Gospel Story Finder

As to what extent that difference is, let me quote to you a letter. It was written a few months ago by a person who had a friend who thought enough of him to do exactly what we have been talking about. That is, the writer is a convert to the Church. He had a friend who brought him the gospel of Jesus Christ.

A few years ago, after this person became a member of the Church and received the priesthood, he took a girl to the temple. He was married for time and eternity. A few months ago a terrible tragedy struck. His wife died suddenly. There was no warning. This is the letter that he wrote while in the depths of his sorrow. He has given me permission to share this with you.

I am so miserable and lonely. I loved her so much, and the separation is so painful. I know the gospel is true. I know she is alive and working on her new assignment, but I do not find as much comfort as I thought I would.

I see good in all this. I see that my character can be strengthened. I see that my testimony has increased. I am grateful that I am a Latter-day Saint. I am appreciative that I have a knowledge of the truth and that I hold the priesthood.

If I did not have my testimony or my temple marriage, life would be so cumbersome. But the gospel is true, God lives, and Jesus the Christ, his Son, lives. Because he lives, she lives; and I will live. Because of my priesthood and the sealing powers of that priesthood, we will be reunited. That I know with a certainty tested in the flames of sorrow. But I miss the girl, my sweetheart. We were one, and half of me is beyond the veil.

Throughout my mission in Europe, a phrase in my patriarchal blessing about preaching the gospel in power reminded me I was on the Lord’s errand, and therefore I should speak with authority. When I returned home and began searching for a wife, I knew I must find someone who would help me be worthy. After all, my patriarchal blessing made reference to the joys of a righteous posterity. Today, I am thrilled to go to the temple with my six children and their companions, and I do find joy and rejoicing in my posterity.

These good friends made a big difference, but not having the gospel taught in my home with a supportive family still put my ongoing conversion process at risk. My gospel interactions in the Church became even more crucial to my growing conversion. Then two additional angels were sent by the Lord to help.
Another angel sent to help me was the Young Men president, Marco Antônio Fusco. He was also assigned to be my senior home teaching companion. Despite my lack of experience and different appearance, he gave me assignments to teach in our priests quorum meetings and home teaching visits. He gave me the chance to act and to learn and not just be an observer of the gospel. He trusted me, more than I trusted myself.

Such was the case when my wife’s parents joined the Church in 1968. A young missionary who wanted to be an instrument in the Lord’s hands helped bring their family into the Church.
My in-laws met with the missionaries once, but after that, my father-in-law didn’t want to continue. Then a new missionary, Elder Fetzer, was transferred to the area, and this young missionary and his companion felt prompted to visit and minister to the family. Elder Fetzer was able to touch the hearts of the family members in a way that other missionaries had not.
For the next six months the missionaries ministered to the family’s needs. In time, my wife’s parents were touched by the Spirit and joined the Church. They received the blessings that come as we make and keep covenants. Through them, more families have joined the Church and received the blessings of the gospel.
This happened, in part, because a young man from Utah was willing to “let God prevail” in his life. He had the courage to leave the comfort of home, learn a new language, and serve the Lord in Brazil.

To illustrate my next suggestion, may I share a personal story with you?
I was aware of the Lord's counsel concerning seeking to learn and grow. My parents and grandparents had taught me to work hard and I was living my life like I thought I should live it.
In 1963, when the world was less hectic and I was much younger, I had an experience that helped to change my life. I had completed my college degree, served in the army during the Korean War, and had returned home to Northern Utah. I had worked for a CPA firm, received my CPA license, and then after, some time and experience, I was finally working for a company in a small Utah city. We were satisfied and happy. Life was just as we had planned it would be. I had an important and well-paying position, and, as far as I was concerned, I had reached my professional goals. Then the Lord took a more active part in changing my life.
I was called to be ordained a Seventy. (Those were the days when the Seventies were ordained in each Stake). Elder Boyd K. Packer (now President Boyd K. Packer) who was then an assistant to the Twelve, was assigned to our stake conference. During his visit, he was to interview those to be ordained, and then after the conference, to ordain us in our Priesthood calling. It was the interview and the blessing that I received from Elder Packer that began to change my life.
As a part of a very powerful blessing, Elder packer blessed me that I would be "blessed with the spirit of divine discontent." He indicated that I should not and would not be content with what I was doing in my life unless I was doing all I could to "be about the Lord's work in the earth by serving my brothers and sisters to the best of my ability." Now that is the kind of a blessing that gives you a great deal to consider. It dawned on me later that he was reminding me of the Lord's command to "seek ye first the kingdom of heaven."
I continued to work in that community and was, after a time, called to be the bishop of the ward at a young age. I thought that I was responding to the blessing. I was doing all I could do to serve my brothers and sisters in the ward, and we were happy as a family in where we were living and what we were doing.
But ... I was not content! I felt that there was something else I should be doing.
It just so happened that in about 1965 or 1966, the Church announced in the Church News that it had an opening in the position of director of long-range planning. I applied. I did not even get a response to my application. In fact, I was not qualified and I knew it, but I was worried about that Priesthood blessing. To make a long story much shorter, it was seventeen years later, after many small miracles in my life, that I was asked by the First Presidency to assume the responsibility to coordinate the long-range planning efforts of the Church. This was the very work I had expressed interest in many years before. During those seventeen years, I had received many opportunities to be involved in the work of the Lord's kingdom and to utilize whatever talents the Lord had given me to do His work in the earth.
My suggestion is to listen to the Lord as He directs your life. Examine your patriarchal blessing, think of other blessings and council you have received and listen to the Spirit guiding you as you strive to be about His work on the earth. Do not be satisfied with your daily work or career unless you feel you are blessing others by the work you do.

With permission, may I read a letter from our new daughter-in-law, Elizabeth, whom I mentioned before. This was written in the Salt Lake Tabernacle just four months ago, following the beginning of their priesthood courtship. It reads:
Dear Judd,
We are now just two minutes to broadcast time. There are a few more people here than usual because of Easter. This morning is so beautiful. I think that the morning is the most beautiful time of the whole day because it is new and full of hope—like a little resurrection every twenty-four hours.
Sitting here listening to this glorious music and thought-provoking words is a wonderful blessing, but there is another gift not everyone is aware of. This is the gift of atonement and resurrection. They are singing a chorale from the St. Matthew Passion. If only the whole world could hear it and understand its significance! We are like the rest of the world if we do not sink our roots deep into the earth. A tree without roots is called a prop. Its leaves exist without purpose or growth. This kind of tree can look exactly like a growing tree, but its purpose is not for growing and producing. What I am saying is that, even though we laugh or joke or hold hands and smile, it is meaningless if we are without roots. Our roots have got to be so completely anchored that nothing can blow us over. These roots must be firmly anchored in Jesus Christ. We must receive that gift without pause and steadfastly. This relationship cannot exist or function unless we anchor it in this good earth of the gospel.
I love you for all I am when I am with you and for all you are even when I’m not around. Let’s keep building as dynamically and enthusiastically as we can.
Remember that, even though you have a scar in the middle of your eyebrow, I love you a lot.
E.C.
That is a beautiful love letter within the bonds of a priesthood courtship.

On the day of their baptisms, the Shavekos received wonderful news. A member in Kiev told them that while serving as a missionary three years earlier in St. Petersburg, Russia, she had taught the gospel to a Ukrainian family—a single mother named Alla Kurnosova and her young son, Vitaliy. They had joined the Church and returned to live in Chernigov, where Alla works as a tailor.
During the three years since Alla Kurnosova’s baptism, she had corresponded with missionaries she had known in St. Petersburg. “Through letters, they gave me hope and strength,” Alla says. She and 13-year-old Vitaliy had continued studying the scriptures. “It seems Vitaliy knows even more than I do,” says Alla. “He teaches me all the time.” Both prayed that the Church would come to Chernigov.
Their prayers and patience were finally rewarded. Alla and Vitaliy became close friends with the Shavekos. The two families took turns hosting the twice-a-month Sunday meetings with the missionaries. Nikolay and Vitaliy were assigned as home teaching companions and visited both families together.

A wonderful missionary in Australia, Elder QaQa from Fiji, shared a similar feeling in his departing testimony: “I know that God loves me, but sometimes I wonder, ‘Does God know that I love Him?’ Because I’m not perfect, and I still make mistakes.”
In that one tender, haunting question, Elder QaQa summed up exactly what I’ve often worried about. Maybe you’re wondering too, thinking, “I’m trying so hard, but does God know I’m really trying? When I keep falling short, does God know I still love Him?”

It saddens me to admit this, but I used to measure my relationship with the Savior by how perfectly I was living. I thought an obedient life meant I would never need to repent. And when I made mistakes, which was every single day, I distanced myself from God, thinking, “He must be so disappointed in me.”
That’s just not true.
I’ve learned that if you wait until you’re clean enough or perfect enough to go to the Savior, you’ve missed the whole point!
What if we thought about commandments and obedience in a different way?
I testify that while God cares about our mistakes, He cares more about what happens after we make a mistake. Are we going to turn to Him again and again? Are we going to stay in this covenant relationship?
Maybe you hear the Lord’s words “If [you] love me, keep my commandments” and feel deflated because you haven’t kept all the commandments. Let me remind you that it is also a commandment to repent! In fact, it might be the most repeated commandment in the scriptures.
In Alma’s soliloquy, “O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of [my] heart … and cry repentance,” he wasn’t trying to shame us by pointing out our mistakes. He wanted to cry repentance so that you and I could avoid suffering in the world. One reason Alma hated sin is because it causes us pain.
Sometimes I have to remember, like a Post-it note on my forehead, that the commandments are the path away from pain. And repentance is too. Our prophet said, “The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
So when the Lord says, “Repent ye, repent ye,” what if you imagined Him saying, “I love you. I love you.” Picture Him pleading with you to leave behind the behavior causing you pain, inviting you to step out of darkness and turn to His light.
In my daughter Carly’s ward, a new priest knelt to bless the sacrament, and instead of saying, “That they may do it in remembrance of the blood of thy Son,” he inadvertently said, “That they may do it in remembrance of the love of thy Son.” Tears filled Carly’s eyes as the truth of those words sank in.
Our Savior was willing to suffer the pain of His Atonement because He loves you. In fact, you are “the joy that was set before him” while He suffered.
The invitation to repent is an expression of God’s love.
Saying yes to that invitation is an expression of ours.
Picture your favorite image of Christ. Now imagine Him smiling brightly with joy each time you use His gift, because He is the “perfect brightness of hope.”
Yes, your repentance doesn’t burden Jesus Christ; it brightens His joy!
Let’s teach that!
Because repentance is our best news!
We don’t stay on the covenant path by never making a mistake. We stay on the path by repenting every day.
And when we’re repenting, God forgives without shaming us, comparing us to anyone else, or scolding us because this is the same thing we were repenting of last week.
He’s excited every time He sees us on our knees. He delights to forgive us because to Him we are delightful!
Don’t you just feel that’s true?
Then why is it so hard for us to believe?!
Satan, the great accuser and deceiver, uses shame to keep us from God. Shame is a darkness so heavy it feels that if you took it out of your body, it would have an actual weight or heft to it.
Shame is the voice that beats you up, saying, “What were you thinking?” “Do you ever get anything right?”
Shame doesn’t tell us we made a mistake; it tells us we are our mistakes. You may even hear, “Hide.” The adversary does everything in his power to keep the heaviness inside, telling us the cost is too high, that it will be easier if this stays in darkness, removing all hope.
Satan is the thief of hope.
And you need to hear this, so I’ll say these words out loud: You are not the voice in your head or the mistakes you have made. You may need to say that out loud too. Tell Satan, “Not today.” Put him behind you.
Feel that pull, the godly sorrow that turns you toward your Savior, and watch His grace enter into your life and the lives of those you love. I promise that the minute we bring a broken heart courageously toward Him, He is immediately there.
If you saw someone drowning, wouldn’t you reach your hand out and rescue them? Can you imagine your Savior rejecting your outstretched hand? I imagine Him diving into the water, descending below all things to lift us up so we can take a fresh breath! No one can sink lower than the light of Christ shines.
The Savior is forever brighter than the darkness of shame. He would never attack your worth. So watch closely.
Imagine that this hand represents worth.
This hand represents obedience. Maybe you woke up this morning, said a meaningful prayer, and searched the scriptures to hear God’s voice. You’ve made good decisions and are treating the people around you with Christlikeness. You’re listening to general conference! Your obedience is here!
Or maybe things haven’t gone so well. You’ve struggled lately to do those small, simple things to connect to heaven. You’ve made some decisions you aren’t proud of.
Where is your worth? Has this hand moved at all?
Your worth isn’t tied to obedience. Your worth is constant; it never changes. It was given to you by God, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change it. Obedience brings blessings; that is true. But worth isn’t one of them. Your worth is always “great in the sight of God,” no matter where your decisions have taken you.
While I make mistakes, I want to stay in covenant relationship with Christ, and I’ll tell you why.
I grew up taking diving lessons and learned that when judges score a dive, they watch the execution. Was the entry perfectly vertical, with toes pointed and a small splash? Then they do something extraordinary. They factor in the degree of difficulty.
Everyone is diving with their own degree of difficulty. And your Savior is the only one who truly knows the difficulty you are diving with. I want a relationship with the one person who gets me, who knows my heart and how hard I’m trying!
He knows the mists of darkness are descending on all of us travelers and that our journey passes by the river of filth—so even when we’re holding to the iron rod, we’re going to get splashed.
Coming unto Christ is saying, “Will you help me?” with hope, a revealed assurance that His arms are extended to you always. I believe this fresh view of repentance means that even though we don’t have perfect obedience yet, we try affectionate obedience now, choosing to stay, again and again, because we love Him.
Remember King Benjamin’s people, who had no more disposition to do evil but only to do good continually? Do you think they packed up their tents, went home, and never made another mistake? Of course not! The difference is they no longer wanted to sin. They had affectionate obedience! Their hearts were turned and tuned to God while they struggled!
Once, at the beach, I saw a bird flying into the wind, flapping its wings so hard, almost frenetically, but staying in the same place. Then I noticed another bird, higher up. It had caught an updraft and was floating easily, unburdened in the wind. That’s the difference between trying to do this by ourselves and turning to our Savior, letting Him lift us, with “healing in his wings.”
As mission leaders in Australia, during our last visit with each missionary, we talked about 3 Nephi 17, where the people were close to the Savior and could hear Him praying for them. We asked, “If you could hear the Savior praying for you, what do you think He would say?”
To hear their answers was one of the most Spirit-filled experiences of my life. Every one of those missionaries would pause, and tears would fill their eyes as we reminded them, “Your Savior knows the degree of difficulty you’re experiencing. He’s felt it!”
This is what those missionaries quietly and tenderly shared: One sister said, “Jesus would tell the Father, ‘She’s doing her very best. I know how hard she is trying.’” An elder said, “With everything that’s happened in his life, I’m so proud of him.”
Let’s try this. Tonight, before you pray, imagine Jesus Christ close by. He is your Advocate with the Father. Ask yourself, “What would my Savior say to the Father about me?”
And then become silent.
Listen for that voice that says good things about you—the voice of the Savior, your finest friend, and your Father in Heaven, who is really there. Remember, Their love and your worth are always great, no matter what!
I stand here to witness that Jesus Christ gives light to those who sit in darkness. So, on those days when you feel that voice telling you to hide, that you should hide in a dark room all by yourself, I invite you to be brave and believe Christ! Walk over and turn on the Light—our Perfect Brightness of Hope.
Bathed in His light, you’ll see people all around you who have felt alone too, but now, with the light on, you and they will wonder, “Why were we so afraid in the dark? And why did we stay there so long?”
“May the Lord of Lights wrap you in His arms and console and love you continually.” May we love Him continually and choose Him, again and again. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Age 14. From Tennessee, USA. Likes musical theater and playing soccer.
When I was eight years old, I asked my mom to teach me how to sew a blanket. I started making blankets as gifts for all my friends.
Then my mom and I decided to do a blanket giveaway on Instagram. We got 16 nominations. I couldn’t pick just one person, so we sent one to each of them. And then the nominations just kept coming, and we just kept making blankets. In the last five years, we have made 1,121 blankets and sent them to 29 countries.
Most of the blankets go to kids who are sick. The hardest part for me is when a child passes away before a blanket gets to them. Sometimes I blame myself and feel a lot of guilt and regret. But when I feel this way, I pray, and I feel peaceful.
I have seen some kids going through really hard things. I met one young woman who had just gotten out of brain surgery, but she had such a happy spirit in spite of everything. This inspires me to be grateful for everything I have.
Sometimes people ask me, “Why do you do it?” I think that if Jesus Christ were here, He’d be serving others. He’d make sure everyone felt loved. So I can be His hands. I can help do His work.
“I can be His hands.”

I have mentioned before an experience I had in the military in World War II. I hasten to say I was not a hero. But I did my duty. I endured and survived. I was assigned to a British liberty ship sailing from San Francisco to Suez. I was on that ship for 83 consecutive days except for a brief stop in Auckland, New Zealand. I was the only member of our faith on board. On Sundays I would go alone to the bow of the ship with my little set of servicemen’s scriptures and songbook. Amid the howling of the wind, I would read the scriptures, pray, and sing all by myself. I did not try to bargain with the Lord, but I did pray fervently that if I could survive the war and go home to my wife and family, I would earnestly try to remain true to the sacred covenants I had made at baptism, to the oath and covenant of the priesthood, and to my temple vows.

As part of our tour of duty, our little cargo ship was ordered to tow a large, burned-out oil tanker into Auckland, New Zealand. The tanker had no power and was wallowing helplessly in the ocean. Although we never saw them, we knew enemy submarines were lurking near us. While we were pulling that ship, we were caught in a violent storm, which we later learned sank many vessels. Because of the load we were pulling, we did not have enough power to go into the giant waves head-on, and our ship was thrown from side to side in the trough of the pounding seas. It would creak and groan and roll from side to side, almost capsizing on every roll. Of course I prayed, as I imagine others did. In time the storm moved away from us. I am grateful for the sustaining influence and comfort my prayers gave me then and since in other times of peril.

First, the gathering of Israel. In the 2014 new mission leaders’ seminar, which Sister Corbitt and I were privileged to attend, President Nelson taught us all to teach our missionaries to begin with the end in mind. He shared a personal example where, after meeting a couple not of our faith, he envisioned them dressed in baptismal and temple clothing. Years later, he attended this couple’s baptisms and performed their temple sealing. He “saw with [his] eyes the things which [he] had beheld with an eye of faith, and [he was] glad.”25 President Nelson instructed us as mission leaders to teach our missionaries to also envision those they contacted or taught in this way.26

When I was young, my family moved and joined a new ward. My dad was called as the bishop shortly after. It was a bit baffling from our limited perspective—there were other qualified men in the ward, and my dad didn’t feel like he knew the members or their individual needs as well as he would have liked.
But he did his best and served faithfully, working hard to get to know those he was serving. By the time his service ended, he felt great love for the members of our ward.
And right after his release, he was called to the nursery.
It was remarkable to watch the transition. He loved the nursery children and was thoughtful about planning lessons and activities that helped them develop a strong foundation in the gospel. Even though his calling in the ward had changed, he stayed close to the members of the ward that he’d come to know and love and continued to learn new ways to serve his brothers and sisters.
He also had more time to devote to our family; shortly after his release, my mom followed a prompting to go back to school and earn an advanced degree, so his responsibilities in our home increased as she spent more time studying. It was truly a blessing for our family to have his help at that time.
My dad’s responsibilities had changed, but the significance and impact of his responsibilities had not. The Lord knew what was best for both the ward and my family. As President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, explained: “We do not ‘step down’ when we are released, and we do not ‘step up’ when we are called. There is no ‘up or down’ in the service of the Lord. There is only ‘forward or backward,’ and that difference depends on how we accept and act upon our releases and our callings.”1

I wasn’t the most popular person in the marching band. I had some friends, of course, but I didn’t hang with the really “cool” people. They were the ones who sat in the back of the bus on trips and held their own raucous celebrations.
As I settled onto a green vinyl seat on the “band bus,” the cool breeze of an Alabama autumn slipped in a window and brushed my cheek. We were headed for the stadium, and like usual, the drum section members were in the back of the bus with their rowdy friends. Lulled by the rhythm of the ride, I shut my eyes and reflected on my social status and how isolated I felt being one of the few Mormons at school.
A teeth-jarring jolt startled me. The bus was off the road, careening wildly along the gravel shoulder. I gripped the seat ahead to steady myself. The bus was out of control, and each tilt and sway threatened to fling us into a crushing roll.
We lurched toward the ditch that lay beyond my window, balancing on two tires. The afternoon sun flared into brilliant white, filling my mind with a microsecond vision of my family. I clenched my fists and braced myself for the impact.
The bus tipped, voices screamed, and I sobbed, “Heavenly Father, please!” I was so afraid to die. Immediately my fear was replaced by comforting waves of peace.
There was a thud as the bus righted itself, and gravel sprayed as the bus jolted to a halt. We were on the slope of a ditch, only a few feet short of smashing into the framework of a bridge. I wiped my tears, astonished I was still alive. I was aware of people shouting and sobbing while scrambling for the exit. When I was able to climb out, I collapsed with relief on a grassy knoll, gentle peace still warming my heart.
At that moment I realized I was not only okay physically, but spiritually as well. I thought of a scripture we had discussed in seminary: “And if they die they shall die unto me, and if they live they shall live unto me. … And it shall come to pass that those that die in me shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them” (D&C 42:44, 46).
I marveled at the calm that had replaced my terror. I really thought I was going to die, yet in the last moment I wasn’t afraid. Popularity pales in the face of death, as do many other things. Although I may not be perfect, it’s nice to be on the right track.

Many years ago I went to the hospital to give a blessing to a young man named Nick and his sister Michelle. Nick is a friend of mine and former home teaching companion, and his young life was threatened by a kidney disease. Nick had not been well for a long time. Nick’s older sister Michelle had offered to give him a precious gift to preserve his life: she offered one of her own kidneys.

The operation was successfully performed, but still in question was whether or not Nick’s body would accept this priceless gift from Michelle. You see, Michelle had given the gift not knowing if it would be accepted; fortunately it was. In like manner, our Heavenly Father has given us so many wonderful gifts not knowing if they would be accepted. He has offered us His peace, His comfort, His love. All we have to do to accept His gifts is to be obedient and follow Him.

Before my basketball game on Saturday, I went outside into the front yard to practice. I missed a basket, and the ball rolled into the street. I stepped into the street to get it and had a feeling that I should step back. I did, and a speeding car raced right past me! I’m glad I obeyed the Holy Ghost, and I’m happy that I was baptized so the Holy Ghost can always be with me.Lindsey Trendler, age 9, Mesa, Arizona

Recently, two Latter-day Saint boys were walking along a street in a city they were visiting.
“Hey, Brother Schmidt,” called out one of the boys to a man who was coming down the sidewalk toward them. “What are you doing here?”
With obvious pleasure the two greeted each other. The other boy was introduced but wasn’t too much a part of their conversation. As he watched, it was obvious that these two persons really cared for each other. After a few minutes and a warm good-bye, the man went on his way.
The other boy asked, “Is he your bishop?”
“No,” said the first boy. “He’s my home teacher.”
Well, what about you and your home teacher? Do you really know each other? Do you know him? And if you don’t, whose fault is it—yours? his? both?
We all know that some people—and some home teachers—have a manner that lets people know that they really care. Other kinds of home teachers care but don’t show it so obviously. And still others care but don’t dare to let it show at all.
Now then, what about your side of the coin? All of us know down deep that unless we are willing, we can keep anyone from becoming our friend, from helping us.
Sadly, some youths refuse a home teacher entry into their lives by the subtle messages that they send saying “Stay out.”
You send that kind of message if you display no enthusiasm regarding your home teachers’ visits.
You send that kind of message if you see your home teachers at church or elsewhere and make no special effort to shake their hands.
You send that kind of message if you don’t ask their counsel on matters with which they could help—perhaps a church talk or an issue or problem that concerns you.
You send that kind of message if you don’t call upon them when a priesthood administration is needed and when assistance outside the family is needed.
You send that kind of message by doing or not doing many things that only you know about.
Unfortunately, people who leave home teachers out of their lives are ignoring one of the most important links in Church government. Your home teachers are the Lord’s agents to you—they represent the bishop as well as the Church.
Home teachers are called and set apart to bless and help members of the Church, and because of that, the Lord will cause them to be able to help. That’s the key point. You may not think that they can help, but if you’ll give them a chance, if you’ll let them come into your lives, you will not only be strengthening your own personal links with Church government, but you will also be strengthening your home teachers. And don’t you have a responsibility to do that?
If you don’t know who your home teachers are, ask your bishop or branch president immediately. Then put their names, addresses, and telephone numbers on your bulletin board and in your purse or wallet.
If you will let them, these two persons can bless your lives more than you’ve ever realized, and you will gain two real friends. And I have never met anyone who didn’t need two more real, genuine friends.

Benson, where are you? It’s time for bed.
I don’t want to go to bed.
Why not?
Because there is a ghost in my room.
There is not a ghost in your room.
Are you sure?
I promise.
Dad, what is the Holy Ghost?
That’s a good question.
The Holy Ghost is a member of the Godhead. His job is to help us feel what Heavenly Father wants us to know and do.
Do we see Him?
No, but we feel Him near. He helps us feel happy.
All right, now close your eyes. It’s time to go to sleep. I love you.
I love you too. And I think I feel the Holy Ghost.

The Beacon: After battling cancer for four years, my mother passed away in May 2006. My father had also faced his own health challenges in the preceding years. In May 2007, my father was placed in the hospital as he continued to feel poorly, and the doctors sought to better understand these challenges. I received an urgent call one day from my dad’s youngest sister who said he was being moved from the hospital he’d been in to one in Pocatello, where she happens to live, and that things were not looking good. I immediately left work, headed to Idaho, and spent the next four days with him while a number of tests continued, and he was stabilized. I prepared to return home on Sunday evening and told Dad I’d be back on Wednesday, as I anticipated attending meetings scheduled at BYU–Idaho on Thursday.
My dad took a sudden turn for the worse on Monday evening and for all intents and purposes was likely being kept alive by medical equipment and personnel. After the doctors assured me he was comfortable and given the fact that there were others who desired time to get there to see him, I had determined that any and all machines would be turned off on Wednesday after I arrived in Idaho again.
When I arrived on Wednesday evening, Dad was now sleeping most of the time. My auntie from California flew in that night and was picked up in Salt Lake City by the auntie I referred to earlier, and they drove to Pocatello, arriving just before midnight. When they arrived, Dad actually woke up, gave a happy smile when seeing his sister from Pocatello, but then his eyes and face really lit up, and he gave a huge smile when he saw his sister from California because he had not expected to see her. It was a face of joy I can still see in my mind’s eye now, as if it had happened last night. After a few minutes, he essentially went back to sleep. It reminded me that his mind and spirit was still very willing and able though his mortal body was worn out. That actually made the decision I had made even more difficult.
As I decided to leave it all in the Lord’s hands and let things take their course, I was actually a little surprised when we prepared to leave and one of the nurses told me that it wouldn’t take long. I had anticipated maybe a couple days or so but didn’t really know what to expect. My aunties and I finally prepared to leave the hospital after 1:30 AM. Though I have many times since wished that I had chosen, or found, a way to remain at the hospital, I was probably tired, dazed, and didn’t really know what to do. If I stayed, my aunties would have wanted to stay, and I knew they were tired, and I didn’t want them up all night. I had a hotel room waiting in Rexburg and meetings scheduled that would start in just a few hours, along with some other associated issues, and all the scenarios quickly played over and over in my mind. So, I finally decided to go ahead and drive towards BYU–Idaho – a bit over an hour away.
As I approached the lower valley area, driving toward Rexburg, there it stood, beautifully situated on the hill and gleaming in the night sky: the glorious Rexburg Idaho Temple. Keep in mind that this took place eight months before the temple was dedicated, so thinking back now, I am actually somewhat surprised it was all light up. For me, in that moment, if felt like a tremendous tender mercy from the Lord. My mother had returned the year before to that God who had given her life, and now, as it turned out within another hour or so, so too would my father. It felt as if the Lord took this opportunity to personally assure me of the truths of His plan and the eternal blessings of the holy temple. We keep our eyes on the flag when we follow the counsel given by President Howard W. Hunter “to look to the temple of the Lord as the great symbol of [our] membership.” This story is that of the beacon.

One day during morning playtime at school, my friends and I were practising for our school’s sports day. I was taking part in the 80-meter sprint. All of a sudden, a little girl came marching up to me.
“Can I play with you?” she asked.
I wanted to say, “You’re a bit small,” but she looked kind of lonely, so I said, “OK, then.”
My friends gave me a weird look, but I remembered that Jesus did not turn anyone away. I started to feel good inside, and, do you know, I enjoyed that playtime very much. So did my friends.
Leila Robinson, age 10Hedon, East Yorkshire, England

Isn't this how it is. Before Chad and I had children, we knew everything there was to know about raising children. When friends were having problems with teenagers, we were there to help with free advice. Babies, no problem. I found that I was generally one of the most patient people I knew, particularly with other people's children. But almost immediately after I had Marissa I discovered there were serious limitations to my patience. Shortly after Marissa was born, we were awakened by her one night (after several nights with not enough sleep). She was hot, with a high fever. I found myself irritated, scared, and fatigued beyond anything I had ever felt before. Chad and I found ourselves quite unsure of what to do. We feared that her high fever would lead to brain convulsions and ultimately brain damage. We put her in a cool bath. She screamed louder and her temperature dropped only slightly. I hardly knew what to do and found myself angry at Chad for not knowing any more than I did. Like Sariah, I was afraid for my child. I was absolutely exhausted and found myself snapping at my sick baby and my exhausted husband. I remember thinking: "I need my mother. She is more patient and knows more than I do."

Like my mother, I learned slowly, line upon line, how to be more patient with babies. But I was shocked, I tell you, shocked, when I discovered that being patient with Marissa and Elle as eight-years old is different than being patient with a baby. And being patient with a 13-year old is different than being patient with an eight-year old. As my children get older, I add layers and layers to the depth and breadth of my patience.