Gospel Story Finder

This is a silly example but humor me: when I was in graduate school, we had a group of friends who played flag football every Saturday. We had some great athletes on that field, and the competition was often fierce. One winter, my friend and I decided to train every day and be ready to “shock” our buddies with our increased speed and athleticism. Several times a week, we met to run sprints, perform plyometrics, and practice other drills. After months of preparation, our excitement to play was built up. And it paid off! My friend had a “rival” on the other team. They lined up against each other, and it was so fun to see the surprise on the rival’s face when my friend blew past him with shocking speed!

We were nearly halfway through the journey from Utah to our homestead in New Mexico. For several days we had found no water, and our barrels were low. The men were becoming anxious. We knew from the map that we were coming into Indian territory.
When we reached the edge of the reservation the wagons stopped for our leaders to consult. Because of his experience with Indians, Papa was chosen to go ahead and see what arrangements he could make. As we slowly drove on, we had a feeling that we were being watched.
“I hope the village ahead has plenty of water,” Papa said.
“I hope they are friendly,” Mama replied.
“I’m prepared to take care of that even if they’re not,” Papa assured her.
“How?” Mama asked.
“I have a trick up my sleeve,” he answered, but he would tell her no more.
In a few moments we saw a cluster of huts up ahead. And about the same time two little girls with black braids ran from the shadows toward the village.
“Messengers,” Papa observed.
“What do we do now?” Ed asked.
“Wait,” Papa said and pulled the horses to a stop. He jumped down, climbed in the back of the wagon, and came out carrying his unfinished basket and a hank of straw.
“You children stay in the wagon,” he instructed firmly. And we settled in a spot where we could watch what was going on.
Papa sat down on the ground and began weaving. It seemed to me like a silly time and place to finish his basket, but I had learned that patience answers many questions, so I watched and waited.
Before long five or six braves came riding up on their ponies and formed a circle around Papa.
“You cannot cross Indian land,” one insisted.
Papa said nothing but kept on with his work.
“Go back,” another brave said, pointing in the direction we’d come from. “Do not cross Indian land.”
Papa nodded to acknowledge he had heard but he stayed where he was. Nothing moved but his hands. I had watched him make many baskets, and I knew that his fingers could fly as fast as frightened quail. Now he was weaving slowly, exaggerating the in and out movements as he laced the wide strips between the twisted upright ribs.
The belligerent expression on the Indians’ faces changed to curiosity. One by one they slid off their ponies and came closer. After they had watched awhile, Papa handed the basket to one of the braves, who copied the motions he had been watching. The Indian smiled at his handiwork. Then the basket was passed around the circle, with each brave taking a turn at the weaving and all of them becoming excited and pleased.
Papa began a new basket and handed some straw to one of the Indians to start one too. Before long each brave was sitting cross-legged on the ground, busy on a basket. Papa had motioned to Ed and me to climb down from the wagon, and we slipped out quietly and stood by his side. Other Indians came one by one and soon quite a crowd was watching the activity.
I turned to look toward the village and saw a large squaw coming toward me with a loop stretched open between her hands. Smiling, she came closer and closer, holding the noose high as if to place it over my head and around my neck. To choke me, I thought, and began to shake with fear. Please, Heavenly Father, save me, I silently prayed. My hands tightened on Papa’s arm, and he sensed my fright.
“It’s all right, Dora,” he assured me. “She won’t hurt you.”
By now the squaw was close enough so that I could see she was holding a beautiful necklace of dried berries and seeds. She placed it over my head saying, “Pretty, pretty.” I guess she had never seen yellow hair before.
All of a sudden I felt that she was a special person, and I wanted to do something for her. I climbed into the wagon and found the mirror I had brought rolled up in my sweater so it wouldn’t break. It was a round one with a handle. I handed it to the squaw and when she looked at it and saw her face reflected back, she was delighted. She showed it around with great pride, pointing to her image and laughing.
While the braves worked and the others watched, Papa spoke to them in gentle tones. “We want to be friends and will do you no harm. We are moving to New Mexico and would like to cross your land. We have our food and supplies with us. We need to stop tonight to rest our horses and fill our water barrels. We will leave tomorrow. Other wagons are behind waiting to hear your answer.”
At this point, five more braves and the chief rode up at a gallop. They began to talk rapidly in their own language with the weavers, who jumped up, showing off their baskets. After some discussion the chief turned to Papa and asked, “What are you teaching?”
“Basketmaking,” Papa said. “How to make baskets.”
“Basket,” one brave repeated, pointing to what he had done.
“You are good,” the chief said. “You can camp here tonight. There is plenty of water.” Then he motioned for Papa to mount one of the ponies, and they rode back together to get the rest of the camp to join us.
Soon after we left the Indian reservation, Sister Owens in the next wagon became ill, and we camped for several days.
Some of the braves rode over from the reservation to get help with their baskets. Papa didn’t have much straw left to give them, but they had already decided that bear grass would do just as well. Papa showed them how to do a braided edge around the top of their baskets. He took out a pocketknife to trim the ends, and a little Indian boy who had come with his father looked so pleased with the knife that Papa let him keep it. Later that day the boy’s father returned with a strange-looking three-pronged stick that he gave to Papa, explaining how he could use it to find water for digging a well.
“I can probably use this later,” Papa said as he fastened it securely to the wagon.
After we left this place the weather became hotter and the land drier. We had one more stop for supplies before we came to a stretch of desert, and Papa was able to replenish our ice supply. We had left Salt Lake City with a hundred-pound block of ice in a tub to keep our meat cool. Since it was wrapped in newspapers and burlap bags, it melted slowly and lasted quite a while. Ice was harvested from frozen streams and lakes just before the spring thaw and packed in sawdust in dirt-covered sheds. Most towns had a supply that lasted until the next winter, so we were able to buy it as we needed it along the way. That day we were very glad we had some.
The desert sun was hot. Heat waves curled up in ghostly spirals. We choked on the dust stirred up by the wagons and animals. Papa chipped off pieces of ice for us to suck on. They tasted so good that soon all the other children were coming to our wagon for ice chips.
“You’ll give it all away and then we won’t have any,” Caroline complained to Papa.
“Now, now,” he replied. “They don’t have any, and we can share.”

Such dramatic experiences may not come to you. But I believe all can have experiences such as I had one Saturday afternoon in graduate school. I was wrestling with the homework in a course requiring a knowledge of statistics I lacked. As I grew more and more frustrated, I was tempted to just give up and take a zero on the assignment, knowing it would mean I would do poorly on the next test as well. But instead I prayed, and there came to me a feeling of calm and confidence that I could do this. As I went back to the homework with more faith, I found that I could figure it out, and I was able to do the assignment and pass the test.

I remember the New Era so well during my high school years. I had some important decisions to make back then and needed all the spiritual guidance I could grasp hold of. I remember well when I was struggling with one decision and thought I had done everything there was to do as far as faith and prayer were concerned. One night as I was reading the New Era, I came across some quotes from our latter-day prophets, and one stood out on the page. It said, “Maybe you should try fasting.” I fasted and things became clear. Thanks, New Era, for being there through many of my growing pains. Life here is not over with yet, and I know there will be more growing pains. Sure hope the New Era will be there to help relieve some of the hurt.
Connie MedlockLubbock, Texas

Once I was awakened by a call from an anxious mother. Her premature child was not expected to survive the night. She asked for a priesthood blessing. As I approached the suffering child, the mother stopped me, looked into my eyes, and asked, “Are you worthy to bless my child?” That was an appropriate question. One never feels completely worthy, but we must do our best to be so. There came a strong prompting to bless the child to recover. The worthy mother continued professional treatment and exercised her faith. The Lord responded with the additional blessing needed. And the child recovered.

One of the ways Heavenly Father helps us find happiness is through righteous parents and Church leaders. They see things differently than we do, and we must listen to them and obey them. Once a group of young men went to a lake. They took a bow and ten arrows with them and decided to shoot at birds flying overhead. Each time they aimed at a bird and shot, they missed. The bird flew away, and the arrow fell harmlessly into the lake.

After they had shot the last arrow, one boy decided to swim to the middle of the lake to retrieve the arrow. He dove in and headed toward it. He got it and then turned back to swim for shore. By this time he was extremely tired. His wet clothing weighed him down. Holding the arrow in his hand made swimming very difficult. He began to fear that he might drown, and he called out desperately to his friends for help.

“Put your feet down and walk to shore,” they called back to him. He couldn’t see things clearly, but his friends, who were looking at things from the shore, knew that he was in shallow water. All he had to do was stand up, and he would be safe.

Many years ago, I read of a father who awakened his son one Sunday to get ready for church. The son replied, “I’m not going to church today.” Many parents in a moment like that would be tempted to say, “Oh, yes you are” and then add a threat. This father was wiser and simply said, “Son, you don’t need to explain why to me, because this isn’t my Church. But you ought to get down on your knees and give your excuse to your Father in Heaven.”
The father then left his son at the crossroads with the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost can disquiet our children far better than we can if we will just trust in that great gift. “There is no witness so terrible or no accuser so powerful as the conscience.”14 Within a few minutes, the teen was up and getting ready for church. Had the father forced his son to go to church, he might have planted seeds of resentment and rebellion, with the cobra effect slithering in.

As a young man Harvey worked in the grocery business and saved enough money to enter Brigham Young Academy in the fall of 1900. There were two courses of study: commercial and normal. Harvey entered the normal curriculum because it was less expensive. He also said that he entered the academy mainly because his friends were there. He breezed through the mathematics classes, feeling almost like he had studied them before. One of the other classes that he took was physics. He said that he understood the subject by just sitting in the class, listening to the teacher, and plying him with questions; but Harvey did not do any of the assigned work. In particular, he did not keep a laboratory journal. As a result he obtained an F grade.

Harvey later wrote the following in his autobiography:

It was the first and only grade failure that I ever received. This jolted my pride, and I think from then on I took my education seriously. I repeated the course the next year, obtained the highest grade in the class, A+, and was given my first paid job in the school, an assistant in the laboratory. During the following three years I taught physics and mathematics courses while carrying the regular college courses. At the end of these three years I graduated with a B.S. degree. The next year I was a full-time teacher at a salary of $750.00 a year.

By the way, there were only six students in the graduating class of 1907. Harvey ended up becoming president of the American Physics Society later in life and was the first LDS scientist elected to the American Academy of Science (in 1935).

She had learned about waiting during World War II when she thought her husband had died. The same bravery that led Bert to earn decorations from the Allied High Command and from the Dutch government for valor in the face of grave danger also led him to be parachuted behind Japanese lines with the English. He had been borrowed by the British forces, and Nora knew nothing about his whereabouts. Left alone with two small children, she survived in a post-war refugee camp in Bombay, India, assuming she would never see her husband again after receiving no word from him for four years.
But one day in 1946 as she was teaching a class to some children, a man stood at the back of the room. It was Bert. On an assignment with the British, he had been stationed in Singapore, where he searched the lists of refugee camps in the country. After a joyful reunion with his family, Bert went on another assignment to Ceylon (Sri Lanka), this time with his family, before returning to Indonesia.

My own childhood is a testament of the powerful influence a Christian adult can have on the life of a child. My mother died when I was four years old, and my grandmother helped care for me and my siblings. She belonged to the Salvation Army church, and she taught us to pray, love our enemies, and treat others kindly. Her guidance during those few critical years laid the foundation for my future choices.

I stared at the folded bill in my hand as I realized I still needed to pay tithing on money I had earned during the last week of my summer job. I owed 90 rands in tithing, and I had one R100 bill.
I had just started my final year of medical school and had many school expenses. I sat there fiddling with the R100 bill, thinking about paying tithing. My summer job had ended, and it was unlikely I’d find a job that would fit into my busy schedule. However, my parents had taught me to pay a full tithe. This money belonged to the Lord, and I knew it. With that thought, I placed the money in the envelope and paid my tithing.
In the days following, as I searched for a job, I prayed that the windows of heaven would open for me. I needed a job that would fit my schedule, pay well for low hours, and still allow me time to study. In short, I needed a miracle.
Two weeks later a friend suggested that I apply for a job at the hospital where our medical school had just opened a new education floor. I walked to the office and knocked on the door. The woman inside, who had taught our class two years before, remembered me.
“I was wondering if you were looking to hire any tutors for your new program,” I said. “If you are, I would like to be hired.”
“We are indeed,” she replied. “We are looking for someone to tutor a group of second-year medical students for an hour in the afternoons. It’s a flexible start time and will require you to study a different patient each day and then to teach the students. Can you do that?” she asked.
The Lord had helped me find a job that was exactly what I needed! It was the answer to my prayer.
After working a month, I found out just how much I had been blessed. My paycheck showed that I was being paid a monthly salary three times higher than I had thought. In addition, I received vacation pay.
The Lord had opened the windows of heaven and showered me with blessings far greater than I had ever expected. As a result, my faith was strengthened in the principle of tithing.

When the Saints left Nauvoo for the Salt Lake Valley after Joseph and Hyrum were martyred, Mary resolved to make the journey. She and her family were assigned to a traveling group, and the captain told her that she would be a burden to others and shouldn’t attempt the difficult journey. Mary responded, “I will beat you to the valley and will ask no help from you either.”1 The trek proved difficult, but she arrived with her family in Salt Lake on September 23, 1848, a day ahead of the captain who had doubted her.

About 15 years ago my doctor told me that I had to make a lifestyle change: “Start being more active, or you won’t live very long,” he told me. I took his warning seriously. I decided to start running.
To make this lifestyle change successful, I needed to keep the long view in mind because if I only had the short view, I wasn’t going to get very far.
My long view is a recurring goal to run one marathon each year. This goal helps me get up and run every day because I know that on one certain day next year, I’m going to have to run 26.2 miles (42.2 kilometers). I stay disciplined to train and meet my short-term goals each week because I know they’re getting me ready for race day.
Sometimes there are things that try and stop me, like the weather. Maybe it’s too hot or too cold outside, or maybe it’s raining. So I have to run inside on the treadmill, even though I significantly prefer to run on the street. Injuries also try and stop me. Maybe I didn’t stretch properly before my run, so I tweak my hamstring. Or maybe it’s not necessarily my fault that I got injured. But no matter how it happens, I can’t give up because I know I’m going to be running a marathon next year. So I make alterations to my training. I recover and get back out running.
Running has taught me a lot about the gospel. We all have a long-term gospel goal to endure to the end and achieve exaltation. But we set short-term goals like taking the sacrament at church each week that help us get there. We get spiritually injured when we make mistakes. But we don’t give up. We repent, and we get back out there. The only way we can achieve our long-term goal is by making little changes all along the way to help us stay on track.
For over a decade, I worked as the senior vice president for Walmart in Brazil. My family was financially stable, I enjoyed my job, and life was good. But the job was demanding. It required me to travel a lot, which was interfering with our family and with my Church service. After 11 or 12 years, it was becoming too much.
My wife and I counseled together and proposed that I leave this job. We talked it through with our children, and together we said, “It’s time for us to make a change.”
When I quit, I plummeted from senior vice president to unemployed. It took nearly a year to find and accept another job. When I finally took a position with a small real estate company in the United States, I felt good about it. This job would let me dedicate more time to the things that really mattered.
But other people told me I was crazy. Why leave a stable job for a real estate company no one has even heard of? And move halfway across the world to the United States?
They were right that this was a huge change we were choosing to make. But they were wrong that it was a poor choice.
It took a lot of faith for us to switch jobs and move to a new country, but the Lord took care of us. And I had more time to fulfill my responsibilities as a husband, father, and ward member.
I believe change is mandatory for achieving our potential. We will never become what Heavenly Father wants us to become if we’re stationary in our lives. And we become like Him as we make deliberate changes in faith.
Another big change that happened in my family was when my youngest brother died in a car accident. We didn’t choose or want that for him or for us, and it’s still painful, even after 10 years. Forced change is never easy.
But the changes we don’t choose can also become opportunities to build our faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It’s easy to stay faithful when things are going our way. But can we keep the faith and keep going when the changes don’t fall in our favor?
Divorce, infertility, unemployment, illness, and other painful experiences like these are not experiences we hope and plan for. They can make us feel like life is happening outside of our control. But that’s not entirely true—amid your unsolicited circumstances, there are still things you can control. You can set small goals, even just the goal to get through one more day. You can do it! You can bear all things with patience! (see Alma 38:4).
Joseph of Egypt is a perfect example of this. His life was full of forced change—he lost his freedom twice! (Once when his brothers sold him into slavery, and again when Potiphar put him in jail.) But Joseph didn’t break down because his circumstances were undesirable or unplanned for. He adapted and grew through his experiences. And in the end, he saved his family and an entire nation. The Lord was molding him and preparing him the entire way (see Genesis 37–46).
It’s hard to be patient when forced change upsets your plan, but remember that the long-term goal is to achieve exaltation. Heavenly Father knows what we need to get there: “Ye are not able to abide the presence of God now, neither the ministering of angels; wherefore, continue in patience until ye are perfected” (Doctrine and Covenants 67:13).
Heavenly Father loves you and wants you to succeed. He wants you to be happy. And He’s laid out a plan for you to achieve both of those things.
When I see mortality for what it’s meant to be—training—the changes in my life become more purposeful. Change helps me achieve my long-term goal, which is to become like my Savior Jesus Christ. I know Heavenly Father shares the same long-term goal for me and for all His children. Just like my doctor knew I needed to change something for the sake of my health, God clearly sees the changes we need to make to become like Him. He supports us and supplies resources like the scriptures, a local congregation, and a living prophet to help us in our quest to change for the better.
On the hardest days—those days when it’s hard to get out of bed and put on your running shoes, when you know you need to repent, or when you are struggling with some other unexpected change—we remind ourselves of God’s infinite love and of His desire for us to be even happier than we are right now.
That reminder gives us the strength to make the changes the Spirit prompts us to make. And it helps us trust that the unexpected changes we’re forced to make are part of His plan for our greatest happiness.

Let's consider the offices that Jesus put in His church to assist us: apostles and prophets. President Monson is an example. As I read his biography and his talks, I realized a pattern in his talks. It is the pattern for how we become like the Savior and obtain revelation in our lives. His stories are for children and all those who humble themselves like a little child. What happens to your heart when you hear this story from President Monson's biography, written by Heidi Swinton?

"...the home was buzzing with Thanksgiving preparations when Charlie Renshaw, a friend over the back fence, stood outside, as was the custom...and hollered, 'Tom-my!'

"'What are you eating?'

"Tommy told him it was turkey, and Charlie asked what turkey tasted like.

"Tom responded, 'Oh, about like chicken,' to which Charlie asked, 'What does chicken taste like?'

"Tom ran into the kitchen, snatched a piece of breast meat, and handed it to his friend. 'That's good!'

"When Tom asked what Charlie's family was having for dinner the answer was, 'I dunno. There's nothing in the house.'

"Tom had no turkeys or chicken or money. But he did have two pet rabbits, a male and a female, the pride of his life. He motioned to his friend and headed for the specially constructed rabbit hutch...and reached in and grabbed his two pet rabbits, put them in a gunnysack, and handed the bag to Charlie.

"He said: 'Rabbit meat tastes better than chicken.'"

Brothers and sisters, when one gives a love gift, all that one has, the meal will taste better than any dish prepared by a gourmet chef. President Monson's stories are not just stories. They teach us how to become like the Savior.

As the Swiss movers were packing our household belongings preparatory to our return to America, the doorbell rang. A special-delivery mailman had a package for us. When opened, it revealed a green pillow with an embroidered message of love on it, the handiwork of Sister Alice Rusterholz. Our hearts and feelings swelled as we thought of this wonderful older sister. For four years she had graced our Sunday dinner table with her sweet spirit and lively sense of humor. For many years as a single, unmarried sister and the only member of the Church from her family, she struggled to come to church. Early Sunday morning she would leave her humble second-floor apartment. With great effort due to a crippled leg, she would walk down the outside stairway and on to the Küsnacht train station, beginning her journey of one hour and 15 minutes by train, tram, bus, and a final walk to our meetinghouse. What a blessing it had been for us in that beautiful land to pick up Sister Rusterholz every Sunday morning, accompany her to church, and conclude with dinner in our home before returning her to her apartment.

If having a variety of skills and work experience on a résumé is a good thing—and it is—then 16-year-old Sarah K. is off to an awesome start. She has worked at babysitting, house cleaning, and doing yard work. She’s done photography shoots at weddings and receptions. And for the past nine months, Sarah has been working part-time at a restaurant as a hostess and a busser.
“I believe in a strong work ethic,” Sarah says. She believes firmly that every job she’s had has taught her something useful.
Sarah got started in her work-for-hire jobs the same way many Latter-day Saint youth do: by checking first with people in her ward. “The Church members started hiring me, and they would tell their friends,” she says.
It’s also been a family effort with her siblings. Sarah is the second-oldest of nine children. Her younger brothers know how to network and find yard-work jobs. “Whenever they had a gig, I would tag along,” she explains.
Her work plans are only getting started. “My goal is to be a cosmetologist and to have a business degree so I can build on that skill,” Sarah says.

Chris and Byron shared everything—their toys, their clothes, their books, their bedroom, and even their colds.
“I’m bored,” sniffed Chris. “I wish we could go outside.”
“There’s nothing to do in the house,” Byron said, coughing.
“Nothing at all,” Chris agreed, “except ride my horse.”
“You don’t have a horse,” Byron declared.
Chris wiped his nose. “I do so.”
“Prove it!”
Chris opened the door to their bedroom and pointed. “See?”
Byron blinked his eyes hard. “There’s nothing there but our bunk beds.” He snorted and started to turn away.
Chris walked over to the bunk beds and said, “Good horse,” as he gently patted one of the headboards.
Byron stopped and stared at the beds.
“Want to ride him?” Chris asked. “Or are you afraid he’ll buck you off?”
Byron stepped a little closer. “He’s your horse. You go first.”
Chris slowly climbed up the ladder and sat on the bed very carefully. He gripped the bedpost and whispered, “Giddy-up, horse.”
Nothing happened. He looked down at Byron.
“Try it again,” Byron urged.
“Giddy-up, horse,” Chris said louder.
Still nothing happened.
“Wait a minute,” Byron said. He lay on the bottom bed and lifted his legs up until his feet were touching the underside of the top bunk. “Now try kicking the horse,” he suggested.
Chris put one foot over the side and kicked the side rail. “Giddy-up, horse!” he yelled. With a little help from Byron’s feet, the mattress bucked up and down. “Yippee! Wahoo!” Chris bellowed.
Suddenly Mom appeared in the doorway. “Byron! Chris! Stop that right now before you break your beds,” she scolded, then disappeared back into the kitchen.
Chris swung his legs over the side. “What do you think?”
Byron sneezed, wiped his nose, and stood there staring at the beds for a long time. “I don’t think you have a horse,” he finally said. “What you have is a tree house in the middle of a dark, scary jungle.”
Chris screeched, “Look out behind you! There’s a tiger!”
Byron scampered up the ladder. “Where?”
Chris pointed his finger at Cat, who was sitting in the corner, busily licking his paws. Cat looked up at them with big, gleaming, hungry, yellow eyes.
“Should we shoot it?” Byron asked.
“No guns,” Chris reminded him.
Cat stretched, then stalked toward the bed.
“I don’t like the way he’s looking at us. Let’s get out of here before he decides to eat us.”
Byron pulled a long string out of his pocket and made a loop in one end.
“Here comes an elephant!” he shouted. “I’m going to capture it.” He swung the string over his head and neatly lassoed the bedpost. “Got it!”
The boys rode the big elephant away from the man-eating tiger, out of the jungle, and across the hot, white sands of the desert. The string slipped down in front of the bed and mysteriously came alive.
“Rattlesnake!” Chris exclaimed.
The elephant reared back, and the boys almost fell off. They had to hang on tightly while the elephant galloped past the rattlesnake.
“Whew! That was close,” Chris said.
Soon they came to a big lake.
“Let’s leave the elephant here and take a boat across the lake,” Byron suggested.
“Good idea,” Chris agreed. “I’ll go out on deck and steer the boat out of the harbor. You hoist the anchor.”
The boat hadn’t gone very far before it ran into a big storm. Hundred-foot waves crashed onto the boat and tossed the boys back and forth.
“Better head for port,” Chris shouted down to Byron.
When they were safely anchored in the harbor, Byron suggested that they take an airplane back home and get something to eat.
“Coming in for a landing,” Chris announced. “Check the landing gear.”
Byron learned over and looked under the bed. “There aren’t any wheels. Prepare to make a belly landing, and hope that the plane doesn’t explode.”
The plane skidded and jumped across the runway and came to a jerky stop.
“Everyone out before she goes up in flames!” Chris yelled. He and Byron bailed out just as the doorbell rang. They ran to open the door. It was George from across the street.
“Come outside and play,” George said.
“Can’t,” Chris sniffed. “We have colds.”
Byron coughed. “I wish we could go out,” he said. “There’s nothing to do in the house.”
“Nothing at all,” agreed Chris.

Why then do many of us “go it alone” and deny those who love us most the joy and blessings which come from sharing? The principle of helping one in need is well expressed in the touching love story of Thomas Moore, a famous nineteenth century Irish poet, who, when he returned from a business trip found his wife had locked herself in her upstairs bedroom and had asked to see no one. Moore learned the terrible truth that his beautiful wife had contracted smallpox and her milky complexion was now pocked and scarred. She had looked at herself in the mirror and demanded that the shutters be drawn, and that she never see her husband again. Thomas Moore did not listen. He went upstairs to the darkened room and started to light the lamp. His wife pleaded with him to let her remain in darkness alone. She felt it best not to subject her husband to seeing his loved one with her beauty marred. She asked him to go.

Moore did go. He went downstairs and spent the rest of the night in prayerful writing. He had never written a song before, but that night he wrote not only words but also composed music. As daylight broke, Moore returned to his wife’s darkened room. “Are you awake?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “but you must not see me. Please don’t press me, Thomas.”

“I’ll sing to you then,” he said. Thomas Moore sang to his wife the song that still lives today.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art
Moore heard a movement in the corner of the darkened room where his wife lay in loneliness. He continued:
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
Irish Melodies, “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms,” st. 1; cited in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, p. 542.

The song ended. As his voice faded, Moore heard his bride arise. She crossed the room to the window, reached up and slowly withdrew the shutters, opened the curtain, and let in the morning light.

I was really touched by the story “Please Bless Kathy” in the November 1989 issue. I had the same experience with a very good friend of mine who really hurt me. After a year of just wallowing in hate, I decided to pray about her, and though it was hard, my feelings towards her changed. I discovered that, instead of being angry towards her, I felt more sorrow, for she didn’t have the religion I have to rely upon. I also hoped that maybe I could give that to her. Thanks.
Melissa BurfordEugene, Oregon

A short history will illustrate this point: Isaac of Ghana returned honorably from his full-time mission with the desire to continue on the covenant path, and he knew that meant finding a young woman to whom he could be sealed in the temple. He came to know Edema, a wonderful returned missionary from Nigeria. The two fell in love and wanted to be sealed in the Ghana Accra Temple. Isaac did not have a job, and Edema’s extended family presented a list. Isaac’s parents were both deceased, and his uncle forbade him from getting married, telling him that he was crazy to think of marriage when he did not even have a job. Isaac prayed about what to do and heard these words spoken to his mind: “You should not fear man more than God.” So, he went to his uncle and told him that he respected him, but that he respected God more and would put God first. So, he and Edema decided to be sealed and set the date. Then, miracles began to happen. Isaac was offered a job. With the help of Edema’s mother, they did not need to be concerned about the list. They were sealed in the temple and are happy in their marriage.

In this short history, we see that Isaac and Edema faced strong opposition and difficult trials. Because they had decided to put God first, the opposition they faced became an opportunity to choose the right. Once they moved forward in faith, they had hope, the expectation of good things to come; the miracles followed.