Gospel Story Finder

After serving a full-time mission, I remember feeling sad and confused about what to do professionally. But Heavenly Father strengthened me to keep my faith and my covenants, and He blessed me with a mother who kept hers too. Her faith and determination became a source of inspiration to me.
As I contemplated college studies, I considered a major that wasn’t really what I had dreamed of studying. Noticing my sadness, my mother said, “Hold on to your dreams. Choose the path you know in your heart is right.”
When I was a child, I had dreams related to music and entertainment. I learned to play the piano, led Church choirs, and shared the gospel through music. For a time, life’s challenges and distractions took me away from those dreams.
Our covenants offer us security. As I kept my covenants, I felt His special love for me. He removed obstacles from my path until my path became clear.
I came from a small town that offered little promise for an unknown boy. Today, I produce professional concerts and theater shows in Buenos Aires. My wife, children, and professional work are my dreams come true.

When school bus number 882 finally turned onto the dirt road, I was never happier to see our house.
I was still upset from the argument that had exploded between me and my friends three days ago. Or should I say ex-friends? Now I thought of them as bullheaded and cliquey.
When the bus stopped, I marched down the stairs determined not to speak to Connie and Vicki again.
That night I tossed and turned as contention filled my dreams.
By morning I had a headache. I also woke up late. As a result, I ran around the house trying to get ready for school. I finally grabbed my books and slammed the front door without saying good-bye to my mom and little brothers and sisters as I raced to the bus stop.
I walked quickly down the aisle, finding a seat away from Connie and Vicki. I could feel their eyes watching me, but I sat close to the window and pretended not to see them. I reached for my history book to read my assignment. I was surprised when I opened Pathways to Perfection by Elder Thomas S. Monson. I must have inadvertently grabbed the book as I raced out of the house. It was as if it fell open to what I needed to read most: the chapter titled “Love As Jesus Loves.” The words seemed to be directed at me as I read scriptures from Matthew 22:36–39:
“Master, which is the great commandment in the law?
“Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.”
Then these words penetrated my heart:
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” [Matt. 22:36–39]
Those verses took on new meaning for me. Tears filled my eyes as I felt my Heavenly Father’s love for me. And I realized that it wasn’t Connie and Vicki who needed to change. It was me!
That morning on the bus I made a commitment to serve and love the Lord through loving those around me.

Many years ago, as I began serving as head coach of the Ricks College men's and women's cross country teams, I reflected on my experience as a distance runner and assistant coach. I had observed runners--inferior in talent to their peers--often out-perform these peers in key races. I had also observed talented runners who ran well, race after race. What was it about these runners that enabled them to experience consistent success? In what ways did they focus internally to get the most from what they did physically? As a young coach I concluded if I could figure out what consistently successful runners focused their thoughts on as they prepared for and ran races and teach this in a way those I coached could learn and passionately apply, then as individuals, as teams, and as a program we would realize greater success and be happier with the results.

One of the most foundational of these success principles is to have a clear understanding of your purpose. Understanding a strong, well-defined purpose empowers you to succeed. It strengthens your resolve and commitment, energizes you to get through obstacles, and focuses your efforts as you proceed along your chosen path. The first step to understanding your purpose is to discover what it is.

At one of our team meetings at the first of each cross country season, I would invite then college president, Elder David Bednar, to speak to our athletes. One of the first questions he would ask them was, "What do you think is the purpose of our cross country program at Ricks College?" After listening to their responses, he would clarify, "There is really only one reason why we have athletics at Ricks College and that is so others may see Christ's image engraven in your countenances."[2] He would then invite each of our team members to embrace the Honor Code, to live by both the letter and spirit for which it was given. He would also promise our athletes that as they diligently strove to realize that purpose, the Lord would strengthen them to perform beyond their natural abilities.[3] Understanding that purpose, buying into it as if it was their own, and exercising faith to receive the promised blessings, our athletes and teams radiated the light of Christ and were empowered to experience great success.

One day my brothers got together to talk to me about what I was going through. I don’t really remember what they said, but I knew it was done out of love. As we talked, I started to realize what I was missing. It became the catalyst for change. It should have been me to ordain Kayson an elder. It should have been me to escort him through the temple. It should have been me to give him a father’s blessing before he left. Those most important events in his life were meant for me to be there, not someone else. I remember asking myself, “What am I doing?”

Shortly after, a good friend felt inspired to introduce me to a member of his stake presidency. This kind man listened intently to my story and seemed to know what I was going to say before I said it. We talked for hours. My story, my questions, the logic I had been exposed to were so similar to what others had shared with him. I began to realize that there were reasonable answers for many of my concerns and that many of my questions, while sincere, had been planted by people intent on damaging faith.

Were all my questions and concerns immediately resolved? No, of course not. But my heart was softened enough to realize a great truth: questions are good, but some questions are more important than others.1 Was losing my family and standing before God worth a few unanswered questions? When I focused first on the questions that were most important and put God back in first place in my heart, I began to find answers that reassured me that I was getting back on the right path.

My stake president and bishop also reached out to me. They were a great help to me and Cheri during some dark times. They never gave up. They and my family on both sides of the veil were instrumental in helping me. I know that Heavenly Father knows and loves us. He puts people in our path when we need them. We just need to be willing to accept their help.

I know there are others out there who may be going through something similar. It may be you or someone you know.

I know that the Savior established His Church with the authority to provide the ordinances and covenants we need to return to Him. Satan is working overtime to discredit the Lord’s Church using any means possible. Raising questions and creating doubts is easy. Falling into his traps can happen to anyone. Relying on the information and answers that others provide can be far easier than doing the work of discovering truth for ourselves “by study and also by faith” (Doctrine and Covenants 88:118; emphasis added). But ultimately, that’s what God requires.

If you are struggling with questions or doubts about the Church or your faith, you won’t find truth by reading blogs or listening to podcasts from those who disagree with the Church or have left it. But you also probably won’t be satisfied with shallow answers, and you might not like the suggestion to “put your questions on the shelf.”

I learned that we cannot always live on borrowed light, but instead we must turn to God who is the source of all light and truth (see Doctrine and Covenants 93:26). We must study it out in our own minds, but we must also ask God if what we are thinking is right (see Doctrine and Covenants 9:8). We must learn for ourselves, as Joseph Smith did (see Joseph Smith—History 1:20), and be patient in our searching (see Alma 32:41). But learning by faith means we must prove the truth by living it (see John 7:17; 1 Thessalonians 5:21).

When I was studying things antagonistic to the Church, I felt like I was literally in the mists of darkness (see 1 Nephi 8:23–24; 12:17). When I grabbed hold of God’s word and took that first step toward Him, that was all He needed to send His Spirit to touch my heart.

A few weeks after Kayson left on his mission, my stake president visited me. I caught him up on what had happened during those weeks after my brothers had talked with me. I said I would like to get a new temple recommend. He asked if I could answer the recommend questions properly. I confessed, “President, I don’t think I can say I know that the Church is true yet, but I sure hope with all my heart that it is. And I am going to live my life in accordance with that hope. Is that enough?”

He paused for a moment then said, “Travis, that will always be enough.”

There are some things I’m still waiting to understand, but some things have become very clear to me. I know that Heavenly Father loves me. I know that we might wander and struggle for a time. But I know that through Christ, His Atonement, and the hope it brings, it is possible to return to the path that leads back to Him.

The author lives in Utah, USA.

It takes forever to clean the slate when you get behind in your nut cracking. Once our family was planning a vacation. Dad decided that we weren’t going until everyone had his nuts cracked. Those who didn’t have nuts to crack were encouraged to help the others. We started out being grumpy, but by the end, we were all working together and actually enjoying it! Spending that time together, just talking while we were at our nut cracking, made us closer.

Several years ago I was living in Flower Mound Texas. It was some time before I knew that there was actually a location called Flower Mound for which the town was named. The mound was just off one of the main roads in town. I had driven by it on many occasions. It was barely 50 feet high. Early one Saturday morning I climbed the mound. In doing so I found an interesting thing, when I stood on top of that mound I could see all the way to office buildings of downtown Dallas twenty miles away. I was so impressed how such a little elevation could improve the distance I could see. I found out later that the mound was used by the American Indians perhaps the Wichita or Comanche and later by cowboys and I could see why.
As I thought on the height of the Flower Mound I considered how similar that mound is to our spiritual perception. As we begin to follow the Spirit we begin to notice our vision of eternal things increasing.
A few years later we had moved to Utah. I was now a scoutmaster. I took my troop on a night hike to the top of Mount Timpanogos. The night was clear and beautiful. It was still dark when we made it to the saddle at the top. We could see lights from the Heber valley on one side and turn the other way and see the Provo valley and into the Salt Lake valley. We made our way to the summit at almost 12,000 feet. There we waited for the sunrise. It was spectacular. Now with light it seemed we could see forever.
As I prepared for this devotional, these two experiences dealing with mountains came to mind where height gave such an increase to my distance vision. And of course the comparison to following the Spirit and having a corresponding increase in vision of eternal things. Obtaining that view is critical to us arriving at our desired destination.

One of my general education requirements was to attend a certain number of cultural events. Does that sound familiar? I decided I would attend an upcoming performance by the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra. The concert was to be held in the Marriott Center. I thought to myself, “That’s where they play basketball, not violins.” Even though I didn’t hate classical music, I didn’t exactly embrace it either. My mother had taken us as small children to see the Utah Symphony on one or two occasions. They were thoroughly enjoyable outings. But, I went to this one with a little bit of the attitude that I’m really not into this type of music. The first number to be performed was a piece composed by Igor Stravinsky called the Firebird Suite. It only took about 60 seconds into the piece for me to become completely mesmerized by the music I was hearing. I had never heard music like this before. The remainder of the concert was equally beautiful and impressive to me. I could not remember having witnessed such a display of skill and perfection. The experience changed me. I discovered that what we call classical music could engage me spiritually, intellectually, and aesthetically in a way few things outside the gospel could. It has been a profound blessing to have great music as part of my life. These days when I need a haven from the world, I retreat to the beauty of great music from all genres.

In 1940, the Kimballs began construction of their dream house, a pueblo-style home they designed themselves. The business was going well. Prosperity beckoned. They looked forward to a long, comfortable, and happy life in Safford.
Then, on July 8, 1943, the phone rang, a phone call that would change the Kimball’s lives.
“It must have taken only a few seconds for me to cross the room to the phone, grasp the receiver and say, ‘Hello,’ but it seemed that an hour’s thinking and retrospection coursed through my mind.”
Then came the voice of President J. Reuben Clark, a counselor to President Heber J. Grant, and a call to the Quorum of the Twelve. There followed six days and nights of weeping, confusion, and prayer. He yearned for a confirmation from the Lord. Finally on a hilltop in Boulder, Colorado, where he and his wife had been visiting their son, he received the calm assurance and peace that his call was indeed inspired. “My tears were dry, my soul was at peace. A calm feeling of assurance came over me, doubt and questionings subdued. It was as though a great burden had been lifted. I sat in tranquil silence surveying the beautiful valley, thanking the Lord for the satisfaction and the reassuring answer to my prayers.”

Markus sat in the temple with his new family. They were all dressed in white. Now that Markus was adopted, he was so excited to be sealed to his family!
Brother Ray stood up. He was the temple sealer. “This is a big day,” he said. “Do you know why?”
“Now we can be together forever,” Markus said. He looked at his parents and his big brother, Caleb.
“That’s right,” Brother Ray said. “In the temple we seal families forever.” He looked at Caleb. He asked, “Do you know how we can do that?”
Caleb smiled. “With the priesthood,” he said.
“That’s right. Heavenly Father gives us His power. We use it to bless people in big ways and little ways.”
The family knelt down. Caleb was already sealed to his parents. He watched while Markus was sealed to them too.
The sealing ended. Dad pointed to two mirrors. They faced each other across the room. “How far can you see in that mirror?” he asked.
Markus stood up tall. He saw his family in the mirror. He saw them over and over again. “Forever and ever!” he said.
Question for You
How has Heavenly Father blessed your family?
“Our family can be forever too. Isn’t that right, Caleb?” Dad said. “Now you and Markus can be forever brothers!”
“Yeah.” Caleb put an arm around Markus. “I waited a long time for a brother. I want to keep him forever!”

Bailey and Caroline were eating their breakfast. Bailey asked:
Mommy, what are we going to do today?
Today is Saturday.
Hooray! That means Daddy will be home.
Just then Dad came in and gave everyone a kiss.
Good-bye, I’ll be back for lunch.
Then he rushed out the door.
Bailey was sad. She looked out the window to see him drive away.
Mommy, where is Daddy going? I wanted to be his helper today.
A new family is moving into our ward. Heavenly Father loves this family, and they need help. Today, Daddy is Heavenly Father’s helper.
I want to be Heavenly Father’s helper too.
After Bailey finished breakfast, she went to her bedroom. She put on her red shirt and blue overalls. She also put on her socks and shoes.
When Mom called her to the kitchen, she went quickly.
See, Mommy, I got dressed and came when you called me. I’m helping.
Thank you.
Later, Bailey helped Mom sort the clean socks and put them in the right drawers.
She also helped Caroline build a block tower.
When it was lunchtime, Bailey set the table.
Just as they sat down to eat, Bailey heard Dad open the door. She ran and jumped into his arms.
Daddy! You were Heavenly Father’s helper today, and I was too.
Is that right?
Can we be Heavenly Father’s helpers together after lunch?
I’d like that.

I even began tracing my Croatian ancestors, though I soon learned that to obtain their records it would require us to travel to their homeland. So in anticipation, I became acquainted with a BYU–Hawai‘i student who had served her mission in Croatia. She helped me learn basic Croatian words and phrases and introduced me to maps of the regions we could visit. While the steps felt like they occurred slowly, the pace surely quickened in that long-awaited summer in 2006 when we arrived in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia, our first destination. Was it totally by accident that we ran into a set of English-speaking U.S. missionaries, our first morning there? We briefly chatted with them outside the building where church would be held. They described the culture and the city we would travel to next, Rijeka, along the Adriatic, where both happened to have served.

The next morning, we met a missionary couple from BYU–Provo who was familiar with the surnames of my ancestors that I was looking for. With their familiarity with the printed language, they pointed out that I had a two surnames spelled incorrectly.

We also met an assistant to the mission president who recommended we contact the branch president at Rijeka. The helpful branch president and his wife were another missionary couple from the US, and they coordinated the hiring of a translator for us.

These steps all happened very quickly!

With the aid of our new friend and translator (Sonja) we wound up the mountain roads and located the remote parish where Dianna’s grandparents lived before they emigrated to the U.S. I stood back and watched and recorded with these pictures what happened that day, which we regard now as a miracle. The priest there gladly shared with her the heavy, old books containing handwritten names and data of her Croatian ancestors. And with the aid of a state of the art copier in his office, the priest offered to make copies of these precious pages for her. I learned that the priest was probably one of my cousins as our grandmothers were both from the same tiny village down the road and since they coincidentally had the same maiden name! Translation of the copied records was another vital step in this endeavor, made possible through Sonja’s expertise.

Brothers and sisters, I learned that the Spirit of Elijah is real, and allows for the hallowed work of this dispensation to go forward, sometimes in leaps instead of just steps. And it has been a deep and fulfilling joy to help my Croatian ancestors vicariously in their next steps toward their own eternal progression.

Then I met Vanessa. One day after we’d been together a while, she said, “We need religion in this house.” By then we had three children.
With the world as it is, we worried about what spiritual direction we were going to give our children. I thought that if I was going back to religion, I would go back to my church. I remembered it was a place with good people.
I talked to a member of the Church and told him I was thinking about returning to church.
“Please come back!” he said.
My biggest worry was that my children would think church was boring and wouldn’t like it, but they did like it. As we continued going to church, Vanessa decided that there was nothing similar to the Church that helps families grow together. It was exactly what she was looking for. Vanessa and I got married, and she and our children got baptized.
Now we’re walking the gospel path as a family. Our goal is to be sealed together in the temple.

Some years ago near the end of a plane trip that I was on on an assignment, the stewardess came along asking what we wanted as a refreshment, as a drink. And I told her that I would take a 7-Up or some lemon drink.
As she brought it to me and handed me the drink, she noticed my tie pin. And on my tie pin, which I have here in my hand—we were using these in the Scottish Mission years ago—there was the crest of the royal family of England. But in the center of that crest we had emblazed the London Temple. And so on this tie pin was the temple with that crest around it. As the stewardess handed me the 7-Up, she said, “My, that’s an unusual tie pin. What is on it?”
And I said, “That’s a temple.”
And this young lady said, “A temple? A temple of what?”
And I said, “A temple of the Lord.”
And she said, “A what?”
And I said, “It’s a temple of the Lord.”
And I could see some interest in her, and she said, ”What church do you belong to?”
I told her of our Church, and then I said to her, because I could see there was some interest, “If you will give me your name and address, I will have some young men come by and call on you, and they will tell you about this temple and about temples.”
She looked at me rather strangely and walked away. Then in a few moments she came back and handed me a little slip of paper with her name, Penny Harryman, with a Los Angeles address.
I called the mission president, and I told him, as we always do, “Send two of your best. I want you to go out and visit with this young lady,” because I had said to her, “I’ll have some young men come and see you, and if you do what they will ask you to do and listen to them, I promise you that you can have the greatest blessings that could come into your life.”
A little over a year later, a telephone call came into my office one day, and a girl’s voice said, “My name is Penny Harryman. Do you remember me?”
And I said, “Of course I do.”
She said, “Could you arrange to marry my fiancé and me in the Salt Lake Temple if we could arrange the time?”
I said, “Of course I would.”
And while I was sealing this young lady to this young man that she had met during that course of events, I found that her mother was walking around Temple Square in Salt Lake, wondering what we were doing to her daughter in the temple because she wasn’t permitted to be there.

It was a windy day in Mongolia. Nine-year-old Batbayar was walking home from the bus stop after school. He hugged his coat tighter in the wind. Luckily, it wasn’t far to his grandparents’ house, where he lived.
“Hi!” Batbayar said as he came inside.
“Welcome home,” Grandma said. “I made some khuushuur for a snack.”
“Thank you!” Batbayar reached for one of the warm, spicy meat pies.
“Wait! Don’t eat any until the missionaries get here,” Grandpa said. “They’ll be coming any minute.”
Batbayar loved it when the missionaries from Grandma and Grandpa’s church came to visit. He always learned a lot from them. But there was just one problem.
“Will they ask me to read from the Book of Mormon again?” Batbayar asked. “Reading is hard for me.”
“That’s why they’re bringing another book today,” Grandma said.
“What book?” Batbayar said.
“You’ll see,” Grandpa said.
Soon the missionaries arrived. They ate Grandma’s delicious meat pies together. Then Batbayar said, “Grandma says you brought me a book.”
“I think you’ll like this book,” Sister Heitz said. “It has lots of pictures.”
Batbayar looked at the cover. Book of Mormon Stories, it said. A picture on the cover showed people building a boat.
“I remember that story,” Batbayar said. “The man didn’t know how to build a boat. So he prayed. And God helped him.”
“That’s right,” Sister Enkhtuya said. “Will you try reading this book? Then you can pray to know that what it teaches is true.”
“I will,” Batbayar promised.
That night he read from the book with pictures. He read the story about the boat. Then he prayed. He fell asleep thinking about the man who built the boat and how God helped him.
From then on, each night Batbayar read a story. Then he prayed. And each night, he fell asleep thinking about what he read.
When the sister missionaries came again, they taught Batbayar more about Jesus Christ. Batbayar learned about prophets. He learned about God’s commandments. He kept going to church with Grandma and Grandpa. And he kept reading and praying.
One day Batbayar had something important to tell his grandparents. “When I read the stories in the book with pictures, my heart feels good,” he said. “When I pray, I feel they are true. I think I should be baptized.”
Today, Batbayar is a member of the Church. He has gotten better and better at reading. And he still reads the Book of Mormon every night!

I wanted to thank you for the article “Speak Up!” in the August 1996 issue. Where I work, I am sometimes laughed at or teased for having the morals that I have. Every one of my co-workers knows I’m LDS. When they tease me about my standards, I just try to laugh it off. When I read this article, I knew it was just for me. Now when I get laughed at, I speak up for the Church and the gospel. Thank you so much for giving me the courage to do so.
Amber BlackburnCrofton, Maryland

Rescue and Jessica: A Life-Changing Friendship, by Jessica Kensky and Patrick Downes, illustrated by Scott Magoon. Rescue is trained to be a seeing-eye dog. Then he finds out he’s better suited to become a service dog. He’s worried that he’s not up to the task. Then he meets his new owner, Jessica, who lost both of her legs in an accident. Despite both of their challenges, Rescue and Jessica learn to help each other find happiness.

Scott learned about raising guide dogs at an assembly at school. “The speaker brought three dogs to give a demonstration. I thought it would be neat to raise one. I went home and asked Mom and Dad, and they said they would have to talk about it. Mom went to a guide dog meeting one day, and they decided to let me try it.”
Scott’s mother, Kay, had some reservations. “I was leery at first because it is such a commitment. The dog has to be in the house and sleep right beside the child’s bed at night. But we’ve loved the experience. We take the dog everywhere, to visit Grandma, to family reunions, to the grocery store, or whenever we come to town.”

I want a cookie,” Emily said as Mom took cookies from the oven.
“Wait until they cool,” said Mom.
But Emily didn’t wait. She ate a hot cookie and burned her tongue.
“I want to play with it now,” she said while Dad glued a wheel back on her toy truck.
“Wait until the glue dries,” Dad said.
But Emily didn’t wait. She raced the truck across the rug, and the wheel came off again.
“I want to open my presents,” she said as Mom put bows on brightly wrapped boxes.
“Wait until your birthday tomorrow,” Mom said.
But Emily didn’t wait. As soon as Mom left the room, she opened her presents. Then she had no boxes to open on her birthday.
“Why didn’t you wait?” Dad asked.
“I hate to wait,” Emily said. “But now I wish I had.”
The next day, Dad took her to a garden shop. He picked out onion sets and seeds for peas and beans. “You may choose some seeds, too,” he told Emily.
“I love carrots,” she said, so Dad got a package of carrot seeds.
Emily helped Dad plant the onions, peas, and beans in the garden. Then she planted a row of carrots by herself. “We can have my carrots for dinner tomorrow,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said, “but you will have to wait a long time for your seeds to grow into carrots.”
Emily didn’t wait. Every day, she dug up a few seeds to see if they had grown into carrots. “My seeds aren’t growing,” she told Dad.
“How do you know,” asked Dad.
“I looked at them,” said Emily.
“If you dig up your seeds, they won’t ever grow. You’ll have to learn to wait.”
“I hate to wait,” Emily said. “But I love carrots, so I’ll try.”
Emily tried hard all summer. She didn’t dig up any more carrot seeds, even when the green tops popped up along the row. But she did weed the garden while she waited. And she swam and ran and played. She even learned to wait for other things—for homemade Popsicles to freeze in the freezer, for her turn to ride on the back of a camel at the zoo, and for lots of other things. She even learned to wait to talk to Mom or Dad when they were on the telephone.
While Emily waited, the plants grew in the garden. When it was time, she helped to pick pea pods, and yellow beans, and tall green onions. At last it was time for the carrots.
Dad showed her how to loosen the dirt around the carrots and then how to hold the green tops and pull out the carrots one by one. Emily filled her basket with long, fat carrots. Then she ran to the house to show Mom. “Look how big they grew!”
“Yes they did,” Mom said, “and so did you!”
“Did I get taller?” Emily asked.
“You grew taller and wiser.”
“Wiser?” Emily asked.
“Waiting made you wiser.”
“Waiting made me want to eat carrots,” Emily said, “so I’m going to eat one right now!”
“Wait until I wash one,” Mom said.
But Emily didn’t wait. She took a big carrot and washed it herself. “Now I will eat the best carrot I have ever eaten,” she said. And she did.

Great! I thought sarcastically. I had to come up with a devotional for seminary on service, and I didn’t know any good stories to tell.
“What should I do?” I asked my mom when I got home from school and explained the situation.
“Well, your dad is going over to Grandma’s right now,” she answered. “Why don’t you go with him and ask Grandma for an idea.”
When we arrived at Grandma’s house, she greeted us with her usual smile.
“Do you have any good stories about service?” I asked. “I have to give the devotional in seminary tomorrow.”
“Stories?” Grandma said. “I have a bunch of them. Let me go get my binder.”
She returned, flipped the binder open and said, “Now, here’s one you could use. In fact, I feel like this one would be perfect.” She proceeded to recall the details of an experience she had had many years earlier.
“This happened during the Vietnam War, when we lived in Colorado Springs. Your grandpa, who was flying in Vietnam, was gone, and I was staying busy just trying to keep up with all the kids.
“I was singing in a chorus made up of officers’ wives at the Air Force Academy. During a break at one of the rehearsals, a friend told me about a service project she was doing for wounded servicemen who were recovering at the Fort Carson Army Hospital.”
Grandma explained how her friend would go regularly to read magazines and books to the servicemen. Some of them had birthdays coming up and she wanted to take cakes to them, but she was discouraged because she couldn’t find anyone to help her, and she couldn’t bake them all herself. Grandma volunteered immediately to help her bake some cakes.
The very next day her friend called and asked if she was really serious about helping and could she have one ready to go that afternoon.
Grandma told me, “I was pretty busy myself that day with family and Church responsibilities, but I felt like I should help. I made a chocolate cake from scratch and topped it with white frosting and chocolate swirls.” I knew exactly which cake she was talking about. She had made it before for family gatherings, and it was one of my favorites.
That afternoon Grandma’s friend came by to pick up the cake and take it to the hospital. Two hours later, she called and said, “I thought you would be interested in what happened with your cake. I took it to a 36-year-old sergeant, a veteran of many years in the army. He was recovering from wounds received in Vietnam. He looked like a typical, tough drill sergeant without a kind word in his vocabulary. When I took the cake into his room, handed it to him, and wished him a happy birthday, he looked up at me with a stunned expression on his face. Then the tears started rolling down his cheeks.”
The sergeant told Grandma’s friend that this was the first birthday cake he had ever had. Nobody had ever cared enough to bake him one.
As Grandma listened to her friend, she was amazed that one small act of service could have such an effect. Grandma closed the binder and said, “Tell your seminary class that I’m glad I took time to bake that cake.”
Seminary began as it usually did: we sang a hymn, recited the scripture-of-the-week, and said the prayer. Then I began telling Grandma’s story about service. As I spoke, I kept noticing my seminary teacher, Brother Olsen, in one of the desks on the back row. He looked really serious.
Great! I thought. I hope he’s not mad at me. Maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind when he asked me to do the devotional. I finished the story by saying, “I hope we can all take time to serve others like my grandma did, because we never know how much good one small act of service can do.” Then I quickly sat down in my desk.
My seminary teacher didn’t say anything. He just sat there in the back row. Everyone started looking at him.
“Man, I must have really blown it,” I thought.
Finally Brother Olsen spoke. “Lindsay, what is your grandma’s name?”
“Mary Lois Gunnell,” I answered. What was he going to do—call her and make sure I hadn’t made up the story?
Brother Olsen continued, “Do you know who that sergeant was? That was my sergeant while I was in the service myself, and I was very close to him.” Everyone in the class started whispering.
“No way!” said one of the boys. He thought we had planned this all out before.
“Really,” Brother Olsen said sincerely. “I knew him before he was wounded and after he recovered. He told me that same story himself and said how much that meant to him to have a stranger care enough to bake a birthday cake for him. He wanted to thank the woman, but never knew her name.” Brother Olsen looked right at me. “Lindsay, that cake wasn’t just a birthday cake. It was the beginning of a whole new life for my sergeant.”
I couldn’t believe it, and I couldn’t wait to tell Grandma.
“Class,” Brother Olsen continued, “I want you to know that Lindsay’s Grandma’s act of service literally changed that sergeant’s life. Before he was wounded, he was pretty mean. Every other word out of his mouth was a swear word. After he received that cake in the hospital in Colorado, he decided to change. He told me he was going to try harder to be a better person, and that’s just what he did.”
Until hearing about Brother Olsen’s sergeant, I never realized how much just one kind deed could affect another. My grandma sweetened a bitter man’s life with as simple a thing as a cake. Her story gives me hope that my small acts of service—a smile or a kind word—may also add richness to other people’s lives.

One summer I took my son and his friends through some canyons in southern Utah. On the last day of our trip, we hiked through Muddy Creek, a narrow, water-carved sandstone canyon. Muddy Creek has the greatest mud on earth! It was simply wonderful!
Skating and sliding along the creek bank was sheer delight to those boys. Though they did not dwell on the majesty of the setting, I think their reactions revealed something just the same. I watched the boys sliding wildly across the mud, saw their fascination with the sound it made as they pulled their feet out of it, and watched the exhilaration of their races over it. Occasionally in life we get the feeling that we are being watched; there is a certain silence that causes us to look around. That day I felt that silence and sheepishly looked to see if anyone was watching. No one was there, but Someone was watching. I could feel his delight in our delight.