Gospel Story Finder

As a young man, Heber J. Grant became seriously ill. He feared that he would die.
Heber: Heavenly Father, if I am allowed to live, I promise I’ll be willing to go to the ends of the earth to preach the gospel.
Heber recovered, and in 1901 he was able to keep his promise when President Lorenzo Snow called him as a missionary.
President Snow: You are called to be the first missionary in Japan. It will not be easy, but the Lord has revealed that it is your duty. Will you go?
Heber: Yes, President Snow.

Normally Kylie would rather be playing basketball or watching a cat video—or doing anything besides homework. But Saturn was Kylie’s favorite planet, and she got to do her research project about it! Her eyes scanned the computer screen until she spotted an article about Saturn’s rings. This looks like a good one! she thought.
Click.
Suddenly something unexpected popped up on the screen. It was a picture of a person not wearing clothes. Kylie felt sick and scared. This is pornography! she thought. But the computer was supposed to have a filter that screened out bad things. What happened to the filter?
Kylie turned off the computer. She ran into her bedroom and knelt by her bed. “I didn’t want to see that bad picture,” she prayed. “Please take it out of my mind.”
As the week went by, Kylie kept asking Heavenly Father to erase the picture from her mind. But sometimes when she was reading a book or hanging out with her friends, the picture would pop back into her head. She felt guilty every time that happened, and she worried that Heavenly Father might be mad at her.
Finally, one night after the other kids were in bed, Kylie walked slowly toward the kitchen, her heart beating fast.
“Mom and Dad, I have something to tell you. I saw something bad on the computer. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t be mad at me.” She started crying.
Dad put his arm around Kylie’s shoulder. “Tell us about it.”
Kylie let it all spill out—how upsetting it was to see the picture, how she’d prayed and worried. “We’re so sorry you saw that,” Dad said. “But we’re even more sorry that you’ve felt so scared and guilty.”
“I’m going to check the filter right now,” Mom said, walking over to the computer.
Kylie still wondered about something. “Has Heavenly Father forgiven me?” she asked Dad.
“Heavenly Father loves you, and He knows exactly what’s in your heart and your mind,” Dad said. “He wants us to not look at bad things because they’re not good for us. But He knows you saw it by accident. And even if you’d seen that on purpose, He loves us and He forgives us when we repent.”
“But He hasn’t taken the picture away from my mind. I can still see it!”
Dad stroked Kylie’s hair. “When you see something shocking, sometimes your brain remembers it more. But as time passes, and you fill your mind with good things, they’ll start pushing the bad things away.”
“You mean things like scriptures and Primary songs?”
“Sure,” Dad said. “And things you love, like puzzles and art and friends.”
“What about basketball and cats?” Kylie asked.
“Those are very good things!” Dad said.
Mom joined them. “I fixed the filter,” she said. “But there’s another filter that will never fail. The Holy Ghost helps us recognize when things are bad. He can always help us.”
Kylie nodded. She knew the Holy Ghost was helping her feel warm and peaceful, telling her that Heavenly Father loved her and that her parents loved her too.
“Now can I fill my mind with something good?” she asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “What do you want?”
Kylie thought for a minute. “How about a cat video?”
Mom grinned. “Coming right up!”

Illustration by Allen Garns
Our vacation was ending. Over waffles that morning, we planned how to make the most of our time at the hotel before enduring the five-hour drive home. My husband decided to take our three young daughters for a final escapade in the pool. I would take advantage of a treadmill in the workout room.
The treadmill I chose faced a wall-sized window overlooking the swimming pool. Shortly I saw a family, my family, make their way to the pool. Towels, shoes, and T-shirts flew everywhere as the girls excitedly prepared to jump into the water. Normally I would be following behind them, gathering up clothes and shoes and, quite honestly, being a bit annoyed by it all. Instead, I saw this family from the outside looking in, as though the giant window before me was a movie screen. As my feet pounded a rhythm on the rotating belt beneath, I watched.
I saw how happy everyone was, laughing and playing together, and I thought about the times I had become discouraged by the petty arguments that inevitably arise in a family, by the uneasy feeling that, despite my best effort, I was failing to teach my children to love each other. But as I watched, I saw people who were happy together. I discovered that I wasn’t failing to teach them to love one another; I was just failing to notice that they could.
I watched one of the girls jumping from the pool’s edge over and over again into her daddy’s arms. I thought about all the big jumps she would make throughout her life and hoped she would trust Heavenly Father to catch her each time. I knew that with each jump she was learning to trust and that being part of our family was a safe way to learn that trust.
Another daughter sought to perfect a swimming skill. I saw how her family’s encouragement kept her trying. There would be times in her life when she would need that same support in the face of more difficult challenges.
And then I watched as our third daughter was accidentally bumped into the pool. Upset and angry, she sputtered her way out of the water and into a chair. Immediately her family noticed she was missing. I watched each one lovingly encourage her to rejoin them. She eventually did, and I thought of her future, of all the times she would be hurt and feel like giving up. I hoped she would always find in the love of her family the strength to endure.
Suddenly, the realization hit me: our families can be a key to our ability to learn, understand, and live the gospel. Nephi noted that “by small means the Lord can bring about great things” (1 Nephi 16:29). And so it is with families. Yes, parents struggle. But every effort to teach and train and love, no matter how small, matters.
My little movie drew to a close. As I turned off the treadmill and watched my family gather their clothes, I felt renewed determination to keep going, to keep doing all the little things that I sometimes worry don’t make a difference.

I understand the young man who wrote this song had lost his father not long before and was expressing his deep feelings. They are most meaningful to me because I lost my dad, very unexpectedly, when I was only thirty-one. I thought my dad would live forever. He was too big, too strong, he was my hero, and yet without warning he was gone. Though I was married with children of my own, I missed him so much. I just craved to have him hold me once again. Please live each day so that you will not have regrets, no matter what may happen.

That’s a fine looking hole you’re digging, son,” Daddy said. “What’s it going to be?”
“A grave,” Aaron answered.
Daddy’s brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “A grave? What for?”
“A bird. Katie found it. We’re about ready for the funeral. Do you want to come?”
“I think I might,” Daddy replied.
Just then Katie marched solemnly down the walk, bearing a shoe box in her arms. Andy, Jana, and Shauna followed, carrying peach blossoms and flowers.
“Do you want to look in the box, Daddy?” Katie asked, lifting the lid.
There on a fluff of blue silk lay a robin, red breast up and feet sticking in the air.
“Poor little fellow,” Daddy said.
“Mama said he’s probably quite happy,” Katie responded.
“By the way, where is Mama?” Daddy asked.
“Coming,” Mama called. She had stopped to pick a daffodil.
Gently Katie laid the box in the hole.
“Your robin is being buried by my lizard,” Andy remarked.
“His lizard had a silent funeral, because lizards don’t make any sound,” Jana explained to her parents.
“When we have funerals for creatures, we do the same as they do,” Aaron elaborated. “That’s why we don’t preach in bird funerals, because birds don’t preach. They just sing. So now we’ll sing.”
Katie waved her arms and everyone sang, “Up, up in the sky, where the little birds fly …” After the song, Aaron carefully shoveled dirt over the box, mounding it neatly, then everyone arranged their flowers on top.
“Have a nice sleep, little bird,” Katie said. Looking up at Mama and Daddy, she added “We’ve named this place Sleepy Hollow.”
“How lovely,” Mama said.
As the family sat around the supper table that evening, the children were thoughtful.
“Mama, why did you say Katie’s robin was probably happy?” Jana asked.
“I know,” Andy spoke up, “because it doesn’t have to eat worms anymore.”
“How do you know?” Aaron asked.
“Because robins will go to heaven and worms won’t.”
“Who said so?” Aaron persisted.
“Both Mama and Daddy,” answered Andy. “When Mama found a worm in her apple, she said, ‘Ugh, the filthy thing.’ And you remember when Daddy read to us that no filthy thing would go to heaven?”
“Inherit the kingdom of heaven,” Aaron corrected.
“It means the same thing. Worms won’t get to heaven.”
“How do you know robins will?” Aaron asked.
“They will,” Katie piped up, “because robins are always cheerful. Even when it rains, they sing.”
“Daddy, will there be birds in heaven?” Aaron asked.
“I can’t quite imagine heaven without them,” Daddy answered.
“What about rabbits and squirrels?” Jana asked.
“I can only tell you what the scriptures say about it,” Daddy replied. “Usually, when we talk about the resurrection, we think of people. But the scriptures teach us that man, the earth, and all the life upon it will be resurrected, mentioning especially the beasts, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea. The Savior gave His life so that everything would rise from the dead, even lizards and robins.”
“Where will everything go?” asked Aaron.
“There will be a place prepared for everything. The Bible tells us that John saw noble beasts in heaven.”
There was a thoughtful silence, then Andy spoke. “I know some noble beasts—our cow and Grandpa’s horse.”
“Woodpeckers are noble,” Katie added. “You should see the noble hole one pecked in Uncle Perry’s barn. The sparrows later built a nest in it.”
“Heavenly Father is mindful of all His creations,” Mama said. “And He knows exactly where they will go, for they are important to Him.”
“That’s what our Primary teacher said in the lesson about being kind to animals,” Jana added.
“I like to think about having pets in heaven,” Andy remarked.
Leaning contentedly back in her chair, Katie sighed. “I’m thinking what heaven must really be like. I can imagine bluebirds and pink birds and yellow and green birds all singing and baby kittens purring and flowers blooming and lots of strawberries to eat. Heaven will have families who love each other just like we do. And we can thank Jesus for what He did for us.”
“You’re right, dear,” Mama said. “And when you kneel and pray to our Father in heaven in the name of Jesus Christ, you can thank Him now and every day.”

May I add my testimony of this by illustrating an example I witnessed in Albania of this great principle? At each of our zone conferences it was our practice to have the district leaders stand a report on his districts’ service projects for the previous weeks. At one particular zone conference, a district leader came forward and then for his report he asked his entire district to stand, face the missionaries, and then show them their hands. As they did, we all quickly saw that they were all covered with blisters. Then he reported that their service project for the past month had been to dig a well for one of the poor member families in Elbasan who had no running water in their home. He then told of how the senior missionary couple there had seen their dilemma and found that they were hauling water each day from a neighbor a hundred yards or so away who had a well. After doing some investigation, he found out how deep the well was and he concluded that if they could dig down that far, they could dig a well for this family–and so they had begun.

When the district leader reported that day, they were down about 12 feet. Initially, when they had started digging the 6' feet in diameter well the digging was relatively easy. Two elders dug for a while and then traded off with two others. As the hole got deeper, they soon couldn’t throw the dirt up and over the edge. Then they devised a system to fill buckets tied to a rope that was thrown over a log. When the bucket was filled, they would hoist it up where the two elders on top would take it and haul the dirt away to dump. It was quite a project.

You know, when you get down 15' or so, that is a deep hole. At 16' they hit solid rock. That’s pretty discouraging when you have dug that long. How great is your faith at a time like this? The senior missionary was discouraged, but not dismayed. After some searching, he found the one man in the little city who had a jack hammer. However, after the man broke two bits while drilling, he refused to go any further. How does this affect your faith? With a home made sledge hammer they continued on chipping away using the sledge and old railroad spikes.

Brothers and Sisters, How is your faith when you get to 20' & you’re still in rock with no water? How about 25'? It was at about 26' when they came out one morning and found the rock in the bottom of the well was wet. They broke through the rock that day, went down another foot, and the next day at 27 feet, they came out to find a foot of water in their well.

Brothers and Sisters, true disciples of Christ must have faith to step into the darkness knowing the light will follow. They must be willing to dig down 27' knowing they’ll find water even when digging in solid rock. This Rock came from the depths of that well. It is my constant reminder of the well and the faith it took to dig it.

[One young man] and another Aaronic Priesthood holder were assigned to administer the sacrament to a man who was homebound and very sick. They arrived at his home not realizing that recent medical treatments prevented him from eating any food—even a piece of the sacrament bread. After blessing the bread, the young man presented the sacrament to the frail man. He took a piece of the blessed bread, waited a moment, and then held it against his lips. The young man said when he saw this faithful brother express his reverence for the sacrament, he felt as though he were watching him kiss the feet of the Savior. He could tell that he loved Him.
The significance of the sacrament was impressed upon that young man in an unforgettable way that day. You will have sacred experiences, just as this young man did.

Illustration by Richard Mia
One Sunday following the final session of a general conference, I felt a very specific prompting to sign into my FamilySearch account and do some family history. I was reluctant to work on my family history because I had never had much success with my other attempts. My family is quite vigilant in family history, and I just had a thought in the back of my mind that there was nothing left to do.
I sat back and sighed with frustration as I looked at the dead end I had tried working on for years, hoping that this would finally be the day where I would find some information. I began my regular searches through census, marriage, and birth records, and after an hour I found nothing. Then the Spirit that had been whispering to me all weekend through the conference sessions prompted me to pray and find out who was ready for their work to be done now.
As I finished my prayer, I went back to my own name and moved forward through the line. I distinctly felt the Spirit guide me from one line to another until I ended up on my grandfather’s side of the family. Over the next hour the Spirit flourished in the room, and I came away with six names to take to the temple. As I finished requesting the names for the temple, I glanced down at some of the records I had received information from. My eyes swelled with tears and my heart was full of joy—the information had come from indexers who had volunteered their time to enter records for my ancestors. In gratitude, I indexed names for others for the next hour.
That day my testimony swelled with thankfulness for two reasons. One, that during general conference, the Spirit had led me to do family history work and to know which names to search for. Second, for Church members all over the world who index names so that people like me can find our ancestors clearly and quickly and hasten their work. It was a clear and powerful testimony to me of God’s work spreading forth upon the whole earth.

Everyone can find ways to offer Christlike service. My counselor Sister Carol F. McConkie recently told me about her 10-year-old granddaughter Sarah who, when she realized that her mother was ill, decided on her own to be of help. She got her little sister up, helped her dress, brush her teeth, fix her hair, and eat breakfast so her mother could rest. She quietly performed this simple act of service without being asked because she saw a need and desired to help. Not only did Sarah bless her mother, but I am sure that she also felt joy in knowing she had lightened the burden of someone she loved and, along the way, strengthened her relationship with her sister. President James E. Faust said: “Serving others can begin at almost any age. … It need not be on a grand scale, and it is noblest within the family.”4

My boyhood home in California was located relatively close to large orchards of apricots, cherries, peaches, pears, and other delicious fruits. We also lived near fields of cucumbers, tomatoes, and a variety of vegetables.
As a boy I always looked forward to canning season. I did not like scrubbing the canning jars or working in our hot kitchen. But I did like working with my mom and dad. And I loved eating my work! I am sure I ate more fruit than ever made it into any of our canning jars.
My memories of time spent in the kitchen with Mom and Dad are stirred every time I see a bottle of home-canned cherries or peaches. The basic lessons I learned about temporal self-reliance and provident living while picking and canning produce have blessed me throughout my life. Interestingly, simple and ordinary experiences often provide the most important learning opportunities we ever have.

When I contemplate living honorably, my thoughts inevitably turn to Brother Gustav Wacker. I met Brother Wacker when I served as president of the Canadian Mission in Eastern Canada. He was president of the Kingston Branch of that mission. He was from Germany and spoke English with a thick accent. He never owned or drove a car. He was a barber by trade, making but little money cutting hair near an army base at Kingston.

How Brother Wacker loved the missionaries! The highlight of his day would be when he had the privilege to cut the hair of a missionary. Never would there be a charge. When the missionaries would make a feeble attempt to pay him, Brother Wacker would say, “Oh no, it is a joy to cut the hair of a servant of the Lord.” Indeed, he would reach deep into his pockets and give the missionaries all of his tips for the day. If it were raining, as it often did in Kingston, President Wacker would call a taxi and send the missionaries to their apartment by cab, while he himself at day’s end would lock the small shop and walk home alone in the driving rain.

I first met Gustav Wacker when I noticed that his tithing was far in excess of that expected from his potential income. My efforts to explain to him that the Lord required no more than a tenth fell on attentive but unconvinced ears. He simply responded that he loved to pay all he could to the Lord. It amounted to about a third of his income. His dear wife felt exactly as he did. Their unique manner of tithing payment continued. Gustav and Margarete Wacker established a home that was a heaven. They were not blessed with children, but they mothered and fathered the young missionaries who loved to visit them. Men of learning and men of experience sought out this humble man of God and counted themselves fortunate if they could spend an hour with him. His appearance was ordinary, his English was halting and somewhat difficult to understand, his home was unpretentious. He did none of the things to which the world usually pays attention, yet the faithful beat a path to his door. Why? Because they wished to drink this “fountain of truth.”

It was not so much what he said as what he did; not the substance of the sermons he preached but the strength of the life he lived. He had the glow of goodness and the ­radiance of righteousness. His strength came from obedience. In their later years, Brother and Sister Wacker served a proselyting mission to their native Germany and later a temple mission in the beautiful Washington D.C. Temple. Then, in 1983, his mission in mortality concluded: dressed in his white temple suit, Gustav Wacker peacefully passed away in the Washington D.C. Temple while being held in the loving arms of his eternal companion. He had felt a bit faint, and the two of them found a sofa there in the temple, where they sat down just before he slipped away. He had not laid up for himself treasures on earth; rather, he had laid up for himself treasures in heaven (see Matthew 6:19–20).

Another memory from my boyhood was learning how to work. We had a big yard because my dad wanted to teach us how to work in it. So we all had assignments—mowing the lawn, weeding the vegetable and flower gardens, trimming the hedges, and so forth. My favorite job was working in our strawberry patch, because I’d eat the strawberries almost as fast as I picked them!
One job I had was mowing the lawn with our old push mower. My dad wouldn’t make me do it when I didn’t want to, but he would warn me, “It’s your job, and if you don’t do it today, the grass will only be longer tomorrow, and it’ll be harder to push the mower.” I remember procrastinating three or four days past the time when I should have mowed the lawn. Trying to push that mower through the long grass was really hard. I learned never to put off what you’re supposed to do, because it just gets harder the longer you wait. One of the happiest days of my youth was when my dad finally bought a power lawn mower!

I was born in Armenia when it was part of the Soviet Union. My parents taught me and my two siblings to be honest, good, and morally clean, and they did everything to give us a good education. But one of the first things I learned in kindergarten was a philosophy that religion is the opium of the people. And until I was 12 years old, I never knew there was a God.
When I was 12, a terrible earthquake destroyed 90 percent of my hometown, killing more than 50,000 people. I was in school when the noise became louder and louder, and everything around us began to shake. I was pulled into the crowd, trying to escape the building. Amid all the confusion, I suddenly realized I might never see my family again. In that moment, I saw a red knit scarf my mother had made for me hanging in a large hallway to the right of the stairwell. Following an impression, I broke from the crowd and went to retrieve the scarf. In that instant the ground shook for the third and last time, and I witnessed the stairwell collapse with all my friends in its ruins. Upon regaining my senses, I found that the whole school was a huge mass of rubble—with the exception of that tiny area housing me and my red knit scarf.
My entire family of five survived. When my father saw my mom, my eight-month-old sister, my seven-year-old brother, and me sitting in the middle of the street after seven hours of searching for us, the only thing he said was, “Blessed be Thy name, God.” I had lost my home, but for the first time I heard the name of God.
Eleven years passed. I had just graduated from the medical university in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, where I was a medical resident in ophthalmology. While doing some volunteer work, I met two Latter-day Saint missionaries and we became good friends. They were welcomed in our home just as anyone else, but as soon as they started to talk about God, the whole atmosphere became tense. My parents told me that missionaries “teaching their religion” were not welcome in our home. Personally, I was not interested in religion, but I had not stopped them because there was something different in the eyes of those missionaries—something so innocent, pure, and magnificent. I was very interested in finding the source of the light I noticed in their eyes.
After my parents expressed their disapproval, I avoided meeting with the missionaries and finally arranged to meet them at their church building but just to say I was too busy to proceed with our discussions. Arriving at our appointment one hour early, I entered a room with lots of chairs and about 15 people in it. As I sat quietly, trying not to disturb anyone, I was astonished by the unusual but unbelievably familiar feelings. I felt just like I had when I was five years old and could run home, hug my mom, and tell her all that I had done—certain that she loved me, that she would always be there for me, and that everything was all right. After the long years of wandering in spirit, I knew I was home.
That night for the first time in my life, I knelt and prayed to God. If there was a Heavenly Father, I wanted Him to answer me, to tell me if the things the missionaries taught were true, to show me why I felt so different. It is hard to describe what happened next. I had never before felt the presence of my Heavenly Father so tangibly. I knew He loved me. He knew me. He had always been there. I slept that night knowing with all the strength of my heart that I had found my way home.
I started studying the gospel very carefully. After four months of intense investigation, I decided to be baptized.
My life soon turned upside down. I lost my job and had to end my medical residency. As my interests and values started to change, my old friends started to disappear. But hardest of all for me to accept was that my parents were against my baptism.
I loved my parents dearly. They had given everything they had to provide me with the best education and environment. They were proud of my accomplishments. But when they heard my decision, they were shocked. It was the first time I had wanted to do something they did not agree with, and it was very difficult for all of us. But I knew that God wanted me to be baptized. So even if my family would deny me, I couldn’t deny my Heavenly Father.
My family did not accept the invitation to my baptism, so on my baptism day I went alone to the church. There were many people at the baptism, but I felt my only “family members” were the two missionaries. Then as I turned to go to the baptismal font, I saw my mother and brother. It was the happiest day of my life. The presence of my family was like a beam of sunshine that brought me the hope of a brighter tomorrow.
The following year was full of blessings. In addition to responsibilities in my branch and much volunteer work, I found work in a private hospital and was able to continue my education. My mother came to Church meetings several times after my baptism, and she joined the Church five months later. But most important, I had my Heavenly Father’s love as part of my life, and I had the assurance that I was finally on my way home.

Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer aren’t the only active boys to come from Hannibal, Missouri. There are also Paul (10) and Jimmy (6) Stork. But Jimmy and Paul do like to keep those two famous boys in mind. Every Fourth of July they celebrate Tom Sawyer Day. This year, Paul will dress as Mark Twain and be in the fence-painting contest. Jimmy is going to catch and train a frog to jump so he can enter the frog-jumping contest. He’ll dress as Tom Sawyer for that.
Jimmy has a green thumb. He loves to garden. Every time his father, Dan, goes out to work in the garden, Jimmy’s right there. He has his own pumpkin patch that he weeds every day. When the first frost turns the pumpkins orange, Jimmy shares them with his neighbors.
Paul loves to play basketball and soccer, and he’s a whiz on computers. When his school first got computers, he helped some of the teachers learn how to use them.
One of the boys’ favorite activities is fishing down by the dam on the Mississippi River. They always have a contest with their parents to see who can catch the first fish, the biggest fish, and the most fish.
But the one contest they both hope to win is more serious—Paul’s fight with diabetes, a condition that can make you very ill if you eat the wrong things or don’t eat the right things.
Four years ago the doctors discovered Paul’s illness. At first, he was really angry about being diabetic, and he wanted to eat everything all the other kids were eating. But one time he went to his doctor and his blood sugar was really high—he hadn’t been eating right. The doctor sent the family to a specialist, saying, “If you don’t take care of Paul and keep him in control, he won’t live to be twenty.” That really upset them. The specialist helped the family learn what they needed to do to keep Paul healthy. Now he does everything he’s supposed to do. He even tests his own blood and gives himself three insulin shots each day to make certain that his blood sugar level stays normal.
About the same time that Paul found out he was diabetic, his father, also a diabetic, started having serious health problems because he wasn’t taking care of himself. One day Paul was with him when he had a seizure, and Paul had to call 911 for help. Dan realized then that he had to set an example for his son.
Paul also helps his father stay in control. Together, and with the help and support of Mom and Jimmy, they know it’s a battle they can win. It makes it easier that Mom, Carol, is a great cook who fixes all the right things for them to eat, and that there is sugar-free ice cream to celebrate special occasions with.
Jimmy tries to help his brother too. It was really hard for him the first time he saw Paul have a seizure, but now he knows what to look for and what to do if it happens. Still, he prays every day that Paul will be OK. His first words each morning are, “Where’s Paul?” He looks up to Paul and wants to go everywhere with him. Sometimes it drives Paul crazy, but he loves his brother and realizes that he needs to do what’s right because Jimmy is learning from him.
Paul and Jimmy love to visit their Grandma and Grandpa Stork, who live in Quincy, Illinois, a few miles away on the other side of the Mississippi River. When the river flooded last year, the only way the boys could go see their grandparents was by ferry or airplane because all the bridges across the river were washed out.
When the flooding started, their parents told the boys that they were all going sandbagging. Jimmy and Paul moaned and groaned all day. But after their parents explained to them why they were doing it—to save people’s homes and businesses—the boys were anxious every morning to get to work. Each day for two weeks, they went sandbagging with their mom from 10:30 A.M. until 3:30 P.M., when they’d go home to eat. When their dad got home from work, they all went again from 5 P.M. until about 9 P.M. They were very grateful to the Red Cross, who brought food and water so that they could stay on the job.
One day a ward member’s house was in danger of being flooded, so they helped move all the furniture and other things. It took until midnight, but they got everything out of the house before the water flooded it.
Paul and Jimmy’s favorite song is “Nephi’s Courage.” Both boys seem to have applied the example of that great prophet to their own lives: They try to have the courage to do what is right, to be obedient to the commandments, and to serve others. Their family is reading the Book of Mormon together every night. Both boys want to serve missions. “They’ll be the first missionaries from either Dan’s or my family,” said their mother. “It’s going to be neat!” It already is.

Stirling raced his big brother, Parker, up and down the narrow trail, thrilled to be hiking to an actual waterfall.
The bushes and grass grew so close to the trail that they sometimes scratched his legs when he walked past. He didn’t mind. This hike was going to be great!
“Can I swim in it, Dad?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Dad said.
“It will be too cold,” Mom explained. “And you don’t want to be wet for the hike back.”
Stirling shrugged his shoulders. It would still be fun to splash his older sister, Emma. He’d wait until she wasn’t watching, then wham!
As the morning went on, though, it started getting hot. His legs got tired, and he could feel blisters on his feet.
Stirling frowned. This was longer than he’d ever hiked before. And they still had the whole hike back. Was he going to make it?
But his worries disappeared when he finally heard the waterfall around the corner. He and Parker raced the rest of the way.
When the waterfall came into sight, Stirling skidded to a stop. It was awesome. He couldn’t believe how tall the waterfall was and how much water came crashing down. He forgot all about his tired legs.
After eating lunch, Stirling kicked off his shoes and splashed around the edge of the pool. The water was cold, but it felt great. Emma poured some water on his head, but he got her back with a giant splash of his own.
Before Stirling knew it, it was time to head back. The fun and excitement from the waterfall quickly faded as they started the long hike home. Every step hurt.
“How much longer is it?” Stirling asked. “I’m sooo tired.”
“You can do it,” Mom said. “Just keep moving. You’ll be okay.”
Stirling wasn’t so sure. If his feet hurt this much already, how would he ever make it to the end of the trail?
Soon even Parker and Emma started to complain, until Dad made a suggestion.
“Why don’t we say a prayer?” he asked.
Stirling was happy for any excuse to stop hiking. He folded his arms and bowed his head while Dad prayed. Dad asked Heavenly Father to keep them safe and to help them find the strength to finish their hike.
After the prayer, Stirling had an idea of his own. “Why don’t we sing some Primary songs?” He loved singing. Maybe that would help.
“Great idea,” said Mom.
They sang song after song. Stirling soon forgot about his aching feet and tired legs. He smiled. They just might make it after all.
Suddenly he bumped into Dad, who had stopped right in front of him. Stirling peeked around Dad. His eyes widened. A giant moose was walking across the trail only a few feet away.
Stirling froze. He knew how important it was not to startle wild animals. They could be dangerous.
But the moose only disappeared into the bushes. Stirling sighed in relief. That was a close one.
Down the trail a little way, his family stopped for a drink. “I think that moose knew we were coming because we were singing,” Parker said. “And so we didn’t surprise it.”
“That could have been bad,” added Emma. “Great idea to have us sing, Stirling.”
Stirling paused for a second. Had their singing actually helped them stay safe? After thinking about it for a bit, he realized Heavenly Father had answered their prayer. Not only did singing give them strength to finish the hike, but it kept them safe from danger.
He smiled again. Singing Primary songs was always a good idea.

Besides coming home on time, here’s a better way Susan could have dealt with this situation:
Dad: Where have you been, Susan?
Susan: Sorry I’m late, Dad. I lost track of time, and traffic was bad.
Dad: Your mom and I were worried.
Susan: Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m fine. I’ll try not to be late next time, and I’ll call if I am so you won’t be worried.
Dad: Thanks, but I don’t know if you should go to any more parties for a while.
Susan: Can we talk about this, Dad? I am getting older, and most of my friends have later curfews than I do. Can we discuss moving my curfew to a later time?
Susan and her dad stay up for a while working things out.
Notice the first thing Susan did was apologize. A smart move. Proverbs 15:1 says, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.” If her dad had been upset at her, Susan’s soft answers would probably make him less upset.
She also listened to what her dad was really saying—with his words and his actions. If he really didn’t care about her, he probably wouldn’t have waited up. She realized her dad wanted her to come home on time because he loves her and not because he wants to ruin her life.

No amount of effort could keep even the most careful teen dry or clean as 110 young people from the Cincinnati Ohio Stake traveled along a slippery and muddy path during their annual youth conference.
Their theme was “Our Pioneer Heritage,” and they dressed their parts well: full-length dresses, bonnets, and bloomers for the girls; lace-up shirts and hats for the boys.
Each participant helped to pull loaded handcarts along the 7.5-mile trek. At one point, they emptied their carts, carried the contents up a steep hill, then returned to the bottom to pull the heavy carts up.
All along the way, they learned from their physical trials, mistaken turns, and growling hunger. As they learned, their trials contributed to a better understanding of the sacrifice offered by the early Saints. They were grateful for the example of faith and perseverance set by the pioneers.

Consider the experience of Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve. Some years ago, Elder Oaks was living in Chicago when one night he was confronted by a young robber with a gun. Elder Oaks had no money to give him, no watch, nothing of value except his car—and his wife was in the car. Both Elder Oaks and his wife were at great risk. During the encounter, Elder Oaks had an opportunity to grab the gun without the likelihood of being shot. “I was taller and heavier than this young man,” Elder Oaks explains, “and at that time of my life was somewhat athletic. I had no doubt that I could prevail in a quick wrestling match if I could get his gun out of the contest.
“Just as I was about to make my move, I had a unique experience. I did not see anything or hear anything, but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man’s chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also knew that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life.” (See New Era, Mar. 1994, 4.)
How should you react in a similar situation? Who knows? It would be a different time, a different robber, a different place. The point is that Elder Oaks had not conditioned himself to automatically react violently. But he had conditioned himself to listening to the still, small voice. So when the idea of grabbing the gun came to him, he was willing and able to be guided by the Spirit.
It’s also important to note that Elder Oaks had ended up in a dangerous area because he and his wife were taking another sister home from a Church activity. He certainly wasn’t looking for trouble. He had taken reasonable precautions, such as leaving Sister Oaks in a locked car and later making sure the street was clear before going back out to the car.

Elder Hale returned recently from the California Ventura Mission. “I worked as a dietician’s assistant for two years. I made up the trays for the older sisters in a Catholic convent. I took them their food and helped them eat it. We enjoyed great religion discussions. They sent me researching history and facts. I loved the ladies like grandmas. I learned to respect them and their beliefs. My job in the school cafeteria led me to the convent job. I also raised rabbits and sold them through the pet stores for a commission.
“When I had enough money I loaned it out and received a steady income with interest. I put aside 10 percent for tithing and then another 20 percent for my mission.
“Work hard. The harder you work on a job, the harder you will work on your mission. It is difficult to be rejected at doors when tracting. Only the ability to work hard will keep you going back to one more door at the end of a long day.”

I have been privileged to see such courage shown by one of the young men I was honored to teach in Sunday School. It is with his permission that I share his story.

I first met Caden during his senior year of high school. Caden was outgoing and charismatic with a quick sense of humor. Although he had consistent attendance at church, it is fair to say church wasn't his first priority. Caden's time away from church included hanging out with friends, too often participating in activities that were not in keeping with church standards. And yet, Caden still attended church, sometimes bringing one of his friends to Sunday School with him.

As Caden neared the age of nineteen, he began to think about a mission. He knew his life was not in keeping with mission standards and made a commitment to meet with the bishop and make the changes necessary to go on a mission. This was not an easy process. It meant changing behaviors that had become comfortable habits. It also meant changing friends, never an easy task. Changes came slowly, sometimes with one step forward and two steps back. When his mission call came, we rejoiced in Caden's decision and hard work to become a missionary. On a brisk spring afternoon, Caden said good-bye to his family, squared his shoulders, and walked into the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.

I happened to be traveling home from a work related trip the day Caden would fly out to his mission. As I landed in the Salt Lake City airport, I realized I would likely be able to say good-bye to him. I checked the flight boards, found the appropriate destination, and began walking to the gate, eager to say good-bye to Caden as he departed for the mission field. I arrived at the gate to see a large group of smiling missionaries in suits and dresses. I scanned the group, looking for Caden. Not seeing his face, and assuming he was calling home, I asked the missionaries if this dear elder was part of their group. The once smiling faces became silent and sullen. One elder, large in stature, stood and told me he was Caden's companion. I smiled, happy to meet Caden's companion. The now quiet group of missionaries fixed their eyes on this elder as he explained my friend had gone home a few days before. I wished the group well, telling them to have a great two years.

I walked slowly away, pondering the sacrifices Caden had made in preparation for his mission, my heart broken, knowing how difficult this would be for Caden and his family.

The next day, I drove to Caden's home to let him know of my love for him. I chatted with his mother and learned Caden had something that did not get completely taken care of before he left for his mission. A zone leader in the MTC, Caden knew he could not continue without addressing the concern. In an act of courage, Caden met with his priesthood leader. Caden had a desire to return to the mission field and planned accordingly. Time passed and it soon became apparent a return to the mission field would require waiting a substantial amount of time. Caden had good family support. Caden and I would occasionally grab a soda and discuss his plans. During these visits, it became clear Caden was losing hope. He stopped planning to return to his mission and began planning how to move forward with his life.

Caden secured a job and began taking classes from a local university. He had a girlfriend who was not a member. It was their desire to marry, but Caden's girlfriend wanted to join the church before their marriage, something she knew would be difficult for her parents to accept. Eventually they were engaged and married, and, following the marriage, Caden's wife was baptized. Caden and his beautiful wife settled into their new ward. Both of them were working and began taking courses from the same local university. Neither of them had an interest in attending BYU-Idaho, but as they continued to faithfully turn to the Lord, their hearts were softened and they were led to BYU-Idaho.

Moving to Rexburg to attend school was another act of courage. Unsure of where they would live and how to pay for the expenses of being full-time students, Caden and his wife trusted in the Lord. I bumped into Caden and his wife a few times during their first semesters at BYU-Idaho. Caden reported he loved BYU-Idaho! His classes were challenging, but he was working hard and finding success in a difficult major. What I noticed most about my friend was the light, the pure light of Christ, in his eyes. Rather than forsake what he knew, in a difficult situation of his own making, he courageously and humbly turned to the Lord. The light that shone from his eyes was a testament the Lord will succor us when we turn to him in humility and do what we are asked to do with courage. As Caden acts in faith, he is becoming the man the Lord knows he can become; valiant, capable, and courageous. In a powerful postscript to this story, Caden and his wife were sealed in the temple and recently welcomed their first child, a beautiful daughter, into their family.