Gospel Story Finder

Once, when we were still new converts and were living in my father’s house, the bishop came to visit. My father threw him out. He said he did not want members of the Church in his house. The bishop was inspired to call us in for an interview. He said that members and missionaries were not going to visit us in our home for a while so as not to antagonize our family. He said that we needed to be strong and that we would receive many blessings if we continued on the strait and narrow path.
We could not move to a house of our own due to my employment situation. I could not find good work as I had done before. I worked a little at jobs that didn’t pay much, but we managed to pay our tithes and offerings, attend church, and buy the food we needed. The Lord multiplied our blessings, and we were truly happy.

President Thomas S. Monson has described such a “leap of faith” with Elder John H. Groberg.

As a lad just twenty, called to the Tongan Mission, he was assigned to an outer island with a native missionary. After eight seasick days and sleepless nights on a storm-tossed sea, they reached their destination. Not one soul on the island spoke English. Here he acquired his gift of the language. Then came a devastating hurricane which struck the isolated island with tropical intensity, destroying the food crop and contaminating the water supply. There was no means of communication with the outside world. The supply boat was not due for almost two months. After four weeks the precious store of food, mainly taro, a native vegetable, was severely rationed. Four additional weeks passed. All food was gone. No help arrived. Bodies became emaciated, hope dwindled, confidence waned, some died. In desperation, John Groberg waded into the swampland where insects covered his face and, with a sweep of his hand, entered his mouth— his only nourishment.

The end drew near. The island’s inhabitants sat in an idle stupor. One morning, nine weeks from the time of the hurricane, John Groberg felt a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He turned his head and gazed into the eyes of an elderly Tongan man. Slowly and with meticulous care, the old man unwrapped a precious prize, even his most treasured possession—a small can of berry jam. He spoke: “I am old; I think I may die. You are young; you may live. Accept my gift.”

What were the words penned by Charles Dickens in a Tale of Two Cities? “It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far, better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” Add to them the declaration of the Savior: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Then came the speck on the horizon and a shout of joy as the supply ship came into view.

Instinctively Danny fled to his favorite fishing spot to hide. How strange it looked, all icy and frozen over. The forest and winding creek were beautiful in spring and summer when trees were leafed out and wild flowers bloomed along the steep clay banks.
He swept snow off a log and sat down, remembering happier days. I’ll bet Gramps and I have taken over a hundred pounds of big catfish and perch from this spot over the last four years, Danny reminisced. He threw a pebble and watched it skid across the ice and splash into open water where a swift current had kept ice from forming.
When fish weren’t biting, he and his grandfather often selected flat stones and skillfully skipped them across the surface of the water. Danny’s never skipped as many times as Gramps’ before sinking. His grandfather always said it was because he didn’t bend down low enough before throwing. “I don’t do lots of other things right, either,” Danny muttered unhappily.
He clasped his knees for added warmth and rested his chin on them. How desolate everything looked, even with a sparkling mantle of snow. The scene matched his mood. I’m letting everyone down by hiding here, he admitted. There was a lump in his throat as he wondered if he could ever be happy again.
He wasn’t sorry that he had rescued the Clark children when the family’s trailer burned, of course, but being a hero was about the worst thing that had ever happened to him or so he felt now. He had enjoyed all the fuss at first—too much—he remembered, flushing. He hadn’t been modest enough for the honor, so his unhappiness was mostly his own fault. He had boasted and made such a fool of himself that his friends started avoiding him. Even worse, now that the nightmares and guilt had struck, he knew he wasn’t a real hero at all!
Feeling as he did, there was no way he could attend the dinner being given in his honor or accept the medal his boss Mr. Edmonds was supposed to present to him. And the reward money! He felt that accepting it would be just like stealing.
Danny started at the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow, and looked up to see his grandfather walking toward him, gasping from exertion in the frigid air.
“Thought I’d find you here,” the gray-haired man drawled as he sat down beside his grandson. “We’ve looked everywhere else, and your parents are worried and churned up about you taking off like this. What’s ailing you, boy? This should be one of the happiest days of your life. Those folks at the trailer court have worked hard preparing a big dinner for you. They’ve invited lots of people, even the mayor and city council members will be there, to see you get that medal and the $1,000 check they’ve collected for you. Surely you aren’t planning on letting them down, are you?”
“I’m sorry about letting them down, but I’m not going, Gramps,” Danny whispered, looking out across the creek. “I don’t deserve the medal or the money. I’m not a hero. I just happened to be delivering a newspaper to the Clarks when I noticed a trailer on fire. Mrs. Clark came out of the trailer next door with some sugar she’d borrowed and started screaming that her babies were inside their burning trailer. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just ran in through the smoke and felt around in the cribs until I found the baby and little girl and crawled outside with them. If I hadn’t done it, someone else probably would have. I—I’m really ashamed of strutting around like some big war hero or movie star,” he added miserably.
“I’m glad you admitted that last part, Danny,” his grandfather said quietly. “You did have a swelled head for awhile, after the newspaper stories and after being on the evening news, but I knew you’d get over it. I guess it’s only natural when you’re suddenly plunged into the limelight to enjoy getting attention, but now you’re going too far the other way. Suppose someone else hadn’t done what you did in those few critical seconds—”
“You don’t understand what I mean, Gramps. Nobody does,” Danny interrupted. “That’s not all that’s bothering me. The treatments for smoke inhalation, being in the hospital with my eyes bandaged, and my burned arms and hands really scared me but I didn’t realize then that smoke is so deadly even without flames. But it isn’t that or the pain I had that’s bothering me. Now I keep having nightmares about being trapped and burning to death! Gramps,” Danny whispered desperately, “if I had it to do over, I’m not sure I’d go in after those little kids! I’m not a hero … I’m just the biggest coward in the world!” He buried his face in his arms, not wanting to see shame and disappointment in his grandfather’s eyes.
The elderly man put his hand on the boy’s arm. “I doubt that there’s ever been a hero who wasn’t scared witless later when he realized the full danger of his act. And there probably wouldn’t be any heroes at all if they stopped to think about the risks.”
Gramps was silent for a few moments, thinking back on his own life. Then he went on. “You’ve seen the medal I received for grabbing up a live hand grenade tossed by an arsonist when I was a city fireman. I threw it just before it exploded and was the only one injured. What I never did tell you is that once it was over, I shook and trembled so bad that I fainted. I’ve had my nightmares, too, son, and feelings of guilt. Did I do it to save myself or the seven other firemen who stood staring at it for those few deadly seconds? Well, I still don’t know the answer. Don’t reckon I ever will. But, regardless, eight of us lived, and I got a medal for heroic action. I’m mighty proud of it, and I hope you will be, too, when you show it to your grandchildren someday. But I hope you’ll leave out the part about me being so scared and fainting.” Gramps grinned and reached over and tousled Danny’s hair.
Danny felt the heavy load lift from his shoulders. Gramps did understand his mixed emotions. He had been through it too. Danny arose and smiled as he helped his grandfather to his feet. “I guess we’d better hurry so we don’t disappoint all those people who are waiting. I’ll accept the medal, but I’m going to give the money to Mrs. Clark and her children. They really need it to get settled in another home. And right now I’m promising that my friends will never again have to listen to my big hero story!”
Gramps chuckled and laid his arm across Danny’s shoulders as they walked back to his car. “As one reluctant hero to another, son, I’m proud of you!”

Almost three years ago, one of our daughters got married and immediately left with her husband for medical school in a distant city. She was leaving the security of the nest to begin a family of her own. I wondered: “Did I teach her everything she needs to know? Does she know what is most important in this life? Is she prepared to build a happy home?”
As I watched her drive away, I remembered a little journal I gave her on her 17th birthday. It was entitled “Did I Tell You … ?” In it I recorded counsel I had often given her in our late-night conversations. As she and her new husband headed for their life together, I thought of three additional entries I wanted to add to that little journal to help her make a transition more important and challenging than that of crossing the country—the transition to starting her own home and family. Let me share these entries to her and to all young people in the Church, to teach and testify of the importance of family.
First, did I tell you … how to make your home a haven of peace and a fortress of strength? You should follow the pattern you witnessed as you entered the Lord’s house, to “establish a house … of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, … a house of order” (D&C 109:8). As we follow this pattern, great peace will dwell within our homes in a world of increasing turmoil.
Look to the example of your grandparents’ homes. Both sets of grandparents brought up their “children in light and truth” (D&C 93:40). Dad’s home was a house of learning. He said at his father’s funeral that he had never learned a gospel principle at a Church meeting that he hadn’t already learned in his own home. The Church was a supplement to his home. My home was a house of order. It was of utmost importance (in spite of many hectic schedules) for us to be together for breakfast and dinner. Mealtime meant more than just refueling. It was a crucial time for nourishing spirits as well as bodies.
Small things make a happy home—things like praying, saying “I’m sorry,” expressing gratitude, reading a good book together. Remember how we laughed and cried as we built the backyard fence? Remember how every time we drove in the car we sang so we wouldn’t quarrel? Remember how we fasted for one member’s important decision and for another’s crucial test? The family proclamation reiterates this: “Successful … families are established … on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome … activities” (“The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” Ensign, Nov. 1995, 102; Liahona, Oct. 1998, 24).
In your youth, you formed habits of praying and reading scriptures. Capitalize on those habits as well as the skills you learned of cooking and budgeting. With your righteous desires and your homemaking abilities, you will build a home that is a haven of peace and a fortress of strength.
Next, did I tell you … that “children are an heritage of the Lord”? (Psalm 127:3). The family proclamation declares, “God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force” (Ensign, Nov. 1995, 102; Liahona, Oct. 1998, 24). We hope Heavenly Father will bless you with children. Many in the world miss the joy and see children only as an inconvenience. It is true that parenting is physically exhausting, emotionally draining, and mentally demanding. No one will give you good grades or blue ribbons for what you do as a mother. Sometimes you might wonder, “Did I do this right? Is it all worth it?”
It is worth it! All latter-day prophets have borne witness to the sacred role of motherhood. President Spencer W. Kimball said, “It is important for you Latter-day Saint women to understand that the Lord holds motherhood and mothers sacred and in the highest esteem” (“Privileges and Responsibilities of Sisters,” Ensign, Nov. 1978, 105). The Spirit testifies to my soul that this is true.
You will come to know, as I do, that parenting is not only challenging, but it provides life’s greatest joys. Joy comes when at family home evening a five-year-old tells a scripture story with complete and correct details or when a child reads the Book of Mormon faithfully every night. I feel joy when my cheerleader has the courage to tell her squad that the new cheer they are learning has inappropriate actions in it, and when a missionary daughter writes of her testimony of the gospel. Joy comes as I watch a daughter read to a blind woman and a son serve in the temple. In these moments, I feel as John the Beloved: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth” (3 John 1:4). Did I tell you … that to the very depths of my being, I love being a mother?
Finally, did I tell you … that love is the foundational virtue in building a strong home? Our Father in Heaven exemplifies the pattern we should follow. He loves us, teaches us, is patient with us, and entrusts us with our agency. President Hinckley said: “Love can make the difference—love generously given in childhood and reaching through the awkward years of youth … and encouragement that is quick to compliment and slow to criticize” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1993, 79–80; or Ensign, Nov. 1993, 60). Sometimes discipline, which means “to teach,” is confused with criticism. Children, as well as people of all ages, improve behavior from love and encouragement more than from faultfinding.
When a young man I know had a long hippie hairstyle during his teens, his parents chose to concentrate instead on his good work ethic and his kindness to needy people. Eventually he himself chose to cut his hair. He went on to get a good education, serve in the Church, and follow in his own family this pattern of loving children into doing what is right.
We demonstrate our love for family members not only in teaching them affirmatively but also in giving them of our time. Some time ago I read an article called “Putting Children Last,” which told about parents who talk about their children in “appointment book” terms: 15 minutes at night when possible, regularly scheduled play time once a week, and so on (see Mary Eberstadt, Wall Street Journal, 2 May 1995). Contrast that with the mother who vowed to give her children not just quality time but quantity time. She recognized that a loving relationship requires constant and ongoing talking, playing, laughing, and working moments. I too believe that parents and children need to participate in each other’s everyday, ordinary experiences. So I know about your upcoming test; you know about my lesson preparation. I attend your games; you join me in the kitchen for dinner preparation. We are major players in each other’s lives, absorbing love through daily experiences.
And love endures through the hardships of life. The Apostle Paul taught: “Charity suffereth long. … [It] beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth” (1 Corinthians 13:4, 7, 8). I watched a mother’s enduring love for her alcoholic son. She never gave up praying for him and being available for him. In his later years, he finally “came to himself” (Luke 15:17), kept a respectable job, and used his mechanical skills to fix up his mother’s house.
Many families struggle with wayward children. We can take comfort in “the eternal sealings of faithful parents” which will draw children “back to the fold” (Orson F. Whitney, in Conference Report, Apr. 1929, 110). We must never give up loving them, praying for them, and trusting in our Heavenly Father’s care.
So to my daughter, and to all young people in the Church, as you make the transition to this new phase in your life, I tell you these things. I testify that in the eternal scheme of things, the most crucial and fulfilling thing you will do is to build a holy home and rear a strong family in love. This family unit will bless society and endure through eternity. I so testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

On the way to priesthood meeting on Sunday mornings, Dad would make several stops. He would leave the car, disappear to the rear of the home, and then, in a minute or two, reappear. I inquired about why we were making the stops. “Oh, just a little missionary work” was his usual response. It wasn’t until I was a priest that I realized the missionary work being done was the quorum president knocking on bedroom windows reminding his sleepy quorum members of the need to attend their meetings. As the president of the Aaronic Priesthood, the bishop has the responsibility to see that all youth receive instruction concerning the doctrines of the kingdom as well as in the principles of honesty and charity. When the bishop encourages your attendance at meetings, he is not attempting to plan your life or adjust your schedules. He is attempting to show interest and concern because he knows the importance of partaking of the sacrament and the strength we gain by associating with each other.

The French have a phrase for it—au courant. It means to be aware of what’s happening, to know what’s going on. And 17-year-old Nathalie Perez had a plan to help the youth in the branch of Tours stay au courant.
“There aren’t that many LDS youth here,” Nathalie explains. “Sometimes we start to feel like we’re losing touch with each other.” So she decided to start a branch newspaper—just for the youth.
Soon the paper, published every other month, had its first edition, then the second, then the third. Now it’s in its second year of publication. The Journal des Jeunes (newspaper of the youth) is a hodgepodge of scriptures, inspirational thoughts, and news about the branch. There’s an ongoing series of biographies of presidents of the Church (Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, and John Taylor have already been featured), and there’s usually a note from one of the youth leaders.
But there are also recipes, jokes, tips on how to sew on a button or make perfect mayonnaise, crossword puzzles, descriptions of world geography, poems, and cultural notes about famous painters and musicians. Ingrid Garnier, 17, writes feature articles, riddles, and public opinion surveys. Pascal Brossard, 16, prepares a regular column on bird-watching. And Wilfried Garnier, 14, is the staff cartoonist.
The newsletter may not seem like much at first glance. It’s just a few sheets of photocopied paper with typed messages and hand-drawn illustrations. But to those in the know, it represents a heartbeat for the young people, a way of keeping in touch with the less active, a unifying force that the youth initiated themselves.
“The important thing is that the Journal gives us all a sense of belonging,” Nathalie explains. “Everyone has something they can contribute.”

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! A busy yellow bee landed on a flower by Andrea. She jumped up and hurried away. Andrea didn’t like bees. She moved to a different part of the garden to pull weeds by a leafy tomato plant.
The sun was warm on Andrea’s back. She could hear Mom close by in the rows of corn. Suddenly Andrea heard more buzzing. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! She ran to find Mom.
“There are too many bees, Mommy!” she said. “I want to work in the garden without the bees.”
“We need the bees to make our garden grow,” Mom said. “Jesus created bees to pollinate the plants so we can have our favorite foods.”
“Without the bees we wouldn’t have our garden?” Andrea asked. She thought about all of her favorite plants. She liked pretty flowers. She liked to eat strawberries and tomatoes. She would be sad to live in a world without them.
“I’m glad Jesus made the plants,” Andrea said. “And I’m glad He made the bees too!”

“Josh, what’s the matter? You’ve been muttering to yourself ever since you sat down for breakfast. It’s the first day of summer vacation. You should be jumping for joy.”
I sighed. “Money, Mom. I need a job to earn money.”
She laughed. “How much? Fifty cents?”
“No. Lots. Fifty dollars would be nice.”
“That’s a lot. I can’t give you that much.”
“That’s OK—I want to earn it. It’s really important.”
“But why, honey? What for?”
“Mrs. Emery said that if the class can earn enough money, we can help Jenny Wong. She has to go to Boston for eye tests and a special pair of glasses. They cost a lot, and Jenny really needs them.”
“That’s a super idea, Josh. But what do you think you might do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to think of something all week. The whole project’s a secret. We want to surprise Jenny and her mother. Mrs. Wong’s been saving money for a year, Mrs. Emery told us, but still needs a lot more.”
“Is Jenny the girl you read aloud to sometimes?”
“Yes. We take turns. Her mother told the school nurse about these special glasses, and the nurse told Mrs. Emery. The class voted to make it our summer project.”
I went out and sat on the front steps to think. Across the street, Mr. Zelinsky was cutting his lawn. Back and forth he went, changing his lawn from a sea of dandelions to a smooth green carpet.
“These pesky weeds look like gold pieces from there, don’t they, Josh?” he called across to me. “My wife loves them. I hate them, but I’m teaching this bunch a lesson. The only trouble is that they’ll be right back up.”
Gold pieces, I thought idly. Up and down the street every lawn but ours shown brightly with “gold pieces.” My dad digs them out with a forked tool. “It’s the only way to beat a dandelion,” he tells my mother. “It’s tough on my back—but worth it.”
POW! The idea hit me. I scrambled to my feet and raced to my room, fished a big piece of cardboard from under my bed, grabbed a black marker, and began lettering like mad. In minutes it was done:
LION HUNTER WANTS WORK!
No lawn too big or too small
2¢ per lion dug
Call DIGGER JOSH, 555-3996
Now for a test. I carried my poster across the street and showed it to Mr. Zelinsky. “Will people hire me?” I asked. “I can do a good job.”
“Will they!” he snorted. “And I’m first. Josh, you’re hired right now. I want every pesky dandelion in this front lawn dug. Just tell me how many when you’re done.”
That was my start. Later that afternoon I finished—score: 187 dandelions, $3.74, an aching back, and joy in my heart! Zillions of dandelions to dig! All summer to work! I’d get all the other kids to go into business in their neighborhoods.
After a bit of R&R—rest and refreshments—I started out with my sign. By suppertime I’d helped seven classmates make their own signs and begin getting people lined up. Tomorrow I’ll tackle the biggest lawn on our street. It’s good for at least six dollars—if my back holds out.
Bed sure felt good when I tumbled in tonight. I know I’ll dream about dandelions, dollars, and eye glasses. Jenny’ll get her glasses for sure. How can a classful of lion hunters miss?

These events seemed quite unimportant to us then. Even today few attach any significance to them. I, like others, just acknowledged them as part of my adviser’s experience and merely shared them with my family. I realized how important they are, however, when my wife and I later attended the American Fork High School graduation ceremonies. They were held in the community tabernacle, and an estimated 1,200 people attended.
During the program Scott Squires, an articulate senior class president, began to address the audience. He described the graduating class as a group who dreamed important dreams and cared about important things. As an example of their character he described the events of the tournament game in which Scott participated, telling that members of the graduating class were those who cared unselfishly. He was not from our ward and was a witness because his ward’s team was to play a later game. He obviously was impressed because he retold the story weeks after it happened. Unwittingly he made Scott’s gift available to more people because of his telling. Now, many others were to be uplifted.
I tried to gauge the reaction of the audience to this story, but found I could not get a clear indication of what they thought. Afterwards, though, standing on the lawn talking with friends, more than once I heard comments about “that nice story.” Scott’s gifts to us were carried beyond our quorum and ward to our community. As I rode home that night, I reviewed all that has happened this last year and knew how great his gifts have been.

James Edward Talmage was 13 years old when his family emigrated from their native England and settled in Provo, Utah.
Intelligent and thirsty for knowledge, James was a part-time member of the faculty of the Brigham Young Academy in Provo, Utah, by the time he was 17. He went on to study chemistry and geology at Lehigh University in Pennsylvania and at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. Membership in many prominent scientific societies gave James Talmage access to important people and publications and helped him combat much of the prejudice faced by Latter-day Saints at the time.
In 1888 he married Mary May Booth. They became the parents of eight children. From 1894 to 1897 he was president of the University of Deseret in Salt Lake City (now the University of Utah). During that time he bought one of the popular new chain-driven bicycles and rode it often. One evening he arrived home an hour late for dinner, bruised, bloodied, and dirty. Near his home was a single-plank bridge across a ditch. Normally, he dismounted and crossed on foot. But this time he felt he could ride across. He kept at it, crash after crash, until he mastered the maneuver.
Elder Talmage was an effective lecturer, and some of his talks and lessons became the basis of some of the books for which he is well-known, including The Articles of Faith. Prior to his call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1911, the First Presidency had asked him to write a book on the life and ministry of the Savior. Later, a room was set aside in the Salt Lake Temple where Elder Talmage could concentrate on his writing. His 700-page book, Jesus the Christ, was published in 1915 and has been reprinted several times since then.

One day after school I was playing with my friends near a pond by our house. The boys started putting garbage in the pond. I knew that it was against the rules to play in the pond. I also knew that putting anything in the pond was against the rules. It is not good for the fish, and garbage doesn’t make the pond look nice. I reminded my friends of the rule. They didn’t care and kept putting garbage in the water. I knew it wasn’t right so I went home. Even though I wanted to play with my friends, I wanted to choose the right more. When I got home my mom said she was proud of me for following the rules and choosing the right.

They arrived a few minutes late. Scott’s suit was soaked. Sister Snowden saw them come in and hurried over to Scott. She wouldn’t let him stay in wet clothes. She talked to the custodian, who found an extra pair of coveralls for Scott to wear while his suit dried. Scott sat in the back of the chapel and listened to the conference.

President Snowden interviewed Scott while he was still in the borrowed coveralls.

“How’s my goal setter?”

“President, I’ve changed some of my goals. I’ve replaced some of them for one goal—to try to become more like the Savior.”

“That’s a lifelong goal,” President Snowden said.

Scott agreed. “President, I’ve found out that it’s true what you said. It’s not where we serve; it’s how we serve.”

A few minutes later, President Snowden asked, “How would you feel about serving as a zone leader for the remainder of your mission?”

“I don’t need it anymore. I’m content where I am, in our little branch.”

“It is the will of the Lord that you labor as a zone leader.”

“I’ll serve wherever he wants me.”

On 29 November 2018, my dear wife, Ruth, went into labor with our fourth child. Although this was an exciting and joyous moment for us as a family, there was some major concern. The pregnancy was at 32 weeks and the expected delivery was to be late January 2019. This was approximately eight weeks early. The thought—and the now-evident reality—of getting our baby preterm was disturbing.
Before we rushed to the Aga Khan University Hospital in Nairobi that night, I said a silent prayer and beseeched the Lord so that both the mother and baby would be protected. As we arrived at the hospital, the doctors warned me of the possible dangerous outcomes of preterm delivery. They mentioned that the baby’s development could be affected due to incomplete time in the womb. In the worst-case scenario, loss of life happens, and mom and baby could be lost. Although this terrified me, I knew that God was in the details. I knew that the Lord would do His will upon my wife and baby. This assurance gave me a lot of peace. I had prayed many times for other pressing matters in the past, and I had seen the hand of the Lord. He had answered all my prayers from the days of my youth. I knew He would not forsake us even in this case however difficult it seemed.
Around this time of trial, my ward, Zimmerman, was split and I received a call to become the bishop of one of the two newly created wards. This was a very challenging moment for me, but I knew that God would provide a way to accomplish this immense task. I could juggle between my new calling, taking care of the three children at home—all of whom were still young—making regular visits to the hospital, and give honest labor to my employer.
From my past interactions with other bishops, it was evident that the calling of being a bishop was considered one of the most challenging callings in the church—feared and loved in equal measure. However, I confidently knew that whom the Lord calls He qualifies and that He would provide a way for me to be a successful bishop as well as fulfill all other responsibilities placed on my shoulders. As Nephi states: “And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He hath commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
Things went on well and our baby, David, was born weighing 1.5 kg (approximately 3.3 pounds). The doctors said he looked good for his age and that he was not in any extreme danger. He was placed in the neonatal intensive care unit and he responded very well to the care given by the doctors and nurses. Like many other times in the past, I saw the hand of the Lord and His choicest blessing in my wife’s and son’s lives. This experience helped me appreciate our great medical technology and the selfless acts of the hospital personnel. David is healthy and thriving now and has been a great addition to our family. He is a source of joy to us all. His siblings Payson, Precious, and Natasha love him dearly. He is a constant reminder of the greatness of God.

I finished law school around the time of my daughter’s first birthday. My wife and I looked forward to celebrating my graduation, our daughter’s birthday, and the new opportunities that would come to us, but nothing went as planned.
I found myself unemployed shortly after completing my degree and had difficulty finding work. Soon, financial difficulties came. Just having a simple birthday celebration would be difficult.
After many conversations with my wife, we accepted our situation. It was not easy for me as a father not to have the ability to buy even a simple present for my daughter and to see my beloved wife feeling frustrated.
I didn’t understand what was happening. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me understand what He expected of me. Suddenly, as if a voice spoke to my mind, I heard the following words: “You possess something more valuable than any material possession on this earth. You hold the priesthood. What better gift could you give your daughter than a priesthood blessing?”
Tears filled my eyes as I thought about what the priesthood means to me. My heart filled with gratitude when I considered that the priesthood is the power that can unite my family for all eternity.
I shared my feelings with my wife. I told her that offering a blessing to our daughter was all I could give. We both decided that this would bring happiness and peace to her, and that would be enough.
On the day of our daughter’s birthday, friends, relatives, and neighbors brought a cake and simple decorations. We were grateful to celebrate this special day with those we love. That night, I placed my hands on my daughter’s head and gave her a blessing. I blessed her with all that the Spirit of the Lord prompted me to say.
We are still going through a period of changes and challenges regarding unemployment and finances. But even in the midst of sadness and frustration, peace and comfort comes to us through our Savior, Jesus Christ. I have no doubt that being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints with access to priesthood power is a blessing. It was all I could give on my daughter’s birthday, and it was more than enough.

Most of you, if not all, will be familiar with Frank Capra’s film It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). Someone years ago neglected to renew the copyright on this movie, which, in my opinion, was a very fortunate oversight, because without copyright, the movie is much more widely available and viewed than would otherwise be the case.

The Jimmy Stewart character, George Bailey, is a common man whose life and deeds, it is revealed, have been a significant force for good in his hometown of Bedford Falls. Toward the end of the story, George’s future is put in jeopardy by the disappearance of $8,000 in funds belonging to his building and loan company. Although George is unaware, we know that the funds accidentally fell into the hands of the villainous Mr. Potter, played by Lionel Barrymore. Mr. Potter unjustly keeps the funds, and his crime never comes to light. George, however, is rescued financially by gifts of money from the multitude of people he has helped in many different ways throughout his life—a wonderful life.

I find this movie endearing for several reasons, and one of them is the fact that George Bailey’s success and happiness do not depend on retribution for Henry Potter. In contrast to the dominant theme of vengeance in much of today’s movie fare, Mr. Potter is never made to account for the harm and distress he creates. The storyline leaves the ultimate accounting to God, and Mr. Potter is left for now a bit richer but still unhappy and friendless in his pinched and less than wonderful life. George Bailey and his wonderful wife and family can still be happy, enjoying their life of love and service.

With the dedication of the Frankfurt Germany Temple in 1987, they became its president and matron. Sister Busche had never been a temple worker, so President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) advised her at a training seminar, “The most important thing is to have love and love and love.” She took his counsel to heart. She asked temple workers to make it their top priority to help patrons feel God’s Spirit.

Some time ago, I presided over a regional conference in La Paz, Bolivia, high in the Andes Mountains. Members came to the conference from small towns and villages scattered throughout the area of La Paz and the Altiplano.
Before the leadership training session, I stood in front of the stake center and greeted the brethren as they gathered. One older brother told me through an interpreter that he lived a long way from La Paz. I noticed that his shirt was a different color from about the middle of his chest down. The upper portion of his shirt was white, while the lower portion was a brownish-red color.
I learned that he and three other Melchizedek Priesthood holders had taken more than eight hours to travel to these meetings. They had walked most of the way and had to ford two rivers, where the brownish-red water came up to their chests. When they came to the main road to La Paz, they stopped a truck to ask for a ride. The four men stood in the back of the truck for the last two hours to the stake center.
I could hardly believe that anyone would have such commitment, faith, and courage. When I expressed my deep concern for this dear brother, he said, “Brother Ballard, you are an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ. I would walk as long as required, ford as many streams as required, to come and hear from you what the Lord wants me to do as a priesthood leader in the Church.”
This response brought tears to my eyes. We embraced one another in the special brotherhood of the priesthood of God. I also learned that he and his companions had not had anything to eat. Nor did they have a place to stay that night. Through the goodness of the Saints of La Paz, they were taken care of during the conference weekend.

After completing one of these rounds in a more than usually successful way, I remember heading home in a very happy and grateful mood for the success the Lord has blessed us with. The sea was rough; but we weren’t concerned for we felt we were in the hands of the Lord. As we got close to our home island, the rough weather became more severe, the wind became stronger and the waves higher. Suddenly we found ourselves in the midst of a regular tropical squall which, though of short duration, was very dangerous. I felt, “Well, we will get through this all right. After all we have done and the success the Lord has blessed us with, we shouldn’t worry about this.”

But the storm increased in intensity, and suddenly with the emergence of two huge waves, the captain shouted those fateful words to the six of us aboard, “Abandon ship!” One can hear a lot of phrases in this life, but there are few as fearsome as those spoken by a captain in the midst of giant waves and inconceivable turmoil of elements.

We did what we had to do and dove in as the gargantuan waves thundered down on our frail little craft, leaving it broken and listless and the six of us sprawled on the surface of the boiling sea struggling for our lives. Now, I know missionaries are not supposed to swim, but sometimes one doesn’t have a choice. We struggled against huge odds to make the nearest shore, which was a small island we had just passed. I remember thinking that this really shouldn’t be. We shouldn’t be going through this. But we were, and all my thinking or wondering didn’t do much good—only swimming and exerting all the energy and effort I had helped.

After swimming for about an hour, we finally made it to the shore, exhausted but alive and gratefully so. Just to feel firm ground under our feet was a great blessing. How much more I appreciated life and solid ground than I had before. Just to be in that boiling sea and realize how tenuous life is, how quickly this earth life could come to an end, made a great impression on me. Sometimes we literally have to travel over rough waters in order to appreciate some of the fundamental blessings we have—like life itself, for instance. We probably don’t begin to understand or appreciate life as we should until we sense the closeness death has to all of us. As we sense these things, we can more clearly comprehend that there is a reason for our being here.

The storm passed rather rapidly, but we were still stranded for several days before we got things together and were able to make our way home over much friendlier seas.

This whole experience gave me a new outlook and appreciation for life. As I look back now, there was much more than our own strength involved in that horrendous task of getting to shore, but it still took all we could do. In a similar manner, even though it will take all the effort we can put forth to fulfill our missions here, there will still be much more than our own efforts involved in accomplishing them.

Why me? Why now? I had just gotten back from competing in a major horse show held in California and was at the height of my hunter-jumper equestrian riding abilities. I was busy with school, piano lessons, and Beehives. I was doing everything I had been taught to do, and I thought that my life was about as perfect as life can ever get. Then it changed.
I was now in a hospital bed, too sick to even open my eyes. I had been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. My illness came just four years after my mom died from a similar cancer. I was on heavy chemotherapy to get rid of the cancer, and the doctors were saying that I would have to undergo chemotherapy for two and a half years to make sure that all the cancer was gone. I couldn’t understand why me and why now.
I soon learned that being diagnosed with cancer was not the only challenge I would face. One of the drugs used to treat leukemia is a steroid given at extremely high doses. It is very effective at killing the leukemia cells, but there is a small risk that it can result in avascular necrosis (a condition in which bones die near the joints), particularly in teenage girls. My doctors thought that, at 12 years old, I was too young for that to happen. However, within one month of starting chemotherapy, the steroids ended up destroying most of my major joints and parts of my spine. I was living in constant pain. Four months after I was diagnosed with leukemia, I had my first hip surgery to begin trying to repair the damage done by the steroids and to lessen the pain. The surgery did not go as well as I had hoped, and my orthopedic surgeon told me that I would probably never ride a horse again. All of a sudden, the future I had planned was gone.
I was a good student, and I really enjoyed school. Now I couldn’t go to school or even out in public because the chemotherapy had destroyed my immune system. Instead, I stayed home with my stepmother. At this point I thought things were pretty bad, but they got worse.
Six months after my hip surgery, I had to have another hip surgery because the first one hadn’t worked. I was in a wheelchair because it hurt too much to walk. I was absolutely sure that I wasn’t going to ride horses again, and now I was worried if I would even be able to walk again. Living life sick, in constant pain, and confined to a wheelchair didn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.
I was praying to my Heavenly Father, and I know many other people were praying for me also. Through all of my trials, I prayed that I would be healed, that my joints would recover, and that I wouldn’t have to go through the rest of chemotherapy. I felt that my prayers weren’t being answered because I still had to go to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City every week for more chemotherapy. I still hurt. And I was still stuck in a wheelchair. At one point, I started to think that my parents were crazy for believing in a God who wouldn’t even listen to a poor little sick girl.
Years before, I had gone through a similar trial of my faith when I prayed for my mom to get better. She was on oxygen all the time and was too weak to even walk around the house. I prayed and hoped and prayed some more that she would miraculously be healed. However, she wasn’t. After she died, I learned that we can pray for what we want all that we want to, but we need to pray for the right things—praying that the Lord’s will be done—to have our prayers answered.
Remembering this lesson, I changed my prayers from “Please heal me” to “Heavenly Father, I would really like to be done with these trials, but I will accept Thy will.” As soon as I changed my prayers, I found that I was able to handle the chemotherapy more easily, and I had a better attitude. That was just the beginning of the blessings and the answers to my prayers and questions.
My dad and grandfather gave me many priesthood blessings. Whenever I had to go in for surgery, I would ask for a blessing. The blessings helped me and my family feel calm about the procedure. One time I had a high fever, and we had to go to the hospital. I received a blessing from my dad and a neighbor before we left. By the time we pulled up at the emergency room door, my fever was gone, and I didn’t have to stay the night in the hospital. I know that priesthood power is a gift from a loving Heavenly Father.
One moment that will always stand out in my mind was the day I came home from the hospital after I was diagnosed with leukemia. The young women and Relief Society sisters had moved my stuff from the basement into a room on the main floor so I would be closer to my parents and wouldn’t have to use the stairs. They had cleaned and decorated the room to make a great place for me to live while I was sick. My family was the recipient of many other service projects. In the beginning, it was hard for me to accept service. When people would do service for me, it would make me feel like I couldn’t do anything for myself. However, I soon learned that it was OK to ask for help. When I started feeling better, I began looking for opportunities to serve other people more. Now I try to serve as much as I can. I get a good feeling when I serve other people. I have come to realize that by letting other people serve me, I allow them the same good feelings.
I have learned to think more about the future and my choices because I was so close to death. At school, I heard girls complaining about how they were having a “bad hair day.” As I was sitting there in my hot pink wheelchair with a wig on my head, I would think, “Well at least you have hair!” Girls would also complain about their feet hurting from walking around in high heels. I would think to myself, “At least you can walk.” Now I try to focus more on the big picture instead of the small things I used to worry about.
Over the past few years I have learned many other things through the blessings of having leukemia and the complications from chemotherapy. I have become closer to my Heavenly Father. My testimony has grown. And I have learned what is truly important. I have learned to appreciate all of the small things that people do for me. I am now in remission, in less pain, and gradually getting back some of the use of my joints. As I continue to heal, the blessings and learning experiences keep coming.
So why me? Why now? I don’t ask those questions anymore because I grew spiritually during my trials. I have discovered who I really am because the Lord loved me enough to let me experience adversity and the blessings that can come with it.
Note: Elizabeth is in remission and recently passed her third anniversary of being off chemotherapy. Her joints are healing, and she is no longer in a wheelchair. While there is still a risk for a relapse, Elizabeth doesn’t think about it. Instead, as a freshman in college, she is focused on studying for tests and practicing the oboe and English horn.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Betsy shouted, bounding down the stairs two at a time with hair flying and eyes shining.
“How’s my favorite seven-year-old?” boomed Daddy in his jolly voice. “What has you all in a tizzy?”
“Guess what!” said Betsy. “Mrs. Billings, my teacher, put up a great big paper tree trunk on the wall. Every time somebody does something good and receives a compliment, he gets to put a branch with his name on it on the tree.”
“Sounds interesting,” said Daddy. “Did you get a compliment today?”
“No, but Toby did. He washed all the colored chalk off the desks. I sure hope I get a compliment tomorrow.”
At school the next day Patricia got a compliment for erasing all the chalkboards, and Matt got a compliment for doing his best writing. Betsy did not get a compliment.
The following day started out no better. When Betsy leaned back in her chair to stretch, she lost her balance and fell over with a loud crash.
At lunchtime she accidentally knocked over Ronnie’s milk, spilling it into his lap.
“I’ll never get a compliment this way,” she muttered.
At the end of the day Mrs. Billings passed out some math tests the children had done the day before.
“Boys and girls, only one person got a hundred percent on the math test. Congratulations, Betsy! Come up and get a branch to put on the Compliment Tree.”
“Oh, boy!” Betsy squealed.
After school she ran home as fast as she could, her math test clutched tightly in one fist. “Guess what, Mom! Guess what!” Betsy breathlessly poured out her good news.
“That’s great, honey!” said Mom, giving Betsy a hug. “I’m proud of you!”
Later that evening, as Betsy gazed happily at her math test with the gold star on it, her eyes stopped at the answer to one of the problems. “Oh, no!” she gasped. “Look, Daddy! I made a mistake! See?”
“Well, it looks like you have a decision to make, Betsy,” said Daddy.
“But I don’t want to lose my compliment!” Betsy wailed.
“You’re old enough to know what’s right, Betsy,” Daddy said. He put his arm around her and added, “If I know my girl, she’ll make the right choice.”
The next day Betsy walked to school very slowly. “I wish it were Saturday,” she sighed. When she got to school, she looked for a very long time at the Compliment Tree and the branch with her name on it. Sadly, she took the branch down and walked up to the teacher’s desk.
“Mrs. Billings,” she whispered.
“What is it, Betsy?” asked Mrs. Billings.
“Well … I mean … well …” Betsy gulped, took a deep breath, and blurted out the whole story. “Here,” she said, and she placed the branch on Mrs. Billings’s desk.
“Thank you, Betsy,” Mrs. Billings said.
At the end of the day, Mrs. Billings rose from her desk. “I have an announcement to make,” she began.
The children sat up straight in their chairs and waited expectantly—all except Betsy, who was too sad to want to hear who received a branch for the Compliment Tree that day.
But suddenly she realized that Mrs. Billings was talking about her!
“… and Betsy has earned two compliments today: one for finding a mistake that I missed on her math test, and one for having the courage to point it out to me. Betsy, come up and choose two branches. You may place them anywhere you wish on the tree.”
As Betsy went up to choose her two branches, she thought happily, Yesterday morning I had no compliments, and now I have two!