Gospel Story Finder

For my father, some of his clearest heavenly communication comes in the middle of the night when something stirs his soul awake and over the next hour, he receives ideas about what he should do or, at times, counsel he should share with his family. For me, my prayers are often best when I address my Father in Heaven while doing the dishes at the end of the day. Because I am standing, I am not likely to fall asleep, and this time at the kitchen sink has become a holy time when others are doing homework or getting ready for bed. It is a time when I can reflect on the day that is coming to a close and think about how my family and I have been blessed and what things we need tomorrow.

For you, doing dishes may not be a prime time for conversing with the Lord. So, when do you hear the Lord most clearly? In the morning? In the evening? When you take a break from a particularly vexing homework assignment? When you are out for a walk or run? Or, as Sister Brenda Summers shared in last week’s devotional, you might hear the Lord when you record in your journal how you have seen the hand of the Lord in your life.

But at other times you won’t have certainty. You won’t be certain about what God wants you to do and you won’t be certain about what you want to do. When I finished my doctoral program, I felt lost in both of those areas. I thought that eleven years of higher education should have left me with a clear sense of what I wanted to be when I grew up, but instead those waters felt muddier than they had ever felt. I thought that, by that point of my life, I should have felt more confident that I could hear and know the will of the Lord, but right then it seemed that the heavens were silent.

In that moment, the only thing I could do was move forward. I wanted to move forward along the right path, but the only thing I could do at that time was move forward along a path. I wanted to know that everything was going to work out for the best, but that was not something I could know. Embracing uncertainty is hard, but at some points in our lives it is the only thing we can do.

I gazed at the girl sitting alone at the table across from mine. Her long hair hid her face, but I could sense her loneliness as she idly scooted food around her tray. I couldn’t help but feel selfish watching her eat by herself when I was surrounded by friends.
One of my friends suddenly elbowed me. “Sierra! I’m talking to you. Wake up!” My focus snapped back to the conversation at our lunch table.
“Oh, sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. Hey, do you guys see that girl sitting over there?” I nodded toward the young woman eating alone. “Do you know her name?”
My friends shrugged and returned to their conversation. Their laughter muddled into the noise of the cafeteria while my mind wandered back to the girl at the table. The thought came that I should do something to help her. “But what if she thinks I’m weird or if she’s waiting for her other friends?” I silently objected. But the thought returned, and I knew what I needed to do.
I shuffled nervously toward her, and she glanced up when I reached her table.
“Do you want to sit with us?” I asked.
She half nodded, gathered her belongings, and followed me as my friends scooted over to give her room to sit.
“I have two classes with you,” I said, “but I don’t think I’ve met you before. What’s your name?”
“Kelsey,”* she said. Her reply was barely audible.
For the rest of lunch, my friends and I asked about her interests and school schedule, trying to help her feel welcome. I could tell she was relieved not to be sitting alone. When lunch was over, a warm, light feeling filled my heart.
In the following weeks, Kelsey continued to sit with us at lunch. While her face always made it seem like she was fine, I could see pain in her eyes. She didn’t talk much about her background, but I could sense that there was a lot of stuff she was trying to keep hidden or forget about.
Months flew by, and I grew to love Kelsey. We enjoyed each other’s friendship. I was amazed by her lofty dreams and loving personality.
One day in our computer class, the teacher moved me next to Kelsey, who seemed to be struggling with some of the material. We spent hours working together, and I watched happily as her grade inched up to an A. For one assignment, we created time lines that included 10 major events in our lives. When Kelsey completed hers, she tapped me on the shoulder.
“Do you want to see my time line?” She grinned.
“Yeah, sure!” I looked over at her computer. Stifling a gasp, I read some of the sad events that had filled Kelsey’s life. My surprise reached its peak, however, when I read the final event on her time line: I met Sierra.
Stunned, I hugged her and whispered, “Oh, Kelsey. Thank you.”
Toward the end of the school year, Kelsey suddenly moved to California. About a year after that, Mrs. Cummings,* who worked at my school, told me she wanted to talk with me. She hesitantly explained that Kelsey had passed away over the weekend. Tears started pouring down my cheeks. Mrs. Cummings didn’t know—or at least couldn’t tell me—how it happened, but she did tell me some things about Kelsey that I hadn’t known before. Her life on earth was challenging. I cried for several days, but even through my tears, I was comforted because of the plan of salvation.
Back in that lunchroom, when I saw a girl sitting alone, Heavenly Father knew she was a daughter of His who needed a friend. He knows our needs and knows how we can meet the needs of others. Though it’s easy to ignore the promptings of the Spirit at times, I will forever be glad for the day I listened to the Spirit at lunch.

Emilee Dolberg, 12, of Stockton, California, came out on top in several subjects in her grade. She placed first in the handwriting contest, first in spelling, first in the math contest, first in essay writing, and first in the talent competition (she plays the piano).
Emilee went on to compete with individual winners from other schools on a district level. She was first in handwriting, third in math, and first in essay writing. Her essay placed fourth nationally.
Emilee is secretary of her Beehive class in the Stockton Fourth Ward.

Let me conclude by telling you that at eighty years of age my father had to have his leg amputated, and because of that operation the last year of his life was particularly difficult. At his funeral Elder Thomas S. Monson spoke. He said:

I suppose his greatest battle has occurred in the last few months, but he rose to the occasion, and he demonstrated to each one of us that he is the man that we knew him to be. I’ve seen courage many times—in the navy, in life. I’ve read about courage. But I don’t know when I’ve seen courage to excel that of my friend as he overcame the handicap of his lost limb and, to the amazement of the doctors, at his age developed the ability to use his artificial limb in such a way that he could be proud of his accomplishment and could do many things that other people felt he never again would do.

These words and my father’s example have been a rich legacy of continuing strength for me and for my family, far more important than the earthly treasures of wealth or position he probably would like to have left us, but didn’t.

The project started when the Lake City Stake leadership decided to build a time capsule and invited the stake members to place certain important things in it, such as copies of family histories. For the youth, the invitation included writing their testimonies and some advice to the future generation. The time capsule was then sealed, and it will be opened in 10 years.

Okay, so it’s not time travel in the H. G. Wells sense, where you build a machine that takes you physically backward or forward in time. But think about it. One of the reasons most of us would like to travel in time is to make interesting discoveries. Right? And that’s exactly what happened here. But the discoveries were made in the process of “building the machine.” In other words, those who participated learned some interesting things about themselves as they wrote testimony and advice.

Some of the youth found writing their testimony was difficult. Others found it easier. But all agreed that it was worthwhile.

For Camber Page, 17, of Macclenny, Florida, writing her testimony was a spiritual experience. She’s borne her testimony in church before, but, she says, “I get nervous, and I don’t get to say what I am really feeling.” But when she wrote her testimony, she says, “The Spirit was just coming out of me. I had time to think about it. I was able to write it down without getting up and crying and getting all emotional and shaking. I didn’t know I had believed in so much until I started writing it down. I thought, Gosh, my testimony’s stronger than I thought it was.”

Dustin McRae, 18, of Lake City had a similar experience. “You really don’t know all of your blessings until you start thinking about them and writing them down. It makes more of an impact to see it rather than just think about it. Your testimony is deeper than you realize.”

Nada and Makeda Meeks are converts to the Church. They live just outside Live Oak. Nada, 17, says, “It was a very nice experience to write something down that’s a part of me. It was like seeing my testimony. Most people feel their testimony, and they know they have it, but this is like seeing what you believe.”

Makeda, who is 15, had a little trouble getting started at first. “I haven’t borne my testimony that many times,” she says. She put down the usual things that people say in testimonies, like belief in the prophet. “And I got those things written down, and there weren’t very many words. And I started thinking, and it all started bubbling up. I’ve had so many experiences where God just said ‘I love you.’ I had so much in my mind that what I put down was probably very limited.”

In Valdosta, Georgia, part of the Lake City Stake, young people had similar experiences with writing their testimonies. Joe Stansel, 14, says simply, “I felt good inside that I had the privilege of knowing and being part of the truth.”

Just about everyone who wrote down their testimony reports having the same great experience. Joel Roper, who lives in Stark, Florida, says, “It was like just standing up in sacrament meeting bearing my testimony.” But it went beyond that, even, because, he says, “It was everything that I always thought about saying in testimony meeting but never did because I didn’t want to take up a whole lot of time. I enjoyed writing it down.”

Writing advice for the future generation turned out to be an eye-opener. For one thing, when you ask those who participated if they found themselves sounding like their parents, many get this almost sheepish grin and say, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Makeda Meeks says, “It’s like all the things that you’ve heard adults say, and you’re, like, ‘Uh huh.’ But now you’re getting older and it’s, like, ‘Whoa, I should have been doing that years ago.’”

Valdosta’s Angie Walker, 17, found herself getting preachy, but it also gave her a better understanding of her parents. “It kind of put me in their place,” she says. “Giving advice to the future makes you think about where you will be in 10 years. Already the years seem to be going by faster.”

Writing advice for the future really hit home for Jana Spivey, 15, also of Valdosta. She’s the second oldest of six children, and her little sister Casey is 10 years younger. So when the time capsule is opened, Casey will be the age that Jana is now. And Jana found herself saying the same things that her mom says to her today. “And that’s a real eye-opener. Because when your parents tell you, you don’t want to hear it, because you’re upset or whatever. But then, when you’re saying it, you realize that’s really what you’re supposed to be doing. And you start thinking that maybe they were right. But you hate to admit it.”

Back in Macclenney, 15-year-old Jonathan Fish talks about writing advice. “I wrote what I thought the youth in the future could use and what they should strive to do.” He also surprised himself. “I thought I could give some advice just to help them along, but I found myself preaching,” he admits with a laugh. Did he stop and think, Oh, I’m becoming my dad here? Again he laughs. “Yes. It was actually scary at first.”

School days start early for Melanie Howells, because there’s a lot to do before school. While the farmers who live near her family’s home in Rodenbach, West Germany (a suburb of Kaiserslautern), are still eating breakfast, Melanie is already pedaling her bike across the cobblestones to deliver the newspapers on her route.
The 16-year-old doesn’t worry much about the chill in the air—the rising sun will soon trim it away. Besides, there are too many morning images to capture in mental snapshots: chickens poking and scratching in soft barnyard dirt, dew caressing windowbox flowers, the baker’s wife opening the shop’s shutters, early buses rifling commuters to the city.
But Melanie does worry about getting back home in time to finish writing a chemistry assignment (in German), to have breakfast and family prayers, and to join her sister Jackie, 14, so they can go to early morning seminary together.

I was in a conversation a few years ago about a certain topic that has some political ramifications, but the topic hasn’t really been addressed by the Church or the prophet. The person made a comment that if the prophet ever asked us to do what we were discussing, this person would not do it and for him it would mean that the prophet was no longer a true prophet. I was taken aback and thought that was a very rash decision. But after the conversation, I wondered: was there something that I felt strongly enough about, or that society’s current trends were so powerfully against, that could cause me to reject the prophet?

When a prophet’s counsel clashes with our personal feelings, desires, or convictions, or when that counsel opposes widely held views of society, what is our reaction? Joseph Smith said, “I have tried for a number of years to get the minds of the Saints prepared to receive the things of God; but we frequently see some of them, after suffering all they have for the work of God, will fly to pieces like glass as soon as anything comes that is contrary to their traditions: they cannot stand the fire at all.”3
President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, spoke about responding to counsel from prophets:
“When the words of prophets seem repetitive, that should rivet our attention and fill our hearts with gratitude to live in such a blessed time.

“Looking for the path to safety in the counsel of prophets makes sense to those with strong faith. When a prophet speaks, those with little faith may think that they hear only a wise man giving good advice. Then if his counsel seems comfortable and reasonable, squaring with what they want to do, they take it. If it does not, they consider it either faulty advice or they see their circumstances as justifying their being an exception to the counsel. Those without faith may think that they hear only men seeking to exert influence for some selfish motive…

“… The failure to take prophetic counsel lessens our power to take inspired counsel in the future. …

“Every time that I have listened to the counsel of prophets, felt it confirmed in prayer, and then followed it, I have found that I moved toward safety…

“Sometimes we will receive counsel that we cannot understand or that seems not to apply to us, even after careful prayer and thought. Don’t discard the counsel, but hold it close. If someone you trusted handed you what appeared to be nothing more than sand with the promise that it contained gold, you might wisely hold it in your hand awhile, shaking it gently. Every time I have done that with counsel from a prophet, after a time the gold flakes have begun to appear, and I have been grateful.”4
After Samuel the Lamanite described to the people how they had rejected the prophets and listened instead to others who taught them to “walk after the pride of [their] eyes, and do whatsoever [their] heart desire[d]” (Helaman 13:27), he asked two penetrating questions: “How long will ye suffer yourselves to be led by foolish and blind guides?” and “How long will ye choose darkness rather than light?” (Helaman 13:29).
No one would admit they wanted to be led by blind guides. Those who had been misled would not have labeled those who taught them the false philosophies as “blind guides.” In fact, it’s likely that those who did the misleading were often viewed as enlightened, forward-looking, brilliant, and socially aware.
I wonder how some of those blind guides from the Book of Mormon would fit in today. Think of Sherem, who was learned and had a perfect knowledge of the language of the people so he could use much flattery. With his command of the language, it’s certain he would take the Twitter world by storm. He would have many catchy, clever tweets that would be retweeted because he knew just how to turn a phrase or place a barb.
With Nehor’s great strength, costly apparel, and appeal to the people, he would garner a huge following on Instagram—modeling the “good life” without the constraints of commandments and use his pattern of bearing down on the Church and its teachings.
And Korihor would have millions of subscribers to his YouTube channel where he would have the freedom to make fun of believers and teach things that were “pleasing [to] the carnal mind” (Alma 30:53). He would “rise up in great swelling words … and … revile against” (Alma 30:31) the prophets and leaders of the Church. He would gather more subscribers as his message got out that “whatsoever a man did was no crime” (Alma 30:17).
Of course, the underlying current of all their communications would be that there is no Christ. Their teachings are not so modern or original. They are plagiarized from the author of lies. Even Korihor finally admitted that the devil taught him what to say (see Alma 30:53).
When individuals or societies separate themselves from the teachings of the Lord, which come through the prophets, they look for alternate teachings that allow them to live the way they want—without that pesky guilt.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained, “Sadly enough, my young friends, it is a characteristic of our age that if people want any gods at all, they want them to be gods who do not demand much, comfortable gods, smooth gods who not only don’t rock the boat but don’t even row it, gods who pat us on the head, make us giggle, then tell us to run along and pick marigolds.”5
Blind and foolish guides will never lead us to the joys and blessings the Lord would have us receive. As we follow the prophets, we need to be willing to stand up for what is right in the face of scorn and persecution, even if it is not popular.
While blind guides and the scorn of the world try to lead us away from God and his blessings, prophets beckon us to come to the Savior. Prophets don’t try to convince us to worship them but beckon us to worship and draw nearer to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ (see, for example, Lehi in 1 Nephi 8:12).
A few years ago, Jill and I were speaking with President Russell M. Nelson. He asked us if we would be willing to accept a different assignment. President Nelson has always been so kind to us and has treated Jill with great love and respect. After he asked the question about our willingness, Jill said, “We’d do anything for you, President Nelson.” He immediately responded, “Do it for Him.” This was striking for both Jill and me. He taught us a great lesson. President Nelson wanted us to have the proper motives and to keep our eyes where they should be directed.
When we are guided by the prophets, we actually follow the counsel because of Him—the Savior. His grace is sufficient for each of us.
We know of President Nelson’s own willingness to follow prophets throughout his life. He gave up a prestigious career opportunity as a result of counsel from the prophet. As a very busy surgeon with a large family, he studied Chinese because the prophet made a comment about needing members of the Church who could speak Chinese. We know that when President Thomas S. Monson asked the Church members to study the Book of Mormon, President Nelson dove right in. What would the Church or the world be like if each of us were as willing to follow the prophet as President Nelson has been?
I know that there are tremendous blessings as we follow the guidance the Lord gives through His prophets. If what they say clashes with current trends in society, let’s have the courage to follow, sustain, and defend. It won’t always lead to smooth sailing, but it will always lead to promised blessings and personal growth.

At recess I was playing with my friends when two girls started bossing another girl and saying they didn’t want to play with her. I noticed that the girl who was being picked on was sad. I asked her if she wanted to play with me, and we talked about the problem. She and I played for the rest of the recess. Then we talked to the other girls, and they agreed to play nicely together the next day. I felt good inside and knew that I had been a good friend and done the right thing.

Nicole loves Suriname. So when she heard about a national contest to write an essay about her country, it seemed like a good thing to do. The contest rules said to describe what she would do if she were the Minister of Tourism. In her essay she suggested that historical buildings in Suriname should be cleaned up and beautified and that citizens of Suriname should be friendlier to visitors.

Nicole won the contest for her age group and traveled to Puerto Rico to compete with winners from other countries. Nicole really enjoyed her trip to Puerto Rico. “It is a beautiful country,” she says. “The people there are very kind, and I made lots of friends. But after all, home is home.” She was eager to be with her parents and her four older sisters again. And she was anxious to see her pet cat, Rosy!

At night Nicole likes to listen to the chirping crickets and the croaking frogs and the sounds of life in the woods around her house. She also likes to think of the city, with its government buildings and street signs, flower stalls and food markets. She is happy to be where she is. And she is grateful that, by writing down her thoughts, she was able to share her love for her country with people throughout the world.

Malou Ducta shivered in the darkness as she prayed. The typhoon, still raging out of control, was threatening to shatter the small house where she and the others were huddled. The friendly sea had become a violent stranger. Everybody was crying.

Hours ago, Malou and her family had evacuated their small house of nipa palms and wood at the edge of the sea near the city of Sorsogon. They had waded through chilling chest-deep water and muddy debris to reach a friend’s house higher on the hill.

Now, as the tumult outside continued, Malou kept praying. Suddenly she thought of her college notebook! How could she have forgotten it? Tucked inside its cover was the money she had been awarded from a Church scholarship fund. This money would pay for her final exams. With the money, she could take the exams and graduate. Without it, her dreams of graduating—and of getting a job to help support her family—would shatter like a tiny nipa hut in a storm.

“I was praying as if talking to a friend, and I said to the Lord, ‘It’s your money, and you know that if I don’t have it, I can’t graduate from college.’ I kept praying, asking Heavenly Father to save the money.”

At 2:00 A.M., the men ventured outside. “They found out that there were no more houses by the seashore,” Malou says. In tears, everyone ran to see for themselves. “All were destroyed. All gone.”

The shore was littered with debris and with bodies of people and animals that had died in the storm. “We were just thankful that no one in our family had died,” she says. “The only things we were able to save were our lives and the clothes that we wore. I felt comforted about losing my tuition money, because it was only money.”

People started digging in the sand and mud, trying to salvage whatever they could find. “One of my cousins shouted at me: ‘Oh, this is your folder!’ I ran and got it. It was wet, but the money was all there!”

As Malou recalls that moment, she again begins to cry. “Heavenly Father really knows my need.”

The only other belongings Malou’s family recovered were some irreplaceable photos—photos of her parents when they were young, a photo of the family dressed in white on their baptism day, and a photo of the family in white on the day they were sealed in the Manila Temple.

Since that 1987 typhoon, Malou has graduated in accounting and has served a mission. With donated funds and materials, the family has built a new house on the same spot at the edge of the sea, because they have no money for land elsewhere. On the wall in picture frames are the water-stained photos and her college diploma. “It’s really a miracle for us,” she says, “a great lesson.”

I once found myself late at night on an airplane bulging with passengers going north from Mexico City to Culiacan. The seats in the plane were close together, and every seat was taken, mostly by the gracious people of Mexico.
A young woman came down the aisle with four small children, the oldest of which appeared to be about four, and the youngest a newborn. She was also trying to manage a diaper bag, a stroller, and some bags. The children were tired, crying, and fussing. As she found her seat in the airplane, the passengers around her, both men and women, literally sprang to her aid. Soon the children were being lovingly and tenderly comforted and cared for by the other passengers, who passed them between one another all over the airplane.
Settling down in the caring arms of those who cradled them, the children soon went to sleep. The mother was freed from the care of her children for most of the flight. The only thing that I felt bad about was that no one passed any of the children to me!

Let me share an experience that happened about ten years ago. My wife and I were living in Pennsylvania. Things were going pretty well; I’d been promoted. It was a good year for us, though a trying year for Janet. That year she had our fourth child, graduated from college, passed the CPA exam, and was made Relief Society president. We had temple recommends, we had family home evening. I was in the bishopric. I thought we were headed for “LDS yuppiehood.” Then one night the lights went out. Something happened in my wife that I can only describe as “dying spiritually.” She wouldn’t talk about it; she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. That was the worst part. For a couple of weeks she did not wish to participate in spiritual things. She asked to be released from her callings, and she would not open up and tell me what was wrong.

Finally, after about two weeks, one night I made her mad and it came out. She said, “All right. You want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t lift it. I can’t get up at 5:30 in the morning and bake bread and sew clothes and help my kids with their homework and do my own homework and do my Relief Society stuff and get my genealogy done and write the congressman and go to the PTA meetings and write the missionaries . . .” And she just started naming one brick after another that had been laid on her, explaining all the things she could not do. She said, “I don’t have the talent that Sister Morrell has. I can’t do what Sister Childs does. I try not to yell at the kids, but I lose control, and I do. I’m just not perfect, and I’m not ever going to be perfect. I’m not going to make it to the celestial kingdom, and I’ve finally admitted that to myself. You and the kids can go, but I can’t lift it. I’m not ‘Molly Mormon,’ and I’m not ever going to be perfect, so I’ve given up. Why break my back?”

Well, we started to talk, and it was a long night. I asked her, “Janet, do you have a testimony?”

She said, “Of course I do! That’s what’s so terrible. I know it’s true. I just can’t do it.”

“Have you kept the covenants you made when you were baptized?”

She said, “I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I cannot keep all the commandments all the time.”

Then I rejoiced because I knew what was wrong, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t any of those horrible things I thought it might be. Who would have thought after eight years of marriage, after all the lessons we’d given and heard, and after all we had read and done in the Church, who would have thought that Janet did not know the gospel of Jesus Christ? You see, she was trying to save herself. She knew why Jesus is a coach, a cheerleader, an advisor, a teacher. She knew why he is an example, the head of the Church, the Elder Brother, or even God. She knew all of that, but she did not understand why he is called the Savior.

Janet was trying to save herself with Jesus as an advisor. Brothers and sisters, we can’t. No one can.

When Ruby and I knelt in the Salt Lake Temple at the altar on September 4, 1930, holding hands and looking at one another, little did we ever realize what would lie ahead for us. We were two young people. I had come out of the country in southern Idaho, and Ruby had come out of Sanpete County, Utah. Our fathers were dead, but we had two wonderful widowed mothers, and they were with us in the temple. As we knelt and made covenants and promises, I knew that that was for real.
Now, after we have been married 70 years, I can say to all of you that it gets better, that it gets better year after year, with the preciousness and the tenderness and the realization of some of the eternal blessings that lie ahead for us. And so to all of you I would say, and Ruby would join with me if she could be standing here, that life can be wonderful and so meaningful, but we have to live it in a simple way. We must live the principles of the gospel. For it is the gospel in our lives that makes the difference as we wend our way through life.

Yes, I look good. I look really great as a matter of fact. I needn’t worry about anything. I look sensational in this red dress. Red looks best on me, and I look sensational. Except for the buttons. I don’t like the buttons mother picked. They’re really crummy buttons. But if I hold my arm up in front like this, no one will see them there. Now I really do look sensational, and no one can see the buttons at all. I feel the music. I’m with it. It’s going to work for me tonight. Positive thinking will work. It will. It will.
There’s Herb Blakely. He’s looking at me. He likes my dress. I can tell. He took a step toward me. I’ll bet he wants to dance with me, but he’s afraid to ask. I’ll smile at him. Come across the room, Herbie, and ask me to dance. Tell me I look sensational. Ask me to dance, Herbie. The power of positive thinking is at work. Ask me, Herbie. Ask me. You jerk! He’ll be back, maybe. I’m sure he looked at me. Herbie likes me. He said “Hi” in Sunday School last week. That’s all he said, but I could tell by the way he said it that he likes me. He said “Hi” and then walked past me. But I could tell it meant something.
If I don’t stand by any other girls, someone will ask me to dance. Oh my gosh, here comes Martha Bluke. Go away Martha. Go away. Don’t stand here by me. Go away Martha. The power of positive thinking. It worked. I can’t believe it. She went over to the corner with Mary Anne Little and Beth Kelly. They’re dancing with each other! Oh, I can’t stand it. Three girls dancing in a corner. Its disgusting. I can’t stand it. I think I’m going to die right on the spot.
Oh, there’s Ralph. I’ll smile a little more. He is so darling. Really. He is really so very cool. He looked at me. My mouth hurts from smiling and my arm hurts too. Crummy buttons. Tell me I’m witty and cute, Ralph. Oh Ralph, you could make my entire adolescence if you’d just ask me to dance. Ask me, Ralph. Ask me. He asked Lila Kirk. Jerk. Look how close they’re dancing. Isn’t anyone going to break them up? I would never dance that close with anyone. Not with anyone.
Except maybe Chuck Stewart. I just adore him. He is so neat. He always stands with his hands in his pockets. I really like that. And his hair touches his ears in a really groovy way, and I think he shaves. I’ll bet he’s the only boy in this entire ward who shaves. There he is. Oh I can’t breathe. Isn’t that neat? Oh, if I could dance with Chuck Stewart I’d never ask for another thing in my entire life. I’m smiling at him, and I’ve got all my buttons covered, and he’s looking at me. I winked at him! How could I wink at him? It was an accident. I winked at Chuck Stewart. I must have a tic. I must. I’ve never in my life done that. He’ll think I’m a flirt. Oh Chuck, I didn’t mean to wink at you like a creep. He asked Martha. Martha! How could he ask her? She was dancing with all those girls and he asked her. It was because I winked, I’ll bet. He’d rather ask a girl who dances with girls than a girl who winks. I must have a tic. Martha thinks she dances so well. She doesn’t.
Roger Humphries! I thought he’d moved out of the ward. Oh wow! Oh neato! Look at the way he chews his gum. I’m going to die. Right now. I’m going to die. He’s walking across the dance floor. Oh, I can’t breathe. My arm is going to sleep. Positive thinking. Positive thinking. Ask me—ask me—ask me. Oh, Roger, you are so numero uno neato!
He’s looking at me. My lips are quivering. They’re quivering. My palms are beginning to perspire. It’s not ladylike. He’s coming right toward me. Oh my mouth hurts. My arm. My crummy buttons. Why didn’t I wear something else? Ask me, Roger. Ask me to dance, Roger. Tell me I’m the best looking thing you’ve seen all night. Tell me I’m beautiful and charming and witty and exciting and that you’ve had your eye on me for years. Tell me you love me, Roger. Or just ask me to dance!
Don’t walk past me. He’s drinking red punch. Red punch! Why not red dress? Me? Oh pooh, who cares? I don’t. I really don’t. To think I came to this duddy dance when I could be home reading the Scarlet Letter.
My father! My father the bishop is walking toward me. No, Daddy; no. No. Please don’t. Please go to the punch bowl. No, Daddy, don’t smile so lovingly at me. Oh please let me be struck dead instantly. He says I’m the most beautiful thing he’s seen all evening. Would I dance just one with him? He says I’m exciting and charming and witty and that I dance like Ginger Rogers, whoever she is. He says he loves me.
Oh, Daddy, I love you too.

A small plane flew low over the trees and buzzed the camp. It was a signal, and several campers knew who the message was for. “Hey, your dad’s here. He just flew over.” One girl needed a warmer sleeping bag, so her father was going to drop it by, literally. Several girls ran out into an open area waiting for the plane to reappear. It came in low and slow. As the plane reached the playing field, a black plastic bag was pushed out a window and landed with a soft plop. No one seemed particularly amazed by this unusual way of delivering a forgotten sleeping bag. After all, this was Alaska, and many families own small planes. It’s almost a necessity if your work or home is away from a city.

Not only will elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies take the primary role in moving forward the work of salvation, but they will also be much more involved in ministering to, counselling with and helping men and women with their personal problems and challenges. For too long, members have gone to the bishop with every problem they have, but those best equipped to help them are the elders quorum and Relief Society presidencies. Let me give you an example of an elders quorum president who understood his responsibility to minister, to teach and to help each member.
On February 11, 2017, I attended a priesthood meeting in New Delhi, India. As the quorum meeting started, the quorum president stood before his quorum and wrote on the white board: “Shepherd’s List,” and then listed the names of four quorum members having employment challenges. He explained the difficulties that were faced by these families and asked whether anyone knew of employment opportunities for these four brethren. Immediately, hands went up, and different brothers said things like, “My company is hiring. I know that he has the skills needed. I can introduce him to the right people for an interview.” This went on for each brother facing difficulty, and employment opportunities were identified for each one.
Truly, this quorum president ministered to these brethren and their families. When his quorum members had a problem, he took it to the quorum to find help. He took the initiative and, in a kind and loving way, engaged the quorum to help each one who was in need. The power of working through the quorum to solve individual needs was evident, and there was a true spirit of love for each other. This quorum ministered to the needs of its members, and lives were blessed.

Brother Kelly reached into the box of questions our seminary class had written anonymously. “Can I know now who I’ll marry?” he read.
I tried to look bored as he answered my question.
“No,” he said. “At your age, you cannot know who you’ll marry.” Then he kindly explained that we might already be acquainted with our future spouse, but now wasn’t the time to find out. He encouraged us to develop friendships, not exclusive romantic relationships.
I’d read the same counsel in For the Strength of Youth: “Good friendships can and should be developed at every age. … When you begin dating, go in groups or on double dates. Avoid going on frequent dates with the same person” ([2001], 24–25). I wanted to obey. But I also wanted something more.
I wished I could feel the sense of belonging I thought having a boyfriend would provide, and I wanted my attraction to one of my guy friends to have a purpose. It was hard to care about him and have nowhere for those feelings to go.
I knew my secret question was a little unrealistic, but other serious questions remained: Would I ever find someone who loved me? What was the point of having these emotions now? And what was I supposed to do with them?
Besides being drawn to one of my guy friends, I also believed being his girlfriend would prove I was lovable. I should have taken to heart the evidence Heavenly Father had given me that He loved me and that I had nothing to fear.
My patriarchal blessing promised I would find someone to marry at “the appropriate time.” Later I found out that my dad had used the same words when I was a baby and he had asked Heavenly Father to bless me with a husband “at the appropriate time.”
Though Heavenly Father didn’t answer my prayers about whom I might marry, He assured me I would marry, and He even told me when: at the right time. I didn’t need a boyfriend to help me feel secure nearly as much as I needed to remember God’s promises and His love for me.
It was hard to always remember the eternal perspective because my worries threatened to crowd out other thoughts. Would the guy I liked ask me out? Should I ask him? Sometimes I wondered why Heavenly Father hadn’t created His children so that attraction wouldn’t be an issue until after high school!
Now I understand that my feelings had some divine purposes. Feeling attraction motivated me to form friendships. Whether I was socializing in groups or going on dates, getting to know guys taught me to communicate better and treat men respectfully. I learned what traits were uplifting and what kind of person I should marry someday.
Admiring guys also helped me remember to prepare for the temple. Even though high school isn’t the time to build serious romantic relationships, thinking about love at a young age is normal. Our spirits long to be with someone because marriage is a part of Heavenly Father’s plan. As I reflected on my feelings and imagined what an eternal relationship might be like, I was even more determined to qualify for temple blessings.
Strong feelings can be hard to cope with. All my instincts told me I’d be happier channeling my energy toward the guy I liked—thinking about him, talking to him, spending time with him. But whenever I made the effort to ponder the eternal picture, my stress melted away and I was happier. I knew I could find real peace by putting Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ first in my thoughts and actions. This meant studying the scriptures, attending church, finding ways to serve, working on Personal Progress, and following the instructions in my patriarchal blessing.
Nurturing my spirit made it easier to enjoy friendship and dating according to the standards outlined in For the Strength of Youth. Resisting the urge to pursue exclusive relationships wasn’t easy, but it blessed me. I gained spiritual strength by proving to myself I could make hard decisions, even when part of me felt like doing something else.
Although I was disappointed by Brother Kelly’s answer, he spoke the truth. Had I spent high school dating only one person, I would have missed out on meeting people who helped prepare me to recognize my husband when I met him years later. No wonder I couldn’t know the answer to my secret question. Some of my classmates married old friends, but I didn’t. At age 16, I was nine years away from meeting my future spouse!
What could dating only one person in high school have accomplished? Possibly fun times, but also distraction from pursuing other goals, a lack of peace for ignoring Church teachings, and heartbreak when the relationship ended.
In the years following high school, I dated a few men seriously until the Holy Ghost confirmed that “the appropriate time” and person had come into my life. I’m grateful I waited for the best time to pursue exclusive relationships and received all I’d hoped for: a sense of belonging in a marriage that could last for eternity, and a confirmation that Heavenly Father was happy with my decision.

To a large majority of the world, we are considered a different kind of people. We live a clean, mellow life in contrast to the partying lifestyle. I had the opportunity to travel to several different colleges throughout the United States on recruiting trips. While this was an extremely fun and exciting experience, it was also a huge eye-opener for me. The girls on the teams I was being recruited by had never even heard of Mormons. On every single trip, I ended up explaining my beliefs. They were shocked by some of the things I told them, but this was a real testimony builder. As I told them what I believe, I felt an even stronger testimony growing inside me.

Frank Siedel (Si) Peterson of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, is a typical young Latter-day Saint.
He studies; goes to institute of religion classes; attends his church meetings; does his home teaching; and goes to ball games, concerts, and movies. He is six-foot three-inches tall, brown-haired, blue-eyed, slender, and modest. He is even the coach of the ward softball team. How much more typical can you get?
But although Si may be typical, no one would ever accuse him of being average. He is an acknowledged superstar in the difficult field of lifting spirits and touching hearts. His talent is relating to people, and he does not hide his talent.
“Si definitely has an exceptional effect on people,” says Russ Brailey. “He’s also a most reliable home teaching companion. Mind you, I had to get accustomed to having his mother go with us.”
“Right. I know what Russ means,” states Glen Hudson, captain of the men’s softball team. “When Si first became our coach, it seemed strange to always have his mother there.”
Si is not tied to his mother, but somebody, usually his mother, Anita Begieneman, always accompanies him because he has been almost totally paralyzed since March 1,1975, when he fell from a gymnastics high bar. He can only see, hear, think, mouth words, and smile.
Prior to his accident, Si had been a fairly typical Latter-day Saint teenager. Almost 17, the oldest of six children, he loved all sports; didn’t mind school too much; played the piano; and teased his brothers, his sisters, and his mother. His one big goal was to go on a mission as soon as he turned 19.
In one instant Si went from full healthy activity to total paralysis. He lost all movement. He could not breathe, speak, or eat. He was on a life-supporting respirator 24 hours a day.
Usually when people are suddenly handicapped they experience denial, anger, resentment, and even bitterness before they finally accept their condition. Si’s medical team was amazed because he did not experience anger, depression, or a sense of hopelessness and panic.
He did get pneumonia, however, and his mother called Si’s former bishop and good friend, Robert S. Patterson, to give Si a blessing. Brother Patterson said, “Your accident has a definite and important purpose. You are to become an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hand to help bring many people who do not presently believe in God to a knowledge of him. This is to be your mission. You agreed to it before you came to the earth, and if you fulfill it well, you will thank your Heavenly Father for it every day throughout eternity.”
Si’s mother also received a witness of the Lord’s love. Si remembers, “Mom asked me what I would do if I could never again walk, talk, play the piano, or participate in sports. It was something that I had thought about a lot. I said, ‘It’s okay, Mom, I did those things the best I could when I could do them, and now I’ll learn to do something else.’
“She told me that the day after my accident she had gone down to my room, sat on the bed, and cried, ‘Heavenly Father, why? Why did this happen to my son?’ In answer, thoughts flooded into her mind. She realized that it was the Holy Ghost, so she grabbed a pencil and paper off my desk and recorded what came to her: ‘This life is a training ground for godhood. How we meet the trials that come and how we let them affect our lives are very important. We must see them as instruments of growth. All things can be for our good if we but let them. This life is the time to prepare to live again with our Heavenly Father, to grow in spirit and character and strength to meet the challenges and tremendous responsibilities of the celestial kingdom. This time of Si’s life will be exciting and challenging as new experiences come to him. None of the talents he has developed will be lost. They are just temporarily set aside while he develops others.’”
As the months passed, Si learned that he did not have to live a passive life simply because he could not move. There was still much he could give. He even learned that one way of giving was to accept help from others with love and gratitude. And he has received from many, many people.
To mention a few: His mother visits his hospital room each day and spends many hours with him. Other family members also show their love and support. Doctors and nurses at the hospital provide constant care. The Primary children of his stake raised $2,000 to buy a hydraulic lift to raise his wheelchair into his van. The Edmonton Singles Ward produced a musical comedy, and his four talented stepsisters presented a musical program to raise funds for a personal computer.
Brother Bob Layton, a news reporter for a local radio station, produced a two-part documentary on Si. It is the station’s policy to never play a documentary more than once, but the listener response to the Si Peterson story was so overwhelming, that they had to repeat it many times. Eventually the soundtrack from the documentary was combined with a series of photographic slides to form a sight and sound presentation. Brother Layton has, on request, taken this presentation to firesides, schools, and community organizations many times. The letters of response, many from school children, are evidence that Si has truly been an instrument of bringing people to God. One girl wrote, “Your faith and your acceptance of your accident help me to believe too.”
Some gifts Si has received were not altogether welcome at first. One day in 1977 a young man named Duane Simpson walked into Si’s hospital room, turned off the television set, and demanded, “What are you doing with your life, Si? Why are you wasting your time watching television? There’s nothing wrong with your brain—Why aren’t you using it?”
Si was amazed. His mother was very angry. But Duane continued, “Si, I’m here to help you any way I can.” He explained that he had been assigned to Si as a tutor.
Beginning then, Si’s life changed dramatically. “I guess I needed Duane to help me change my attitude. I wasn’t doing anything because I never really thought there was anything I could do.”
Since then Si has worked toward completing his high school education. He now aims to enroll in a university and obtain a degree in social work.
How does someone in his condition study? He listens to cassette tapes and his tutor. The tutor then reads him the questions. Si gives the answers “orally”. But because Si cannot make any sounds, his tutor has to read his lips, write down the answers, and send them to the correspondence school to be graded. It is a slow, tedious way to study, but Si jokes, “I’m getting better marks than I ever did before.”
While Si has learned to receive graciously, he has also learned to give unselfishly. He has counseled with many depressed and troubled people who are struggling to face their own handicaps and difficulties, and all have gone away lifted in spirit.
His deep empathy for the feelings and problems of others has also helped him reach out and bring people into the Church or back into activity.
One of them, a nurse in the hospital where Si lives remembers, “I first heard about the Church during my 3 A.M. discussions with Si. He gave definition to many basic feelings I’d had all my life. Then he asked me if I’d be willing to listen to the missionaries, and I did. I was baptized in August 1983.”
David McTavish is another of the many whose lives Si has touched. “Coming back from inactivity, at first I felt uncomfortable with Si. But the example of his acceptance of the Church and his faith, plus my many discussions with him, have helped me to handle the obstacles between me and the Church. He has also given me a freedom not to be afraid of the kind of person I am.”
Mrs. G. Von Busse, a tall, blonde grandmother, is Si’s physiotherapist and good friend. “I have watched Si grow from a teenager to the very fine young man he is today. With Si I have a friend. Nobody really knows me at the hospital but Si. We talk about everything—my youth, music, finances, politics, my family—everything. And when I go to Germany to visit my family there, they ask, ‘How is Si?’ And when I come back, Si has my favorite record playing. He is a very good person, highly intelligent and healthy—only that he is paralyzed, that’s all.”
If you were to stop by Si’s room unannounced, you would probably find him working on his computer or with his earphones on, listening to one of his many cassette tapes: the standard works (he’s listened to them all at least four times), conference talks, recorded books, school lessons, or music ranging from the Tabernacle Choir to classics to popular.
Si’s independence was greatly increased by the electronic control unit which the Alberta Rehabilitation Council installed for him in 1978. By touching the control lever with his lower lip, he can turn on or off everything that is connected to the system. He can even call a nurse with it. Now he has a modified personal computer that can be merged with the unit and allows him, for the first time in ten years, to write his own messages. “This opens up lots of things that have been closed to me,” he says. “I can use it to work on my education. Then I’ll write a book about my life. Also, after more training, maybe I’ll compose some music.”
Undoubtably much of Si’s strength comes from the gospel. He has been an elder since November, 1977. And on June 22, 1982, he traveled more than 300 miles to the Alberta Temple to receive his endowments. Temple President Vi A. Wood, who years before had given Si his patriarchal blessing, helped him through the endowment session.
Si calmly accepts his paralysis, but it is not easy to live as he does. Aside from the obvious discomforts and limitations, he also endures the side effects of it all. For example, because he is constantly on the respirator, his blood gasses get out of balance, causing him severe hallucinations. He has had many, many near-fatal moments when his respirator has failed. He has suffered cardiac arrest, pneumonia again and again, kidney stones, stomach ulcers, and strokes. But his faith in his Heavenly Father is unshaken.
So is his sense of humor. There is usually a smile on Si’s face, and he loves a good practical joke. When his mother went to the hospital once for her daily visit, she was in for a shock. Two hospital orderlies with very serious faces were sitting near Si’s room, and his door was closed. She opened the door and went in.
Si’s room was darkened, and he was covered with a white sheet. Anita’s heart faltered. She walked over and pulled back the sheet. Si was laughing! Then the orderlies came in, and they were laughing too.
Si is an inspiration to his whole family. His youngest sister, Barbie, reflects, “I was only five years old when the accident happened, so to me having Si like this is just a part of our way of life. It’s not a burden for us. I guess it would be if Si made a big fuss about it, but he doesn’t, so neither do I. Sometimes I wish I could make him better, but then I think no, because he’s blessed so many people’s lives. I do hope that sometime he’ll be well again. He’s really a great guy.”
Si’s father, Dr. Frank Peterson, concludes, “It’s unfortunate that he’s immobilized, but everything else about this has been positive. I’m proud of him.”
Si has a firm testimony, and he bears it frequently. His mother reads his lips and then gives voice to his feelings to the accompaniment of the rhythmic hum of his respirator.
“One of the main purposes of this earth life is to be tried, to prove ourselves worthy to return to our Heavenly Father, and so trials that come to us are an important part of our lives. Every one of us will be tried in one way or another. The important thing is how we accept our trials and grow from them. They can be stumbling blocks or stepping stones.
“I am grateful for my membership in the true and living Church, and I am grateful for the priesthood that I hold. I am grateful for my family who loves and supports me, and for the many others who help me so much. I know that my Heavenly Father lives and that he hears and answers my prayers. I am grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and for his sacrifice for me. I know that my accident had a special purpose in my Heavenly Father’s plan for me.
“I feel fortunate that the trial I have been given is so obvious that I receive a lot of encouragement and help from many people. Your trials may be just as difficult as mine, but perhaps not as obvious, and so I pray that you will be able to accept them and have the strength to endure and grow from them.”
This thought is typical of Si Peterson. Trapped inside the prison of his own motionless body, with every possible excuse to turn his thoughts bitterly inward, his mind reaches out to others in prayer and service. Even lying flat on his back, he is a giant. Si Peterson—a typical young Latter-day Saint and a unique human being.