Gospel Story Finder

About 180 missionaries in the California Carlsbad Mission divided their time between proselyting and helping fire victims. For a month they shoveled ash and debris, hefted sandbags, and helped at evacuation centers.
One elder said, “My shoulders are sore, my back hurts, and my fingernails are dirty from dirt and ash, but my heart is full.”
The reputation of the missionaries’ hard work grew. An engineering official, assessing his needs for a sandbagging project, said with a smile, “We’ll need 195 men or 5 Mormon missionaries.”

Many years ago when at the age of 12 I was ordained a deacon, my father, who was president of our stake, took me to my first stake priesthood meeting. … He walked up to the stand, and I sat on the back row, feeling a little alone and uncomfortable in that hall filled with strong men who had been ordained to the priesthood of God. The meeting was called to order, the opening song was announced, and—as was then the custom—we all stood to sing. There were perhaps as many as 400 there. Together these men lifted their strong voices, … all singing these words with a great spirit of conviction and testimony:
Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah!
Jesus anointed that Prophet and Seer.
Blessed to open the last dispensation,
Kings shall extol him, and nations revere.
(“Praise to the Man,” Hymns, no. 27.)
They were singing of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and as they did so there came into my heart a great surge of love for and belief in the mighty Prophet of this dispensation. In my childhood I had been taught much of him in meetings and classes in our ward as well as in our home; but my experience in that stake priesthood meeting was different. I knew then, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God.1

In July 2018, I received a temple recommend for the first time to do baptisms for the dead. After that, I thought that living well was good enough, and I did not feel the need to go back. Last year, in June 2023, I had some situations in my life that gave me the desire to return. Deep in my heart, I knew I should not postpone it any longer. I strongly felt the Spirit during general conference urging me to return to the temple, and I knew it was one of the things that God truly wanted me to do. I decided to put it on my to-do list for 2024 and made plans to travel to the Rio de Janeiro Brazil Temple.
After informing my husband of my intention to return to the temple and to receive my own endowment and fully committing to this decision, I encountered multiple obstacles. Through the months following, my financial situation weakened. Not only did I want to receive my endowment, but I also wanted to be sealed to my parents. This would require them to travel to the temple with me, which would require even more financial support. My finances continued to decline.
I also faced challenges at work that were beyond my control. I knew what was going on, but I made a conscious decision not to let it bother me. I kept praying for courage to continue and drew strength from the scriptures.
On the day of departure, my daughter’s airline booking was not confirmed. The travel agency had made a mistake, which added another problem. Just before we left for our temple trip, my children became sick. When they are sick, they want to be with me. As I was leaving, my children were crying, which was yet another difficulty, making it hard to leave. But with each obstacle, I believed that things would work out. How, I did not know, but God would help me.
My experience in the temple was truly miraculous. I had never felt Christ’s love so strongly before. I felt close to Heavenly Father and forgiven for my mistakes. I felt peace, strength, and wisdom to navigate my life and to make the right choices. I was blessed with more wisdom on how to be a better woman and mother, how to interact with people, how to deal with others’ imperfections, and how to be more patient.
I then had the opportunity to be sealed to my parents. Even though I missed my sisters at that moment, I had a very loving and miraculous experience. After leaving the temple, every problem I had placed in Heavenly Father’s hands was resolved.
I am very grateful that, despite every obstacle, I never gave up. Even though I felt weak and wondered why this happened, deep down, I knew I had to learn from these experiences and stay strong. I did stay strong and kept pushing through. I did it, and today, I have received my endowment and am sealed to my parents.

Saturday was finally here. It was time for our surprise adventure!
“I hope we’re going to the trampoline park,” I shouted from the backseat. Mom wouldn’t tell us where we were going, but the street we were on looked familiar. …
Then it hit me. We were going to the care center. Our school class had gone there a few times. We each had a “grandparent buddy” to talk to and play games with. My buddy was named Bill, and he was pretty cool.
But not as cool as a trampoline park, I thought as Mom pulled into the parking lot. When my brother saw the red and tan building, he groaned.
“This is going to be the worst day ever!” he grumbled. “This isn’t a fun adventure at all.”
Mom looked at us from the rear-view mirror. “Oh come on, give it a shot. By the time we’re through, you just might change your mind.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t so sure. I helped Mom carry bags of small quilts into the lobby. It felt calm and peaceful inside.
“Do you know why I like coming here?” Mom asked. I shook my head.
“I feel the same way here as when I see new babies at the hospital,” she said. “Like I’m close to heaven.”
Close to heaven. I liked that.
We showed the receptionist at the front desk the quilts we wanted to hand out, and he led us to a room where we could visit.
“Is Bill still here?” I asked. “The one who’s married to Ruth and likes baseball?”
One of the workers nodded. “Oh, yes! Bill is still here. We sure love him.”
We started talking with some of the people, and it was actually pretty interesting hearing about their lives. And after a while, I saw Bill sitting in his wheelchair.
“Hi, Bill!”
He didn’t look like he remembered me, but that was OK. I picked out a small quilt with a baseball pattern and laid it on his lap.
“He gets cold a lot, and that will really help him,” said one of the workers standing nearby. “His wife will be happy to see it. She comes to visit him every day.”
Our visit wasn’t long, but it was long enough to see Bill smile. On our way out, we read a piece of paper posted on Bill’s door that told some fun things about his life. We learned that he grew up on a farm and learned to play baseball from his stepmother.
“Hey, Mom, look!” I pointed to a line on the paper. “He was so good at baseball that he was going to sign on with a professional team! But then he served in the military instead.” It was neat to learn a bit more about Bill.
Soon we were back in the van, buckling our seatbelts.
“So?” Mom asked us. “What did you think?”
I smiled. “I actually had fun. And I feel really happy. I think it’s because we helped Bill.”
As Mom drove home, we talked about different ways we can show people love and how the Spirit tells us when we are making good choices. We were all feeling so great that we decided to go back and visit another day.
What a great day! I thought as we pulled into our driveway. It was a fun adventure after all.

A few years ago, I lost a dear friend. He and I had spent many hours talking, working, and fishing together. I learned so much from him. I watched as he loved and served those around him in ways that I simply had never seen anyone do before. He was healthy and strong, his work ethic was unmatched. And then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, he was diagnosed with cancer and passed away. Left behind were his wonderful wife and eight children, two of whom were still young. In my mind, I can play out dozens of scenarios where his unique personality and capacity would have helped people and made the world a better place. I wish he was still here. I feel like he was taken too soon. It has been a few years, and it still feels like he was taken too soon.
To this day, I do not fully understand the Lord’s purpose in taking Big Wave Dave from this earth.

I am grateful to have experienced this in my life. I mentioned previously the difficult experience of losing my dear friend, Big Wave Dave. As the days passed after his death, I was struggling personally to deal with him being gone. During the services held to celebrate his life, I sat and looked into the eyes of his wife and daughters, whom I also love dearly, and I was overwhelmed. I felt their pain. I felt a desire, unlike anything I had felt before, to bear their burdens, mourn with them and comfort them. I tried to do that. I know it wasn’t enough to alleviate all their pain, but I hope it made a difference.

A challenge faced by some families is how to reach and inspire young children during family home evening. Christine Carter of the Syracuse New York Stake writes: “I recently attended the temple to receive my own endowment, and I wanted to hold a family home evening about the importance of the temple. I had prepared well, but my six-year-old son, Tyler, was inattentive and disruptive. I felt discouraged and ready to cancel the lesson.
“Prompted by the Spirit, I looked my son in the eyes and asked him, ‘Do you know that attending the temple is the most important thing you need to do?’ The impact of those words was incredible. He was sobered and became interested in learning about the temple. We marveled over the pictures of the temples and wondered about the mansion Jesus Christ is preparing for our return to Him. We put together a puzzle of the temple and then did it again because we had so much fun. We sang ‘I Love to See the Temple.’ Later, Tyler decorated our hallway with pictures of different temples. He also decided to make a temple switch plate cover for the hall light, complete with his own drawing of the Salt Lake Temple. Now every time we turn on the light we can remember that the temple lights our way to return home to the Lord.
“I am so grateful that the Spirit guided me during our lesson and that I did not give up on teaching my son of the importance of the temple.”

Zula Tenges is one young woman whom the missionary outreach touched. She came to Germany from Mongolia. She wanted to learn English and found a course offered at the institute. “The class was free,” says Zula. “I was liking that. I met some elders, and they taught me about the Church. I wasn’t really interested in religion, but I wanted to understand more about Christianity.”
Zula, 21, from the Tiergarten Ward, was drawn into the activities and the friendship she found at the Berlin institute. “It was so cool at institute. I have so many friends. Many of them are now on missions. That was a great place to get to know the Church.” Zula was baptized a little more than a year ago.

Then one day my sister came to visit with her two beautiful little daughters. It was one month before my 24th birthday. Time was running out, and I knew I needed to decide what I was going to do with my life. That day one of my nieces fell asleep in my arms. As I watched her sleep I realized that someday I would have children and they would ask me, “Daddy, why didn’t you go on a mission?” At that moment I made my decision.
My decision was not easy for my mother to accept. She and my father were separated, and I was the only child at home with her. Still, I knew that what I was doing was right, so I filled out my papers and sent them in. When my call to serve in the Honduras Comayaguela Mission came, my mother was so upset she became ill. But in time, she began to accept my decision, and she even helped me prepare to leave.
On the day I left for the Missionary Training Center, I gave my mother a priesthood blessing. And as I served I began to understand the Lord’s promise: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say” (D&C 82:10). How great was my joy when the calling I had so long dreamed of holding was finally mine—that of full-time representative of the Lord and His Church. How great was my joy when one year into my mission I received word that my mother had accepted the truth and had been baptized. How grateful I am that I took a leap of faith.

Kirsten, our second child, was born about 30 years ago after a difficult pregnancy. Immediately after her birth the doctors discovered a serious cardiac defect. Kirsten was quickly transferred to the intensive care unit of the children’s hospital. Laying his hands on her tiny body in the incubator, my husband gave her the first priesthood blessing of her life—a welcome gift for her arrival on this earth.
During the following days I often stood in front of the glass window looking into intensive care and watched as this little girl struggled for her life. We were not even allowed to touch her, and we did not know what to wish for her.
When I was discharged from the hospital without my baby, my husband and I had the desire to go to the temple. We could do nothing physically for our little Kirsten. We had to trust the Lord and the physicians. At that time the nearest temple was in Switzerland, far from our home in Hamburg, but we felt we had to gather strength there for the unknown future. We applied all of our faith in behalf of our daughter.
In the meantime the doctors diagnosed a rare cardiac defect they were not able to operate on at that time. The life expectancy of patients with this condition was very limited. But five weeks later we were able to take our little Kirsten home. While her body may have been suffering, her spirit was cheerful and willing to learn, and we could tell that she enjoyed living in our family and loved her older brother very much.
When Kirsten was four her condition deteriorated, and she became weaker and weaker. After praying, fasting, and visiting the temple, we decided upon surgery in a cardiac center in Munich, where doctors had recently repaired a complicated condition like Kirsten’s. Doctors actually had to change everything in the heart—make the ventricles smaller, close holes, and repair both valves. It was a genuine work of art. We were very worried about Kirsten, and our whole ward joined us in praying for her.
The doctors operated on Kirsten on May 21, 1980, and when she had gotten over the worst and was transferred from intensive care to another unit, we were full of confidence. Then a terrible thing happened. A tiny blood clot loosened from a repaired heart valve, settled in the brain, and within a few minutes caused a complete paralysis of her right side and a loss of speech. Kirsten’s eyes were full of fear and sadness. This was very difficult for us. I still see my husband and me standing in a phone booth in Munich, desperately calling our bishop. Within the next few days we received comforting letters from many ward members. Fasting also gave us renewed strength to encourage Kirsten and accept this affliction.
The following years were filled with therapies, and we rejoiced in every little bit of progress. When it was time for Kirsten to start school, her health was sufficient for her to attend a regular elementary school. She developed fabulous coping strategies with her left, usable hand. Her right leg became stronger, and she learned how to swim, bike, and ride horses. She rejoiced in her life. If a child laughed at her somewhat peculiar walk, I simply showed him or her pictures of Kirsten’s life, and the laughter turned into admiration.
Kirsten received much love from her grandparents and other relatives, and the ward fellowshipped her. In turn, she showed her joy in the gospel to everyone she met and has been the one in our family who has brought the most friends into the Church.
After graduating from high school Kirsten diligently completed training to be an industry saleswoman and also obtained her driver’s license. With her slightly converted car she could be more self-reliant, and she was able to participate in young single adult conferences and fulfill stake callings. In 1999 she took a year off to serve a Church-service mission in the Frankfurt temple.
Kirsten loves children and finds a special closeness to them. Her niece, nephew, and Primary children love her very much. She is an example for us, showing that one does not have to become bitter because of severe adversity, but that one can radiate cheerfulness.
In 2003 a very loving young man came into Kirsten’s life and became more and more important to her. He is a returned missionary who grew up in a faithful Latter-day Saint family. In August 2004 he and Kirsten were sealed in the Frankfurt temple. They are now mastering life’s challenges together.
Two of our children have physical impairments. You do not wish it, but if it happens, you have to accept it wholeheartedly, learn, and fight through the difficulties. You develop a keen ear for the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Our Father in Heaven knows which afflictions we need here on earth if we are to grow. I have often comforted my children with the words, “You will have these physical impairments only while you live on this earth, and mortality is very short compared to eternity.”

Heredia, Costa Rica: Drunk, he broke his back in a car accident. He begged the Lord for another chance at life.
When he left his friend’s wedding, Carlos Barrera was drunk. But he drove anyway—and ended up wrecking his car and breaking his spinal column in three places. “My whole life passed before me,” he says. “‘Give me another chance,’ I begged the Lord.” Now he knows that his petition was answered.
Carlos had been baptized when he was seventeen, but unlike his Latter-day Saint friends, he didn’t go on a mission. While they were gone, he made new friends—people with bad habits. “I began to smoke and drink. I’d been active until then—was even an elder—and my conscience got to me. From then on, my life was awful.”
He married Haydee, a nonmember. “We were always missing something in our lives,” he says. Then he lost his job. Problems mounted. “I started going around with an even worse crowd, people who took drugs, whose lives were filled with things of the world.”
“Instead of becoming more united during that time of trial,” says Haydee, “we became separated emotionally.”
Missionaries and Church members frequently came to encourage him, and he even went back to church once. “But I couldn’t stand being there because of my conscience,” he says.
Finally he got a good job as a radio operator for the police department. But he still hadn’t found peace. “I attended my wife’s church with her and the girls, looking for what I was missing, but I never found it. I talked with the priests there, begging with tears for help, but they didn’t know how.” Haydee listened to the missionary discussions but didn’t want to be baptized.
Then, in November 1986, came that accident in which Carlos broke his back. Luckily, his operations were successful: he wasn’t paralyzed. “I saw that I could walk again, that Heavenly Father had listened to my prayer, even though I had been drunk. How was that possible? I knew my life had some purpose; I prayed that he would help me.” From that moment, he never drank alcohol again.
In February two sister missionaries came to meet this less-active family they had on their list. “Their timing was perfect!” says Carlos. “If they’d come before or after that moment, my heart might not have been ready, and I might have missed the opportunity again. I put on a tough front, telling them I didn’t think I would come back to Church. But inside I was crying for help.”
The sisters kept coming, and they taught Carlos and Haydee all of the discussions again. Haydee gained a testimony and was baptized in March—just four months after Carlos’s accident. Carlos stopped smoking and began attending church with Haydee and their two daughters. Now he teaches the elders quorum and she teaches Primary.
“It’s been a complete, total change,” says Haydee. “Now, thanks to our Father in Heaven, here we are as a family in the Church! If we weren’t in the Church, perhaps we wouldn’t be together. Who knows what would have happened to us!” (See “They Didn’t Go by Accident.”)

Brother Zúniga typifies the commitment to missionary work found among Latter-day Saints. “There are many members willing to help here,” he says. A returned missionary himself, he goes out to work with the full-time missionaries as often as he can. Almost all of his friends have been willing to at least listen to the gospel.
From the time he was a boy, Larry Zúniga wanted to serve a full-time mission. His father, a carpenter, made him a small box for a bank, and Larry began to save money for his mission. But when he was 18, his mother became seriously ill. He had to give up his mission savings and sell his bicycle to help pay for her treatment, but he sacrificed gladly for her. Nevertheless, through the help of other members and also of relatives, including some who are not members of the Church, he was blessed with the resources he needed to serve a full-time mission. Brother Zúniga’s commitment to missionary work helped bring five of his good friends into the Church, and two of them have also served missions. He continues to work with other friends.

Some time ago, as I was driving, I had to stop at a red light. The vehicle in front of me caught my attention. A sticker read, “I do what I want.”
I wondered why someone would choose to place such a statement on his vehicle. What was the message he wanted to send? Perhaps the driver of this vehicle wanted to express publicly that he has achieved total freedom by just doing what he likes to do. As I thought about this, I realized that our world would be quite chaotic if everyone would just do what he or she wants to do.
It is obvious that there is some confusion in our society about this subject. In the media, advertisements, entertainment, and elsewhere, we find the idea widespread that when someone can do what he wants, he enjoys freedom and will be happy. It suggests that the only criteria for our decisions are what is pleasing to us, what is fun, or what matches our individual desires.
Our Heavenly Father has given us a better concept. It is His great plan of happiness, which gives us real freedom and happiness. We read in the Book of Mormon:
“And the Messiah cometh in the fulness of time, that he may redeem the children of men from the fall. And because that they are redeemed from the fall they have become free forever, knowing good from evil; to act for themselves and not to be acted upon, save it be by the punishment of the law at the great and last day, according to the commandments which God hath given.
“Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.”
When we came into this world, we brought with us from our heavenly home this God-given gift and privilege which we call our agency. It gives us the right and power to make decisions and to choose. Agency is an eternal law. President Brigham Young, speaking of our agency, taught: “This is a law which has always existed from all eternity, and will continue to exist throughout all the eternities to come. Every intelligent being must have the power of choice.”
President Wilford Woodruff observed on the same subject: “This agency has always been the heritage of man under the rule and government of God. He possessed it in the heaven of heavens before the world was, and the Lord maintained and defended it there against the aggression of Lucifer and those that took sides with him. … By virtue of this agency you and I and all mankind are made responsible beings, responsible for the course we pursue, the lives we live, [and] the deeds we do.”
When the Lord taught Abraham about the eternal nature of spirits and that he was chosen before he was born, He explained to Abraham one of the important purposes for coming to this earth by saying, “And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them.”
Thus, our agency makes our life on this earth a test period. If we did not have this wonderful gift of agency, we would not be able to show our Father in Heaven whether we will do all that He commanded us.
In order for us to use our agency, we must have a knowledge of good and evil, we must have the freedom to make choices, and after we have exercised our agency, there must be consequences that follow our choices.
I have learned that as we obey our Heavenly Father’s commandments, our faith increases, we grow in wisdom and spiritual strength, and it becomes easier for us to make right choices.
Our great example, the Lord Jesus Christ, set the perfect example for all of us as to how to use our agency. In that Council in Heaven, when the plan of our Father was presented to us—that we would have the opportunity to come to this earth and receive a body—the Beloved Son, who was the Beloved and Chosen of the Father from the beginning, said to His Father, “Father, thy will be done, and the glory be thine forever.”
Likewise, we should make our choices using the same criteria. Instead of saying, “I do what I want,” our motto should be “I do what the Father wants me to do.”
If we do this, we can be certain that the blessings of the Lord will be upon us. It may well be that we have to make some of these choices when it is not convenient for us. I have learned, however, that although the time is sometimes not convenient for our schedule, nevertheless, if we make the right choice, the Lord will take care of us in His own way, which at that time is not yet known to us.
When we were transferred in 1989 from the Germany Hamburg Mission to East Germany to preside over the Dresden mission, the time was not convenient for our family. Our children had just adapted to their new school in Hamburg and now had to become acquainted with the socialistic school system in East Germany. One child could not even come with us because she needed to finish school in the West. However, we have learned from this experience that what seemed to be hard for us in the beginning eventually turned into a great blessing for all of us. The Lord had His own way to take care of our challenges.
My dear brothers and sisters, I am so grateful for the wonderful gift of agency, which our Father in Heaven has given us. I am grateful to know that we are His children. I know from many of my own experiences that He loves us and that He cares for us. I know that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, our Savior and Redeemer. I know that the Prophet Joseph Smith saw the Father and the Son and that he is the prophet of the Restoration. I know that President Gordon B. Hinckley is the prophet of God today.
Of this I testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

At school I was bullied and cyberbullied. I told my parents what happened, and they helped me. And every day I prayed to Heavenly Father for a better relationship with my friends and that I would be strong to face what I was going through. I felt peace, and now things are getting better. I am learning to forgive the bullies and not hold a grudge.
I am learning to forgive the bullies and not hold a grudge.

A few years ago, our oldest son Adam and I went to Natchez, Mississippi to hunt white-tailed deer with some good friends from the New Orleans area. Having hunted in Mississippi in the past, we were very much aware of what it took to be able to get close enough to the big bucks that we were hunting. Prior to traveling to Mississippi, we were careful not to wear any cologne or antiperspirant as it might project an unwanted scent during the hunt. (Not a good thing for those sitting next to us on the plane.)

Once we arrived at our hunting lodge, we went out to the forest to inspect the area where we would hunt the next morning. Confident that we knew where we would be sitting in the early morning hours the next day, we retired for the night. Adam and I awoke at 4 am and began our preparation for the hunt. The first thing we did was to take a shower using a special soap that would kill all of the human smell from our bodies. Then, piece by piece we started to layer on the camouflage clothing. With each layer of clothing, we would spray deer scent on the clothing to mask the human scent. Finally, when we were finished, we marked our faces with camouflage paint and hung tree scent capsules from our shirts.

It would be daylight at 7 am, so at 5 am Adam and I walked to different locations to find our pre-designated location where we would sit and wait for the deer. 15 minutes later, I found the ladder to the tree that had my perch high up in the branches. I climbed the 20 feet up into the tree and once seated, I covered my legs with a curtain of camouflage and pulled a green camouflaged veil over my face. I then settled in for what was going to be a long wait. After about 30 minutes, I could hear the movement of what appeared to be the deer walking all around me. I sat ever so still, not wanting them to discover where I was.

Soon it was daybreak and not only could I hear the deer, but now I could see them, but in my camouflaged condition high in the trees, they could not see me. I knew that I was waiting for the large male deer with a large set of horns, so I passed on all of the smaller bucks and the female animals.

After about two hours in the seat, I heard behind me the sound of horns scraping against a tree. Slowly, I turned my head ever so slightly and could make out a large animal with a large set of horns. This was the moment I had been preparing for and so with the slowest motion possible, I lifted the rifle up to my eyes and turned toward the deer.
I moved the rifle until finally there he was, directly in the crosshairs.

I have reflected on that experience many times over the years. For my son and me, our objective was real and very important. So important, that we were not going to miss a single detail in our preparation for the prize.

Coming back to the modern day, I recently heard of a woman who wrote to one of the national columnists—whose name you would know if I shared it with you—and said, “I am a nurse working at a hospital in the child abuse section. Every time they bring children in, it just about breaks my heart; I can’t stand to see these little children beaten, mutilated, bruised, and hurt. I guess the straw that broke the camel’s back came the other day when they brought in a little five-year-old girl. As I held her in my arms, her mother said, ‘I didn’t think I was hitting her that hard.’”

The nurse said, “The little girl passed away in my arms. Just before she passed away, she opened her eyes and said, ‘My mommy says I’m a bad girl.’”

I would have given anything to have been the national columnist responding to that letter. It would have said something like this: “No, sweetheart, you are not a bad girl; your mommy is a bad mommy.”

Four years later, Katie, one of my daughters-in-law, underwent an emergency C-section to deliver twin baby girls at 25 weeks of gestation, too close to the threshold of infant viability for comfort. When the girls were just eight weeks old, Katie was returning home late at night from her daily visit with them in the neonatal intensive care unit of the hospital and was hit and killed by a drunk driver, leaving my son a widower with six children.
My wife was everything to me, and my son’s wife was everything to him. Those were tough times for our family.
I didn’t fully appreciate how great Tanya was and how much I depended on her until she was gone. But we had knelt at an altar in a holy temple, and someone having the sealing power had pronounced blessings upon us. I have clung to the promise of those blessings. I trust in those promised blessings.
Tanya’s death was a crisis of faith for me. I had to decide, “Do I really believe?” Faith is called a gift of God, but it’s also a choice we make—a choice to believe. I chose to believe, and I found out that Moroni was correct when he wrote that we receive no witness until after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6). After the trial, the witness did come. My faith was rewarded with a confirming peace of mind. That’s what has enabled me to go forward.
As my second wife, Becky, says: “We need faith the most when we face a crisis. Going to the Lord really is the only answer. It is the way to cope and hope.”
Brother Evans and his wife, Becky, share photos of his daughter-in-law and her twin baby girls.
For a time, I struggled to figure out what was faith and what was hope. Alma describes faith as a “hope for things which are not seen, which are true” (Alma 32:21). Because of my faith in Jesus Christ, I have hope that if I remain faithful and true to my covenants, I can share eternal life with Tanya. I am also grateful for the assurance I have that the Savior is there for each of us. There’s a difference between thinking, “He’s there” and realizing, “He’s there for me.”
My two grandchildren have lasting ill effects from their car accident, and I still grieve Tanya’s absence in my life. I’ll never stop missing her, and the love I have for her is not diminished by the love I have for my second wife. The love has just multiplied.
My son has also remarried. His new wife is Becky’s first cousin once removed. We both married into the same family. What are the odds of that? It’s an amazing coincidence, or maybe it’s not.
Our family has had its share of challenges, but we have also experienced blessings. My son has become one of my heroes. He forgave the drunk driver who killed his wife, and he told her he hoped she would straighten out her life. His two little girls recently celebrated their fifth birthday. They are real miracle babies.
“I am grateful for the assurance I have that the Savior is there for each of us.”
For the past 17 years, I have had the privilege of serving as a patriarch. At first, I was afraid I couldn’t fulfill the calling, but I have learned that the blessings come from the Lord, not the patriarch. There are common themes in patriarchal blessings because our Heavenly Father wants many of the same things for all His children, but each blessing is different, individual, and personal.
One of the purposes of a patriarchal blessing is to help individuals see who they are as children of God and to discern how much their Heavenly Father loves them. As a patriarch, whenever I lay my hands on someone’s head to give them a patriarchal blessing, for just a few precious moments, Heavenly Father allows me to feel the love He has for that individual. It is an overpowering feeling. When I feel how much He loves each blessing recipient, I can feel that He loves me too.
“Nothing brings me greater joy than the promises of the temple, which give me hope that through Christ, I can overcome all trials,” says Brother Evans.
Today, Becky and I focus on the temple. One of the reasons our Lord has given us the temple is to give us a glimpse of Zion. In addition to being a patriarch, I was invited some years ago to serve as a sealer in the temple. That has been another great joy of my life. It is a calling of all happy occasions. Nothing brings me greater joy than the promises of the temple, which give me hope that through Christ, I can overcome all trials.

The elders’ first meeting with Chea was quite accidental. Looking for another family, they happened to knock on his door. Chea was the only family member who spoke English. In the course of their conversation, he told them that he loved Jesus, wanted to find a church, and made them promise to take him to church the next Sunday. Elder Gooch recalls, “I was very impressed with Chea. He was extremely mature and seemed like a 25-year-old in an 11-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.” After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attend church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined.

The July sun felt hot to Randy Taylor as he stepped onto the pitching mound. He shook the tension from his shoulders and paused as a slight breeze blew in from left field, gently ruffling the pennants surrounding the ball diamond.
Randy carefully toed the pitching rubber and, rocking smoothly through his windup, fired his last warm-up to the plate.
“Play ball!” the umpire bellowed.
“OK, Randy, be a pitcher!” “You’ve got ’em!” “Strike ’em out!” Randy heard his Bluejay teammates call out as they whipped the ball around the infield.
They sure want to win, Randy thought, and he knew why. Today was the Fourth of July, and the city park was as alive as a disturbed anthill. He heard music and laughter coming from the concession booths that had been temporarily installed just south of the ball diamond for the weekend activities. The whump of air guns and the clanging bells at the shooting gallery added to the noise, while the smell of popcorn, candied apples, and other foods filled the air. The stands had a boisterous overflow crowd, and it was for them that the Bluejays wanted to win.
It was still too early in the year for his team’s standing to be affected much by the outcome of a single game, but Randy knew how important it was to perform well in front of such a large crowd. Well, I’ll do my part, he thought confidently as he walked toward Billy Halls, the Bluejay catcher, who was jogging out to meet him halfway.
“Boy, Randy,” Billy sighed as he dropped the baseball into Randy’s open glove. “I wish you’d taken the coach’s advice to practice more often. Who’d have thought that our two starting pitchers would get sick on the same day.”
Randy laughed and said, “Relax, Billy. I’m not third string for nothing. I’ll put ’em across—you just catch ’em.”
Billy slapped Randy on the back, muttered, “Good luck,” and trotted back to his position behind the plate.
Besides, thought Randy, I’ve got my secret weapon. It’ll never let me down.
Randy felt loose and confident as he took his place on the mound. He remembered the family home evening lesson his brother Doug had given the week before on prayer and on the blessings Heavenly Father has in store for those who live righteously. Doug had made several important points. One of them—“And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive” (Matt. 21:22)—had become Randy’s secret weapon!
What a super blessing! Randy reflected. Every time he thought about the importance of that scripture, his love for Heavenly Father seemed to increase.
With confidence and determination, Randy gripped the ball and stepped onto the rubber.
In one smooth motion Randy pivoted and fired a strike to the plate.
“Atta boy, Randy!” his teammates yelled. “He’s no batter. He’s a looker!”
Randy felt good and stretched through his windup. The next pitch barely missed the corner of the plate.
The count was one and one. Randy shook off Billy’s sign for a curve and nodded when the fastball sign was flashed. Randy riveted his eyes on Billy’s glove, reared back, and delivered. The ball swooped in fast but began to dip. Billy was forced to dive to keep the ball from scooting through to the backstop.
Two balls and one strike.
Two pitches later the Giant batter was safely on first base. Randy had walked him!
Billy hurried out and urged Randy to calm down. “You’ve got seven guys behind you. Let the Giants hit and see what the Bluejays can do.”
Randy nodded and gulped. Heavenly Father, he silently prayed, I’m asking, and I believe. Please help me out of this. Help me throw strikes.
Randy faced the next batter and eyed the target offered by Billy. Four straight balls later Giant players were on first and second bases.
Randy couldn’t believe it. He’d walked two Giants in a row!
Regardless of how hard he tried and how hard he prayed, the ball just would not go where he wanted it to go.
It became hard for Randy to see the catcher’s glove clearly because of his tears of frustration. Does Heavenly Father really love me? he wondered. Aren’t those words in Matthew true?
The coach walked out to the mound two batters later. Four Giants had walked, and the score was Giants 1, Bluejays 0. It should really read Giants 1, Randy the Slob 0, Randy thought miserably as he trudged to the bench.
He sat in the corner of the dugout, wanting to be alone. But soon he felt the presence of somebody sitting beside him. Randy looked up to see his brother Doug smiling.
“Have a piece of gum, Randy,” Doug offered.
“I’ve just embarrassed the whole Taylor family!” Randy blurted out. “I’ll never be able to show my face again. And it’s all because of your lesson on prayer the other night!”
“What do you mean, ‘my lesson’?” Doug asked, surprised. “What’s my lesson got to do with your game?”
“The scripture said, ‘And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.’ Well, I asked, and I believed, but I didn’t receive!”
Doug nodded. “So that’s it.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” muttered Randy, tears filling his eyes again. “Heavenly Father must not love me.”
“That’s not true, Randy,” Doug said. “Heavenly Father does love you. But you were so excited by that scripture that you didn’t hear the rest of the lesson. Other scriptures tell us that we will be helped by our Father in Heaven after we’ve worked and prepared. ‘Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you’ (Matt. 7:7). The words seek and knock mean doing something, right?”
Randy nodded.
“Well, I seem to recall times when you should have been practicing pitching,” Doug reminded Randy. “That’s what you didn’t do. We need to work as though everything depends on us, and pray as though everything depends on Heavenly Father.”
“I guess you’re right,” Randy admitted. “I remember that other part now.”
“Give Heavenly Father another chance to help you, Randy, only this time help Him out. Don’t ask Him to do all the work, and maybe you’ll become a good pitcher yet.”
Randy smiled determinedly. “Thanks, Doug,” he said. “I’ll be a great pitcher someday, just you watch!” But this time, he added to himself, there’ll be no secret weapon—only good, hard work and a lot of prayer.

I was called to serve as a counselor in the Relief Society in my family’s new ward. During our presidency meetings, we would go over a list of names of Relief Society sisters in our ward and consider how to help them and their families.
I was drawn to a sister in the ward named Mirta. She had been a member of the Church for many years, but for some reason, Mirta had not been attending for several years.
I noticed that her husband was the elders quorum president but that their children, who were members, did not attend church either. Each Sunday I would see her husband attend alone.
I felt that we needed to help this family return to church together and enjoy the blessings that the Lord wanted to give them. During the following presidency meetings, I shared my hopes of helping Mirta return to church. We planned activities in which we could include her in a special way, and we identified a few assignments we could give her.
When we visited her, she accepted each one of the assignments and afterward fulfilled them perfectly. We noted that she would eagerly wait to be picked up by one of us for Relief Society activities.
When we organized the visiting teaching companionships as a presidency, I asked the others to consider the possibility of Mirta and I becoming companions. Each month, without fail, Mirta and I would go visiting teaching. Every time we went out to visit the sisters was an opportunity to talk and get to know each other more.
Each time I invited her to attend church, she would merely say, “When I feel like I’m ready, I’ll go.” I didn’t understand, but I respected her decision. Eventually her answers became, “Maybe I’ll go on Sunday.”
I would wait for her anxiously every Sunday. She never came, but I continued to keep her in my prayers. A sudden move caused my family to return to where we had previously lived, and I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye to Mirta. When we left the ward, she still had not returned to church.
Some months later I was told that Mirta had returned to church and was a counselor in the Relief Society.

It had been a long time coming.
My brother and his wife finally felt confident enough to leave home without hiring a babysitter—sure that their oldest child, who was about twelve years old at the time, would be able to handle things on his own. With the younger children asleep in their beds, they left home for a nearby movie theatre with McKay in charge and armed with detailed instructions.
Imagine their panic when they returned home a few hours later, walked in the door, and smelled smoke.
They raced around the house checking on all the sleeping children, and then confronted McKay, who, unalarmed, was lounging on the couch reading. “Hey!” my brother said, “What’s going on? Don’t you smell that?” “Sure, I do,” he casually replied, “I looked around and didn’t see anything. And you know, it was kind of irritating at first, but you get used to it.” They later discovered the air conditioner had been turned on.
It was winter—thus the smoke and burning smell.