Gospel Story Finder

I was a Mormon chaplain newly arrived in Vietnam and had been directed by a senior chaplain to teach a series of character guidance classes. A check through channels failed to produce a copy of the regular manual, but the assignment stood. The first lesson was scheduled to be given to Alpha Company immediately after they had finished their 12-hour-duty day. The class was to be taught in a quonset hut that was being used as a post office.
The company was waiting for me when I arrived—about a hundred of them in all, draped over mailbags, slouched over the few available chairs, leaning against the walls, or seated on the floor. Not having a lesson, I was free to move in any direction I wanted to go, so I posed this question for discussion: “What effect will the manner in which you conduct yourself in Vietnam have on your relationship with your wife or sweetheart when you return home?”
The initial response to the question consisted of snickers, whispering, and a quick turning or lowering of the head of any whose eyes I tried to catch. A prompt solution to their bashfulness was a randomly selected panel. Much to my chagrin, but to the delight of the GI’s, it was immediately apparent that my selection of a panel was less than inspired. They all consciously avoided saying anything that they thought the chaplain wanted them to say. They weren’t going to play goodie-goodie in front of their peers. Vietnam, they argued, was a twilight zone, and what they did there had no relationship with the real world. The last member of the panel to speak bragged about the double-standard by which he was living and concluded by saying, “What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Someone challenged him by asking how he would feel about his wife living by that same standard. He tried to maintain his cavalier image, responding that if he didn’t know about it he didn’t care. Somehow that response did not come across with much conviction. Disdain was clearly written upon the faces of his audience and it became evident for the first time that they saw through the shallowness of the arguments that had been presented.
Then a rather unusual thing happened. A tall, broad-shouldered fellow who had been sitting quietly in the back of the room stood and asked if he could speak. Silence swept across the room, evidencing that he commanded respect. He did not raise his voice, but all heard what he had to say. He told about his fiancé and the love they shared. He spoke of the beautiful relationship that was theirs, and then with tears streaming down his face, he told how all that had been destroyed by their violation of the law of chastity. He spoke of a betrayed trust and expressed his hope that someday, somehow, they could gain again the feeling that once was theirs. The effect was dramatic. I waited a few moments for it to have its full impact and then added the testimony of a Mormon elder.
With the announcement that the class was dismissed, a few of the fellows got up and walked out, but the better part of the company remained. A group gathered around to ask more questions. A number expressed themselves to the effect that they had never heard a priest or minister “give it so straight before” or even take a position on the question of morality. One young GI, curious to know what denomination I represented, asked, “What kind of chaplain are you?” Before I could answer, the fellow standing behind him responded loud enough for all to hear, “He is a chaplain’s chaplain!”
Reflecting on that experience as I returned to my quarters that night, I came to a greater realization of our responsibility as Latter-day Saints. The world is replete with “many kinds of voices,” voices that sound “an uncertain sound,” and yet there are many who are ready to respond to the banners of truth. We are of Israel, the English equivalent of which means “prince of God,” or “soldier of God.” We live in times when good is made to appear as evil and evil as good. Prophetically, they are described as times of “false and vain and foolish doctrines.” They are times that call for courage. They are times that call for quiet example, and they are times that call for bold denunciation of those things that sap character and destroy nations. They are times for soldiers of God.

The first time I truly realized how much we control our view of circumstances was while on my mission. One night I was writing in my journal when my companion came into the room. She said, “I just hate to write in my journal.”

Well, to be honest, I don’t particularly like the physical act of picking up a pen and writing in my journal, so I thought that’s what she was talking about. I replied, “I know what you mean. What don’t you like about it?”

To this she responded, “Nothing good ever happens to me.”

I nearly fell off of my chair. If you have been on a mission or know anyone who has, you know that companions are like conjoined twins all of their waking hours. Nothing happens to one that doesn’t happen to the other. I was literally filling my journal with interesting, spiritual, even exciting events, and she, who had witnessed or experienced all of the same events, felt that nothing good ever happened to her. I was astounded, and saddened.

Five years later, two young men in suits stood at Mark and Letitia Stoon’s front door. They wanted to come in and share a message about Christ, they said. “No, I don’t think so,” Mark began, but Letitia, who had come to see who was at the door, stopped him. “Wait, are you the people with the Book of Mormon?”
The young man smiled. “Yes, we are,” one of them answered.
“I have a friend, Amy Richards. She was my roommate at college for a couple of years. She gave me one of those before she left to be a missionary in Mexico.”
“Really? That’s great. Did you read it?”
“I read some of it. I thought it was interesting. Amy always seemed to care about it. And she still writes to me. She’s a good friend.”
“Do you mind if we come in and talk about it with you a little bit?”
“Not at all,” Letitia smiled. “Come on in.”

The Young Women of Eight Mile Plains Ward, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, decided to share their love for Valentine’s Day. After spending a Saturday preparing paper hearts with messages of love and friendship, the girls sneaked into the yards of their “victims,” leaving their messages behind, attached to sticks in the ground, and taped to doorknobs and doorbells.
The girls did the entire project in secret but were found out by some people who loved the idea so much that they did the same thing to their neighbors the following day. The Eight Mile Plains girls have decided to make it a yearly tradition.

“It’s complicated,” my dad said when I was six years old. “I now have a disease called multiple sclerosis. Basically, my body gets tense and acts up when I’m under pressure. It means I’m going to slow down as you grow up, so we can’t go out as much and play or go fishing like other people do.”
That’s what changed my life. At the time, it was hard for me to understand what he was saying, but I now know what he meant. It helps to know what is going to happen with him, and I don’t have trouble talking about it.
Throughout my life I’ve been pitied for being the child with a disabled dad, and I have been excused from some things because I’m a “special case.” It can be hard at times, but I’ve learned to adapt to our situation. I know I have a few more challenges than some people, but that doesn’t mean I’m different. My dad is still my dad. He is a great person. He raised me with morals and a good conscience. He brought me up in the Church, and I think that is a great thing. What matters most is that he helps me. His illness hasn’t hurt me.
We all have problems, whether from a disease or a disability or something else. It’s how we deal with the problems that matters, and it’s part of what makes us who we are. We can’t fix all of our problems, but we can try to make them easier to live with—for us and for our family members.

I have just read Tom Osmond’s article in the April New Era, and I know from experience that every word is true! I have suffered from epilepsy since I was five years old. I had no confidence and was afraid to go anywhere on my own. My mother always had to go with me. I would not talk to anybody, and I thought everybody was laughing at me and talking about me—that is until I was baptized into the Church two years ago last May. Since that day I have gained confidence, and I am able to go out on my own. My epilepsy is milder too, and if everything goes well, it will be cleared up by summer. This is because of the love and faith I have found in Jesus Christ. My prayers have been answered, and I have a lot to thank the Lord for. I have learned that you can live a full life regardless of any disability, just as Tom Osmond said.
Carol SimsDerby, Derbyshire, England

In Mendoza, Argentina, we attended a seminary graduation. In the class was a young man who had great difficulty climbing ordinary steps. As the class marched in, two strong young classmates gracefully lifted him up the steps. We watched during and after the proceedings, and it became apparent that the whole class was afflicted with a marvelous kind of blindness. They could not see that he was different. They saw a classmate, a friend. In them the works of God were being manifest. While there was no physical transformation in the boy or in his classmates, they were serving like angels, soothing a spirit locked in a deformed body awaiting that time when it would be everlastingly made perfect.

Just a few months before I turned 14, I broke my leg. I was in a full-leg cast for two weeks and a shorter cast that came to my knee for four more. Because of my injury, I went to the last two weeks of school on crutches, and I couldn’t go on the girls’ camp backpacking trip or our family boating trip. I needed help getting in and out of the car, and my siblings weren’t very happy that I always needed the front seat so I would have room for my cast. Overall, I was miserable. I couldn’t walk, run, or play with my friends, and I was tired and in pain much of the time.
One day I was in the car with my mom and my brother. We were on the way home from running several errands. We stopped at one more store so my mom could quickly pick something up. She and my brother went into the store, and I opted to stay in the car. It wasn’t worth it to get out my crutches for such a quick trip. I had felt dejected all that day. I felt like I couldn’t do anything for myself except sit around. I couldn’t have any fun, and I felt like a burden to everybody around me.
At the peak of feeling sorry for myself, I noticed a copy of the Book of Mormon in a pocket of the car door. The missionaries had asked us to keep this copy in the car so we would have it handy to give away if the opportunity came. I pulled the book out and opened it to a random page. As I looked down, my eyes focused on the first few verses of 2 Nephi 2. As I read, I felt like these words in the second verse were written for me, for this very moment: “Thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain” (2 Nephi 2:2). In a moment when I felt afflicted and miserable, Heavenly Father spoke to me through the Book of Mormon and told me that He cared about me and that everything was going to be OK.
When my mom and brother returned to the car, I was smiling. They probably noticed the change, but I felt too quiet and peaceful inside to explain everything to them. I put the Book of Mormon back in its place, but I kept looking at it and remembering the words of Lehi that had brought me so much comfort. I also kept smiling. I couldn’t help but think that the missionaries’ request for our family to keep a copy of the Book of Mormon in our car wasn’t just for investigators.
At home, I pulled out my personal scriptures. I turned to 2 Nephi 2:2 and marked in red the words that had comforted me. A couple of months later I could walk and run just fine because my leg was healed. Of course, other trials came into my life later on. Many times when I feel alone and miserable, I remember how I felt that day waiting in the car. I still often turn to the passage marked in red in my scriptures, and I always find comfort there.

For Paul Allen and Jeanine Bryan, the Junior Life Guard program is even more than that. It’s a ticket to Australia, where they’ll participate in junior guard competition with the teams down under.
Paul and Jeanine are members of the elite “Captains,” the highest level in the junior guard program, which is divided into groups based on age and ability. The top members of the program were chosen, based on their athletic ability and citizenship, to make up the Junior Guard Educational Exchange—the 16-member group traveling to Australia.
To be Captains, Jeanine and Paul had to be at least 14 years old; be certified by the Red Cross in standard first aid, CPR, and personal safety; swim around the pier, battling waves and currents, in less than 15 minutes; be able to complete a two-mile beach run in under 15 minutes; and swim a mile in less than 30 minutes, to name a few of the requirements.
There are no exceptions made for Jeanine because she is a female. She must meet the same demands as Paul.
For Paul, the junior guard program could also provide a way to finance his mission. If he is good enough, he can work as a lifeguard during the summer after he turns 17. He’s planning to put the money he makes in a mission fund.
Of course, the youth in the junior guard program don’t spend all their time conditioning. Sometimes they listen to lectures on lifesaving techniques, and they receive complete training in cardiopulmonary resuscitation and first aid. Then there are the games, which include relays, tugs-of-war, water tag, Red Rover, and many more.
They also learn about the tides, waves, and basic beach training. “My kids are safer at the beach than I am,” says Caroline Allen, who has two sons and a daughter in the program. “They really know what to do. They can stand out on the shore, watch the waves, and say ‘Look Mom, there’s a riptide out there.’”
They learn from practical experience once they become Captains. They spend two hours, every other day, assisting the full-time lifeguards in the tower. “If a lifeguard goes out on a rescue, we’re supposed to go out there with him,” says Paul, who says he’s used prayer more than once to help him battle the waves.
Gospel teachings, in fact, have helped many of the LDS youth involved in junior guards. In order to be selected for the Australia trip, Paul and Jeanine had to go through a series of interviews, and their Church interview experience was a great asset, they said.
Paul, who earned his Eagle Scout Award two summers ago, says that the leadership training he received at Church has helped him too. He talks about the time when the Captains were in charge of doing the cooking for a hot-dog roast held for the junior guards and their families. The Captains were responsible for feeding about 7,000 people in all. “My Church experience really helped me to work with people and helped me know how to suggest to people what to do and when to do it,” he said.
Likewise, the junior guard program has been known to help the youth with their Church work. Just ask Bruce Johnston, of the Fountain Valley First Ward, Huntington Beach Stake. Bruce was involved in the junior guard program and later served in the Italy Catania Mission. He is now a junior guard instructor. “The program helped me with my mission preparation because it was very discipline oriented, just like the mission field. It stressed the importance of obeying rules.”
“It also gives you a sense of self-confidence, by helping you know that you can accomplish something that’s really hard for you,” said Jeanine.
One of the hardest things the Captains accomplished last summer was a 24-mile run, swim, run. They started by scrambling over the rocks and through the tide pools of Laguna Beach, dived into the ocean and swam across a cove, then ran to the Newport Jetty and crossed it together so they’d be highly visible to the boats that also cross. On the other side of the jetty, they ran to the Balboa Pier and swam around it. Then they hustled over the sand to the Newport pier, where they swam out to a buoy, rather than around the pier. There are so many fishermen casting lines off the Newport Pier that the swimmers would be sure to get tangled in them. From then on, it was a clean break across the beach to home territory. Once they hit Huntington Beach they swam around the pier, and the marathon was over.
Paul finished about a half hour ahead of everyone else, possibly thanks to his workouts with the Marina High swim team, where he was voted most valuable swimmer as a junior. Or maybe it was his experience on the cross-country team that helped.
But, he adds, following the Word of Wisdom doesn’t hurt either. “Since I don’t drink or smoke, I feel clean,” he says. “I don’t have bad lungs, so I can keep running and swimming and be in good shape.”
On almost every coast in the country, LDS youth are staying in good shape via similar lifeguard programs, and there’s even a program based at a lake in Idaho. On occasion, the groups come together for competition.
That’s another point the kids like about the program. “You get to meet all sorts of people and make new friends,” says Alison Brown, 14, of the Huntington Beach Sixth Ward, Huntington Beach North Stake.
Each swimmer probably has a different reason for joining, but they all come out with one thing in common, according to Coach Eich. “Respect is the key word,” he says. “We try to teach them respect for the ocean, respect for the environment, and respect for themselves.”
All that, plus sand, surf, and sun? Not only are these kids spending their long summer hours learning how to save lives, but they’re saving a summerful of memories as well.

Photographs by Leslie Nilsson
From a young age, I really looked forward to going to the university. The university would allow me to get a good education and eventually lead me to a stable job that would enable me to raise a family.
But when I reached university age, I was not sure how I could afford to go. The resources available to me were not sufficient. My dad had passed away the previous year, and my sister and I had moved in with my uncle. At that time, our uncle did not have sufficient material resources to help me because he was helping five of his own children at the university.
From a young age, I also desired to serve God in one capacity or another, but I did not know how. Before I joined the Church at age 19, I had no opportunity to do that.
When I joined the Church in 2004, I still wanted to pursue my university education, but I made the decision to serve a mission first. I still did not know how I was going to achieve my dreams and goals of a university education after my mission, but I exercised faith that things would eventually work out for me. I said to myself, “I will trust the Lord. I will serve Him first. Other things will follow later.” So, I went forward in faith and began doing service to help pay for my mission.
Some of my friends told me I was going to waste my time as a missionary. But I had faith that a mission was the right thing to do, that serving the Lord was not a waste of time.
One of the scriptures that inspired me to serve is found in the New Testament: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
I was soon called to the Ghana Cape Coast Mission. My mission provided me with memorable experiences and laid the foundation for future opportunities and responsibilities. After my mission, I was better prepared for my schooling, employment, and various callings in the Church, including as a bishop.
When I came home, some of my cousins had finished their education. My good uncle then had resources available to help me pursue my university education. I did a certified public accounting course and then enrolled in a bachelor’s degree program. Five years after my mission, I graduated in accounting and finance.
Truly, as I have seen in my life after my mission, the Lord has added “all these things” to my family. Before my mission, I was concerned that if I didn’t go to school, if I didn’t get a good education, I would live in poverty. But the Lord has blessed my family beyond measure and enabled us to live a relatively comfortable life.
I have never regretted serving a mission before going to the university. Showing faith to serve a mission was the foundation of many decisions I have made in my life. Serving the Lord helped me build my faith on a sure foundation. That foundation has helped me make right decisions when I have faced tough choices.
For those uneasy about serving a mission, I would give the same advice I received from the scriptures: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,” and all these things that you think will not come to you will eventually come according to the will of God—even tenfold. That’s my experience.

One spring I received three sunflower seeds. The instructions for their planting were very clear: place the seeds in soil with the pointed top down, cover completely with soil, and then water regularly. I carefully followed the instructions and placed my new sunflower pot on the windowsill. After a few days I noticed two sprouts; I figured the third sprout would soon follow.
A week later it was time to replant the growing stems in my small porch garden. The third seed had never sprouted; I thought it must have been defective. As I began to dig around the sunflower pot, I discovered that my careful planting had not been so careful. The third seed was not defective—I had just planted it upside down. The seed had grown—it just hadn’t grown upward. It had pushed itself down through the dirt to the bottom of the pot. As a result, the sunflower’s stem had become badly twisted. I wondered if I should even replant the flower outside. Would it ever grow well with such a bad start?
My sunflower had tried to grow properly—had tried to reach the light of the sun—but my carelessness prevented it from doing so. I realized this sunflower bore a remarkable resemblance to my own life.
Back in my garden, I decided to replant my sunflower and hope for the best. After a few weeks, my sunflower made an amazing recovery. It was beginning to grow just as tall and straight as the others. A poor beginning had just slightly stalled the sunflower’s eventual growth and potential, and I knew that it would continue to thrive and reach toward the sun, a beautiful reminder for me to do the same.

The next morning at 10:00, about ten of the Niçois (as the people from Nice are known) gathered at the gare (train station) and headed for the hills. With them were two 16-year-old sisters from Marseilles. First stop, Mont Alban, an ancient chateau fort (fortified castle) overlooking the bay.
Looking out from the summit, Christiane Beltrutti, 18, mentally traced trails between the red tile roofs of buildings, then gazed at sails drifting on the azure bay. The mood of the moment led her to contemplate her love for her home.
“The most important thing we can do is to build up the Church where we live,” she said. “I love this area. I love these people. I want to share the gospel with them; I want to grow strong here and see my children, later on, grow up in the Church, along with many of their friends.
“People come from all over the world to visit Nice. Those of us who live here should really appreciate the beauty, not just of the coastline, but of the inland towns and villages as well. I think most of us do.”
It’s a quick ride from the top of the hill back to the old part of the city. Here tourists crowded the boutiques and souvenir shops, eager to gather memories of their days in the sun. Everyone seemed excited just to be there. “We call it la joie de vivre,” said Michel Demisse. “That means the joy of being alive.”
The young Latter-day Saints did, indeed, seem excited with life, excited to be exploring the city. On foot they wound their way through narrow cobblestone streets, between houses stacked haphazardly one upon another, past women who still carry home laundry in baskets on their heads. In the marketplace, bright red buckets brimmed with olives and clams and cod for sale. Flower shops peeked in colorful profusion from alley corners. Minstrels serenaded restaurant patrons dining on pan bagnat or socca, specialties of the regional cuisine.
Nice is a melting pot community. The Greek-French singer Georges Moustaki defined the area as a meeting place of continents and civilizations. A glance at the young Saints confirmed his analysis. Philippe Benarous is from a Norman family that has Scandinavian and Germanic ancestry. Chantal Daviot, a member of a year and a half, had ancestors who helped settle the French colonies in Africa. Isabelle Perez’s name reflects the Spanish influence in the area, and Christiane’s last name, Beltrutti, shows the Italian flavor of the sunlit coast.
After a pause at a fountain to eat their sandwiches, the group decided that, despite threatening clouds, it was worth the two-mile hike up hills and stairs to Le Château, site of a castle long-since destroyed. In their decision, they reflected again the philosophy described by Moustaki: “Il y a un bel été qui ne craint pas l’automne en méditerranée.” (There is a beautiful summer that is not afraid of autumn, in the Mediterranean.) Though the rain drizzled down, they knew the sun would eventually break through. They bounded up the steps and paused to catch their breath at the top of the first flight.
Huddled under umbrellas, they again shared their feelings about gospel ideals.
Isabelle, 18, is the only one in the group who was born in the Church. “I like what we are able to learn about ourselves by being active in the gospel,” she said. “It’s important to get together with other members of the Church because in different spiritual, cultural, and recreational activities, we get to appreciate ourselves and our brothers and sisters better. I especially enjoy meetings at which returned missionaries from our hometowns speak because it helps us see that the Church is not small; it’s worldwide and growing. This helps young people to want to go on missions.”
“In fact,” Brigitte Besson added, “one of the problems we face is that we have to change personnel so often—all of our young men keep leaving on missions.”
Jean-Paul Tran, 18, from Grasse, said one of the local goals is to get everyone working together so that soon a stake can be formed in Nice.
“We all have the same ideals, really,” said Chantal. “To progress together, to improve each other by being together, to find increased spirituality.”
The hike continued. The rain lessened, then increased, just as the group passed in front of a waterfall that tumbles from the summit. “Isn’t it nice to be so cool?” someone hollered ahe mist from the falls and flung it in his face.
One more flight of stairs, and the group was on top. Leaning over the railings, they looked at the beach, usually full of sunbathers, now empty and stretching for miles between la Promenade des Anglais (one of Nice’s main streets) and la Baie des Anges (Bay of the Angels).
Several minutes later, after stopping by the beach and listening to roaring waves, the group rejoined the rest of the conference attenders for an afternoon of workshops at the chapel.

I am from a tiny town in Georgia. As you might guess, there are very few members of the Church here. In my school, there are five.
I was in seventh grade when my trouble began. All my friends were starting to experiment with alcohol and cigarettes. I was popular back then, so I felt it was my “obligation” to try them. Luckily, I only did it once. I have, however, regretted those spontaneous, thoughtless mistakes every day since. I have also had trials with morality.
This was long ago and my rebellious days are over, but I cannot express the regret I have for those mistakes.
The Atonement has taken on a new meaning in my life. I am now the brunt of many Mormon jokes, but as John 15:19 says, “Ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.”
I have learned to not settle for instant gratification. Many times these mistakes can scar you forever. If only I had thought about that back then.
I will be eternally indebted to my Savior for His endless mercy and love toward me. I am so grateful to be a member of the Church. It has brought me eternal happiness and joy. I look around the halls at my school at all the nonmembers who don’t know what I know, and I feel my testimony grow when I realize who I am—a daughter of God—and where I am going.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Boy: Hey! What do you two think you’re doing?
Matt: What does it look like? We’re cleaning up this vacant lot.
Boy: Why?
Mandy: Heavenly Father gave us a beautiful world. We’re just trying to help keep it that way.
Boy: Oh, right, the two of you are going to save the earth all by yourselves!
Mandy: Two not enough? Join us, and we’ll be three.
Boy 2: Hey! What do you three think you’re doing?

Photo illustration by Ilda Masa/iStock/Thinkstock
On the first morning of our vacation, my family and I went snowboarding. After several runs and then lunch, my father, my older brother, and I decided to try a new trail. We snowboarded for quite some time through unfamiliar territory, encountering strange obstacles that you wouldn’t normally find on a regular ski trail. We weaved through trees and pushed through the endless snow until we discovered we’d taken a wrong turn at the top of the mountain. Now near the bottom of the canyon, we realized we were lost.
We were standing in three feet of snow, and aside from the few pine trees that dotted the canyon, everything was white. We had no idea where to go. It was three o’clock in the afternoon; in a few hours, the sun would set and temperatures would drop dramatically. Plus, the ski patrol went home at four o’clock. If we didn’t get help soon, we’d have to spend the night in the freezing cold, stranded in a snowy canyon without food, water, or clothes that would keep us warm enough through the night. I didn’t even want to think about what might happen to us.
We knew that contacting Mom was the only way we’d get out of the canyon that night. So we got out our phone, but we didn’t have any reception and the battery was almost dead. We adjusted the settings on the phone so an alarm would go off if we got to a place with service, and then we wandered anxiously as the sun sank lower behind the mountain.
As it got darker and colder, our chances for survival seemed to decrease. I began to worry. “What if we don’t make it out tonight?” I thought. Feeling overwhelmed and scared, the three of us offered a prayer to Heavenly Father asking for safety and for the comfort of the Holy Ghost. We asked Heavenly Father to help us find our way out of the canyon, to meet our physical needs, and to allow us to contact help.
As we opened our eyes, we saw a small trail, and the Holy Ghost prompted us to follow it south. Hiking through three feet of snow in winter gear is not an easy task, but we felt God’s merciful hand pushing us forward.
We reached the top of a small hill, and the phone beeped. We didn’t dare move from where we stood. Carefully, I pulled out the phone and sent Mom a message explaining our dire situation and asking her to contact the ski patrol.
By this point, the sun had almost disappeared behind the mountain. Temperatures averaged -25º Fahrenheit (-32º C) and were dropping fast. We were wet, cold, and tired, and we still had no idea where to go. “We could die out here,” I thought.
Then we heard voices—people were yelling for us! We yelled back and waved our arms around to try to get their attention. The ski patrol followed the sound of our voices until they saw us. They led us safely out of the canyon, and we were reunited with Mom, who waited just outside the mouth of the canyon. We had been saved.
As soon as I sat down, my tired body collapsed, the setting sun disappeared behind distant mountains, and my cell phone’s battery died. Heavenly Father had given us just enough energy and time to safely make it out of the canyon. He had heard our prayers and granted them to the fullest.
I am so grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who hears our prayers and watches over us.

I will never forget a sauna-hot day in the lush rain forest of southeastern Nigeria. My husband and I had traveled to one of the most remote locations in our mission so he could conduct temple recommend interviews with members in the Ikot Eyo district. Some in this growing district had been Church members less than two years. All the members lived 3,000 miles away from the nearest temple in Johannesburg, South Africa. None had received their temple endowment.
These members knew the appointed day each month we would come to their district, but even we didn’t know the exact hour we would arrive; nor could we call, for telephones were rare in that part of West Africa. So these committed African Saints gathered early in the morning to wait all day if necessary for their temple recommend interviews. When we arrived, I noticed among those waiting in the searing heat were two Relief Society sisters dressed in bold-patterned wrappers, white blouses, and the traditional African head-ties.
Many hours later, after all the interviews were completed, as my husband and I drove back along that sandy jungle trail, we were stunned when we saw these two sisters still walking. We realized they had trekked from their village—a distance of 18 miles round trip—just to obtain a temple recommend they knew they would never have the privilege of using.
These Nigerian Saints believed the counsel of President Howard W. Hunter: “It would please the Lord for every adult member to be worthy of—and to carry—a current temple recommend, even if proximity to a temple does not allow immediate or frequent use of it.” In her hand, carefully wrapped in a clean handkerchief, each sister carried her precious temple recommend. I carry their examples of faith carefully wrapped in my heart.

As a physician, I have been with many patients who were close to death. But few of these experiences have touched my heart the way my experience with Cal and Lola Hamilton did.
At age sixty-two, Lola had been ill for years. Nearly blind from diabetes, she had severe arthritis and chronic heart and lung disease. She seemed weary, worn, and older than her years.
But her husband, Cal, did not think of Lola’s ill health as a burden. Cal was healthy and strong. He looked ten years younger than he was, and he still managed an active farming business. Yet in the two hears I had known them, his foremost concern was always his wife’s comfort and well-being.
Caring for Lola was practically a full-time nursing job. Yet Cal did most of it himself, always cheerfully and enthusiastically. Their children, all married now, also helped. The care Lola received at home was often better than she could get in a hospital.
In two years, Lola was hospitalized four times—each for a long period of time. Cal stayed with her constantly, sleeping in a chair at her side or on a little cot. He left long enough to eat a meal only if one of the children was there. Never through all those days did I hear a critical word about a nurse, a hospital worker, or anyone else. Instead, Cal praised and thanked us.
When Lola finally had a massive stroke, Cal was devastated. He never left her side. As she lay unconscious, Lola received a priesthood blessing, surprisingly promising that her full functional capacity would be restored. Because of that blessing we did everything we could to prolong her life.
The days passed and Lola remained unconscious. Cal never left the hospital, but day after day the strain and agony on his face increased and discouragement showed. He looked so thin and tired that I wondered if he had stopped eating. He caught only a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep her and there. Each time Lola’s noisy breathing caught or changed a little, he jumped up to check on her.
Such stress often brings out the worst in a person’s character. But Cal continued to be courteous. This gentle man showed dignity in his grief.
One Saturday after leaving Cal and Lola, I went back to the doctors’ lounge and slumped down on chair. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about Cal’s pain and grief.
Once again, I bowed my head to ask my Heavenly Father if there was something, as Lola’s doctor, that I could do to help. Was there something that I had left undone? I asked about Lola’s priesthood blessing. Why would anyone make such a statement? Was the priesthood holder truly inspired to say what he did?
At that moment, a thought came forcefully into my mind. The only way Lola could be restored to her full capacity was to move on to the next life. I had had this thought before, and I had even mentioned it to Cal. But this time it was accompanied by a feeling of great joy. In my mind, I could see Lola, sweet and attractive, with all her functions restored.
My grief was gone. I felt the unmistakable joy and peace that only the Holy Ghost can bring.
I left the doctors’ lounge with peace in my heart. A few hours later Lola died quietly and peacefully, and Cal finally went home.
I am grateful to Cal, who, by his example, taught me the meaning of love and sacrifice. I am also deeply grateful to the Lord for the miracle of personal revelation that turned a distressing, faith-shaking experience into a sweet, faith-building one.

Young people, God requires hard things of you. One 14-year-old young woman participated in competitive basketball. She dreamed of playing high school basketball like her older sister. She then learned that her parents had been called to preside over a mission in Guatemala.
Upon arrival, she discovered that a couple of her classes would be in Spanish, a language she did not yet speak. There was not a single girls’ sports team at her school. She lived on the 14th floor of a building with tight security. And to top it all off, she could not go outside alone for safety reasons.
Her parents listened to her cry herself to sleep every night for months. This broke their hearts! They finally decided they would send her home to her grandmother for high school.
When my wife entered our daughter’s room to tell her our decision, she saw our daughter kneeling in prayer with the Book of Mormon open on the bed. The Spirit whispered to my wife, “She will be OK,” and my wife quietly left the room.
We never heard her cry herself to sleep again. With determination and the Lord’s help, she faced those three years valiantly.
At the conclusion of our mission, I asked my daughter if she was going to serve a full-time mission. Her answer was “No, Dad, I have already served.”
I was just fine with that! But about six months later, the Spirit awoke me in the night with this thought: “I have called your daughter to serve a mission.”
My reaction was “Heavenly Father, she has given so much.” I was quickly corrected by the Spirit and came to understand that her missionary service was required of the Lord.
I soon took my daughter to lunch. From across the table, I said, “Ganzie, do you know why we are here?”
She said, “Yes, Dad. You know I have to serve a mission. I do not want to go, but I am going.”
Because she gave her will to Heavenly Father, she served Him with all of her heart, might, mind, and strength. She has taught her father how to do a hard thing.

“Invite Mr. Wood* to seminary.” The thought popped into my mind as soon as I heard the announcement, and I immediately thought it was crazy. Why would I invite my music teacher to come to seminary at 5:30 in the morning?
The seminary president had just told our class that we would be having a teacher appreciation day. We were challenged to invite some of our schoolteachers to join us for a morning of seminary where we would thank them for their service. The entire week after hearing this announcement, I thought about inviting Mr. Wood. Every time I went to seminary or saw him in music class, the thought came back: “Invite Mr. Wood to seminary.” After several days of this, I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer.
One morning as all the students in music class were getting out their instruments, I put my trombone aside and approached Mr. Wood. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking, but when I opened my mouth to extend the invitation, I felt comfort.
To my surprise, Mr. Wood said that he would come! He was curious about why I went to seminary every morning before school and wanted to learn more. After giving him all the details, I walked away full of joy.
During this experience, I didn’t feel a burning in the bosom (see D&C 9:8). But I did feel the Holy Ghost. The recurring thought to invite Mr. Wood (see D&C 128:1), the comfort I felt when I invited him (see John 14:26), and the joy I felt after I invited him (see Galatians 5:22) all came from the Spirit. But if I had been looking only for a burning in the bosom, I might not have recognized when the Holy Ghost was prompting me.

I believed the prophet Malachi when he said that the Lord pours out blessings to those who pay tithing (see Mal. 3:10). I had no problem believing that. But when it came to actually paying tithing, I had trouble.
On payday I would set aside money for tithing. However, payday often came in the middle of the week, and when I needed money later on I would “borrow” back money from my tithing. I told myself I would replace the money and give my tithing to the bishop on Sunday, but usually I was unable to return the money. So I would plan to pay the tithing I owed from my next paycheck. I tried to do this, but then very little would be left of my paycheck! Things went on like this for the first year I earned my own income.
Then one day I had a realization. A sales representative came to our house. He explained that I could pay for an appliance on an installment plan—receiving the item now and paying for it later. As he spoke, a question entered my mind: “Does the Lord give blessings on an installment plan?”
The next day in my institute class, the very first verse of scripture we discussed answered my question: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Every commandment brings blessings—and always in full. But we must keep the commandment, not just plan to keep it. That night I prayed for forgiveness for paying my tithes in such a lazy manner.
Now that I am paying my tithing faithfully, I have found that I am happier living on 90 percent of my income with the Lord’s blessings than I ever was living on 100 percent of my income without them.