Gospel Story Finder

It was in China that Aleisha Cramer got the answer to her prayers. The answer was simple yet hard to do at the same time. She was supposed to give up her lifelong dreams, go home, and live the life of an average college student. The answer surprised her, but she was willing to do the things the Lord told her to do.
Aleisha Cramer, from Lakewood, Colorado, had made it to the top as a star soccer player. She had reached most of her goals, working her way up to become a member of the United States national women’s team, giving her a chance to play in the World Cup and the 2004 Olympics.
She had it made. But it wasn’t making her happy.
“I had everything,” said Aleisha. “I had a good family. I had friends. I was going to school at BYU. I was playing really well for the national team. But would I keep working towards making the World Cup team and still feel this emptiness?”
Then, while in China to play exhibition games, Aleisha woke up one night crying. She felt a wonderful warm, comfortable feeling. “I remember putting my hand on my heart, and then I just had all these thoughts: ‘You need to quit the national team. It’s not okay for you to break the Sabbath day. It’s okay for you to take a different path. Things will work out.’” She describes being filled with the Spirit and having the experience repeated several nights in a row.
Although she had been a member of the Church her whole life, Aleisha’s interest in the gospel had been increasing. She was reading her scriptures at least 30 minutes every day, and she had noticed that her prayers were changing. She was asking the Lord what He wanted her to do. And in China, she received her answer.
“I’ve never had those feelings before, the comfort and the warmth. I wish I could have those experiences every time I have questions. Everything seemed so clear. It made so much sense.”
Aleisha acted on the inspiration she received. She said, “When you get inspiration, you have to follow it right then. If I had said, ‘Yes, that’s right. But I really want to play in the World Cup, so I’ll do it after that,’ then things may not have worked out like they were supposed to.” So before she left China, she told the national team coach and her teammates that she would be quitting. Aleisha appreciated their response. “I told some of the players that this is what I believe and that I wanted a more balanced life,” said Aleisha. “They said it was awesome I could do that, and if it made me happy, they were happy for me.”
Giving up soccer on the highest levels was going to be a big change. Soccer had been part of Aleisha’s life practically since she was born. Her older sisters and brother had all played soccer and basketball. Aleisha was particularly interested in soccer because of her older sister Chrissie’s success in the game. Growing up, Aleisha had progressed until, while trying out for a regional team, she was selected for the U-16 (under 16 years old) national soccer team.
“I called my mom and told her I made the team. She said, ‘You did! I didn’t know you were that good.’ She was completely shocked. That was the first time I realized that I might be good.” Aleisha then progressed to the U-18 and U-21 national teams until she was selected for the women’s team. She also earned an athletic scholarship to BYU.
Playing soccer is fun for Aleisha. “It’s the best when you are in shape and you feel like you can go forever. Some games you have so much energy. You just run and feel like you’re floating.”
And competing in a sport has been a good chance to learn. Aleisha said, “It’s great to try to be good at something. I’m all for developing and becoming better at whatever you’re doing as long as there’s balance in your life. I’ve learned a lot of good things. Just learning how to work hard and learning to be unselfish and being excited when someone else scores. Playing your best and playing hard, that’s great.”
She also learned about the downside of competition. “I don’t like some of the feelings I get from being competitive. It’s okay to try to do your best, but sometimes when you’re focused on beating your opponent, you just get angry. I want to be my best, but I want to focus on working hard. Competitiveness to an extreme can be harmful.”
Aleisha plays center midfield. “That’s like the quarterback. Center midfield dictates the tempo of the game and creates opportunities for people to score. The center midfielder is known as the playmaker.” But after her experience in China, Aleisha was more than willing to execute some new plays in her life.
Not being on the national team gave Aleisha time to try some new things. Her grandmother taught her how to crochet. She had time to go snowboarding. She started learning to cook, and she wanted to learn to play the guitar. “A friend said, ‘Oh, I have a friend who can teach you how to play.’”
And that started the biggest change of all in Aleisha’s life. She met a musician, Chris Rose, who was not at all like the young men Aleisha had dated in the past. In fact, at first she looked right past him. But then they started hanging out together, then dating, and now they’ve been married in the temple for a little over a year. “I am sure that I was prepared for this change by what happened in China. I gave something up and got something way better,” Aleisha says.
Her goals for soccer have changed too. She’ll finish up her last year on the BYU team; then, one day, she hopes to teach her own children a few of the moves that got her to the highest levels of the sport. She still wants to work hard, but now it will be working hard for her own family.
The playmaker is listening to the greatest coach of all, her Heavenly Father, the one who can help guide her and give her direction and inspiration. As Aleisha said, “The Lord knows each of us. For me that’s so good to know and have a testimony of.”

A dance festival? Sharon Leo had never seen one, and now she was invited to dance in one. An 18-year-old nonmember living in central Utah, Sharon had been around Mormons all of her life. Now her friend Jolynne Taylor of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake had asked Sharon to join her in a five-stake dance festival to be held in the huge BYU Marriott Center. With reservations, Sharon accepted.
Rehearsals occupied every Saturday morning for months as Sharon found herself practicing square dances, Swiss polkas, disco numbers, karate exercise numbers, Greek line dances, the English quadrille (her specialty), and many other dances with 600 fathers, mothers, young adults, teens, and children. Sharon’s view of Mormonism began to expand as she met new people and made more friends.
Then there were the costumes to make. While Sharon was struggling to put in a zipper and get the length of her costume correct, others were also sewing like crazy—especially where whole families were participating. Cori Dawn Anderson, 16, of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake, commented, “Being in the dance festival as a whole family was a good experience. The hardest part was making seven costumes in two weeks. But with everyone helping and sewing in their spare time, we got them all finished. It was really fun, and despite all the work, it was worth it.”
During the rush of practices and costume making, Sharon Leo began taking the missionary discussions.
As Sharon grew in gospel knowledge, the dance festival grew in excitement among its participants. Bishops, stake presidents, and high council members responded to the challenge to participate and brought their families. Miriam Abegg, 17, whose father is on the Orem Utah West Central Stake high council said, “The dance festival was fantastic! I could feel that the Lord’s Spirit was with us during our performance. And I enjoyed practicing with my family. It helped me to see my dad with different eyes—enjoying square dancing, whirling and throwing my mom and us kids up in the air. It was a lot of work, but it was fun to work with other people—especially my own family, even though my brother did drop me on the floor one time.”
Suddenly, the day of the performance was upon them. Between the final dress rehearsal and the evening performance, a different kind of event took place. As Sharon’s family, friends, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood administrators watched, she stepped into the waters of baptism. Jolynne’s father performed the baptism, and Jolynne’s mother accompanied the hymns at the piano. Jolynne waited at the top of the baptismal steps to be the first to give Sharon a hug of fellowship. It was a beautiful time of reverence in an exciting day.
The dance performance filled the evening. As the Marriott Center darkened, over 6,000 spectators sat waiting. Suddenly the lights flashed on to the throb of Star Wars music, and the youth and their families began a spectacular show complete with bright lights, colorful costumes, and exciting dances. The dance numbers that had been such stumbling blocks—difficult to learn, difficult to find music for—suddenly were magnificent. The costumes, made mostly from donated materials, looked professional. The organization and technical details, so ragged in rehearsal, suddenly ran smoothly and professionally.
As Joycelynn Demaree, the costume chairman, remarked, “There were so many little miracles and acts of faith that took place during the putting on of the festival. It was a lot of hard work, but to see the whole thing come together was worth every minute of the thousands of hours involved.”

As a young man I considered and learned the doctrine of eternal marriage and family. This was of great interest to me and a determining factor in my conversion. I had witnessed the breakup of my parents’ marriage; I had seen sorrow caused by death without spiritual knowledge and friends marrying without temple ordinances. I wanted to avoid these tragedies.
The true concept of marriage and family, the unit composed of a husband, wife, and children sealed together, was instituted at the beginning by God to create eternal families. That foundation principle became my vision and my goal and also reality as my companion and I were sealed in the temple in Zollikofen, Switzerland. As a husband and father and later as a grandfather, I was and still am responsible for the development, temporal support, protection, and salvation of my family.

While at church one Sunday, my daughter Baylor studied the cover of the sacrament meeting program. She really liked the picture of Jesus Christ wearing a red robe. She said that He looked so kind. After church she cut out the picture and put it in a frame in her room so that she could always look at it and remember to try to be like Jesus. When her friends come over to play, she shows them the picture. In this photo she is holding a drawing of her room, including the picture of Jesus on top of her chest of drawers.

One of the ways Heavenly Father helps us find happiness is through righteous parents and Church leaders. They see things differently than we do, and we must listen to them and obey them. Once a group of young men went to a lake. They took a bow and ten arrows with them and decided to shoot at birds flying overhead. Each time they aimed at a bird and shot, they missed. The bird flew away, and the arrow fell harmlessly into the lake.

After they had shot the last arrow, one boy decided to swim to the middle of the lake to retrieve the arrow. He dove in and headed toward it. He got it and then turned back to swim for shore. By this time he was extremely tired. His wet clothing weighed him down. Holding the arrow in his hand made swimming very difficult. He began to fear that he might drown, and he called out desperately to his friends for help.

“Put your feet down and walk to shore,” they called back to him. He couldn’t see things clearly, but his friends, who were looking at things from the shore, knew that he was in shallow water. All he had to do was stand up, and he would be safe.

Knocking against the low-hung branches of the bush, the grackle fell over onto the lawn. Jimmy sprawled on his stomach for a closer look. The bird was black and had an iridescent green-blue head and neck. Two yellow eyes stared in alarm. Seeing Jimmy, the bird tried to scurry away. But each time it hopped, it fell over sideways. Spreading its wings, the bird tried to steady itself. However, it seemed to use only one leg; its other leg dangled helplessly. The bird made one last attempt and fell back underneath the bushes.
Jimmy ran into the house and brought his mother outside to see the injured bird. “Can we help it?” Jimmy asked, bending low to see the bird huddled deep in the dimness of the branches.
“I doubt if we can get close enough, Jimmy,” Mother said. “Perhaps the injury will heal by itself. Many times in nature this happens.”
“Would it help if I brought some food here by this bush?”
“Maybe. Why don’t you try it!”
Every day Jimmy dropped pieces of whole wheat bread near the bird, and every time after he left, the grackle would emerge from its haven and gobble them up. Soon the bird began to realize that Jimmy was not going to harm it. As long as Jimmy sat quietly a few feet away, the grackle fed unafraid. Although Jimmy never tried to touch the bird, he still felt that they were good friends. However, he was worried. It seemed to him that the bird’s leg should have healed by now, but it hadn’t.
One day the grackle did not come when Jimmy called. No soft chirps came from the bush. In the evening Jimmy took more bread to the usual spot. Still his friend did not come.
“Maybe the bird was strong enough to join the other grackles,” Father suggested. “Let’s just wait and see.”
The next morning Jimmy sprinkled more bread by the bush, but only a crow swooped down and gulped the tidbits.
Now Jimmy was really concerned. He told his father and mother about the crow at lunch. They listened sympathetically and afterward Dad suggested a game of catch.
“Here comes my fastball!” Dad shouted. “Ready?”
The ball whizzed low and Jimmy felt it smack the edge of his glove and ricochet into the bushes. Crawling under the low limbs, Jimmy reached for his ball. But his hand suddenly stopped, for in a knot of brown leaves he saw his grackle, its bad leg curled and shriveled.
“No! No! Dad, my bird is … is dead! Why? I fed it …”
“Its injury was too serious to heal by itself,” Dad explained, coming over to the bushes. “It wasn’t strong enough to survive. Perhaps nature knew best, son. Even if it survived for a time but couldn’t fly away with its friends, it wouldn’t have had a very happy life. You did a good thing by making its last days as pleasant as possible, and it’s best it didn’t have to suffer long.”
“But I wish it didn’t have to die,” Jimmy said, tears welling in his eyes.
“I know, Jimmy, but the rule of survival has been nature’s way ever since life began.”
Jimmy was silent. He thought about the grackle—chirping, pecking, hopping, falling—always falling. He looked away from the bush and out across the lawn. Several other grackles strutted through the grass.
“I see you’re watching the other grackles in the yard,” Dad said. “Robins and sparrows too. And there’s a cardinal. They all seem to be looking for food.”
“Well, I guess I could feed them even though they aren’t hurt like my grackle,” Jimmy murmured slowly.
“Sure you could,” Dad agreed. “All birds have a problem finding enough food, especially in cold or stormy weather.”
“I could build a feeder so they could have their own restaurant,” Jimmy suggested, a note of excitement creeping into his voice.
“That’s a great idea, son!” Dad encouraged. “And I’ll help if you need me. I can see that the birds around here will never go hungry.”
“That’s right, Dad,” Jimmy said. “Now I know what you mean about that survival rule. It’s sad when a bird dies, but we have to think about the ones that are still alive. And now I’m going to help take care of them.”

I grew up in El Paso, Texas. My father fought in World War II, so while he was away, my grandpa did his best to be like a father to me.
One day while sitting on the sidewalk, I saw a car coming slowly up the street. Smoke billowed out from under the hood. When the car was right in front of me, it stopped working. A man jumped out while his wife and five children waited inside, crying. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I knew they were from Mexico because of their license plate.
Just then my grandpa drove by. He stopped and spoke in Spanish, asking them what the problem was. I kept hearing the word templo, and I thought, “That sounds like ‘temple.’” I soon found out that this family was driving to the Mesa Arizona Temple to be sealed. At that time, there were no temples in Mexico or Central America.
My grandpa took them to his house where he fed them and let them stay for the night. Then he took their car to the mechanic and had a new engine put in. When they left, he gave them extra money to help them on their way. I have always remembered the kindness he showed them.

I have learned this truth through a personal experience that, though seemingly insignificant, left a lasting impression on me. At the age of 22, while serving in the French Air Force in Paris, I was thrilled to learn that Elder Neal A. Maxwell, an Apostle of the Lord, would be speaking at a conference on the Champs-Élysées. However, just before the event, I received orders to drive a senior officer to the airport at the exact time the conference was set to take place.

I was disappointed. But determined to attend, I dropped the officer off and rushed to the conference. After finding a parking spot, I sprinted down the Champs-Élysées to the meeting place and arrived breathless with only five minutes left before the meeting ended. Just as I entered, I heard Elder Maxwell say, “I will now give you an apostolic blessing.” In that instant, I had a beautiful, unforgettable spiritual experience. I was overcome by the Spirit, and the words of the blessing seemed to penetrate every fiber of my soul as though they were meant just for me.

What I experienced that day was a small yet powerful manifestation of a comforting aspect of God’s plan for His children: When circumstances beyond our control prevent us from fulfilling the righteous desires of our hearts, the Lord will compensate in ways that allow us to receive His promised blessings.

A little while ago I met a guy I had seen around school. We talked and got to know each other, and even though I’m only 14, we were soon “going together,” as our school calls it. The reason I decided to go out with him was because a lot of my friends were going with someone and seemed to be having a lot of fun. Besides, he was a few days from turning 16, and he was LDS too. Soon after, I remembered a Q&A in the New Era (May 1996) about dating and pairing off before you’re 16. I tried to rationalize it, but I couldn’t and the thought persisted. The article helped me end the “relationship” the very next day.
Name WithheldSalt Lake City, Utah

Just a few months ago, I graduated from college. The day I put on the cap and gown, I felt excited, happy, grateful, and so incredibly nervous. I remember feeling confused and fearful of what lay ahead in my future. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when I was listening to a conference talk and thinking about what the speaker was saying that I felt the power of the Spirit. It was an overwhelming feeling of comfort and direction. I immediately wrote down in my journal the thoughts that were coming to me, and now I look to those words whenever I feel doubt. That journal entry has become a source of comfort for me because it feels as if it came straight from God.

Around the world literally hundreds of people are gaining this testimony daily. I heard one such person speak just a few days ago. He was a new convert to the Church. He was a young man and he had a young family. He told how his life had literally changed—how the life of his whole family had changed. For the first time he knew what his relationship to God was and what the Lord expected of him. Because of this, he said, he was a better husband and father. He knew where he was going and could lead his family in a better way. But mostly he was happy—happy with the quiet joy that fills the life of every truly converted person.

The corners were curled from frequent use. The pages were wrinkled and torn in places. The text was thoroughly marked, and notes were added to the margins. The blue cover was nearly separated from the other 531 pages, and the gold lettering was beginning to lose its shimmer.
I couldn’t believe it. My Book of Mormon looked nothing like that. I had had mine since I was 9, and now that I was 18, my book still looked brand-new. The cover, as well as the pages, were crisp and clean. The binding had barely been opened, and the few markings found in my scriptures had little significance to me.
I had never seen a Book of Mormon so worn from use. My friend had studied the word in a way I simply couldn’t comprehend. I had read the book, and I had prayed about it. I truly felt it to be the word of God. Yet when I saw her Book of Mormon and the light in her eyes, I knew there was something more to do with the words I had always taken for granted.
I began to pray that I would have the Spirit of the Holy Ghost with me as I read the Book of Mormon, and I began to read several times each day. I would ponder the things I had read, and I studied any verses I didn’t understand.
As I was searching, I found a scripture that I had seen many times but that had never before meant so much. “Wherefore, I said unto you, feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do” (2 Ne. 32:3). I had always been reading the word, but I had never before feasted on it. Somewhere in my efforts I had stopped merely glancing at the writings and began to see the message. I looked forward to the time I spent with the Book of Mormon. It no longer became a chore but a blessing.
My Book of Mormon is still not as worn as my friend’s. The pages are still not as marked, and the cover is not as tattered from repeated use. But someday it will be. And it is amazing. Christ truly does fill those who will feast.

The youth of the Westminster Third Ward (Huntington Beach California North Stake) know the importance of education. Using half the funds they had raised for their youth conference, they donated to the Perpetual Education Fund. Their check was presented to Elder John K. Carmack, emeritus member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, who is the managing director of the PEF.
The Westminster youth responded, along with thousands of other Church members, to President Hinckley’s call to help other Church members become self-reliant and successful (see Ensign, May 2001, 51–53).

It was beginning to get dark, and the softly falling snow was blanketing the busy New York streets. Tired office workers and shoppers rushed to the waiting horse-drawn streetcars. A driver viciously whipped the tired, thin horses forward, and the miserable animals, cold and hungry, struggled to pull the overfilled cars through the slippery streets.
Suddenly Henry Bergh, a tall, handsome gentleman in a black silk hat, stood on the tracks in front of the departing streetcar and ordered the driver to stop and unload the passengers. When the driver resisted, Bergh pulled him out of the car and threw him into a snowbank. Then Bergh unhitched the overworked, underfed horses. This action caused many streetcars to be stalled behind the first, now horseless, car. Bergh then stopped a car going in another direction.
The “man in the black hat” had been trying for many months to get the streetcar companies to treat their horses more humanely. He wanted them to assign more horses to each car and to not allow too many passengers on a car so that the horses wouldn’t have to work so hard. But no one at the companies would listen to him. Now, finally, after he had blocked traffic for two hours, at least one company listened! Henry Bergh had won a victory. A car was sent out with four horses pulling it, and the streetcar company agreed to treat its horses more kindly.

by Barbara Balli
On January 11, 1975, at 1:35 P.M., I was on my way to the store near my home. I was walking on the sidewalk when a car traveling about 40 miles per hour went out of control and pinned me against a telephone pole. There just happened to be a policeman at the scene, and he immediately radioed for help. He then tried to help me, but my leg was so badly damaged that where he needed to apply the tourniquet there wasn’t any leg.
By the time I arrived at the hospital, I was listed as dead on arrival, but the doctors, working feverishly, managed to revive me. After a beautiful blessing by my bishop, I went into surgery. The doctor said my leg would probably have to be amputated, but an investigating officer at the scene of the accident found a four-inch piece of femur bone and rushed it to the hospital. When it was taken into the operating room, the decision to try to save my leg was made. Although I later lost my leg, I have a six-to-seven-inch stump that I wouldn’t have had if they had taken my leg right away.
After my accident many friends and relatives did many things for me and my family. People in the ward were so nice that they made it possible for my parents to be with me during the many months I was in the hospital. They brought meals and tended and cared and showed great love and concern for us.
The first thing I remember about Mutual was when the young people invited to the closing social the girls and boys who would be old enough to attend Mutual the next year. When they asked me, I was so surprised because I was still spending most of my time in the hospital, with only a few days at home between surgeries, and I was in a wheelchair. They said this wouldn’t matter, so all the kids helped me, and I went. It was really neat!
When it was time for me to start Mutual, I was called to be the second counselor of our first-year Beehive class, even though I was going to be in the hospital much of the time. That year my class really did a lot for me. I especially remember the time they taped a meeting they held at our bishop’s cabin because I was unable to attend. They also recorded the New Beginnings program and brought it up to the hospital where we all listened together.
I was out of the hospital and on crutches when the stake Beehive adviser asked me to take a part in the play “Apple Seeds.” That really made me feel like I was wanted and loved.
After nine months of pain and suffering and 34 surgeries trying to save my leg, the doctor recommended that my leg be amputated. With the help of my parents and my Heavenly Father, I decided to have it done. The date was September 24, 1975, and I was 12. When my class found out, they were wonderful. They said, “Oh, it won’t make any difference!”
While I was in the hospital for my 35th and final operation, my class would often bring lessons and cheery faces to make me happier. They would call me and include me in all their planning when I was unable to attend meetings. This way I knew all the fun things I was missing and really felt as if I wanted to hurry and get back in the swing of things.
About five months later our ward held a Bicentennial Spring Sing, and our class was asked to participate. I was included, of course! I had my prosthesis by then. The class really helped so I would look good on stage, and when we went off stage, down the front stairs, they all took them one at a time so I wouldn’t lag behind and be noticed. It looked like that was the way it should have been. They let me know I didn’t have to hesitate when asked to do things, and I learned that if I will try, I can do anything anyone else can do.
During the summer I asked one of my girl friends in the class if she would teach me how to ride a bike again, and she did. After falling down about six times and laughing each time, I finally got the hang of it. We still go on bike rides together, and it is really fun.
The closing social last year was a swimming party. I really didn’t want to go, but my mom and friends persuaded me to at least attend. When I got there, everyone was having so much fun, I couldn’t resist their coaxing; so I called my mom to bring my suit. After I removed my leg and got into my suit, the girls carried me to the pool. I had a great time, and everyone was so understanding and made me feel that I had nothing to be ashamed about.
This year I was called to be president of the second-year Beehive class. I only hope I can do a good job and help other people the way I have been helped.

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.

She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.

Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

Nick and Jake love their family home evenings, spent with their brother and sisters, Matt (17), Becky (12), and Annie (2). They take their turns preparing lessons and organizing activities. One special evening was spent up in the mountains on the edge of the city. After a lesson by Dad, they all went for a hike and came upon some fresh bear tracks! Maybe the West isn’t so tame now, after all! Nicholas and Jacob enjoy being a part of it and love being members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

A story written by Karen Nolen, which appeared in the New Era in 1974, tells of a Benjamin Landart who, in 1888, was 15 years old and an accomplished violinist. Living on a farm in northern Utah with his mother and seven brothers and sisters was sometimes a challenge to Benjamin, as he had less time than he would have liked to play his violin. Occasionally his mother would lock up the violin until he had his farm chores done, so great was the temptation for Benjamin to play it.
In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, told Benjamin he was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. He was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.
A week after Benjamin received the good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if he couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years. He told Benjamin that before he started earning money there was something he owed the Lord. He then asked Benjamin to accept a mission call.
Benjamin felt that giving up his chance to play in the territorial orchestra would be almost more than he could bear, but he also knew what his decision should be. He promised the bishop that if there were any way to raise the money for him to serve, he would accept the call.
When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. She told him that his father had always wanted to serve a mission but had been killed before that opportunity had come to him. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.”
Ten days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”
Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”

I sat in my living room crying. It had been only a few days since I had had a miscarriage, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the loss of our baby. So many things reminded me of the tragedy, especially my closet full of maternity clothes.
Every time I went into my room, the clothes seemed to stare at me from their hangers. Most of them were brand new and never worn, reminding me that I was no longer pregnant. I was still too weak to stand up for more than a few seconds to put them away.
Suddenly someone knocked on my door. When I opened it, I saw my visiting teacher standing on the doorstep. It was the same visiting teacher who had been watching my children when my doctor confirmed to my husband and me that I had miscarried.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I need your help putting away my maternity clothes.”
I led her into the bedroom, emptied drawers, and stripped hangers. Then I lay in bed while she folded my clothes and gently laid them in boxes. After she had taped the boxes and carried them downstairs so I wouldn’t have to look at them, I felt my spirits lift.
Afterward she went into the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counters, and tidied up—things I still wasn’t able to do. When she left, my house was clean, my clothes were out of sight, and my heart wasn’t quite so heavy anymore.
The Apostle John taught, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear” (1 John 4:18). When we reach out to share the Savior’s love, we are strengthened by His courage. Because my visiting teacher was filled with the love of Christ, she came immediately when the Spirit prompted her to come.
We received many expressions of love during that terrible time, including flowers, cards, cupcakes, and childcare, all of which we appreciated. But the expression that helped the most was when my visiting teacher, not knowing how badly I needed her, knocked on my door, and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

My grandparents Lena Sofia and Matts Leander Renlund received God’s power through their baptismal covenant when they joined the Church in 1912 in Finland. They were happy to be part of the first branch of the Church in Finland.

Leander died from tuberculosis five years later when Lena was pregnant with their tenth child. That child, my father, was born two months after Leander’s death. Lena eventually buried not just her husband but also seven of her ten children. As an impoverished widow, she struggled. For 20 years she did not get a good night’s rest. During the day, she scrambled to provide food for her family. At night, she took care of dying family members. It is hard to imagine how she coped.

Lena persevered because she knew that her deceased husband and children could be hers through the eternities. The doctrine of temple blessings, including that of eternal families, brought her peace because she trusted in the sealing power. While in mortality, she neither received her endowment nor was she sealed to Leander, but Leander remained a vital influence in her life and part of her great hope for the future.

In 1938, Lena submitted records so that temple ordinances could be performed for her deceased family members, some of the earliest submitted from Finland. After she died, temple ordinances were performed by others for her, Leander, and her deceased children. By proxy, she was endowed, Lena and Leander were sealed to each other, and their deceased children and my father were sealed to them. Like others, Lena “died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, … [was] persuaded of them, and embraced them.”

Lena lived as though she had already made these covenants in her life. She knew that her baptismal and sacramental covenants connected her to the Savior. She “let the sweet longing for [the Redeemer’s] holy place bring hope to [her] desolate heart.” Lena considered it one of God’s great mercies that she learned about eternal families before experiencing the tragedies in her life. Through covenant, she received the power of God to endure and rise above the depressive pull of her challenges and hardships.