Gospel Story Finder

In life’s spiritual battles, “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against … rulers of the darkness … [and] against spiritual wickedness” (Ephesians 6:12). We, too, need to be reminded of what the fight is all about. Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004), a former member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, expressed this thought in an eloquent, albeit brief, conversation.

In 2004, I visited Elder Maxwell in his hospital room not long before he died. He was so kind to everyone who visited or helped him. Health-care workers went into his room and came out weeping. I said to him, “Elder Maxwell, this is really hard.” He chuckled and said, “Oh, Dale, we are eternal beings living in a mortal world. We are out of our element, like fish out of water. It is only when we have an eternal perspective that any of this will make any sense.”

Recollecting times of fervent prayer during her childhood, Sister Smith continued: “The day I was to be baptized, my mother was delayed trying to find a place to park the car, so she sent me into the Tabernacle by myself. The sisters there helped me get ready, and I went into the baptistry and sat down. My mother wasn’t there yet. I was so nervous I could hardly sit still. The only thing I could think to do was to pray that Heavenly Father would make sure my mother would soon come to be with me. While I was praying, in she came, and I knew that my prayer had been answered.”

Life on a cattle ranch is both stressful and faith-building. One time they needed to plant oats to feed the cattle. Kache and the other ranch hands were ready to plant—there was just one problem. “It was really dry and hot and there was no rain for the oats.” Kache says. “My dad asked us to pray for rain. After a few days, we got that rain. The oats were able to grow, and we were able to have food for our cattle.”

Watching this athlete reminds me of when I was a teenager. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to be an actress. You know, Star of Stage and Screen. I used to memorize lines from plays like Romeo and Juliet and Our Town, then toss them off to the bathroom mirror. Sometimes I’d practice one of the three or four acceptance speeches I’d written during math class: “I’d like to thank the Academy and also my mother for believing in me.” That sort of thing. There was only one problem. I couldn’t get in a real play. I went to tryout after tryout, but Mr. Bound, our high school drama coach, never seemed to notice how talented, how charming, how special I was.
So I worked harder and harder. I checked out library copies of the plays I knew he was producing. I worked on character interpretation and voice control. I practiced scenes with other students. I asked for advice. Surely if anyone deserved to be in a play, based on desire and determination alone, I did. But I was never selected to be in a play. Not even once. Instead, I got to sit on the front row and watch my best friend, a tall beautiful redhead, become our high school’s newest leading lady. My disappointment was so real I could taste it.
All of us would like to have the starring role in some aspect of our lives—at school, on stage, in the mission field, on center court—and sometimes we’re told if we only work hard enough, pray hard enough, sacrifice hard enough, whatever we want will be ours. But the truth is that most of us will not stand alone in the spotlight. Most of us will be part of the supporting cast—the person who stands by in the wings or on the sidelines.
I watch the quarterback take another snap, throw another ball. I know how much he wants to be his team’s starter, and I know how hard he works to make that dream a reality. I’m impressed. But I’m more impressed by how well he has played the demanding role of second-string quarterback.
Say hello to Blaine Fowler—husband, dad, college student, public speaker, stand-up comic, and Brigham Young University quarterback. Blaine likes to munch chips and salsa, dreams of taking a trip to Europe with his wife, Brenda, and their son, Kellen, and says he wouldn’t mind being Dr. J. because “basketball is my favorite sport.” He insists strangers confuse him with Kermit the Frog, although friends know him better for his dead-on imitations of Mutley the Dog and other Hanna-Barbera cartoon characters. He likes to fish, ski, play the guitar, and read (his favorite books are Huckleberry Finn and The Lord of the Rings trilogy). And, of course, he just loves to throw the football.
Maybe you’ve heard about Brigham Young University’s football team. In 1984, they were named national champions, the number one team in the United States. And if you’re really a sports fan you probably know a thing or two about the great quarterbacks the school has produced over the years. Gifford Nielsen, Marc Wilson, Jim McMahon, and Steve Young all went on to play professional football after their years at BYU were over. And now there’s Robbie Bosco, one of the best ever. In the past two years, Robbie has won more games than any of the team’s previous quarterbacks.
While Robbie continues to break NCAA records on the field, Blaine waits on the sidelines, perpetually ready for action.
Blaine, of course, is disappointed, and he frankly admits his frustration: “I would much rather be playing, and I would be happier if I were.” And, in fact, he had no reason to believe he wouldn’t start at quarterback when he entered college. At his old high school in Elmira, New York, Blaine played as a freshman on the varsity football team. (He was only the second freshman in the history of his school to do so—his cousin was the first.) As a sophomore, junior, and senior he started at quarterback on a team that won the league championship all three years. As a junior and senior he made all-state. As a senior, he was named the state’s most valuable player. He was recruited to play football by Pittsburgh, Penn State, Boston College, Purdue, and Wake Forest but chose to go to BYU because he felt “really comfortable” there.
But things didn’t work out exactly the way he wanted them to. Yet, in spite of his personal disappointment, Blaine doesn’t pout, doesn’t sulk, doesn’t bear a grudge. He seems to realize that although he cannot make a choice about playing on Saturday afternoons—that choice is made for him by other people—he can choose how he will react to the situation. His example can teach us all how to be the best supporting players we can.
Choose to keep a positive attitude. When things don’t go our way, we often take the course of least resistance and let negative feelings wash over us. Our disappointment can easily turn into resentment and bitterness.
When I didn’t realize my dream of starring in school plays, I became extremely critical of the drama department. I criticized the productions and the people involved with them frequently and loudly. “Well,” I’d say, “everyone knows Mr. Bound has favorites.” Occasionally I attacked the intelligence of the participants: “Don’t you know they all have noodles for brains?” I’d ask. Contrast my feelings with Blaine’s: “It is not the end of the world that I’m not playing football. My dad has always said that football should be played for the fun of it. It’s not a business, and if it ever becomes that then you shouldn’t play it anymore. So I’ve always taken that attitude toward it. If I’m having a good time, I’m not going to worry about things. And I’ve had a good time at BYU.”
Many people have commented on Blaine’s positive attitude, including a former English instructor who says that “Blaine is certainly no Pollyanna, but he does meet challenges happily and head-on.” Fellow teammate, Glen Kozlowski notes that “Blaine has always worked hard, kept his spirits up, and stayed ready to play whenever called upon.
His positive attitude is perhaps best demonstrated by this advice he gives for New Era readers: “Always strive to be good at something. Don’t let others tell you you’re too small, too slow, too dumb, too ugly, or just not good enough to accomplish great things. The only one standing between you and greatness is yourself.”
The truth is that while maintaining a positive attitude can be difficult—and it is certainly more difficult for some people to do than for others—we will be personally happier and healthier in the long run for doing it.
Choose to contribute. There are so many ways I could have contributed to my school’s drama program, if I just had been willing. I could have learned about set construction, stage makeup, costume design. I could have helped my friend learn her lines. But I didn’t. If I couldn’t be on stage where everyone saw me, I didn’t want to be involved at all.
It would have been easy for Blaine to just give up. But he didn’t. He works hard, giving 100 percent of himself all the time. Robbie Bosco, who calls Blaine a “friend, competitor, and teammate,” says that “Blaine is always ready to play.” BYU’s head football coach, LaVell Edwards, praises Blaine as both a person and an athlete, calling him an “unselfish player” who is dedicated to the welfare of the team as a whole. Quarterback coach Mike Holmgren is even more specific in his praise: “Blaine has sacrificed his own individual glory for the sake of team success. Blaine could have been the starter at a number of eastern universities but chose to stay at BYU, to compete for the quarterback position, and to contribute in any way that he could. His role is not easy, but it is essential to our team’s success.”
Coach Holmgren is not being merely gracious when he says Blaine’s role as backup quarterback has been critical to the team’s success: any athletic team is only as good as its second- and third-string players. These athletes are the ones who push the starters in practice, who give them a run for their money, who force them to give their best all the time. It’s unlikely that Robbie or any of the starters would be as good as they are if players like Blaine weren’t pushing them from behind.
Choose to remember the things that really matter. Perhaps both of the previous choices are made easier by knowing which things matter in the long run and which things do not. Football is not the most important thing in the world, and Blaine knows it. He says, “I realize that the family I have now is much more important than any football career I could have, and I realize that the Church is more important, too.” Blaine gives his father, Kirk Fowler, credit for his ability to put things into perspective. Of his father, Blaine says, “He always put his family first.”
Gospel teachings help us keep things in perspective. Being cut from a team, losing a boyfriend, making a lower grade than you strived for—these are all real disappointments. They can even be overwhelming. But it helps to remember that they are also temporal—that is, they are disappointments of this world and they are disappointments that will pass with the passing of time itself.
The practice is coming to a close now. The players begin taking off their helmets, shaking their heads. It makes no difference if they are first or second or third string—it’s all sore, they’re all tired. And in a very real sense, they’re all winners.

In 2003, I married and moved to South Africa where I have lived for the past 15 years. I often visit extended family in Maputo once or twice a year. While there I like to visit different wards to worship on a Sunday. As a pioneer member in Maputo, Mozambique, I love seeing the growth of the church in my home country. I love visiting old friends – brothers and sisters in the gospel – and to meet new members. I get tremendous satisfaction from seeing that my friends are still actively engaged in this work of salvation – the gospel of Jesus Christ – standing still and immovable in faith.
I was recently in Maputo and attended Polana and Sommershield wards. I was able to catch half of the sacrament meeting from Polana and then attended other meetings in Sommershield. While sitting in the congregation I was very pleased to see one of my Primary children, Vinícius, now a married young adult. He was sitting on the stand, conducting the Sacrament Meeting. As our eyes met, we smiled at each other and as I gazed around the congregation I saw other familiar faces – one of whom was Vinicius’ brother. My eyes were filled with tears of joy to see my former Primary children, 18 years later still active in the church. After the intermediate hymn, Vinícius stood up to announce the rest of the sacrament program from the pulpit to the congregation. Vinicius served his mission in Brazil and married in the temple not long ago. He is currently studying at university and serving as the second counsellor in the bishopric of Polana ward. With tears rolling my face, my thoughts went back to those Primary years when Vinícius and his brother were part of the Primary children that I served. I could picture in my mind the things that he used do and say to me then.
I felt the Holy Ghost whispering to me “your service in Primary has made a difference to someone…look at the fruit”. I had the sweetest feeling contemplating that moment. I was reminded of the scripture found in Mosiah 2:17 that says “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God”. My heart felt full and I was glad to be able to witness Heavenly Father’s plan for each of His children. I was grateful that I accepted the calling to serve in Primary and that I strived to learn how best to serve Heavenly Father’s children during my calling. I know of many more Primary children, like Vinícius, who are faithful followers of the Saviour. Many have served full-time missions and are currently receiving an education to prepare for their future careers and in future leadership callings in the church.

Joey Berger liked lollipops. He liked red ones, yellow ones, orange ones, green ones, and purple ones. He was only allowed one very small one each day after school. His older brothers, Nick and David, groaned when it was his turn to choose a treat for family home evening, because he always asked for lollipops. They called him the Lollipop Kid, but Joey didn’t mind.
Now he had a problem. Even sucking on his favorite cherry-flavored lollipop didn’t help. He bit off part and chewed it as he wondered what he could do to help Brother Sawyer feel better.
Joey had been four years old when the Sawyers moved next door to his family three years ago. His mother had asked him to visit the new neighbors with her when she took them a plate of cookies. They’d found Brother Sawyer sitting on the porch swing, sucking on a red lollipop.
Right then, Joey had known that he and Brother Sawyer were going to be friends. Brother Sawyer, who wore bib overalls like Joey’s Grandpa Berger did, invited Joey to visit him after school each day, They would settle down on the swing and read a story together. At first, Brother Sawyer had read the stories and Joey listened. Then, when Joey had learned to read and Brother Sawyer’s eyes had begun to fail, Joey read while his friend listened. They always sucked on lollipops as they read. Brother Sawyer joked that he was the only person he knew who ate more lollipops than Joey did.
Then, about a year ago, Sister Sawyer had died and things changed. For a long time Brother Sawyer didn’t invite Joey to join him on the porch. Gradually, though, he started to feel better, and he and Joey once again spent many happy hours together.
But yesterday Brother Sawyer’s eyes were sad, and he told Joey that it would soon be a year since his wife had died.
“Do you still miss her?” Joey had asked.
“I’ll always miss her,” Brother Sawyer replied softly. “We would’ve celebrated our sixtieth anniversary this year.”
Joey wanted to do something for his friend. “Mom, can I take some of the cookies you baked to Brother Sawyer?”
“That’s a good idea, Joey.” She placed some of the still-warm cookies on a plate. “Invite him to dinner tonight too. He’s probably lonely.”
Brother Sawyer wasn’t on the porch swing when Joey arrived. Carefully balancing the plate of cookies in one hand, he rang the doorbell. After several minutes, Brother Sawyer answered the door. His eyes were red, as though he’d been crying.
“These are for you,” Joey said, handing him the cookies.
“Thank you, Joey.” Brother Sawyer set the plate on a small table by the swing without taking a cookie.
“Would you like to have supper with us tonight?”
Brother Sawyer shook his head. “I wouldn’t be very good company right now.”
Joey took the wrinkled hand in his own. “I think you’re good company.”
A smile touched Brother Sawyer’s eyes briefly. “You’re a good friend, Joey. But sometimes a person needs to be alone.”
“You’re thinking about Sister Sawyer,” Joey said.
The old man nodded. “I wish it was the right season to plant flowers. Martha always loved flowers. She said they reminded her of a rainbow.”
“I’ll help you plant lots of flowers in the spring,”
Brother Sawyer patted Joey’s hand. “Thank you.” He pointed to a small tree in the front yard. “Do you remember when we planted that tree?”
Joey nodded. He’d helped Brother and Sister Sawyer plant it shortly before she’d died.
“I promised Martha that I’d take care of it. It looks forlorn now.”
Joey stared at the tree, its branches stripped of leaves. He didn’t know what forlorn meant, but he supposed it meant sad. Like Brother Sawyer, Joey thought.
Joey stayed a little longer, but nothing he did cheered up his friend. Finally he trudged home, more discouraged than ever. But what could he do?
Joey thought and thought. “That’s it!” He rushed to his room and grabbed his piggy bank, Turning it upside down, he shook it until all the coins tumbled onto his bed. Two dollars and thirty-seven cents. That wasn’t enough, but it was a start.
He took the stairs two at a time and ran into the kitchen, where his mother was paying bills, “Mom, do you have any chores I can do to earn some money?”
His mother looked thoughtful. “I might. What do you need the money for—or is it a secret?”
“It’s a secret, but I can tell you.” Quickly he explained his plan to his mother. “That’s a wonderful idea!”
He did jobs for his parents all the rest of the week. By Saturday he had seven dollars and thirty-seven cents. That should be enough, he decided, His father took him to the grocery store, where he bought five sacks of lollipops. At home he looked at them, thinking about how much he’d enjoy eating them. But he had a much better plan …
That evening his whole family helped him decorate the little tree outside Brother Sawyer’s house, tying lollipops to the branches with pieces of yarn. When they were finished, lollipops “blossomed” from every branch.
“Do you think Brother Sawyer will like it?” he asked his mother.
“I’m sure he will,” she answered. She kissed Joey’s cheek. “I’m very proud of you.”
The next morning, he woke early, eager to see the tree in daylight. Drawing back the curtains, he looked out the window. Lollipops splashed brightly against the pale blue sky.
Pulling on his clothes, he ran next door. He smiled when he found Brother Sawyer sitting on the porch.
“Look what happened to our tree,” Brother Sawyer said with a little catch in his voice. “It’s blooming lollipops! Martha would have loved it.”
Joey didn’t know what to say, so he threw his arms around his friend and hugged him tightly.
“You’re a fine friend, Joey,” Brother Sawyer said, tears in his eyes, “Come on, let’s go have a lollipop.”
Joey looked at the tree, but Brother Sawyer shook his head, “Lollipops from that tree are too special to eat. I have some red ones in the kitchen.”
Joey slipped his hand inside his friend’s and followed him inside.

It was a beautiful September day with warm sun shining. It was even still warm enough to water-ski, but I was sitting in seminary. It was only the beginning of the year, but I was already anxious to finish high school and seminary forever.
“And this scripture I want you to mark with a V.I.S.,” said Brother Eliason, my seminary teacher. It was Genesis 39:9 [Gen. 39:9], and I automatically colored in the scripture, emphasizing “… how then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” We skipped to verse 12 and darkened “… fled, and got him out.” Then I wrote V.I.S. in the margin, which was Brother Eliason’s code for “Very Important Scripture.”
He told us about Joseph’s situation and how it took a great deal of strength for him to run away from Potiphar’s wife. Joseph knew he was in a situation where he needed to have made his decision beforehand. Then Brother Eliason said, “If you ever remember a scripture in your life, remember this one.”
“Then why did you tell us last week that we have to memorize 40 of them?” someone wisecracked from the back of the room. The bell drowned out Brother Eliason’s answer, and we all filed out of class.
Soon, that day was over, then that week, the month, and then the year. I was planning to go to school in the fall, but my plans changed drastically when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She and my stepfather and I moved to a small apartment in Houston to be close to the hospital she needed.
My stepfather and I took turns driving Mom to the hospital. The chemotherapy made her terribly sick, and soon she lost all of her hair. She had been a strong woman who had survived the death of a husband and the problems of blending two families, so to see her like that was very depressing for me.
I enrolled in a community college to take classes and get out of the house, and it was there that I met Ron. He was the friend I needed, and we soon started spending all of our time together. He was older, although he’d never been married, and he had a nice sports car, a house, and a boat. He was not a member of the Church.
It was easy to forget my problems at home when I was with him, because we did so many fun things together. He even came to church with me regularly. But soon he was suggesting that we spend the night together, since that was the way his relationships usually progressed. I repeatedly told him about my religious conviction against this, but he didn’t give up.
I needed a friend, and I mistakenly continued to see him. I started to weaken at the same time I knew being with him was wrong. I was weak and vulnerable, and it became easier to ignore the Spirit.
Then one night, in one of my weakest times, I started to rationalize. I believed that Ron loved me, and I knew he could take care of me. I suddenly felt very secure in his arms. Then I heard a voice in my head that said, “… fled, and got him out.” I was startled that I would remember that phrase after all that time. Then the voice seemed to come even louder, “… fled, and got him out.” Without another thought I literally fled from the room and the situation.
When my head cleared, I could see how close I had come to making a mistake that would have changed my life forever. I could see how Satan used my emotions to cloud my judgment, and I could also see how one scripture had saved my life.
I often wonder if Brother Eliason knew the impact of what he was teaching us on that ordinary fall day. I am thankful for him and for both a Heavenly Father and an earthly father that love me more than Ron ever did. And I’m thankful for the scriptures—especially for the one I remembered so well.
Survival Tips
If temptation’s too strong, leave.

Brother Juntratip met his wife, Kwanjai, a couple of years after his return from BYU. She had served a mission in Thailand.

The Juntratips were sealed in the Manila Philippines Temple in June 1990 by the temple president, Floyd Hogan, who had been Kwanjai’s mission president. Their son, Pituporn, was born in August 1991. “His name means patriarchal blessing,” explains Brother Juntratip. “We hope he grows up to be a good missionary like his mother.

“I remember that when the missionaries presented the discussions to me, I felt the gospel message they taught me was true, was good,” he says. “By striving to live my life according to the gospel, I have come to know for a certainty that it is true and it is good.”

Jensen: I guess going on a mission is something you always have in the back of your mind, but I hadn’t made the commitment as early as I should have. Then when I started having a lot of success in sports, I wondered if I couldn’t motivate people with that example instead. I remember sitting down with Coach (LaVell) Edwards. The things he said had a great influence. He said that if I was thinking about a mission I should go and that he would support my decision. I remember talking to my dad and my old high school coach and some of those people that had been an influence on me. I decided that a mission would really help me in a lot of ways.

Ninety-year-old Samoan woman, Valaei Faloa’i Pritchard Taleni, is a loving matriarch in her family, and a friend to all who know her in her home village and abroad.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, is a senior lecturer at the University of Canterbury, and a bishop in the Mona Vale Ward in Christchurch.
He says that his mother “is a true pioneer of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Samoa. Her great legacy comes from the demonstration of the Samoan values of tautua (service), fa’aaloalo (respect), osiosiga (reciprocity), loto alofa (generosity), fa’asinomaga (belonging), ola fa’a’eagaga (spirituality), ola magafagafa (tolerance) and aofia faatasi (inclusivity) enveloped in the value of alofa (love).”
This year, Valaei celebrated her 90th birthday with family and friends. The milestone gave her and those who love her the chance to look back on decades of service to her family, her Church, and her community.
Born and raised in the village of Tafua on the island of Savai’i, Valaei married Leali’ie’e Ova Taleni from the village of Vaiafai, Iva on Savai’i.
Valaei began her life in the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa, also known as the EFKS church. Her husband introduced her to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she was baptised in the McKay Branch (now a ward) on Savai’i.
Leali’ie’e and Valaei served in many Church callings over the years, including Leali’ie’e as branch president and bishop; and Valaei as Relief Society president, Primary president and Sunday School teacher.
In 1976, the couple attended the Church’s general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States—leading to an article about their visit in the Ensign (now known as The Liahona).
The couple raised 15 children including some who were adopted.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, says their mother was a “key support for Dad throughout his service in the Church, and in his role in the village as matai (chief).”
She also served her family, her extended family, and her entire village throughout her life.
Bishop Taleni is grateful for his mother’s “passion for supporting us all in our education—this goes beyond her own children.” He says that she supported children from their extended family and village, “making sure they went to school.”
He recalls that “Mum used to run a shop in the village. That shop was very much operated not only to support our family but also to help villagers with their basic needs.” In later years, the shop was a hub for helping people with welfare needs.
“Mum is known for her generosity, hard work, and love for people. She was very organised and always conscious about making sure the family was well fed and looked after, with a clean house.” He said that the health and wellbeing of the family was always important to her.
Underpinning her life is her faith in God. “All her life she has studied the scriptures regularly and prayed and fasted faithfully. These are all part of her spiritual nourishment,” her son says. “She totally believes in tithing and contributing to fast offerings.”
Valaei continues to be a supporter of missionary service. Bishop Taleni remembers that their “home was the home of missionaries in the village for many years. She called these missionaries her own children and took care of them in many ways.”
Seven of her own children and ten of her grandchildren have served missions for the Church. Many of her children and grandchildren continue to serve in the Church.
The Church has grown over the years on the island of Savai’i. “When Mum joined the Church, during that time there was only one stake or district in the whole island, now there are six stakes,” Bishop Taleni says.
“Mum has seen many changes, many developments, Church events, programs, activities and services over the years. These have contributed to the growth of the Church. The missionary work and ministering have been huge on the island. Many miracles have happened. Mum and Dad’s own missionary service as Church leaders over the years have led to remarkable experiences. They left our own home village and moved to where the Lord called them to serve.”
“This really wraps up Mum’s whole story of service,” Bishop Taleni says. “She’s now at this age of her life, she may not be able to do much physically, but her legacy speaks volumes and will be forever in the hearts of her family, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, her village and community, and in the Church to which she belongs.”

One Saturday afternoon I received a phone call from the father of a family I home taught. “I was wondering if you could watch our kids while Cindy and I go visit her grandma,” Brother Stevens asked (names have been changed). “She hasn’t been doing well, and we think this might be our last chance to see her.”
I assured Brother Stevens I would be glad to help. “That’s great!” he said. “And if you could, it would be nice if you could straighten up around the house, since today is our anniversary.”
When I arrived, Brother and Sister Stevens left me with some microwavable noodles and a list of chores to do around the house. Then they drove off. I had a strong impression that I should do more than just watch their children. This was a difficult day for them, and I wanted to make it a bit better. I decided to do all the chores on the list and more, including washing the dishes and mowing and edging the lawn.
Obviously, I couldn’t do all of that and take care of their three kids in just three hours, so I thought I should call some members of my priests quorum. There was just one problem: I wasn’t exactly friends with the guys in my quorum. We got along all right, but aside from the Church, we didn’t have a lot in common. We went to different schools, and I rarely saw them outside of Church functions. I felt awkward calling them for something like this.
I called the Young Men president and asked if he could get some of the guys together to help. He kindly replied that he was simply an adviser and explained that I should call Peter, the first assistant to the bishop, who had the calling to help me in my priesthood responsibility. That was exactly what I was afraid he would say.
Nervous and with a little hesitation, I called Peter and asked if he could come over. “Sure,” he said. “I’ve got Scott and Kevin here, and I’ll bring them over too.”
Together, we mowed and edged the lawn, did the dishes, and straightened up the house. Brother and Sister Stevens came home just as we were finishing.
That experience taught me that priesthood quorums are united by faith in Jesus Christ and in service, regardless of differences in interests, personalities, or backgrounds.

The temptation your children will face will not come at home nor in the seminary class. It will come later, when they are away from both teacher and parent. One day you must set them free. When that day comes, how free will they be, and how safe? It will depend on how much truth they have received. I know of a young missionary who, half a world away from his parents and teachers, faced the testing that comes to young manhood. There, beyond the control of either of them, he made a decision. Later he wrote: “I’m so glad I stayed, because during this last month I found something—I found myself.”

I have a best friend. Her name is Barbara. We love watching and singing along to movies. We go on walks together and look at the flowers on the temple grounds. We read princess stories together every night. When I’m around Barbara, I can be myself. Not only is she my dearest friend, but she is also my sister.
Barbara has cerebral palsy, a condition that affects her physically and mentally. She can’t walk, and she needs to be fed through a tube. She loves singing but struggles to verbally communicate her feelings, wants, and needs. And although Barbara is 29, mentally she acts like a toddler.
Even though Barbara is four years older than me, I’ve always felt like the “big sister.” My family’s whole world revolves around her. She is the sun, and we are the circling planets. While the situation sometimes has amazing benefits—like being able to skip lines at amusement parks—other times it means making sacrifices, like not going to certain activities or needing to host events in our home. Each day we review our schedule to make sure someone is always taking care of Barbara and her needs.
To help my parents take care of her, my older brother and I matured very quickly. We had to learn how to identify when Barbara was having a seizure and what to do, how to feed her through a tube, how to change her diapers, and how to prepare her medications when we were very young. While this early maturity helped me have confidence in myself, it did make socializing a huge struggle.
I felt so different from everyone my age. Even if I was invited to hang out with friends and my parents encouraged me to go, I struggled to have fun because I felt guilty that my parents had so much to do at home. Other times I would have a hard time enjoying myself when Barbara was struggling with her health. Most of the time, I just wanted a friend to sit down with me and listen.
Sometimes I felt like no one understood what I was going through. But a few things helped remedy that loneliness. I decided I’d try to reach out to people who might be feeling similarly. When I did go to activities or church, I tried to include those who were sitting alone or who looked like they were having a bad day. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Miracles occur when we care for each other as He would.”1 And I saw miracles come into my life. I felt much more comfortable going to activities and was happier when I offered love to others.
Another thing that helped was realizing how much the Savior truly understood me. I realized that He knew exactly what I was going through and would always be with me. I focused more on getting to know Him through the scriptures and prayer. Sometimes when I prayed, I would imagine that He and Heavenly Father were sitting with me and listening. When I have difficult feelings and feel overwhelmed at how unfair Barbara’s situation seems at times, I remember that Christ will help me find peace and reassurance. Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained this perfectly when he said, “In unfair situations, one of our tasks is to trust that ‘all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.’”2
Having a loved one with a disability can require near-superhuman strength. It affects your life physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually. For the past 29 years, my parents have awakened nearly every day at 2:00 in the morning to care for Barbara. We all go to the gym regularly so we can be strong enough to lift and carry Barbara when necessary. And so many other responsibilities can take a toll on us all.
How do we possibly do everything?
This can be described in one word: grace.
“Grace [is the] enabling power and spiritual healing offered through the mercy and love of Jesus Christ. …
“The grace of God helps us every day. It strengthens us to do good works we could not do on our own.”3
What do I love most about Barbara? With her I’ve learned more about the Savior’s love for us. You can’t help but feel of His love when you’re around Barbara. Despite all her difficulties, she is always smiling, singing, and making us laugh. However, there are also days where I feel helpless, when nothing seems to make her feel better. But because of my experiences, I know with certainty that the Savior understands what both Barbara and I are going through. No matter our earthly trials, a beautiful aspect of the Savior’s enabling power is that we can not only be given strength to experience and overcome hard things but also do it all with joy.
Editors’ note: Since the time that this article was written, the author’s sister has passed away.
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By then, Sister Okazaki had come to acknowledge the complexity of her ethnic and cultural status. Worried about how others would perceive them after the Japanese military bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Sister Okazaki and her mother gathered and burned every Japanese memento they owned. But then she looked in the mirror and thought, “I have never set foot in Japan. I am not Japanese in my heart. But I cannot run away from myself. My eyes, my skin, and my hair are Japanese.”1

One Sunday, on the way out of church, my four-year-old brother, Westley, gave me a piece of gum he had been given. In return, I gave him a chocolate candy I had. When my six-year-old brother, Courtland, found out, he was very sad. He said no one ever gave him treats at church.
Westley asked if I would sit by him in the car. On the way home, I asked about his lesson. He said that it was about being a peacemaker. “What’s a peacemaker?” I asked, trying to get him to tell me about his lesson. He told me a story example of a peacemaker. He was quiet for a minute. Then he said, “Kiera, I don’t really want your candy.”
Surprised, I asked, “Why not?”
“I mean, I do want it, but is it OK if I give it to Courtland?”
“Sure. Do you want your piece of gum back?”
“No. You can have it.”
“OK.” I tapped Courtland on the back. “Westley said you could have the candy.” I handed it to him.
He said, “Thanks,” and ate it. We were all smiling.
I’m grateful to have such good examples for brothers. I know that if a four-year-old child can be a peacemaker, I can, too. From now on, I’m going to be a peacemaker in my home.

Elder Robert L. Backman, when he was general president of the Young Men of the Church, liked to tell the story of a deacons quorum presidency who took it upon themselves to visit every member of their quorum. They made appointments, got together at an appointed time, and went to the homes of their young brethren. One such visit was particularly memorable, when they visited a young man who was just about to become a deacon.
The presidency arrived at their prospective quorum member’s home at the appointed hour and knocked on the door. They were invited into the living room, and the prospective deacon joined them. He was a little nervous and didn’t know exactly what to expect. His parents left them alone to visit. The presidency took the time to explain to him what his duties would be, where and when they met as a quorum, how he would participate in meetings and activities, and then welcomed him into the group.
When the presidency left, the young man’s father asked how the visit had gone, to which he responded, “They were awesome, Dad.”

The Appleton District of the Milwaukee Wisconsin Mission held a fun youth conference right in their own backyard. They planned to sail and swim in Lake Michigan.
The unpredictable weather served up two beautifully sunny days. Following the theme of the conference, “Chart Your Course,” the leaders cast the youth adrift, in theory only, in groups of six with a survival kit. Each group was to decide which items were necessary for survival. The exercise was used to foster a discussion of our journey through mortality and what things are necessary for a safe return to our Father in Heaven.
Workshops in aerobics and a Coast Guard presentation in boating safety were held prior to an afternoon swim in the lake. That evening, garbed in pirate costumes, the group had a banquet and dance.
The following morning, breakfast was prepared for the group by the Young Men. After additional workshops on spiritual survival and an emergency course in human relations, the young people were invited on board a sailboat built by a member of the district.
One of the special experiences of the conference was the participation by one young man who was battling a serious illness. Although he had difficulty participating in some of the activities, the others helped him enjoy the conference.
The group returned exuberant and pleasantly tired for an evening testimony meeting. They bore testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and the appreciation for meeting together with other young members of the Church.

Once while attending church in London, my wife, Marie, and I met a woman named Libby Casas from Maine. Because the Knaupps were the only people we then knew in Maine, we asked if she knew them. Her face lit up: “Know them? Wendy is my dear friend. She introduced me to the gospel!” Wendy had met Libby in a Laundromat—two mothers doing their family laundry—and shared the gospel with Libby just as we had done with Wendy in the train station. What first impressed Libby most about the Church was the power of Wendy’s personal example—as mother, wife, and human being. For Libby, at least at the beginning, Wendy herself was the message of the Restoration.

On the final night of the performance, one of the microphones wasn’t working. “With minutes to go until the start of the show, the directors still couldn’t get this person’s microphone to work. One of the backstage managers began to walk through the halls and ask everyone in sight to say a prayer, asking for help with the technical difficulty,” Brie recalls. “Before bowing my head, I looked around me to see every single cast member humbly bowing his or her head to pray in faith to our Father in Heaven. Sure enough, as we sang the opening number and started the show, all of the microphones were working perfectly.”

The first time I passed the sacrament as a new deacon, I felt a great feeling of peace. I remember thinking to myself that I was doing something the Savior had done long ago when He blessed and administered the sacrament (see Luke 22:19–20; 1 Corinthians 11:24–25). I realized that the priesthood I had just received allowed me to pass the sacrament. I was acting on the Savior’s behalf! It was a wonderful feeling, and I promised myself that I would keep myself clean and pure so that I could always use the priesthood to serve others.