Gospel Story Finder

Walls. Fences. Barriers. Unfortunately, many of us seem to build them in one form or another. Afraid of being hurt, we put up iron bars for protection. Afraid of being laughed at, we build a barricade that no one gets inside. Worst of all may be the walls of intolerance, built with bricks of ignorance, cemented with the mortar of fear. Understanding comes only when such walls are torn away. Love and peace come only when, brick by brick, the walls come down.
Latter-day Saint youth in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake know a lot about walls. In a country torn for centuries by unrest and terrorism, they are in the delicate position of being on neither side of the conflict—both religious and political—between Catholics and Protestants. But they deal with the barriers just the same. Listen to three young women from the Cavehill Ward:
Sharon Goodall tells a common story: “My schoolmates always want to know if I’m Catholic or Protestant. I tell them I’m neither; I’m Mormon. ‘Fine,’ they say. ‘Are you a Catholic Mormon or a Protestant Mormon?’ It almost sounds like a joke, until you have to live it. You try to get along with everybody, but there’s constant pressure to pick a side.”
Debra Boyd explains that a lot of people outside of Northern Ireland have no idea what it’s truly like to live here. “It’s rare that you would see something like a bombing. I’ve lived here all my life, and I haven’t seen any at all. Life goes on pretty much as normal, although you have security checks on public buses, and sometimes there’s a tailback (traffic jam) when there’s an incident. But it’s more of an inconvenience than a threat to your life.”
Along with six other Latter-day Saints, Debra attends the Hazelwood Integrated College in Belfast, a school where the student body is about 50 percent Catholic and 50 percent Protestant. “I’m fairly new at the school, and at the start they would say, ‘Oh, she’s one of them mad Mormons,’ and they would tease me,” Debra says. “But now, they’re asking questions, like why I don’t take tea or coffee. They’re kind of interested in it more.”
Debbie Sloan, who attends the same school, is popular with her classmates. “At an integrated school, the effort is to help us all get along anyway,” she explains. “They know I’m Mormon. My close friends know my dad is a bishop, that we spend lots of time at our church. I just talk about it the way it is, and they accept me for what I am.”
Claire and Sandra Hoey of Craigavon are members of the Portadown Ward. They talk about the walls that missionaries helped tumble for their family.
“The missionaries had been coming to our parents for a long time,” Sandra says. “But I never paid any attention. Then one night I was upstairs and started listening. I got more interested in what they were saying. I decided it was time to see what it was all about.”
The discussions became more and more serious. The parents were baptized. An older brother was baptized. Then Sandra, then Claire.
After the baptisms, a friend “noticed that since I’ve joined the Church I’ve been happier,” Claire says. “She wanted to find out what it was that was making me happy.” Now the friend is taking the discussions in the Hoeys’ home. “I can remember asking the same questions, praying to resolve the same doubts,” Claire says. “It helps when I can tell her I’ve been through the same thing and gained my own testimony.”
At the Lisburn Ward, Rachael Edwards, Karen Edwards, and David Schmidt say being fully involved in seminary helps break barriers, too.
“Before I started seminary and I’d explain to my friends what my religion was, they’d have a lot of questions, and I couldn’t answer them well,” Rachael says. “Now, having taken seminary, I feel more confidence whenever I talk to people about the Church.”
“There are 13 students in our seminary class,” Karen explains. “It’s the largest in Ireland. We have home study; then we meet with our teacher, Sister Susanna Thompson, on Tuesday nights. At school, everyone has what we call R.E. (religious education) classes. The R.E. schoolwork helps me with seminary, and seminary helps us have a different viewpoint, more depth than what we get at school. So they balance each other.”
“There’s a lot of videos and anti-Mormon literature that go around to the other churches,” Karen says. “It’s hard because what they hear has been severely twisted, and they really need to start from the basics.”
“A lot of my friends didn’t think we read the Bible,” Rachael says. “So I was really glad I could show them my seminary scriptures. They think it’s just their churches that have Bible study. They’re surprised to find we Mormons have our own study classes as well.”
“We change people’s views,” David says. “Like our teacher said, ‘So, you’re a Mormon. That means you’re not totally Christian?’ And I said, ‘Well, we are actually.’ We talked about it and got that all cleared up.”
David also tells of inviting friends and family to meetings. “Last year when my family was getting baptized, my mother invited our granny and our aunts all to church, and they came along and said they quite enjoyed it. They thought it interesting that we didn’t have just clergy up there, but had everyday people bearing their testimonies. And my friends enjoy our church.”
Rachael, Karen, and David tell story after story—the teacher who wanted a floor plan of an LDS chapel to compare it with other churches, and the exams where Mormons had to explain that they do get baptized in a font, which for other churches is a tiny basin holding water for sprinkling.
But it’s Karen who sums up the overall experience. “There’s lots of opposition here,” she says. “But if we make them aware of the Church, maybe eventually they’ll understand the Church. And that can only do good.”
Talk to the young Latter-day Saints in Northern Ireland long enough, and you’ll find that the youth are doing what Karen says.
Sara Magee of Portadown will talk about standards: “Most of my friends, if someone offered me a cigarette or a drink, they’d say, ‘Nope, Sara, you’re not allowed.’” Karen Weir of Portadown will tell you how having the London Temple reopened and the Preston Temple under construction has made a lot of people curious about the Church. Simon Noble of the Holywood Road Ward describes a stake play that was a missionary play, too. “It was all about the plan of salvation, and we invited non-LDS friends to come and learn about what we believe,” Simon says.
Debra Boyd, of the Cavehill Ward, will join the conversation again to talk about her bishop, Ronald Sloan, and how he has shown her that a bishop can be a great ally in living a worthy life. And Debra will tell of the joy she felt when her friend Leigh-Ann Kelly (and her family) were baptized. “We were crying our eyes out,” Debra says. “That scripture that talks about bringing one soul into heaven? You know that one? It’s really true” (see D&C 18:15–16).
Through the center of Belfast runs a thick scar, a no-man’s-land as ugly as a war zone. Its red bars, brick, barbed wire, and yellow barricades mark the dividing line between two parts of the city. For many, it is a symbol of a hopeless situation, its barriers a monument of mistrust and misunderstanding.
But young Latter-day Saints don’t dwell on such a reminder of despair. They look to a day when the Savior will come, when every knee will bow and every tongue confess that he is Lord, whose right it is to reign. In that day, if not before, all walls will tumble down. And when they do, they’ll be replaced by hope, love, peace, and understanding.

If you’re ever asked how you’re dating, I hope that “intentionally” is one of your first responses. Let me try and illustrate this with an example.
More than half of my and my wife’s time dating was long-distance. I met Catherine while we were in school in Santiago, Chile. We started dating, but she moved back home to Antofagasta before I finished my degree. Because we wanted our relationship to develop, once or twice a month, I made the 20-hour bus ride back to Antofagasta on Thursday afternoons, spent weekends with Catherine (including church services), and took the bus another 20 hours back to Santiago to be at my 8:00 a.m. class on Monday morning.
On the days we couldn’t be together, we talked on the phone. Since we didn’t have cell phones at that time, I bought a phone plan that allowed me to make unlimited calls on public phones. I spent hours tethered to a phone booth, and if anyone else needed to use it, I would have to hang up and call Catherine back as soon as they were done.
Throughout this experience, because of the many obstacles in our relationship, I had to learn to be intentional about how I communicated with Catherine.
I invite you to make dating deliberate and intentional. President Russell M. Nelson has asked us to be intentional with our discipleship. We can also seek to be intentional in the way we date.
We should ask important questions:
What do you think about life, family, and most importantly, the Savior?
I know what kind of things you do and don’t like to do, but what are your feelings about the gospel?
What are your standards and morals?
Intentional questions should be accompanied by doing a variety of intentional activities. Have fun, but be sure to do spiritual things together too. Do activities that will help you understand and truly get to know each other.
After you’ve been dating for a while, it can seem like a daunting decision to choose to get married. I was still nervous right up until the moment Catherine and I were married!
Choosing to get married might be a hard decision, but it’s not a decision you make just one time. Choosing to get married means choosing to recommit to your eternal companion throughout your life and strengthening that commitment together.
When you have questions about marriage or the gospel, you should “study it out in your mind; then you must ask [the Lord] if it be right” (Doctrine and Covenants 9:8) You should also ask yourself, “Am I willing to choose to be part of this for the rest of my life?”
When I got married, some people asked me if I was nervous that I would end up getting divorced like my parents. My answer has always been no. When I got married, I decided that I would do whatever it took to make my marriage work out. That meant choosing every day to follow the Savior and be joyfully married to my wife. I chose not to let fear of divorce drive me away from a good and righteous decision.
President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, said: “Once there has been genuine illumination, beware the temptation to retreat from a good thing. If it was right when you prayed about it and trusted it and lived for it, it is right now. … Face your doubts. Master your fears. ‘Cast not away therefore your confidence.’”
The reality is that there are many of you who have very good and sincere desires to find a companion. You know this is a good and righteous desire, but when you’re struggling to find someone you’re compatible with, you feel stuck in your progress on the covenant path.
Regarding this, Sister Kristen M. Oaks said: “If you find yourself marking time waiting for a marriage prospect, stop waiting and start preparing. Prepare yourself for life—by education, experience, and planning. Don’t wait for happiness to be thrust upon you. Seek out opportunities for service and learning. And most important, trust in the Lord, ‘calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come’ [Mosiah 4:11]. And I promise as you do, happiness will come to you.”
Your journey on the covenant path has not stopped because you are not married yet. You still have your covenantal connection with the Savior. If you are struggling with rejection, loneliness, or fear, bring Him into your struggles. He will succor you. He will help you.
For some, dating with the intent to find an eternal companion will not bear fruit immediately. For others it will. No matter what, I know that God will fulfill every single promise He has made to us if we are intentional and trust in Him.
No matter where you are in the world or what is happening or not happening in your life, because of Jesus Christ, you can have joy in all circumstances. He and His teachings are always the answer.

I have recently been given the challenge of teaching the teenagers in combined courses 17 and 18 in the Sunday School. The other day as I walked past my home business office, my eyes were drawn like a magnet to the January-February 1982 New Era atop my desk. I let myself be interrupted from what I was doing that Saturday morning and settled myself in a comfortable chair with the New Era.
Perhaps it’s a good thing that Feedback appears in the very front of this choice, choice magazine. I carefully read the contents of each letter. As my mind dwelled on the contents of Sister Lesley Burton’s letter, the words I was intended to find sprang from the printed page: “How important it is to prepare ourselves spiritually for the tests of life.” My theme sign for weekly use with my Sunday School class throughout the year will read “Prepare yourself spiritually for the tests of life.”
When I read Sister Burton’s words, I knew through the promptings of the Holy Ghost that I had discovered just what I needed for my teaching efforts. Needless to say, I shall make time to continue reading all the contents of this New Era in the very near future.
Sue H. BaileyOrangewood, California

Jeff and Kourtney were married in the Oakland California Temple three years after Jeff’s baptism. When Jeff joined the Church, his parents had many concerns. “One was that they wouldn’t be able to see him get married,” his wife Kourtney recalls.

As Jeff and Kourtney made wedding plans, they spent a lot of time with both sets of parents. Jeff says. “Brothers and sisters also feel they’re missing something as well. Include them in the wedding planning so they’re a part of it as much as they can be.”

Every step of the way, Jeff and Kourtney were sensitive to the feelings of Jeff’s parents. Jeff bore his testimony of the gospel and the temple to his family and gave his parents a book that explained the purposes of the temple and said that it’s not secret but sacred. “Explain to them why this is important to you, and hopefully they’ll see things through your eyes,” Jeff advises.

“Looking back, part of what made things go so well was the education and preparation of those not knowledgeable about the Church,” Jeff says. “My parents may not have agreed with my decision to join the Church and the resulting effect that I would get married without their participation, but they completely supported my wife and me that day. Their love for us transcended any disagreement about the Church.”

“My father was a big man, six feet four inches tall. He was probably as fine an athlete as any in the state. He could run, pole-vault, and throw the discus. He played on the team that won the first Church M-Men basketball championship. He was also on the all-state basketball team. He might have had a promising athletic career, but his dad died, and as the oldest of eleven children, he had to leave school to help raise his brothers and sisters. Dad was a great soul, very generous, and he worked in the Scouting program for forty years.
“My mother was only five feet two inches tall. A very capable individual, she had been a schoolteacher before I was born, and she was an elocutionist (one who excels in public speaking). Before I started school, she taught me all the things that are taught in the first, second, and third grades. When my two brothers and two sisters came along, she didn’t have as much time to spend teaching me, and then I was just ordinary in school.
“During the Depression, my grandfather came to live with us. He had crossed the plains eighteen times, bringing people to Utah from Missouri. He would get an assignment to do this just as you might be assigned to work on the welfare farm. I sat at his feet and listened to his stories about hauling rocks for the temple, crossing the plains, and hunting bears. He was a good hunter—he had to be to survive.
“This grandfather was a stake clerk, and he would go around the stake to audit the books. He would travel in a horse and buggy maybe forty miles to a town where a ward was, audit the books, stay overnight, then go twenty-five miles to another town. One time when he was in Oak City, he had a feeling that he should return home that night. He hitched up his horse and buggy and drove twenty-six miles to his home, getting there just as the sun was coming up. He hurried into the house and asked his wife what was wrong. She told him that their youngest daughter was near death. He blessed the little girl, and she was made well.
“My mother’s mother really made an impression on me. When I was nine, she had a stroke and could no longer speak. I remember her lying on a bed in my aunt’s home. The doctor thought that she should have a stimulant, so he had some coffee prepared to give to her. She had never drunk coffee, and I can still see the fire in her eyes as she let the doctor know that she wasn’t going to drink any then, either! He got the message, and she didn’t get the coffee.
“My other grandmother, my dad’s mother, was a visiting teacher to a family during a flu epidemic after World War I. The whole family was sick with the flu; three of them had already died. My grandmother went into their home and took care of them and even dressed the bodies of the dead members in preparation for their funeral. I have always been impressed with what a faithful visiting teacher she was.
“I myself came down with smallpox, a deadly disease in those days. I was isolated in the granary, which had a stove. Pillows were tied on my hands so that I couldn’t scratch the big pox that covered my body. The Lord blessed me so that today I don’t have any pockmarks. I also had diphtheria, another deadly disease, and the Lord spared my life then too.
“I loved school and had some wonderful teachers. One of them was ElRay L. Christiansen, who later became a General Authority. He would tell us about different pieces of music and make them live for us. I still have a great love for opera and classical music.”
Elder Reeve believes that children must be acquainted with Heavenly Father. If He is the center of their lives and they love Him and talk with Him, then He can take them through any trial or problem. It might not all be pleasant, but they can survive.
“God is real. He lives, and He loves you. He loves every child; He doesn’t have favorites. He is as close to you as you will let Him be by how you live, how you mind your parents, and how you keep His commandments.”

On a different trip, Joe, my third son, got caught in a huge backwash behind a giant boulder. Usually the body is heavy enough that you sink down below the waves and wash, and the current pulls you under the backwash and away from danger. However, in Joe’s case the water washed him into the backwash, which threw him like a top back into the hole. This happened over and over, and we feared for his life, but Joe did not panic. He remembered that Dale had told him he would wash through, and so Joe let himself drop down into the water and eventually washed through.

Five years ago, Sister Amy A. Wright was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. The only way her family made it through her aggressive treatments, she said, was by focusing on the Savior Jesus Christ.
“When it was all about me, the world became a really dark place,” she recalled. “But when my focus turned outward, when I would strive to serve others and walk the way Christ walked, there was light and joy, even during the greatest pain and suffering.”
Sister Wright described her battle with cancer as a “polishing and refining experience”—one that was “uniquely tailored” to help her come to know the Savior in a deeply personal way. It also taught her that additional strength comes in seeking to learn and understand others’ diverse challenges.

When the Second World War erupted, all American missionaries had to return home. Local Swedish men were then asked to serve as missionaries. C. Fritz Johansson, who had joined the Church in 1931, was called as the new mission president. One year before the war, he sold his grocery store business and became a missionary with his wife and three children. When the war was over, President Johansson and seven missionaries from Sweden were called to reopen missionary work in Finland, which had stopped because of the war.

Excited by their newfound religion, Jaanus and his friend Urmas Raavk decided they must spread the gospel. They spoke with at least 50 people on the streets and knocked on 20 doors. They tried to talk like missionaries, explaining the story of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. The missionaries later asked Jaanus, “Why did you do that? Who gave you the authority to act as a missionary?”
“We know from reading in the Bible that everybody must be a missionary,” Jaanus answered. “I already have a strong desire to serve. It is hard to wait until I get a mission call.”
The elders smiled. “In opening this new mission, we need to be very careful and work only through referrals to members’ friends,” they explained. President Steven R. Mecham of the Finland Helsinki East Mission said that this proved to be important in getting the Church accepted by the government. Proselyting needed to be handled carefully, so as not to offend. From then on, Jaanus and Urmas worked with the missionaries.

In 1895 my great-grandfather, Abinadi Olsen, was called on a mission to the Samoan Islands. Obedient to the call of the prophet, he left his wife and four small children, including my maternal grandmother, Chasty Magdalene, in the town of Castle Dale, Utah. He traveled by train and ship to the mission headquarters in Apia, a journey of 26 days. His first assignment was to labor on the island of Tutuila.
After many weeks of living in what he called a grass hut, eating strange food, suffering severe illnesses, and struggling to learn the Samoan language, he seemed to be making no progress in his missionary work. Homesick and discouraged, he seriously considered boarding a boat back to Apia and telling the mission president he didn’t want to waste any more time in Samoa. The obstacles to the accomplishment of his mission seemed insurmountable, and he wished to return to his wife and children, who were struggling to support him in the mission field.
A friend who heard Abinadi Olsen describe the experience some years after his return, quoted him as follows:
“Then one night, as I lay on my mat on the floor of my hut, a strange man entered and in my own language told me to get up and follow him. His manner was such that I had to obey. He led me out through the village and directly up against the face of a perpendicular solid rock cliff. ‘That’s strange,’ thought I. ‘I’ve never seen that here before,’ and just then the stranger said, ‘I want you to climb that cliff.’
“I took another look and then in bewilderment said, ‘I can’t. It’s impossible!’
“‘How do you know you can’t? You haven’t tried,’ said my guide.
“‘But anyone can see’—I started to say in objection. But he cut in with, ‘Begin climbing. Reach up with your hand—now with your foot.’
“As I reached, under orders that I dared not disobey, a niche seemed to open in the solid rock cliff and I caught hold. Then with my one foot I caught a toe hold.
“‘Now go ahead,’ he ordered. ‘Reach with your other hand,’ and as I did so another place opened up, and to my surprise the cliff began to recede; climbing became easier, and I continued the ascent without difficulty until, suddenly, I found myself lying on my pallet back in my hut. The stranger was gone!
“‘Why has this experience come to me?’ I asked myself. The answer came quickly. I had been up against an imaginary cliff for those three months. I had not reached out my hand to begin the climb. I hadn’t really made the effort I should have made to learn the language and surmount my other problems” (Fenton L. Williams, “On Doing the Impossible,” Improvement Era, Aug. 1957, p. 554).
It is hardly necessary to add that Abinadi Olsen did not leave the mission. He labored for three and a half years, until released by appropriate authority. He was an exceptionally effective missionary, and he was a faithful member of the Church for the rest of his life.

“Mary, what do you see?” Mary’s stepmother spoke softly from her sickbed.
“The fighting seems to be getting closer,” said Mary, looking out the window. The American Civil War was being fought just a few miles away. The sound of gunshots had filled the air since morning. Mary turned to her stepmother. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think we can leave the house to get the doctor.”
“Come closer.” Mary sat next to the bed and took her stepmother’s hand. “I know your father is still not well,” Mary’s stepmother said quietly, “but you need to take the family to Zion—your brother, your sister, and the twins. Don’t give your father any peace until he goes to the Rocky Mountains! Promise me!”
Mary knew how much her family wanted to go to Salt Lake City. After they heard the gospel and were baptized, they had left England to join the Saints in Zion. But would it even be possible? She glanced at her father, who sat silently in his chair. Three years ago, Father had suffered a terrible stroke that had paralyzed his left side.
Mary took a deep breath. “I promise,” she whispered.
Soon Mary’s stepmother closed her eyes for the last time.
One morning soon after, Mary decided it was time to tell her father about her promise. “I know I’m just 14,” she said, “but I must take our family to Zion.” She heard the twins waking. “I need to go get breakfast started,” she said. “But just think about it, please.”
A few days later, Father called Mary over. “It’s all arranged,” he said. His speech was still slurred from the stroke. “I’ve sold our land and the coal mine so we can buy a wagon, some oxen, cows, and a few supplies. A wagon company is leaving soon for the West. They’re not Latter-day Saints, but we can travel with them as far as Iowa. When we get there, we can join a party of Saints going to the Salt Lake Valley.”
Mary threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Father.” Soon they would go to Zion!
The days passed quickly as Mary helped get the family ready for their travels. “Everything is going to be all right,” she told herself. “Soon we’ll be in Zion.”
But then Father fell ill. From the way his mouth drooped on one side, Mary feared it was another stroke.
“He’s too sick to travel,” she told the leader of the wagon company. “We just need a few days for him to recover.”
“We can’t wait,” the man said briskly. Seeing Mary’s face, he softened his tone. “You can stay here until he’s ready to travel, and then you can catch up with us.” With no other choice, Mary agreed.
A week later, Mary got her family ready to travel again. “The twins and Sarah can ride on the oxen,” she told Jackson, her nine-year-old brother. “Father can ride in the wagon, and you can help me drive the oxen.”
“I’m scared,” Sarah said in a small voice. She was only six, and she looked tiny on the ox’s broad back. The four-year-old twins looked at Mary with wide eyes.
“We’ll just make good time and catch up with our group!” Mary said with forced cheerfulness.
On and on the Wanlass family traveled, for miles, and then for days. Finally, even Mary had to admit the truth.
The wagon party had not waited for them. Mary and her family would have to travel to Zion alone.
To be continued …

The night my brother overdosed on heroin is one I’ll never forget. I can still recall every detail: the thud of his body hitting the floor, my parents’ yells, the terror, the confusion, and the hopelessness that sank in when I realized we were back to square one with his seemingly never-ending battle with addiction.
When my brother didn’t respond, I actually surprised myself. Despite the chaos around me, an unnatural inner strength came over me that enabled me to help my parents get my brother stable. I held his stiff gray hands and spoke slowly to him as he stared back with dull eyes. Though I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, I was surprisingly calm as we waited for him to come to. I realized later that this timely calmness was the Lord’s sustaining power.
After he was stabilized and taken to be treated at a hospital, the reality of the situation struck me. My momentary heaven-sent strength ran out, and I collapsed with grief. My heart broke. My chest ached as I lay curled on my bed, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t sob hard enough to keep up with my emotions. “How is this my life?” I thought. “He’s never going to beat this! I can’t do this anymore!”
In that moment when I collapsed with grief, I felt like I had been lifted into the air by an unseen force—a gale-force wind that slammed me to the cold, dark ground of rock bottom—a place reserved not just for addicts but for those who love them, a place I’m becoming all too familiar with.
When my brother overdosed, he had been clean for two years. We were finally seeing the light after watching him battle the brutal consequences of addiction for more than a decade. But the moment he was again exposed to his vice, everything he had worked to build in the past two years came crashing down.
After briefly seeing freedom on the horizon, we had been sucked by my brother’s relapse back into the raging, messy, and seemingly inescapable hurricane of addiction, a storm that buffets the addict while also tossing their loved ones to and fro.
I’ve come to learn that the Savior will never leave me to drown either. In my life, it has always been small instances of the Lord’s mercy that allow me to keep paddling against the stormy waves life throws at me. He enabled me to remain calm and hold myself together when my brother needed me, He has helped me muster up enough strength to get out of bed on days when I believe I have no strength left, and He continues to offer me peace despite my constant numbing fear of the unknown.

At Young Women camp in the mountains of California, girls and leaders waited for dinner in an A-frame lodge. As we waited, some girls noticed something under a table. A hummingbird had somehow flown into the lodge, couldn’t find its way out, and finally collapsed on the floor. They asked me to help.
The bird looked near death, its beak wrapped with cobwebs and its feathers askew. I gently put it into a cup and carried it outside. I hoped it would recover on its own but realistically expected it to go the way of all nature. However, as I tipped the cup to gently deposit the hummingbird onto the ground, in mid-slide the hummingbird grasped the rim of the cup with its tiny talons. I held the cup upright, the bird perched on the rim, its eyes closed. Now what?
One leader, seeing the bird, mixed a solution of sugar and water and brought it to me. First I gently brushed the cobwebs from the needle-sharp beak. The bird didn’t flinch. Then I dipped a finger in the sugar water and held a drop to the tip of the beak. The drop disappeared, even though the bird didn’t move. Perhaps the liquid seeped into the beak? I dipped my finger again and held it to the bird’s beak. This time a tiny tongue, thinner than a hair, licked my fingertip.
For 10 or 15 minutes, the hummingbird drank one drop after another. By then, several other leaders had gathered around me, and I offered them a try at feeding it.
Suddenly the bird opened its eyes, and its ruffled feathers fell instantly into place. After drinking a couple more drops, it started its wings, warmed them for a second, and flew straight up. It hesitated a moment above us, and then shot away.
We stood there, stunned. And then, as suddenly as the bird had flown away, the spiritual lessons came:
Often, as we reach out to the less active, our efforts don’t seem to make a difference. But the love we offer does slip into the cracks—like the nectar into the unmoving beak of the hummingbird—providing spiritual nutrition that one day may produce results.
At times we can’t go further on our own; we need a kind, caring hand up.
Sometimes people get tangled in the cobwebs of sin or addiction and need the help of a friend or priesthood leader and the Savior’s assistance to get free.
We need regular spiritual nutrition in order to endure, else we run out of spiritual strength and fall victim to evil influences.
The hummingbird kept hanging on. Literally. Hanging on made all the difference. At times, we must simply endure in faith as we deal with the painful and sometimes horrible challenges of life.
The New Testament says that the Master is aware of even the sparrow’s fall (see Matthew 10:29–31). I now know He is also aware of a hummingbird’s fall. And He is aware of you.

Several years ago my family was going through a difficult time. My parents had separated, and our family began to forget God’s love.
To our great fortune, one of my mother’s friends saw our need to draw closer to God and introduced us to the full-time missionaries. As they taught us the gospel, we realized that God had a plan for us, and despite our many challenges, He had not abandoned us. After we had come to understand these principles, my mother, sisters, and I decided to be baptized.
As we attended our Sunday meetings, our testimonies of the gospel grew. I soon desired to serve a full-time mission. It was not an easy decision, however, because I was the man of the house. My mother needed my help. Moreover, I began to receive many job offers and was accepted by several universities. I concluded to ask God for help and direction.
After praying, I turned to my scriptures and came upon the following verses:
“Wherefore, your family shall live.
“Behold, verily I say unto you, go from them only for a little time, and declare my word, and I will prepare a place for them” (D&C 31:5–6).
In that instant I strongly felt the Spirit and knew that what I had read was Heavenly Father’s word to me.
Not long after that experience, I received my mission call. Before being set apart as a full-time missionary, I made a promise to my Heavenly Father that I would do His will as a missionary—that I would work diligently and sacrifice my all for Him. The only blessing I prayed for was to see my family together again someday.
My first year as a missionary was challenging, but my companions and I worked with all our hearts. About this time I received a marvelous letter from my mother telling me that my father had returned home! At that moment I remembered the promise I had made to God, and I recalled His promise in the Doctrine and Covenants: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Several years have passed since my mission. Today my family and I still find joy in the gospel and through our covenants with God. I know that He lives. I know that He loves us. I know that He sent His Son to save us. I also know that when we make promises to Him and are faithful to those promises, He is faithful to us.

When I was growing up in Guatemala, my family owned a factory that made uniforms for sports teams.
My dad wanted the children in our family to learn to work hard. We helped him in the factory. I got in trouble a lot when I was little. I always seemed to break things! But when I was older, my dad let me take care of the machines.
My dad paid us for the work we did. Then he would ask, “What are you going to do with your money?” I knew what the right answer was: “Pay my tithing and save for my mission.”
When I was about 13, our business lost a lot of money. We had to get rid of a lot of our machines. Instead of having two hundred workers, we had fewer than five. They worked in our garage at home.
I had always paid my tithing, but I never really understood how important it was. Then I learned an amazing lesson. One Saturday morning I heard my parents talking quietly. My dad told my mom that there was enough money to either pay tithing or buy food. There wasn’t enough for both. I was worried. What would my dad do?
On Sunday I saw my dad hand an envelope to our branch president. He chose to pay tithing! I was glad he did, but I was also worried. What would we eat?
The next morning some people knocked on our door. They told my dad that they needed uniforms right away. Usually people paid us after the order was finished. But these people paid my dad that day, even before we had made the uniforms!
In one weekend, I learned a beautiful lesson that has lasted me a lifetime. The law of tithing helps us build our faith and show our gratitude for Heavenly Father. Paying tithing is a blessing!

President Baudin describes his second voyage to Taenga as one of the most unforgettable experiences of his mission. President Temanu had come to get him, and soon after they left Makemo, stormy weather set in, with the wind and waves buffeting the boat through the waters and altering its course. “Imagine my concern,” relates President Baudin, “when after six hours there was still no land in sight.
“Suddenly, President Temanu stood and pointed with his finger and calmly stated that the island was in that direction. Almost immediately, the wind died and the sea became calm, and as if they had come to greet us and guide us to the pass in the reef, dozens of dolphins appeared, leaping out of the water in front of the boat. As if this weren’t impressive enough, we also saw a whale some thirty meters to the side, spouting water and unhurriedly keeping pace with our forward movement.”

When I was 19 years old, one of my best friends was married. The wedding was wonderful, she looked beautiful, the groom was handsome, and they were happy. I, on the other hand, was a little distraught. I was caught off guard by what she was doing. She was altering my vision for her—and for me. I definitely wanted to get married, just not yet. I thought we were both so young, and here she was marrying not only before graduating from college, but before she had the chance to travel much or engage in intellectually stimulating career opportunities. I was up the night prior to her wedding, anxious about what would happen in her future, while she was sound asleep, rightly confident in her decision.
As I look back on my reaction, I have to smile. What was I thinking? I look at her life now: she has two lovely children and a loving home. A few months after her wedding it became clear to me that she had made the right decision, and it is even clearer now. I recognize that she was prayerful and thoughtful and trusted in God’s promptings to her.

Recently I attended a funeral service for a faithful member of the Church on the remote island of Vava’u in Tonga. This good brother had been loved by the people of his village, and he had the respect of nonmembers as well as Church members.
As the funeral procession left his home and proceeded to the grave site, the whole village followed and finally gathered on a knoll overlooking a peaceful bay. The people clustered around the grave site while the bishop and those participating stood facing the family. I couldn’t help but notice that while many were overcome with sadness and wept during the service, the widow sat peacefully by her beloved husband.
I knew that she had the knowledge of the resurrection and plan of salvation. I later learned that she and her husband had journeyed to the New Zealand Temple and had been sealed together for time and all eternity. In her life, this was not a total calamity but rather a part of God’s plan. There was about her an air of peace and appreciation for the gospel.

“When you turn yourself over to the Lord,” Sonny says, “He’ll put people in your path.” He tells of backing up his motor home one day and ending up in a ditch. He called for a tow truck, and the Spirit prompted him to speak to the driver about the gospel. “I told him, ‘The Lord put me in this ditch so I could meet you.’ He laughed, and we talked. It turns out his grandmother was a Mormon at one time. He wanted a copy of the Book of Mormon. We try to keep copies nearby, and I was happy to give him one.”

I’m grateful for the bishop’s encouragement and belief in my daughter’s ability to be able to settle down in a sacrament meeting. He didn’t judge me for not being able to get my daughter to be reverent all the time. I will never forget the day he assigned me to give a talk on the responsibility of a mother. I felt it was a role I had fallen very short on, but my bishop didn’t. On Mother’s Day, the bishop, knowing that I often had to leave church early, ran after me to ensure that he personally handed me my Mother’s Day card and gift. That deeply touched my heart.