Gospel Story Finder

During the time I was a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, I was called to be president of the quorum. With the urging and assistance of a dedicated and inspired quorum adviser, I worked diligently to ensure that each of the young men attended our meetings regularly. Two of them were a particular challenge, but with our perseverance and love and a little persuasion, they began to attend meetings and participate in quorum activities. However, as time passed and they left the ward to pursue education and employment, each of them drifted back into inactivity.
Over the years I have seen each of these two dear friends at various functions. Whenever I do, I place a hand on their shoulder and remind them, “I’m still your quorum president, and I won’t let go. You mean so much to me, and I want you to enjoy the blessings which come with activity in the Church.” They know I love them and that I’ll never ever give up on them.

I would like to tell you about my experience of reading the Book of Mormon. I started reading the Book of Mormon on my own when President Hinckley asked us to. I really wanted to finish before Joseph Smith’s birthday. I got as far as 2 Nephi. I was really worried I wouldn’t finish. At Thanksgiving my grandpa let me take home his tapes of the Book of Mormon. I listened to 16 tapes and got to Ether 8. Grandpa was missing the last tape. I started reading again to try to finish. On Christmas morning I was surprised to get all the CDs of the Book of Mormon. I listened to the last two CDs on Christmas Day. I was so happy that I finished the Book of Mormon.

PUSH (People United for Self Help) found the LDS young people in the Phoenix area were really pulling for them when they donated a 35-horse power tractor.
The youth conducted an “Operation Identification” in which they etched a homeowner’s license number on all valuable items and personal possessions to raise money for the cause. They also held car washes, and served breakfasts and dinners to raise funds.
Through the youths’ help approximately 100 disabled, low-income workers and their families will be markedly more productive on their five-acre vegetable tract. For two years the members of PUSH together with their wives and children have dug, cultivated, planted, and weeded the land. Their work will be much more efficient through the use of the tractor.
Other money-raising activities of the young church members were Slave Auctions, in which services were bid for at random, and meals, which ranged from pancakes to spaghetti.
The project was one of several suggested by city officials when approached by the Phoenix youth as to suggestions for community service projects. The challenge to raise the tractor funds came from the five stake presidents in the area.

“Okay, Melody, let’s try the stuffed animal trick again,” Lisa said. “The magic show is in half an hour.”
Lisa looked at her five-year-old sister. Melody’s costume was awesome. She had on a top hat and a sparkly cape from the costume box. The cape was big on Melody, but that made it easier to hide tricks inside.
Melody looked at the cardboard box with the two stuffed animals hidden inside. “That trick is hard,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do it!”
Lisa smiled. “But you’re getting better all the time. Remember, the owl has shorter fur than the dog. You have to feel the difference inside the box without looking. OK, try to pull out the dog.”
Melody reached in the box. She felt around for a bit and pulled out the stuffed dog. “Yes!” Melody said.
Lisa gave her a high five. “Great job! Now keep practicing. It’s almost time.”
The girls had put up posters all around the house inviting the family to “Magnificent Melody’s Magical Magic Show.” The whole family was excited. Lisa wondered if she should have put her own name on the poster too.
Usually she invented magic tricks and showed them to the family herself. Mom and Dad always liked them. So did her sisters. But earlier that day Melody had asked Lisa to teach her some tricks. When Melody learned them so quickly, Lisa thought it would be a good idea to let Melody have her own magic show.
She paused as she set up chairs in the playroom. Would this magic show still be as much fun? Lisa loved performing her own tricks for the family. It might be weird to only be an assistant.
Then she watched Melody practice the flower trick again. She was having so much fun getting ready.
Twenty minutes later Lisa called out, “Come one! Come all! It’s time for Magnificent Melody’s Magical Magic Show!”
Mom, Dad, Michelle, and Lily hurried to the basement. Lisa waited at the side of the playroom while Melody stood in the center of the pretend stage.
Melody was about as excited as Lisa had ever seen her. Lisa suddenly didn’t mind that she wasn’t the star tonight.
“For my first trick,” Melody said, “I’m going to turn this one flower into … a bunch of other flowers.”
That was Lisa’s cue, even if Melody had forgotten the word bouquet. Lisa had to wave the magic wand for this trick. Melody’s hands were busy in the folds of her magic cape.
Lisa hurried across the room and waved the wand before returning to the side. Seconds later, Melody pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Everybody clapped.
The ball out of the hat trick went perfectly too. So did the other tricks they had practiced.
Then came the grand finale. Melody held up the owl. “I am going to change this stuffed animal, by magic!”
Lisa noticed that Melody looked a little nervous for the first time during the show. Lisa gave her an encouraging smile.
Melody put the owl into the magic box. She waved her wand, said the magic words, and pulled out … the dog! She did it!
A huge grin spread across Melody’s face as she finished her toughest trick. The whole family clapped and cheered.
Lisa clapped hardest of all. This was much better than being the star of the show. She had helped her little sister feel magnificent. That was real magic.

This brother radiated enthusiasm in telling an unforgettable experience, and he effectively transmitted this feeling to his audience. His story dealt with the reaction of two fathers having a picnic with their children near a swift-flowing river. One father screamed excitedly as his little boy walked close to the river’s edge. The child was spanked and dragged away from the water. The second father kept careful watch on his son’s activities and then, kneeling beside him, he demonstrated the danger of the rushing water. Together, father and son threw sticks into the river and watched them be swept away by the current. The child’s curiosity was satisfied and he contentedly followed his father back to safer ground.
The high councilor asked us which of the two children received a lasting lesson from a parent who acted wisely.
We learned a lesson from this personal story, and we also learned a lesson from the manner in which the story was presented.

Growing up, I always had a strong desire to serve a mission. I wanted to spread the gospel and bring souls unto Christ. I wanted to devote myself to full-time service for the Lord. However, it didn’t happen the way I expected.
When I turned 20, I applied to serve a mission just like many others, but was turned down for medical reasons. Then I tried to apply for a teaching mission from home, but that didn’t work out. I applied for a temple mission, but that didn’t happen either. In the end, I decided to go back into education, since I appeared to have no other options. Then, out of the blue, I heard about a new type mission launched in the UK that required service missionaries. So, despite my bad luck with the previous mission applications, I decided to give it a go.
Not long after I resubmitted my mission application, I received my long-awaited mission call. I was called to serve as a service missionary in my local area. I was the first service missionary in the England Manchester Mission. This was an extraordinary moment that I will not forget in a hurry. Not long after I received the call, I felt impressed that this was the mission that God had wanted me to serve since before I was born. That is why none of the other mission applications worked out. That is why I had to wait so long. Heavenly Father really did have a plan for me.

One night I went with my friends to a youth activity at the local ice rink. Around and around we went on the cold, slippery ice. I was feeling pretty confident and carefree, and I was glad I had gone to the activity.
My mind wandered as I glided along—this was my mistake! It only took one regrettable second for my feet to twist together like a pretzel, and down I went, smashing my face into the ice. Embarrassed, I collected myself and headed for the side of the rink to assess the damage. I quickly realized that my two front teeth were dangling by the roots.
My ward family stepped into place. Brother Kearns called my parents, but by the time they arrived, my ward family was already making arrangements. Brother Bryson comforted me as he helped me into the car to go see a dentist. It felt just like my family had been with me the whole time. They had taken care of everything, and my mom and dad were grateful.

The Targeteer A classes of the Orem Fourteenth Ward decided to do something to beautify our sacrament trays. This was done in secret so that only the members of the class and our teacher knew about it. Everyone rolled up their sleeves and really scrubbed and polished the trays. We became so enthusiastic that one class member suggested that we also clean the storage shelves. We felt good about it and many of the ward members commented on the gleaming silver trays.
We also baked cookies at our teacher’s home and took them to some of the sick and elderly people of the ward where we sang songs and visited.

As a young colonel in the Virginia Regiment, George Washington found himself in a heated argument with William Payne, a candidate running in an election. As words escalated, Washington made an insulting remark, and Payne struck him with his walking stick.

The next day Washington sent a message inviting the offended gentleman to meet him. Mr. Payne nervously arrived expecting a duel and was surprised to hear Washington say, “Mr. Payne, I find I was wrong yesterday. You have had some satisfaction. If that is sufficient, here's my hand; let us be friends.”

Washington’s efforts to acknowledge and rectify his mistake helped turn William Payne from a foe into an ardent ally.

I thought of a recent family home evening lesson on baptism. Dad opened his scriptures to the Doctrine and Covenants and read, “And this is my gospel—repentance and baptism by water, and then cometh the baptism of fire and the Holy Ghost, even the Comforter, which showeth all things, and teacheth the peaceable things of the kingdom” (D&C 39:6).
“The Holy Ghost speaks to us in a still, small voice,” Dad explained. “And if we obey Heavenly Father’s commandments and listen to that voice, we will be happy.”
Inside the church, I changed into a white jumpsuit, and Mom put my hair in a braid so it wouldn’t float to the top of the water. Then we took our seats for the baptismal service. Everyone sat quietly while Sister Larsen played hymns and Primary songs on the piano. Even my baby sister sat still. After the opening prayer, my big brother Preston and Grandpa Larsen sang my favorite Primary song, “I Am a Child of God.”* As I sang I knew that Heavenly Father loves me. I was grateful that He blessed me with a family that loves me.
When it was Grandpa Ochsenhirt’s turn to give his talk, he spoke directly to me. “The Holy Ghost will help you learn what is right and wrong so that you can make the right choices,” he said. “He will also give you the strength to choose the right. And if you try to keep Heavenly Father’s commandments, the Holy Ghost will be with you as a constant companion.”
That made me think about school. Schoolwork is hard for me, and I get frustrated because I have to try harder than other students. Some of my classmates tease me when I don’t do well on tests, and I want to say mean things back. And since I don’t like being teased, sometimes I’m tempted to look at my friend’s paper and get the right answers. Could the Holy Ghost help me handle school better?
When it was time for me to be baptized, I walked down the stairs to meet my dad in the baptismal font. My heart felt large and warm. I glanced at Mom and saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Dad smiled at me, hugged me, and helped me stand the way he had shown me. Then he said the simple prayer and lowered me under the water. Afterward, Mom met me at the top of the stairs with a towel. She wrapped it around me and squeezed me tight.
“I have a great feeling inside, Mom,” I said.
She hugged me again. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that you’re doing the right thing.”
After I changed out of my wet clothes, the men in the family who hold the Melchizedek Priesthood laid their hands on my head. They confirmed me a member of the Church and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost. I seemed to be surrounded by a peaceful glow.
For many weeks I felt clean and happy. I loved talking about my baptism and how my heart seemed to be growing. My family and Primary teacher reminded me often that the Holy Ghost would help me know what was right and wrong.
A few days ago I had to take a test in school, and I was really nervous. I kept thinking how easy it would be to copy from the girl sitting next to me. I knew that cheating was wrong, but I was desperate to get a good score. Then I remembered that the Holy Ghost would help me. I said a prayer in my heart asking for strength to make the right choice.
The rest of the day, I felt as happy as I had at my baptism. After school, I ran to our car and gave Mom a hug. “I got 100 percent on my test!” I exclaimed.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And I didn’t even cheat.”
Mom frowned. “You wanted to cheat?”
“Well, I thought about it,” I admitted. “But I had a feeling inside that it was wrong. So I prayed for help and just tried my best.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you listened to that feeling.”
I’m glad too. Really glad. I always want to be worthy of my companion—the Holy Ghost.

The first was a very small experience, but with long-lasting consequences. When I was in graduate school many years ago, I attended a branch potluck supper. One of the leaders said something to me that offended me. I have long forgotten what was said, but I remember I felt so hurt that I went back to my apartment and wept. I thought, “I’ll show them! I don’t want to be with people like that. I won’t go to church anymore!” But reason—or the inspiration of the Comforter—prevailed. I realized that I could continue to feel offended and harm only myself or I could acknowledge that although my feelings had been hurt, I knew the hurt was not intentional and I had best just let it go. It was one small experience, but it had eternal consequences. My life would have been very different, in unhappy ways, if I had held onto my hurt feelings. Instead I humbled myself and chose to continue participating in the gospel feast.

Sister Tanner: It was true for me in seventh grade. I was honest, going against what a popular group of girls wanted me to do. Because of that, I didn’t have friends and I was sad, but I had confidence that what I had done was right. And I’m sure that’s what sustained me through a period of time. I knew I could face whom I really needed to face—my Heavenly Father and my family. But even that knowledge doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

The girls in the ward agree that just because a conversion process doesn’t happen immediately, you shouldn’t give up. Crystal Wangler, 14, went to church with friends for the first time when she was five, but her parents wouldn’t let her be baptized until she was 14. “It was hard to wait,” she said. “The rest of the family weren’t attending any church, and Mom and Dad love to go away on weekends, so I had a hard time getting to activities and church meetings. But my friend Denise’s family always gave me a ride when I needed one. They’ve been a good influence on me. They call me all the time and invite me. I wouldn’t be able to come to most of the activities without them.”

Denise Freiley is Karen’s little sister, and their family is particularly missionary minded. Their home is open for anyone to take missionary discussions, and the missionaries know they can count on the Freileys to fellowship their investigators.

Illustration by Brad Teare
Isabel set the table with special plates and napkins. The smell of her favorite rolls filled the house. But she didn’t feel hungry. She wished she could skip dinner and play with her two chameleons, Flicker and Blink, instead. Or at least play with Flicker. Blink wouldn’t come out from under the leaves in her cage. She was shy.
Isabel felt shy today too. She’d never met anyone from Russia, and now three people from Russia were coming to dinner! What if she couldn’t understand them? Isabel wished she could hide like Blink.
Isabel’s older sister, Amelia, set out the cups. “Are you excited to meet my friend Natalia?” Amelia asked.
“No,” said Isabel. “How am I going to talk to her?”
Amelia raised her eyebrows. “The same way you talk to me.”
“But Natalia speaks Russian.”
“Natalia speaks our language too,” said Amelia. “So does her dad. Her mom only knows a few words, but she’s learning.”
Isabel decided she would stay away from Natalia’s mom.
The doorbell rang, and Amelia ran to answer it. Isabel could see Natalia and her parents waiting on the porch. Natalia’s dad held a bowl of salad. Her mom had a big, friendly smile.
Isabel spent dinner hunched in her seat so only her head poked over the edge of the table. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
Natalia’s mom didn’t say anything either, but she smiled and nodded. Sometimes Natalia translated for her.
After dinner Isabel slipped away and wandered over to Flicker and Blink’s cage. To her surprise, Natalia and her mom followed. Inside the cage, Blink scuttled under her leaf again.
“Can I see?” said Natalia, pointing to the cage. Isabel nodded. She reached into the cage and Flicker climbed onto her hand. She handed him to Natalia.
Flicker licked Natalia’s hand. Isabel laughed. So did Natalia’s mom.
Isabel reached in the cage again, but Blink wouldn’t come out. “Come on, Blink,” Isabel said. “You’re missing all the fun.”
Natalia’s mom said something to Natalia in Russian.
“She wants to help you get the lizard,” Natalia said to Isabel.
Natalia’s mom placed her hand out flat. It looked like she was asking Isabel to move her hand next to Blink’s hiding spot. Isabel thought about how Blink was missing out by hiding.
I’m not going to be like Blink, Isabel thought. She looked at Natalia’s mom and then held out her hand. Natalia’s mom placed a drop of water and some of Blink’s food on Isabel’s hand.
Blink turned her big eyes toward the food. Her tiny green leg stretched onto Isabel’s open palm. “Good,” said Natalia’s mom. Blink’s tail curled in a loop, and her tiny feet tickled Isabel’s arm.
When it was time for Natalia’s family to go home, Natalia’s mom waved at Isabel and smiled. “Poka,” she said.
“That’s Russian for ‘bye,’” whispered Amelia.
It didn’t matter if Natalia’s family didn’t speak the same language she did. They could still understand each other. And maybe she could learn some Russian for the next time they came to dinner.
Isabel grinned and waved back at Natalia’s mom. “Poka!”

Near Christmastime I entered an art contest with students from my area. I drew a picture of an angel appearing to shepherds, telling them the joyous news of Christ’s birth. I was delighted to learn that I was one of the finalists and that my art would be displayed at a local museum, but sad when I learned that the awards ceremony was going to be on Sunday.
When my parents asked me what I thought I should do about the ceremony, I said that we shouldn’t go because it was on Sunday. My family and I had a great time visiting the museum on Saturday to see my picture, and my award was mailed to me the next week.
I am happy that I chose to keep the Sabbath day holy. My testimony grew that day because I knew I had chosen the right. I know that Heavenly Father blesses us when we keep His commandments.

Every time Allison had to do it, her knees knocked together and her voice squeaked. She couldn’t even think straight with all those eyes staring at her. Now her teacher was going to have her get up in front of the whole class again.
“On Monday,” Miss Barnett had announced, “I want each of you to tell us about your pet. If you don’t have a pet, choose any animal you like and tell us something special about it.”
Jeff Bates had a dog named Whiskers that could shake hands and fetch a ball. Jenny Olson would tell about the pony her parents had given her for Christmas. Raymond French lived on a farm with all kinds of animals. Everybody had a pet—everybody except Allison.
When school was out, Allison ran all the way home, the cold wind stinging her cheeks. Rushing into the house, she found her mother stacking logs by the fireplace. “Can I get a pet this weekend?” Allison blurted out.
“Not this weekend, honey,” Mother replied. “Maybe in the spring we can get a puppy.”
“What about some aquarium fish or a hamster?” Allison asked.
“We’ll talk about it when your father gets home.”
Allison went into the kitchen to get a drink of milk. As she passed the sliding glass doors, she saw that the feeder in the backyard was empty. The sparrows always looked for food there when the weather turned cold. Allison took the sack of seed out of the broom closet and went outside.
Beneath the crab apple tree was a stone bench that Allison always stood on to reach the feeder. Both the bench and the feeder had been there when her family had moved into the house. “The birds know to come here for food in the wintertime,” Allison’s mother had explained. “We can’t let them down.”
Back inside, Allison watched the birds flock to the feeder. All they ever do is eat, thought Allison. They’re not very pretty. They’re just ordinary birds.
For the rest of the evening, Allison worried about what she would say in class on Monday. She worried about it between spoonfuls of soup. She worried about it in the bathtub. By bedtime, she was too tired to worry about it anymore.
The first streaks of dawn had not yet appeared when something woke Allison. What’s that noise? she wondered. There it is again. Something’s flapping … like wings.
A sparrow was flying around in her room! Allison sprang out of bed, and the bird flew into the living room. Allison almost laughed out loud.
When the sparrow suddenly flew to the fireplace, Allison guessed how it had found its way inside—down the chimney! Someone must have left the draft open. Quickly Allison closed it so that no more feathered visitors could get in.
She looked at the bird closely. It was just like the ones she had been feeding almost every day but had never really seen at all. The little fellow was perched on the lamp-shade now, cocking his head from side to side, and staring at her with his bright eyes. What is he thinking? Allison wondered.
As dawn came, Allison opened the sliding glass door. The bird flew out and soared away. Where is it going? she asked herself. When does it build its nest? I wonder what color a sparrow’s egg is?
Allison walked through the house, being careful to clean up all the droppings. Then she climbed back into bed.
She slept so soundly that her mother had to shake her awake. Maybe I only dreamed that the bird came last night, Allison thought. Then she saw a tiny pale brown feather with gray around the edges lying on the floor, and she could hardly wait to show the feather to her classmates and tell them what had happened. They all had dogs, cats, or ponies. But nobody had such a nighttime visitor—nobody except Allison.

I remember a young couple just out of college. One parent gave them a home; the other parent gave them furnishings and a new car. They had everything in the world given to them. Within three years they were divorced. They hadn’t worked and sacrificed. They had leaned on each other and on their parents as a crutch, had crippled themselves, and hadn’t grown. They hadn’t learned the hard part. They hadn’t worried about making their marriage work. Make sure you sacrifice, share, and grow together.

Sergio was a young man who wanted to go on a mission. He was studying at a university 300 kilometers from home. He would come home regularly and talk with his bishop and stake president. He did not feel worthy to go on a mission. He said his mind was not clean: he saw and heard too many things at the university that made him think of evil. He was challenged to read the Book of Mormon every morning before going to school. He did this, and in a few months he was able to control his thoughts and he and his leaders felt good about his going on a mission. He went and served very well.
Your Church leaders are ever ready to help you in your preparation, as are your parents. Another young man’s parents encouraged him to choose music carefully. He and his family listened to a talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer on choosing good music. He went to his room, sorted through his records, took a pile to the trash can and broke and discarded them. Following the principle of obedience prepared these young men to serve honorable missions.

My dear brothers and sisters, when I was 12 years old, my family lived in Göteborg, a coastal city in southern Sweden. By way of reference, it is the hometown of our dear associate Elder Per G. Malm,1 who passed away this summer. We miss him. We’re grateful for his nobility and his noble service and for the example of his absolutely adorable family. And we certainly pray God’s richest blessings to be theirs.
Fifty years ago, we attended church in a large remodeled home. One Sunday, my friend Steffan,2 the only other deacon in the branch, greeted me at church with some excitement. We went to the chapel’s adjacent overflow area, and he pulled from his pocket a large firecracker and some matches. In an act of youthful bravado, I took the firecracker and lit the long gray fuse. I intended to snuff out the fuse before it blew up. But when I burned my fingers trying to do so, I dropped the firecracker. Steffan and I watched in horror as the fuse continued to burn.
The firecracker exploded, and sulfurous fumes filled the overflow area and the chapel. We hurriedly gathered up the scattered remnants of the firecracker and opened the windows to try to get the smell out, naively hoping that no one would notice. Fortunately, no one was hurt and no damage was done.
As members came to the meeting, they did notice the overpowering smell. It was hard to miss. The smell distracted from the sacred nature of the meeting. Because there were so few Aaronic Priesthood holders—and in what can only be described as dissociative thinking—I passed the sacrament, yet I did not feel worthy to partake of it. When the sacrament tray was offered to me, I took neither the bread nor the water. I felt horrible. I was embarrassed, and I knew that what I had done had displeased God.
After church, the branch president, Frank Lindberg, a distinguished older man with silver-gray hair, asked me to come to his office. After I sat down, he looked at me kindly and said he had noticed that I had not partaken of the sacrament. He asked why. I suspect he knew why. I was sure everyone knew what I had done. After I told him, he asked how I felt. Through tears, I haltingly told him I was sorry and that I knew I had let God down.
President Lindberg opened a well-worn copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and asked me to read some underlined verses. I read the following out loud:
“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.
“By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.”3
I will never forget President Lindberg’s compassionate smile when I looked up after I had finished reading. With some emotion, he told me that he felt it would be fine for me to resume partaking of the sacrament. As I left his office, I felt indescribable joy.
We can—and sometimes do—make different choices. Such choices may not seem intrinsically wrong, but they prevent us from becoming truly penitent and thus preclude our pursuit of real repentance. For instance, we may choose to blame others. As a 12-year-old in Göteborg, I could have blamed Steffan. He was the one who brought the big firecracker and the matches to the church in the first place. But blaming others, even if justified, allows us to excuse our behavior. By so doing, we shift responsibility for our actions to others. When the responsibility is shifted, we diminish both the need and our ability to act. We turn ourselves into hapless victims rather than agents capable of independent action.13
Another choice that impedes repentance is minimizing our mistakes. In the Göteborg firecracker incident, no one was hurt, no permanent damage occurred, and the meeting was held anyway. It would have been easy to say that there was no reason to repent. But minimizing our mistakes, even if no immediate consequences are apparent, removes the motivation to change. This thinking prevents us from seeing that our mistakes and sins have eternal consequences.
Additionally, we forgo real repentance when we choose to separate God from His commandments. After all, if the sacrament were not sacred, it would not matter that the smell of the firecracker was disruptive to that Göteborg sacrament meeting. We should be wary of discounting sinful behavior by undermining or dismissing God’s authorship of His commandments. Real repentance requires recognizing the Savior’s divinity and the truthfulness of His latter-day work.
I still remember the feelings that washed over me in the branch president’s office after the firecracker episode. I knew I had been forgiven. My feelings of guilt vanished, my gloomy mood lifted, and my heart felt light.

We arrived in Cochabamba amidst more chaos from the revolution. We found a market filled with tents, where a kind fellow Peruvian let us wash up and then store our suitcases while we went to the bus terminal. Using our same plea, we made it standby onto another bus and arrived days later in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, near the Brazilian border. For three mornings, I went to the train station to ask if there would be any departures. The answer was always no. But on the fourth day, news spread that a train would be leaving soon for Brazil.

By this point, we were running out of money. I shared my concerns with my wife, who ?rmly replied, “Even if we have to arrive by foot or on the back of a donkey, we’re going to make it.” Her reply made me happy. I wasn’t unsettled about money for the rest of the trip because our confidence was placed in our faith.

As we talked, an old lady walked toward us. She stopped in front of my wife and said, “Young lady, wouldn’t you like two tickets for today?” My wife practically ripped the tickets out of her hand. I paid the old woman, and she vanished among the crowd. It took us a few seconds to realize that the Lord and His angels were still by our side.