Gospel Story Finder

When I was growing up, each summer our family would drive to Provo Canyon, about 45 miles (72 km) south and a little east of Salt Lake City, where we would stay in the family cabin for several weeks. We boys were always anxious to get on the fishing stream or into the swimming hole, and we would try to push the car a little faster. In those days, the automobile my father drove was a 1928 Oldsmobile. If he went over 35 miles (56 km) an hour, my mother would say, “Keep it down! Keep it down!” I would say, “Put the accelerator down, Dad! Put it down!”

Dad would drive about 35 miles an hour all the way up to Provo Canyon or until we would come around a bend in the road and our journey would be halted by a herd of sheep. We would watch as hundreds of sheep filed past us, seemingly without a shepherd, a few dogs yapping at their heels as they moved along. Way back in the rear we could see the sheepherder on his horse—not a bridle on it but a halter. He was occasionally slouched down in the saddle dozing, since the horse knew which way to go and the yapping dogs did the work.

The early pioneers understood the necessary combination of humbling themselves, listening intently to God’s will, doing all they could to follow it, and then allowing their Heavenly Father to support them in facing almost unthinkable challenges. Because of their deep trust that they were players in a glorious cause, they were able to face hardships with hearts that were thankful to a Father who would invite them to be a part of his plan. In Susan Arrington Madsen’s book Christmas—A Joyful Heritage, recollections of the earliest days in the Salt Lake Valley are shared by some of the Saints who were there.

One example given by Sister Madsen is of a particularly memorable Christmas recorded by Mary Jane Perkins Wilson:
It was here at “Hole in The Rock” that we spent our first Christmas holidays. We children had no place only on the wagon wheels to hang our stockings. Nevertheless old St. Nicholas visited us with parched corn and some cookies that were baked in the dutch ovens. However everybody was happy. We spent most of the day gathering sagebrush to build fires at night to dance by. It was not of course on waxed floors, nor wearing various colored pumps, but it was on the sand rocks and some were barefooted. Brother Charles E. Walton was the orchestra. Sometimes he played the violin and other times the cornet. [In Susan Arrington Madsen, Christmas—A Joyful Heritage (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1984), p. 6]

It is refreshing to think of a time when people could experience great joy with only parched corn, a sagebrush fire, and an orchestra consisting of one man.

“I beat you,” Ed said triumphantly as he pulled the last head of broomcorn on his row with a quick snap of his wrist. Then he set it upright on the ground, leaning it against the stalk.
“Just barely,” I replied. “I only have three more to do.”
“I can see Frank and Georgie coming too. We’re getting pretty fast. That’s eight rows apiece this morning. Jake’s the fastest boy I know, and he can only do nine.”
“He hires out, too, doesn’t he?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Why don’t we? We do good work and could use some money.”
“You’re right about that, but who’d hire us?”
“Lots of people.”
“I’m not so sure. We don’t stack the same as everyone else, so some people might not hire us.”
“Our way is best, though. Papa says if the brooms are piled standing up like we do it, any rain will run off without hurting them. But if they’re lying flat on the ground, the moisture doesn’t dry between them and they get moldy and rot.”
“Papa is right about lots of things that other folks don’t like to believe. They’ve been stacking corn the wrong way for a hundred years and wouldn’t change for anything.”
“Do you remember the time we had the late frost and Papa knew it was coming, so he didn’t plant early like everyone else did?” I asked.
“Yeah, I remember. Their crops froze and ours didn’t.”
“He tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“How does he know when it’s going to freeze?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe Heavenly Father tells him,” I suggested.
“Maybe so,” Ed agreed thoughtfully. “I can’t figure it out any other way.”
Frank and Georgie finished their rows, and we all started back to the house for lunch.
“How’d you guys like to earn some money?” Ed asked the boys.
“How?” Frank wanted to know.
“Pulling corn. We’re all getting pretty fast now.”
“I would,” Georgie said. “Then we could go to the circus.”
The circus! I hadn’t thought about that. I couldn’t believe it might be possible to go to the circus. My heart began pounding.
“Who could we work for?” Frank asked.
“How about Mr. Clarke?” Georgie suggested. “He’s always been real nice to us.”
“You’re right!” Ed exclaimed. “He’s just the one.”
“Let’s ask Papa when we get home,” I suggested.
“No, let’s see if we can get the job first and surprise him. Tomorrow, while Papa’s in town getting his wagon fixed, we can go over and see Mr. Clarke.”
“I want to see the lion tamer most,” Frank said.
“Not me,” Georgie countered. “I’m going to watch the clowns.”
I wanted to see the beautiful lady in the fancy dress, standing pointy-toed on the back of a running horse with her long hair flying behind her. I’d seen a circus poster at the Piggly Wiggly Market.
“C’mon, let’s hurry,” Ed said, and we ran the last few steps to the house.
The next day after Papa had left for town, five of us started out in the direction of our field. Helen had coaxed to come along too.
“Break her in easy,” Mama said. “When she gets tired send her home.”
At the end of the lane we turned off toward Clarke’s and arrived just as he was coming out from breakfast. When he saw us he said, “Well, now, what can I do for you folks?”
“We wondered if you needed someone to pull your corn,” Ed said.
“Think you could do it? None of you is very big.”
“But we can work hard,” Frank insisted.
“And fast,” Georgie added.
“And we pile it the good way,” I said.
“How’s that?” Mr. Clarke wanted to know.
“Standing up,” Ed said and explained why that was best.
Mr. Clarke nodded. “Makes sense, all right.”
“Try us out,” Ed bargained. “We’ll work till noon, and if you’re not satisfied, you don’t have to pay us. We don’t charge for Helen. She’s just learning.”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Clarke said and led us to the field he wanted us to start on.
When Papa came home that night, Ed pulled our wages from his pocket and put them on the table.
“Where’d you get that money?” Papa asked.
“Working for Mr. Clarke,” Ed replied.
“Pulling corn?” asked Papa.
“Yep. He wants us back tomorrow. He’s paying us twenty cents a row.”
“How many of you went?” Papa wanted to know.
“Me, Dora, Georgie, Frank, and Helen,” Ed replied.
“Helen, too?”
“She helped some.”
“But my arms got tired and Ed let me come home,” Helen explained.
Papa reached down to give her a hug. “Good girl,” he said. “I’m proud of all of you. Go ahead and help Mr. Clarke. I can finish our crop. We’ll all have to work fast to get done before the storm gets here.”
“What storm?” Ed asked.
“The one that’s coming before too long.”
“How can you tell?” I wanted to know.
“I can just feel it,” Papa answered.
The golden harvest weather held all week, and we worked from dawn until dark every day. By Friday night the flat corn heads were all pulled and stacked in the fields. Mama had been cooking all day for a picnic, and we could hardly wait for morning to come.
Before daylight, Papa climbed the ladder to our barn loft. “You’d all better get up,” he said. “I need lots of help today.”
“But you promised we could have a picnic, Papa.”
“Can’t help it,” Papa said. “We’ve got to get the corn in. A humdinger of a storm is on the way. Dora, I want you to come with me to warn the neighbors. Ed, you go hitch up the wagon and take Frank and George over to Clarke’s. Use his wagon, too, and after his crop is in come back and start on ours.”
There was a tone in Papa’s voice I’d never heard before. It sent shivers down my back. I dressed as fast as I could and hurried the boys along. We gulped down the breakfast Mama had waiting and flew out the door just as the sun peeked over the sand hills.
“There’re no clouds, Papa,” Ed said.
“They’re coming,” Papa declared. “Now get going!”
The boys ran toward the barn. I jumped on the horse that was waiting for me, and Papa and I rode off to warn the neighbors that a big storm was on the way.
“You’re crazy,” Mr. Cooper told Papa. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“Not yet,” Papa said, “but there will be.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mr. Cooper said and closed the door. We jumped on our horses and rode to Mr. Younger’s store. He could help us spread the word.
“Doesn’t look to me like any storm is coming,” he drawled as he gazed up at the cloudless sky.
“You’re right,” Papa agreed. “But mark my word, it’ll be here before nightfall, and it’s a big one.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
And this was the answer everywhere we went. Papa finally decided that it wasn’t any use to warn the people, so we went on home to help the boys. “The price of corn will be sky-high this year,” he said, “and we can’t afford to leave it in the field.”
We worked like demons and were piling on the last wagonload when the wind came up and nearly tipped it over.
“Head for home!” Papa shouted.
We all jumped on the wagon and by the time we pulled into the barn, hail was peppering the ground and beating everything flat. It was the worst storm I can remember. Some of the hailstones were the size of eggs. What the hail didn’t flatten the wind did. The broomcorn crop was a total loss that year except for the few fields that were brought in as a result of our warning.
Papa was right about the price. We made a big profit that year, and the other farmers were sorry they hadn’t listened to him.

Some years ago I had an acquaintance who had allowed himself to become a compulsive user of alcohol. He drank before he had dinner, and he would have what he called a “bracer” before involving himself in major business decisions. During a routine physical examination one day, a doctor told him that, for the good of his health, he should break the drinking habit. When I asked him what he intended to do, he said, “That’s easy. I’ll just change doctors.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At one time, Ben, Jr., and Brad, my two oldest boys, belonged to a Japanese Scout troop because our ward didn’t have a Scout troop. One day the Scoutmaster took the boys on a hike in the Zion Narrows in southern Utah. Their progress was slower than anticipated. Concerned that the park officials whom they had checked in with would be worried about them, the Scoutmaster asked my sons and a couple of other boys to hike ahead by themselves and let the park officials know that everyone was OK. The boys took a wrong turn into a dead-end canyon and didn’t know what to do. The other boys were not Latter-day Saints, but they turned to Ben and said, “Maybe you’re the one who ought to pray for us to help us get out of here.” After he offered a prayer, Ben said, “Let’s go,” and they turned and walked out without any problem. How grateful I was that my children had learned to pray, that they had faith in that prayer, and that our Father in Heaven would help them find their way safely out of the canyon.

We were working with an executive named Steve. He was employed at a large retail firm but was stuck at his current level because he focused on himself and what he could accomplish. He was not engaging others, motivating them, helping them do their jobs. His approach was what we call in leadership studies, command and control. His superiors asked us to work with Steve to see if he could change his approach to see the bigger picture, understand how he was affecting other people, and improve his ability to lead. He was African American, which fact will become important as I tell his story. We worked with Steve for nine months and were making little progress. As one of the activities, we went to the site of the Battle of Gettysburg. Over the course of the day we walked the battlefield and used the examples from the engagement to highlight leadership. At a very critical point in the Battle of Gettysburg, Colonel Joshua Chamberlain, who commanded the 5th Corps, gave a speech to some mutineers who were refusing to fight. Let me quote a bit from his recreated comments. As I do, pay particular attention to how he reframes their stewardship so they could understand, commit and act on their responsibilities. I am not trying to glorify war, or suggest who was good or bad; I am trying to suggest an approach to working with others.

"I have been told that if you don't come I can shoot you. Well you know I won't do that...
This is a different kind of Army. If you look at history you'll see men fight for pay...,They fight for land, or because a king makes them... But we're here for something new... That hasn't happened before much in the history of the world. We're an army going out to set other men free...
It's the idea that we all have value, you and me, we're worth something more than the dirt...What we're fighting for in the end, is each other..."
I think if we lose this fight the war will be over. So if you choose to come with us I'll be personally grateful" (Useem, 1998).

The 5th Corps was given the end of the line to defend at a place called "Little Round Top", the end where the enemy must not sweep or the battle would be lost. The enemy charged many times, and in the process the men of the 5th Corps used all their ammunition. As the enemy was coming yet again, Colonel Chamberlain gave the command to fix bayonet and charge down the hill into what was bound to be withering fire. At this critical point, each of them, including the mutineers fixed bayonets and charged down the hill, so surprising to the superior enemy force that they retreated at a fast run. The battle and, by some historians' accounts, the war was saved.

I stood next to Steve on Little Round Top as our guide asked us to look down the hill and imagine the enemy's charge and what Colonel Chamberlain was asking his troops to do. It was very moving. I looked over at Steve and he was obviously having a very emotional experience. As we were walking away from the site I asked him if he was ok. He said yes he was fine. And then he said "This is the first time I have understood what others have done for me". He was beginning to understand his own leadership responsibilities in a different way. For that moment the unspoken leadership question became what could he do for others.

When Thor and Solvor Torgersen of Hosle, Norway, traveled to the United States on a business assignment in November 1993, they planned to take a short vacation before returning home. Although they were not members of the Church, one of the three places they planned to visit was Salt Lake City to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
After their visits to the other two places, their vacation time was almost over. “But something kept telling me that we needed to go to Salt Lake City before we went home,” says Solvor.
Acting on the misunderstanding that the Tabernacle Choir rehearsed on Friday nights, the Torgersens flew to Salt Lake City on a Friday evening—their last night in the United States. As soon as they reached Salt Lake City, Thor recalls, “We quickly rented a car and drove to Temple Square. We hurried to the Tabernacle, but there was no one there.” The door was locked!
“It was late,” Thor says, “but we started knocking—actually, we started banging on the door. For some reason, we felt we had to get inside.”
Fortunately, someone was inside the Tabernacle and heard the persistent banging. A Temple Square missionary, Elder Wilmer Taylor, kindly invited the Torgersens in and showed them around the very quiet Tabernacle. He also informed them that the Choir rehearses on Thursdays, not Fridays.
“We can’t wait until next Thursday!” Solvor pleaded. “Our plane leaves for Norway tomorrow, and we have come all this way just to hear the Choir!”
Not knowing how to solve this problem, Elder Taylor suggested that the Torgersens return the next morning, and he would rearrange his schedule to take them on a tour of Temple Square.
So that crisp fall morning, Solvor and Thor heard for the first time about the temple, the pioneers, Moroni, and the Book of Mormon.
At the conclusion of the tour, they visited the Tabernacle again and heard more about the historic building. Just as they were about to leave, a Choir recording began to play. “It was as though I had been hit on the shoulders at that very moment,” Solvor recalls. “I sat down and started crying. I couldn’t stop. Thor tried to attribute my strange behavior to being overcome by beautiful music, but I didn’t tell him what really happened, because I couldn’t speak. Elder Taylor simply said, ‘That was the Spirit.’
“I didn’t know the song the Choir was singing, but two thoughts kept crossing my mind—” Solvor continues, “first, I felt a deep desire to know what the members of this church had, and second, I felt a great longing to become a member of this church.”
As Solvor and Thor left the Tabernacle, they barely had time to catch their 11:00 A.M. flight. But as they were hurrying to leave, Elder Taylor asked, “Would you like missionaries to come to your home?”
Solvor and Thor’s answer was an immediate “yes.” They left their address with the missionaries and walked away from an experience they could not yet understand.
They returned home full of questions and started to read some of the literature given them in Salt Lake City—a Book of Mormon, some missionary pamphlets, and a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Eager to know more, they called the Church in Oslo. On 10 January 1994, two elders knocked at their door.
On that first visit, Elders Landon Wright and Kurt Elison answered many of Solvor and Thor’s questions. Many visits followed. Thor and Solvor listened, and their hearts were touched as they learned gospel truths. They had some concern when they learned about the First Vision. “I wondered about Joseph Smith,” Solvor said. “At first I thought it was a strange story, but then I realized it wasn’t strange at all.
“I remembered a long night 35 years earlier—just before I gave birth to my first child. During a sacred experience that night, I was told that my baby would stay with me for only a short while—that he would soon be taken back into the presence of our Heavenly Father. I was devastated and prayed that it would not be true. But in the morning my child was born with severe medical problems, and the doctors confirmed what I had been told. I will never forget the despair I felt.”
After reliving that experience, Solvor thought again about the account of the First Vision and realized that what the elders had told them was true—that Joseph Smith had seen the Father and the Son and that they had spoken to him. “I believe now that my conversion actually began 35 years before we found the Church,” she says, “and that my child, lost to me so long ago, had been waiting for this moment.”
Before Easter, Solvor had made her decision to be baptized. When Thor was still reluctant to make a commitment, the elders asked him, “Can you give us one good reason for not being baptized with Solvor?”
“Solvor and I talked until 1:00 A.M. about my decision,” Thor remembers. “I felt I needed to be alone for a while, so I went out in the middle of the night and worked on my car. I worked—and I prayed. I prayed that it would become clear to me that this was the right way to go. After two long hours, I received the confirmation that I needed. I knew there was not one good reason that I should not be baptized with Solvor.”
Thor and Solvor were baptized on 17 April 1994. One year later, they were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Robert, the child lost to them 36 years before, was also sealed to them on that day. “I will never forget that moment,” says Solvor. “Robert was there in spirit—everyone in the room felt his presence.”
Solvor smiles as she recalls her feelings after her first visit to Salt Lake City. “When I walked on the grounds at Temple Square that cold November, I felt I was a whole new person. I came to Temple Square as a tourist, but I left as a Mormon. Elder Taylor said it was the Spirit that touched me that morning in the Tabernacle, and Thor said it was the music. They were both right! God knew what kind of instrument he should use to instruct me—it was the Choir!”
Solvor and Thor can now identify the music they first heard the Choir singing—“God Be with You Till We Meet Again” (Hymns, number 152). Since that time, they have added many Tabernacle Choir recordings to their music library and have even heard the Choir in a live performance. But of all the glorious music in the Choir’s repertoire, none will ever touch their lives so profoundly as did that first sweet hymn of faith: “Till we meet at Jesus’ feet, … God be with you till we meet again.”

In the weeks following my diagnosis I often found myself on my knees, pleading with the Lord. I learned that Parkinson’s is a progressive disease and that I would continue to lose control of my muscles. The more I read, the more frightened I became. I spent many sleepless nights. I also felt an impression from the first words of the diagnosis that there would be no miracles to remove this trial from me and that I needed to learn something from this experience. I felt so alone and wondered if the Lord was displeased with me, if He still loved me.
Then one night, as Ron was getting ready to go to Mutual, there was a knock at our door. We opened the door and found a delicious meal left anonymously on our front porch. A loving note stated that every week on this night a dinner would arrive. As I tasted the goodness of this delicious meal, not only was my body fed, but my spirit also. I realized I am not alone and the Lord does love me. I tasted again of the sweet peace He has promised us. I was grateful for these dear secret angels who honored their baptismal covenants “to mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9). I knew that through the ministering of these “earthly angels” I would find the strength to make it through each day.
It has now been more than three years since we found that first dinner. Every Mutual night since then we have received a wonderful meal, always left anonymously on our front porch. Ward boundaries have changed, and people have moved in and out of our ward. But the meals continue to come. Often I have struggled with a particularly difficult day, forgetting it is our “Secret Angels Day.” And then the doorbell rings, and I find another delicious gift of love.

As a young man, Brigham Young struggled for two years to know if the gospel was true. His search was finally resolved by the simple testimony of a missionary—a “man without eloquence … who could only say, ‘I know, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith is a Prophet of the Lord.’” President Young later said, “The Holy Ghost proceeding from that individual illuminated my understanding, and light, glory, and immortality were before me” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Brigham Young [1997], 315). When the Holy Ghost assures heart and mind of truth, darkness and doubt flee.

Maria and her family had moved to Mesa, Arizona, two weeks ago. She had only two friends here. One was Angela, who lived next door. The other was Mr. Avila.
Mr. Avila owned a small store two blocks from Maria’s house. Maria often went to Mr. Avila’s store for her mother. Every time Maria bought something, Mr. Avila would give her a piece of candy. “This will keep you as sweet as you are,” he would say.
One day Angela came over. She said she had to go to Mr. Avila’s store for her mother. Angela wanted Maria to go with her. Maria asked her father if she could go.
“Just as long as you are home before dinner,” he said.
Happily Maria and Angela walked to the store. When they got there, Angela went to the candy counter.
“Your mother wants you to buy candy?” Maria asked, surprised.
“No, silly,” Angela said. “My mother doesn’t really want anything. I came to the store because I want some candy.”
“Do you have money to buy candy?” Maria asked.
Angela replied, “Who needs money? I just take what I want.”
Maria couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean you steal?” she asked.
“Well, it’s not really stealing,” Angela said. “Mr. Avila always gives us candy.” She pointed to a chocolate bar. “Doesn’t that look good?”
“Angela, you can’t just take it!” Maria cried.
“Yes, I can,” said Angela. “No one ever sees me.”
Maria looked at the chocolate bar.
“You take one, too,” said Angela. “It’s easy. Just put it in your pocket and walk out.”
I could do it, thought Maria. It would be easy. The chocolate bar would taste good. She was hungry too.
“Go on, Maria. Take it,” Angela said.
No one would ever know, Maria thought. Then she had another thought—Heavenly Father would know!
“Come on, Maria,” Angela said.
Maria thought about her parents. They would be sad if they found out. She thought of how nice Mr. Avila was. What would he think of her if he knew she had stolen from him? She remembered the promises she had made to Heavenly Father when she was baptized. She had promised to keep the commandments.
Angela looked angry. “If you don’t take it, I won’t be your friend anymore,” she said.
Marie felt torn up inside. She looked at the candy bar. She didn’t really want it. But she did want Angela to be her friend. She didn’t know what to do.
Then she remembered something her father had told her: “A friend isn’t really a friend if he asks you to do something wrong.”
Maria looked at Angela. “I’m sorry, Angela,” she said. “I just can’t do something I know is wrong.”
“Then good-bye,” Angela said. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”
Maria looked at Angela sadly as she left the store. All the way home she thought about what had happened. She felt bad that she had lost Angela as a friend. Should I have done it just this one time? she asked herself.
When Maria got home, her father said, “Come sit by me, Maria. I want to talk to you.”
Maria sat down by her father.
“Maria,” he said, “I just got a phone call from Mr. Avila. He told me that your friend Angela stole some candy. Mr. Avila said he saw you with Angela. Is that true?”
“Yes. But I didn’t take anything, honest!” Maria’s eyes began to fill with tears.
Her father put his arm around her. “I believe you, Maria,” he said. “Mr. Avila said that he saw you leave without taking anything. He called to tell me that I have a daughter I can be proud of.”
“Really?” asked Maria.
“Really.” Her father smiled. “And I am proud of you! I am happy that you chose to do the right thing. I’m sure Heavenly Father is proud of you too.”
Maria was happy again. She was sure now that she had done the right thing.

I know from experience the troubled mind of such a young person. When I was preparing to go on my mission, some surprising forces tried to discourage me. One was my dentist. When he realized my appointment was so I could be a missionary, he tried to dissuade me from serving. I had not had the least notion that my dentist was against the Church.

The interruption of my education was also complicated. When I asked for a two-year leave of absence from my university program, I was informed that it was not possible. I would lose my place at the university if I did not return after one year. In Brazil, this was serious since the only criterion for admittance in a university program was a very difficult and competitive examination.

After repeatedly insisting, I was reluctantly informed that after being absent for one year, I could apply for an exception on extraordinary grounds. It might be approved or not. I was terrified at the idea of retaking that difficult admissions test after two years away from my studies.

I also was especially interested in a young woman. Several of my friends shared that same interest. I thought to myself, “If I go on a mission, I’m running a risk.”

But the Lord Jesus Christ was my great inspiration not to be afraid of the future as I strove to serve Him with all my heart.

Remember the challenges that I thought I faced prior to my mission? My dentist? I found another. My university? They made an exception for me. Remember that young woman? She married one of my good friends.

But God truly blessed me richly. And I learned that the blessings of the Lord can come in ways different from how we expect. After all, His thoughts are not our thoughts (see Isaiah 55:8–9).

Jack feels he is well prepared for the mission field, but when his call came, he was stunned. He will be serving in the Japan Nagoya Mission. He was surprised that with his reading disability, he would be called to learn such a difficult language as Japanese.

“I was confident I would go to an English-speaking mission,” he said. “When I went to take the language aptitude test, I asked the girl who administered it which were the hardest languages, and she said both Chinese and Japanese were challenging. I thought, good—at least I won’t have to worry about them. Then when I got my mission call, I was surprised.”

But Jack doesn’t worry about the battle with the language. “When you’re doing the work of the Lord, he’s going to help you out. When I first got a Book of Mormon, I found it really hard to read, but since I started reading the scriptures, my reading has improved, and it’s the first time I can really see that improvement.”

Jack pulls out the scriptures, and reads, out loud, his favorite: Alma 32:28. It talks about the faith he needs to serve, and the faith the people need to receive his message: “Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.”

As Jack reads that scripture, you notice that he reads clearly and precisely; he doesn’t stumble over a word.

Hey Jack—did you know you just read that scripture perfectly?

“I did? Wow, well thank you. I guess I’m getting a lot of help.”

As a child of relatively new convert parents in Cape Town, South Africa, I was bewildered to encounter American pioneers. After all, we had pioneers of our own—the Voortrekkers: Afrikaner men and women who left the English colony of Cape Town. They wanted to escape British tyranny, speak their own language, and worship their own God. I was fully aware of my Voortrekker heritage—but my pioneer heritage in the Church was, I assumed, sadly lacking. All I had were two parents who, by joining the Church in the 1950s, had branded themselves to the outside world. In their devotion to this new religion, they had saved for eight years, eventually selling my father’s prized cherry-red, 1940 MG roadster to fund what they thought would be a once-in-a-lifetime journey to the London Temple to be sealed to their four children.

While growing up, Isaac Nii Ayi Kwei Martey was introduced to the Hindu religion by his father. He came in contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints while he was staying with his uncle in Cape Coast. He met LDS missionaries as they were rescheduling an appointment with a neighbor. He approached them and consented to listen to the restored gospel. Isaac had in mind to thwart the message of the restored gospel. When the missionaries visited with him, they gave him the Book of Mormon and he loved the teachings he found there. He genuinely wanted to learn more.
He decided to take the challenge of praying about the Book of Mormon. He persistently prayed to know if it was true and he got his confirmation three weeks later. After the witness of the Holy Ghost, he was faced with a new challenge.
He informed his mother about his desire to get baptized and join the LDS Church, but she threatened to disown him if he ever did. All his relatives were against the idea of him joining the Church. Isaac had been admitted to study for his bachelor’s degree at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology. Isaac told the Cape Coast missionaries of his plan to attend church at Kumasi without the knowledge of his family. Isaac had studied with them for a little over a year without getting the opportunity to attend church. While in Kumasi, he looked for the LDS Church but could not find it. A student colleague directed him to the LDS Church about a month later. Isaac again met with the Kumasi missionaries. They were impressed with his knowledge of the restored gospel, but this was no surprise, as he had been taught much by missionaries while in Cape Coast.
The missionaries fixed a baptismal interview date with Isaac. He agreed and got baptized on October 16, 2010. However, he kept all this from his family. Isaac had the privilege of performing a proxy baptism in the temple when he came to Accra for Christmas vacation. He shared his experience in the temple: “When I got to the temple, I felt so much about being different and I remember reading a talk in the waiting room by President Monson. ‘Dare to be a Mormon; Dare to stand alone. Dare to have a purpose firm; Dare to make it known’ (“Dare to Stand Alone,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 61).” This impression compelled him to inform his mother about his newfound Church membership and the blessings he had acquired. Breaking the news, his mother was furious initially, but subsequently, she began to understand and accept his decision to be a Latter-day Saint. However, his extended family was unforgiving of his decision.
Isaac’s faith in the gospel began to enlarge, even to extent of desiring to serve a full-time mission. He decided to save some money toward such ecclesiastical ambition. His mother pleaded with him against it while his other relatives warned him to rescind his decision when he told them about his desire to serve the Lord for two years. Isaac stood firm and proceeded to work toward his mission goal rather than heeding to whims and caprices of family members.
He submitted his missionary forms and received the call to serve in Nigeria Port Harcourt Mission. Seven days after arriving at the missionary training center, he was informed that his mother had passed away. Having already lost his dad as a 15-year-old, his mother’s death made him an orphan. It was a really difficult time for him, and he was faced with the choice to either return home or continue with his mission. He prayed concerning this and sought counsel from his leaders. He finally decided on continuing his mission. He informed his family about his decision, and as expected, it was not well received. An uncle told him that if he went ahead with his mission, he should not consider himself as family to him. Even though he had the option to return home for his mother’s burial, he resolved to keep serving the Lord after he had read few passages in the scriptures:
“And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house.
“And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:61–62).
He served his mission faithfully and extended for a few more weeks before returning. Even though he hasn’t been accepted by his extended family, Isaac firmly believes that the Lord is mindful of the little things we do on this earth and the unending blessings we gain as we obey His commandments. “We all have different challenges, and the Lord has prepared our backs to these challenges that we face. … All He requires from us is a broken heart and a contrite spirit,” he says. Even though he is unsure of what lies ahead for him, he knows that if he relies on the Savior, he will be able to achieve all things.

Living in the deserts of Saudi Arabia are tribes of nomads called Bedouins. These people live in tents made of goat’s hair or wool, and they survive by keeping herds of sheep, goats, and camels. In one of these Bedouin tribes there once lived a very rich man. His name was Sheikh Bushnir, and he was the chief of his tribe.
One day Sheikh Bushnir became so ill with a fever that he thought he might die. It was true that he had a son to live on after him, but Ahmed, his son, was not a good man. He never tended the sheep or milked the goats, he was very greedy, and he was always spending his father’s money foolishly.
Even so, Sheikh Bushnir loved his son very much. One day the sheikh called his son to his bedside. “Ahmed,” he said weakly, “I am about to pass into the next life.”
Listening intently to his father’s words, Ahmed began to cry. Even though he was not a good man, he loved his father.
“Do not cry, my son,” said Sheikh Bushnir kindly. “All men—no matter how rich or great they are—must die. Now listen to what I have to say. Before I die, I want to give you a most wonderful gift.”
Ahmed wiped away his tears and moved closer to his father. “A gift?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered his father. “A most wonderful gift, a gift to be cherished above all others.”
“Is it worth more than a herd of camels?” asked Ahmed, his concern for his father replaced by his greed.
“It is worth much more than a herd of camels,” said his father.
“Is it worth more than gold or jewels?” asked Ahmed.
“More than even gold or jewels, my son. But the gift lies at the end of a long journey.”
Slowly Ahmed’s father spread out a map on the bed. The map was very wrinkled from having been folded and unfolded many times. “Here is where it is,” said Ahmed’s father as he pointed to a dark, round spot on the map.
“But that is in the middle of the Rub’ al Khali (Empty Quarter)!” gasped Ahmed.
“Yes,” said his father. “That is where the gift is buried.”
Ahmed looked sad as his father folded up the map. The Rub’ al Khali was a great desert where no one lived. Even for a Bedouin who was used to the hot desert, it would be a dangerous trip.
“Do you want the gift enough to risk your life for it?” asked his father.
Ahmed was silent for a long time. Finally his greed overcame his prudence. “Yes!” he cried. “For such a wonderful gift I will make the journey, no matter how dangerous it is.”
“Good,” said the sheikh. “You must leave at once. My mind will not rest until I know that you have made the journey and returned safely.”
“I shall do as you say,” said Ahmed, and he dashed from his father’s tent to make preparations.
The next morning Ahmed said good-bye to his father. Then he climbed onto his camel and set out alone into the desert. He knew that it would be safer to travel with one of the other young men from his tribe, but he did not want to share the wonderful gift with anyone.
The map outlined mile after mile of desert, but it revealed nothing about the burning sun and the hot desert winds. Whenever Ahmed thought of turning back, though, he remembered the wonderful gift waiting ahead, and his journey did not seem quite so harsh.
For three days Ahmed pushed deeper and deeper into the desert. His water was running low. He had been so anxious to leave that he had not planned well for the journey. Soon only one of his two goatskin bags of water remained. In the desert heat even a camel needs some water. But because Ahmed thought only of himself, he gave none of the water to his mount. That night while Ahmed slept, the camel ran off in search of water.
The next morning Ahmed realized that he should have shared the water with the camel. With the water that was left, Ahmed thought he might be able to make it back to the camp of a traveling caravan he had seen. However, his greed was too strong to allow him to go back without the gift, so he foolishly continued his journey on foot.
By the end of the fourth day Ahmed had used the rest of his water. He had only one wish: to see the wonderful gift before he died.
By the morning of the fifth day Ahmed was so weak that he could only crawl across the burning sand. Huge red blisters covered his hands and feet and knees. His eyes were almost swollen shut from the relentless pelting of the blowing sand. His lips were cracked and bleeding. Finally, when he thought he could go no farther, he came upon a small circle of stones. According to the map, this was where the gift lay buried!
Ahmed became frustrated as he scratched and clawed at the earth. Each time he pulled a handful of sand from the hole he was digging, more sand poured down from the sides. For hours he worked under the blistering sun. Finally Ahmed’s fingers touched a hard surface. He brushed the sand away and discovered a wooden chest. With his remaining strength, he tugged and pulled the chest from the hole.
Ahmed stared at the chest he had traveled so far to find. He was about to receive the most wonderful gift in the world, and he would not be able to enjoy it. As he fumbled with the latch on the chest, he thought, At least I can look at the gift I’ve given my life to find.
Ahmed began to cry when he saw what was in the chest. There were no jewels or golden coins. But there was something much more wonderful—three goatskin bags filled with water!
With gratitude and joy, Ahmed unstoppered one of the bags and brought it to his lips. Never before had water tasted so good. Never before had life seemed so sweet.
When he finished drinking, Ahmed looked more closely at the chest. Under one of the remaining goatskin bags was a note. He quickly opened it and read:
My Beloved Son,
I hope you are not disappointed by what you have found in the chest. I sent my men ahead of you to bury the priceless water. I knew that when I told you about the “wonderful gift,” you would rush foolishly into the desert. I also knew that because of your greed, you would give no thought for your life. That is why I buried water, not gold.
I did not lie to you, my son, when I told you of the wonderful gift. For the water in this chest has probably saved your life. And life, my son, is the most wonderful gift a man can receive.
Go now, Ahmed, with your gift of life and spend it as you like. Prize it above all other things, and you shall never be poor.
Love,
Your father
Ahmed carefully folded up the note and wiped the tears from his eyes. Feeling stronger, he tied the three goatskin bags together and tossed them over his shoulder.
Slowly Ahmed stood. He looked at the wooden chest one last time and smiled. Never again would he risk his life for gold or jewels. He would cherish his life and use it wisely. Yes, he had come a long way to find a gift that had always been his. But surely he was a richer man returning home than when he had left.

Hi, I’m Micaela!
Each summer, my stake has a food drive to collect food for a food bank. I was sad to learn that some kids don’t get dinner every night, I know how grumpy I feel when I’m hungry, so I wanted to help with the food drive.
Spreading the Word
A food bank gives food to people who don’t have much money. I wanted lots of people to help donate. A few weeks before the food drive, I brought flyers to my school teacher. She passed out more flyers to other teachers.
Running for a Reason
I decided to run the one-mile race that was held as part of the food drive. I practiced in my neighborhood so my body would be ready to run a whole mile.
Gathering Donations
Some races you have to pay money to enter. For this race, runners were asked to donate food instead of money! My parents and friends gave me food to donate.
Ready, Set, Serve!
It was a hot morning, but I finished the race. I ran the whole time without stopping. I even got a medal for finishing!
Sorting the Food
After the race my family and I went to the parking lot of a local grocery store to sort the donations that went to the food bank.
Micaela’s Tip
I try to invite friends to Church service activities, whether they’re members or not. We have fun!

President Hinckley challenged the missions to double their baptisms. In 1999, we baptized 501 converts, which was almost double the number in 1998. In December we brought up the subject to our missionaries in our Christmas Mission Conference. The missionaries quoted 1 Nep3:7, "I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them, that they may accomplish the thing which he commanded them." We set a goal of one thousand baptisms in the year 2000. I turned in that goal to the Asia Area Presidency. I was told that I needed to be "realistic." So I told them that they could turn in 750 to Church Headquarters and we would still shoot for the thousand. From January 1 - December 31, everyone worked hard contacting, teaching, fellowshipping, resolving concerns, and baptizing converts. At 10:30pm on the 31st of December we got the final count from the office Elders: we had just witnessed a miracle. We had baptized a total of 1,024 converts in the year 2000. Everyone was crying, and as the Elders call each apartment, there were more tears shed. I called Elder Cook in Hong Kong and gave him the report. There was silence, then a tearful, "Congratulations. You are truly the flagship of Asia." I learned the power of vision, being strictly obedient, and setting high goals.

Thinking of fields and flocks reminds me of an experience I had recently while attending a sacrament meeting in a BYU Asian ward. A good Asian brother told of praying prior to taking a calculus test to be calm and to remember the things he had studied. He was doing pretty well until he came upon a problem that required him to convert feet into inches. He knew how to do the problem but could not complete it until he could make the conversion. However, he didn’t understand feet and inches because all of his schooling had been in the metric system. He prayed again, like the people of Alma who prayed silently and had their burdens lifted (see Mosiah 24:12–15). Then into his mind came the image of an advertisement he had seen recently of a foot-long sandwich; the ad said that it could be divided into two 6-inch sandwiches. Knowing that a foot is 12 inches, he was able to complete the problem.
The Lord knows when each sparrow falls. He knows each of us. He wants to be involved in the details of our lives, and the whispering of the Spirit is one of the ways He does this. Prayer is one way that we invite Him to give us this blessing.