Gospel Story Finder

“I witness the complete and absolute truth of the Savior’s incomparable atoning sacrifice and of His glorious Resurrection. As we focus our lives on this thought, I promise we will feel His hope, His peace, and His love.
“When we unexpectedly lose someone we love, the sadness and grief can be overwhelming.
“Late last year, the life of radiant Brigham Young University freshman Anna Peterson ended suddenly following a tragic sledding accident. Anna was a humble, loving, and kind disciple of Jesus Christ. She sought ways to help others feel God’s love. In fact, she had just finished her application to become a full-time missionary.
“Though many lost a friend when Anna passed, her parents, John and Julie, lost a beautiful light, who they had cared for, prayed over, and loved for 18 years. The death of a daughter is enough to engulf anyone in grief. However, despite the deep sorrow they feel, John and Julie have chosen to lean on the Lord Jesus Christ.
“I asked John—who served as a missionary with me when I presided over the France Bordeaux Mission—and Julie to share with me their thoughts as they continue to practice faith in Jesus Christ in the face of this tragedy. This is what they shared with me:
“John: ‘Anna’s sudden and tragic death tore what feels like a massive wound in my chest. But there is a balm in Gilead, and as we have leaned into gratitude for both the Savior’s Atonement and the wonderful, amazing times we had in Anna’s 18 years, the tender mercies fill us to overflowing. We have strength to press on.’
“Julie: ‘Shortly after Anna’s accident, I was prompted to make the theme of our efforts ‘Turn to the Light, Our Savior.’ As we share with each other these opportunities to choose light rather than choosing darkness to cope, we strengthen each other, and the Lord carries us in our grief. I/We choose to trust the Lord.’
“I sincerely admire John and Julie’s faith in Jesus Christ. They are a wonderful example to me. During this Easter season, I testify that Jesus Christ broke the bands of death, allowing all to live beyond the grave, and, most importantly, He promises each of us that as we believe in and follow Him, we can live with Him forever—yes, forever!”

On board one of those overcrowded wooden sailing ships were my great-grandparents, their little family, and a few belongings. The waves were high, the voyage long, the quarters cramped. One little girl, Mary, had always been frail, but now with the passage of each day, her anxious mother saw the little one becoming weaker. She had a serious illness. There was no neighborhood clinic, no doctor’s prescription, no hospital—just the steady roll of the tired old ship. Day after day worried parents watched anxiously for land, but there was none. Little Mary could not withstand the hardships of the voyage. After days of feverish sickness, she peacefully passed beyond this veil of tears.
As family and friends crowded around on the open deck, the ship’s captain directed the service; and that precious, little body was placed tenderly in a tear-stained canvas, and dropped into the angry sea. Her strong father, in emotion-choked tones, comforted Mary’s grieving mother, repeating, “‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’ (Job 1:21.) We’ll see our Mary again!”

Other experiences I had as a boy taught me that the Holy Ghost can help us stay close to Heavenly Father. I had a friend named Ralph who was a few months older than I was. We went to school in a one-room redbrick schoolhouse, and Ralph and I would walk there together. One day we talked about his recent baptism and confirmation. He told me how clean he felt when he was baptized. I asked him what it was like to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, and he said, “It’s like a voice that whispers in your ear, teaching you the truth.” I never forgot Ralph’s explanation. I wanted to have what my friend had.

Later, after I was baptized and confirmed, I attended a banquet where President George Albert Smith was invited to speak. After the banquet, my dad and I stood in a long line to shake President Smith’s hand. When my turn came, President Smith looked down at me, took my hand, and spoke to me. I don’t remember what he said, but I will never forget how I felt. The Holy Ghost testified to me that he was a prophet of God.

I am grateful for the Holy Ghost. When we obey the commandments, the Holy Ghost dwells with us. He purifies us and teaches us the truth, and this helps us stay close to our Heavenly Father.

President Hinckley visited the area in 1996 to dedicate the replica of the tabernacle in Omaha and to celebrate the faith and dedication of the men who fought as part of the Mormon Battalion. The Miller family joined a host of other families there in dressing up like pioneers and doing pioneer activities. Angela even sang in a children’s choir. When she wears her pioneer dress and bonnet, she seems to feel more appreciation for the pioneers.

My years at Ricks College, during which I tried to seek God’s will and do it, kept the pavilion from covering me or obscuring God’s active role in my life. As I sought to do His work, I felt close to Him and felt assurance that He knew of my affairs and cared deeply for my happiness. But as they had at Stanford, worldly motivations began to present themselves to me. One was an attractive job offer, extended just as I was finishing my fifth year as president of Ricks College. I considered the offer and prayed about it and even discussed it with the First Presidency. They responded with warmth and a little humor but certainly not with any direction. President Spencer W. Kimball listened to me describe the offer I had received from a large corporation and said: “Well, Hal, that sounds like a wonderful opportunity! And if we ever needed you, we’d know where to find you.” They would have known where to find me, but my desires for professional success might have created a pavilion that would make it hard for me to find God and harder for me to listen to and follow His invitations.

My wife, sensing this, had a strong impression that we were not to leave Ricks College. I said, “That’s good enough for me.” But she insisted, wisely, that I must get my own revelation. And so I prayed again. This time I did receive direction, in the form of a voice in my mind that said, “I’ll let you stay at Ricks College a little longer.” My personal ambitions might have clouded my view of reality and made it hard for me to receive revelation.

Thirty days after I was blessed with the inspired decision to turn down the job offer and stay at Ricks College, the Teton Dam burst nearby. God knew that dam would burst and that hundreds of people would need help. He let me seek counsel and gain His permission to stay at Ricks College. He knew all the reasons that my service might still be valuable at the college and in Rexburg. So I was there to ask Heavenly Father frequently in prayer that He would have me do those things that would help the people whose property and lives had been damaged. I spent hours working with other people to clear mud and water from homes. My desire to know and do His will gave me a soul-stretching opportunity.

He started with a short story about Arturo Toscanini, the late, famous conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, who received a letter from a lonely sheepherder in a remote mountain area of Wyoming. It included these words: “‘Mr. Conductor: I have only two possessions—a radio and an old violin. The batteries in my radio are getting low and will soon die. My violin is so out of tune I can’t use it. Please help me. Next Sunday when you begin your concert, sound a loud “A” so I can tune my “A” string; then I can tune the other strings. When my radio batteries are dead, I’ll have my violin.’
“At the beginning of his next nationwide radio concert from Carnegie Hall, Toscanini announced: ‘For a dear friend and listener back in the mountains of Wyoming, the orchestra will now sound an “A.”’ The musicians all joined together in a perfect ‘A.’
“The lonely sheepherder only needed one note, just a little help to get back in tune; he could go on from there. He needed someone who cared to assist him with one string; the others would be easy. Then, with all strings in tune—in harmony—the lonely sheepherder would have a source of companionship and joy and could play uplifting strains.

San Jose, Costa Rica: “Please,” he told a friend, “I want to come back to the Church. I need you to send somebody.”
Daniel Frankston had heard the missionary discussions in his homeland of Canada with his mother when he was fourteen. Then when he was seventeen years old, his sister living in Costa Rica invited him to stay with her family and go to college in San Jose. His first day there, he looked out her window and saw the missionaries walking by. He listened to the discussions again and was baptized.
But the idea of receiving the priesthood scared him. And his Costa Rican girlfriend, whom he later married, was deeply committed to her own church; she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in his religion. For the next five years, he wasn’t active.
Then one day, Daniel saw a friend. And feelings that had been building up in his heart came in a rush: “Please,” he said, “I want to come back to the Church. I need you to send somebody.” He didn’t know his friend was now branch president—and in a very good position to send somebody! “I felt my life needed some order. Something had told me, ‘You need the priesthood now!’ When I saw my friend, I felt he was there for a reason.”
Soon his new home teachers were at his door. “They said they would come for me every Sunday, and they did. I couldn’t miss! It was beautiful. Somebody was there to just say ‘We’re with you.’”
Daniel received the Aaronic Priesthood and then brought the missionaries home to teach his wife, Ana. “She really made it difficult for them,” he smiles. “One elder would be looking through his books for an answer while the other would be testifying. She received the lessons from lots of missionaries. Finally, she just said, ‘I believe it’s true!’”
Daniel baptized her, and a year later they and their two little girls were sealed in the Guatemala City Temple. Back home in Costa Rica, as they were studying the Book of Mormon one evening, Ana’s deceased grandfather appeared to her. Three times he forcefully said, “Ana, I need the gospel!”
“That really strengthened her,” Daniel says. “We’re going back to the temple soon to do his work.”
Ana teaches a Primary class, and Daniel is a high councilor. He gets excited as he talks about his assignment with missionary work. “We invite nonmembers into our home every week to introduce them to the missionaries or to have discussions with them. And we’ve seen baptisms come of it. You can’t preach what you don’t do.” (See: “Keeping Track.”)

The only construction project Kalene Rice, 14, had ever been involved with was when she helped her father build a birdhouse. Cassie Rudy, 17, also couldn’t remember even holding a hammer. “I might have used one once to hammer a nail in the wall to hang a picture, but I’m not sure,” she says.
If Cassie wasn’t sure then, she is now. She joined Kalene and about 180 other young people from the Frederick Maryland Stake in Chestertown, Maryland, to build two houses in two days. Cassie has the callouses on her hands to prove it.
“This whole project depended on our attitude,” said Cassie. “We could have sat here the whole time and not worked. But that wouldn’t have been any fun. It’s a really good feeling to know we can do things like this.” Adds 14-year-old April Hough, “This has taken more time and more work, but it has been so useful because we’re helping someone who is less fortunate.”

Even during my darkest times, I have always felt peace in my trials through the Holy Ghost. But that changed when I underwent treatment for chronic pain that left me bedridden for two months.
The pain lessened after my treatment ended, but I began to struggle with depression. At the same time, it seemed to me that I had lost my ability to feel the Spirit.
For six months, I felt abandoned and desperately longed to feel the Spirit again. My healing was long and painful, which seemed even more daunting without the Spirit.
I met with my bishop, who explained that depression sometimes masks the Spirit so that we cannot feel it. His counsel comforted me, and a priesthood blessing from my husband gave me added strength as I waited hopefully to feel the Holy Ghost again.
General conference had always been a source of spiritual strength for me, but during the opening session of the April 2019 general conference, I felt nothing. That changed during the next session when a combined choir from Brigham Young University sang “Jesus, Once of Humble Birth.”1
The lyrics and the imagery of Jesus Christ as a lamb softened my heart. I realized that a wall of anger, depression, and false feelings of abandonment had masked my ability to feel the Spirit. A fortress of darkness had surrounded me, making it impossible for the Spirit to enter my heart. When the choir sang the second verse, that fortress began to crumble.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles followed the hymn with his talk “Behold the Lamb of God.”2 With the added power of his words, a love for the Savior and Heavenly Father washed over me.
Many impediments can hinder us from feeling the Spirit, but we can work through these barriers with help from Heavenly Father and His Son. Jesus Christ perfectly understands my struggles. Out of love for us and His Father, “He groaned in blood and tears.”3
Heavenly Father knows what will bring us comfort, and He knows when to bless us for our greatest spiritual growth.

Here is another example:
A single mother of two small children recently came down with chicken pox. Of course, it wasn’t long before her children got sick as well. The task of caring for herself and her little ones alone was almost too much for the young mother. And, as a result, the normally spotless house became cluttered and messy. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and laundry piled up everywhere else.
While she was struggling with crying children—and wanting to cry herself—a knock came at the door. It was her visiting teachers. They could see the young mother’s distress. They could see her house, her kitchen. They could hear the cries of the children.
Now, if these sisters had been concerned only with completing their assigned monthly visits, they might have handed the mother a plate of cookies, mentioned that they had missed her at Relief Society last week, and said something like, “Let us know if there is anything we can do!” Then they would have cheerfully been on their way, thankful that they had 100 percent for another month.
Fortunately, these sisters were true disciples of Christ. They noticed their sister’s needs and put their many talents and their experience to work. They cleared up the chaos, brought light and clarity into the home, and called a friend to bring over some much-needed groceries. When they at last finished their work and said their good-byes, they left that young mother in tears—tears of gratitude and love.
From that moment on, the young mother’s opinion of visiting teaching changed. “I know,” she said, “that I am not just a check mark on someone else’s to-do list.”

When I was 10 years old, I was exposed to pornography. After that, I became heavily involved in it for two years. When I was 12, my mother decided to have a family home evening on the law of chastity. I realized during this family home evening that I had a problem and that it was unhealthy and wrong. I told my mother about it, and she helped me get rid of the pornographic materials I had. Later that week, I received a blessing from my bishop.
For the next three years, I tried to stop using pornography, but I kept having relapses. One night when I was 16, I was struggling especially hard. I remember falling to my knees and praying for help, because I knew that when we have challenges, we need to pray to Heavenly Father for all things. During my prayer, I received peace and strength.
I then had the idea to fill my time with something good to replace the temptation. I started to work diligently on Personal Progress. As I did, I felt my Savior’s love. Heavenly Father helped me to vigorously focus on Personal Progress instead of pornography. The more I focused on the teachings of Jesus Christ in my Personal Progress, the more I became resistant to the temptations of pornography.
Heavenly Father also helped me in other ways during my struggle. He helped me realize that I couldn’t go on the computer alone or else I would be tempted to search for pornography. I decided that when I wanted to use the internet, I would use the computers at a nearby public library instead of the devices at home so that I would always be surrounded by people.
With the help of the Lord, I finished my Personal Progress and received my Young Womanhood Recognition. I felt so good and proud and thankful to my Heavenly Father for helping me to get this far. My relationship with the Lord felt so strong because I had relied on Him for so much help. Eventually, having become clean and strong, I went on to serve a mission.
Heavenly Father is willing to help us with our righteous desires if we ask Him. I know how important it is to use the grace of Jesus Christ’s Atonement at all times. If we desire to overcome our weaknesses and turn to God, He will help us.

“When I was about ten or eleven years old, I was involved with Primary. My teacher, Sister Zundell, was a very special person. She always taught us so effectively about the Savior. Many times while she was teaching, a little tear would trickle down her cheek, and it always impressed me that she had such tender emotions about the Savior. She taught us about His life and His teachings, which had a profound effect upon me. I can’t tell you the words or the stories that she told us; but just the way she did it, with the tears that would come, had a great effect upon me and the others in the class.

Inspired by a story in the June 1987 issue of the New Era, the youth of the Richmond Branch, Lexington Kentucky Stake, decided to build a garage as a service project and fund raiser.
In spite of sunburns, splinters, and smashed thumbs, over 20 teenagers spent two days in hot July weather framing and sheathing walls, raising trusses, and subroofing the structure. They not only raised the shell of the garage, but they earned a substantial amount of money for future activities. Because of their hard work the youth received a lot of coverage from the local newspaper and were featured on a Lexington television station.
The best reward from the project, however, was the sense of unity it gave the youth in this branch. Several less active youth and teenagers who had just moved into the area were involved, and one participant said the best thing about the project was that “it brought us closer together.”

During my second year of college, I worked at the university library as a student assistant. One day in December I was assigned to work with another student assistant. I had never met him before, so as we worked I tried to strike up a conversation. We talked about school, work, and our families.
Later in the afternoon he started to sing songs that mentioned God. I asked him about his religion. I hoped he would ask me the same thing so I could talk to him about the Church, and he did. I was so excited, because this was a great missionary opportunity. With a big smile, I told him I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He looked surprised and, in a not-very-pleasant tone of voice, replied, “The Mormons? You’re a Mormon? Those people don’t believe in Jesus Christ.”
His words were hard for me to hear. Whatever I was expecting, it certainly wasn’t to hear that I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ. I had heard stories like this, but now it was happening to me. What should I say? How could I respond to such a remark? The only thing that came to mind was, “But it’s the Church of Jesus Christ!”
I knew I had to repeat in my mind the Young Women motto—“Stand for Truth and Righteousness”—and put it into action. But how?
I proceeded to tell the other assistant that our church is the Church of Jesus Christ, that we believe in Him as our Savior, and that He loves all of God’s children. I expressed from the depths of my soul that I believed in Jesus Christ, that I was a member of His Church, and that I had been taught to love Him and to follow His example.
My coworker did not want to listen anymore. He responded reproachfully to the things I said even while I kept trying to explain. He also talked about the Book of Mormon in the same manner as he had spoken about the Church. I could tell he didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to listen to what he was saying either because he was trying to contend with me. I knew I shouldn’t go on explaining, so I bore my testimony. I told him that I knew everything I was saying was true. I could feel it in my heart.
As I left the library, I wondered how anyone could possibly talk about the Church that way. I thought about what I had felt as I testified to him and wondered if I should have allowed him to express himself the way he did. I felt anger and fear and thought of things I could have said. I felt frustrated and doubted my own level of spirituality because he had not changed his mind. Had I failed?
On the way home, I prayed. I wanted to get rid of my negative thoughts. I wanted to feel sure of what I had been taught my whole life, and I wanted to feel that Heavenly Father was pleased with me for what I had done. Prayer was the best tool I had. Prayer and the Holy Ghost had helped me know what to say and how to testify to my coworker, and they also helped me to know that my Heavenly Father was pleased with me.
This experience helped me to know with a greater certainty that this is the true Church of Jesus Christ and that, just as He was persecuted, so is His Church. I learned the importance of having a firm testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and His Church.

Then there is the remembered Christmas tale by O. Henry about a young husband and wife who lived in abject poverty yet who wanted to give one another a special gift. But they had nothing to give. Then the husband had a ray of inspiration: he would provide his dear wife a beautiful ornamental comb to adorn her magnificent long hair. The wife also received an idea: she would obtain a lovely chain for her husband’s prized watch, which he valued so highly.

Christmas day came; the treasured gifts were exchanged. Then the surprise ending, so typical of O. Henry’s short stories: the wife had shorn her long hair and sold it to obtain funds to purchase the watch chain, only to discover that her husband had sold his watch so that he might purchase the comb to adorn her beautiful long hair, which now she did not have.

I met Frank, a quiet, middle-aged man, in the Salt Lake City hospital where I worked as a nurse. He was admitted for tests because of poor blood circulation in his left leg. After several days of tests, the circulation became worse. Doctors agreed that Frank’s leg would have to be amputated below the knee, and the operation was performed.
Days passed, and I noticed that no visitors had been in to see Frank during the times that I worked. He had received no telephone calls or letters from friends or family.
Curious about this man who seemed so alone, I looked at his hospital record. There was no home address listed on his hospital admission form; he was a wanderer, traveling around the country with no permanent home. He had listed a sister in Texas as his nearest relative.
None of the other nurses knew any more about Frank than I did, so one day I went to see him.
He lay, quiet as usual, with his hair uncombed. He grimaced with pain as he tried to find a comfortable position.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Well, you could put that pillow under my leg right here,” he said, pointing to his thigh. “I can’t ever seem to find a comfortable position. Is it supposed to hurt so much? Is it time for another injection of pain killer yet?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s too soon to have another injection. Here, let me pour a glass of water for you.” Picking up the water pitcher, I filled his glass.
“Are you from around here?” I asked.
“No. When I finished my last work in Nevada I came through Salt Lake City looking for employment. I was on my way to Montana.”
“Oh, do you have family there?”
“No. I don’t have any family.” The words seemed to echo in the room. “I lost my family.”
He glanced at me again as the pain made him hold what was left of his leg. I placed my hand on his shoulder and stood by his side until it seemed the pain had passed.
“There was a car accident,” he explained. “My wife and five children—gone.”
Later, I sat at the nurses’ station trying to imagine the loss this man was feeling—his family, and now his leg. And he was in a strange town with no friends or family to help him through the experience.
I told the other nurses Frank’s story. We committed ourselves to becoming his friends and family. We learned that since the accident, he had traveled from town to town, working for a while, then moving on, looking for something to take the place of all that he had lost, but never able to find it. He was afraid to love and have it all taken from him again.
Each nurse had her own special way of doing things for Frank. One found out that Frank enjoyed reading western novels, so she made sure he always had one. Another kept fresh flowers from her garden by his bed. Another brought his favorite treats.
The family of a patient in the bed next to Frank’s also got involved. The Parkers brought something to Frank that touched me deeply. They gave him a picture of their family. He was very proud of it and kept it within view all the time.
He said, “Since I no longer have my own family, the Parkers want me to feel that I am a part of their family. That makes me feel good. I love to look at the little children.” Then he would point to each child and say their names as proudly as if they were his own.
It soon became evident to the doctors that the extreme pain in Frank’s leg was caused by a complication in the healing process. To correct this problem, Frank would need another operation. This meant further amputation of his left leg above the knee. It was a terrible setback for Frank. He wouldn’t talk to any of us, except to ask for another injection of pain killer.
The night prior to the scheduled operation, Frank slid to the floor of his room and dragged himself across to the window. He unlatched the bottom of the window, three floors up, fully intending to jump out and end it all. No more pain. No more depression or aching inside. No more loneliness. But he couldn’t get the window open. Falling to the floor in despair and agony, Frank lay there and cried.
The surgery went as planned. This time the remaining portion of his leg healed properly, and the pain was not as severe. We were all relieved to see Frank finally improving. The Parker family contacted the missionaries, and Frank was very receptive to their message. Then that wonderful family took Frank into their home after his release from the hospital. As soon as his leg was healed, he was baptized. He now has a new attitude about life and a desire to begin anew. Frank is looking forward to the day when he can be sealed to his departed wife and five children.
I learned an important lesson from the experience, too. As I had wondered what I could do for Frank, I had considered giving him a Book of Mormon. In fact, a copy of the Book of Mormon had made it as far as my locker at work but it had stayed there. Later, I was embarrassed to tell Frank about the book in my locker. Frank was amused by my story, but he shook his finger at me and told me never to ignore those promptings again.
I hope I never will.

When I was twelve years old, we had a community fathers-and-sons banquet in Idaho Falls. President George Albert Smith, the President of the Church, was the speaker. After the banquet, we lined up to shake his hand. When my turn came, President Smith took my hand and spoke to me. I don’t remember what he said, but I shall never forget what I felt. From that moment, I wanted to be in the presence of the prophets.

With Cyclone Charlotte threatening to dump rain and close roads, the youth and leaders of the Cairns Australia District set out on a 1,700-kilometer (1,100-mile) drive to the temple in Brisbane Australia. It took the group of 35 youth and 8 adults over eight months to organise and prepare for the journey. And now, on the morning of departure, it seemed that the storm was putting their trip in danger of being canceled. But with group and individual prayers asking for a delay in the storm, the group loaded onto the bus, which pulled out onto the Pacific highway ahead of the rains.
After the 24-hour journey, the bus arrived safely in Brisbane with those on board thanking the Lord for the blessings and protection they experienced.
The group spent two days attending three baptismal sessions and were baptised and confirmed on behalf of 2,000 people, most of whose names they had researched and added to the family files from their area.
A highlight of their trip was the opportunity 11 teens had of receiving their patriarchal blessings. Because so many youth wanted to receive their blessings, parents and priesthood leaders arranged for four patriarchs from four different stakes to give the youth their much-anticipated patriarchal blessings. Some of the teens were moved to tears by their blessings.
The youth were able to meet in a fireside and hear from the area leaders as well as bear their testimonies. When they returned home, the rains had subsided. The journey, plus the good accomplished personally and in the temple, made for a memorable week.

Raking leaves wasn’t as easy as Shannon had thought it would be. And it wasn’t as much fun as it looked. The rake was taller than she was and was hard to hold.
“Do you want me to help you?” her mother asked.
“No, thank you,” said Shannon. “I want to do it by myself to surprise Dad.”
The autumn air was crisp like the crunchy leaves crackling under her feet. But the sun shone brightly, and feeling hot from the exercise, she took off her sweater.
“Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Mom asked.
This time Shannon said yes.
“Dad will be pleased with your surprise.”
“I know.” Shannon finished her drink and hurried back outside. She wanted to be done before Dad got home.
She raked and raked and raked. Finally there was only a giant pile of colored leaves in the middle of the yard. She could hardly wait to show her surprise to Dad.
Mom called to her from the kitchen window. “Guess who I hear driving up.”
Shannon ran around the house and down the sidewalk to greet her father. A sudden gust of wind almost swept her off her feet, but Dad caught her and gave her a big hug. “I’d better hang on to you,” he said, laughing. “I don’t want my favorite daughter to blow away.”
“Come to the backyard,” she said, pulling him along. I have a surprise for you.”
Just before they got there, Shannon said, “Now close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.” She led him the rest of the way, going slowly so that he wouldn’t trip. “My pile of leaves!” she cried. “It’s gone everywhere!”
Dad opened his eyes. “Don’t feel bad, honey,” he said after she had told him what had happened. “It was a wonderful surprise.”
“How could it be wonderful when it’s not there anymore?”
“Well, a pile of leaves isn’t really the surprise—it’s knowing that a special little girl worked very hard to do something nice for her dad. The wind can’t blow that away, no matter how hard it tries.”
Shannon brightened up. “Really?”
“Really,” Dad said and kissed her forehead. “I bet the two of us could rake up these leaves again in no time if we did it together.”
Shannon smiled. “I’ll get the rake.”

I am a returned missionary. I am also a soldier in the United States Army serving a second tour of duty in Iraq. Between my mission and my military service, I have seen people both at their best and at their worst. I’m grateful for all the experiences I’ve had, but I’m grateful I could serve a mission first. It prepared me for military service in some surprising ways.
One of the first things I learned on my mission was how to talk with other people. When I attended high school, I was shy and unsure of myself. I felt uncomfortable around strangers and uneasy in crowds. I found it hard to strike up conversations with people and often wouldn’t try. Serving in the México Mérida Mission helped get me out of my comfort zone. I slowly realized that people are easy to talk to if I put forth the effort. I soon found it easy to speak with strangers, and I had my heart touched by many people with whom I met and talked. When I joined the army, I took with me what I had gained on my mission—the ability to communicate.
Communication is imperative in the army. I am a flight crew chief on Black Hawk helicopters, in charge of the defense and security of aircraft and aiding pilots in their side vision. The lives of the pilots, passengers, and my own life often rely on my communication skills. It was on my mission that I learned to be open and to communicate effectively.
Another thing I learned on my mission was humility. When I was growing up, I had everything I needed. I never had to worry about food, shelter, or the clothes on my back. In contrast, my mission area was on the Yucatán Peninsula, and life was very simple there. Not having the luxuries I had grown accustomed to all my life was extremely humbling.
As anyone who has served in the military knows, a soldier must place himself second to the safety of his fellow soldiers and the preservation of his country. I look back on my mission now and thank my Heavenly Father for allowing me to be humbled in preparation for serving my country.
As a soldier at war, you give up every luxury of home. The men and women I served with gave up their warm beds, dry socks, and daily showers. When I am deployed, not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate all the blessings I have waiting for me at home.
Perhaps the greatest way my mission prepared me for military service was what it taught me about the power of example. While serving with the 101st Airborne Division, I have come to realize how powerful a good example can be to those with whom I serve. People say they never hear me use profanity or see me drink alcohol or view pornography. A lot of the guys in my unit have asked me why I won’t participate in those activities and have questioned me about the Church and what it teaches. I always explain my values, telling them my religion teaches me that certain things are bad for me and to abstain from them. Knowing that others are noticing my actions helps me strive to be a good example of what a Latter-day Saint should be.
Finally, on my mission I learned to have faith in Heavenly Father. I learned to pray to Him for strength. There were days during my mission when I felt frustrated and wanted to give up. I would pray for strength to get through the day. Learning to deal with my frustrations by relying on the Lord has helped me get through many tough situations in Iraq.
There is a saying in the army: “Drink water, and drive on.” To me that means, no matter what happens, one must persevere. In the scriptures, this is called enduring to the end. I have learned that I need to continually have faith, read my scriptures, and pray for guidance to get me through tough times. I have learned that the Lord is in control and is looking out for me, so I try to focus on my job. Living with Heavenly Father’s guidance has helped me realize how true the gospel is. My faith is a great source of strength in helping me cope with being deployed in a war zone.
In these and other ways my mission experiences in Mexico help me survive and thrive in the army. I always remember my Book of Mormon hero, Moroni. He served in wars and saw death and destruction, yet he remained a true and faithful servant of the Lord. I find great comfort in knowing that even during the darkest of times you can be at your best.