Gospel Story Finder

In the midst of the late spring rainy season in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, the Tonle Sap River—which has poured into the Mekong River for months—defies its natural movement and changes course to flow in the opposite direction.
This directional change causes the Tonle Sap Lake at the head of the river to swell to five times its size, bringing much-needed nutrients to the fish and birds that feed there.
Like the river that changes direction, members in Cambodia have felt how the gospel of Jesus Christ has helped change the direction of their own lives. Their hearts now overflow with the joy and peace the gospel brings. This swell of joy provides spiritual food for their souls.
Although the country has faced dark times, the gospel of Jesus Christ has helped many Cambodians see the light of a new day shine through the darkness of the past.
During the country’s political turmoil in the 1970s, many Cambodians were driven from their homes and lost family members.
Loy Bunseak, president of the Siem Reap Branch in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission, was nine years old in 1975, when he and his family had to leave their home. They—along with millions of others—were required to perform hard manual labor in the country’s vast fields.
During this time, President Loy lost both of his parents and five of his eight siblings.
Despite the hardships, President Loy always had at least one thing to help get him through his pain.
“I always had hope,” he says.
The determined hope that helped President Loy get through the trials of his childhood is the same hope that later allowed him to recognize the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Because Cambodia is largely a Buddhist country, President Loy grew up without a knowledge of Jesus Christ. He began to learn about the Savior when Latter-day Saint missionaries came to his home and told him and his family they had an important message to share.
“I had never heard of Jesus Christ until I met the missionaries,” he says. “I wanted to learn more about Him.”
After intense study and discussion, President Loy and his family were baptized in 2001.
“The missionaries helped me learn from the Book of Mormon, but I received my testimony of its truthfulness from God,” President Loy says. “I could see how living by the teachings of the Book of Mormon made my family happier.”
President Loy’s experience is not unusual. Khan Sarin, president of the Sen Sok Branch in the Phnom Penh Cambodia North District, was separated from his family as a teenager and forced to work in the fields.
“I felt hopeless at this time,” President Khan says. “I did not know if I would survive.”
Looking back, President Khan feels that the Lord protected him from harm several times in his life. As a young man he joined the army and was shot at from as close as 20 feet (6 m) away but was not hit. He also stepped on many active land mines that did not explode. One land mine he stepped on did explode, but he was not seriously injured.
Because of the dangerous circumstances soldiers found themselves in, they did whatever they could to be protected. Several men in the military got tattoos because they believed the tattoos could help keep them safe.
“Before I became a member of the Church, I didn’t know anything,” President Khan says. “Now I know that it was Jesus Christ—not the tattoos—that saved me.”
After President Khan’s wife, Suon Sokmo, met the missionaries and was baptized, he was impressed by the changes he could see taking place within her. He accepted her invitation to study the scriptures together, and he soon decided to be baptized.
“The most important thing that I ever received in my life is the testimony I obtained from studying the scriptures,” he says.
Pich Sareth, a member of the Phnom Penh 12th Branch in the Phnom Penh Cambodia North District, also saw trials at a very young age. He was only five years old when he was separated from his family and forced to work in the fields. He would sometimes find crabs or frogs he could eat to quell his hunger.
Brother Pich’s wife, Seng Tha, and her family were also forced from their home. Because she was only four years old and small, she was not required to work, as other children were. She was separated from her family much of the day and was watched by elderly women who could not work.
After meeting the missionaries in 1995, Brother Pich and his wife began to learn about the love Heavenly Father has for them. “When I had problems, I could see that praying helped me get through them,” Brother Pich says. “I knew Heavenly Father cared.”
After Brother Pich decided to be baptized, his wife also gained a testimony of the gospel and was baptized.
Since their baptisms, Brother Pich and his family have recognized the joy that stems from gaining a testimony of Jesus Christ. The Pich family takes time every day to read the scriptures. As they have done this, the joy of the gospel has permeated their souls.
“We feel we are on the right path now, and we want to stay on this narrow path and continue to progress,” Sister Seng says. “I am grateful every day that we can have our children on this path with us.”
The joy that President Loy feels extends in both directions—to his ancestors as well as his descendants. President Loy and his family visited the Hong Kong China Temple in 2004. Not only were President Loy’s wife and children sealed to him, but the saving ordinances of the temple were also completed for his father, mother, and the brothers and sisters he had lost.
“I cannot even explain the joy I felt in the temple,” President Loy said. “I knew my family was being made strong. I know that the temple is necessary for families to live together forever.”
President Khan and his family also had the opportunity to be sealed together as an eternal family in the Hong Kong Temple. “The feeling I felt at the temple is something I had never felt before. It is hard to express my feelings in words,” President Khan says.
Thanks to the spreading of the gospel, members in Cambodia are receiving the spiritual nutrients they need to survive. Although the Church is growing in Cambodia, members hope that this growth is just a precursor to a huge blossoming of the gospel in their country.
Just as the fish and animals receive needed nutrients when the Tonle Sap Lake overflows, a growing number of Cambodians are receiving the spiritual nutrition they need thanks to the overflowing desire in members’ hearts to share the gospel.
“When a pot is covered, it boils over,” President Khan says. “This is the feeling I have in my heart. I must open my heart to tell everyone what it is feeling.”
President Loy hopes the residual effect of the gospel being taught in his home will be that his daughters will continue to embrace the gospel and teach their children.
“After I found out about Jesus Christ, everything became better in my life and with my family,” he says. “Having the priesthood in our home brings us together. If we have a problem, we sit and discuss it as a family.”
Since the government of Cambodia granted the Church legal recognition in 1994, thousands of Cambodians have accepted the gospel. The Pich family looks forward to the day when the gospel will spread across all parts of the country. Brother Pich says, “I hope someday there will be a temple in Cambodia.”
Sister Seng agrees: “Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, are alive. My hope for the future is that the Church will continue to grow so a temple can be built.”
President Khan recognizes the ways his life has changed since learning of the Savior. He believes the gospel of Jesus Christ is the only thing that can heal Cambodians from their past trials.
“After I became a member of the Church, I lost a lot of the pain I felt from things that had happened in the past. I’ve received a new light that I never had before,” he says. “Everything feels new.”

Last year the children in Clara’s grade-four class were assigned to give four-to-five-minute speeches. Clara chose to give a speech on the Holocaust, which she presented as if she were a girl in a concentration camp. When she first rehearsed her speech, it took eight minutes and 40 seconds to give because many of the words were hard to say. She practiced it over and over. The speech slowly grew shorter as she learned to say the words fluently. She finally presented the speech in four minutes and 40 seconds, and her classmates chose her to represent them in front of the whole school. When she did, the entire student body broke into wild applause. Many of them had known Clara since grade one, and her progress seemed miraculous. “The principal was crying,” Clara’s mom recalls. “Clara’s grade-two teacher was crying. Her grade-four teacher was cheering. It was such a victory---one of the greatest moments of my life!”
What did Clara learn from the experience? “Keep trying,” she counsels children everywhere. “Never give up.”
Of course, prayer was also a vital part of Clara’s triumph. She has great faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Primary, home evenings, scripture study, and her parents’ teachings have helped. Her older sisters have made a difference too, both through their good examples and their reading materials. As soon as Carly, 18, and Josie, 15, turned 12 in their turn, they began putting New Era Posters on their mirrors. Clara has also memorized seminary scripture mastery scriptures and learned President Hinckley’s six B’s with her sisters.

Now, in closing, I want to share with you an important experience in my life that demonstrated to me what happens when we seek to understand a part of the doctrine of Christ and take action with that understanding.
On a later trip to Moscow, Russia, with another group of college students, we were scheduled to attend sacrament meeting in a branch just outside of the main city. It would take about forty-five minutes on the metro, and then a 15 minute walk. The metro was empty at 7:30 a.m. Interestingly enough, the nearly 40 of us all crammed into one car, so I decided to stand and hold on to a pole.When I travel short or long distances, I make it a habit to pray, to check in with Heavenly Father. As I prayed, I told him how thankful I was for a Savior who loves me. Soon, I had a distinct impression that I could do better. In fact, I felt quite chastised and ashamed to the point of a few tears. I knew that I wasn't guilty of any grievous sin, but the Holy Ghost taught me about sins of omission. I was a bit embarrassed by the tears and the tears made some of the students nervous, but I saw it as an opportunity to repent, so I asked Heavenly Father's forgiveness and promised that I would do better.
On the walk to the chapel, I kept behind the others, feeling a bit hurt that I wasn't who the Lord needed at the time. I resolved to do much better. We arrived at the chapel. There was a flurry of activity as the six missionaries from America realized that there were nearly 40 Americans who had just walked in. I sought a seat in the back. I watched carefully, as I am prone to do. As I watched and heard the details, I became a bit indignant. I had always wanted to serve a mission in Russia, but there were no Russian missions when I served in 1981. I had adored my mission to France and Belgium, but I was upset that some of the missionaries were complaining about food and culture. I reminded myself that I needed to prepare for the sacrament. We still had 20 minutes before the meeting would start.
I noticed a woman quietly going about her business. I assumed she was Russian and not a missionary. She was seated behind the piano, so I could not see her fully. I noticed that the Branch President and others spoke with her. She played the opening hymn. For some reason, the Holy Ghost whispered that she was a powerful woman, and that I needed to relay that message to her. After the sacrament and a testimony by the Branch President, she moved to the podium. I thought that she was going to bear her testimony. She sat down by the microphone, and then I realized that she was a sister missionary moving to translate for any of the Americans who wanted to bear testimony, and several did.
She had been unaffected when we arrived. She had gone about her duties as a missionary and branch member in powerful ways. The Spirit whispered, "Tell her that she is a powerful missionary, the kind you wanted to be in France and Belgium, and the kind you would have wanted to have been in Russia." This prompting occurred several times before the meeting ended.
After the meeting, I watched her speak with several of the Branch members. I positioned myself so that I could speak with her. "Sister," I started, "Are you staying for all three meetings?" She said yes. "Could I speak with you at the end of the block?" She affirmed that I could. Then she asked me if I would write down the names of the students who had participated as she had promised the ward clerk that she would get them so that he could have an accurate record. She moved on to Sunday School where she powerfully interacted with the members and helped with the lesson. I was overwhelmed at her goodness and how much the Spirit wanted her to know that she was an awesome missionary.
At the end of the block of meetings, she came to me. I did not have to find her. She asked for the list of students. Then, she said, "You wanted to talk to me?"
I replied,
"Sister, I have been overwhelmed by the Spirit wanting me to tell you what a great missionary you are. I know that some of the other Elders and Sisters have not caught on to the blessing of serving these people, but the Holy Ghost wants you to know that you are a great missionary."
Quietly she sobbed into her hands, trying to regain control of her emotions. I wasn't nervous; the Holy Ghost was present and He had carefully guided me in what I was to say. After many seconds, she looked me in the face. My tears started. She said,
"Brother, I leave for home in three days. All I ever wanted to do was serve an acceptable mission for the Savior. I have been praying for weeks for an answer; I have been fasting to know. I now know that I have."
It wasn't appropriate to hug; she never would have. She was too respectful of the Savior, of her mission, of the mission rules. We grasped hands and arms. We looked into each other's eyes and parted ways. I assume that we will never meet again.

Ding-dong! The doorbell rang. Carol and her sister, Jacqui, ran to the door. “Mum!” Carol called. “Dee’s here. We’re going to leave for church!”
“Have fun,” Mum said.
Carol opened the door. “Hi, Dee,” she said. “Let’s go!”
Carol, Jacqui, and Dee walked to the bus stop. They were excited to visit a new church. They had read about it in a magazine. They invited some other friends to come with them too.
The bright red bus pulled up. The girls hopped on. In London, Carol and her friends rode the bus almost everywhere they went.
As the bus stopped along the way, more friends got on. Vanessa, Sheila, and Angela—they were all coming!
The bus stopped in front of a community center. This was where the church’s meetings were held. When Carol walked through the doors, she felt something special.
Carol listened to the songs, the prayers, and the talks. She’d been to other churches before. But this church felt different.
When church was over, the girls rode the bus home. “Want to go again next week?” Dee asked.
Carol smiled. “That’s what I was thinking!”
The girls went to church again and again. The people there were so nice. Someone always asked them to sit by them. And when there were activities during the week, they were always invited. Carol felt like she was part of a big church family.
When Carol met the missionaries, she already wanted to be baptized. Jacqui did too. But Carol’s parents said no. They didn’t think the girls were old enough to decide to be baptized.
Most of Carol’s friends weren’t allowed to be baptized either. But each Sunday, they all took the bus to church. Carol was sad to go without the rest of her family. But she knew it was important to go.
Three years passed. Carol still wished she could be baptized. She wanted to come out of the water, clean and pure. And she knew the gift of the Holy Ghost would help her so much!
“Mum,” Carol said one day, “can I please be baptized?”
Mum was quiet for a minute. “I have seen you change since you’ve been going to church,” she said. “I see how hard you try to make good choices each day. If your dad says yes, then so do I.”
At last Carol and Jacqui were able to get baptized. When the missionaries placed their hands on Carol’s head to confirm her, she felt clean and strong. She was happy she had made promises with God. And now she was an official member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints!
Carol gave Jacqui a hug as they waited for the bus to take them home. They were the first members of the Church in their family. They were pioneers! And that was a blessing Carol would never take for granted.
Dee was later baptized too. Today Carol and Dee are still good friends!
Carol is now serving as a member of the Young Women general advisory council.

A second category is enduring the individual conditions of this life—the unique set of circumstances peculiar to us at any given time. These may be small, such as why the guy you like doesn’t seem to know you exist or why you did not achieve an A in a class in spite of every diligent effort. They may be big, such as prolonged health problems or the death of a loved one. They might be financial burdens that seem insurmountable. Or, as parents, we may have to endure the often incorrect use of free agency by our children. For others it may be the inability to be a parent when the desire to be great. And some seem destined to live this life without a mate in spite of earnest desires otherwise. Finally, it may be an offense by a Church official such as a bishop or stake president or General Authority. In all these, the test comes in not denouncing our faith or blaming God for our trials. So many times strong members of the Church, when faced with such conditions, denounce God for not righting the set of conditions that brings them agony. By so doing they cease enduring and stand to risk all they have worked for spiritually to that point.

One example of this came when I was a bishop in Iowa while doing my graduate work. We had just sent out the first missionary that ward had ever had, a quality young man who was loved and admired by all who knew him. Unfortunately, the young man had leukemia, which was in remission. Six months into his mission the symptoms reappeared. He returned home for treatment, but the Lord needed him for a different mission. In spite of group fasting and adamant prayer in his behalf, he died, still a full-time, set-apart missionary. The grief and mourning were difficult. But I always remember the greater anguish I felt when one faithful ward member came to me right after the incident and stated, "I do not know how a just God could allow this to happen. It is not right. He was a good boy. Why would God take him from us?" No amount of consoling helped this person. For this person, God ceased to be a loving God when he did not give us what we desperately wanted. This person became bitter and left the Church for a season.

In English class, our teacher handed everyone an article that criticized The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and said we’d be discussing it the next day. As I read it, feelings of fear and anger welled up inside me. That night, I wrote a rather unkind “comeback list” in response to the article.
My mom listened to me rant about my plans for the discussion. I was a bit shocked when she said, “You need to pray about it.”
That night, I prayed for help and forgiveness. Then a verse popped into my head: “The spirit of contention is not of [God], but is of the devil, … and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another” (3 Nephi 11:29).
The next morning, I felt at peace. I knew that Heavenly Father wanted me to be kind. But when I got to class, I started to feel nervous.
Classmates spoke in favor of the article. I felt I should speak up, but I worried about failing or ruining my social life. Then I remembered a quote I saw on social media that morning from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Defend your beliefs with courtesy and with compassion, but defend them” (Apr. 2014 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, May 2014, 9]).
So I raised my hand and told them I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and clarified points in the article that were unclear or untrue. My hands trembled, but my words didn’t. The class stared at me, but I knew I did the right thing.
I learned that compassionately defending the gospel is a blessing, not a burden. The Spirit was with me, and I had an overwhelming feeling of love from Heavenly Father. I knew He was proud of me, and I was proud of myself too.
The author lives in Arizona, USA.

As we read, understand, and follow the handbooks, they become a blessing to those we serve.9 A policy change outlined in Handbook 2, for example, helped a bishop bless and strengthen one father who thought he would be unable to ordain his 12-year-old son to the Aaronic Priesthood.
Chapter 20 states, “Bishops and stake presidents have discretion to allow priesthood holders who are not fully temple worthy to perform or participate in some ordinances and blessings,” including baptisms and Aaronic Priesthood ordinations.10 Without a temple recommend, this father thought he would be unable to ordain his son. But his bishop, “as guided by the Spirit,”11 granted permission following an interview.
“That experience became a turning point in his life,” his current bishop noted. “It was part of the process of his becoming temple worthy, of being sealed with his wife in the temple, and of having their children sealed to them.”

At the family history library near his home, Josh Taylor was looking at microfilm of a census for Stephenson County in Illinois. He was looking for information about his great-great-great-great grandfather, George A. Stiles. It was seemingly needle-in-the-haystack time.
“It’s a fairly big county, and I wasn’t looking forward to looking through the entire thing,” admits 12-year-old Josh. “But I had prayed about it, and immediately page 261 came to my mind.” And there it was: information about his relative.
“Whenever a page number pops into my mind, I can tell if it’s going to have something in it or not because I feel this excitement. It’s hard to explain,” he says.
What isn’t difficult to explain is how Josh feels about family history.
“Genealogy is addicting,” the Rexburg, Idaho, resident says. After school and on weekends, you’ll find the sixth grader working as a family history assistant at the Upper Snake River Valley Family History Center at Ricks College. Because he’s so young, some folks find it hard to believe he knows so much. After all, family history is a bit perplexing. That is, until they ask him a question and discover he really does know what he’s talking about.
“Once I’ve helped them, they will sometimes come in and ask, ‘Does Josh know something about that?’” he says. Even one of his trainers, Elder Melvin Dickerson of Rexburg, a former full-time family history missionary, was a bit skeptical at first. “We don’t run a baby-sitting service,” he said more than once.
But Elder Dickerson quickly changed his mind when he discovered Josh was serious about the work. “He learned very fast,” he says. “He just gobbled everything up. He was incredible, and still is.”
While the use of computers is sometimes a stumbling block to some researchers, Josh is adept. Dickerson adds, “He is still a young child in some ways, but when it comes to family history, he knows how to do it and how to run the computers.”
Josh describes genealogy as a puzzle. “I have names and I find dates. I have children and I find parents,” he says. “It’s like pieces of a puzzle, and when you complete it, you shellac it and put it on the wall. When quizzed on his own genealogy, he can recall the names of family members back at least 12 generations.
Each day after school, Josh returns home from school and does his homework. Then he showers and changes into a dress shirt and tie for his two hours of work at the library.
“I feel it’s important to get dressed up. I am kind of a missionary,” he adds. “Going there each day is about what I expected it to be except for the spiritual things that I have gained. That’s been totally unexpected.”
Josh’s interest was sparked in early 1996 when many of his fellow fifth-grade classmates were attending a school-sponsored ski school. Instead of skiing, the 10-year-old signed up for an alternative minicourse on genealogy offered by the school. Josh’s mother, Judy Taylor, initially was concerned that two hours of genealogy each week would be too long for her young son. But he soon was hooked and found himself wanting to stay longer and longer at the local family history center.
While his parents, who teach music at Ricks College, were touring with the college orchestra a few months later, Josh stayed with his grandparents for a few days in Logan, Utah. His grandparents, who were serving as family history missionaries, took him to the family history center, where he learned more about the computer programs used by genealogists. Later that year, Josh read in his ward newsletter that Church leaders were looking for more local family history missionaries.
“That caught my attention, and I thought it would be fun,” he says. Josh then prayed about what to do, finding his answer that night while reading his scriptures.
“Right then I knew it was my answer, so I went to see my bishop,” he says. Bishop Kendell Nielsen of the Rexburg 15th Ward says he was a bit surprised, but encouraged the boy to pursue his desire. Josh soon was asked to work at the family history center located at the Rexburg North Stake Center. He has now switched to the family history center at the college, where he serves as an assistant for about seven hours each week. His parents say they have seen signs of maturity because of their son’s work.
“It’s made him a better student,” Sister Taylor says. And it’s dramatically helped his spelling. Before he’s allowed to go off to the center, he’s told his schoolwork must be done. “So it gets done pretty quickly,” Josh’s mom adds.
Josh was recently honored by his school as Student of the Month in English, a subject in which he had struggled previously. His father, David Taylor, adds, “We’ve noticed a dramatic improvement in his social skills.”
Josh tells of a time when a woman was trying to find her long lost brother. When she found the man’s name listed in the Social Security death index, the woman broke down and cried. She didn’t realize he was dead. “You don’t know what to say,” Josh says. “I let my grandma take over.”
When he’s not helping others, he works on his own family line. Recently, he found an ancestor for whom the family had been searching for years. At that point, one of his relatives remarked, “He really does know what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”
Josh’s interest has spurred other family members to work on genealogy too. His mother, who in the past didn’t have the time, suddenly finds herself at the center more often. And his other set of grandparents also have begun researching their family line.
His grandmother Martha Taylor of North Logan, Utah, says their common interest in family history has tied the family together. “I find it’s been a real bonding thing between us,” she says. “It’s given us so much to talk about and to build a relationship around.
“He knows computers much better than I do,” Sister Taylor adds. “On the other hand, I slow him down and tell him to do it thoroughly.”
Blaine Bake, director of the family history center at Ricks, says, “I wish I were in his shoes. He’s at the beginning of his life, and I’m at the winding-down stages, and there are going to be so many technological changes. Now that he’s 12, he’s looking forward to doing the temple work for some of the ancestors he has researched.”
But family history isn’t Josh’s only interest. He plays percussion in the school band and has acted in several theater productions at Ricks College. Last year he also placed first in his division in the Idaho State History Fair.
As for the miniclass in genealogy where his interest all started two years ago? This past winter he taught the class.

While we were still new members, we encountered a man who had left the Church. He gave us a lot of anti-Mormon literature, and I was shocked. It was my first encounter with opposition to the Church, and my testimony was still tender. While he was confronting us and attacking everything the missionaries had taught us, I was filled with fear. But when the missionaries were with us, they brought peace. Because of the missionaries, our family learned to tell the difference between faith and fear, and we chose faith.

One day Morgan pushed a toy truck across the kitchen table. Morgan’s baby brother, Jacksen, sat in his chair and watched. Morgan pushed his truck too hard, and it crashed into a glass of orange juice.
“Mom! Mom!” Morgan cried. “Jacksen knocked the orange juice over!”
Mom soaked up the orange juice with a towel. “Morgan,” she said, “today is your day to be honest.”
“What’s honest?” Morgan asked.
“Honest is when the person who knocked over the orange juice tells me what he did. He does not tell me that someone else did it.”
“OK, I knocked over the orange juice,” Morgan said. “Now am I honest?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “You are honest, Morgan. I am proud of you.”

“I bet I can ride faster than you!” Diego called to his older brother, Caesar, as they ran through the house. It was Saturday, and their family was going on a bike ride. Diego couldn’t wait to enjoy the sunny day.
“Don’t forget your helmets!” Mom reminded them as they headed for the door.
Diego groaned. He hated wearing his helmet. It made his head sweaty. Plus, his friends said helmets were for babies and old people.
“But we’re not going far,” Diego said. “And I’m a really good bike rider.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “Whether we’re going five feet or five miles, everybody wears a helmet.”
Dad poked his head around the corner. “That’s the family rule, remember?”
Diego sighed. “OK.” He and Caesar went back to their room. They grabbed their helmets and snapped them in place before heading outside.
Soon Diego and his family were all pedaling down the street. After a while, the road narrowed, and the pavement turned into gravel. Diego smiled and gripped the handle bars tighter. He loved this part! He imagined himself as a mountain biker, bumping down a rocky trail.
Then it happened.
He felt his bike jolt to a stop, and suddenly he was flying over the handlebars!
THUD. The next thing he knew, Diego was lying on the ground. He could hear his family’s voices.
“Is he OK?”
“What happened?”
“Looks like his wheel hit some metal on the road.”
Diego opened his eyes. Everyone was kneeling around him.
“Are you all right?” Mom asked.
“I … I think so,” Diego said. It felt like his mouth was full of dirt! He stretched out his leg and winced. His knee and elbow were stinging, but nothing hurt too much. After Diego rested for a few minutes, Mom helped him sit up. Diego took off his helmet.
“Oh wow,” Dad said. “Look at this.” He held Diego’s helmet out for everyone to see. The back of the helmet had a big dent in it.
“Woah!” Caesar said. “That could’ve been your head!”
When Diego felt well enough to walk, he and his family pushed their bikes back home. Then Mom carefully washed Diego’s scrapes, dabbing ointment and smoothing bandages over the sore spots.
“Thanks, Mom,” Diego said.
“No problem, kiddo. Our first-aid kit comes in handy every once in a while.”
“I mean thank you for making me wear my helmet,” Diego said. He ran a hand through the hair on the back of his head.
Mom nodded and pulled him into a gentle hug. “Rules are hard to follow sometimes, and we might not always understand why they’re important,” she said. “But rules from those who love you—like Heavenly Father and Dad and me—those rules are meant to keep you safe.”
Caesar popped into the doorway. “Dad told me to tell you that lunch is almost ready. He made quesadillas.”
“Mmmmm,” Diego said. “Maybe some salsa will get the taste of gravel out of my mouth!”
Everyone laughed and walked to the kitchen.
“Don’t forget to wash your hands before we eat,” Dad said, setting a plate of the warm tortillas and melty cheese onto the table.
“But I don’t want to wash my ha—” Diego started to say. Then he stopped himself. Maybe this was one of those rules Mom was talking about.
“You got it, Dad,” he said. He turned to Caesar with a grin. “Race you to the sink!”

Some of you old sports fans remember Babe Ruth; most of you would have to read about him. He’s still revered today as one of the great sluggers of all time. Seven hundred and fourteen home runs was the standing record until Hank Aaron came and broke it with a few more. But did you know that while Babe Ruth was making all those records he struck out twice as many times as he hit a home run? I remember reading about the incident that happened in Scheib Park in Philadelphia late in the season in 1927 when the Yankees were trying to secure another pennant. On the mound that day for the Athletics was perhaps one of the greatest left-handed pitchers the game had ever produced, Lefty Grove. He had fanned Babe Ruth on two successive tries at the plate; and, of course, the Philadelphia fans were overjoyed. Every time that Babe would come up to bat they would jeer at him, and he was such a colorful player he would take off his cap and wave back to the crowd. In the eighth inning, he came to bat for the third time, and this time the situation was extremely critical. The Athletics were ahead of the Yankees three to one, and the bases were loaded with two outs. He could win or lose the game for the Yankees as he went to bat. He selected his favorite bat, strolled out to the batter’s box as only he could do it, and faced Lefty Grove. Now it all depended on him—the man who had just struck out twice, the man who had earned the insults of the crowd. The excitement was tremendous. All eyes were upon him. The pitcher threw the first pitch across the plate, and with all his power Babe swung and missed. The next pitch was equally good, and Babe swung so hard that he fell down, creating a cloud of dust. The crowd went crazy. But the third time Babe swung, he connected with a loud explosion that sent the ball hurtling out of the park, beyond the houses, and across the street; and it was recorded later as one of the longest hits in the history of baseball. You see, brothers and sisters, Babe Ruth had a basic ingredient that produces winners. We call it “staying power.” He stayed in there and wouldn’t give up. He didn’t measure and remeasure his failures, as we sometimes do. He didn’t declare himself a loser and curl up and die in the dugout. The great slugger kept trying, putting his whole heart into the effort until he succeeded.

Now, the story I promised to tell you began before the October 1856 general conference, but that is where we will begin. President Brigham Young stood at the Old Tabernacle pulpit on this square and issued a call to go rescue the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies. Two days later, about 30 faithful brethren with good mule teams were dispatched to go bring in the handcarters stranded several hundred miles east. Dan W. Jones, a convert of about five years, volunteered.
After arduous effort, the Willie Company finally was found. Caught in the storms of early winter, the Saints were freezing and starving to death. The relief party did all they could to improve conditions, but for some it was simply too late. The morning after the rescuers’ arrival, nine of the company were buried in a common grave.
Some of the rescuers were assigned to escort the handcarters to the Salt Lake Valley, but others pushed further eastward in an effort to find the Martin Company. Finally they were found, along with the Hodgett and Hunt Wagon Companies, bogged down and helpless in the snow east of Devil’s Gate, Wyoming.
Members of the Martin Company were in dire straits. Their food rations had been cut to a few ounces of flour per day. Only a third of them could walk, and deaths were recorded daily.
The leaders of the rescue party wisely decided to spare no effort in getting the suffering survivors to safety in the Salt Lake Valley. Because of the shortage of space in the wagons, it was necessary to leave most of the handcarters’ possessions in storage at Devil’s Gate till spring.
Brother Dan W. Jones and two others from the relief party, along with 17 young men from the wagon companies, were called to stay behind to guard the property. They were left to face five winter months in Wyoming, hundreds of miles from help, with scarcely anything to eat, and under conditions of extreme privation. Imagine the sacrifice! Offers were made to each man to join the wagons bound for the valley, but every one of them chose to stay behind, obedient to the call to serve.
That winter was recorded as one of the most severe ever. The intrepid watchmen struggled to repair the cabins at Devil’s Gate; killed the remaining cattle; stored the tough, stringy beef for food; and reconditioned and stacked the goods they were left to protect.
They killed a few buffalo, but the hunting became bad. Soon they were reduced to living on animal hides, from which they scraped off the hair, then boiled the leather. They ate the leather wrappings off the wagon tongues, old moccasin soles, and a well-worn buffalo hide that had been used as a foot mat for two months. At one point Dan Jones was literally preparing to eat his own saddle!
In February of that extreme winter, a member of the Snake Indian tribe visited and helped them. That first night he and two scouts came to camp loaded with good buffalo meat.
The winter passed, and finally, early in May, the relief wagons began to roll in. Of the various communications Brother Jones had received, one critical letter from Brigham Young had not arrived. Loading and shipping of the stored goods could not commence without it.
For days they waited, becoming increasingly anxious. Finally Brother Jones sought the Lord in prayer to know how to proceed. He recorded the following testimony: “Next morning without saying anything about the lack of instructions we commenced business. Soon some one asked whose teams were to be loaded first, [and] I dictated to my clerk. Thus we continued. As fast as the clerk put them down, orders would be given, and we passed on to the next. We continued this [way] for four days. … All the teams were loaded up, companies organized and started back [to the valley]” (Daniel W. Jones, Forty Years among the Indians [1960], 107).
The 17 young men were loaded on the last wagons departing to the Salt Lake Valley, where they would be reunited with their families and loved ones.
Brother Jones arrived later to report to President Young, feeling not a little uncertain how he would be received. Should he have waited for the President’s written orders? As everything unfolded, it was learned that President Young had indeed dictated a letter of instructions, which was never received. Dan carefully presented his detailed report. It was a testimony to him to find that the inspiration he’d received in Wyoming was exactly the same as in the prophet’s letter.
Dan Jones’s young men had done more than they ever would have imagined they could:
They had crossed the plains in wagons and by handcart, mostly on foot.
They had seen many of their friends and relatives die along the way.
They had volunteered to spend the winter 300 miles from their destination.
They had survived a harsh winter with little food and few, if any, comforts.
They had heeded the call of the prophet to serve their fellow Saints.
They had endured to the end nobly and were blessed for their efforts.
I repeat, brethren: Ordinary men, blessed with the privilege of holding the priesthood of God, may be called upon to do extraordinary tasks and accomplish mighty feats through faith in that sacred power!
One of my Book of Mormon heroes, Ammon, the great son of Mosiah, explains how much two people can accomplish when one of them is the Lord: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever” (Alma 26:12).
To you young men of the Aaronic Priesthood and to you brethren of the Melchizedek Priesthood, I witness that we can perform “many mighty miracles,” as testified by Ammon and by Dan Jones! They took the Lord as their guide, listened to and obeyed the Holy Spirit, and learned that they could indeed perform mighty miracles, which thing they never had supposed.
Our own challenges in this day will be great. Our needs will be significant. Our loyalty to great gospel truths must be no less valiant than that of those young men over 140 years ago.
It is my prayer, brethren, that each of us will make the Lord—and His revealed word through His servants, the prophets—the guiding influence in our lives. Each of us has a miracle to perform, a journey to complete, and a marvelous mission to fulfill.
May Heavenly Father bless you to know that you are one of His chosen sons in a blessed and royal generation, and that He has mighty miracles for you to perform. With His strength and the guidance of the Spirit, you too can do all things! To which I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A man told this story about his youth. It seems that when he was seventeen, he used to run with a gang of boys who had great times together. One night after they had been together, he heard the shouting of excited people coming toward his house. Being curious, he dressed and went downstairs to discover that a mob was approaching. It was not long until it arrived and from it sprang three or four of his friends, all members of the gang. One of them said to him, “Come with us, Joe. This man has hurt a girl and we’re going to lynch him.” Before Joe could ask any questions, they grabbed him by the arms and he was swept along in a swirling, shouting sea of humanity.
A mile from his house was a large oak tree. Almost before he knew what was happening, the mob had placed a rope around the accused man’s neck, placed him on a horse, and thrown the rope over the limb of a tree. The moment of death had arrived. Have you ever known such a moment when important things weigh in the balance?
A profound silence came over the mob. The last details of the lynching had been completed. Quite by chance or by the force of circumstance, Joe found himself right next to the horse. Suddenly, the leader—and every mob has such a leader—shouted at him. “Joe, kick that horse and let’s get this thing over with.” The tension within Joe could not be described. He’d never seen this man before. But here Joe was with all these people watching him, anxious for him to carry out the command. He felt the pressure as he hesitated, but then, blinded by emotion and the desire to have the approval of the mob, he kicked the horse. The man met his death.
The next day the mob discovered that they had lynched an innocent human being. This man had had nothing to do with the alleged crime. And for sixty-five years Joe tried to find peace. He wished again and again in the agony of his soul that at the moment when the mob took him along and he found himself by the side of the horse he had had the ability and courage to live as his conscience dictated.
But from his agony and suffering he reported that he learned many things. He learned that some people try to have many consciences. “This is the way I act with the gang because I want their approval. And this is the way I act in school or at work. This is the way I act in church, but this is the way I act on Saturday night.”

I remember when I first told my previous boss at BYU Broadcasting that I was interested in applying for a job opening I had seen. There was just one little catch. The position wasn’t at BYU Broadcasting. Oh, and by the way, could you also write me a glowing letter recommendation so I can get this new job?

Now if that’s not a potentially uncomfortable conversation, I don’t know what is. I was in a senior management position and was the first and only female to be appointed to the BYU Broadcasting Director’s Council. But, I had also been very honest with my managing director and he knew that as much as I loved the exciting work that we were doing, I just didn’t see myself staying in that same position for the next 20 years.

So I applied for that job opening I had seen. With his glowing letter of recommendation, I might add. And I waited. And then I interviewed. And then I had a second interview. And finally, the phone call came letting me know…that I did not get the position.

It turns out that Heavenly Father had something else in store for me. But I’m proud to say that at least I took the shot. And the next time I applied for a job—which was for the position I now have here at BYU–Hawaii—I made it. And I’m so glad I did.

During a difficult pregnancy with my second child, I needed to take medicine to keep me from miscarrying. The medicine amplified my feelings of fatigue and nausea.
To make matters worse, my husband was working 15-hour days, trying to keep up with his successful new business; we had recently moved to a new town; and my parents lived 400 miles (640 km) away. I knew no one, was bedridden, and had to care for a toddler. I felt scared and alone.
In this state I turned to the One I knew wouldn’t let me down—my Heavenly Father. I knelt by my bed and prayed, “Heavenly Father, I know that I have been promising for years that I would go back to church, and I think I’m ready now. But I don’t have the courage to do it alone. Could Thou please send someone to invite me to church.”
The next day the doorbell rang. I was lying on the couch in my pajamas in a messy living room and feeling nauseated, so I didn’t get up to answer the door. A few minutes later it hit me: what if that doorbell was the answer to my prayers and someone had come over to invite me to church?
I went back to my room, knelt again, and prayed, “Heavenly Father, I am really sorry for not answering the door. If Thou sent someone to talk to me, I promise I will be ready for them tomorrow if Thou will send them again.”
The next day I got up, showered, dressed for company, and spent the day cleaning my house. Then I waited patiently for the doorbell to ring again. It did. When I opened it, I saw two women standing on my doorstep.
“We’re your visiting teachers,” they said. “Do you know what visiting teaching is?”
“Yes, I do,” I replied, excited that they had returned. “Come on in.”
One of those visiting teachers, the Primary president, began stopping by regularly to make sure I was all right. She even offered to take my toddler to church and to arrange for visits from the full-time missionaries. The visits strengthened my testimony and gave me the courage to return to church.
I can’t believe I lived so many years without praying to Heavenly Father and receiving His security and guidance. It is such a blessing to have the Savior help bear my burdens with His love and mercy. I am a better person because of His love, and I feel more and more like the person I was when I attended church in my youth.
Heavenly Father has proven to me that all things are possible in Him. All He asks of us is that we have faith in His ability to answer our prayers.

Elizabeth Welch, who joined the Church in 1841. On her way home from her work as a lace maker she heard the testimony of a young missionary, Alfred Cardon, who was standing on a soap box preaching in the street. She was immediately touched by the Spirit, invited Elder Cardon to her home and announced to her surprised husband Nick, “I’ve heard the gospel; it’s the only gospel and it’s true; and I have invited this young elder to visit us to tell us more about it.” They were baptized one week later. Elizabeth’s instant yet deep witness of the truth was to prove so vitally sustaining as she endured the loss of Nick and two sons who were to die in Nauvoo, then crossing the Plains, and losing two more husbands before her own death in Utah in 1867.

But the Kirtland story doesn’t end with these marvelous manifestations. A year after the temple’s dedication, the community was fraying. An international economic crisis led to massive unemployment in the United States. Banks failed across the country, including a small bank established by Church leaders in Kirtland to spur development of the community. Joseph Smith and other Church leaders desperately tried to save the economy of the community. But the tide of the global economic crisis was too much. People began to lose jobs and homes. Many began to murmur against God and the Church. Why had the Lord allowed His people to fail economically? Some began to whisper and then proclaim that Joseph was a fallen prophet.
At one meeting in the summer of 1837 in the Kirtland Temple, Joseph Smith Sr., the Church patriarch, spoke in his son’s absence. As he spoke, a dissenter tried to pull him from the pulpit. When William Smith defended his father, a fellow Apostle threatened to kill William with a sword. Other men with knives and pistols surrounded William. The temple, which had been a place of sacredness and spirituality a year earlier, was now a place of violence, dissension, and chaos.
When Joseph Smith returned to Kirtland, most Church members sustained him as the prophet, but three Apostles were removed from the Quorum of the Twelve. Economic problems had turned into spiritual problems. Within a few more months, the Lord told Joseph to leave Kirtland for the safety of his family and for the sake of his own life.

The following spiritual experiences speak well for the close relationship Wilford Woodruff had with his Father in Heaven:
—“My missions have been by [the] Spirit of revelation. I was told to go to the Fox Islands [off the coast of northeastern U.S.] by that same still small voice. In the time of the great apostasy in Kirtland the Spirit of the Lord said to me, ‘Get you a partner and go to Fox Islands.’ I knew no more what was in Fox Islands than what was in Kolob. I went there, however, baptized a hundred.”
—Once when he was lost in a severe storm, “groping like the blind for the wall, a bright light suddenly shone around us, and revealed to us our dangerous situation at the edge of a gulf. The light continued with us until we found the road. We then went on our way rejoicing, though the darkness returned and the rain continued.”
—Another time, after he had parked his carriage for the night and he and his family had retired in it, a voice said to him, “Get up, and move your carriage.” A short while later, a big, heavy tree, caught by a whirlwind, was thrown where his carriage had been parked.
—While in London as a missionary, he had a terrifying experience with a “prince of darkness. … As he was about to overcome me I prayed to the Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, for help. I then had power over him and he left me, though I was much wounded. Afterwards three men dressed in white came to me and prayed with me, and I was healed immediately of all my wounds, and delivered of my troubles.”
—“Two weeks before I left St. George, the spirits of the dead gathered around me [in the temple], wanting to know why we did not redeem them. Said they, ‘… We laid the foundation of the government you now enjoy, and we never apostatized from it, but we remained true to it and were faithful to God.’

“These were the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and they waited on me for two days and two nights. … I straightway went into the baptismal font and called upon Brother McAllister to baptize me for the signers of the Declaration of Independence and fifty other eminent men, making one hundred in all.”

“I believe my first experience in having the courage of my convictions took place when I served in the United States Navy near the end of World War II. …
“I shall ever remember when Sunday rolled around after the first week [of boot camp]. We received welcome news from the chief petty officer. Standing at attention on the drill ground in a brisk California breeze, we heard his command: ‘Today everybody goes to church—everybody, that is, except for me. I am going to relax!’ Then he shouted, ‘All of you Catholics, you meet in Camp Decatur—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ A rather sizeable contingent moved out. Then he barked out his next command: ‘Those of you who are Jewish, you meet in Camp Henry—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ A somewhat smaller contingent marched out. Then he said, ‘The rest of you Protestants, you meet in the theaters at Camp Farragut—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’
“Instantly there flashed through my mind the thought, ‘Monson, you are not a Catholic; you are not a Jew; you are not a Protestant. You are a Mormon, so you just stand here!’ I can assure you that I felt completely alone. Courageous and determined, yes—but alone.
“And then I heard the sweetest words I ever heard that chief petty officer utter. He looked in my direction and asked, ‘And just what do you guys call yourselves?’ Until that very moment I had not realized that anyone was standing beside me or behind me on the drill ground. Almost in unison, each of us replied, ‘Mormons!’ It is difficult to describe the joy that filled my heart as I turned around and saw a handful of other sailors.
“The chief petty officer scratched his head in an expression of puzzlement but finally said, ‘Well, you guys go find somewhere to meet. And don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ …
“Although the experience turned out differently from what I had expected, I had been willing to stand alone, had such been necessary.
“Since that day, there have been times when there was no one standing behind me and so I did stand alone. How grateful I am that I made the decision long ago to remain strong and true, always prepared and ready to defend my religion.”