Gospel Story Finder

Several of our general board members grew up in homes with parents who were less active in the Church. One of them had a wise Young Women leader who counseled her to be with her family when they did recreational things on Sunday but to maintain her personal standards. So if they went to a swimming club, she would go with them to visit with them, but she herself would not go swimming. She was able to build a tender relationship with her family.

In 1960 I met a young man at a party who told me that Jesus Christ had visited the Americas after His Resurrection. I found the idea fascinating and wanted to know more, so I began searching in libraries and inquiring at the various religious denominations in my hometown of San Miguel, El Salvador.
I searched for almost three years but found nothing. When I mentioned to religious leaders that I had heard of Christ coming to the Americas, they told me I had been deceived. Because my search turned up no information, I eventually came to believe they were right.
One day, two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my home and said they had an important message for my family. I immediately asked them, “Do you know if Jesus Christ came to the Americas?”
One of them said, “We bear witness of that.”
At that moment I felt a great excitement in my mind and heart and asked, “How do you know that?”
He took a book out of his bag and said, “We know Christ came here because of this book, the Book of Mormon.”
What the missionaries taught me during the first discussion troubled me, and I doubted the account of the Prophet Joseph’s vision of the Father and the Son.
However, the Book of Mormon intrigued me, and the missionaries kept teaching me. One afternoon they asked me, “Have you prayed to find out if what we are teaching you is true?”
I told them I had but had not obtained any answer.
“You must pray with real intent,” they said.
I had been reading the Book of Mormon for several nights. I had read about and believed in Christ’s appearance to the Nephites. But I still could not accept Joseph Smith’s vision. My internal struggle was terrible.
One night I knelt alone and opened my heart to God. I told Him I needed to know if He had really manifested Himself to Joseph Smith. If He had, I promised Him I would be baptized into the Church and serve Him all my life.
When I got up early the next morning, the answer came to me through the Holy Ghost. My mind cleared and my heart filled with peace. From that moment to this, I have had no doubts whatsoever that Joseph Smith truly was a prophet of God, that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ, and that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer. I know Christ came to the Americas after His Resurrection. My soul delights in this marvelous knowledge that was taught to me by the power of the Holy Ghost.

On March 30, just one year ago, little two-year-old Ethan Carnesecca, from American Fork, Utah, was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia and fluid around his lungs. Two days later, his condition had become so serious that he needed to be flown by helicopter to Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. His worried mother, Michele, was allowed to ride in the front seat and accompany her son. She was given a headset so she could communicate with the others in the helicopter. She could hear the medics working on her sick little boy, and being a pediatric nurse herself, Michele knew enough to understand that Ethan was in serious trouble.
In this critical moment, Michele noticed they were flying directly over the Draper Utah Temple. From the air, she looked out across the valley and could also see the Jordan River Temple, the Oquirrh Mountain Temple, and even the Salt Lake Temple in the distance. The thought came into her mind: “Do you believe it or not?”
She says of this experience:
“I had learned about the blessings of the temple and [that] ‘families are forever’ in Primary and in Young Women. I shared the message on families to the good people of Mexico on my mission. I was sealed to my eternal companion for time and all eternity in the temple. I taught lessons about families as a Young Women leader, and I shared stories about forever families with my children in family home evening. I KNEW it, but did I BELIEVE it? My answer came as quickly as the question popped into my head: the Spirit confirmed to my heart and mind the answer I already knew—I DID believe it!
“At that moment I poured out my heart in prayer to my Heavenly Father, thanking Him for the knowledge and belief I had that families truly are forever. I thanked Him for His Son, Jesus Christ, who made it all possible. I thanked Him for my son, and I let my Heavenly Father know if He needed to bring my little Ethan to His heavenly home, it was OK. I trusted in my Heavenly Father completely, and I knew I would see Ethan again. I was so grateful that in a crisis moment, I had the knowledge AND the belief that the gospel was true. I had peace.”
Ethan spent many weeks in the hospital, receiving expert medical care. The prayers, fasting, and faith of loved ones, combined with that care, allowed him to leave the hospital and return home to be with his family. He is healthy and well today.
This defining moment for Michele confirmed to her that what she had been taught all of her life was more than just words; it is true.
As members of the Lord’s true Church, we are already in the boat. We don’t have to go searching through the philosophies of the world for truth that will give us comfort, help, and direction to get us safely through the trials of life—we already have it! Just as Ethan’s mother could examine her long-held beliefs and declare confidently in a moment of crisis, “I do believe it,” so can we!

All the Smith children grew up with a rich supply of love—and nearly as much work. School often had to be set aside when too many chores and too little money stood in its way. For a short time, when he was about thirteen, Hyrum was able to attend an academy in Hanover, New Hampshire. But classes there ended abruptly for him when an epidemic of typhus fever broke out, for Hyrum was needed at home to help care for his sick family.

Joseph had come down with the fever, and the infection moved to his leg. Caring for her ailing children had drained Mother Smith until she, too, became ill, and since Hyrum was a trustworthy boy and had uncommon tenderness and sympathy, he was allowed to care for his little brother. Joseph, suffering greatly with the pain in his leg and unable to get around by himself, was moved to a low bed, where Hyrum could sit beside him. Much of each day and night for many days Hyrum sat holding his brother’s affected leg in his hands, pressing it between them to help ease the pain. Hyrum’s loving care undoubtedly helped Joseph recover, and it strengthened the bond between them.

I learned years ago a very important lesson. I think it was the second time I’d ever met President Harold B. Lee; I had been introduced to him once before. I was serving as a member of a stake high council, and on one occasion the stake president presented in our meeting the name of a man to be called to a position of leadership in the stake. I was teaching seminary at the time, and Brother Leon Strong, also a seminary teacher, had talked to me a time or two about this man. We’d commented on what an able man he was and how sad it was that he couldn’t do more than he did because of a handicap relating to his wife. She had one personality trait that I think could be characterized by the term malicious; I think that identifies what it was.
When the stake president presented the name of this man for a presiding office in the stake and called for a vote, the two of us cast negative votes. That’s rather unusual. The president talked it over for a few minutes, and then said that he felt he’d like to proceed anyway, and asked if we would sustain him in issuing this call. Immediately the issue changed. In my mind, then, it was a vote to sustain the stake president, not necessarily a vote for this man to office; and when he called for a vote, Brother Strong and I joined the other ten members of the stake high council affirmatively, approving the call of this man to office.
When our stake conference was held, a month or two later, when the ordinations were to take place, Elder Harold B. Lee, of the Council of the Twelve, was the visitor. After the conference we’d assembled in the stake center for the ordinations. Elder Lee had ordained a bishop and his counselors and some others, and then this man was called forth to be ordained by the member of the Council of the Twelve. Brother Strong nudged me—we were sitting together—and with a smile on his face he leaned over and said, “Well, Brother Packer, now we’ll see whether this Church is run by revelation.”
Elder Lee put his hands on the head of this man, began the usual introductory words to an ordination, then hesitated. Then he said words to this effect: “The other blessings relating to your activities and life and occupation that you’ve heard pronounced upon the others here apply to you as well, but there is a special blessing.” And then that man received the longest blessing, the most pointed of them all; and in reality, it was not a blessing for him but a blessing for his wife. It was a very interesting thing to see.
Immediately, when the meeting was over, I went to Brother Lee and said, “Did you know this brother before you ordained him?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t know him. I think I hadn’t seen him till I came into this room.”
I said, “He received a very unusual blessing.”
And Elder Lee said, “Yes, I felt that.”
Later, the president of the stake explained: “I meant to talk to Elder Lee about that and tell him that here was a man who had need of a special blessing, but in the press of business, we just didn’t have time.” And so Brother Strong was right. That day we did see whether this Church is run by revelation or not.

A devoted colleague once shared with me an experience he had when fulfilling an assignment to put away chairs and straighten up the stake center following a stake conference. After 30 minutes of carrying out these duties, he realized that he was the last person remaining in the building. Rather than feeling alone with a rush to leave, however, he noticed that the same sweet sense of peace he had felt during the conference remained with him and was even increasing.
As he finished the assignment and exited the meetinghouse, he encountered another member who seemed to be watching him intently. Realizing what my friend had been doing, this member took him by the hand and said, “Brother, the Lord sees these small things that you do for Him, and He looks down and smiles upon them.”
Children and youth can be taught that reverence and care for the meetinghouse extends beyond Sunday meetings. Member participation in the cleaning of the meetinghouse—particularly the combined participation of parents and children—is a wonderful means of developing a sense of reverence for our sacred facilities. As evidenced from my friend’s experience in straightening up his stake center after stake conference, the very act of caring for the meetinghouse is a means of worship and invites the Spirit of the Lord.

Arthur Parker walked and walked and walked. Even though he was only six years old, he sometimes helped his mother and father pull their loaded handcart. When everybody stopped to rest, he liked to explore. He wandered around to see other people, the prairie grass, a stream, or a grove of trees.
Arthur had one brother and two sisters: Max, 12; Martha Ann, 10; and Ada, 1. The Parkers had sailed from England to America that spring. Now they were traveling west with the McArthur Handcart Company. As Max helped his parents pull the handcart, Martha Ann walked behind, taking care of Arthur and Ada.
But one day Arthur’s father became ill. Martha Ann took his place helping to pull the handcart and sent Arthur to walk with a group of other children in the company. When Arthur sat down to rest beside the trail and fell asleep, the other children didn’t notice. The company moved on without him.
By the time Arthur’s family discovered that he was missing, it was too late and too dark to go looking for him. That night, the cloudy sky burst open. Thunder and lightning raged, and many tents blew over. Water ran across the ground in streams as people huddled in wet clothes. All night long, the Parkers worried about Arthur, lost out in the stormy darkness. They hoped somebody would bring him to their tent, but no one did.
The next morning, search parties went back along the trail to look for Arthur. The handcarts stayed camped all day so the searchers could continue looking. Where was the little boy? Was he hurt in the thunderstorm?
After searching for two days, the company could not wait any longer. They had more than a thousand miles left to go.
Arthur’s parents didn’t give up hope. They decided that Brother Parker would go farther back along the trail to look for Arthur, while Sister Parker and the other children would stay with the company and pull the handcart.
Before Brother Parker left, his wife pinned a bright red shawl around his shoulders. If he found Arthur dead, he would wrap him in the shawl. But if he found Arthur alive, he would wear the shawl on his shoulders or hold it in his hand to signal that Arthur was all right.
The worried father retraced the trail—calling Arthur’s name, searching everywhere he could, and praying. He walked and searched for 10 miles, determined not to leave without finding his son.
Meanwhile, the handcart company moved ahead. Two days went by. Sister Parker kept looking back anxiously, hoping to see her husband and son catching up with them.
At last, Brother Parker came to a mail-and-trading station. He asked if anyone had seen a lost six-year-old boy. Someone said that a boy had been found! He was being cared for by a farmer and his wife. Arthur’s father went to the farmhouse and found his son. How glad they were to see each other!
Arthur told his father that he had spent the first night under some trees, which protected him from the rainstorm. Then he had wandered until he came to the farmhouse. Brother Parker figured out that Arthur had walked about nine miles!
The handcart company was now 60 miles past where Arthur had disappeared. Arthur had been missing for four days, and his mother had hardly slept at all since then. She kept watching the trail behind her, looking for her husband, hoping he would be waving the red shawl.
A few days later, as the sun was setting, she suddenly spotted the red shawl waving in the distance. Arthur was alive! Captain McArthur sent a wagon back to meet the father and son. Everyone in the company rejoiced to see Arthur, but no one felt as happy as his mother. Completely exhausted, she slept soundly for the first time in days.
The Parkers continued on their journey. Arthur kept walking, singing, and exploring—but he stayed a little closer to his parents. Each night, they hugged him a little tighter.

There is a living God who loves us and is constantly nearby and available. Doubt need not be part of our lives. The reality of God’s influence is felt by all Church members who comply with divine laws. It can also be tangibly felt by non-members, when it is his will. This is evidenced by the following experience in the Sao Paulo Temple.

The temple was opened to the public during the month of September 1978 before being closed in preparation for the dedication. Among the many visitors who felt the influence of this special temple was a certain nonmember newspaper reporter.

During the tour he eventually arrived at the door of the celestial room. Those few people who were accompanying him saw him abruptly stop and bow his head. He remained in that position for some time, with his eyes closed and head bowed. Then he slowly moved his head from side to side and at the same time opened his eyes, as if to inquire by this gesture “who is there?” or “Is anyone there?”

After some time his head was raised and his eyes opened. His expression indicated that he knew something holy was there, and those about him witnessed the tears streaming down his face. He had felt the beautiful influence of the Spirit found so often in the temples. He knew something good was there and felt joy inside. It was a real, tangible feeling.

Brothers and sisters, I rejoice with you in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I bring with me love from the resilient members in the Philippines and say, on their behalf, Mabuhay!
On this Easter morning, I testify of the living Christ, that He rose from the dead and that His love for us and for our Father in Heaven is pure and eternal. Today, I desire to focus on the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ for all, which is manifest through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son” (John 3:16).
When the prophet Nephi was asked by an angel about his knowledge of God, Nephi responded simply, “I know that he loveth his children” (see 1 Nephi 11:16–17).
A verse from the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ powerfully describes the Savior’s perfect love: “And the world, because of their iniquity, shall judge him to be a thing of naught; … they scourge him, … they smite him, … they spit upon him, and he suffereth it, because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men” (1 Nephi 19:9). The Savior’s universal love is the motivating force behind all that He does. We know that it is the same love our Father in Heaven has for us, because the Savior humbly taught that He and the Father “are one” (see John 10:30; 17:20–23).
How, then, do we reciprocate and show our gratitude for Their universal love? The Savior taught us with this simple, all-encompassing invitation: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
President Dallin H. Oaks taught, “God’s universal and perfect love is shown in all the blessings of His gospel plan, including the fact that His choicest blessings are reserved for those who obey His laws.”
I would like to share three specific ways our Heavenly Father manifests His love for us, His children.
Our most valuable relationships are with the Father and the Son and with our own families because our ties to them are eternal. The great plan of happiness is a wonderful manifestation of God’s love for us. With eyes riveted on God’s plan, we willingly choose to carve out soil and rocks within us that support selfish desires and replace them with foundations that build eternal relationships. In a sense, this can be called “spiritual excavation.” In performing our spiritual excavation, we must first seek after God and call upon Him (see Jeremiah 29:12–13).
Seeking after Him and calling upon Him will begin the process and provide space to build and strengthen our eternal relationships. It broadens our spiritual view and helps us focus on changing what we can control rather than on fears outside our control. Studying the life and ministry of our Savior, Jesus Christ, will enable us to view these other concerns with an eternal perspective.
Distractions can sometimes prevent us from experiencing God’s love in our family relationships and activities. A mother, feeling that gadgets were taking over her family relationships, came up with a solution. At the dinner table and at other family times, she just calls out, “Phones on the deck; let us have face time.” She says that this is the new norm for their family and that it strengthens their relationship as a family when they have real face time. They now enjoy quality Come, Follow Me discussions together as a family.
Our current world is deluged in a “war of words and tumult of opinions” (Joseph Smith—History 1:10). Paul reminds us that “there are … so many kinds of voices in the world” (1 Corinthians 14:10). Which of all the voices rise clearly and meaningfully above the fray? It is the voice of God’s prophets, seers, and revelators.
I remember vividly, after undergoing surgery in 2018 and upon returning to work, I was in the parking garage at Church headquarters. Suddenly, I heard the voice of President Russell M. Nelson calling, “Taniela, Taniela.” I ran toward him, and he asked how I was doing.
I said, “I am recovering very well, President Nelson.”
He gave me counsel and a hug. I truly felt the personal ministry of a prophet to the “one.”
President Nelson has traveled to many nations of the earth. In my mind, he is not just ministering to thousands, but he is ministering to thousands of “ones.” In doing so, he shares the love God has for all His children.
Recently, the words of President Nelson have been a source of strength and inspiration to the people of the Philippines. As with every country in the world, during 2020 the Philippines was severely affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as a volcanic eruption, earthquakes, strong typhoons, and devastating floods.
But like a pillar of light shining through dark clouds of fear, loneliness, and despair came the words of the prophet. They included the call for worldwide fasting and prayer and counsel to move forward despite the pandemic. He invited us to make our homes personal sanctuaries of faith. He called upon Latter-day Saints everywhere to respect all of God’s children and to let God prevail in our lives.
Likewise stirring were President Nelson’s recent video testimony about the power of gratitude and his concluding prayer, which resonated across the Philippines. In the province of Leyte, the video was played during an interfaith event, and it was also mentioned as part of a priest’s homily. The Philippines, along with the entire world, are so blessed to feel God’s love through the words of His chosen prophet.
Sometimes God manifests His love by chastening us. It is a way of reminding us that He loves us and that He knows who we are. His promised blessing of peace is open to all those who courageously walk the covenant path and are willing to receive correction.
When we recognize the chastening and are willing recipients, it becomes a spiritual surgery. Who likes surgery, by the way? But to those who need it and are willing to receive it, it can be lifesaving. The Lord chastens whom He loves. The scriptures tell us so (see Hebrews 12:5–11; Helaman 12:3; Doctrine and Covenants 1:27; 95:1). That chastening, or spiritual surgery, will bring about needed change in our lives. We will realize, brothers and sisters, that it refines and purifies our inner vessels.
Joseph Smith, the Prophet of the Restoration, was chastened. After Joseph lost the 116 pages of the Book of Mormon manuscript, the Lord both corrected and showed love by saying: “You should not have feared man more than God. … You should have been faithful. … Behold, thou art Joseph, and thou wast chosen. … Remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent” (Doctrine and Covenants 3:7–10).
In 2016, while serving a mission in Little Rock, Arkansas, I asked Brother Cava to deliver a package to my older sister, who lived on an island in Fiji. His response was not something that I had anticipated. “President Wakolo,” he groaned, “your sister passed away and was buried 10 days ago.” I had self-pity and even felt a little upset that my family did not even bother to let me know.
The next day, while my wife was teaching missionaries, this thought penetrated my soul: “Taniela, all these experiences are for your own good and development. You have been teaching and sharing your testimony about the Atonement of Jesus Christ; now live accordingly.” I was reminded that “happy is the man whom God correct[s]: therefore [we should] despise not … the chastening of the Almighty” (Job 5:17). It was a spiritual surgery for me, and the outcome was immediate.
Just as I was contemplating the experience, I was called upon to give my concluding thoughts to the discussion. Among other things, I shared the lessons that I had just been taught: one, I had just been chastened by the Holy Ghost, and I loved it because I was the only one who heard it; two, because of the Savior’s sacrifice and ransom, I will no longer refer to my challenges as trials and tribulations but as my learning experiences; and three, because of His perfect and sinless life, I will no longer refer to my shortcomings and lack of abilities as weaknesses but rather as my development opportunities. This experience helped me know that God chastens us because He loves us.
I conclude. Our Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, show Their love by making it possible for us to have eternal relationships with Them and our family members, by calling modern-day prophets to teach and minister to us, and by chastening us to help us learn and grow. “God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son,” our resurrected Lord, even the living Christ. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Not long ago, a young missionary stopped by my wife’s office at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, to make a special personal request. Since he knew that we were personally acquainted with his parents, he wondered if Sister Christensen would call his father and find out when his mother was going to have her surgery. He explained, “When my youngest sister was born, my mother almost died. All of us, including my five-year-old sister, fasted for her and she got well. Since that time, I worry when I think of operations. They make me nervous. I need to know when the surgery is going to be scheduled so that I can begin my fast.”
My wife willingly dialed his father’s telephone number and asked the elder if he would like to speak personally to him. He felt he should not because he knew it was against the policies and he thought it would make him homesick. When his father answered and learned that the call was from the Missionary Training Center, his first question was, “Is anything wrong?”
“No,” he was told, “not at all, but your son needs to know when the surgery on his mother is going to be so he can begin his fast.”
“Oh,” he said, “he’s going to be disappointed, because he can’t fast before the surgery; she already had it yesterday. It lasted for five hours and she is doing very, very well. We are so thrilled.”
The elder’s face brightened as he realized what was being communicated on the telephone.
“Tell my father I love him and send him a hug and a kiss. Tell him to give my mother a hug and a kiss from me and to all the family.”
After the telephone call ended and the details about the surgery were explained, this great young elder said, “Oh, I’m so thankful; I will fast anyway for gratitude!”
My wife, Barbara, wrote in her journal, “We shook hands and he left my office, and I sat down and cried!”

Let me tell you a story that I heard recently in Mexico. In Torreón I was driven about in the fine automobile that belonged to the man of whom I speak. His name is David Castañeda.

Thirty years ago he, his wife, Tomasa, and their children lived on a dry little run-down ranch near Torreón. They owned 30 chickens, 2 pigs, and 1 thin horse. The chickens provided a few eggs to sustain them and the means whereby to earn an occasional peso. They walked in poverty. Then the missionaries called on them. Sister Castañeda said, “The elders took the blinders from our eyes and brought light into our lives. We knew nothing of Jesus Christ. We knew nothing of God until they came.”

She had two years of schooling, her husband none. The elders taught them, and they were eventually baptized. They moved into the little town of Bermejillo. They were fortuitously led into the junk business, buying wrecked automobiles. This led to association with insurance companies and others. They gradually built a prosperous business in which the father and his five sons worked. With simple faith they paid their tithing. They put their trust in the Lord. They lived the gospel. They served wherever called to do so. Four of their sons and three of their daughters filled missions. The youngest son is presently serving in Oaxaca. They have now built a very substantial business and have been prospered therein. They have been taunted by their critics. Their answer is a testimony of the power of the Lord in their lives.

Some 200 of their family and friends have joined the Church due to their influence. Over 30 sons and daughters of family and friends have served missions. They donated the land on which a chapel now stands.

The children, now grown to maturity, and the parents take turns going to Mexico City each month, there to work in the temple. They stand as a living testimony of the great power of this work of the Lord to lift and change people. They are typical of thousands upon thousands throughout the world who experience the miracle of Mormonism as a testimony of the divinity of the work comes into their lives.

“One day, I locked myself in a room so I wouldn’t be disturbed and got on my knees to pray. As I repented and explained my fears honestly and sincerely, I felt my mistakes being washed away. I knew that Heavenly Father and the Savior were there comforting me through what I was feeling. This experience has taught me that I need to focus on Them rather than on worldly things. I’ve learned that They will always be there for us, even during our toughest trials.”—Zoe Campbell, Aberdeen, Scotland

Then tragedy struck. On the 31st of December 2019, fires engulfed two thirds of Kangaroo Island, taking lives, and destroying homes, including the McCanns’.
David and Evonne were devastated. In a matter of minutes, their sanctuary—a refuge for family and friends—burned to the ground.
It was now a twisted pile of rubble. Their water tank completely melted, and saddest of all, they lost their grandmother’s baby grand piano, which all the McCann children had learned to play on.
As the family came to grips with their loss, David prayed to Heavenly Father: “Where to from here? What is the purpose behind this? Whatever you want us to do we will do.”
Miraculously, their shearing shed was still standing! It housed their tractor, which David would need to clear the site. To their great relief, the neighbouring property—where David’s parents live—was somehow also spared, even though it had been surrounded by fire.
Another little miracle occurred two months earlier, when Evonne received a strong impression that they needed to insure their property. This troubled David, as none of the 15 providers he had contacted would insure them. He prayed, “Heavenly Father, if we are meant to insure the house, please help me find an insurer.” The very next company he called agreed to insure the property for a portion of its value.
After the fires, a great outpouring of love for residents of Kangaroo Island came in. People sent tools, clothing and bedding, and members of the McCann’s Gulfview Heights Ward helped the family replenish their one-year supply of food.
Kangaroo Island began a journey of recovery, which included a heartbreaking clean-up of debris and efforts to rescue wildlife. But then, the land burst into bloom.
A sea of yellow daisies blanketed the McCann property, along with red poppies and other flowers which they hadn’t seen there before. It seemed to signal a new beginning, and the McCanns decided that—although they still couldn’t afford to—they would rebuild.
The blessings continued. David learned of a man who was giving away the entire second floor of his house—the framework, windows, doors, and cables—to anyone who would remove it and build a new floor for him. With a happy band of helpful brethren, David went to work and, after a week, secured the building materials for his own home.
He sourced additional materials on auction for a fraction of their retail prices and there was plenty of sand and ironstone on the land to make concrete for his foundations.
A generous architect on Kangaroo Island gave his time freely to design new homes for the McCanns and others who had lost theirs in the fire. Then, with the expert help of a retired builder, Brother John Ween, plus three of his builder friends, the family began to rebuild.
They worked tirelessly through three weeks of their summer holiday, recruited extended family to help during Easter, and now their house is at lock up stage.
On reflection, Evonne says, “Everything happens for a reason. We don’t see it when we are going through the hard times.”
“Trust God even when you don’t see why,” David adds. “It’s helped me understand the grief in a different way, and to have empathy for others . . . how bad things happen, and if we are faithful, good will always come from it.”
It won’t be long before their family and friends will once again experience the tranquility of their home on Kangaroo Island.

A young man once pleaded with me for help. He had become addicted to pornography, which he accessed via his home computer. It burdened him with such guilt that he could not feel good about attending church or participating in priesthood assignments. It adversely affected his social life. He was powerfully drawn to spend hour upon hour alone in front of the computer viewing that which he acknowledged brought only frustration and despair. It was as if he were chained by a master whose only purpose was to make him miserable.
He did not decide at once to become a slave to the computer screen. Rather, he decided at some earlier time that viewing destructive images “just this once” would not hurt and would satisfy a “curiosity.” Once became twice, and twice became several times, until a powerful addiction had lessened his power of choice. Only after he was enchained by his addiction did he recognize that he had willingly submitted to captivity.

Like Elizabeth generations before, Rosalene soon found herself crossing an ocean to settle in an unfamiliar culture when her husband took a position in Hong Kong.
“Some people thrive on change and adventure, but it was almost too much for me,” Rosalene says.
She again found strength in her Savior and in God’s plan for her. With the support of her family and dear sisters in her ward, Rosalene came to love and treasure her new surroundings and experiences.

The sun hung low after a warm summer day in Pacheco, in the Latter-day Saint colonies in Mexico. As five-year-old Mae and two-year-old Wasel played outside, they could smell smoke wafting from adobe chimneys and open fires. Supper would be ready soon. Sure enough, Mama called, “Mae! Wasel! Go wash up.” The girls quickly obeyed and went inside to eat.
After supper, Mama said, “Come, little Wasel.” Every night Wasel went with Mama and Papa to herd the cows. Mae and baby David stayed home with Aunt Hattie. Wasel loved this time alone with her parents. She was so excited that she ran outside still clutching her dinner spoon.
“I don’t think Wasel should come with us tonight. We have to care for some horses, and it may be too far for her to walk,” Papa said.
Mama nodded. “Wasel, Mama and Papa are going on a long walk tonight. Take that spoon back to the house and give it to Aunt Hattie. Then you can play with the other children, and tomorrow you can come with us to get the cows.”
Wasel just stood there, holding her spoon. She didn’t want to go back to the house.
“Run along now,” Mama said. Wasel turned and ran toward the house, but when her parents were out of sight, she put her spoon near the door and decided to go get the cows after all. She knew the way to the pasture. But she didn’t know that her parents hadn’t gone straight there.
The shadows grew long as the sun sank lower. Wasel walked and walked, through fields and corn patches. Wolves howled in the distance. Wasel came to a marshy area and walked there for a long time. She liked to feel the mud squishing between her bare toes.
When Mama and Papa returned from the cow pasture, Mama went inside to put the children to bed, and Papa went to the barn to take care of the animals.
“Hattie, where is Wasel?” Mama asked.
Aunt Hattie froze. “Wasn’t she with you?”
“Yes, but we sent her back here.”
“Well, I haven’t seen her!” Aunt Hattie exclaimed.
Mama and Aunt Hattie called for Wasel and searched in all the rooms and in the yard. Then Mama ran to the barn.
“Wasel isn’t here. I’m going to look for her,” she told Papa.
“She’s probably asleep somewhere,” Papa said. “I’ll look in the house.”
Mama knew that Wasel wasn’t in the house. She ran to the river and the cornfield calling, “Wasel! Wasel! Can you hear me, Wasel?” There was no answer, so she returned to the house.
“I think we need help,” Papa said.
Just then, Aunt Hattie pointed out the window. “Look! It’s Brother Carroll.”
Papa ran outside and stopped him. “Wasel is lost,” he explained.
“I’m on my way to the church for a meeting,” Brother Carroll said. “I’ll tell everyone that you need help looking for her.”
When Brother Carroll told Bishop Hardy that Wasel was lost, Bishop Hardy dismissed the meeting and asked the brethren to go search for her.
As everyone searched under the beds, in the outbuildings, and through the house, Mama began to fear for Wasel’s life. “We are wasting time looking for her here. We have already done that, and I know she’s not here!” she cried.
Wasel’s grandpa gathered the men together. “Let’s divide into small groups and circle the area,” he said. “Whoever finds her will return here and fire a gun five times to signal the rest of us.”
One group went with the bishop. They followed the road toward the cow pasture.
“Look, Bishop!” someone shouted. “Little footprints.”
The men held their lanterns high and carefully followed the footprints until they reached the marsh. The ground was too moist there to hold any tracks.
Bishop Hardy instructed the men to kneel on the soggy ground. Then he prayed for Wasel’s safety and for guidance to find her.
With teary eyes, Bishop Hardy rose. He thought he heard something and paused to listen. There, very faintly—yes! He could hear her! The others strained but heard nothing. “She’s calling for her mama!” he exclaimed.
Bishop Hardy ran toward the sound he heard so clearly. He stopped occasionally to listen—“Mama!”—and hurried on. He ran through fields and over hills for nearly two miles (3 km). He found himself in a rugged canyon, the moonlight falling softly around him. Then, suddenly, he saw Wasel walking wearily along the mountainside. Bishop Hardy ran to her and gathered her into his arms. “Mama,” Wasel whispered as she fell asleep.
The bishop carried Wasel back to the house as quickly as he could go. Mama took Wasel in her arms, and tears of joy flowed freely from her eyes. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for bringing little Wasel home safely.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bishop Hardy fired the gun with joy. When Papa arrived, he hugged his wife and daughter, weeping with gratitude. Then everyone knelt in a circle, and Bishop Hardy thanked the Lord for protecting Wasel. He knew that he couldn’t have heard her soft cries on his own. But the Lord was watching over Wasel and had helped him to find her.

Begin sharing time with a music clue. Hum or play “When We’re Helping” (p. 198) and have the children guess the topic of sharing time. Helping and serving others makes us happy. When we serve others, we are sharing the gospel. Tell the story “And a Little Child Shall Lead Them” (Friend, Sept. 2002, 4–6). In this story, Kyle wanted to be a missionary. He made friends with Pedro and invited him to Primary. Pedro liked the people in Primary and noticed that he felt happy when he was there. Soon, he and his family were taking lessons from the missionaries. Ask the children to listen for all the ways that Kyle gave service. Who else in the story gave service and how? What happened because of Kyle’s willingness to serve? Take responses.

My three-year-old granddaughter Eliza went with her family to the open house of the Brigham City Temple in Utah. In one of the rooms of that beautiful temple, she looked around and asked, “Mommy, where is Jesus?” Her mother explained that she would not see Jesus in the temple, but she would be able to feel His presence in her heart. Eliza carefully thought about her mother’s answer. Then she said, “Oh, Jesus is gone helping someone.”
Eliza knew that the temple is the house of the Lord, but she also understood that Jesus has a body and can only be in one place at a time. If He was not at His house, she knew that He must be in another place. And she knew that He would be somewhere doing good for His Father’s children.
Spirit: another name for the Holy Ghost
The Spirit revealed to her mind and heart the comfort all of us need. Jesus Christ lives. He knows us, watches over us, and cares for us. In moments of pain, loneliness, or confusion, we do not need to see Jesus Christ to know that He is aware of us. His mission is to bless us.

John lingered in the hall before deciding to get it over with. He was sorry he had even come. His mother had talked him into it, saying, “After all he is the bishop, and if he wants to see you the least you can do is go.”
He’s going to say he hasn’t seen me at church lately, John thought as he idly gazed at the bulletin board in the hall, and they’d like me to help on some project, and I’ll tell him I’m too busy right now, and he’ll say they really need me and then I’ll leave, and it’ll be over for another six months.
He knocked on the door and Bishop Warren invited him in.
Now some small talk to loosen me up, John thought.
The bishop asked about his schooling to become an auto mechanic. John answered in two words. Then the bishop asked about his mother and dad, but John curtly reminded him that the man with his mother was his stepfather, not his real father.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here,” the bishop said.
Here it comes, John thought.
“God has called you on a mission.”
The silence roared through his ears.
“I don’t want to go on a mission,” John said.
“That’s between you and God. My job is to tell you that you’ve been called.”
He didn’t tell me how much they need me, John thought, stunned and off balance.
“I’m not going.”
“It doesn’t matter that much to me personally if you go or not,” the bishop said, “but I want you to realize that God has called you on a mission.”
“This is just a gimmick to get me to shape up, isn’t it?” John said.
“Is it?” the bishop asked.
“Sure, that’s what it is.”
“Why don’t you pray and ask if it’s a gimmick?”
“I don’t need to pray because I’m not going.”
“Tell that to God then, but not to me. Before you decide though, I have some scriptures on this card I want you to read. Will you do that?”
John avoided the question and took the card. “Is that all you wanted to say?”
As he drove from the church, his mind boiled with anger at the bishop. He wants me to go on a mission so it’ll look good on his report, he thought as he slammed the car into second gear, so he makes up a story about God calling me. Well, he’s not fooling me.
He had his life planned, and it didn’t include a mission. First he’d get a job as a mechanic, then marry Jill and settle down. That’s what he wanted in life, and a mission didn’t fit in. Besides, he wasn’t even going to church or living the way the Church taught. Ever since his father had died and his mother remarried a nonmember, none of them had gone to church.
A few minutes later he parked his car in front of the truck stop cafe where Jill worked and went inside. As he sat down at the empty counter, she brought him a cup of coffee, and then poured herself one.
“Well?” she asked with a grin.
“Well what?”
“What did the bishop say?”
“He said God’s called me on a mission.”
She barely got her coffee swallowed before bursting out with laughter.
“You—on a mission? Boy, that’s a laugh.”
“I’m not going.”
“Did you tell him you were going to marry me?” she asked.
“I don’t have to tell him anything. I just said I wasn’t going.”
“But you are going to marry me in June—right? I mean you’re not inventing this story about a mission just to get out of it, are you?”
“I said I’d marry you,” he snapped. “How many times do I have to say it?”
“You’re so romantic,” she said sarcastically.
Another customer came in, and she left to get the order. In a few minutes she was back again.
“This coffee tastes rotten,” he complained. “What’d you do, make it with dishwater?”
She took a sip. “It tastes okay.”
“It’s not okay—it’s terrible.”
“Don’t drink it then. See if I care.”
Another customer drifted in. While he waited for her to come back, he tried to doctor up his coffee by pouring cream and sugar in it, but no matter what he did, it always tasted like burnt rags soaked in dishwater. Finally he put so much cream in that it ended up a chalky white lukewarm disaster. He reached over and dumped it down the drain.
A few minutes later it was quitting time for Jill. As they walked to the car, he asked, “How about going with me to the Longhorn for a beer?”
“On a Tuesday? What’s the occasion?”
“I just feel like it. Besides they have that western band playing there this week.”
“You never drink on weekdays, so why do you want to now? Trying to prove how bad you are so God will let you off the hook about a mission?”
“Quit talking about that. It’s over and done with.”
“I don’t see why you’re so uptight. They’d never send anyone like you on a mission.”
“What about going with me to the Longhorn?”
“Count me out. If you start drinking on Tuesdays, you’re going to end up an alcoholic.”
“Forget it then. I’ll go without you.”
“Suits me fine. You’re in a bad mood, and I don’t want to be around you anyway.”
He took her home and went to the Longhorn, a small place on the highway that served beer mainly to the just-out-of-high-school crowd.
While he was there, two guys came in. For one of them it was his 18th birthday, and they were celebrating by drinking one beer after another as fast as they could until one got sick and the manager made them clean it up, which made the other sick.
John walked out, saying to the one huddled on his knees pushing a towel over the floor, “That’s so clever the way you did that.”
At home in his bedroom he took off his shirt and found the three-by-five card in the pocket with a large handwritten message, “God has called you on a mission. Pray about it.”
He threw the card into the wastepaper basket, turned off the light, and went to bed.
He couldn’t sleep. After two hours of tossing, he sat up in bed and said out loud, “God, I’m not going. So just forget it. Amen.”
On Friday night there was a party for a group of mechanics and instructors involved in the training program. They met at a place called Al’s Oasis.
About 11 that night, one of the instructors, a man named Wayne, got into a fight with his wife. As it heated up, they said things to each other that shouldn’t have been heard by the group. His wife got mad and called a taxi. Wayne got drunker and more obnoxious. A while later he came and asked Jill to dance, but she said no and that made him furious. John told him to get away from her. Wayne tried to hit him, but he ducked and planted his fist solidly in Wayne’s stomach, causing him to double over and fall down.
Two of Wayne’s friends started to make noises about getting even with John. He thought he could handle them but was worried about Jill’s safety if there was a brawl. He grabbed her hand, and they ran out the back door to the car. As they drove away, John saw another car pull out after them, and he knew there might be trouble.
He had done enough deer hunting in the area to know the back roads, so after a few shortcuts, he lost the car behind them, but he kept going for several miles to make sure they wouldn’t find him.
Half an hour later they ran out of gas on a little-used country road. He knew they would have to walk into town.
It was a beautiful clear night with the stars filling the night sky. It had been a long time since John had looked at the stars.
He didn’t say much for the first few minutes of walking, until she finally asked what he was thinking about.
“Them,” he answered.
“Who?”
“Wayne and his wife—the way they were yelling at each other, the way he was drinking.”
“What about it?”
“That’s the way we’ll be in a few years.”
“Is it?” she asked.
“Sure—we argue now, don’t we? And I drink too much. Sure, we’ll be just like them—if we stay married. But maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll get a divorce.”
“You are getting cold feet about marrying me, aren’t you?”
“I’m getting cold feet about ending up like them. There must be more to life than that.”
“What do you want, you know, in life?”
“I want to be the best mechanic in town. I’m good at it, and I like it. And I want some sons to take fishing and hunting. And I want a house and a pickup truck.”
“Anything else?”
“If we marry, I want it to last.”
“Me too,” she said. “If we’re married, I want you to be faithful to me. I don’t want my life to run like a soap opera.”
They walked a ways in silence, both of them feeling awkward at being so serious.
“John,” she asked, “suppose we have sons. Will you let them go to Primary?”
“Why not? It can’t hurt’em—at least while they’re small.”
“How about Sunday School?”
“If it doesn’t interfere with me taking them fishing and hunting.”
“You can fish on Saturdays.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said.
She waited several seconds before getting courage to ask, “What’d be wrong if we started going to church?”
“What for?”
“For our future sons and daughters, so we can learn. Mormons know how to raise good families, and that’s what we want, isn’t it?”
“I’m not going,” he said bitterly. “If you start, the first thing you know they ask you to do something, and before you know it, your whole life is spent at church. I don’t want to get into that.”
“Can we go for a few times just to see if it’s as bad as we think it is?”
He looked at her, shook his head, and gave in.
“All right, we’ll try it for a couple weeks, but that’s all.”
On Sunday they went to church, and even John had to admit it was okay. While they were there, he studied the missionaries sitting with one of the families they were teaching.
No way, he thought to himself.
On Wednesday he asked Jill if she would go drinking with him on Saturday night.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Why not?”
“I thought we were going back to church,” she said.
“What’s going to church have to do with enjoying a beer now and then?”
“You’re the one who’s always saying people who go to church are hypocrites, so now you want to be one too. Is that the way it is?”
“I agreed to go to church, but that’s all. I’ll drink when I want, and nobody’s going to tell me to stop!”
“I will, John. You better stop drinking.”
On Saturday night he went without her. A little past midnight he got into an argument about religion with the guy next to him, who was an atheist. John tried to convince him about God.
“There’s a God,” John said.
“Prove it.”
“Look at the flowers. You think that just happened?”
“Yeah, that’s what I think.”
“You’re crazy, you know that. Flowers don’t just happen,” John said, slamming down his mug for emphasis.
“What do you know about God anyway? What’s he to you?”
John stared at the empty mug, it’s promise of happiness gone, leaving only an empty froth, full of air with no substance. That’s when he became very depressed.
“What’s wrong with you?” the guy next to him asked.
“God wants me to be a Mormon missionary.”
The guy laughed so hard he fell off the chair.
At three in the morning, John drove to the church parking lot and stumbled onto the lawn in front of the chapel.
“Hey, are you there?” he yelled, looking up at the steeple. “Look at me! I’m drunk! Do you see that? Isn’t that disgusting? That’s why I can’t go on a mission—so quit bugging me about it! Look, I’d like to help you out, but you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not a good person. I’m rotten—rotten to the core.”
He sat down on the lawn and started to cry again. Among the sobs he pleaded, “All I want you to do is tell the bishop you were wrong about a mission for me. Then just let me be me—no good rotten John.”
After that he must have crawled into the car and fallen asleep, because the next thing he remembered was the slamming of a car door next to him. He woke up and looked around. It was early morning. Standing next to him looking into the car was Bishop Warren.
“You’re here early this morning for church,” the bishop said.
John’s mouth felt as if somebody had driven a cattle truck through it all night, and his head ached.
“Bishop, last night I was drinking, and I came here to get a message to God that he made a mistake about calling me on a mission. I’m not good enough to do anything in this church.”
“Do you believe now that God wants you to go on a mission?”
He looked up and said quietly, “I guess I do, but it’s too late. I’ve made too many mistakes.”
“John, you’ve got to learn to repent now. Let’s go to my office, and I’ll give you a thorough interview.”
He was too tired to argue. As he opened the car door, two empty cans rolled onto the parking lot, making a loud noise. He stepped gingerly from the car, picked up the cans, tossed them in the front seat, and stumbled after the bishop.
In the office, he sat rigidly in his chair, feeling that the room was leaning over to one side. The bishop asked him question after question, and it was embarrassing to answer them truthfully, but he wanted the bishop to know everything about himself.
After the last question, the bishop was silent for a moment and then said, “John, you’ve disappointed the Lord.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Before you were born, he called you to serve a mission, and you agreed. But now, unless you repent in a major way, you’ll lose that opportunity. We don’t send young men on missions unless they’re clean.
“The time to start repenting is now. Let me write down the things you need to work on. If you can turn your life around, you can still serve a mission, but it’ll take a while to demonstrate your obedience.”
“How long?” he asked.
“Maybe a year.”
“That’s a long time, bishop.”
“A year’s a year, whether you repent or not. And if you don’t repent, where will you be after a year?” The bishop’s list filled two pages.
“I’ll see you next week at this same time, and we’ll see how you’re doing. Priesthood meeting starts in an hour, so you better get home and change.”
He hurried home and got ready, making it back just in time. After Sunday School, he talked to Jill.
“I was surprised to see you here this morning,” she said.
“Jill, I’m going on a mission.”
“Sure you are,” she laughed.
“No, I mean it.”
She looked at him as if for the first time. “Why?”
“God wants me to go.”
She looked at him for a long time before saying, “I think I’m seeing a part of you I never knew existed—the part you tried to hide from everyone.”
She pursed her lips, closed her eyes for a second, and then tried to smile. “Well, so much for a June wedding—right?”
“It’s just a year and a half, and when we get married, it’ll be in the temple.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “You and me—regular church people. Who’d ever have thought it?”
“What will you do while I’m gone?” he asked.
It took courage for her to even say it. “You know what? Nobody in my family ever went to college. What if I went to Ricks College, maybe just for a year, you know, just to say I’ve gone? I think I’d like to do that.”
“Jill, have you talked to the bishop?”
“No, why?”
“You ought to and when you do, ask him for the thorough interview. He writes down a list of things to work on, and you go back in a week to report how you’ve done.”
So for the next few months, they both repented.
Six months later on a Sunday he watched a guy in faded Levi’s and western shirt burst from the bishop’s office laughing as he headed toward the door. John asked him what was so funny and was told that the bishop had said that God had called him on a mission.
“Isn’t that stupid?” the guy howled. “I don’t even go to church.”
So it was a gimmick after all, John angrily thought as he stormed into the bishop’s office.
“How many others have you told God called them on a mission?” he snapped.
“All of them between the ages of 18 and 25.”
“I believed you when you told me! I didn’t know it was just hype to drum up more missionaries!”
“Let’s talk about it, John,” the bishop said in an even tone.
“I’m tired of talking to you!” he said, whirling toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get drunk!” he yelled, heading outside with the bishop right behind him.
“You can’t go back to the way you were.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because now you have a testimony. Don’t you?”
He stopped just before reaching his car and thought about the past six months.
The bishop was right. He had a testimony that the Church was true. He couldn’t go back to the way he had been.
Inside the office, the bishop pulled out a worn copy of the New Era and read parts of a talk by President Kimball: “‘Should every young man … fill a mission?’ … The answer the Lord has given [is] ‘Yes, every worthy young man should fill a mission.’ The Lord expects it of him. And if he is not now worthy to fill a mission, then he should start at once to qualify himself.”
The bishop put down the magazine.
“But I thought you meant God wanted me personally to serve a mission.”
“John, I’ve fasted and prayed about what I told you. God does want you to serve a mission. If you doubt it, fast and pray about it too.”
He did pray and fast, and that helped him feel more assured the bishop was right, but the complete answer didn’t come until three months later.
He had continued to drop by the cafe near Jill’s quitting time, where he had his nightly cup of hot chocolate. One night she said, “Why don’t you come with Cindy and me next Saturday? We’re going to get a patriarchal blessing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Cindy’s more says it’s personal revelation to help a person live his life. Will you take us? We have to go out of town to where the patriarch lives, and we were hoping you’d drive us. You could get a blessing too, but first you’ll have to get an interview from the bishop.”
“That’s no problem,” he smiled. “It seems like the past year has been one continuous interview.”
When he went for his interview, he brought the worn pages of repentance goals the bishop gave him on his first thorough interview. One by one, day by day over the months since then, he had checked each item.
After the interview, the bishop gave him a recommend for his patriarchal blessing and said, “John, you’re clean now.”
On Saturday the three of them drove to the stake center, where they met the patriarch who talked with them for a few minutes before giving each of them a blessing.
As the patriarch laid his hands on John’s head and began, it was like a cleansing shower of light and joy washing away the bad opinions he’d had about himself. As a child he was the boy who believed himself to be a bad boy, a mischievous boy, an average boy, a low achiever, a trouble-maker, a bad example. He found out that if you believe that about yourself then your life matches what you believe. Even at first when he tried to repent, underneath it seemed artificial, as if he were only putting on an act of goodness but deep down was still rotten and would be forever. But now as the patriarch gave him a blessing, he felt strongly that God was his Father in Heaven and that as a son in the premortal existence he had once been greatly loved and trusted.
He knew he was crying and that tears were rolling in small rivers down his face, and he knew Jill and Cindy knew it too; but he didn’t care because, for the first time in his life, he knew his true relationship to God.
The patriarch told him that Father in Heaven had called him to serve a mission, which was what the bishop had said, except this time, John knew it was true.
After the blessing, he sat in the chair, wiped his eyes, and, a little embarrassed, asked Jill for a tissue.
That’s how John came to go on a mission, and why Jill saved some money and quit the cafe and went to Ricks. Sometimes she’d be listening to a lecture when she would suddenly realize where she was and she’d think, Look at me! I’m in college and I never thought I’d be, and I’m smart enough to understand what the professor is saying, and I bet there’s a hundred other things I can do that once seemed impossible. I’m going to stay active and live the commandments and be married in the temple. Nobody around here, no bishop or other priesthood leader, has ever said my past mistakes were too great or that it’s too late for me to repent. All that’s important is that we start today and repent and live the commandments, and the Savior will take care of the rest.
John worked harder on his mission than ever before in his life. When he first started out, he thought what a great sacrifice it was to take 18 months to serve the Lord. But as his mission progressed he learned you can’t really sacrifice to the Lord because the more you give, the more he blesses you, and when you finish, you are more indebted to him than ever before.
Sometimes on his mission he and his companion would see an auto repair shop and stop. Inside John always looked for the meanest-looking mechanic there who was about his age, and he would walk up to him and say, “God sent me here to talk to you.” The guy usually swore and went back to his work on a car. John would lean over the other side of the hood, peering into the engine to watch him work, and little by little he would explain the message God had for that mechanic.
During his mission it only happened once that the mechanic ended up joining the Church, but John thought it was great that one did because, as he used to say, Father in Heaven needs all the mechanics he can get.
“Otherwise,” he’d say with a broad grin, “in heaven, who’s going to service all those chariots?”

In the Free home in Williamsville, New York, the law had been laid down. No dogs allowed. Crysti was allergic, Melanie didn’t like them, and Mom and Dad didn’t want the problems associated with man’s best friend. Janna Free, the dog lover in the family, had asked before but to no avail.
“I don’t think so,” was always the reply whenever the question was posed.
For a while, it appeared the Free home would remain a dog-free environment.
Then things changed. Crysti moved out, Melanie left for her mission, and Mom and Dad turned into a couple of old softies.
And Janna—the 16-year-old with the innocent smile—decided to give Mom and Dad the big “Pleeeeeeeeease” once more. And this time, the response was a little different.
“We’ll talk about it,” said Mom. And for Janna there was a glimmer of hope.
But why the change of heart? Credit Janna for that. Her well-thought-out plan to get a dog became an offer Mom and Dad couldn’t refuse.
Janna’s strategy for getting a dog was simple. She would affiliate herself with Guiding Eyes for the Blind, and raise a guiding eye dog. She patiently explained to her parents that she would keep a dog for 18 months, while socializing it and teaching it manners and commands. Then she’d return the dog to Guiding Eyes for the Blind for the four months of specialized training all guide dogs need before being assigned to a blind person.
It was a simple plan, really. Janna, a member of the Amherst Ward, Buffalo New York Stake, would get her dog. It would be a short-term deal, and she’d be performing a service at the same time. Who could argue? Certainly not Janna’s mom and dad.
“I’d always wanted a dog, and when I was 16 it just worked out that I was looking for a project to do for Girl Scouts—to earn my Gold Award,” says Janna, now 18 and a freshman at BYU. “One day I saw a sign on a bulletin board for Guiding Eyes for the Blind.” The light went on.
“So I took down the number and came home and started bugging my parents to let me do this project,” she continues. Janna, a firm believer in the if-at-first-you-don’t-succeed adage, tried again.
Let’s just say that Janna Free can be pretty persuasive. “Oh, yes, she was,” says Janna’s mom, Maureen, remembering the process. “She went and got all sorts of literature on dogs. She showed us all the things she knew she was going to have to do. She was pretty convincing.”
Guiding Eyes for the Blind, a nonprofit organization in Yorktown Heights, New York, which has placed more than 4,000 guide dogs with blind people since it began in 1956, evaluated Janna’s application, and two weeks later approved her to receive a dog.
“I was a little nervous because I had never had a dog before. I wasn’t sure how [Guiding Eyes] would feel about giving one of their dogs to a first-time raiser, especially one so young,” Janna says.
Apparently that wasn’t a problem, because in May of 1994, Phineas, a 14-week-old black labrador retriever, was delivered to the Frees’ front door. And Janna’s year-and-a-half odyssey with her puppy began.
“There was a lot of adjustment because I took sole responsibility for Phineas. I had to walk him twice a day. I had to schedule my time so that I would be home. I didn’t want to dump him on my parents,” Janna recalls.
“You’re doing what?” was a common question among Janna’s friends. “They couldn’t believe I’d take a dog knowing I’d have to give him up in the end. That was generally the first reaction they’d give. But I knew when I took him on that I wasn’t going to be able to keep him. But I also knew he could do something better than just sit around as a house pet. I was excited to be a part of that.
“My greatest fear,” she continues, “was that he would never make it.”
Unfortunately, not all dogs graduate to become guiding eye dogs. Some don’t have the temperament. Some don’t respond to the training. Some just aren’t cut out for the task.
It was Janna’s job as a puppy raiser to take Phineas into new situations that would acclimate him to things he would face as a guiding eye dog. If Janna had to run to the store, Phineas went with her. She made arrangements with local shopkeepers to allow her to take him inside their stores. She was also impressed at how the public awareness about guide dogs increased as she took Phineas around.
Janna also noticed how her experiences with Phineas made her feel. “I’ve always wanted to keep busy. I’ve never been one to just sit around, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for me to do something for someone. There was always that sense of, Yes, I’m doing this for someone. I’m doing this for a blind person,” she says.
Although Janna’s work with Phineas made her more aware of the disabilities of people around her, she also noticed her own attitude change when she realized how blessed she was. When she’d stop and think that somewhere a blind person needed Phineas to have a full and active life, she was humbled.
“The best thing for me was what I’ve learned about service. I’ve gained a testimony of the idea that when you lose your life you find it. There are times when I get kind of bogged down when things go wrong. But my problems become so minuscule in comparison to the people I’m helping. I don’t have to go through life blind. It really gives me a renewed appreciation of how blessed I am,” she says.
All along, Janna knew her time with Phineas was short. And when the day came in August of 1995 for Phineas to leave, it was no easy thing.
“I cried. I tried not to but I cried,” she says. “Phineas knew something was going on. I was sobbing. But he just got in the car and went away.”
Last January, Janna traveled to Yorktown Heights for Phineas’s graduation from Guiding Eyes for the Blind. It was there that Janna met Joyce, the blind woman who became Phineas’s new owner. They talked, and Joyce filled Janna in on what Phineas had been up to.
Never was anybody more happy to have dog slobber on her face than Janna. “I was nervous to see whether he’d remember me. I petted him for a long time and got kisses all over my face. I was really excited,” she adds. “That was a major emotion for me. I felt grateful that he had made it all the way. It was really kind of a culminating experience to go see the graduation. I was just really proud of him.”
These days, there are few visual reminders of Phineas’s 18-month stay in the Free home. But Phineas’s impact on Janna is not forgotten. And vice versa.