Gospel Story Finder

One of the most challenging times in my graduate studies was writing my dissertation. Having successfully completed all my coursework, I was told that I was now qualified to pursue independently my original research. To some, such freedom was exhilarating. To an extrovert like myself, it was debilitating. It was a good friend who made all the difference in my ability to persist in the research, analysis, writing and rewriting that allowed me to complete my dissertation.

At one point, I would regularly share a great deal of my research with a longtime colleague who was also finishing his graduate work. The two of us had been through so much together. He knew the substance of my research and he also knew many of the faculty members on my dissertation committee. He seemed a natural ally in my cause. But I actually found that at that particular time and season of my life, that I needed to limit my interactions with him. Why? Because rather than edifying one another to do good work, our conversation almost always devolved into self-pity and critique. We were brilliantly skilled at identifying and cursing the outside forces that seemed to be conspiring against us but pretty inept at taking concrete steps toward success.

What made all the difference for me was when I made a new friend, John. Although we didn't know the substance of one another's arcane research, we shared a common sense of humor, a common outlook on life and a common aspiration for excellence and accomplishment. We would meet a few times each week, usually over cheap ethnic food, or a cup of hot chocolate. We would to listen to each other, commiserate with one another, but mostly we would celebrate our small successes and then challenge one another to keep at the mundane tasks of scholarship—the way jogging buddies egg one another on to pick up the pace. With a ready smile and an easy laugh, John's friendship helped me bear the burden of seeing my dissertation to completion.

As a young couple, my husband and I were called by our bishop to visit and minister to a family who hadn’t been to church in many years. We willingly accepted the assignment and went to their home a few days later. It was immediately clear to us that they did not want visitors from the Church.
So on our next visit, we approached them with a plate of cookies, confident that chocolate chips would melt their hearts. They didn’t. The couple spoke to us through the screen door, making it even clearer that we weren’t welcome. But as we drove home, we were fairly certain success might have been achieved had we only offered them Rice Krispies Treats instead.
Our lack of spiritual vision made additional failed attempts frustrating. Rejection is never comfortable. Over time we began to ask ourselves, “Why are we doing this? What is our purpose?”
Elder Carl B. Cook made this observation: “Serving in the Church … can be challenging if we are asked to do something that frightens us, if we grow weary of serving, or if we are called to do something that we do not initially find appealing.” We were experiencing the truth of Elder Cook’s words when we decided we had to seek direction from Someone with a greater perspective than our own.
So, after much sincere prayer and study, we received the answer to the why of our service. We had a change in our understanding, a change of heart, actually a revelatory experience. As we sought direction from the scriptures, the Lord taught us how to make the process of serving others easier and more meaningful. Here is the verse we read that changed both our hearts and our approach: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy might, mind, and strength; and in the name of Jesus Christ thou shalt serve him.” Though this verse was so familiar, it seemed to speak to us in a new and important way.
We realized that we were sincerely striving to serve this family and to serve our bishop, but we had to ask ourselves if we were really serving out of love for the Lord. King Benjamin made clear this distinction when he stated, “Behold, I say unto you that because I said unto you that I had spent my days in your service, I do not desire to boast, for I have only been in the service of God.”
So whom was King Benjamin really serving? Heavenly Father and the Savior. Knowing the who and the why in serving others helps us understand that the highest manifestation of love is devotion to God.
As our focus gradually changed, so did our prayers. We began looking forward to our visits with this dear family because of our love for the Lord. We were doing it for Him. He made the struggle no longer a struggle. After many months of our standing on the doorstep, the family began letting us in. Eventually, we had regular prayer and tender gospel discussions together. A long-lasting friendship developed. We were worshipping and loving Him by loving His children.

Two hours after our fifth child, Angelique, was born, she began crying with every breath and started to turn purple. We realized something terrible was happening.
Medical tests indicated that Angelique had group B streptococcus, a serious illness for newborn babies. She was immediately transferred to a hospital that specialized in such problems. I was weighed down by worry as my new baby was taken away in an ambulance.
After I was released from the hospital two days later, I went directly to see Angelique. As I walked into the neonatal intensive care unit, I was gripped with fear. Two doctors and many nurses were surrounding my daughter. She was hooked up to so much machinery that I could hardly see her little body.
I pulled one doctor aside and asked, “Will she live?” He looked at me grimly and said, “We aren’t sure at this point, but we will do everything we can for her.” He asked me to go home and rest.
As my husband drove me home, we did not speak. We were both too worried. My husband went back to the hospital to give our daughter a blessing and to spend the night outside the intensive care unit.
That night as I tucked our other four children into bed, my oldest, who was seven, cried because she couldn’t hold Angelique. We had told the children that Angelique might not live, but they didn’t really understand.
I went to my room and offered the most sincere prayer of my life. I told Heavenly Father how much I loved Angelique but that He could take her if that was His will. I explained that I knew we were an eternal family and expressed gratitude for my temple marriage. In that instant a feeling of peace, love, and even happiness came over me—a feeling I’ll never forget.
I then had a distinct feeling that Angelique needed to hear our voices. My children had often “talked” to Angelique before she was born. She had been with us when we said family prayers, when we ate dinner together, and when I was singing. Now she was hearing only strangers in the hospital.
I woke the children, and they eagerly took turns sharing messages with Angelique using a tape recorder. We sang familiar Primary songs and told her how much we loved her. We told her that we would care for her and do things with her if she would get better. The next morning I took the tape recorder to the hospital and asked the nurses to lay it at the end of Angelique’s bassinet and play the tape for her continuously.
When I returned to the hospital later in the day, an excited nurse greeted me and told me the most amazing thing had happened.
Angelique was on a respirator that recorded when she was breathing on her own and when the machine was doing the work. When our tape was playing, she started to breathe on her own half the time. When the tape stopped, the machine would do all of her breathing for her again. It was amazing to watch her little body perk up when the tape played. The nurses played the tape around the clock. Angelique slowly recovered and was able to come home two weeks later.
I believe strongly in the power of prayer and a family’s love. I have a testimony that Heavenly Father does hear our prayers and that if we seek His will, He will inspire us through the Holy Ghost.

When it comes to challenges in the gospel, I don’t usually have the support of my family. I’m the only active Church member in my family, besides my sister who is away at college. This sometimes feels like an enormous burden on my shoulders. I know that my family is watching me closely, and my mistakes could hurt more than just me.
Sometimes I become frustrated watching bad things happen in my family when I know that the gospel could help. I used to try to force the gospel on my family. I would ask my mom, “If you really loved me, wouldn’t you want to be sealed to me forever?”
Although life with my family has been challenging it has also been rewarding. I’m gaining a stronger testimony of the blessings and happiness that come from the gospel. I’ve stopped trying to force or scare my family into going to church, and I’m trying to lead with love rather than with fear. Whenever my little sister comes to church, it fills my soul with joy. I know a seed of faith has been planted, and being a good example to her has become my greatest blessing.

One sister told of her preparation to receive a General Authority guest in her home for stake conference. Everything was to be perfect. Extensive cleaning and cooking were done. Her ten children were prepped as to what their roles should be. She worked hard! By the time he arrived she was exhausted and couldn’t enjoy his visit. Too late, she realized that spiritual preparation was “needful” also.

She stated, “It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can find answers to our everyday challenges. It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can find joy in enduring and overcoming our trials. It is because of our spiritual preparation that we can feel the greatest joy of all, a nearness and closeness to our Savior and Father in Heaven.”

On Christmas morning we decided to continue our Christmas celebration the way we had started it. We prepared food as if for a picnic, and at about 11:00 A.M., we headed for Opal’s house. Opal is 80 years old and not a member of the Church. She has an inner beauty that makes people want to be close to her. Even though Opal doesn’t speak our language and isn’t from our Spanish culture, our children have accepted her as their grandmother. Ileana could spend hours talking with Opal. And despite his shyness, our son, Kevin, doesn’t hesitate for a minute to hug her. I am grateful for Opal’s love, especially since our children’s grandparents live very far away from our home in Texas.
We wanted to share our Christmas with this lovely widow who lives alone and has no children. Her eyes sparkled when we arrived. She was emotional as we served dinner—it was probably the first Christmas in many years she had spent with anyone.
After we ate, Opal opened some gifts we had brought her. But our visit was more of a gift to us than to Opal. Her joy warmed our hearts.

After the blessing, President McKay went out on the front porch and talked to me. He commented on how nice it was that I could be with my dad. He talked about the times he had been with his father. On one of those occasions, he said, they had come to Salt Lake City to general conference. He was just a young boy at the time. He was introduced to John Taylor, who was then President of the Church.
During their conversation, President Taylor showed him the scars on his arms from wounds he had suffered in Carthage Jail with the Prophet Joseph Smith on the day of the martyrdom. All his life President McKay had recalled talking firsthand with someone who had been in the presence of the Prophet Joseph. He said that since I was in his presence and he had been in the presence of someone who had known the Prophet, I, too, had a connection to Joseph Smith.

Sister Soares: My father and the rest of us in my home were not religious. But my dad always said prayers, every night, kneeling, and I would watch him from when I was very little. He did not teach me with words, but he taught me by action. And when I was little, I also remember that sometimes I said the name of God in vain. I did not know that I was doing something wrong, and my mother taught me that I should not speak in that way. She wasn’t religious but knew what was right and wrong. When I was nine years old, a girl in my neighborhood, who was also nine, invited me to go to Primary for the first time.
Elder Soares: You grew up in the Church without your parents in the Church and still you built your faith in the gospel, and now you have decided to dedicate your life to teaching our children that same faith.

Some time ago our friends asked if their son, John, and his girlfriend could stay at our place for a weeklong visit. John is less active, and his girlfriend is not a member of the Church. We let her have our son’s room and gave John a couch in the living room.
Before they arrived, we prayed to Heavenly Father, asking how we should present ourselves to them—as teachers, parents, or simply friends? The answer came that we needed to follow the promptings of the Spirit and help them spiritually.
Every evening my husband, son, and I sit down to study the scriptures. On the first evening with our guests, we felt that we should not invite them to study with us. But the next evening before scripture study, John shyly knocked on our door and said, “Mary is afraid to ask, but she would like to know if we can join you.”
We swung open the door, invited them in, and began studying the Book of Mormon together. Mary had never read scriptures before and did not know whether she believed in God. She admitted that when she came to our home, she had been afraid we might make her take part in something religious she did not understand.
To make Mary feel comfortable, my husband told her about the plan of salvation, the Savior Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith’s First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. She talked with us until midnight.
The next day, John and Mary joined us for a discussion with the missionaries. I will never forget the spirit that filled the room. After a simple discussion, we talked about the nature of our Heavenly Father. Then Mary asked why God allows suffering if He loves us, a question I had pondered for a long time.
Several days earlier I had received a letter from a friend who had miscarried her third child, so Mary’s question touched my heart. I testified that times of happiness and joy occasionally cannot teach us as deeply and eternally as times of personal tragedy. I told Mary that grief can temper us just as fire tempers iron. If we remain true to God while passing through trials, our faith will grow.
It was an unforgettable discussion. Afterward we sat silently while the Spirit testified of our Heavenly Father’s love. When Mary looked up, her eyes were bright and full of tears.
I do not know what will happen in the coming years, but I know for certain that the understanding I saw in Mary’s eyes that day will help her throughout her life and may help lead her to her Heavenly Father.

Brother Dalebe Martin Goury of Nigeria shares the following personal experience:
“In April 1993, I was a new convert to the Church, living in a foreign country, working every hour possible while attending university. I was studying mechanical engineering. Having been taught the law of tithing, I started paying a full and honest tithe from the day I received the lesson. I had been a member of the Church for three weeks when we were asked to come to our courses with a programmable engineering calculator. With my little resources, I realized that I needed to save a certain amount each week for 12 weeks without paying my tithing to be able to afford the materials required. If I did not purchase them, I would struggle to be on the same level as other student.
“Usually, I would give my tithing envelope to the bishop or to any of his counsellors as soon as I arrived at the chapel, but that Sunday I kept the envelope till the end—as I was debating what to do. I was so tempted to return home with the tithing money and start saving. As my mind was racing with what to do at the end of the third hours, I receive this strong feeling that I had made a covenant. I felt overwhelmed by the feeling and went to the bishop’s office and handed in my tithing envelope. I never explained why I was late handing in my tithing this time. Then I went home.
“The following week, my resolve was strong this time and I handed in my tithing as soon as I arrived at the chapel. The following Sunday, I did the same thing. Even though things were a bit difficult at the university, I was happy and peaceful because I had paid a full and honest tithe every week.
“At the end of the second week, the first counsellor of the bishopric, who studied engineering, requested to see me. I do not know how he knew that I was in a desperate need of a programmable calculator. However, these were his words: ‘I heard you are doing a degree in mechanical engineering. I completed an engineering degree a few years ago and still have the calculator I had to purchase. I no longer have need of it. Would you like it?’
“When he brought the calculator out, I noticed that it was 10 times better than the one I would have purchased after 12 weeks of saving money. How did he know my needs? Only my Father in Heaven knew. This confirmed for me the promises of the Lord in Malachi 3:10.”
Brother Goury passed the test of whether he loved and trusted our Father in Heaven over all other things. He did this by living the law of the tithe when it seemed that doing so would frustrate his goals. After some patience and persistence in obeying the commandment, he received help sent by our loving Heavenly Father. Those who follow Brother Goury’s example will learn by their own experience that “if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them” (1 Nephi 17:3).

Tommy and Betsy were excited and happy about going out west. “It is just like going on a picnic,” said Betsy.
“It would be if it weren’t so cold,” replied Tommy, as he snuggled down into the featherbed that his father had thrown over the supplies in the bottom of the wagon. It was like settling down into a giant pillow. Its feathery softness kept Tommy and Betsy snug and warm, even though the wind was blowing, snow was falling, and ice was forming on the edges of the wagon cover.
The road was ice-covered. As they started down the steep slope to the river, Father called to Tommy and Betsy, “You had better get out of the wagon and walk. It will be safer that way.”
Tommy and Betsy hated to leave the cozy warmth of their featherbed, but they did not say so. Instead, they climbed out of the wagon and, lowering their heads into the wind, walked the remaining distance down the hill to the river. While they were waiting for their father and mother, it started to hail. The hailstones were big, and to Tommy and Betsy it felt as if it were raining bullets. Betsy was frightened; both she and Tommy were freezing. Tommy said, “Let’s jump up and down and laugh at the hailstones. At least that will help us get warm.” And that was the way their father and mother found them—laughing at the hailstorm.
When Tommy and Betsy saw Father leading the frightened oxen and Mother walking by his side, holding a pan to protect his head from the hailstones, they were glad that they were found laughing instead of crying. Happily they climbed into the back of the wagon and settled once more into the cozy warmth of their featherbed.
In a moment or two, Tommy raised a corner of the wagon cover and peeked out. To his amazement he saw wagons coming from every part of town. “How can they all cross the river?” he wondered aloud. “The ferry is locked in ice.”
His father, who at that moment was near the back of the wagon, heard Tommy and answered him. “We will go across the river on the bridge our Heavenly Father has provided—a bridge of ice a mile long.”
Tommy looked across the river. It was so far to the other side! Could a river so big freeze solid enough to hold up a heavy covered wagon? He was breathless with fear that when his father moved the oxen onto the ice it would crack, but it did not! Tommy and Betsy sighed with relief as one wagon after another followed until there was a whole train of them moving slowly across the river. The ice would hold!
For a moment all was quiet, and into their hearts came a feeling that their Heavenly Father really loved them and that he would watch over and protect them on their journey west. It was then that a woman started to sing, and soon others joined in. The singing continued until the wagon train arrived at Sugar Creek.
Sugar Creek was the place where the Saints expected to camp until the weather was warmer. The people who had arrived there the week before heard the singing, and they built campfires—many of them—to welcome the travelers and so that all could get warm when they arrived. Tommy and Besty were thankful for the campfires. They stood in front of the one nearest their wagon and turned first to one side and then to the other, until they were toasty warm. Tommy left the fire first to help his father feed the oxen and milk the cow.
“Betsy,” called her mother, “please bring a loaf of bread out of the bread box so we can have bread and milk for supper.”
The loaf of bread was frozen solid. Her mother tried to cut it with a knife. Then she tried to break it with a hammer, but she only succeeded in making Betsy laugh. When her father came with a pail of milk, he said, “I’ll get the saw,” and they all laughed when they saw him try to cut that little loaf of bread with his big saw. He succeeded in breaking off small pieces. Tommy and Betsy put these pieces into the warm milk.
That night when Tommy and Betsy snuggled down into their warm featherbed, they thought of all that had happened during the day. Betsy thought of her kitten, of the chair with the big round back, and of the clock they’d left back in Nauvoo. In her mind she could hear the clock saying “Sleep, Betsy. Sleep, Betsy,” just as it used to do. And Betsy was soon asleep.
With Tommy it was different. He thought about the wicked men who had driven them from Nauvoo, and he hoped these men would not follow them out west. The more he thought, the more wide awake he became. Because he was so wide awake, he heard all the noises of the camp. It sounded as if many people were going from one wagon to another. Then he heard the ice on the wagon cover crack as Father raised a corner and said, “Tommy, Betsy, wake up!”
Tommy was up in an instant. “Is something the matter?” he asked.
“Sister Johnson has a new baby girl,” replied his father. “Your featherbed would help the mother and the baby keep warm on this bitter cold night.”
By that time Betsy was awake, and both she and Tommy helped their father pull the featherbed out of the wagon. Afterwards, her father bundled Betsy up in some quilts and she went back to sleep.
Tommy was too excited to sleep. Instead, he stood by the fire, which was blazing brightly. He had been there just a minute or so when his mother came out of Sister Johnson’s wagon carrying the baby. “It will only be a minute before the featherbed is ready, and then we will tuck her in next to her mother, and she will be snug and warm,” she said. “In the meantime, it is much warmer here by the fire than it is in the wagon.” Tommy looked at the ice on the wagon cover and knew that this was true.
The next morning when he and Betsy asked about the baby, their mother said, “Instead of just one new baby, there were nine babies born last night.”
“Nine new babies!” Tommy and Betsy could hardly believe their ears.
Mother looked from one to the other and said softly, “I know of at least one of those babies who is doing well because two kind children gave up their precious featherbed so the baby could be warm.”
Tommy and Betsy smiled at each other, and a warm glow of happiness filled their hearts.

A few years ago, I became active in the Church again after six months of inactivity. My spiritual thirst was unbelievable, for I was once again on the right path. After just a few months, I felt the desire to serve the Lord as a missionary. I had interviews with my bishop, who helped me prepare. I had to wait to be truly ready, and in the meantime the bishop advised me to tell my parents of my plans.
My parents are members of the Church, but they had been less active for more than nine years. From the day I spoke with them about my desire, the opposition became real. I agreed with my family that if I passed the competitive examination from the school I had been accepted to, they would let me go on a mission in one year.
That year ended up being the most difficult of my life. My mother thought I would forget about my desire to go on a mission. However, after I had attended a few months of school, she realized I was truly preparing for a mission. So she cut off my financial support. It was then that my prayers became great blessings.
My Heavenly Father inspired me to look for a job, which I did. After finding three good openings, I wrote my letters of application and pleaded with the Lord to let me receive at least one positive response, for I had done all that He had commanded me.
A response came only three days later. I was called in for an interview with one of the companies. Following the interview, I got the job that day. The only problem was that I was still not earning enough money to cover all my expenses. After praying to God, I felt inspired to trust Him and not to fear. So I paid my tithing without fear.
A few weeks later my landlord asked to see me. “Most likely to talk about rent,” I thought. What he said was, “You will not need to pay your rent until you finish school!”
I could not believe it. This blessing enabled me to pay for what I needed, and most important, it helped me prepare financially for my mission. Miracles were taking place in my life at just the right time.
I have now completed my mission. I feel such gratitude for the ability to pray to our Father in Heaven. I am so happy to know with a certainty that He lives and He loves His children. If we listen to Him, we will see many miracles in our lives.

Most days my bus arrived right on time, but one day—11 October 1993—it was late. I was a young university student in Caen, France, and I needed to get to class. Looking around, I noticed I was not the only one waiting for the bus. Two young men standing nearby caught my eye. They looked different. Each had a name tag. Who were they? They were obviously not high school students. But anxious about getting to class on time, I quickly turned my thoughts back to worrying about the late bus.
Then, unexpectedly, I heard a voice behind me, saying, “May I ask you a question?”
I turned and found myself facing one of the young men. He spoke French with an unusual accent. “Do you believe in God?” he asked.
I was surprised and hesitated to reply. I had asked myself that very question many times. I had finally decided I was an atheist. There was no reason to continue talking with these young men, but something about their demeanor was so remarkable I found myself wanting to continue our conversation. They radiated a feeling of peace and, surprisingly, an outpouring of love and intelligence. Their name tags said they were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The three of us conversed for about 10 minutes. I knew nothing about their church, and I was amazed when they said they were prepared to teach me everything I needed to know about God, including the meaning of life. Before my bus arrived—15 minutes late—we set an appointment to meet.
During our discussions, the two elders introduced me to the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ, and they taught me about the restored gospel. Little by little, I learned the principles of the gospel and came to believe they are true.
My entire life began to change. My parents were the first to notice the difference. Communication with my family improved, and my relationships with everyone became happier. I made friends more easily than ever before. I attended church and saw no pretense there, only expressions of love and acceptance unlike anything I had experienced before. The members seemed to know the difference between what was true and what was false. It was a place of wonderful opportunities.
But before joining the Church, I wanted to be absolutely certain it was the right thing to do. I took my time making up my mind. The missionary discussions helped me come to the conviction that I would not be making a mistake, that I had indeed found the truth. I was baptized on 24 July 1994.
It was the best decision I have ever made. Since then, I have enjoyed the blessings of the gospel and the fellowship of wonderful ward members. I have received the priesthood. I have taught Sunday School and participated in the conversion of others. Life has taken on new meaning.
Thanks to the elders, I found the answers to my questions and the solutions to my problems. Meeting them was the most fortunate encounter of my life. When people ask me how I came to join the Church, I grin and tell them, “The bus was late—thank heavens!”

During the cold and gray days of the Great Depression I remember a wonderful servant of the Savior by the name of C. Perry Erickson. Brother Erickson, a contractor, had a difficult time finding work. He could have shut himself up. He could have become bitter and angry. He could have given up. Instead, when I was 12 he was my Scoutmaster. He spent countless hours helping me and others my age to learn, to grow, and to approach every difficulty with confidence and optimism. Without exception, every one of C. Perry Erickson’s Scouts received an Eagle award. I knew then.

Yes, the testimonies of priesthood leaders and faithful ward members helped me to know.
I remember the words of my mother and father. I remember their expressions of faith and love for their Heavenly Father. I knew then.
I knew the reality of the Savior’s compassion when, at the request of my father, the bishop of the ward, I delivered food and clothing to the widows and poor of the ward.
I knew, when as a young father, my wife and I gathered our children around us and expressed our gratitude to our Heavenly Father for our many blessings.
I knew last April, when I heard from this pulpit the words of our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, who called Jesus his friend, exemplar, leader, Savior, and King.
President Hinckley said: “Through giving His life in pain and unspeakable suffering, He has reached down to lift me and each of us and all the sons and daughters of God from the abyss of eternal darkness following death. He has provided something better—a sphere of light and understanding, growth and beauty.”

Now, I would like to bear my testimony—I know that Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, that the heavens opened and God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to an unlearned youth reared in the backwoods of New York.
As a special witness of the name of Jesus Christ in all the world, I promise you that if you seek the Lord, you will find Him. Ask, and you shall receive.
I pray that you may do so and testify to the ends of the earth that the gospel of our Lord and Savior is restored to man! In the name of my friend, my exemplar, my Savior and King, Jesus Christ, amen.

I know of a young widow who invested part of the proceeds of her husband’s life-insurance settlement with a close friend with the promise of a guaranteed high interest rate. Though the investment paid out for several years, one day the checks stopped coming. Soon thereafter, the company filed for bankruptcy, and the widow lost many tens of thousands of dollars. She felt betrayed that the sacred funds her late husband had provided were lost in this way.

My husband and I were living in on-campus housing at the Texas State Technical Institute when our two oldest children were four and two. It was our first experience in Texas hill country, and I loved it! Every spring, central Texas is awash with flowers. In gardens, woods, vacant fields, on roadsides, everywhere I looked there were more blossoms to see.
I took my children on stroller rides nearly every day. We’d find new places to explore, and I let the children pick as many wildflowers as they wanted. We’d finish our ride through a neighborhood where most of the houses had beautifully maintained flower gardens.
One day we came around a corner to discover a large mass of papers spread across one of the flower gardens. The wind quickly scattered the paper all over the yard. I decided to tidy up the litter before it spread further. I grabbed handfuls of pages and stuffed them in my diaper bag.
As I looked down, I realized I was holding pornography. Appalled, I asked my children to stay in the stroller as I snatched up the rest of the pages. I became upset as I saw glimpses of things I never wanted to see. In my heart, I began complaining, “Why didn’t God warn me to go another way home?”
Then I heard the unmistakable huff of school bus brakes. About a dozen kids got off the bus. They all moved past the yard that had been filled with pornography only moments before.
In that moment, my whole perspective changed. I now knew why I hadn’t been warned to go another way. I was grateful I was there to pick up those pages so those children could be spared seeing those damaging images. As I made my way back home, I thought, “What if the school bus had come later? What if I had never found out why I had that experience? How long would I have been upset with God?”

Principle Number 1: In our quest for holy wisdom, we must have the faith to lay our whole selves on the altar.
To echo the words of President Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
To sacrifice means to give something up in favor of something more valuable. . . .
. . . Our sacrifices show what we truly value.1
My parents have acted as a powerful example of this principle. My family decided to immigrate to the United States when I was six years old. At the time, my father worked at an international law firm—which allowed him to practice law in the U.S. with his Australian law degree. Unfortunately, just a few months after we had moved to Utah, the firm was suddenly forced into bankruptcy.

Initially my parents saw this as God closing a door, signaling a return to stable work in Australia. However, after prayer and reflection, they felt guided to remain in Utah. This choice required uprooting our lives, including sending my father to law school for a second time to become eligible to practice in the United States.

Over the next three years, my parents raised five children in a cramped, three-room basement apartment, surviving on meals supplemented with one too many cans of beans. In choosing to follow God’s will, despite discomfort, my parents taught me that no cost is too high to pursue the Lord’s will.
Each of you has incorporated sacrifice into your BYU education, whether it was relinquishing your free hour to crochet hats with Y-Serve or deciding to enroll in a challenging major based solely on revelation. Your sacrifice, like that of my parents, has taught you to love the things the Lord loves. Your sacrifice has purified your hearts, fashioning you into worthy instruments in God’s hands and preparing you to go forth to serve.

As a young man, I served in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. We spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There an instructor taught us about emergencies that could occur when flying at the speed of sound and about what we must do to avoid disaster.
One young man in my flight-training unit refused to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When it was time for him to go to the trainer and learn emergency procedures, he went to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course, instead.
A few months later, my friend’s plane caught fire on a night flight. If he had trained seriously, his response would have been automatic. He would have ejected, as his copilot did. But he tried to land the plane and crashed. He died because he had not learned to leave danger immediately.

Emily the story detective kept searching. She heard stories about her mom, who was born in a house instead of a hospital, and about Tony the pony that Uncle Josh used to ride—when he could stay on! Tony liked to scrape Josh off by running under a tree branch. She found out about the time when Great-Grandad Ernest went to the store to get fresh brown bread. The baker wrapped the bread in paper so that Grandad could carry it home. On the way, he got so hungry that he poked a little hole in the crust and ate the soft insides. “Mother was sure surprised to have hollow bread,” Grandad said, chuckling.

I was good at saying my evening prayers. But morning prayers were a different matter. I always managed to find an excuse for not praying when I left my room in the morning. The Spirit would often prompt me to think, “I really should be saying prayers every morning.” I tried but often failed after a few poor attempts.
For about a year, I had been praying for an answer to a question. I was planning to go to university, but with just a few weeks to go before my application forms had to be finished, I still didn’t know what to study. I couldn’t work out why I had not received an answer.
My nervous and often desperate feelings of confusion became so bad that on one particular night I lay awake in bed, tears in my eyes, unable to sleep. Why hadn’t Heavenly Father answered my prayers? I had patiently prayed for a year about various courses and options, but I felt I still hadn’t received an answer.
One night while reading the scriptures I came across Alma 37:37: “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the morning let your heart be full of thanks unto God.”
I had read that scripture before in Primary, Young Women, seminary, and Sunday School lessons, but this time I really understood what I was reading. I made up my mind to pray every morning. I left little notes everywhere to remind me, and sure enough they began to work.
A few days later, I received an answer to my prayers about what to study. I knew what I had chosen was wrong, and I knew what I had to do instead. The cloud of uncertainty that had hung above me lifted, and the prospect of university became much brighter. I was even excited.
Heavenly Father did answer my prayers, just as the scriptures said He would. I know He loves us and listens to our prayers. I had to listen to what the Spirit was telling me to do and exercise a little extra faith and effort before my prayer was finally answered.