Gospel Story Finder

Gérald Caussé was still establishing his career in the food-distribution industry in France at age 33 when the president of his company called him aside. He had noticed Gérald’s spiritual convictions and his ability to make sound judgments and unify employees—traits developed through activity, service, and leadership in the Church. The president concluded that Gérald was a man he could trust.
To his surprise, Gérald was soon given the responsibility of managing 1,800 employees. By the time he was called to serve as a General Authority Seventy a decade later, in April 2008, he was managing several food-distribution companies.

David J. Zirker, 15, was named the Arizona state champion in his age group at the United States Gymnastics Federation meet held in Tucson. He came in first in floor exercise, pommel horse, still rings, and vaults.
For David, the championship has been the highlight of more than a year of hard work. David has been persistent in learning the skills he needed to be a gymnast. At the same time his grades in school have improved, and he has completed the requirements for his Eagle badge.
In addition to gymnastics, David plays in the school orchestra and plays the piano for seminary and priesthood meetings. He does not participate in Sunday meets and does not work out on Sundays.

Wong Yun Tai remembers the warm September evening in 1984 when her life changed. The Wong family live on the 21st floor of the Wu Yuet House, a government housing project in the Tuen Mun area of Hong Kong’s New Territories. That evening, 15-year-old Wong Yun Tai, who goes by the English name Belle, was eating dinner when a knock came at her door. Two strangers wearing white shirts, ties, and curious black name tags were at the door. They talked to her through the metal gate that remained locked even though the door was open.
Belle was busy eating, so she told her two visitors to come back in an hour. “I was interested in religion, and I really wanted to know what was true. I was just like Joseph Smith. I really wanted to know which church was God’s true church,” recalls Belle.
When the missionaries returned, she listened politely to their message. Afterward, they gave her a Book of Mormon to read, said a prayer, and then left. It was a simple meeting, but it had a powerful effect on Belle. “When I prayed, I had a very unique, good feeling in my heart,” she says.
A month later, Belle was baptized. Then the real work began. Belle, the second oldest child of Wong Hong Tsuen and Wong Leung Nan Ho, wanted her parents and brothers and sisters to experience the same gospel joy that had become such an important part of her life. She began sharing what she had learned.
Now, more than a decade later, she’s still sharing. Since those humble beginnings, seven of the eight Wong children have joined the Church, as have Mom and Dad. Belle served a mission in Hong Kong. So did two younger sisters, Angela and May.
The example Belle set for her family has made a big impression on her youngest sister, Wong Cho Ho—who goes by the English name of Rambo—and her younger brother, Wong Wah Kan (Simon), both of whom are now teenagers.
“Before I was a member, I’d always notice Belle,” says Simon, who was baptized in 1992. “She wasn’t lazy. Every Sunday she’d get up and go to church. When Belle was a missionary, she was a good example to my family and she helped us.”
Rambo, who adopted her unique English name several years ago, also credits her sister’s influence in her own conversion. “When I was younger, I began going to church with Belle each Sunday, even though I hadn’t been baptized,” she recalls, “but I wouldn’t take the sacrament.”
This is where the story takes an ironic twist.
“A lot of members of the ward would look at me and think I was a member,” she continues. “They would ask me to be a fellowshipper for the missionaries’ investigators, even though I was still an investigator myself. As I got older, my testimony began to develop, and I learned more about the Church.”
When Rambo was finally baptized in 1990, she joined Belle in teaching gospel principles to their other sisters, Mandy, May, Angela, and Agnes, as well as to Simon. She also continued “officially” fellowshipping other investigators at church each Sunday. “When I was a kid, I liked to play and have fun. But when I got older, I received a testimony—a true testimony —and I wanted to share it,” Rambo says.
One of the first people Rambo wanted to share the gospel with was her sister Agnes. She invited Agnes to church. “When I first went to church,” says Agnes, who is two years older than Rambo, “I was pretty bored. I liked to talk to the missionaries, but I didn’t like to talk about the Church. But Rambo would try to help me understand more about the gospel. Finally I decided to investigate the Church because Belle was so serious and made so many sacrifices for the Church, and I could see what the Church was beginning to mean to Rambo.”
Rambo also talked about the gospel with Simon and helped him with his decision to be baptized.
And so the sharing went: Two missionaries talked to Belle. Belle joined the Church and began fellowshipping Rambo. Rambo was baptized and began talking about the gospel with Agnes and Simon. Agnes and Simon were baptized, and they were followed by Mandy, the Wongs’ oldest daughter, and May, Angela, and their parents.
Simon likes to think back to the time when he began seriously investigating the gospel. He remembers praying for the first time. “I didn’t know how to pray or what I should say,” he remembers. “But I always felt good when I prayed.”
Before Simon joined the Church, Sundays were reserved for rest and relaxation. He would generally sleep in, then get up and play soccer with his friends. These days, his friends don’t even bother asking him to play games on the Sabbath. “I’ve already told them I don’t do that, and they understand why I don’t and what I do instead,” he says. Sundays for Simon generally consist of attending church meetings and reading the scriptures. “I love studying in the Book of Mormon—especially about Lehi and the faith he had. My own faith isn’t great, so it’s good for me to read about someone who was so strong.”
Belle loves to talk about the positive impact the gospel has had on her family, but she deflects any credit given to her. Instead, she says, “I don’t know how much help I’ve been to my family, but I do know Heavenly Father has helped my family a lot.”
Her family disagrees with Belle’s assessment of her role. Each night as they sit down to dinner, they look at one another and see living proof of Belle’s gospel-sharing legacy.

If you’ve ever taken seminary, I’m sure you remember the case studies that are included in the lessons to help us liken the scriptures unto us. And if you remember them, then no doubt you remember the one concerning what you would do if your friends asked you to cheat on an important test or you would be tempted to cheat yourself. If you’re like me, it was all black and white, and you said you would do the noble thing, the right thing.
Probably like many of us, I never really thought of these situations as something that would ever happen. It was too easy. Who wouldn’t do the right thing? Well, just a week ago, I was faced with this problem. It was the week for nine-week exams. Being a senior, I knew these tests were important; not only do they decide who passes and graduates but they are also recorded on our transcripts, the same transcripts that are sent to colleges. The night before the two tests that were going to give me problems—Advanced Chemistry and Economics—a friend called on the phone. She told me that two classmates had stolen copies of both of the tests. She had copies and would give me some early the next morning. Because she was in a hurry, my friend didn’t give me a chance to answer, which was just as well since I didn’t know what to say.
What a dilemma! Even though I was considered the best student in my class, I knew those tests would be tough. Oh, I knew I would pass even if I failed the tests, but I wanted so badly to keep that prestigious 4.0 average. I also knew I was the only LDS student in my school. It had been a worthwhile struggle to let everyone know what Mormons really believe. In fact, whenever a new person questioned me about the Church in front of my friends, it was my friends who hastened to tell my beliefs before I could answer.
All evening I thought about my problem. I tried to concentrate on how important it was for me to do well on these tests, but a thought kept nagging at me. For four years I had taken seminary and answered those case studies of how I would react in a situation exactly like this. Was I going to betray my standards after telling my friends what being a Mormon was all about? Was I now going to be a hypocrite? I decided to resist the temptation. I prayed to my Heavenly Father to make me strong and able to stand by my convictions.
At school the next morning my friend tried to give me a copy of the tests. I refused. She looked at me like I was crazy but said nothing. Later I realized that my friends had expected me to answer the questions on the stolen copies and then let a student who worked in the office run them off on the school copier for the rest of the class. I would like to say that I was looked upon as a hero, but, as it was, some of my classmates were angry with me. My true friends didn’t hold it against me. The students who had stolen the tests had my friend answer the questions and passed copies around to everyone in the class except for me and the local preacher’s son, who had also refused to get involved. I thank him for standing with me. No one ever likes to be alone. I wish I could say that I passed my tests with flying colors, but I only made an 82 on my Advanced Chemistry test. Nevertheless, I am proud of that 82.
The grades are not important when I realize that I passed an even greater test, a test of character, thanks to the gospel and seminary.

My dad invited a woman he worked with and her husband to come over for dinner on Thursday to meet with the missionaries, but on Wednesday they called to cancel. The elders couldn’t come over without a nonmember present, so I quickly called my best friend, Ashley, to see if she would come over for dinner the next night. She agreed, and I told her that the missionaries would be over for dinner as well.
Thursday night came, and we all sat down for dinner. I had told the elders that Ashley was just here to meet them and not for a lesson. But after dinner they proceeded with the first discussion. I could tell Ashley was caught off guard. I was thinking, “Oh, dear. Ashley is going to be mad at me because this is not what I told her they were going to do.” But I didn’t stop the elders from teaching, and Ashley didn’t either, so I let them continue.
Ashley answered the elders’ questions and seemed very interested. My nervousness started to go away. Throughout the lesson the Spirit was present, and there was no denying it. I knew Ashley felt it too. The lesson ended, and the elders asked to set up another appointment. She agreed, and we decided to meet the following Tuesday. The elders gave her a Book of Mormon and a chapter to read.
When I walked Ashley out to her car, she gave me a hug, said thank you, and started crying. She said she had been looking for something and had been waiting for me to ask her if she wanted to learn about my Church. I told Ashley that I had felt for a long time that I should ask her, but I never knew how.
With her parents’ permission, Ashley took all the discussions with the missionaries and was baptized within a short time. Her baptism was amazing, and the Spirit was so strong. What I really learned through this experience is that Heavenly Father is preparing people all the time to hear the gospel, and He had been preparing Ashley. I felt the prompting many times to invite Ashley to learn about the Church but never acted upon it. If my dad’s friends had not canceled, I probably still wouldn’t have asked Ashley to learn more. The Lord took it into His own hands. Now Ashley has the fulness of the gospel.

A number of years ago, a one-inch article in my local newspaper caught my attention, and I have remembered it ever since: “Four people were killed and seven workers were rescued after clinging for more than an hour to the underside of a 125-foot-high [38-m] bridge in St. Catharines, Ontario, [Canada,] after the scaffolding they were working on collapsed” (“News Capsules,” Deseret News, June 9, 1993, A2).
I was, and I continue to be, fascinated by this brief story. Shortly after reading this account, I called a family friend who lived in St. Catharines. She explained that the workers had been painting the Garden City Skyway bridge for about a year and were two weeks short of completing the project when the accident happened. After the accident, officials were asked why these men did not have any safety equipment. The answer was simple: they had the equipment; they just chose not to wear it. After the scaffolding gave way, the survivors held on to a one-inch (2.5-cm) lip of steel girder and stood on an eight-inch (20-cm) ledge of steel for over an hour until rescue teams could reach them. One survivor related that as he clung to the bridge, he thought a lot about his family. He said, “I just thank the Lord for me being here today. … It was pretty scary, I tell you” (in Rick Bogacz, “Skyway Horror,” Standard, June 9, 1993).
My life is not perfect. I deal with many of the same challenges. We all do. I know that the temptations of the adversary and the difficulties of mortality are ever present and beset each of us. I concur with the rescued worker’s expression of his dangerous experience of holding on to that steel girder: “It [is] pretty scary, I tell you.”

Despite these actions, the event that precipitated the Saints’ eviction from Missouri occurred four years later on election day, 6 August 1838, in Gallatin, county seat of Daviess County. A scuffle arose when the Saints were not allowed to vote. No one was killed, and although Joseph had not been present at the scene of trouble, rumors accusing him of having killed seven men at the polls soon spread.
A few days later, Joseph was at his parents’ home when a company of armed men stopped at the house. Eight officers entered and, while speaking with Joseph’s mother, assured her that they would kill “Joe Smith and all the Mormons.” She denied that Joseph was in the county when the men were allegedly killed. “Furthermore,” she said, “if you should see him, you would not want to kill him.”
“‘Gentlemen,’” her narrative continues, “‘suffer me to make you acquainted with Joseph Smith, the Prophet.’ They stared at him as if he were a spectre. He smiled, and stepping towards them, gave each of them his hand, in a manner which convinced them that he was neither a guilty criminal nor yet a hypocrite.
“Joseph then sat down and explained to them the views … of the Church, and what their course had been; besides the treatment which they had received from their enemies since the first. He also argued, that if any of the brethren had broken the law, they ought to be tried by the law, before anyone else was molested. After talking with them some time in this way, he said, ‘Mother, I believe I will go home now—Emma will be expecting me.’ At this two of the men sprang to their feet, and declared that he should not go alone, as it would be unsafe—that they would go with him, in order to protect him. Accordingly the three left together, and during their absence, I overheard the following conversation among the officers, who remained at the door:
“lst Officer. ‘Did you not feel strangely when Smith took you by the hand? I never felt so in my life.’
“2nd Officer. ‘I could not move. I would not harm a hair of that man’s head for the whole world.’
“3rd Officer. ‘This is the last time you will catch me coming to kill Joe Smith, or the “Mormons” either.’
“lst Officer. ‘I guess this is about my last expedition against this place. I never saw a more harmless, innocent appearing man than the “Mormon” Prophet.’
“2nd Officer. ‘That story about his killing them men is all a … lie—there is no doubt of it; and we have had all this trouble for nothing; but they will never fool me in this way again; I’ll warrant them.’
“The men who went home with my son promised to disband the militia under them and go home, which they accordingly did.”5

When I was 11 years old, something else happened that helped build my testimony. My family was having a fun summer weekend at our cabin in the mountains. On Saturday night a man showed up at our cabin door with some bad news. He told us our home in Salt Lake City had caught on fire and most of it had been destroyed.

Fire can be scary. I was very upset that our home was gone. But then my father did something I’ve never forgotten. He gathered our family of eight around him and said a beautiful prayer. He told Heavenly Father how grateful he was that our family was safe.

As my father prayed, my heart again felt that same warm feeling that I’d had in stake conference when I was five years old. I knew that when we returned to our burned home, our friends and family would be there to help. And they were. They gave us food and clothing. And they helped us rebuild our home.

How grateful I was for my parents’ faith and the example of their testimonies. The fire destroyed many precious things. But because of the Holy Ghost, I was blessed with a more precious possession—my own testimony.

One came in the October 1856 general conference as President Brigham Young announced to the congregation that handcart pioneers were still on the trail and late in the season. He declared: “Your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the celestial kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains, and attend strictly to those things which we call temporal, … otherwise your faith will be in vain.”2
We remember with grateful admiration the men who headed off to rescue those suffering Saints. But what did the sisters do?
“Sister [Lucy Meserve] Smith recorded … that after President Young’s exhortation, those in attendance took action. … Women ‘[removed] their petticoats [large underskirts that were part of the fashion of the day and that also provided warmth], stockings, and every thing they could spare, right there in the [old] Tabernacle, and piled [them] into the wagons to send to the Saints in the mountains.’”3
Several weeks later, President Brigham Young gathered the Saints again in the old Tabernacle as the rescuers and the handcart companies got closer to Salt Lake City. With great urgency, he pleaded with the Saints—especially the sisters—to nurse the sufferers and feed them and receive them, saying: “Some you will find with their feet frozen to their ankles; some are frozen to their knees and some have their hands frosted. … We want you to receive them as your own children, and to have the same feeling for them.”4
Lucy Meserve Smith also recorded:
“We did all we could, with the aid of the good brethren and sisters, to comfort the needy. … They got their hands and feet badly frosted. … We did not cease our exertions [un]til all were made comfortable. …
“I never took more satisfaction and, I might say, pleasure in any labor I ever performed in my life, such a unanimity of feeling prevailed. …
“What comes next for willing hands to do?”5

Some time ago, I received a copy of the April 1997 De Ster (Dutch). As usual, I took a break from my daily chores to start reading this magazine. The cover of the children’s section caught my eye. It portrayed Jesus Christ with a little girl. Although I’m a grown woman and the mother of two children, I desired at that moment to be that little girl—safe in the Savior’s arms.
I couldn’t get that picture out of my mind the entire day. I wanted to put my arms around my own children and let them know I love them. I felt good knowing that they trust me, but it was even better knowing that they trust the Lord.
As I prayed at the close of the day, for a brief moment I felt as if His arms were indeed around me. Inside I felt at peace.
Annelies Prent-Pellis,Dordrecht Branch, Rotterdam Netherlands Stake

“After keeping record of my time spent on social media for the first week, I was a little shocked at the amount of time I spent on my phone. It was definitely a good idea for me to use some of that time for the Book of Mormon, especially because diligently reading scriptures is not one of my strengths.
“Ironically, one of the first days I read my scriptures in the morning was a terrible day. However, I knew that reading scriptures would only improve my life, so I kept reading.
“I think the greatest impact from reading every day was that I felt much more in tune with the Spirit. I was able to make decisions much easier. I felt more love for the people around me and an increased desire to serve. When I read my scriptures in the morning, the day went so much better. When I read at night, I slept well. I would strongly recommend that everyone try this. What a difference it makes!”
Bryn C., age 18, Utah, USA

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert O’Brien; illustrated by Zena Bernstein. Atheneum, 1971. Mrs. Frisby’s husband died suddenly last summer, and in the spring she and her four children have to move to a summer residence or be plowed under by the farmer’s tractor.
Mrs. Frisby starts out to find help. She befriends a crow named Jeremy, visits a wise owl, and then goes to the rats of NIMH for help.
These intelligent rats have a highly developed underground colony; however, they have found life too easy for them and have made plans to become self-sufficient. How the rats and Mrs. Frisby help each other is an exciting science fiction story. This book won the 1972 Newbery Award for the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.

Some time back while attending stake conference—as the closing hymn was being sung—I felt impressed to look at the choir. The voices of the choir members were melodious beyond description and they all had beautiful smiles on their faces. Somewhere on the back row I spotted a sister with tears in her eyes and thought that she probably has been moved by the song that was sung: “God Be with You Till We Meet Again.” Immediately after the closing prayer was given, I sprang to my feet and headed to that sister in the choir. I just felt that I had to thank her for her contribution to the spirit of the conference.

I asked her whether the hymn we sang had a special meaning to her. She nodded and with tears streaming down her cheeks she said, “I lost my husband a few weeks ago and as if that is not enough, I then lost our daughter who was about two years old. All I have left is my daughter, who is about ten years old. I have been contemplating whether or not I should be singing in the choir, but today as the closing hymn was sung, I felt the presence of my husband and our daughter.” She then closed with this observation, “I have been praying to Father in Heaven for two things: first that He would strengthen my faith in Jesus Christ and then to give me an understanding of the holy Resurrection; second that the presiding officer would come over and say something that would strengthen my faith.” I don’t remember saying anything to that dear sister, but I remember how my faith was strengthened by her unwavering faith and by the fact that her prayer was an answer to my own. Before that very conference I had prayed to be led to someone to whom I would have an opportunity to minister—instead I think she ministered to me that day.

Emma jumped over the cracks in the stone sidewalk. It was a bright, sunny day. She and Mama were walking to the grocery store.
“Mama, how far away is the sun?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mama said.
Emma squinted up at the sky. “Do you think a rocket will ever go to the sun? Do you think it’s hotter than lightning? Do you think …”
Mama laughed. “Your questions are getting harder and harder!”
Emma laughed too. She had lots of questions. Mama always did her best to answer them. That was one reason why Emma liked going on walks with Mama.
Emma looked around her neighborhood. Taxis drove down the stone street. People rode by on bikes. Lots of people were out walking too.
Then Emma looked across the street. A little girl was sitting on the steps outside an apartment building. It looked like she was crying.
Emma slowed down. Should she stop to help? Maybe the girl wanted to be left alone. Sometimes Emma wanted to be left alone when she was sad.
Emma stopped walking. Most of the time Emma wanted someone to talk to when she needed help. And maybe she could help!
She grabbed Mama’s hand. “Look, Mama. I think that girl needs some help.”
Mama looked across the street. “I think you’re right.”
Emma held Mama’s hand as they crossed the street. She walked up the steps to where the girl was sitting.
“Hi,” Emma said. “Do you need help?”
The little girl sniffed and looked up at them. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and her eyes were red and puffy.
“I … I’m locked out of my apartment.” She took a deep breath. Her voice was shaky and quiet. Emma knelt down next to her to hear her better.
“I can’t read,” the girl said. “I don’t know what button to push to get back in.”
Emma looked at the wall outside the apartment building. There were lots of little buttons. Each button had a name on it. Next to the buttons was a speaker.
“What’s your last name?” Emma asked.
“Schneider,” the little girl said.
Mama read through all the buttons until she found one that said “Schneider.” She pushed it.
Buzz!
The button made a loud sound. Then a voice crackled through the speaker.
“This is the Schneiders. How may I help you?”
Mama spoke into the speaker. “Hi! My daughter and I are outside with a little girl who says she got locked out.”
The girl stood up fast and ran over to the speaker. “Mama,” she said, “I couldn’t read the button to get back in, and these people helped me!”
The voice on the speaker sounded surprised. “Leni! I thought you were in your room! Don’t worry. I’m coming down there right now.”
After a few seconds, a lady came running outside. The girl ran up and gave her a hug.
The lady turned to Emma. “Thank you for helping my little Leni!”
Emma smiled. “It was easy to help.”
They waved goodbye and walked back down the stairs. Emma’s whole body felt warm. She thought of one more question for Mama.
“Helping that girl was easy. Why do I feel so happy about it?”
Mama squeezed Emma’s hand. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that you made a good choice.”
Emma smiled. She was glad she stopped to help.

Kasey was a good student. She knew this because her kindergarten teacher had moved her from the red reading group to the blue one, the top reading group in the class.
But now Kasey would be starting first grade. What if the work was too hard? What if she wasn’t one of the best students in her class anymore? If there were reading groups in the first grade, Kasey wanted to stay in the top group.
On the first day of school, Miss Nelson handed out a spelling worksheet. “When you’re finished, put your paper in the basket on the counter,” she instructed.
Kasey worked hard. When she stood to hand in her assignment, she beamed. The basket was empty. She was the first student finished! Maybe first grade wouldn’t be so hard after all.
Kasey soon discovered that Miss Nelson’s class did spelling assignments every morning. And for several weeks, Kasey was the first to finish. “I must be the best speller in class,” she told herself.
One day, she noticed her friend Shantelle march over to the counter and plunk her worksheet in the basket. Kasey’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t even half finished with hers! She filled in the rest of the answers quickly and sauntered over to the basket, sliding her assignment under Shantelle’s. Maybe Miss Nelson wouldn’t notice who had finished first.
On Monday it rained. Thunder crashed outside as raindrops drummed on the window. “After we do our spelling, we’ll have morning recess inside,” Miss Nelson announced. “When you finish your assignment, you may go pick out a puzzle or a game from that shelf. Please copy our spelling list for the week.” Miss Nelson pointed to the board. “Then write each word four times.”
Kasey’s wrist ached as she scribbled down the words. Her pencil tip snapped, but she kept writing with the dull end. Her heart thudded. She wrote faster. Finally she blew out a little puff of air as she triumphantly placed her paper in the empty basket. Kasey scurried to the shelf and chose a puzzle of a kitten snoozing in a flowerbed.
Kasey had just found all the corner pieces when she felt someone standing next to her. “Can I help?” Shantelle asked.
Kasey gulped. “Sure.”
Shantelle pulled up a chair and started sorting out the pieces with straight edges. She and Shantelle had spent recess together lots of times, but for some reason today Kasey felt nervous. She had been so busy trying to beat Shantelle lately that she hadn’t taken the time to be very nice to her.
“I saw your spelling assignment,” Shantelle said. “It was kind of messy.” Shantelle seemed surprised—it wasn’t like her friend to be so sloppy.
Kasey’s cheeks burned. She stared down at the puzzle pieces, finishing the puzzle in silence. All day, Kasey worried about what Shantelle had said.
At the end of class, Miss Nelson returned the spelling lists. “Use these to study for the quiz on Friday,” she said. She raised her eyebrows as she handed Kasey her paper. “Please write more neatly next time,” she said. She had circled all the words that were difficult to read. Suddenly Kasey didn’t feel so smart.
Before the bell rang, Kasey pulled out a new sheet of paper and began copying the words from the board again, this time writing as neatly as she could. That way she would know the right way to spell them when she studied the list later. The best student would try to spell the words correctly, she decided, not just copy them quickly.
The next day Kasey didn’t watch the basket while she worked. She looked straight down at her spelling worksheet and thought hard about the questions. She wrote the answers neatly in the blanks. When she finally turned in the assignment, she decided to be honest. She placed it on top of a small stack of papers already waiting there. Miss Nelson smiled at her. Kasey smiled back. She knew in her heart that now she was becoming the best student she could be.

Dylan watched Mom pack her suitcase for her vacation with Dad.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” she said. “I bet you can’t wait for all the fun things you get to do with Grandma and Grandpa!”
Dylan gave a little laugh. “Yup!” Mom and Dad had been planning their trip for a long time, and he knew they were really excited.
But why did he feel so nervous?
Dylan walked to his bedroom down the hall.
“What’s going on?” he said to his empty room. “Why do I feel like this?” He flopped down on his bed to think. He remembered when he’d first heard about Mom and Dad’s trip. He’d been a little disappointed that he wasn’t going with them.
But then he found out he’d be staying with Grandma and Grandpa. He loved their house! There was the huge old tree in their backyard. Perfect for climbing. There was a closet of games that they loved playing with him. Not to mention Grandma’s famous cookies!
But for some reason, Dylan wasn’t excited anymore. He couldn’t stop picturing the moment when his parents would drive away. They would be so far away for an entire week! What if he wanted to talk with them but they couldn’t answer the phone? What if they forgot about him? He’d never been away from them this long before.
Dylan decided it was time to pray. He slid off his bed onto his knees. He told Heavenly Father all the things he was worried about. “Please help me to feel happy about the trip and to stop feeling so scared,” he prayed.
He felt a little better as he climbed back into bed. He knew Heavenly Father had heard his prayer, but how would He help? Did Heavenly Father even understand what it was like to feel homesick? Then Dylan thought about how Heavenly Father sent all His children to earth. It must be hard to send them away for so long—and so far away too. Maybe Heavenly Father did understand. Maybe Heavenly Father missed him!
Dylan started to feel warm inside. The Holy Ghost was telling him that Heavenly Father loved him very much. He thought about Grandpa and Grandma. He imagined the big hugs they’d give him. That made him smile. He kept imagining those hugs as he fell asleep.
The next morning Dylan felt a little better when he woke up. Something smelled good in the kitchen. Sure enough, Dad had cooked a huge stack of pancakes!
“Those look yummy,” Dylan said.
“Hey, Grandma and Grandpa aren’t the only ones who can make an amazing breakfast!” Dad said with a laugh.
Dylan grinned. He’d almost forgotten about Grandpa’s smiley-faced chocolate-chip pancakes. He didn’t say it out loud, but Dylan liked those pancakes even better than Dad’s. He couldn’t wait to have them again.
The rest of the morning zoomed by. Dylan helped carry the suitcases out to the car. He put on his backpack and double-checked that he had his favorite books.
Pretty soon they were pulling up to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Grandma waved from the front porch.
“Dylan!” Grandpa called out from the doorway.
Dylan jumped out of the car and ran to them. Grandma and Grandpa gave him the biggest, longest hug in the universe. Thank you, Heavenly Father, he prayed silently. Thank you for helping me not feel so afraid. Maybe a week wouldn’t be too long after all.

It was too late to stop. As I crashed into the car in front of me, the splinter of glass and crumple of metal dimly registered, an echo of my own shattered breathing.
I started to cry, and my brother Rob said, “It’ll be okay, Alanna. Everything will be all right.” But everything was not all right. I had caused a four-car accident.
Minutes later, a policeman told me no one was seriously hurt. Fortunately, everyone involved was wearing seatbelts. A paramedic treated me for minor cuts, and after I complained of a sharp pain in my neck, I was put on a stretcher.
On the ride to the hospital, a paramedic said, “Alanna, you’re a very lucky girl.”
Lucky? I was strapped in a stretcher with my neck immobilized in a brace. I had totaled my dad’s car, and was responsible for the damage to three other cars. How could he say I was lucky?
“The only reason you’re still alive is because you were wearing your seatbelt,” he added.
For as long as I can remember, my parents stressed the importance of wearing seatbelts. Because of my parents’ example, I wore my seatbelt without fail. This one small act may have literally saved my life.

When I was 16, I had the opportunity to attend general conference in person for the first time. My family was living in western Oregon, USA, and we drove to Utah to attend conference and to drop off my older brother at the missionary training center.
I went to the conference with a desire to be taught by the Holy Ghost. As a result, I received a manifestation from the Spirit that I probably would not have received had I not prepared myself.
During one of the sessions, everyone stood and sang the congregational hymn, “Guide Us, O Thou Great Jehovah.” As we sang, I had the distinct impression to look around the Conference Center. I did and was struck by the power of the unity of the thousands of people there as we all raised our voices in praise to God.
Then I had an experience where I felt like Nephi when he saw the vision of the tree of life, for the Spirit told me, “Look” (see 1 Nephi 11–14). I looked at President Thomas S. Monson and felt that the unity of the Church existed because we are led by a living prophet. Through the witness of the Holy Spirit, I know President Monson is the true prophet for our day, and I know that Jesus Christ leads this Church through him.

Is this guy completely crazy?
That’s what I asked myself as I talked to Darrin Shamo at his family’s home in Hurricane, Utah.
Sure, he looks pretty normal: tall, skinny, with short blond hair. He wears glasses. You wouldn’t know from looking at him that he has an artificial leg.
But that’s not the strange part. What’s strange is that Darrin is happy. I mean extremely cheerful. His right leg is gone, but he laughs, he jokes, and he tells stories about his artificial leg while holding it in his lap.
How does he do it?
Darrin lost his right leg to cancer in June of 1991. But he hasn’t let his loss hold him back. His only regret is having to interrupt his mission to Chile, where his condition was diagnosed.
“I never wanted to leave,” he says. “I enjoyed every single day.”
But it was decided that Darrin should go home for further tests. Within an hour or two after arriving in Salt Lake City, doctors told him he definitely had a cancerous tumor on his knee.
Surely he was worried, right?
“I was a little bit scared about cancer because I didn’t know what it was,” Darrin says. “When you hear cancer, you think something really scary.”
What helped Darrin’s outlook was a little scripture reading on his plane ride to the United States from Chile. He had been reading in Alma about the Anti-Nephi-Lehis, and how they didn’t fear for their lives when the Lamanites came to attack them.
“I looked at that and I said, ‘I’m not going to fear for my life.’ I told that to people on the plane.”
After getting home, Darrin decided to maintain a positive attitude. “We had some long discussions,” says Darrin’s dad, Ronald Shamo, “and Darrin said, ‘I can approach this one of two ways. I can accept it and make the most of it, or I can be bitter. People don’t like to be around people who are complaining and unhappy. But when you’re positive and can look forward to getting better, people enjoy helping you along the way. They enjoy being with you.’”
And that has made all the difference. Darrin admits chemotherapy sickness had him depressed at times, but he even managed to conquer that. “I made sure no matter what I was doing in the hospital, I was happy. I especially enjoyed going to the fourth floor from three to five in the morning and looking at the babies.”
But Darrin’s condition required more than chemotherapy. His knee had to be removed, and doctors let him choose between joint replacement surgery and amputation just above the knee. Joint replacement would let him keep his leg, but it might leave him with little or no control over that leg because the muscles running through the joint would be cut.
With amputation, however, Darrin could get an artificial leg and soon be back to his old hobbies, like basketball, volleyball, bowling, and rappeling. Yes, rappeling. Having fun with his friends was important to Darrin, so the decision to amputate was not overly difficult. His bowling scores are down since the operation, but he’s confident that will change with practice.
What made Darrin most happy was when he learned he would be able to complete his mission. He was sent to the California Sacramento Mission and returned home this fall.
“Whenever we have a trial, there’s always something we can learn if we’re looking for it. There’s always some blessing,” Darrin says. “Cancer just made me look harder for the blessings, but they’re still always there.”
Hmmm. Maybe I exaggerated about Darrin. Maybe he’s not so crazy after all.

In 1975 Robert was in a board meeting when his secretary handed him a note saying that President Marion G. Romney was on the phone. Since it was very unusual for anyone to leave a board meeting, everyone was surprised when Robert left to take the phone call. At that time, President Romney asked Robert to serve as a mission president. Later the assignment came to preside over the England London Mission. Shortly afterwards, Robert got another call from Salt Lake City—this time from President Spencer W. Kimball. He asked Robert if he would mind going to a different mission.
Robert replied, “I don’t mind. Send me wherever you want to send me, President.”
Then President Kimball asked, “Do you mind if we ask you to serve longer than three years?”
Robert said, “Okay.”
President Kimball then extended a lifelong call to him to serve as a General Authority.
“President Kimball told me he knew I was disappointed because I wanted to go out as a mission president,” says Elder Hales, “but he said, ‘Don’t worry about it; you will have many missions.’”