Gospel Story Finder

The day after returning from his mission, Ben Jansen remembered a promise made to his last companion. Rummaging through his wallet, he found the scribbled number and dialed.
“Hello, is this Sue Hopkins?” he asked after she answered.
“This is Susan Hopkins.”
“I’m Ben Jansen.”
After a long pause, she asked, “Should that be important to me?”
“Until yesterday I was Elder Wallace’s companion.”
“You were David’s companion?” she squealed with delight. “How is he?”
“Just fine. He asked me to call and say hello, except he said your name was Sue.”
“Since he’s been gone, I’ve decided I like Susan better. How long were you with him?”
“Six months four days and eight and a half hours.”
“So you must have gotten really close to him.”
“Oh yes, he was a wonderful companion. So neat and clean. We painted the kitchen four times while I was with him—couldn’t get the right shade at first.”
“Did he tell you about me?” she asked.
“You like catsup on your scrambled egg sandwiches.”
“He told you that?” she asked.
“We were discussing odd eating habits. He couldn’t understand the way I ate.”
“Oh,” she said politely. “Why? Do you eat funny?”
“I had a few stomach problems while I was with him and ate a lot of yogurt. I was afraid of getting an ulcer.”
After a long pause, she asked, “Didn’t you get along as companions?”
“Oh, did I give you that impression?” Ben chuckled. “We got along just fine. Oh sure, there were problems at first, but with the help of our mission president, we worked them out.”
“What problems?” she timidly asked.
“Nothing really. I grew to love the guy.”
She gave a sigh of relief. “That makes two of us. After he’s released, we plan on getting married.”
“You can be proud of him. He’s a wonderful missionary.”
“I know.”
“One thing you should know—he snores like crazy.”
“Very bad?” she asked uneasily.
“Unbelievable. It shook the entire apartment, but I adjusted to it.”
“You did?” she asked, her voice betraying her concern. “How?”
“I slept on the porch. Of course, in the winter it was cold, but they say it’s healthy.”
After another long pause, she asked, “What else did he say about me?”
“He talked about how you two were a team, and how you’d bake bread and raise a garden and sew his clothes and raise chickens and milk cows and work as an auto mechanic and a secretary while he finished college.”
“Oh,” she said, clearing her throat. “Of all the companions you had, how would you rate David?”
“For cleanliness,” he said emphatically, “I’d rate him the very highest.”
“But as far as being able to get along with others, how would you rate him?”
Seconds slipped by as he desperately tried to find a diplomatic answer.
“Hello?” she said. “Are you still there?”
“Just thinking.”
“Was it that bad living with him?” she asked.
“No, really. It was fine.”
“Would you have wanted to spend more time with him?”
“Gee,” he stammered, “I learned so much from him. I don’t think I could have learned another thing.”
“Please, will you tell me the problems you had with him?” she pleaded.
Suddenly his fight for diplomacy was lost. “Have you ever painted a stupid kitchen four times in six months?” he exploded. “Other elders played basketball on diversion days, but not us. No, we went to paint stores and compared color swatches!”
He realized his sudden outburst had stunned her, and he felt rotten. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I love him like a brother, and I wish you both every happiness. Good-bye.”
“Don’t hang up! I have more questions.”
“I’ve been unfair to him. We had good times, too. It was just a little personality conflict, but I’m sure you’ll get along with him just fine. One word of advice though—decide on the color of your apartment before you marry him.”
“Can you come over to my dorm so we can talk?” she asked.
It was an hour’s drive from his home to her dorm. When she answered the door, he had a hard time recognizing her from David’s description. Instead of a timid clinging vine, he was met by a confident, athletic-looking girl. They said their hellos and sat down on the couch in the dorm living room.
“You’re a lot different than I pictured you,” he said.
“How did you picture me?”
“Shy and dependent, always leaning on David for protection. But you don’t look like a leaner to me.”
Her warm smile made him feel very comfortable.
“I was only 17 when I met David my first semester here. Being from a small farming community, I guess I was scared, and he helped me so much. He even helped me pick classes to take.”
“Like what?”
“Just before he left, he had me taking typing, auto repair, and midwifery. He wanted me to learn practical skills to bring in money after we were married and he was in college.”
“Auto repair?” Ben asked. “Could you look at my car? It’s got a little pinging sound.”
“I didn’t take any more courses like that after he left,” she said. “I switched to physical education. I’m on the swim team.”
“You look like a swimmer—very sleek, like you’d slide through the water easily.”
“Do you play sports?” she asked.
“Football. I’m going out in the fall.”
“You look like a football player—very powerful, like you’d slide through the other team easily.”
Ben returned her smile and realized he was out of practice at flirting.
“Tell me about the problems you had with David,” she asked.
“You must think we were at each other’s throats, but missionary work is too important to let personality conflicts slow it down. Actually we hardly argued at all. I just learned to adjust. I’m sure the experience will make me a better husband. In fact, every potential husband should have a chance to live with him for a while to learn to adjust.”
“Give me an example,” she asked.
He gave her an embarrassed look and said, “You’ll think it’s such a little thing.”
“If it was important to you, I’d like to hear about it.”
“Well, one time I made a special dessert, a plum pudding. It took half our diversion day, but it turned out great.”
“I’d like to get your recipe,” she said.
“David just wolfed it down, didn’t say a word, and then left the table for me to clean up.”
“And that made you feel unappreciated, right?”
“He could’ve said something,” Ben grumbled. He noticed the worry on her face and added, “But I’m sure he’ll compliment you on your cooking. You’re probably a very good cook.”
“I don’t know how to make plum pudding,” she confessed.
“Take my advice—don’t bother to learn.”
“What else did he say about me?”
“He kept saying he was the sunshine of your life, like in the song, and how much you needed him. It sounds nice, but to tell you the truth, it’s not my ideal. I want my wife to be a partner.”
“Oh, I agree,” she said quickly.
They found themselves looking at each other with a puzzled expression.
“Did you have someone waiting for you during your mission?” she asked.
“Yes, she’s married now.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Have you dated much while David’s been gone?” he asked as innocently as he could.
“Not up to now, but …”
“Yes?”
“Maybe I should, just in case.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want you to date just anyone. You know how returned missionaries are on this campus. No sir, for David’s sake, I’d better take you out a few times—just until he gets back, of course.”
“That’d be nice,” she purred.
And so they dated. Their common interests in sports led them to go skiing and play racquetball and swim and go dancing. And that was just on their first date.
It didn’t take more than a month before he realized he was in trouble. The social standing of a returned missionary who goes home and falls in love with his companion’s girl is just above that of a snake—except snakes are held in much higher regard among missionaries.
The night before David returned, they took a long walk.
“I guess I won’t be seeing you much after tomorrow,” he said.
“Maybe not.”
“He’s a lucky guy.”
“You’ve been a real friend to me,” she said.
“Susan, I’ve never told you how I feel about you. I promised myself that until David got back and you decided about him, I’d just be a friend. The last thing I wanted to do was take his girl away from him.”
“I can’t be transferred like the title to a car. You can’t take me away from him, can you? It’s a decision I make myself, but I owe him a certain loyalty, at least until tomorrow.”
The plan for David’s return was that his family and Susan would meet him at the airport. Unfortunately, three hours before the plane was to arrive, his family called her to say they had all come down with the flu. They asked if Ben and Susan could pick him up.
The plane was on time. As David came into the terminal from the plane, he saw them, rushed forward, and was buried in their hugs.
As they left the airport, David suggested they drop by Temple Square. They walked around for an hour and then decided to have something to eat at the coffee shop of the Hotel Utah.
“Hey, Elder Jansen,” David said, giving the waitress the menu after they’d ordered, “this is just like old times, isn’t it—us eating together again?”
“Yes,” Ben said, wondering if he should order some yogurt.
“Ben and I had some great times as companions, Sue.”
“Her name is Susan,” Ben said.
“He worked hard when he was with me. I made sure about that.”
“I always worked hard,” Ben added, anxious that Susan not think he had been lazy on his mission.
“Yeah, but you let down once in a while,” David said, grinning smugly.
“When?” Ben challenged.
“When I suggested we paint the living room.”
Ben took a long drink of water before he trusted himself to speak again.
“I never complained, elder. I even held my tongue when you said you developed an allergy to washing dishes.”
“Please,” Susan said, “don’t argue.”
“We’re not arguing,” Ben said. “We’re discussing; that’s all. While I was with him on my mission, we concentrated on working together, but there were always a couple of things I wanted to discuss, and now we can. I just want to say one thing, David. I slaved all day making you a nice plum pudding and what thanks did I get?”
“Plum pudding?” David asked. “What plum pudding?”
“Oh yeah, and I suppose you forgot the nice lemon sauce on top of it too?”
“David,” Susan suggested, “I think you should thank Ben for his pudding.”
“I don’t remember any pudding.”
Ben realized his face was beet red. Susan placed her hand on David’s shoulder and pleaded, “I’m sure it was a wonderful pudding. What harm is there in thanking him?”
“It must not have been that great if I can’t remember it, right?”
Susan turned next to Ben. “Aren’t you forgetting something? You haven’t thanked David for all he did for you. I bet he must’ve cooked some yummy dishes for you.”
“That’s just it,” Ben grumbled, “he never cooked anything. He said he was allergic to the kitchen. I cooked everything, I washed everything, and what thanks do I get?”
Susan nervously wiped her forehead and sighed, “Good grief! I feel like a marriage counselor. Look, let’s just drop the subject of puddings, okay?”
At that point the soup and crackers arrived. They all were relieved to be able to concentrate on the food. Once Ben looked up to see David grabbing half a dozen crackers and crumbling them into his soup, leaving one cracker for Susan and himself to share.
He didn’t even look up as David slurped his soup.
After the meal was over, they walked around the lobby of the hotel.
“Sue, you really deserve an award for waiting for me,” David said, looking at a five hundred dollar necklace in one of the hotel shops, then moving on.
“Her name is Susan.”
“Typing up all my notes and sending cookies once a month.”
“Cookies?” Ben asked. “What cookies? I never saw any cookies while I was with you.”
“Oh, well …” David stammered.
“You held out on cookies?” Ben asked, shocked and disappointed.
“Well, I …”
“Is that what kept coming in those packages? When did you eat ’em?”
“Well, I may have nibbled on one or two in the morning while you were in the shower.”
“How could you hold out on cookies?” Ben asked.
“I didn’t want you to get cavities,” David lamely explained.
“Well, what about your cavities?”
“I was raised in an area with natural fluoride. I don’t get cavities.”
Ben looked forlornly at Susan and muttered quietly, “He ate cookies without me. That’s the lowest thing a companion can do.”
“No, it isn’t,” David said. “We talked about that once after a zone conference, and we decided the lowest thing an elder can do is go home and fall in love with his companion’s girl.”
Ben started to cough. When he could finally speak again, he looked at Susan and said, “He ate your cookies without giving me a single one.”
“Look, if you want,” she said, “I’ll make some just for you.”
“I hardly think that’d be appropriate,” David objected.
“Why not?” Susan asked.
“It’s not right for a girl who’s engaged to bake cookies for another guy.”
Susan touched David’s hand gently. “I think we need to talk about that some more.”
David pursed his lips thoughtfully and gave in. “Okay, one batch of cookies.”
“That’s not what we need to talk about,” Susan said.
“We’ll talk about cookies later,” David said. “Right now I want you to remember back two years when we were here for supper. It was the night before I entered the mission home. Remember, my neighbor, the one who used to work here, gave us a tour of one of the bridal suites because he knew we were planning on marriage after my mission. Do you remember that, Sue?”
“Her name is Susan,” Ben glumly said.
Before Susan could object, David was at the desk making arrangements for the manager to show them the bridal suite.
On the way up in the elevator, Ben stood close to her on one side, with David next to her on the other side.
“Planning a wedding, huh?” the manager asked.
“Sure are,” David grinned.
The confused manager looked at the three of them and asked, “Which one is the groom?”
“That’s funny!” David roared. “Sue, he thinks Ben’d marry you. No, I’m the groom, and Ben here is just an old missionary companion.”
The manager let them into the vacant suite.
“Will you look at that?” David said, looking at the walls. “Sue, look, they’ve painted the room since we looked at it two years ago.”
“It was painted last spring,” the manager explained.
“What’s the name of the color?” David asked.
“I’m not sure,” the manager said.
“It could be honey butter … but it might be toasted coconut too,” David said.
“Nobody’s ever asked about the color before,” the manager said.
“Hey, Sue, what do you think if, after our honeymoon, we paint our bedroom this same color?”
“Oh, no,” Ben moaned, shaking his head.
“Of course, we’d want to get it the same exact shade.”
“You poor girl,” Ben said, patting her on the back.
“Hey, this’d be a super time to make it official, to announce our engagement,” David said cheerfully.
“David,” Ben said, “you’ve only been home from your mission for an hour. Wouldn’t you like to go home and at least unpack before you get engaged? You need to get to know her again.”
“Sue and I know each other.”
“If you knew her, you wouldn’t call her Sue.”
“Sue, Susan, what’s the difference?”
“David,” Susan said gently, “you’re not the sunshine of my life anymore in the way you used to be.”
“I’m not? Who is?”
“Me.”
“Boy, talk about conceited.”
“With you I was always little Sue, the shy girl you helped sign up for auto repair and typing. But I’ve grown up and overcome my fears. I can’t go back to being Sue again.”
“You’re not my little Sue?”
“I’m afraid not.”
David whipped out his handkerchief and energetically blew his nose. “Excuse me,” he blurted out, “I’ll be waiting in the car. I need some time to think.” Then he rushed out of the room.
“Well, that’s it,” Susan said, shrugging her shoulders. “Two years to the day, and now it’s over.”
“You waited for him. You sent him cookies. Nobody could’ve done any better.”
“I’d like to close up the room and get back to the desk,” the manager announced.
“Susan,” Ben said, wiping away a tear from her cheek, “I told you I wouldn’t say anything until you made up your mind, and now you have.”
The manager looked at his watch. “I really must get back.”
“Could we see the view of the temple from the window?” Ben asked, trying to set the stage.
Reluctantly the manager opened the drapes. “I love you, Susan. Let’s get married in the temple and reserve the room for a month from now.”
Susan sat down quickly on the couch. “I’ve heard of people being fast on the rebound after breaking up, but this is ridiculous.”
“Will you marry me?” Ben asked.
“What about the other one?” the confused manager asked, “the one who said he was going to marry her?”
“The reservation will be just for her and me,” Ben said.
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Susan said, shaking her head. “Give me a little time to think.”
Down at the car, David sat and brooded as they traveled along the interstate. Finally he said, “Sue, I have something to say. I know you waited for me, but I don’t think this is going to work out. I think we should break up. Now I know this is a shock for you, but I’m sure it’s for the best.”
“Okay, David,” she said, “if that’s what you think.”
David spent several minutes consoling her for losing him.
Finally Ben interrupted. “I have a little something to say too. After you left, I asked her to marry me.”
“You asked Sue to marry you?” David gasped.
“In the five minutes I was waiting in the car?”
“That’s right,” Ben said.
There was a long pause. Finally David snapped, “You’re just trying to get back at me because of the cookies, aren’t you?”
“That’s not it. I love her.” Nobody spoke for five minutes.
“Are you going to marry him, Sue?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t do it, Sue! Look, I lived with him for six months, and the most sickening sight I ever saw on my mission was watching him use dental floss. And his dirty socks—he just throws ’em on the floor and expects me to pick ’em up.”
“But at least he knows me the way I am now,” Susan said.
“So you might end up marrying him?”
“Yes, David, I might.”
“This is the lowest thing a companion can do!” David said, turning to accuse Ben.
Another five minutes of silence.
“Well, let me tell you something!” David barked. “While I was waiting in the car, I had a chance to remember back. And you know what?”
“What?”
“THE PLUM PUDDING WAS AWFUL!”
They rode several more miles in silence. Finally David turned to Sue and said, “It’s not too early to begin thinking about the color for your kitchen.”
“I made up my mind!” Susan cried out.
“All right!” Ben shouted. “I’ll make the hotel reservation as soon as I get home, and we’ll need to get temple recommends.”
“Rats!” David complained.
“I’m going to do what I always wanted to do, and that’s go to BYU in Hawaii next semester. It’ll give me time to decide about marriage. Besides, I may never get another chance to go there. Ben, will you take me home first?”
They all sat in silence until they reached her dorm.
“I’ll write every day,” Ben said, as she entered the dorm.
“I will too,” David added.
Then Ben continued south to David’s house.
“You ought to have Sue look at your motor to see what that funny noise is,” David suggested.
“I already asked. She says she doesn’t know anything.”
“Are you going to college?” David asked, breaking the silence again.
“Yeah.”
“Living at home?”
“No, I decided to live in Provo. It’s an off-campus apartment.”
“Any vacancies in your apartment?” David asked.
“One,” Ben said, biting off the word.
“One vacancy,” David said. “Mind if I move in next semester?”
“I don’t think it would work out,” Ben said glumly.
“There are laws against discrimination,” David said.
“It’s not discrimination! I just don’t think it would work out!”
Two minutes of silence.
“Why not?”
“Because I love Susan and so do you. That’s why.”
A minute of silence.
“Well, then we have something in common, don’t we?”
“We don’t have anything in common!” Ben roared.
Another minute of silence.
“Well, what about the time we fasted and prayed for the Sorenson couple? And what about the Johnson family we taught and baptized? We have that in common, don’t we?”
Ben remembered back to the times they had shared which were spiritual, when they had felt the influence of the Holy Ghost. That influence had united them in spite of their individual differences.
Several minutes later, Ben quietly said, “All right, you can move in.”
“Thanks.”
“On one condition. If you mention, even mention painting a room, you’re out. Do you understand that?”
“Clear as a bell,” David said.
After letting David out at his home, Ben drove back to Provo. On his way, he stopped by a grocery store to pick up some yogurt. He wondered if he’d be using it on a regular basis now.

Time for scripture study requires a schedule that will be honored. Otherwise, blessings that matter most will be at the mercy of things that matter least. Time for family scripture study may be difficult to establish. Years ago when our children were at home, they attended different grades in several schools. Their daddy had to be at the hospital no later than 7:00 in the morning. In family council we determined that our best time for scripture study was 6:00 A.M. At that hour our little ones were very sleepy but supportive. Occasionally we had to awaken one when a turn came to read. I would be less than honest with you if I conveyed the impression that our family scripture time was a howling success. Occasionally it was more howling than successful. But we did not give up.
Now, a generation later, our children are all married with families of their own. Sister Nelson and I have watched them enjoy family scripture study in their own homes. Their efforts are much more successful than were ours. We shudder to think what might have happened if we had quit trying.

Before I went to FSY I prayed because I wanted to know what it is like to go on a mission and whether I should go on a mission myself. It didn’t take long before we had a lesson on being a missionary and I am glad to say that I really learned a lot. I’m also grateful that I had the opportunity to meet other youth that go through what I do every day. Look for more on Joshua in the article “Youth in Greece.”
Joshua K., 16, Athens, Greece

Although my mother was not a member of the Church, she was a very religious woman, and she had responded to the promptings she felt. When the war began, she had decided to build a bomb shelter not too far from our home in Indonesia. In it she had stored food, water, medicine, and clothing. These supplies had sustained us for eight months when we were not allowed to leave our property. She had also stored the family jewels in the bomb shelter, and before we were taken away to the concentration camp, my mother had told Baboe Kit to use the stored food to save her own family from the famine that was already rampant. But as soon as Nanny had found out where we were interned, she had carefully stuffed my doll with some of the jewelry and had walked the 192 kilometers to bring it to me.
The discovery of the jewels changed our lives. The proceeds from their sale first brought us warm clothing and furniture to make our lives more comfortable. Eventually they enabled us to obtain higher education. The training I received because of Pop Mientje’s treasures meant better employment and higher wages, both in Amsterdam and later in America.
The influence of Baboe Kit has remained with me throughout the years since my ninth birthday. For many years I felt guilty and had nightmares about her death—until one day I realized that Nanny had known she was risking her life.
She had been willing to die for me. And because of her sacrifice, those ninth-year birthday whispers that were once only dreams have become reality. Not only have I had birthdays with cakes and gifts and ice-cooled lemonade, but I have also fulfilled the destiny of which my mother spoke. I have had the opportunity to receive and accept the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and through the gospel I have come to a greater understanding about the kind of love shown me by Baboe Kit. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13.)

Illustration by Ben Simonsen
I felt the hot tears of anger slowly slide down my face. I wiped them away with my hand, but I could still feel the slightly salty taste on my lips as sobs of anguish began to pour out. I just wanted to hang out with my brother. Why couldn’t he be my friend, too?
Just a few hours before, I had stared at my older brother, Steve, in complete surprise, waiting for him to tell me that he was only joking. “Well, do you want to play?” Steve asked impatiently.
I gave myself a quick pinch to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, and then I voiced a timid, “Yeah, sure.” I still couldn’t believe that my brother had invited me to play a game with the “big kids”! After all, I’d been told for three years that I was still too young to play more difficult board games with my brother and his friends.
I went into the room where the older boys were setting up the board game. As the game started with everyone strategically placing their game pieces, I felt like I was dreaming. For the first time, I felt equal to my brother—not like I was just his tagalong.
The dream ended quickly, however. The game was tough, and my inexperience and lack of knowledge became painfully obvious as the other players quickly and soundly defeated me.
Losing so quickly was bad enough, but to make matters worse, the other guys started to make fun of me. I tried to continue playing even though they were being mean, but it was hard to hold back my tears of frustration. Unfortunately, one tear trickled down my cheek before I could wipe it away. My brother saw it and teased me too. I couldn’t take it anymore and ran to my room.
So there I was, crying by myself, wondering why my brother couldn’t just be my friend. I went to sleep that night feeling sad and alone.
The next morning I woke up still feeling worthless. I decided to get dressed and climb the hill behind our house to a secluded place where I could think and be alone. But when I got to the door of my bedroom, I noticed that a piece of paper had been slipped below my door. Unfolding it, I read:
Dear David,
I would like to ask for your forgiveness for the way I acted last night. I was more interested in winning than in helping you figure out the game. As it turned out, I did end up winning the game, but if you had been a few years older and had just a little more experience, you would have easily won. Next time we play, I’ll try to teach you a few pointers that might be helpful. Again, I ask for forgiveness and wish you better luck next time. You’re really an exceptional player for your age.
Love, Steve
True to his word, Steve did help me with some strategy ideas during the next game. He was also very careful not to hurt my feelings. In fact, I noticed that Steve began to take a greater interest in me. That’s not to say that he suddenly became my best friend, but he gave me more encouragement and became more willing to listen when I told him about things that were important to me.
Neither of us ever mentioned the letter or the change that occurred in our relationship. I guess it’s just one of those things that guys don’t talk about much. I kept Steve’s letter, but it wasn’t until I began reading the Old Testament that I understood why I had become so attached to it. I was struck by Genesis 4:9, which reads, “And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?”
I realized that my brother had been faced with the same question but had given a much different response from Cain. The letter is a wonderful reminder to me that I am blessed with a brother who answered, “Yes, I am my brother’s keeper.”

A few years ago, Brig Sorenson mapped out and recorded thousands of graves at the local cemetery for his Eagle project. Picking up where Brig left off, the stake arranged an ongoing service project to photograph the hundreds of gravestones in the cemetery for an Internet genealogy database.
“I’d never been in a graveyard before,” says Kirsten Barraclough. “But it was fun to see the names of all the people who died. It was nice to know you are serving others.”
“Some days I come to the cemetery and I feel really sad,” says Jessica McGuire, whose uncle and grandfather are buried there. “But this time I came and helped. It was a lovely feeling.”

My father could remember the very day, even the very hour, that his family—father, mother, and four children—left the Church, many never to return again in this life. He was 13 years old, a deacon, and in those days families attended Sunday School in the morning and then sacrament meeting in the afternoon. On a beautiful spring day, after returning home from Sunday morning worship services and having a midday family meal together, his mother turned to his father and asked simply, “Well, dear, do you think we should go to sacrament meeting this afternoon, or should we take the family for a ride in the country?”
The idea that there was an option to sacrament meeting had never occurred to my father, but he and his three teenage siblings all sat up and paid careful attention. That Sunday afternoon ride in the country was probably an enjoyable family activity, but that small decision became the start of a new direction which ultimately led his family away from the Church with its safety, security, and blessings and onto a different path.
My father was fortunate to marry a good woman who encouraged him to come back to the church of his youth and begin again to progress along the path. Their faithful lives have blessed all of their children, the next generation of grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren.
Just as the simple decision to attend or not attend one of their Sabbath day worship meetings made a significant difference in the lives of my grandparents’ family, our everyday decisions will impact our lives in significant ways. A seemingly small decision such as whether or not to attend a sacrament meeting can have far-reaching, even eternal, consequences.

Many years ago, I moved to a new ward. That week I attended a Relief Society activity and got there early and sat at one of the tables. The sisters kept arriving, but no one sat by me. I was feeling lonely and decided to leave.
Just then, a woman sat down and struck up a lovely conversation. I thought, “I have nothing in common with this woman.” Donna had many children and was older than me. But I thought, “I am so grateful she was friendly to me!”
Here I was—active in the Church and feeling lonely at a Church activity. And there she was—willing to sit by an unknown person. Donna and I are friends to this day. She taught me a lesson that has been seared in my heart ever since: We all need to be ministered to.

“On the Fourth of July we camped for the day, not entirely to celebrate, but to wash and do mending and various other things that were necessary. We camped in a pretty place near a creek. I was to wash with Phebe’s help. She was only twelve but very energetic. We selected a place quite secluded, close to the creek where we could have plenty of water. Well, we were making the suds foam when a dapper young gentleman from New York, a nephew of our captain, who was on his way to California, discovered us and brought a drink and a large piece of delicious fruitcake which was made to celebrate the Fourth on the plains. A rather embarrassing position, to accept this compliment in the midst of soiled linen and soapsuds. I had not been introduced to him before. However, I accepted the cake and drink with great patriotism, and from that time he often called at our wagon—that is, our wagon yard. Everyone was supposed to honor all the land that was occupied by ox yokes, camp kettles, and everything that goes to make an outfit for traveling. So when any of the young folks called I was as much at home sitting on an ox yoke as if I were sitting in an easy chair in a parlor. Such is life on the plains.”

Last March, as you remember, devastating rock and mud slides engulfed six small towns in the mountains east of Lima, Peru. All of these towns were within the Lima Peru San Luis Stake. The slide left 25,000 people homeless. Eighteen LDS families lost their homes completely, and 198 other families were left in dire need of food, clothing, and medical supplies.
The day after the slides, one member of the stake presidency and two other Church members waded through waist-high mud and debris for five kilometers to assess the damage. They found that more than three hundred people, members and nonmembers, had taken refuge in the Chosica chapel.
The following day, the stake presidency called a meeting of their eleven bishops and branch presidents. They made many assignments to furnish needed supplies. They asked each ward and branch to furnish work teams to go to the homes of members and help them clean up.
The stake presidency resolved to handle the problem without seeking help from outside stakes. They soon found that they could not handle it all alone. They went to their Regional Representative and asked him to coordinate economic help from other stakes in the region. The Saints of Peru rallied together.
As an example, the Iquitos stake sent thirteen crates of clothing, each weighing thirty kilos (about sixty-six pounds). Other stakes and wards donated food, bedding, and mattresses.
Selling quilts and refreshments, young women raised more than three hundred dollars. One young priest, a senior at his high school in Lima, led a group of twenty-eight of his classmates, all nonmembers, to Chosica to help with the cleanup.
The stake Relief Society presidency visited the area frequently and instructed the sisters in classes on hygiene, sanitation, nutrition, and “how to organize family living in a tent.”
The stakes did not intend to seek assistance from the general welfare funds of the Church. Stake leaders called in all fast-offering reserves from their wards and branches. They asked stake members to participate in a special fast on 29 March 1987 to raise funds that would help cover the expenses.
Some bore tender testimonies. Let me share just two. Sister Guadalupe, a nonmember, lost everything. Then in the shelter of a little room in our chapel, she gave birth to a baby boy. She stated that the Lord had helped her escape. She learned that everything of the world is temporary and can be lost. She thanked the branch and the Church for opening its doors to her and for the assistance she received.
Sister Leonora de Contreras, a Relief Society president, said she knew the gospel was true. She expressed thanks for her husband, who holds the priesthood and is a pillar of strength. The catastrophe destroyed the fruits of their lifetime of labor in less than thirty minutes. She recalled the words of their son who is serving in the Peru Trujillo Mission. As he left home, he said to her, “Mami, whatever happens, if you need help, ask the Lord, and stay close to the Brethren.” She expressed appreciation to stake leaders for their assistance.

This time in your life is a time of decision-making. I know from experience and from my work as an academic advisor that sometimes it can feel overwhelming. When I was in my mid- to late twenties, I remember looking back over the previous decade and realizing that I had made a major, life-changing decision every single year of that decade. It felt exhausting. The pace of major ­decision-making has slowed down for me, but it has not stopped. It turns out that making potentially life-changing decisions is just a part of adulthood.

The role God plays in making these decisions, however, is not always constant. Sometimes you will just know on your own what you want to do, and God is there to play a supporting role. This is how I felt about my decision to come to BYU as an undergraduate. I had no grand revelation; it was just where I wanted to come. At other times you may feel that God leads you in a very specific direction, maybe even a direction that you wouldn’t have chosen for yourself. When I was deciding where to go for my doctoral program, I knew where I wanted to go, but I had several powerful spiritual experiences that sent me in another direction. To this day I have great certainty that, in spite of the challenges, it was exactly where I needed to be for those five years.

The only obstacle still in our way was the cost of chartering a bus. To meet it, we needed to sell fifty-eight fares—and with only three weeks to go, we had sold only forty-four fares. Unless we sold the remaining fares, the individual cost of each ticket would be higher, and some people wouldn’t be able to go.
But Brother Ávila’s faith didn’t waver. He decided that if we couldn’t fill the bus with branch members, we would invite the rest of Mendoza Stake. So he and Brother Alejandro Suriano visited each of the wards and branches in the stake, leaving a small poster and inviting their members to join us.
What happened next proved to us that signs do follow those who believe. Interested people quickly came forward, and the unsold seats were soon gone. Some of these newcomers did not even live in the stake boundaries. Brother and Sister Freire were from the nearby Godoy Cruz Argentina Stake, and the five members of the Badami family were from Santiago del Estero province—more than 1,000 kilometers away.
As arrangements were finalized, there were three families who had prepared for the trip but could not pay the full cost. Thankfully, the money we had donated at our early meetings settled the balance. Now everything was in order.

The account of a homecoming as related by successful prison warden Kenyon J. Scudder brings to the surface tender feelings held in the heart:
A friend of his happened to be sitting in a railroad coach next to a young man who was obviously depressed. Finally the young man revealed that he was a paroled convict returning from a distant prison. His imprisonment had brought shame to his family, and they had neither visited him nor written often. He hoped, however, that this was only because they were too poor to travel and too uneducated to write. He hoped, despite the evidence, that they had forgiven him.
To make it easy for them, however, he had written to them asking that they put up a signal for him when the train passed their little farm on the outskirts of town. If his family had forgiven him, they were to put up a white ribbon in the big apple tree which stood near the tracks. If they didn’t want him to return, they were to do nothing, and he would remain on the train as it traveled onward.
As the train neared his hometown, the suspense became so great that he couldn’t bear to look out of his window. He exclaimed, “In just five minutes the engineer will sound the whistle indicating our approach to the long bend which opens into the valley I know as home. Will you watch for the apple tree at the side of the track?” His companion said he would; they exchanged places. The minutes seemed like hours, but then there came the shrill sound of the train whistle. The young man asked, “Can you see the tree? Is there a white ribbon?”
Came the reply, “I see the tree. I see not one white ribbon, but many. There is a white ribbon on every branch. Son, someone surely does love you.”
In that instant, all the bitterness that had poisoned a life was dispelled. “I felt as if I had witnessed a miracle,” the other man said. Indeed, he had witnessed a miracle. (See John Kord Lagemann, “Forgiveness: The Saving Grace,” The Reader’s Digest, Mar. 1961, pp. 41–42.)

“My first season of cross-country I had my highest grades ever,” says Cathy Middleton, last season’s team captain who also recently graduated. “Cross-country made me really discipline myself so that I could get everything done that I needed to.”
During her freshman year, Cathy participated in track and suffered an injury that kept her from competing. “My grades dropped because I wasn’t busy. I became lazy. There was no pressure to get anything done, so I wasn’t doing nearly as much.” Fortunately, by the next fall she had healed and was able to run again. Her grades went back up. “I know when I’m busy and dedicated to something, I make better grades,” Cathy says.

My life was eternally blessed by one choice member who reached out more than 50 years ago. Some days after World War II, my grandmother was standing in line for food when an elderly single sister with no family of her own invited her to sacrament meeting in Zwickau, East Germany. My grandmother and my parents accepted the invitation. They went to church, felt the Spirit, were uplifted by the kindness of the members, and were edified by the hymns of the Restoration. My grandmother, my parents, and my three siblings were all baptized. I had to wait two years because I was only six. How grateful I am for a spiritually sensitive grandmother, teachable parents, and a wise, white-haired, elderly single sister who had the sweet boldness to reach out and follow the Savior’s example by inviting us to “come and see” (see John 1:39). Her name was Sister Ewig, which translates in English to “Sister Eternal.” I will be eternally grateful for her love and example.

Several months ago, President Camm came to visit Hermann at camp after hearing that he was the only member of the Church there. At first Hermann was a little worried. Would President Camm hate him? Their countries had fought against each other in the war, after all.
But when Hermann and President Camm met, they smiled and shook hands. Then they prayed together. They sang songs and talked about the gospel. They even took the sacrament together.
“I love you, my brother,” Hermann said when President Camm had to leave. He saw tears in President Camm’s eyes as he waved goodbye.

One Sunday when I came home from church, I saw my neighbors playing outside. I wanted to play outside too, but I couldn’t because in my family we don’t play outside on Sunday. I felt sad. My dad told me that when he was a little boy he wanted to play outside on Sunday too. He told me he had been blessed in his life for keeping the Sabbath day holy, even when it’s hard. I decided I was going to choose the right and keep the Sabbath day holy.

My name is Avery, and I am 13 years old. Even though I am still too young to go to seminary, my friends and I have found a fun way to prepare for it.
Every weekday morning, I wake up and get ready for school. Then I walk across the street to my friend’s house, and I meet up with two of my friends. Next we walk a little up the street to my Young Women leader’s house. We meet up with a few other friends, and we begin our walk over to the bus stop.
“OK,” I say, “today is my turn.” I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket and read it out loud. On it is a scripture I copied down the night before. I read it and ask my friends what they think it means. We talk about it until we reach the bus stop. We each take a turn during the week looking up a scripture or a quote.
I enjoy doing this every morning because it helps me in many ways: (1) I learn more about the terms and meanings in the scriptures, (2) I learn to ponder about the things I have read, and (3) I am able to use the things I learn every day.
We also challenge each other to read the Book of Mormon and to learn about the lives of the prophets. Even if you don’t go to seminary yet, there are still many ways to start your day off with the Spirit.

The following experience shared by Sister Michelle D. Craig, former first counselor in the Young Women's General Presidency teaches us so well about praying to see things that we may not normally see:

“As I pray for the Lord to open my eyes to see things I might not normally see, I often ask myself two questions and pay attention to the impressions that come: What am I doing that I should stop doing? And what I am not doing that I should start doing?

“Some time ago, during the sacrament, I asked myself these questions and was surprised by the impression that came: Stop looking at your phone when you are waiting in lines. Looking at my phone in lines had become almost automatic. I found it a good time to multitask, catch up on email, look at headlines, or scroll through a social media feed. …

“The next morning, I found myself waiting in a line at the store. I pulled out my phone, and then remembered the impression I had received. I put my phone away and looked around. I saw an elderly gentleman in line ahead of me. His cart was empty except for a few cans of cat food. I felt a little awkward but said something really clever like, ‘I can see you have a cat.’ He said that a storm was coming, and he did not want to be caught without cat food. We visited briefly, and then he turned to me and said, ‘You know, I haven’t told anyone this, but today is my birthday.’ My heart melted. I wished him a happy birthday and offered a silent prayer of thanks that I had not been on my phone and missed an opportunity to truly see and connect with another person who needed it.

“With all of my heart, I do not want to be like those in the parable of the good Samaritan. Those who see a need, but then pass by. But too often, I think I am.

“I witness that Jesus Christ loves us and can give us eyes to see. Even when it’s hard, even when we’re tired, even when we’re lonely, and even when the outcomes are not as we hoped, through His grace He will bless us and increase our capacity.

“Through the power of the Holy Ghost, Christ will enable us to see ourselves and see others as He does. With His help, we can discern what is most needful. We can begin to see the hand of the Lord working in and through the ordinary details of our lives. We will see deeply.”

I might have continued to enjoy Relief Society without being aware of the many ways it has helped me, had it not been for a dreary spring morning and a perceptive comment from my small daughter.
While washing my dishes in a hurry that morning I looked out the kitchen window at dark clouds and blowing snow. Ordinarily, the weather would have made me feel gloomy, but the words of a favorite hymn, “The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close,” kept going through my mind and I began humming.
From the breakfast table my little daughter called, “I bet it is Relief Society day!”
“How did you know?” I inquired. “Did you see me reading my lesson book?”
“No, mama,” she giggled. “You were singing!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “What has my singing got to do with its being Relief Society day?”
Watching for my reaction she answered slowly, “Every other morning you’re grouchy!”
I admit morning is not my favorite time of day, but I hope she was exaggerating my reaction to it. However, in her own way she had perceived that going to Relief Society made me happy. And I started thinking then about why I was so enthusiastic about Relief Society.
Relief Society offers me a variety of friends. There I enjoy getting acquainted with and gaining an appreciation for women of all ages, many whose backgrounds, talents, hobbies, politics, and ideas are quite different from my own. Caring about these women helps me want to serve them and their families.
Since Relief Society proclaims service to mankind as one of its reasons for existence, my own feelings about service have certainly improved.
Some years ago, for instance, a brother in our ward mentioned that his wife and several of their children were sick with influenza. I sympathized and asked routinely if I could do anything to help. He surprised me by saying, “Yes, you could bring our dinner tomorrow night.”
All the next day I complained about spending my valuable time preparing a meal for his family when he was well and perfectly able to feed them himself. What a contrast that was to the happy feeling I experienced recently while preparing dinner for the family of a sister who was recuperating from surgery.
What happened between these two experiences to change my attitude? Discussions in Relief Society about compassionate service have helped; the examples of joyful service in our ward have been even more influential. So many sisters are anxious to serve that in some instances it seems one practically has to sign a list and wait for your turn to serve.
Relief Society gives me a chance to improve my talents, discover new ones, and even learn to do things for which I have little talent. For example I felt good recently when someone quoted the words of Brigham Young: “Let the beauty of your adorning be the work of your hands.” (Discourses of Brigham Young, sel. John A. Widtsoe, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1977, p. 214.) I now find satisfaction in making clothes for myself and my children, even though I disliked sewing when I was young and certainly never considered it one of my talents. Many of these new skills were direct results of demonstrations in Relief Society.
I do not sing well. In fact, one of my teenage friends used to stop singing when we sat together in church so that everyone would know the musical mistakes were mine and not hers. But in one ward, I was really needed as part of a small group singing for stake preparation meeting. While we sang that day, I realized for the first time what it means to sing praises to the Lord. Although I still do not sing well, because of practice in Relief Society I have experienced a happiness I might otherwise never have known.
Many successful projects with our children are the direct result of ideas other women have shared. One sister related that because she raised her family during the depression and they had to work hard in their garden to raise food for the family, she entertained and taught her children during those hours with gospel stories. By reviewing at night Book of Mormon, Bible, or church history stories, she could relate them in detail to her children the next day. Her efforts encouraged love of the gospel in her children and also helped them enjoy work. Now we tell gospel stories in our family while working together, brushing snarls from long hair, and traveling.
Perhaps there are other groups that would help me enjoy sisterhood, womanhood, talents, and learning, but for me, in one final area of influence—renewed spiritual zeal—no other group compared with Relief Society.
When I first attended college I had lived away from home and learned about Sunday morning Relief Society, I was reluctant to participate because I felt it was just for older women. Before the year was over, however, one of the things I missed most on my weekends at home was the spiritual lift I received from attending Relief Society. I really learned to fast and pray and feel close to the Lord, especially when I prepared my lesson.
Now when I do not feel in tune with the Lord, I remember those days and am comforted to know that I can be close to the Lord again if I try. Relief Society is organized, planned, and carried out through inspiration. Weekly attendance helps me live God’s laws and receive his help.
A conversation some years ago with a friend was influential in my commitment to attend Relief Society. I had just stopped teaching school and was enjoying staying home. My friend asked, “If you don’t go back to work, won’t you be wasting all those years of education?”
My answers were not very convincing to her. “I know you,” she insisted. “You don’t like to cook or sew. You never even enjoyed tending children as a teenager the way the rest of us did. You are a good student and like to perform. You like to be out with people. You’ll be bored in a few years at home.”
“Well,” I replied with perhaps a little feeling of smugness, “I have Relief Society.”
“You can’t tell me that a meeting once a week will supply all your needs outside your home,” she protested.
Since then, I have discovered we both were right during that discussion. Being content at home has been more difficult for me than I anticipated. But belonging to an organization that encourages sisterhood and a desire to serve, encourages womanhood, develops talents, stimulates learning, and increases spirituality does make me happy. In fact, it keeps me singing.