Gospel Story Finder

Ethan scratched Jackson behind the ears. “Just a couple of days now, and my baby sister will be here,” he said to the big black dog. Ethan traced his finger across the map spread out on his desk. “Right now they’re in Colorado,” he said. “They will drive all day, and then they’ll be in Oklahoma, where the baby is.”
Ethan smiled and closed his eyes. He imagined helping Mom feed the baby and rock her to sleep, the way he helped with his little cousins. Having a sister was going to be great!
Ethan grabbed his baseball mitt. “Come on, Jackson,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”
Just then, Grandma came into his room. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.
“OK,” Ethan said, tossing a ball and catching it in his mitt. “Do you think Mom and Dad are past Colorado yet?”
“Well, that’s what I need to talk to you about,” Grandma said, sitting down on his bed. “Your dad just called because they are on their way home.”
“Already?” Ethan asked. “They must have driven really fast!”
“No, honey,” Grandma said. “They got a call saying the baby wouldn’t be placed for adoption after all, so they turned around.”
Ethan dropped his baseball. “My sister isn’t coming?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Grandma said. She held out her arms to him, and they sat together for a long time.
When his parents pulled into the driveway, Ethan was waiting on the front step.
“Hi, buddy,” Dad called to him.
“Hi.” Ethan tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. He ran to give Mom a hug.
“Let’s go inside and talk about what happened,” Dad said.
Sitting on the couch between Mom and Dad, Ethan felt happier—but somehow empty inside too.
“We can keep trying to find a baby, right?” Ethan asked. “We’ll find me a brother or sister soon.”
“Maybe someday,” Mom said. “But not right away.”
“Why not?” Ethan asked, frowning.
“Trying to adopt a baby is hard,” Dad explained. “And it costs a lot of money.” He patted Ethan’s knee. “Your mom and I have prayed and talked about it, and we feel that for now we can be happy with what we have—each other and you.”
Ethan jumped off the couch. “You mean I’ll never have a brother or sister? I’m going to be alone forever?”
“Ethan, you’re not alone, even though I know sometimes it might feel that way,” Dad said. “You have us, and Jackson, and your grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins.”
“And so many friends who love you too,” Mom said.
Ethan nodded. But still the emptiness inside him ached.
“Most important,” Dad said, “you can always have the Holy Ghost with you—just like you were promised after you were baptized.”
Ethan thought of all the people who were with him at his baptism. Then he looked across the room at the picture of his family: Mom, Dad, and himself. He imagined that Jesus was in the picture with them too. And that thought made him feel a little better.
“Then I won’t be alone,” Ethan said. “I’ll be OK.”
Mom and Dad gave Ethan a tight hug. Then Ethan said, “Hey, Dad, let’s play ball.” And he ran to his room for his baseball mitt.

After an eventful evening in Australia in 1998, my best mate asked if I could give him a lift. On our way to his home, our conversation turned to our basic beliefs. He was an atheist, and I was a Latter-day Saint. I had always known that there was a God; he had always believed that there was no God.
That evening I did something I had never done before. Just before I dropped off my friend, I told him I know that God lives, that Jesus is our Savior, and that Joseph Smith saw Them in vision.
I had often talked about these things with him, but I had never told him that I knew them to be true. I realized, however, that if I were to leave him with a lasting impression, I would have to leave him with my testimony of these things.
As he opened the car door, he shook my hand and said, “Hey, man, that’s cool. We all need to be firm in our beliefs.”
The problem, however, is that I didn’t know—not really. At the time, it felt right to say those things, but I had never received a spiritual confirmation of their truthfulness.
I had a 20-minute drive home. Those 20 minutes changed my life. As I reviewed our conversation, I started to think about my life and the direction I was headed. While I was thinking, the hymn “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” came into my mind and penetrated my soul. I started to sing aloud:
I know that my Redeemer lives.
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, he lives, who once was dead.
He lives, my ever-living Head.
As I sang, tears came to my eyes as the Spirit witnessed to me the truthfulness of those words and confirmed that my testimony was true. I realized then that a testimony can be found in the bearing of it.
I will never forget the Spirit witnessing to me the truthfulness of my testimony. I know that my Redeemer lives because the Spirit witnessed it to my soul—a witness I was happy to share a short time later as a full-time missionary.

When I got home from school there was a tornado watch, and I cried because I was scared. I felt that I should pray for the people near the tornadoes, and for the tornadoes to stop coming our way. I still didn’t feel better. Then my mom told me to pray, so I prayed in my mind that I would feel better. A little bit later my tears went away. When my dad came home, we watched the news and there were no tornadoes coming our way.

Our Neighborhood Grandma’s children live far away. We check on her every day. We head straight for her “jungle” room. There, potted plants with great, long arms and fingers beckon. The Neighborhood Grandma’s great, long arms and fingers answer with touches here and there as she sprinkles and splashes and sloshes each plant. Pools of water form on the floor.

We yank off our shoes and sprinkle and splash. We slosh and splat and make the puddles fly. Our Neighborhood Grandma kicks off her boots. Her practiced feet make the water sloosh and slop higher still.

When it’s time for us to go, she pouts, “You always leave in the middle of the fun. Stay and slosh all day!” We love our Neighborhood Grandma.

About a year after my husband and I were married, my youngest brother’s three daughters came to live with us. My husband’s youngest sister and a girlfriend of mine also asked if they could stay with us for a while, and since we didn’t have any children, we welcomed all of them. Suddenly we were no longer just a couple; we were a large family.
Prior to this time, my husband and I were not too serious about holding home evenings because it was just the two of us, but with the new additions to our family, we decided to implement the program earnestly in our home.
From our first family home evening together, our Mondays were never the same, nor will our lives be the same, because of those wonderful experiences. Our usually quiet home started to be filled with music. The children who couldn’t read started to learn and developed a love for it. Those who were shy and hesitant to accept assignments developed confidence and showed eagerness to contribute, even volunteering to do special presentations. There was excitement throughout the week as everyone talked about what we had done the previous Monday night and what we were going to do the next one. Excitement would build as Monday neared and as family members were busy making preparations for their “big surprises.”
The promise of an exciting home evening even became a motivation for all to do their assigned household chores. Each home evening brought insights and discoveries that enriched our lives.
My nieces have since returned to their father, my sister-in-law has moved out on her own, and my girlfriend now lives in a dorm close to the school she’s attending. We’re back to being just a couple again. But we are still having those fun-filled, meaningful home evenings. Sometimes we invite other families to join us, and other times we take pleasure in just getting to know each other better, working out our problems together, and expressing our appreciation for each other. Our themes and activities continue to be simple and focused on meeting our needs.

Andy’s little sister, Trisha, had been born with many health problems. She needed extra help to do even the smallest thing. Trisha was 18 months old, but she couldn’t walk or sit up or even roll over. She couldn’t feed herself and had to eat through a tube.
Andy’s daddy, grandpa, and uncles had given Trisha many blessings, and Andy wanted to do something to help her too. He set a goal to help her do the things she couldn’t do for herself.
Every day Andy looked for ways to help Trisha. When he saw her trying to roll over, he gently helped her roll from her tummy to her back. When she struggled to sit up, Andy supported her.
One evening after Andy had helped Trisha sit up, Mommy and Daddy sat down to talk with him.
“We know you love Trisha very much and want to help her,” Mommy said. “But it’s important to let her become as independent as possible. That means we need to let her do the things she can by herself.”
“But Trisha can’t sit up by herself,” Andy said.
“She can’t sit all the way up,” Mommy said. “But she can pull herself up partway. We need to let her do that.”
Andy knew how hard Trisha struggled to pull herself up. He didn’t want her to have to work so hard. “Why can’t I help her?” he asked.
“When she tries to do things by herself, it helps her to grow stronger,” Mommy said. “I know it’s hard to watch her try so hard to do something. I want to help her too, and then I remember that Heavenly Father is always there to help and bless her.”
“Will Trisha be sick forever?” Andy asked.
“She’ll always have some problems,” Daddy said. “But we know that one day she’ll be resurrected with a healthy, whole body, and that she’ll be with our family forever.”
Andy knew that his parents had been sealed in the temple, and that he and Trisha were sealed to them.
Andy thought about what he could do for his little sister. He knew that Heavenly Father loved him and Trisha and that He listened to prayers. “I can pray for Trisha,” Andy said.
“That’s the best gift of all,” Mommy said, and gave him a big hug.

That was it. I received my papers; it was all on. It was around Christmas 1996 when I thought I’d better let the family know what was happening. I decided I’d tell everyone over Sunday dinner. As we were sitting at the table my sister said she had something to tell everyone: she’d been thinking of changing careers from a hairdresser to a beauty therapist, thus needing to give up her job and go to college. Everyone was happy about her decision. Then it was my turn. I told them I also had something to say. I told them that I was planning to go on a mission. A look of disbelief and surprise appeared on every face. I told them, “No one is more surprised than me.” Then between Christmas and New Years, a quiet holiday period, I managed to get all my medical and dental appointments arranged. Within three days my papers were ready. When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.
Over the next few months, I started shopping for my mission attire. Coming from Scotland, I’m no stranger to cold weather so I was going to be well prepared. But every time I went to buy something like a winter coat, big woolly jumpers, hat, scarves, or gloves, I’d get the answer, “No!” I’d leave it a couple of days then go elsewhere. Again, the answer would be “No! Don’t buy that.” I couldn’t believe I was being prompted to buy certain clothes.
The promptings were very specific. I’d pick up clothes and I’d hold the hanger and wait for a yes or a no. I obediently bought according to those promptings. When I look back, I can’t believe how much the Holy Ghost kept prompting me and specifically telling me things each day—I was not asking for such clarity. I’ve never experienced this level of prompting ever since. That was how it was supposed to be—minute detail.
One morning I went downstairs and there on the carpet was the big fat white envelope. My heart leapt. I quickly grabbed it and immediately locked myself in the bathroom. I have a big family, and someone could have been lurking; I wanted to open it on my own.
I stared at the envelope, scared to open it. I kept thinking that it held the next 18 months of my life, my future. I was very anxious. I eventually opened it and scoured through the first few lines. I just wanted to know where I was going—it was the Greece Athens Mission. I’d never heard of this mission. I’d never heard of anyone even going to this mission. I would later find out that I was the first Scottish sister to go there. How cool! I would learn to speak Greek. l would serve my mission during one of the hottest summers they’d had, and another summer the following year. Greece was indeed a different, unusual place. The gospel was still in its infancy there; it had only been dedicated 25 years previously by Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008).
I served my mission from May 1997 to November 1998. It was one of the best experiences of my life! I can’t believe that I hadn’t wanted to go. I could quite easily have missed out on this crucial experience. It was meant to be. I would never have chosen that path but it’s what Heavenly Father knew was right for me. Greece will always be a special place with special memories for me. Whenever I go back to visit, I get ‘goose bumps’ and butterflies in my stomach. When I left my mission, I left a part of my heart there, and there it will stay. It brought me so much happiness. It shaped my future. It put me on the right path, in the right direction. It was priceless. I loved it. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. It changed me for the better. My favourite word is fantastic, and Greece was fantastic!

Suddenly it started to rain. At first it was a soft, gentle rain that did not bother Tommy as he milked the cow and helped his father feed the oxen. Later, when they started to pitch the tent, the rain came down in fierce, angry sheets that bit into Tommy’s shoulders. The wind blew so hard that it wrenched the tent out of their hands.
“We’ll have to do without the tent tonight,” Father finally decided.
“Where will you and Mamma sleep?” asked Tommy. “My wagon is too full of corn and wheat for anybody to sleep there.”
“You and Betsy can sleep with Mamma in the other wagon,” answered his father, “and I will make a bed underneath it for me.”
“I will sleep under the wagon,” said Tommy quietly.
Father did not answer at once, but Tommy knew by the pressure of his hand that he was proud that his son had offered. Finally Father quietly said, “I’ll help you gather pine boughs to put on the ground so your bed won’t sink into the mud.”
Tommy was glad when they had enough pine boughs, because it was difficult to cut them in the stinging rain. Over these pine boughs he and his father put the folded tent, leaving enough of it free on each side to pull over the bedroll so Tommy would not get wet.
When the bed was ready, Tommy crawled into it. At first it was frightening to be alone in the storm. Never had he heard such loud thunder, and the lightning flashes were so close that he could see small fires appear in the tops of the trees where lightning had hit. Even though he knew the heavy rain would soon put them out, Tommy was afraid. What if the lightning should strike the wagon where the others are sleeping? he asked himself. He wanted to call out to his father for comfort, but he didn’t want anyone to know that he was afraid.
I’ll ask Heavenly Father to help me, he said to himself. And he did. Tommy almost expected his prayer to be answered by the thunder and lightning stopping. Instead it was answered by Tommy not being afraid any more.
Then Tommy began to enjoy the storm. It was almost as if giant fireworks were everywhere. Instead of wanting to go to sleep, he wanted to stay awake so he would not miss any of it. But since the storm lasted all night, Tommy’s eyes finally closed. He did not open them again until he felt water lapping at his feet and discovered that the little creek beside which they had camped had become a raging torrent during the night.
Excitedly Tommy called out to his father, “The creek has overflowed and the back wheels of the wagon are standing in the water!”
Tommy’s father was out of the wagon in an instant. When he saw the situation, he helped Tommy pull the bed out from under the wagon and then hitched up both teams of oxen to pull the wagon out of the water. The ground was so slippery the oxen could not get a foothold.
“We will have to build a corduroy road,” said Tommy’s father.
To do this, Tommy and his father cut down many trees. They trimmed off the limbs and laid the poles side by side, close to and in front of the wagon; then with willows they bound each log tightly to the next one so they would not roll. When this was finished, they packed tough grass and pine needles on top of the poles so the oxen’s hoofs could not slip into the cracks.
Finally they coaxed the frightened oxen up onto the corduroy road and hitched them to the wagon. Father spoke to the oxen in a soothing tone, “Steady now, pull together.”
The oxen did pull together. The heavy wagon wheels rolled out of the mud, onto the tough grass, over the corduroy road, and up onto the road that the Camp of Israel would be traveling that day.
Tommy shouted, “Hooray!” and he could see by the look on his mother’s face that she was proud of her two “men.”

One other matter. I remember some years ago, a young man and his wife and little children moved to our Arizona community. As we got acquainted with them, he told me of the rigorous youth he had spent as he grew up. He’d had to get up at five and six o’clock in the morning and go out and deliver papers. He’d had to work on the farm, and he’d had to do many things that were still rankling in his soul. Then he concluded with this statement: “My boys are never going to have to do that.” And we saw his boys grow up and you couldn’t get them to do anything. They left off their Church activity and nothing seemed very important to them.

Of course there are many different kinds of traps that wear out the lives, wipe out the courage, exhaust the hope, and destroy the happiness of men and women. I recently attended a funeral for a friend of mine who died at age 58 with lung cancer. He had been trapped by nicotine. This man had once been a faithful member of the Church. And then he had been attracted by some cigarette bait, the danger of which did not seem to him very serious at first. But once established, the nicotine habit kept calling for the amount to be increased. After a few years he had become a chain smoker. As the amount of nicotine grew larger, my friend’s taste bud became impaired. As his appetite deteriorated, his work load had to be cut to correspond to his decreased vigor. Soon he wasn’t feeling very well. Over a period of months his family physician didn’t seem to be able to help much, and he was finally sent to a specialized medical clinic in San Diego. They told him that he must quit smoking immediately and get back to regular vigorous work in an attempt to recover his appetite and normal body functions. But he couldn’t get rid of nicotine’s trap that had fastened itself to him.
If we could look into the lives of many of the people living in this great free land of America, of which the eagle is the emblem, we would find that many are dragging toward their graves the galling, wearisome traps of alcohol, immorality, ignorance, and disobedience to God. These dangerous traps are usually concealed under some attractive bait to draw the attention of the intended victim. But when they are touched off by being stepped on, they snap shut on whoever puts himself in their range.
One good way to catch a mouse is to put a little cheese on the tongue of the trap. The mouse will be very anxious to get the cheese, but if he gets the cheese he must also take the trap.
The dictionary says that a trap is a device set to capture, defeat, confound, or ensnare. Think how many people are caught in this trap of mediocrity. In earlier days every man was his own master. The philosophy of going the second mile, of doing more than we were paid for, was popular. Now a well-meaning government sets out the snares of unemployment insurance, minimum wages, and paid vacations. We have a certain kind of tenure where we cannot be fired, either for our sloth or disloyalty. The prizes for excellence have been done away with and the government puts the cheese on the trap labeled maximum pay for minimum effort. In some cases it also gives out a near maximum pay for no effort at all.
Human activities of which we formerly would have been ashamed are now perfectly honorable, and we satisfy our consciences by merely saying, “Everyone’s doing it.” Different groups are trying to outdo each other in getting the most from the government while giving the least. So many people have lost the spirit of old-time excellence, and instead of maintaining the vigorous, enthusiastic superiority, we settle down to the low level of average.
Most people accept average as being a respectable objective. However, the dictionary says that average is halfway between something and nothing. When one is average he is mediocre, which means to be in the middle. When he is average he is as close to the bottom as he is to the top. He may have in his program as much of failure as he does of success. If one who is average desires to give himself a compliment, he might either say that he is the best of the worst or he is the worst of the best.
No matter what failure or sin he may want to participate in, he may find ample grounds for saying, “Everybody’s doing it.” Our great crime waves are setting millions of traps. We might say to ourselves that everybody steals from his employer, so why shouldn’t we? Millions of people break the Ten Commandments, so why shouldn’t we? There are millions who lie and steal and cheat. In marriages there are about as many miserable failures as there are outstanding successes. So we pick out our favorite sin and then justify ourselves by saying, “I’m no worse than the average.”
Recently a man was discussing his problems with a marriage counselor. He had about every problem of immorality, alcoholism, nicotine addiction, self-induced mental illness, and unemployment. But he justified himself by saying, “Everyone has his little problems.” But this man had traps, not only on his feet, but on his heart, his personality, and his ambition.
We sometimes think that it is just too difficult to live the religion of Christ and be honest, faithful, and hardworking with lives filled with excellence. We sometimes delude ourselves into thinking that it is more fun to be immoral, lazy, and live on some kind of government or community handout. Everyone ought to be a taxpayer and pay his own share of the nation’s upkeep, but we have our foot in the trap of our own government support. We also carry the additional burden of a large government organization, hired at our expense, to pay us back our own money. Think what would happen if we all took our feet out of the traps and gave ourselves the great power and ambition of free, industrious, self-supporting, and self-sustaining citizenship.
The great American eagle is a symbol of power, courage, intelligence, and responsibility. With these qualities of freedom and opportunity he becomes an inspiring symbol for us to follow. But with a heavy steel trap snapped onto his festering, broken foot, he soon has the heart taken out of him and may become a vegetable likely to die of discouragement.
I would like to paint for consideration three word pictures that may be suitable to hang on the walls of our minds. The first is the picture of a beautiful American eagle, the symbol of power and courage, the emblem of freedom, with a vicious steel trap dangling from his broken, swollen, festering leg.
The second is a picture of a great human being who has allowed himself to be trapped by sin, one who has been pitted and pocked by the evil which he himself has initiated. The picture may show him to be unfaithful, disobedient to God, and poisoned in his principles. He is tortured by guilt, worn out by discouragement and despair, and he drags himself toward eternity with an accumulation of Satan’s traps still punishing his fretful, fearful soul.
The third picture is one of ourselves. Each of us is a child of God, formed in God’s image and endowed with his attributes, heir to his kingdom, with an understanding of our own eternal potentialities. There is everything in knowing our origin and destiny and in constantly reaffirming them in our lives. We are the offspring of divinity. We have inherited the creator’s wisdom and power. We should cling to our inheritance. We should think of ourselves as children of omnipotence. We should never let the thought escape us, even for a moment. We should keep our feet out of the traps, and we should never let evil destroy this inspiring picture of ourselves.

I am an eyewitness of that truth. Over a lifetime, my wife has spoken for the Lord and served people for Him. As I’ve mentioned before, one of our bishops once said to me: “I’m amazed. Every time I hear of a person in the ward who is in trouble, I hurry to help. Yet by the time I arrive, it seems that your wife has always already been there.” That has been true in all the places we have lived for 56 years.

Now she can speak only a few words a day. She is visited by people she loved for the Lord. Every night and morning I sing hymns with her and we pray. I have to be voice in the prayers and in the songs. Sometimes I can see her mouthing the words of the hymns. She prefers children’s songs. The sentiment she seems to like best is summarized in the song “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”11

The other day, after singing the words of the chorus: “Love one another as Jesus loves you. Try to show kindness in all that you do,” she said softly, but clearly, “Try, try, try.” I think that she will find, when she sees Him, that our Savior has put His name into her heart and that she has become like Him. He is carrying her through her troubles now, as He will carry you through yours.

Near the end of my time as a young service missionary, I followed a prompting to serve two days a week at a dude ranch in Utah for military and survivor families. I had absolutely zero experience with anything even related to ranching, but I was excited.
Early in my time there, I was asked to clean the horse stalls. My good friend and companion with whom I went teaching in the evenings, Elder Saltern, was assigned to show me what to do.
Reaching the last stall to clean one day, I followed Elder Saltern in. In my mind I received a gentle impression to ask about closing the gate behind us. I brushed off the thought and got to work cleaning.
The horse in the stall, Shrek, was one of the biggest horses at the ranch. He started shifting nervously as we cleaned. Suddenly, Shrek darted out of the stall through the open gate and raced past the other horses outside in the corrals.
Thankfully, one of the experienced folks at the ranch grabbed a bucket of oats and quickly lured the horse back. As she put Shrek back in his stall, she looked at me and asked amusedly, “What did we learn?”
The obvious lesson was to always close the gate. I was reminded of a scripture I had read that very morning that taught me to yield “to the enticings of the Holy Spirit” (Mosiah 3:19).
When Elder Saltern and I entered Shrek’s stall, I had ignored a prompting from the Holy Ghost to close the gate. I had pigeonholed the Spirit into advising me only on what I thought were “spiritual” things related to the scriptures or the commandments. This experience humbled me. I realized that the Spirit’s knowledge was greater than I had realized—even when it comes to ranching!

I have a little bit of a strained relationship with my brother, Michael. Just normal sibling stuff, like we get on each other’s nerves. But I’d been praying to God for a few weeks to bless Michael and to help me love him and be kind to him.
Then one Sunday in sacrament meeting, my brother was up at the sacrament table so that he could bless the bread. While the bread was being passed, I said another little prayer in my head: “Lord, please bless my brother Michael with happiness.”
In that moment, I just felt this enormous sense of love for my brother, and I realized how much God loved him. The feeling was quiet and reverent, but it was extremely powerful to me.
After the sacrament, Michael came and sat down. It felt so awkward, but I turned to him and told him that God loves him.
I have felt God’s love for people around me, and I’ve felt it for me personally. I know that He loves you, too.

Rosalene grew up as the youngest child in a large family in Enterprise, a small community in Southern Utah, USA. She had many opportunities to witness the power of faith in Jesus Christ during her years at home and on her mission. After marrying in the temple, Rosalene embarked on a testimony-stretching journey of her own when her husband started a career that would take her farther and farther from home.
After moving to the state of Colorado, Rosalene watched from afar as her mother battled cancer until passing away a few years later.
Images from stock.adobe.com and from Getty Images
“I could have been happy to live in my hometown next to my parents my entire life,” she says. “It broke my heart when I had to grow up and move away. Losing my mom was life-shattering. Even now, not a single day goes by that I don’t miss her.
“I have to believe that there were days when Elizabeth missed her home desperately. But she believed in Jesus Christ and allowed His power to work in her life. That was enough to carry her through. The same power has helped me as I rely on my Heavenly Father for strength, whether or not my earthly family is close by.”

My high school football team was playing for the North Carolina state championship. Our coach, Bill Grice, was not only a great coach and motivator, but he had never, in our presence, taken the Lord’s name in vain; had never cussed; and had never used any expletives or profanity. He had never lost his cool.
We were in the locker room getting ready for the big game. It was raining so hard we had to yell at each other to be heard. Coach Grice asked our equipment manager to hand out the mud cleats. We heard the equipment manager say, “I forgot the mud cleats, coach.” But Coach Grice didn’t hear him. We nudged one another and realized that for the first time in our presence, Coach Grice would in fact lose his cool and swear.
We steadied ourselves as Coach Grice asked, “Where are the mud cleats?”
“I forgot them, coach,” repeated the equipment manager.
It became absolutely silent in the room except for the rain pounding on the roof.
Then Coach Grice said, “Well, shucks, we’ll have to play without them!”
Oh, coach, how proud we were! We tied the football game and lost the state championship on the flip of a coin. But we won the most important honor. Our coach didn’t let us down.

“No way!”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“That’s never going to happen!”
That’s what Andrea, Erick, Kristofer, Suzett, and Yuridia of Provo, Utah, might have said if you had told them they would play the piano for their next Primary sacrament meeting presentation. After all, only one of them had ever played the piano before!
But their Primary pianist, Sister Perry, gave them the challenge—and they were willing to accept it.
Once a week, each child had a piano lesson with Sister Perry, except for one child who already had a teacher. At home they practiced on electric keyboards. Soon they were learning simplified versions of the songs for the sacrament meeting presentation. They also practiced in Primary as other children sang along.
Finally, the big day came. Each child played one or two songs. Were they nervous to play in front of the whole ward? Definitely! But that didn’t stop them.
“I felt really nervous,” Kristofer said, “but I kept having faith.”
Thanks to their faith and hard work, everyone did well that day. And the best thing about it?
“It feels good to be able to help in church,” Andrea said. “It’s a great blessing for me.”
Now the children can play during family home evening, at baptisms, and when their families sing in sacrament meeting. Awesome!

One day the sister missionaries knocked on my door and my mother answered. I remember her telling them, “Well, I am not interested, but my daughter would be. Wait, I will get her.”
When I started to talk to them, I could feel the Spirit telling me to listen. After a few months of listening and learning, I knew that this was what I had been looking for. Even though it didn’t feel like it to begin with, my decision to be baptized helped me to come not only closer to the Lord and but also closer to ending my ongoing battle against loneliness.

Marvin J. Ashton was born on May 6, 1915, in Salt Lake City to Marvin O. and Rachel Grace Jeremy Ashton. His parents taught him the value of hard work. He raised rabbits and pigeons and worked on a two-acre produce farm raising and selling fruits and vegetables. His ward didn’t have a Scout troop, so he and four friends rode their horses to a neighboring ward and participated in its Scout program, advancing to the rank of Eagle. While in high school, he helped in his father’s hardware store. He continued to work while he attended the University of Utah, where he graduated with a degree in business administration.

Poao and Atalina Ahhow met while they were both single teachers at Sauniatu. After they were married, they decided to go to BYU—Hawaii Campus and get additional schooling. Atalina said she learned about being a good mother and teaching a family from watching the young people work on the various projects.
“I also learned that you need to check after a project is done. If it isn’t right, do it over,” she said.
Her husband, Poao, said that he learned leadership skills, and once he caught the vision of doing the impossible, he felt he could go away for additional schooling so he could become a better teacher. “I learned that sometimes when the work is very hard, if you make a joke and smile, it seems easier.”
Poao and Atalina struggled at BYU—Hawaii because they didn’t have much money. “We had learned to sacrifice while at Sauniatu, and the Lord blessed us for it. When we needed money to do our washing, we would visit a pool near the temple. Every time we needed a quarter for the washing machine, it was waiting for us in the pool. Sometimes more was there, but we only took enough to do our washing. When we didn’t need money, we never saw money in the pool. This is one way the Lord helped us,” Poao said.

I have a very good friend who was the chief executive officer and manager of a very large corporation. The call came to him to preside over a mission, and like so many of our wonderful men who have great skills and capabilities and responsibilities, when the call came from the Lord, there was no question. He had thought enough through his life that it was instantaneous in his thought process to accept the call. What was to happen to the business? What was to happen to this great enterprise? Well, situations were worked out, and management was worked out to the best degree. But in three years lots of things can happen to a business when the guiding light is not there to lead on a day to day basis. Ultimately, some of the assets of the company were sold. But toward the end of the mission of this great man, an opportunity arose. Within days after his release, he was back in business with a program far bigger than anything he had before he was called to be a mission president and is presently managing and, I believe, bringing about one of the major corporations to be based in the state of Utah.

Now how did he do that? Well, I suppose by the mistakes he had learned through his life, but most importantly he had learned to think straight so when this second opportunity came up it was easier for him to define, to determine, to make decisions, and to move forward.