Gospel Story Finder

We have 10 children. One unsettled Sunday morning when our family was young, my wife was in sacrament meeting. As usual, I was away on Sunday. Our children took up much of a row.
Sister Walker, a lovely, gray-haired grandmother who raised 12 children, quietly moved from several rows back and slid into the row among our restless children. After the meeting, my wife thanked her for the help.
Sister Walker said, “You have your hands full, don’t you?” My wife nodded. Sister Walker then patted her on the hand and said, “Your hands full now; your heart full later!” How prophetic was her quiet comment. That is what grandmothers do!

Together Again on Monday Night
It was Monday again, and the Veras family of the Gazcue Ward, Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Stake, was learning about the importance of listening to the prophet. Eight-year-old Shantalle led the singing. Four-year-old Yeraly helped her mother, Awilda, tell the story of Noah and the ark. Aaliya, two, was content sitting with her father, Nelson, as he bore testimony of President Gordon B. Hinckley.
Brother Veras’s rendition of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” sent the three girls into peals of laughter. A prayer followed, then treats.
Family home evening had turned the Veras family’s cramped downtown Santo Domingo apartment into a peaceful haven five stories above the busy street. “I love being with my family,” Shantalle says of family night.

What a waste of time, I thought angrily as I turned my bike around.
We were already late to an appointment with a golden family. We were missionaries in the Taiwan Taipei Mission, and my new companion, Elder Loo, always seemed to be lagging behind.
As I neared my companion, I noticed that the woman he was talking to was holding a thick stick in her hand. With her other hand she clenched the arm of a small, whimpering boy. I stopped behind my companion and listened as he tried to talk her out of beating the boy. She left without the stick.
Doesn’t he realize he’s ruining an appointment with the best family I’ve ever taught? my mind screamed. I peddled even faster.
We arrived at our appointment, sweaty and winded. At least I was. As I caught my breath and wiped the perspiration from my forehead, my companion began teaching about the “first and great commandment,” to love the Lord. “And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:38–39), he read.
I flinched. Although I had taught this discussion a thousand times, it was as if I were hearing the scripture for the first time. I would have been glad to help that little boy if we hadn’t been on our way to an appointment, I rationalized.
But I couldn’t even convince myself.
We taught a beautiful discussion on sacrifice and service. On the way to our next appointment, I was planning their baptismal service in my mind. Suddenly, I realized that I was riding alone again. I looked up just in time to see my companion dart out into a busy intersection. A moment later I realized why.
A drunk had wrecked his motorcycle. He was bleeding profusely and seemed disoriented. I jumped off my bike and ran to help. The man cussed and pushed us away, but we managed to get him and his motorcycle to the side of the road. Despite our pleas that he get medical assistance, the man brushed himself off, got on his bike, and rode away.
I was amazed—not at the shock of the accident, but at my companion. He seemed to have a built-in radar system that detected people’s needs. How did he do it?
We were peddling slowly through the crowded night market when my companion stopped again. I watched as he knelt down near a child who appeared to be lost. The child’s eyes were red and puffy, and his face was streaked with tears. People milled around him, seeming not to notice his terrified screams.
At the sight of the large Hawaiian, the crowd suddenly took notice of the frightened child. People crowded around, offering to help locate the child’s parents. Assured that the child would be fine, my companion got back on his bike and rode off.
I followed in silence, my mind racing faster than my bicycle. Why hadn’t I noticed the crying child? Or the motorcyclist? Why did he see things that I missed?
Then it dawned on me. He saw things because he looked for them. That explained why he trailed behind. He wasn’t just enjoying the scenery; he was looking for people in need.
I wondered what I would see if I really looked.
The next morning I didn’t race ahead of my companion. We rode side by side, looking, listening, and seeking someone to serve. Soon, it seemed like there were more needs than we could possibly meet. Had they been there before?
Since then, whenever I think that no one needs my help, I slow down and take another look. It’s amazing what I see.

During my growing-up years in the small farming community of Spring City, Utah, an opportunity afforded itself each summer to be with my father alone for two weeks herding sheep in the mountain range of the Manti-La Sal. On one occasion the fog rested heavily in the area to the extent that you could not see your outstretched hand in front of you, and the evening was drawing nigh.
My father suggested that I return to camp, and he would soon follow. I remember questioning how I would be able to find the camp amidst the fog. My father simply said to me, “Give the horse the reins, and he will get you to camp.” Following this counsel, I loosened my grip on the reins, and with encouragement to the horse, the journey began. At times I would be struck in the face by a low-hanging limb I couldn’t see or have my leg brush close to a tree. Eventually, the horse came to a complete stop, and the silhouette of the camp was in view.
Sometimes we may not always be able to immediately find the desired way before us, but the wisdom of those who have gone before, coupled with the wisdom of those who are with us still, will be our guide if we let them have the reins.

When I was little, my family and I had many financial trials that lasted until I was about 10 years old. My dad couldn’t find other work, so he worked as a street vendor and earned very little. My mother stayed home to care for me and my younger brother.
But even going through so many tribulations, we had a testimony of paying tithing and giving other offerings. We faithfully paid our tithing every month and never lacked anything. We know with certainty that we were continually blessed because of the Lord’s infinite kindness and because He keeps His promises when we are obedient to His commandments.
Our days of financial trial finally ended. The blessings that the Lord has given us in these last few years have been amazing.
I know that for those who faithfully pay tithing and pay their offerings in love with the goal of blessing the lives of others, nothing will lack and something even better can happen, as with me and my family. The blessings will increase. I know this. I lived this.

This analogy reminds me of an experience that a very faithful member of the Church shared with me some time ago. This member told me that when she awakened on one particular morning, an improper thought that she had never experienced before unexpectedly entered her mind. Although it caught her completely by surprise, she reacted against the situation in a split second, saying to herself and to that thought, “No!” and replaced it with something good to divert her mind from the unwelcome thought. She told me that as she exercised her moral agency in righteousness, that negative, involuntary thought immediately disappeared.

We have now been married for 22 years. It hasn’t always been easy. Annie and I have had the normal relationship bumps. There have been difficulties over the years. But because of our commitment to the relationship and a willingness to turn to the Lord for answers, we have grown together. As different situations and questions have arisen, we have been able to turn to the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, and prayer to find solutions.
The average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is nine years (in the USA).5 Because Annie and I built our marriage after the manner the Lord has shown us, we beat those odds. I’m glad we didn’t let fear of the world we were raised in stop us. There’s always more work to do, but we are both confident that our marriage will continue to improve through the years to come.

One sweltering July day, I helped my brother-in-law build a retaining wall. This project eventually pitted me against the roots of a blossoming cherry tree that was in the way.
“Easy,” I thought.
I gathered the appropriate tools and dug around the roots to make room to work. Then I grabbed a saw and, without a second thought, went to work cutting the roots. The smaller roots cut easily, but when I moved to the larger roots, I quickly realized that they weren’t going to be as easy. One root in particular was difficult.
Gritting my teeth, I was determined to cut through that root. Sweat rolled down my neck from the glaring sun overhead as I squeezed the saw tighter. The saw vibrated until my entire body shook. I could feel my right hand—the one squeezing the saw trigger—start to burn with pain. I ignored the pain and kept holding on.
Finally, the saw cut through the root. I released the trigger and felt the sweet pleasure of victory. As I removed my glove, however, I noticed a small piece of skin had been torn from my hand.
As I thought about this experience, I realized that holding on to the saw was, in a way, like holding fast to the iron rod. We are told to hold fast to the iron rod as we move through life. But just because we hold fast to it doesn’t mean we won’t experience moments of pain. I injured my hand as I clung to the saw. In a similar way, we will pass through trials and tribulations as we continually hold fast to the iron rod.
Heavenly Father knew that the journey back to Him would be fraught with peril. That’s why He has given us the scriptures and words of the prophets to help us. As we hold on to these things through our trials and tribulations in mortality, we will one day return to His presence.
When we return to Him, we will be able to look down at our hands, which held fast to the iron rod, sometimes in spite of pain or difficulty. And we will know that with the help of Heavenly Father and through the atoning power of Jesus Christ, we held on tightly, no matter what obstacles we encountered.

José Gonçalves da Silva suddenly awoke to people calling his name. It was dark, and he had no idea where he was.

“I was asleep when the bus rolled,” José recalls of the early-morning accident in January 2008. “Nobody could find me because I was in the back of the bus covered with luggage. Some of the brethren finally located me as they began to gather up the suitcases.”

When the bus driver lost control on a narrow stretch of winding road in southern Venezuela’s dense rain forest, José and other Latter-day Saints from Manaus, Brazil, were approximately halfway through their three-day trip to the Caracas Venezuela Temple. José suffered only minor injuries, but several brothers and sisters had to be hospitalized.

“It’s time you quit going to the temple,” concerned family members told José, who was 80 when the accident occurred. Undeterred, however, he declared: “I need to go to the temple. If the Lord allows it, I will return.”

He immediately began saving money for his fourth trip to Caracas, which he made in early 2009. For Brother Gonçalves da Silva, the 40-hour bus ride is easy compared to the three trips he previously made to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. For many years, the São Paulo Temple, located thousands of miles southeast of Manaus, was the closest temple to this city of two million people in the northern state of Amazonas. Then, in 2005, Manaus became part of the Caracas Venezuela Temple District.

During those years of traveling to São Paulo, “we would take a boat here in Manaus and spend four days getting to Pôrto Velho,” the capital of Rondônia State, José says. “Then we would take a four-day bus ride to São Paulo. My wife is not a member of the Church, and when I went to the temple for the first time in 1985, I went alone. I spent the night at the bus terminal in Pôrto Velho because I arrived late and there was no bus. The next morning I headed for São Paulo. It was a nice experience, but I arrived a little tired.”
He then spent three full days serving in the temple before making the eight-day return trip home. It takes him a year to save enough from his pension to cover the costs of traveling to the temple.
“It is a sacrifice to go, but it is worth it,” says Brother Gonçalves da Silva, who has done much vicarious work for his family. “I felt a special joy the day I was baptized for my father, when someone was baptized for my mother, and when I represented my father as my parents were sealed. It was a wonderful opportunity. All my brothers and sisters are gone now, but I have done the work for them during my temple trips.”
José believes that the sacrifice inherent in traveling so far to the temple will help Latter-day Saints in Manaus be grateful for the day a temple is dedicated there. “I am excited for that day,” he says.
Manaus had one small branch with 20 members when José joined the Church in 1980. Since then he has seen the Church blossom there to nearly 50,000 members living in eight stakes.
“When the announcement came in 2007 that a temple would be built in Manaus,” José says, “I wept for the great joy I felt, and I prayed that the Lord would allow me to live long enough to see the groundbreaking,” which occurred a year later. Now he prays that he will live to see the temple completed and his wife baptized so that they can be sealed.
“We don’t know when we will die, but we should be prepared and happy when that time comes,” Brother Gonçalves da Silva says. “I’m looking forward to returning to the presence of my Father in Heaven and my Savior, Jesus Christ. Being in the temple helps me prepare for that day.”

A dear friend shared how she gained her precious testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. She grew up believing sin always brought great punishment, borne by us alone. She pleaded to God to understand the possibility of divine forgiveness. She prayed to understand and know how Jesus Christ can forgive those who repent, how mercy can satisfy justice.
One day her prayer was answered in a spiritually transforming experience. A desperate young man came running out of a grocery store carrying two bags of stolen food. He ran into a busy street, chased by the store manager, who caught him and began yelling and fighting. Instead of feeling judgment for the frightened young man as a thief, my friend was unexpectedly filled with great compassion for him. Without fear or concern for her own safety, she walked straight up to the two quarreling men. She found herself saying, “I will pay for the food. Please let him go. Please let me pay for the food.”
Prompted by the Holy Ghost and filled with a love she had never felt before, my friend said, “All I wanted to do was to help and save the young man.” My friend said she began to understand Jesus Christ and His Atonement—how and why with pure and perfect love Jesus Christ would willingly sacrifice to be her Savior and Redeemer, and why she wanted Him to be.

Do you ever have those Sundays where you just don’t feel like going to church? Well I have, especially recently. I’ve just moved into a new ward in Cape Town, South Africa. It’s not that the people in the ward aren’t nice or friendly. They just aren’t my friends from home.
After my first week in the ward I had made up my mind—from now on I was only going to sacrament meeting. The following week I went late. As I walked through the chapel doors, I was greeted by few people and took my seat. As I sat there, I felt so homesick. All I wanted was my old ward, the friendly faces that knew me.
Then the first speaker got up and began her talk. It was like she was speaking to me. She spoke of feeling alone in a new city, and I realized I was not the only one. Then the second speaker shared another message which held personal significance to me. Just before the meeting ended, the bishop stood up and told us how much he loved each one of us. He said he knew that there were people who were relying on him to look after and care for them.
As I sang the closing hymn, I knew this was where I should be. I hadn’t felt such peace in a long time, and I knew it came from Heavenly Father. He knows each of us and our needs. He gave me what I needed that day, and I know that if I continue to live His commandments, He will always do so.

I grew up a member of the Church in Belize, but I wasn’t always a faithful follower of the Lord. My family was among the first members in Belize, but we had many trials. My father left us, leaving my mother jobless with three kids.
My mother’s faith in the Lord allowed us to overcome our trials. My mom worked hard to support us and to bring us to the Lord, but I had to gain a testimony for myself. For a time I chose wrong paths, mainly because of the company I spent my time with. They influenced me to draw away from—rather than near to—the Lord.
My turning point was when I started to spend most of my time with youth of the Church. I witnessed the marvelous spirit they had. It brought an unusual joy in my life. Seeing my friends going out to serve the Lord on their missions brought an even greater spirit.
Serving a mission was the last thing on my mind until I decided to turn to the Lord in prayer to find out if this was the way for me. As I prayed I felt the Holy Spirit’s power bursting in my heart. I have never before witnessed such marvelous power. It led me to know that a mission was right for me. I talked to my branch president, prepared spiritually and financially, and later served a full-time mission.
I can now say without any doubt that I know that this is the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and that President Gordon B. Hinckley is a living prophet, seer, and revelator, called by God to declare His word and to bring all people to our Heavenly Father’s fold. As Moroni said, you need to read the Book of Mormon, ponder it in your heart, pray, and you will receive answers to the questions in your heart (see Moro. 10:3–5).

On June 2, 2002, my little granddaughter, Susan Melina, who was only seven months old, became ill, and her parents took her to the hospital. The doctors diagnosed her with a kidney infection. She also developed a serious bacterial infection that spread throughout her system, causing damage to her heart, liver, spleen, kidneys, lungs, and nervous and digestive systems. She was so ill she was admitted to intensive care.
The doctors advised her parents to prepare themselves because she could die at any time. She remained in intensive care for 26 days, during which time she was given antibiotics and many transfusions. Meanwhile, we, her family, fasted often and asked God for a miracle, for a complete healing—if it was His will. Two priesthood brethren anointed and blessed her.
When Susan Melina had been in the hospital for two weeks, her mother became ill also and had emergency surgery for appendicitis. This was a difficult trial for the whole family.
Twenty days after Susan Melina entered the hospital, she was no better. But because of the generosity of a person we didn’t even know, her parents were able to move her to a private hospital where she would receive better care.
One Saturday at noon I received a telephone call from my daughter, Susan Carolina. I was in the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple, where I work in a custodial position. My daughter told me that her baby’s condition had worsened and that the infection had now lodged in one of the ventricles of her heart. According to the doctors, it was hard to do anything to help her because she was completely malnourished. She was so ill that it was dangerous to hold her because it could cause internal bleeding. When I learned about the situation, I immediately began to pray to my Heavenly Father. Once again I fasted.
The next day, Sunday, my daughter called and told me that the bacteria had completely disappeared. The doctors were releasing Susan Melina on Monday because she was out of danger.
As we rejoiced in this great miracle, we realized that not every prayer of faith is answered so quickly in the way we desire. But I am infinitely grateful to Heavenly Father. I have no doubt that He lives and hears our prayers.

Cameron used another student’s question about his beliefs as an opportunity to gain a sure testimony for himself. In his freshman year someone asked how he could believe that Joseph Smith really saw what he claimed to have seen. Cameron studied the history of the Church and began reading the scriptures every night. He explains what happened a little while later when that student asked him the same question again:

“He said, ‘Don’t you think that’s silly that something like that happened so close to the present time?’ And I said, ‘No, I don’t think it’s silly. I think it’s great.’ Later on, he told me that he ended up having more respect for me and other LDS students because of that.”

A week or so later BYU lost to Clemson in the NCAA tournament. It was a heartbreaking loss. A few moments later as Devin showered and dressed, I sat watching Lamar play Oregon State. I forgot for a time the pain of the loss and was intensely interested in this new game. Devin came, and we walked to the lobby. Arriving there I said, “Devin, you go ahead and ride home with these people. I’ll go back in and watch the rest of this game.” It was then that he took me by the hand and said, “Pop, don’t go back in there. Come home with me.” I could see a longing look in his eyes as he said, “There are just some times when a guy needs his father.”
We walked out of the arena arm in arm. I’ve never been happier than to be with my son. As we moved farther away from the great basketball arena, we both knew it would be a long time before his legs would again send him high into the air, his wrist flick the ball, and the crowd cheer.
Devin’s winning spirit caused him to know that the people out there away from the crowd needed their Heavenly Father. His goal was to help them find that Father.

I met Megan when my family moved into our new house. She lived down the street, and we were both in Sister Crawford’s Primary class. We became friends and played together a lot. I watched Megan closely, trying to remember how she told a joke or how she fixed her hair or how she talked to other kids so easily. I thought Megan was perfect. I was shy. I wanted to be like Megan.
One day I called Megan to see if she wanted to play. She didn’t say anything at first.
“Caitlin is already over here,” she finally said.
Caitlin was in our Primary class too. I waited for Megan to invite me over, but she didn’t. Her end of the line was quiet.
“Oh. OK,” I stammered. Megan hung up without saying anything else.
That Sunday in Primary, Sister Crawford asked us, “What does it mean to be a good friend?”
I smiled at Megan, but she didn’t see me. She turned the other way and whispered to Caitlin. Suddenly Caitlin laughed out loud.
“Please quiet down, girls,” Sister Crawford said. They stopped whispering, but their shoulders trembled with giggles. Sister Crawford turned to me. “Angie, what do you think makes a good friend?”
“Well, someone who is nice and likes to play with you and—”
Megan and Caitlin giggled louder. My face got hot, and I looked at the floor. Were they laughing at me?
Sister Crawford frowned at them, then smiled at me. “That’s right, Angie,” she said. She looked around at the class. “How can you be a good friend?”
Adam raised his hand. “We can help people,” he said.
Sister Crawford nodded. “A good friend wants to help and serve others. Jesus Christ taught that when He lived on the earth. He also taught us that we should be kind to everyone.”
I looked at Megan and smiled at her. She didn’t smile back. I felt an empty spot in my chest. Didn’t Megan like me anymore?
At the end of the lesson, Sister Crawford held up a small basket. “I have something for you,” she said. She reached into the basket and showed us colorful strings that had been tied in small circles. “These are friendship bracelets. You wear it on your wrist, and whenever you look at it you can remember to be a good friend.”
Maybe friendship bracelets would help! Maybe Megan and I could get matching bracelets. As the basket went around the class, I leaned toward Megan. “What color are you going to get?” I asked her.
Megan shrugged. “Maybe a yellow one.”
“Me too,” I said.
Caitlin chose a blue bracelet. Then she passed the basket to Megan. Megan fingered a few bracelets, then pulled out a blue one too. I stared at her. Blue? She quickly handed me the basket. I stared into it, not knowing what to do. There were only yellow bracelets left. I slowly pulled one out.
Megan and Caitlin giggled and held out their arms side by side, admiring their matching blue bracelets. I felt a lump rise in my throat. Tears stung my eyes. I clenched my teeth together to keep from crying. I was not going to cry in front of them.* * * *
I threw myself into Mom’s arms as soon as we got home from church. “What’s wrong, honey?” Mom asked as I started to cry. Through my tears I told her what had happened. She sat next to me on my bed and held me close. “I’m sorry, Angie,” she said.
“Doesn’t Megan want to be my friend anymore?” I asked.
Mom stroked my hair. “Sometimes we don’t know why people do certain things,” she said. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“Sister Crawford said today that we should try to be kind to everyone, like Jesus was. But I don’t want to be kind to Megan.”
“I understand,” Mom said. “But I also agree with Sister Crawford. It might be hard, but we should try to be kind even if someone hurts our feelings. Jesus taught us to forgive others.”
“How can I do that?” I asked. I thought of the way Megan and Caitlin had laughed, and I felt that empty feeling again.
Mom pointed to a figurine of a girl kneeling in prayer that I kept on my nightstand. “Whenever someone hurts my feelings, I ask Heavenly Father to help me forgive that person. I ask Him to soften my heart and the other person’s heart.”
“Does it work?” I asked.
Mom smiled and kissed the top of my head. “I always feel better when I’ve talked to Heavenly Father,” she said.
When I said my prayers that night I thanked Heavenly Father for the friendship I had with Megan. Then I asked Him to help me forgive her. I scrunched up my eyes and thought hard. “Please help Megan and me be friends again,” I said.
I prayed for those things for the next few days. On Saturday I was swinging on our swing set when Megan came up our walk. I stopped swinging. We looked at each other but didn’t say anything. Finally Megan reached out and put something in my hand.
“This is for you,” she said. I opened my hand and saw a blue friendship bracelet.
“Do you want to play?” Megan asked. “Caitlin is coming over to my house. We’re going to pretend we’re princesses, and Noodle is going to be the queen.”
Noodle was Megan’s gray-striped cat. I giggled, picturing Noodle wearing a crown. I felt the empty spot inside shrinking. “Yes, I’d like to come over,” I said. “Thanks.”
I smiled at her, and this time Megan smiled back.

The row of strawberry plants seemed to stretch into infinity. I picked another handful of the plump red berries and dropped them into my carrier. I would have to pick a lot of them to pay for the blue jeans I wanted for school next fall.
Mom works hard to take care of Joey and me. We have everything we need, but Joey and I know Mom can’t afford expensive things—like the blue jeans at Stovers. They cost thirty dollars a pair. I was sure all the girls at my new school would be wearing them, and I just had to have a pair.
I had tried to get a summer job, but no one wanted a fulltime baby-sitter, and I’m not old enough to work in the stores. There aren’t many jobs available when you’re only fourteen. Then I saw Mr. Baker’s ad in the paper: “Berry pickers wanted.”
Joey bounced up from the sofa, “Hey, Marcie! Can I come too?”
I shook my head. “The ad says you have to be twelve, and your birthday is still three weeks away.”
Joey pushed a lock of red hair out of his face and his blue eyes sparkled. “I can hardly wait to get a paper route,” he said.
Getting a paper route was all Joey had talked about since we moved here. Mom agreed to let him apply for one when he turned twelve.
When Mom came home from work, I showed her the ad.
“Berry picking is hard work, Marcie. You’ll have to get up very early every morning to catch the bus,” she warned.
“But it’s the only way I can earn money for the school clothes I want.”
Mom smiled. “You can try it. I know how much you want those blue jeans.”
“Thanks, Mom!” I shouted, throwing my arms around her.
In the morning the excitement I had felt began to evaporate. I didn’t know any of the kids waiting for the bus. By the time it came. I’d almost made up my mind to go home. Instead I found myself being pushed aboard the bus with the crowd.
When we reached the berry field, I wondered if Mr. Baker would hire me, but he smiled and handed me a punch card and a carrier. I followed the other kids into the field.
I was soon tired of bending over so I got down on my knees. A berry whizzed past my head and I looked up to see where it came from. Two boys were picking up berries from their carriers and firing them at each other.
The girl in the next row looked over and smiled. She had a bright red scarf over her dark hair, and her hazel eyes looked friendly. “Don’t pay any attention to those two,” she said. “They’re always doing that.”
“Have you worked here long?” I asked.
She nodded. “I started when the field first opened. Mr. Baker pays a bonus if you stay the season. My name is Alice. You’re new, aren’t you?”
“We moved here last month. My name is Marcie. This is the first time I’ve tried picking strawberries.”
Alice smiled. “It’s hard work at first, but you get used to it. I earn enough money for my school clothes. We’ll finish here in three weeks, then the raspberries will be ready.” Alice picked up her full carrier. “Want me to save you a seat on the bus this afternoon?”
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
“See you later,” Alice said and started for the berry shed.
It felt good to know I wasn’t the only one earning money for school clothes. I liked Alice and hoped we would become friends.
Before quitting time, my knees hurt too much to kneel down and my back ached from bending over. It took a long time to fill my carrier. Now I knew why Mr. Baker paid a bonus for staying the season.
“Quitting time!” the field supervisor called. Everyone hurried to the berry shed.
“Anyone want to cash in their cards?” Mr. Baker asked. Some of the kids turned theirs in and got paid. “How about you?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head. Mr. Baker smiled. “See you tomorrow then, unless it rains.”
I climbed aboard the bus and sat down next to Alice, but I was almost too tired to talk.
Joey met me at the door with a big grin on his face. “I’m going to get a paper route!” he shouted. “Mr. Rivers says there will be one open the day after my birthday! It’s the area between Williams and Miller streets. Now we can both help Mom by earning extra money!”
I remembered that the bus had gone past those two streets on the way home. Joey was so proud, I didn’t have the heart to tell him how far he would have to walk.
After the first couple of days, berry picking did get easier. By the following week, I could pick almost as fast as Alice. Maybe I can earn enough for two pairs of jeans! I thought.
The sky clouded over the next Monday, and on the way home it started to rain. “Do you think we’ll be able to pick tomorrow?” I asked.
Alice shook her head. “Not if this keeps up. Rain makes the berries soft, and the cannery won’t take them.”
It rained all the next day. I watched the sky anxiously and wondered if there would be any good berries left to pick. I could never earn enough for the jeans if it didn’t stop soon.
Joey came in soaking wet. “What are you doing out in the rain?” I asked.
Joey wiped his face, “I have to learn my paper route. The kid who has it now is teaching me.” Then he smiled and added, “I stopped at the secondhand shop to look at bikes too.”
Tuesday night the rain stopped and my hopes soared. There were still three days left to pick!
I worked as fast as I could. By Friday afternoon the field was finished. Everyone lined up to get paid. I had filled five punch cards and had two punches on the sixth. Mr. Baker smiled and counted out $43.40. “Come back next year,” he said. “You’re a good worker,”
On the way home, Alice said, “I start picking raspberries next week. Would you like to come with me?”
“Are they as hard to pick as strawberries?” I asked.
Alice smiled, “No, silly, you pick them standing up.”
“Good!” I laughed. “It will be fun working together.”
Mom was in the kitchen frosting a cake when I got home.
“I made $43.40!” I shouted, waving the bills in the air. “With what I’ve already saved, I have $51.20!”
Mom was decorating the cake when I came down the stairs. It’s Joey’s birthday! I’d been so busy I had forgotten it.
I rushed out of the house and stopped at the second-hand shop.
“May I help you?” the man asked.
I described Joey. “Do you know what bike he comes in here to look at?”
The man smiled and pointed to a red and white bike. “He’s almost worn it out just looking at it,” he said.
I thought about how far Joey had to walk to deliver papers, then I looked at the price tag and gasped.
“Hurry up, Marcie!” Joey exploded halfway through supper.
“Calm down, Joey,” Mom said. “Let your sister finish eating.”
“Go ahead and serve the cake, Mom,” I said.
Joey made a wish and blew out the candles. Mom handed him her gift. Joey ripped off the paper.
“Oh, boy!” he shouted. “A baseball mitt!”
Mom raised her eyebrows in surprise when I wheeled in my gift to Joey. “I start picking raspberries next week,” I said quickly.
I’m not sorry I spent the money, I decided. The look on Joey’s face when he saw the bike was worth the price of a dozen pairs of blue jeans!

Last summer a group of young women from Alpine, Utah, decided that they would become “more fit for the kingdom.” They determined to focus on the temple by walking from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple, a total distance of 22 miles (35 km), just as one of the pioneers, John Rowe Moyle, had done. Brother Moyle was a stonemason who was called by the prophet, Brigham Young, to work on the Salt Lake Temple. Each week he walked the distance of 22 miles from his home to the temple. One of his jobs was to carve the words “Holiness to the Lord” on the east side of the Salt Lake Temple. It was not easy and he had many obstacles to overcome. At one point, he was kicked in the leg by one of his cows. Because it would not heal, he had to have this leg amputated. But that did not stop him from his commitment to the prophet and to work on the temple. He carved a wooden leg, and after many weeks he again walked the 22-mile distance to the temple to do the work he had committed to do.6
The young women in the Cedar Hills Sixth Ward decided to walk that same distance for an ancestor and also for someone who was their inspiration to remain worthy to enter the temple. They trained each week at Mutual, and as they walked, they shared what they were learning and feeling about temples.
They began their walk to the temple early in the morning with a prayer. As they started out, I was impressed with their confidence. They had prepared well, and they knew they were prepared. Their eyes were set on their goal. Each step they took was symbolic of each of you as you too are preparing now to enter the temple. Your personal training has begun with your daily personal prayers, your daily reading of the Book of Mormon, and your working on Personal Progress.
As these young women continued to walk, there were distractions along the course, but they stayed focused on their goal. Some began to feel blisters forming, and others felt knees starting to protest, but they kept going. For each of you, there are many distractions, hurts, and obstacles along your path to the temple, but you too are determined and keep going. The route these young women took was mapped out by their leaders, who had walked and driven the course and determined the safest and most direct way to go. Again, your course is marked, and you can be assured that the Savior has not only walked the course but will again walk it with you—every step of the way.
Along this journey to the temple there were fathers, mothers, family members, and priesthood leaders acting as guardians. Their job was to ensure that everyone was safe and protected from danger. They made sure each young woman stayed well hydrated and had enough nourishment to maintain her stamina. There were aid stations provided by their priesthood leaders, with places to rest and to drink water. Young women, your fathers, your mothers, your bishops, and so many others will be your guardians as you walk your path to the temple. They will call out cautions and direct your course, and should you become injured or hurt or get off course, they will help you.
I was impressed that in the final miles of their walk, brothers, other young men, and friends came to support these determined young women and to cheer them on. One brother lifted his sister, who had large blisters on her feet, and carried her on his back the final distance to the temple. As these incredible young women reached their goal, tears were shed as they touched the temple and made a silent commitment to always be worthy to enter there.

Oliver and Rosetta Snow, Eliza’s parents, taught their children to listen to people with different religious beliefs and choose for themselves. Eliza soon realized that with so many diverse religious practices, she searched for something firmly founded in Bible teachings. In the fall of 1830, when Eliza was 26, the Snows heard about Joseph Smith, “a Prophet to whom the Lord was speaking from the heavens”—the very model that she had been looking for since her childhood. As much as she wanted the news to be legitimate, she wrote, “I considered it a hoax—too good to be true.” Eliza continued to study the ancient prophets in order to learn their patterns.3
In the winter of 1831–32, Joseph Smith came to the Snow home. As he sat by the fire, Eliza “scrutinized his face as closely as I could without attracting his attention, and decided that his was an honest face.” Even so, her investigative nature led her to observe what happened over time. She attended a local meeting where Joseph and two Book of Mormon witnesses spoke, and she was deeply impressed. Her mother and sister, Rosetta and Leonora, believed and were baptized that spring.4 Still Eliza waited, studying the Book of Mormon, watching and listening.
In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5
Even then, baptism was a challenge for Eliza, a humble woman who followed social rules and propriety. She prayed for someone to come baptize her, but no one came. When she heard of a meeting of the Saints about two miles from home, she asked her father’s permission to go and be baptized—as an adult, she respected her father, and he readily consented. At the meeting, there was no discussion about baptism, but Eliza gained courage to stand up and request the privilege. Before she could arise, a dark fear came over her. She pushed through the fear and was baptized in a nearby stream on April 5, 1835. “From that day to this I have not doubted the truth of the work,” she wrote.
That night, Eliza reflected on her baptism: “I felt an indescribable, tangible sensation, … commencing at my head and enveloping my person and passing off at my feet, producing inexpressible happiness.” She saw in a vision a candle with a long, bright flame, and a voice told her, “The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path.” She was satisfied.6
Eliza moved to Kirtland to join the Saints for a time and taught school. When she returned to her family’s home at the end of the term, her old friends and neighbors asked about the “strange people” with whom she associated. “I was exceedingly happy in testifying of what I had both seen and heard,” she later wrote. Eliza determined to change her life and live permanently with the Latter-day Saints. Her conversion deepened even further in 1837 when she lived with Joseph Smith and his family. Again, she observed. “I had ample opportunity of judging his daily walk and conversation,” she recalled. She saw much more than the miraculous events of the Kirtland Temple dedication—she saw the life and relationships of a prophet of God. “The more I made his acquaintance, the more cause I found to appreciate him in his divine calling.”7
Thirty-seven years after her baptism, with a heart firmly fixed through persecutions in Missouri and the eventual assassination of Joseph Smith, Eliza remained a committed Latter-day Saint. On June 22, 1872, she shared about her conversion with a group of women in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA: “When I heard it announced that the Lord had spoken from heaven and a record had been brought forth I was deeply interested. I prayed unto the Lord to let me know if the work were true, covenanting with him if he did so that I would ever praise his name.” After her baptism, she said, she attended Church meetings. “We were called upon to speak; I dared not refuse for I had promised God I would ever praise his name in the congregation of the Saints.”8 Her continual conversion required her continued witness.
Eliza bore her testimony over a thousand times as she traveled throughout Utah Territory to teach the Relief Society, young women, and Primary children about the Restoration. Her heart was fixed, and she invited others to experience their own conversions and become firm and steadfast.

Brother Kelly reached into the box of questions our seminary class had written anonymously. “Can I know now who I’ll marry?” he read.
I tried to look bored as he answered my question.
“No,” he said. “At your age, you cannot know who you’ll marry.” Then he kindly explained that we might already be acquainted with our future spouse, but now wasn’t the time to find out. He encouraged us to develop friendships, not exclusive romantic relationships.
I’d read the same counsel in For the Strength of Youth: “Good friendships can and should be developed at every age. … When you begin dating, go in groups or on double dates. Avoid going on frequent dates with the same person” ([2001], 24–25). I wanted to obey. But I also wanted something more.
I wished I could feel the sense of belonging I thought having a boyfriend would provide, and I wanted my attraction to one of my guy friends to have a purpose. It was hard to care about him and have nowhere for those feelings to go.
I knew my secret question was a little unrealistic, but other serious questions remained: Would I ever find someone who loved me? What was the point of having these emotions now? And what was I supposed to do with them?
Besides being drawn to one of my guy friends, I also believed being his girlfriend would prove I was lovable. I should have taken to heart the evidence Heavenly Father had given me that He loved me and that I had nothing to fear.
My patriarchal blessing promised I would find someone to marry at “the appropriate time.” Later I found out that my dad had used the same words when I was a baby and he had asked Heavenly Father to bless me with a husband “at the appropriate time.”
Though Heavenly Father didn’t answer my prayers about whom I might marry, He assured me I would marry, and He even told me when: at the right time. I didn’t need a boyfriend to help me feel secure nearly as much as I needed to remember God’s promises and His love for me.
It was hard to always remember the eternal perspective because my worries threatened to crowd out other thoughts. Would the guy I liked ask me out? Should I ask him? Sometimes I wondered why Heavenly Father hadn’t created His children so that attraction wouldn’t be an issue until after high school!
Now I understand that my feelings had some divine purposes. Feeling attraction motivated me to form friendships. Whether I was socializing in groups or going on dates, getting to know guys taught me to communicate better and treat men respectfully. I learned what traits were uplifting and what kind of person I should marry someday.
Admiring guys also helped me remember to prepare for the temple. Even though high school isn’t the time to build serious romantic relationships, thinking about love at a young age is normal. Our spirits long to be with someone because marriage is a part of Heavenly Father’s plan. As I reflected on my feelings and imagined what an eternal relationship might be like, I was even more determined to qualify for temple blessings.
Strong feelings can be hard to cope with. All my instincts told me I’d be happier channeling my energy toward the guy I liked—thinking about him, talking to him, spending time with him. But whenever I made the effort to ponder the eternal picture, my stress melted away and I was happier. I knew I could find real peace by putting Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ first in my thoughts and actions. This meant studying the scriptures, attending church, finding ways to serve, working on Personal Progress, and following the instructions in my patriarchal blessing.
Nurturing my spirit made it easier to enjoy friendship and dating according to the standards outlined in For the Strength of Youth. Resisting the urge to pursue exclusive relationships wasn’t easy, but it blessed me. I gained spiritual strength by proving to myself I could make hard decisions, even when part of me felt like doing something else.
Although I was disappointed by Brother Kelly’s answer, he spoke the truth. Had I spent high school dating only one person, I would have missed out on meeting people who helped prepare me to recognize my husband when I met him years later. No wonder I couldn’t know the answer to my secret question. Some of my classmates married old friends, but I didn’t. At age 16, I was nine years away from meeting my future spouse!
What could dating only one person in high school have accomplished? Possibly fun times, but also distraction from pursuing other goals, a lack of peace for ignoring Church teachings, and heartbreak when the relationship ended.
In the years following high school, I dated a few men seriously until the Holy Ghost confirmed that “the appropriate time” and person had come into my life. I’m grateful I waited for the best time to pursue exclusive relationships and received all I’d hoped for: a sense of belonging in a marriage that could last for eternity, and a confirmation that Heavenly Father was happy with my decision.