Gospel Story Finder

I first began to understand the significance of the Atonement when my grandfather was dying. After attending law school, I was studying for the California bar exam when my mother called and said if I wanted to see my grandfather before he died, I better come to Utah. My grandfather, who was 86 years old, was very ill. He was so pleased to see me and share his testimony.
He had three concerns:
1. He loved his 10 children very much. They were all good people. He wanted them all to be temple worthy.
2. His father was one of the young men who had carried members of the Martin handcart company across the Sweetwater River. His father had died when my grandfather was three years old, and he looked forward to seeing him and hoped his father and other family members would approve of his life.
3. Finally, and most importantly, he told me how he looked forward to meeting the Savior. He referred to the Savior as the “Keeper of the Gate,” a reference to 2 Nephi 9:41. He told me that he hoped he had been sufficiently repentant to qualify for the Savior’s mercy.
All of us have sinned, and it is only through the Atonement that we can obtain mercy and live with God. I can remember to this day the great love that Grandfather had for the Savior and the appreciation he had for the Atonement.

While the whole Bennion family is special, each of the children stands out with his or her own unique talents and personality. One time when Kiera was three years old, her parents took her to see her cousins perform in a band in which they played violins. That night at home, Kiera walked in with her mother’s high heel shoe tucked under her chin and a screwdriver in her hand, pretending to play the shoe like a violin. Now she takes lessons on a real violin and on a piano, but it’s easy to see that her love for music started long ago.

The New Era is such a blessing to me! The only thing I don’t like about it is having to wait a whole month for the next issue.
I am a paratrooper in the U.S. Army, and that means that some Sundays have to be spent training in the woods rather than worshipping in church. When I know I can’t make it to church, I will bring my scriptures, along with the New Era. As soon as there is some free time, I dig them out and start reading. During these times the Spirit can be so strong that I often forget where I am. Another added blessing is that I live in Kaysville, Utah, and since a lot of the pictures and articles are from people in Utah I get to see a lot of familiar places. Once or twice I have even seen familiar faces.
When I first joined the army I was basically inactive, but soon after experiencing the scary feeling of jumping out of a plane at midnight, I felt the need to know that the Lord would watch over me. Very soon after praying about it, I found that my mother had subscribed to the New Era for me. It has helped me so much to become active again, and now I am holding my breath until I can go on a mission in 17 months.
As for jumping out of airplanes, it’s a piece of cake!
Gregory TibbetsFt. Bragg, North Carolina

I trust in God. I know He lives and hears my prayers. In order to know these truths, I immersed myself in the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
After I was baptized I felt the fiery darts of the enemy confuse me and cause me to put off attending seminary. A few days later I began reading the Book of Mormon with a prayer to our Father in Heaven. I felt a beautiful response in my heart that motivated me to attend seminary and apply each class to my life.
Now I understand that when I was baptized into the Church I gained many blessings. I feel very happy to have my testimony as a constant source of strength each day of my life.
María Marcela Vargas Del Águila,Santa Anita Ward, Lima Perú Santa Anita Stake

Grandma came to visit when Dad took Momma to the hospital to have the new baby. Since I’m the oldest, I knew I could help Grandma a lot. I showed her where the plates and glasses went and which blankie Susie needed for her nap. I told her that Annie preferred cheese sandwiches to peanut butter and jelly. I helped set the table and clean up the dirty dishes.
“Joshua, you are so helpful,” Grandma said.
After dinner, Grandma read stories from Susie and Annie’s fairy-tale books. Then she let me pick out some stories from my favorite dinosaur books.
“I never get tired of reading about brontosauruses, tyrannosauruses, and triceratops,” Grandma said. “And that reminds me of something.” Grandma walked over to her suitcase and opened it. She pulled out a fossil with the print of a leaf preserved in a rock. “I found this on the farm,” she said, handing it to me.
At bedtime, Grandma helped us read the scriptures before family prayer.
In the morning, Dad called to say he was bringing Momma and our new baby home. We all hurried to finish up our chores. My sisters and I stacked the toys in the toy box and washed and dried the dishes. Grandma mopped and vacuumed floors and finished folding the clothes she had washed.
We were getting tired after all our work. Grandma sat down on the bed and picked up a pillow to fluff it up. Suddenly the seam on one side of the pillow split open, and feathers scattered everywhere. Grandma tried to stuff the feathers back in, but they flew around her like a blizzard of snow. Susie and Annie squealed and ran through the storm of feathers. I forgot I was supposed to be helping and joined in, sending more feathers swirling across the floor.
Grandma grabbed a broom and dustpan, but sweeping only scattered the feathers more. Grandma sank into a chair and wiped her forehead with her handkerchief.
I stopped running and looked at Grandma. She had worked so hard, and now Momma would come home to a big mess. I stopped galloping around and told Susie and Annie we needed to help Grandma clean up. I found a large paper bag, and we started gathering up handfuls, but feathers still littered the room.
I got the vacuum and turned it on. Whoosh! The vacuum sucked up feathers like fall leaves swirling into a leaf catcher. Then my sisters and I went out on the porch and plucked feathers out of our hair.
Grandma looked relieved. “Thank you, Joshua,” she said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
When Momma arrived home, we crowded around to hug her.
“Did the neighbors’ chickens escape from their henhouse?” she asked. “I saw a few feathers on the porch.”
Grandma and I looked at each other and laughed as we all went to meet the new baby brother Dad was holding in a bundle of blankets.

Hey, Uncle Oscar! Hey, Maria!
Are you excited to be baptized tomorrow?
Yes! Do you want to be witnesses for my baptism?
Of course!
Wait, what does that even mean?
We need two people who have been baptized to watch and make sure Maria goes all the way under the water.
Well, we are good at watching things! We love watching cartoons.
Ha, perfect! Thanks for helping.
I know Jesus is proud of you for making this good choice.
Illustrations by Katie McDee

Although it’s been nearly 28 years since I graduated high school, it doesn’t seem that long ago. I was so excited to graduate and go to college at that time. I knew what I wanted to study. For as long as I can remember, I had dreamed of becoming a mechanical/aerospace engineer. I was fascinated with aircraft, energy conversion, and all kinds of mechanical objects. I wanted to learn how to improve the world by creating something new and innovative. I was thrilled to start taking my classes. At this time, I didn’t really think about asking the Lord if this was what He wanted me to do. I’m sure I assumed that because I had been planning this for as long as I could remember, it would be what the Lord wanted for me. As I started my first classes, I found different challenges. First, my calculus class was taught by a graduate student from China whom I could barely understand. Very quickly, I started to fall behind, and after failing my first midterm, I decided I needed to drop the class. As I got into my first general chemistry class, I soon learned that chemistry and I didn’t mix very well. Although I felt I was having a rough start, I absolutely loved my first engineering class. I persevered over the next few semesters, determined to do better, for I felt I was meant to be an engineer.

As the time got closer for me to put my mission papers in, I really started pondering and praying about if a mission was right for me. It seemed like such a sacrifice and I thought putting my education on hold for two years would be so difficult. While seeking an answer, I remembered attending the many mission farewells for my cousins. As I went to their homecomings, I remember being so impressed with the spiritual giants they had become. I decided to move forward in faith that the Lord knew what was best for me and in 1996, I was called to the England London South Mission. I will always be eternally grateful for this decision. Not only through this experience was I able to witness many wonderful miracles while teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ, I was also able to meet and baptize my eternal companion. My wife likes to remind me of what the consequences would have been if I had not chosen to serve.

Toward the end of my mission, I decided that I really wanted to understand the Lord’s will for me. I started to sincerely fast and pray about what the Lord wanted me to do with my life. Very quickly, I received a distinct impression: “Roy, you are not to go into engineering.” This hit me like a ton of bricks. Didn’t the Lord know that this was one of my greatest desires? How was I to move forward without having something that I thought was so key to my identity? But I could not deny the inspiration I had received.

The morning of my eighteenth birthday was beautiful. I opened my birthday gifts and left for college classes knowing that the best part of the day would be at 7:30 that evening, when I would be baptized.
My family met me for lunch. Shortly after eating, I became ill and began to have great pain. My mother suggested I go home, where she put me to bed. I couldn’t sleep. The pain was so great that I got out of bed and knelt in prayer. As I pleaded for the Lord to take away the pain so I could go through with my long-awaited baptism, a great darkness filled the room. Frightened, I cried for help to see me through this terror. When I opened my eyes, it was three hours later and my older sister stood beside me. She asked how I was and suggested I get ready for the baptism. I looked out of the window and saw the sun was shining brightly. I thanked my Father in Heaven for my answered prayer, and my family and I went to the church.

“The greatest hardship I passed through on our journey was the day before we got to Laramie. The cattle were tired and footsore and the traveling was very hard so Father told us that morning we must all walk. No riding that day. I shall never forget that memorable walk, sand ankle deep to men and women and much deeper to the cattle and wagons. When we camped that night, we had traveled ten miles. I thought it was a thousand and wished many times that day that I was where people didn’t get tired.”
“At last, we came to the end of our long, tedious journey, and on the evening of October 15 we camped at the mouth of Emigration Canyon. Oh, what a glorious sight to look down into the valley of the Great Salt Lake! The next morning we were up bright and early, and soon drove down.”

Seven-year-old Joseph has grown up around water. Or rather he has grown up with water all around him—surrounded by the cold waters of Lake Titicaca in Peru. That’s what happens when you live on a small island made of floating reeds.
Joseph and his family are part of the Uros people, who have built and lived on floating islands on Lake Titicaca for hundreds of years. They fish in the lake. They bathe in the lake. They row across the lake to get from island to island.
You might think that Joseph, being so used to the water, wouldn’t be nervous about standing in a baptismal font in a few months to be baptized. But he feels the same way many other children feel.
“I’m excited,” he says. “But I’m worried about going under the water.”
With water all around them, Uros children are taught to be careful with water. So after Joseph told his parents about his worries, the family talked about baptism during family home evening, and Joseph and his father practiced what to do.
“My father will baptize me,” Joseph says. “He helped me to not be so afraid.”
Now Joseph is diligently preparing for his baptism. He is trying especially hard to pay attention during Primary and to learn the Articles of Faith. He knows that will help him now and in the future.
“I’m going on a mission,” he says. “Like Nephi said, I will go and do the things the Lord commands” (see 1 Nephi 3:7).

Please allow me to share with you an incident from my life where I refused for a time to look.

When I was not much older than many of you, my husband was enrolled in a demanding doctoral program at Purdue University far away from our families and familiar surroundings. We had two small children, very little money, limited time to spend together as a family, and we were having difficulty balancing the rigors of graduate school, family responsibilities, and church assignments. Does this situation sound familiar? Well, this daunting task began to take its toll, and I found myself feeling very overwhelmed with my responsibilities as a wife and a "stay-at-home mother." The feelings I felt were not necessarily unique to me or my circumstances. Many of you may experience some of these same challenges and emotions while you are here at BYU–Idaho.

After considerable contemplation, I remember asking my husband for a priesthood blessing. In this blessing I was promised that I could begin to better cope with my difficulties if I would exercise consistently, get more sleep, eat properly, have meaningful prayer night and morning, and engage in daily scripture study. The reason I remember so vividly the instruction I received is because I thought afterwards: "This is going to solve my problems? These are standard 'Sunday School' answers. Besides, I'm already doing some of these things." Does this attitude sound a bit hard-hearted? Maybe if the message had been to take a vacation to the beach, or sign up for an art class, or have my nails done, I would have been more receptive to the counsel. I guess I was searching for different solutions, and I balked at the banality of what I had been counseled to do.

I pondered the blessing, and over a period of time I came to know and understand that these inspired admonitions were plain and simple, yet profound. As I moved from casual observance to a more steadfast and heartfelt implementation of these principles in my life, I discovered a sense of emotional peace, a feeling of physical well-being, and a spiritual confidence that brought tremendous blessings to my life. Like those in Moses' day, all I had to do was to "look!"

Shortly after Marco was released as bishop, the pandemic struck. Brother Peña lost his job, and the family was plunged into a new round of emotional and financial crisis. Following the counsel of Church leaders and the revised handbook, 13 the Peñas’ elders quorum president took the lead in seeking inspired ways to support them. Counseling with the new bishop, the elders quorum president felt prompted to assign Marco to help Brother Peña.
The important relationship of trust was already there. And with the assignment, given under the authority of priesthood keys, Marco could rely on receiving the revelation he would need to help. 14
“Some would call it ironic that I was asked to help Brother Peña after spending so much time with them as bishop,” Marco said. “But this assignment has been a choice experience for me. It is an assignment from the Lord to help do His work. I am grateful to be able to help lift not only the Peñas’ burdens but the bishop’s as well.”

As soon as Samantha opened her eyes, she knew what day it was. She ran to the kitchen in her pajamas. “OK, Mom,” she said. “Let’s go to the beach. I’m ready.”
Her mom laughed when she saw Samantha. “You may feel ready,” she said, “but you don’t look ready. You’d better get dressed first and have some breakfast. Then we can get ready to go to the beach.”
Samantha ran upstairs, hopped out of her pajamas, jumped into her clothes, and skipped back downstairs again.
“Settle down,” said her mom. “You can’t eat properly when you’re a jumping bean.”
Samantha tried to drink her juice and eat her cereal slowly. She even tried to butter her toast slowly. But she was too excited.
After breakfast Samantha washed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. “Now can we go?” she asked.
“Pretty soon,” said her mom. “But first we have to decide what to take with us.”
“I know what to take,” said Samantha. She ran to her room and came back with a red bucket, a yellow spade, a swimsuit, a towel, and a beach ball. “OK,” Samantha said. “Let’s go.”
“What about lunch?” asked Mom with a smile.
“Oh,” said Samantha. “I forgot.”
They made the lunch together. Samantha washed carrots and celery, and her mom cut them up. Samantha made her favorite sandwich—peanut butter, lettuce, and tomato. Mom made some egg salad sandwiches.
They got the cooler and put the sandwiches inside with the vegetables, some fruit, and homemade cookies. Then they put ice packs on top, and Samantha shut the lid and fastened it. “Wow!” she said. “It’s cold in there now.”
“It has to be cold,” Mom explained, “or the food will spoil.”
They filled a thermos with milk, then took everything out to the car. The outside air was still cool, but Samantha knew that soon it would be very, very hot. She hopped up and down. “Come on, Mom,” she said. “Come on.”
“Samantha,” said Mom, “I want to go to the beach, too, but it’s important not to forget anything. Our day will be much more enjoyable if we prepare well. Preparation is important in just about everything we do. Now, there are still some things we need to take. Think how hot it will be. We can’t put ourselves in the cooler. But we can make our own shade.”
“The beach umbrella!” shouted Samantha.
“Right!” said Mom. “And we need little beach umbrellas for our heads.”
“Sun hats!” cried Samantha.
“Right!” said Mom again. “And when we’re in the sun, we need something creamy and smooth to spread on our skin so that the sun won’t burn us.”
“Suntan lotion!” shouted Samantha.
“You remembered!” said Mom. “And we need something for our feet in case there are sharp stones or glass on the beach.”
“Beach shoes!” shouted Samantha.
“You’re very smart,” said Mom.
They gathered all those things and put them into the car along with Mom’s bathing suit, beach coat, sunglasses, and a book. Mom also got extra towels, a change of clothes for Samantha, and a big blanket. Just before shutting the door, Mom called, “Let’s get going, Samantha.”
But Samantha didn’t answer.
Puzzled, Mom called again. Then she heard a giggle. Samantha was already in the car, waiting for her!

I’ve always made an impressive grilled cheese sandwich. Between that delectable dish and a handful of other recipes, I kept myself alive and functioning throughout my mission and well into adulthood. But then I got married and had kids, all of whom have different tastes. I needed to expand my menu!

However, on nights when it was my turn to cook, attempting new meals proved to be a challenge. For starters, my evening time was usually limited. Even though I wanted to cook a variety of meals, I kept hitting snags. I couldn’t find ingredients fast enough, or we’d be missing some. More often than not, I’d scrap my planned dinner and instead go for quick and easy. And yet I kept wanting to improve in this area. So I decided to do something I had never done. I prayed for a spiritual gift by name.

Specifically, I prayed for the gift of organization. Yes, organization! We already had a spice cupboard. We also had cooking utensils drawers. Yet even with those in place, I seemed to spend more time looking for supplies than cooking.

As I consistently prayed for this gift, I began receiving specific ideas. A wall-mounted spice rack would organize spices and keep them handy. A magnetic kitchen bar (also wall-mounted) could store knives and other metal cooking utensils. These and other ideas, once put in motion, made a big difference in my cooking efforts. Need some thyme? Garlic salt? Garlic powder? I’m your guy!

But then a funny thing happened. Little ideas continued popping into my mind for small ways to better organize other areas of my life. For example, my three-level homemade laundry tower won’t carry my family to the promised land, but even Nephi would’ve appreciated the way in which I built it—by following promptings that came to me one piece at a time.

The spiritual gift of organization has improved my life and the lives of my family more than I would’ve ever guessed.

And it all came because I asked for it.

There was a determination about Elmer that I came to admire. He had an appreciation for nature and beauty and loved to see things grow. Every morning you could see him heading out to work in his garden. With the aid of an old walking stick, Elmer would drag his crippled leg behind him. The walk itself was difficult, and keeping the weeds out of his large garden seemed to me to be a monumental task. It wasn’t easy, but he took pride in the beautiful produce that grew there. I would help him when I could. I enjoyed our conversations. He was full of interesting facts that he was willing to share with a listening boy.
He liked to grow unusual things in his garden, and one spring day I remember asking him what he was planting. He replied, “Goober peas.” When I told him I had never heard of goober peas, he gave me some and told me to go home and plant them in our garden. I did, and I watched them carefully as they grew. When I expressed my concern that I couldn’t see any fruit on the vine, he told me to be patient. The day came when it was time to harvest the goober peas. Elmer showed me how to dig around the plants, and was I surprised and delighted to find that under the ground were mounds of peanuts just waiting to be roasted—Elmer’s goober peas.
Over the years I learned many things from Elmer Sessions—lessons about patience, determination, endurance, and long-suffering. I learned that friends can come in a variety of sizes, shapes, and ages. That an old man and a young boy can be friends. Friendships can easily span years when two people are willing to listen and care and reach out to each other.

First, an honored and respected name. I will be eternally grateful to a father who thought enough of me to give me his name. It was a name of honor and respect in the community in which I grew up. It carried before it the title of bishop from the time I was six months old until just a few months before I left to go on my mission. How proud I was of his service. I was pleased that he had the patience to involve me in his responsibilities. Working on a welfare farm, cleaning the chapel, balancing ward financial records, carrying a sack of flour to a widow, etc., were a part of my early life. I was with him so much I received the nickname of “Bishop.” I attempted to wear it with pride and honor. It had the effect of making me reach a little higher. I wanted to try to be on the same plane as my father. Should not every child have the same opportunity?

Fathers, is it not your obligation to give your children an honored and respected name?
Second, every child needs a sense of security. I often think of the security of our old family home. It was a fortress against the adversary. Each morning and evening it was blessed by the priesthood as we would kneel in family prayer. That power was also manifest as my father blessed his family in time of need.
Fathers, is it not your obligation to give your children a home blessed with the power of the priesthood?
Third, an opportunity for development. My children taught me a great lesson one day. We had moved from California to New York where I had accepted an employment opportunity and we were in the process of finding a new home. We started close to the city, but each day that passed we would move further out to find a home more suited to our needs. In Connecticut we found just the one. It was a beautiful home nestled in New England’s radiant forests. We were all pleased with the selection. The final test before making an offer for purchase was to ride the train into New York to check out the commuting time. I made the trip and returned very discouraged. The trip required an hour and a half each way. I returned to the motel where my family was waiting for me and gave them the choice of having a father or this new home. Much to my surprise, they said, “We will take the home. You are not around much anyway.”
The shock of that statement was overwhelming to me. If that statement was true, I needed to repent fast. My children deserved a father. Is it not our obligation as fathers to spend as much time as possible with our children, to teach them honesty, industry, and morality?
Fourth, give your children the opportunity of having a joyful, happy childhood. The priesthood manual a few years ago quoted a story written in 1955 by Bryant S. Hinckley. It is as follows:
“‘Three hundred twenty-six school children of a district near Indianapolis were asked to write anonymously just what each thought of his father.
“‘The teacher hoped that the reading of the essays might attract the fathers to attend at least one meeting of the Parent-Teacher’s Association.
“‘It did.
“‘They came in $400 cars and $4,000 cars. Bank president, laborer, professional man, clerk, salesman, meter reader, farmer, utility magnate, merchant, baker, tailor, manufacturer, and contractor, every man with a definite estimate of himself in terms of money, skill, and righteousness. …
“‘The president picked at random from another stack of papers. “I like my daddy,” she read from each. The reasons were many: He built my doll house, took me coasting, taught me to shoot, helps me with my schoolwork, takes me to the park, gave me a pig to fatten and sell. Scores of essays could be reduced to “I like my daddy. He plays with me.”’
“Not one child mentioned his family house, car, neighborhood, food or clothing.
“The fathers went into the meeting from many walks of life. They came out in two classes: companions to their children or strangers to their children.
“No man is too rich or too poor to play with his children.” (The Savior the Priesthood and You, Melchizedek Priesthood Manual, 1973–74, p. 226.)
I am aware how concerned we each are with the leadership we find in the world today. To change the head of a nation, state, or community towards righteous leadership may require our earnest efforts for years. But there is something we can change today to make the world a better place in which to live. Husbands and fathers, the power is within you as bearers of the priesthood. Enjoy the inspiration of God, our Eternal Father, to lead, guide, and direct your families in righteousness. You stand at the head of the only organization I know of that can be eternal. Should not that charge and responsibility receive top priority in your life?
God bless you to understand your duties and responsibilities to be righteous husbands and fathers, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Elder James E. Talmage, who authored Jesus the Christ, stated:
“I was called and ordained one Sunday morning, … and that afternoon was placed as a sentinel at the door of the house in which the Saints had met for worship. As soon as I had been ordained, a feeling came to me such as I have never been able to fully describe. It seemed scarcely possible, that I, a little boy, could be so honored of God as to be called to the priesthood. I had read of the sons of Aaron and Levi who were chosen for the sacred labors of the Lesser Priesthood, but that I should be called to do part of the service that had been required of them was more than my little mind could grasp. I was both frightened and happy. Then, when I was placed on duty at the door, I forgot that I was but [a] … lad; I felt strong in the thought that I belonged to the Lord, and that he would assist me in whatever was required of me. I could not resist the conviction that other sentinels, stronger by far than I, stood by me though invisible to human eyes.
“The effect of my ordination to the deaconship entered into all the affairs of my boyish life. I am afraid that sometimes I forgot what I was, but I have ever been thankful that ofttimes I did remember, and the recollection always served to make me better. When at play on the school grounds, and perhaps tempted to take unfair advantage in the game, when in the midst of a dispute with a playmate, I would remember, and the thought would be as effective as though spoken aloud—‘I am a deacon; and it is not right that a deacon should act in this way.’ On examination days, when it seemed easy for me to copy some other boys’ work or to ‘crib’ from the book, I would remember again,—‘I am a deacon, and must be honest and true.’ When I saw other boys cheating in play or in school, I would say in my mind, ‘It would be more wicked for me to do that than it is for them because I am a deacon’” (Incidents from the Lives of Our Church Leaders: Course of Studyfor the Quorums of the Priesthood: Deacons, 1914, pp. 135–36).

When I was only about four years old, I lived in a small town in the state of Coahuila, Mexico. The town had perhaps a hundred people in it—and Coahuilan chestnut monkeys. Here, I first became aware of the Bible. Some men who taught Bible stories to children came once a week. I don’t remember what religion they belonged to, but from the very first time I heard the Bible stories, I loved them. My older brother and my younger brother, too, liked to hear them.
My father was very fond of reading the Bible. He wasn’t a Catholic, but my mother was. She took us to the Catholic church from the time we were very small. Then, in 1956, when I was twelve, the LDS missionaries came to our home. My mother didn’t want to listen to them and, rather than offend them, told them to come only when my father was home. They did and began to teach us. Only two of my brothers were still at home with me—the others were all married.
The missionaries were not only competent but very inspired in getting my mother and us children involved. Each time they came, they read something to us from the scriptures—almost always from the Book of Mormon—and the next time they came, they asked us to report on what they had told us and on what we had read. The three of us and my father and mother were baptized six months later.
When I was baptized, I was already too old for Primary. Even so, I attended it for two years. I did hold the priesthood, but the branch was small and the Primary teachers were so good that I went there. I loved it and was grateful that the teachers didn’t tell me that I couldn’t attend because I was too old. I remember three outstanding teachers. Olga Ramos, Lida del Bosque, and Irma Torres were their names. All three cared a great deal about us children. They diligently taught us and had activities for us. They were young adults then. Now they are married women with grandchildren. I am very grateful to them because it was through their teaching that I learned the gospel.
Once I was baptized, the Church was my world. What I loved best was to be at church with the other members. I remember many times being there on Saturdays with the deacons, cleaning the chapel and preparing it for Sunday. I also participated in the branch’s Mutual activities. From seeing the missionaries in Primary and at home, I decided early in my life to go on a mission. When I served my mission, I was very happy. I served two years in the west of Mexico.

When I met my husband he already had his pilots' license. He had been flying for almost three years, with over a hundred flight hours underneath his belt. He was licensed as a VFR pilot, which means he was a "visual flight regulation pilot." He could fly by using the ground and landmarks as his map. Now I tell you this part because he loved to fly. I however, was not the best co-pilot. My sense of direction is not so good. I get lost driving in a car with a map in hand, and a GPS going at the same time. So you can image my skills of trying to find the bumps and hills on a navigation map from the air. But I went, because I loved him, and you kind of do those things for the person you are in love with.

Sometime after we were married my brother had asked if my husband and I would be interested in flying my mom and him over to Eureka, California to pick up a new car. Tod, my husband, joyfully said "yes," and my answer was "okay." The plan was to leave Rexburg in a 4-seater Warrior Piper Airplane. My mom and I were scheduled to sit in the back with a whole bunch of magazines and things to help us get through the flight, while Tod and my brother were in the front. Tod could fly just fine, but he needed a co-pilot who could read and navigate the map-obviously I wasn't first pick! The plan was to fly from Rexburg to Winnemucca, Nevada, fuel up there, and continue on until we reached Eureka, California. It was a great plan. My husband had studied the maps and plotted the route we would be taking.

Tod and I have what people call a blended marriage. There was his and mine before we got married. After we were married, they then became all of ours. Our second daughter was only about a year old when we left for this little adventure, and my sister committed to watching our children overnight for us.

We left bright and early on a Friday morning, and landed in Winnemucca to fuel up right on schedule. My brother was starting to feel a little sick, so while we were fueling up, he got a Diet Coke and a candy bar, in hopes that it would help him make it the rest of the way. Shortly after take-off, my brother the navigator could no longer be the co-pilot. He was too sick. That left me and my mom (and no, we did not play rock, paper, and scissors); it was going to take both of us. Just to give you a side note, I think I got my navigational abilities from her. Did you know that it can be totally calm on the ground, but blowing really hard up in the air? With me and my mom's navigational skills, and due to high winds, we landed in Medford, Oregon-not our destination, but close enough. My brother rented a car, and we drove the rest of the way, about 100 more miles to Eureka, California to get the new car. I was never so excited to see the hotel that night.

The next morning they drove us back to Medford to get the airplane and fly home. We were noticing a lot of clouds in the sky, but Tod continued to check the airplane, and get it ready for takeoff. The flight service told us not to worry about the clouds, and that it should clear off, and that travel would be favorable. I remember looking over at my husband and thinking how incredibly confident he looked. I believed in him. He would take care of me no matter what the situation was. We were a team. I am totally sure that he felt the same way about me, with all my map skills and everything. We were young, and ready for the adventure.

In the beginning, the flight was going great. I actually was starting to get the hang of reading the navigation map. I wondered, "could I be his co-pilot?" I was learning what to watch for, and how I could be a help to my partner. He was willing to trust me with the map to get us home. After we had been in the air for a few hours, the clouds really started getting thick, which meant we had to fly lower, in order to see the landmarks. I remember him saying, "I hope these clouds burn off, it's getting harder to see." Pretty soon we were totally consumed in clouds, and were lost. Tod didn't dare fly any lower because we couldn't see how close we were to the ground, yet we couldn't see very far in front of us either. I remember feeling so helpless, Tod must have felt the same way, because at that point he decided that we would have to call in a "Mayday" and possibly make an emergency landing. While he was doing this, I remembered this calm feeling that came over me. I wasn't afraid. I remembered feeling that I was ready! I was with my eternal companion. My life was in order, and I would do whatever our Heavenly Father had intended for us that day.

Now I want to stop this story for just a second, I haven't always felt this way in my life. The start of my freshman year (so I was only fourteen) Heavenly Father decided it was time to bring my own father back home. My father was killed in an Ultra-Light accident. Needless to say, my world fell apart. I remember feeling so sad, and alone. I was angry with our Heavenly Father for taking someone away from me, that I selfishly needed more. Because of those kinds of feelings and that type of attitude I started not caring about the choices I was making. It just didn't matter. I didn't have an opinion on much, and I'm sure that my face and countenance showed it. Because of that, and letting go of the iron rod, my life would take a huge turn. I had many "curves" and "bumps" and "loop to loops" and sometimes it was hard to just see the light. It has taken a humbled heart and many prayers, for me to get through the consequences of my choices and turn my life around with the help of the atonement. What I didn't know then, but I do now, is that you are never alone. He loves you unconditionally, he knows you, and he will never give up on you. Sometimes, you have to hit rock bottom in order to humble yourself enough to feel our Savior's love and see the light again.

So while Tod was calling in a "Mayday," I waited patiently for instruction. There was no yelling or arguing between Tod and I, but you could definitely feel a spirit. We never talked about it then, but later when we did, we both knew my father was in that plane with us that day. We both could feel of his spirit, love, and confidence that he had in us.

Tod made contact with flight service right before we had to cross the Oregon/Idaho Mountains. They told us to look for a place that we could make an emergency landing. Luckily the clouds parted just enough that we were able to fly into a valley where we could keep circling until hopefully the clouds lifted, or worse case, we ran out of fuel and had to land. Although it wasn't looking good for us, we never panicked. Out of complete silence, flight service came back on the radio and said, "We have a military C-141 coming out of Seattle." Someone was coming to find us. They told us to hang on, and look for this plane. With all those clouds, it would be really lucky to even see them before it was too late. We were in that valley for probably an hour, just circling, when I saw a glimpse of an aircraft. I was never so excited to see such a big plane. They hadn't seen us, and Tod hadn't seen them, but I did, and I made sure he used the radio to tell them. We ended up flying on the wing of this aircraft to Burns, Oregon. There we landed safely on the runway. They had us wait until the weather cleared to make a new flight plan. While we were waiting, they told us that we were one of three planes, circling within a seventy-five mile radius of each other. We were all caught in the same storm, yet somehow we never saw or ran into each other. The first plane had already crashed into the mountains and there were no survivors. The second plane had to make an emergency landing, and had minor injuries. We were the only plane that landed on the runway. When the clouds cleared we took off for Boise and then onto Rexburg. It seemed so clear after that, the landmarks were easy to find and the flight home was easily made. The lesson we learned about each other will never be forgotten, nor will the love and the spirit we felt in that plane.

When I was 19, I made one last visit to my grandparents before leaving on a three-month humanitarian trip to Ecuador. My grandfather had moved to an assisted-living center because his health was declining. He suffered from dementia along with other physical ailments incident to old age.
As my family and I entered the assisted-living facility, I was sullen, knowing that this visit with my grandfather would most likely be my last. I knew he would pass away while I was gone, and I felt guilty leaving.
Just before we entered his room, a staff member had transferred my grandfather to a wheelchair. We wheeled him into the facility’s common area. My mother was talking to one of the staff members while my 16-year-old sister and I talked to our grandfather.
He was not himself. The decline in his mental state was evident, and he seemed confused. When we asked him how many grandchildren he had, he answered incorrectly. Then we lovingly teased him as we made a big deal about how many he actually had.
My heart ached for him. But then, amid his confusion and in the middle of answering our questions inaccurately, my grandfather suddenly said, “A forever family.”
I was shocked. A nearby staff member didn’t understand what he had said, but my sister and I looked at each other. We had both heard him clearly. He then repeated a second time, “A forever family.” This time our mother also heard him.
I don’t recall anything else about our visit that day. All I know is that as we walked out of the care center, I sobbed with sorrow and joy—sorrow for the man we were leaving behind and whom I would not see again in this life and joy for the tender mercy of those simple words and the peace they left in my heart.
I know that despite my grandfather’s state of mind, he was able to share one last time his strong conviction and knowledge that families are forever.
I soon left on my humanitarian trip. When news came of my grandfather’s passing a week before my return, I was at peace. I knew, and I still know, that one day I will see him again. Thanks to temple ordinances, families are forever.