Gospel Story Finder

Robbin watched as Dad measured flour, salt, and shortening into a bowl. After adding a little water, he started stirring the dough together.
“Can I help?” Robbin asked. “I want to make sure we make enough logs to make a huge house this year!”
“Sure, you can help,” Dad said. “But it doesn’t matter who builds the biggest house. We make log cabins to help us remember the blessings we have.”
Robbin’s eyebrows pinched together as she watched. “But you always tell us about the amazing house you and Mom built the first year you were married.”
Dad looked over at Mom and smiled. “There’s never been one like it since.” As he started rolling out the dough, he said, “As fun as our little crust cabins are, do you remember why we make them?”
Robbin nodded. “But tell me again.”
Robbin inched around the table so she could see Dad better. He cut the dough into thin strips and put them on a cookie sheet. Then he slid them into the oven.
Dad came over and leaned on the counter. “And we make our log cabins every year to remind us of the many blessings Heavenly Father has given us.”
“And because it’s fun!” said Robbin.
Mom and Dad laughed. “Yes, it is.”
Dad checked the pie crust. The white strips he’d put in the oven had turned a beautiful golden color. “Done!” He slid the piecrust “logs” onto a rack to cool.
Robbin sniffed the freshly baked pie-crust logs. They smelled warm and delicious.
Later that day Robbin’s cousins came over. Mom brought out a large plate piled high with logs ready to use. She put the plate next to a bowl of whipped cream. All the children hurried to the table.
Know what’s fun? Starting a new family tradition! Like starting Thanksgiving in October with our friends in Canada!
“Wait!” said Mom. “Before you begin, who can remember the story of the log cabins?”
Robbin felt happy inside as one of her cousins started telling the story. They had a house and plenty of food. She was glad they had a special way to celebrate all the blessings Heavenly Father had given them.

The longer I stared at the phone, the more nervous I became. I kept going over and over in my mind what I would say. Then I worried that the girl I wanted to call might say no. Finally, I managed to punch in the phone number, hoping no one would answer. They didn’t. What a relief—except I had to start the whole process over again later!
On my second attempt, her mother answered and agreed to get her daughter. Now the sweat was really starting to build. I thought about hanging up, but then I was greeted by a friendly hello. I managed to stumble my way through asking her out. Instead of giving an immediate answer, she said she needed to check with her mom. To me that was code for, “Let me talk to my mom to see if she can help me get out of this one.” Instead she returned to the phone with a cheerful, “That would be great.” I tried not to act too surprised and ended the call. I sat in my chair emotionally drained yet feeling great. I did it; my first date was on its way!

You can’t help but like Andrea* the second you meet her. She’s warm and friendly and fun, and she knows how to make you feel good about yourself.
But she wasn’t always like that.
For a long time, she carried around a dark and tragic secret that she could confess to no one. She cried a lot. She was usually depressed. She withdrew from people—wasn’t close to anyone, and didn’t have the self-confidence to excel in school or anything else. Andrea had been sexually abused when she was younger.
“I thought I had committed a terrible sin,” she said. “I thought it was too gross to tell anyone. I felt disgusting and totally worthless, until a very understanding bishop explained to me that it wasn’t my fault, that the Lord still loved me, and that I could get help.”
The help Andrea got, which included professional and religious counseling, enabled her to put those traumatic experiences in the past and become emotionally and spiritually healthy again.

Andrea has gone through all these stages, and despite the problems in her past, she’s able to lead a happy, fulfilling life. Others like her who have experienced sexual abuse can recover in the same way. It is important for them to realize that they have a right not to be abused, and that they need to get help if it happens. They need to know that they are not at fault, that they are not impure, nor are they any less chaste. And most of all, they need to know that Heavenly Father still loves them, has great hope for them, and has provided ways for them to recover.

Karina’s leg and body muscles are very strong, and she is a good helper and a hard worker on her family’s small farm. The farm has a big tom turkey, chickens, and a dog with lots of puppies. Karina loves animals. One of her chores is to feed the chickens. And she has figured out her own method of getting this chore done. She picks up the bag of corn with her foot and places it under her chin to carry it while she walks. Then she sits on a chair, opens the bag of corn with one foot, puts the other foot in the sack for a footful of corn, and throws the corn out for the chickens to eat. Karina also loves to hold the chickens. She carefully catches a baby chick with her feet and holds the soft, fluffy bird under her chin.

When my daughter was about six years old, we tried as much as possible to have her watch the baptisms of other children. After each baptism, we talked to her about what happened. We helped her understand that when she was old enough to be baptized, she would be able to judge right from wrong. After each baptism, she would say, “Soon I will be eight, and I will be baptized too.”
Finally my daughter turned eight. She was baptized and confirmed. Now she had the gift of the Holy Ghost. We told her that one of the best ways to keep the Holy Ghost with her was to take the sacrament.
When you take the sacrament, you promise to always remember Jesus Christ. The Holy Ghost will help you to do the things Jesus taught and remind you what you learn about Him at home and in Primary. The Holy Ghost speaks with a still, small voice and will help you understand what is right and what is wrong.
Now my daughter loves the sacrament so much! And you can too. As you take the sacrament each week and remember Jesus Christ, you will feel the Holy Ghost more, and He will continue to guide you. You will be able to always remember Jesus Christ.

Carl shivered as he pushed his bike against the wind. I can’t wait to get home and get warm, he thought. And I can’t wait to open Christmas presents!
He had gotten up extra early that morning to deliver newspapers. As he pushed his bike up the steep hill on his way home, he thought about Mom’s homemade Christmas cinnamon rolls. They were going to taste so good. He could almost taste the sweet creamy frosting.
Cream! Carl’s shoulders slumped. He had forgotten about milking the cow and the other chores he needed to do. Even on Christmas.
Carl parked his bike in front of the house. He and his brother liked racing to see who could get their paper routes done first. He didn’t see his brother’s bike, so Carl had won!
The only problem with winning was that now he had to wait for his brother before they could open their presents. Then they’d have to go back outside and do chores. Carl wished he could just stay inside and enjoy Christmas.
I could just get my chores done now, Carl thought. Then I won’t have to come back out in the cold. He hurried to the barn.
As he grabbed a pail and sat down to milk the cow, Carl looked around. All the other chores still needed to be done. Then he had an idea. If he did all the chores himself, he could surprise his family and they could spend the rest of Christmas morning together. It would be the best Christmas present ever!
Carl hurried and milked the cows. Then he cleaned the barn, fed the chickens, and collected the eggs. He smiled as he thought of how surprised his family would be.
Carl went back to the house. He peeked in the door to see if anyone was there. Then he sneaked into the kitchen. He had just finished putting the milk and eggs in the refrigerator when Mom walked in.
“Oh good, you’re home,” Mom said, giving him a hug. “We were beginning to worry about you.”
Mom helped him take off his coat. When Carl’s siblings saw him they shouted, “Carl’s home! Let’s open our presents!” Everyone crowded around the Christmas tree and waited for Dad to hand out gifts. Carl loved watching as everyone opened their treasures.
“All right!” Dad said. “Now it’s time to do the chores. But first, I think we need some juice and cinnamon rolls.”
Dad walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He stopped and stared.
“Well, look at that!” Dad said. “The milk jug is already full, and here are the eggs already gathered! Who could have done that?”
Dad came back into the living room. Carl tried his best to hide his smile.
“Do you know anything about this, Carl?” Dad said with a smile of his own. “It seems our chores are already done.”
“Merry Christmas!” Carl shouted.
Dad put his arm around Carl. “Thank you, son. That was very thoughtful. This might be our best Christmas yet!”
Carl grinned. He already knew this was his best Christmas ever.

Diligence and Commitment. At the beginning of Elder Richards’ first mission to Holland in 1905, he was assigned work in the mission office. He felt the urgent need to learn the language and often felt hampered because of his lack of proficiency. He pushed to get the office work current so he could study Dutch. Beyond that, the spirit of his mission “rested mightily upon him.” He wrote, “I was so anxious to preach the gospel that I found myself arising before 5:00 AM. to study Dutch and get my office work done so I could go out tracting in the afternoon.” Day after day ke recorded that he distributed 50, 92, 110 tracts a day. His return calls to gather them yielded many gospel conversations, halting and incomplete as they no doubt were at first on his part. The kind of effort he was expending as a “part-time” missionary is made clear by the fact that, in comparison, other missionaries were giving out an average of only 197 tracts per missionary, per month, at the same time.

As the date of our divorce hearing drew near, my husband sent me a 16-page letter evaluating our marriage. Despite priesthood counsel to the contrary, I began to believe my husband’s assertions that the problems in our marriage were my fault—that I was even the cause of his infidelity.
Torn with doubts, I turned to the scriptures. There I found hope and understanding in the Savior’s words. I reflected on how His words had already blessed and lifted me. I wrote in my journal: “The tides of self-pity, self-reproach, and self-destruction rage against my shore. And at my shore the Savior is ever there, building—shoring up—protecting against the onslaught—telling me I have value—telling me to believe in myself. His is the voice I prefer to hear, the voice I must heed.”
I was blessed with opportunities to rebuild belief in myself. Priesthood counsel and blessings offered me divine comfort. Through the Savior’s great love, strength and courage returned.

Bathsheba had only two children of her own, so it was with great sadness that she heard that her eighteen-year-old son had been killed. Only two months later, her daughter married and moved away. Fortunately Bathsheba’s niece, Julina Lambson, lived with her. Together they made dolls and doll clothes for Julina, who was like a daughter to Bathsheba. After Julina married Joseph F. Smith (later the sixth President of the Church), she had ten children, who were like grandchildren to Bathsheba. They and her daughter’s fourteen children brought Bathsheba much joy. She knit them mittens, wove them dress fabric, and sewed them clothes. She hid these things in her flowered carpetbag when she went to visit them. After running to hug and kiss her, they eagerly waited to see what gifts were in the carpetbag for them.

Ammon Arvidson and Brooke Noble, two youth from the Maitland Ward, Newcastle Australia Stake, were chosen to represent Port Stephens, Australia, at the first World Child Summit, held in Kushiro, Japan, last summer. The theme was “The Natural Environment and Our Future.” To be chosen, they each had to present a 10-minute speech on the environment of Port Stephens, the problems facing the habitat, and their role in protecting the natural beauty of the world.
Speaking of the presentations he made at the summit, Ammon, 12, said, “It makes me very aware of the beautiful world our Lord has created for us to enjoy.” Then thinking about all the people, languages, and cultures created by the Lord, Ammon added, “It makes me look forward to serving a mission wherever Heavenly Father sends me.”

As a young child I often wondered, “Where did I come from?” Deep within my heart I knew I had lived somewhere before I became who I am now, but I had no idea where.
For many years I was afraid to tell anyone—even my parents—for fear they would think I was crazy. But one day while I was in my early teens, I was brave enough to ask the pastor of our church, “Where did we live before we came to earth?” He told me I should not think about such things. He said no one lives anywhere before they are born; we simply do not exist in any way before.
I was afraid he was right and that I was crazy, but I still could not put these thoughts out of my mind. I kept searching, but no one had any answers.
When I was 18 years old, our family moved. I thought the preachers in our new town might know more than our last preacher, so I decided to ask one of them my question. His response was the same: he told me it was not normal to think of such things and suggested that I see a psychiatrist.
Soon after that I stopped going to church. I got a job, met a young man, and got married. Five years later the marriage ended in divorce. So I packed up all of my belongings, two children in tow and one on the way, and returned home.
Sometime during those five years, my mom had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She had mentioned the Church when I visited her and had asked me to talk to the missionaries. I finally consented, but before our meeting, I made up my mind that I would agree to take the missionary discussions only if the elders could tell me where I had lived before I came to be who I am now.
To my surprise, they not only answered my question but also gave me the answer straight from the Bible (see Job 38:4–7; Jeremiah 1:5; Jude 1:6). After that, they had my undivided attention! Their answer helped me understand why all my life I had felt that I had lived before. Now I understood that I had lived in a premortal existence with my Heavenly Father.
It wasn’t long before I became a member of the Church. For the first time in my life, I felt like somebody and that I had a destination to pursue—to return home to my Heavenly Father.
I am grateful that the missionaries were able to answer the question that no one else could.

At 4:30 A.M. my alarm went off as usual. I reached over and shut it off as I do every morning. I sat up in the dark and asked myself why I do this to myself every morning. After I was done complaining about how stupid early-morning seminary was, I got up and got ready to go.
Just like every day, I arrived five minutes late and sat in a seat in the back row farthest from the teacher. It seemed that lately my testimony had been going down the tubes. Things had not been going right. My grades had been suffering. I thought that if I were living right then everything else in my life should be good too.
As I sat in the back, not listening to the lesson, I began to wonder if the Church was really true. The thought scared me. I was worried that the things I had been taught all my life were wrong. It made me afraid. Right there in class, I started praying mentally to my Father in Heaven for help. I was asking him for help in finding out if the Church was true or not.
By this time, I had totally tuned out of the lesson being taught. Finally seminary was over. My brother and I were getting in my car when I noticed a piece of paper on the windshield. I took it and saw that it was from another church down the street. At first I thought it was an advertisement. I opened the paper and in big bold letters at the top it said, “In Which Shall We Believe?” I began reading it. It was a list of scriptures and quotations from the Book of Mormon and other Church books and leaders that seemed to contradict each other.
We took the paper home to my parents. We went straight to them and told them we got this anti-Mormon flier on our windshield. They read through it. We talked for a few minutes about one of the statements, which Mom helped answer for me. Then my parents put the paper on the desk. We had to leave for school.
A couple of days later, I took the other church’s flier and started reading through it. I started looking up each quotation in the scriptures and in other books. The paper was wrong. I found that the statements did not contradict each other. The people who had prepared the flier had only taken part of the scripture or part of a quotation. This made me remember what one of my Primary teachers had told me. She said, “Read the scriptures as a whole and not a part.”
I knelt down beside my bed and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true and if what I was reading in the Book of Mormon was correct. I said amen and stayed on my knees for a few minutes and listened. When I got up, I was totally energetic. I felt so good and so happy. I knew by how I felt that it was true. That was my answer.
Since that time I have studied the scriptures more. In a funny way I was grateful to those people who had been trying to tear down the Church. I even wrote a letter to the other church thanking them for the flier. I told them they had really helped me a lot with my testimony. Because of them, I was motivated to find out for myself. I found out it was true.

Note: The following youth from Paradise, California, USA, reflect on the meaning of Christmas after the most destructive wildfire in California’s history burned down their community.
“After the fire I realized that the most important things to have are your family and friends. So although we didn’t get many gifts, it was so really nice to just be surrounded by family. It was still a happy time for us, even though it wasn’t like our normal Christmas.”
Rachel W.
“I got to help unload and organize several truckloads of donated toys. Then we opened the doors and let everyone in. It was really fun to watch all the kids. Their eyes would light up. They were so excited! It made me happy to see them so happy and peaceful after living through something so awful.”
Audrey V.
“It was great to see everyone kind of get thrown together and depend on each other socially. … I learned that material things don’t matter as much. Service, family, and time spent together matters a lot more. Life is valuable. Things can always change for the worse, so we need to try to enjoy the positive times while they’re around. We’re the ones that make those positive times!”
Billy A.

At the weekly temple meeting on Thursday, 12 April 1990, after all the agenda items had been covered, President Hunter asked, “Does anyone have anything that is not on the agenda?” No one spoke, so he said, “Well, then, if no one else has anything to say, I thought I’d just let you know that I’m going to be married this afternoon.” There were gasps, then he went on to explain, “Inis is an old acquaintance from California. I’ve been visiting with her for some time, and we’ve decided to get married.”

This was a delightful surprise for the Brethren, who had been concerned about President Hunter’s being alone. And now, happily, they learned that he would have a companion who is outgoing, warm, cordial, and gracious. Since the time of their marriage, Inis has been unfailing in her concern for President Hunter and in her attentiveness to him. It has been a delight for him to have a traveling companion and to show her something of the dimension of Church service, with the many and varied assignments and responsibilities a man of President Hunter’s stature carries. For her part, she has experienced all the joys and emotions that come to the wife of a General Authority, and she quickly learned to speak extemporaneously as she was called on repeatedly to speak in Church settings and missionary meetings. Sister Hunter continues to be a comfort and a joy to him.

Just as parents often teach their children to swim, so does the sea otter’s mother prepare her baby for life in the water.
A mother sea otter teaches her baby, called a pup, everything. She must teach him how to swim, because even though he is born in the kelp beds surrounded by water, the sea otter is not a natural swimmer. Sometimes he can float quite well, but swimming is another matter. A mother puts her pup’s face down in the water, then swims a short distance away from him. He tries to follow her but cannot go forward even an inch, so he begins to make a crying sound.
She always returns to her baby, swims around him, then draws away. In a gentle voice she urges him to follow her. He tries, fails, and cries. Over and over again, for days and days, she helps him until at last he can haltingly swim after her. But he cannot dive, so this is another thing he must be taught.
A pup cannot seem to get the idea that when he dives he should stay down and forage for food around the kelp roots at the bottom of the ocean. When he dives he immediately pops up to the surface again. But as he grows stronger, and with much patience, he finally can swim and dive too. Then he follows his mother everywhere, searching for food and playing.

In the spring of 1975 my family and I were living among beautiful green farmland in the Rheinland-Pfalz area of West Germany. Driving home from church one rainy Sunday, we stopped to have a look at an automobile that had rolled onto its side in the wet roadbed at the edge of a forest. Inside the forest it was already dark because of the thick canopy created by the trees and the oncoming night.
After looking at the wrecked vehicle, we returned to our car and discovered it was stuck in the mud. I couldn’t back up, but I could drive forward—into the forest. We had previously driven through the forest and found that many forest roads were interconnected and would eventually lead back out, so I decided to move forward into the blackness.
I quickly realized that I had made the wrong decision. The narrow, wet road was filled with deep ruts of mud and kept leading farther and farther into the dark forest. I tried to keep up speed, fearing that if we stopped, we would become mired. I saw a high spot just ahead that looked firm enough to sustain the weight of the car. My plan was to get the car out of the mud to give myself time to think. The car lunged up and out of the mud.
I turned off the car and climbed out. With the headlights off, I couldn’t see a thing. I turned the headlights back on, grabbed our flashlight, and after looking the car over, decided that my best bet was to back into the forest and then make a mad dash out the way we came.
I backed as far into the forest as possible, revved the engine a little, lunged back onto the road, and sank deep into the mud. Now we were really in trouble. Outside the car it was total darkness and silence. Inside the car my wife and I sat with three terrified children.
I asked my wife for any ideas. After a moment she said, “Maybe we should pray.” The children calmed down almost immediately. I offered a humble but desperate prayer for help. As I prayed, a thought came clearly into my mind: “Put on the tire chains.”
Standing in 10 inches (25 cm) of mud in her Sunday dress, my sweet wife held the flashlight while I cleaned the rear tires with my bare hands and put the chains on. With faith and confidence, we prayed again and started the engine. Slowly we drove through the mud and eventually back onto the pavement.
In the excitement of being freed from the mud and the darkness, I almost forgot who had helped us out of the forest. Our five-year-old daughter reminded me when she said, “Daddy, Heavenly Father really does answer prayers, doesn’t He?”

Not long ago I interviewed a young man who desired to fill a mission, but he had been guilty of some very serious transgressions during his teen years. He was a member of an active Latter-day Saint family, and he himself had been an actively participating member of the Church, even during the time of his transgressions. Ultimately he had gone to his bishop and confessed his wrongdoings. Now, for more than a year, his life had been free of the earlier difficulties, and he was anxious to serve a mission.
As we talked about his situation and the decisions he had made earlier in his life that led to his questionable standing in the Church, he said, “Oh, I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and I was sure that one day I would put things back in order and go on a mission.”
While I was pleased with this young man’s desire to reorder his life and serve the Lord as a missionary, I was troubled by the apparent premeditated, calculated way in which he had allowed himself to move off the proper course to engage in some destructive, immoral behavior, and then, almost as if he were following a timetable set by himself, he had begun to reconstruct his resolve to be obedient.
If my experience with this young man had been the only one of this kind, it would not be worthy of note here; unfortunately, however, it is not unique. There appears to be an increasing tendency and temptation for young people to sample the forbidden things of the world, not with the intent to embrace them permanently, but with the knowing decision to indulge in them momentarily as though they held a value of some kind too important or exciting to pass by. It is one of the great tests of our time.
While many recover from these excursions into forbidden territory, an increasing number of tragedies are occurring that reach out to bring a blight and a despair to many lives and that have long-lasting consequences. There is no such thing as private sin. Although its commission can be calculated and predetermined, its effects cannot be regulated by the person guilty of the misbehavior. To believe otherwise is to become gullible to one of the most insidious lies ever perpetrated by the father of lies.
Recently I attended a graduation ceremony at a local high school. The students who had been invited to speak for their classmates expressed themselves in terms of the grand and noble challenges that lay before them as they stepped across the threshold into adult life. The adult speakers extolled the virtues and potential of today’s youth and spoke of the horizons to be conquered in future years, the new scientific frontiers to be opened by members of the graduating class, the dread diseases for which cures would be found, and the breakthroughs in diplomacy and human relations that would bring lasting peace to the earth. It was a stimulating, inspiring service.
As I listened to the impressive addresses on this occasion, I found myself framing in my own mind the things I would have liked to say to this group of young people. I knew that most of them were Latter-day Saints. I knew they came from families where there was a shared pride in their accomplishments. I also knew about the experiences some of these young people had planned for themselves in the hours and days immediately following the graduation service. I found myself wanting to plead with this graduating class, not about the glorious, obscure years of the dim future when they would hopefully accomplish so much for mankind, but about the here and now. I wanted to say to them, “I am not so much concerned about what you do next year or in the next generation; I am worried about what you are going to do tonight and tomorrow. What have you planned? Where will you go? What will you do tonight?”
I know now, as I record these thoughts, that there were those in the graduating class, as well as some other in similar groups, who willfully, with calculated premeditation, placed themselves in circumstances following their graduation services where they dishonored themselves, their families, their Church, and their Heavenly Father. Their behavior was not intended to become a permanent thing in their lives. It was done just for fun, a momentary thrill, a dare. But its cumulative effect is devastating. The results will influence their lives, and the lives of those who loved and trusted them, in unfortunate and unforeseen ways for indefinite periods of time. Humanity will have slipped inexorably to a lower level. Some will never completely recover, and all mankind will inevitably feel the loss.
For those who were faithful to the trust placed in them and did not yield to the pattern of the times, I have the most profound admiration and gratitude. You are our shining hope. I owe you a great debt. You will make a significant difference in the final outcome of things. You are the last great counter-force against the evil that is engulfing the earth. You demonstrated that you are incorruptible. You are untainted. God bless you for this!
I tremble as I read the words of the Lord to his people of this dispensation. “For this is a day of warning, and not a day of many words. For I, the Lord, am not to be mocked in the last days” (D&C 63:58).
As I view the days that lie ahead of us, I am hopeful because of the Lord’s promise. But I am frightened by his warnings to us as I see compromises being made.
Young people, let’s be faithful to the trust the Lord has given us. Let’s do what we should and fulfill the expectations placed in us. It will made a difference.

After Joseph Smith had completed translating the Book of Mormon, he still had to find a publisher. This was not easy. The complexity of this lengthy manuscript and the cost of printing and binding thousands of copies were intimidating. Joseph first approached E. B. Grandin, a Palmyra printer, who refused. He then sought another printer in Palmyra, who also turned him down. He traveled to Rochester, 25 miles (40 km) away, and approached the most prominent publisher in western New York, who also turned him down. Another Rochester publisher was willing, but circumstances made this alternative unacceptable.

Weeks had passed, and Joseph must have been bewildered at the opposition to accomplishing his divine mandate. The Lord did not make it easy, but He did make it possible. Joseph’s fifth attempt, a second approach to the Palmyra publisher Grandin, was successful.3

During the summer of 2015, three of us Young Men leaders, including our bishop, took six young men from the deserts of southern New Mexico to the Rocky Mountains of central Colorado for a high-adventure backpacking trip. At the time, I was serving as ward Young Men president. For four days, we hiked, fished, explored, and gathered in the evenings for spiritual fireside chats. We made lasting memories—including one we will always remember.
Before making our way off the mountain at the end of our trip, the only thing that had marred our adventure was a cut foot and a little rain and hail. After we broke camp the morning of our return hike, none of us worried about the slippery, muddy trail until we leaders approached the bottom of the first steep descent.
That’s where I slipped, fell, and hit the ground. I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my right leg. I had no idea what I had done to my leg, but I couldn’t move it.
As I sat on the ground, dazed and in pain, our bishop, Bryce Heiner, rushed to my side. A surgeon, Bishop Heiner examined my leg but couldn’t tell how badly I was hurt. What we didn’t know is that when I fell, I hit a rock so hard that it severed my right quadriceps tendon, the large tendon just above the kneecap. I could neither stand nor walk.
One of our young men, Nathan Donaldson, said later, “There was a lot of panic on the mountain. Everyone was praying for guidance.” Another young man, Brighton Heiner, said, “We didn’t know if Brother Ewing’s leg was going to be all right or if he was going to die!”
I knew I couldn’t get off the mountain without a lot of help, including heavenly help. So I asked for a priesthood blessing. Bishop Heiner anointed and Mark Handly, a counselor in the bishopric, sealed the anointing. As Brother Handly spoke, a stillness settled over our group.
Nathan still remembers what he and the other young men felt as he listened to the powerful words of the blessing: “I was at peace, my heart slowed down, my mind became calm. I was in awe of the Savior’s power manifested by the Holy Ghost, which touched my heart. I thought to myself, ‘I want to be able to do that someday. I want to be able to bring peace and healing to my loved ones.’”
Despite that calming reassurance, the words of the blessing that struck me the hardest were these: “You’ll be fine, but it’s going to take a while.”
That “while” included the time it would take to get me off the mountain. I’m six feet, four inches tall (193 cm), and at the time I weighed 230 pounds (104 kg). The young men wondered, “How are we going to get him down?” I wondered the same thing.
Because I had taken wilderness first-aid training the summer before, I directed our group in fashioning a splint for my leg out of rope, tape, tree branches, and a foam sleeping pad. We still had four miles to hike and a rushing mountain stream to cross before we could reach our vehicles and seek medical attention.
The two tallest members of our group supported me by holding on to my upper arms as they walked beside me. Slowly, we began making our way downhill. Sometimes my good knee would buckle, and I would fold over like a lawn chair. I had to fight nausea with every painful step. Bishop Heiner grew increasingly concerned with each passing hour of our descent.
While some of our crew cleared the trail ahead of rocks and debris to make the journey easier for me, others hiked back up the trail to bring me water, food, and encouragement. A hike that would normally have taken about two hours lasted eight hours.
Bishop Heiner and some of the young men hiked ahead to the stream. There, with what Daniel Palmer described as “a prayer in our hearts,” they lashed together logs from fallen trees and built a bridge over an abandoned beaver dam. They also made a makeshift handrail.
“When I reached the stream four hours into the hike,” Steven says, “I slowly and carefully crossed the log bridge supported by several helping hands.”
When I reached the stream four hours into the hike, I slowly and carefully crossed the log bridge supported by several helping hands. We stopped to rest and say another of several more prayers. At that point, we were halfway off the mountain.
A few hours later, the first young men emerged from the wilderness near the trailhead. They explained our predicament to some campers riding all-terrain vehicles. Several of those good Samaritans drove up the trail, picked up several of us, and drove us to our cars.
Soon we were headed for Trinidad, Colorado, where I received treatment at a hospital emergency room. A doctor fitted me with a knee brace and crutches, and we headed home.
Steven Ewing (second from left) and Bishop Bryce Heiner (far right) with the “ministering angels” who helped Steven off the mountain (left to right): Eric Palmer, Brighton Heiner, Daniel Palmer, Jacob Donaldson, and Zane Heiner (not pictured: Nathan Donaldson, who was serving a full-time missionary; and Mark Handly, who had moved).
No, I wasn’t healed instantly. Healing did “take a while” after surgery and physical therapy. But I’m thankful for the priesthood blessing I received, the faith shown by those who prayed for me and helped me (see James 2:26), and the unity of purpose we achieved as we worked together to get me off the mountain.
We learned some important things that day, lessons that strengthened our testimonies and resolve, helped the young men commit to serving missions, and prepared them for difficult mountains they would climb in the future.
“Among my amazing leaders and peers was the power of God,” Nathan remembers. “I believe He sent down angels that day to help us. This experience helped me understand the importance of being worthy to bless the sacrament and fulfill my other priesthood duties.”
I don’t know how big a part that experience played in helping the young men on that hike commit to lives of prayer, service, and worthiness. Many experiences in their young lives likely played a key role in their commitment to Jesus Christ and His Church. But every one of those young men went on to serve the Savior as full-time missionaries.
With the passage of time, I am increasingly grateful for those good servants of the Lord—what they did for me then and what they continue to do for others today. For me, they were, and remain, ministering angels (see Doctrine and Covenants 13:1).
For their “outstanding service in implementing Scouting skills and ideals,” young men from the Rio Grande Ward in Las Cruces, New Mexico, received the Medal of Merit award from the Boy Scouts of America.

A knock on the door startled the Thomas family. Who could be out on a night like this, with the snow falling in great sheets and lying deep on the ground? Mary Ann’s father hurried to the door but stopped long enough to lift his rifle from its pegs.

A man clothed in a shabby, thin, black coat stood in the doorway, holding two books under his arm. “Hello,” he said. “Would it be possible for a stranger to find a place to stay here this night?”

Her father regarded the man carefully. Many wicked men traveled the frontier of Canada, hoping to rob innocent families. “Who might you be?” he asked at last.

The man smiled, and Mary Ann and her older brother, Nathan, crept closer for a better look. Mary Ann stared at his feet.

“My name’s Brother James Reed—I’m just a harmless stranger traveling in your parts,” the man said cheerfully.

Her father kept a ready hand on the rifle. “Why?”

“I’ve come to tell all who will listen about a new religion that teaches the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Mary Ann could see her father tighten his grip on the rifle. “I’ve no need for a new religion, thank you,” he said.

He was putting his hand on the door to close it, when Mary Ann hurried to her mother’s side and whispered, “Mother, look at his feet! They’re bleeding!”

“Wait,” Mother called, moving closer to the door. She looked out at the tracks of blood in the snow. Then stepping forward, she pushed the rifle away. “Brother Reed, I’m a good Christian woman, and I’ll turn no man away from my door on a night like this with feet in that condition.”

Upon noticing the man’s worn boots, Father invited the man inside. “Come in. Evil men rarely tramp around with bleeding feet. You can spend the night.” He stabbed a finger at the man. “Then you must be on your way. I have little time for preachers.”

Carefully Mary Ann helped the man remove the boots from his feet. He wasn’t wearing any socks! Mother came forward with a basin of warm water. Gratefully he lowered them into it.

“I do appreciate this,” he said. “I’ve been turned away from five homes this day. May the good Lord bless you for your care of one of His poor servants.”

Father sat by the fire, rubbing his rifle with an oily rag. “It seems to me that if the good Lord wanted you to spread His message, He wouldn’t send you out on a night like this, dressed as you are.”

Nathan spoke up. “Father, remember what Parson Grimes read in church Sunday?” He went to the chest under the window and took out the family’s Bible. Opening it, he leafed through it. “Here it is, in Luke 9:3. The Savior is talking to His Apostles: ‘And he said unto them, Take nothing for your journey, neither staves, nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece.’ “

Mary Ann whispered to her brother. “What does scrip mean?”

“It’s a bag to carry food in,” Brother Reed whispered back. Chuckling, he lifted his toes from the water and wiggled them. “The scripture doesn’t mention socks, but I don’t have that, either!”

Mary Ann thought she caught a smile on her father’s face before it disappeared. But he said brusquely, “Do you claim to be an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ?”

“No sir. I’m just one of His humble servants. But there is one traveling with me in this part of Canada. His name is Brigham Young. I can tell you without a doubt in my heart that he’s an Apostle, called by a prophet to testify of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Suddenly a warm feeling entered everyone in the small log home. Mary Ann felt a deep wonder inside. Could this really be true? Could there be an Apostle here in the wilderness of Canada?

Mother replaced the Bible in the chest. Then she pulled a pair of hand-knit stockings from it. Mary Ann cringed when she saw the knotty socks—the very first pair she had knitted. When Mother handed them to Brother Reed, he put them gratefully on his now-dry feet. “God bless whoever knitted these.” His eyes twinkling, he turned to Mary Ann. “Was it you?”

She nodded and ducked her red face.

He sighed with contentment. “Never have my feet felt better. Thank you, dear sister.”

Mary Ann lifted her face and saw the truly grateful look in his eyes.

Mother asked, “Is this Apostle of Jesus Christ, this …”

“Brigham Young.”

“Is he in as much need as you are?”

“We travel just as the Lord advised in the New Testament. Brother Brigham has as little as I. Wherever we go, people who listen to the message of our Savior and help us are blessed. In Matthew 25:40, [Matt. 25:40] it says, ‘Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”

Mother sighed, “Then let’s hope that he found shelter tonight.” She went to the fireplace. “Now I’m going to feed you a good meal while you tell us about your new religion. How is it different?”

“The gospel has been restored. God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to a boy They have chosen to be a prophet on earth today.”

Picking up her baby sister, Anna, Mary Ann moved closer to listen to the stranger. “You mean a prophet like Moses and Abraham?” She asked in awe.

Brother Reed smiled at her. “Yes. His name is Joseph Smith. They told him to start a new church. It was to be just like the one the Savior organized when He lived on earth.”

Father continued to rub the rifle with the oily cloth. “So you claim to have prophets and Apostles?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All as poor as you?”

“Yes, sir. But remember the Savior Himself chose fishermen instead of rich men for His Apostles. Brigham Young worked at building houses before his call.”

Nathan moved closer. “What are those books you carry?”

“One’s the Bible—just like yours. The other is the Book of Mormon, a sacred book Joseph Smith translated from ancient writings given to him by an angel. It tells of Christ’s visit to the people here in the Americas.”

“May I look at that book?” Father asked.

Brother Reed handed the book to Mary Ann. “Would you take this to your father?”

As she carried the book, she felt a special reverence for it.

“Just read where it’s marked,” Brother Reed said.

Father read aloud Moroni’s promise. Then he closed the book. “It looks like your feet are going to need some time to heal,” he said gruffly. “And I want to study this book. If after I read it, I find that you’re a liar, then you’ll be out on your ear. If it’s true, we’ll listen to all that you have to tell us. And you’ll be welcome to stay as long as you will.”

“Fair enough,” Brother Reed said with a smile. Gratefully he wrapped himself in the blankets Mary Ann provided, and lay down by the fire to sleep while Father read into the night.