Gospel Story Finder

Kari’s family knelt by the couch for family prayer. Everyone reverently folded their arms. Papa asked Kari’s little sister, Liv, to pray.
“Don’t forget to thank Heavenly Father for our many blessings,” Papa reminded her.
“And don’t forget to pray for Erik,” Mama added. Mama always reminded them to pray for Erik.
Erik was Kari’s older brother. Before he left for university, he and Kari were best friends. She really missed all the fun things they used to do together.
Then a few months ago, Erik told Mama and Papa that he didn’t want to be a member of the Church anymore.
Kari and her family were surprised and sad. They started praying for Erik every night. Sometimes they prayed that he would feel the Holy Ghost and want to go back to church. Papa prayed that Erik’s mind would be clear to make good choices. Mama often prayed that somebody he trusted could help him find the right path. After all of their prayers, Kari couldn’t help feeling a little angry. Why hadn’t Heavenly Father brought Erik back to church?
Finally, just as Liv had opened her mouth to pray, Kari couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why hasn’t Heavenly Father answered our prayers?” she blurted out. Everyone looked at Kari in surprise, but she was too upset to care. For a minute nobody said anything.
“Kari,” said Papa, “when you got home from school today, did you put your backpack away?”
“Huh?” Kari asked, confused. What did her backpack have to do with anything? She glanced at the front door and saw her backpack thrown against the wall instead of hung up beside Liv’s. “No … sorry.”
“Didn’t Mama remind you to hang it up?”
“Yes,” Kari answered. She looked down at her knees.
“Doesn’t Mama often remind you to hang up your backpack?”
“Yes,” Kari muttered. She still didn’t know what this had to do with anything. Wasn’t Papa taking her question seriously?
“I know that when we pray for Erik, Heavenly Father does answer our prayers—every time. The problem is that Erik may not be listening right now. Erik gets to choose whether he listens to the Holy Ghost, just like you choose whether to listen to Mama about your backpack. But do you think that you will always ignore Mama when she asks you to hang up your backpack?”
“No, I guess not,” said Kari.
“Someday she’ll listen!” Mama said, winking at Kari. Kari smiled.
“So maybe someday Erik will listen too?” Kari asked.
“Absolutely,” said Mama. “Listening to the Holy Ghost is a skill you have to develop. Maybe Erik hasn’t learned that skill yet.” Kari began to feel a little better.
They all bowed their heads while Liv said the prayer. She prayed that Erik would learn to listen to the Holy Ghost. While Liv was praying, Kari felt peaceful and warm. She knew that Heavenly Father was hearing their prayers. As Liv listed some of the ways their family had been blessed, Kari thought of another blessing to add to the list—she understood more about prayer now!
As the prayer ended, Kari knew that Heavenly Father hadn’t forgotten Erik. And Heavenly Father would never forget her either.

Plan an attention-getting introduction.The first two minutes of any lesson are critical. It is usually during these 120 seconds that class members decide whether or not they will devote their mental energy to the lesson. To introduce one Relief Society lesson, Roxana San Martín de Seguel of the Providencia Ward, Santiago Chile Las Condes Stake, passed a mirror around and asked the sisters to tell what they saw in it. “A face,” said one. “A daughter of God,” said another. The class members were instantly involved, and the lesson began with a wonderful spirit, Sister de Seguel recalls.

Kids were never my thing. I was the youngest in my family, had no experience with babies, and got scared when a toddler looked at me. So of course when I first got married, having kids was a life change I wasn’t too excited to make.
My husband was all for starting a family from day one, but I insisted that we wait. Those first couple months, “Let’s talk about it in a year” could have been my motto.
While this may not be the reason for everyone struggling with the decision to have kids, I knew what was holding me back: fear and selfishness, plain and simple. When I thought of being a mother, my mind wasn’t filled with cute smiles and sweet laughter. Instead, I thought of sleepless nights and limited free time. Not to mention pain and discomfort. I can still remember the first time I heard about giving birth. I decided then and there that I was going to adopt.
My entire life, I had felt uncomfortable around children, so when I thought of having my own, I couldn’t see how it was possible. How would I be able to give everything up for them?
The first eight or nine months of our marriage went by without much change. My husband had this running joke that anytime I asked, “Guess what?” he would reply, “You’re pregnant!” I’d roll my eyes and move on, with plenty of excuses as to why having children was not going to happen any time soon.
Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t feeling pressure to have children. My husband and I had conversations and agreed to take things one step at a time. But in my mind, having children wasn’t going to happen for a long while.
Even still, I knew that Heavenly Father knows more about how my life can and should turn out. Which is why, despite my firm conviction that having children should wait, I continued to pray about the decision both alone and with my husband. We told Heavenly Father our plan but admitted that we would accept a different plan if it was His will. That was an important step in the change of heart that slowly came over me.
That change didn’t happen all at once. In fact, I can’t really remember exactly when it started. But slowly, I had begun to be less averse to the idea of starting a family. I had begun to actually consider it, especially once my excuses were hitting their end. I had wanted to wait until I was done with school—I was about to graduate. I wanted us to know where we would be in the next year—my husband had received a job offer. Slowly but surely, things were starting to fall into place.
I thought it would be scary, running out of the excuses I had held onto for so long. And yet, that’s just it. I wasn’t scared. The fear that I had held inside of me for the past 10 years was no longer there. Or at least, it was accompanied by a peace strong enough to drown it out.
So by the time our first anniversary came around, I just didn’t have any reason to say no to starting a family anymore. The Lord had changed my heart and quieted my fears.
Later, a friend ask me how I knew it was the right time. I had to admit that it wasn’t through any grand feeling of courage or love for children, no burning of the heart. It was just through the absence of fear. It’s like God said to the early Latter-day Saints: “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:30). To me, my lack of fear was the answer from the Lord saying, “Yes, you’re ready.”
It was pretty exciting, that first time that I could finally laugh and say yes to my husband’s reply, “You’re pregnant!”
Photo illustration from Getty Images
Now here I am with a young baby in my arms. I’m still learning how to be a mom, and I still don’t know what to do around other people’s kids. But I know that no matter what shortcomings I may have when it comes to children, Heavenly Father is rooting for me. He prepared me for this time. I have felt His divine help, even through lingering feelings of doubt and fear. The sleepless nights and lack of free time are small sacrifices for the joy that has come to me and my family. I know that Heavenly Father is aware of our fears and our circumstances. And if we seek His help, He can help us overcome them and move forward in faith.

Recently I went to the bank to withdraw some money to pay my employees. Before the teller gave me my withdrawal, I asked him to change some 200-sol bills for some 50-sol bills. The teller changed the money for me, but I thought I saw him make a mistake as he counted the bills.

He gave me my 50-sol bills, and I stepped back to wait for my withdrawal. As I waited, I counted the money. I had given the teller 1,200 soles, but he gave me 2,200 soles in return—an extra thousand soles. At that moment I was tempted. I told myself that the bank had plenty of money. But I knew in my heart that the money wasn’t mine; I had to return it.

A few moments later the teller called me to complete my transaction. He counted my withdrawal, and as he handed me the money, he asked, “Anything else?”

“Yes,” I told him. “I gave you 1,200 soles to change into smaller bills, but you gave me 2,200 in return.”

I then handed him the 2,200 soles. With hands shaking, he counted the money twice. He could hardly believe what he saw. He looked at me and tried to speak, but he could only manage to utter twice, “Thank you so much.”

I left the bank happy. That week I was preparing a lesson for the young men in my ward on overcoming temptation. It was wonderful to be able to share with them my experience at the bank.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” some of them joked. “That was a thousand soles you gave back!”

“Happiness has no price,” I responded with a smile.

How grateful I am for this experience, which strengthened both my testimony and the testimonies of the young men regarding the importance of withstanding temptation.

For instance, James Moyle was a stonecutter in Plymouth, England, when he was baptized at the age of 17. Of that occasion he wrote: “I then covenanted with the Lord that I would serve Him through good and evil report. It was the turning point in my life, as it kept me from evil company” (in Gordon B. Hinckley, James Henry Moyle [1951], 18).

Notwithstanding his skill as a mason, he had little money. He borrowed from the Perpetual Emigration Fund and left England in 1854, sailed to America, crossed the plains, and almost immediately secured employment as a stonemason on the Lion House at $3 a day. He saved his money, and when he had $70, the amount of his indebtedness, he promptly repaid the Emigration Fund. He said, “I then considered that I was a free man” (Moyle, 24).

My neighbor came across the street and said, “Hey, guess what we’re doing for youth conference? We get to build two barns.”
I grunted. “Two barns? Thrill city. Whoever came up with that dumb idea? Youth conferences are supposed to be fun.”
“We’ll have fun working.”
“Get real,” I told him. “I have a hard time cleaning my room.”
Maybe the adults thought I was Laman or Lemuel at the next stake dance committee meeting. I asked them, “Whatever happened to white river rafting for youth conference? Do you really expect us to get up at 5:00 A.M. on the first three days of our summer vacation?” One of the girls on the committee decided she wouldn’t go as she’d wreck her fingernails. She threatened to organize something for her own ward. None of our complaining did any good. The stake youth leaders stuck to their plan.
A fierce hailstorm pelted Duvall, Washington, the night before the conference. “Bummer, now they’ll have to cancel our exciting barn building extravaganza,” I said sarcastically.
Miraculously, the weather cleared, and I found myself standing with 180 kids in carpenter aprons, pockets full of nails and wearing a T-shirt that read, “You Love Who You Serve.”
We were given the choice of helping to build a barn/shed or a barn/house. I picked the barn/shed. It sounded easier. We banged nails. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t awful. Ward Roney, the to-be-owner of the barn/shed was a sturdy man, weathered by long hours on the tractor. He told me his favorite sound was the belch a cow makes when she’s in a warm shed eating hay. His old shed blew down in a bad storm, and the insurance wouldn’t pay to replace it. He was either brave or foolish to let a bunch of teenagers build his shed. Surely he realized we’d never finish the huge thing. If we could do it, one observer noted, it’d be an Amish barn raising by Mormons for Catholics.
Brother Beecham, the builder in charge of our shed, held the American Homes world record for the fastest home framed. The old record stood at 36 hours, and Beecham’s crew accomplished it in four. I got a kick out of watching him stroll across thin high timbers like they were sidewalks. With the construction boom in Seattle, I knew Brother Beecham was passing up a lot of money to teach us.
Normally, when I work I look at my watch every five minutes. Before I knew it, the walls were up, and we were ready for a crane to position the giant trusses of the roof. But there was no crane. Instead of machine power, we’d use muscle power, and some of the muscles were mine. The ground crew strained to position one truss. Then three of us on the roof pulled up the point with a rope as the ground crew hoisted. We cheered when the truss was securely nailed into place. What a team. Up there, 30 feet off the ground, a great sense of brotherhood developed between the “roof crew.” It was great up there. It was fun. I really developed a closeness to all of them as we worked and sweat and hammered our thumbs hour after hour.
The first day some of the girls were afraid to hit the nails on the head. By the second day they were mean. They’d developed aim and aggression in their hammering. Unfortunately, the girls used their new skills on the boys at the pie eating contest, which turned into a pie throwing war.
Meanwhile the people at the barn/house site made decent progress on the first floor. They were laboring for an LDS family of eight who’d used their savings to drill a well that turned out to be dry. The Dazey family was packed into a small trailer. They’d obtained a small, portable sawmill and cut logs into lumber. Building their barn/house was a dream come true. One of my friends who worked on the site said, “We were digging a ditch for the septic system. After a few hours, it got to where I started taking pride in the ditch and I thought the straight sides were kind of pretty. I’ve never felt that way about a ditch before.”
I added a word to the theme, “You Love Who You Serve.” I thought it should also say, “You Love Who You Serve With.” I didn’t know 75 percent of the people the first morning. We’d lived in the same stake for years and never spoken to each other. On a construction site, you have no choice. You have to say to the person next to you, “Grab the end of that board.” “Watch your head!” “Help me nail this down.” And people were great. If you asked them for an 18-foot board they got it. True, the physical structures were impressive, but even better were the structures built between each other.
There were lag times when there was no work for me, and I thought I’d have fun if I had nothing to do. But I really amazed myself. It got so I wanted to work.
Mr. Roney told us the quality of our work was A-1, top-notch. The look on his face as this place went up taught me I’m happiest when making someone else happy.
It appeared that there was no way we could finish two such big projects in just three days. We poured on the steam. At first a few people hung around the first-aid station and in the hay, drinking pop. But even the “resters” helped when the TV and newspaper reporters came out with their cameras. We wanted to work through dinner, but after a half hour, the adults made us come down. Funny, I’ve never refused food before. Dusk was stealing precious light. There were just a few things left to do. Thirty of us stayed to finish instead of going back to the city to clean up for the dance.
That evening we had a victory celebration! We danced in a barn we had built, and it didn’t fall down. After seeing each other at our worst for three days, our appearance mattered very little. The last day we had a testimony meeting in the barn/house, and 200 people sat on benches on the top floor. The sun streamed into the room, bathing everyone in the warm blond reflection of new wood. I thought, “We built this; we really did it.” We had saved the Dazey’s and Roney’s more than $20,000.00 in labor costs.
When the sacrament came to me, I thought of Jesus Christ in a whole new way. He was a carpenter. I remembered working along with my friends and feeling something. I glanced around. It wasn’t just my friends; the Savior was there too.
When I’m 82 I’m going to take my grandkids out to Duvall, Washington. I’ll hobble out to “my barn” and whap it good and hard with my cane to demonstrate how sturdy it is. And I’ll say, “This is the barn my friends and I built at youth conference in 1986. I don’t know what’s wrong with these young whippersnappers today. Why don’t they do something worthwhile?”
Following the barn raising, we asked ourselves, “What made the difference? Why did this youth conference work when other years we came up short? Why did one of our young men feel confident enough to build a shed for his grandfather? Why did the stake dance committee youth say, “Let’s do the same thing next year!” Why had we spent so much in previous years when this year’s costs were cut by one-half? Here are a few guidelines we followed that we feel made the difference.
1. Prayerfully decide on an activity.
In the beginning, a counselor in the stake Young Women presidency was given the assignment of prayerfully searching six years of New Era magazines for youth conference ideas. As she studied, she reflected on the flashy and expensive activities our youth had planned in the past. They seemed so unsatisfied, always wanting more and bigger the next year. She came to the realization that our stake could no longer compete with the world’s standards of fun and entertainment. It was chilling to speculate on a conference as dramatically different as a service project.
Coincidentally, when the adult specialists were called they had independently focused on the same idea as the Young Women counselor—a barn raising.
2. Prayerfully select specialists.
The Tanners were a new couple in the stake. No one was aware that he was a builder. Their expertise was crucial when setbacks developed. The manufacturer of the trusses wouldn’t assemble and deliver until three days after youth conference. Brother Tanner knew how to apply just the right pressure to get the trusses there on time. The plans for the barn/house were submitted with the standard load of 40 pounds per square foot, but the city said the structure had to have the barn specifications of 120 pounds per square foot. Five days before construction was to commence, Brother Tanner had to scrap the blueprints and completely redo the engineering, foundation, etc. He and another builder burned midnight oil to get the plans back to the city. Since no plans were approved, he couldn’t get the trusses. What a mess. It was a miracle to finally have everything approved and ready and be able to begin the projects. The Tanners started a new business and moved out of the stake soon after youth conference. They were there when we needed them most.
3. Prayerfully locate recipients.
The Roney’s are prominent members of the Catholic faith and the community. It was possible they might not accept help. Sometimes it is harder to receive than to give. When the high councilor approached Mr. Roney and suggested rebuilding his fallen barn, he was overwhelmed. A few minutes later he said, “I knew the Mormons took care of their own, but I had no idea they’d extend the help to others.” The Roney family showed profound appreciation toward us, allowing their daughter to attend girls’ camp, encouraging the stake to hold functions at their farm, and setting up a scholarship fund for our youth.
4. If the event is newsworthy, involve the media.
When the TV and newspapers were informed about the barn raisings, they said they’d send someone out for a few minutes. Although reluctant at first, the reporters were so impressed they stayed for up to three hours. Favorable segments appeared in newspapers and on local newscasts.
5. Publicize and recruit.
Getting the first registrations for the conference was like pulling bent nails. Then the committee held a fireside to drum up enthusiasm. One young man who put up a bit of a struggle when we tried to recruit him completely surprised us with his enthusiasm. The builders showed him what needed to be done, and he caught on like a pro. He worked up such an appetite that when we saw him in the chow line he held a plate loaded with vegetables. The Young Women counselor said, “Todd, I’m amazed you eat so many vegetables.” He turned to show his other plate of food. And this was only his first time through the line. It really touched us to see Todd, a young man with so much going for him, sit down with another boy who felt like he was somewhat of an outcast. The lonely boy had been struggling all day until Todd showed him the way to use his hammer and worked with him. Working side by side, the youth not only established bonds between themselves but with the adults as well. It was worth any effort to encourage each person to attend.
6. Meet often.
The committee met every two weeks from March to mid-June. We needed the meetings to try to tie down all the loose ends because so many unexpected ends unravel—like the T-shirts that weren’t ready, or the huge barbecues we borrowed which turned our hotdogs into charcoal strips, still frozen on the inside. The greased pig contest slipped away from us. The piglets were raised on a concrete floor. When released, they would only root in the grass and refused to run. The kids stood aching for action, but what’s the challenge in tackling a pig sniffing the ground?
7. Plan evening diversions.
After the games and climbing the greased pole, the bonfire featured an original song by Allen and Leony Hunt. The lyrics grew on us like muscles as we hammered:
“You love who you serve who you love,
Like a ripple in a pond it goes on and on,
We follow in the footsteps of the one who showed us how
To love who you serve who you love.”

Linda Bradshaw, living in the West Midlands, has applied creative fingers to the money problem. She has developed a handmade jewellery business, selling to local tourist attractions.

“We have little spare time for out-of-school jobs, even if they are available,” she says. “Homework is heaped on us at every opportunity. We have to study hard to pass our O and A level exams. Jobs and university places are scarce. We need good results to get anywhere. I’ve learnt to manage my time and can fit in jewellery making early morning or other odd hours.”

One night when I was reading my scriptures, I felt overwhelmed with the idea of becoming perfect. I sank back onto my bed and thought, How can I ever become the person I want so much to be?
As I pondered, I glanced around my room reviewing the daily reminders that decorated every shelf. My eyes settled on a small abacus my mother had purchased from a local boutique as a gift for me when I became a Beehive. Seven small wooden beads, each painted a different color representing the Young Women values, were strung on a thin wire arched on top of a small block of wood. On the side was hand painted, “Count on the Values.”
My question was answered. Count on the values to improve each day. How? I asked. More answers poured into my mind. Seven values, seven days—a value a day. I grabbed the nearest pencil to organize my thoughts.
Sunday—Divine Nature I would study the scriptures, listen in church, ponder the things I learned there, and prepare for the coming week by increasing my spirituality.
Monday—Faith I would have the faith to meet the challenges of a new week. I remembered a quotation, “If you believe you can, you can. If you think you can’t, you’re right.” I would have faith that with the Lord’s help I would be able to do all the things that were needful.
Tuesday—Knowledge I would focus on knowledge by scheduling time throughout the week for homework and additional study for upcoming tests.
Wednesday—Choice and Accountability I would hold a midweek evaluation on how I was going. Were the choices I’d made so far in the week helping me become a better person? Were they reflecting my belief in Christ? If I was falling short, there would still be time to renew a commitment to improve. If I was doing all I could, it could be a time of grateful prayer.
Thursday—Good Works I would look for someone in need of my service. It might be a fellow student who needed a study partner or perhaps a cheerful hello in the halls. Maybe it’s my neighbor in need of a ride, a quick errand done, or help with her small children.
Friday—Integrity When I went with my friends, I would remember who I was and what my beliefs are. I would encourage others to make good decisions, particularly when we were together as friends.
Saturday—Individual Worth This was a time to know I had grown in the gospel and come a little closer to the Savior. It was a time to prepare for Sunday and the upcoming week, feeling just a little closer to my eternal goals.
This weekly plan strengthened me as I tried to live one value each day to the fullest extent possible. At first I could only do one or two things to live that particular value, but it became easier. After a while I didn’t even have to plan out each act as I’d had to at first. Soon one day blended into another. I didn’t just serve others on Thursdays, but I thought of things to help others almost without realizing I was even doing it. I discovered myself being accountable daily for the choices I made. Study time became easier because I had taken the time to make a plan to learn new things.
The Lord helped me see that perfection isn’t an immediate accomplishment but an eternal quest as I learned line upon line, precept on precept, each new day.

In the early 1950s the United States was at war on the Korean peninsula. Because of the draft policy of the government at that time, young men were not allowed to serve missions but instead were required to join the military. Knowing this, I enrolled in the Army Reserve Officers’ Training Corps when I went to college. My goal was to become an officer like my oldest brother. However, when I made a visit home for the Christmas holiday, my home-ward bishop, Vern Freeman, invited me into his office. He advised me that a young Church leader by the name of Brother Gordon B. Hinckley had negotiated an agreement with the U.S. government permitting each ward in the Church in the United States to call one young man to serve a mission. This young man would receive an automatic deferment from the military during his mission.
Bishop Freeman said he had been praying about it and felt he should recommend me to serve as a full-time missionary representing our ward. I explained to him that I had already made other plans—I had enrolled in the Army ROTC and expected to become an officer! My bishop gently reminded me that he had been prompted to recommend me to serve a mission at that particular time. He said, “Go home and talk to your parents and come back this evening with your answer.”
I went home and told my father and mother what had happened. They said the bishop was inspired, and I should happily accept the Lord’s invitation to serve. My mother could see how disappointed I was at the prospect of not becoming an army officer right away. She quoted:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
That night I went back to the bishop’s office and accepted his invitation. He told me to go to the Selective Service Office and advise them of my decision.
When I did so, to my surprise the lady who was chairman of the Selective Service Office told me, “If you accept a mission call, you will receive your draft notice before you can reenter Army ROTC. You will serve as an enlisted man, not as an officer.”
Despite this unexpected change, my mission was wonderful. It changed the course of my life as it does for those who serve. But true to their word, the government sent an induction letter drafting me into the U.S. Army about one month before my mission release.

The day was scorching; my sister, Susie, and I waited impatiently outside the church for Dad to pick us up following his weekly golf game. The sweat trickled down my back; Susie’s golden curls were wet and drooping. I remember watching with envy as my friends left the church with their parents. I wished with all my heart that Mom and Dad would come with us to church. I had even prayed about it. But they always thought they were too busy or too tired. By the time Dad picked us up, we were half baked. I was angry at both him and Mom.
Mom had stayed home, as usual, fixing dinner. We sat around the table now, but I was still burning up inside. I detest spinach, so rather than taking any, I passed the bowl to Susie. Instantly, both Dad and Mom were nagging at me, saying, “Take some spinach, Dan! It’s good for you!”
I had reached my limit. I retorted, “Why don’t you come to church? It’s good for you, just like spinach is for me!” Dad struck me, and Mom left the table crying. I ran from the house angry and hurt.
“Am I a Christian, Rebecca?” I asked, as I came back to the present. “Let’s say I used to be.” She sensed my need for silence.
We walked along the dark, tree-lined street; only the crunching sound of autumn leaves under our feet interrupted the silence. I felt so alone in the cold, dark world. More than anything else I wanted Rebecca’s friendship. She seemed so sure of herself, so at peace with herself. I wanted to draw from her strength, to learn from her wisdom. I looked down at my feet, afraid of her warm eyes.
“Rebecca,” I whispered softly. “What is it that makes you so special?”
I could have guessed that she would say it was her belief in Deity; she impressed me as a deeply religious girl. I wondered, though, which religion was to receive the credit for making her so sensitive, tender, and caring.
I pressed further. “What is your religion, Rebecca? Are you Catholic, Protestant, or something else?”
Her lips held just a hint of a smile. “I guess I fall into the ‘something else’ category, Dan. I’m searching for truth wherever I can find it. I discover it in some unusual places. But I can’t help but wonder one thing. Is there one religion that contains all of the truth?”
Her question pricked me deeply. Her eyes were searching mine, imploring. I looked away—my past blazed before me. Silently, I bowed my head and prayed. I hadn’t done that in years! After a long moment, I returned her gaze.
“Rebecca,” I slowly began, “what do you know about the Mormon church?”

One day at camp we all had the chance to take on the confidence course, a high ropes challenge. For this activity, each participant was strapped into a climber’s harness and had to climb halfway up a steep, notched telephone pole and then up a climbing wall featuring handholds placed randomly across its face. The whole time an instructor watched and waited on a platform high above the climber holding a safety rope attached to the climber’s harness.
For most participants, the course’s height and degree of difficulty made for an imposing obstacle. Still, most of my friends were determined to meet the challenge. In spite of my physical shortcomings, I try to do all I can to match the abilities of average-sized people, and so I decided to attempt the climb.
Before I knew it, I was suited up with climbing helmet and harness, standing at the base of the notched pole. As I began to climb, I heard encouragement from my friends below and from my instructor above. I soon discovered that no matter how hard I tried, my reach was insufficient for the spacing of the notches, which were designed for people with “normal wingspans.”
The instructor at the top watched as I struggled and, when he saw that I had stretched just as far as I was able, he pulled up on the rope a few extra inches allowing me to reach the next handhold. He then relaxed his tension, allowing me to do all of the work that I could.
After much effort I would try for the next handhold. Again I was just inches short of reaching. But because of a caring person at the top who wanted me to succeed, I was again lifted those few extra inches needed to reach the next level. It continued this way, with few exceptions, until I was at last at the top.
The instructor congratulated me, and I felt such appreciation, not only for the help he gave me but also for the fact that he let me do all that I could for myself. It was our success, not his or mine alone.

Although the path to eternal marriage has been just as straight for Vynohradars’kyi Ward members Petr and Adalina Mikhailenko, the road has been much longer. The Mikhailenkos were among the first families to join the Church in Ukraine, having been baptized in 1993—just two years after the first branch was established in Kyiv.
Despite this, distance from a temple and other factors kept the couple from being sealed for many years. Undeterred, they remained committed to each other and to their dream of an eternal marriage.
“I waited patiently for the temple,” Brother Mikhailenko says. “There was never a thought to leave the Church. The path has always been clear.”
After President Thomas S. Monson dedicated the temple in August 2010, the couple’s eagerness to be sealed couldn’t be contained. “We came so early on the day we were to be sealed that the temple was not open yet,” Sister Mikhailenko says.
The couple wasn’t alone. Many fellow ward members came to the temple that day as well, excited to share in the Mikhailenkos’ joy.
“The sealing was wonderful,” Sister Mikhailenko says. “There was a feeling like you never really loved your spouse like you love him at that moment.”
The feeling of love has persisted since that day. “There is an absolute difference in our relationship,” Brother Mikhailenko says. “We have been married for a long time, but there is now a different feeling. We want to do more for each other, and we do it with more love.”

At the end of January 1831, Joseph and Emma Smith traveled to Ohio from New York in a horse-drawn sleigh. It was very cold, and Emma was expecting a baby. They arrived safely in front of Newel K. Whitney’s store in Kirtland during the first part of February. As they stopped, the prophet sprang from the sleigh, entered the store, and approached Brother Whitney, whom he had never met before. “Newel K. Whitney!” he declared, extending his hand to shake. “Thou art the man.” “You have the advantage of me,” replied Brother Whitney. “I could not call you by name as you have me.” “I am Joseph the Prophet. You prayed me here, now what do you want of me?” Joseph then explained that while he was still in New York he had seen Brother Whitney in a vision, praying for him to come to Kirtland. With great joy, the Whitneys made room in their home for the Smiths until they could find another place to live.

After working in department stores selling men’s clothing for several years, I became quite proficient at coordinating shirts and ties with the suits I sold. It was rewarding to pick the perfect assortment, and my customers were usually pleased with the choices I presented them.
However, in one particular store, the suits were in an area illuminated with fluorescent lighting while the shirts and ties were displayed in another area under incandescent bulbs. This difference in lighting proved to be quite challenging.
It often happened that after a customer had decided upon a suit or two, I’d go select an array of shirts and ties that I thought would work well. But once the shirts and ties were moved from one section to the other and placed next to the suits, the result was surprising—the colors “changed” in the new light and did not match at all.
Taking a suit to the area that displayed the shirts and ties worked better. But even with this approach, customers often became confused, noticing that the suits we had in hand didn’t look like the ones they had just selected. A suit that looked olive green under the fluorescent lighting now appeared gray, taupe, or brown when viewed under incandescent lights. Black, charcoal, and navy suits underwent similar transformations.
More often than not, I had to solve the problem by taking customers out a nearby door to look at their selections in the daylight. By seeing with the light of the sun, we could quickly discern true colors and make appropriate choices.

Catherine’s faith was mighty, and she had many occasions to exercise it. On one occasion when Miles was away, three-year-old Junius, their third child, suffered so terribly with an ear infection that she feared he would die. Desperately she prayed for help and felt inspired to ask the stake patriarch to bless him. Wrapping up her son, she carried him to the patriarch who, in the blessing, promised Catherine that if her faith was strong enough, Junius’s ear would bother him no more and that he would become a great leader in the Church. Even while he spoke, Junius stopped crying and fell into a deep sleep, for the first time in weeks. He raised a family of six children and became president of the Juarez Stake in Mexico before he was thirty.

Thinking about her attitude, I remembered a lesson I learned many years ago when my father died. He died suddenly, leaving my mother a widow with fifteen children, ten of whom were dependent on her. This was a great tragedy in her life. Of course, the gospel, the fellowship of the Church, and our own testimonies gave us a solid base which comforted us and helped us to accept this loss with dignity. In spite of the fact that we never left her alone, it affected her deeply. Although she accepted the will of God, her soul did not find inner peace.
One morning as we were traveling downtown on a bus, she began to feel her loneliness. I noticed it, but also knew that I couldn’t give her the comfort she needed. She cried in silence, but with dignity. A lady passenger came up and said: “You seem to be very sad.” My mother answered, “I have just lost my husband.” Then the lady asked, “Do you have children?” and my mother answered, “I have fifteen children, and each one of them has some trait that reminds me of their father. So I am constantly reminded of him.”
When she heard this, the woman said: “You are truly blessed, because you only lost your husband. I lost my husband, too, and my two daughters in an automobile accident, and I am living alone. So I do understand your pain and sorrow.” Then she added, “Only God can help us overcome trials like this.”
Those who suffer great adversity and sorrow and go on to serve their fellowmen develop a great capacity to understand others. Like the prophets, they have acquired a higher understanding of the mind and will of Christ. To me, this woman was like an angel. She gave comfort and raised my mother’s thoughts toward God in a time of great trial. From that day on, each time my mother felt lonely or abandoned, she would say to me: “Son, pity the woman who lost all. I am grateful that the Lord has blessed me with fifteen children to be my companions in life.”

This Saturday morning, youth from the Richmond Ward are spread out in five different locations around the city. The first stop is a small house in the middle of Richmond. Fourteen-year-old Zack Harton and his friend Will Jones are stationed here, raking leaves, pulling weeds, and having fun.
Zack doesn’t personally know the family his group is helping, but he does know that this family is investigating the Church. Therefore, he knows that he’s also setting an example. “It makes me feel good, because I’m helping someone in need—just as I would help my own brother and sister if they needed help,” Zack says.
His friend Will is also investigating the Church and is glad that Zack invited him to come along today. Will has already caught on to the wonderful feeling that comes from service. “I feel that I have an obligation toward other people,” Will says. “I started coming with Zack to Scouts and never knew it was going to get into this. But I just think it’s wonderful that somebody would care enough to do this. While we were working in the yard, everyone would just help one another. You didn’t even have to ask. I could just feel God around me.”

Elder Derrick’s father worked for ZCMI for thirty-five years as a crockery specialist, which required that he travel almost continuously throughout Utah, Idaho, and southwestern Wyoming. He was more often than not away from home for three months at a time. “Although we didn’t see a lot of him,” Elder Derrick said, “he set a tone of spirituality in our home. He retired in January of 1937, and I started on the road as a traveling salesman the following month. I met many of the people with whom he was acquainted. Every one of them spoke so highly of him that I began to realize that my father was a man of great integrity, a trait not usually found in traveling salesmen, or drummers, as they were called then.
My mother’s parents lived next door to us while I was young. They came from England and Scotland and had also joined the Church and crossed the plains. My mother also set a tone of love and spirituality in our home. I remember one occasion when we had used all our credit at the grocery store. In those days you bought groceries on credit. We had also used up all of the food that Mother had bottled the previous fall. I noticed an expression of great concern on her face as she looked at the empty shelves and the empty flour bin. I followed her upstairs and saw her go into her bedroom and kneel in prayer. Later that afternoon one of my cousins came to our house with several boxes of bread. He had been driving up Fifth East Street when the back door of a bread truck flew open and some boxes of bread fell out in front of his car. By the time he got his car stopped and had surveyed the situation, the bread truck had disappeared. He put the boxes of bread into his car and then drove to our home, which was a short distance away. He knew nothing about our need, but there is no doubt in my mind that the bread was a direct answer to my mother’s prayer.
“All I remember about my baptism is that it felt good. That feeling has stayed with me; it still feels good. I was baptized in the Tabernacle on Temple Square by my oldest brother because Father was on the road.
The hardest thing that I had to face as a boy was shyness. It was very difficult for me to recite in class. One day while studying the Bible, I read the words of the Savior that ‘all things are possible to him that believeth’ (Mark 9:23) and then the words of the Apostle Paul, ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me’ (Philip. 4:13). I suddenly realized that a person can do whatever he makes up his mind to do. This gave me both confidence and commitment.
I believe that youngsters should read,” Elder Derrick said, “because reading gives a person a broader viewpoint of life and the world around him. Particularly, we should read the scriptures every day and come to understand the prophets of God. Doing so will pay greater dividends in our lives than almost anything else we can do. It will help us to become better people, more obedient and more committed to principles taught by the Savior, which result in a life of integrity and moral purity.”

In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.”4 And this young woman was teachable.

After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.

With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.

During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.

She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.

Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.

“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”

In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”

About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”

Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”5

My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.

As she reflected back, she said, “My testimony had become like a pile of ashes. It had all burned down. All that remained was Jesus Christ.” She continued, “But He does not leave you when you have questions. When anyone tries to keep the commandments, the door is wide open. Prayer and scripture study became incredibly important.”

Her first step to rebuild her faith was to start with basic gospel truths. She bought a Primary songbook and began reading the words of the songs. They were treasures to her. She prayed for faith to lift the heaviness she felt.

She learned that when she came up against a statement that caused her to doubt, she “could stop, look at the whole picture, and make the gospel personal.” She said, “I would ask, ‘Is this the right path for me and my family?’ Sometimes I would ask myself, ‘What do I want for my children?’ I realized I want them to have temple marriages. That’s when belief came back to my heart.”

Though she had questions about how the Book of Mormon came to be, she could not deny the truths she knew in the Book of Mormon. She had focused on studying the New Testament to better understand the Savior. “But eventually,” she said, “I found myself back in the Book of Mormon because I loved what I felt when reading about Jesus Christ and His Atonement.”

She concluded, “You have to have your own spiritual experiences with the truths in that book,” and she was having them. She explained, “I read in Mosiah and felt completely directed: ‘Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things … ; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.’7”

About this time a call came to serve as Primary pianist. “It was safe,” she said. “I wanted to have my children in Primary, and now I could be with them. And I wasn’t ready to teach yet.” As she served, she continued to feel from those around her the invitation “Come; we want you, whatever stage you are at, and we will meet you there. Give us whatever you have to offer.”

Playing the Primary songs, she often thought to herself, “Here are truths I love. I can still bear testimony. I will just say those things that I know and trust. It may not be a perfect offering of knowledge, but it will be my offering. What I focus on expands inside of me. It is beautiful to get back to the essence of the gospel and feel clarity.”

On that Sunday morning, as I listened to this young sister share the story of her journey, I was reminded that “it is upon the rock of our Redeemer” that we all must build our foundation.8 I was also reminded of the counsel of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “Hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.”9

It’s interesting, too, how we create, cumulatively, expectations in the lives of our grandchildren even when we are not aware of it. Some years ago, when our grandson Robbie was about five, we dropped by to see his family in Orem. He was asleep upstairs, and his mother called, “Robbie, Grandpa Neal is here!” A tired little voice floated downstairs saying, “Shall I bring my scriptures?”

Of course he was too young to read them, but he carried them, as so many do in the Church today in that fine new pattern!