Gospel Story Finder

For example, one time my buddies and I hiked into the mountains for a week of fishing. We had a lot of fun. The deer flies and mosquitoes were so tame they let us feed them. The jays were so friendly they’d swoop down and help themselves to food right off the griddle. And some of the trout were so dumb they let us catch them.
Now, we were on our way back. For breakfast that morning we finished off the last of the food we had packed in. Now we were surviving on lint-covered raisins from the bottom of our packs. We had about eight more miles to hike before we met our rides and headed home to good food and to showers that didn’t come directly out of a cloud.
Ordinarily, the packs are lighter on the hike out; you’ve eaten all of the food and lost half of everything else. But for some reason, I found it tougher going than usual. My companions, on the other hand, laughed as we walked uphill.
Maybe it was because my face was going from red to purple—at any rate, we stopped to rest for a few minutes. When we took off our packs, I made an interesting discovery. You see, we had brought an army surplus canvas bucket for carrying spring water into camp, and I had tied the empty bucket to the back of my pack for the trip out. But somewhere along the way someone had put a rock the size of a large grapefruit in that bucket.
Well, there was a lot of laughter. I laughed too—later. And with the heavy weight gone, I not only kept up with my buddies, I practically chased them up those hills. I also learned a valuable lesson: don’t carry unnecessary burdens.

As a youth, I wasn’t planning on serving a mission, but people constantly bugged me about going. They reminded me that the Lord expected me to go. Those telling me to go on a mission meant well, but the pressure made me not want to go.
One day, the local missionaries had an emergency. As a result, a missionary would be left alone for the day. I was asked to stay with him until his new companion arrived. That night, after we had prayed and prepared for bed, my “companion” asked me if I was thinking about serving a mission. I told him no.
He replied, “When you feel like you should do it, then do it.” In other words, if the Holy Ghost prompted me to serve, I should go. I didn’t feel any pressure when he spoke, but I did feel the Spirit. The missionary’s words stayed with me and eventually helped me to find a job and save money for a mission.
On my mission, I developed a special closeness with Heavenly Father. I learned that when the Holy Ghost tells us it’s time to do something, we need to do it.
Leonardo Z., Argentina

When my husband died in 2010, I bore my testimony that he was the one who trained me to be self-reliant. Looking back, I learned that he was preparing me, so I could do things on my own, because he would not always be around. He wanted me to be free. He helped prepare me to accept the gospel and to love the principles of self-reliance.
My mother and father were farmers. They sent me to different schools, and we moved around. When I was in 11th grade, I did not have anyone to support me. I was living in a tent.
One day, I was on my way to live at my auntie’s whose husband died. She was a pepper trader in the market and did not have much. That is when I met my husband for the first time. He would joke with me and soon he admired me. He was much older than me. He said, “I will help you and then you will achieve more.” He looked around and said, “Your garden is dead, and you do not have a job. I can help you.” And so, I went with him to live in another village.
He helped me to work with my hands. My husband was from Zimbabwe and was a professor. He said, “You will plant. You will plant okra and greens.” We raised ducks, chickens, and pigs.
We did it so we could be self-reliant and eat. “You can go to the garden when we need food. We do not need to buy,” he would say. He had his money from his job, but he taught me to plant, plant, plant everything that we would have bought at the market, so we could be as self-reliant as possible and not spend our money on things we could grow.
My family was critical of my new life with my husband. They thought he was working me too hard. “You are not treating her good,” they would say. “You are making her work too hard. Why aren’t you buying her clothes?” We resisted them until they got tired because I was happy.
When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I enrolled in night school. I worked hard and had another child and my husband sent me to college where I earned my associates degree in animal husbandry. This made a way for me to teach at the Booker T. Washington Institute. I taught there from 1986 to 1990. I was teaching students how to raise goats, chickens, and sheep. After the war years, I was chosen to teach agricultural skills to the ex-combatants to help reintegrate them into society. It was very hard and dangerous. But I was grateful for the job.
By then my parents realized I was doing the right thing for myself and for my family. I was working and earning my own money. They could see I was doing something better for the future.
My husband and I raised our children the hard way, but we taught them the value of education and work. During the war years in Liberia my husband protected us. He was wise, and through his fierce determination, we stayed in one place and miraculously we, and all of our children, survived.
Now our three children are all college graduates.
After my husband died, the missionaries came into my life. I resisted the gospel message at first. I had become very independent. But one day they said to me, “Sister Ncube, you know, we are not looking for members. What we are after is your soul. We are pursuing you for your soul.” That went deep in my heart. I sat down and said, “I agree. I will be baptized.” For the first time in my life, I learned what true freedom was. When I was baptized my soul was set free.
The gospel has taught me to be a strong Latter-day Saint woman. I am happy because the gospel and the Church give me the opportunity to live in a better way. I love teaching the women in my branch and community how to live the teachings of the gospel for the betterment of everybody.
I strive to live the Savior’s teachings when He said, “And I give unto you a commandment that you shall teach one another the doctrine of the kingdom.
“Teach ye diligently and my grace shall attend you, that you may be instructed more perfectly in theory, in principle, in doctrine, in the law of the gospel, in all things that pertain unto the kingdom of God, that are expedient for you to understand” (Doctrine and Covenants 88:77–78).
I was baptized on Liberia’s Independence Day, but for me it was the day I would declare, “Now, I know the truth. I know I am free. I am free indeed.”

Sitting on the steps of the weathered frame house, Pualani added a seashell to the strand she was stringing. She spoke to the dog stretched out in the shade of the trumpet vine that climbed over the porch. “This will be the most beautiful collar I’ve ever made, Kulolo.” Measuring the collar around his neck, Pualani murmured, “It fits.”
“Lani,” her father appeared in the doorway—“I’m taking a load of pineapples to the cannery.” He stopped and frowned, then grumbled, “Always wasting time on that no-good mongrel.”
“I don’t care if he’s a mongrel, Papa.” Pualani gently scratched the back of her pet’s ear.
Swinging his long tail back and forth, the dog looked up into the girl’s face.
“See, Papa!” exclaimed Pualani with delight. “His eyes talk to me, and his tail is smiling.”
Her father shrugged his strong, broad shoulders. “Once a tramp dog, always a tramp dog.”
That’s what Mama said the day I brought Kulolo home, thought Pualani. She remembered how Mama had stared at the scruffy dog.
“This is the ilio (dog) you want to keep, Lani?”
Mama’s dark eyes had narrowed as she took stock of the dog—floppy ears, long tail, spindly legs that buckled at the knobby joints when the trembling creature shifted his weight. “Auwe (oh, dear)! So skinny!”
“I want to keep him, Mama,” Pualani had pleaded, her words tumbling out. “I want him for my own. I’ll call him Kulolo, and I’ll get him a collar—leather, maybe.”
“Leather collars cost money,” her mother had declared firmly. “Papa’s wages must be spent on food and clothing. But a few scraps of food we can spare if it means so much to you. But don’t get all huhu (upset) when he wanders away. And he will, as sure as he’s a tramp dog.”
That was months ago, thought Pualani, and Kulolo has never strayed far from our house. She tied the seashells around the dog’s neck.
For a moment her father studied her in silence. “Lani”—he paused to clear his throat the way he always did when broaching an unpleasant subject—“yesterday the mayor said that there are too many stray dogs on the island. From now on every dog must have a license. Licenses cost money, Lani.”
“I’ll earn it,” Pualani said. “Everyone trusts me with their children, Papa.”
“Plantation workers can’t afford to pay you.”
“A job at the cannery, then.”
“You’re too young.” Papa’s shoulders slumped. “Try to understand, Lani.”
Pualani felt a cold numbness creeping through her body, but she forced herself to ask, “What will become of him?”
Again her father cleared his throat. “If nobody pays his fee, they’ll destroy him. Painlessly,” he added quickly.
The following morning, news of the threat to Kulolo traveled among the neighbor children. Keoni, Manuela, Satoshi, Ana, and little Joe all came, determined to save Kulolo.
Manuela said, “My father told me that a license costs five dollars. Maybe if we put our money together, we’ll have enough to buy one.”
Manuela counted their money, then shook his head glumly. “Three dollars and twenty-eight cents.”
Keoni broke the silence that settled over the group. “Maybe we could keep Kulolo from running loose until we can earn enough money. But where could we keep him?”
Ana piped up, “At the end of the island there are some caves in the cliff above the tide line. We could build a fence across the entrance to one of them and keep him there.”
Pualani nodded. “I’ve been there with Kulolo. He likes to run out on the reef and sniff the coral heads.”
“There’s no school tomorrow,” little Joe reminded them. “Let’s take Kulolo then.”
“All right,” everyone agreed, “tomorrow.”
Manuela planned aloud: “Everybody should bring something—some food for Kulolo and old pineapple crates, tools, and nails for building the fence.”
Late the following morning they started out. When they reached the seashore, they cooled their hot, tired feet in the white ruffled edges of the waves. Soon they reached the far end of the island. Trudging along the winding seaside road, little Joe pointed to the wind-lashed trees. “Why is it so blowy and so noisy?”
“There’s always a wind whistling through the trees here, and it makes the sea rough and noisy.”
Soon the children could communicate only by shouts and gestures. Clambering up the craggy rise, they followed Pualani into one of the caves.
Soon the cave echoed with the staccato beat of hammers. The children were so busy that they failed to notice Kulolo’s running back and forth between them and the edge of the cliff. Finally, when he nuzzled Pualani’s hand, looked up into her face, and whimpered, Pualani called to the others. “Kulolo’s bored. I’ll take him for a run on the reef now.”
Outside the cave Kulolo leaped down the craggy cliff and bounded toward the shore road. Then he raced back and leaped against Pualani. Turning, he again bounded toward the road. Near the shore he stopped and barked frantically. Never had Kulolo acted so strangely. As Pualani picked her way over the jagged rocks toward him, he ran along the shore road, then stopped and waited for her to follow.
When she reached the road, Pualani heard it—the tsunami (tidal wave) siren! A terrible fear gripped her. Her fear turned to horror as she remembered that the other children couldn’t hear the tsunami warning.
“Kulolo!” she cried. “Go home!”
Kulolo hesitated only an instant. Then he took off. He was still picking up speed as he rounded the bend in the road.
Stumbling, slipping, Pualani made her way back over the rough terrain and flung herself into the cave. “Tsunami!” she cried.
The children had heard tales of monstrous tidal waves that could travel over four hundred miles an hour, rise fifty feet into the air, and suck everything into the sea. Paralyzed with fear, they stared at Pualani.
Frantically Pualani roused them to action. “Manuela, you’re strong enough to carry little Joe when he tires. Come on. Let’s go.”
Too frightened to cry, the children scrambled down the cliff and made their way toward the road. Half-carrying Ana, and tugging Satoshi by the hand, Pualani urged them on. Suddenly Satoshi clutched her arm. “Why is it so spooky, Lani?”
A dead calm had settled over everything. The frothing white foam had disappeared from the lifeless sea. Only the distant wailing of the siren broke the silence.
“There’s no high ground around here,” Keoni spluttered, “and we don’t know how long the siren has been sounding.”
“We have to stay on the shore road,” Pualani said. “That’s where the searchers will look for us first.”
Pualani urged the weary band along the twisting road. Slowly she became aware of a pounding, pulsating sound. Is it the tsunami? she wondered, knowing they could not escape if it was. The noise grew closer and louder. Then the plantation truck labored into view! In front of it ran Kulolo, panting heavily.
Papa slammed on the brakes and leaped from the cab to hoist the children—and Kulolo—into the truck. Within seconds they were headed back down the road.
Pualani’s father was grimly silent as he swerved to avoid the deep ruts in the tortuous road.
Ana’s voice rose above the clatter of the truck. “Where’s the sea going?”
The sea, now dark and murky, was drawing away from the land.
Pualani’s father took one glance at the awesome sight and jammed the accelerator to the floor as he shouted, “Hang on!”
The shore road lay perilously close to the beach. They had to reach—and climb—the dirt road that wound through the pineapple fields up to the plantation.
“Almost to the dirt road!” Father shouted.
Two minutes more. One minute. With a screech the truck swung sharply from the shore road and started its climb toward safety.
A cry of relief rose from the islanders who had flocked to the plantation. While parents rushed to their children, a murmur rippled through the crowd. Trembling fingers pointed toward the horizon, where a dark strip approached. It grew into a towering, raging, thundering wall of water rushing at them.
When it struck, a shudder shook the whole island. Fierce white foam licked at the lower slopes of the plantation. With a great roar, the wave receded, carrying with it trees, shelters, boats, and docks. Again and again it struck, but with less strength each time. As the wave slowly sank into the sea, it left behind huge mounds of dredged-up sand, and torn-up plants and buildings and boats.
For a long time no one spoke. Then Pualani’s father broke the silence. “Let us thank Heavenly Father that there has been no loss of life.”
That evening Papa told Pualani, “Our neighbors have given us the money for a license for Kulolo. He isn’t a tramp dog anymore. You must make him a sturdy collar, Lani, so that he will never lose it.”
Pualani smiled. “I will, Papa,” she said.

Loving those around us includes being sensitive to feelings of others. As is often done, a conducting officer announced that when the deacons were through passing the sacrament, they were invited to go and sit with their families. One father noticed a boy walk out and sit in the foyer. The next week he invited that deacon to sit with his family rather than go through the embarrassment and loneliness caused by not having his own family in attendance. This parent responded to the need of the boy rather than criticizing the leaders for the policy. The actions of this father can be enlarged on and put into practice by every member.

The Reverend George Lane may have been the man who first recommended in Joseph Smith’s hearing, “Let him ask of God.” That specific passage in James 1:5 was mentioned in some of the minister’s sermons. A Methodist, he was associated with revivals in western New York.8 Joseph later talks of a Methodist preacher he was with soon after the vision, a person who was, he says, “active in the before mentioned religious excitement.” Imagine (and this to me is poignant) Joseph at age fourteen—full as he was of the glory, the remarkable experience, and the excitement of it—­recounting his experience to this man. And the man’s response was, “Oh no, that could not be of God. Those things don’t happen anymore.”
So one lacking wisdom ought to go and pray about it. By all means let him ask of God. But to this man the answer seemed . . . well, too much. Heaven had come too close. We can almost visualize the boy—pure-minded, spontaneous, even a little unrestrained, as teenagers are—being struck by the wonder of this marvelous answer to prayer. “Wow! It worked! You told me to do it. I did it.” And the response was, “Shucks, boy, it’s all of the devil.”9 The boy’s smile slowly disappeared. And he learned early that to testify of divine manifestations was to stir up darkness and to call down wrath. That wrath finally evolved into bullets.

“Oooooh! What is it?” squealed seven-year-old Kristi as she poked gingerly with a stick at the shiny brown insect on the sidewalk. Suddenly it jumped, and Kristi stumbled backward in surprise.
“Why, Kristi,” Mother said good-naturedly as she turned from the flower bed. “Haven’t you seen a cricket before?”
“A cricket!” cried Kristi. “We learned about crickets in Primary. They were eating the pioneers’ crops, so the pioneers prayed, and Heavenly Father sent seagulls to eat the crickets. I just didn’t know what a real one looked like.”
Mother smiled as she sat on the cool grass and brushed the soil from her hands. “If you’ll come sit here by me, Kristi, I’ll tell you something about a special cricket.”
“Are you going to tell me a story?” Kristi asked happily.
…
“Oh, Mother, did that really happen?” asked Kristi.
“Yes,” Mother answered. “That little girl was your grandma.”
“My very own grandma,” Kristi sighed. She was thoughtful for a moment, then said, “It’s funny, isn’t it? Heavenly Father answered the pioneers’ prayers by taking the crickets away, but He answered Grandma’s prayer by sending her a cricket. Oh, Mother,”—Kristi suddenly sat up straight—“I’m glad the seagulls didn’t eat all the crickets!”
“I am too,” Mother agreed, gathering Kristi into her arms. “Very glad indeed.”

A couple I know about married later in life; the wife had been married before, but it was the husband’s first marriage. After several months of marital bliss, a serious disagreement erupted that so hurt the husband emotionally that he could not function at his daily tasks.
As he reeled from the impact of this confrontation, he stopped to analyze the problem and realized that at least a part of the problem had been his. He went to his bride and stammered awkwardly several times, “I’m sorry, Honey.” The wife burst into tears, confessing that much of the problem was hers and asked forgiveness. As they held each other, she confessed that in her experience those words of apology had not been used before, and she now knew that any of their future problems could be solved. She felt secure because she knew they both could say, “I’m sorry;” “I forgive.”

Just as in graphic design, sometimes in life a visual, tangible pattern replaces a mental one. We often learn from the service of others. I still remember the first time as ward executive secretary that I couldn’t completely fill the bishop’s interview schedule. The bishop, however, reminded me that the Lord was in charge and He knew who needed to see the bishop that day—even if we didn’t. And sure enough, every time we had this “problem,” the phone would ring or someone would stop in to ask if the bishop had any time. And because of his inspired leadership, he did have time.

Can you remember a moment when someone gave you a gift that changed your life? This October marks 40 years since I received one of the greatest gifts in my life. While I was in high school, I noticed that one of our classmates had a light that was different from most of the other young people. I enjoyed being around him. One day he told me he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then he offered me a gift: a copy of the Book of Mormon. He invited me to read a few pages and meet with two friends who could answer my questions. Those friends were the missionaries.

When I met with the missionaries, they taught me the doctrine of Christ and invited me to follow the prophet Moroni’s invitation: “When ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4).

I read several pages of the Book of Mormon and prayed. Although I did not yet have a deep understanding of all the things that the missionaries were teaching me, I felt in my heart that what I was reading was good and came from God. I received the confirmation of Moroni’s promise: “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moroni 10:5).

After I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, some friends tried to convince me that I had made the wrong decision. But each time I faced such doubts or opposition, I received renewed confirmation through studying the scriptures and praying to stay true to the covenants I had entered into with God. Since then, the Book of Mormon has been my companion and has become an immeasurable treasure in my mortal journey.

Leaving behind relatives, a culture, and a land they loved must have been a daunting sacrifice, but the hardships were in many ways just beginning. Arriving in Calgary with only a suitcase, a baby buggy, and CAD $32, my parents were in great need.
The Canadian members immediately started serving my family, generously providing help with transportation, shopping, and finding a home to rent. Within a week my parents and my grandma had a home furnished with beds, a table and chairs, a couch, a crib, bedding, dishes, and even some food in the cupboards. My mother wrote in her journal how surprising and thrilling it was to see these unexpected furnishings and how grateful she was for the service given.
Along with deep feelings of gratitude, however, were other emotions. Culture shock was very real and difficult to deal with. The first year of living in Calgary was filled with English classes and frigid walks to work for Dad. They were doing everything possible to establish a sense of home, but still this was a trying time with so much change. The Saints of their new ward in Calgary worked through the language barrier to become a support system to the newly arrived members. Each Sunday my family gained strength as they attended sacrament meeting to renew their covenants, relying on the Spirit to teach them English.
Our family of five was sealed together in the Cardston Alberta Temple in October 1976. My mother had set her sights on this day over 20 years earlier and finally, in a country and language that she would have never imagined as a youth, her prayers were answered. I was then almost eight years old, and I have wonderful memories of my parents’ sparkling eyes and smiles as we children entered the sealing room.
My grandmother was also at the temple that day. I recall her excitement at seeing the temple lights as we had arrived in Cardston. Years later, after retiring from her job in Calgary, she moved to Cardston and gave many hours of service in the temple. She loved to play the organ and help inspire reverence there. Her testimony and love for the Savior was evidenced through her kindness to everyone around her. She is to me an example of a strong Latter-day Saint woman.
I feel overwhelming gratitude to my parents—the pioneers in my family—for their sacrifices of career, extended family, homeland, and possessions. It seems they gave up so much, but the Lord has so abundantly blessed them—and their posterity—for living the principles of the gospel.

I testified that the covenant people of the Lord today indeed are armed with righteousness and with the power of God in great glory. I have witnessed faith, courage, perspective, persistence, and joy that extend far beyond mortal capacity—and that only God could provide.

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the life of a young Church member who was partially paralyzed in a horrific automobile accident. After this individual’s grueling months of recovery and adapting to a new lifestyle with restricted mobility, I met and talked with this stalwart soul. During our conversation I asked, “What has this experience helped you to learn?” The immediate response was, “I am not sad. I am not mad. And everything will be OK.”

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the lives of newly baptized and confirmed members of the Church. These converts were eager to learn and serve, willing but often unsure about how to set aside old habits and strong traditions, and yet joyful to become “fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.”

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the lives of a family who cared tenderly for a spouse and parent with a terminal disease. These valiant disciples described times that their family felt all alone—and times they knew the hand of the Lord was lifting and strengthening them. This family expressed sincere gratitude for the difficult mortal experiences that allow us to grow and become more like our Heavenly Father and our Redeemer, Jesus Christ. God succored and blessed this family with the companionship of the Holy Ghost and made their home as sacred a place of refuge as the temple.

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the life of a Church member who experienced the heartache of divorce. This sister’s spiritual and emotional distress was heightened by a sense of unfairness associated with her spouse’s violation of covenants and the breakup of their marriage. She wanted justice and accountability.

As this faithful woman was struggling with all that had happened to her, she studied and pondered the Savior’s Atonement more intently and intensely than ever before in her life. Gradually, a deeper understanding of Christ’s redemptive mission distilled upon her soul—His suffering for our sins and also for our pains, weaknesses, disappointments, and anguish. And she was inspired to ask herself a penetrating question: since the price already has been paid for those sins, would you demand that the price be paid twice? She realized that such a requirement would be neither just nor merciful.

This woman learned that binding herself to the Savior through covenants and ordinances can heal the wounds caused by another person’s unrighteous exercise of moral agency and enabled her to find the capacity to forgive and receive peace, mercy, and love.

The youth of the Slaterville Second Ward, Ogden Utah Mound Fort Stake, borrowed their fathers’ hammers and set out on an adventure that anticipated Christmas. They contracted to make Christmas tree stands in order to raise money for their youth activities.
The adult leaders were in charge of running the saw, but with an assembly line system and a quality inspector, the youth stayed organized and busy. Each person was assigned a certain number of hours to help, and no one complained as each put in his quota with the help of supportive families.
The project lasted for more than a month until the goal of 24,000 stands was completed. The young people found they enjoyed working together for their mutual benefit and learned something about responsibility. It was also a wonderful opportunity for leaders and youth to work together.

Even though I had the gospel in my life, life was hard. My father was still not working and had Parkinson’s so during a secondary school vacation, I would pick up any menial work I could find. My father, amidst the challenges of life, quit the Church but allowed me to continue. After secondary school, our stake started the Young Single Adult Gathering Place. I signed up for shoemaking class, but I was alone, so the stake president arranged for me to learn the craft with the instructor at his shop. I am passionate about fashion, especially footwear, because everyone needs footwear, and well-made shoes do not go out of fashion.
I worked long hours for very little pay. Attending church became difficult as I was often required to work on Sundays. I apprenticed for over two years and then was able to break out on my own by saving small amounts until I had enough to buy one tool. It would take me 2–3 months of saving to buy another hand tool, but I had a goal. I had examples of what I was going through in the scriptures, I knew that it would worth it. Sleeping on a bare floor, eating one meal a day, working literally day and night would all prove to help me in the future.
My stake president connected me with a couple who were able to help me get some machines to start my business, Kuatsikor Shoes. I named it after my father, to honor him since he never lived to see my business, having died in July 2019. My motto is “Walk Miles”. In August 2023, I was endowed in the house of the Lord in the Accra Ghana Temple. It was such a great experience. The moment I stepped into the temple, I felt a heavy burden had been lifted, it’s hard to explain. I felt a new peace and joy. The gospel of Jesus Christ has significantly impacted my life because I had the feeling that I was in the right place, my first Sunday at church. I will always be grateful for the self-reliance programs organized at the stake center that gave me insights and knowledge about how to grow my own business and to manage my finances. I believe if I continue to stick to these principles, my vision of becoming the best shoemaker in Africa shall come to pass. I know that God speaks to his servants, the prophets.

My life changed in a big way the year I turned 16. Like most of my friends, I had entered a complicated stage in life. It seemed that all my thoughts were increasingly centered around my problems and aspirations. I worked to excel in school, tried out for the top choir, lettered in track, and even went to the prom.
Then on a Tuesday evening late in the spring, my whole perspective changed. My dad gathered the family in the living room, explaining that he had something important to tell us. Never before have I seen my parents look so dismal and depressed. Dad explained that my mom had breast cancer. My father went on to explain that the odds were very good that with treatment Mom would be okay and the cancer would go into remission. Emotion erupted in my home with tears and hugs. I struggled with my feelings, searching for a way to deal with the emotion welling up inside.
It was Mutual night, so I decided to go. But while I watched everyone else laughing and playing volleyball, I felt lost. Could anyone understand what I was going through? In my mind I said a silent prayer, asking Heavenly Father to give me the strength to help support my mother and the rest of my family.
Slowly a comforting feeling grew within me. I realized that, although it might be hard for others to understand my feelings, Jesus Christ always knows our troubles and hardships. I thought of a scripture I knew in John 14:18, “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” It reminded me that if we go to him, Christ will help us to bear our burdens and give us comfort.
Over the next year my mother had surgery and multiple radiation and chemotherapy treatments. Throughout that year I relied very heavily on the comfort of the Holy Ghost. With that added strength I was able to support my mother through her illness and help out at home. Now the doctors have declared my mom successfully in remission. Although a chance for recurrence exists, she will probably continue to be healthy.
Through our trial my family has grown much closer. I learned to be less selfish, and I came to recognize that my family and the relationship I have with them is what is truly important in my life. Most important, I realize now that the Savior knows all that we experience and we are never alone. He is always there, ready to extend his love to us.

I can’t refrain from telling you one other thing about that visit with my brother in Washington. He was to take a B-25 bomber to Texas to pick up something and return to Washington the next day. I went with him. That was the only time we flew together.
Many years later I was honored by Weber State University, where we both had graduated. He had been a student body officer during his college days. Because I would be in South America, he agreed to attend the banquet and accept the award in my behalf.
In his acceptance speech he told this story—part of which is true. He said that in Texas we were lined up side by side on the runway ready to take off. He radioed to me and said, “See you upstairs—if you think you can make it!”
Then he told them that after I became a General Authority of the Church, once in a while I would check on his behavior and add, “See you upstairs—if you think you can make it!”
Well, Leon made it. He is now where I hope one day to be.

Let’s hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears?—so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It made no difference. Not only had I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her—I had communed with God.

“Moving from a lazy day starting with brunch and a trip to the shops, lounging around reading the newspapers, watching TV or lying around the pool in summer… to spending three hours at church on a Sunday and trying to keep the Sabbath day holy was a big change for me. Cutting out shopping was easy—and actually saved me money—because I was so scared of running out of groceries, that I started making lists and planning meals instead of aimlessly filling a shopping trolley.
“The mindless TV watching and pool time were more difficult! The first Sunday we got home from church and thought, “well now what do we do?” The day dragged on and by the time everyone went to bed, most dissatisfied after a long boring day, I knew I had to make a plan fast! We borrowed Church videos from members and this was a starting point that led to gospel discussions. Today the Church website has enough content to fill a lifetime of Sundays!
“Watching church videos still was not a long-term solution, so we had a home evening on ‘Sabbath day observance’ and asked our children what they would like to see us do. Each suggestion was measured against the sabbath standard and the children’s attitude changed from ‘all the things we can’t do anymore’ to the long list of ‘things we can do’.
“Simplifying our meals started a wonderful family tradition of having a healthy meal waiting for us when we got home from church, and then in the early evening we all made dessert together for our supper. All the children, boys and girls, learnt to cook and bake this way! (Waffles and pancakes became our regular favourites!)
“Looking back… most of our happy family memories come from the wonderful Sundays we spent together—playing board games, building our relationships, eating scrumptious favourites and learning and growing in the gospel. Occasionally we would choose a family to invite over for lunch the next week. But through our planning we chose things suitable at their various ages—and we taught the children to care, plan and show consideration.”

1 Whoa! I’ll get sent down to the minors if you keep pounding my famous fast ball.
2 Dad, Sister Simon told us that Jesus blessed people who couldn’t walk, and they stood up and walked. You gave me a blessing after my accident. How come I wasn’t healed?
I don’t know why, Sweetheart. Heavenly Father could raise up everyone out of every wheelchair, but he has chosen not to. What I do know is that he loves you and will do what’s best for you.
3 But being healed, would be best for me. What could be wrong with running and jumping and being free of this chair?
I don’t know. But tell me—haven’t you gained anything from being in that chair?
4 Well, I guess my arms are stronger.
And so is your spirit. You’ve become a very brave young lady, and I’ve watched you develop great love and kindness for other people with problems. Would you really want to give up everything you’ve learned?
5 I guess not, but I really want to walk again.
You will, Cathlyn. Because of the resurrection, you’ll have a perfect body again someday, and you’ll also get to keep everything you’ve learned from being in this chair. I know it’s a long time to wait, but Heavenly Father will help you.
6 And in the meantime, I can already hit your famous fast ball.
True, but I’ve been working on a mystery curve.
I like solving mysteries.

In Boise, Idaho, several years ago I taught seminary. Our class decided to sub for Santa. We had one of the girls in the class prepare a quart bottle and a sign that would remind the class members to contribute. Then they selected a family, semi-active, who lived in the stake. This family had eight children. They weren’t doing very well financially; in fact, we were quite certain that they would not have much of a Christmas without us. We assigned each class member to bring suits, shirts, skirts, and blouses that they had outgrown but were still very nice. We invited them to bring toys and other gifts they would like to share. Our goal was to raise $75.00 to buy new toys for the children and food for Christmas dinner. Everything went fine until a week before school let out for the holidays. We had raised $65.00 and had it in a jar in our seminary cupboard at the ward. We met each morning for seminary at 7:00 A.M.

A week before school let out we went in one morning to get the quart jar and put it on the table, but it was not there. Someone had stolen it. These wonderful young students could not believe that anyone would steal it. I said to the class leader, “President, what are you going to do now?” He said, “We will start all over again and raise the money.” Then I saw a miracle take place. These choice young people who had been going without lunch once or twice a week to raise the first money now decided to go without lunch every day. They worked to earn money that last week, and by the Friday when school let out for the holidays, we had raised $73.00.

Arrangements were made by the class to meet Christmas Eve at 3:00 P.M. We were going to wrap all the clothes and toys and put name tags on everything. While some of us were doing that, several others went out in the nearby neighborhood and asked neighbors to contribute a can or bottle of food for a food basket. And the president of the class took his vice-president and secretary and bought a turkey and toys for the whole family. They drove across town to save 10¢ or 15¢ on an item so that every penny would be used to its maximum purchasing power. These things were wrapped. The turkey was placed in one of several food boxes, and then a panel delivery truck was loaded with the Christmas packages. One of the students had volunteered her father to be Santa Claus. He was with us. We drove over to the area where the needy family lived and then down a long, dark, dirt road to their home near the Boise River. When we got close to the home, we could see a woman and two children standing on the back porch. The porch light was on. The dog began to bark. We had three cars of seminary students, and all the car lights were off so no one could see us. The woman held her hands up to shade her eyes from the porch light and peered out into the darkness. I could see she was becoming concerned over the unseen visitors. I was in the first car, and I yelled across the lawn to the woman, “Don’t be afraid! It’s old Santa Claus who has come to see your family!” Santa Claus jumped out of the car and headed across the lawn. His bells were ringing, and he was saying, “Ho, ho, ho!” One of the little boys, about five years old, was standing by his mother and said, “It’s him! It’s really him! It’s old Santa Claus!”

Santa Claus went right in the house and into the living room. He later reported that the whole family was there. They had a scrawny little tree with a few decorations on it, half a box of oranges under the tree, and nothing more. They would not have had a Christmas had it not been for the seminary class. While Santa was inside, we began to unload all of the gifts onto the back porch. We each took two or three arm loads. One of the younger children could hear us out back, and he came out and watched us load the large, screened-in back porch with gifts. He signaled his brothers and sisters, and soon Santa Claus was all alone with the mother and father. The children were lined up watching us unload gifts and food boxes.

We went back to the car and waited for Santa Claus. When he came we drove in silence back to the chapel. When we arrived we stood on the church lawn and talked about the experience. The class president said, “When that little kid stood on the back porch and said, ‘It’s him! It’s really him! It’s old Santa Claus!’ I had a feeling I’ve never had before in my life.” The tears came to his eyes and he couldn’t say anymore. We all felt the same way. We stood together, offered a prayer, and then we went home. Many of our students had learned for the first time what it really means to give.

Were they blessed for giving? Of course they were. But what about the family who received? Were they blessed for their attitude of gratitude at being on the receiving end? Indeed they were, not only by the gifts of toys and food but also by a sweet Heavenly Father who would bless them for not offending those who gave. You see, the father of the family could have let false pride or lack of gratitude spoil the experience for the givers. He did not. He and his wife and the children accepted it with such childlike excitement and uncontained joy that it was a joyous experience for all.