’s already too crowded in there!”
“Well, you’ll just have to figure it out for yourself,” I answered as I walked back down the hall stepping on suitcases and bodies.
Finally I walked out onto the balcony. Lisa and Lori were laughing and throwing pillows at each other in the backyard. When they saw me on the balcony, they stopped and ran over to me. “Come sleep with us,” they coaxed.
“I’ve got to get married in the morning, and I have a lot to do to get ready,” I answered.
“Come on!” they continued to coax.
“Well I can’t get into the shower anyway,” I thought as I climbed over the balcony and slid down a pole into the backyard.
Lisa and Lori, the twins, were the youngest in the family.
“We’ve already got you a sleeping bag,” they said.
I crawled into the sleeping bag between them just as Lori threw a pillow into my face. Laughing, I rolled over and tickled them both until we all fell back laughing and exhausted.
I suddenly noticed what a beautiful night it was. The lights from the house slowly went out one by one, and it grew quiet. The warm June evening air and the black sky hanging low with stars seemed to peacefully surround us.
When I looked at Lisa and Lori, they were crying. All of our years together started to flood back into my mind. I remembered how soft and warm their small infant bodies felt as I rocked them to sleep when they were babies. I remembered the night Lori had screamed all night as her leg swelled in her cast. I remembered the day Lisa got the rubber plug stuck in her nose. I remembered our private funeral on the grassy bank by the canal after our cat had died. I remembered it all as I put my arms around them.
There were no apple blossoms or orchestras playing magically in the distance that night. But the sky was filled with stars that illuminated the silhouette of us three huddled together in the cool evening breeze.

Jenay watched as Mommy set the freshly baked white cake on the kitchen table. Tonight was Christmas Eve, when her family would celebrate Jesus’s birth.
Jenay liked going caroling with her family, baking gingerbread men, and decorating the tree. But remembering Jesus’s birthday was her favorite thing to do at Christmas.
Can I help you put the icing on the cake?
We need to let it cool first.
Jenay helped Mommy clean off the counters and wash the dishes.
Do you think the cake is cool now?
I think it’s just about right.
Mommy and Jenay spread fluffy white icing on the cake.
After dinner Daddy asked the family to gather in the living room.
Even though we know that Jesus was born in the spring, we like to celebrate His birthday at this time of year.
Mommy read the story of Jesus’s birth from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Then Daddy bore his testimony of Jesus’s Atonement and Resurrection.
One by one, the family members opened their presents to Jesus and read what they had written on a slip of paper. With Mommy’s help, Jenay had written, “Be more reverent at church.”
I’m proud of each of you. All of your gifts show your love for Jesus Christ.
Mommy cut the cake and served it on fancy dishes. Jenay took a bite of cake and smiled.
I love Jesus, and I know He loves me.
A sweet feeling of peace settled over her like a cozy warm quilt.

When she was 16 years old, Sister Michelle D. Craig learned that her family would be moving from Provo, Utah, USA, to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, USA, so her father could begin an assignment to serve as a mission president.
She was happy to be with her family, but the move left young Michelle “lonely socially” during her junior and senior years of high school.
“Those were really formative years,” Sister Craig said. “Instead of relying on friends, I relied on my family and my testimony, and church became a lifeline.” She valued most her relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior.
Michelle Daines Craig was born on July 13, 1963, in Provo, Utah, and is the oldest of seven children born to Janet Lundgren and Robert Henry Daines III. She lived in Provo until her family moved to Pennsylvania. Two years later, Sister Craig returned to Provo to attend Brigham Young University, where she received a bachelor’s degree in elementary education. In 1984 she accepted a call to serve in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo Mission.
“I have always been a believer,” said Sister Craig, who was sustained as First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency on March 31, 2018. “From a young age, I knew that I was a daughter of God. But I remember [on my mission] that every time I bore testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith, I would feel the Spirit. I had a beautiful confirmation that solidified my testimony.”
Just days after her return, Sister Craig’s brother told her she needed to go on a date with Boyd Craig, a friend from his mission. Eight months later the couple was engaged. They married on December 19, 1986, in the Salt Lake Temple. They are the parents of three children, and they have six grandchildren.
She has served in many callings, including as a temple ordinance worker in the Provo Utah Temple and as a Gospel Doctrine teacher. At the time of her call to the Young Women General Presidency, she was serving on the Primary general board.

While serving in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple as a full-time temple ordinance worker, I had the opportunity to share my lodging with a young sister missionary. Sister Kassah was serving in the Madagascar mission when she experienced some health challenges. She was then brought to South Africa for medical observation and treatment.
I was staying in a flat that was meant to house three single sisters serving in the temple, but at that time I was staying there by myself.
Upon her arrival—on a Saturday—Sister Kassah was understandably tired from travelling and from her health condition. I immediately assumed the role of a hostess and mother, tending to all her needs as if a guest in my home. I made a bed for her and prepared a meal for the both of us.
Prior to her arrival I often walked to the nearby shopping mall on Saturdays to get my supplies for the following week. What amazement it was for me on that Saturday afternoon, for as I prepared to leave for shopping, I received an immediate lesson from my guest. She told me that for as long as she was in my home, I was not to go anywhere without her.
And thus, an immediate change of roles occurred as she gently reminded me that I had become her companion and that we were to follow the prescribed missionary rules.
In an instant, my guest had become my trainer—overseeing, as it were, my compliance to the missionary rules.
In an instant, I became an obedient missionary companion.
In an instant, I developed an appreciation for my new circumstances.
In an instant, I developed a love for my new companion.
Sister Kassah was of the age of my own children. Oh, how I would have loved to mother her and take the lead and instruct her on how things were going to be done in my home. But it soon became evident that this was not going to be the case—for personified for me was the following scripture, “and a little child shall lead them” (2 Nephi 21:6).
We counselled together and I was further apprised of our daily program in this our combined home, with special attention to our need as companions to pray together and to hold scripture study.
In my previous circumstance I did my scripture study as and when I was awake; but now I had to abide by mission rules to awake at a certain time and have scripture study with my companion at the appointed time.
I am truly able to say that I did enjoy these new circumstances as my “daughter” companion, and I shared lessons each day. An added measure of the Spirit of the Lord was brought into our home, and a great bond of love and friendship was formed. (Another memorable aspect of this time was being able to enjoy sister Kassah’s cooking from West Africa!) And truly the seven days that we spent together came and passed by all too quickly.
As Sister Kassah departed, I held onto the promise found in Doctrine and Covenants 130:2, which says, “And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy”.
The bond of love and the circle of friendship and sisterhood, plus the sociality spoken of, includes Sister Kassah and myself—and I now rejoice to call her a true mother, and also a friend.
I know that missionaries are truly servants of the Lord and are called to the work of the ministry. It was my privilege to be ministered by such a one.
I know that friendship is an eternal principle, and still rejoice in that choice time I was given to be a missionary companion for seven days.

It was an ill-fated, watermelon-selling trip to Alaska that exhausted all my hard-saved college fund, so I got a job as a graveyard-shift fry cook at a Provo diner. That was my first year at BYU.
I had taken a room, and the rent came due at the beginning of the month. But I didn’t make enough money to pay both my tithing and my rent. This caused me great concern. I desperately wanted to continue my education, yet I knew I should pay my tithing. Knowing I would receive greater assistance from my Father in heaven if I were faithful, I paid my tithing and awaited the day my rent would come due.
The day prior to the rent due date, my landlady, Sister Knight, asked me if my cousin and I would be willing to trim a large tree in her backyard in return for a month’s rent. Gratefully, I accepted.
The following month, I again paid my tithing immediately after receiving my check. I paid for my food and other school expenses, but found I was without sufficient funds to pay my rent. Once again, the day before the rent was due, Sister Knight asked me if we would be willing to chop the large tree in her backyard into firewood in return for another month’s rent.
For the next couple of months I was able to pay all of my expenses after paying my tithing. Then came another month when there was again not enough money to cover both rent and tithing. I paid my tithing. I knew that Sister Knight did not have any more trees to be cut, and I was concerned that I should pay the rent promptly. On the Friday evening before the rent was required, a local radio station in Provo announced a program called “Movie Merry-Go-Round” in which a prize would be offered to anyone who could answer questions regarding one of the movies then playing in Provo. I listened to the program and thought I might try to win the prize. That evening, the radio announcer offered $18 and two free movie tickets to the first person who could give the license number of a car that had been used in a brief scene in a recent movie. Miraculously, or at least so it seemed to me, I saw clearly in my mind’s eye the scene that the radio announcer referred to. I saw it with such clarity that I could read the license number. Once again I had sufficient funds to pay my rent.
As that first school year drew to a close, I again found myself without enough money to pay my tithing and my last month’s rent. I paid the tithing, hoping to find some extra work I could do somewhere to earn money. I was concerned because my already busy schedule did not provide much in the way of extra time, and I did not want to be late in paying Sister Knight. The day that my rent was due, there was a knock at my door. When I opened the door, Don Wood, a member of the BYU football team, was standing in the doorway. He handed me an envelope that he told me he had received earlier that evening from his father, President Charles W. Wood, then first counselor in the Union Oregon Stake presidency. President Wood had asked Don to deliver the envelope to me. Don had said he would be seeing me at school the following Monday or Tuesday, but President Wood had replied, “No, you take it to him tonight. As my plane was landing in Boise, I was impressed that Jim needed some help. I think he needs it now, and I want you to deliver this envelope to him tonight.”
I had never spoken to President Wood nor, to the best of my memory, to Sister Knight or any other person concerning my lack of funds. As the oldest of seven children from a very poor family, I had always been aware I could not expect any financial assistance from my family. The experiences I had already had my first year at BYU had greatly solidified my testimony of tithing.
Recalling all this in my mind, I thanked Don for delivering the message and envelope. Slowly I opened it; inside was $20.

Speaking many years ago in general conference, I told of a phrase that entered my mind as I wondered if I was prepared to serve a mission. The phrase was “You don’t know everything, but you know enough!”9 A young woman sitting in general conference that day told me that she was praying over a proposal for marriage, wondering how well she knew the young man. When I spoke the words “You don’t know everything, but you know enough,” the Spirit confirmed to her that she did know him well enough. They have been happily married for many years.

All too well do I know how difficult it is being in a home where everyone is going in different directions at once. I also remember running from that environment. All of that changed when our family started to separate. The oldest went to college, and even though she was only an hour away, we learned how much she meant to us. We started to communicate with each other. We started to say, “I love you.” With those simple realizations and with a little effort, we ended up with a quiet, relaxing home that my friends loved to come to.
Elder Christiansen, 20Missouri Independence Mission

In Chile, in order to go to college, you have to take a university placement test. I wanted to study engineering at a university that was far from where I lived. It would be very expensive, so my goal was to get the highest score possible on the placement test so I could earn a scholarship for outstanding exam scores.
I knew where and what I wanted to study, and I knew what I would have to do to make it happen. I started preparing for the test. I studied, read, and reviewed the material, but on the practice tests, I still wasn’t getting the score I needed. I turned to my Heavenly Father in prayer and asked Him for greater intelligence and to enlighten my understanding so I could reach my goal. I prayed for this daily for an entire year. I went to special preparation classes at my school, and I enrolled in classes at an institution that was geared toward preparing for the exam.
I kept up my daily scripture study, and I never missed a day of seminary. I fulfilled all my Aaronic Priesthood assignments and never studied on Sundays, no matter how desperate the situation was. I knew Sunday is the Lord’s day, and I wanted to respect it in the way my parents had taught me. I knew I couldn’t afford to deprive myself of the blessings Heavenly Father had for me, especially when I most needed them. Despite all this, I wasn’t getting the score I needed on my practice tests.
My family and I prayed and fasted, and my dad gave me a blessing. With this spiritual preparation and my other preparation, I took the test. Not only did I end up with the score I needed, but I exceeded my goal, scoring one of the highest percentages possible in the math section. I received the scholarships and benefits I needed, and I was able to study at the university I chose.
From the time I was young, I learned that if I did everything I could and took care of my spiritual responsibilities first, then Heavenly Father would bless me. Things might not always work out the way we expect them to, but God will take care of us. I know it’s only with His help that all things are possible.
The author lives in Cautín Province, Chile.