Gospel Story Finder

Suddenly he remembered a cold winter evening not long after he’d received his sight. He and his father had been trapped in a mountain snowstorm. They could not see the road. Their oxen were frightened and did not know the way home.
“Son,” his father had said, “we have done all we can to find our way. Now we must ask the Lord for help.”
They then knelt in the snow and prayed. Afterward, they steered the oxen in the direction they thought was right, and the animals, without hesitation, led them home.

I saw that a few years ago in a deacons quorum where I had been called to teach the lessons. A few of the deacons failed to come to the quorum meetings from time to time. I knew that the teaching in that quorum—and in every quorum—was the charge of the president, who had keys. He was to sit in council with all of them. And so I have made a habit of seeking the counsel of the one with the charge from God by asking him, “What do you think I should teach? What should I try to accomplish?”
I learned to follow his counsel because I knew God had given him responsibility for the teaching of his quorum members. I knew one Sunday that God had honored the charge to a young quorum president. I was teaching the deacons. I noticed an empty chair. There was a recording device sitting on the chair, and I could see that it was running. After the class, a boy sitting next to the empty chair picked up the recorder. As he started to leave the room, I asked him why he had recorded our discussion. He smiled and said that another deacon had told him that he wouldn’t be in the quorum that day. He was taking the recorder to his friend at home so that he could listen to our lesson.
I had trusted in the responsibility given to a young quorum president, so help from heaven came. The Spirit came to touch the members in that room and sent one of them to a friend to try to strengthen his faith and lead him to repentance. The deacon carrying the recorder had learned according to the covenants, and he reached out to help his friend and fellow member in the quorum.

Eugène used to think all churches were the same. Then the missionaries came to his door and started teaching his family. Gradually he came to understand that the gospel has been restored, and that there’s a great role in it for young men. He was baptized and, when he came of age, ordained a deacon.

“Now, I’m the only Aaronic Priesthood holder in the entire city,” he says. “There are Melchizedek Priesthood holders, and they help me. But when we have sacrament meeting, I pass the sacrament.”

Over the past 18 months the staff in the National Health Service have adapted in unimaginable ways to protect and treat those affected by the coronavirus pandemic. The Chorley Stake youth have seen firsthand, with NHS workers in their families and stakes, the impact it has had on their personal and professional lives. So, they wanted to say not just a big thank you but also a personal thank you for all their hard work.
We started by gathering some names of the NHS workers in our stake, and then asked them to share stories of co-workers that they know working each day to save and protect lives. These stories were provided to each individual youth in blank cards with a pen and decorations. This enabled the youth not just to see a name but also to understand a little of the everyday changes each of these workers has had to make since the pandemic started. This meant the youth could thank them personally by reflecting on their individual sacrifices.

“The last year that he lived, he took me into the living room and showed me a picture that had appeared in the Church News. The picture showed him and Grandma and their eleven children with their spouses in front of the Salt Lake Temple. They had all gone through a temple session together for my grandparent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. Before the session had begun, a temple worker had introduced my grandfather to the rest of the people who were there. This had been the happiest day of Grandpa’s life. Seeing how happy it made him to have everyone together in the temple helped me to see how important temple work is.

When I visited stake conferences as a member of the Twelve, I always took note of those stakes which had excelled in bringing to activity those brethren whose talents and potential leadership had lain dormant. Inevitably I would ask, “How were you able to achieve success? What did you do and how did you do it?” One such stake was the North Carbon Stake when President Cecil Broadbent presided. Eighty-seven men had been reactivated and, with their wives and children, went to the Manti Temple in the space of one year. President Broadbent, upon hearing my questions, turned to his counselor, President Stanley Judd, a large and good-natured coal miner, and said, “This is President Judd’s responsibility in the stake presidency. He will answer.”
As I restated my questions to President Judd, I concluded with the plea, “Will you tell me how you did it?”
With a smile, he replied, “No.” I was stunned! Then he said, “If I tell you how we did it, then you will tell others, and they will surpass our record.” I was still stunned. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, this wonderful man added, “However, Brother Monson, if you will give me two tickets to general conference, I’ll tell you how we did it.”
The tickets were provided; the success pattern was revealed. However, President Judd felt the contract was open-ended and asked for and received from me two tickets for each conference until he was eventually ordained a patriarch.
The formula was the same, generally speaking, in each successful stake with regard to this phase of the work. It consisted of four ingredients: one, put forth your efforts at the ward level; two, involve the ward bishop; three, provide inspired teaching; and four, do not attempt to concentrate on all the brethren at once; rather, work with a few husbands and their wives at a given time and then have them help you as you work with others.

Around the turn of the previous century, two missionaries were laboring in the mountains of the southern United States. One day, from a hilltop, they saw people gathering in a clearing far below. The missionaries did not often have many people to whom they might preach, so they made their way down to the clearing.
A little boy had drowned, and there was to be a funeral. His parents had sent for the minister to “say words” over their son. The missionaries stood back as the itinerant minister faced the grieving father and mother and began his sermon. If the parents expected to receive comfort from this man of the cloth, they would be disappointed.
He scolded them severely for not having had the little boy baptized. They had put it off because of one thing or another, and now it was too late. He told them very bluntly that their little boy had gone to hell. It was their fault. They were to blame for his endless torment.
After the sermon was over and the grave was covered, the elders approached the grieving parents. “We are servants of the Lord,” they told the mother, “and we have come with a message for you.” As the sobbing parents listened, the two elders read from the revelations and bore their testimony of the restoration of the keys for the redemption of both the living and the dead.
I have some sympathy for that preacher. He was doing the best he could with such light and knowledge as he had. But there is more that he should have been able to offer. There is the fulness of the gospel.
The elders came as comforters, as teachers, as servants of the Lord, as authorized ministers of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Rosa Clara was born in 1837 on the island of Guernsey, located in the English Channel between France and Britain. But she was taken first to England and then to New South Wales, Australia, after her father died. By 1849, when Rosa Clara arrived with her mother, Eliza Friedlander, and younger brother, James, Sydney was a large, prosperous city. Two years after their arrival, Rosa Clara’s mother married George W. Watson.
Just six weeks after the marriage, Elder John Murdock and Elder Charles W. Wandell arrived to open the Australian Mission of the Church. By Christmas they had baptized twelve converts, and on the first Sunday of 1852, Elder Wandell organized the Sydney Branch.
Eliza Watson, her husband, and her children accepted the gospel and were all baptized within a few weeks of the branch’s organization. George Watson was ordained a priest, and the whole family was active in the newly formed branch. Frequently, they hosted cottage meetings in their home, and when the elders needed someone to move to Melbourne and serve as a part-time missionary there, George Watson volunteered.
Rosa Clara was devastated. At fifteen, she enjoyed working in the little branch and had become close friends with another young member, Mary Clines. Although she loved her mother, Rosa Clara apparently did not get along well with her stepfather. So, with her parents’ consent, when the rest of the family sailed for Melbourne, Rosa Clara remained in Sydney under the guardianship of successive mission presidents.
Rosa Clara lived with her newly married friend Mary and Mary’s husband, Robert Evans, at Kissing Point on the Parramatta River. Every Sunday she walked twelve miles into the city to attend meetings in the Old Assembly Rooms opposite the law courts in King Street. These rooms in the upper story of a school building had been used some years previously as a temporary meeting-place for the Presbyterian church. Latter-day Saint missionaries now rented them for the Sydney Branch services.
Rosa Clara attended singing practice on Thursday evenings and sang in the choir on Sundays. She helped distribute Church tracts and did all she could to further missionary work in Sydney.
On 21 May 1853, sixteen-year-old Rosa Clara Friedlander married Charles Joseph Gordon Loge, a recent convert, in the Scots Church. The Reverend James Fullerton performed the ceremony because Latter-day Saint elders were not then approved to perform marriages in Australia; but the new mission president, Elder Augustus Farnham, and another of Rosa Clara’s Latter-day Saint friends, Mary Ann Gingell, attended the ceremony and signed the register as witnesses. “Attended the wedding of Brother Loge and Sister Rose Friedlander at Parson Fullerton’s,” wrote President Farnham in his journal. “Returned to Brother Gingell’s and married them over again. Spent the evening very happily … in good spirits, peace and harmony.”
Rosa Clara and Charles Loge set up house and continued their work in the branch. One of the new missionaries, Elder John Hyde, was ill with cancer of the mouth. His health worsened, and the only place he could be cared for was in a public institution. Rosa Clara Loge worried about the lonely, ill, and pain-wracked missionary. Finally, she and Charles arranged for Elder Hyde to be taken from the institution to the Loge home, where the courageous sixteen-year-old girl nursed him until his death.
On 27 June 1854, Rosa Clara had her first baby, a little girl, named Annie Augusta after President Farnham. When little Annie Augusta was fourteen months old, the family sailed from Sydney with a company of Saints on the Julia Ann, bound for California. Disaster struck four weeks later.
On the evening of 3 October 1855, Rosa Clara put her baby to bed while some of the pioneering Church members sang hymns on the deck. Suddenly the vessel struck a coral reef. For a little while, confusion reigned. Then, one of the ship’s crew swam to the reef and managed to fasten a rope. With a sling, the captain prepared to ferry the women and children one at a time to the reef.
No one knew what lay ahead in the pitch-black night. The women were afraid. Finally Rosa Clara, not yet eighteen, volunteered to be the first. Hurriedly, she helped tie baby Ann securely to Charles’s back in a brown woolen shawl and readied herself to be taken to the reef. But then, before Rosa Clara’s horrified eyes, her husband and baby were swept overboard by the huge seas. One of the sailors rescued them unharmed.
With enormous courage, then, in leaving her family on the wreck, Rosa Clara climbed onto the captain’s lap and was pulled, hand over hand, to the reef. Here the captain left her standing barefoot on the sharp coral, chest-deep in the sea, with the surf breaking on the reef. She stayed alone and in darkness while he returned for the other women. Gradually, most of the company, including Charles and baby Ann, arrived safely. But not all were so fortunate. Two little girls were washed off the deck and were lost; two women and a small baby drowned in their cabin.
When daylight arrived, the crew made a raft from timber and nails salvaged from the wreck. They managed to get the passengers from the reef to a small island, which became their home for the next eight weeks.
A barrel of hard biscuits and a chest of tea retrieved from the ship, as well as coconuts, fish, turtle meat, and eggs sustained everyone. They formed coconut shells into drinking vessels. With a large silk skirt also salvaged from the wreck, Charles Loge fashioned a tent for Rosa Clara, who was ill, and baby Ann crawled around playing happily in the sand. After repairing the ship’s boat, some of the crew rowed more than 300 kilometers to the Society islands (Tahiti) for help.
The Loge family and others were taken off the island two months after the wreck, finally arriving in San Francisco. There, Elder George Q. Cannon presented Rosa Clara with a small pewter teapot in recognition of her bravery in being the first to go to the reef. The teapot is a treasured family heirloom today, together with a carved coconut-shell drinking vessel and a handmade nail from the Julia Ann.
Charles and Rosa Clara Loge eventually settled in American Fork, Utah, where Rosa Clara raised twelve children. But although she served the Lord to the end of her days, the service she gave as a young girl in the first Sydney Branch of the Church has not been forgotten. “There are several large and flourishing Colonies [in Australia] each containing many thousands of British inhabitants,” wrote Charles Wandell to Franklin D. Richards in 1852, “and the little branch in Sydney is the nucleus of the Kingdom which must spread through them all.”
Today, more than seventy thousand Australian members in eighteen stakes and five missions are a lasting memorial to the pioneer spirit of missionaries like Charles W. Wandell and stalwart members like Rosa Clara Friedlander Loge.

The Holy Spirit has the power to guide. A 15-year-old girl felt that she needed to find new friends. She wrote to the Young Women office, “Now, I don’t know if you have ever had to change friends, but it honestly was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.” She decided to put her problem in the hands of the Lord, and she also counseled with her parents. She says that after several months “she wanted to just give up.”
One afternoon she was casually talking to her seminary teacher, and she confided her problem to him. Then he said, “I really don’t know why I am asking you this, but do you happen to know these girls?”
This girl answered with a yes. And then he said, “Have you ever thought about being friends with them?”
“I told him that there was no way that I could fit in with them. He then asked me if he could talk to one of the girls. I decided I would let him, if he promised not to embarrass me.
“Well, that next day I received a phone call from one of the girls. Now, you have to understand that this girl was on student council, and I hate to use the term, but she was ‘extremely popular.’ She asked if I would like to go to the basketball game with her that night. It was one of the funnest, most peaceful nights of my life. The next day at school, she introduced me to two other girls. We all instantly became friends.”
She concludes by saying, “I don’t know about you, but I would much rather have the Lord, who knows the outcome of everything, direct my life than me, who just sees things as they are at the time. He is right by our side, walking us through life, even when we feel so alone.”

When Glyn Piercy, a priest in the Dayton Ohio East Stake, decided to carve a stairway in a hillside for his Eagle Scout project, his whole stake got into the act. More than 60 young people showed up the day of the project to take on “the hill,” which is part of the Sugar Bush Trail, located in the Ohio Narrows Reserve. At the end of the day of the project, the stairway was nearly complete. And the youth, although they were tired and a little bit dirty, had a product they could be proud of.

Do you have a favorite thing you like to collect, like beads or baseball cards? Finlay T., age eight, likes to collect something too. But he doesn’t keep what he collects—he gives it away. And what he gives away would usually be dumped in the trash! Can you guess what it is?
I collect used postage stamps from letters that have traveled all over the world. Then I give them to charities that sell stamps to raise money to help children in different countries. Whenever I hear the mail plop onto the doormat of our home, I can’t wait to carefully tear off the postage stamps to add to the collection.
I live with my mum and dad and my sisters, Emily and Georgia. Sometimes we trim and sort stamps together. It’s hard work, and sometimes my hands ache from cutting and counting. But then I remember why I’m doing it. I enjoy helping because I know that each stamp I collect helps someone in need.

But it was his commitment to love every person that thrilled Church members. One day a Sunday School class of youth came several miles to see him, by appointment, but he had just rushed off to the hospital where his brother, Thomas E. McKay, lay near death. The following Sunday, miles away from his office, there was a knock on the door of the Sunday School classroom. When the teacher opened the door, there stood President McKay. He had come to meet the class and apologize for being gone the day they had come to see him.
After explaining why he was not in his office that day, he shook hands with the teacher and with each of the children. “I want you to know,” he said, “that the president of the Church keeps his appointments if at all possible.”

There was a time when the large pharmaceutical company he worked for kept giving him more and more responsibilities, and that meant more and more travel. It got to the point that he was home only three days a month. Then all of a sudden, we learned that he had resigned from his longtime job and promising career opportunities.
I remember that at our next family council meeting he said we would need to tighten our belts for the next few months while he looked for a new job. We asked him why he had resigned, and his response will stay with us forever: “You all are growing up to be teenagers already, and that’s a very important time in your lives. I never would like a time to come when you would tell me, ‘Where were you when we needed you?’” He put his family first.

Susan: “For a while, any contact my husband, Tim, had with the Church was very stressful for me. I was constantly praying that someone would say the thing that would open his eyes and that no one would do or say anything that would offend him.

“Five years passed before I finally realized that during my own investigation of the Church, no one had smoothed the way for me or prepared every personality for my benefit. There had been unsettling experiences for me now and again; but through it all, I had retained my agency. When I decided to be baptized, I did so because I knew through prayer and study that the Church was true.

“Now I have accepted the fact that my husband is capable of making the same mature investigation of the Church whenever he is ready.”

What have you done as a service project lately? Was it something that meant a lot to the people you were serving? Was it something that brought the love of Christ into their lives and showed them that people truly care?
Jessie and Steve Cota, twelve-year-old twin brothers who live in the Nogales Branch, Tucson Arizona Rincon Stake, performed that kind of service. But they didn’t do it as a quorum project or as an assignment from the branch president. They did it because they saw a need and found a way to fulfill it.
With help from their father, they built a house for a homeless family.
The house the twins built is similar to dozens of other houses that cover the hillsides of Nogales, Mexico, a town that straddles the border of the United States and Mexico. The house is small, is made mostly of plywood, and has no plumbing. But it is now home to a family of six—an abandoned mother and her five children, who used to live on the street.
“My aunt, who lives in Mexico, met this woman in the hospital,” Steve explains. “She found out the conditions the woman and her children were living in and knew they needed help. She talked to my father, José, who is first counselor in the branch presidency, to see if something could be done.”
Something could. Word spread quickly in the branch. Church members contributed what they could, and Brother Cota, a builder, was able to get materials donated from a construction project he was working on. The aunt donated property behind her own home as a site for the new construction.
“Everybody helped out,” Jessie says. “But to be honest, my dad did most of the work.”
Brother Cota, however, gives credit to his sons. “They really enjoy working. They helped put the floor in, hauling buckets of water so we could make the cement. They helped with the framing and with the roof. We’re especially proud of the roof, which has asphalt shingles and should last many years.”
It took three to four weeks, working on Saturdays, to complete the structure. “We felt good, knowing we were helping someone who needed help,” Steve says. “We learned a lot doing this together. We learned about how Church members can reach out to help others in the community. We learned about construction. And we got to be better friends with our father.”
“We like to nail things together,” Jessie says. “Maybe I’ll be a builder when I grow up, too.”
Brother Cota just smiles, then says, “The important thing about this is that now the children who live in this house will have a future. They have protection from the weather and a chance to go to school.”
We visit for a minute more, talking about birdhouses the boys are building as a hobby, about Steve’s baseball games and Jessie’s love of football, about future plans to build an outside bathroom to go along with the house.
Then the woman, surrounded by her children, greets the Cotas warmly and poses for a photo with them.
“These,” she says, “are the people who gave me my home.”

Having been born in Hawaii, I enjoy reading the history of those islands and their people. One of the things that I find most intriguing about the ancient Hawaiian men and their form of battle was the method used in training for spear warfare.
The Hawaiian warriors used, among other weapons, a long spear made from very hard wood. They did not have metal from which to make tips, but otherwise they were about the size and weight of the javelin used in modern track-and-field events. As preparatory exercises for war, the men would engage in sham battles. Now while a sham battle was, as the name implies, a mock combat, it could become training of a very deadly sort. After dividing the warriors into two groups, arrayed on opposite sides of an open meadow, the sham battle began with each group hurling their spears at each other. The object of the game was not just to keep from getting killed, but rather, after having hurled one’s spear at the “enemy,” to catch the incoming spears bare-handed and throw them back as well. For, you see, once you had thrown your spear you were unarmed. You rearmed yourself by catching those coming toward you.
You can well imagine the scene that such a melee would produce. King Kamehameha was observed in one such battle to catch three spears in his right hand, fend off a fourth with the spear in his left hand and dodge a fifth, all in one continuous motion.
I bring up the Hawaiian sham battle because it is helpful in drawing parallels with our fight against Satan. But there are some differences—important differences. The sham battle was a game of sorts. You might get severely injured or even killed, but that was merely the odds of the game, not the intent.
On the other hand, the spears of the adversary are not thrown with any thought that they may be harmlessly caught or skillfully dodged. Satan is not engaged in a sham battle wherein he expects his efforts to be easily sidestepped. He carefully plans, with his great wealth of knowledge, the formation of each battle, having little interest in evenly and fairly dispersed combatants. His cunning and perverse plans are intended to home in his fiery darts with swift accuracy, separating us, as Nephi warned, from the iron rod (see 1 Ne. 15:24). You and I may think the War in Heaven is over, but as far as Satan is concerned that was merely the initial battle. He continues with a hate-driven vengeance that you and I, filled with the light of Christ, cannot even begin to envision. He has devised schemes without number to gain men’s souls.
Overcoming the perverse enticings of Satan is an essential part of our progression and advancement. It is a very personal battle that we wage with Satan. No one can fight it for us. We can, however, strengthen and buoy each other up. That is the purpose of families and friends. It is also one reason for the programs of the Church.
Now, returning to the cliff-walking attitude I referred to earlier. As you and I thread our way through life’s paths, we become confronted with Satan’s detours, those opportunities to peer over the cliff. Being curious or bold or foolhardy, or however we so choose to characterize our attempts to come perilously close to the edge without falling, we often see just how far we can get from the iron rod, maybe just barely keeping contact with the tip of a finger. Then if one of Satan’s darts strikes too near the target, we slip over the edge with hardly a murmur. It was thrilling though, while it lasted, teetering there on the brink, knowing we were so close to peril but confident, oh so confident, that we had things in control.
Satan doesn’t care what he uses to get us—liquor, tobacco, drugs, desires for unearned wealth, dishonesty, lust. He’ll use whatever is at hand.
I recall a young couple who were having difficulty behaving themselves when alone on a date. They became concerned with their actions and worried that they might become increasingly involved to the point that they would lose all that they held dear. After talking things over, they decided they needed to begin each date with a prayer. That was a good plan, but their dates continued to end up with just the two of them in some secluded spot and walking on the edge of the cliff, as it were. They repeatedly fell into the same behavior for which they had prayed for strength to overcome. Peril-filled petting had greater attraction than did the calm plans made in the less secluded light of day. It was obvious that if they were going to stop flirting with danger, they would have to take steps to change their pattern of being alone. Yet it seems to be so human how, having once walked to the edge of the cliff, they returned so readily.
The story had a satisfactory ending. The girl finally realized they lacked the determination or discipline to modify their behavior, so she terminated their dating altogether and thus did not slip further into the abyss of immorality.
It really doesn’t matter what the temptation. In ten years as a bishop and high councilor, I have participated in several Church courts. I can testify to you that no one whose membership was on trial had stayed comfortably back from the edge of the cliff. Their fences, if indeed they had ever built them, were in a state of disrepair. With weakened safeguards and a mind full of fantasy, they danced to Satan’s tune until they stumbled over the edge.
We are here, you and I, to be tried, tested, and proven worthy to reenter our Father in Heaven’s kingdom. We are here, as was Christ, to overcome temptation and claim our crowns on high. While we may have forgotten all, we are not abandoned. We have the guidance of scriptures, the counsel of living prophets and other inspired leaders, and, for those baptized under the hands of the priesthood of God, the gift of the Holy Ghost.
The words of Paul to the Ephesians provide eloquent advice for you and me. Said he:
“Put on the whole armour of God, … that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
“Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;
“And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
“Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
“And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:
“Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints” (Eph. 6:11, 13–18).
I believe that one of Satan’s greatest tools is to get you and me to become content to take the average road—to lie a little, to cheat a little, to take a little advantage because it’s the sort of thing that seems so common. By this we are led, as Nephi said, “carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
My young brothers and sisters, I testify to you that Satan is very, very real. I have both felt and witnessed his great power, and it is a frightening thing. It is my further testimony that Christ lives and that he provides each of us the necessary knowledge to recognize sin and error.
I pray that I can have the wisdom to continue. I pray that my children can prepare their fences, and I pray that each of you can recognize those avenues which Satan is stalking in his search for your souls and that you can likewise prepare adequate defenses.
Jesus Christ is the source of our strength. You and I need that strength if we are to turn away from evil and return to our Father in Heaven.

Day by day the scenery and travel grew increasingly tiresome. Near Chimney Rock (in what is now Wyoming) some of the cattle became diseased and died, forcing the company to make shorter drives each day. William began to think he would never get to Utah and rejoin Elizabeth.
Finally one October Saturday, William’s company descended the hills above Salt Lake City, awed by a beautiful sunset across the Great Salt Lake and by the splendid square-blocked city stretched out below them. As they approached the city, an occupant of a nearby cabin called and waved to William. It was Sister Wardell, the woman with whom Elizabeth had traveled to Utah! William hurried to her, but his anticipation was instantly crushed. She informed him that Elizabeth no longer loved him and planned to marry a local polygamist!
“This was like a bolt of thunder to me,” he recalled. Heartsick, the young man continued with the company to the valley floor, then returned that night to the Wardells. The woman tried to persuade William to marry her daughter, but he was not interested. “I formed a resolution that I was going to have the ‘love of my youth’”, he said.
Friends from Maldon lived in Centerville so early the next week William hiked 19 kilometers to locate them. He arrived at night, and “to my great joy the girl of my heart was found lying asleep on an old home-made lounge and looking free although almost in rags. She awoke, and her joy was unbounded.” Elizabeth then explained that the Wardell woman had tried to marry her to her own son. That failing, the mother sent the girl away and kept all the clothes and bedding until Elizabeth’s 40-dollar fare was paid in full. The woman then had made up the story about Elizabeth’s loss of affection for William, hoping the navy veteran would marry into the Wardell family.
William returned to Salt Lake City and drove his freight team to Springville where he received his three months’ wages. Then he walked back to Salt Lake, paid off the 40-dollar debt, obtained his and Elizabeth’s belongings, and then got a ride back to Centerville. Two weeks later the engaged couple were married.

Hiking into the foothills and onto the mountain east of Manti, Utah, was a favorite activity for me when I was growing up. One crisp fall day when I was about 10 years old, my friend and I decided to go for a hike.
My mother carefully wrapped two peanut butter and jam sandwiches and two pieces of raisin pie in waxed paper and put them and an apple apiece in brown paper bags for us to take for our lunches.
I enjoyed the cool, fresh air and the smell of the fields and orchards as we made our way past the outskirts of town, past one neighbor’s farm, and through another’s apple orchard. The trees were loaded with delicious red apples.
We were each carrying a large burlap sack, as we hoped to find pine nuts. As we took the narrow trail through the sagebrush and into the junipers, we found a piñion pine tree here and there and a few pinecones.
We put the cones, sticky with fresh pine gum, into our burlap sacks, knowing that each hard, green cone held a number of pine nuts locked tightly inside it. I loved pine nuts then; I still do. The Indians liked them, too, but they gathered them for survival. They made a pine nut bread that was half pine nuts and half grasshoppers. I preferred my pine nuts without grasshoppers.
My friend and I climbed higher until we came to a maze of flat, white rocks laid out so that they formed a huge letter M (for “Manti,” the name of our town). This huge letter could be seen from the valley below. We picked out one of the large, flat rocks and sat down on it to rest. Taking our shoes off to cool our feet on the smooth rock, we enjoyed looking down on Manti, out across the fields and valleys, and beyond. There was a soft breeze in the clean, clear air, and we could smell the mixture of sage, juniper, and pine. It felt so good to be alive!
We gathered dry brush and limbs so that we could make a fire to roast some of our pine nuts. We lit the brush, and soon it was blazing quite high—too high!
The flames caught onto one nearby clump of sagebrush, then another and another. It looked as if our little fire would soon spread to the whole mountainside and become a forest fire. We had no water to put out the fire with, so we tried to beat it out with our burlap sacks. But every time we beat at the fire, it seemed to fan out and spread more. In desperation my friend said, “I’ll go for help.” He pulled his shoes on and took off running down the mountain.
I was alone! I went to my knees in prayer. “Father in Heaven, help me put this fire out.” This is all I remember saying. I don’t know what I expected. There was not a cloud in the sky, and it didn’t suddenly start to rain. I didn’t hear a voice telling me what to do, but Heavenly Father did answer my prayer.
Before I’d even gotten off my knees, I was impressed to start throwing dirt on the nearest burning bush, and then on the next one. I threw dirt on another and another until I had encircled the entire fire and had it under control. Soon only smoke was left blowing up on the mountain where the fire had been. I had not heard a voice saying, “Throw dirt on the fire,” but I had felt strongly impressed to do it. In some way Heavenly Father had conveyed that idea to my mind.
I am grateful for the way Heavenly Father answered my prayer. He did not put the fire out. Instead, he allowed me the dignity of putting the fire out, which boosted my self-confidence and helped me realize that I could solve difficult problems with his help.
I learned many important lessons from this experience. The first lesson I learned was to not start a fire next to brush with a breeze blowing. More important, I learned that the prayer of a small boy on a mountain would be heard and answered. I also learned that Heavenly Father will generally not do for us what we can do for ourselves, but will prompt us to use our own intelligence, our own strength, and the materials at hand, such as the dirt under our feet.

Sacrament Meeting—My family attended the branch’s sacrament meeting today. After the meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared a meal, and about an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We have received life’s greatest blessings.

Like enthusiasts of any sport or hobby, amateur radio operators love to have contests to sharpen their skills. And Mike has done well in contests, too. The contests involve contacting as many stations as possible during a certain amount of time. “During the longer contests, I might contact as many as 5,000 operators,” Mike says. “The real reason for contests is to improve your skill as an operator, and it does take a lot of skill.” Contests range from 4 hours on one day to 96 hours spread over two weekends, though most contests are for either 48 straight hours or for 36 hours during a 48-hour period. “It gets tiring, but I keep going. That’s part of the excitement.”
There are domestic contests (within the U.S.) and international contests. “I’ve never won a world contest before,” Mike says, “but I’ve placed in the top 50.” Mike has made special arrangements not to compete on Sundays and is also lobbying to have Sunday contests eliminated. “I think it is good for my radio friends who are not members of the Church to know that I consider my standards more important than winning a worldwide contest,” Mike says.