Gospel Story Finder

Because my mother was raised in Southern California and that was where we lived, I knew my mother’s side of the family much better than my father’s side in Utah, simply because of proximity. My dad felt strongly about my getting to know the Utah side of the family and getting to know the people in Salt Lake. He thought there was experience to be gained and strongly encouraged me to go to the University of Utah, which I did.
When I arrived, I joined a fraternity. A majority of the fraternity were also Church members, some of whom were returned missionaries. After a while I began to notice that the returned missionaries just seemed to “have their act together” in a way that the others, in my opinion, didn’t. I had not been raised with the notion of serving a mission, although as I got to be an older teenager my parents began to mention it. My father had not served a mission because of World War II. His medical school training went right through the war.
As I spent more and more time in Salt Lake and got to know the returned missionaries, somehow I was able to perceive that these missionaries had gotten more out of life and were further down the road in a very positive way than others of the same age. They were directed. They had goals. They had a feeling for who they were that others didn’t seem to have. In my view, they had social skills that I thought were an advantage. That was what got me started thinking about a mission. At first, it was entirely for the wrong reasons, for selfish reasons.
Even within this group there were some returned missionaries whose stories about their missions made me feel hesitant about service. Their stories were about how hard it was or how cold it was or how primitive the circumstances were. I was basically reluctant to do anything cold or difficult. But other returned missionaries took me aside and said, “Whit, let me tell you what it is really like, how wonderful it is.”
Nobody who was a returned missionary said, “Don’t go.” They all told me to go, but a few of them delighted in telling me the hard parts. I decided to listen to these others who said, “That’s just the way he talks. He had a great experience, and look what he became. You’ll have a great experience too.”
At the same time I had an experience that was very important to me. I used to go down to a local gym to work out. One time when I was down there in the late morning, I noticed Elder Marion D. Hanks of the Seventy. We were the only two in the gym, and he struck up a conversation with me.
After a little small talk, I asked him if I could ask a question.
“Sure, please go ahead,” he said. He was very friendly, very warm.
“I’m trying to decide whether to go on a mission.”
He said, “What are the things that you are thinking about? What are the considerations?”
I said, “Really just one, and it is a question about the amount of time it would take.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
At this point in time I thought I wanted to be a doctor. My father was a doctor, and I wanted to be a doctor. This was before I knew much about organic chemistry.
I said, “I’m 19 now and still have three years of college and then time as an intern and a resident. I expect to be drafted into the military (it was during the Vietnam conflict) plus a mission. You add all of these things up, I’ve got 14 or 15 years to go before I get to real life. If I do all of these things, I won’t get to real life until I’m 33 or 34 years old. That seems like a very late start.”
He said, “Well, that’s an interesting question. You should know that I did not serve a mission. I was in the military during World War II and was not able to serve a mission, but I’ll tell you how I think you should answer the question.”
He asked me, “How old are you now?”
I said, “I’m 19.”
“How old will you be in 14 years if you don’t do any of those things?”
I answered, “I’ll be 33.”
He again asked me, “How old are you now?”
I said, “I’m 19.”
“How old will you be in 14 years if you do all of those things?”
I said, “I’ll be 33.”
Then he asked me. “When you are 33, what would you rather have done? None of those things, half of those things, or all of those things?”
I saw immediately the wisdom of his response, and it just penetrated me. I saw how it fit with what I had seen in the returned missionaries on campus. I decided then and there I was going to serve a mission.
That was the best decision I have ever made, because everything good in my life has come from that decision. I don’t believe my wife would ever have been willing to consider marrying me if I had not been a returned missionary. I think her decision to marry me was the best thing that has happened in my life. Our experience together across the years, raising a family and being involved in Church service, our community involvement, my professional involvement, all of those things have been influenced by that mission.
I am so grateful for the example of returned missionaries—for the way they dressed, for the way they talked, the way they worked, for the light in their lives, which was immediately evident to me. I could see the difference in the way they dressed, spoke, and carried themselves, in the way they behaved. It was discernible. I could see it, and I wasn’t looking for it. It was simply that I began to perceive something that I hadn’t noticed before, and I learned that the Lord blesses those who do the things He asks them to do. He blessed me, and He blesses everyone who goes on a mission and then stays in essentially a modified missionary lifestyle after that. I’m grateful for that.
Those two experiences—watching returned missionaries and having a chance (well, maybe not a chance) meeting with Elder Hanks. That was the turning point in my life. My parents wanted me to go on a mission and were delighted when I did. And I think it helped my younger brothers to see me go.
Young men, look forward to serving a mission. It is hard; it is work, but there is nothing about it that you can’t do. You’ll love the experience. Doing hard things is good for us, and missions aren’t so hard that you can’t do them. They just require something of you. You have to grow up a little, and I promise you that if you will prepare yourself for a mission in every way—intellectually, physically, and spiritually—keeping yourself clean and ready to go, you’ll have a tremendous experience, and you’ll be grateful.

For Anabel R., 18, the toughest challenges have come from teachers and peers at school. She says, “I was the only member of the Church in my class. I had a teacher who would teach something about religion, and then say, ‘Let’s ask Anabel what she thinks about this,’ trying to make me look bad in front of my friends. And whenever I would say something, she would say, ‘You’re just getting confused.’ Once when the teacher tried to make me look bad in front of the other kids, they laughed at me.

“Later, when my classmates saw me out with the missionaries in the street, dressed like them, they said, ‘Here comes the Saint. She believes in Mormon; she’s the Mormon.’ Many times they would do things to offend me.”

Anabel found it hard to be so mistreated by her classmates. But she also found that as she responded with forgiveness—the way the Lord taught—she found peace.

“The Lord commanded us, ‘of you it is required to forgive all men’” (Doctrine and Covenants 64:10.) “He wants us to love others. He taught me not to be angry at them for treating me that way.

“The truth is, many times we hold onto resentment in our hearts. But I’ve realized that when we decide not to forgive someone, we are not happy. The Savior Jesus Christ suffered many things and even as the Son of God said to forgive them because they don’t know what they do. Truthfully, I don’t resent them because they really don’t know what they are doing, just like the Savior said. And as I’ve turned to Heavenly Father in prayer, He answers. He is listening.”

A few days ago, a letter came to the office addressed to President Benson. I wish to read a portion of it, and then perhaps comment on it. I will not use the writer’s name. She may be listening somewhere, and I would not wish to embarrass her in any way. I will call her Virginia. With that change, I read a part of her letter:
“Dear President Benson,
“My name is Virginia. I am fourteen years old, and a matter has been on my mind a lot lately. In the scriptures I could not seem to find anywhere whether women may enter into the celestial kingdom if they are worthy. Also, when someone such as Joseph Smith had a vision of the celestial kingdom, he only seemed to see men there. I have prayed about it, but felt that I needed your words. … In the scriptures, they talk about a woman being blessed if she is righteous, but not about celestial glory. This truly bothers me. If we are all Heavenly Father’s children, then why do the scriptures say that men are to rule over women? And why in the scriptures was Eve created from Adam? I may be foolish, but I honestly do not understand. I love the gospel, and I am learning of its truth. I have a testimony, and I know that I have a divine purpose in life. But I suppose what I am asking is—are men more important than women? And can women go to the celestial kingdom also? …
“I am still young and learning, and I need help in this matter. Thank you so much.
“Lovingly, Virginia.”
Because President Benson is unable to speak to us, I will try to respond to your letter, and in the process I speak to all who are with you in this great gathering this evening. Your letter was acknowledged by the secretary to the First Presidency. But I feel that it is so sincere in tone that it deserves a more complete answer. And perhaps the questions you ask are on the minds of many women—young women of your age, women of your mother’s age, and women of your grandmother’s age, be they single, married, or whatever their circumstances.
First, you ask whether women may enter into the celestial kingdom. Of course they may. They are as eligible to enter the celestial kingdom as are men, worthiness being the determining factor for both.
On February 16,1832, Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon were given a remarkable vision. The Lord spoke with words both wonderful and challenging. Listen to Him:
“For thus saith the Lord—I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end.
“Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.” (D&C 76:5–6.)
I am satisfied that He speaks here of His daughters as well as His sons. Infinite shall be the reward of each, and everlasting shall be his or her glory.
In this same revelation, Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon bear eloquent testimony concerning the Savior of the world, the Son of God. Listen to this:
“And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: That he lives!
“For we saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father—
“That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God.” (D&C 76:22–24; italics added.)
Note that in this tremendous declaration, both sons and daughters are mentioned.
While it is true that in the verses which follow, man is spoken of, I am confident that the word is used in a generic sense to include both men and women.
The revelation then speaks of those who receive the testimony of Jesus, who were baptized after the manner of His burial, and who keep the commandments, and promises that they “shall dwell in the presence of God and his Christ forever and ever.” (D&C 76:62.)
“These are they whose bodies are celestial, whose glory is that of the sun, even the glory of God, the highest of all, whose glory the sun of the firmament is written of as being typical.” (D&C 76:70.)
Are women included in those who shall partake of such glory? Most assuredly. As a matter of fact, in attaining the highest degree of glory in the celestial kingdom, the man cannot enter without the woman, neither can the woman enter without the man. The two are inseparable as husband and wife in eligibility for that highest degree of glory. If she lives worthy of it, hers will be a glory as celestial and eternal as his. Never doubt it, Virginia. Only live to be worthy of that glory which is available to you as well as to your brothers.
Some who are not married, through no fault of their own, ask whether they will always be denied the highest degree of glory in that kingdom. I am confident that under the plan of a loving Father and a divine Redeemer, no blessing of which you are otherwise worthy will forever be denied you.
Beyond the wonderful and descriptive words found in sections 76 and 137 [D&C 76; D&C 137] we know relatively little concerning the celestial kingdom and those who will be there. At least some of the rules of eligibility for acceptance into that kingdom are clearly set forth, but other than that, we are given little understanding. However, I repeat that I am confident that the daughters of God will be as eligible as will be the sons of God.
This should be a glorious goal for every woman in the Church. It should be a constant motivation to live with honor, to live with integrity, to live with virtue, to live with love and service.
Do not be disturbed, my dear young friend, by the fact that the word man and the word men are used in scripture without also mentioning the words woman and women. I emphasize that these terms are generic, including both sexes. They are so used in the scripture and have been used in other writings through the centuries of time.
For instance, the Declaration of Independence, which led eventually to the establishment of the United States of America, includes the words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal.”
Note that the writers used the word men. Do you suppose for one moment that they did not intend their declaration to include women also? They might have said, “All men, women, and children.” But they simply used the word men in its generic sense.
The next question you ask is why Eve was created from Adam.
I can only respond that an all-wise Creator did it that way. However, as I have noted before, there is something very interesting about this situation.
In the sequence of events as set forth in the scripture, God first created the earth, and the earth was without form, and void.” (Gen. 1:2.) He then separated the light from the darkness, and the waters from the land. Then came the creation of vegetation of all kinds, giving the beauty of trees and grass, flowers and shrubs. Then followed the creation of animal life in the sea and upon the land.
Having looked over all of this, He declared it to be good. He then created man in His own likeness and image. Then as His final creation, the crowning of His glorious work, He created woman. I like to regard Eve as His masterpiece after all that had gone before, the final work before He rested from His labors.
I do not regard her as being in second place to Adam. She was placed at his side as an helpmeet. They were together in the Garden, they were expelled together, and they labored together in the world into which they were driven.
Now, Virginia, you call attention to the statement in the scriptures that Adam should rule over Eve. (See Gen. 3:16.) You ask why this is so. I do not know. I regrettably recognize that some men have used this through centuries of time as justification for abusing and demeaning women. But I am confident also that in so doing they have demeaned themselves and offended the Father of us all, who, I am confident, loves His daughters just as He loves His sons.
You ask whether men are more important than women. I am going to turn that question back to you. Would any of us be here, either men or women, without the other? The scripture states that God created man in His own image, male and female created He them. He commanded them together to multiply and replenish the earth. Each is a creation of the Almighty, mutually dependent and equally necessary for the continuation of the race. Every new generation in the history of mankind is a testimony of the necessity for both man and woman.
You say in your letter, “I do have a testimony, and I know that I have a divine purpose in life.”
You do have a divine purpose, indeed you do. There is that same element of divinity in you and your sisters as there is in your brothers. All of us are here as part of a divine plan made by a loving Father who is concerned with our immortality and eternal life. The mortal sphere in which we live is preparatory to that which will follow when we return to dwell with God our Father, provided we live worthy of that privilege.
You state that most scripture is addressed to men. Yes, some of it is, in a specific sense, with reference to priesthood duties and obligations, and some of it in a generic sense, as I have indicated.
I remind you of a great and remarkable revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith to his wife Emma and applicable to every woman in the Church, for the Lord said in concluding this revelation “that this is my voice unto all.” (D&C 25:16.)
In the first verse of this revelation the Lord states that “all those who receive my gospel are sons and daughters in my kingdom.” (D&C 25:1)
Great and true are these words of divine promise. The revelation which follows these opening words is rich in counsel, in praise, in instruction, and in promise to Emma Smith, and to every other woman who heeds the word of the Lord as set forth therein.
I hope therefore, my dear young friend, that you will not worry over these matters. I hope, rather, that you will go forward, living a life of righteousness, seeking to know the will of the Lord and following it, strengthening others by reason of your service and testimony, and praying in righteousness to the Father of us all. Be assured that He loves you. Be assured that we all love you. May His choicest blessings attend you as you go forward with your life in righteousness.
Always let your Father in Heaven be your friend, to whom you may go in prayer.

The sunny skies of Capetown were dark with rain clouds. Why, oh why, the children thought, would it rain today?
The special afternoon which the boys and girls had been working and waiting for had really come, and now it seemed as if their bake sale would be ruined by the storm. But they knew that Ouma (Grandmother) Fourie would expect them regardless of the weather, so they all went through the rain to be at the chapel at the hour she had set.
Sister Ouma greeted them in her usual loving way and then explained that the sale must be held that day since the baked goods could not be kept over. She also said the sale must be held outside so people would stop to buy.
“We’ll all pray for the rain to stop,” she directed, “and we know it will, for we need the money to continue holding our Primary. This is what our Father in heaven wants, so of course He will help us.”
There was so much assurance in Sister Ouma’s voice that as each child bowed his head and she prayed for the rain to stop, everyone just knew it would.
And it did!
The rain that had pelted unceasingly for several days stopped almost at once. The sun smiled on the children as they carried tables outside and placed on them the baked goods they had brought. After a most successful sale, the empty tables were carried back into the chapel, and the rain began again and continued steadily during the next three days.
“But what would you have done, Sister Fourie,” asked a Primary worker later, “if it hadn’t stopped raining?”
This woman, who for thirty-four continuous years loved and taught the boys and girls of South Africa, answered very softly, “But we all knew that it would!”

I am grateful for the examples and acts of faith in my life. Particularly the example of my mother. When I was 8 years old, my parents separated and eventually divorced. My mother moved back home to American Samoa where she found herself picking up the pieces from a broken marriage. She was not prepared for this change as she thought being married and raising her children was her life. She quickly found a job at the tuna factory standing all of 8 hours gutting tuna. She later was able to find employment at the hospital in the dental clinic as a secretary. She then took classes at the community college and did online courses via mail to get her certification to become a dental assistant. It was not until I was 15 that I was reunited with my mother and saw for myself the hard work and sacrifices she was making. I remember in my teenage years watching my mother wake up early to say prayer, read her bible, go to work, come home, and tend to the needs of the house such as cooking, repairing the sink/plumbing, wash clothes by hand in buckets and hanging them to dry). She would paint the house and always say no matter how old a house is, if you paint it, it makes a difference. She was good at budgeting. I remember her always writing down the bills that had to be paid and what was needed for food. During school time she would budget to take us shopping to get our uniforms and school supplies. She did all of this without complaining. I watched her give to those that came and asked for help when she herself did not have much. I remember a neighbor visiting and asked my mother for money to help buy food for her grandchildren. I remember watching my mother go into her room and come back out with money that she gave to our neighbor. I remember asking my mom, “Why do you give when we ourselves don’t have enough?” She responded, “If I have, I will always give because the Lord provides and He always blesses us.” She was right we always had enough. I am so grateful that my mother taught me faith through her actions. I got to witness the hand of God in her life and am able to apply it to mine.

When I was about seven years old, my Primary president wanted to help the children be more reverent in our Primary. She made a large bulletin board shaped like a lamb. Whenever a child was reverent, she put a lamb-shaped sticker on the bulletin board next to his or her name. I really wanted one of those lamb stickers. So one day in Primary, I sat quietly with my arms folded and stared at the Primary president so she would notice me being reverent. A taller boy sat in front of me, so I slid down the bench so she could see me.
Then, as I sat there being reverent, the pianist started playing a sweet, quiet Primary song. As I listened, a peaceful feeling came over me, and tears started to come down my cheeks. I didn’t know why I felt so happy and peaceful inside.
After Primary I told my mom about what I had felt, and she told me that it was the Spirit. That day, I learned what the Spirit feels like. Whenever I need to make important decisions and need guidance from the Spirit, I remember how peaceful I felt that day, and I can recognize how the Spirit speaks to me.

In 1898, President Wilford Woodruff recounted an experience he had as a new member in 1834 at a priesthood meeting in Kirtland. He related: “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 [4.3 m] square. … When we got together the Prophet called upon the Elders of Israel … to bear testimony of this work. … 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. … 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.’”4

An example I often use in my Eternal Family class is of a husband who observed his wife turning back and forth in front of a mirror. Since her birthday was not far off, he asked what she would like for her birthday. Still looking in the mirror, she replied, “I’d like to be six again.”

Well, on the morning of her birthday, he rose early, made her a big bowl of Lucky Charms, and then took her to a Six Flags theme park. After five hours enjoying every ride, he took her to McDonald’s, where he ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a chocolate shake. Then it was off to the movies, with popcorn, soda, and candy. They finally wobbled home, and with a big smile he asked, “Well, dear, what was it like being six again?”

Her eyes slowly opened, and her expression suddenly changed: “I meant my dress size.”

Heavenly Father knew that this strong-willed son needed a good father. He picked out a great one for me. My dad’s devotion to his children and grandchildren consumed much of his time. He loved the Lord and was about the Lord’s errand throughout his days. He was not only my dad; he was one of my heroes.
Dad was the president of my priests quorum and bishop of our ward during my teenage years. You who have been a bishop’s son know that sometimes performance expectations tend to be a little high for bishops’ sons.
During Dad’s tenure as bishop, a new meetinghouse was built in our area. Local financial shares were partially fulfilled by providing labor. Often I arrived home to find a note on the kitchen table inviting me to join Dad in working on the new building. These invitations were not always received with great warmth and enthusiasm. It seemed to me that the bishop’s son received more than his fair share of invitations to work on the new meetinghouse.
As the building neared completion, landscaping commenced. The priesthood brethren were extended a work opportunity to haul fertilizer to the site. Because the bishop was a part of the expedition, the bishop’s son felt an obligation to respond. We drove to a mountain sheep corral. Into a large truck we shoveled very finely ground, dry sheep fertilizer. The wind blew much of what we threw into the truck back to us. This unsavory material gathered in our eyes, throats, noses, ears, and down our backs. I can’t ever remember being more uncomfortable. I’m afraid I verbalized my feelings with emotion. When we arrived back at the meetinghouse to unload the material, I found my new bike had been stolen. My complaining was loud. Why would the Lord permit someone to steal my bike when I was about His work?
When Dad and I arrived home, we showered and sat down to an evening meal. My complaining about the day and my lost bike continued. As we knelt in prayer, Dad thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity of the day’s service and expressed love for me. He asked forgiveness for the person who had taken the bike. He noted his sorrow for the loss but expressed gratitude that it wasn’t his son who had committed the theft. Dads make great heroes. I pray that if you are fortunate enough to have a father close by, he can be your hero. Dads, live in such a way that your sons and others can look up to you as heroes.

Close to the home where I lived as a child was a large house. It was located on beautiful grounds enclosed by what was to me a towering fence made of wood paneling, probably six feet in height. I recall peeping through holes in the panels where knots of wood had dropped out. It was like looking through a telescope into a different world. The beautifully manicured lawns, the well-kept flower gardens, and a small orchard provided an idyllic setting for the distinctive dwelling. Unfortunately, the opportunity to enjoy the view was always brief due to the vigilant British bulldog that patrolled the gardens and was immediately attracted to anyone standing close to the exterior of the fencing. Even though the fierce dog was confined in the garden, the sound of his sniffing as he approached the fence caused me to retreat in fear as my vivid imagination conjured up a variety of possibilities.
Mr. and Mrs. Lyons, who lived in the home, were schoolteachers. They had a dignified demeanor and seemed to enjoy the privacy that the house setting afforded them. To add to the intrigue, Mr. Lyons had no right hand, using instead a steel hook that protruded below the cuff of his jacket. In my boyish mind, I could imagine Mr. Lyons pursuing me, catching me by the collar with the hook, and taking me captive.
I recall an August morning when I was 10 or 11 years old, following a night of unusually strong winds, being greeted by friends as I left my home. They were obviously excited by something and inquired, “Did you hear the wind last night?”
When I said that I had, they proceeded to tell me what they had discovered—the wind had blown down sections of the fencing surrounding the Lyonses’ home. I could not understand why this would cause so much excitement and asked them to explain the significance.
They responded with even greater enthusiasm: “We have access to the apple trees!”
I was still very cautious and asked, “But what about Mr. Lyons?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Lyons are not at home; they are away visiting relatives.”
“Where is the dog?” I probed.
“The family has placed him in boarding kennels,” came the reply.
My friends had certainly carried out detailed research. So, reassured by their words, we headed for our target with all haste. Entering the grounds we climbed trees and hurriedly plucked fruit, filling our pockets and also the space between our shirts and our bodies. My heart was pounding and my pulse racing since I feared that any moment the dog or Mr. Lyons, or both, would appear in the garden and apprehend us. We ran from the scene of our trespass to a secluded place in a nearby wooded area and, after regaining our composure, began to consume the apples.
It was August, and the apples were not yet ripe enough to eat. In fact, they had a very bitter taste, but the tartness of these green apples did not deter us as we enthusiastically consumed our spoils, acting out of a compulsion I cannot now explain. After devouring a significant number, I contented myself with taking a bite out of each remaining apple and throwing the remnants of the fruit into the nearby bushes. The frivolity diminished as our bodies began to gradually react to the invasion they had experienced. The chemical reaction between my gastric juices and the unripe apples caused me to experience stomach cramps and to feel nauseated. As I sat regretting what I had done, I realized that a feeling within me was producing even more discomfort than the unripe apples.
The greater discomfort resulted from the realization that what I had done was wrong.
When my friends had proposed that we invade the garden, I had felt uncomfortable but lacked the courage to say no and so suppressed my feelings. Now, after the deed had been accomplished, I was filled with remorse. To my regret, I had ignored the promptings warning me of the error of my actions.

For about five years I suffered from a condition called hemifacial muscle spasms (HFS) which resulted in severe migraines, pain to my right side of my face, and muscle distortion and spasms. At first the spasms started as a flutter to my right eye but soon progressively moved down my face, cheek, mouth, and then through my neck and shoulder. Movement of my face or mouth and stressful or high-energy situations would trigger my spasms which did not let up for several hours. Sometimes spasms would continue through the night while sleeping. Imagine having your eyelid rapidly open and close all day and night! My face was constantly tired and painful. Simple things like smiling, looking people in the eye, being in front of others, teaching, reading, singing, were challenges for me. As a teacher with an outgoing personality I had to stand up every day for hours with my face, mouth, and shoulder spasming. Every day I’d pray to have courage to teach and look people in the eye. When my spasms would get really bad, I would use my hand to cover that portion of my face as I felt very self-conscious.

One day, I saw my daughter Keilani, who was three years old, staring at herself in the mirror. She was making a funny expression closing her eyelid and drawing her mouth up and down. I tentatively asked what she was doing and will never forget her response, “Mom, I’m just trying to be beautiful like you!” Through the voice of this small and tiny child, I saw myself in a completely different light. I wasn’t someone who was hideous or ugly, but a person my daughter admired and wanted to be like. From the voice and perspective of a child, who the world might view as “small” and “insignificant,” I was taught to change my perspective and to see true beauty through her eyes.

However, my condition continued to worsen. I tried to find ways to make the spasms stop, but nothing helped. Finally, my doctor recommended MVD brain surgery. I learned of one surgeon in Hawaii who performed this surgery. However, I was unable to schedule an appointment because of the surgeon’s busy schedule.

I had run out of options and I didn’t know what to do. Physically there was nothing I could do to stop the spasms and knowing that the spasms, pain, and headaches would only worsen with time made me feel hopeless. I couldn’t even schedule an appointment with the surgeon! It seemed that I had reached the end of my known path. I worried that God might not have a plan for me, and that this condition would eventually take away my ability to see, eat, and talk.

Yet, I continued to persevere in performing small and simple acts of faith, attending church and the temple, and seeking God’s light. In the solace of the temple, I received much needed comfort and perspective that God loved me, was aware of me, and these physical trials were not a punishment from God but part of God’s plan for me. I saw that God had not forgotten or forsaken me. This experience was part of His divine design, and I needed to patiently endure.

Then the miracle happened. I was asked to give a talk in church! The night before, I had the worst HFS attack, I was up till about 3:00 AM, with no relief of my suffering. When I spoke in church, I shared briefly about my experience the previous night, and talked about how grateful I was to attend church and have the opportunity to speak.

A friend in the congregation heard my challenges. Here’s the miracle…this friend also suffered from HFS and had received the same brain surgery I sought from the very doctor I had been trying to contact for months. She understood my pains, worries, and fears. She told me how much her life improved from the surgery and encouraged me to undergo the procedure. She called the doctor’s office, who contacted me to make an appointment. After meeting the surgeon, he immediately scheduled me for surgery and I was able to have this life-changing operation.

HFS is uncommon with less than in one in 10,000 in the US suffering from this condition. What were the chances of someone with the exact same medical condition, treated by the exact same doctor with the exact same surgery? And she also lived in my small town and attended my ward too! God did not forget me! He loved me and had a beautiful plan for me.

Thankfully, this plan included being healed from my debilitating physical condition. I will never take for granted the ability I have to smile and look people in the eye. Today I am incredibly blessed to have my life back, spasm-free, and full of joy. I am grateful for the ability to see unimpaired or restrained. I am grateful for prayer and priesthood blessings. I am grateful for a loving Savior who knows my pains and carries me through my struggles. I am grateful for the power of perspective and to see my life with new eyes.

The train threaded its way through the mountains that walled Feather River Canyon, carrying its load of passengers eastward from San Francisco, California. Although snow lay deep in some of the higher places, a bright March sun had caused streams to cascade over the rocks and soft green to begin to color the oak brush and grass.
Some of those on the train pressed their faces against the windows to see the beauty of the canyon; others slept. A man in one of the cars did neither. His thoughts were of a talk he had been asked to give the following week at Primary General Conference. He wondered what he might say to express his love for children.
This man was Marion G. Romney. He picked up his Bible and turned to the New Testament, to the tenth chapter of Mark [Mark 10], which tells how the Savior took the children in his arms and blessed them. As Elder Romney read, he leaned forward in front of the window of the train, the New Testament in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He read and reread the words until it almost seemed as if he could see the Savior with the children in his arms. The picture was so beautiful that Elder Romney closed the book, leaned back as far as he could, and pressed his body hard against the seat as he shut his eyes in prayerful thought.
Just then a great boulder, crashing down the mountainside burst through the window of the train where he sat. It grazed his face and bruised his right side, but did not seriously hurt him.
A week later as Elder Romney stood in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, he said, “Had I been leaning forward, I am sure I would not be here today.”

The young women in the Fort Wayne Indiana Stake were in the habit of sharing their talents and service with everyone all year round. So when it came time to have An Evening for Sharing program, they decided to have something a little different and share with each other some fun and some good learning experiences. First of all they called a steering committee of young women. Then they handed out questionnaires to all the young women in the stake to find out what they would like to do. It seemed unanimous—they all wanted to have a 24-hour time for sharing (really a one-day girls’ conference) and call it “Unlimited.”
They began the event with a Friday evening filled with games, food, a special introduction of the theme, and an original song written by one of the Beehive girls, Becky Wall. The next morning, workshops in the six areas of focus in the Young Women program were conducted. Adult specialists from the stake presented workshops on the Treasures of Truth book, quilting, social dancing, macramé, speaking to the deaf, and other topics. (The girls sang “I Am a Child of God” in sign language for weeks after the activity.) After the workshops they held a testimony meeting and shared their most priceless possession with each other.
Eighty girls and leaders participated. They turned what is usually one evening into 24-hours of sharing.

At a nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few years ago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated two widows. They were warmly and beautifully dressed—and absorbed in the game. I asked, “Who’s winning?” They responded, “We don’t even know who’s playing, but at least it’s company.” I sat between those two angels and explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I can remember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory.

My mother was a young chemist who had to stay behind during two wars when she was between 18 and 22 years old. Others in her family were evacuated. She lived in a time of violence but always had that inner peace that passeth understanding (Philippians 4:7). She knew how to be still because the Lord was on her side. All she had to do was bear her cross patiently. She left it to God to order and provide in her life, remaining faithful in every change she encountered. She knew there would be a joyful end. And so it was when Elders Rex Call and Wayne Hassell brought the gospel of Jesus Christ to our home, and we chose to follow the Savior. Her joy was complete when she was sealed to my father who had died at the age of 32 and left her with two small children. Her eternal vision was clear, and she is enduring to the end.

Lakhran Surjdeen, known as Michael, moved to Barbados at age 21, just before the COVID-19 pandemic. Spending an extended period indoors during the pandemic prompted him to embark on a cruise. Each day when he awoke, the thought came to him, “When you go back to Barbados, get baptized.”
Upon his return, Michael turned to Facebook to search for a church where he could be baptized. The church he decided to call was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Soon, missionaries reached out to him to arrange an appointment, but before he met with them, he decided to walk to the church to see what it was like. While standing outside the property’s fence and looking at the building, Michael felt the quiet peace that he had been searching for.
The missionaries asked Michael to meet them at the church for his first lesson. He was so eager to be baptized that he asked if he could have that done right away. However, the missionaries helped him understand that he needed to have a few more lessons to strengthen his faith in and commitment to Jesus Christ before he could be baptized. Finally, the day came that he had been waiting for: Michael was going to be baptized. Even though this was his wish, he was very nervous; he could feel his heart beating quickly. He walked to the font, all dressed in white, and as soon as his toe touched the water, Michael felt completely calm; he felt as light as a white feather.
When Michael returned home, he felt happy inside. He felt like he was glowing, but as soon as he walked into his home, his tears began flowing. Michael knew that his Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were happy for the big decision he had made on his own.
These days, Michael looks forward to church each week to renew the covenant with Jesus Christ he made at baptism. He knows that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has the restored and living gospel. He still finds peace when he attends church and loves to share the message of the gospel so that others can feel the love that he feels.

Let me share some of the experiences we had in Taiwan. Have you ever been the answer to someone's prayer? Well, my husband and I were the answer to someone's dream! We had given talks in the sacrament meeting at Qishan, a beautiful small country town famous for its banana, rice and flower fields. They make the best banana cake and chocolate cream puffs! In the mission, the only time we had to relax was when we were eating. So we looked forward to that a lot! After the sacrament meeting President Hsu asked the assistants if there were any less-active members we could visit. One assistant, Elder Garner, had served there before and said there was a young family who had been married in the temple, but who had not come to church for many years. We didn't have their phone number, so we drove and finally found their house in the outskirts of town. We knocked on the door and the father opened the door and was very surprised to see us. He asked us to wait for a while and closed the door. They had two young children and there were toys in the yard. After a while they invited us in. We sat down on the couch the wife started to cry. We didn't know why. We apologized for dropping in without letting them know first. She told us that the night before she had a dream that the missionaries would come to visit them. When she told her husband about the dream, he said there was no way, since they hadn't gone to church for so long and if the missionaries called to ask if they could come, they would say it was not convenient (bu fang bian in Chinese). The sister said that in the dream she asked the missionaries why they had not called first, knowing that if they did, she would tell them not to come. So seeing us there was the fulfillment of her dream. They had been offended badly by branch members. President Hsu assured her of the love Heavenly Father had for them and encouraged them to come back to church and not let someone else prevent them from receiving the blessings of keeping the covenants they had made. After continuing fellowshipping they came back to church. Whenever we could, we would stop and see them. It was not easy and it's still not easy for them as the people who offended them are still not being welcoming.

Lydia Kaminaga, like Hirobo Obeketang, was born into the Church but became less active during her teen years. But the story of her journey back is as remarkable as it is distinct.

Lydia and her husband, Kaminaga Kaminaga, both grew up in the Church. “I never had any doubt about the teachings of the Church,” says Kaminaga. “I’ve always believed them.”

But life moved differently for Lydia. When she was in seventh grade, she says, “I was the only Mormon in my school, and I felt left out. I did what my friends were doing. I got my priorities wrong.”

Lydia’s parents sent her to Provo, Utah, USA, to live with family, hoping their influence might inspire Lydia to live the gospel. Though she learned things that helped her later in life, at the time she wasn’t interested in Church activity.

Lydia moved back to the Marshall Islands in January 2002, just a month after Kaminaga returned from serving a mission in Japan. They met shortly thereafter. Although Lydia was not living Church standards, Kaminaga kept coming to her house pretending that he wanted to visit her nephew, Gary Zackious.

Eventually, Kaminaga made up his mind to talk to her parents about going out on dates—wholesome, clean activities—with Lydia. Although they initially tried to dissuade him, Kaminaga says he “finally told them, ‘There’s still a chance for her to change.’ When I said that, the whole feeling in the room changed. Her dad cried and said, ‘I’ve always wanted her back in the Church. You can try.’”

At first Lydia didn’t take Kaminaga seriously. After all, he was a clean-cut returned missionary, and she hadn’t been active.

“But he saw something I didn’t see,” Lydia explains. Since she wasn’t dating anyone, she agreed to go out with him. “He brought me back. Being his girlfriend, I had to set my standards straight. He reminded me of my covenants made at baptism. He reminded me of all the things I really missed a lot, like reading scriptures and family home evening. Kaminaga and I did service projects together. We read the Book of Mormon. We went to firesides. He showed me how to live differently. Going to church was not just sacrament meeting but also Sunday School and Relief Society too.”

As they spent time together on dates that were wholesome and uplifting, Lydia’s life began to change and her testimony grew. She still had to clear some things up, however.

“It was hard coming back,” she admits. “Repentance is not easy, but I have a really strong testimony of repentance. In a lot of ways, our dating was about getting to know each other more and about getting me back to church, to see things differently.”

“It’s about relationships,” adds Kaminaga.

Lydia and Kaminaga were married on November 28, 2002. A year later they were sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple and attended Brigham Young University–Hawaii. Now they live in the Marshall Islands with their three children. Lydia serves as their ward’s Sunday School teacher for the young men and young women, and Kaminaga serves as the Young Men president.

Benjamin lay back on his bed and put his feet up on the wall. He always did that when he had to think. Today’s problem was the essay Miss Hardgrave had assigned in language arts. He was supposed to write about why his parents had named him Benjamin and share it with the class.
He knew, of course. There was the picture hanging right above his feet: King Benjamin on top of the tower with everyone in tents looking up at him. Benjamin nudged the frame with his toe, and the picture tilted to one side. Usually he liked knowing he was named for a righteous king in the Book of Mormon. But nobody in his school class was going to know who King Benjamin was. Or what the Book of Mormon was, for that matter. One more thing to have to explain.
Lately it seemed like he was always explaining things: why he didn’t play in soccer games on Sunday, why he wouldn’t watch some of the most popular movies, why he hadn’t joined the same Cub Scout den everyone at school belonged to. He kicked the wall, and his door rattled.
Dad opened the door a crack and peeked in. “Aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked.
“Still doing homework.”
Dad came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “Anything I can help you with?”
“What do you know about Benjamin Franklin?”
“Hmm. United States patriot, flew a kite in a thunderstorm, and he was bald.” Dad rubbed his own bald head and smiled. “How’s that? Are you writing a report on him?”
“Well, not exactly,” Benjamin admitted. He looked down and twisted one of the quilt’s yarn ties around his finger. “I have to write about my name.” Benjamin wasn’t looking at Dad, but he felt his steady gaze.
Dad cleared his throat. “I admire Benjamin Franklin, but that’s not who we named you for.” He leaned over and straightened the picture of King Benjamin until the tower was standing straight again. “We named you after King Benjamin because we hoped you’d be like him—bold and fearless and righteous.”
“But, Dad,” Benjamin protested, “I can’t just stand up in front of my class and say I’m named after a Book of Mormon prophet.”
Dad looked surprised. “Why not?”
“This is for school. You’re not supposed to talk about religion in school. It’s illegal.”
Dad smiled. “Maybe it would be illegal for your teacher to preach to you in class, but we’re talking about answering the question she asked. There’s nothing illegal about that.”
“I bet nobody else even goes to church,” Benjamin said.
“You’d be surprised, I think. Besides, remember what King Benjamin said?” Dad pointed to the words printed below the painting. “Mosiah 5:15. ‘Be steadfast and immovable.’ That means you shouldn’t let other people decide who you are. Even at school.”
Dad stood up and kissed Benjamin on the forehead. “You’d better go to sleep soon. It’s late.”
Benjamin went to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. Above his bed, King Benjamin looked calm and confident. His arm was raised in a grand gesture, and the people were peering out of their tents, all their eyes fastened on him. Benjamin thought about what a hard time his teacher had getting everyone to pay attention sometimes. “I bet even King Benjamin would’ve been nervous in front of my class,” he muttered.
The paper on the desk seemed to stare up at him, still blank. Benjamin could hear his clock ticking. Finally, too tired to think anymore, he started to write. “My name is Benjamin. You’ve all heard of Benjamin Franklin. …” He didn’t have to actually say he was named for Benjamin Franklin. He’d let them draw their own conclusions.
The next morning, Benjamin yawned as he waited with Yusuf and Max for the bell to ring.
“That language arts assignment,” Max complained. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“Why?” Yusuf asked.
“My mom got my name from a TV show!” Max leaned against the wall of the school and groaned. “She thought this character named Maximilian was really handsome. She watched the show every day, and when I was born that was the first name that popped into her head.”
“Are you going to tell everyone your name is from a TV show?” Benjamin asked. Explaining you were named for a TV star would be much harder than explaining you were named for someone in the scriptures.
“No.” Max pulled his essay out of the front pocket of his backpack and smoothed out the wrinkles. “I wrote that my mom had heard the name somewhere and liked it. Where did you guys get your names?”
Benjamin leaned over and fidgeted with the zipper on his backpack. He felt uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell his two best friends that he was named for Benjamin Franklin.
Yusuf said, “My name comes from the Koran.”
“What’s the Koran?” Max wanted to know.
“It’s my book of scripture. Like your Bible. There’s a person named Yusuf in it. My parents were going to name me for my grandfather, but he told them to name me Yusuf instead.”
“You’re lucky,” Max said as the bell rang.
Right after taking roll, Miss Hardgrave called on Patricia to read her essay. Her parents had found her name in a name book and liked it because it meant “noble.” Then Maria said that her name was Spanish for Mary, the mother of Jesus, and that her mother had the same name. Yong’s name meant “courageous,” and Jasmine’s parents had liked the way her name sounded.
Now it was Benjamin’s turn. He carried his essay to the front of the room. He was always nervous when he had to speak in front of the class, but today his hands seemed extra sweaty. He leaned against the chalkboard tray and read the first line of his essay to the class: “My name is Benjamin. You’ve all heard of Benjamin Franklin. …” He looked at the rest of what he had written and then looked up at the class. Max was looking at him. Yusuf smiled and nodded. Benjamin wondered if King Benjamin’s hands had gotten sweaty up there on that tower.
He took a deep breath and folded up his paper. “But I’m not really named for Benjamin Franklin. I’m named for a king in the Book of Mormon, one of my books of scripture.” He imagined his friends peering out of tents at him, and he talked a little louder. “Let me tell you about him.”

A similar experience occurred as I was pursuing my career in business. I was offered an excellent job opportunity, but it would have likely required me to work on Sunday. I had committed not to work on the Sabbath day. Ultimately, I had to turn down the offer. I could not compromise my commitment to keep the Sabbath day holy. As with my college commitment, I was later blessed with many other business opportunities that did not require me to compromise and that allowed me to devote Sundays to the worship of the Lord.