Gospel Story Finder

We also learned a beautiful lesson about consecration from one of the assistants to the president in our mission. A decision had been made that one of our missionaries needed to be sent home early from his mission. He had been disobedient on several occasions despite counseling, contracts, and repeated warnings. The airplane ticket had been purchased, and the appropriate approvals were obtained from the South America South Area Presidency and the Missionary Department to send this missionary home.

When the assistants brought the missionary in for his final interview, he protested loudly and tearfully that he did not want to go home. He promised to improve and said he would sign yet another contract. In desperation, President Oveson called the two assistants and Sister Oveson into his office and asked the elder to wait outside while the possible courses of action were discussed. Sister Oveson, somewhat out of patience with the situation, believed that sending him home was the only reasonable thing to do. “If he is allowed to stay,” she maintained, “the other missionaries might think that obedience is not important.”

One of the assistants said, “I have to agree with Hermana Oveson. I don’t think we really have a choice.”

When President Oveson asked the other assistant for his opinion, the assistant said, “I see much good in this elder. President, if you will let me go back out into the field, I will take him for my companion for the rest of my mission. I will take responsibility for him and help him to become a loving and obedient missionary.”

We all had tears in our eyes by the time this elder finished his remarks. We could not believe that anyone could be so loving and caring, especially a 20-year-old missionary. The decision was made to do as he requested. He found it exceedingly difficult at first, but slowly his junior companion learned a great deal from him and became a trustworthy missionary. When the senior companion went home, his companion stayed to finish his mission, becoming in time a senior companion and a trainer before he was honorably released. The follow-up to this true experience is that this once-wayward elder has since married and been sealed in the temple. He and his wife now have a son. They are active in the Church and are helping to build the kingdom. What a difference a consecrated, Christlike person made in the life of this missionary and his future family!

There are living, breathing pioneers in French Polynesia. For Lianna Tarahu, 14, of Hapiti, she needs look no further than her grandparents. They joined the Church many years ago and remember with fondness Elder John Fuhriman, the missionary who taught them.
Because of her grandparents, Lianna is the third generation in her family to be active. But Lianna, just like everyone, has to gain her own testimony.
“First of all, I was very blessed to be raised in the Church. My parents taught me all of my life the principles of the gospel. We have studied the scriptures together,” said Lianna. “There wasn’t a particular moment or one experience, but many things through the years that have helped my testimony grow little by little. Now I attend seminary and am learning a lot of wonderful things about the gospel. Because of seminary, when I serve a mission I will be much better prepared.”
Lianna is very serious about a mission. She said her favorite scripture is 1 Nephi 3:7 when Nephi promises to go and do the things the Lord commands. [1 Ne. 3:7] Lianna says, “This promise is one I make also.” When asked what she will do if she is called to a faraway place, Lianna hesitates. She is the oldest of 11 brothers and sisters. She will miss her many family members and they will miss her. She says, “It would make no difference. If the Lord calls me to America, to London, or to Bora Bora, I will serve.”
Taped in the front of Lianna’s scriptures is a copy of the standards booklet For the Strength of Youth. Of course, her copy is in French, so it’s called Soyez Fort, “Be Strong.” She looks at it often.
Is it difficult for her to follow the standards? Lianna gives one example. “It is very hot here, but we are told to be modest and wear dresses and blouses with sleeves,” Lianna says. “Sometimes it is difficult, but the standards are good and protect us. We learn about dating and courtesy and many things we need to know to be Saints.”

On October 27, 2021, I fell on my morning walk and broke my shoulder. Three days after spending hours in the ER, my husband and I contracted COVID-19, and I became very ill and had to be hospitalized. There were serious complications that resulted in my body going into septic shock and renal failure.
After four months of ICU stays, intubation, surgeries, dialysis, and rehabilitation, I finally was able to come home.
One of the most spiritual events during this incredible journey was three days before I was first intubated. I could tell I was having trouble filling my lungs. Curiously, I got the idea to sing.
I now see that the Holy Ghost was teaching me, before I entered the deep pit of three months of health problems and hospital stays, to praise God in the hard thing. I had often marveled how Nephi was able to praise God while tied to the mast of a ship (see 1 Nephi 18:9–16) or how Joseph in Egypt could praise God for years as a slave or prisoner (see Genesis 39–41). I could understand being grateful for delivery from trials and lessons after the fact, but how do you praise God in the middle of the hard thing?
That night I found a recording of The Tabernacle Choir on YouTube, from when my husband was a member of the choir, and sang these words with them:
Come to us we pray,
Receive our love,
Behold our joy,
And bless our praising.1
I probably sang that song 15 times that night, one of the most sacred nights I’ve ever experienced. Looking back, I know the Lord was helping me build the ark for the coming flood (see Genesis 6–8) and teaching me a lesson I would need and use for eternity.
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught that the refining process—who we become in the trial—is definitely a blessing. But the greater blessing is better knowing our beloved Father, His Son, and the Holy Ghost. Elder Christofferson promised, “We can anticipate a growing trust and faith in the Father and the Son, an increasing sense of Their love, and the consistent comfort and guidance of the Holy Spirit.”2
All three of those promises were realized in this challenging time in my life:
I now trust Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost more than I did before these health challenges. Elder Christofferson counseled: “Allow Them over time to manifest Their fidelity to you. Come truly to know Them and truly to know yourself [see 1 Corinthians 13:12].”3
My prayers became constant, with no formal beginnings or endings—just an endless conversation with my beloved Father in Heaven.
My life was spared so I could witness that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are always with us. Their tutelage during this earthly experience is profoundly personal and intimate. They will leave nothing undone for our good. They were with me every single moment of this unusual trial of facing death, losing all my strength, and relearning every single thing my body once knew how to do effortlessly. My prayers became constant, with no formal beginnings or endings—just an endless conversation with my beloved Father in Heaven, who created me to have this experience so I could learn to trust Him and love Him better.
Depiction of Jesus healing a woman by Mason Coberly
It can be difficult to imagine that adversity, especially pain, is a manifestation of God’s love. But I was spared to witness that God loves us so much, He allows the conditions of the Fall, our own agency, and the agency of others to provide learning opportunities in a world of opposition. We could receive these valuable lessons in no other way.
The most loving instructions I received in the darkest days of complete helplessness were these three words: “Be here now.” I came to recognize that Father didn’t want me to dwell on the “what ifs” or “if onlys” of the past. Nor did He want me to become overwhelmed at the seemingly impossible milestones still ahead of me.
The most loving instructions I received in the darkest days of complete helplessness were these three words: “Be here now.”
The instruction to be here now taught me two valuable lessons: I learned to truly experience all the wretchedness of the experience so I could witness forever that I wasn’t in that place alone. I was succored and supported by Jesus Christ because of His atoning sacrifice.
Even more sacred to me, I learned that if I had wished away that sacred place of here and now, I would miss out on the opportunity He gave me to be here now with Him and to fully be there with the knowledge that in addition to atoning for my sins, His suffering also made it possible for Him to understand my pains and my sickness (see Alma 7:11–12).
Learning to be here now is what has taught me that He truly wants to always be here—with me. Because I sought Him in the wretchedness of that place, I found Him there.
Recognizing the consistent comfort and guidance of the Holy Ghost has always been one of the most tender evidences of God’s love for me. I’ve always felt profound gratitude for the personal guidance I receive from the Holy Ghost. Because of my illness, I had to relearn to do the most simple tasks, and going through that process meant learning to listen in new, important ways. The Holy Ghost helped me with everything from not eating too fast or taking too big a bite when I was relearning to eat to learning whether to push my limit or back off when relearning how to sit or stand up.
The Holy Ghost also taught me to focus on my caregivers rather than my own pain and discomfort. I was regularly prompted to say, “Tell me your story.” The Holy Ghost taught me of the heroism of these hardworking, overworked angels and instructed me to testify to them of God’s love for them and to acknowledge their nobility. Focusing on something besides my own miserable condition was important training to think of others before myself when my personal needs were so huge.
The Holy Ghost also taught me to focus on my caregivers rather than my own pain and discomfort.
God’s love is evident in the lessons learned in each of our personalized curriculums and His unfailing companionship through them.
The most important lesson I learned was to praise Him: to acknowledge unceasingly that He is good; that He has all knowledge, love, light, and power; and that His perfect plan has power to save His children. I rejoice in being a part of it.
Praise is more than gratitude. It implies trust, a sense of God’s love for us personally, and an acknowledgement of His consistent comfort and guidance. Praise saved me from despair.
Elder Christofferson concludes his talk: “In the end, it is the blessing of a close and abiding relationship with the Father and the Son that we seek. It makes all the difference and is everlastingly worth the cost.”4
Francis Webster, a survivor of the Martin handcart company, expressed it perfectly: “The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay.”5 I am a witness: it is a privilege indeed.
The image of praise in the hymn “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” expresses my joy that God is my Father, that Jesus Christ is my Savior and Redeemer, and that the Holy Ghost is my teacher and testator—that these three are indeed my truest, most unfailing and faithful Friends.
Finish then, thy new creation; true and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in thee.
Changed from glory into glory, till in heav’n we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love and praise.”6
This beautiful hymn is referencing Revelation 4:10–11:
“The [faithful] fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying,
“Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou has created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.”
We receive those crowns by virtue of the perfect obedience and generosity of Jesus Christ. He shared His earned inheritance with us, who could never earn it without Him. How fitting that we should cast those crowns at His feet, in eternal praise for His goodness and the goodness of our great Father, who would allow that perfect Son to suffer all our hard things with us so that He could share celestial glory with us.
I was spared to witness that I’ve learned these things by the power of the Holy Ghost. For this priceless knowledge, I praise the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
The author lives in Utah.

I would like to share with you a personal experience. When I served as bishop many years ago, a fine young man in our ward had fallen in love before being called to serve his mission. He made it known that he was going to get married and would not be available for missionary service. I worried how I was going to approach this young man because I felt an urgency as his bishop to see that he served our Father in Heaven as a missionary. When I invited Doug into my office, I approached him in a different way than I had ever approached a prospective missionary. I was prompted to say, “Doug, the Lord wants you to serve a mission.” Doug said he was not going to serve a mission because he was going to be married. I asked him to get together with his sweetheart and his parents and to fast and to pray. I asked him to come back within a week and tell me what he was going to do about the fact that he had been called to serve the Lord.
One week later, with a great deal of emotion, Doug said to me, “Bishop, we did what you asked us to do. I cannot ignore a call from the Lord. I desire to serve. How do I proceed?” Doug served his mission. In fact, he served as a counselor to his mission president. Upon returning, he married his sweetheart. She waited for him—that is not always the case, and it may not always be best that they do—but in Doug’s case it worked out. He has since served as a bishop and presently serves as the first counselor in his stake presidency. His mission was one of the most important training periods of his life.

Also, my father was very responsive. He found that President Layton, who was beginning to get rather old and feeble, didn’t have the help to do the things he needed to do, and he had a big orchard. So Father gathered all of us children up, with all the buckets and pans, and with the consent and approval of President Layton we all went down to his orchard and picked fruit on shares. There was a large family of the Laytons and there was a large family of us. We divided the pickings from the orchard and went forward with our program. My dear mother knew how to make ends meet. We had a pantry and that pantry was always filled with bottled fruits and everything else you could think of that was available at the time.

In Ghana the field was also ready to harvest, due mainly to another Elias, Joseph William Billy Johnson, a preacher who obtained a Book of Mormon in 1964. He said:

"As I read the Book of Mormon I became convinced that it was really the word of God, and sometimes while reading I would burst into tears. I felt the Spirit as I read. I have a strong testimony [of] the Book of Mormon. It is a very powerful book!" Brother Johnson also knew that the Lord called him to be an Elias. He said:

Brother Johnson reported that he was strengthened and taught by dreams and visions, including instructions from the Prophet Joseph Smith and President Brigham Young. He later demonstrated his gratitude when his son was born, who today may be the only young man in Ghana named Brigham. On another occasion, when he was very discouraged his deceased brother appeared to him in a dream, and said: "Don't worry, you have chosen the only true church on earth and I am now investigating your church." I was surprised. I never knew that the church extended to another world. It was my brother who brought that knowledge to me. He said that if I didn't believe him, he would sing a song from my church, and he sang Come, Come Ye Saints. That was the first time I had heard that hymn. He said, "Don't leave the church my brother. Please see that I am baptized." Brother Johnson then noted: "It was my brother who enlightened me about baptism for the dead and brought it to my knowledge. Most of my relatives appeared to me in dreams [saying] "Reverend Johnson, do you know you have a work to do for us? Our great grandsons and daughters will be in your church soon. See that we are baptized."

"I learned these doctrines before the missionaries arrived. Nothing they taught us seemed strange. They simply confirmed what we had heard." For fourteen long years Brother Johnson helped organize ten congregations with over a thousand followers. He noted that in his dreams the Lord referred to his followers as Latter-day Saints, even though they were not yet members. Brother Johnson identified the name of the church by placing prominent signs in front of the buildings they used for worship.

Two years ago while filming Brother Johnson's story in Ghana, I walked with him through a dilapidated building that he had used twenty-five years earlier as a church meeting house. I noticed that the roof was patched with boards to keep out the rain, but my attention was drawn to one particularly colorful board. As I pointed it out to Brother Johnson, he gasped in surprise. It was part of the sign that stood in front of the building identifying the name of the church. It will be given to the Church History Museum as a treasured artifact from the pioneer period of Ghana.

One night at midnight, after many lonely years of struggle, Brother Johnson heard a short-wave news broadcast from England that announced that blacks could now receive the priesthood. He burst into tears of joy, knowing that the Church would now come to Africa. Following his baptism Brother Johnson served as Ghana's first branch president and later served several missions. Twelve years after his baptism he was ordained a patriarch.

Recently, the young women in our ward participated in an activity called “Adopt a Sister” to become better acquainted with the Relief Society sisters in our ward. I know my time in Young Women is not going to last forever, so I was looking forward to participating in this activity. Having a few friends in Relief Society would make me feel more welcome.
As the young women were paired with Relief Society sisters, I listened for a familiar name but did not hear any. My assigned sister was Sister Lemler, a total stranger to me.
We were told to get to know our sisters before an upcoming dinner that was to be held in their honor. At first I was really nervous to call Sister Lemler; I wondered if she would like me. I finally summoned the courage to dial her number. Through a few phone conversations, I learned that she was a really nice person, more similar to me than not. When Sister Lemler was a teenager, things were quite different. I learned she had to wear skirts and dresses to school.
When we were given the assignment to become better acquainted with our Relief Society sisters, my sister, Carolyn, and my friend, Stephanie, and I wanted to visit them. At first I was unable to arrange a time to visit Sister Lemler since she has a full-time job, so I decided to go with Carolyn and Stephanie to visit their sisters. We wanted to bring them something to let them know we cared, so we decided to make them each a small refrigerator magnet—a red heart with a meaningful thought written on it.
When we delivered our hearts and visited with these wonderful sisters, we asked questions like “What was your high school like?” and “What jobs have you had?”
Carolyn’s adopted Relief Society sister, Sister Hinkle, was a retired high school teacher. Stephanie’s adopted Relief Society sister, Sister Pusey, has an interesting job writing books, helping others to find their lost family members, and working with adoptions.
A couple of weeks later, all the young women in the ward prepared a nice dinner for our Relief Society sisters. The room was filled with interesting conversations and laughter. Our Relief Society sisters shared their experiences and travels, and we young women shared our hobbies and interests. Now when I see these sisters during church, they are no longer unfamiliar faces. They are my friends. I look forward to knowing all the sisters in Relief Society, who will become my friends.

A few days after I arrived in Taiwan, I met Mickey Chang, a young man who had recently been been baptized. I shall never forget his coming to me to ask that I share something from the Book of Mormon. He wanted to know more about it. He wanted to read it. Once when we talked, Mickey cried while trying to express how difficult it was to have a testimony of the Book of Mormon without being able to read it. I began with increased understanding to plead with the Lord to make possible the sharing of the fulness of the gospel with every nation, kindred, tongue, and people.

“Ah, summertime!” Jim said to himself, stretching his lanky arms high above his head as he yawned his best thank-goodness-school’s-out-now-I-can-take-it-easy-I-love-summer-but-I’m-getting-bored-already yawn. He had been on vacation for two days. Most of his friends had left town with their families on vacations or already had summer jobs, and Jim wanted to work, too. But he was worried. He was 17, and that can be a tough age to find employment.
Across town, Tom was knocking on doors, again. He’d been at it not just since 8 A.M., but since March. “How is a 15-year-old supposed to get a job?” he asked himself. “Everyone I talk to tells me they have to give the work to the older kids. What am I supposed to do?”
Tom and Jim walked down the same sidewalk, saw the same “help wanted” sign, walked into the same office, and waited for the same man. When he came, he gave them both the same answer—the position had been filled an hour ago by a college student home for the summer.
The two frustrated job hunters sat next to each other on the curb outside.
“There’s got to be a way to get around this,” Tom exclaimed. “Too bad we can’t go into business for ourselves.”
“That’s it!” Jim jumped up. “We’ll dig up our own jobs. There’s got to be something other people don’t want to do, if we think about it hard enough … something like emptying garbage cans.”
“Oh, come on!” Tom said.
“No, really. Look, if we both worked together, we could get all the neighbors around your house, and all the neighbors around my house. We’d carry their trash cans out for them the night before the garbage man comes. Then we could come around the next day and wash all the cans out. If we kept everything clean and if we were really dependable, people would hire us to do it.”
“Maybe you’re right. My cousin used to make sack lunches for her dad. He rode to work in a car pool, and the other men liked his lunches—she always put a little extra treat inside or wrote him a note. Pretty soon she was making lunches for everyone in the car pool, and they each paid her. Maybe we could do something like that,” Tom said. He was starting to catch Jim’s excitement, but Jim issued a friendly word of caution.
“We might have to get a license if we start a restaurant business,” he grinned.
“Even for a lemonade stand?” Tom shot back. They both laughed.

The alarm jangled while I groped through the darkness to shut it off. Even at that early hour, I jumped out of bed with anticipation. I was eager to join my friends on a hike up Timpanogos, a large, snowcapped mountain which overlooks Provo in Utah Valley.
The hike followed steep switchback trails, then a climb up a sloped snowfield near a sheer drop-off and a slide down a glacier. The reward was a well-earned picnic by the crystal waters of the tiny lake fed by the glacier’s runoff.
My mother got up early with me and graciously fixed breakfast, packed my lunch, and fussed around making sure I was properly prepared.
Eager to be off, I was a little impatient when she asked me to come back to the bedroom with her. I think I even rolled my eyes a little when she knelt by the bed and invited me to join her. At 14, that sort of thing can seem sort of sappy. But I truly did love my mother with that prickly heart of mine and was secretly pleased by her concern.
She gave a simple but beautiful prayer asking the Lord for my safety and protection that day. It touched that sometimes rebellious heart of mine. Embarrassed to show my feelings, I ducked my head and wiped at my eyes.
I hiked that day with a glow in my soul. I had been reminded what a special mother I had.
On our way back down the mountain, someone in our group decided it would be much faster to take shortcuts between the switchbacks, even though we had been warned not to do so at the beginning of the day. We all followed like sheep.
Midway between the trails, someone above me started a small rock slide. Pebbles and stones and a few larger rocks showered down around us. Then, as if in slow motion, I saw one fist-sized rock knock sharply against the shoulder of the boy just above me. The rock bounced around me, then catapulted to strike the girl in front of me right in the back of her head. A gash was opened and began bleeding profusely as head wounds do.
Slipping and sliding down to the next trail, my friend was helped by a fellow hiker who donated his handkerchief and first-aid skills. Careful now to abide by the hiking rules, we eventually made it down the mountain and home.
I’ve never forgotten that day my mother knelt with me, and I believe I was spared injury because of her prayer. Deep down I knew she loved me, but since becoming a teenager, I’d lost communication with her. I’d become independent, “prickly sensitive,” and sometimes difficult to get along with. I was finding it harder to feel my mother’s love. But on that clear morning a strong bond was forged between us by prayer. It made all the difference then and later to know my mother was praying for me.

A short time ago little Ruby was born into our family. As I looked into her sweet face, I marveled at the knowledge that before she came to earth, she lived in the presence of our Heavenly Father. She had accepted His great plan of happiness and chose to follow Him and Jesus Christ, our Savior. Because of her decision, she was permitted to come to earth to experience mortality and progress toward eternal life. With her spirit united with her body, Ruby has entered a time of learning in which she can prove herself, choose to follow Christ, and prepare to be worthy of eternal life.
Ruby came to this earth pure, but as part of the plan, she will face trials and temptations and she will make mistakes. Through our Savior’s Atonement, however, Ruby can be forgiven, receive a fulness of joy, and be pure again—ready to live forever in the presence of our Heavenly Father.
A few hours after her birth, I was privileged to hold this precious child in my arms. I said to her mother, "Oh, we have to teach Ruby how to be a virtuous woman, pure and priceless as her name implies."
Her mother replied, "I am starting today."

Boo found Daddy’s toolbox and took out a big hammer. She pounded with the hammer—Bang! Bang! Bang! But Daddy took the hammer away. “No, no, Boo,” Daddy said. “Those are my things.”
Boo is a little girl, bouncy when she walks, giggly when she talks. Boo is busy! She is busy learning about everything—where she can play and where she can’t, what she should do and what she shouldn’t.
In Big Sister’s room Boo wanted to climb up to the mirror and put colors on her face! But Big Sister scooped her off the chair. “No, no, Boo,” Big Sister said. “Those are my things.”
When Boo wanted to poke the shiny needle from Mommy’s sewing basket into the bright cloth or to cut with the sharp scissors, Mommy put the sewing basket up on a high shelf. “No, no, Boo,” Mommy said. “Those are my things.”
Boo tried to dip a paintbrush into Big Brother’s paint box so she could dab and dribble the paint. But Big Brother took the brush away before the dribble dropped. “No, no, Boo,” he said. “Those are my things.”
Boo was sad. She sat in a corner. She didn’t feel bouncy. She didn’t feel giggly. She didn’t have anything to keep her busy.
Mommy looked at Daddy. Big Sister looked at Big Brother. The next day Big Sister played ball with Boo. Then they played dolls. Big Sister read lots of stories to Boo. Boo was busy!
Boo was so busy that she didn’t hear Daddy pounding. She didn’t see Mommy sewing or Big Brother painting.
In the morning they all said, “Come with us, Boo. We’re going to the Yes-Yes Place.”
The Yes-Yes Place was a playhouse. Daddy had built it. Big Brother had painted it. Mommy had sewed the curtains and made the little furniture. And it was all for Boo.
Boo sat in the little chair and looked in the little mirror and put little-girl makeup colors on her face. She pounded with her rubber hammer. She cut bright cloth with her safe scissors. She painted with her jars of finger paint. And no one said, “No, no!”

Sugar Creek was the first camp the pioneers made after they left their warm, comfortable homes in Nauvoo. Within two weeks it was filled with five thousand people, who were waiting for the signal from Brigham Young before going forward on their journey “out west.”
To Tommy and Betsy it was like living in a city, for the tents and wagons were placed along streets as their houses had been in Nauvoo. Between each was a space roofed over with brush to protect it from the weather. There the meals were prepared, and there the children played.
In the center of the camp was a big square, something like a park. On one side of it Tommy and Betsy lived in their covered wagon. Anytime during the day or night they could look out onto the square and see campfires burning and people standing nearby trying to get warm.
One morning, very early, Tommy saw Brigham Young on a wagon box in the center of the square. A moment later his voice boomed out over the camp like a giant cannon: “Attention, Camp of Israel!” And Tommy knew that within minutes everyone in camp would come to the square to hear what Brigham Young would say.
“I hope he tells us that it is time to move on out west,” said Tommy.
“I hope so, too,” said Mother.
But Brigham Young said nothing about going out west. Instead, he said that during the past few days eight hundred men had arrived at Sugar Creek without enough food to last a week, and he asked those who had food to divide with those in need. He promised that if the Saints would do this, the Lord would bless them with all the food they needed.
President Young urged the men to go to the towns on the north and on the south to ask for work building roads, building bridges, or putting up fences; he also suggested that pay be made in food. He reported that featherbeds, watches, dishes, shawls, silverware, and furniture could be traded for corn and wheat.
Tommy and Betsy were especially interested when he told the children they could help by gathering willows from the creek bed to weave into bushel and half-bushel baskets that could be traded for food.
Immediately following Brigham Young’s “Amen,” and even before there was talking or moving around, the people heard the faraway sound of a bell ringing.
“It’s the bell in the temple tower at Nauvoo,” Tommy whispered to Betsy, and to him it was as if the Lord were giving his own “Amen” to the words his prophet had spoken. In the quiet of his own heart, Tommy promised that he would try to do all Brigham Young wanted him to do.
When the meeting was over, Tommy’s father gathered his family around him and said, “We’re beginning a long journey. We’re not even sure where it will end. We only know that the Lord will lead us there. We know also that all we’ll have is what we take with us. Now the problem is, shall we give the food we brought with us to those in need, or shall we save it for ourselves so we can be sure of having enough?”
Tommy remembered the quiet promise he had made. “President Young has asked us to share,” he said, “and I think that is what the Lord wants us to do.”
“I know the Lord will help us get more when we need it,” added Betsy.
Tommy’s father smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “We can’t blame the Saints for coming here without enough food. No one was really ready to leave Nauvoo now, for everyone expected not to leave until spring. Some had money to buy food and equipment, but most of them didn’t, so they had to trade their farms and houses for whatever they could get for them. Brother Johnson, for example, traded his house for only a covered wagon and a yoke of oxen. There was no money to buy food, so they just brought what they had, and I’m sure it will be gone in a few days.”
“He’ll go to a nearby town to find work to buy food,” added mother.
“Are you going, Father?” asked Tommy.
“Yes, Brother Johnson and I are going together,” Father answered. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You can take my silver spoons with you,” Mother offered. “I think you can trade them for a wagonload of corn to keep our animals alive and strong until the grass starts to grow.”
“You can take our featherbed,” said Betsy. “I know someone will want that.”
“I’ll gather willows in the creek bed and weave them into baskets, like President Young asked us to do,” said Tommy.
All were so interested in listening to each other that no one noticed Sister Johnson, who had been standing just outside of the covered wagon. They were surprised when she spoke. “You can take my shawl,” she said quietly, “and the little sugar bowl my grandmother gave me.”
As she brought the items inside the wagon, she teetered as if she were going to fall. Tommy’s father jumped off the wagon to help her. “Are you ill?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, “but I am hungry. We haven’t had much to eat the last two days.”
Tommy’s mother hurried to help Sister Johnson lie down. “Munch on this sea biscuit,” she insisted, “while I fix you some hot mush.”
Later Tommy and Betsy and their father went back with Sister Johnson to her wagon. Tommy carried some potatoes, his father some flour, and Betsy a pail of milk.
As she carried the milk, Betsy thought of her kitten she had left in Nauvoo. In her mind she again heard her mother ask, “You wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry just so you could have you kitten along, would you?”
Betsy smiled and said, “No,” very quietly to herself. And this time she meant it for sure!

“They expelled me from school because I’m a Mormon,” said seven-year-old Raúl Aquino Gonzales. That may seem like a big price for one so young to pay. But Raúl doesn’t think so—even though he was happy at the school, had lots of friends there, and loved his teacher.
Raúl was a first grader in a religious school in a small town in Paraguay—and was the only Latter-day Saint in the school. One day, he said, “People started criticizing the Church without knowing anything about it. They were saying things that aren’t so.” Raúl—a likable, outgoing boy—felt he couldn’t just sit there without saying anything. “I tried to defend the Church by telling them they were wrong,” he explained. “I was expelled because I wouldn’t conform.”
Now Raúl, still a first grader, is enrolled in a different school. “I’ve already told the people at the new school that I’m a Mormon,” he said. And with a grin, he added: “But they didn’t expel me!” His best friend in his new class is also a member of the Church.

My family and I were spending a day at the Japan Alps National Park, surrounded by the mountains of the North Alps. My children were running around excitedly. I was pregnant with our fourth child and was feeling rather tired, so I lay down under the trees. Looking up at the blue, cloudless sky, I began thinking about our financial problems. My heart became overwhelmed, and I burst into tears. “Lord, we are full-tithe payers. We have sacrificed so much. When will the windows of heaven open unto us and our burdens be lightened?”
I prayed with all my heart. Then I turned to watch my husband and children playing and laughing together. The scene looked so peaceful and beautiful to me. Suddenly, the Spirit testified to me that my blessings were abundant and that my family was the greatest blessing Heavenly Father could give me.

Many years ago, our four-year-old son was involved in a serious accident away from home. When he was well enough to be transferred to a local hospital, we found a letter through our door from a dear sister in our ward listing who would bring meals on which days, who would collect our other children to and from school, and who would do our laundry, etc. A few days later my wife was also in hospital giving birth to our youngest son. With her in one end of the hospital, our son in the other end of the hospital and four other children to care for, this sister anticipating our needs and reaching out was so, so much, appreciated over those six difficult weeks.

I still vividly remember my first meeting five years ago with Elder Richard L. Evans. I had called his office concerning a matter on which the Improvement Era staff had raised several serious questions. Our managing editor, Doyle L. Green, was in Europe on a major Era assignment; and I, a new staff member of only six months, had been left with instructions to see Elder Evans in case of an urgent problem.
On reaching his office, and after a minute’s wait, I was ushered in by a secretary. My first glimpse remains unforgettable. On his desk were three or four nearly foot-high piles of files and folders. Galley proofs for several Church manuals were spread out across the center of his desk. Behind it, left leg tucked under him (apparently one of his special ways of resting leg muscles during long ten-to-twelve-hour days at his office), in a chair swiveled to one side sat Elder Evans. With his lap piled full of correspondence, he was softly and deliberately voicing replies into a dictaphone. Another table with books and folders neatly lumped on its surface stood behind him. A very large dictionary, with protruding pencil underneath several overturned pages, lay open on its stand to his side. The complete left wall of his office seemed lined with books.
Before me sat a handsomely graying sixty-year-old man of slight yet dignified physique who had been making important editorial decisions for nearly forty years. Surely I was in the right place for an answer. As a twenty-one-year-old missionary, he had been associate editor of Great Britain’s respected mission publication, the Millennial Star. While walking down a Salt Lake City street after returning home, he decided on the moment to seek employment at KSL radio station. They hired him, and four years later he was named one of America’s best radio announcers.
At twenty-four years of age he began his great career as Tabernacle Choir commentator and author of his own “Spoken Word.” Six years later, the call came to be managing editor of the Improvement Era. Since that time he continued to grow in editorial stature. He authored numerous books, became a world-famous personality, was called at age thirty-two to the First Council of the Seventy and then at age forty-seven to the Council of the Twelve (in both quorums he was their youngest member when appointed). Wherever he went and whatever he did, his name only continued to rise higher and higher. Certainly this man could solve our little problem.
After he finished the letter he was dictating, he turned and said, “Please sit down and tell me what’s come up.” I did, and then as he leaned back in his chair he concurred about the seriousness of the problem. After talking about it for a few minutes, he came around from behind his desk, sat down beside me, and started to ask questions: “What do you think would happen if we did such-and-such?” I would respond, and then he’d ask, “What do you think if we did something else?” And so it went, until half a dozen possible courses were discussed.
Then he stood up and said, “I’m glad you came over because, no fooling, this is a serious matter, and it has some delicate overtones. The Lord bless you in your decision.”
Stunned by his decision to not make a decision, or was it confidence in a new staff member’s ability to handle the matter, I walked in silence to the door, his arm on my shoulder. He opened the door and took my hand to say good-bye and slowly said, “This is a very delicate and serious matter. You’ll make a good decision.”
As I left, thinking about what to do, I couldn’t help but recall the Prophet Joseph Smith’s great statement that he taught correct principles and then left the Saints to govern themselves.

In my home ward growing up, Brother Smith (not his real name) was the choir director for as long as I can remember. It was not until years later that I learned that Brother Smith had a Word of Wisdom problem that he never completely overcame. I am grateful to the members of our ward who made room for Brother Smith in the inn. I am also grateful to Brother Smith, who came to church and served despite his weakness. We, like the members of my home ward, should do our best to welcome all of God’s children at the inn. Most importantly, we should see ourselves as always welcome at the inn.

In Athens, Greece, Ismena downsized by moving into the grandparent apartment in her home after her husband passed away. She gave the main house to her daughter, Helena, and her family. “It makes more sense for the growing family to have the larger place,” Ismena says. “I asked my sister Delphine to live with me, and we love caring for the grandchildren while Helena and her husband are at work. Many nights we have dinner and scripture study with everyone.”

Just twenty-four hours after my call as an Apostle last June, I left for a Church assignment in southern California where, in due course, I found myself standing by the bedsides of Debbie, Tanya, and Liza Avila. These three lovely sisters, aged thirty-three, thirty-two, and twenty-three, respectively, each developed muscular dystrophy at age seven. Since that tender age, each has had her rendezvous with pneumonia and tracheotomies, with neuropathy and leg braces. Then came wheelchairs, respirators, and, finally, total immobility.
Enduring the longest period of immobility of the three sisters, Tanya has been on her back for seventeen years, having never moved from her bed during that period of time. Never once in seventeen years has she seen the sun rise or set or felt the rain upon her face. Never once in seventeen years has she picked a flower or chased a rainbow or watched a bird in flight. For a lesser number of years, Debbie and Liza have also now lived with those same physical restrictions. Yet somehow through it all, these sisters have not only endured, they have triumphed—earning Young Women personal achievement awards, graduating from high school (including seminary), completing university correspondence courses, and reading the standard works over and over and over again.
But there has been one other abiding ambition these remarkable women were determined to see fulfilled. They rightly saw themselves as daughters of the covenant, offspring of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Rachel. They vowed that somehow, some way, someday they would go to the house of the Lord to claim those eternal promises. And now even that has been accomplished. “It was the most thrilling and fulfilling day of my life,” Debbie said. “I truly felt I was home. Everyone was so gracious and helpful with the innumerable and seemingly insurmountable arrangements that had to be made. Never in my life have I felt more loved and accepted.”
Of her experience, Tanya said: “The temple is the only place I have ever been where I felt truly whole. I have always felt I was a daughter of God, but only in the temple did I understand what that truly meant. The fact that I went through the experience lying horizontally with a respirator took absolutely nothing away from this sacred experience.”
Elder Douglas Callister, who, along with the presidency and workers in the Los Angeles Temple, assisted these sisters in making their dream come true, said to me, “There they were, dressed in white, long black hair falling down nearly to the floor from their horizontal position, eyes filled with tears, unable to move their hands or any other part of the body except their heads, savoring, absorbing, cherishing every word, every moment, every aspect of the temple endowment.” Debbie would later say of the experience, “I now know what it will be like to be resurrected, surrounded by heavenly angels, and in the presence of God.”