Gospel Story Finder

This was well illustrated in my father’s patriarchal blessing. He was told in his blessing that he would be blessed with “many beautiful daughters.” He and my mother became the parents of five sons. No daughters were born to them, but they treated the wives of their sons as daughters. Some years ago when we had a family gathering, I saw my father’s daughters-in-law, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters moving about, tending to the food and ministering to the young children and the elderly, and the realization came to me that Father’s blessing literally had been fulfilled. He has indeed many beautiful daughters. The patriarch who gave my father his blessing had spiritual vision to see beyond this life. The dividing line between time and eternity disappeared.

The black clouds hung heavily against the peaks of the faraway Santa Clara Mountains. Ben shuddered as he heard the faint sounds of thunder after each lighting flash.
“I’ll bet there’ll be a big storm,” he told himself, as he tucked his math book more firmly under his arm.
After getting off the school bus, Ben walked up the road watching the threatening streaks of light in the distance. It had rained lightly on and off for two weeks, and now more rain. A friendly “Woof” took his mind off the storm.
“Hi, Lady Belle!” he called to the big white dog who was running back and forth inside the fenced yard. Three fluffy balls were tagging right behind her. Ben reached a hand inside the wire fence to rub and scratch each of the dogs who wiggled all over with pleasure.
“Even with your new pups you came down to meet me just the way you did before they were born,” Ben said with a wide grin. Lady Belle had been his first friend when the family moved from the city.
The dogs ran along the fence on the other side, each one barking happily. When they came to the gate at the end of the long yard, Ben reached in and gave each dog another good scratching.
“You get that family back to the kennel before it rains, Lady,” Ben said as he hurried up the road toward home.
“Hello, Ben!” called Mrs. Haycock, their closest neighbor. “Mr. Larsen just took his wife to the hospital. She fell on the porch steps.”
“That’s too bad,” Ben said as he kept looking at the lightning. “Do you think there will be a storm as bad as the one two years ago?” he asked.
“Maybe even worse,” Mrs. Haycock replied. “There was one about five years ago that washed out everything. Horses, furniture, even some orange trees went down the arroyo and into the river. Mr. Larsen’s yard was filled with water and looked like a big pond just the way it was when my husband and I came here 50 years ago.”
Ben shuddered. He remembered some of the storms in the city. The lightning and thunder always frightened him a little. When the lightning crashed against the tall buildings and the water swirled down into the storm sewers, he’d run home as fast as he could.
“So you’d better hurry home,” Mrs. Haycock continued. “Will your mother be on the next bus?”
“No, she’s working late,” Ben answered.
Mrs. Haycock thought she sensed worry in his voice. “Want to keep me company?” she offered.
“No, thanks. I’m fine,” he said, turning to leave.
Ben unlocked the door and went inside. He put on some storm clothes and a pair of rubber boots. With a storm on the way there were a few things that he knew had to be done in case the storm turned out to be a bad one.
As Ben worked he remembered the first time they drove into this valley. There was a long bridge spanning a wide river filled with muddy water and tree branches. “Look, Dad,” he had said, “it must be almost a mile wide.”
“Usually it’s a big empty riverbed with just a trickle of water going down the middle,” Dad had explained. “But when it rains heavily in the mountains the water comes down in sheets, washing gravel and rocks down the stream. Sometimes it even floods over into the fields and groves.”
It began to rain a little now, and Ben kept on putting rocks and sandbags around the outside of the house. Soon he heard Lady Belle barking, and Mrs. Haycock’s words came back to him. “Mr. Larsen’s yard … a big pond.” And now with Mr. Larsen gone, Ben was worried about Lady Belle and her puppies. They were right in the middle of the yard, and in his imagination he could see them floundering in deep water.
It was raining much harder now. Ben picked up a flashlight and started down the road.
Lady Belle was barking frantically.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Ben shouted.
He reached the high gate but it was locked. He remembered that Mr. Larsen always kept the key in his pocket. Lady Belle’s fur was plastered down with water and the puppies were huddled against the fence in front of her, whimpering.
“Take it easy,” Ben said as much to himself as to the dog. He looked around for something to knock the lock off. Aiming his flashlight along the fence, he spotted a rock about the size of a baseball. Every time Ben hit the lock with his makeshift hammer, it stung his hand. But the lock wouldn’t budge.
Lightning cut the sky overhead, followed by rolling thunder. Great drops of water began pelting down. The sides of the roadway became small rivers. Rain dripped over the edges of his hat and down onto his hands, making his fingers stiff and cold.
Lady Belle whined and licked Ben’s hand as he tugged at the lock. Then he said, “Look out, Lady!” Ben struck the lock as hard as he could several more times. He was just about to give up, when he saw that the bottom of it had slipped down. It was open!
Ben dropped the flashlight and picked up the wet puppies. The little fellows wiggled and squirmed, but he bundled them inside the warmth of his coat and held them close with one arm. He grabbed Lady Belle’s collar with his free hand, and urged, “Come on, Lady. We’ll have to run for it.”
While he was rearranging the pups, Lady Belle placed her body squarely in front of them so that she broke the force of the storm. She was strong, for she was a Great Pyrenees, a breed of dog used to facing cold winds and snows at high mountain sheep camps.
Everything set, Ben took hold of Lady Belle’s collar again. As they slogged along, Mrs. Haycock came running out to her gate. She looked tired and worried, and her coat was flapping in the wind.
Ben edged over to the side of the road and gave a high shrill whistle. Mrs. Haycock heard it and pushed herself out toward them. Ben took her arm and guided her up to higher ground.
“Muddy water … it’s flooding … rocks bouncing all over!” she gasped.
Ben took her thin hand and put it on Lady Belle’s collar. He called to her over the storm, “Hang on. Our house is higher.” She nodded and clenched her hand on the collar.
It wasn’t until then that Ben became aware of the sounds, like artillery blasts. Rocks were bouncing down the cement drainage canal in back of the house, crashing into the walls and booming as they came.
Ben helped Mrs. Haycock up the steps of his house while Lady Belle went up them in one bound. Ben snuggled his face into the wet fur of the puppies and then put them all down on the doorstep.
Mrs. Haycock leaned against the door as Ben opened it. “Never thought we’d make it!” she wheezed. She reached over and patted Ben’s back.
At that moment the storm hit with a burst of sudden fury. The wind blew in wild gusts that rattled the windows and ripped at the shutters. There was a sudden “KER-BANG!” from the garage, followed by the sound of splintering boards and the rattle of cans.
Mrs. Haycock tried to keep her voice calm. “I am glad to be here where we’re all safe,” she said as she took off her wet raincoat and scarf and sat down on a kitchen chair.
Ben looked out of the kitchen window. The street was a muddy river by now. Branches, boxes, garbage cans, and tree limbs all went tumbling along in the water.
“I really think the storm is easing up some. Usually they end with a big fling, like that last,” said Mrs. Haycock, listening to the sounds from outside.
Flashing red and yellow lights were suddenly reflected through the window, and three people got out of a rescue truck. They came splashing up to the house. Ben opened the door and called, “Mom! Dad! Mr. Larsen!”
Lady Belle bounded out of the door. “Thought you and your puppies were goners for sure,” shouted Mr. Larsen.
Ben hugged his parents in relief while Mrs. Haycock smiled at the happy reunions.
“They let us come with the rescue crew when we told them how worried we were about our son who was all alone,” Mom explained.
“But I can see that we didn’t need to worry about you at all,” Dad said with pride as he smiled at Ben.
“That’s right!” Mr. Larsen exclaimed. “And I didn’t need to worry about Lady Belle either. I can see that Ben knows just what to do in an emergency. I’d like him to have a pup for his very own to take care of.”
Ben was so happy that for a few minutes he forgot all about the storm outside. Finally it quieted so the neighbors could go home.
“Well,” said Dad as he looked at the clock. “It’s almost morning but I think we better get a little sleep. We’ve much to be thankful for. This has been a night to remember.”
And Ben agreed. He knew it would be one he would never forget.

My poor bones! I had the bone marrow test yesterday. Pain! First they deadened my hip, and then they went in and deadened the membrane around the bone. After that they drilled into the bone by twisting a needle until it penetrated the inner membrane. That’s what hurt. I have to do it again Friday.
Something else happened yesterday, something nearly as bad as the bone marrow test. One of the interns came into my room while I was reading my Book of Mormon and asked me if I was a Mormon. When I told him I was, he tried to tell me how foolish I was. He was a little bitter toward the Church and told me something about a brother who had joined. I told him I knew the Church was true.
“Why don’t you call your missionaries then and have them come and give you a blessing?” he asked.
I told him the missionaries were on their way right then.
“And you really think that will help?”
I told him I knew that if my Father in Heaven wanted me to get well, I would.
“You don’t know what you have!” he shouted. He was angry. “You’ll be dead in six months no matter what you do!” When he realized what he had said, a shocked look came on his face. I asked him to leave.
When the missionaries came, they gave me a comfort blessing, but no promise. It helped, and I was able to sleep for a while, but when it came time for the operation, I was petrified. When they took me to the operating room, I walked down the hall like a zombie.

Recently, I approached the reception desk of a large hospital to learn the room number of a patient I had come to visit. This hospital, like almost every other in the land, was undergoing a massive expansion. Behind the desk where the receptionist sat was a magnificent plaque which bore an inscription of thanks to donors who had made possible the expansion. The name of each donor who had contributed $100,000 appeared in a flowing script, etched on an individual brass placard suspended from the main plaque by a glittering chain.
The names of the benefactors were well known. Captains of commerce, giants of industry, professors of learning—all were there. I felt gratitude for their charitable benevolence. Then my eyes rested on a brass placard which was different—it contained no name. One word, and one word only, was inscribed: “Anonymous.” I smiled and wondered who the unnamed contributor could have been. Surely he or she experienced a quiet joy unknown to any other.

Another influence in my life was our bishop’s wife. She was a nurse, and she taught me about the power and authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood to heal the sick. She also taught me about the gift of being healed. One day while playing in a silo, my cousin accidently knocked over a rock that hit me in the head. Even before she bandaged my deep gash, the bishop’s wife asked my father and her husband to administer a blessing. My wound healed, and I didn’t have to go to the doctor.

When I first arrived in Indonesia in 1976 I met a group of pioneers in central Java who helped me understand much, much more about the meaning of words such as relief, compassion, and service. These Relief Society sisters, led by their president, Ibu Subowo, were giant souls in small bodies. Every morning before they began their cooking, each sister would hold back a spoonful of rice. They kept the rice in plastic bags that they brought to Relief Society each week. After the meeting, they would gather and prayerfully consider who needed a visit. All would then go together to visit those in need, taking the bags of rice with them to share with those who had less than they did.

Consecration. The Lord’s storehouse. A society of interdependent Saints. I learned much about sacrifice, wondering what my equivalent of a spoonful of rice would be.

Preeti Khadgi says that she has become more kindhearted and she enjoys talking to people more since she became a member of the Church. Preeti is one of the few whose entire family joined the Church, starting with her father, who was the first Nepali to be baptized in Nepal and is now the branch president.
Before joining the Church, Preeti’s mother had a dream in which she found a way “to make all of her children good children.” The Khadgis feel the Church is fulfilling that dream. Preeti’s brother, Pratik, is now serving in the India Bangalore Mission.

While in the wilderness Nephi, the son of Lehi, was permitted to see in vision the things that would transpire concerning the destiny of America—the promised land. He said, “And I looked and beheld a man among the Gentiles, who was separated from the seed of my brethren by the many waters; and I beheld the Spirit of God, that it came down and wrought upon the man; and he went forth upon the many waters, even unto the seed of my brethren, who were in the promised land.” (1 Ne. 13:12.)

This, as we know, refers to Christopher Columbus, who was impelled by the Spirit of God to cross the ocean for the rediscovery of America, thus assisting in the furthering of God’s purposes.

Columbus himself, in a letter to the Spanish hierarchy, wrote, “Our Lord unlocked my mind, sent me upon the sea, and gave me fire for the deed. Those who heard of my emprise called it foolish, mocked me, and laughed. But who can doubt but that the Holy Ghost inspired me?” (Quoted in Mark E. Petersen, The Great Prologue, Deseret Book Co., 1975, p. 26.)

During the voyage, after weeks of sailing with no sign of land, mutiny raised its head. Finally, Columbus promised the captains of the Pinta and the Niña, both of whom wanted to turn back, that if no land was sighted in forty-eight hours, they would turn back. Then he went to his cabin and, in his words, “prayed mightily to the Lord.” On October 12, the very next day, they sighted land.

“When Reverend Price, my predecessor, first came here as a young rector, there was no village school for the children. A few of the wealthier families sent their children into Oswestry on the train to attend school, but most of the children went without formal instruction. Mabel married Arthur Jones about that time. She moved into Bwlch Farm and was soon involved in the community. It concerned her no end that all the young children here were illiterate. She approached Reverend Price to see if they could do something about it. This was what they came up with.”
Reverend Lloyd opened the thick wooden door into a small room containing one large wooden desk, a large old oak chair, and half a dozen small chairs and tables. On the wall were faded maps, pictures of wild animals, and the alphabet.
“For ten years this was the Bwlchycibau schoolroom. Mabel would come and teach the children of the village three mornings a week. She received no pay for it. She just did it because she saw a need. There are many farmers around here now who wouldn’t be reading if it weren’t for Mabel Jones.
“When the county finally built a school in the village and sent us a certified teacher, Mabel still stopped by once a week to read to the children. I think it was the highlight of the week for them all.”

Primary also played a big part in helping me develop a testimony of the gospel. Many of my teachers encouraged me and helped me understand what I needed to do to gain a testimony. It was a gradual process. I finally realized I could not live off Mother’s or Dad’s testimony forever. I took the advice my Primary teachers had given me and read the Book of Mormon, prayed about it, and found out for myself it is true.

Have you ever been excited for a special day? Maybe it was your birthday or a vacation. Seven-year-old Adair was excited for a special day. Her family set a date to go to the temple one year from the time of their baptism.
Adair’s family held a special family home evening. Her dad and mom explained how important it was for everyone to prepare to go to the temple. They made a list of the things they could do: pray individually and as a family, read the scriptures, pay tithing, keep the commandments, and follow the prophet.
Adair’s mother gave her a picture of the temple and wrote Adair’s name and the date that her family would be going to the temple underneath. Every day Adair tried her best to prepare for when her family would be sealed in the temple. Adair felt good inside as she realized that each day she prepared to receive the blessings of the temple was a special day. She felt a surge of excitement as the special day came. Being sealed as a family was a blessing Heavenly Father gave them that brought them closer to Him and to each other.

Two relevant memories for young fathers. When I was such, I had just received a phone call telling me of a friend’s death in an accident. I was sitting in the living room with tears streaking down my cheeks. Our young son, Cory, saw the tears as he passed in the hallway. I learned that he had anxiously assumed the tears were because he had disappointed me in some way. He didn’t know about the phone call. Brethren, we underestimate how genuinely and frequently our children want to please us.

I suppose there are some things in life that we would never get used to. I am reminded of an experience that happened many years ago while I was a young missionary. Between the north and south islands of New Zealand is a very rough body of water known as Cook Strait. Out in this rough water are many small and beautiful islands. On D‘Urville Island lived a large group of wonderful Maori people who were members of the Church. They were in an excellent branch of the Church and lived the gospel well. All were related to one another and were mainly professional fishermen.

President Matthew Cowley, my mission president, and I left Wellington on the steamer that sailed between the two islands. It was a rather large ship carrying up to 600 passengers. The only way for a passenger to get off the ship anywhere near D’Urville Island was to climb down a rope ladder lowered from the side of the ship at about two o’clock in the morning. This little maneuver didn’t frighten me too much until the time to perform it approached.

It was a dark night with no moon and few stars. As the ship slowed down to stop, President Cowley and I could see off in the distance a little light bobbing up and down in the water. It was a lantern held by one of the Maori men who was rowing out to pick us up. As it got closer, we could tell that the water was very rough.

Finally the boat was right under us and we could look over the railing and see them. Then we heard one of them shout for us to come down. The deck steward on the ship opened a gate in the railing and threw down the rope ladder. I looked down into the water that dark night, turned to President Cowley, and said, “You are the mission president. You go first.” He looked down that rope ladder into the darkness of the night and said, “I am the mission president. You go first.”

Fearfully, yet bravely, I started down the ladder. Never in my life had I ever climbed a rope ladder more than two or three rungs long. The first and second steps were easy because I could still feel that I was near the side of the ship. But the farther down I went, the farther the ladder hung away from the side of the ship. After I had gone down about six steps I felt very much alone and was hanging on for dear life, praying with each step.

I think that in the darkness of that night, thousands of miles away from home, I learned how to pray all over again. I was frightened, but I hung on and slowly and carefully took it one step at a time. Finally a large Maori hand grabbed me by the ankle, and a voice assured me, “You’ve made it!” I managed to get into the rowboat and put on a raincoat to keep from getting wet.

I sat down and relaxed. Then I looked up the long rope ladder to watch my wonderful mission president begin to climb down. I am sure he prayed just as hard as I did, and finally he made it into the boat. We were then with friends, feeling safe and secure. In a short while we were on dry land on D‘Urville Island. The whole branch was out to greet us in the middle of the night.

Several times while we were there, I thought of that rope ladder. I thought, That is something no one would ever get used to doing. You could never take that downward trip for granted. But doing it over and over would make it easier and possibly less frightening.

When our visit was over and it came time for us to return to the North Island it dawned on me that we needed to climb up that ladder. I discovered that a climb like that would be just as dangerous and treacherous as the climb down. This would require practically the same amount of prayer and effort.

I will never forget that one dark night in the islands of the sea. It was a most unusual and unique experience in my life.

Born to George and Antonia Foote in October 1947 in Alexandria, Louisiana, USA, she was the only sister to six younger brothers. After graduating from Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas, with a degree in English literature and secondary education, she moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where she worked as a secretary at Harvard University. There she met David Cannon Marriott, who told her, “I have some friends I want you to meet.” He soon brought the missionaries to teach her and her roommates.
As she listened to the missionaries, she said, “the lessons filled in the missing pieces of my gospel understanding.” After her baptism in May 1970, she and David remained friends; after a year they began dating and were married in June 1971 in the Salt Lake Temple.
Working together with her husband, Sister Marriott stayed home with their 11 children while he pursued a career in business. They have served in many Church callings. She served with him as he presided over the São Paulo Interlagos Mission from 2002 to 2005, and she has served as an ordinance worker in the Salt Lake Temple, a stake and a ward Relief Society president, a ward Young Women president, a Gospel Doctrine teacher, and a food storage specialist.
In her new assignment, Sister Marriott hopes to share the same testimony she received as a young woman. She wants young women to know that “they are loved by their Heavenly Father with the deepest, most glorious love.”

I gazed upon the many rows of black marble stones standing in haunting stillness among the beautiful gardens of the Okinawa Peace Memorial Park in Itoman, Okinawa, Japan. Engraved with over 200,000 names, these stones commemorate those who lost their lives during the Battle of Okinawa during World War II.
Walking toward the parking lot at the conclusion of our visit, my wife and I noticed that our toddler no longer held his favorite yellow truck. When we asked him where it was, he led us back to the main monument. He had neatly placed his truck by a bouquet of flowers donated by other visitors. With shining eyes and a huge smile, our son showed us his own contribution to the memorial.
Driving home, we pondered his selfless choice. Did he recognize the special spirit of that place and feel compelled to give his most prized possession? What worth could a plastic truck add to the honor and memorial of those who had lost their lives here?

Nine years later Hal was enjoying tenure at Stanford and serving as bishop of the Stanford First Ward. With his in-laws living nearby, “things were set,” he recalls. But in the middle of the night in 1971, Kathleen woke him with two unusual questions: “Are you sure you are doing the right thing with your life?”
Wondering how they could be any happier, Hal asked, “What do you mean?”
Kathleen replied, “Couldn’t you be doing studies for Neal Maxwell?”
Neal A. Maxwell had just been appointed Commissioner of the Church Educational System. Neither Hal nor Kathleen knew him, but Kathleen felt that perhaps her husband could be doing more to change lives.
“Doing studies for Neal Maxwell—at my stage of my career?” Hal responded. After all, he thought, “ ‘Doing studies’ was something a young graduate student might do.”
Following a pause, Kathleen said, “Will you pray about it?”
At that stage in his marriage, Hal knew better than to ignore his wife’s counsel. He got out of bed, knelt, and uttered a prayer. “I got no answer,” he says, “and I felt terrific about it because I didn’t want to go anywhere.”
The following day during bishopric meeting, a voice that Hal has come to know well came to his mind and rebuked him for treating lightly his wife’s prompting. “You don’t know what way is up in your career,” he was told. “If you ever get another job offer, you bring it to me.”
Hal was shaken by the experience and immediately returned home. “We’ve got a problem,” he told Kathleen. He feared he had made a mistake by passing up several job offers he had received while at Stanford. “I had never prayed over any of them,” he says. Humbled, he began praying about his future.
Less than a week after Kathleen’s late-night questions, Commissioner Maxwell called and invited Hal to Salt Lake City for a meeting. He flew out the next day, and the two men met at the home of Hal’s parents. The first words out of Commissioner Maxwell’s mouth were “I’d like to ask you to be the president of Ricks College.”
Even his wife’s prompting and the spiritual rebuke he had received hadn’t prepared him for such a surprise. He told Commissioner Maxwell that he would need to pray about it. After all, he knew little about Ricks College. The next morning he met with the First Presidency. Afterward, Commissioner Maxwell told him the job was his if he wanted it.
Upon his return to California, Hal continued praying fervently. An answer came, but he almost missed it. “I heard a voice so faint that I hadn’t paid attention to it,” he recalls. “The voice said, ‘It’s my school.’ ” He called Commissioner Maxwell and said, “I’m coming.”
Just like that, Hal gave up the trappings of tenure at Stanford for life in a single-wide trailer in Rexburg, Idaho. It would be several months after his inauguration as president of Ricks College, on December 10, 1971, that he would move his family into their new home, which he helped build.
“I went to Ricks knowing a couple of things,” he says. “One is that I wasn’t as much of a big shot as I thought I was in terms of my great position at Stanford. Another is that I knew my wife had received revelation before I did. Finally, I knew that I was a lucky guy to be there. So instead of answering the question ‘How could I give up my career at Stanford?’ I say, ‘Heavenly Father took care of that. It never felt like a sacrifice.’ ”

Mitchell is a kindergartner. He is trying hard to be a good example to his classmates and his two younger brothers. During a track-and-field day, he found two dollars on the playground at school. He turned the money in to the office. Soon a second-grade girl told the principal that she had lost her two dollars. The principal told her that she didn’t have much hope to get her money back but to check at the office. When she did, she was told that a kindergartner had turned it in. The school praised Mitchell for his honesty, and so did his family.

Carlos Yépez Yong of Lima, Perú, cannot move his legs or right arm, and he has difficulty speaking. But he is one of the strongest people I know. What makes him strong is the Spirit of the Lord. Whenever he speaks or teaches, his words are beautiful to the ear because they touch the heart.
Brother Yépez’s paralysis is the result of damage he received at birth. For most of his first five years he remained in a vegetative state, receiving nourishment through his veins. Some of the doctors treating him wondered if it was worthwhile keeping him alive. They did not know the Lord had a mission for him.
When Carlos was six years old, to everyone’s surprise he began to move part of his body. Medical treatments began, and his mental abilities developed to such a degree that in a few years he surpassed his classmates. His physical progress slowed somewhat after age 12. When he was about 18, his parents divorced, and his treatments stopped.
Carlos felt frustrated and was depressed, but he did not sink into despair. When he was 20 years of age, a neighbor invited him to hear the missionary discussions. Carlos received all of them, and after praying and pondering in his heart, he received a spiritual witness that what he had learned was true. He decided to be baptized.
Carlos says that when he was immersed at baptism, his life changed completely. “In my mind, I felt as though my useless arm and legs had become strong and vigorous,” he says. “I decided on that day that I would serve the Lord in any calling He gave me, that I would ‘run and not be weary, and … walk and not faint’” (D&C 89:20).
Although his physical paralysis remained, Carlos’s spirit soared, and the Lord blessed him. He was punctual at his meetings and attended adult religion classes sponsored by the Church Educational System. He was called to serve as the second counselor in the Young Men presidency of the Caja de Agua Ward, Lima Perú Las Flores Stake. Every day of the week, we would see him going from one house to another in his wheelchair, inviting the youth to Mutual.
Years have passed since then. He is now a member of Los Jardines Ward. He still has a firm testimony of the Lord and His gospel, attends the Lima Perú Temple regularly, does his home teaching, and helps the missionaries teach investigators. Because of his perseverance, testimony, and trust in the Lord, seven of his nieces and nephews and some of his friends are now members of the Church. Other members, both youth and adults, have returned to Church activity because of his influence. He never misses a meeting, he frequently attends firesides, and he goes to ward activities. Though some might think he is hampered by his disabilities, the youth in the stake admire him as one whose spirit soars.

As a young boy of just eight I vividly remember the thrill of anticipation leading up to my baptism. I had such high expectations, genuinely believing I’d feel something monumental and immediate. When that clear distinct feeling didn’t arrive, I was a bit confused. I think I expected instant blessings; an immediate transformation. Reflecting on my baptism more than 50 years ago and everything that has unfolded since, I now understand it all so much more clearly.
The experience of entering into the covenant of baptism, along with the many covenants I’ve made with the Lord since, has been the very fabric of my life’s greatest blessings. It wasn’t about an immediate overwhelming feeling or change, but rather about the profound power that has quietly and consistently unfolded in my life. I now truly realize the immense power and blessings that have come to me, not from a single moment, but from the simple faithful choices I’ve made each time I’ve expressed my trust in the Lord through countless acts of covenant making and covenant keeping.

Lyle says he is not the kind of person who accepts things on faith very easily. “It took me a while to realize that the Spirit of the Lord is a substantial, real thing, not just a belief.”

When Lyle’s younger brother Skyler was being ordained a deacon, Lyle was gathered with his father, uncles, and cousins in a circle to help with the ordination. “I thought, What could be better than to spend eternity with these people? I would do anything for anybody in this circle. The Spirit was very strong. That’s when I started thinking, It’s real, it’s substantial, it’s God’s power, and it’s been here all along. The thing I see happening in the family, the spirit that can be there, is the most important thing to me. I’d drop robots right now if the choice was between them and my family. I’m playing with little toys that pale in comparison to that.”