Gospel Story Finder

For my English GCSE exam (a qualifying test in specific subjects), I was required to plan and deliver a five-minute presentation on a topic of my choice. I chose to outline the Young Women programme of the Church and some of the standards I keep. I prayed that I would know if this was the right choice, and I felt that this would be the perfect chance for me to share some of my beliefs.
During my presentation I used lots of visual materials and shared the blessings I have received. The class seemed to genuinely enjoy my talk. My teacher also found it interesting and asked questions afterward. Not only did I get the grade I had hoped for, but more importantly, I was able to share the gospel with my friends.

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the life of a young Church member who was partially paralyzed in a horrific automobile accident. After this individual’s grueling months of recovery and adapting to a new lifestyle with restricted mobility, I met and talked with this stalwart soul. During our conversation I asked, “What has this experience helped you to learn?” The immediate response was, “I am not sad. I am not mad. And everything will be OK.”

At the time of my birth, the clouds of war had overshadowed Europe and were sweeping across the English Channel to the British coastline. My father, like thousands of other men of his generation, was required to report for active military service. My elder brother and I were shielded from the turmoil and fear that surrounded us by a mother who compensated for the absence of our father, involving us in a variety of activities. From this I learned that when fathers are absent, mothers can be the recipients of compensatory blessings. I have fond memories of those days and recall her speaking of her beloved companion as she received letters from him, without my fully understanding who he was or what he was doing.
My first recollection of meeting my father occurred when I was five years old. A telegram was delivered to our home. My mother stood with the gold-colored envelope in her hand, making no attempt to open it. I did not realize then as I do now the reason why, and the message it could have contained. Eventually, and with great difficulty, she fumbled with the flap of the envelope. This seemed to take a long time. Even when the telegram was opened and Mother read its contents, there was no immediate response. Finally, raising the telegram high above her head, my mother joyfully exclaimed, “Dad’s coming home! Dad’s coming home!”
My father’s parents lived in the adjoining house. Mother, holding the telegram high in the air and with a skipping step, set out in the direction of my grandparents’ home, shouting, “Dad’s coming home! Dad’s coming home!” My brother, following close behind, shouted, “Dad’s coming home! Dad’s coming home!” I brought up the rear, also shouting, “Dad’s coming home! Dad’s coming home! Who’s Dad?”
The next morning when I awoke, there was a man sitting on the edge of my bed holding a leather soccer ball from Italy. He asked if my brother and I would like to play soccer with him. Cautiously I agreed, and we went to an area of grassland near our home, where we played together. This was the beginning of my father’s continuing influence in my life. I wanted to spend every moment that I could in his company.
We lived, like many others in those war-torn years, in humble circumstances. Our home was modestly furnished. Dad had many skills and used them to beautify the home. He raised the Anderson air-raid shelter located in our garden to ground level and made it his workshop. He spent many hours there repairing shoes and making items of furniture for the home. I would wander into this workshop and watch him. Just to be in his presence was a thrill for me. He invited me to help him by passing a hammer, a screwdriver, or some other tool. I was convinced that my help was necessary and that without me he would not be able to complete his task. He used a variety of pieces of wood, obtained from different sources and considered by others to be unsuitable for any practical use, and from them created items of great beauty and worth for our family. As he worked he played a game with me, inviting me to determine what he was making. I was seldom able to do so until the components were completed and the object assembled. Then I would declare with great excitement, “It’s a bookcase!” or “a table!” and wonder at his ability to create so much from so little.
As I look back and reflect upon those wonderful memories, I realize that my contribution was not necessary for my father to complete the work he was engaged in. I was the beneficiary, as through these experiences I came to know him and to love him.

Imagine a young man who is home alone and is getting hungry (it’s far-fetched, yes, but just try to imagine it). Now imagine that this young man decides to try to make a grilled cheese sandwich on his own for the first time.1 Imagine that this young man’s parents had never taught him how to make grilled cheese and that he had never observed them very closely when they made it.

Let’s say, though, that this young man gets all of the ingredients just right: bread, cheese, a little butter on the outside of the bread (and a little mayonnaise inside because he’s brilliant). Next, he gets out the pan and puts it on the stove. (We’re also imagining he doesn’t have a special griddle or other appliance for making this treat.)

Now imagine that a certain thought takes hold of his mind—a thought that so many people have been ignorant enough (or temporarily insane enough) to think: “If I turn the heat up high, it’ll be done faster.”

Imagine what happens next. (Or perhaps you don’t have to imagine.)

He’s going to get either perfectly crispy, golden-brown bread or perfectly gooey, melted cheese—but not both. Most likely, he’ll have bread that looks and feels (and probably tastes) like lava rock and half-melted cheese, which is about as appealing as half-told tales.

His problem, as you can see, was a combination of ignorance (which is excusable) and impatience (which, though understandable, is less excusable). If he were to repeat this mistake the next time, it would be even less excusable, since it couldn’t be blamed on ignorance but would result almost entirely from impatience.

To get it right, he would have to discover the miracle of medium heat.

The medium setting on a stove is perfect for grilled cheese and many other dishes because it allows food to be cooked through without being overdone on the outside. The only downside is that it requires more time and attention, which require patience.

President Young personally engaged in preaching and baptizing in the Manchester and Preston areas while he continued his various administrative and publishing activities. He had hired the huge Carpenter’s Hall in Manchester for meetings for one year and mentions preaching there “to an attentive congregation of about 1,500.”30 He also tells of organizing the priesthood in Manchester to gather on Sunday mornings and go out street preaching. This provided about 40 “preaching stations,” both for teaching and for notifying gatherers about the regular meetings in Carpenter’s Hall, a procedure that is a regular and effective Mormon proselyting tool even today. But Brigham didn’t just send the elders out. As he recorded, one Sunday in November he “went to the Priesthood meeting in the morning and felt impressed to tell the Brethren to go home. The police, who had been instructed to arrest all street preachers that morning [because of Methodist complaints against the Mormons], took up about twenty, who all proved to be Methodists. When the magistrate learned they were not ‘Mormons,’ they were dismissed.”31

In 1885, when Brigham Young Academy’s financial challenges were particularly trying, a faculty member, who also happened to be Brigham Young’s daughter, sought President John Taylor’s help. President Taylor told her that her father, who had passed on some years before, had come to him “in the silence of the night” and said “that the school being taught by Brother Maeser was accepted in the heavens and was a part of the great plan of life and salvation; . . . and that Christ himself was directing, and had a care over this school.”19

On a cool, sunny morning, the missionaries in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo West Mission gathered in the San Geronimo chapel in Santo Domingo. This special occasion brought them together to listen to an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ and to other authorities of the Church and be “nourished up in the words of faith and of good doctrine” (1 Timothy 4:6).
Elder D. Todd Christofferson arrived early, accompanied by his beloved wife, Sister Katherine Jacob Christofferson, Elder José L. Alonso of the Seventy and his wife, Rebecca Salazar, and Elder Cándido Fortuna, Area Seventy and his wife, Sister Damaris Rosario. They were received by President José M. Santos, who presides over the mission, also accompanied by his wife, Madeleine Guzmán De Santos.
The meeting began with a beautiful prelude, after which Elder Christofferson and those who were with him greeted and shook the hand of each missionary.
A missionary choir performed a hymn in English and Spanish, creating an atmosphere of peace and preparing everyone present for this special gathering.
Elder Christofferson asked those who accompanied him to share a brief message. The messages focused on their feelings about the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, missionary work, and the sacred mission of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
“A missionary must be constantly inviting people to act,” Elder Fortuna said while addressing the missionaries.
In his message, Elder Alonso made reference to the words found in 1 Nephi 3:7. He taught that Heavenly Father provides us with a way to fulfill what He has commanded us. When concluding his remarks, he thanked the missionaries for what they do in the work of the Lord.
Sister Christofferson addressed the missionaries, speaking both in English and Spanish so that the message she shared was understood in its entirety by the new missionaries and those who already had spent some time in the mission field. She shared with them the scripture found in 2 Kings 4:1–7 and taught them that at that time it was customary for creditors to take the children of debtors as part of the payment of the debt as was the case in this scripture.
The woman in the scripture story obeyed Elisha and borrowed all the vessels she could from her neighbors. She filled them from her one pot of oil and noted that the oil stopped flowing only when there were no more vessels to fill. It is interesting to note that not only was she given enough to pay the debt she had, but also to cover her living expenses in the future. “There are two important teachings here,” Sister Christofferson said. “First that the Lord will provide for those who have faith in Him and second that we must be prepared to receive what God wants to give us.” Sister Christofferson concluded her remarks by thanking everyone for their missionary service in this country.
In his concluding remarks as the keynote speaker, Elder Christofferson addressed the missionaries in Spanish. He highlighted the messages shared by each of those who preceded him. He told them: “As my wife indicated, we receive everything we are prepared to receive.” Then he asked the missionaries what things they could do to prepare themselves to receive the blessings that have been promised.
“Be obedient,” replied one of the missionaries, to which Elder Christofferson added that they can take advantage of what God has already given them, that is, the commandments. He said, “The commandments are like stairs that help elevate us each step” to be closer to Him.
He continued by inviting the missionaries to fast once a month, as this will help them have the Spirit and open their minds and hearts to receive greater revelation. He also told them: “By studying the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, I not only learn, but I also correct myself.” He indicated that one can be better when studying the scriptures. He stressed that also by sharing one’s testimony, “we receive testimony. … The Spirit testifies to you that what you share is true.” He added that we should “ask in prayer” showing that we want more. “We can ask, according to His will, for more, for what we need,” he concluded.
At the end of his remarks, he left them with a special blessing. He told them: “I bless you so that you may have greater power in your teaching, by teaching the principles of the gospel, greater capacity and greater convincing and persuasive power in your teaching. …May people feel that deep love that you have for them, whether members or nonmembers, that you get answers to your prayers.” He concluded his remarks sharing his testimony about the truthfulness of the gospel, that Jesus Christ directs His Church and, just like the Prophet Joseph Smith, President Nelson was also called by God.

We can also access His healing power through prayer. I’ll never forget an experience that Sister Nelson and I had about three decades ago with President Spencer W. Kimball and his beloved Camilla. We were in Hamilton, New Zealand, for a large conference with the Saints. I was not a General Authority at that time. I had been invited to participate in this and similar meetings in other Pacific Islands while serving as general president of the Sunday School. And as a doctor of medicine, I had attended President and Sister Kimball for many years. I knew each of them very well—inside and out.
A Saturday evening cultural program had been prepared for this conference by local youth of the Church. Unfortunately, President and Sister Kimball both became very ill, each with a high fever. After receiving priesthood blessings, they rested at the nearby home of the president of the New Zealand Temple. President Kimball asked his counselor, President N. Eldon Tanner, to preside at the cultural event and to excuse President and Sister Kimball.
Sister Nelson went with President and Sister Tanner and other leaders to the event, while President Kimball’s secretary, Brother D. Arthur Haycock, and I watched over our feverish friends.
While President Kimball was sleeping, I was quietly reading in his room. Suddenly President Kimball was awakened. He asked, “Brother Nelson, what time was this evening’s program to begin?”
“At seven o’clock, President Kimball.”
“What time is it now?”
“It’s almost seven,” I replied.
President Kimball quickly said, “Tell Sister Kimball we are going!”
I checked President Kimball’s temperature. It was normal! I took Sister Kimball’s temperature. It was also normal!
They quickly dressed and got into an automobile. We were driven to the stadium of the Church College of New Zealand. As the car entered the arena, there was a very loud shout that erupted spontaneously. It was most unusual! After we took our seats, I asked Sister Nelson about that sudden sound. She said that when President Tanner began the meeting, he dutifully excused President and Sister Kimball because of illness. Then one of the young New Zealanders was called upon to pray.
With great faith, he gave what Sister Nelson described as a rather lengthy but powerful prayer. He so prayed: “We are 3,000 New Zealand youth. We are assembled here, having prepared for six months to sing and dance for Thy prophet. Wilt Thou heal him and deliver him here!” After the “amen” was pronounced, the car carrying President and Sister Kimball entered the stadium. They were identified immediately, and instantly everyone shouted for joy!
I had witnessed the healing power of the Lord! I had also witnessed revelation as received and responded to by His living prophet!

A close personal friend learned this crucial lesson as an 18-year-old. He enlisted in the United States military during the conflict between the United States and Vietnam. He was assigned to basic training in the infantry to become a foot soldier. He explained that the training was grueling. He described his drill instructor as cruel and inhumane.

One particular day his squad was dressed in full battle gear, hiking in sweltering heat. The drill instructor suddenly shouted orders to drop to the ground and not move. The instructor was watching for even the slightest motion. Any movement would result in serious consequences later on. The squad suffered for more than two hours in the heat with growing anger and resentment toward their leader.

Many months later our friend found himself leading his squad through the jungles of Vietnam. This was real, not just training. Shots began to ring from high in the surrounding trees. The entire squad immediately dropped to the ground.

What was the enemy looking for? Movement. Any motion at all would draw fire. My friend said that as he lay sweating and motionless on the jungle floor, waiting for dark for several long hours, his thoughts reflected back on basic training. He remembered his intense dislike for his drill instructor. Now he felt intense gratitude—for what he had taught him and how he had prepared him for this critical situation. The drill instructor had wisely equipped our friend and his squad with the ability to know what to do when the battle was raging. He had, in effect, saved our friend’s life.

A few years after I had been baptized, becoming better acquainted with some duties in the Church, I was ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood. My father, who had baptized me, had died in the meantime with a heart attack, so the bishop conferred the Aaronic Priesthood upon me and ordained me to the office of a deacon. I remember that I had a wonderful feeling about that as he conferred the priesthood upon me, that I now had responsibilities and would be accountable for my actions and would have things to learn to do as I would progress through life. I did have a special feeling that I now was a little different, that I wouldn’t be exactly the same as friends who did not hold the priesthood or people that you would meet out in the world. I now had some responsibilities, things we would learn on Sundays in church as we would sit around the old coal stove down in the basement of the meetinghouse.

On Saturdays, we would clean out the church, fill the coal buckets with coal, and see that the building was ready for Sunday meetings. We had things to do in the lesser priesthood, in all the temporal affairs of the ward—collecting fast offerings and doing duties for the bishop. He and other leaders would teach us about the Aaronic Priesthood and the office of a deacon, then a teacher, and then, of course, a priest as we would advance in the priesthood. It seemed to me that I was developing an interesting understanding, a vision of the work to be done, and that I personally had some responsibility, even though I was just a young boy in a little country town. There was something very important about it.

Mamãe? I said something mean to my friend today. Now I feel terrible.
Wait, I know! I can just get baptized again! Then I will be all clean.
You don’t need to do that. You can repent right now and be forgiven. And when you take the sacrament, you can promise to do better!
Can we say a prayer together? I want to tell Heavenly Father I’m sorry. And I’ll tell my friend I’m sorry tomorrow.
Of course.
That Sunday …
I’ll try harder this week to be kind! I know Heavenly Father will help me.
Illustrations by Katie McDee

Church pioneers in family history had to learn to be very resourceful. In October 1939, L. Garrett Myers and Ernst Koehler were in charge of the first microfilming of records outside of Utah. They worked in a hotel room in the state of Tennessee. A big, troublesome fan in the hotel’s kitchen caused vibrations in their room that made working with the cameras difficult, so Brother Koehler decided they would have to film the records between 10:00 at night and early morning, when the fan wasn’t turned on. They processed the film in the bathtub and dried it on a clothesline.

From 2001 to 2003, E. Ankhbayar served in the Utah Salt Lake City South Mission. Now in his mid-20s, he is the young single adult leader in the Ulaanbaatar district.

He spoke no English when he received his mission call; two American missionaries read the letter to him. Now he manages the one-room distribution center in the Church offices in Ulaanbaatar, helping members obtain gospel materials available in Mongolian and materials in English for those who can use them. He says that as a missionary, he helped people learn about the gospel, and he is still doing the same.

Ankhbayar came into the Church in 1998 with the rest of his family—parents and younger brother. While his family was attending a Church meeting, he had two dreams that influenced him. In both he was fleeing from certain destruction when a bright, shining personage saved him. Ankhbayar’s parents told him later that this personage was undoubtedly the Savior and invited him to pray about the meaning of his dream. The answer he received led him to listen to the gospel.

Before they joined the Church, “my family was not close,” he says. Now “we talk to each other. I can feel my mother and father’s love.” In the mission field, Ankhbayar felt like Church members were family. He works now to share the gospel with friends so they too can enjoy this feeling.

One person with whom he has shared the gospel is his girlfriend, who was baptized and confirmed. If they should marry, they would face the dilemma many young Mongolian couples struggle with: where to live. Housing is scarce, and the cost is too high for many young marrieds. They may end up living with parents in a small apartment or perhaps in the traditional ger, the circular, one-room tentlike home of the Mongol nomads.

As a very young child Trent was too shy to talk to anyone eye-to-eye. First-grade testing showed that he had a learning disability, so since then he has attended special education classes at Meadowbrook School, where fifth and sixth graders become tutors and buddies of the special education students. Tutors drill them one-on-one in speaking, reading, spelling, and math. Buddies play with them on the playground and take them to lunch.

Trent’s self-esteem zoomed sky-high when the older students at his school asked him to play on their soccer team. He could excel in something! But another, greater achievement awaited him.
Special education students and their buddies skate each Friday afternoon at the Bountiful Ice Rink, which is half a block from their school.
A buddy encouraged Trent to skate, and the ice immediately captivated him. As he progressed, Trent became a skating buddy to others. When one child was too timid to try, Trent said, “Come on. If I can do it, you can too.” He flashed his smile and soon had the boy gliding easily on the ice.
Trent is now a member of the Utah Figure Skating Club and the United States Figure Skating Association; he is climbing the same difficult steps that world champion skaters have taken. Trent practices on the ice sixteen hours each week. It took him three long months of practice before he could land an axel—a jump made by taking off in a forward position, spinning one and a half times in the air, and landing on the opposite foot, going backward.
“The intense concentration of skating helps to build the connectors in Trent’s brain,” Trent’s mother explains, “so that his body will follow his brain’s commands. When he is discouraged with his studies, I remind him about how many hours it took him and how many times he fell before he could perform an axel.”
Trent’s coach, Barry Kamber, says, “Trent listens carefully and practices a lot. He attacks each new challenge with an ‘I get to do this!’ attitude.”
He enjoys doing things with his parents, LaDean and Dennis, and with his brothers and sister. His brother Travis (15) excels at golf, and another brother, Todd (13), excels at ice dancing. Trent’s little sister, Tara (4), says, “Trent’s my best buddy.”
In March 1984, the International Special Olympics, in which only handicapped skaters compete, were held in Salt Lake City, Utah, at the Salt Palace. Trent was only nine years old then and too young to compete, but he did perform a solo exhibition number before an audience of thousands—and he had been skating only five months!
In February 1987—the date on the poster—the United States Figure Skating Championships were held, and Trent performed another exhibition number. As Trent arrived at the Tacoma Dome, all the top United States skating competitors welcomed the eleven-year-old blond boy and treated him like one of them. He signed posters and autographed programs along with the champions. Another handicapped skater, Katie Crawford, also did an exhibition number.
In front of the crowd of more than 27,000 in the Dome, Trent was unbelievably composed. He listened for his music, then concentrated on every movement. His first axel was flawless. The crowd rose, stomped their feet, clapped, and cheered. Trent finished his spectacular number, then modestly clasped his hands behind his back and bowed from the waist during the long standing ovation.
“You’re the star of the whole show!” many people praised him. Trent smiled, his eyes glistening. He had achieved his goal!
Skating helps Trent to organize his time wisely for other activities and for doing his homework and chores around the house. “I do the dinner dishes,” Trent says. “I keep my room straight. I put out the garbage and mow the lawn and rake leaves. Sometimes I do things for other people without being asked.”
On his return home Trent began coaching a young learning-disabled girl for the Special Olympics to be held in Salt Lake City. He gives confidence to others, on the ice and off. His classmates feel better about themselves because one of them has achieved.

I would like to begin with a personal story. In 1988 I was visiting with my brothers and sisters when the conversation drifted to our father, who had passed away many years earlier. We shared our memories of Dad: his ways of doing things, his favorite sayings, our fishing trips (where all he did was bait hooks), and so forth. After enjoying the discussion for 10 or 15 minutes, I was surprised when my youngest sister started to cry. When her emotions settled down, she reminded us that she had been only six years old when our dad passed away. Though she was happy to hear us talk about our memories of Dad, she was saddened because she herself had very few memories of him.

That experience bothered me for several weeks. Being the oldest child in the family, I had many memories of my father and could not imagine life without those memories. It bothered me further when I realized that my wife and most of my siblings’ spouses would never meet my dad and that my children and their cousins would never know their grandfather. So I enlisted my wife’s help, and for the next several months we set about compiling a book about my father. We contacted extended family, found former friends, and called work associates and Church leaders who had interacted with Dad. We asked all of them to write down their memories of him. We made copies of pictures, news articles, and documents that showed his special achievements, trying to put everything we could find about my father in a book. After many months of effort, the book was finished, and we printed copies and gave them to family members as our Christmas gift.

A stake president was scheduled to meet with a young man to interview him and help him complete his mission application. The young man was a bright student and had saved money for his mission. He attended church regularly and was worthy of a temple recommend. Still, the stake president had one concern: The young man was drinking 12 energy drinks a day! In their meeting, the stake president suggested that he break the energy-drink habit before they submitted the application to the Missionary Department.
“No problem, President,” said the young man. “It’s not a habit. I can quit anytime.” They scheduled another interview a week later and the young man left. The following day he found out just how much of a habit his non-habit had become. His body was craving the drinks, and it was difficult to say no to himself. By midweek he called the stake president for a blessing. “I guess I really was more addicted than I thought,” he said. “This is really hard.”
The blessing was given, and the stake president continued to meet with the young man and monitor his progress. The process actually took months, but finally this young man felt ready to submit his application. His advice to others: “Don’t be fooled. Just because something isn’t specifically mentioned in the Word of Wisdom doesn’t mean there aren’t negative consequences.”
When the stake president asked the young man to break his dependence on energy drinks before beginning his mission, the young man found it difficult. After several months of hard work, that missionary entered the MTC and wrote the following in a letter to his stake president: “I want to thank you for all your help preparing me to serve. This place is incredible. The Spirit is so strong in all the classes and devotionals. You can even feel it when you are walking down the halls. This feeling is better than any energy drink!”

When I was called as a General Authority, I was blessed to be tutored by many of the senior Brethren in the Church. One day I had the opportunity to drive President James E. Faust to a stake conference. During the hours we spent in the car, President Faust took the time to teach me some important principles about my assignment. He explained also how gracious the members of the Church are, especially to General Authorities. He said, “They will treat you very kindly. They will say nice things about you.” He laughed a little and then said, “Dieter, be thankful for this. But don’t you ever inhale it.”
That is a good lesson for us all, brethren, in any calling or life situation. We can be grateful for our health, wealth, possessions, or positions, but when we begin to inhale it—when we become obsessed with our status; when we focus on our own importance, power, or reputation; when we dwell upon our public image and believe our own press clippings—that’s when the trouble begins; that’s when pride begins to corrupt.

Allow me to share a personal perspective about self-forgiveness and the temple.

There are times in our lives when we need to turn to the Savior and remember that through Him we can be made whole. In April 2016, while speaking about opposition, then Elder Oaks said that God has given us a way to be cleansed, healed, and forgiven through Jesus Christ, “a Savior [who] pays the price to redeem us from our sins.”13

I believe in the Atonement of Jesus Christ, and I have relied on His grace in my life. I believe in forgiving others—and that it can be an intensely liberating and healing process. During key moments in my life, I have also been required to find the will to forgive myself for mistakes of the past through fervent prayer, temple worship, and sacred conversations with my devoted and supportive husband.

On one occasion I discovered that I didn’t fully believe the assurances that I had been forgiven for past mistakes. Through divine guidance, temple attendance, and increased faith in the Savior, whose Atonement is infinitely powerful and accessible, I was able to progress to the point at which I could remove—in a single, decisive act of self-forgiveness—the shackles that held me bound. There are few moments in my life that have been as liberating. Being able to forgive myself strengthened my faith in the Savior’s infinite ability and in His compassion for us as individuals, and it strengthened my resolve and confidence that I could progress on the path to eternal life.

Many years ago my children and I hiked to the top of South Sister, a 10,358-foot (3,157 m) mountain in Oregon. After several hours we encountered a long 45-degree slope of tiny volcanic pebbles. With the summit in sight, we pressed on, only to find that with every step, our feet would sink in the pebbles, causing us to slide backward several inches. My 12-year-old son forged ahead as I stayed with my 8-year-old daughter. Fatigue and discouragement soon set in, and she was heartbroken, thinking that she might not join her brother at the top. My first impulse was to carry her. My spirit was willing, but sadly my flesh was weak. We sat down on the rocks, assessed our situation, and devised a new plan. I told her to put her hands in my back pants pockets, hold on tight, and—most important—as soon as I lifted my foot to take a step, she should quickly put her foot in its place. She mirrored my every move and relied on the lift that came from hanging on to my pockets. After what seemed like an eternity, we made it to the top of the mountain. Her expression of triumph and satisfaction was priceless. And yes, she and her brother were, in my estimation, real hikers.
With the current conditions of the world, we desperately need real learning and teaching in our homes, meetings, and gospel classes. I know that your quest to improve may seem overwhelming at times. Please do not become discouraged with your progress. I think back on my experience hiking with my children. We agreed that every time we stopped to catch our breath, rather than focusing exclusively on how much farther we needed to go, we would immediately turn around and look down the mountain. We would take in the scenery and say to each other, “Look how far we’ve come.” Then we would take a deep breath, quickly turn, face uphill, and start climbing again one step at a time. Brothers and sisters, you can parent, lead, and teach after the manner of the workings of the Spirit. I know you can do this. I testify you can do this, and lives will change.

My little brother, Jacob, and I do everything together. We are two years apart but almost the same size. People always ask if we are twins.
One day when we were playing, Jacob cut his finger really bad. We rushed inside to run water on his finger. While Mom checked his finger, I put my arm around him to make him feel better. He was really scared.
Mom decided that Jacob needed to go to the hospital so that they could treat his finger. Our neighbor offered to watch our little sister and asked if I wanted to go with them. I looked at Jacob. He begged me to go with him. Even though I knew it would be a long wait at the hospital, I decided to go with him. He needed me.
On the way to the hospital, Mom had me say a prayer for Jacob. When we arrived, I tried to make sure he was comfortable. We brought a water bottle with us, and I made sure I offered him lots of drinks to take his mind off his finger.
When we finally saw the doctor, I was a little scared. I didn’t know if my brother would need stitches. I knew it might hurt.
While they worked on Jacob’s finger, he screamed and cried. Mom didn’t want me to watch, so I stayed in a corner of the room while she held Jacob’s hand. Seeing him in pain made me cry, too.
Soon Jacob’s finger was bandaged and we were able to go home. Mom told me that I had been “my brother’s keeper.” She said that in a small way, I had felt how Jesus feels about us when we are sad and hurting. I am glad I was able to be there for my brother when he needed me.