Gospel Story Finder

Many of the most important lessons Robert learned as a child came from the example of his parents and from his experiences in the Queens Ward. As deacons quorum president, Robert learned to respect his priesthood leaders after an experience with the bishop. At that time, the ward met in the Citizen’s League Hall. The sacrament table was on the main floor in front of the stage. The deacons used to take the sacrament trays, climb up onto the stage, put the trays away, and then run and jump off the stage, grab another tray, and repeat the process until all the trays were put away. “I came sailing off of that stage,” says Elder Hales, “and our new bishop was standing there. He caught me in flight. I said, ‘Well, everyone else is doing it,’ and he said, ‘Yes, but you are the president of the deacons quorum.’ The bishop said he wanted the sacrament taken care of properly, with reverence. That was when I began to learn an important lesson. I’ve appreciated priesthood leaders who have taken the time to teach me.”

I met my wife, Lani, when I was 16. I am now going to tell two stories about how we got to know each other. The first story has nothing to do with the topic of my talk. However, it makes the next story more poignant.
As a teenager, I felt socially awkward. I did not have many friends, and I never thought a girl would ever want to marry me. When I moved to a new high school, I did not know anyone. I met a few people participating in the school play. Lani was one of them. She was friendly and easy to talk to. I started to notice her in a few other classes. I was grateful to have a friend, boy or girl. A few weeks later we happened to be sitting near each other during lunch. In an awkward attempt to make conversation, I asked her if she had been invited to the Christmas dance. She responded “No.” In all my innocence, I replied, “Neither am I” and then left for my next class. Some of you may see the humor in that event. A few of you, mostly young men, may not see the humor. To you, I suggest you talk to your mother or sisters, and do it quickly.
That will give you some idea of what a wonderfully romantic catch I was. Lani and I dated for the next four years. It was a rocky relationship. (I cannot image why?) When I finally left on my mission, we were both glad for a break from each other. I suggested that Lani should date while I was gone. She did. Here is the point I want to emphasize: She did not pine away the next two years, waiting to see what direction her life would take. She propelled her “ship” forward, full speed ahead. She attended school year-round. When her sisters wanted to take an extended summer trip, she remained in school even though her mother suggested it would be “a once-in-a-lifetime” experience to see the Eastern United States and was willing to pay her expenses. Lani completed her course work and had a paid teaching internship by the time I returned from my mission. Three months later, we were married.
Lani and I have reflected on our life together and how we were able to achieve what we have. One of the key factors to our success was that she had a good-paying job with health insurance at the time we married. That impacted when we could have children and how we made it through the next four years of my college career. That happened because she kept moving forward even though the end result was unclear.

As a boy in Ogden, Utah, I loved to go to the movies with my brothers on Saturdays. We were each given a dime, and we walked to the nearby theater for a double-feature movie. One of our favorite stars was a cowboy actor named Tom Mix. After the movies, we walked home.
One Saturday, my brother Phil lagged behind, and I arrived home first. “Where’s your younger brother?” my mother asked. A little later, we found out that Phil had been hit by a car while he was crossing a street on the way home. He was hurt very seriously. His skull was fractured, and when we first saw him, his eyes were swollen to several times their normal size.
Our stake president came to the hospital, and he and my father gave Phil a blessing. Then we all prayed. As we did, a calm feeling came over my dad, and he knew that Phil would live. When the doctor arrived, he immediately told the nurses to lower my brother’s head. That decision went against how such injuries are treated, but it saved his life. Years later, we learned that his brain sac had ruptured—had his head not been lowered, he would have died. Although he was in a coma for months, one day he squeezed my dad’s hand and we knew that Phil could hear us. His recovery was very long and slow, but he had no lasting mental or physical problems from that terrible accident. I know that this happened because of the power of the priesthood.

When I was at Ricks College, I worked part-time and lived at home so that I could save money to go on a study abroad at the Jerusalem Center in Israel. I worked for years to save up enough money to go on this trip, depriving myself of a lot of things and opportunities that I would otherwise have enjoyed. Finally, the time came...I was accepted to the program and ready to go. Unfortunately, the first Gulf War began on the day we were to have left, in January 1991. I was devastated. I had looked forward to this for years, and now it felt like all of my hard work was for nothing. But things took an interesting turn. Although going to Israel was my main goal, I also had dreams of traveling through Europe and seeing many of the famous cultural sights of the world. As weeks passed by, they said that I could attend Fall semester in Israel, which was less expensive and left me with enough money to also go to Europe on a tour with the Humanities department at Ricks College. Like Tommy by the gumball machine, it had seemed like I was being deprived of something I really wanted, when later I got that plus so much more.

After we got baptized, I was eager to have my mother’s temple work done but not my father’s work. The missionaries, however, encouraged me.

"It’s part of doing your part," they said. "Your father is also waiting for you to have his work done."

I told them I didn’t care. I was still upset with him.

"We have found the gospel," my aunt told me. "You need to forgive him and do his work."

Reluctantly, I accepted their counsel. A year after I was baptized, I took my parents’ names to the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It was a powerful, emotional experience. I was baptized for my mother and for several other people. Then our branch president prepared to be baptized for my father. I did not want to watch, so I began to leave.

After the branch president entered the font, I heard my father’s name during the ordinance. Immediately afterward, I felt the presence of my father. That experience left me feeling ashamed for not wanting to have his work done.

"Forgive me, Heavenly Father," I prayed as I began to weep. "I have been selfish."

When I returned to Nicaragua, I went to the cemetery where my father was buried. For the first time, I visited his grave and placed flowers on it. I asked him to forgive me, and I told him that I loved him. Then I wept again.

My father, like my mother, had been waiting for me to take his name to the temple, where Heavenly Father allowed me to have a wonderful experience. That experience cleansed my heart. In that moment, all of the pain and anger I had felt toward him went away.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

Years ago President Monson attended a stake conference in Star Valley, Wyoming, USA, with the assignment to reorganize the stake presidency. But he did more than fulfill that duty. He touched the lives of all who attended with a simple gesture of love as he released the stake president, E. Francis Winters, who had served for 23 years.
The day of the stake conference, the members filled the building. It seemed as if each one was saying “a silent thank-you to this noble leader,” who obviously had done his duty with whole-souled devotion. As President Monson stood to speak, he stated how long President Winters had presided in the stake and had been “a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley.” Then he was prompted to do something he has not done before or since. He asked everyone who had been touched by President Winters’s life to stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his or her feet.
President Monson told the congregation, many of whose eyes were filled with tears, “This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.”10

As the sun set on another Sunday in 1948, I found myself walking down the side of the Trent River in Nottingham, England. As a 20-year-old missionary, I had recently been called as district president. It had been a long, exhausting day filled with meetings and ministering, but I was happy and satisfied in the work.
As I walked along the river, I said a prayer in my heart. Hoping to feel some guidance from the Lord, I asked, “Am I doing what You want?”
An overwhelming feeling of peace and understanding came over me. At that precise moment, I came to know that Jesus Christ knew me and loved me. I didn’t see a vision or hear a voice, but I could not have known of Christ’s reality and divinity any more powerfully had He stood before me and called out my name.
This sweet and tender experience has shaped my life. From that day to today, every significant decision I have made has been influenced by my knowledge of the Savior. Over the years and throughout most of the world, I have testified that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Light of the World. It is a privilege for us to come unto Him, to follow Him, and to feel His light in our lives.

An interesting story of one such trip concerns the voyage of the ship International, which left Liverpool, England, on 25 February 1853. She carried on board a Latter-day Saint immigrant company of 425, including a number of unbaptized friends and relatives and a crew of 26.
The ship ran into violent storms, delaying the crossing and making it necessary to ration food. In four weeks, only one-third of the distance to New Orleans, Louisiana, had been covered.
Thanks to the faith and prayers of the valiant Saints, a miracle occurred: favorable winds made it possible to make up time lost. The International docked in New Orleans after a 54-day voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.
Christopher Arthur presided over the company of Latter-day Saints aboard the International. In his official report to the British Mission president, President Arthur wrote: “I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons. … We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The number baptized in all is 48, since we left our native shores” (quoted in William G. Hartley, “Voyage on the Ship International,” New Era, September 1973, 9).

To illustrate my point, I would like to go back in thought to my native Holland where six generations of my father’s ancestors lived in the little village of Scheveningen at the seashore. They were fishermen or had other related vocations, like fishing-boat builders, sailmakers, or fishing-net repairmen. Many of them were also involved in the voluntary but hazardous task of lifesaving. They were stouthearted, experienced men who always were ready to man the rowing lifeboats to go on a rescue mission. With every westerly gale that blew, some fishing boats ran into difficulties, and many times the sailors had to cling to the rigging of their stricken ships in a desperate fight to escape inevitable drowning. Year after year the sea claimed its victims.

On one occasion during a severe storm, a ship was in distress, and a rowboat went out to rescue the crew of the fishing boat. The waves were enormous, and each of the men at the oars had to give all his strength and energy to reach the unfortunate sailors in the grim darkness of the night and the heavy rainstorm.

The trip to the wrecked ship was successful, but the rowboat was too small to take the whole crew in one rescue operation. One man had to stay behind on board because there simply was no room for him; the risk that the rescue boat would capsize was too great. When the rescuers made it back to the beach, hundreds of people were waiting for them with torches to guide them in the dreary night. But the same crew could not make the second trip because they were exhausted from their fight with the stormwinds, the waves, and the sweeping rains.

So the local captain of the coast guard asked for volunteers to make a second trip. Among those who stepped forward without hesitation was a nineteen-year-old youth by the name of Hans. With his mother he had come to the beach in his oilskin clothes to watch the rescue operation.

When Hans stepped forward his mother panicked and said, “Hans, please don’t go. Your father died at sea when you were four years old and your older brother Pete has been reported missing at sea for more than three months now. You are the only son left to me!”

But Hans said, “Mom, I feel I have to do it. It is my duty.” And the mother wept and restlessly started pacing the beach when Hans boarded the rowing boat, took the oars, and disappeared into the night.

After a struggle with the high-going seas that lasted for more than an hour (and to Hans’s mother it seemed an eternity), the rowboat came into sight again. When the rescuers had approached the beach close enough so that the captain of the coast guard could reach them by shouting, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called vigorously against the storm, “Did you save him?”

And then the people lighting the sea with their torches saw Hans rise from his rowing bench, and he shouted with all his might, “Yes! And tell Mother it is my brother Pete!”

You’re going to say I should have arranged housing in advance. But if I had, where would I be now?
After filling out a mountain of forms at registration, I drove around Provo looking for a place to stay. Finally I picked out one of the new apartment units near the campus. The office girl told me they had a vacancy in number 33.
The apartment complex is in the shape of a big C, with a swimming pool and frisby field in the middle. I walked across the lawn to number 33 and knocked on the screen door. Nobody came, although I could hear voices inside. I knocked again.
...
We finished the dishes and sat down around the kitchen table. I took out a sheet of notebook paper and wrote at the top "Operation Engagement."
"We’ll make a list of the things a fellow looks for in an LDS girl. First: testimony. Second: a nice face, a good figure. Third: common interests. Fourth: sense of humor. Fifth: a supporting attitude."
"Let’s go down the list," Cher said. "Testimony. I’ve got one, Tony. I really do."
"Okay," I said. putting down a check on the paper.
"Face." She held out her hand, rotating it to the right and then to the left in a gesture familiar to Easterners. "I don’t know. What do you think?"
"It’s very good. Like a Greek goddess. Do you have many cavities?"
"Our water had fluoride—53% fewer cavities."
I put a check beside "Face."
"Wait," she said, "except for the glasses."
"You have to see."
"I’ll get contact lenses."
"I like you the way you are."
"It’s not you we’re trying to impress," she said coolly. Then, quickly, "I’m sorry, that wasn’t kind."
"No problem."
"Figure?"
I cleared my throat. "Fine."
"You don’t think I’m too skinny?"
"No, ma’am."
"Aren’t you going to say anything more about the figure?"
"No, ma’am."
"Do I dress modestly enough?"
"You dress like a lady."
"Maybe I should dress less modestly to get B.J.’s attention."
"If he noticed you that way, I’d punch him out."
"Okay. Common interests." she said.
"I think B.J.’s biggest interest is himself. So you have a common interest."
"You don’t know him very well. Be constructive."
"Okay," I replied. "Boys from the West are crazy about deer hunting. Do you know anything about deer hunting?"
"What’s there to know?" she asked.
"Do you know how to clean a deer?"
"Do they get dirty?"
"I will ignore that. Probably your biggest common interest is the Church. Maybe that’s enough. Let’s see, sense of humor."
"I don’t think B. J. has a sense of humor."
"If you marry him, you’re going to need one. A supporting attitude. That means you help him on his campaigns. Or you try to do nice things for him, like cooking his favorite food to show him that he’s special to you. You’re doing fine, Cher."
"Tony, there’s one other thing. I have some of that Eastern cynicism. I’m not like your average coed. Maybe I seem too cynical. I need to be more sincere." She wrote down another word at the bottom of the list, sincerity.
The next afternoon when I came in after my lab, she was already working on supper.
"Tony, look what I picked up in the bookstore today. You’re not going to believe this. It’s perfume in a time-release capsule. You just open this little pill and scatter the tiny beads on your hair with this little can. The beads are programmed. The aroma starts out kind of mild, but in about three hours it’s really something. I’m going to put some on."
She applied the contents of one of the small capsules.
"Do you want to smell?"
"In the interests of science," I said.
"Let’s see. It’s 4:30 now. We’ll eat at 6:00. So if I can get around B. J. by 7:00, I’ll give him the full dose."
She started peeling potatoes. I sat at the table and thumbed through a book I was supposed to be reading. The perfume did change aroma as time went on.
"I pick up my contact lenses on Monday, Tony. And I’ve really worked at being sincere. Look at me."
She was standing with her head up, looking at the ceiling.
"What are you looking at the ceiling for?"
"I’m looking at the clouds as the sun breaks through."
"We’re in a room. There are no clouds," I said.
"I know. But you’ve seen those movies where they close with someone looking at the clouds. Now that’s a sincere look, right? Well, I’ve got it, right?"
I stood up, grabbed a dish towel, and draped it over her sincere face.
...
"That’s really great, B.J.," Cher said as she leaned down by him, ostensibly to look at his appointment book but really to allow him a whiff of "T + Three Hours and Counting" perfume.
It was at that moment I realized I loved Cher and didn’t want her to be around B.J.
Monday when I came in, Cher had her contact lenses.
"So how do you like me now?"
"You can really see me?"
"Sure."
"But why are you crying?" I asked.
"My eyes are just watering a little. It’ll clear up once I get used to the lenses."
"I can’t even see them on you. Let me get a little closer." I moved very close to her and looked into her eyes.
"How’s that?" she asked.
"Fine."
"I mean, can you see them now?"
"I’ll have to get closer."
"That’s close enough," she said, moving away.
"Are they hard to take out?"
"Not at all. You just put your finger here on the corner of your eye and blink." She put her other hand below her eye, but the lens missed her hand and fell to the floor.
"Just stay there, Cher. I’ll look for it." I got down on my hands and knees and started looking for it. I soon found the small, green, plastic lens. "Cher, can you see anything?"
"No. Why?"
"Nothing." I put the lens in my shirt pocket.
"Cher, maybe if you get down and help look for it."
She got down on her hands and knees also. "I think we should both concentrate our efforts over here where you were when you dropped it." I moved over by her.
We looked and looked. Finally we decided to take it one tile at a time.
"Tony? You have your hand on top of my hand," she said, looking down at our hands.
"Oh, I do. Do you want me to move it, Cher?"
"I don’t know. I can’t decide."
"Cher, you are really good looking."
"With contacts, I’ll look better. Maybe that’s been my trouble all along."
"No, I mean with glasses, and without the time-release perfume, and without the forced sincere look. You are beautiful. You don’t need any improvement."
"No, I’m not beautiful."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not," she insisted.
"Yes, you are."
"No, I’m not."
"Well, maybe not beautiful. But definitely pretty."
"So you don’t think I’m beautiful!"
"Yes, I do. But you wouldn’t accept it, so I figured I’d compromise. And Cher, you are sincere. In fact, you are just about the most sincere person I’ve ever met. Truly."
"Thank you. I try to be sincere. And Tony, you’re the only person I’ve ever been able to talk to without wondering what I’m supposed to say. With you I’m just myself."
"Cher, you have a nice hand."
"We shouldn’t be here alone like this."
"We’re not alone, Cher. Boris is on the couch, and Enrico is looking at the chalkboard."
"I know," she whispered, "but it’s like being alone."
"Cher, you are very special to me."
"I don’t want to hurt you, Tony."
"Who’s hurting? My knees are a little sore, that’s all."
"That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to fall in love with me."
"It’s too late. I already have. I want to marry you, and I’m asking you."
She started crying.
"If you want to wait before you give me an answer, that’s okay."
I got up to get her a box of tissues. When I returned, she was sitting on the chair in the kitchen. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and sat there.
"Tony, I really like you, but I’ve been thinking about B. J. for so long there’s no more room for anyone else in my heart. Can we be good friends?"
The next day I paid a visit to B.J.’s office in the Wilkinson Center. "B.J., I want to talk to you."
I told him about Cher and the way she felt about him. "The poor girl," he said. "I had no idea she felt so strongly about me."
"What are you going to do about it?" I asked him.
"I guess I’ll have to take my shirts to the cleaners and tell her to buzz off."
I slammed my hand down on his desk, breaking his plastic, desk name plate. "No, B.J., that’s not what you’re going to do. You’re going to take that girl out and try to fall in love with her. You are going to treat her like a queen, or some morning you’re going to wake up with your head shaved."
"Perhaps I should go out with her," he said quietly.
For the next several weeks, I stayed clear of Cher. I spent my late afternoons watching the Foucault pendulum swing, or listening to music, or taking long walks. Then I would go home around 8:00 and eat whatever was left. Cher was cooking for B. J. now. She made homemade wheat bread, beef stew, meatloaf—the things that B. J. liked.
It was especially bad when I knew they were going out, and I stayed away from campus for fear I’d see them together. Every couple seen from a distance looked like them. Every time I saw a girl with her head on some boy’s shoulder, I got cold chills. I wished I had never met her.
One weekend B. J. took Cher home with him to meet the family. That was the Saturday I ran. I got up early and put on sweat pants and sweat shirt and drove out to a country road. After parking the car I started running. Soon there was just the road, the pain in my side, and the crunch of my feet against the gravel. But the pain in my mind diminished as the pain in my side increased. So I kept on. Finally I collapsed on the side of the road. It was a long time before I could make myself get up and walk back to the car.
A couple of weeks later B. J. had to go to a conference of student leaders in New Mexico. That Tuesday night I entered the apartment at 8:00 expecting to see the usual empty kitchen with a plate of food in the refrigerator.
Cher was in the kitchen cooking. "I thought you were never coming," she said. "Sit down and get started."
She sat down across from me, and we said the blessing.
We got through the salad in silence. Removing the salad plate, she replaced it with a plate of lasagna and garlic bread.
"Why are you cooking with B. J. gone?"
"I get paid to cook here, remember?"
"But why did you wait for me? I’m two hours late."
"Your name Tony Versalino? Of Italian ancestry? You like Italian food?"
"Yes."
"That’s what it means."
"Cher?"
"Item five, a supporting attitude. ‘Like cooking his favorite food.’"
I put down my fork and held her hand. "What about B.J.?"
"He was a dream in my mind for all those years, but a dream with no reality. Besides, it finally occurred to me that it wasn’t necessary for all members of the Church to walk and talk and live like they came from Panguitch, Provo, or Parowan. I can’t fit the Utah-Mormon mold. I like the East, and I want to go back and help the Church grow there."
"You mean, the West is a nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there?" I caught the aroma of her perfume in the last stages of its time-release cycle. "Lady, what you need is a nice Mormon boy from Pennsylvania."
"I don’t want to push you, Tony."
"I’m your man."
"You know what Daddy is going to say?" Cher said. "‘Queens? He’s from Queens? I send you by plane across the country, you live in a desert for years, and you find a husband from Queens? For Queens, I could pay subway fare. Now you tell me you want to get married in a temple in Utah? We got plenty of temples in New York, and I know a rabbi …’"
For dessert we had a dish of Italian ice.

I would like to share with you one of those personal experiences that challenged my family’s faith and understanding in God’s plan for us while at the same time allowed us to experience in very intimate ways His involvement in the small details of our lives.

It was in the early-morning hours of January 6th, 2017. My wife and I had traveled to Utah the evening prior to attend and participate in her grandmother’s funeral service. We left our five children at home, as they had other commitments with work, school, and extracurricular activities. It had been an extremely cold couple of days here in Rexburg when we left, and we had received word that evening that school would be cancelled for our children due to the subzero temperatures. However, my youngest daughter, Blaire, still had an early-morning basketball practice that was scheduled. My wife and I had made a phone call that morning to our oldest daughter, Ashlyn, to make sure the kids were awake so that Blaire could be taken to practice.

Approximately thirty minutes later and just minutes before the funeral was to begin, I received a very frantic phone call from my second-oldest daughter, Shaylee, informing me that when they had returned home from dropping Blaire off for practice, they entered through the front door and knew something was horribly wrong, as smoke had filled the entire house. As they made their way into the kitchen area, flames could be seen shooting from the cabinetry. The children hurriedly but carefully exited the back of our home and were standing outside all alone, not knowing where to go or what to do. As I spoke with my daughter, my primary concern was for the safety of our children. I asked Shaylee several times if everyone was out of the house, to which she replied, “Yes, Dad.” I then instructed her to call 911, and she indicated to me that her older sister had already placed the call and had informed them of the situation. I then had a distinct impression to tell her to take everyone over to a specific neighbor’s home because someone would be there to help them out. I continued to stay on the phone until they reached our neighbor’s home and were safely in side.

I ended the call and returned to my wife’s side just in time to see the worried look on her face as we had both just received this text message from our daughter Macie. I told my wife that all of the children were out safely and were at our neighbor’s home and that the fire department was in route. As my wife and I sat down for the funeral service, our phones began to vibrate as text after text message and phone call after phone call came pouring in from family and friends that had become aware of our situation. Unable to respond to the calls and texts, my wife and I sat holding each other’s hands, unsure of how this situation would play out.

It was in that moment that we both experienced an overwhelming and indescribable feeling of love and peace. We knew that our Heavenly Father was mindful of us in this very unsure, stressful, and difficult time. At the conclusion of the funeral and graveside service, we informed my wife’s family of the situation at home and started to make the long drive back to Rexburg. During the drive home, we had the opportunity to speak with our oldest daughter, Ashlyn; our dear bishop; fire department personnel; and family as they tried to help us navigate this difficult situation from a distance. We knew that the fire department had arrived on scene approximately 15 minutes after the 911 call was placed and had begun to try and suppress and contain the fire.

In our minds’ eyes we had envisioned some isolated fire and smoke damage with such a quick response time. However, after arriving in Rexburg later that evening and gathering our children from various friends and neighbors’ homes, we proceeded to our home and realized very quickly that was not the case. Flames and smoke could still be seen shooting into the night-time sky more than 10 hours after the 911 call had been placed. Despite the hard work and valiant efforts of our local fire department and emergency services personnel, our home and everything in it was destroyed. We were overwhelmed, to say the least, and had just experienced a challenge that was very visible and could be seen by others several miles away. I know this is not the case for many of the trials and challenges that we will face in this life. In fact, others may not even be aware of our circumstance or how challenging or overwhelming our trials can be. But I testify that our loving Heavenly Father is aware of you and is ready to send His love, lift you up, and guide you through whatever test you have been given.

In the coming days, weeks, and months after the fire, our family would learn first-hand how aware Heavenly Father really was of us and our trial. During this time, many valuable lessons were learned as we began the journey of rebuilding our home and putting things back into their proper places. Despite losing our worldly possessions, we recognized that our children’s safety was what mattered most. I would like to share with you three lessons that we learned as a result of our experience, and hope that as you experience your own personal fires, you will remember and draw upon these lessons.

Lesson #1: The Lord is in the details of our lives.
Elder Ronald A. Rasband taught:
The Lord is in the small details of our lives, and those incidents and opportunities are to prepare us to lift our families and others as we build the kingdom of God on earth. [3]
As the events started to unfold on that cold January day and in the days following the fire, we noticed the Lord’s hand was at work in the small details of our circumstance. We noticed His hand in a prompting given to our oldest daughter to take all of the children with her that morning. Shortly after the children had returned home, the entire back of our home had collapsed to the main floor. We noticed His hand in the distinct impression to instruct our children to go to a specific neighbor’s home. We were unaware at the time that they were at the temple that morning. However, Shanda, one of their college-age daughters, did not go to class at her usual time, as she had received a phone call from a classmate letting her know that she did not need a ride that morning. We saw His hand in a call we received from a dear friend offering to allow our family to stay in a home that had just been vacated the day prior and would not be reoccupied for another three months. We saw His hand in an answer to a mother’s prayer for her eleven-year-old son to be able to still participate in his scouting activity that following week. Having just lost everything, we did not have the pocket knife that would be needed for that specific activity. However, a prompting given to a dear ward member was followed, and a knife was given to our son the day before he was to participate in his event. We saw His hand in the many acts of service and kindness shown to us by ward members, friends, family, community members, and even complete strangers. My dear young friends, I testify that the Lord is in the small details of your lives. He is mindful of each of you and will prompt others that have been prepared to help lift and lighten the loads that you are called upon to carry.

Lesson #2: Joy and peace can come in challenging and difficult times.
When trials come our way, we may hear words such as these: “Everything is going to be okay” or “It’s all going to work out in the end.” We, like many of you, heard similar statements. But in my mind, everything was not okay. We had lost everything. All of our family videos, pictures of the children when they were small, mission and personal journals—literally everything that had any meaning or sentimental value was gone. How was that okay? As I struggled with these thoughts, it became apparent that maybe my definition of okay and the Lord’s definition are quite different. It is important for us to remember that the Lord can see the end from the beginning. In His own words we read, “My name is Jehovah, and I know the end from the beginning; therefore my hand shall be over thee.” [4] Our limited view, understanding, and perspective can weigh us down and cause feelings of hopelessness and despair. It is in these moments that we must exercise faith in the Savior and His Atonement and trust that someday all wrongs will be made right.

Our family felt like we were riding an emotional roller coaster in the days and months that followed. I remember those first few nights like it was yesterday. With almost no sleep and having experienced almost every emotion imaginable, the thought of joy and peace being a part of our lives again seemed so unattainable. It wasn’t until we made a conscious decision to trust in our Heavenly Father and have faith that He could see things that we did not that peace and joy again became a part of lives.

President Russell M. Nelson taught, “When you know your life is being directed by God, regardless of the challenges and disappointments that may and will come, you will feel joy and peace.” [5] The morning following the fire, I felt impressed to take this picture as I made the drive to our home to assess the damage. This picture would be a great reminder for me and my family of the truth we find in the book of Psalms, chapter 30, verse 5, which reads, “For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” I testify that joy can and will come in the morning as we trust in God and lean not unto our own understanding. [6] No matter how dark the night has been or how lonely you may feel, as you act in faith and put your trust in God, the promised blessings of joy and peace will come into your life.

Lesson #3: Maybe it’s not about us.
As is often the case when we experience trials and challenges in our lives, we find ourselves asking questions such as, Why did this happen to me? What am I supposed to learn from this experience? I found myself asking those same questions. In fact, I wrestled with those questions for several months. I felt like I was doing something wrong, because I couldn’t get a specific or definitive answer. It wasn’t until I was visiting with a friend who had gone through a very similar experience that I gained an insight that I had not considered. As I explained my difficulty, he simply said, “Wade, what if this isn’t about you?” In that moment, it was as if a big cloud had been lifted; and for the first time since the fire, I felt as though I had received an answer to one of my questions. Now, please do not misunderstand what I am saying. We have definitely learned some very personal and valuable lessons through this experience, which has led to an increased faith in Heavenly Father’s plan for us. But one can literally beat themselves up asking these types of questions.

When your own fires prompt similar questions, do you ever consider that maybe your test, trial, challenge, or experience isn’t really about you? In a world and culture that constantly promote putting one’s self first, we have been conditioned to look inward first in an attempt to manage or navigate our difficult situations. We can be so intent on finding the answers to those questions that we may not see how our own trials can be an opportunity to benefit or bless the life of someone else. I cannot count the number of times I heard from others how much they had learned from our family’s experience. I believe that sometimes the tests or trials we experience are designed to allow others to act on the promptings they receive to bear one another’s burdens, mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort. [7]

Lydia watched Mommy get ready for work. Mommy put on pretty pink lipstick. She looked beautiful.
Lydia looked in the mirror. She felt sad. “I don’t have any lipstick,” Lydia said. “So I’m not beautiful.”
Mommy hugged her tight. “Wearing lipstick isn’t what makes people beautiful. Being strong and kind makes people beautiful.”
“Strong like having lots of muscles?” Lydia asked.
Mommy smiled. “No. This kind of strong means choosing the right.”
“How?” asked Lydia.
“Well, you are strong and kind when your hands help others,” Mommy said.
“You are strong and kind when your heart loves everyone.
“And you are strong and kind when you smile. That makes everyone happy too.
“Being strong and kind makes you beautiful inside, not just outside.”
Lydia wanted to be strong and kind!
She used her hands to carry the mail in for Grandpa. She gave her last cookie to her cousin.
She felt love in her heart when she played with a new neighbor. And she felt love when she gave coins to a girl collecting money for people who didn’t have homes.
She smiled at people she saw. They all smiled back.
That night Lydia told Mommy, “You are right! I feel strong and kind. I used my hands and my heart and my smile today.”
Mommy smiled. “You are strong and kind, just like Jesus wants you to be!”

When Renee* moved to a new school in Belgium, she was happy to make new friends. Then one friend did something to make things difficult. Renee explains:
“My friend Nora created a Facebook account using another friend’s name, Kate. She started harassing people using that profile, and everyone accused Kate of being the bully. Nora even made fun of me at school, picking on my religion and my personality. I tried to avoid these attacks but I couldn’t, so I started hanging out with other people.
“When Nora confessed about the fake profile, everyone was mad at her. Nora gave me a letter of apology, but I didn’t think I could forgive her. I was so angry.
“One day I was reading the scriptures, and I came across Doctrine and Covenants 64:9–10: ‘Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.’
“Instantly I thought about Nora. I knew it wasn’t right for me to feel so angry. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if He would help me forgive her. It wasn’t easy, but I still managed to do it. I started by sending her messages asking her about her day, and occasionally we talked at lunch. I learned that Nora’s father had died four years earlier. Her life was hard, and she thought everyone disliked her. I was glad I hadn’t stayed mad at her. Kate and some others didn’t understand how I could forgive Nora, but I knew that what I had done was right, and I knew that Heavenly Father was proud of me.”
Renee learned that God commands us to forgive all. By following that commandment, she gained compassion and understanding for Nora and was able to completely forgive.

Mrs. Bowman shook the box and placed it on her desk. “All right, boys and girls,” she said smiling. “We’ll start with Natalie. Remember, pull only one name out of the box, and be sure not to let anyone know whose name you have!” She laughed and nodded toward Natalie Johnson.
Roger sat with his chin in his hand, watching. As his classmates unfolded their slips of paper and read the names they had drawn, they giggled, covered their mouths with their hands, and took their seats once again. It was fun for them, but Roger felt his stomach churning and turned his head to look out at the gray afternoon.
Snow hung on the pine trees like huge wedges of whipped cream, and the afternoon sky was filled with white dots hurtling toward the ground. Roger wished he could give snow as a gift this year since there was so much of it. And it didn’t cost a cent.
“Roger? … Roger!” Mrs. Bowman was saying. “Time to pick a name.”
Roger turned his head and, unfortunately, in doing so his hand bumped his loose-leaf notebook and sent it clattering to the floor. As he bent to pick it up, he heard quiet snickering throughout the classroom. He knew his face was going red again, so he stood quickly and shrugged, trying to force a smile.
The front of the room looked a mile away and he felt sure everyone was staring at him. How he wished he could disappear.
There was only one slip of paper left. He unfolded it and saw that Marsha Gray’s name was written on it. Roger glanced at her, which was a mistake.
Ned looked quickly to where Roger glanced, then pointed a finger and shouted, “Roger got Marsha’s name!”
Roger hurried back to his seat.
“That’s enough!” Mrs. Bowman called. “Now clear your desks. The dismissal bell will be ringing very shortly. Have a nice weekend, and remember, there’s a limit of one dollar on your gifts.”
“Oh, boy!” Clancey Jones muttered. “What can you get for a dollar?”
Roger put Marsha’s name in his pocket and wished he had a dollar. The dismissal bell rang and everyone began getting ready to go outdoors in the snow. Roger pulled on his brother’s old boots, stuffed the tattered bottoms of his jeans into the tops, and slipped into his frayed jacket. He zipped it up, then pulled on his gloves.
Once outside, he felt free and comfortable again. The snow fell clean and fresh on his face and hair, and he stood for a minute, breathing deeply. Then someone clapped him on the back and he turned. “See you in Primary, Roger!” Carl waved as he raced toward a parked car.
“OK,” Roger called and waved. Then he cut across the school yard and into the woods. He felt at home with the familiar path that led down a slope, across the stream, and up through the meadow. A squirrel clung to the side of a tree and watched silently as Roger passed. At the stream, Roger knelt and watched the rushing water slip by snow-covered rocks, bubbling and gurgling its way toward the river. The snap of a twig made him look upstream to where a deer tiptoed toward the sparkling water. He watched quietly as the deer lowered its head and drank, then Roger smiled as it turned and sprinted into the woods, leaving only tracks in the snow. Roger glanced back at his footprints and smiled to see the man-size tracks his oversize boots left behind.
“Mom?” he called as he stepped into the warm, yeasty-smelling kitchen. “I’m home!”
“Shh …” she cautioned. “Your father’s asleep.” She rumpled Roger’s hair and smiled at him warmly. “How was school?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We picked names for the Christmas gift exchange, and I got Marsha Gray’s.”
His mother ran her hand over her long brown hair. “Oh, Roger, we don’t have money for gifts this year. Your brother’s been working hard, but we’re barely able to make ends meet, what with all the medical expenses for your dad.” She took Roger’s face between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes before she said, “Maybe we can think of something to do.”
Roger looked at the floor and nodded, “I understand, Mom. I thought I’d make her something on my own. I wasn’t going to ask for money.”
“I wish I had it to give you, Roger,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, did you find a home for Mandy’s kitten? Or should I get your brother to do it?”
Roger sat down and pulled off his boots. “Not yet, Mom, but I’ll take care of it. I promise.” Mandy only had one fluffy kitten, and it seemed rather special to Roger. He hated to give it away.
The weekend was full of chores—chopping wood, feeding the goats, shoveling paths in the snow, and playing in the barn with the kitten.
Sunday morning Roger went to church with his mother and brother. Then later that afternoon he talked with his dad about making a gift. But nothing seemed right. As he was heading for his room upstairs to think, his mother called after him.
“The kitty, Roger. Did you talk to anyone at Primary?”
Suddenly Roger had an idea! He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before! “Yes, Mom,” he smiled down through the railing. “I have—I mean, tomorrow I will.”
“That’s a good boy. I know it won’t be easy for you, but—”
“It’s OK, Mom, honest,” he replied with a grin.
The following morning he ran in easy strides along the path toward school. Today he had a smile on his face. In the classroom, gaily-wrapped presents were stacked beneath the tiny tree.
The morning passed quickly and as the noon bell rang, Roger hurried to Mrs. Bowman’s desk. “I have to go home for a minute,” he said.
“But you’ll barely have time,” she replied quietly.
“I have to get my gift,” he explained.
She glanced around the room, then, with a smile, nodded. “All right,” she said, “but hurry. We’re having the gift exchange right after lunch.”
Roger raced along the path and burst into the barn. In a corner he knelt beside Mandy and put her kitten into a box. “Sorry, Mandy,” he whispered patting the mother cat. Then he hurried back to school. As he placed the unwrapped box under the tree, Ned looked at Marsha’s name printed across the top and pointed to the holes poked in the sides.
“That’s your gift!” Ned called to Marsha. “Red-faced Roger didn’t even wrap it.”
Marsha’s mouth turned down and she lowered her head in embarrassment.
Roger felt his face turn red and his stomach churn. He looked away. Maybe my gift isn’t such a good idea after all, he worried. Suddenly from out of the box there came meowing noises. Mrs. Bowman looked toward it then looked back at Roger.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked with a smile.
Roger slumped further into his chair and his face had an even redder glow. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.
Mrs. Bowman closed her book. “Well, we’d better have the gift exchange now,” she said. “I think you should be first, Marsha.”
As Marsha lifted the lid of the box, Roger looked out the window, wishing the day were over. Then he heard a loud “Oh!” He turned to see Marsha smiling as she lifted the kitten from the box. The whole class crowded around her desk to get a closer look.
“Do you have more kittens?” Ned asked.
“No, Mandy only had one,” Roger replied.
Roger glanced at Marsha. Her face and eyes sparkled with surprise and pleasure as she cuddled the soft kitten in her arms. Then she turned to Roger and said quietly but warmly, “Thank you.”
Roger grinned with relief. He knew his face was red again, but for once, he really didn’t mind.

A few years ago, when Elder Merrill J. Bateman of the Presidency of the Seventy was in Japan, the missionaries introduced him to a young Japanese brother who had just joined the Church. He was from a non-Christian background. When he met the missionaries, he was interested in the message, but he could not understand or feel the need for a Savior, and he didn’t have a witness regarding the gospel. One day the missionaries decided to show him a film about the Atonement. The young man saw the film, but still he didn’t have a witness.

“The next morning he went to work. He worked in an optician’s shop making eyeglasses. … An elderly woman came in. He remembered her coming in a few weeks before. She had broken her glasses. She needed a new pair. When she had come in earlier, she didn’t have enough money and had gone away to save more in order to purchase the new glasses. As she came in that day, she again showed him her spectacles and showed him the money that she now had. He realized that she didn’t have enough yet. Then a thought came to him: I have some money. I don’t need to tell her. I can make up the difference. So he told her the money she had was adequate, took her glasses, [and] made an appointment for her to return when he had finished making the spectacles. …

“She returned later. He had the glasses ready for her. He handed them to her, and she put them on [and exclaimed] ‘… I see. I see.’ Then she began to cry. At that point, a burning sensation began to grow within his bosom and swelled within him. He said, ‘… I understand. I understand.’ He began to cry. Out the door he ran, looking for the missionaries. When he found them, he said, ‘I see! My eyes have been opened! I know that Jesus is the Son of God. I know the stone was rolled away from the tomb and on that glorious Easter morning He arose from the dead. He can make up the difference in my life when I fall short.’”2

When I turned 18, my father allowed me to be baptized in any church I wanted. I wanted to join a Christian church because I’d studied the Bible in several congregations and believed in Jesus Christ.
One day my uncle invited two sister missionaries to our home. They spoke with much conviction about their belief in the Book of Mormon as another testament of Jesus Christ, stating that He had visited the American continent.
On that point, I expressed my opinion that perhaps they were mistaken, since never in my life had I studied about that. One of the sister missionaries, with tears in her eyes and with kindness, said to me, “Brother Roberto, the fact that you do not know the Book of Mormon is true does not mean that we are mistaken. I know that Jesus Christ loves us and that He was on this continent and that He taught His gospel just as He had in the Holy Land.”
They tried to help me with my many concerns and doubts during that first discussion, agreeing that they would visit me the next week.
That night I began to leaf through the Book of Mormon. As I read the title page, one phrase caught my attention: “Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God, manifesting himself unto all nations.” I also read 3 Nephi 11 about the Savior’s visit to the Americas, and I felt a gladness in my heart. So I did what the missionaries had told me to do: I knelt and asked my Heavenly Father if the book was true.
As I finished the prayer, I felt a peace and a surety that this was so. For a moment I thought that the tears of the sisters had moved me and caused me to believe in their testimony. So I continued reading the Book of Mormon until a little after 4:00 in the morning. Each time I prayed, I felt with more strength the confirmation that Christ had come to the Americas and that He wanted me to learn more about His true gospel.
Within weeks, I finished reading the Book of Mormon and felt a need to be baptized into the true Church.
Reading the Book of Mormon helped me to grow closer to Jesus Christ and to make Him the center of my life. I am so grateful that the Savior put the missionaries and His Church into my path.

My four-year-old niece Mollie was playing at her grandmother’s house one day when she asked if she could cross the street to visit a favorite aunt. Mollie was cautioned to look carefully both ways before crossing. Always an inquisitive child, she questioned this procedure, so her grandmother replied, “You could easily get hit by a car, and I love you so much I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Before long Mollie was back. “You lied to me! You said I would get hit by a car if I didn’t look both ways. Well, I closed my eyes and ran over and back and a car didn’t hit me!”
Just as a loving grandmother cautioned a four-year-old child to look both ways before crossing a street, a loving Father in Heaven has given us detailed instructions to ensure our happiness and safe arrival at our ultimate destination. Yet we often question the consequences, or think we can get away with taking chances, so we close our eyes to some of God’s commandments and cross the street of life. At such times it appears that we might not get hurt if we obey only some of God’s laws. But the Lord has said, “Keep my commandments.” He didn’t say, “Look this list over and pick out what you think applies,” or “Try to work on part of these some of the time.” His instructions were simple, yet direct and unqualified—“Keep my commandments.”
My four-year-old granddaughter Jordan asks “why” after almost everything I say. I realize her need to understand and I explain as much as possible. But there are occasions when no amount of explaining can penetrate her level of understanding. And so it is with us. Our mortal minds are limited. How tedious it must become when we continue to question what we cannot comprehend. Often the consequences from our actions are not immediately visible and our obedience requires some faith. Elder Neal A. Maxwell has said, “Obedience, among other things, provides us with a grace period. During this period, we go forward out of a sense of duty, doing what we should do before we have all the answers as to why” (Meek and Lowly, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987, p. 114).
Many of us wish we could counsel with the Lord concerning situations in our lives. What we sometimes fail to realize is that we can! We have been given personalized counsel in the form of a perfect road map detailed specifically for us in ancient scripture and modern-day revelation. Just tune in to general conference, and you will be astounded at the solutions to your own problems that you will hear from the Lord’s chosen leaders.
We have also been given the ultimate model. The Savior’s life is the perfect example for us to follow. And if our footsteps falter, because of the Atonement, and through our own repentance, we are welcomed back to the pathway of righteousness.
Tucked inside our own personal road map, we have been given a promise concerning our willingness to follow the commandments of the Lord. We are told that the Lord is bound when we do what he says. And then, we are given a caution. When we do not what he says, we have no promise. (See D&C 82:8–10.)
It is pretty clear, isn’t it? We cannot afford to be selectively obedient. We must be steadfastly obedient. In the Doctrine and Covenants, we are told, “When we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:21).
If we are willing to put our trust in the Lord and keep his commandments, we have been promised that we will be blessed. The blessing might not come in the form of straight A’s, having a date every Friday night, or inheriting a lot of money. But we will grow in capacity, experiencing joy along the way as we keep more and more of the commandments and eventually become prepared for a celestial existence.
The catch in all of this is that our level of obedience determines the outcome. Whether we are studying music or microbiology, we all know that success hinges on how thoroughly we study or how hard we practice. Does it really surprise us that God operates in this same cause-and-effect manner?
Douglas Smoot, Dean of the College of Engineering and Technology at Brigham Young University, once told me, “It is impossible to leap from the top of a building and disobey the law of gravity. Placing one’s finger in an electric outlet will cause an electrical flow through a person’s body irrespective of intent. Fundamental laws of nature cannot be disobeyed.”
I thought about Dean Smoot’s comments, and how we as humans constantly try to push the laws of nature as well as the laws of God, when I read in the newspaper about a young man celebrating his birthday at a hotel. He and his friends had been drinking and were probably not thinking clearly when he decided to jump from one tenth-floor balcony to the next. Being successful the first time, he attempted a second leap and fell to his death. “We were just out having a good time,” said his friend, “but now] I realize how quickly life can be taken away.”
Use this tragic story to illustrate what happens when our judgment is impaired and we refuse to obey the laws God has given us—both physical and spiritual. In this case, the consequence of falling from that high up seems pretty obvious. But there will be times when we will feel physically or spiritually impaired and will not realize what could happen if we choose to disobey, or if we walk too close to the edge of disobedience. If only we could realize that the momentary pleasure we might feel by an act of disobedience can never be equal to the feelings of peace and happiness that result from obedience.
Joseph Smith assured us, “As God has designed our happiness—and the happiness of all His creatures, he never has—he never will institute an ordinance or give a commandment to His people that is not calculated in its nature to promote that happiness which He has designed” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 256).
Sometimes we are tempted to test the law, as Mollie did, and even question the wisdom of the lawgiver. We may feel that we find freedom in disobedience as we dash across life’s highway with our eyes closed. But as Elder Boyd K. Packer has said, “Obedience—that which God will never take by force—he will accept when freely given. And he will return to you freedom that you can hardly dream of—the freedom to feel and to know, the freedom to do and the freedom to be, at least a thousandfold more than we offer him. Strangely enough, the key to freedom is obedience” (Obedience, BYU Speeches of the Year, Provo, 7 Dec. 1971, p. 4).

“Hi, Gweg!” Greg could feel his face getting hot even before he looked up to see Melissa standing on the roadside by her bike.
“My name’s not Gweg,” he said crossly, focusing intently again on the basketball hoop he was aiming at.
“What is it, then?” Melissa waited expectantly, her eyes already dancing with laughter.
“You know what it is.”
“Yep. It’s Gweg; that’s what you always say.” She started to giggle.
“My name’s not Gweg,” Greg yelled. “It’s Gweg!”
Melissa burst into laughter and hopped back on her bike. “I was right, then. Bye, Gweggy!”
Greg scowled at her braids streaming out behind her as she pedaled away. It wasn’t fair! He tried and tried to say his Rs, using the exercises that his speech therapist gave him every week. But even though she praised him at the end of each session and told him that he was doing better, he still couldn’t say the words quite right. Worst of all, he couldn’t even say his own name!
“Well, at least we didn’t name you Roger or Roderick,” Dad had chuckled, tousling Greg’s hair. “Don’t worry, Son. Lots of kids have trouble with their Rs, and sometimes other letters too. You’ll get over it.”
But Greg did worry. The Primary president had asked him to tell the story of Joshua in two weeks. He loved to hear about how the children of Israel were led into the Promised Land, and he wanted to do a good job telling it. But what if everyone laughed at him?
The next Sunday at dinner, Greg was quiet as he pushed the food around his plate with his fork. He usually loved Mom’s mashed potatoes; the rich gravy he poured over the top looked like brown lava sliding down a snowy volcano. But gravy lava seemed stupid now, and his food stuck in his throat.
“Is something wrong, Greg?” Mom asked.
Greg nodded soundlessly.
“Is it your Primary talk?” said Dad.
He nodded again.
“Well, I have something to show you.” Dad disappeared into the living room and returned with his Bible. “You know, Greg,” he said, flipping through the pages, “when I was your age, I didn’t like to give talks either, but for a different reason. All those people made me nervous! My mouth got as dry as sandpaper, and I felt like I couldn’t say anything. Then I read about Moses. Here.” He handed the open Bible to Greg. “When you’ve finished your dinner, why don’t you read about how Moses felt when the Lord told him to speak to the people and to Pharaoh. It might help.”
Later, Greg read in Exodus how the Lord appeared to Moses and told him to tell the children of Israel His words. In Exodus 4:10 [Ex. 4:10], Greg read that Moses had said, “But I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.”
Greg kept reading, using the footnotes. In Exodus 6:30 [Ex. 6:30], he saw that Moses was still protesting to the Lord: “Behold, I am of stammering lips, and slow of speech; how shall Pharaoh hearken unto me?”
Greg was astonished. So Moses, the mighty prophet, couldn’t speak very well, either! But the Lord didn’t find another prophet to replace him. He knew that Moses, whom He had called to serve as the Israelite leader, was a righteous man, and He made a way for Moses to do what he had been commanded by sending Aaron to help him. Well, I have lots of people to help me—people like Dad and Mom. A warm, peaceful feeling crept over him. They can help me learn to say my Rs right someday, and I know that the Lord will help me give my talk!
All the next week, Greg practiced and practiced until he knew the whole story by heart. When Sunday finally arrived, he was a little nervous, but he felt ready. He stood at the microphone, took a deep breath, and gave his talk. He still couldn’t say his Rs quite right, and he thought that he heard a giggle from the back of the room. When he sat down, though, he felt good inside. He knew that he had told the story well.
Dad and Mom had come to hear him, and when Primary was over, they both gave him a big hug. “We’re very proud of you,” Mom said, beaming; Dad said, “Way to go, sport.”
Suddenly Greg felt someone cuff his arm playfully. He looked around and saw Melissa standing there. “Good job, Greg,” she said, grinning.
“Thanks,” he said. And he couldn’t help grinning too.

Emma ran into the living room. It was time for family home evening.
“Kyle is going to a new school,” Daddy said. “So I am going to give him a father’s blessing. I will give you a blessing too, Emma.”
“A blessing is a way for Heavenly Father to tell you things He wants you to hear,” Mommy said.
First it was Kyle’s turn. He sat in a chair. He folded his arms and closed his eyes. Daddy put his hands on Kyle’s head. Emma folded her arms too.
Daddy said Kyle’s full name. He said he was blessing him by the power of the priesthood. Then he said, “I bless you that you’ll be able to do well at school.”
What will Heavenly Father tell me? Emma wondered as she listened to the rest of the blessing.
Soon Daddy said, “OK, Emma, it’s your turn.”
He helped her climb onto the chair. She folded her arms. She closed her eyes tight. Daddy put his hands on her head. He said lots of happy things in the blessing. Emma felt like she was getting a big, warm hug.
“In the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” Daddy said. He took his hands off her head.
“What do you remember from your blessing?” Mommy asked.
Question for You
When have you felt Heavenly Father’s love?
“Daddy said that Heavenly Father thinks I’m special!” Emma said. She felt warm in her heart. She knew it was true.
Mommy smiled. “You are special,” she said. “And Heavenly Father loves you.”

I can remember making many goals to complete the Book of Mormon. I made many attempts but would slowly lose interest and then start over again later. It wasn’t until my first year in college that I truly “experimented upon the word” (see Alma 32:27). I began getting up at 6:30 every weekday morning and reading for half an hour. Because I had an allotted time, I didn’t feel anxious to be done.
I began looking forward to reading the scriptures. After I read, I felt happy and peaceful. My whole day was affected. I could more easily keep a prayer in my heart. The Spirit stayed closer than before. My worries did not disappear, but my days really were happier.
I realized I was gaining a testimony of the scriptures. I had no idea that obeying the commandment to read the scriptures would bring me so many blessings. I felt as though I had been let in on a secret that only scripture readers knew.
Before I started my experiment, I didn’t really understand why we are commanded to read the scriptures, but I had a little faith—faith enough to read for a short time every day. And, as Alma taught, I gained a testimony.