Gospel Story Finder

May 15
Dear Sarah,
This is it! I’m really excited. Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Trujillo over on Cottonwood Lane? I haven’t seen them at church, so I guess they’re not members. But remember how Mr. Trujillo always had that enormous garden in the field next to his house? He sells his vegetables at the farmer’s market.
Well, I went by there and saw him working and stopped and talked to him. He said he was having some trouble with his arthritis and couldn’t handle such a big garden this year. I told him I was looking for a way to earn money, and he said I could have some of the space there and raise some vegetables to sell. In return, I’ll help him irrigate and things like that. I should have some money for your mission by August.
Lindsay’s pretty scared about her operation, but if it’ll mean she can eat regular food, it’ll be worth it.
I loved your letter. Do you only teach Spanish-speaking people?
Love,Angela the Gardener

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Everybody get the prettiest leaf you can find. We’ll make pictures with them back in the classroom.
This is the best leaf in the park! It’s huge!
You mean it’s second best. Look at the color of this one!
Hah! Your leaf’s tiny!
Yours is ugly!
Oh yeah?
Yeah!
Don’t fight. Your leaves are both best. This one’s best for making a spaceship, and this one’s best for making a dragon.
Where did you learn to be such a good peacemaker?
Watching Mom make peace between Matt and me.

Turning 18 is a very important event. Since Eric was away at BYU for his 18th birthday, we decided to send him something special. Every member of the family had an assignment. Jennifer would make cookies, Dad would send money, Brad (also at BYU) would help him spend it, Jeff would draw illustrations, and I would write verses for a spectacular birthday card.
I got very enthusiastic about my assignment. I decided to write a verse about every year of his life. There would be a verse about the time he took his first trial flight off the garage when he was four, and one about the time he self-medicated his cold with half a bottle of cough syrup to save the doctor’s fee when he was five. And it would end with a verse about his latest venture—refusing to withdraw from a spontaneous football squad even after he saw his six-foot-four, 280-pound opponent. (Yes, they carried him off with a broken collarbone.) That was my Eric! Active, daring, and a little mischievous.
I sat down and wrote the first few verses and laughed. And then I thought about Eric when he was six.
“Eric’s got a girl friend! Eric’s got a girl friend!” I remembered how Brad teased as he and Eric made their afternoon entrance after school. I waited for a typical “I don’t!” from Eric and a “You do!” from Brad.
There was none. Eric was silent. I couldn’t detect a smile, a frown, anything on his cherubic face. He just ignored Brad totally and asked, “Can we eat breakfast sooner tomorrow, Mom? I want to go to school early.”
“Yes,” I answered. I was surprised at his coolness. “Yes, of course. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No.” He shook his head, smiled, and walked out the back door to play.
“See. I told you!” Brad confirmed.
I’m not a nosy mother—well, only a little nosy. I wanted to know why Eric went to school 15 minutes early and came home 15 minutes late for a week. But he volunteered nothing. I didn’t want to turn Brad into a spy (it only entered my mind twice and I got over it), so I learned nothing.
On Tuesday I had to return library books. I decided to go at 1:50 so I would be driving by the school at 2:20 when school was out. (A mother does have to look out for her children.)
I was late and had to drive almost home before I saw Eric. He was with a girl. From the back I could see she had long, blonde hair and a pretty dress. But something was different. She didn’t raise her left leg far from the sidewalk, and as I passed I could see her left arm was limp. Eric saw me. He grinned widely and waved. As I smiled back my eyes surveyed a beautiful little girl with an enchanting smile and blue eyes.
At dinner I decided it was time to be open about the whole thing. I wanted Eric to know it was acceptable to have lots of friends in the first grade—even if one was a girl.
“I saw your friend today, Eric. She’s pretty.”
“She’s nice,” he added.
“So that’s the reason you go to school early?” his father asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, tell me about her. What’s her name? Where does she live? What does she look like?”
“Her name’s Jena. She lives on Vista View. And she looks like … like … uh … like a girl.”
The family laughed. “She’s very pretty.” I explained. “She has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a radiant smile.”
“What’s radiant?” Eric asked.
“That’s like a heater,” Brad informed him.
“That’s a radiator,” Father clarified. “But it’s like that. It means warm and friendly.”
“What’s wrong with her leg?” Brad asked innocently.
Eric bristled and raised his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with her leg.”
“Brad wasn’t being mean, Eric. She does have a problem with her leg and arm. She has cerebral palsy, Eric. That doesn’t change her being pretty or nice.” I taught physically handicapped children and accepted the fact that everyone has limitations of some kind, but Eric was crushed. His fork clattered to the plate, and he proclaimed loudly in his squeaky, first-grade voice, “There’s nothing wrong with her at all,” and ran into his room.
We said nothing further about it. Eric was a normal boy who ran bicycles into garage doors, played Zorro, and chased strange dogs away. He just went to school a little early and came home a little late every day.
In early December I got a phone call.
“Is this Eric’s mother?”
When anybody started a conversation like that I wondered if Eric had just ridden his bike over someone’s flower bed. “Yes,” I replied. After all, I was responsible.
“This is Mrs. Hamilton. I’m Jena Hamilton’s mother.”
“Oh, yes. Hello!”
“I called because I wondered if you were aware of what Eric has been doing for us—I mean for Jena—but really it affects all of us.”
I was puzzled. “No, I guess I’m not,” I replied honestly.
“Do you know Jena?”
“I saw her going home from school. She’s a very pretty girl.”
“Then you know she has a problem with her leg and arm. She has cerebral palsy.”
“I see.”
“When we moved here last summer and I went to register her, the school said they wouldn’t accept her. Her learning isn’t impaired. It’s just a motor involvement, but they insisted the kids would taunt her until we would be sorry. They asked me to enroll her in the special education program over at Fairhaven. I didn’t want her at Fairhaven. She’d have to ride the bus for over an hour. I insisted they let her try it here. They were skeptical, but I was quite adamant.”
“I understand your feelings.”
“When school started, it was just like they said. Some of the kids wouldn’t quit yelling names and making fun of her. And no one would play with her. After the first week and a half of school, with her coming home in tears every day, I decided to reconsider Fairhaven. Then a little miracle happened—Eric!”
“Eric?”
“He decided enough was enough. He asked Jena if he could play with her at recess. The boys laughed at him and called him names too. But he ignored them.”
“That’s not my Eric,” I thought.
“He walked home with Jena to the accompaniment of jeers. From that day on he has walked her to school, played with her at recess, and walked home with her. The third week of school some boys started throwing rocks at Jena. Eric challenged them to a ferocious fight if they didn’t stop.”
That’s my Eric. He was two inches shorter than anybody, but he was never afraid of a fight if it was necessary.
“I guess he said it so firmly they decided to leave her alone. Jena is doing so well now. Other children are playing with her, and no one seems to be paying attention to her problem.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“There’s more,” she continued. “Yesterday I stopped Eric out in front—I was so happy how things are going—and I said, ‘You’re such a nice boy! How did you ever get to be such a nice boy!’ It was a comment, not a question of course, but he spoke right up and said, ‘Our church teaches all the boys to be nice boys.’”
“Well, I was so surprised, I said, ‘And what church do you belong to, Eric?’
“And he said, ‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes called the Mormon church. Would you like to have the missionaries?’ He’s quite a boy!”
Well, do you want the missionaries? I was hoping my voice would say. But it didn’t. “Yes, I guess he is. I really appreciate your calling me.”
Jena Hamilton didn’t need Eric much after that. They were friends, but he went back to playing with the boys and calling all girls “dumb.” In a year or so Jena moved, and we moved.
I looked down at the birthday card I was making. I decided not to write a verse about Eric when he was six. It was too special.
Later I mailed the overweight birthday card and savored the thought of Eric reading his life out loud to his roommates.
It was almost midnight Friday when the phone rang.
“Mom, this is Eric.”
“Eric, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Are you hurt? Did you wreck the car? Did you …”
“Mom! I’m fine. Just listen a minute.” His voice was exuberant.
“Oh, yes. Today’s your birthday. You got my card! You got the money! You loved them both! But you didn’t have to thank us at this hour!”
“Mom! Listen! And put Dad on the other phone. Okay? Brad and I went out to dinner with the money. We were just sitting around here in the dorm reminiscing when the phone rang. It was a girl.”
She said, “Is this Eric Miller?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this Eric Miller who used to live on Hillview Avenue in San Sebastian?”
“Yes! Who is this?”
“Oh, you probably won’t remember me. It’s been a long time. This is Jena Hamilton.”
“Jena! I can’t believe it! Sure I remember you. Hey, what are you doing here in Provo? Visiting?”
“I’m going to the Y just like you.”
“But why? How did you decide to come here?”
“Well, about three years ago Mom and I were doing dishes when two young men knocked at our door. They said they were representatives of Jesus Christ and would like to leave a message with us. Mom said, ‘No, thank you, we really aren’t interested.’ Then for some reason she asked, ‘What church are you from?’ And they said, ‘We belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes called the Mormon church.’ Mom looked at me, and we both said, ‘That’s Eric’s church.’ There was an unstated courtesy we would extend to someone from Eric’s church. We weren’t interested, of course, but we would be courteous. Well, you know how that goes! We were baptized after the fourth lesson.”
“Jena! That’s wonderful! Hey, it’s my birthday. We’re celebrating! Where are you living? Can we come over?”
Eric ended his story. I wiped a tear off my chin and nose. He paused a long time. “Well,” I demanded, “Did you go over? How is she doing?”
“She’s beautiful!” Eric replied enthusiastically.
“And her leg? Has it improved?”
“Her leg? What was the matter with her leg?”

All Latter-day Saint pioneer women in Arizona were frontierswomen. Many were also trained midwives. LDS women believed that their medical needs should be looked after by women doctors rather than by men, and for this reason the Mormon communities of the West boasted the largest number of women doctors and midwives in the nation. It was common for the Relief Societies to band together to send some of their sisters East to become doctors. Upon their return, these sisters not only practiced medicine but conducted winter classes, sponsored again by the Relief Societies, where other women underwent training in the crafts of nursing and midwifery. One woman doctor was Sarah Indaetta Young Vance.8

After years of frontier life and several children, Sarah, at thirty-four, decided to fulfill her “dearest childhood ambition” and study in Salt Lake to become a doctor like her father. She enrolled in a class of obstetrics under Dr. Ellis R. Shipp. John took charge of the four older boys in Arizona, while Sarah kept her three youngest sons in a rented room across the hall from Dr. Shipp. The oldest boy, age seven, sold newspapers. After six months, she completed the course in obstetrics, was given a blessing by Elder Abraham H. Cannon, member of the Council of the Twelve and advisor to the school, and returned to Arizona with her boys. Shortly after her return to Arizona, she gave birth to twin girls. One of her daughters was kicked by a horse, another child nearly drowned, but somehow they survived. Two more girls were born, and when she was forty-three, Sarah gave birth to her last child, a healthy twelve-pounder.

Sarah continued her work as midwife for forty-five years until her death in 1940. During this time she delivered 1,500 babies and never lost a child or mother. Upon the urging of her patients and friends, she took other cases as well—typhoid fever, stomach trouble, and diphtheria. She wrote that she never lost a case of this type either.

Along that line, some years ago the congregational and evangelical churches of these western states—California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada—were holding a conference of their leaders and ministers in Salt Lake. The leader of the group wrote a letter to President McKay and asked him if he would send one of the General Authorities of the Church to attend the morning session of their conference and tell them the story of Mormonism, to be their guest for lunch, and to remain for an hour and a half in the afternoon and let them ask questions. I got the assignment, and I don’t mind telling you that I was happy to get it. I tell the missionaries you’ll never need to argue with anybody if you learn how to tell our story and you keep the lead. So when I arrived I said, “Do you want it just the way we got our Church and what we believe?”
The man in charge said, “That’s just what we want.”
Some of them wanted to get away on earlier planes to the Northwest, so they set the luncheon back half an hour so that they could give me two and a half hours in that morning meeting. I presented our message to them just about the same way that I have presented it in A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, which many of you have read, showing what we got by revelation rather than by reformation. The churches of this world have not been able to agree because they have not understood the scriptures as they have tried to interpret them; and no two of them can agree, so that has brought into the world many churches. But we have a gospel that has come directly from heaven. When I wrote A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, I predicated it on the thought that we are the only Christian church in the world that didn’t get our religion out of the Bible; we got it by revelation from heaven; then we use the Bible to prove that what we have is what we should have.
After I had presented what we got by revelation (and I’ve already referred to a little of that when I told you about my cousin who was in Norway), I said, “While I was the presiding bishop of the Church, we directed the building program of the Church. We had the plans prepared for the Los Angeles Temple. One day we showed those plans to the First Presidency. We had 84 pages about 4 feet long and 2 1/2 feet wide. We didn’t have the electric plans or the plumbing plans complete, and yet there was that temple built spiritually, and there was not a hole in the ground. You could take those plans and go all over the world and try to fit them to every building in the world, but there’s only one building they would fit, and that’s the Mormon temple in Los Angeles. Of course, you could find buildings that have material in them like the material in that temple, such as lumber, cement, tiling, electrical wiring, and plumbing, but you can’t find any other building in the world that those plans will fit except the Mormon temple in Los Angeles.”
Then I held up the Bible and said, “Here’s the Lord’s blueprint. Isaiah said the Lord had declared the end from the beginning. It’s all here when you know how to understand it. Isaiah said,
The grass withereth, and the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand forever. [Isaiah 40:8]
You could take this, the Lord’s blueprint, and try to fit it to every church in this world, but there’s only one church that it will fit, and that’s The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Of course, you can find other churches that have some of the same things in them like are in this blueprint, but you can’t find any other church that this, the Lord’s blueprint, will fit.”
Then I said, “Now, I’ll proceed to illustrate to you what I mean. In Farrar’s Life of Christ, he said there were two passages in the New Testament for which he could find no excuse. The first was John 10:16, where Jesus said,
Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.
I said, “Do any of you men know why that is in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Do any of you know any church in the world that does know why it’s in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it.” Then I tied it to what I’d told them about the promise of Moses to Joseph who was sold into Egypt of a new land separated from his brethren in the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills, and, describing that land, Moses used the word precious five times in just four little verses (see Deuteronomy 33:13–16).
“Do any of you know where the land of Joseph is?”
No answer.
“Do any of you know where any church in the world that does know where it is?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it,” I said. “It’s the land of America.” And then I led up to where the Lord commanded Ezekiel that the two records should be kept, one of Judah and his followers, the house of Israel, and one of Joseph and his followers, the house of Israel, and in the days of their children—that is in the latter days—when they would say,
Wilt thou not shew us what thou meanest by these?
Say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God; Behold, I will take the stick of Joseph, which is in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of Israel his fellows, and will put them with him, even with the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, and they shall be one in mine hand. [Ezekiel 37:18–19]
“Do any of you,” I said, “know where that stick or record of Joseph is that the Lord commanded should be written?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it; it’s the Book of Mormon. And when you get the Book of Mormon, you read about when Jesus visited his people here in the land of America, when he told them that they were the other sheep of whom he spoke to his disciples in Jerusalem. He said never at any time had the Lord commanded him to tell his disciples who the other sheep were, only that he had other sheep that were not of that fold.” See how beautifully the scriptures fit together when you understand them?
The second passage that Canon Farrar couldn’t understand is 1 Corinthians 15:29, where Paul said:
Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?
I said, “Do any of you know why that is in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Do any of you know of any church in the world that does know why that’s in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it.” Then I told them that Peter said that Jesus was
put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit:
By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison;
Which sometime were disobedient . . . in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water. [1 Peter 3:18–20]
“Now,” I said, “obviously if Jesus preached to them, his gospel was faith, repentance, baptism by immersion for the remission of sins, and the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost. And since you can’t baptize a spirit in water, the Lord had to give them a vicarious baptism of the living for the dead so that holy and sacred ordinance could be performed for them.” I went on to point out that Peter said,
For this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit. [1 Peter 4:6]
That helps you to understand what Jesus meant when he said:
The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live. [John 5:25]
The world has interpreted that to mean those who are dead in sin, but Jesus amplified it by saying:
Marvel not at this; for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the grave shall hear his voice. [John 5:28]
See how beautifully that fits together?
Then I gave those men some more passages concerning the kingdom that God was to set up in the latter days and the heavens that were to receive the Christ until the restitution of all things spoken by the mouths of all the holy prophets since the world began and then the angel that was to bring the gospel in the latter days to be preached to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people; and in each one I would say, “Do you know why these passages are in the scripture as part of the Lord’s blueprint? Do you know any church in the world that claims that these things have been fulfilled?” Do you see how beautifully the gospel and all these beautiful fulfillments of the words of the holy prophets fit together?
Toward the close of my remarks, the man in charge said, “Now, Mr. Richards, we’ve heard it said that you believe God has a wife. Would you explain that to us?” I think he thought he had me over a barrel or in a corner that I couldn’t get out of.
Rather facetiously I said, “Well, I don’t see how in the world God could have a son without a wife, do you?” They all began to twitter, and I didn’t have any trouble with that question.
Those ministers and church leaders wanted to have an hour and a half to ask questions, and after they had listened to me for two and a half hours, I got that one question from them, and that was the only one. The man in charge said when I left them, “Mr. Richards, this has been one of the most interesting experiences of my entire life.” No wonder Isaiah said it would be a marvelous work and a wonder. That’s what it is to me, and that’s what every missionary ought to make it be to those who are yet in darkness.

Brother Desmurs ended his portion of the tape recording by saying that he wished there were some way to tell all missionaries how important their work is, and not to get discouraged. He said they had found a member who had a picture of me, hung it in their living room, and asked every new missionary who came to Versailles if they knew me.
Brother Desmurs assured me that I would always be dear to their family because I had helped to plant the gospel seed, even though his own “soil” had not been very fertile at the time and the nurturing and harvesting had come much later. The family members each spoke in turn, thanking me and praying for the Lord’s blessings upon me.
As I finished listening to the recording, deeply affected by the words I had heard, I opened the French Book of Mormon they had mailed along with the tape. Inside was a picture of the Desmurs family along with their written testimony—a witness they had shared in this way with many of their countrymen.
I smiled through my tears. My missionary labors had gone full cycle. It had all begun with my own testimony of the Book of Mormon; no one knows where it will end. Indeed, how little any of us realize the effect our actions can have on the lives of others.

“Once, when I was about seven years old, Mother gave me a dollar bill and asked me to go to Joe Wood’s market to buy a pound of hamburger. As Joe Wood put the hamburger on the counter, I put my hand in my pocket for the money—but the dollar bill was gone! I just panicked. I said to him, ‘I’ll have to come back later,’ then ran out of the store and retraced my steps, looking for the money. I couldn’t find it. I got all the way back home without finding it.
“I couldn’t face Mother and tell her I’d lost the dollar, so I ducked under the kitchen window and went around to the coal shed. I knelt down on the ground and told Heavenly Father that I just had to find that money. Then I crawled back under the window and went down the street again. There in the parking lot I found the dollar! Gratefully, I picked it up and went into the store to pay Joe Wood his money and get the hamburger.

Let’s go back 60 years. The minutes of the Wandamere Ward of the Grant Stake for June 4, 1944, indicate the sacrament was administered by my friends Ward Jackson, Arthur Hicks, and me to a congregation of 141. Then it was off to war. In May of 1945, I was blessing the sacrament again—but in a foxhole on Okinawa for a congregation of only one—myself!

The training of my youth took over without fanfare—something only partially appreciated by me then—including abstaining from coffee in those same circumstances when water was scarce and highly chlorinated.
I do not know what lies ahead of you young men, but my advice would be to fasten your seat belts and hold on firmly to your principles!

This story happened in El Salvador.

Gerardo roller-skated to the front steps of his house. Mamá’s car was in the driveway. That meant she and his older brother, Alejandro, were back from the doctor. Gerardo pulled off his skates and raced inside.

“Gerardo?” Mamá called. “We’re in here!”

Gerardo walked into the family room. Alejandro was lying on the couch. Mamá sat next to him. She looked worried.

Gerardo was worried too. Last week, they found out that Alejandro had cancer. He was very sick.

But Alejandro sat up and smiled when Gerardo came in. “Hi! Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, but how was the doctor’s?” Gerardo asked.

“He says I’ll have to get surgery,” Alejandro said.

Mamá nodded. “But the best doctors to help him are at the children’s hospital. Since Alejandro is 14, he’s too old to get care there. We’ll have to find somewhere else.”

Gerardo’s stomach tightened. If they couldn’t get help for Alejandro, what would happen? Would Alejandro’s cancer get worse?

Gerardo went to his room. He needed to think.

In Primary, Gerardo learned that Heavenly Father would always hear him. Gerardo knew he could always ask Him for help.

So he knelt by his bed and folded his arms. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help Alejandro,” he prayed. “Please help us find doctors that can do the surgery.”

Soon Mamá called him for dinner. She had made pupusas, Gerardo’s favorite. He took a big bite of the thick, grilled tortilla filled with cheese and beans. But he still felt worried about his brother.

Alejandro only took a few bites of his pupusa. He was frowning and moving very slowly.

Mamá must have noticed too. “Why don’t we watch a Church video?” she asked. They liked watching videos about Jesus Christ when they felt sad.

“OK.” Gerardo cleared the dishes while Mamá got the video ready. Then they all sat down to watch.

In the video, Jesus Christ prayed in a garden by a tree. Gerardo knew this story. It was when Jesus suffered before He died on the cross.

When the video ended, Gerardo felt quiet and peaceful. But he had a question. “Why did Jesus have to hurt so much?” he asked.

Mamá held him and Alejandro close. “Jesus chose to feel the hurt because He loves us. He felt all the pain we go through.”

Gerardo looked at Alejandro. “Does Jesus know what it feels like to have cancer?”

“Yes, He does,” said Mamá. “He knows how hard it is. And because He knows what it feels like, He knows how to help us.”

Gerardo felt warm inside, like he was wrapped in a big blanket. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ knew and loved his family. They knew how to help Alejandro.

When Gerardo got home from school the next day, he found Mamá packing a bag.

“Good news!” she said. “I talked to the doctor at the children’s hospital. They are going to help Alejandro. He will have surgery tomorrow.”

Gerardo gave Mamá a big hug. “Heavenly Father is helping us! Can we pray and thank Him?”

“Great idea,” said Mamá. “Let’s get Alejandro.”

As they prayed together, Gerardo felt peaceful. Heavenly Father had heard his prayer! Now Alejandro would get the surgery he needed. Gerardo knew Jesus Christ understood what they were going through. And He would always help them through their trials.

Tetsuko lived by a high mountain in Japan. She was going to school for the first time. Excited, she dressed quickly in her new school uniform. Then she began to feel sick, and she didn’t feel like eating breakfast.
Okasan (Mother) asked, “Do you feel sick, Tetsuko?”
“Yes. My stomach hurts, and I don’t think I will be able to go to school today.” She started to cry.
Otosan (Father) took her hand in his and said, “I think I know what might be wrong with you. This is your first day of school. You will be away from home all day, and you don’t know what to expect. I had the same feeling when I started my job. Would you like me to give you a special father’s blessing?”
Tetsuko nodded.
Otosan placed his hands upon her head and gave her a blessing. He thanked Heavenly Father for her and for the happiness she brought them. He blessed her to feel better, to not be afraid, and to feel peace in her heart.
Tetsuko left for school. That afternoon she ran into the house, calling “Okasan! Okasan! I’m home. It was fun at school. My teacher is nice, and I met some new friends.”
Her mother pulled her close and said, “I’m happy you had such a good day and that Otosan was able to give you a special blessing.”

One missionary, Matte Te?o, was severely burned before leaving Samoa, but he came to Hawaii anyway. Doctors feared his charred hand might need to be amputated. Many of his fellow missionaries prayed for him. While in the temple, Brother Te?o cried out to the Lord, “Touch this hand.” “Fix this hand so I can help whatever little bit I can.” He began to heal immediately. Today his hand bears no scar. He now serves as a sealer in the Laie Hawaii Temple and says, “This temple … has a powerful influence throughout these communities not only here, but throughout the Pacific” (in Christensen, Stories of the Temple in L??ie, Hawai?i, 328–330).

The first time I went on a date with the man who would eventually become my husband, I didn’t feel a spark.
And I reacted how you’d probably expect—I assumed that meant we were incompatible, and I moved on.
But years later, after a series of events that I can only describe as divine intervention, we reconnected. And this time, we fell in love and got married.
So what happened? I’d heard from all my married friends and family members that I would “just know” when I met the right one, and I clearly didn’t on that first date.
To give you a little bit of background, my future husband and I met when he served his mission in my ward. Years later, he reached out over social media. We talked through texting and video calls, but he lived on a different island than me, so it was hard to meet up in person.
When we finally did meet to go on an official date, we’d been talking for about a year, and we had a lot of expectations for how this first date would go.
But we hadn’t seen each other in person for years, and truthfully, we both felt awkward.
Things didn’t feel as amazing or exciting as we’d been anticipating. So after I got back home, as I was busy with a new job and he was juggling life as a medical student, our communication just fizzled out. There was no magical connection, so why should I bother?
Three years passed, and he ended up doing his medical residency within a couple hours of where I lived—close enough that we were now in the same boundaries for YSA conferences.
I know this sounds crazy, but as I sat in the back of one of the conference events, I looked over and saw him. And suddenly, all I could see was him, and I felt this impression from the Spirit:
“He’s the right one.”
What?
I sat there, stunned. Why was I getting this answer now—after years had passed? And what was I supposed to do about it?
Turns out, even with an answer that clear and miraculous, we still needed to get to know each other. He asked me out again; I accepted. Then we kept going on more dates. And as we gave ourselves time to get to know each other instead of relying on an instantaneous connection, we developed something deep and real.
So what about that elusive spark?
Why wasn’t it there the first time?
If you don’t feel one on a first date, does that mean that any potential romantic relationship is doomed?
These are all good questions. And I don’t have the answers to all of them. But here are a few more questions to consider when you’re interested in someone but don’t necessarily feel an immediate connection:
Does this person motivate and inspire me to be the best version of myself?
Do I know what I’m truly looking for in a spouse?
Do I know my true worth as a child of God? And does this person recognize my worth?
Have I sought confirmation from the Spirit that this is a good person for me to date?
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Become that which you seek. Look for someone with whom you can grow together. Grow together means each of you grows as an individual spiritually, intellectually, socially. But grow together also means you fulfill your full potential as you grow together as a couple and as a family.
I don’t want to downplay the desire for attraction and compatibility with your spouse. Of course you should seek someone you think is interesting, kind, attractive, funny, whatever attributes you feel will make life on the covenant path more joyful and wonderful.
But if you find yourself anxiously analyzing a first date, wondering if you felt the “right” things and what they all mean, remember that “God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). If you trust that you have a sound mind and can receive personal revelation, you can slow down, fully understand your feelings, and take the time you need to decide if you can see a future with someone.
Real, true love is so much more than just a spark.

And I have seen it in young fathers trying to provide for their families. In that regard I once terrifyingly saw it in myself. At one point in our married life when financial fears collided with staggering fatigue, I took a psychic blow that was as unanticipated as it was real. With the grace of God and the love of my family, I kept functioning and kept working, but even after all these years I continue to feel a deep sympathy for others more chronically or more deeply afflicted with such gloom than I was. In any case we have all taken courage from those who, in the words of the Prophet Joseph, “search[ed] … and contemplate[d] the darkest abyss” and persevered through it—not the least of whom were Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Elder George Albert Smith, the latter being one of the most gentle and Christlike men of our dispensation, who battled recurring depression for some years before later becoming the universally beloved eighth prophet and President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Recently I was in the temple with others to witness a marriage. In the company was a couple who had been pleading with Heavenly Father to help resolve a particular family problem—in spite of their prayers, the condition was not resolved as they had hoped. I noticed this couple stealing away to a quiet room in the temple, where I sensed they laid their trials again before the Lord. They were not bitter. They only wanted to endure whatever the Lord would have them endure. The Lord himself set the example as we recall the events in Gethsemane that caused him to utter, “Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt” (Matthew 26:39).

During one conference in Poland in 2010, I met Radu. He was from Romania. We talked briefly, but he soon left on his mission and our paths didn’t cross again until another YSA conference three years later. There we had the time to actually get to know each other a little bit, but I was leaving on my own mission a month later. Radu wished me all the best and said, “Let’s keep in touch.” I didn’t really think he would, but he did. He wrote me letters throughout my mission. There was nothing romantic in his letters, but he became one of my dear friends. And I loved the respect he had for me and for missionary work in general.
When I returned home, Radu and I were both very excited to properly get to know each other—we could finally make it happen after so many years! We picked an affordable place for both of us to meet (which was Belgium at the time) to spend some time together. We talked and talked and talked some more.
We didn’t put any pressure on our relationship. We focused on building a friendship and simply getting to know each other. We always had so much fun together, but we also had very meaningful and profound discussions about the things that matter most. Over the next while, our friendship grew stronger. We Skyped almost daily, and over time we started saying nightly prayers together. We eventually started visiting each other’s country every few months.
After a while, I started feeling anxious because I felt like our friendship was developing into something more. But he was from Romania! I didn’t want to get into a long-distance relationship because a relationship could lead to marriage, which meant one of us would have to move to another country. I didn’t feel ready for that.
One day when I was feeling particularly anxious, Radu reminded me of a simple yet powerful principle. He said, “Let’s pray about our relationship and see how we feel.”
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought about praying about our relationship earlier. But that was the best advice I received at the time. So I prayed for guidance.
I didn’t expect any specific answer at that moment, but I decided to keep moving forward with getting to know Radu. I hoped Heavenly Father would give me a warning if our relationship wasn’t something I should continue. But over time, the answer I had asked for did come. I had conversations about Radu with my family and friends, and in every conversation I was reassured I was going in the right direction.
Soon I had a funny realization. After having yet another great Skype call with Radu one night, I said to myself, “He really is the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to be his friend forever!” That’s when it hit me. Immediately a voice in my head replied to my own comment, “Well, then you need to marry him!” I knew that Heavenly Father was smiling upon my relationship with Radu. I could see that he was my best friend and that we could be happy together.
So I moved to Romania and married Radu. Never in my mind had I thought I would end up in Romania. But we’ve been married for four years now, and we have a wonderful daughter, Amelia.
I know what you’re thinking—I’m just another one of those young single adults who met my “soul mate” at a YSA conference and things worked out effortlessly. But that’s not true. The reason I tell you this story is for you to stop pressuring yourself to find your eternal companion and instead let God guide you.
Did I go to those YSA conferences to find a husband? No.
Did I think that one of the guys I met there would become my husband? Not really.
Instead I took the pressure off finding whom I wanted to marry and I simply went to these conferences to connect with others and build friendships—which was exactly what Radu and I did in the beginning.
The pressure to find our eternal companion as soon as possible can be so real sometimes. But there is no time limit on eternal relationships. There’s no need to stress over it. Life isn’t about getting married, but rather becoming the best version of ourselves and letting God work His plan in our lives. Yes, we should all go out there, show up, meet people, make new friends, and get out of our comfort zones. But we should do so with the thought, “I’m going to have fun and meet some great friends” rather than “I have to keep my eyes open to find ‘the one’ or I’m going to mess up my entire life plan!”
One thing Radu told me when we were engaged was that although he usually felt a bit stressed around girls he liked, he didn’t feel that way with me. He said because of our friendship, he always felt relaxed and like he could always be himself.
So look for good people to surround yourself with and enjoy where you are now. Because honestly, when you stop stressing out and just choose to build friendships and learn to love who and where you are, that’s when life becomes much more enjoyable.
Radu and I aren’t perfect. We weren’t really looking for the “perfect” person—we were just being ourselves. What I’ve observed is that who you truly are and how you live is what is most attractive to others. When you strive to follow Jesus Christ, you will attract others who are doing their best to follow Him as well.
I’ve also learned that as we become better and have full faith that God is in charge, we will invite His hand into our lives—and when we recognize His hand, there is no need to fear for the future. Remember what the Lord taught Nephi: “And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led” (1 Nephi 17:13).
We weren’t meant to put constant pressure on ourselves for not meeting certain expectations or milestones in our own time frame. Truly, Heavenly Father’s time is different than ours—it’s eternal. He has a plan for us to fulfill every blessing we seek. And when we do our best to trust His plan and find fulfillment in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, that’s when we will find true happiness. His plan will always be better than the one we have for ourselves.

I remember a critical time in my life and how grateful I was when a still, small voice gave me direction to make an important decision. I had been with a retail firm for a number of years. We had enjoyed extraordinary success. We wanted to expand the business but needed a great deal of capital. In an attempt to raise the money, we contacted the best financial advisers we could find. They encouraged us to merge with a larger firm. The merger was successfully completed, and I was asked to sign a five-year contract to give continuity to management. Within a matter of months I found myself in a very difficult situation. The new owners wanted me to violate a trust that I felt I just could not do. After long discussions, they continued to insist and I continued to refuse. Seeing there was no way to break the deadlock, I agreed to leave the company. The timing for me was devastating. I had a wife who was seriously ill and required a lot of medical attention, a daughter away to college, and a son on a mission. I spent the next year just getting enough consulting work to pay my expenses.
After struggling for about one year, a company called me from California and invited me to come out and talk to them about working for them. I went out and negotiated a very good contract; I was delighted with the opportunity. I told them that I had to return home and discuss it with my family before I could give an answer. I returned home and after a careful discussion, I convinced my family that it was the right thing to do. In the process of calling the firm to accept the offer, a voice just as strong and powerful as I have ever heard came to me and said, “Say no to the offer.” I could not ignore the voice, so I turned the offer down, but I was distressed. I could not comprehend why I had been told to do such a thing. I went upstairs to my bedroom, sat on the bed, opened the scriptures, and they fell open to the Doctrine and Covenants, section 111. This was the only section given in the state of Massachusetts, where my home was at that particular time. These words literally jumped out of the page and met my eye:
“Concern not yourselves about your debts, … I will give you power to pay them. …
“Tarry in this place, and in the regions round about” (D&C 111:5, 7).
A great peace came to my soul. Within just a few days I was offered a fine position in Boston. A few months later I had the great privilege of hosting a conference in which President Harold B. Lee, then First Counselor in the First Presidency, was the featured speaker. The conference was a glorious success as we feasted on the words of President Lee. The following July, President Joseph Fielding Smith passed away and President Lee became the prophet. Three months later I was asked to come to Salt Lake, where I received a call to leave my profession and join the General Authorities.
I have often wondered what would have happened if I had not heeded the Holy Spirit in its counseling me not to leave Boston.

Devon, it is time to get ready for prayer.
But I am ready.
No, Devon. You should kneel, fold your arms, and close your eyes when you pray. You should also be still. It shows respect for Heavenly Father.
Devon dropped his toy truck, folded his arms, and knelt next to Mom.
How does Heavenly Father listen to me? Does He have ears?
Yes, He does have ears. He listens when you say your prayers.
Devon said his prayer and stayed on his knees with his head bowed and arms folded for a few seconds after he had finished.
He’s not talking back. Are you sure He is listening?
Heavenly Father usually answers our prayers by talking to our hearts and minds rather than talking to our ears. He does this through the Holy Ghost.
Devon, how do you feel when you share?
Happy.
And how do you feel when you do something wrong—like throw your toys?
I feel bad.
The Holy Ghost helps us have these feelings to let us know right and wrong. He also helps us have ideas about what things we can do to be happier.
There are other ways we can know Heavenly Father is listening. Remember how He helped Grandma feel better after she got a priesthood blessing?
Yes, I’m glad Grandma felt better.
Just because you do not hear Heavenly Father talking to you, that does not mean that He isn’t listening. He sends you warm, good feelings to let you know He is there.
Devon felt happy.
Now I know, Mom. Heavenly Father does listen to me.

When I was in high school, one of my friends invited me to a party and said, “Let’s go ask my father if we can borrow his car.” His father did not want to let him borrow the car. Then, when his father saw me, he said, “OK, I’ll let you borrow the car, but only if Benjamín will drive.”
This man knew that my family and I were members of the Church, that we didn’t drink alcohol, and that I would be a safe driver.
The reaction of my friend’s father helped me appreciate my parents’ teachings and the example they set. At home we had family home evening and family prayer. Sunday was a day of rest for us. These types of things were the gospel in action for us, and we enjoyed it a lot. My father often invited other members of the Church to come to our house to talk about the gospel on Sunday afternoons. We ate together, we talked about the gospel, and we shared a close friendship.

Of my parents’ three daughters, I am the middle one. It wasn’t until the dawn of a January morning that a fourth child, a son, was born. David seemed just like any other newborn to me—tiny, chubby, and fun. By virtue of my being merely a first-grader when he was born, my parents found no reason for telling me then that my baby brother was “different.” Hindsight tells me that it would only have compounded their already-numbed feelings to explain to me what they could hardly believe themselves. Besides, I was too young, and the word mongoloid would not have meant a thing to me. All I knew, or cared about then, was that my little brother was beautiful!
We grew to love him. He was a kind, loving, and cheerful child. It was not until I was in the sixth grade that David’s difference caused any concern to me at all. It was at the end of that school year that my class was visited by the principal. She asked those of us who had brothers or sisters who were or would be five years old next fall to raise our hands. I raised mine, and just as she counted it, I was prompted to ask something. I hesitated a split second, thinking that I should not even bother her with such a question. But, as she counted my hand, I asked, “Does this school allow mongoloids?” When I heard the words, “No, I’m sorry,” I took my hand down, wondering numbly why they would not let my brother come to their school. My naiveté about David had been shattered.
As the years passed, David was continually shunned by the majority of the neighborhood children. They had been warned by fearful parents. More than once our front door was darkened by an irate mother who told my mother to keep David away from her young ones.
It often seemed that if I would look into his eyes, I could see him peering over his inner wall of quietness with the tender, smiling eyes of someone who really knows a great deal more than will ever be credited to him. I wished that I could step inside that wall and talk with him for just one hour.
These past years have seen my family pass through many sorrows because of David’s difference. But to say that his presence with us has been destructive would be false. Rather, his presence has been like a powerful steel cable strongly binding our family together. As a family we are close, and because David is a part of it, we have learned real love, sweet patience, a pure and undefiled faith, and a tender, guileless approach to life. Still a child, even though he has passed into the age of adulthood, he continues in his innocent state. He is my brother. He is my friend. Heaven itself was granted to my family in this one single gift.
I know that in the bright hereafter I will finally be allowed to pass through David’s wall. I hope he will take me by the hand and sit with me, and I will ask him to share his world with me—his bit of heaven.

On that first Sunday of the member-missionary class, our teacher asked us to commit to the Lord to give away one copy of the Book of Mormon during the next week and each following week. Even though I was still fearful at the time, I did accept the challenge. By the middle of the week it was clear to me whom I should share a copy with.
We had hired an older man to do some work for us. From his very first day, I felt he was an honest man of good character. On the morning of his last day with us, I prayed to Heavenly Father and received a confirmation that this individual should receive a copy of the Book of Mormon. I also prayed for guidance from the Holy Ghost on how to approach the man—and for the confidence I needed to talk to him about the book. I prepared a Book of Mormon with my testimony and anxiously awaited our visit.
That evening, when he finished working, I invited the man to sit down, offered him a glass of water, and asked, “Has anyone ever told you why Mormons are called ‘Mormons’?” (This was an approach we had learned in the member-missionary class.)
When he said no, I asked, “Would you be offended if I offered to tell you?”
“No, go right ahead,” he answered.
After a friendly fifteen-minute talk about the Book of Mormon, I offered him my prepared copy and asked if he would read it. I promised him that if he read it prayerfully he would know, as I did, that it is true. He said he would do it. We then parted, still friends. He wasn’t offended, and I didn’t feel that I had been aggressive.