Gospel Story Finder

Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.

Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.

Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.

Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.
The best way to avoid a problem with pornography is to stay as far away from it as possible. But if you are struggling with pornography or any unworthy habit, please talk to your bishop or branch president. He loves you, he will be discreet, and he can help you put the power of the Atonement to work in your life. With the help of the Savior and His servants, you can gain the strength you need. You can become clean and confident and worthy in every respect.

I will share one final story on the treatment of others who appear to be different. Recently, over the Internet, I received a picture story called “The Hippopotamus and the Tortoise.” This true story happened in Kenya, where storms and tsunami waves had hit the coastal region. A baby hippo had survived the waves and storms but had lost his mother. After the storm the baby hippo, nicknamed Owen, bonded with a century-old tortoise at an animal rescue facility. This tortoise was a giant land turtle, and Owen weighed about 650 pounds. The turtle replaced Owen’s mother. They swam together, ate together, and slept together. They have bonded and now accept each other totally. Their differences are forgotten. The e-mail story ended this way: “This is a real story that shows that our differences don’t matter much when we need the comfort of another.” (See Isabella Hatkoff, Craig Hatkoff, and Paula Kahumbu, Owen and Mzee: The True Story of a Remarkable Friendship [New York: Scholastic Press, 2006].)

This brings us back to the scripture from Jacob. I will paraphrase what it says: We come to learn the good word of God in a good environment and to be comforted by those around us (see Jacob 2:8). Just like Owen, we want and need a friend, a mentor, an example—someone to help us and to love us. Hopefully we won’t have to suffer a tsunami to learn how much we depend upon each other, how we should treat each other, and how we use and benefit from BYU’s human resources.

Let me share with you the account of a lifelong friend, now departed from mortality. His name was Leonard. He was not a member of the Church, although his wife and children were. His wife served as a Primary president; his son served an honorable mission. His daughter and his son married companions in solemn ceremonies and had families of their own.

Everyone who knew Leonard liked him, as did I. He supported his wife and children in their Church assignments. He attended many Church-sponsored events with them. He lived a good and a clean life, even a life of service and kindness. His family, and indeed many others, wondered why Leonard had gone through mortality without the blessings the gospel brings to its members.

In Leonard’s advanced years, his health declined. Eventually he was hospitalized, and life was ebbing away. In what turned out to be my last conversation with Leonard, he said, “Tom, I’ve known you since you were a boy. I feel persuaded to explain to you why I have never joined the Church.” He then related an experience of his parents which took place many, many years before. Reluctantly, the family had reached a point where they felt it was necessary to sell their farm, and an offer had been received. Then a neighboring farmer asked that the farm be sold to him instead—although at a lesser price—adding, “We’ve been such close friends. This way, if I own the property, I’ll be able to watch over it.” At length Leonard’s parents agreed, and the farm was sold. The buyer—even the neighbor—held a responsible position in the Church, and the trust this implied helped to persuade the family to sell to him, even though they did not realize as much money from the sale as they would have if they had sold to the first interested buyer. Not long after the sale was made, the neighbor sold both his own farm and the farm acquired from Leonard’s family in a combined parcel which maximized the value and hence the selling price. The long-asked question of why Leonard had never joined the Church had been answered. He always felt that his family had been deceived by the neighbor.

He confided to me following our conversation that he felt a great burden had at last been lifted as he prepared to meet his Maker. The tragedy is that a hidden wedge had kept Leonard from soaring to greater heights.

Several years ago our family lived in Salt Lake City, Utah, for a short time, and while there, I served in the Young Women program in our ward. It was a profound learning and growing experience for me. One of my most vivid and memorable experiences was participating in a hike with the Olympus 7th ward Young Women. The chosen hike was the summit of Mt. Aire in Millcreek Canyon. Our guide was a sister in the ward, named Amy, who was a trained search and rescue professional who would lead us and ensure that we would safely reach our destination and also return home safely that afternoon. When this hike was proposed I thought to myself, “it’s a convenient location, with the trailhead only about a 15 minute drive from our house – how challenging could it be?”

Besides the relatively close proximity to civilization, the expected duration for the hike was only about two hours and again I figured, (for a novice hiker), that seemed reasonable. How bad could a two hour trek be? The girls were enthusiastic and eager to listen to Amy as she provided information about appropriate hiking clothing and shoes. She also reminded us to carry a light jacket and gave us a suggested quantity of water we should bring. Although it seemed like an inordinate amount to haul, I thought it best to comply since she was an expert and knew what she was talking about, but I couldn’t help ask myself, “how much is that water going weigh?”

Let me tell you what I learned about Mt. Aire during the hike. First off it should be called Mt. “No Air” or Mt. “Give Me Oxygen.” This is due to the fact that the summit is about 8,600 feet above sea level. For comparison sake, the Koolau Mountain Range here around us rises to a height of approximately 3,000 feet above sea level.

From the base of Mt Aire to the summit is a vertical climb of 2,000 feet. For those of us from sea level, a hike to over 8,000 feet in altitude presents very noticeable changes. You quickly observe a lack of available oxygen and the thinning of the air makes you feel out of shape, lethargic, and light-headed.

Let me share what I remember most about that mountainous climb. The 16 and 17 year old Laurels started out in front with Amy and stayed up with her all the way. They set a grueling pace for the rest of us (well for me). They seemed as sure footed as mountain goats, steady on their feet and moving with ease and elegance. Periodically they would stop to let the remainder of the group catch up, rest, and take a sip of water. It was easy to see they were more experienced and comfortable not only with the terrain but with themselves.

At the beginning of the hike I started somewhere in the middle of the pack but as it got steeper the air grew thinner. It became more difficult for me to fill my lungs with oxygen, but no one else seemed affected like I was. I tried to pretend everything was OK, but I started breathing through my nose and mouth to force more oxygen in to my lungs. Each step became more laborious, and I was preoccupied with looking for a place I could stop for a few seconds to catch my breath. I was not engaging in conversation or appreciating the majestic scenery for which the Utah canyon-scapes are famous. I was focused on staying alive.

All the while the Beehive girls flitted around checking out the flora and fauna like they were romping in a field of daisies laughing and having a wonderful time—you know the awe and joy that God’s creations hold. They were having a blast with not a care in the world. Not wanting to spoil their fun I waved the girls on, and they ran up ahead to join their friends but then a few minutes later they ran back to check on me.

One little girl said, “would you like me to carry your jacket sister Wright?” I thanked her and told her I was fine. At one point my daughter who could see I was having a difficult time came up behind me put two hands on the small of my back and pushed me until I felt a renewed commitment and energy to push to the end.

This little beehive group stayed with me and stood around me as I caught my breath. Although I invited them to go ahead, in part because I was embarrassed at having such a hard time, but I couldn’t shake them loose. They kept on chatting with each other and moved along the trail slower than they could have but not so far ahead that I had an excuse to call out “I’ll wait for you here pick me up on your way down.” So in the end I buckled down and decided I wasn’t going to give up. Instead, I continued to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and then continued with each successive step, and so on until we reached the Summit where the trail blazing Laurels and leaders had finished their rest and were ready to head back down the mountain. All I could think of was, “I made it!”

Once I sat in a temple sealing room where I saw a young man and young woman sealed for time and all eternity. I knew the young man, and I knew of the path he had traveled. It was a hard path, full of pain and heartache; but also of the Lord's tender mercies and His grace. I looked across the room at the young man's mother. I knew of the pain she had felt for her son, and I could see on her face pure joy as tears flowed down her cheeks. I knew also the path the young woman had walked. I knew of her goodness and her great faith that had sustained her in difficult hours.

As I watched this beautiful scene, there came into my mind a thought I knew was from the Holy Ghost. These are the words I felt: This is why He did it--this is why Jesus went into the Garden and hung on the cross. This is why He suffered crushing agony and gave His life. This is why Jesus descended below all things--so that this young man, so precious in His eyes, and this young woman, so choice, so beloved of Him, could be clean and worthy, healed and whole, sealed forever by His power as husband and wife in the new and everlasting covenant, heirs to all the promises and all the blessings a loving Heavenly Father could bestow.

After retiring, Brother and Sister Patterson went back to school to learn new skills: gunsmithing and woodworking.
Photograph courtesy of the Pattersons
After 40 years as a medical doctor and military officer, Kerry Patterson was injured while on a routine mission in Afghanistan. Forced to take a military disability retirement, he searched for things to do. Not content simply to spend his days fishing, he and his wife, Linda, went back to school at a local community college.
“I took a shop class in high school but had no other vocational training since then,” he explains. “Nonetheless, I decided to learn gunsmithing. I liked fixing people as a doctor and thought that learning how to fix things that required precision machining would keep me mentally active. It was a lot harder than I thought to go into something so new and different.” But now at age 71, after completing all required courses and getting necessary licenses, he has more business than he can handle. He has even hired an apprentice to share the workload and learn the trade.

One of the greatest gifts I ever received from my father is one I don’t even remember. He never talked about it. That was Dad’s way. I learned about it many years later from my mother.
Both my mother and father had been raised as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but Dad’s habit of smoking had kept them from being married in the temple. The loving bishop who performed my parents’ civil ceremony encouraged them to set a goal to marry in the temple before their children came. They were still working on that goal when I joined the family.
By the time my second birthday was approaching, my parents still had not been to the temple. Mom really wanted to be sealed as a family before a second child came, but Dad was still using tobacco.
Sometimes I wish I could remember what happened on my second birthday, because that’s when I received the gift. My father came home from work that night in early November, and after setting aside his lunch bucket and taking off his coat, he picked me up. “Gary,” he said, “I have a special birthday present for you.” Mom said she was surprised because she knew Dad didn’t have extra money to purchase a gift for me.
Reaching into his shirt pocket, Dad took out a partially used packet of cigarettes and handed them to me. Mom started to object, but Dad held up his hand as if to say, “This is between my son and me.”
Quietly, he then said to me, “I have thought about this for several days. I have decided I don’t want you, my son, to ever remember your father smoking. My gift to you today is that I am giving up my cigarettes, and I will never smoke again.”
And that was the end of his tobacco habit. He must have struggled to quit smoking so abruptly. Although I don’t remember it, that was his special gift to me. But it was more than that.
A few months later, with my mother pregnant with my brother, we made our way to the Logan Utah Temple, where we were sealed together as a forever family.
I am truly grateful for that gift given many years ago from my loving and caring father.

It sounded simple. For two weeks I was to choose a family member and every day give something small to the person to express my love. I chose my little brother because we usually did not get along very well, and I figured this would be a good opportunity to draw closer to him. I decided to do it anonymously, and for the first week I bought him small bags of candy and various trinkets, leaving them by the side of his bed or under his pillow. After the week was over, I was thinking, Wow, this has got to be the easiest Personal Progress goal ever!
The second week, however, fell during our family camping trip, and the absence of convenient stores seriously complicated things. But I soon found that all it took was a little more creativity. Instead of buying things, I started doing things. I helped him roll his sleeping bag, whittle a marshmallow stick, and untangle his fishing line. Thinking constantly of ways to serve my brother strengthened our relationship incredibly, and I could see clearly the promise being fulfilled: “He that loveth his brother abideth in the light” (1 Jn. 2:10).
The last day of camp I lay in the dark tent, deep in the woods, listening to the soft calls of the birds and the gentle splashing of water from the nearby lake. The wind rustled through the tree tops, and I felt a cool breeze across my face.
“Someone tie up the window,” my brother mumbled sleepily. I felt him shiver beside me and suddenly realized that I had not done anything for him that day. I tied up the window, but since it was the last day, I felt I should give him something extra special. Maybe when we get home, I can buy him something especially expensive, I thought. No, that won’t do. It has to be today, and he is almost asleep. I lay quietly, thinking for a moment, and then rolled onto my side to face my brother.
“Warren,” I whispered.
“Hmmmm?”
“I love you.”
He was quiet for a second before he clearly responded, “I love you, too.”
I lay on my back and looked through the “sun roof” at the clear, dark sky and smiled.

This same light led the way for 15-year-old Mary Elizabeth Rollins and her 13-year-old sister, Caroline, on a dark and chilling day in Independence, Missouri. It was 1833, and an angry mob roared through the streets of Independence, burning property and wreaking havoc. In their path was the home of Brother William W. Phelps, where the printing press was kept. He had been printing revelations received by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The mob demolished the printing press and threw the wreckage into the street. However, they stacked up the printed pages in the yard so they could burn them later.

Mary Elizabeth and Caroline had been hiding by the fence, frightened spectators to all this destruction. Even though she was terrified, Mary Elizabeth’s eye was fixed on those precious pages. She and her sister ran out from their hiding place, gathered up the scriptures, and bolted. Some of the mob saw them and ordered them to stop. But the brave girls ran into a large cornfield, where they dropped breathlessly to the ground. They carefully laid the pages of revelations between the tall rows of corn and then covered the pages by lying on them. The relentless mobsters looked and looked for the girls, coming quite close at times, but never did find them. Eventually they gave up their search to see what further damage they could do to the town.

I believe the light of the Lord directed Mary Elizabeth and Caroline as to what to do and where to go for safety. Sisters, that light shines for you, and it will guide you as it did the Rollins girls. It will keep you safe even when danger lurks. As the Master promised, “I will also be your light … ; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; … ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led.”

“Last Saturday,” my husband’s letter began, “you asked, ‘Can you write what you’re feeling?’ So here goes.”
I had sensed something was wrong with my husband’s affection for me, but I was not prepared for the devastating words of his letter, which included an admission of infidelity. As I agonized over the probable repercussions to our 15-year marriage, I felt desperately alone. I decided to seek strength from Heavenly Father in the temple.
In the celestial room, a woman handed me a tissue, saying she had noticed me and wondered if she could help. I thanked her and said no, but inwardly I cried out: Can you give me back my hopes and dreams? Can you give me back eternity?
I continued to weep. A few minutes later, as more people entered the celestial room, a man sat in a chair near me and asked, “May I tell you something?”
I said yes.
He said, “I feel that loved ones on the other side of the veil are with you. Whatever it is you’re going through, you are not alone.” I felt the warmth of the Spirit as the man stood and left.
I had been rejected by my husband, but the Savior had not left me alone. He who “hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows” (Isa. 53:4) strengthened me. I left the temple that day feeling the Savior’s peace.

As a young man, Brigham Young struggled for two years to know if the gospel was true. His search was finally resolved by the simple testimony of a missionary—a “man without eloquence … who could only say, ‘I know, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith is a Prophet of the Lord.’” President Young later said, “The Holy Ghost proceeding from that individual illuminated my understanding, and light, glory, and immortality were before me” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Brigham Young [1997], 315). When the Holy Ghost assures heart and mind of truth, darkness and doubt flee.

Many students fail to excel because they deprive themselves of academic challenges by enrolling in easy classes. I’m ashamed to admit that for two years I fell into that trap. During my freshman and sophomore years at BYU I was more concerned with finding easy classes than with learning anything. Prior to registration each semester I checked out my prospective professors with the “academic grapevine” to find out who was the easiest. I cheated myself out of many worthwhile experiences by dodging academic challenges.

Don’t you be lulled into the same trap. When everyone else is seeking the easy path, be brave enough to take on the challenging one. You’ll be glad you did.

Sister Eyvonne Black and her husband, Russell, served as missionaries in the Dominican Republic. Their service enabled hundreds of people to find hope through studying the word of God. They organized more than 100 literacy classes, using the Book of Mormon as their text. While learning to read, the students learned of Jesus Christ. Many were baptized and, with faith centered in Christ, began to “hope for a better world” (Ether 12:4).

Media—whether good or bad—can be habit-forming. But it is a habit that can be broken. One woman who was “addicted” to watching daytime soap operas decided to rearrange her priorities and to stop what she felt was a time- and mind-wasting practice. She succeeded and later wrote: “Sometimes our whole family watches shows together, and it’s fun. But now I’m the master. When I want to invite newsmen, actors, or entertainers into my home, I do so. But it’s because they have informative and/or morally, spiritually, and emotionally uplifting programs to offer—not just because they’re there” (LeRee Farrar, “How I Kicked the TV Habit,” Ensign, March 1977, 19).

After a recent mission tour in Indonesia when I visited the missionaries and the Saints on the island of Java, I had to catch an early morning flight to Singapore, and I checked out of the hotel at 6:00 A.M. I climbed into a taxi that was parked near the hotel entrance and told the driver to go to the international airport, but alas, his car would not start. Apparently the battery was dead.
Well, what do you do in such a case? I calculated that it would probably cost me much time to unload my luggage and find another taxi, and it also occurred to me that the taxi driver was trying hard to earn enough money to provide for his family and would be very disappointed if he could not earn the large fare he would get for the half-hour trip to the airport.
I decided to do my morning exercises by pushing the taxi, leaving the Indonesian cab driver behind the steering wheel to start the car. However, he greatly overestimated the early morning physical power of a Dutchman and released the clutch of the car before I had been able to give the car adequate speed. As a result, it came to a sudden halt. But I tried again and this time it started. With a roaring motor the taxi moved forward. I flung open the door, jumped in, and we were on our way.
An hour and a half later when I boarded my flight, the air hostess who greeted me at the door of the plane said: “I am surprised to see you here! You are the gentleman who pushed the taxi in front of the Borobudur Hotel this morning.”
She then told me that all the members of the plane crew had witnessed the scene from the airport limousine parked at a side door of the hotel. She said that on the way to the airport they had talked a lot about the incident and had wondered: “What kind of a man is this? If he can afford to stay in the Borobudur Hotel, why would he work to push a taxicab at 6:00 A.M.?
I thought, “This is my chance to do missionary work!” I took a name card out of my wallet, handed it over to her, and said, “We in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believe in good human relations.”
The air hostess told me she was not actually a stewardess but was flight services instructor for Cathay Pacific Airways and had boarded this flight to evaluate the performance of some students she had taught in the cabin crew training school in Hong Kong. That enabled me to make another statement about the Church: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the largest educational institution in the world today. At least 2 million people teach one another on a weekly basis with divinely inspired lesson materials.” I further explained to her that a great deal of my time is spent teaching missionaries and members of the Church in the nine missions of Southeast Asia.
She remarked: “Then you are maybe the man we are looking for—an experienced air traveler with the ability to teach our personnel how to be friendly with customers.” I told her that I would gladly do it free of charge whenever they planned another initial or refresher course in Hong Kong and when these dates would not interfere with my other Church assignments. I thought then and there: “What a golden opportunity to let these people know what makes Mormons behave as they do!”
After my return to Hong Kong, I was approached by the training manager of the airline, who had received a report from the flight services instructor. I made an appointment and spent a couple of hours with him in his office. He was greatly impressed by the work and the achievements of the Church.
I am sure I will have the opportunity to reach out to many souls in the future simply because of what the world observed when they saw the Church in action one early morning in Jakarta, Indonesia.

Fifty-eight years ago, I knocked on the door of J. Roland Sandstrom, patriarch of the Santa Ana California Stake, with a recommend from my bishop to receive a patriarchal blessing. We had never met and would not meet again for 14 years. We met again 15 years later. This time, as one of the Twelve, I blessed him the day before he died.
The blessing was delivered by mail to my barracks at an air force base where I was stationed. I did not know then, as I know now, that a patriarch has prophetic insight, that his blessing would be more than a guide to me. It has been a shield and a protection.
The patriarch, who had never seen me before, made a promise that applies to every one of us. He told me to “face toward the sunlight of truth so that the shadow of error, disbelief, doubt and discouragement shall be cast behind you.” Many times I have gained strength from reading that patriarchal blessing given by an inspired servant of the Lord.

A number of years ago, as I was leaving the Church Office Building a day or two before Christmas, I found myself walking next to Elder Bruce R. McConkie. We wished each other a merry Christmas. I drove home and surmised he did the same. The day after Christmas the telephone rang. It was David Wirthlin, the administrator of the LDS Hospital.
“Guess what happened just before Christmas?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“Elder Bruce R. McConkie came to the hospital. He asked if he could give a few blessings. With permission granted, he went from room to room placing his hands on the heads of several dozen patients.”
That is the real world, isn’t it?

Even with growth from missionary work, reactivation is a high priority everywhere among members and missionaries alike. Claude Gaston became less active while serving in the army. Though he married a Latter-day Saint, he rarely came to church. “After our second child was born, I began to watch my sister and notice the blessings of the gospel in her family,” says Claude. “My wife, children, father, and branch president encouraged me. I think it was pride that kept me from coming back.” Finally, after nine years, Claude began to attend church again. A year and a half later, he took his family to the Swiss Temple to be sealed.

“I have found a great balance and stability in my life as a result of living the gospel,” says Brother Gaston, who is now bishop of the Vitrolles Ward. “The love that unites my family makes us very happy. I am convinced that if I had not become active again, my family would have dispersed.”

I hung up the phone, dumbfounded. “I have to call everyone,” I thought. “Pete, Whitney, Kristen …” I fumbled for my planner, too flustered to remember the phone numbers I’d had memorized since middle school.
A few weeks before, our group of friends had mailed Daniel a Christmas package. We had marveled that in a mere six months he would be home from his mission. We could hardly wait!
Then Daniel’s dad had called. Now I wished we still had to wait—bad news suddenly turned six months into three days. Daniel had become so sick he was bedridden, and the doctors didn’t know why.
Besides being worried about his illness, I was heartsick to think of how disappointed he must be. Serving a mission had been his most treasured goal, and the people in Michigan were some of his most beloved friends.
The night before Daniel’s return home, I lay in bed staring out the window. The moon illuminated brown mountains and bare tree branches—nothing like the snow-covered evergreens I pictured in Michigan. I frowned. “It will be even more depressing if he has to come back to this,“ I thought. Climbing out of bed and onto my knees, I prayed that Daniel might be welcomed home by a glistening, white blanket of snow. Before I drifted off to sleep, a few snowflakes flurried outside my window.
The next morning, as we walked to Daniel’s house to await his arrival, beautiful snow crunched under our shoes. I offered a hurried, silent prayer of thanks.
Soon a car pulled into the driveway. Daniel looked frail, but he managed a weak smile and handshake for each of us. As he inched up the walkway, he paused to survey the yard. His smile deepened. “I like the snow,” he murmured. I turned away to hide my tears.
That afternoon, as I drove back to college, I realized more fully what the Lord had done. Only one storm cloud hovered in the sky, directly over our hometown. Less than three miles away from the snow, the sun beamed down on a dry, brown valley.
I had always believed in answers to prayers, even in miracles. But it was the first time I had understood that sometimes God performs small miracles just to show His love. Overwhelmed by the Spirit, I thanked the Lord again for His gift of comfort—a snowstorm for Daniel.

In my freshman year at BYU, on a wintry November afternoon, I left my dorm to visit someone in a Salt Lake hospital. As I waited at the elevator, I heard a voice say, “Go back to your room and pray for safety.” I looked around—no one was there. The voice came again, clearly: “Go back to your room and pray for safety.” I obeyed.

Thirty-five minutes later, driving over the point of the mountain into SLC, I was speeding when a slower car changed lanes in front of me. I slammed on my brakes, not realizing I was on black ice. My car spun 360 degrees and faced oncoming traffic. I tried to steer but had no traction. A car sped toward me, and I thought, “In two seconds you will be dead.” In that moment, two hands from the other side of the veil took control and guided my car safely to the side of the road.