Gospel Story Finder

Ten-year-old Gavin is in the fifth grade, and he likes to do missionary work. Twice already he’s given friends copies of the Book of Mormon, and several times he’s invited his nonmember friends over for family home evenings. He always prays that he will be a good missionary.
One Friday Mr. Leitzmiller, Gavin’s schoolteacher, had taught his class about the Mayan Indians of Mexico and Central America. Then, after the class was over and the students were filing out, he stopped Gavin and asked if they could talk a moment. When they were alone, Mr. Leitzmiller (who was not a Latter-day Saint) said, “Do you know if Jesus appeared to the Indians in this part of the world after He died on the cross?”
Remembering what he had been taught in family home evenings, at Primary, and on other occasions, Gavin replied, “Yes, He did!”
“I once had a Mormon roommate in college,” Mr. Leitzmiller continued, “and I thought that I remembered his telling me about Jesus coming to the Western Hemisphere after His resurrection. Gavin, do you have a book that tells about that visit?”
“Yes,” Gavin answered. “It’s called the Book of Mormon.”
“Could you bring it to school with you on Monday?” the teacher asked with great interest.
Gavin said that he would.
That evening during supper Gavin told his family about his teacher’s request. They were all very excited for Gavin’s opportunity to do some more good missionary work.
On Sunday Gavin’s dad went to the stake center and picked up “Christ in America,” a pamphlet that tells what happened when Jesus came to the Americas after He was crucified.
That night Gavin carefully wrote on the inside cover of a new copy of a Book of Mormon, “This book tells about Jesus visiting America. It is a true story.”
Early Monday morning Gavin took the copy of the Book of Mormon, with the pamphlet tucked inside, to school and gave it to his teacher before class started. “Mr. Leitzmiller, here’s the book that you asked me to bring,” he said. “I hope that you’ll read it.”
The teacher promised Gavin that he would, and Gavin ran outside to play before the bell rang for school to begin.
When Gavin said his prayers that night, he asked Heavenly Father to bless his teacher as he read the Book of Mormon so that he would know the truth about Jesus.

Another story out of the Philippines that follows the formula is of a young man with a young family who were starving to death. They had nothing. He finally decided he had to leave the little area where he was and go to the city to try and make a living for his wife and his children. He finally arrived in Manila with 200 pesos. For those of us ignorant in money changing, that's four dollars. He had four dollars to his name. He began to fast to see what he could do with four dollars to save his family's financial life. He fasted for three days. He was tempted to use some of his four dollars to eat, but he knew if he did he would have nothing to start with. So he didn't eat any of his ta, but he finally had this vision come that said, "your family has this famous recipe, a barbeque recipe." He went and spent a few of his pesos on ingredients for this barbeque sauce and spent the rest on some chicken. He borrowed a grill from a friend and then stood on the edge of the street in Manila and put his four dollars worth of chicken and barbeque sauce on display as he cooked it. And as the people came by, and one person bought a piece of chicken, and then a second person, until finally he sold out.
At the end of the day, he had eight dollars. He had doubled his net worth with this borrowed grill. He spent one of those dollars to eat his first meal, and now he has seven dollars left to spend on the next days' supplies. He went out and bought more chicken and more ingredients for the barbeque sauce, and the second day he doubled his money again, and third day he doubled it again, and continued to double it. Finally he started sending money home go his wife and children. And then he had enough to buy his own grill so he didn't have to borrow one anymore.
And then he was enough ahead that his neighbor had been watching him and said, "I'd like to do that too." So he said, "I'll tell you what, I'll set you up with a cart and a grill and give you enough money to buy chicken and you meet me here at eight o'clock tomorrow night and we'll take the money out that you need to buy the chicken for the next day, and then we'll split the money 50/50, half for me for the cart and grill and half for you."
He did that over and over again, until today, and this may be an old story, but somehow, after a year or two or three of that hard work, this man became a very prosperous man with over a hundred carts to his ownership of which he had 50/50 partners all over the Philippines operating his carts and famous formula. He became a very famous and well to do, successful man.

One night as I was watching the news, something caught my attention. I recognized the reporter as a college classmate. She had achieved her dream of being a newscaster!
“What about me?” I asked myself. “What have I achieved?” I looked at the baby asleep in my arms and thought about the events of the past three years.
I had always thought I would have a career, but when my husband, Charles, and I had our first daughter, Chevy, my priorities changed. I quit my job to care for her. We had faith in Jesus Christ that as long as we paid our tithing and obeyed the commandments, everything would be OK.
Things were going smoothly until, one day, Charles was laid off from his job. We had faith we’d be all right, but we knew we needed to act. We decided I should get a job too, so Charles and I started job hunting. After a few weeks, I was hired at a call center. I hated leaving my nine-month-old with a babysitter every day, but it was our best solution.
Just a month into my job, I found out I was expecting. Fortunately, Charles soon found a job. It didn’t pay much, but it would help. For a while we felt relieved.
My pregnancy became very difficult, and I had to quit my job. At my monthly checkup, we were shocked to discover I was having twins. Charles and I were scared, but we trusted Heavenly Father.
About three and a half months into my pregnancy, I woke up bleeding. I thought I was having a miscarriage, so I went to the hospital. The babies were OK, but the doctor put me on bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.
Things were becoming so complicated. The hospital bills left our bank account empty, and Charles’s meager income was not enough to provide for our needs. I felt worthless. I could not help earn income or take care of Chevy. I sometimes forgot that I was carrying two special spirit children. I pleaded every day and night with my Heavenly Father for relief. I was terrified of what else could go wrong. But one thought kept returning to my mind: Heavenly Father lives and He knows our needs.
Charles was struggling too, but he stayed strong. He assisted me and cared for Chevy on top of his job. His priesthood blessings comforted me, and his love strengthened me. We were scared, but we faced this new test together.
I did my best to accept the situation. Instead of moping around, I read the scriptures, Church magazines, and good books. I sang hymns too—“How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85) in particular made a huge difference. I came closer to my Savior. I realized how much I did have to be thankful for despite our circumstances.
As days went by, we felt God’s hand work in our lives. Big and little miracles popped up everywhere. Our families and friends paid for some of our expenses. I felt their love and concern for our family. The Relief Society presidency assigned one or two sisters to visit me each day. They brought groceries, cooked and cleaned, took care of Chevy, shared spiritual thoughts, and cheered me up. They prayed for my recovery and the continued safety of the twins. We never went hungry. These sisters didn’t know how much their service helped me carry my burden. When the time came, Heavenly Father made my delivery very easy, and both girls were healthy.
Years have passed since that challenging time in our lives, but there hasn’t been a day when we haven’t felt God’s love. Our financial situation is much better now, and our children are growing up to be smart and talented. We are stronger and better prepared for future challenges because we know that Heavenly Father blesses His children in His own time and will never leave them helpless or comfortless. Life is not an easy journey, but God will always be with us and guide us.

I was far from home attending an international conference for my job. Hundreds of people attended, but I was the only one from my state and region.
One evening a dinner was hosted for all the attendees. As we entered the dining hall, each of us received four tickets to use at the bar to order free alcoholic beverages. It occurred to me how easy it would be for someone far from home to be tempted by such an opportunity, thinking that no one would ever know. It was a fleeting thought, and I handed the tickets back to the person at the door.
During dinner I sat with seven strangers. I drank water as we ate, talked, laughed, and exchanged information that would help us in our employment.
As we entered the dining hall, each of us received four tickets to use at the bar to order free alcoholic beverages.
The next morning at breakfast I greeted a gentleman who had been seated at my table. I was excited to notice by his name tag that he was from my hometown—a town I had not lived in for 35 years. After high school I had left home for college, married, and moved away.
As we discussed places and community events we both knew, he asked me if I still had family there. I replied that I did not but that I had many good friends there and that we kept in touch. He asked who they were, and I began to name some of them.
After the first few names he stopped me and said, “Wait, are you a Mormon? All the people you have named are Mormons.”
When I acknowledged that I was a Latter-day Saint, he told me what fine citizens those friends were and how they had served the community and been good examples to all. For several minutes he shared his admiration for the Church and my friends, telling me how they had been advocates for good in the community.
As we parted, I could not help but think what might have happened had I chosen to use those drink tickets. I had been taught to choose the right by those very people we spoke of. I would have been uncomfortable and ashamed to admit that I was a member of the Church had I used the tickets.
How grateful I am for the example of those worthy, active, serving friends—35 years later and 2,000 miles (3,220 km) away from the home of my youth.

Many years ago my children and I hiked to the top of South Sister, a 10,358-foot (3,157 m) mountain in Oregon. After several hours we encountered a long 45-degree slope of tiny volcanic pebbles. With the summit in sight, we pressed on only to find that with every step, our feet would sink in the pebbles, causing us to slide backward several inches. My 12-year-old son forged ahead as I stayed with my 8-year-old daughter. Fatigue and discouragement soon set in, and she was heartbroken, thinking that she might not join her brother at the top. My first impulse was to carry her. My spirit was willing, but sadly my flesh was weak. We sat down on the rocks, assessed our situation, and devised a new plan. I told her to put her hands in my back pants pockets, hold on tight, and—most important—as soon as I lifted my foot to take a step, she should quickly put her foot in its place. She mirrored my every move and relied on the lift that came from hanging on to my pockets. After what seemed like an eternity, we made it to the top of the mountain. Her expression of triumph and satisfaction was priceless. And yes, she and her brother were, in my estimation, real hikers.
With the current conditions of the world, we desperately need real learning and teaching in our homes, meetings, and gospel classes. I know that your quest to improve may seem overwhelming at times. Please do not become discouraged with your progress. I think back on my experience hiking with my children. We agreed that every time we stopped to catch our breath, rather than focusing exclusively on how much farther we needed to go, we would immediately turn around and look down the mountain. We would take in the scenery and say to each other, “Look how far we’ve come.” Then we would take a deep breath, quickly turn, face uphill, and start climbing again one step at a time. Brothers and sisters, you can parent, lead, and teach after the manner of the workings of the Spirit. I know you can do this. I testify you can do this, and lives will change.

Sometimes people not only become prisoners to addictive behaviors, but they may also begin to feel like prisoners within a marriage relationship.
A few years ago my wife, Dorothea, and I were walking across the grounds of a temple in a foreign land when we met a very radiant, cheerful, silver-haired sister. Her cheerful, Christlike countenance seemed to set her apart from those around her, and I felt inclined to ask her to explain why she looked so happy and content with life.
“Well,” she said with a smile, “several years ago I was in a hurry to get married, and quite frankly, after a few months I realized I had married the wrong man.” She continued, “He had no interest in the Church as he had initially led me to believe, and he began to treat me very unkindly for several years. One day I reached the point where I felt I could go on no longer in this situation, and so in desperation I knelt down to pray, to ask Heavenly Father if He would approve of my divorcing my husband.
“I had a very remarkable experience,” she said. “After I prayed fervently, the Spirit revealed a number of insights to me of which I had been previously unaware. For the first time in my life, I realized that, just like my husband, I am not perfect either. I began to work on my intolerance and my impatience with his lack of spirituality.
“I began to strive to become more compassionate and loving and understanding. And do you know what happened? As I started to change, my husband started to change. Instead of my nagging him about going to church, he gradually decided to come with me on his own initiative.
“Recently we were sealed in the temple, and now we spend one day each week in the temple together. Oh, he’s still not perfect, but I am so happy that the Lord loves us enough to help us resolve our problems.”

The Togola family learned about the gospel as they were supporting humanitarian efforts online.
Photograph courtesy of the Togola family
While I was serving as president of the Ghana Accra West Mission, I received an email from a Church member in California named Dale Wight. For some time, Brother Wight had been sending Church literature to a man named Ibrahima Togola, who lived in Mali, a landlocked country in West Africa. They had met online, where both of them were supporting humanitarian efforts.
There were no missionaries in Mali yet. However, Ibrahima was willing to travel more than 720 miles (1,160 km) by bus to Accra, Ghana, if I would arrange for missionaries to teach him. In the following weeks, I visited with Ibrahima several times online. He came to Ghana, where I met him and arranged for the missionaries to teach him. He was baptized soon after and returned to Mali. (He is now a member of the Bamako Branch, which is part of the Cote d’Ivoire Abidjan East Mission.)
Without the miracle of modern technology, think how difficult it would have been for Ibrahima Togola to learn about the gospel. Instead, he was able to engage in gospel conversations that changed his life.

When he looked for a milk jar, there wasn’t one, so he looked in the refrigerator. All three jars were there with milk in them. What do I do now? he wondered. He leaned on the edge of the open refrigerator door and thought awhile. Finally he straightened, told himself out loud, “You think for yourself,” and took out the oldest jar.
He found a cream jar and the skimming ladle, carefully skimmed the cream off the milk, and set the jar of yellow cream in the refrigerator. Then he poured the milk into an old bucket to take to the pigs and chickens and washed the milk jar.
He set the strainer in the milk jar, picked up the milk pail and bucket of skimmed milk, and headed out into the clear evening air.
It looks like I’m going to be doing a lot of thinking for myself the rest of the summer, he reflected. After irrigating, it will be time to cut hay. Then there’ll be more irrigating. Sometime we’re—correction, I’m—probably going to have to move the other cows again.
Right now I mustn’t forget to gather the eggs and close the chicken coop door. And I should look at Ginger’s legs again while the horses are eating.
Boy! Will I have a story to tell when the teacher asks for essays on “What I Did This Summer.” I’ll call mine “The Summer I Grew Up.”
And I thought that all the challenges ended with the pioneers’ trek across the plains!

I love the experience President Wilford Woodruff tells of the Prophet’s message to the elders who met in preparation for the 1834 Zion’s Camp march: “On Sunday night the Prophet called on all who held the Priesthood to gather into the little log school house they had there. It was a small house, perhaps 14 feet [4.2 meters] square. But it held the whole of the Priesthood of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who were then in the town of Kirtland, and who had gathered together to go off in Zion’s camp. That was the first time I ever saw Oliver Cowdery, or heard him speak; the first time I ever saw Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball, and the two Pratts, and Orson Hyde and many others. There were no Apostles in the Church then except Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. When we got together the Prophet called upon the Elders of Israel with him to bear testimony of this work. Those that I have named spoke, and a good many that I have not named, bore their testimonies. When they got through the Prophet said, ‘Brethren I have been very much edified and instructed in your testimonies here tonight, but I want to say to you before the Lord, that you know no more concerning the destinies of this Church and kingdom than a babe upon its mother’s lap. You don’t comprehend it.’ I was rather surprised. He said ‘it is only a little handfull of Priesthood you see here tonight, but this Church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world’” (in Conference Report, April 1898, 57).

Dear Libby,
I guess you don’t know me, but I’m Kevin’s brother. I don’t know if he ever mentioned me or not. Did he? My name is Rick. I’m 15.
I don’t know if you know anything about me, but I know plenty about you. Are you worried? (That’s a joke.)
Kevin wrote a lot of neat things about you. I kept all his letters. I was reading them this morning. I like to go to his room and wrap his sleeping bag around me and read his letters.
In one of his letters he said your real name is Elizabeth, but you like Libby better. I do too. Except it reminds me of canned green beans. He said you were the first Mormon he’d ever met.
I’m 15 now. I was 13 when Kevin joined the Marines, and 14 when he was killed guarding the American Embassy in Rome.
Kevin and I were really close. Even my parents said so.
You probably didn’t know it, but he told me a lot of things about you. He told me things he didn’t even tell my parents. For instance, once he wrote and said that your hair is the same color as our dog. Now before you get mad, you should know we have an Irish setter named Lady, and the color of her hair is my favorite color. So if what Kevin said about your hair is true, then I think that when you get a little older you could be Miss America or even that lady on TV’s “Wheel of Fortune.” I like her because she doesn’t talk much. Mainly she points at the prizes and smiles.
Kevin told me a lot of things about you. Are you worried? I know you’re a dental assistant, and that’s how he met you, when you were cleaning his teeth.
Personally if I were a dental assistant I’d never fall in love with one of my patients. In the first place, how can you stand to put your fingers in a stranger’s mouth? And second, how can you respect somebody after you’ve scraped away all that crud from their teeth? I mean, it’s like you know the absolute worst thing about them.
He said he looked up at you, and that you had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen in his life. Do many guys fall in love with you when you’re scraping gunk off their teeth? I never would. No way. Of course Kevin always was a little different.
He also told me that on your first date you went jogging together. That sounds like Kevin. He was always looking for ways to save money. And that you didn’t drink or smoke, but you were a lot of fun anyway. He said that made him curious about you. I guess that’s why he agreed to go to your house and let those ministers from your church talk to him about God and stuff like that.
You must really be something to get him to change religions, because I thought he was pretty good the way he was. And I guess it’s no secret that it set my parents off. Mom said she thought you probably sweet-talked him into it. She says things like sweet-talk all the time because she’s from Georgia. She has all these strange sayings that none of the rest of us have ever heard before.
But about you sweet-talking him into becoming a Mormon—I don’t think so, because Kevin could be pretty stubborn sometimes, and if it’s true what Kevin said about you not kissing him for a long time after he started dating you, then I don’t think anybody can say you sweet-talked him into anything.
I didn’t mind Kevin joining your church if that’s what he wanted to do.
By now you’re probably wondering why I’m writing this letter. Actually it’s mainly because Dr. Nelson asked me to do it. He’s the psychologist assigned to my case. I told him about you, and he told me to write you a letter. He gave me a week to do it, and the week’s up tomorrow, and I have to go back to him then, so I’m sitting here in Kevin’s room, with his sleeping bag wrapped around me, writing you. It’s very early in the morning. Actually it’s three-thirty. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night.
I was 14 when he was killed. I wonder sometimes what was so valuable in that embassy. A bunch of old men. Was any of it worth Kevin’s life?
He sent me pictures of Italy. I’ve got one of him standing by an old boat. He’s smiling in the picture, and there’s this beautiful blue water behind him. The picture was taken just a month before he died.
It makes me wonder if at the same time the picture was taken, somebody was meeting in some little room, maybe in one of those houses in the background of that picture, working out a plan to bomb the American Embassy.
Besides being my brother, Kevin was my best friend. Some people said they’d never seen two brothers so close. Even when he was away from home, he wrote to me about things that were happening to him.
He liked to kid around even in his letters. In one letter he’d give me a puzzle, and in the next letter he’d answer it. It used to drive me crazy sometimes. But he was like that. Always fun.
I saved all his letters. I read them every night.
If a guy could have any kind of brother, he’d be the one to choose. To me he was the kind of guy who can do anything. He made me a kite once after I’d broken mine. He just made it out of newspaper and some branches from a tree. Did you know he got freckles on his face in the summer? He was never ashamed to tell people I was his younger brother. Once he even took me along on one of his dates. We went to a carnival, and he let me ride with him and his girl friend on the Ferris wheel, in the same car. It was a little crowded, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Once he took me camping, just the two of us. During the night there was this heavy thunder storm. It didn’t last long, but my sleeping bag got wet. His was dry because he’d remembered to put down a ground cloth. He told me to do it too when we set up camp, but I said it was too much bother. The reason I said that was because the sky was clear then.
Well, after the storm, and my sleeping bag was wet, he didn’t get mad and tell me it was my fault anyway for not putting down a ground cloth. Instead he got out of his sleeping bag and asked me to get in it instead. I asked him what he was going to do, and he said he thought he’d go build a fire and think.
I let him do it because I was too young to realize that it was only two thirty in the morning and nobody in their right mind goes out and sits by a fire for four hours in the middle of the night to think.
He did things like that for me all the time.
All the girls loved him. They really did. In high school for sure, because I was around and saw what was happening around our house. I wish I had a dime for every girl who came over to our house with a batch of cookies for Kevin. It was good for me too, because he’d always share with me.
Did you love him? A lot? I hope you did.
I asked him once why girls liked him so much, and he said it was because he treated them right. I asked him what he meant, and he said you’ve got to remember one thing about girls and that is that they’re people too. And I said well of course they are. Everybody knows that. So he named this really foxy movie star, and asked me if I thought anybody knew what her favorite color was. And I said no. And he said, that’s because people don’t treat her like she is a person. What do they treat her like, I asked, and he said they treat her like she’s a toy.
You can’t do that, he said. You’ve got to find out interesting things about them, like if they ever had measles, or when’s the last time they used crayons to draw a picture, or if they’ve ever baked a pecan pie, or if they play the piano, or if they know how to change the oil in a car.
This is really getting to be a long letter, isn’t it? Well, I’m almost through.
I have a question I want to ask you. I read all his letters this morning. And mostly I understand them all, except the last one, the one he wrote just before he was killed.
And that’s the main reason why I wanted to write you. I’ll copy down part of his last letter for you. I’ll skip the parts you wouldn’t be interested in.
I heard yesterday that an embassy in Germany was bombed. I hope they stay away from ours. Sometimes I get scared.
Rick, here’s a puzzle for you. Ready?
When things get bad and I’m afraid, I turn to another brother of ours. He’s faced it all before. When I get to a place in my life where I need help with a certain thing, then I read his words and they help me.
You and I are real close, and I’ve never really preached to you much, but I wanted to tell you about this older brother of ours. He’s someone I can go to for advice, and he will be there for you too. Because he’s been here on earth before us, and he knows the best way for us to live. And he loves us, even more than I love you.
In my next letter I’ll tell you who this brother is. And where you can find the things to read he wants to tell you.
Love, Kevin
That’s what he wrote. And it’s the thing I can’t understand.
Here I am, after he’s dead, reading his letters over and over again, trying to understand more about him. And then to think that he was doing the same thing about a brother of his.
But the thing that doesn’t make sense is that there is no other brother. There’s just the two of us in our family. So what did he mean? When the army sent all his belongings back to us, I went through everything, hoping to find what he said he had from this other brother that he talked about. But there weren’t any other letters except the ones from me and my parents and you—just that, and an old beat-up copy of the Bible and the book of the Mormons.
What I want to know is—who is this other brother he talked about? And where are the letters from this other brother to Kevin that he said he read all the time? I need to know because I really need help now too, at least that’s what my parents and Dr. Nelson think.
My mother just came in and told me it was late and I should go to bed. I told her I was writing a letter to you. She told me that you came to the funeral. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you then. I’m sorry I ran away and caused my parents more worry. But I’m all right now.
If you have any ideas on my question, please write to me. And would it be all right if we wrote to each other once in a while? Kevin loved you, so you must feel bad too. Maybe we can help each other for a while, and then I won’t have to keep going back to Dr. Nelson.
Your new friend (I hope),Rick

In 1881, the Romney family was called to Arizona, a rough frontier at that time, especially with the persecutions against the Latter-day Saints. Shortly after their arrival, a member of the Church, Nathan Cram Tenney, was shot while trying to stop a gunfight between two groups of ruffians.
The Romneys were especially persecuted because Miles was an eloquent and fearless crusader in his newspaper. One afternoon, two ruffians beat Miles senseless, leaving the small children to walk several kilometers for help. At one point, a gang from Saint Johns, Arizona, offered several thousand dollars reward for his capture, dead or alive. At another point, mobsters shot into the house while Catherine hid her children between a couch and the wall.
Eventually Miles went to Salt Lake City to report the situation to Brigham Young, and several more Latter-day Saint families were sent to Saint Johns, Arizona, which somewhat shifted the balance between the Mormons and those who persecuted them.
Still, the persecutions continued against the family, and finally Elder John Taylor of the Quorum of the Twelve advised Miles to go to Mexico. While he made a home for them there, Catherine and her children returned to Saint George, Utah, where they spent the next two years with her family, meeting President Wilford Woodruff when he took refuge from his persecutors in her parents’ home.

After a few years of this hard work, I was ready to test myself. In 2013 both Adam and I decided to race our first ultra-endurance event: the Colorado Trail Race. The Colorado Trail extends from Durango to Denver. It is 570 miles of rough, remote, and relentless trail, traversing miles and miles of high mountain meadows and ridges. I studied the route to find where I could restock food and water, and I created goals for each day, with the ultimate goal of crossing the finish line in five days.

I was particularly worried about getting to the small mountain town of Silverton on day one, where I could resupply before the store closed at 7 p.m. There was no other resupply for at least two days following Silverton—it was an essential stop. If I got to the store after it closed, then I would be forced to spend the night, which would place me on exposed trails above tree line when the thunderstorms rolled in the following afternoon. So, in my mind, the race hinged on my ability to get to the store in Silverton and resupply on day one so I would not be killed by lightning the next day; it seemed rational at the time. The race began at 4 a.m. I was sure there would be no issue getting to Silverton before 7 p.m.—no problem. As you might imagine, I was so wrong.

The trail was much more difficult than I anticipated. It climbed thousands of feet in the first thirty miles. The altitude took a toll on me, along with my poor management of food and water. My loaded bike also weighed more than I was used to. I hiked my bike for hours at a time in unrideable conditions. This created huge blisters to go along with my tired legs, aching back, and pounding head. To make matters worse, I was developing a pretty poor attitude. I was in bad shape, both physically and mentally, and perhaps most importantly, I started to doubt that I could get to Silverton before 7 p.m. In fact, 7 p.m. came and went; 9 p.m. came and went. Darkness fell and 11 p.m. came and went. Somewhere around this time, riding with my underpowered headlamp, I caught my front wheel between two rocks in a small stream crossing and crashed, hitting my head on some rocks in the process. My glasses were broken, my face was bleeding, and I found myself sitting on the wet ground, defeated. Battered and beaten, I rolled out my sleeping bag and bivy sack on the cold, uneven ground and crawled in. I was done. I decided to quit. With tears in my eyes, I eventually drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later I sat up in my sleeping bag and watched the rising sun start to illuminate the eastern horizon, creating an incredible backlit view of the peaks. The light also opened up the vista where I’d been sleeping. Since I had arrived at this location after dark, I was seeing for the first time that I was on the edge of a vast mountain meadow that was filled with flowers and covered with morning dew. I sat in silence and took it in. I was still determined to quit, but I was in awe of the beauty that surrounded me, and I was dumbfounded that I had not noticed anything like this the previous day. I knew this couldn’t be the first beautiful sight that I had come across in almost twenty hours of riding in one of the most spectacular mountain ranges in the United States. Had I missed it all?

Regardless, I was determined to find my way home. But in order to quit, I had to ride the ten miles to Silverton. Those ten miles just happened to be amazing riding. I started to recognize the beautiful sights; the trail was fun and fast, and contrary to my previously poor attitude, I was now smiling and ignoring how uncomfortable I was. I even laughed out loud as I rode the spectacular trails.

In Silverton, I sat on the wooden boardwalk that lined the dirt main street eating a two-pound burrito. I couldn’t stop thinking about the mountain meadow filled with flowers. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and how it made me feel, and I kept wondering how I must have missed similar sights and feelings the day before. I decided then, perhaps in a moment of weakness, that I would continue. I was not ready to quit. I was still worried about the lightning, and my legs were tired and heavy, but I vowed to pay attention and appreciate the full experience. I would not miss any more meadows of flowers. The next five-plus days ended up being some of the most beautiful riding of my life—a fantastic experience. And I did not get struck by lightning.

Stock Broker Opportunity
Back to my story, the trials continued. In 1989, before leaving my friends in Idaho, I interviewed for stockbroker position with a certain Mr. Sebel, a manager in the Beverly Hills Division of the then prestigious investment banking firm, Drexel, Burnham and Lambert. Mr. Sebel was handling investments for the Church, but was looking for a young Mormon who could service and expand their LDS clientele. I flew to L.A., drove to Beverly Hills, and had a fantastic interview. Mr. Sebel all but said that I would be hired. He explained that the firm would put me and my family up on Wall Street for a year of training, and then we would return and I would work in the Beverly Hills office. He promised to call me within two weeks to confirm the plan. We began preparing mentally and emotionally for a move to the Big Apple. This was exciting stuff! The call came in two weeks, but not with the news we anticipated. Mr. Sebel explained that there was “internal restructuring” at the firm and that he didn’t know how long it would be before the dust settled, but that he would call me as soon as it did. Another blow. We were down again.

I tried to remain hopeful about the stockbroker prospect, but in the meantime, through other contacts, I moved our family to Provo, Utah and started writing loans as an independent contractor for a mortgage broker. I learned a lot from that experience. I could not believe the amount of paperwork involved in writing and closing a real estate loan. Each form in that packet was necessary to satisfy some law. Unfortunately, high interest rates hampered new loan applications, which made it difficult to survive on that meager income. Our savings continued to dwindle as my concern about caring for my little family intensified.

Six weeks following my interview with Mr. Sebel, while watching the news one evening, it was reported that the firm Drexel, Burnham and Lambert had been involved in a massive scandal that included insider trading, stock manipulation and fraud, among other things. Arrests and indictments were made and the firm eventually ended in bankruptcy. Mike Milken, the principal perpetrator, went to prison. Hollywood even made a movie about this scandal. It was called “Wall Street.” The stockbroker prospect disintegrated, and my discouragement was turning into desperation.

It was at the time my father was in the last stages of stomach cancer, his body wasting away to less than 100 pounds, his spirit growing in strength every single day, that he shared with me his new insights from that perspective.
It is a fact, he bore witness, that the body and the spirit are separate. When this process of separation is witnessed firsthand, he said with conviction and enthusiasm, the meaning of eternal life and the resurrection take on a new dimension of understanding. It is like discovering a precious gift you’ve held in your possession all this time but never unwrapped; and the time comes when you open it, and you’re more ready to fully appreciate the divine nature of the gift because you are prepared to use it for the purpose it was intended.

Years ago, following a graduate school discussion on American religious history, a fellow student asked me, “Why have the Latter-day Saints not adopted the cross that other Christians use as a symbol of their faith?”
Inasmuch as such questions about the cross are often a question about our commitment to Christ, I immediately told him that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints considers the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ to be the central fact, the crucial foundation, the chief doctrine, and the ultimate expression of divine love in God’s grand plan for the salvation of His children. I explained that the saving grace inherent in that act was essential for and universally gifted to the entire human family from Adam and Eve to the end of the world. I quoted the Prophet Joseph Smith, who said, “All … things which pertain to our religion are only appendages” to the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Then I read him what Nephi had written 600 years before Jesus’s birth: “And … the angel spake unto me … , saying: Look! And I looked and beheld the Lamb of God, … [who] was lifted up upon the cross and slain for the sins of the world.”
With my “love, share, and invite” zeal now kicking into high gear, I kept reading! To the Nephites in the New World the resurrected Christ said, “My Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; … that I might draw all men unto me, … and for this cause have I been lifted up.”
I was about to quote the Apostle Paul when I noticed that my friend’s eyes were starting to glaze over. A quick look at his wristwatch apparently reminded him that he needed to be somewhere—anywhere—and he dashed off to his fictitious appointment. Thus ended our conversation.

For Denice, persistence is not a natural quality. Oh, she has talent, lots of it. In fact, when Denice was only two she followed her sister into gymnastics—the routines, the moves, they all came easy to her and it was fun. But getting to a point where she could compete with the best was hard work. Cassie never objected to training long hours, skipping parties, missing her friends. But for Denice it was different.
She complained about having to practice every night. Her dad said she didn’t have to go and for six months Denice played with her friends, instead. No gymnastics.
In the end Denice missed the competition, the limelight, and asked to go back—this time for good. “I think one of the things Denice loves about gymnastics is showing a crowd what she can do,” says Cassie.
And that love of performance is apparent as soon as you meet her. So is her distaste for practice. In a way it is charming, that she cannot fake an attitude. Denice grumbles all the way up to the bars; then she grabs a hold and her eyes focus. She turns professional. She seems to relish each movement that defies physical law—to know that she can do something so wonderful, so fascinating for the people watching.
But even with that love of performance, there have been difficulties. “It’s hard because Cassie is always one step ahead of her,” says Robby, their mom. “What Denice doesn’t realize is that she is actually a better gymnast than Cassie was at her age. But Cassie always gets to move first.”
“I feel competition to do as well as Cassie, but I have realized that I can do some things as good as her,” says Denice. “Some things I can do even better. That makes me feel equal.”
And in time she has found something of her own that has helped—a relationship with her Heavenly Father. “It’s become important in my life. I always pray before a meet and I haven’t been hurt yet. And I know if I stick to the standards of the Church, if I don’t give them up, He will help me out when I need it.”

Brother John A. Widtsoe traveled to England during the First World War, and the English immigration official who interviewed him said, “No, we are not going to let you land. We have been letting your missionaries in, but we do not want any of your leaders.” He said, “Go and sit down.” So Brother Widtsoe went and sat down.
In a few minutes the official called him back and said, “If I let you land in my country, what will you teach my people?” And Dr. Widtsoe said, “I will teach them where they came from, why they are here, and where they are going.” The officer looked up at him and asked, “Does your church teach that?” And Brother Widtsoe said, “It does.”
“Well, mine doesn’t,” he said, and he came down with his stamp on the passport, signed it, and said, “You may enter.”

May I share a personal experience of my wife. While on a stake conference assignment with me, she accompanied a Relief Society president on such a visit. As shepherds and servants of the Lord, they had tremendous success.

Then, about a year later while I was teaching some priesthood brethren how to make such visits, a 35-year-old man told me of my wife’s visit a year ago and said: “May I tell you a secret? My entire family had decided the day before your wife came to visit that we were leaving the Church, offended, never to return. I bear witness to you that we felt the Lord speak through her as she stirred us up in remembrance of God and our ordinances. I’m a member of a bishopric now. I would not be here today if it were not for her.”

He then smiled and said, “How I wish now that I had more carefully watched her invite the Spirit upon me and my family, as it now falls upon me to go out tonight and do my very first home visit.”

Yes, brethren, the sisters can assist in this work also.

Twins Vince and Wayne Watson of Anchorage, Alaska, saw the wheels of big government really roll on a recent visit to “Washington Workshops.” The brothers’ trip, sponsored by four area banks and the local Teamsters Union, gave them the opportunity to spend two weeks touring historic landmarks, sitting in on legislative sessions, and enjoying the spectacular beauty of the nation’s capital. While in Washington the two also visited the temple and did baptisms for the dead.
Vince and Wayne have long been interested in government and leadership. For four years they alternated as class president and vice president; this past year Vince served as senior class president and Wayne as student body head at Bartlett High School in Anchorage. Both attended the .American Legion Boy’s State, earned Duty to God Awards, hold the rank of Eagle, and have participated in Church and school dramas and musicals, including Saturday’s Warrior.
Vince and Wayne have also completed four years of seminary, which in Alaska means getting up at 4:30 A.M., while holding down 20-hour-a-week jobs.

Upon coming to BYU four years ago to teach, I was given the challenge of returning to school to obtain a PhD. Since the only university in the state of Utah to offer a PhD in nursing is the University of Utah—and already a number of faculty in the College of Nursing were graduates from that program—I was highly encouraged to look outside the state. Although moving does not seem like a big deal to most people, moving out of state would have been a major sacrifice for my family. We had settled in a new home and had three teenagers, and my wife had just begun her teaching career. And that wasn’t even considering my actual schooling.
As my wife and I spoke about the opinions, we prayed that I would find a program that would make it possible for us to remain in Utah while I furthered my education. I identified my research interests and looked for programs that matched these interests. I spoke to a number of individuals who gave me direction and advice. Included in this advice was the aforementioned assurance by the Spirit described by the Apostle Paul.
The result was that I was able to find an excellent doctoral program at the University of Colorado, which is ranked as one of the top 10 nursing programs in the country. Although there were issues of whether or not I would be accepted to that program, where we would live in the Denver area each summer, whether we would be able to find a loving ward that would accept summer “nomadic” visitors, and a few other minor inconveniences, everything fell right into place. It was amazing.
For the last three summers my family has packed up their belongings and placed their summer plans with friends on hold. Two of my teenagers delayed obtaining their driver’s licenses until we arrived back home in the fall. Precious summer vacation time was used so that everyone could go with me to Denver as I attended school. Yes, we did find housing and a great ward—the Summit View Ward in Highlands Ranch, Colorado, which made us feel welcome each summer.
We now can laugh at some of the minor inconveniences we experienced. We know that it was only through the calmness and assurance of the Spirit that we were able to move forward even when we did not have all the answers. I have been able to complete my course work, and my family and I were able to meet many individuals and have experiences we will never forget.