Gospel Story Finder

My dad taught us to work hard. We worked hard all the time, and it became a habit. We even worked on holidays! One year between Christmas and New Year, we built a mile and a half of fence out on the ranch in the snow. But my dad taught us how to make work enjoyable. He taught us a little song that said, “Sing as you work, and work will be play.” So we sang all the time while we were working, and that way we learned the joy of working hard and seeing a job well done. I have found throughout my life that being able to work hard is very important in anything we do.

One weekend I woke up and was unable to hear in my left ear. I called an ear, nose, and throat doctor and made an appointment.
The doctor immediately sent me to an audiologist for a hearing test. I began to worry when I could not hear any of the test sounds in my left ear. At the end of the test, the audiologist concluded that I had sensorineural hearing loss, meaning a cranial nerve used in hearing was damaged.
I was shocked. I was only 26 years old and was already discussing the need for a hearing aid. One of my biggest passions is music. Would I still be able to play my instruments and sing?
The doctor prescribed a steroid to see if it would help, but he was positive my hearing loss was permanent.
My emotions soon got the better of me, and tears flooded my eyes. I was afraid of what the future would bring, and I was sad that I would never hear normally again.
That night my husband, Brian, suggested that he give me a priesthood blessing. I expected that the blessing would give me comfort and strength to deal with my hearing loss, but instead Brian promised in his blessing that my hearing would be fully restored. I couldn’t believe it.
“My husband must be mistaken,” I thought. The doctor had seen many cases like mine and said that my hearing would not return.
Afterward, I asked Brian if he thought the promised blessing was his will or the Lord’s. Brian told me he had felt a strong prompting to make the promise. I wasn’t convinced.
As I pondered my condition, I remembered a scripture in the book of Mark where Jesus tells a desperate father that “all things are possible to him that believeth.” The man responded, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief” (Mark 9:23–24). This was my plea to my Heavenly Father that night. I wanted to believe that I would be healed, but I was unsure. I lacked faith the Lord would help me in my crisis.
After my prayer I thought about a lesson I had taught the young women about the power of priesthood blessings. I had told the class to ask for blessings and that the Lord can heal the sick through blessings. How could I expect them to believe me if I lacked faith? I decided to put my trust in the Lord—He had not lied to me before.
Two weeks later, my hearing completely returned. The audiologist and doctor were shocked.
I will forever be grateful to Heavenly Father that my hearing was restored, but I am even more grateful for the lesson I learned. Even if it’s not always in the way we are promised in a blessing, I know the Lord will bless us if we put our faith and trust in Him.

Every day is busy for Clint Callender, another member of the Garden Park Branch. But being busy keeps him happy. The 17-year-old did so well on his exams that he is now teaching information technology at the Tutorial High School. He was recently sustained as district clerk, a calling that matches well with his interest in computers and his plans to study computer science at a university next year. He is also busy with Aaronic Priesthood and Mutual activities, seminary, basketball, friends, and simply living the gospel day by day.
“I’m trying to be a light to my family and to other people,” Clint says. For example, he encourages his family to pray and to hold family home evening. And with friends, he says, “I try to get them to take a look at what they’re doing, to see what is right and what is wrong, to guide them if they want help.” He also talks with friends about the Church’s humanitarian efforts worldwide. “I tell them that in disasters, we provide food and clothing.” And, he says, smiling, “We offer prayers, too.”
Clint says his personal prayers lift his spirit. “It’s wonderful to know that you can kneel down and speak directly to Heavenly Father sincerely, and you will receive an answer, not always right away, but eventually. Prayer helps you to be much closer to Heavenly Father. Just keep the channel open all of the time.”
He looks to the future with hope. “When I’m 19, I see myself serving a full-time mission,” he says. “That’s another way to be an example.” He believes that someday there will be a temple in Guyana.
“Families will go there to be sealed, and I hope my family will be one of them,” Clint says. “A temple in Guyana means many more Guyanese will be Latter-day Saints. The temple brings a feeling of peace and reverence, and I think all of Guyana will be blessed.” What a great day that will be!

“My name is Rachel Zuehl and I’m from Two Rivers, Wisconsin, where my family and I are members of a small branch. Growing up, my brothers and sister and I were the only members of the Church in our high school.
“Everyone knew we wouldn’t smoke, drink, or do anything bad that was considered ‘fun.’ I was lucky to have a few really great friends who respected my standards. I tried to focus my time in high school on being involved in good things like softball, tennis, piano, forensics, and yearbook staff. Being busy helped me forget how unpopular I felt and how different I sometimes felt because I am a Mormon.
“At the spring sports banquet my senior year, I realized that someone did notice and did care that I was ’different.’ For the very first time in our school, the Wisconsin National Guard was presenting an award for ‘strong moral character and freedom from drugs and alcohol use.’ I was the recipient of the award. The whole gymnasium broke into applause as I made my way onto the stage. Through my tears of surprise and joy, I could see my classmates and their parents smiling at me as I received the award.
“I realized that day that being in the mission field has made my testimony strong and has helped me show others that it’s okay to choose the right.”

The old clock ticked in the dusky light like a tired heartbeat, and the windows in the small living room were filled with the soft, crimson glow of a going-down sun. Eric listened to the ticking as the light in the windows turned from red to gray to black.
From where he lay with Sparky beneath the scraggly branches of the Christmas tree, he could see a falling star plummet past the square of glass. Down, down it came. It was as if God was sending the fiery light to light somebody’s Christmas tree—somebody who was too poor to have an ornamental star for the top of his tree.
“Could be Jess Crowley’s place,” Eric said quietly to the perky little pup whose eyes and lip jerked in sleep. “Or Carrie Ludlow’s. Or maybe even ours. If it was ours, Sparky,” he figured out loud, “someone gave the angels the wrong address, because it landed farther from here than good fortune.”
Good fortune had not been their lot, it seemed to Eric, for longer than his eight-year-old mind cared to remember. His mother had died three years before, and his father had barely escaped death in a car accident a year later. The accident had left him too disabled to work. If it weren’t for the kindnesses of ward members, Eric speculated to himself, and the saving assistance from the Church, I don’t know what would become of us. With that computer someone left on our doorstep last year, though, Dad’s been able to get some jobs working at home. “So don’t you worry about not having a place to hang your hat,” he spoke aloud to the little dog, “or whatever it is dogs carry around with them—besides fleas, of course.” He chuckled softly, stroking Sparky’s head.
Twisting and peering through the open living room door, Eric could barely make out the sleeping form of his father in the room at the end of the hall. A spray of moonlight hazed across his bed. The boy eyed the figure affectionately. Dad was strong in the faith and had taught him to be so too. Dad had also taught Eric that they had problems in their lives not because Heavenly Father was punishing or ignoring them but because He loved them, knew what was best for them, and wanted them to grow and be happy. In spite of their sadness.
Eric stretched out beneath his worn, frayed blanket. There was plenty of room under the tree, even though it was just two days before Christmas, for there were only two presents there. The one wrapped gift was a little bird for his father that Eric had fashioned out of wood at school. His father loved birds. He said a bird could get closer to heaven than most of the rest of us, “except when we pray. And except for your mother,” he added warmly, “who may at this very moment be walking and talking with the Savior himself!”
The other gift was from Dad to Eric: Sparky. Dad had given the pup to Eric early. “It’s too hard to wrap up a dog,” Dad had said, “and expect her to lie still under a Christmas tree until some boy unwraps her!”
Eric gently stroked the puppy’s fur that was every bit as soft and warm as Dad’s love. He could hardly wait for the day when the little dog was big enough to run full tilt next to his flying feet.
He reached up and touched a tiny glass ornament glowing in a speck of moonlight that had found its way through the window and down through the shadowy branches of the scraggly pine.
“It sure does have a regular shine when the moon works on it, doesn’t it?” The voice came from behind Eric. His father sat down beside him in the sooty light, a blanket draped about his shoulders.
“I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you, Dad.”
“You didn’t, Son. The bedsprings did. I rolled over and heard a chorus of rusty voices!” He chuckled, then ran his fingers through the boy’s golden hair. “I saw you in here camped out under the tree with that little fur piece of yours, and I thought I’d tuck you in.”
Eric smiled. His attention momentarily returning to the glitter of the glass ornament in the moon’s glow, he turned it slowly and watched the flash of revolving light.
“Something else shines just as pretty as that,” his father remarked. “It’s love, when the Savior puts His shine to it—except that glow is much, much brighter. It’s so bright, in fact, that you almost have to close your eyes to see it!”
Eric’s quiet, probing look asked his father to tell him more.
“This tree may be little and spindly, but the stable in Bethlehem wasn’t much to look at either—yet it held the greatest gift of all, God’s gift to all mankind, even Jesus Christ. And what He gave to you, me, your mom, and everyone else that ever was, is, or will be, is something so precious and priceless . …”
Eric squeezed his father’s hand with quiet understanding.
“Well,” Dad continued with a smile through his tears, “if we were to try to hang His gifts to us on this tree, they would break every branch. And if we tried to stack them beneath it, we’d break our necks trying to look up. And up. All the way to heaven. Where your mom is waiting for you and me.”
“I guess we have more for Christmas than what every store in the world has in it put together,” Eric said, “and a lot more, huh, Dad?”
Dad lay down next to his son and hooked his arm as a pillow under Eric’s head. Together they gazed up into the dark branches of the little tree and shared memories that shined like hope and faith and the sweet surety that families can be forever, that things eternal never die—all because of one small Babe born long ago in the city of David, Bethlehem, and placed in a manger there.

Photograph courtesy of Leilani F.
They were going to crash headlong into a fence. And there was nothing Leilani could do about it.
Leilani F., a 16-year-old from Texas, USA, was sitting atop a blind horse. Sierra was an 11-year-old thoroughbred who had no intention of letting herself be guided anymore. The horse had chomped down on the bit and refused to follow any further direction.
“Sierra wasn’t listening and I started panicking,” Leilani said. It was about this time that Leilani started to reconsider her decision to try and help this horse.
A horse lover her entire life, Leilani volunteered with an organization that works with abandoned horses. The organization gave Leilani her pick of any horse in the program to work with. She chose Sierra.
“I knew nobody else would pick her because she’d gone blind,” said Leilani. “I felt sad for her, and I knew she was sweet. I wanted to give Sierra a real chance.”
Of course, it’s harder to keep such good feelings intact when you’re plowing straight for disaster.
“I’d been working with her and we were doing fine,” Leilani explained. “But then she decided to take the bit from me and trot off in a different direction. Nothing I could do would stop her.”
Photograph by iStock/Thinkstock
Sierra was so wound up that she refused to walk. She insisted on trotting, a much faster stride for a horse. As the fence drew closer and Leilani’s panic grew with each step, something happened that turned the whole situation upside down.
A feeling of peace washed over Leilani, and then, “I heard this thought very clear in my mind saying, ‘This is you.’”
Leilani was so shocked by the thought that she dropped the reins and literally almost fell out of the saddle.
“In that very moment, I felt in my heart the great love that my Heavenly Father has for me and the sadness He feels when I disobey him. I realized that my Father in Heaven was showing me that I was Sierra. We are all, in one way or another, blind horses.”
Dropping the reins also happened to save Leilani and Sierra from their impending crash with the fence. Sierra calmed down in reaction to the dropped reins and released the bit in her mouth. At that point Leilani picked up the reins again and gently steered them both clear of harm.
That day became a turning point. Leilani saw Sierra in a completely new light. From that moment on she worked slowly and carefully to build trust with Sierra. And in her own life, Leilani started listening more closely for the voice of the Lord to guide her past her own unseen dangers.
“God taught me little lessons through Sierra every time I rode her,” Leilani said. “Sierra can’t see hills and divots in the ground, so I have to tell her where they are. With a warning from a source she can trust, Sierra now knows that obstacles are ahead and is prepared so she doesn’t trip and fall. I learned that I must listen for warnings from God, that I must be ready to respond and be willing to trust what He says.”
Leilani learned each day how to draw nearer to God and listen more closely for His direction. After all, she had the perfect example right in front of her of what it means to turn your own intentions and plans over to someone who can see better.
Sierra became so good at trusting Leilani that the two of them took first place in two separate contests at a horse show. Sierra has since found a new home where she’s really hit her stride. She now trusts so completely that she can gallop across open fields at full speed—something she never could’ve done before. “She uses humans as her eyes,” said Leilani. “It makes her feel free.”
Leilani views keeping the commandments in the same light. “At first they might seem restrictive,” Leilani said, “but they keep us free.”
Her experiences with Sierra have helped Leilani in many ways. For starters, Leilani knows now that she wants to be a horse trainer in the future. But more importantly, “Because of Sierra, I’m learning more and more about how to hear and trust the voice of the Lord.”

Dressed in old clothes—pants and shirt that bright yellow paint can’t ruin—James Bridges is sitting with nine of his closest friends saying the following sentence: “Service is fun.”
He says it with absolute sincerity, and the other nine nod in agreement. They are gathered at their church in Anchorage, Alaska, getting ready to restripe the parking lot. Perhaps very few will actually notice their work, but, still, it’s a job that needs to be done. And they were happy to volunteer.
Looking from one to another, waiting for someone to break ranks about what James just said, is useless. No one is going to suddenly say, “Just kidding.” They mean what they say. For the priests quorum of the Anchorage Sixth Ward, service is right up there with playing rugby in the snow and going fishing on Ship Creek. It’s fun.
How can it be? Why would these 10 young men be willing to give up time on their computers or playing their music or practicing for basketball season to do things for people just because they need to be done? And then how can they actually call it fun, no matter how dirty or hard the work?
“Even the most mundane service projects can be fun,” says Nick Anderson, “if you have enough people.”
One service that needs to be performed repeatedly in Alaska is snow shoveling. “We do drive-by shoveling,” says Mike Killary. “We each grab a shovel and pile into a van.” Then they pick someone in the ward or neighborhood who hasn’t been shoveled out from the latest storm. They quietly sneak out of the van, shovel like crazy, and try to make their getaway before they are discovered. In the meantime, if they throw a little snow at each other, all the better.
They also remember with great enjoyment the day they had to dig an old car out of the ice to get it ready to be donated to a family in the ward. They had to literally chip it out of a winter’s worth of snow that had hardened to ice. Even though the temperature was below zero, they remember being warm—warm from hard work and the satisfaction of doing something good.
How did the members of this quorum get to this point where they feel a sense of unity, where they are spending time together doing good things?
When someone moves into the ward, or young men are advanced, they automatically have friends. “Friendship is built in,” says Mike. “You move in and you become our friend, and eventually you’re friends with everybody.”
No one is left out. Jacob Christensen explains how it happens on the first Sunday someone new comes to church. “Brother Derrell Smith, our Young Men president, lets us know if someone is coming into the ward. He clues us in.”
Then Aaron Ekstrom adds, “We go from there.”
Jacob continues, “We make them feel welcome. We make them feel like we want them to be there. We do want them there.”
“Brother Smith told us to invite them to other activities besides church,” says Aaron, “like to football games or going to play basketball. We work our way from there to church.”
And they call before every activity to let everyone know what’s happening and when. “It’s pretty irresistible when you keep getting called every week,” says Nick.
“We’re just all friends,” says Zach Milliman. “We have a leader who keeps us in line. He doesn’t let people make fun of other people. We get to know each other without any animosity getting in the way.”
“I came here about four years ago,” says Neal Lefler. “It’s become like our family. This place is small compared to a lot of places, but we’re just like brothers. We keep track of each other.”
Indeed, that is true. James remembers his first Sunday. “I shook everybody’s hands. They wanted to know who I was. It made me feel better because I’d moved from a place I had lived for 16 years. They were trying to get me to go out and do things with them. I was kind of shy at first.”
Neal recalls an event when James wasn’t with them. “I remember one time we were playing basketball. The only person who wasn’t there was James. We called him up and dragged him out of bed. We took him to play basketball. It was fun.”
“When a bunch of guys call, it makes you feel good. Since then, I’ve become friends with all of them. It has helped me grow a lot spiritually.”
“It helps when you have a support group of LDS friends you can go hang out with,” says Mike.
“We’re all just friends,” says David Sullivan, “It’s pretty natural for us to be one big group of friends.”
Aaron and Jacob were recently released from the leadership of the priests quorum. They learned one big lesson about how to make a quorum work effectively. “It’s a big commitment,” says Aaron. “You have to show up and be there to everything.”
“Even stuff you don’t want to go do,” adds Jacob. “If it doesn’t sound like fun, you go and make it fun. You show the others it can be fun. You mess around a little, but you get the job done. Make it fun for everyone.”
Mike is now the new first assistant. He’s just learning about his assignment. “I call people, get a count of who is coming, and help plan activities. Actually we all sit in and plan activities.”
But more than that, this priests quorum leadership knows what’s going on in each other’s lives. On the night of the parking lot painting project, they know that one of the priests is out of town to attend his grandfather’s funeral. They know that two new priests are attending one last activity night with the teachers quorum. They know who’s sick or injured. They know who has a concert or game or match going on. And sometimes they will choose to attend to show their support. “Anything is fun to go to,” says Zach, “if you go together to support someone.”
Their hand of fellowship and brotherhood is extended to a special member of their quorum. Nick Schwan was recently baptized. He is mentally challenged and attends the special education classes at their high school. Both at school and at church, he’s one of them. They treat him with kindness and listen to what he has to say. “At first,” says Joe Carson, “we didn’t think Nick really knew what was going on around him, but after a while we realized that he picked up on things and he doesn’t really forget anything. He’s just a normal guy. He’s just a little …” Joe is at a loss for words. He knows how the quorum feels about Nick, and the feeling is good and supportive.
Right now there are 20 full-time missionaries serving from the Anchorage Sixth Ward.
Okay, just 19 of the them are elders, but the Young Men claim the young lady serving from their ward because they suspect that their good example helped encourage her to consider a mission.
And there are 10 to 12 priests getting ready to follow in their footsteps in the next couple of years. They readily admit there are other wards in the Church with as many or more full-time missionaries serving, but for a relatively small ward away from a large LDS population, they feel pleased with the tradition of service they are setting. They know just as they progress from deacon to teacher to priest, the next step is a mission.
Bishop Wesley E. Carson says, “We’ve put a positive spin on peer pressure. Serving a mission has become a family tradition; it’s become a ward tradition; and it’s become a quorum tradition.”
Back to the parking lot. “It’s a serious activity,” says Brother Smith. “I don’t want to see anyone’s initials out there. I want you to be proud that when you drive in on Sunday, the stripes are straight.”
The yellow stripes will be straight. Members of this priests quorum know all about following guidelines and doing a good job. They know where service leads—to feelings of worth. And they know the ones that have set the example for them are now in the mission field. The lines are straight, and they’ll follow.

“Mike,” Dad called. “Time for school.” Walking slowly down the stairs, Mike found Dad waiting for him at the bottom.
“Do I have to go?” Mike asked. “Can’t I wait until tomorrow?”
Dad shook his head. “There have been too many tomorrows. I understand how you feel, but you need to get caught up.”
“Mrs. Peters sent home some of my work,” Mike said.
Dad sighed and handed Mike a sweater. “Today I go back to work—and you go back to school.”
Mike felt tears welling up. Surely he wasn’t going to cry again! “It’s so hard without Mom.”
Dad knelt and hugged Mike. “I know.” Mike could see the pain in Dad’s eyes.
As Mike walked out the door, he looked at Mom’s beautiful rose garden. But it wasn’t beautiful anymore. Weeds were popping up everywhere. He sighed. Would anything ever be the same again?
School was the same—noisy children running and talking. Mike dragged himself into his third-grade classroom.
Sam, his best friend, waved. Mike tried to smile, but his smile wouldn’t work. He kept taking deep breaths and trying not to cry.
Mrs. Peters began class. Mike heard her talking, but his gaze wandered outside. It was sunny. “How can the world look bright when Mom has died?” he wondered. A tear slid down his nose.
“Look, Mike’s crying!” shouted Bill, who sat across the aisle.
Without thinking, Mike got up and ran out the door and down the hall. He would never go back to school again! He pushed open the big school doors and ran the five blocks home. It was cold without a sweater.
He went to his room to get a jacket, then sat on his swing in the backyard. He swung back and forth, staring at the ground.
He thought of going to Grandma’s house, but she was sad now too. She used to laugh a lot and go bowling and bake cookies. He wondered if she had gone back to work too.
Mike made the swing go higher. Maybe, he thought, he would fall off and die. Then he could go to heaven and see Mom.
He heard words like the wind in the trees—“Then Dad and Grandma wouldn’t have you. Would you want Dad to leave?”
He stopped the swing, his feet skidding in the dirt. Who had said that? Was it Mom, speaking to him from heaven? He looked around, but there was only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.
Mike looked at the patch of blue sky through the trees. “I miss my mom! Please, Heavenly Father, help me!” His tears started again.
Suddenly he had the urge to go to Mom’s rose garden. He stood looking at the poor rosebushes, without water and with lots of weeds. Mom sure wouldn’t like that! He knelt and began pulling and yanking at the weeds. Then he grabbed the garden hose and watered the bushes he had weeded. Soon it would be spring, and the roses would bloom bright red and yellow and pink. He wondered if Mom would see them from heaven. Somehow he felt closer to her as he worked in her garden.
Dad’s car came roaring up the driveway. He jumped out, ran to Mike, and hugged him. “They called me from school.”
“I’ll go back tomorrow,” Mike promised. “Dad, look at the rosebushes.”
“Mom would be proud,” Dad said. “I’ll change clothes, and we can work on it together.”
As Mike weeded alongside Dad, he thought of the roses that would bloom. He could almost smell their fragrance. After they bloomed, he decided, he would pick some of them for Grandma.
Mike looked up to see Sam and Bill. The two boys looked at the weeds.
“Can we help?” Sam asked.
Mike nodded. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face.

Approximately five years ago I learned a great lesson while laboring as the new managing director of the Welfare Services Department of the Church. We were at a critical stage in the history of welfare. It was time to go through an agonizing reappraisal of the program in light of current world conditions. The specifics are irrelevant to this discussion except to say I was beside myself with worry and concern.

After praying for a solution, I had a terrific thought: “Glenn, you have access to the Quorum of the Twelve and to a member of the First Presidency.” What a resource! I called for appointments and met one-on-one with these great men. I poured out my concerns and added my feelings that we were at a stage where further revelation on the subject was necessary. Then I sat back with my yellow notepad and Cross pen and waited for pearls of wisdom.

I received a total of one pearl from all of those interviews: “Brother Pace, I commend you for your concern and conscientiousness in finding solutions to these weighty matters. I, too, have some deep concerns and anxieties, and you are absolutely right, we do need revelation. Now, go get it!”

Who, me? I was an employee of the Church, not a General Authority, but I had the responsibility to bring forth well thought-out recommendations to the Brethren that could be confirmed, modified, or rejected in the appropriate forums. It was my obligation and right to receive inspiration, but it came with intense, agonizing study, research, and meditation.

They seem to be everywhere, looking back at you—rough-hewn faces with enormous mustaches and lopsided grins, topped by oversized hats. Here and there a head woodenly grins from a windowsill or countertop. On a bookcase stands a quartet of musicians, fiddles and legs bowed. Nearby, a goofy gunslinger nervously points his six-shooter at the horizon.
Matt Rogers’s western woodcarvings have earned him a growing reputation among those who make or collect such work. His mother, Julie, is a professional artist who teaches art. And his siblings all have artistic talents. So you might say Matt’s accomplishments are to be expected. But raw talent is just the beginning.
The first piece of wood Matt carved was pine. And his chief tool was a pocketknife. Not exactly the best material or tool for wood carving. Pine is brittle. It chips and has hard knots in it. And Matt quickly learned that serious wood-carvers use a whole range of special tools that doesn’t include pocketknives. Matt has also learned that sometimes it’s the carver who is being shaped and molded.
Glendale, where the Rogers family lives, is a small southern Utah town spread along Highway 89 in the bottom of a beautiful mountain valley. It’s a place of apple orchards and pastures, with a rich pioneer history. TV reception in the valley is quite poor, but that just helps make for richer family relationships and more time for developing talents. The Rogers’s white-frame farmhouse is full of drawings and paintings, carvings and sculptures, all produced by family members.
On the wooden porch of the farmhouse, Matt sits in the dimming light of an autumn evening and talks about his life and his art and his hopes for the future. First he talks about the wood he uses for his carvings. Basswood from the midwest is his material of choice. “It doesn’t flake or chip like pine. It’s soft enough that you can carve details in it, but it’s not too soft,” he says. And the tools he uses: “V gouges and U gouges, and different tools for different details. I have to keep them sharp and fine-edged, because as you use them they become dull. Then, the tool’s not effective.”
As a wood-carver and sculptor, Matt can’t help but make comparisons between his art and his life. He thinks sometimes about how his life has been shaped. “I can see the Lord strengthening me. For two years when I was on my mission, I served others and I didn’t think of myself. Then I’d read my patriarchal blessing, and I could see these things that had come to pass. I don’t know yet exactly what I’m going to do with my life, but I know that the Lord has a plan. That’s part of a process.”
So, is the Lord “carving” him?
“Yeah,” Matt answers.
Is it painful?
“Sometimes it is, yeah.”
One of the things that has shaped Matt’s life is diabetes, discovered when he was 12. He had to spend Easter in a hospital, badly dehydrated. How has it shaped him? “There’s a scripture that I like that could explain it better than I can. It’s in Ether, chapter 12, verse 27: ‘I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; … for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.’”
Matt sits in thought for a minute. The night has deepened and warm, yellow light from the kitchen spills onto the porch. In the pasture below the house, a horse whinnies softly. The talk turns to the qualities of wood again—about the problems with the big knots in wood like pine, how hard and brittle they are and how difficult they make it to shape the wood. And how difficult it must be for the Lord to shape us if our hearts are hard and brittle.
Matt sees the process of shaping people as a joint effort between the Lord and the individual. “You live your life and live the principles you have been taught, and the Lord will take you and show you things that you wouldn’t otherwise think He could do.”
Each of Matt’s carvings starts out pretty rough. But bit by bit, piece by piece, he turns it into something. “I have a vision of what I want it to be. And I make the rough cuts. And when I get it carved out, I change a couple of things to make it better. And then I make a few more coarse cuts and make it still better.” And so the process goes.
But it takes patience. “Sometimes you can get really involved in a piece and you ruin it because you haven’t stopped to look at what you are doing. You have to stand back, be patient, and wait,” Matt says. It’s like the experience he had with some of his investigators in the mission field. For example, one woman didn’t think she could give up smoking. “We had to be patient with her and give her blessings. But in the end, she made it and she, her husband, and their son and daughter were baptized.”
Thinking back, Matt speaks fondly of his mission presidents and how they helped to shape him as a missionary, making him a sharper tool in the Lord’s hand. “I had a lot of spiritual guidance,” he says. And the people he helped the Lord shape? “I think about them a lot, and about how they are doing. I miss the people, the interaction with them.”
Considering how much he cares about people, it’s no wonder Matt has been teaching sculpting at an area art center, even as his future is still being shaped. After all, a piece of wood is still just a piece of wood. But a life—now that’s a real work of art.

As mission president, I attended a mission Relief Society conference. Our mission Relief Society president, a relatively recent convert, announced something of a course correction. Some local societies had strayed, and she invited them to conform more closely to the direction set by the general presidency of the Relief Society.
One sister in the congregation stood and defiantly told her that they were not willing to follow her counsel, saying they were an exception. A bit flustered, she turned to me for help. I didn’t know what to do. I was not interested in facing a fierce woman. So I motioned for her to proceed. Then came the revelation!
This lovely Relief Society president, small and somewhat handicapped physically, said with gentle firmness: “Dear sister, we’d like not to take care of the exception first. We will take care of the rule first, and then we will see to the exceptions.” The course correction was accepted.

My last story comes from our missionary son, Elder Trevor Ram, who currently is serving in the India Bangalore Mission. I’ve changed the name of the investigator so as to protect his identity. I’ve replaced it with my husband’s name – Tulsi – instead. The story as told by Elder Ram:

“I have a great testimony of the Spirit’s power to bring peace to troubled hearts, even if the troubled one is me. Last night, we were teaching [Tulsi] and reviewing the baptismal interview questions with him. [Tulsi] is pretty much the man, so he came over to church on Sunday night in the pouring rain. Needless to say, he was drenched when he met us. Because he wanted to sit in the classroom without any fan or windows open, it became pretty stuffy and hot pretty quick in there. My stomach was upset and so that combined with the muggy atmosphere of the room made things pretty uncomfortable. Throughout the teaching, I was unable to follow much of what was going on because [Tulsi] speaks mostly in Tamil to Elder Raja which just added to the uncomfortable situation.

“Anyhow, the lesson went on and on and I just got more and more uncomfortable there. I was wondering when things were going to end but I could feel the Spirit withdrawing and that was not a good feeling, Silently, I prayed that I could just keep it together and get through the lesson.

“Just then, [Tulsi] asked a question. Elder Raja probably noticed my discomfort and translated the question so I could answer it. [Tulsi's] question was, approximately, if I make a mistake after three or four years of baptism, will I be able to come to Church? I bore my testimony of the Atonement and the Savior's willingness to forgive. As I did, I felt the Spirit come over me. I knew what I was saying was true and it made me feel good. The discomfort of the moment was pushed out and only the truth of the gospel really mattered right then. [Tulsi] seemed satisfied with the answer and within a few short minutes, we closed up and were on our way.

“This week, my testimony is that the Savior's teaching is true: those who seek to find themselves will lose themselves, but those who lose themselves in His service will find themselves happy and comforted and filled with goodwill. I had forgotten a bit that the thrill of doing missionary work doesn't come from seeing all the cool things India has to offer but from being blessed as I forget myself and serve as selflessly as possible. I'm grateful Heavenly Father took the time to reteach me that lesson again this week. He is unspeakably wonderful.”

It took gallons of chicken stew, plus mass quantities of bread and fresh fruit to feed the needy at a park in California, but the youth of the Bakersfield Stake were more than eager to provide it.
“This project was entirely the brainchild of the youth council,” said Marcus Asay, high council coordinator of the activity. “Helping the poor and homeless was something they really wanted to do.”
Over 100 Young Men and Young Women, plus their leaders, prepared and distributed the meal to the needy and collected clothing and canned goods for them as well.

Keeping the Sabbath day holy became a challenge for Annabelle Hyatt when she was hired for an internship with an amusement-park company. Growing up in Texas, USA, Annabelle was taught to worship, rest, and serve others on the Sabbath. But when she moved to Florida to start her internship, she had to work on Sundays.
She explains, “At first I dutifully went to work, just as everyone else did. After a few weeks, I started to notice how sad I was feeling during the week without taking the sacrament or hearing inspiring words that I needed more than ever.”
One day she prayed for help and mustered the courage to talk to her supervisor about her desire to attend church and not work on Sundays. Her supervisor didn’t understand why it was so important to her. But Annabelle persisted. Every time she saw her manager or scheduling supervisor, she mentioned that she needed Sundays off and was willing to work extra hard other days in order to make it happen.
“Eventually, by a miracle it happened!” she says. “My days off work became Saturday and Sunday, which is unheard of for a seasonal intern who was barely a month into the program. The privilege of having the weekends off was normally reserved for those with seniority status.”
She testifies of the blessings: “Being able to bring the light of going to church back into my life, I could see and feel a dramatic difference. When my co-workers asked why I go to church or why it’s so important, I would tell them to come with me. I started bringing some of my co-workers to church. I know without a doubt that the gospel of Jesus Christ is worth standing up for. Sabbath day observance is a necessity to have the Spirit in your life and become a better person.”
Annabelle, like many young adults, was blessed as she remained committed to keeping the Sabbath day holy. Although it can be a challenge to withstand pressure to work or participate in activities we normally enjoy during the week, keeping the Sabbath day holy is ultimately a matter of obedience, attitude, and choice. Great blessings will come. These three young adults share their testimonies that the Lord helps His children keep His day holy.

Illustration by Allen Garns
Several times a year, my work requires that I travel from Taiwan to San Francisco, California, USA, for training. The problem with traveling between these two places is the 15-hour time difference. Jet lag made me want to sleep during the day, and it kept me awake all night.
Colleagues from all over the world attend these trainings. They told me they coped with jet lag by drinking coffee to keep them awake and drinking red wine to help them sleep.
Some colleagues offered me these drinks, but I politely told them I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and had promised the Lord I would not drink wine or coffee. Some teased me and said those commandments made my life harder. At times, it felt like I was being mocked by the people in the great and spacious building in Lehi’s dream (see 1 Nephi 8:26–27).
Over time, however, keeping the Word of Wisdom began to feel like a tedious burden. During one sleepless night, I realized my faith was weakening. Thankfully, my wife sent me a message that day encouraging me to keep my faith, rely on God, and keep His commandments regardless of the circumstances. With her encouragement, I started to pray for help and began to look at things differently.
On one trip, I noticed a colleague had two cups of coffee. I asked him about the second cup.
“One cup is not strong enough to keep me alert anymore,” he replied.
I was surprised to notice the same was true for those who drank wine. They needed to drink more to sleep. Sometimes, they even overslept because they drank too much.
Watching my colleagues become more dependent on alcohol and coffee made me realize how important it is to keep the commandments. If I had chosen to disobey the Word of Wisdom, I could have been in the same boat.
My jet lag has not completely gone away, but the situation has improved. One morning, I woke up after a good night’s sleep and saw the sunrise. As the sunbeams shone through the window, I realized that with Heavenly Father’s help, I can handle any trial, no matter how big or small. I just need to continue to obey, keep my faith strong, and endure to the end.

As I have mentioned, many times the relief we need is given through those who are around us. And it doesn’t always look the way we think it should. As we offer our prayers for help, we also need to be open to how He is trying to answer those prayers!

One evening I was trying to put together a message just like this one, and it needed to be delivered soon. But it just wasn’t coming. I had prayed for His help but felt as though I was pushing against something.

Just as I was feeling frustrated, my ministering sister texted and said, “Can I stop by right now?”

I thought, “This is not the time.”

But then another thought quickly came to my mind: “This is the time. Let her come.”

I held up the white flag and surrendered my efficiency mindset of what I thought I had to do and invited her over.

She came over, and we had a very simple but healing and heartfelt conversation as we sat on my porch. The Spirit poured into our hearts. I felt renewed. I felt His peace, love, and relief. And that was what I really needed, wasn’t it? He wanted to calm my heart and, in essence, have a conversation with me. He wanted me to be at peace, be present, feel gratitude, and not worry.

The Lord was trying to answer my prayer by sending this inspired sister to visit me. That was, in a way, a visit from Him, as His Spirit healed my heart. With that relief I was able to receive and write the message that was needed.

A true story from Puerto Rico.
Miguel opened his piano music and stared at the black notes on the page. His teacher had just given him a new song to play. It looked really complicated! This one would take a while to learn.
He placed his fingers on the keys and started looking for the right notes on the piano. Plink, plink, PLUNK. Again and again he kept hitting the wrong keys as he played.
Why couldn’t he get the notes right? This song was a lot harder than the Primary songs he loved to play. He was so frustrated! He pounded his hands down on the piano keys. Blonk!
“Miguel?” Mamá called. “Everything OK in there?”
“Yeah.” Miguel sighed. “This song is just hard.”
Mamá walked into the room. “I’m sorry you’re frustrated. Did you pray before you started practicing?”
“No.” Miguel hadn’t thought of that.
“When I’m learning something new, I like to say a prayer before I practice. Heavenly Father is here to help us. It doesn’t matter if you are playing sports, giving a talk in church, or playing the piano. We can always ask Him for help, because we can’t always do it on our own.”
Could prayer really help him learn his new song on the piano? He decided to give it a try.
The next day Miguel sat down at the piano again, ready to practice. But before he started, he remembered to pray.
“Heavenly Father,” he said, “help me to learn my new song. It’s hard to learn, but I know I can do it with Thy help.”
Then he finished by thanking Heavenly Father for his blessings. His arms relaxed, and he was ready to practice.
Slowly he started finding the notes on the keys and playing them one after another. He kept on practicing. Before he knew it, he could play the beginning of the song! He didn’t even notice how long he had been practicing.
Mamá popped her head into the room. “Wow, Miguel. It’s sounding great!”
“Thanks!” said Miguel. “I think saying a prayer before I practiced helped me be patient and learn a little bit at a time.” He flipped through the pages of the song. “It’s better than trying to learn it all at once.”
“You’ve got a good start!” Mamá said with a smile. “Before you know it, you’ll learn the whole song.”
Miguel smiled back. Then he put his hands on the keys and started to play.
“Pray, he is there; Speak, He is list’ning. You are His child; His love now surrounds you.”
“A Child’s Prayer” (Children’s Songbook, 12)
Illustrations by Tracy Nishimura Bishop

It was Saturday morning, and Eli was crouched in the goal box, ready to pounce. He jumped and dove, doing his best to keep the soccer ball out of the net. But it was hard! Then right before the end of the game, the ball slid past his hands. The other team had scored! Eli’s team had lost. He was so sad.
The next day at church, Eli walked slowly to his Primary class, still feeling glum.
Eli saw his friend Kate outside the classroom. Kate’s mom pushed Kate’s pink wheelchair inside. She hugged Kate before leaving to go to her own class.
“Hi, Kate,” Eli said.
Kate couldn’t answer or wave back, but she always looked right into Eli’s eyes so he knew she heard him.
Usually Kate smiled when Eli said hello, but not today. Is Kate sad? Eli wondered. I know what that feels like. He still felt sad that he hadn’t stopped the other team from scoring the winning goal.
Eli sat by Juan and Makell as Sister Young started class. Then Kate whimpered. Sometimes it was hard for Kate to sit still because her body hurt.
“Kate, are you hurting today?” Sister Young asked.
Kate started to cry.
“Maybe a Primary song will help,” Sister Young said.
The class started to sing. Kate loved music. Usually she sang along by making happy sounds. But today, Kate just cried.
How can we help Kate feel better? Eli wondered.
Then an idea popped into his mind. “I know!” Eli told Sister Young. “I’ll push Kate’s wheelchair a little bit.”
Eli had seen how Kate’s mom gently pushed her chair when Kate needed to feel better. He hurried over to Kate and started rocking her wheelchair slowly back and forth.
Kate stopped crying.
“Can I have a turn?” Juan asked.
“Me too!” Makell said.
As Sister Young taught the lesson, Eli and his friends took turns pushing Kate’s wheelchair. Kate smiled. The whole room seemed brighter.
By the end of class, everyone was smiling.
“Helping Kate makes me happy,” Eli said.
“I’m glad,” said Sister Young. “I’m sure it makes Heavenly Father happy too. He loves Kate and wants her to feel better. Sometimes we get to be His helpers.”
Eli looked at Kate. “You help me too,” he told her. “Every time you smile.”
Kate grinned.
As Eli headed home from church, he felt as warm as a soccer field on a sunny summer day. Maybe I can’t catch all the soccer balls, he thought. But I can still help people!

Not long after becoming President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, President McKay announced his plan to establish the Church College in Hawaii. In 1954, he selected Reuben D. Law, the Dean of Education at BYU in Provo, to be the first president of the future Church College of Hawaii. Law organized and brought a committee to Hawaii to assess and plan the beginnings of this college. Shortly thereafter, President Law ambitiously confirmed to President McKay that classes could start in September of 1956, less than two years away. To president Law’s surprise, David O. McKay instead insisted they begin classes in September 1955, less than one year away.
President Law needed the right help to execute a Prophet’s ambitious charge.

One of his first hires was a native Hawaiian woman named Ethel Helani Whitford Almodova. Her role as the Director of registrars and admissions was critical because the school needed students fast!

In 1954 Ethel was a recent graduate from BYU in Provo and only 23 years old. However, president Law offered her a full-time faculty position to run registrars and admissions for the future La‘ie college.

Although her new job in Hawaii was exciting, David O. McKay’s ambitious mandate to start classes seven months after plunging a shovel in the ground at the dedication in February 1955 did make things challenging for Ethel’s first two months on the job. Since new student admission and enrollment needed to take place well before classes started, Ethel had to find an entire student body for the college in about two months. How could she recruit so many students in so little time to a college that only existed in concept? She got straight to it.

“On several occasions, Birdie and I flew to the neighbor islands to recruit students for school. We flew to the Big Island and landed in Kamuela where Sister Thelma Lindsey met us and took us to her home in Waimea. This was in July and we nearly froze. It was so cold there. From Waimea we went to Hilo and spent time there with the Saints. We stayed at the Mission Home. Then we were off to Puna and Kona before we flew back to Oahu. We were gone for several days. Another weekend we went to Maui, returned, and then were gone to Kauai... During our trips, we recruited several students and they joined us in Laie when the college commenced in September.”

In a short amount of time, Ethel successfully recruited over 150 students from the Hawaiian islands. These Students were so anxious and blessed to enroll in a college that was affordable, close by, and most importantly tailored specifically for them by a Prophet of God.
The College began with an opening assembly in the chapel of the Laie First Ward because that was the largest facility they had to accommodate everyone.

“True to prophetic vision, the college was now a reality and the official opening an important event in history. We were pioneers and it was exciting to be involved with The Church College. The faculty and staff were very compatible and the students were wonderful. We had 153 students that first historic year and it has continued to grow.”

I would like to introduce you to a friend of mine named Ekaette, my neighbor for two and a half years. She lives in a tropical rain forest in Nigeria, the most densely populated country in Africa. During the rainy season, Ekaette’s home is surrounded by lush green undergrowth. Palm trees decorate the horizons, and the sun shining through the clouds creates gorgeous sunsets. During the hot, dry season, winds from the Sahara desert bring a haze of fine dust that filters the harsh rays of the sun.
Ekaette is two years older than I. She was a young schoolgirl when her marriage to Akpan, ten years her senior, was arranged. Their first child was born when Ekaette was only fourteen or fifteen years old. Ekaette has had eight children. Five have survived. Her family joined the Church a few years ago.
Akpan is unemployed, but he works at miscellaneous jobs and repairs things for other people. He is a proud and industrious man, a good husband and father.
Ekaette has a nice home made of reddish clay packed between bamboo poles. A thatch roof protects her family from the heavy tropical storms. Inside, the home has a hardpacked earth floor and is divided into four rooms. A covered cooking area is separate from the house.
As with many other places in the world, there is no electricity in Ekaette’s area of the country. Ekaette cooks over a fire, washes clothes in the stream, and irons them with an iron filled with hot coals.
Ekaette’s day begins very early. She and her children must carry all the water they will need for the day from a stream not far from their home. Several times a week they must make a trip into the forest to cut the firewood they need. They carry the wood home in bundles on their heads.
Most of the food for Ekaette’s family comes from several small farm plots outside their village. Ekaette grows cassava, yams, bananas, plantain, pineapple, hot red peppers, and several kinds of greens used in different soups.
Ekaette and her family are happy. They have a good life.
I met Ekaette while I was directing a village health program for the Thrasher Research Fund, which sponsors research projects on child health in third-world countries. My colleagues and I organized health classes and trained volunteer teachers in dozens of villages to teach basic health principles like nutrition, sanitation, personal hygiene, and home health care. The teachers then taught similar classes in their own language in homes, schools, churches, and village council halls.
I remember one hot, sultry evening sitting under a generator-operated ceiling fan looking through some of the latest editions of a newspaper which I had just received. I paused at a page filled with suggestions of practical things to do in our homes to save money. Ideas included turning off lights and water when they are not being used, buying food in bulk and then freezing it in small containers, using cloth diapers instead of disposable ones, sending letters to cut down on long-distance telephone bills, and not shopping for food when you are hungry. These suggestions are certainly practical, but they belonged in a world other than the one I was in at the time.
But in spite of the differences between my world and Ekaette’s, there was something that united us: the gospel of Jesus Christ—Christianity.
Christianity is absolute. It should not be affected by our environment or circumstances, even though they determine how we practice our beliefs. Christianity should not be affected by skin color or race, by how we earn a living, or by what we buy at the market. It should not be determined by climate or geographical location.
I returned from Africa with a simpler definition of Christianity than I once had. To me, Christianity is love, or charity—the highest, noblest, strongest kind of love—the pure love of Christ. It may prompt alms or benevolent deeds, but it is not the same thing as charitable works.
In other words, Christianity is not so much what I do, but how I love; it’s the process of learning to love as Christ loves. Churches are institutions where we can learn about Christ and practice being Christians. But attending church will not make me a Christian any more than sitting in a library will make me a scholar. It simply gives me the means and opportunity of learning to become a Christian. Christianity teaches me about my relationship to God and to those around me. Understanding that relationship helps my heart change, increasing my capacity to love.
Principles such as love, sacrifice, faith, repentance, self-reliance, and consecration are universal. Working in Africa taught me how much more important principles like these are than programs. The Western world provides many programs for third-world countries. Schools are built, clinics are established, medicine is dispensed, tractors are imported, and food is distributed. The programs help meet immediate needs, but often, the principles behind the practices are overlooked. I don’t think I could do much good for Ekaette if I concentrated on programs like food storage or family history, worthy though they are. But Ekaette and I share a broad basis of belief in such eternal principles as faith, love, and self-reliance. In practicing these principles, we learned from each other.
I realized the importance of teaching principles after I attended a Relief Society lesson at the local branch. The lesson, taken from the manual, was on keeping our homes neat and clean. An illustration in the lesson manual showed an American home that was neatly arranged and obviously well kept. Our instructor was so unfamiliar with Western-style homes that she held the picture upside down when she showed it to the class.
Later that week, I went to Ekaette’s house and found her covered from head to toe with mud. She was beaming. Inspired by the lesson, Ekaette was cleaning her home. She had taken every single item out of the house (there wasn’t much), and she was smearing new clay mud on the walls and floor. She excitedly showed me how she had decorated the front of the house by using a darker mud along the bottom for a nice trim. It looked beautiful. Ekaette had learned the principle, then implemented it in a way that was practical for her.
Her example prompted me to think about my own efforts to apply the principles of Christianity. It occurred to me that perhaps the first and most important principle to practice is self-examination. For example, many times I think, “That’s a good idea, but I don’t have the means to do anything about it.” Money and material things become issues that prevent Christian service. But what things does it take to be a Christian—a rug to kneel on, or a warm loaf of bread to share with a neighbor? Must I be financially established before I can share my means? Must I go to Africa to find children who need help? I believe the Lord is pleased when we serve with whatever resources we have available to us.
A second principle I learned is that it is important that I serve wherever I am. My experiences in Africa was very special to me, but I do not feel that it is better to love someone far away than those near at hand. The Savior showed by example whom I should love. He didn’t leave his own country and travel far away to another place and people. He went among his own people, and he associated with a variety of people—the wealthy and the poor; the politicians; the sick, the lame, and the blind; tax collectors; the hungry, the tired, and the lonely; and even those considered unworthy.
When I was in Africa, it was clear to me that Africa was the best place for me to practice being a Christian. Now that I am home, the most practical place for me to be a Christian is here, among my own people. This is challenging for me. It often seems easier to send some money to a “save-the-world” organization than make room in my busy schedule to take time with a brother, sister, neighbor, or friend.
A third lesson I have learned is that I should prepare myself to serve in a wide variety of settings. I had many experience that helped me understand Ekaette and her family better. But because I could not understand all she had experienced, it was hard for me to know how to help in the best and most practical ways. I don’t know how it feels to have three of my own children die in my arms because no medical help is available. I don’t know how it feels to wonder where my next meal is coming from. I don’t know how it feels to mold the walls of my home into shape with my own hands. I don’t know what has brought Ekaette her greatest joys. As hard as I try, I am not able to relate to many of her problems and challenges.
And yet, I’ve learned that the more variety I can experience, the more people I will understand. Choosing to associate only with a select group of individuals who think and act the same way I do will seriously limit my opportunities for Christian service. I can choose to increase the variety of my experience and my capacity to love. The more people I understand, the more like Christ I can become.
As I have tried to practice being a Christian, I’ve discovered that many of my motives are often reflected in the actions of the people around me. As my colleagues in Africa and I associated with hundreds of people from dozens of villages, we observed many reasons for their participation in our program. Some came because they believed that white health workers would provide free services, medicine, or employment. Others were curious about the novelty of white faces in their villages. Some came because they were concerned with their family’s health; they were frightened of illness and feared that a child might die. Others wanted to learn more about health for their families’ sake. Some came because their neighbors came. Still others came because there was love in their hearts and a desire to know how to improve their lives and the lives of those around them.
It was fascinating to see the different responses to our project. The people who came hoping to get something free dropped out very quickly. The curious got used to our white faces and also left. Those who needed to solve family health problems usually did well; they not only received some answers to meet their current needs, but they also stored up information against future needs. Those who were motivated by love not only stayed, but went a step further in offering what they had learned to those around them.
Ekaette was one of these people. She told me once, “If you had given me money—no matter how much or how little—it would all be gone now. But you have given me knowledge, and no one can ever take it away from me!” In the last year or so, Ekaette, on her own with very little help from us, trained teachers to instruct several groups of women in different villages.
In Ekaette’s life, I have seen Christianity—or love—at work. Guided by gospel principles, she has found practical solutions to her daily challenges. And so can we. I am convinced that the gospel of Jesus Christ has the answers to all of the world’s problems.
I have spent nearly half of the last decade living outside of my homeland. During this time, I have seen and experienced much contrast, and I have looked into the eyes of many who have great challenges in their lives. I believe what President Spencer W. Kimball said to be true—that in the gospel of love taught and exemplified by the Savior, we can find the answers to all our problems. With that kind of love in my heart, I can be a practical Christian, whether here or in Ekaette’s world.