Gospel Story Finder

He found that his life experiences had also prepared him in ways he couldn’t foresee. President Kaumaitotoya had a very difficult childhood. As a young teenager, he climbed a hill one day to pray and to ask God why he had to go through such hard things.
He recalled, “I was really angry with God. I couldn’t understand why the Lord would let me go through such hard things. I was asking Him why?”
Kaumaitotoya didn’t understand, at first, the answer that came on the hill that day: “For your experience.”
As he served, he made sense of what “for your experience” meant, when a teary congregant walked into his office to seek his ecclesiastical counsel about a similar family situation. Afterwards, it dawned on Kaumaitotoya what the answer to his boyhood prayer meant. His path and his challenges had prepared him to minister to and serve people with understanding and love.

I’ve admitted that school was never really easy, but I can identify a few discrete examples of things that made it more enjoyable. The first occurred early in grade school. I was not an early reader. My mother, who had been a first-grade teacher, encouraged me all that she could, but for some reason I was not interested. A defining moment transpired at the beginning of the third grade. Mrs. Brown, our teacher, evaluated our entering reading competence and determined that I was more suited to take the B, or easier, version of the Weekly Reader. This was based on her evaluation of my poor reading skills.

I was shocked, my mother was embarrassed, and together we agreed to change things in short order—which we did. My fifth-grade teacher could not understand my mother’s elation when it was reported at parent-teacher conference that I had developed the “terrible habit” of always having a book open in my lap even when the class was supposed to be working on something else. I have never gotten over my love of reading or my appreciation for Mrs. Brown.

As a young husband and father, David Haight attended Church meetings regularly, served in callings as requested, and enjoyed them. But there came a moment, during World War II, that was a critical turning point in his life as far as serving in the Church was concerned.
One chilly evening he left his wife and three small children standing on a landing dock off Treasure Island, in San Francisco Bay, as he flew out in a seaplane bound for Hawaii. Lieutenant Commander Haight spent a sleepless night over the dark Pacific in the noisy, vibrating airplane, thinking about what was important in his life. He realized that all that was of real value to him he had left back on the dock, and he wanted his family to be with him for eternity.
He felt his commitment to Church service had not been all that it could have been. He promised the Lord that if his life was spared through the war, he would accept whatever call came to him and do whatever it required. It represented, says his son Bruce, a new look at his life’s goals—the closing of one door, in a way, and the opening of another.

Steve Young is one of the most gifted young men that I have ever known. He is fast, strong, big, handsome, … and rich. It is easy for us to look at Steve and say, “With all those attributes, you ought to be great.” However, it is more than his physical attributes that have made him great; it is the way he thinks! When Steve was a junior and was starting his first season as our quarterback, we had one of the greatest opportunities presented to us in our football program at BYU. We were scheduled to play Herschel Walker and the University of Georgia, the defending national champions. We worked very hard and felt we had a chance to beat them if we played our very best and did not make mistakes.
Before 82,000 fans, and on a “rainy day in Georgia,” Steve threw five interceptions in the first half of the game—more than he would normally throw in five games! In spite of the interceptions and two missed field goal attempts, we were still tied 7–7 at halftime.
Going into the dressing room, I thought to myself that I must talk to Steve and assure him that everything would be fine. The rain, the crowd, the tipped balls, etc.—I had all the excuses ready for throwing five interceptions in one half. I started explaining this to Steve and before I could finish, Steve stopped me, looked at me as if I was crazy, and said, “Hey coach, there’s no problem. I can hardly wait to get back out there. We’re going to win.” I found myself thinking, “What do you mean there’s no problem, you dummy. You have just thrown five interceptions!” It’s the way he thinks. That’s what has made him what he is and enabled him to accomplish what he has done. As you know, this was just the start of a career that would see him become one of the finest quarterbacks to play the game of college football.

One cold winter morning when I was about eleven years old, I woke up with the strongest feeling that something was wrong. I went upstairs to see my parents, but they weren’t there. In about five or ten minutes the phone rang, and it was my mother calling from the hospital. She told me that my father had been in a car accident.
My father worked late hours at a dairy that was an hour’s drive from home. That night he had had to stay past his usual quitting time. As he was driving home, he fell asleep and his car rolled about five times. My father was severely injured when he was thrown through the windshield. He landed in a puddle of mud and snow. The cold helped stop the bleeding, but when he was taken to the hospital, the doctors who examined him didn’t expect him to live.
I’ll never forget the bishop and his two counselors coming to our home that afternoon. They gathered our family together, and the bishop offered a prayer that my father’s life would be spared and that he would return to his normal health. As I listened to the prayer, I had a very warm, strong feeling that my father wouldn’t pass away.
He was in a coma for three weeks, but the bishop’s prayer was answered. In fact, a highway patrolman, a friend of my bishop’s, wrote a book in which he talked about the worst accident he had ever seen, in which the man’s life was spared. That man was my father.

I’m happy to be a Latter-day Saint here in the Philippines. I like to tell my friends that. My religion has taught me many things that my friends do not know, and one of those things is honesty. Honesty is one simple way to teach my friends to respect me and my religion. An experience that happened recently proved that.
I’d gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class my stomach kept making this funny sound, telling me I was hungry. So during recess, I hurried to a nearby barbecue stand. I took two sticks of meat, ate them, then went back to class.
When our teacher asked us to copy something on the board, I reached into my pocket for a pencil, and found that my money for the sticks was still in my pocket! Without hesitation, I ran back to the store and paid for my snack. The vendor was so happy he gave me another stick free.
I went back to the classroom smiling but found a very angry teacher there. I’d forgotten to ask permission to leave, and she wanted to know what I’d been doing.
I told her everything, and to my surprise she put her arm on my shoulder and facing the class, she said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.”
Then she asked me why I returned the money when I easily could have kept it. I answered, “Because I am a deacon, and my bishop won’t let me pass the sacrament if I’m not worthy.” She didn’t quite understand what I was talking about and asked again why I hadn’t kept the money.
I answered, “Because we believe in being honest.”
“Why? What’s your religion?” She wanted to know.
Without hesitation I said, “I’m a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded. “No wonder.”
My teacher made me feel like a giant that day. I’m glad I followed the 13th article of faith [A of F 1:13], which starts, “We believe in being honest, true …” Honesty really is the best policy.

In the 1960s, a professor at Stanford University began a modest experiment testing the willpower of four-year-old children. He placed before them a large marshmallow and then told them they could eat it right away or, if they waited for 15 minutes, they could have two marshmallows.
He then left the children alone and watched what happened behind a two-way mirror. Some of the children ate the marshmallow immediately; some could wait only a few minutes before giving in to temptation. Only 30 percent were able to wait.
It was a mildly interesting experiment, and the professor moved on to other areas of research, for, in his own words, “there are only so many things you can do with kids trying not to eat marshmallows.” But as time went on, he kept track of the children and began to notice an interesting correlation: the children who could not wait struggled later in life and had more behavioral problems, while those who waited tended to be more positive and better motivated, have higher grades and incomes, and have healthier relationships.
What started as a simple experiment with children and marshmallows became a landmark study suggesting that the ability to wait—to be patient—was a key character trait that might predict later success in life.

As a young girl I often went with friends to pick cherries in the summer for a local farmer. I remember one hot day in July when we had eaten our sack lunches under a tree. Being very weary, we decided not to go back to work in the afternoon but instead to strike for higher wages. We felt a sudden power and adulthood as we sat in the shade on our overturned buckets.
I was eager to report to my family later in the day about our mature negotiations with the farmer. My mother, who was normally very gentle, surprised me by expressing great disappointment. She was extremely upset that we had inconvenienced that farmer when he had a crop in need of picking.
I never did learn whether I was worth more than three cents a pound, but I learned a permanent lesson—in our family we valued service and the needs of others more than power and money. Since that time it has been reassuring for me to learn that many great people I know work for much less money than they are worth because service is a greater value to them than money. Whatever career or profession you pursue, consider the value of service.

Jana Morrell is poised and ready. She inches toward home plate with a bat resting comfortably on her shoulder. She stares down the pitcher, who in this case happens to be her older sister Jodie. At first base, another sister, Jill, is waiting. In the outfield is Jana’s father and her older brother, Jason. Waiting on deck is Jana’s mom. Dinner has been served and eaten. Now it’s time for baseball.
Jana lets the first pitch go by. “Outside,” she says. Since there’s no umpire, they all take her word. Jodie winds up and delivers the next pitch, which Jana fouls off. The count is one ball and one strike, but in this game, it doesn’t even matter. No one keeps track of the count, and there is no striking out. You bat until you hit, which Jana intends to do.
When the next pitch is delivered, Jana makes contact and sends the ball rolling toward Jodie. Jana takes off for first base, going as fast as she can. Jodie gets to the ball and throws it to a waiting Jill. Jana beats the throw and is safe. She then leans back in her specially made cart and smiles. Instead of running to first base, Jana “pedaled” with her hands to get down the baseline.
“I know when we play baseball, it makes Jana feel good knowing she can do the things we do,” says Jill, 14. “We don’t play the games for the competition.” Obviously, who wins and loses isn’t the point of the Morrells’ backyard baseball games. Playing together as a family is.

Just what is it that these missionaries have or do that brings about this happy phenomenon? I think I came very close to discovering the answer to this question when I received the following letter while serving as a mission president in the Arizona Holbrook Mission.
“Dear Brother Lynn,
“I have been meaning to write to you for some time now and let you know how blessed the members here in Durango are to have Sister Brown and Sister Poss working here. By their dedication and examples, they have done more for the attitude of the members toward missionary work than all the sermons in the world. They are so busy teaching people they don’t have time to come for dinner!
“In the five years we’ve lived here, Durango has just about been dead as far as missionary work goes. We’ve had elders come to our house and tell us how hard this area is. But whatever these sisters have, it has turned everything around. They keep saying it’s the members, but it’s these two special sisters. They have touched our hearts and changed our lives, not by spending time in our homes but by working their hearts out. We have really come to love them.
“Yesterday was their P-day, and they used my washer and dryer to do their laundry. While they were here, they baked a cake for a dinner my husband and I were having for a nonmember friend whom we told about the Church and gave a Book of Mormon to, just last night. It was the first time ever that I have had the courage to do that. (They baked the cake for me because I’m in a wheelchair and unable to do it.) So if they inspire me to become involved in missionary work, they are doing miracles.
“I just wanted you to know how hard they work to keep the rules and do things right. Yesterday was the second or third time they have been in our home in the months they’ve been here, so it isn’t because they’ve spent time with us that we feel this way. They love Heavenly Father’s children. You can feel that love when they welcome you to church on Sunday. I know they are teaching the gospel with the pure love of Christ. That’s what has made the difference. I was thinking this morning that if every missionary in the field, elder or sister, filled their missions the way these two are, the Church would experience incredible growth.
“I’m certainly a better person for having met these young women and seeing their dedication. You could talk to anyone in the wards here, and they would tell you the same thing. I wish I could write to their parents to let them know how we feel. But the sisters wouldn’t give me their addresses, so I can’t brag about them. They don’t feel like they’re special. But they are, and I wanted you to know we think so.
“Sincerely,
“Roberta and Gene Shirley”

I appreciate President Uchtdorf's words, and I know they are true. In 2009, I experienced them for myself as I had the opportunity to work at Walt Disney World as part of the Disney College Program.

When the opportunity first came up, I thought it sounded fun but did not expect to go. However, I was surprised at how direct of a prompting I received about accepting a position. I traveled down to Orlando, Florida, on my own and was assigned to work as a Jungle Cruise Skipper. For those of you who do not know what a Jungle Cruise Skipper is—I wore safari attire, drove boats, and told cheesy jokes. It was awesome!

Actually, it was not quite so awesome at the beginning. My name tag said Brigham Young University-Idaho, and the first few days at the Jungle Cruise, many of my coworkers asked if I was Mormon. I had no problems confirming the question, but it seemed that many of them were uncomfortable and didn't want to talk to me afterwards.

One moment in particular, I walked into the break room in time to hear a girl say, "I don't want to hear about their golden bible." With that, the room went silent, and people avoided eye contact with me. Needless to say, things were a little rocky.

A few days later, I was scheduled to work all day on a Sunday. It was a long, discouraging day, and at the end of my shift, I sat alone at the bus stop waiting to get home. I was confused as to why I had felt so strongly that I needed to come when it seemed like I would be missing church often and I felt like no one wanted me around because of my religion. What was I doing here?

In my moment of despair, I felt a flood of courage come into my heart, and I thought to myself, "This will not break you." I made a choice that I would do all that I could to feed my spirit each day. I would study my scriptures more intently, attend all the meetings I could, and be an active participant in my ward even though I would only be there for a few months. I also decided that regardless of how my coworkers treated me, I would choose to love them and pray for the gift of charity every day.

I did have to work on most Sundays, but I was blessed with late-night shifts that allowed me to attend all of my church meetings, for which I am grateful. I look back on that summer with great fondness. I saw the hand of the Lord in my life, and I made wonderful friends at work. Even though our beliefs and our choices differed, we had fun being together and I knew how much the Lord loved them. I hope they felt that love through my love for them.

I was also blessed to make wonderful friends from my ward with whom I shared many adventures. That summer was a spiritually enriching and fun experience for me. I am still grateful for the opportunity, mostly because I learned so much about how my personal choices for righteousness helped me overcome challenges and increase in happiness.

We encourage those of you who have a large reservation of names to share them so that members of your extended family or ward and stake can help you in completing that work. You can do this by distributing temple cards to ward and stake members willing to help or by using the FamilySearch computer system to submit the names directly to the temple. This latter option is something Cindy Blevins of Casper, Wyoming, has been doing for years.
Sister Blevins was baptized as a teenager and has been the only member of her family to join the Church. She has completed a vast amount of genealogical work. But there are far too many names for her and her immediate family to complete. Consequently, Sister Blevins has submitted the names to the temple, which, she reports, are often completed in a matter of weeks, usually at one of the two temples closest to her home. She says she likes to think that friends and neighbors in her own ward and stake may be among those helping to complete the work for her ancestors. She appreciates their doing so.

Ethan gazed at the colorful video game covers that lined the shelves. His parents said he could pick one game for a birthday present, and there were so many to choose from! Ethan’s eyes jumped from a car racing game to an adventure game to a dance game. Finally, he picked up the racing game and took it to his dad.
“Did you find one you like?” Dad asked.
“I think I want this racing game,” Ethan said.
“Looks fun,” Dad said. “What is it rated?”
Ethan turned the cover over. He knew he could only play games with certain ratings. When he first got his computer, his parents talked to him about the importance of following their family’s rule about video game ratings. Ethan knew that a lot of games had bad stuff in them, and he wanted to be obedient.
Ethan found the rating on the cover and showed Dad. “It’s rated for everyone,” he said.
“Great,” Dad said. “Let’s go pay for it. Happy birthday, Ethan!”
“Thanks, Dad!” Ethan grinned, excited to get home and try out his new game.
A few days later, Ethan went to his friend Chase’s house to play. He and Chase were in the same Primary class, and they played together a lot. Ethan took along his new video game.
“Hi, Ethan,” Chase said when he answered the door. “Come on in. I got a new video game we can play!”
“I did too!” Ethan said, holding out his game.
The boys settled in front of the computer, and Chase put in his game. The title flashed across the screen, and so did the rating. Ethan froze. It was a rating that he wasn’t allowed to play.
Chase eagerly navigated through the menus with his controller and started the game. Ethan didn’t see anything bad yet. He clicked his own controller to move his character in the game. It was fun, but the longer he played, the more uncomfortable he felt. He still hadn’t seen anything bad, but he wanted to follow his family’s rule.
“Hey, Chase, I’m not allowed to play games with this rating,” Ethan spoke up.
“Oh, it’s OK,” Chase said. “There isn’t anything bad in it.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah,” Chase said. “My family plays it. I think it was given the wrong rating.”
Just then, Chase’s mom stuck her head into the room. “Hi, boys,” she said. “Is everything OK?”
Ethan swallowed hard. “Hi, Sister Murphy,” he said. “It’s just that I’m not allowed to play video games with this rating.”
“I told him there wasn’t anything bad in it,” Chase said.
Chase’s mom waved her hand. “Don’t worry, Ethan,” she said. “I know a lot of the games with that rating aren’t good, but I’m sure your mom would let you play this one.” She smiled and then left the room.
Chase continued playing, but Ethan put down his controller. “Chase, how about we play the racing game I brought?” Ethan asked.
Chase shrugged and kept staring at the screen. “Nah, I’d rather play this.”
Ethan quietly got up and went to Chase’s room, where he found some toy racing cars to play with. They weren’t as fun as his video game, but Ethan felt good knowing he was following his family’s rule.

Seth lay in the dark, wondering what had awakened him. His ears strained to hear a noise, and his heart began to pound. There it was again! He jumped, then sighed with relief. It was the new telephone. They had bought it through a mail-order catalog. His dad and their neighbors, the Smiths, used the top strand of the barbed-wire fence that separated their ranches to string a telephone wire on. Then they used old rubber tires as fence connectors so that the lines wouldn’t short out. When the phone was first connected, Seth had listened to Mrs. Smith’s voice describing their new Appaloosa colt. He was so astonished that he couldn’t say a word.
All the neighbors had clamored to be part of the line. Everywhere the barbed-wire fences stretched, neighbor was soon connected to neighbor. Mrs. Bowers even put a switchboard in her house so that callers could be switched from one line to another. Now Seth’s family was even linked by the prairie line to Grandpa and Grandma.
Seth sat up in bed. Grandpa and Grandma! Had something happened to them? Who was calling in the wee hours of the morning? He pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
His father was still talking on the telephone. “I’m sure he’ll do it for you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take him over later today.” He hung the earpiece on its hook, then turned slowly around. “What are you doing up?” he asked Seth in surprise. Dad looked awful.
“What’s happened?” Seth whispered.
His mother stood in the doorway, with baby Janet in her arms. She, too, waited for the answer.
“Grandpa’s had a heart attack,” Father said quietly. “They’re taking him to the hospital in Gillette.”
“Oh, no!” Mother cried. “Is it very bad?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Then he’ll be able to come home.”
Seth felt a little of the worry ease, but he still wished that he could see Grandpa or do something for him. Grandpa was like a best friend. He’d always been there when Seth needed someone to talk to.
“Until he gets strong again, he wants Seth to take care of the farm,” Father added.
“No,” Mother protested. “Seth’s too young to be in charge of a dairy farm.”
“Now, Grace,” Father reassured her, “Dad has already sold most of his cows, and Seth has helped him before. I think that he can do it for a short time. And when I get the roundup and haying finished, I’ll go over every day and give him a hand.”
“But some of those cows are about to calve,” Mother said. “What if something happens?”
Seth tried to think of a way to help persuade her. “I could call you,” he suggested. “The Smith’s have that Model T. Maybe Dad could borrow it in an emergency.” He stood straight and tall. “I want to do this for Grandpa and Grandma, Mom. Please let me.”
She looked lovingly at him. “I forgot about the telephone. Yes, you can go. They’ll need your help until Grandpa can be up and around again, and you’re not so far away, after all, if you can telephone.”
Seth hugged her. Then he ran back to his porch bedroom to pack his bag. He was going to Grandpa’s!
At Grandpa’s farm, Seth found himself faced with a bigger responsibility than he had ever imagined. He worked from before sunup each morning till the last of the milk was separated at night. Tired as he was, he still enjoyed turning the handle on the separator and watching the milk pour out into one bucket while the thick cream came out another spout. Oh how good that cream was on hot oatmeal!
Every night he called his parents just after supper. He felt very important as he cranked the handle around and around until Mrs. Bowers answered. “Good evening, Mrs. Bowers,” he greeted her formally. “Would you switch me to the King home, please?”
“Hello there, Seth,” she answered. “How’s your grandpa?”
He’d chat with her for a few moments while she switched him onto his parents’ line.
Everything was fine until Sweetie decided to be difficult. She’s the most contrary Guernsey cow ever born, Seth thought. Guernseys were known for their placid nature—but not Sweetie. She’d rather kick you than look at you. And now she was calving.
Seth went out to the barn and looked at her. He didn’t know much about it, but he could tell that she was in trouble. Carefully he walked into her stall, talking softly to soothe her. She whirled around and kicked at him. He jumped back, but her hoof grazed his shin.
“Ow!” he yelled and ducked back behind the stall. He rubbed the sore spot, then limped a little on his way back to the house. He cranked the handle on the phone and waited impatiently to talk to his mother. “Mom, Sweetie’s having trouble calving. Is Dad around?”
“Oh, Seth,” Mother said worriedly, “he’s out at roundup and won’t be back till tomorrow.” There was a pause, then she added resolutely, “You’ll just have to do the best you can.”
He felt so alone. “But I don’t know what to do.”
In the silence that followed, Mrs. Bowers spoke up. “Just do what you’ve seen your pa do and then pray!”
When Seth hung up the phone, he didn’t know if he should laugh because Mrs. Bowers had been listening in or cry because he couldn’t do what his dad had done. He was too small. And as for praying, he didn’t even know how. He’d never even been inside a church. He went outside and headed slowly toward the barn.
“Hello there!” a voice called out.
He whirled around and saw two men walking toward him. A tall man in a black coat asked, “Are your folks home?”
He shook his head, too miserable to say anything.
“What’s the matter, son?” the other man asked kindly.
Seth looked up and saw a face full of wrinkles, the kind you get from years of squinting in the sun. It was a face like Grandpa’s—weather-beaten and comfortable.
“Grandpa’s in the hospital, and Sweetie’s calf is turned and can’t be born. She won’t let me near her, and even if she did, I couldn’t help her. Mrs. Bowers said to pray, but I don’t know how. Do you?”
The man’s eyes began to twinkle as the whole sad story tumbled out. “Well,” he said, “first things first. I do know how to pray, and I’ll teach you, but for now let’s look at that cow.”
The man headed for the barn at a brisk walk while stripping off his coat. Taken by surprise, Seth ran along beside him, trying to keep up.
The man knew just what he was doing. When Sweetie lashed a hoof at him, he just chuckled. “Kinda bad tempered for a Guernsey, aren’t you?” He looped a rope on that hoof and tied it down, then patted her and began to work.
Seth couldn’t believe how easy it seemed. In just a short time a little calf lay at their feet, too weak yet to get up. He stared at the new little creature and wondered again at the miracle of birth. Would it live? The man handed him some clean straw. “Rub that calf down with this and dry her off. Then we’ll bring her around to her mama. As soon as she gets some warm milk inside her, she’ll be just fine.”
Seth worked carefully over the calf, then carried her to where Sweetie stood, still tethered, in the corner. The calf bumped her udder and, with tail swishing, drank the strengthening milk.
The man brushed his clothes off. “Do you have a pump I can wash off at?”
“Sure. By the back door,” Seth answered. “Say, thanks, mister. Sweetie is Grandpa’s best milker. That’s how she got her name—for her good cream. He’ll be pleased that she’s all right.”
“You’re welcome, son.” He clapped Seth on the back. “I’m a rancher myself.”
Seth looked up at him, puzzled. “Do you live around here?”
“No. My ranch is on a high desert plateau in Arizona.”
“What are you doing in Wyoming?”
“We’re missionaries of the Lord’s church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Oh, so that’s why you know how to pray.”
The man smiled and began to wash. After he washed and put his jacket on, he turned to the boy. “Now it’s time for that first lesson in prayer.” He bowed his head and addressed Heavenly Father. After he thanked Him for the new little heifer and the young boy who was caring for the farm, he asked for help for Seth and strength for his grandpa.
Seth listened in astonishment. It was so easy! Not much harder than talking to Mother on the prairie line. But did God really listen?
The men left then, promising to return the next day to help with the chores. When Seth reported the day’s events that night on the prairie line, he felt thankful. Then he went into his room, knelt by his bed, and tried to talk to Heavenly Father.
The next morning, he found that the missionaries had returned as promised. They helped him with the milking and other chores, and each day Seth prayed for his grandpa and for help to do the things he had to do. Before long Grandpa came home from the hospital and was feeling much better. Seth was happy to see him, and he told him all about the men who had helped him and taught him how to pray.
Grandpa listened carefully, then said, “I think it’s time you learned more about the Lord’s church.”
Soon after that, Seth and his family went to church with the missionaries, and Seth learned that Heavenly Father really was listening. He never forgot the lesson of the prairie line, the calf, and the two missionaries who had stopped to help. From then on, he knew he could pray whenever he needed help.

A Scout council was accustomed to arranging its summer camp schedule so that the Scouts were moving to the camp on one Sabbath and returning home from camp on the next Sabbath. Latter-day Saint youth were being deprived of religious activities for two successive Sundays. A friendly suggestion to the council authorities brought about a change, so that the camp period ran from Friday to Friday. The Sunday in between was planned so that there were religious services offered for the boys who were in the camp.

Let me illustrate. In 1999 a young man named Todd collapsed from a ruptured blood vessel in his brain. Although Todd and his family were members of the Church, their activity had been sporadic, and none had experienced the blessings of the temple. On the last night of Todd’s life, his mother, Betty, sat at his bedside stroking his hand and said, “Todd, if you really do have to go, I promise I’ll see to it that your temple work gets done.” The next morning, Todd was declared brain dead. Surgeons transplanted Todd’s heart into my patient, a remarkable individual named Rod.
A few months after the transplant, Rod learned the identity of his heart donor’s family and began to correspond with them. About two years later, Todd’s mother, Betty, invited Rod to be present when she went to the temple for the first time. Rod and Betty first met in person in the celestial room of the St. George Utah Temple.
Sometime thereafter, Todd’s father—Betty’s husband—died. A couple of years later, Betty invited Rod to vicariously represent her deceased son in receiving his temple ordinances. Rod gratefully did so, and the proxy work culminated in a sealing room in the St. George Utah Temple. Betty was sealed to her deceased husband, kneeling across the altar from her grandson who served as proxy. Then, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she beckoned for Rod to join them at the altar. Rod knelt beside them, acting as proxy for her son, Todd, whose heart was still beating inside Rod’s chest. Rod’s heart donor, Todd, was then sealed to his parents for all eternity. Todd’s mother had kept the promise she made to her dying son years before.
But the story does not end there. Fifteen years after his heart transplant, Rod became engaged to be married and asked me to perform the sealing in the Provo Utah Temple. On the wedding day, I met with Rod and his marvelous bride, Kim, in a room adjacent to the sealing room, where their families and closest friends were waiting. After briefly visiting with Rod and Kim, I asked if they had any questions.
Rod said, “Yes. My donor family is here and would love to meet you.”
I was caught off guard and asked, “You mean they’re here? Right now?”
Rod replied, “Yes.”
I stepped around the corner and called the family out of the sealing room. Betty, her daughter, and her son-in-law joined us. Rod greeted Betty with a hug, thanked her for coming, and then introduced me to her. Rod said, “Betty, this is Elder Renlund. He was the doctor who took care of your son’s heart for so many years.” She crossed the room and embraced me. And for the next several minutes, there were hugs and tears of joy all around.
After we regained our composure, we moved into the sealing room, where Rod and Kim were sealed for time and all eternity. Rod, Kim, Betty, and I can testify that heaven was very close, that there were others with us that day who had previously passed through the veil of mortality.

Jennette Evans McKay, mother of our ninth prophet, David Oman McKay, had sacrificed a great deal to make it possible for her husband to go on a mission. When the mission call arrived in the mail, Jennette and David had three living children, and a fourth—Annie—was to be born very soon. They owned a large farm that required a lot of work, and they had just saved up enough money to remodel their home and add on more bedrooms.
David was hesitant to leave his wife with so much responsibility, but Jennette said, “Of course you will go! David O. and I will manage quite nicely.”
After her husband left for Scotland, Jennette McKay had the ward priesthood quorums do her spring planting, and she spent a lot of time teaching her young children how to run the farm. They milked the cows, fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and helped harvest their precious crops. And after swearing everyone who knew about it to secrecy, Jennette had their home remodeled without telling her husband in any of her letters to him. She made the kitchen and dining room larger and added several new bedrooms. She was especially proud of the new indoor staircase, which led to the children’s bedrooms upstairs. Now she would no longer have to wrap up warmly on cold winter nights, go outside, climb a ladder, and crawl through a window to tuck her children in bed at night.
When Jennette’s husband returned from his mission, he could not believe his eyes as he toured the home and saw the many improvements. The farm, the home, and, of course, the children had been well taken care of by Jennette McKay.

To begin, I would like to share a story about a time in my life when my faith in the Lord and my faith in myself were tested—and ultimately strengthened—as I felt Him by my side.

On a Sunday evening in November 2020, my husband and I were having our regular planning session for the coming week and reviewing our schedules to make sure we were on top of things. At the time, our three children’s ages were two and a half years, eighteen months, and almost six months. We had three babies under three, both my husband and I worked full-time, my husband served in our ward’s bishopric, and both of us were involved in many other community and family activities. All that definitely made for a hectic schedule!

As we talked, we recognized that it was going to be a busy week. But with joint resolve to make our gospel study more of a priority amidst the busyness of our schedules, we decided to start waking up a half hour earlier than our babies so we could begin our days with gospel study instead of trying to fit it in somewhere else.

The next morning, Monday, November 16, we did just that. It was a peaceful morning filled with the Spirit. As I read that week’s Come, Follow Me assignment in Ether 6 about the Jaredites boarding their barges and commending themselves unto the Lord with the hope of reaching the promised land,2 I had some very specific impressions that I felt I needed to record. I am grateful for the Gospel Library app, which makes recording thoughts and promptings so easy!

My study that morning felt especially powerful for some reason, and I was grateful I had the prompting to record my thoughts. I am a firm believer in the power of recording experiences when we feel the Spirit teaching us, and in this case it would prove especially meaningful in my life.

As my husband, Tom, and I were finishing our study, we heard our sweet babies starting to stir. Our oldest two, Isaac and Zoey, shared a room, and Benny, our youngest, was sleeping in the nursery. Being a little older—and anyone with toddlers can attest to this—Isaac and Zoey had a tendency to get much louder much quicker if we didn’t go get them right away when they woke up, so we went to their room first. We got them dressed, as we normally did, and then I ­finished getting them ready while Tom went to get Benny. A few seconds later, every parent’s worst nightmare became our reality. Benny had stopped breathing as he slept. Despite our most desperate prayers and the heroic efforts of first responders, our angel boy unexpectedly and tragically passed away from sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS).

Over the course of the next few days, I recognized that this was an experience where the rubber met the road with my faith. Did I really believe that what I had been teaching my children was true, that families are forever? Did I believe that the Lord could sustain us through what felt like an insurmountable trial and somehow make it be “for [our] good”?3 Did I believe that I could trust the Lord to comfort me in my pain and to wipe away this brokenhearted mother’s tears?4

I did—and I do. In some ways I know it, and in all ways I believe it. This experience strengthened my faith in the Lord in every way and reminded me of the importance of having faith in Him throughout our lives. Because when we do, He “will not leave [us] comfortless.”5 Through Him, we will find “peace . . . which passeth all understanding.”6

That first night after Benny had passed away was without question the darkest night of my life. I couldn’t sleep, so to avoid disturbing my husband, I went out to our family room. I turned on every light in the house because I was afraid that if I didn’t, the darkness would overtake me. I tried everything I could think of to calm my heart, and then I turned to my scriptures, because I knew they always brought me peace and light—and I desperately needed both in those dark moments. I opened up the Gospel Library app, and there, staring back at me from the screen, was not only the story of the Jaredites again7 but also my own thoughts on having faith in and trusting the Lord when times got hard. I would like to share some of those thoughts with you now, thoughts that I had recorded before my world turned upside down but that I now realize were a tender mercy from the Lord to one of His daughters who would soon be in need:

From Ether 6, verse 3: “The Lord doesn’t want us to live in darkness and will do His part to help us live in light, but we have to have faith in Him and do our part.”
From verse 4: “Sometimes I feel like we have to do this in our lives: just commend ourselves to the Lord and take a big leap of faith! It’s reassuring to read scriptural examples of people who did just that.”
From verse 7: “The vessels were so well built that the water couldn’t penetrate them. That didn’t stop the storms, but it did protect the people. We will face rough waters in our lives, but we can build our testimonies such that outside forces can’t penetrate them. It’s up to us.”
From verse 8: “The Lord knew what He was doing. Even though He was sending winds, those winds were getting the people to the promised land. In our lives, trials may seem difficult and sometimes we feel like we’re going to drown, but if we trust the Lord, everything will keep pushing us to where He needs and wants us to be.”
From verses 9 and 10: “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the verse about how they couldn’t be broken and how they had light comes after the scripture about how they praised the Lord always. Gratitude is such a game changer!”

Now, none of this was groundbreaking. But reading these thoughts again with the perspective I now had of losing our angel son, I was amazed to think that the Lord loved me so much that He would have the Holy Ghost inspire me to write down thoughts that just moments later would take on new meaning in my life and be an anchor for my faith that I would need in the coming days and months.

Two days later, Tom and I went to purchase a burial outfit for Benny. As we were standing at the register to pay, I noticed the return-policy sign behind the desk. Tears immediately started flowing as I realized that the return policy didn’t apply to us because this tiny white outfit would be going into the ground to be buried with our son. Not a second later, though, the hymn “Be Still, My Soul” came over the speakers—talk about a tender mercy! The second verse particularly spoke to my heart: “Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake To guide the future as he has the past.”8 I then had this flash moment when I was able to look back on my life and see instance after instance in which the Lord had been there for me and had carried me through. I knew I could trust and have faith that, as this song said, He would undertake to guide my future as He had always guided my past. I could have faith in Him moving forward because I had had so many experiences with Him before. I knew who He was, and I knew that He loved me and was aware of me. Because of that, I knew I could trust Him. My faith was based on who He was, not on who I expected Him to be or even who I thought I needed Him to be as I went through that particular experience.

Looking back, I realize I have had many moments—including the days and weeks after Benny passed away—that I liken to my own walks along the road to Emmaus.9 Just as those disciples later realized that the Lord had been walking with them, I am confident the Lord has always been by my side, even though at times I might not have seen Him—whether that was because I wasn’t looking or because I was expecting something different. I am also grateful that, like those disciples, eventually my eyes have been opened and I have been able to recognize the miracles He has provided along the way. In fact, once I started looking for the wonders the Lord was working in the days and weeks after Benny had passed away, I was simply amazed. There were so many miracles that I started capturing them in an online journal—walkswithbenny.com—because I didn’t ever want to forget how good the Lord was to us. Every miracle brought us closer to Him, and I love looking back on those miracles now; they continue to strengthen my faith in the Lord and in His love.

Estelle ate her last bite of Mama’s yummy enchiladas and scooted her chair away from the patio table. It was a warm summer night—perfect for eating outside. And perfect for playing! She couldn’t wait to play fetch with her dog, Rufus.
But first she had to clear the table. She piled the plates into a tall stack. She knew the stack was getting too wobbly. But she didn’t want to make a lot of trips inside.
Estelle balanced the stack in one hand and carefully opened the door with the other. But the stack started to tip. Crash! Two plates smashed onto the patio, right in front of the door. Dad ran out to see what happened and went to get a broom. Then Estelle saw Rufus. He was trotting toward the door.
“Rufus! Don’t step on the broken plates!” She ran around the table and jumped in front of him. “No! Rufus, stay!”
But Rufus didn’t stop. He tried to get around her. Estelle bent down and put her hands in front of him.
“Rufus, I’m trying to keep you safe,” she said. “The pieces are sharp. They’ll cut your paws.”
Then Estelle had an idea. “Where’s your ball? Do you want to play fetch?” Rufus turned away to look for his ball. Now he was safe!
As she swept up the broken plates with Dad, Estelle thought about why she told Rufus no. If he stepped on the pieces, he would have been hurt. He wouldn’t be able to do what he liked to do—like playing fetch.
Dad always said that Heavenly Father gives commandments to keep us happy and safe. But Estelle sometimes thought that commandments felt more like rules to keep her from doing what she wanted.
Estelle looked down at the broken pieces. Maybe Heavenly Father says no to some things because He’s trying to keep me safe too, she thought.
Rufus ran to Estelle and dropped the ball at her feet. She scratched his ears. Then she threw the ball and laughed as Rufus ran after it.
Rufus was safe. And he was happy! Estelle wanted to keep following Heavenly Father’s commandments to stay happy and safe too.
This story took place in the USA.

When Ashlee Broadbent and Carolyn Betz found out that two of their special-needs friends, Claudia and Liz, would be attending the school’s spring prom, they wanted to help. They helped Claudia and Liz design their own prom dresses, which were custom-made by a friend. Then they organized a group of 20 friends and rented a bus to travel to the dance together. The night of the prom, Carolyn’s sister gave Claudia and Liz a full-blown makeover, doing their hair, nails, and make-up. Ashlee took photos and waved good-bye as Carolyn, Claudia, and Liz left for dinner and the dance with the rest of the group. At age 15, Ashlee wasn’t yet old enough to date.
“We wanted to give them an extra special time. It started out as a simple project,” Carolyn says. “We came away with two new friends.”