Gospel Story Finder

Just a moment ago you heard Veronica and Kaarin sing a beautiful American hymn that became much more meaningful to me as I learned its history.

In 1876 Horatio G. Spafford bid farewell to his wife and four daughters as they departed on a ship to visit relatives in Europe. Some days later their ship collided with another steamship in the mid-Atlantic. Before it sank, Mrs. Spafford prayed with her daughters and committed them to the mercy of the Lord. She never saw her children again in mortality. Mrs. Spafford was rescued and sent this cable to her husband, “SAVED ALONE.” While on the Atlantic, on his own voyage to bring his wife home, he wrote the words to this hymn:
When peace like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.
What occurred here? While suffering the tragic loss of his children and undoubtedly knowing his wife’s trauma and sorrow, how is it that a man can come to such an expression? Here is a stunning example of heart and mind functioning together for the wellbeing of the soul. In sorrow, disappointment, or frustration, the answer—though seldom, if ever, easy begins with our ability to keep mind and heart connected and working together.

“Welcome to our class!” Sister Garcia beamed just like the spring sun shining through the classroom window. “I’m so excited to be teaching you older girls. You’re old enough to be good readers, and we can really get into the scriptures!”
Kirsten’s heart sank. She could read, but she knew she wasn’t a good reader. She took twice as long as her best friend, Ayisha, to get through a page when they were reading a magazine together. When she read aloud, words sputtered out of her mouth. That was always uncomfortable. After all, she was 10 years old. And reading the scriptures was especially hard. The words were so strange, and the sentences seemed to go on forever.
Ayisha put her hand on Kirsten’s shoulder. Kirsten looked over at her. Ayisha had written in her tiny notebook, “You’ll be OK!” Kirsten wondered how.
Kirsten took her turn reading that Sunday, but it seemed to take forever to get through the verse, and she just wanted to cry. The next week, before Sister Garcia even started the lesson, Ayisha raised her hand.
“I was wondering if Kirsten and I could cooperate on scripture reading today. Give us one scripture to work on together. I’ll read it, and Kirsten can draw a picture. She’s a great artist!”
Kirsten knew Ayisha was being kind, but she also felt like a big spotlight was shining on her, hot and uncomfortable. “I might as well have a sign hanging around my neck that says BAD READER,” Kirsten thought.
Sister Garcia seemed surprised. She looked at the girls and then smiled a little. “It sounds like fun,” she said. “And I think it would work well with our lesson today about Alma and Amulek. Are you willing to do that, Kirsten?” Kirsten nodded. “How about you other girls? Katie and Lauren, why don’t you be a team, too? And Elizabeth and Michelle?” She gave each team a scripture, and they began to work.
Kirsten couldn’t believe Ayisha’s nerve or her teacher’s sudden change of plans. But Sister Garcia’s smile, and the way she brought everyone into the idea, seemed to make it better. Kirsten drew a picture of Alma meeting Amulek. She realized she liked this story—two great missionaries and how they became friends.
The next Saturday, Sister Garcia showed up at Kirsten’s front door. “I just thought I’d drop by and see if you could take a special assignment for our class tomorrow,” she explained.
“What is it?” Kirsten asked. “Please, not reading,” she prayed silently.
“Could you present this scripture to the class?” Sister Garcia handed Kirsten a slip of paper.
“What do you mean, present it?” Kirsten asked.
“Well, you should read it out loud, but I thought I’d give it to you now so you can practice,” Sister Garcia said. “Then tell what it means to you. If you want to draw a picture, that would be great, too. I didn’t realize you had such a talent for art.”
“Am I the only one doing this?” Kirsten asked.
“Well, for this week, yes. But in coming weeks, all the girls will be taking turns.” Sister Garcia smiled in a way that seemed to make things OK. “I thought I’d have you go first. To tell you the truth, I’m eager to see more of your artwork.”
“OK,” Kirsten agreed. “I’ll do it.”
Kirsten read the verse out loud over and over. Then she spent all afternoon drawing a picture of Alma and Amulek healing Zeezrom, making sure everything was just right.
Finally, Kirsten made her way downstairs to where Dad was cooking spaghetti. “Can I practice my scripture for you, Dad?” she asked. Dad nodded, so Kirsten read, “Alma 15:8: ‘And Alma said: If thou believ … est in the re … demption of Christ thou canst be healed.’”
Dad stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce and turned around. “That was wonderful, Kirsten. Pretty smooth! I can tell you’ve been practicing. And your picture looks great! But you’re still missing one thing.”
“What? Did I forget something in the picture?” Kirsten examined her work.
“No, that’s not it. You should say how you feel about what you’ve read,” Dad explained. “The most important thing isn’t how you read or even how you draw, although both of those are great. What your class really needs to hear is how you feel about what you’ve read and drawn.”
Kirsten thought about this. “I guess I’m happy that Zeezrom got better and that he wasn’t being mean to Alma and Amulek anymore.”
“That’s good. Maybe you’ll want to say a prayer about it,” Dad suggested. “Think about what this scripture means for your testimony. That’s what you need to do. Bear your testimony.”
“‘If thou believest in the redemption of Christ thou canst be healed,’” Kirsten read in class, smoothly and confidently. “I have a testimony that this is true. I have been healed by the priesthood, too, when my dad has given me blessings. And when I prayed about this scripture I could feel the Holy Ghost.” She glanced at Sister Garcia, who nodded encouragingly. “I drew this picture to show Alma and Amulek healing Zeezrom. I’m so happy that Zeezrom changed from being an enemy of the gospel to becoming a great missionary, just like Alma and Amulek.”
Kirsten sat down. Ayisha flashed her notebook at her. “Awesome job, Kirsten!” the note said, with a big happy face. Kirsten couldn’t help but smile.

It was a sweaty Sunday afternoon, and the chapel was stifling. My wife was wrestling with the children to keep them reverent, and I was wrestling with my eyelids to keep them open. We were both losing.
The speaker didn’t help me any in my fight against sacrament meeting slumber. He was a typical youth speaker, and he followed the pattern of most youth speakers in our ward—he read to us from a book.
As he mumbled on, my wife and I both surrendered: she took the children out to the foyer, and I fell asleep. Soon I was dozing comfortably.
Maybe I was too comfortable or maybe somebody poked me awake—it’s happened before. At any rate, my head slipped out of my hands and “thwap!” my forehead hit the bench in front of me.
I don’t normally have such headaches in sacrament meeting, but a dull speaker and a stuffy chapel almost always make me drowsy.
Sometimes, though, it’s easy to listen to and learn from speakers no matter how uncomfortable the setting. It’s the speaker, not the conditions, that has a sleeping effect on me. So, what does it take to be a good speaker? Can anyone, including youth speakers, give interesting talks in church?
I never gave much thought to why some speakers are more interesting than others until one of my own sacrament meeting talks failed. I had prepared what I considered a good talk about patriotism with plenty of quotations and scriptures, but they didn’t help much. I ended up putting people to sleep. I was so embarrassed that I vowed I would never give a boring talk again.
I started paying close attention to what other speakers, interesting speakers, did in their talks. A few weeks after my sacrament meeting disaster, I went to a fireside featuring our stake presidency. Each man delivered inspiring, stimulating messages, and as I looked around the audience, not a single person looked bored.
The second counselor spoke first. He talked about his childhood in a small town and how he made the extra efforts to befriend a boy who had been rejected by all the other children at school. He told us how, twenty years later, that friendless boy, now a successful man, came to him and thanked him for his kindness. He concluded his talk by quoting a scripture about the worth of souls and bearing his testimony of the gospel.
Next the first counselor told of his great-grandmother, a woman who had personally known all the presidents of the Church since Brigham Young. He related his last visit with her and how she admonished him and his young family, in a firm but aged voice, to “Keep the faith!” He then read a scripture about enduring to the end and finished his address with his testimony of the importance of constantly striving to do good.
Our stake president was the final speaker. He talked of the importance of showing love in families and told the story of the last time he saw his father alive. His parents were at the bus stop to bid him farewell as he left for his mission. In parting he shook his father’s hand, hugged and kissed his mother, and turned to board the waiting bus. As he stepped aboard the bus, the Spirit prompted him to return to his father and say good-bye again. We listened raptly as he told us that he stepped off the bus and went to his father to embrace and kiss him one final time. His father did not live to see him again.
In concluding he bore testimony of the importance of showing love to one another in our families. We were all deeply touched and inspired by his message.
After the meeting, I thought about what each of the fireside speakers had done to present an interesting, uplifting speech. They all used the scriptures to teach a gospel principle, they told a relevant inspiring anecdote or personal experience, and they bore their testimonies.
In the next general conference, I noticed that many of the General Authorities used the same scripture-anecdote-testimony formula in their talks. Could that same formula be used by others with success?
I decided to try the scripture-anecdote-testimony combination in my next speaking assignment to see if it might improve my effectiveness. I spoke about the temple and the joyous experience my family and I shared when we were sealed together. Next I explained the importance of temples and quoted a scripture to emphasize my point. Finally, I bore my testimony of temples and the eternal blessings they provide.
The congregation didn’t stand and applaud my talk at the end of the meeting, but they didn’t fall asleep either. As a matter of fact, several people complimented me on my talk—something that was usually done only by my wife and the bishop. I felt good about the talk I had given.
Anybody can give a talk in sacrament meeting, and most everybody does, sooner or later. Your turn will come soon (or again), and you can make it a successful, enjoyable experience for you and your listeners if you’ll include some of the same simple steps used by effective speakers.
First, prayerfully select or consider your topic. Next search the standard works for one or two pertinent scriptures. Then review your own experiences (or those of others that you’ve read about) and select an uplifting anecdote to relate. Finally, plan to bear your testimony about the principle you discuss in your talk.
If you include these four steps as you plan your next talk, and if you’re well prepared, you’ll deliver an effective, interesting talk in sacrament meeting.
And I promise I won’t fall asleep.

A boy named Stan related the following experience to me. One summer afternoon his younger brother was involved in an accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. Immediately after the accident, friends of both boys, as well as ward members, were very supportive and attentive. Within a few weeks, however, the visits and offers to help became fewer and fewer. Before long Stan, his brother, and other members of the family felt isolated because of the tragedy. A few short weeks were simply not enough time for them to come to terms with the new and difficult realities that confronted them individually and as a family. Continued support from caring friends would have been truly appreciated.

On January 2, 1891, a 19-year-old Norwegian immigrant sat down in his home, in Logan City, Cache County, Utah Territory, and wrote the following lines on some lined paper:
“As I have come to fully realize; that, I am as weak as all other mortals—perhaps weaker than many; and realizing that happiness in life is only obtained by having a pure heart, a clear conscience; and fearing the Lord and keeping his commandments; also as I realize that happiness in old age consists of reviewing a life devoid from great sins; the gratification of noble desires manfully carried out; and finding that my life up to this time has not been as I should like it to have been: I lay down the following regulations by which I shall try to conduct my life hereafter; to which end may the Lord Almighty, my Creator, help me.”
He then wrote down 17 resolutions. Nearly eight months later, on Tuesday, August 25, 1891, he copied them in a hardcover journal. Here he was to record his years of struggle as a stranger-student from Utah Territory at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He began by entering the 17 resolves that were to guide his life.
“Resolved:
“1st. That religion, the science of sciences, be made my chief concernment throughout life.
“2nd. That I will daily pray to God in secret.
“3rd. That I will daily reflect upon God and his attributes and try to become like him.
“4th. That I will receive Light, Wisdom or Knowledge, wherever or however it may be offered.
“5th. That I will never be ashamed to acknowledge my principles, beliefs and religion when I once become fully convinced of their correctness …
“6th. That I will never lose one moment of time but use it wisely.
“7th. That I maintain strict temperance in eating and drinking.
“8th. That I will never do anything that I would not do were it the last hour of my life.
“9th. That I daily read the word of God, that I may learn his will and that I may be comforted, strengthened and encouraged by so doing.
“10th. That in any narrations I speak nothing but the pure and simple truth.
“11th. That I always do that which I think is my duty and for the best good for my fellow beings.
“12th. That I live with all my might while I do live, that I may not die a living death.
“13th. That I never by word or manner try to force my opinions on others but that I simply state them and offer my arguments against others.
“14th. That I seek to overcome the habit of quickly becoming angry, loud speaking, impatient motions, and whatever might offend my fellowmen and hurt me.
“15th. That I never for a moment forget my duty towards my mother, she who has made me who I am and who will make what I will become, she who has spent the better portion of her life in my behalf and to whom I owe all the honor, respect, and affection that I can give; also that I always remember my duties toward my brother and all my friends and relations.
“16th. That I complete every task which I begin: also that I carefully consider my purpose and its results before taking upon me any duty.
“17th. That I always remember that the men and women I meet are my brothers and sisters and that I look to the beam in my own eye before attempting to remove the mote in my fellow’s eye.” (See Matt. 7:5). It would be well if every young man and woman today would similarly evaluate his or her position in life.
The young man who wrote these lines was a student at the Brigham Young College in Logan when he first recorded them. The new year of 1891 was just beginning. A little over three months before, President Wilford Woodruff had issued, by revelation, the “Manifesto.” New opportunities awaited the driven, persecuted, misunderstood Latter-day Saints.
The young man’s name was John Andreas Widtsoe. He lived with his widowed mother and little brother in a small, poor cottage. They had come from Norway in 1884. On June 27, 1894, in Sanders Theater, in Harvard Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts, President Charles W. Eliot of Harvard University conferred upon the young immigrant the degree, Bachelor of Science, summa cum laude (with highest honors). He completed the four-year curriculum in three years. He had undergone many hardships. His widowed mother and little brother had sent him small sums of money from their meager earnings. The rest of his education had been financed by unusual personal sacrifice and by loans from kind friends in Logan, with notes signed at 12 percent interest.
He returned home to Logan from Harvard to serve as chemist of the Agriculture Experiment Station, Logan, Utah. On June 1, 1898, he was married to a beautiful young woman, Miss Leah Dunford, eldest daughter of Susa Young Gates. The young couple went to Germany where he earned the PhD degree in biochemistry at the University of Gottingen. This was followed by postdoctoral studies at the Zurich Polytechnium in Switzerland and the University of London, in England.
While in Europe he was offered the presidency of the Brigham Young College by cablegram from the chairman of its board of trustees. A cablegram from President Joseph F. Smith of the First Presidency followed the next day, advising him not to accept the Brigham Young College presidency but to return to what is now Utah State University where he built up agricultural research, establishing scientific dry farming and irrigation practices to bless the arid lands of the world.
He became the father of scientific irrigation practices and dry farming. His books and articles were published in French, Italian, and Arabic and were widely used in arid regions throughout the world as well as in the United States and Canada. He was then called by the U.S. Secretary of the Interior to revise the reclamation laws and policies of the United States. He became the president of Utah State University in Logan, Utah (1907–1916) and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, Utah (1916–1921). In March 1921 he was called to be an apostle by President Heber J. Grant and continued in that position throughout a long and eventful life. At his funeral in the Salt Lake Tabernacle in 1952, a telegram of appreciation for his great services to Canada was read; it was from the prime minister.
The life of John A. Widtsoe can serve as an example to every young man and young woman of the Church and of the world in these times, especially to those about to enter college, the world of work, and family life.
Recall his words:
“Realizing that happiness in life is only obtained by having a pure heart, a clear conscience; and fearing the Lord and keeping his commandments … I lay down the following regulations by which I shall try to conduct my life.”
Again, it would be well if all young men and women wrote down the regulations by which they desire to conduct their lives. Elder Widtsoe often counseled young people to “make promises. Then keep those promises.”
His commitment to the search for truth, for knowledge, was a notable landmark in the history of young Latter-day Saints. President of two state universities, he was also a member of the executive committee of Brigham Young University for many years and one of its guiding lights. He also served twice as Church Commissioner of Education. Fundamental as his commitment was to research and extending the fields of knowledge, his commitment to the Author of Truth, our Heavenly Father, and his faith in him was even greater. He recognized faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as not only the first principle of the gospel but also referred to such faith as “the greater knowledge.”
One of his poems, written as a Harvard student, now appears in LDS Hymns with a musical setting by Alexander Schreiner (“Lead Me Into Life Eternal”). Here one finds the lines, “Give me faith, the greater knowledge; Father hear me as I pray.” (No. 141.)
Can we overcome handicaps in these times? Can a person without money, family ties, or influence with people in high positions make his way in today’s world? Can we reconcile faith and knowledge?
We certainly can.
How?
By utilizing the same principles that Elder Widtsoe established for his life at a very early age. His example can be commended to all young men and young women today.
In his book “In Search of Truth,” Elder Widtsoe offered a formula we can follow. It served him well. It will serve anyone well. It is: “Work, work, work. Study, study, study. Pray, pray, pray.”

Young: I could go on for an hour if you want. At the beginning of my mission, I remember praying and praying that I would feel like I was doing something worthwhile. After about two weeks, we started teaching a little family out in a village. Most of the conversation was going right by me, because I was just starting to get hold of the language. The mother started crying, and my companion asked her what was wrong. She wanted to explain that she’d had a dream. In the dream she had seen a great white building. Down in Honduras there aren’t too many of those. People were dressed in white and they were going in and out of this beautiful building. Then she said, “Outside that building, waiting to take us in, was Elder Young.”
I realized she was talking about the temple, even though she didn’t know it. And I said, “Look what I’m involved with, helping people to be eternal families.” And it happened. The family was baptized a couple of weeks later and I got a letter last summer telling me they were sealed in the Guatemala Temple.
That’s something more important than any football success I might have. That’s something I can say for myself later, that I was involved in something like that.

Brad took to Scouting with the same gusto as the other boys his age. Hiking, swimming, and other strenuous activities didn’t discourage him. He asked no special treatment in passing his Scouting tests, and he got none. A Scoutmaster recalls the astonishment of canoeing instructors at Bear Lake when Brad emerged from the water wearing his “fishing leg.” Some of the merit badges, Life Saving for example, were especially difficult, but they were goals, and they were met.

Brad’s leg has never been a source of embarrassment to himself or his family, so it has never been a source of embarrassment to others. There is something about Brad that makes it easier to envy him than to pity him. He was always expected to do his share of the work at home and to accomplish just as much outside the home as the other children. He was also allowed to take part in the rough and tumble play of the neighborhood boys the same as everyone else. His “handicap was simply never treated as a limiting factor.

In fact, it gave him a rather novel way of having fun. Throughout school he delighted in playing tricks on substitute teachers by such little devices as calmly turning his leg around backwards in class, or kicking it off entirely in the middle of a spirited game of playground ball. One little classmate was so impressed with the possibilities that he went home and tearfully demanded “a leg like Brad’s.”

An incident that took place one summer typifies Brad’s attitude. “I was at the swimming pool and had on my fishing leg, of course. A little boy saw it, and of course he pointed and said right out loud, ‘Look, Mommy! That guy’s leg!’ His mom was embarrassed. I walked over to her and said, ‘Don’t worry; you’ve got a good boy there; he’s observant. Don’t try to cover it up. I’m not.’”

Now is the time of year when most of us get out a clean sheet of paper and write down a list of new year’s resolutions we have absolutely no intention of keeping. We will find plenty of “handicaps” along the way to use as excuses for failure, and then next year we will still have the same unaccomplished goals to put down on another clean sheet of paper.

This year when we get ready to abandon the last resolution on the list, perhaps we should form a mental picture of a red-headed young man with freckles, in a green and white jersey, with absolutely no handicaps, lining up a field goal.

Maybe we can’t all kick a 49-yard field goal; our talents don’t all lie in the same areas. But we can do a lot more than we are doing, and there’s no better time to begin than right now at the beginning of a new year.

That’s part of Brad’s philosophy too. “What you do now—your habits, studies, morals, goals—it all adds up to what you’re going to be in the end.”

I have felt impressed to share a personal witness of how life's greatest test, task and commandment blend together to bless and develop us.

On Saturday, December 20, 2008, it was a busy day in the Miyasaki home. My wife helped with the finishing touches of our local High School's Operation Merry Christmas. We then cooked breakfast for the basketball team, and after running several more errands, she was getting ready to go score keep at the upcoming basketball games when she complained of chest pains. I deducted it was probably just her fast paced morning, and instructed her to just lie down and rest for a bit. My daughter came and told me that the pain still persisted and I called my sister, a nurse for counsel. She suggested I take her to the Community Care Center for examination. On the way to Rexburg from our home in Sugar City, my wife said in a tearful voice, "I'm too young to die". I scolded her for even thinking that she would die, but little did I know, that in less than one minute, she would state, "I feel like I'm going to faint", and then she went into cardiac arrest. As she went limp, I reached over and placed one hand on her head, offering a short priesthood blessing. I maneuvered my way to the hospital, steering with one arm down the center of the road, and with my other arm headlocking my sweetheart's limp body to keep her upright, until we arrived at the Emergency Room. I ran in and shouted, my wife is not breathing, and quickly the medical personnel rushed her to the emergency room.

I heard the overhead address system call out repeatedly, "Code Blue, Emergency Room". I watched the flat line on the heart monitor, fear overcame me and I called my daughter to tell the family their mother was not breathing nor had a heartbeat. Just as I hung up the phone, in the next miraculous moment, they revived her life.

She was transferred to the hospital in Idaho Falls underwent successful surgery, but still unconscious, the physicians warned me that they did not know how much damage was left by the minutes she was without oxygen before she was brought back to life. For 24 hours they reduced her body temperature to the high 80's to keep the swelling in her brain to a minimum.

I recall sitting by her side during that time, holding her cold hand, wondering what might our future be. Would she be less than what she had been? Would she be able to walk, talk, and think? How would our life now be changed?

I remember wondering what I should pray for. A blessing was given, could I pray for more than what she was blessed? What was the will of the Father? Did He want her to be here or did He need her in the next life? Or if she were to survive and be less than normal, did God desire me to live a life of serving my sweetheart?

On Monday morning, some 40 hours since hearing those words, "I'm too young to die", my Darla opened her eyes. During the next two days, she showed remarkable progress, and it looked as if all was well and normal. She was talking, walking, eating, making jokes, and began stating her worries. The doctors were enthused, and reported Darla would be moved to the rehab floor on Wednesday, which meant we were close to release, possibly on Christmas day. It was now Tuesday night, and after the visitors and family all left, Darla and I were alone in the room, holding hands, I offered a prayer of thanks.

After the prayer, Darla asked me, "Why did this happen to me?"
I responded, "Probably to learn some important lessons."
After a moment, Darla said, "I don't know of any lessons I have learned," then she asked, "what have you learned?"
I then rehearsed to her many lessons that I had learned, but one of the great lessons I rehearsed was from the teachings of Paul found in Ephesians 5:25: "Husbands, love your wives even as Christ also loved the church."

My discovery that night, was the answer to the question, "how do we take hold of the good root?"
We do it by following the example of our Savior. We taste of the sweetness of the blessings of the atonement when we abide by his invitation of "...that which ye have seen me do even that shall ye do."[12]

During the night after that sacred conversation, my Sweetheart suffered a severe stroke. The doctors after examining the MRI results reported that the bleeding in her brain was so severe, that Darla had lost her ability to speak, think, and be mobile. They posed a possible surgical intervention that at best preserve a vegetative state, but even at that stated her chance to survive the surgery was 50/50. Without surgery, they speculated she would die within a few hours.

As patriarch, I gathered our family into a hospital room. There I announced to them the state of my wife, their mother, their sister, and grandmother. The scene was heart wrenching. We had to make a quick decision. Should it be surgery with the best possible results a vegetative state, or let fate take its course and have Darla with us only a few more hours. A beautiful, heart searching family prayer was offered by my son, Jared, and the will of the Lord was revealed. Darla's mortal mission was complete, and we must submit to the will of the Father.

Brothers and Sisters, submission to the Father's will in all things is a pattern of love. It is the essential characteristic of the atonement and receiving the blessings of the atonement. It shows we trust in Him, that we love Him most, and in turn we can love others best. He then can bless us in ways that we cannot see nor comprehend. We then can produce fruit that we and He can lay up against the season.

Six days had now passed since we made the decision, and Darla was in an unconscious state throughout this time, her body hanging on to mortality, but day by day growing closer to death. On this sixth night, we had a dinner of take out Chinese food, which of course included the fortune cookies. We joked about how lame the messages of fortune had become, my message echoed this as it read, "the evening promises romantic interests". We all shared a laugh about my untimely message of fortune. For when one envisions romance, certain images appear of a night out, possibly going to a nice dinner, having wonderful caring conversations, and then cuddling and loving each other. That was certainly not in my cards that night.

I discovered that night what true romance really is. That last night of being together in this mortality was filled with pure love and romance. After my family had left, and it was just my sweetheart and I in the hospital room, I told my unconscious Darla that this would most likely be our last night together. I shared with her that I was ready to let her go and asked if she was ready. I noticed her eyes twitching, something that I had not seen for a week. I asked her if she could to respond by squinting her eyes once for yes and twice for no. She responded with a squint. It was evident her spirit was alive and was able to communicate with me. She responded that she was also ready to go on.

We then started the night with a prayer. I then read scriptures to her from sections 130, 132, and 138 from the Doctrine and Covenants, Alma 7, 42, and 43, and from the 5th book of Ephesians. I shared with her my testimony and lessons I had learned from each of those scriptures. We prayed again. During the time in the hospital, I tried very hard not to counsel the Lord, and not ask for things that were contrary to His will. I tried to really pray in the name of Christ, and to have the mind of Christ. That night as we prayed, I felt the feeling that anything I asked that night would be granted, and so I offered my sweetheart, pure, clean, and ready for service in the next life. I then laid my hands on my eternal companion's head and gave her the last priesthood blessing in this mortality. Then, after this most beautiful night, positioning chairs so I could lay down next to Darla, we then held hands the remainder of the night, all night long.

That, my friends, was truly a night of romance and pure love. Not a penny was spent, there was no fancy dressing up, no expensive dinners, not one dependency on outside entertainment. Yet, our spirits were molded into one, our hearts were bound, we were one in purpose though soon our paths would be temporarily separated, never would our eternal destiny differ.

As I went through this ordeal, there was nothing more I desired than for my sweetheart to live. We had a future with plans of serving in the temple, going on missions, and enjoying our family. Because of loving God first, I was able to love my Sweetheart the best. Because of submitting our will to the will of the Lord, we were blessed with so many miracles and continue to be blessed.

Several years ago my home teaching companion, Richard Lindstrom, had significant health issues. I would try to be sensitive to his situation by scheduling our visits on his good days. On one occasion, I asked him if he felt well enough to go home teaching. His response is instructive. He said something like, “To be honest, Paul, I feel like garbage, but I can feel like garbage staying home or I can feel like garbage home teaching, so, let’s go home teaching.” That’s powerful! You don’t have to be free of problems and feel good to do good.

An acquaintance of mine used to live in a ward with some of the highest statistics in the Church—attendance was high, home teaching numbers were high, Primary children were always well behaved, ward dinners included fantastic food that members rarely spilled on the meetinghouse floor, and I think there were never any arguments at Church ball.

My friend and his wife were subsequently called on a mission. When they returned three years later, this couple was astonished to learn that during the time they were away serving, 11 marriages had ended in divorce.

Although the ward had every outward indication of faithfulness and strength, something unfortunate was happening in the hearts and lives of the members. And the troubling thing is that this situation is not unique. Such terrible and often unnecessary things happen when members of the Church become disengaged from gospel principles. They may appear on the outside to be disciples of Jesus Christ, but on the inside their hearts have separated from their Savior and His teachings. They have gradually turned away from the things of the Spirit and moved toward the things of the world.

Once-worthy priesthood holders start to tell themselves that the Church is a good thing for women and children but not for them. Or some are convinced that their busy schedules or unique circumstances make them exempt from the daily acts of devotion and service that would keep them close to the Spirit. In this age of self-justification and narcissism, it is easy to become quite creative at coming up with excuses for not regularly approaching God in prayer, procrastinating the study of the scriptures, avoiding Church meetings and family home evenings, or not paying an honest tithe and offerings.

My dear brethren, will you please look inside your hearts and ask the simple question: “Lord, is it I?”

Other outgoing teenagers find they are not isolated because of their religious beliefs. Fourteen-year-old Geraldine Hall of Exeter Ward in Devon attends a Church of England school. She finds schoolmates accepting her beliefs without prejudice. She even manages to share her testimony.

“After a home economics lesson one week,” Geraldine says, “the teacher asked, ‘Who would like a cup of tea?’ Of course they all said ‘yes please’—except me. When someone asked, ‘Why don’t you drink tea?’ one friend answered, ‘Because she’s a Moron.’ ‘Not Moron—Mormon,’ I replied. Then, whilst they all sat round, I explained what we were really called and why. After that no one’s ever tried to belittle my faith.”

My mother loved that scripture and lived its principle. The greatest affliction of her life was the death of her husband, our father, after only 11 years of marriage. This changed her life and imposed great hardships as she proceeded to earn a living and raise her three little children alone. Nevertheless, I often heard her say that the Lord consecrated that affliction for her gain because her husband’s death compelled her to develop her talents and serve and become something that she could never have become without that seeming tragedy. Our mother was a spiritual giant, strong and fully worthy of the loving tribute her three children inscribed on her headstone: “Her Faith Strengthened All.”
The blessings of adversity extend to others. I know it was a blessing to be raised by a widowed mother whose children had to learn how to work, early and hard. I know that relative poverty and hard work are not greater adversities than affluence and abundant free time. I also know that strength is forged in adversity and that faith is developed in a setting where we cannot see ahead.

As a college student, I heard a wonderful Relief Society lesson on service. The teacher said, “If you pray for Heavenly Father to open your eyes to the needs of others so you can help them, He will do so.”
That sentence stayed with me. I wanted to serve others but hadn’t thought to ask Heavenly Father for help. So I decided to give it a try. The next morning I knelt and prayed, “Heavenly Father, if there is anyone who needs my help today, please let me know.” I finished my prayer and headed to class.
Amid the hustle of the day, I forgot my prayer. During the afternoon I went to the grocery store. As I stood in line to pay for my groceries, I noticed an elderly woman who used a cane for support. I smiled at her and glanced at the groceries she was buying. I thought, How is she going to get those groceries into her house? I pushed aside the thought, finished paying for my own items, and headed out of the store. I noticed the woman standing next to her car while a store employee loaded her groceries into the trunk. The thought came to me again: How is she going to get those groceries into her house?
With some frustration, I countered: But what can I do? Follow her home? I had an immediate strong feeling that this idea was correct, so I gave in and drove down the road after her. I kept thinking: This is crazy! Why am I following this woman home? Soon we arrived at her apartment complex. I ran over to her and asked, “Can I help you with these groceries?”
Puzzled, the woman looked at me and asked if I lived nearby. I told her I did not. “Do you work here?” she asked.
I explained that I had seen her in the grocery store and had worried about how she would carry all those groceries into her home. At that point she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I was wondering the entire way home how I was going to get my groceries into my home.”
Later, as I drove home, my own eyes blurred with tears. I had experienced the wonderful influence of the Holy Ghost touching two lives through the power of prayer. The words of Alma 17:9 came to me: “They … prayed much that the Lord would grant unto them a portion of his Spirit to go with them, and abide with them, that they might be an instrument in the hands of God.”
I am grateful to Heavenly Father for the special gift of the Holy Ghost that not only blesses our lives but also helps us bless the lives of others.

Summer arrived, full of sunshine and long days. It was never dark, not even at midnight. I was happy and felt like myself again. But as the days rapidly shortened in September, my depression returned and suicidal thoughts infiltrated my mind. I was frightened. At first I tried what I had tried the previous year: praying more, exercising more, and trying harder at everything. But the suicidal urges grew stronger and more severe. I struggled for two months and finally realized that I couldn’t survive another winter on my own. I realized that Heavenly Father has blessed us with modern medicine and doctors. To recover, I needed to be willing to open up about my depression and visit a doctor.
Asking for help was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I could hardly speak through my tears when I told my husband about my depression and that I needed help. I couldn’t say the word suicide out loud. My husband made an appointment with a psychiatrist for me.
My doctor prescribed medicine, which helped me get through the winter. Like many people, I struggled to find the right dosage and deal with the side effects. This brought additional stress to my marriage and my family, but my husband and my children supported me.

When I was a young boy, our family was terribly poor. Father had no job because he was going through law school at the University of Utah. He had a wife and three young sons. Grandfather and Grandmother knew that we would have no Christmas if we did not come down to the farm in Millard County. So all of our family took the train from Salt Lake to Leamington, Utah. Where the money came from for the tickets, I will never know.
Grandfather and Uncle Esdras met us at the railroad crossing in Leamington with a team of big horses to pull the open sleigh through the deep snow to Oak City. It was so cold that the huge horses had icy chin whiskers and you could see their breath. I remember how old Jack Frost nipped my nose and the extreme cold made it hard to breathe. Grandmother had heated some rocks and put them in the bottom of the sleigh to help keep us warm. We were wrapped and tucked into some heavy camp quilts with just our noses sticking out. Accompanied by the tinkle of bells on leather harness straps of the horses, we musically traveled from Leamington over the ten miles to Oak City, where our beloved grandfather and grandmother lived. So many dear ones were there that we could hardly wait to arrive. When we got there it was warm and wonderful and exciting.
In the corner of the living room was the Christmas tree—a cedar cut from the hillside pasture. It was already partially decorated by Mother Nature with little berries that helped give it a strong smell. Our decorations were popcorn strings made by threading popcorn with a needle and a thread. They had to be handled carefully or they would break and strew popcorn all over the floor.
We also had paper chains to put on the tree, made by cutting up old catalogs and pasting together the paper links with flour paste. The sticky flour paste got all over our hands, faces, and clothes. I wonder why they didn’t put sugar in it! With cream it could also have been served for mush.
I do not remember any presents under the tree. Under the tree were popcorn balls made with strong, homemade molasses. When we bit into the popcorn balls, it felt like they were biting back!
On Christmas Eve we all gathered around the wood stove, enjoying the warm comfort of the fire and the pleasant aroma of the burning cedar wood. One of the uncles gave the opening prayer. We sang carols and hymns. One of our aunts read of the birth of Jesus and of the “good tidings of great joy. … For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10–11). Grandfather and Grandmother then told us how much they loved us.
The next day was Christmas, and we had a glorious dinner. But before we ate, we all got down on our knees for family prayer. I was so hungry. Grandfather prayed for the longest time. You see, he had much to pray for. He prayed for moisture because there was a drought in the land and the crops had been meager. The fall grain had been planted in the dusty ground. What harvest there was could not be sold for much because of the low prices caused by the great depression. The taxes on the farm were delinquent because there was no money to pay them. He also prayed for our large family, his cattle and horses, pigs and chickens, turkeys—he prayed over everything.
During Grandfather’s long prayer, my youngest uncle became restless and gave me an irreverent pinch, hoping that I would shout to make things more exciting.
For dinner we had a huge tom turkey stuffed with delicious dressing. There was no celery in the dressing because we had only the ingredients that could be produced on the farm. But the dressing had plenty of bread, sage, sausage, and onions. There was an abundance of potatoes and gravy and pickles, beets, beans, and corn. Because Grandfather could trade wheat to the miller for flour, there was always freshly baked bread. To stretch the food, we were encouraged to take one bite of bread for every bite of other kinds of food. We had chokecherry jelly and ground-cherry jam. For dessert we had pumpkin and gooseberry pie. It was all delicious.
As I look back on that special Christmas now, the most memorable part was that we did not think about presents. There may have been some handmade mittens or a scarf given, but I do not recall any presents. Presents are wonderful, but I found that they are not essential to our happiness. I could not have been happier. There were no presents that could be seen and held and played with, but there were many wonderful gifts that could be felt.
There was the gift of boundless love. We knew God loved us. We all loved each other. We did not miss the presents because we had all these glorious gifts. It made me feel so wonderful and secure to belong and to be part of all that went on. We wanted nothing else. We did not miss the presents at all. I never remember a happier Christmas in my childhood.

On a visit to London, Stephens first stumbled over his future in the form of Descriptions of an Ancient City, by a Capitán Del Rio, who had visited a strange, ruined city in Mexico called Palenque. He later learned of a second lost Mexican city, Uxmal. In 1835, he eagerly pounced upon a professional journal describing a ruined Honduran city, Copan.
Palenque, Copan, Uxmal. His mind now stirred with visions of nebulous civilization that had existed in Central America. Amazingly enough, he seemed the only one interested. “Instead of electrifying the public,” he wrote, “little notice was taken [of the Copan article].” Nonetheless, he announced his intention to search for those lost cities.
“Nonsense!” roared scientists and public alike. Indians had never progressed beyond savagery. Americans of that age could believe in almost anything other than an “Indian” civilization, in spite of evidence from the conquest. Such proofs were either ignored or downgraded as Spanish public-relations puffery. Scholars and historians held fast to their antiquated beliefs and scorned Stephens’ efforts.
There was, in truth, little documentary evidence to counter what scholars supposed. Joseph Smith’s detractors would vilify him for plagiarism, for example, when there was nothing to plagiarize. Even in 1839, the very well-educated—and rich—Mr. Stephens had great difficulty scraping up any real evidence of an ancient American culture. His meager references were poor in detail. And in Joseph Smith’s time, records were even poorer—or nonexistent.
This dearth of information made even the irrepressible Stephens a bit skeptical, but he had high hopes. In company with a kindred spirit—and accomplished artist—Frederic Catherwood, he set sail for Central America.
Their first goal, Copan, was a sickly village of mud-walled huts. But discovery loomed near. A native guide led them through the jungle to a riverbank. Opposite reared a hundred-foot-high stone wall—the edge of ancient Copan and of a new era in history. Quickly crossing the river and scaling the wall, they found themselves amid the fallen relics of a forgotten civilization.
“Working our way through the thick woods,” Stephens wrote. “we came upon a square stone column, about fourteen feet high … sculptured on all four … sides … in very bold relief … they were works of art … some equal to the finest monuments of the Egyptians.
“America [said historians of the 1830’s] was peopled by savages; but savages never built these structures, savages never carved these stones. When we asked the Indians if they knew who made them, their dull answer was ‘Quién sabe? [Who knows?]’”
The scholars and historians of the Western world could not have answered any better. Copan—and the Mayas—surged to their lofty level of art and culture while Europe descended into the gloom of the dark ages. They conquered the jungles and strung their cities through Yucatan like sparkling gems on a jeweled collar. But for the Old World, their deeds and histories were as quiet as the silent jungle they lived in.
Sometime before A.D. 900, however, the Mayas abruptly and mysteriously stepped off the stage of history. For a thousand years, Copan lay buried by the thick, heavy Honduran jungle until disturbed in 1839 by Stephens and Catherwood.
The pair could not see it all—the jungle was too thick. They concentrated on the unburied “idols,” or stelae. These were huge, thirty-ton monoliths carved with an incredible profusion of figures, flowers, and animals. Erected on set dates to commemorate events unknown to us, they climaxed the Mayan genius.
In a two-year journey, Stephens and Catherwood discovered and rediscovered Copan, Palenque, Uxmal, Chichén Itzá, and forty other ruined Mayan sites. The mystery deepened, and Stephens’ reactions were rhapsodic. At Palenque, he said:
“Here were the remains of a cultivated, polished, and peculiar people, who had passed through all the stages of the rise and fall of nations; reached their golden age, and perished entirely unknown. The links which connected them with the human family were severed and lost, and these were the only memorials of their footsteps upon earth … In the romance of the world’s history, nothing ever impressed me more forcibly than the spectacle of this once great and lovely city, overturned, desolate, and lost; discovered by accident, overgrown with trees for miles around, and without even a name to distinguish it.”
The dedication of the two explorers in uncovering these mysteries baffles the modern mind. In an age when gentlemen stayed at home, these two suffered hunger, malaria, myriads of insect attacks, extreme physical discomfort, and near brushes with death. To accomplish what?
History judges Stephens among the great. His contribution is rated equal to Jean Francois Champollion (1790–1832), French Egyptologist who discovered a stone that had writing in three languages. From the stone, he was able to decipher ancient Egyptian writing; or to Heinrich Schliemann (1822–1890), German archeologist, who excavated the city of Troy in Anatolia, proving this legendary Greek city actually existed.
From our point of view. Stephens’ importance is momentous: John Lloyd Stephens and Joseph Smith never met, but the Book of Mormon’s cry in the wilderness was now reinforced as Stephens’ physical testimony of Lehi’s people swept over the world.

When the members of the Church in Missouri were being persecuted, the Prophet Joseph Smith made their tribulation a matter of prayer and received a revelation on 24 February 1834. The Lord instructed the prophet to assemble at least 100 young men and middle-aged men and go to the land of Zion or Missouri (see D&C 103:19–20, 34).

Zion’s Camp, a group of approximately 150 men, gathered at Kirtland, Ohio, in the spring of 1834 and marched to western Missouri. By the time they reached Missouri, the camp had increased to approximately 200 men.

The purpose of the trek was to join the Saints in Missouri, to buy lands in Jackson County and surrounding counties, and to retrieve those lands taken by mobs who had dispossessed the Missouri Saints of considerable portions of their property.

When they reached Missouri, after extensive negotiations with Governor Dunklin failed to produce desired results, it was felt advisable to disband Zion’s Camp and await some future opportunity for the redemption of Zion.

Most of those who had formed Zion’s Camp returned to Kirtland which was, at that time, the center of ecclesiastical activity.

The “journey to Zion’s Camp” was regarded by many as an unprofitable and unsuccessful episode. A brother in Kirtland who did not go with the camp, meeting Brigham Young on his return, said to him: “Well, what did you gain on this useless journey to Missouri with Joseph Smith?”

“All we went for!” replied Brigham Young. “I would not exchange the experience I gained on the expedition for all the wealth in Geauga County.”

The journey covered more than 1,000 miles, and there were dissentions from within and hostile demonstrations from without. There were hardships and disappointments, but these experiences had real value because from this group many became the leaders in the exodus of 12,000 people from Missouri to Nauvoo, and then later many became leaders in the great western exodus from Nauvoo to the Salt Lake Valley.

In February 1835, the brethren who had accompanied the Prophet Joseph to Missouri as members of Zion’s Camp were called together, and from their numbers the Quorum of the Twelve and the Seventies were chosen. The Prophet explained that the trials and tribulations endured by the members of Zion’s Camp were not in vain, and it was the will of God

that those who went to Zion, with a determination to lay down their lives, if necessary, should be ordained to the ministry, and go forth to prune the vineyard for the last time. [HC 2:182]

In the light of these events, it is evident that Zion’s Camp experiences were of immense value both to the individuals involved and to the Church.

Gaining a testimony and being baptized were among the highlights in the life of Kriangkrai Pitakpong. Other highlights include his marriage to Mukdahan, whom he introduced to the Church; his callings as president of the Khon Kaen Branch and then as president of the Khon Kaen District; and a 1990 airplane flight with his family and other Thai Saints to the Manila Philippines Temple.
“When we flew to Manila, it was a milestone in the history of the Church in Thailand. There were about two hundred of us. We were all very excited,” he remembers. “It was a trip we had planned for a long time. It was very expensive, approximately $350 per person. Everyone worked hard to raise the money to go. Even our ten-year-old daughter, Kesarin, made some money selling charcoal for cooking. It was a special time for us.”

Once there was a man who liked taking evening walks around his neighborhood. He particularly looked forward to walking past his neighbor’s house. This neighbor kept his lawn perfectly mowed, withblooming flowers and healthy, shady trees. It was obvious that the neighbor worked hard to have a beautiful lawn.
But one day as the man was walking past his neighbor’s house, he noticed in the middle of this beautiful lawn one enormous yellow dandelion weed. It looked so out of place that it surprised him. Why didn’t his neighbor pull it out? Couldn’t he see it? This dandelion bothered the man so much that he wanted to do something about it. Should he spray it with weed killer? Perhaps if he went at night, he could remove it secretly.
The man kept thinking about the dandelion as he walked toward his home. He walked into his house without even glancing at his own front yard—which was covered with hundreds of yellow dandelions!
approach: come to
teachable: ready to learn
I’m not sure why we are able to tell people how to fix their problems so well, while we often have difficulty seeing our own. But we need to see ourselves clearly. We must approach our Heavenly Father with teachable minds. We must be willing to learn and change. As we do so, God will lead us by the hand. We will “be made strong, and blessed from on high” (D&C 1:28).
Jesus Christ taught not to judge other people. He asked why we would pay attention to a small speck, or mote, that was in someone else’s eye if we had a large piece of wood, or beam, stuck in our own eye! Read what Jesus said below.
“Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? … First cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye” (Matthew 7:3, 5).
Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, each of us can change for the better! Draw a line between the two pictures of the same child. How did that child choose to change?

After boot camp and medical training, I was assigned to an air force base in Colorado, USA. One day, I received a letter from my oldest brother stationed in the Philippines. He had joined the air force about a year before I did. He told me that he had become a member of the Church, and he wanted me to meet with the missionaries. I immediately recalled the experience in boot camp with the brave airman. My wife and I met with the missionaries, and we were soon baptized.
A few months later, I had the missionaries visit my younger brother. He and his wife were also baptized. My brothers and I now have large families with grandchildren. We all love the Lord and His Church.