Gospel Story Finder

Some years back, one of my daughters experienced a setback in her life that had her seeking guidance. She and a wonderful young man had decided after dating for some time that they would part ways. It wasn't easy for her. She worried, at the ripe old age of 25, that she had missed the most important time in her life to get married and that another young man would never come along. She wondered if she was living in the right place, attending the right ward, and working in the right company to meet the man that would eventually take her to the temple of God.

She was living in Manhattan, and at that time, we lived in Connecticut. She asked me if she could come out to our home and receive a father's blessing. I jumped at the chance to do it. Her blessing turned out to be quite interesting and taught me some things. While giving her the blessing, the words of a hymn came to my mind as I counsel to her. I quote, "Lead kindly light amid the encircling gloom. Lead thou me on! The night is dark and I am far from home. Lead thou me on! Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene - one step enough for me."

What interesting counsel, what important advice! I do not ask to see the distant scene; I don't have to know the end from the beginning; but I only need the light, the Holy Ghost, to guide me step by step. As I move forward in faith, the light will move with me, just enough to illuminate my path, and from there, I can see to take just one more step forward, all the time exercising my faith and paying close attention to the light that I have.

Within a few days, my daughter called me on the phone very excited, “Dad, I have decided that I need to move to Austin, Texas.” "Good heavens," I said, "that was quite a step!" We had no relatives there and few friends. I recall saying to her on the phone, "I am not even sure that I know where Texas is!"

To make a long story short, within a few weeks, she had found a job in Austin. A few weeks after that, we moved her and a few of her belongings, into a small apartment. In time, she met friends in her ward. With the passage of a little more time, she met just the right man who likewise had serendipitously ended up in Austin. They are now the proud parents of the three of the eleven cutest and most intelligent grandkids on the planet! All as a result of exercising a little faith in the guidance she received.

Steve Pollei, a young Latter-day Saint from Salt Lake City, Utah, has been elected National President of the Explorer Council at a Washington, D.C., convention to which he lead some 152 post presidents from the Great Salt Lake Council.
But Steve’s finest moment wasn’t found among the cheering delegates in the nation’s capital. The new president reports that the highlight of the experience came upon his return to Salt Lake when he had the opportunity of meeting and talking with President Harold B. Lee and his counselors about the gospel and the Explorer program.
The honor was earned with a lot of hard work. Campaign strategy was planned, a platform prepared, and preparations for good floor demonstrations mapped out long before the convention met.
On the second day of the convention Steve was elected Chairman of the Western Region. This was a critical step in becoming president, because the six regional chairmen become the candidates for National President.
The prospects didn’t always look promising. For example, when the candidates drew for speaking order, Steve drew the last number and had to speak to the convention at a very late hour.
But he was sustained by a very well organized campaign. An official who had been present at the National Republican Convention said that Steve’s floor demonstration was bigger and better organized than President Nixon’s in 1968.
The primaries were held, and Steve was swept into the finals by a solid vote. His opponent was a young lady named Beth Caruso. Steve’s organization made a great effort to get everyone out to vote in the final election, regardless of whom they supported.
Steve was elected by a fairly close vote, and he gives a lot of the credit for his victory to the approximately five hundred Mormon delegates at the convention.
Steve will have many challenges and opportunities as president of the National Explorer Council. He will travel over 50,000 miles in the U.S. and overseas with his adviser. He will direct his cabinet (made up of the regional chairmen) in leading the Explorer program. He will also work with the executive committee of the Boy Scouts of America to develop programs and activities for Cub Scouting, Boy Scouting, and Exploring.
Steve feels that his biggest challenges will be to involve the young people from ages fourteen through twenty-one in the Explorer programs and to iron out the bugs in some of the existing programs. He would especially like to see some advances made in the area of inner-city Exploring.
His personal goal is to set an example as a Latter-day Saint, to show the spirit of the Lord in all that he does so that the Lord will be pleased.

It was a hot summer day as Tyler made his way toward the big fields a short distance from his house. As he tromped up the dirt road, he looked at the tall yellow weeds on either side and pretended for a moment he was a Nephite warrior, hidden by the high weeds as he crept up on the enemy.
Earlier that morning, his father had talked about heroes in the scriptures who performed great deeds to help others. He had said that everyone could perform noble and honorable acts of service. They didn’t have to be big or brave acts to be important, he had explained. “In Heavenly Father’s eyes, any act of selfless service is of much worth.”
“I want to do noble things, too, Dark,” he confided to the big black German shepherd that walked along beside him, dragging a small dog sled (travois). Tyler’s father had helped him make it. It consisted of two poles tied together at one end, which were placed over the dog’s back and secured. The opposite ends of the frame trailed along the ground behind the dog. The load to be hauled—in this case, a box filled with empty jars—was fastened between the poles.
When Tyler had walked deep into the field, he stopped, removed the sled, and lifted one of the jars from the box. He walked toward a jumble of brush on the ground, pulled it away, and stared down with surprise. Where was the old ladder he had hidden there? The ladder helped him climb out across the blackberry bushes and reach the berries that were otherwise impossible to reach.
“Who could have taken it, Dark?” he asked. “Who could have—?”
Suddenly he spied the ladder, laid out across a large bush. A closer look revealed that whoever had used the ladder had picked almost all the berries.
“Madden!” Tyler breathed angrily. “He knows I’m saving up to buy those cowboy chaps.” Tyler could already envision wearing the leather pant legs over his jeans—then he’d look like a real cowboy.
He sat down beside his dog. “Madden did it just to get even, boy, just because I told Mr. Ruggles I saw him swipe that ice cream bar from the store. I couldn’t lie to Mr. Ruggles when he asked me.”
He gazed at the sparse bushes. His family didn’t have a lot of money since Dad had gotten laid off from his job. If Tyler couldn’t make enough money from selling blackberries, he wouldn’t be able to buy the chaps. “There’s only one pair left, Dark,” Tyler murmured.
For a good part of the day, Tyler worked feverishly to fill the jars, not even stopping for lunch. As he reworked the already picked-over bushes, it took him a long time to fill each jar.
A while later, he looked up and noticed Madden pulling a wagon behind his bike. It was filled with cans of blackberries. He was selling them to Tyler’s regular customers! Tyler hurried even faster, dropping one of the jars and losing all the berries from it inside a huge bush. He wiped sweat from his hands onto his pant legs and fumed at Madden.
Dark lifted his head from his cool place in the shade as Tyler placed the final filled jar in the wooden box. He quickly attached the sled to the big dog. “Mrs. Gregory will buy all these jars of berries,” he realized excitedly. “Madden doesn’t know about her because she hasn’t lived here very long.” Mrs. Gregory loved blackberries and always paid Tyler 50 cents a jar. “I’ve got eight jars, Dark. If I add that to what I already have, I’ll be able to buy the chaps!”
As Tyler walked down the rutted dirt lane, his excitement grew. He turned a corner and stopped. Someone was helping Mrs. Gregory sit on her porch swing, and she looked very sad. There were four other cars parked in front of the weathered two-story house and almost a dozen people mingling about. If it was a family reunion, it must be a sad one, he thought. “Maybe we had better come back tomorrow, Dark,” he said.
“Something’s wrong down at Mrs. Gregory’s place, Mom,” Tyler said when he got home. “There’s a bunch of people there, and—” His mother’s serious face made him pause.
“One of Mrs. Gregory’s sons died. They’re having a memorial service at her house, then they’re going to the cemetery.”
“I was going to sell Mrs. Gregory my blackberries today so I could buy those chaps. But …” His voice trailed off. Then an idea came to him. It was something his father had said about doing honorable acts of service for others. At first he tried to ignore the thought, because he so wanted to buy the leather cowboy chaps.
His mother eyed him. “A penny for your thoughts?” she said.
“I couldn’t charge you for that, Mom,” he said, “any more than I can charge Mrs. Gregory for the blackberries.” Tyler stepped to the window and gazed out. “Don’t people usually come back to the house to eat after a funeral?”
“Often that’s the case,” his mother answered. “Why?”
“Well,” Tyler said, “there were a lot of people at Mrs. Gregory’s place. I know she isn’t going to feel like fixing a bunch of food. She’ll probably have help, but I’d like to help her, too.” He turned and faced his mother. “Mrs. Gregory likes blackberries even more than I do. I want to make blackberry pies for her and all those people.”
His mother’s eyes welled up with tears. “I know how badly you want those cowboy chaps. You’re willing to sacrifice them?”
“I want to be like the heroes in the scriptures, Mom, and help somebody.”
Tyler’s mother hugged him.
“If I squeezed a blackberry as tight as you’re squeezing me, Mom,” Tyler grunted, “it would be squished to bits.”
Tyler’s mother laughed. “Would you like a little help making those pies?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” Tyler said.
Three hours later, Tyler stood before Mrs. Gregory’s door.
“Hello, Tyler,” she greeted, her voice warm but weary.
Tyler pointed to three freshly-baked blackberry pies in the wooden box on the dog sled. “I picked some berries, and Mom and I made some pies.”
Tears gathered in the old woman’s eyes. “How kind of you, Tyler. Just a moment, let me get my purse.”
“Oh, no,” Tyler blurted quickly. “They’re free, Mrs. Gregory. I just want to help.”
Mrs. Gregory bent over and hugged Tyler. He could feel her tears on his cheek. She didn’t say anything, just patted him on the back.
As Tyler walked down the dirt lane from the little two-story house nestled in the big trees and the evening shadows, he felt a feeling he had never felt before. It was warm, different from the warmth of the summer night.
When he finally had saved enough money to buy the cowboy chaps, they were gone—but the good feeling from having done a kind deed stayed.

The Lord’s light helped Shelly Ann Scoffield face a frightening trial in her young life, but she faced it with great faith and love for Heavenly Father. One day Shelly began to feel sick. She saw a doctor, who determined that there was something seriously wrong. Shelly said: “I was scared. I had huge masses on my lungs, and the doctor began to say things like cancer and chemotherapy and radiation.” But Shelly didn’t give in to her fears. True to her training in Personal Progress, she got busy and set a long list of goals to accomplish while she couldn’t go to school because of her treatments. She busied herself with accomplishing good things. She was mindful of her blessings, including a father with the priesthood who had administered to her, a wonderful family, super friends, and great doctors. “Best of all,” Shelly said, “I have a testimony of my Heavenly Father, that He loves me and will help me through this struggle.”
Shelly recorded her thoughts for her young women friends, and I would like to share with you some of what she said:
“I want you girls to know that now is the time to grow close to your Heavenly Father. Work to show Him you can do all that you promised you would do. I am trying. I am learning more now than I have ever in my life known about the gospel. I know that Heavenly Father is with me. When I’m feeling pain and sorrow, He is too, and He just wants me and every one of you, when you’re feeling those things, to get down on your knees and pray for His help, because He is so willing. He loves you so much. I pray that throughout your life, throughout your struggles, that you’ll learn from them and stay close to Him and have faith. Gain a testimony and stay true to what is right.”
Shelly Scoffield passed away November 3, 1998, strong in the faith.

In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.

Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.

We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.

It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.

Early in the spring, a few days before Easter, I went out into the desert country of western Utah. I had been there a month earlier and had been amazed at the silence. There was nothing moving, no life, only the gray color of the earth and the sagebrush and a somber winter sky. This time I got there in the night and listened to the coyotes and great horned owls calling until morning.
With first light I climbed to a high peak and watched the sun rise over mountains a hundred miles away. As the sun cleared the mountains, golden light fell on a desert floor covered with red flowers and green grass. Thunderclouds 30 miles away swept across the valley floor. There were mule deer and antelope. A doe and her fawn walked within 20 feet of me. Great flocks of small birds, chickadees, wrens, finches, and juncos flew over. The desert had come to life with the spring.
It’s funny how you can know something and not know it. I thought of another desert and another spring. I thought of Easter and of what it means, of life coming from death, of death coming from life, of resurrection, of living again, and for the first time I began to understand. It was like my friend’s hand pulling me out of the water onto the safety of the ice.
I would like to say everything changed then. It didn’t. Some of the hurt I feel from the way my mother died will always be with me. The morning in the desert was just a beginning, a change in direction. It is a direction I think will take me a lifetime to complete.

I was born in Weonju, South Korea, sometime in 1958 and was later adopted by an American family. When I was fourteen, I joined the Church. A year later, concerned about what to do after high school, I decided to obtain my patriarchal blessing. I first talked to the patriarch, who advised me to fast and pray about the things I wanted to know. I did, and later received my blessing with good feelings about the promises in it. But one section puzzled me:
“You will have the great privilege of performing work for and in behalf of your family, the parents you have not known. If you will search for your family records, help will come from on high; the heavens will respond to your prayers if you fast and pray and if you will be faithful in giving of your time and talents.”
I knew I needed to do my genealogy work, but I couldn’t understand the part about “the parents you have not known.” I had no idea who my natural parents were or how to find out. As far as I knew, I was an orphan when I was adopted.
During my last semester in college, after sincere prayer and soul searching, I felt strongly impressed to serve a mission. I completed my missionary application and sent in my papers, but worried that I would be called to go to Korea. I did not particularly want to go there. A few weeks passed, and the call came to the “Korea Seoul West Mission.”
I struggled with accepting my call, but as the time drew near, I thought of the promise in my patriarchal blessing. How else could I do my genealogy work? I had to go to Korea.
After arriving at the mission home in Korea, one of the first questions the mission president asked me was, “Do you plan to do some of your genealogy work while you’re here?” Surprised and encouraged by his question, I answered, “Yes, I want to.”

Many years ago I told a story in conference that I think I will repeat. It is a story about a baseball player. I realize that some of you in various parts of the world do not know much about baseball. You do not even care about it. But this story brings with it a tremendous lesson.
The event occurred in 1912. The World Series was being played, and this was the final game to determine the winner of the series. The score was 2-1 in favor of the New York Giants, who were in the field. The Boston Red Sox were at bat. The man at bat knocked a high, arching fly. Two New York players ran for it. Fred Snodgrass in center field signaled to his associate that he would take it. He came squarely under the ball, which fell into his glove. But he did not hold it there. The ball went right through his grasp and fell to the ground. A howl went up in the stands. The fans could not believe that Snodgrass had dropped the ball. He had caught hundreds of fly balls before. But now, at this most crucial moment, he had failed to hold the ball, and the Red Sox went on to win the world championship.
Snodgrass came back the following season and played brilliant ball for nine more years. He lived to be 86 years of age, dying in 1974. But after that one slip, for 62 years, whenever he was introduced to anybody, the expected response was, “Oh, yes, you’re the one who dropped the ball.”

Name a town?
In a small town in Kentucky, USA, the very first postmaster didn’t think much of his own handwriting. He figured that if a town had a number as its name, then it’d be easier to read and understand that name on an envelope even if somebody had bad handwriting.
He reached into his pocket, counted the loose change (88 cents), and Eighty Eight, Kentucky, was born. The town name stuck and has been used ever since.1

I constantly pray for my family’s success and well-being. But some things haven’t yet worked out how I’d hoped. I started to wonder if God was hearing my prayers. As my uncertainty worsened, I prayed less often. I thought, “Why should I pray when I don’t feel anything?”

But then one day, I realized that I was doubting God. He has always been my Father in Heaven, my greatest support and strength. I started crying. When I got home that day, I knelt to pray because I felt spiritually and emotionally lost.

After praying, I felt comfort, warmth, and love. I knew He was with me. I know Heavenly Father sees our struggles and hears our cries. From that day on, I understood that He has big plans for my family—plans that require His timing and my patience.

My father was brought into the Church when he was courting my mother. He was ordained an elder and was active for a short period before he fell away from the Church.
He had no formal contact with the Church for about 50 years. He had moved many times. And then, when he was 82, living alone in southern California and failing in health, two men knocked on his door on a Sunday morning. They said, “We’re here to take you to priesthood meeting.”
He was so grateful that somebody would take the effort to befriend him. Those men took my father to church—something his three active sons never could accomplish, except on special occasions. They were good examples of how priesthood quorum members should seek out those in need. My family will be forever grateful to the men of that quorum.Elder Dale E. Miller of the Seventy.

Some are overcome by major problems; others let small matters become big. Symonds Ryder was a Campbellite leader who heard about the Church and had a meeting with Joseph Smith. Moved by this experience, he joined the Church in June 1831. Immediately thereafter, he was ordained an elder and called to serve a mission. However, in his call letter from the First Presidency and on his official commission to preach, his name was misspelled—by one letter. His last name showed as R-i-d-e-r, not the correct R-y-d-e-r. This caused him to question his call and those from whom it came. He chose not to go on the mission and fell away, which soon led to hatred and intense opposition toward Joseph and the Church. In March 1832, when Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon were ripped from home during the night by an angry mob and tarred and feathered, a voice was heard to shout, “Simonds, Simonds [sic] where’s the tar bucket?” (History of the Church, 1:262–63). In less than 10 months, Symonds Ryder went from an eager convert to a mob leader, his spiritual decline starting with the offense taken over the misspelling of his name—by one letter. No matter the size of the issue, how we respond can reset the course of our life.

Elder Rasband’s middle name is Anderson. It helps him remember his mother’s family. His great-great-grandparents were Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson. They lived in Denmark almost 200 years ago. They learned about the gospel in Denmark and were baptized. In 1862 they traveled to the United States to be with other Latter-day Saints. Jens died on the trip across the ocean, but Ane Cathrine and her son kept going. It was hard, but their faith was strong. They made it all the way to Utah.

Nearly 25 years ago, our family lived in Massachusetts, where I was enrolled in graduate school. My program of study was very demanding, leaving me little free time. One Sunday in church the ward Primary president approached me and asked if I might substitute as a Primary teacher for two weeks. Primary was then held on a weekday afternoon, and I knew it would be difficult to find room in my schedule to teach the class. But after some hesitation, I agreed.
The appointed day came to teach Primary. That afternoon I was in the university library, absorbed in a book on international politics. The subject I was studying seemed somehow more important than the upcoming Primary class. Consequently, I procrastinated until just 30 minutes before the class was to begin to review the lesson I was to teach. Then I walked from the library down to our ward chapel on the edge of campus. My reluctant attitude must have slowed my steps, for I arrived a few minutes late. As I stepped to the door of the Primary room, the children were just beginning to sing the opening hymn. It was a song I had never heard before, a song whose melody and message touched me deeply:
As I have loved you,
Love one another.
This new commandment:
Love one another.
By this shall men know
Ye are my disciples,
If ye have love
One to another.
(“Love One Another,” Hymns, no. 308)
As I stood there, transfixed in the doorway, the Spirit bore witness that I was looking at the most important class taking place in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that day.
Back at the university in dozens of classrooms and laboratories, dedicated scholars were pursuing answers to the world’s problems. Yet valuable though such efforts may have been, the university did not and could not hold the ultimate answers to the problems of a troubled world. Here before me was the Lord’s answer: the quiet building up of His kingdom on earth by the teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ. What was taking place in Primary that day was a small part of a divinely revealed plan for the salvation of a fallen world.

“Thanks for vacuuming, Anne. Now please go get ready and put on your Sunday clothes,” Mom said, as she placed her best china plates on the table.
“Sunday clothes? But this is Monday,” I protested.
“Remember, we’re having company for dinner,” she said.
“How could I forget after all the work I’ve done? But why Sunday clothes? We didn’t have to wear Sunday clothes for our other guests,” I complained.
“Anne, please just do it,” Mom concluded, as she rolled the green cloth napkins and slipped them into the napkin rings.
Always before Dad and Mom had told us who was coming. My Dad has this thing about inviting people over to eat with us. The first time he invited someone, it was a returned missionary from Argentina. Mom fixed food from Argentina called milanesa. Before this missionary came, Dad made us learn where Argentina is on the globe, what the people and the weather are like, and what Argentina’s main exports are, so we could carry on an intelligent conversation.
Dad had such a good time that about a month later, he invited the bishop and his family to have dinner with us. The bishop had been to Hong Kong on his mission, so Mom prepared Chinese food. Before the bishop’s family came we had to be able to, you guessed it, locate Hong Kong on the globe. We also had to learn the books of the Old and New Testament and of the Book of Mormon. Dad thought it would impress the bishop, but it was a little hard to work it into the conversation.
A few months later Dad got really brave and invited his boss to dinner. Dad is a chemical engineer and works for a petroleum company. The company makes gas and oil and bug spray and things like that. I asked Mom if we were having petroleum products for dinner. She laughed and said, “No, stuffed pork chops.”
Before the boss came we not only had to learn about the Alaska pipeline, off-shore drilling in the Gulf of Mexico, and how to squeeze oil out of rocks called shale, but we also had a review of manners and etiquette.
We spent days putting napkins on our laps, keeping our elbows off the table, chewing with our mouths closed, speaking only when spoken to, etc. The boss turned out to be very nice, and he seemed to like us.
A few months later Dad was at it again. It began when a notice came in the mail that one of the senators from our state, Senator Brown, would be in town to give a lecture about what was going on in Washington, D.C. When Dad mentioned that he was going to call this senator and invite him to dinner, we all begged him not to do it. Mom said senators don’t have time for such things. But Dad was undaunted (that’s one of the week’s vocabulary words) and called the senator’s office. He even got to talk to the senator.
The senator said he was sorry, but all his evenings were busy, so he couldn’t come to dinner. Now my dad is a quick thinker and just like he’d planned it, he said, “Well, then, how about coming to breakfast?”
Senator Brown is no match for my Dad, and he certainly was not prepared for that and couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough, so he said, “Yes.” He actually said he would come.
Before he came you can imagine what we had to learn. Did you know there are 435 congressmen in the House of Representatives, 100 senators in the Senate, that a senator is elected to a term of six years and a congressman for two? We were crammed full of facts, and we got Mom’s now famous manners and etiquette review.
The morning the senator came, a newspaper reporter did too. The reporter took our pictures with Senator Brown and wrote down all about how the senator was having breakfast with this family. It was kind of embarrassing and was even more embarrassing when the picture and article were in the newspaper.
Well, Dad had not taught us one thing to impress his latest guest, and Mom hadn’t explained why we had to wear Sunday clothes. In fact, they wouldn’t even tell us who was coming.
Mom had fresh flowers, candles, and her very best lace cloth on the table. She made us work to clean every inch of the house. She even got her hair done at the beauty shop.
I said, “Hey, Mom, please tell me. Who is coming? If he’s such an important person, how could he have time to come to dinner with us?” She just smiled and asked me to refill the ice cube trays.
Soon the house was ready, the food was ready, all five of us children were bathed and dressed and ready in our Sunday clothes. There was soft music playing. Mom and Dad seemed happy and peaceful, not nervous like when our other guests were coming. It was 6 o’clock. The guest would soon be here.
At 6:30, the guest hadn’t come. At 6:45 we were still waiting. We were all hungry. “Who is this most important person, anyway?” I asked impatiently.
Just then Dad and Mom called us to the table, and Mom lit the candles. “Let’s begin,” said Dad.
“How can we begin? We can’t start without our guest! We’ve gone to too much work. Who are we waiting for anyway? The president of the United States?” I said.
“Sit down, all of you, and we’ll give you some clues to see if you can guess who our guest will be,” said Mom.
“This person is more important than the president of the United States. But even though he is so important, he knows you very well,” said Dad.
“Is this a trick?” I asked.
“Not a trick,” Dad answered.
Dad continued. “This person is smarter than my boss or the senator. He is more spiritual than the missionary or the bishop. Yet, as important as he is, I didn’t even have to make an appointment with him.”
“Let’s kneel down and have family prayer to begin our dinner and home evening,” said Mom.
Suddenly, as we knelt around the table and Dad began to pray, I got this special feeling. Then I knew. Dad and Mom had gone to all this work to teach us about Heavenly Father. He is much more important than anyone else, and we don’t have to make an appointment to talk to him.
Everyone else must have figured it out too because after the prayer we ate in silence for a long time.
Finally, Dad said, “I hope you will invite Heavenly Father to be your guest in everything you do.”

In July 2018, I received a temple recommend for the first time to do baptisms for the dead. After that, I thought that living well was good enough, and I did not feel the need to go back. Last year, in June 2023, I had some situations in my life that gave me the desire to return. Deep in my heart, I knew I should not postpone it any longer. I strongly felt the Spirit during general conference urging me to return to the temple, and I knew it was one of the things that God truly wanted me to do. I decided to put it on my to-do list for 2024 and made plans to travel to the Rio de Janeiro Brazil Temple.
After informing my husband of my intention to return to the temple and to receive my own endowment and fully committing to this decision, I encountered multiple obstacles. Through the months following, my financial situation weakened. Not only did I want to receive my endowment, but I also wanted to be sealed to my parents. This would require them to travel to the temple with me, which would require even more financial support. My finances continued to decline.
I also faced challenges at work that were beyond my control. I knew what was going on, but I made a conscious decision not to let it bother me. I kept praying for courage to continue and drew strength from the scriptures.
On the day of departure, my daughter’s airline booking was not confirmed. The travel agency had made a mistake, which added another problem. Just before we left for our temple trip, my children became sick. When they are sick, they want to be with me. As I was leaving, my children were crying, which was yet another difficulty, making it hard to leave. But with each obstacle, I believed that things would work out. How, I did not know, but God would help me.
My experience in the temple was truly miraculous. I had never felt Christ’s love so strongly before. I felt close to Heavenly Father and forgiven for my mistakes. I felt peace, strength, and wisdom to navigate my life and to make the right choices. I was blessed with more wisdom on how to be a better woman and mother, how to interact with people, how to deal with others’ imperfections, and how to be more patient.
I then had the opportunity to be sealed to my parents. Even though I missed my sisters at that moment, I had a very loving and miraculous experience. After leaving the temple, every problem I had placed in Heavenly Father’s hands was resolved.
I am very grateful that, despite every obstacle, I never gave up. Even though I felt weak and wondered why this happened, deep down, I knew I had to learn from these experiences and stay strong. I did stay strong and kept pushing through. I did it, and today, I have received my endowment and am sealed to my parents.

He told me that recently his wife had started feeling ill. “She knew what was happening,” he said, “but she didn’t tell me because she was scared to go to the hospital.”

Within several days, she was spending all of her time in bed. She became confused and didn’t make sense when she talked. My patient had serious health problems himself, and soon their conditions both deteriorated. They could no longer care for each other. When my patient’s sister-in-law visited them, she was alarmed. She called for two ambulances to take them to the hospital. Doctors soon discovered that his wife had advanced breast cancer.

“I never spoke with my wife again,” the man said.

His wife suffered a heart attack and was put on life support. My patient described being wheeled from his own hospital room to the intensive care unit to see his wife one last time. Then he told the doctors to withdraw life support.

The man stopped speaking. Apparently he had said all that he wanted to say. I told him how sorry I felt. He shook my hand and left. I’m glad I sat back down to listen. I’m glad I didn’t leave when I intended to! How would he have felt if I had rushed out of the room right when he was about to share his burden?

I don’t know why my patient shared his story with me that day, but I know why I listened. Alma taught that those who desire to be baptized and to follow Jesus Christ should be “willing to bear one another’s burdens, … mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:8–9).

My patient was bearing a burden, and in a small way, I could help him bear it. He was mourning, and I mourned with him. He stood in need of comfort, so I comforted him. In this simple way, I tried to honor my promise to be more like my Savior.

Let me share an example from the life of my great grandfather, Samuel Bennett. Born in Flintshire Wales in 1853, Samuel was the fifth child of John and Jane Bennett. In 1840, thirteen years before his birth, Samuel’s maternal grandfather (my third great grandfather) had a dream in which he saw two men bringing a new book and a new gospel. Within a year, Brigham Young and his companion arrived in Wales to fulfill the dream. The Bennett family was baptized in 1841. In 1863, when Samuel was 10 years old, they sailed from Liverpool, England to the United States and traveled overland to join the saints in Salt Lake City. Soon after, they were sent by their missionary, who had by that time become the prophet Brigham Young, to settle the small community of Oak City in south central Utah.

In 1874, when Samuel was 21 years old, he and his friend, Dave Turner, laid plans to go to Oregon, seeking work and adventure. They obtained a wagon, saved for supplies, and completed packing their wagon on a Saturday. The next morning, they went to Church on Sunday with plans to leave early Monday morning. However, as they sat in Sacrament meeting, the bishop arose and announced that Samuel Bennett and Dave Turner had been called on a mission to St. George to work on the temple, which was in the early stages of construction. They were to depart immediately. After the meeting Dave said, “Well [Sam], what are you going to do?” Samuel answered, “I’m going to St. George.” After a few moments Dave said, “Well, if you’re going, I’m going too.”

Samuel’s response to this call proved to be a wonderful blessing in his life and for his posterity. He was assigned to be a stonecutter. He was also asked to help transport the baptismal font by oxen to the temple. The font had been forged in Salt Lake City. Our family history records that the Apostle Orson Hyde was at the temple when the font arrived. After he had seen the font securely put into its place, Elder Hyde came out of the temple weeping with joy and thanking God that he had lived to see a baptismal font secure and standing once again in a temple of the Lord. [33] Can you imagine the feelings that filled Samuel’s heart on that occasion?

The spiritual experiences had by Samuel were not the only blessings he received. During Samuel’s mission to work on the St. George temple, he met, courted, and married my great grandmother. They had to travel more than 300 miles by horse drawn wagon to be married in the Endowment House on Temple Square.

Samuel may not have been as intentional as I am inviting you to be, but he was willing when the call came. His willingness is reflected in his sacrifice. It is not hard to imagine the excitement the two friends felt on the eve of their departure for the coasts and sights of Oregon. This was the 1870s equivalent of the ultimate road trip with an indefinite date for their return. Yet, having been called, Samuel sacrificed all those dreams to respond.

In a way, Samuel faced the same question that troubled the mind of the young man who approached the Savior, asking “What shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?” But in his case, when the response of his loving Master came, “go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, … and come, take up the cross, and follow me”, the young man “went away grieved: for he had great possessions.” [34] To the everlasting joy of his posterity, my great grandfather’s response was different—he gave away the supplies and the wagon and the preparations he had made, took up his cross, and followed the Lord.

The second area of your life that perhaps needs to be addressed is how you are spending your time. A young coed at this university had determined that she was going to succeed in one of the professions. That was first and foremost. A young man was dating her, wanting the relationship to deepen and perhaps lead to the temple. But she was involved in succeeding in her chosen profession to the injury, perhaps, of other possibilities.

Her boyfriend asked if I would talk with her while visiting BYU one day, so we did walk and talk together. I asked her a simple question, “What are your priorities?” “To be married eternally, to raise a family, to live the commandments. I would like to succeed in my profession. I enjoy going to school. I want good grades.”

Even though the last three were vital, none of them were number one. I then asked her, “Is that the way you are living?” She then knew that her boyfriend had asked me talk with her. She said she thought she was beginning to understand.

One priesthood leader in South America was burdened by the hunger and deprivation of the members of his little stake. Unwilling to allow the children to suffer in hunger, he found an empty plot of land and organized the priesthood to cultivate and plant it. They found an old horse and hooked up a primitive plow and began working the ground. But before they could finish, tragedy struck and the old horse died.
Rather than allow their brothers and sisters to suffer hunger, the brethren of the priesthood strapped the old plow to their own backs and pulled it through the unforgiving ground. They literally took upon themselves the yoke of the suffering and burdens of their brothers and sisters.