Gospel Story Finder

An example of this concept comes from F. Enzio Busche. He was working with a young man in the Young Men's program in post World-War II Europe. This seventeen-year-old boy was working in a foundry where hot iron was poured into molds. One of the older workers regularly picked on the boy, stealing his tools, teasing him, and occasionally beating him up. One day, he again stole his tools. The boy went to the restroom, knelt down, and prayed. He suddenly felt a great peace come into his soul. Calmly he went back to the man and apologized to him, saying, "I have accused you of things, for which I am sorry. I do not want to accuse you. I have so many reasons to be grateful that I am permitted to work with you. You are a good man, and I look up to you as an example, because I need to have an example in my life." These words were sincere, because the Lord had shown him the goodness hidden in that man.

The man broke down in tears. "I am not a good man. I am not a good example." He admitted to stealing the boy's tools and then said, "I am not worthy to be an example to you, but from now on, I will try." That was the beginning of a solid friendship.

Some months ago I had a conversation with a young father. He was desperately trying to meet his financial obligations and at the same time graduate from college, work, support his young family, attend church, read the scriptures, and do everything that was expected of him. He seemed like a boxer--half groggy, half conscious--listening to the countdown by the referee. He seemed almost relieved with the thought that, with the sound of the bell, it would all be over.
With a note of desperation in his voice, he said, "What's the use of continuing this crazy kind of life, disciplining, working, sacrificing? Anyway, I'm a failure at what I have been doing." His perception was wrong. Again, the adversary was using his favorite weapon: to distort the perception of our spiritual identity and potential and to transform us from agents to victims of the system. How can we face this constant challenge? How could this young man come out of this depression? The answer is relatively simple. Perceive correctly the Spirit of the Lord and feel the companionship and influence of the Holy Ghost. Do not turn your heart from the Lord because of the precepts of man. There is the power, the strength, the will to overcome despair about one's responsibilities and role in this life.

Beth skipped to her room to pick up her toys. A new family from church was coming over for dinner, and they had a girl her age. Mama said her name was Cara. Beth couldn’t wait to meet her!
When the doorbell rang, Beth ran to the front door. “Hi! I’m Beth.”
“We’re the Palmers, and this is our daughter, Cara,” said the dad.
Right away, Beth could tell there was something different about Cara. Cara didn’t look right at Beth when she talked. When everyone walked to the table to eat, Cara’s dad held her arm. And before they started eating, Cara’s mom told her where each food was on her plate. Could Cara not see?
“I’m blind,” Cara said. “So Mom helps me know what I’m about to eat.”
Beth remembered a story from the Bible about a blind man that Jesus healed. But she had never met someone who was blind before.
After dinner, Mama said, “Beth, why don’t you and Cara play in your room?”
Beth looked at Mom with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do.
Cara smiled and held out her hand. “Lead the way!” she said.
Seeing Cara smile made Beth feel better. She took Cara’s hand and led her down the hall to her room. Then Beth let go of Cara’s hand to get some toys for them to play with.
Cara stood in the doorway. “If you tell me where there’s a bed or a chair, I can sit down,” she said.
“Oh!” Beth turned around. “Sorry about that!”
“It’s OK,” Cara said. “Where should I go?”
Beth tried to think of a way to explain where the chair was.
“Is it to my right or to my left?” Cara asked.
“To your right,” Beth said, starting to understand. “Take two steps.”
Cara took two steps to her right. She put her hand out, felt the chair, and sat down perfectly. “Thank you,” she said. “Now let’s play!”
“How can you play with toys if you don’t know what they look like?” Beth asked shyly.
“I feel them,” Cara said. “Here—hand me something, but don’t tell me what it is.”
Beth handed Cara a toy and watched as she felt it all over. Cara grinned. “It’s a sock monkey.”
Beth laughed. “That’s right! Mama and I made it together.”
“Someday I’m going to learn to sew too,” Cara said.
“Really?”
“Yeah! I’ll be able to feel all the stitches. Maybe I can learn to make a sock monkey like yours.” Cara hugged the sock monkey close.
“You can keep that one, if you want,” Beth said.
“But you and your mom made it together,” said Cara. “Don’t you want to keep it?”That made Beth giggle because there was a whole
pile of sock monkeys on her bed! “I have plenty!” She began to plop them on Cara’s lap one at a time. “We made this one, and this one, and this one, and all of these.” Cara and Beth laughed.
“So really, you can pick one to take home!” Beth said.
“Thanks!” As Beth watched Cara feel each monkey and pick one to keep, she realized she had made a new friend.
“I’m glad I met you tonight,” Beth said.
“Me too,” said Cara. “Someday, I’ll make a sock monkey to give to you!”

While flying from Erie to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, several years ago, I sat next to the minister of a large Protestant church. He was dressed in the garb of the clergy, so was easy to identify. After I had introduced myself as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he asked, “Do you know what we ministers talk about when we meet together? We talk about the Mormons. We see the young and the elderly, teenagers, small children, and the newly married crowding into your chapels. Every age-group seems comfortable and happy being together in your church.” I explained how we are concerned about people of all ages.
That experience reminded me of the difficulty Moses had persuading Pharaoh to let the Israelites leave Egypt. One plague followed another until the Egyptian ruler finally gave in. After being threatened with hordes of locusts, Pharaoh agreed to let the men go if Moses would leave the women, the young, and the old behind. (See Ex. 10:3–11.)
However, Moses insisted that all should go. He said, “We will go with our young and with our old, with our sons and with our daughters, with our flocks and with our herds will we go” (Ex. 10:9). Moses refused to divide the people of God.
All ages would share the adventure and the dangers together, just as our own pioneers did 132 years ago during their great exodus. The solidarity of the people of all ages is God’s way of doing things. It is our way because it is his way.
Life is not stationary. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years all tick away at the same clip for everyone. No age-group can be isolated. None of us can settle into infancy, youth, middle age, or old age. We all grow older, and, incidentally, it is an exciting thought if the accent is on growing. “Though our outward man perish,” said Paul, “yet the inward man is renewed day by day” (2 Cor. 4:16; italics added).
I cannot think on my own life without feeling deep gratitude for the older people who have walked and talked with me. A great-aunt taught me many lessons in her own sensitive way. A lovely grandmother has influenced not only her own grandchildren, but also many of their friends. A patriarch, by living righteously and by giving a beautiful blessing, changed the course of a young man’s life. Elder LeGrand Richards’s powerful voice and testimony have brought the truth of the gospel to all who will listen, and a few others besides. Our great prophet-leader, President Kimball, has influenced so many of us through his dedication and incredible energy.
All are needed; all are to serve. Those of you with experience and maturity, who have seen the Great Depression, the ravages of two world wars, a society that has emerged from the horse and buggy era to silver Concordes splitting the sky at 1,400 miles an hour have so much to offer. It is to you, the elderly, I address my brief comments.
Few men whose names occur in the New Testament have so little said about them as did Mnason. His name appears only once: “one Mnason of Cyprus, an old disciple, with whom we should lodge” (Acts 21:16). As the early missionaries traveled, they wanted to be with an elderly disciple, one with whom they felt comfortable. Apparently, they were seeking his wisdom and his knowledge.
“Then what can we do?” I can almost hear some of our older members of the Church inquiring.
First, take time with the Savior. If you feel you do not know him yet, then think of him often. Read about him. Invite him in. It is never too late to make a friend, and he is the best friend you will ever have.
Second, tell of past decades when life was different. Keep alive the recollection of your struggles and achievements. Take time to share the truths that never change. Show how solutions to problems sixty, seventy, and eighty years ago are just as valid and helpful now as they were then. We need to learn from you.
Third, look to your ancestors. Temple doors stand open bidding you welcome. So many need you to perform their earthly ordinances. The extra time you often have enables you to bless those who need you to do their earthly work for them. They are waiting for you.
Fourth, there is so much for you to do in the mission field, either as a couple or, if you do not have a mate, as an elder or sister missionary. It is true, you will not be tracting quite like the younger missionaries, or at least not as long, but you will be influencing the inactive, providing welfare service instruction, serving in our visitors’ centers, meeting the town fathers, and helping those that need your leadership example, your judgment, and your ability to teach. Investigators in Stuttgart, West Germany; Hermosillo, Mexico; Williamsport, Pennsylvania; and Rocky Ford, Colorado, will listen and, yes, be baptized because of you.
Fifth, realize that you are needed and loved and that you can be useful to many in so many positive ways. Only too often an elderly person will retreat into a state of feeling unneeded, left out, or even passed by or rejected. Usually nothing could be further from the truth. Please communicate openly so we will know of your feelings.
Sixth, hold family home evening. If you are now alone, invite friends to stop by each Monday night. If you feel lonely, others probably do, too. Loneliness can only be dispelled by helping others feel less lonely. Family home evening is an ideal opportunity to share, to worship, and to heal.
Seventh, whenever possible, walk each day. Enjoy this lovely world that the Savior has provided, and invite others to walk with you, sharing the beauties and miracles of nature together. “Add life to your years, not just years to life” (“The Problem of Old Age,” Time, 23 July 1966).
Eighth, for heaven’s sake, forget your regrets. The many years you have lived have been filled both with success and with experiences you might change if you could. But you can’t, so stop any self-inflicted sadness or despair. When the Savior said, “Judge not,” he was speaking, in part, about your relationship with yourself (see Matt. 7:1). Live the repentant life happily. The scripture “Men are, that they might have joy” (2 Ne. 2:25) applies to you right now.
Bernard Baruch, on his eighty-fifth birthday, said (in a news report dated 20 August 1955), “To me, old age is always fifteen years older than I am.” Yes, there is much for you to do.
Shifting now to a different perspective, those who are younger may ask, “What can we do?”
First, it is certainly our responsibility to keep in touch with you our parents, our grandparents, and elderly friends, to say hello and to express our love for your influence. Perhaps we should place a telephone call this afternoon or write a letter or note to say “remember when”—and then—thank you dad, mom, bishop, teacher, or friend.
Second, we must develop a partner relationship with you that will help all of us serve better in the kingdom by serving together. You stake presidents, bishops, quorum presidents, and auxiliary leaders are to call our older members to positions of meaningful responsibility. Can any of us imagine what the body of the General Authorities would be like without those magnificent men in their eighties and nineties who inspire, teach, and help carry the kingdom forward?
Third, we must listen carefully to what you older and often wiser people have to say. A listening heart is a loving heart. Please forgive our impatience and may we concentrate upon your counsel.
Fourth, we must be certain as we hurry through life that we tend to your needs as you have so kindly tended and cared for our needs through decades of patience and love. May we wipe away your tears as you have so skillfully and lovingly wiped away ours.
In closing, I say to you—our elder mentors, our examples, some of our dearest friends—thank you, and may we be one, as the Father and the Son are one, I pray in the blessed name of Jesus Christ, amen.

With a full schedule ahead of me, I dashed out the door early, my backpack full to bursting with the textbooks, self-defense uniform, dance shoes, sack lunch, and sack dinner I would need to survive yet another busy college day. I had two tests I didn’t feel prepared for, reading I hadn’t finished, and not enough time to get everywhere I needed to go that day.
Wearing the skirt I would need for my dance test, I felt ridiculous with my huge backpack and desperate that I wouldn’t be on time to my first class. When I tripped and fell in the middle of a busy intersection in front of dozens of students and cars, my embarrassment and frustration, along with the hole in my new nylons, pushed me to tears. Seven o’clock in the morning, and I was already crying.
As I picked myself up and hobbled to school, I prayed fervently for the Lord to send someone to cheer me up. It would have been nice to see my mom, but she was two states away. Maybe the Lord could answer my prayer through one of my roommates visiting one of my classes. Or maybe He would send that boy in the ward whom I liked so much.
I looked around expectantly as I hurried to my first class but didn’t see anyone I knew. I took my first test, still in tears, and rushed to my second class, arriving late. I was still upset as I ran to my third class and as I hurried to get ready for my next test. I did better on my test than I had expected and was calming down a little when I found a quiet hallway where I could eat my lunch while studying. I was bent over my books when I heard someone call my name.
I looked up to see my visiting teacher, whom I had never before seen on campus. She sat down next to me, and we talked for almost an hour—not about my frustrations that day but about things that were going well for me, our plans, and things that worried her.
It wasn’t until she left that I remembered my pleading prayer that morning. Of course the Lord would answer my prayer through the woman called to watch over me. I had wanted someone to cheer me up early that morning, but He knew I’d be ready to see a friend later in the day—when I had calmed down enough to be able to receive the comfort I needed and to extend comfort to another who had her own challenges.
The Lord knew me and sent me exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it.

The only thing Jenny wanted in the whole wide world was a horse of her very own. Mr. Bonner, whose backyard connected with her own, had a pair of Morgan horses, the very breed Jenny wanted. Jenny visited Mr. Bonner every chance she had, helping him feed and groom the two horses. Their bodies were smooth and glossy after they had been brushed and curried.
Jenny sat on the porch steps, her elbows on her knees, chin cupped in the palm of her hands as she gazed across the yard and fence at the Morgans lazily munching the grass.
The screen door snapped shut behind her, and her mother sat down beside her, still wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Pretty, aren’t they?”
“Mom, can’t I have a horse? I promise I’ll take care of it.”
“Jenny, we’ve been over this a hundred times. You know why you can’t.”
Yes, Jenny knew the reasons. For one thing, they didn’t have a large yard, not to mention a barn or lean-to to shelter a horse against the harsh North Dakota winters. Nor did they have the extra money it would take to feed a horse and care for it.
“I wish you could have a horse, Jenny,” Mother said later, as she returned to the kitchen.
Knowing that it was close to feeding time, Jenny got up, brushed a hand across the seat of her jeans, climbed over the fence, and sauntered over to the Bonner barn.
Mr. Bonner was already at work, scooping grain out of the wooden bin into two separate pails. “I wondered if I was going to see my favorite girl today.”
Jenny grinned. Mr. Bonner always called her his favorite girl. She grabbed a pitchfork and started cleaning a stall.
“So what’s my girl been doing on this gorgeous summer day?”
Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing much.”
“Anxious for school to start? How many more days left?”
Jenny laughed out loud. It was a game he played with her every year. He knew exactly how many more days were left—he was the school’s principal.
“Fifteen.”
“Is that all?” Mr. Bonner said, appearing shocked. “I guess I’ll have to get busy, or we won’t be able to open the school on time.”
Jenny knew better. She had seen workers at the school painting and cleaning whenever she accompanied her mother to town. School would start on time, as always.
In a more serious voice he said, “Jenny, I have a favor to ask. I’ve already talked to your mother about it, and she said that it was up to you.”
Jenny’s heart thudded wildly in her chest. For Mr. Bonner to get her mother’s permission, it must be something big.
“I have to go away for ten days on school business. I leave tomorrow. Would you take care of the Morgans while I’m gone?”
“Really? Honest? All by myself? With no one helping me? Wow! Oh yes! When do I start?”
Mr. Bonner laughed. “Tomorrow—if you’re sure you can handle the job.”
“Oh, I know I can. I’ve helped you feed them, brush them, clean the barn, put them out to pasture for … for … well, for years!”
Mr. Bonner nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you now. I think that you love these two old horses as much as I do.”
“Oh, I do!”
“OK then. It’s a deal,” he said, sticking out his hand.
Early the next morning Jenny stood in Mr. Bonner’s driveway and waved as Mr. Bonner drove away. Then she turned toward the barn to start her first day of chores all by herself.
She had fun the first few days, spending much of her time tending the horses. By the fifth day, however, the charm had worn off. Taking care of these horses is hard work, Jenny decided. The hay was heavy to move and scratched her legs when she wore shorts. Cleaning the stalls was dirty, smelly work, especially on those two days when the temperature rose to ninety-five degrees.
The sixth day Jenny had to turn down an invitation to see a movie with her friend Rebecca because the outing interfered with her stable chores.
On the seventh day she overslept. One of the horses, unhappy with his late breakfast, stepped on her foot. Jenny was sure that he did it on purpose. Limping home, she wondered why she had agreed to do the work.
It rained on the eighth and ninth days, turning the barnyard into a thick, slimy sea of mud. As she was dumping the wheelbarrow after her chores were done, Jenny slipped and fell into the muck.
The tenth day finally arrived, the day Mr. Bonner was to return home. It was midday, and Jenny was sitting on the steps once again. The Morgans were in the pasture.
All they do is eat, Jenny thought, watching them. If I’m not feeding them, I’m cleaning up after them. And by the time I’m finished, I’m either too tired or too hungry to stop and play with them.
“They’re always pretty to look at, aren’t they?” Mom said, returning from the garden with a basketful of vegetables. “You’ve taken excellent care of them. Their coats look shiny and soft.”
“Yeah,” Jenny mumbled. Her arms ached all over again as she thought about their tall backs and even taller necks and about how difficult it was for her to brush their heads.
“They look well fed, too,” her mother added.
“They should,” Jenny said. “All they do is eat.”
Her mother laughed. “Animals have a way of doing that. So,” she said, a more serious look on her face. “I bet taking care of those two made you want a horse of your own even more.”
“Oh, I do. But not right now,” Jenny said, surprising both her mother and herself.
“Oh?”
“I love horses, and I want to own one someday, but not right now. They take up so much time that I haven’t been able to enjoy them all week. What’s the use in having something if you can’t enjoy it?”
Jenny received a squeeze from her mother and a kiss on the forehead. “You know, I’m really proud of you. It takes courage and honesty to understand things like that.”
Jenny smiled back at her mother. She was proud of herself too. Someday she would have her very own Morgans—but not right now.

Last year I had the opportunity to take part in a massive relief effort in the devastated city of Joplin, Missouri, which had been hit by a tornado. I saw and experienced many things, some of which are difficult to even put into words. One particular experience has caused me to do a great deal of pondering.
We were at a house that was completely devastated, searching through what seemed like endless piles of rubble and debris. We were merely trying to see if anything at all was salvageable in this heap of mostly indistinguishable remains that were once somebody’s personal belongings. Not much turned up, but in the midst of the work and the commotion, something caught my attention and caused me to pause for a moment. Among the rubble that we couldn’t distinguish, I discovered a picture of the Savior.
I stopped for a brief moment, put the picture with the other few salvaged items, and for the rest of the day continued to carry out the tasks we were assembled to perform.
On reflecting about this small and seemingly insignificant event, I’ve been reminded of a valuable lesson. There in the most devastated, most hopeless situation imaginable, among what seemingly couldn’t be salvaged, I found the Savior. His love was evident in the inspiring relief efforts that took place in Joplin, Missouri.
This small moment has reminded me that no matter how hopeless or lost we find ourselves in life, we can always find the Savior. In fact, the Savior Jesus Christ seemed to be the only thing that stood out from the surrounding devastation. I’m reminded of all the times I and others were helped through difficult times by the loving influence of Jesus Christ.

When Sam (short for Samantha) Southwick started high school in Grand Blanc, Michigan, she wanted to be involved. She knew that the secret to having a lot of fun in high school is to participate. She thought it would be either in cheerleading or playing on a sports team, but her plans didn’t work out easily. “I tried out for basketball. I tried out for cheerleading. I don’t know how many times I tried out for cheerleading, but finally I just stopped. Then I tried out for volleyball. It was fun, but I didn’t even make the first cut.”
Even in those moments of disappointment, Sam was a little bit proud of herself for following through and not quitting. But which was her sport? Where was she going to succeed? Repeatedly not making the team could have made her want to quit trying. But she kept on. Only now can she look back and see clearly what she needed to understand. “When you go into something with a positive attitude and the will to do it, then it actually becomes a lot easier. I was going through some of this for the wrong reasons.”
In Sam’s junior year, some of her friends were playing lacrosse. Because she was always willing to try something new, she started learning about the game and began the conditioning. “My friends helped me, and I’ve loved lacrosse ever since. We joke that it’s soccer in the air.”
Even after making the lacrosse team, Sam still had some learning to do. At first, she wanted to play offense. “It’s really fun to shoot on the goal and to make it. Everyone gets really excited. Offense is the glory place.” But her team needed her on defense—in the goal in fact.
Playing goalie is a scary position. To block a shot, she would get hit hard by a small rubber ball. Sam freely admits that she wasn’t very aggressive when she started out. “And on defense you’re trying to make sure the other team does not score, so you feel worried and responsible.”
Sam can still give you a blow-by-blow account of her first game as the goalie. “I was standing there thinking, What have I gotten myself into? Then they came down, running straight at me. Our defense didn’t really know what they were doing because we were new. I just stood there gripping my stick so hard. I was saying to myself, Just move, just move. It was really nerve-racking. I don’t think I blocked the first shot, but after that it got easier. I learned that when those balls hit you during the game, it doesn’t bother you because you’re just so intense. But after the game, you really feel it. You get hit everywhere.”
The team tied that first game. But two games later, after their first loss, Sam took it hard. She appreciated her team’s being supportive because they knew she felt responsible. “Losing takes an emotional toll on the goalie,” says Sam.
How does she deal with the pressure? Sam says, “I’ve actually said prayers in my head. I’ll ask myself, ‘Why am I praying about a sport when there are other things you should be praying for?’ But when I’m in those moments, I know that God really will help me.”
Losing is not fun, but Sam has learned that the old saying “Winning isn’t everything,” is actually true. Her philosophy is that sports are for fun and for learning how to deal with other people. “You learn how to communicate better with people and how to talk with them and get along. What I have learned playing goalie has helped me at my job.” Sam works as a waitress and sometimes has to deal with difficult people.
Even when you lose, Sam says, you can still feel great. “If you lose and you played as well as you can, you feel good because you feel like you actually did something. Winning looks good on your record, but it’s all about what you learn and how to deal with it.”

As a youngster of eighteen, a pretty young model found her dreams shattered by an automobile accident that confined her to a wheelchair with partially paralyzed legs. Because of the accident, she learned to play the piano.
Because of what the accident had done to her budding career, she learned to develop a sense of humor and to find that there is a funny viewpoint to almost any subject. And, in time, her legs regained their strength, and she became an actress gifted with a sense of humor that made her one of the outstanding comediennes of our day. You have seen her in motion pictures but particularly on television, and you have heard her on the radio, and you know that Lucille Ball was not stopped by adversity. On the contrary, it was the plus sign that made her grow in stature.

Some time ago I received a letter from Brother Rafael Pérez Cisneros of Galicia, Spain, telling me about his conversion. Part of his letter said the following:
“I had no concept of the purpose of life or what the family really is. When I finally allowed the missionaries to come into my home, I told them, ‘Give me your message, but I warn you that nothing is going to make me change religions.’ On this first occasion my children and my wife were listening attentively. I felt separated from the group. I felt afraid, and without thinking I went to my bedroom. I closed the door and began to pray from the depths of my soul like I had never prayed before. ‘Father, if it is true that these young men are Your disciples and have come to help us, please make it known to me.’ It was in that very moment that I began to cry like a small child. My tears were abundant, and I felt happiness like I had never before experienced. I was absorbed in a sphere full of joy and happiness that penetrated my soul. I understood that God was answering my prayer.
“All of my family was baptized, and we had the blessing of being sealed in the Swiss Temple, making me the happiest man in the world.”

I remember as a young missionary in New Zealand seeing men who stood way above the other people in that country because they had testimonies of the gospel and lived the way they should. One of them was a rugby player for the All Blacks (the equivalent of being an all-American football player in the U.S.). He had played rugby all over the world and told me that he always knelt down and prayed in the locker room before going out to play in any game. When I met him, his rugby career was over, but he was strong in the faith and a good, hard worker who could shear sheep with the best of the Maori men. He has always been one of my heroes.

My new home was in Nakskov, on the island of Lolland. Unfortunately, the nearest ward was several hours away.
After two months in Denmark, however, I learned about a small group of Saints who met closer to my home. To get there, I would have to ride a private railway. The train fare was around 40 crowns, nearly all my spending allowance for the week. It was fast Sunday, and I scraped together all the money I had—about 43 Danish crowns. I figured it would be sufficient if I got the round-trip discount. There would not be any money left over for a fast offering, but I felt the Lord would understand why.
As the train moved away from the station, the conductor came by and said, “Two crowns.” My fledgling Danish had to be mistaken—I knew the trip cost more than two crowns. After offering him most of what I had, he took a bill and gave me change. The fare was only two crowns! I knew the Lord was watching out for me.
In a little attic apartment above a store was a tiny room containing a group of elderly women. One of them smiled, motioned me inside, and knocked on an adjoining door. I was greeted into priesthood meeting. There were about five older brethren and two young missionaries.
I couldn’t understand much of what went on, but some hymns were familiar. There were tears as testimonies were shared.
When I told the missionaries my train fare was only two crowns, they couldn’t believe it. I soon discovered the return trip was also just two crowns. I realized I could pay my fast offering after all. Later, I learned that in celebration of the centennial of the train system the fare had been reduced to two crowns for just that one day.

Gravely ill with a fever, young Elizabeth Beardall receives a blessing from Latter-day Saint missionaries in which they make four promises. The first two—that she will be healed and join the Church—have been fulfilled. The accomplishment of the third—that she will travel to Utah—begins in 1863 when her family sails for America from England. But America is a large country, and the end of the voyage is only the beginning of the journey. When the family finally reaches the Missouri River, they still have far to go.
“Stay here with the baggage,” Father said. “I’ll get the family and return shortly.” Elizabeth nodded and tried to look brave as she watched him hurry off the boat. She turned to look across the muddy waters of the Missouri River. It was wide, but nothing compared to the Atlantic Ocean her family had crossed on the sailing ship Cynosure. She decided that if she could survive the eight-week crossing from England, she could certainly endure a one-day trip down a river.
“Are you going to the Salt Lake Valley?” a woman asked her.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “I can’t wait to get there to fulfill my third promise.”
“Third promise?”
“Yes. When I was very sick, the elders promised me I would get well, join the Church, go to Utah, and be a mother in Israel.”
The woman smiled. “That’s wonderful. Perhaps we’ll be in the same wagon train. I’m Sister Rowley.”
Elizabeth shook her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Beardall, and here comes my family.” Elizabeth pointed to where her parents and brother and sister were hurrying up the road toward the boat.
“Oh dear,” Sister Rowley said as the sailors bustled around the deck. “I hope they make it in time!”
Elizabeth’s family was still a block away when the boat pulled away from the dock. “No!” Elizabeth cried. “Wait!”
Sister Rowley put her arm around Elizabeth. “There is another boat tomorrow. Your family will come then. Don’t worry. I’ll tell the Church leaders that I will take care of you in the meantime.”
When they got off the boat in Florence, Nebraska, Elizabeth waited outside a business office while the Rowley family went inside. When Sister Rowley came out she was smiling. “It’s all settled, my dear,” she said. “You can come with us.”
Elizabeth frowned. “With you? But I need to wait for my family.”
Sister Rowley looked around at the noisy crowds and shook her head. “I can’t leave you here alone. Your parents will be told where to find you. And by leaving now,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “you’ll hasten the fulfillment of your third promise.”
Elizabeth felt tears prick her eyes. She knew that the trip would be hard, but she had never imagined she might be making it by herself. And what if she never saw her family again? Was any promise worth that?
Sister Rowley seemed to read her thoughts. “It will all be worth it in the end,” she said. “Our sacrifices may seem great, but God has promised us a much greater reward.”
As the wagon train rolled westward, Elizabeth kept busy washing clothes, gathering buffalo chips for fuel, and fetching water. But at night when the company gathered around the blazing campfire to sing and dance, Elizabeth missed her family terribly. She found comfort in the evening star that shone in the western sky. It seemed to whisper, “God is over all. He knows your secret sorrow and will not forsake you.” Elizabeth knew that she was not really alone.
After two weeks of travel, the company stopped for repairs. Elizabeth asked Sister Rowley what she could do to help. “Go out and play, dear,” Sister Rowley told her. “You have been too solemn. You need more laughter and fewer tears.”
Elizabeth nodded and went to join some children who were playing marbles and rolling hoops. The other children were kind, but the games did not cheer Elizabeth. Suddenly a boy called out, “Who is that stranger coming into camp?”
Elizabeth saw a man in the distance, hurrying toward them. She looked more closely, hardly daring to believe her eyes. It was her father! She ran to him, and he clasped her in his arms. Both were crying for joy. “We were only a day behind,” Father said, “but I despaired of ever catching up.”
“I knew we’d be together again someday,” Elizabeth sobbed. Now, with the Lord’s help, they could continue their journey to Utah and to the fulfillment of the third promise.
Author’s Note: There were many more challenges for Elizabeth on the trek west. Elizabeth’s mother gave birth to a baby boy on the trail, and Elizabeth had to nurse her mother, tend the younger children, and do her mother’s chores as well as her own. Once Elizabeth was out washing when a sandstorm hit. She became lost and wandered for three days before she was found. Finally in October 1863, her family arrived in the Salt Lake Valley with little food or clothing. Later, Elizabeth married and became a mother in Israel as foretold. All the Lord’s promises to her were fulfilled.

What you do when you are alone is generally a good indication of the kind of person you really are. The same is true when you find yourself to be the only Latter-day Saint in a crowd of people who are not members of the Church.
Although it may be tempting to rationalize that no one knows you’re a Mormon, that no one will ever know if you decide to relax your standards, don’t give in! Someone is always watching you, and if you have the courage to be a good example, you may guide someone else who is searching for the truth.
Years ago, when I was in the military, my family and I were stationed at Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina. There we met Willis Hepworth, who was serving in the navy. Willis taught us some important lessons about being a good example even when there are no family members or Church acquaintances nearby.
Willis was active in the Church and had been involved in its youth programs. He had musical talents and had participated in a variety of activities.
When he graduated from high school in Magna, Utah, he had decided to join the navy. One of Willis’s naval assignments was aboard a minesweeper operating off the east coast of the United States. As far as he knew, there were no other Church members among the crew.
When the ship put into port at New Bern, North Carolina, for repairs, Willis looked up the address of the local branch and attended services. He found out that the next Saturday there would be a dance at the branch. Excited at the prospect of going to a dance, Willis asked two of his shipmates, Kenneth Kinzel and John Archer, to go with him. The two liked the idea of going to a social function where there would be some single girls, so they accepted the invitation.
They attended the dance and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Ken was particularly impressed that they had such an enjoyable time without drinking and without the other activities usually associated with “hitting the beach.” He wanted to know more about a church that would sponsor that kind of activity and asked Willis how he could learn more. Willis contacted the missionaries. They taught Ken and John, and in a few weeks both were baptized.
After his baptism, Ken wanted his parents to know about the gospel. “I doubt that my parents would ever be interested in becoming Latter-day Saints,” he said. After all, his father held a prominent position in his own church.
But when Ken was home on leave, he asked his parents if they would be willing to have the missionaries tell them about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Being the fine, open-minded people they were, they agreed. Later, Ken had the privilege of baptizing and confirming them. They later became temple workers.
Don Dewey, a nonmember, was one of Ken’s friends stationed aboard a sister minesweeper. He wanted to discover the inconsistencies in the Church’s doctrine so that he could point out to Ken the error of his decision to be baptized. So when the three men returned from sea, Don decided to join Willis and Ken at sacrament meeting in Charleston.
But Don never did find the inconsistencies he sought. Instead, after months of intensive study, he also chose to become a member of the Church.
One night shortly after his baptism, Don was tending the ship’s engines and reading the Book of Mormon in his spare time. Burt, one of the crew, came up behind him and asked what he was reading.
“It’s the Book of Mormon,” Don replied.
“Are you Mormon?”
“Yes, I am.”
Burt ground out his cigarette and said, “So am I.” He had been brought up in the Church but had stopped participating when he joined the military. Don convinced him to join the others at sacrament meeting the next Sunday. But began the process of repenting and getting his life back in order.
Just before Don was released from military duty, he wrote to my wife and me.
“As you know,” he said, “I am the only member of the Church in my family. I had been saving part of my paycheck so that when I get out I would be able to pay cash for a new car. But now I’ve decided to use the money for something better—to support myself on a mission.”
Ken also decided to serve a mission. After their missions, both Ken and Don were married in the temple, and both have served faithfully in many Church callings.
We asked Ken and Don what it was about the gospel and the Church that attracted them most. Without a moment’s hesitation, they each said that it was Willis’s life, his example.
What if Willis had thought no one was watching him? If he had abandoned his beliefs, would Ken and Don and their families be members of the Church today? Where would Burt be? What would have happened to Ken’s parents? And how about others who also joined the Church because of Ken’s and Don’s efforts?
This great cycle of service, conversion, and good works was generated by Willis’s quiet yet powerful, consistent example as a righteous young Latter-day Saint. Willis was willing to face the challenge of living up to his standards, even when he found himself alone and when he may have thought no one else was watching.
The truth is, people do watch. Your friends and associates, both within and outside of the Church, watch you all the time. They look for the light the Lord said that you should be to the world.
May each of you be blessed to be strong in setting a proper example, even—and maybe especially—when you think you are all alone.

“It’s a pity you’re so short that you have to stand in the front,” my teacher said. “You’re the worst dancer in the class.”
These words were said to me in front of my entire choir class in high school. They were said with humor, and I responded with a small, forced chuckle, but truthfully, I was mortified. My teacher had choreographed simple dance steps for us to follow to perform with one of our concert pieces. Unfortunately, I’ve always been clumsy, so I struggled to get the steps right. And her words pretty much snuffed out my already miniscule flame of self-confidence. What she said was true: I was too short, and I couldn’t dance. I wondered if I would I ever be good enough.
That experience was just one of many times when I didn’t feel “good enough.” In those moments, I focus only on what I don’t have or what I can’t do, rather than what I do have and what I can do. It’s one of Satan’s greatest tools he uses against me and so many others.
After my choir teacher told me I was a horrible dancer, I was so discouraged. I had always tried to prove myself by trying to be good at what others excelled at. And I failed every time. I couldn’t shake the thought that my only talent was being a professional benchwarmer. I felt like God had forgotten to give me the right amount of “enoughness,” like He seemed to have given everyone else.
One day in seminary, my teacher gave a lesson about God’s creations. He showed us mesmerizing photos of outer space. I remember gaping at all the galaxies, stars, and planets that were shown—each one of them unique, mysterious, and beautiful in their own way.
And that’s when I realized something.
Out of all the phenomenal and unbelievable creations God made, He took the time to make me. A small, seemingly insignificant, ordinary human, who didn’t realize how extraordinary she actually was. A human uniquely set apart from all others. A human who was given her own, specific plan. A human with boundless potential and a divine destiny.
Me.
It was this moment when I finally and full-heartedly believed that “the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10). I realized that He truly thinks the world of me, and I have just the right amount of “enoughness” in His eyes.
In the end, I never did learn how to dance well. I can honestly say without any shame that I really am an awful dancer. But that’s OK! Because through the years, I’ve discovered many talents and strengths within me that I never knew I had. They’ve been revealed over time as I’ve relied on the Lord and had faith that He knows I’m good enough. Yes, we all get discouraged from time to time, but when we take a step back and truly realize the significance of who we are, our remarkable strengths, our unique abilities, and the Lord’s hand directing our lives, we are better able to endure this life with faith, hope, and exceptional confidence.

Dad was very keen on my going to school, and he had told me that I had better not go on a mission. But one night I talked with my friend Harry about missions until 2:00 A.M. He told me, “You have the opportunity to go on a mission now. You might not always have that opportunity.”

I didn’t know if Dad would support me, but I asked my mother to ask him. When I finished my first year of college, I went home. We were doing the dishes one night, when my dad said, “Stephen, if you want to go on a mission, that will be all right.”

I was called to serve my mission in France. After serving twenty-eight months, I got a telegram telling me that my dad had died of a heart attack. I went home to attend the funeral and to help Mom, and Harry’s words came back to me: “You might not always have the opportunity to go on a mission.” If I had put off serving my mission, my widowed mother could not have afforded to send me.

Tall pine trees flew past the car in a blur. Owen stared through the back window. If I were Robin Hood, this would be the perfect hideout forest, he thought. Mama drove while Uncle Eric helped with directions. They were going to a big family picnic at his great-uncle’s house.
Owen rolled down his window. The scent of pine filled his nose. Yup, the perfect Robin Hood forest.
“This place is so cool!” Owen said. “Let’s call it Adventure Forest!”
Uncle Eric smiled. “I think you’ll like it. There’s a stream and plenty of woods for you and your cousins to explore.”
“Is there an evil sheriff waiting in the woods?”
Uncle Eric laughed. “I’m not sure. Let me know if you find one, though.”
The car stopped a little later, and everyone climbed out. Owen was itching to start exploring. He saw a small hill up ahead.
“Can I go check out what’s over that hill?”
Mama nodded. “Just stay close enough that you can hear me.”
Another car pulled up. Owen grinned as his cousin James hopped out. “James! Wanna see what’s over that hill?”
“Can we? Please?” James asked his parents. Soon Owen and James took off running. In no time they reached the hilltop.
“Let’s race down,” James said.
As they reached the bottom, Owen saw a pile of soft dirt at the bottom. He jumped right in, pretending he was Robin Hood leaping into a wagon full of bad guys.
Ouch! The tops of his feet felt like they were on fire! He jumped out, yelling in pain.
Suddenly Mama appeared. She grabbed Owen and ran for the nearby stream. Mama plunged his feet into the cold water, sandals and all.
“What happened?” Owen cried. “All I did was jump in some dirt!”
“That wasn’t dirt,” Mama said. “It was hot ashes. Someone must have had a campfire last night and not put it out completely.”
After Owen soaked his feet for a while, Mama carried him in to his uncle’s house.
They found his cousin, who was a children’s doctor. Doctor Mark put medicine on the burns and wrapped them. Then he and Uncle Eric gave Owen a priesthood blessing.
Not much of a Robin Hood adventure after all, Owen thought as they drove home.
That night at bedtime, Mama said, “Remember that Heavenly Father loves you.”
Owen sat up in bed. “I know He does. But why did He let me burn my feet?”
Mama sat next to him. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always stop bad things from happening, but He helps us get through them. For example, I’m grateful I saw you from the hilltop right when you jumped into those ashes.”
She ran a hand through Owen’s hair. “Plus, Heavenly Father helped me know immediately that I should put your feet in the stream.”
Mama and Owen talked about more things to be grateful for—like the priesthood blessing he got. Then Owen prayed. As he started listing what he was thankful for, he was surprised at how many things came to mind. Owen felt warm and happy. He knew Heavenly Father was listening.
Owen hugged his mom. “I’m glad Heavenly Father loves me.”

I wanted to write you and thank you for your article “I Didn’t Fit In” (May 2000). When I read it, I felt so grateful that I was not the only one in this vast world that has experienced that feeling of stupidity when you stand up for what is right in a crowd of people who are not doing what’s right. My roommate recently invited me to go with her to another city to visit a friend she hadn’t seen in a while. I agreed to go with her simply because she is my friend and I wanted to support her. When we arrived at the house, I walked in and was overwhelmed by the smell and the smoke. Everyone was doing drugs. I crouched in the corner hoping they wouldn’t see me, but of course they did and they started pressuring me to smoke. It became so overwhelming that I ran outside, got in my roommate’s car, and just cried until she finally came back out. During that time, I prayed harder than I’ve ever prayed. I longed so badly to be surrounded by my good LDS friends. I realized that even standing up for what you believe in is not enough. You have to be in the right places because the Spirit will not dwell where others around you are doing things to drive it away.
Name Withheld (via e-mail)

The walk up the black paved road to the temple in American Fork, Utah, for Elizabeth (10) and Ethan (9) Ault is much shorter than the forty-mile walk on a rocky dirt road their great-great-great-grandfather took to work on the Salt Lake Temple. The Aults live just a few blocks from the new Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple. Every morning Ethan loves to see the sun shining on the temple’s stained-glass windows on his way to school.
Elizabeth and Ethan’s great-great-great-grandfather worked as a stonecutter on the Salt Lake Temple. Following his pioneer ancestor’s example of sacrifice, Elizabeth and Ethan’s Grandfather Ault donated all the grass for the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple grounds, and his family volunteered to lay it. Elizabeth and Ethan got to help lay the sod (grass).
There are many steps to laying sod. Elizabeth helped smooth out the dirt with a rake, and sometimes she helped lay the sod on the ground. Ethan picked up scraps and piled them on a wooden pallet. Working in the sun can get hot and tiring, but they liked to help on the temple grounds because it made them feel good. “Even cleaning up the temple grounds was a privilege because it is the Lord’s house,” their mom, Connie, said.
Elizabeth felt especially close to the temple because the ground was broken to build the temple on the same day she was baptized. “I was so happy to have the temple ‘born’ on my baptism day. The temple makes me think of Jesus Christ.”
Ethan knows that temples are important for doing ordinances for the dead, including baptisms. He and Elizabeth were eager to go to the temple dedication with their brothers and sisters and their mom and dad.
Elizabeth shares her birthday with her great-grandmother, Grandma Cunningham. She also shares her name. Elizabeth is Grandma Cunningham’s middle name, and there is a special bond between them. When Grandma Cunningham moved out of her house, she gave Elizabeth one of her scripture sets. “Grandma is special, and she’s always reading the scriptures,” Elizabeth said. She remembers her grandma’s good example when she reads the scriptures.
When Ethan bears his testimony in sacrament meeting, he says that he is thankful for the scriptures and the temple. Both Ethan and Elizabeth share their testimonies almost every fast Sunday. Mom and Dad agree, “They’re a good example for the rest of us.”
The Aults worked on the temple grounds once a week, with help from volunteers. Originally just the Ault family and their relatives were going to lay the sod. But the project was so big that different wards and friends volunteered to help.
When the two children were not working at the temple, they helped at their dad’s golf driving range. He appreciates all that they do for him. But the children don’t just work—they love to rollerblade, ride their bikes, and play with their dog, Snowball. Ethan likes to play soccer with his brothers Eric (14) and Evan (12). He also plays right field on a baseball team called the White Sox. Elizabeth often goes to cheer him on. “They are good friends, and they watch out for each other,” Mother said.
Elizabeth likes to read—her favorite place to be is in her room, reading. But her best talent is singing. She sang in a school talent show and with a choir in stake conference. Her mother can’t remember a time when Elizabeth didn’t sing. She likes to sing in harmony with her mother. “Oh, What Do You Do in the Summertime?”* is Elizabeth’s favorite song to sing in Primary.
Ethan likes to draw pictures in his Primary class. Art is also his favorite subject in school. He likes to draw space shuttles and rockets. He also creates spaceships with plastic building blocks. Working with spaceships is good practice because he wants to be an astronaut. His neighbors have a telescope that he uses to get a closer look at the stars. When he sees stars sparkling in the sky, Ethan thinks of heaven and Heavenly Father.
Perhaps his love for stars and spaceships will take him to space in the future. For now, though, he and Elizabeth are content that they got to help landscape the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple grounds. “Their” temple also sparkles and reminds them both of heaven.

The missionaries first traveled east to New Bedford, Massachusetts, where they hoped to find a ship going to their mission area. When they couldn’t find one, they booked passage on a ship traveling to the Society Islands (French Polynesian Islands) in the South Pacific. They set sail on 9 October 1843.
After they had been at sea only a few weeks, Elder Hanks, a young man who had suffered from ill health, died and was buried in the Atlantic Ocean. The three remaining missionaries continued on. Their voyage took them east and south across the Atlantic, around the Cape of Good Hope, across the Indian Ocean, along the southern coast of Australia, and into the Pacific.
The first island reached by the ship was Tubuai in 1844. The people there showed the missionaries kindness and hospitality, and when some of the people pleaded with the elders to stay, Addison Pratt left the ship to teach them. Serving alone there for many months, struggling to learn the Polynesian language, he baptized 60 out of a population of 200 and organized the first branch of the Church in the South Pacific. To this day, the Latter-day Saint community on Tubuai is a strong one.
Elder Pratt’s two former companions traveled on to Tahiti, where their teaching met with far less success. After a few months, Elder Rogers traveled west to a small group of islands and Elder Grouard sailed to the island of Anaa in the Tuamotus. Elder Rogers again met with little success and much opposition. When rumors finally reached him of the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith, he began to fear for the safety of his family in Nauvoo, and he returned to America. He died during the exodus from Nauvoo.
The people of Anaa, on the other hand, came to greatly love Elder Grouard. He was the first white missionary of any religion to come to their island, and many of them accepted the truth he taught. He baptized over 600 people, organized five branches, and called local officers to serve. He wrote to Elder Pratt and asked him to come to Anaa, as there was too much work for him to do alone.
Elder Pratt responded to his companion’s invitation, and a conference of the Church was held on Anaa with more than 800 in attendance. At this time Addison Pratt decided to travel back to Church headquarters to request more missionaries to help in the work in the South Pacific. Leaving Elder Grouard behind, he traveled first to California, then to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving in September 1848, one week after his wife and four daughters had arrived there from Winter Quarters.
He shared his experiences with the Saints, taught Tahitian classes, and prepared to return to Polynesia. In 1850 he set out with a new companion, James S. Brown, and the promise that his own family and other missionary families would soon follow. They did follow, and despite growing problems with the French government in the islands, the missionaries and their families served until 1852, when they were forced to return to America.
Forty years passed before LDS missionaries were allowed back into French Polynesia. When they returned, the missionaries found that many members had remained faithful despite the lack of contact with Church headquarters, but many others had fallen away. The work began anew in 1892 and has continued with a few interruptions to this day. The gospel truth has shone in these islands for 150 years!
There are now four stakes in the Society Islands, and a beautiful temple stands in Papeete, on the island of Tahiti. The stories of the early missionaries are remembered and shared often by those who now send their own sons and daughters as missionaries to other countries and other islands.*