Gospel Story Finder

Jeremy (name changed) is a boy at school who doesn’t have very many friends. Nobody ever wants to sit by him at lunch. One day I had a feeling that I should sit with him. I looked at Jeremy all alone at the table and thought for a minute. Then I took a deep breath, walked to the table, and sat down next to Jeremy. He had a big smile on his face. I felt good inside, and I knew that I had done the right thing.

In one ward, a father was asked to explain why he was so well liked by the youth of the ward and why so many young people liked to go over to his house. The man did not know the answer, but his wife answered for him. She said, “He always asks and remembers the names of his children’s friends. When he sees them again, he calls them by name and takes a personal interest in them, sometimes joking with them, sometimes asking them things about their families and their lives. The young people can tell that he is genuinely interested in them.”

This father did more for his children by being a friend to their friends than he could with a year’s worth of lectures on friendship. People can tell when we are genuinely interested in them. Likewise, they can tell when our attentions to them are insincere or solicitous. Our own attitude toward our children’s friends can be a very important model of how to treat a friend.

Every year my family spends Christmas at a beach near Matinhos in Paraná, Brazil. We begin preparing for the trip in November and survive the hot days of December only by anticipating the excitement of the Christmas holidays.
It is not just the chance to play in the ocean that makes the trip so exciting. It is also a reunion with my father’s family—all strong Latter-day Saints. My grandparents joined the Church long ago, and both my parents were born in the Church.
One year’s trip, the year I was 13, was particularly unforgettable.
It was 22 December 1994 when, after so many preparations, we finally arrived at the large beach house where we were met by my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles.
“Hey, Isaac,” I heard my cousin Charles calling me. “Let’s go take a look at the waves.”
“Sure, let’s go,” I excitedly yelled back. After all, I did not want to lose one second of my long-awaited holiday.
As we made our way to the ocean, my mother counseled: “Do not go very far from the beach. Try to stay in the shallow water with your cousin.”
But after entering the water, we began pursuing the rolling waves and gradually moved farther out. Before we noticed it, we were far from the shore. Suddenly Charles said, “Isaac, the water is deep. It’s so deep I can’t put my foot down.”
“Let’s go back,” I answered. “I can’t touch the bottom either, and I don’t think we can swim against the tide.” Charles seemed to be more frightened than I, but I was also afraid, not knowing what was going to happen to us.
Some minutes passed as we tried to reach the shallow water, but it seemed the more we struggled, the farther out we went. We were a long way from the shore when I looked over the waves and saw many people running back and forth on the beach trying to see us. At that moment, I thought of my mother. She would be angry because I had disobeyed her, and she would be worrying that I wouldn’t return. I was glad my father was at work and hadn’t joined us at the beach yet. He would have been frantic. Oh, how I wanted to be safe on the beach with my family!
I kept struggling and telling my cousin not to quit as we tried to keep our heads above the water. He kept encouraging me also. When we saw a lifeguard coming to get us, he looked very small in that immense ocean. I yelled, “We’re saved!”
But my joy was short-lived as I saw how hard it was for the lifeguard to reach Charles and carry him back to the beach. Left alone, I was pulled by the current farther and farther away. I became so tired I could hardly breathe. At that moment, I remembered something I had learned from my parents: “All things are possible to him that believeth” (Mark 9:23).
Trusting my parents and my Heavenly Father, I began to pray. I asked Heavenly Father to send dolphins to save me. When the dolphins appear, I will grab one of their fins, and I will be saved, I thought. I had no doubts about my request; I knew my prayer would be answered. I waited … and waited.
I soon became so exhausted that I held my nose, went deep under the water, then returned to the surface. Nevertheless, hope and patience did not abandon me, not even for a second. I kept fighting.
By then, Charles was safe on the beach, but he was in a very bad condition. People asked him about me. He could only cry. The people on the beach continued trying to spot me among the waves.
From the other side of the beach, which seemed an easier means of rescue, two lifeguards started toward me. As they approached, I realized in my very tired mind that my prayers had been answered. Two courageous men had not become discouraged by what seemed a hopeless situation. They were the dolphins I was waiting for! I remember they said to me, “Rest and everything will be all right.”
When we reached the shore, I was laid on a stretcher and taken to a first-aid station. People watching from the other side of the beach could see only my motionless body, and they thought I had drowned.
My mother quickly reached my side and found I was still breathing. How good it was to see her! How good it was to be alive!
“Well, young man, you are very lucky,” the surprised doctor remarked. “Not one drop of water entered your lungs. I have never seen an accident like this where someone has been so lucky.”
My mother looked at the doctor. “It wasn’t luck,” she said firmly. It was clear that she knew it was the Lord, not luck, who had saved me.
My parents have always taught me to have faith. They have taught me through their examples to look to my Heavenly Father in any difficulty. I realized that day that there are always consequences when we disobey—sometimes serious consequences. But I also learned that faith and prayer can give us the will to endure even in the worst difficulty. I know that when we ask in faith Heavenly Father answers our prayers—not necessarily with what we ask for, but with what we need most.

“ZOOM! ZOOM!” Bobby flew into the room with his arms outstretched, almost knocking the lamp over.
“Please be careful, Bobby,” his mother reminded him.
“I’m not Bobby, I’m a jet plane flying around the world.”
“Well then, Jet Plane, please fly carefully so you don’t crash,” Mother suggested.
Bobby flew out of the back door, zooming loudly.
A few minutes later, Mother was putting a casserole into the oven when she almost tripped over Bobby. He was crawling on the floor, growling and snapping his teeth.
“My goodness, Jet Plane, you startled me. What’s the matter, did you crash?” Mother asked.
“I’m not a jet plane, anymore. I’m an alligator and I’m looking for people to eat. CRUNCH! CRUNCH! You might taste good.”
“Oh, no, Alligator,” Mother said, picking up her broom and sweeping the “alligator” into the living room. “I’m too tough and mean to eat.” She heard the make-believe alligator crunch and grrrr his way across the room.
“Sue, please come and set the table,” Mother called.
Bobby, dwarfed by Daddy’s hat and shirt and stumbling in Daddy’s enormous shoes, came into the kitchen with Sue.
“Where’s the paper?” he asked in a deep voice.
“Alligators don’t read papers, do they?” Mother asked.
“I’m not an alligator. I’m Daddy.” Bobby said, sitting back in Daddy’s chair, with the newspaper completely covering him.
“Daddy, would you ask everyone to come and eat,” Mother said a few minutes later. When Bobby didn’t answer, she looked behind the newspaper. There was Daddy’s hat, shirt, and shoes on the chair but no Bobby.
As Father came in from the backyard Mother went looking for Bobby. She found him out on the sidewalk on his hands and knees, barking at the cars.
“Please come in and eat, Bobby,” Mother said.
“I’m not Bobby. Can’t you see I’m a mean dog scaring the robbers away?”
“Well, Doggie, come on in and eat,” Mother said.
Bobby barked and romped to the table. Sitting on his “hind legs” and panting, he started lapping up his soup.
“Now, just a minute. We don’t allow dogs at the table, Mother,” Father said. “Please take the dog out back and give him some dog food to eat.”
“But I’m not a dog anymore,” Bobby wailed.
“Well, I’m afraid we don’t allow alligators and jet planes at the table, either,” said Mother.
“I’m not a jet plane or an alligator now.”
“Then who are you?”
“I’m Bobby.”
“Oh, Bobby,” Mother said, giving him a big hug, “We’re so glad to see you! There have been too many strange things and people around here today. And I’ve missed my Bobby.”
Bobby began to laugh. “It’s fun to be a jet plane and a dog and an alligator,” he said. “But I like best being just your Bobby.”

After playing the violin for five years and attaining Grade V level, 16-year-old Peter Bradshaw of Sutton Colfield, England, suddenly discovered he is a saxophonist.
It took him less than one year to achieve Saxophone Grade V level. He now switches between both instruments in his school orchestra, and plays sax in the local Fairfax band.
Peter, an early-morning seminary student, says, “Church has taught me to persevere when things are difficult. This has helped me to get through hard music assignments and not give up.” It also helped him accomplish the many skills necessary to pass Bronze and Silver standard in the Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme.

Make up your mind what to do in difficult situations before they arrive. For Andrea Bennett, 17, of the Douglas Georgia Stake, turning down alcohol and R-rated movies at her junior/senior beach weekend wasn’t hard at all. “A lot of people were drinking, but when they asked me if I wanted some I just said no. I didn’t even have to think about it. I had made up my mind long before that happened I wouldn’t do those things. So when the offer came there wasn’t even a doubt in my mind what my answer would be. It would just happen. And it did.”

Doug’s rise from neighborhood “also ran” to world-class runner didn’t happen overnight, of course. It took some fifth quarter effort along the way. Even when he was still the slowest kid around, Doug always ran in every race he could. Finally, in junior high school he got on the track team.
At last, all the running and fifth-quarter determination started paying off. Doug’s speed and endurance began to soar. His time in the two mile improved from 11:50 his freshman year to 9:17 his senior year, when he went undefeated in cross-country and won the league meet. He went all the way to state in the two mile, finishing 13th with a personal record of 9:15.4.

Then a year or two ago, almost 30 years after Evan’s death, I dreamed that I was driving my car on a business trip up old Highway 101 in northern California, near the Oregon border.
I was traveling along admiring the beautiful coastal view. I had the radio on, and I was just driving along in the dream.
Suddenly, I took my car into a rather sharp bend. As I did so, coming toward me on the ocean’s side of the road, on a packed ten-speed bicycle, was Evan. He was a full-grown adult, but I recognized him immediately.
Quickly I found a wide spot in the road where I could turn around, and I went back. He had seen me too and had stopped, hoping that I would turn around.
I jumped out of the car and raced to him, and we hugged and danced like two little boys who had just captured their first pollywogs. Then we stood arm-in-arm, face-to-face, with the mighty Pacific Ocean as a backdrop and visited eagerly for about 15 minutes.
Never mentioning death, or “it’s good to see you after all of these years,” or anything like that, he finally said to me, “Well, I’ve got to be going.”
Knowing and feeling that to be true, I said to him, “Where are you headed?”
“To take care of some business,” he stated simply. I knew better than to ask any more. He was about his Father’s business. My heart told me so. I know that to be true of Jared also.
I still remember how wonderful it felt in that dream to see Evan again, to hug him and talk with him after all those years since he died. The Spirit bore witness to me that Evan and I will meet again someday and that meeting will be as sweet and natural as it was in that wonderful dream.

“The first thing I do whenever I’m transferred is check for the location of the local chapel,” said Joseph Clancy, 19, in the U.S. Army and stationed at Ford Ord, California. “I walked to every chapel on the base here looking for the Mormon chaplain, and when my feet got sore, I let my fingers do the walking and checked the phone book. The local ward directed me to Chaplain Cooper, and he had a member pick me up for church.
“I’ve also learned that trying to fit in with the gang that runs around is not my style. I’ve concentrated on being a missionary wherever I go, and I’ve just converted a friend in the barracks. I like being in the military. I guess I’m old-fashioned because I feel that patriotism and honor and duty to your country are important.”

Once upon a time a husband and wife who loved each other very much wanted to have a child of their very own to hold and to cuddle and to love. As time passed and they had no children, they prayed to their Heavenly Father to send them a special child. Heavenly Father heard their prayers.
One day this husband and wife received a telephone call to go to a distant city to meet with some people who said they had a tiny baby that this man and his wife could adopt. Excited and filled with anticipation, they made the journey in their car. When they arrived at the city, they went to a certain home and there they were taken into a room where they saw a tiny baby lying in the middle of a big bed waiting for them. There really is such a thing as love at first sight, for when this husband and wife saw that little boy lying there all alone, they immediately loved him. They took him home with them and loved the baby so much that they talked about him as their own beloved son.
Yet in spite of great love for that little baby, they had a fear in their hearts that they might not be able to keep him as their very own child. They first had to see a judge and ask him if they could adopt this baby according to law. Because the judge wanted to make sure the little boy would be properly cared for, he first had to find out if the husband and his wife loved each other, if they had a good and happy home, and if they had enough money to feed and clothe the baby.
It took time for the judge to decide all these questions and all the while the love of the husband and his wife for the baby grew and grew. Finally, the judge gave legal consent for the couple to adopt the baby and this was done. Now the baby was their very own special child and their fear was gone that he would be taken away from them. Still, the judge could only give them permission to have the child during their lifetime on this earth. But they loved that baby more than that! They believed in Jesus and knew that Jesus had more power than the judge. Jesus could give them the child forever and ever and not just for this life only.
After the adoption papers had been signed and the baby had been given a name, the couple took their son with them to a temple of God. There they dressed in white clothes and dressed the little boy in white clothes too. Then they all knelt down at an altar in the temple. A man who held a special priesthood sealed that little boy to his new father and mother so that the family could be together forever. Now this boy really was their own special child, not only during this life, but even after death. If they all did what was right and loved one another, they could all live together with Jesus in heaven. Now that baby really was their special child!
I know that this story is true, because I am that father who loves his very own special child more every day and, as mothers do, my wife loves him even more. Every child who lives in such a family where love is can also feel he or she is a very special child.

I had never thought much about my testimony. I liked to go to church, and the gospel wasn’t hard to live, so I basically took it for granted the Church was true.
When I was almost 21, I decided to go on a mission. But in my interview with the stake president the conversation took an unanticipated turn.
“Lara, do you support the leaders of the Church?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know he is a prophet of God?” he asked again.
“I believe he is,” I responded, a little confused at the repetition of the question.
Then he said, “Belief is a beginning. But do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God called to lead us in this day?”
This time I caught the wording. I could feel my face get hot. I felt helpless. Did this mean I couldn’t go on a mission? No. But he told me to be most effective on a mission, I needed a testimony of “I knows.”
I left the stake president’s office that day a little embarrassed, but determined to know that President Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God, to know that the Book of Mormon is truly another testament of Jesus Christ, to know that Christ died for me. I would have to do the intense studying and praying that my stake president had done. And for the next three months I did.
By the time I entered the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, I felt good saying “I know.” But it was in the MTC that I got my strongest witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he did restore Christ’s church to the earth. That’s when I truly “knew,” and I was thrilled to be an “I know” missionary.

Illustration by Trent Gudmundsen
On the surface, my childhood was very normal.
We went to church and attended all of our Church meetings and activities. I went to school and played with my friends. As a teenager, I did all the things that normal teenagers do. I hung out with my friends and was in the choir and drama club. I went to prom. But there was a very dark secret underneath that happy, normal exterior.
From the time I was about two years old, I had been a victim of sexual abuse by my two older brothers. They also abused my sisters. We were too young to understand what was happening, but as I grew older, I began to understand a little. I felt dark and dirty whenever I was in the presence of my brothers.
After attending a Young Women class where they taught about morality, I understood the meaning of virtue and chastity. I listened to my leaders plead with me and the others in my class to stay morally clean.
I wondered, “How could I be morally clean?” As far back as my memories could go, I had been a victim of sexual abuse. I couldn’t help but wonder what the Lord thought of me. Was I a virtuous young woman? Was I worthy to date the righteous young men in my ward and school? Did the abuse I had suffered make me unworthy of a temple marriage?
I thought a lot about it. It didn’t make sense to me that I would be considered unvirtuous when what happened to me was not my choice. Why shouldn’t I be able to feel virtuous? Was I unworthy of the Lord’s love? Did I require repentance?
I honestly did not know. I felt that I was not to blame, but at the same time, I felt dirty and degraded and totally humiliated. I couldn’t get the courage to tell my parents or anyone else. I did try several times, but I felt too embarrassed and I didn’t know how to say the words. I just tried to forget that it was happening.
When I was 15 years old, my little sisters found the courage that I lacked. They talked to a counselor at school. A short time later, one of my brothers was arrested and sentenced to three years in prison. But still, for years afterward, I suffered with the same fears that I wasn’t virtuous or worthy.
Eventually, one day I got the courage to go see my bishop. He explained that the Lord does not hold me accountable at all for the sexual acts that were forced on me as a child and young woman. He assured me that it was not at all my fault. I stood blameless before the Lord. I was still virtuous!
With some counseling from professionals and help from my bishop, I have been able to leave the abuse—and the pain and suffering it caused—behind me. Now I really do have a happy and normal life. I was married in the temple to a righteous man, and we are raising our family happily.
Sometimes the past will intrude on my thoughts, however, and I can remember the anguish that I felt as I pondered my worthiness.
I wonder how many other young people are out there in a situation like the one I was in, feeling ashamed and humiliated, wondering about their virtue and where they fit in God’s plan.
To these young people I want to say, the Lord loves you.
His heart aches for you.
He knows that you are not to blame.
He knows that you are truly virtuous.
He will help you find the courage and strength to live your life with happiness.

In 2016, one of our distant relatives invited us to visit The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My husband and son attended church, where the missionaries taught them about the restored gospel. They were baptized, and later my youngest daughter and I also accepted the gospel and were baptized. We moved from our old house into a better home, which was filled with peace and the love of God. In 2019, my husband passed away at the early age of 42. I was heartbroken and felt helpless. I worried about how I would raise our children without him, as he had been the only earning member of our family. I was a homemaker and did not know Hindi (local Language) well enough to communicate confidently, which made the situation even more difficult.
However, I knew that God had not abandoned me. I placed my faith in Him, obeyed His commandments, and faced these challenges without losing hope. I found work in a women’s sewing company, and three years later, I became a union leader, helping and empowering other women. My children completed their education and began living stable, independent lives. Our home became filled with peace and happiness. I truly felt the love of our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I came to understand God’s Plan of Happiness, that families can be reunited after this life and remain together forever. I have faith that I will reunite with my husband again, and I know that Jesus Christ has made this possible.
As I strengthened my relationship with God, I learned that He wants His children to grow and learn through trials. These experiences help strengthen our faith in Jesus Christ as we obey His commandments and live the gospel. As I did so, I felt myself drawing closer to God. Looking back, I see that it was God’s plan to bring me from a small village to this place and into the restored gospel. I am deeply grateful that my son served a mission and returned home honorably, and that my daughter is currently serving a mission.

I’m told that no one can create something out of nothing. How powerfully I realized that truth the day I had a visit from a member of our stake presidency. His telephone call that told me to expect him made me wonder what was the purpose of his visit. But all my questions failed to prepare me for the challenge he brought. He came to ask me to write a stage production for our region. He emphasized that they wanted quality—the kind of quality that would make the production suitable for a major attractions center in our city—to which the nonmember public could be invited. And then he left.
But he left behind him a great burden. Because the expectations of my priesthood leaders were so high and my play writing experience so little, I felt very anxious. The fearful thought occurred to me that the discomfort that had settled in my stomach and my legs might not go away until after the presentation of the play.
How could I possibly live up to the expectations of my stake presidency? I had never done the kind of thing they wanted. I felt almost oppressed by a terrible cloud of doubt and helplessness. I had not even one idea. It wasn’t that I didn’t have any experience in writing, I had. But I had always had a concept to share; some ideas to work with. But now I had nothing. When I went to bed that night, my mind was still blank. I couldn’t think of any ideas that could be developed and built into a stage production.
But when I awoke in the morning I knew what I wanted to say. From the recesses of my mind came the ideas, the building blocks with which I could construct the play.
Where did the ideas come from? They came from a deep and precious source—the scriptures.
Just prior to the beginning of the Church’s program of scripture study, I had completed independently what to me was an intense, thorough, and highly rewarding study of all the standard works of the Church—a search that left my working Bible very well worn. As a result, the scriptures had provided the basic form with which to help me fulfill my assignment to build a spiritually successful stage production. But even more important, I could not help but see a comparison and realize how much more vital the scriptures are as building blocks with which to construct our testimonies, our character, and our eternal lives.
One week after receiving the assignment I was able to present to the stake leaders a rough draft of the first half of our production, a production that in final form exceeded our hopes and had a beneficial impact on many nonmember visitors.
This whole experience added more conviction to an already growing testimony of the value of the scriptures.

When she was five years old, her whole life had revolved around her stuffed animals. They were real to her, and Rosie was her favorite. Unfortunately Ruff the dog liked Rosie almost as much as Annie did, and between the two of them, most of Rosie’s fur had been rubbed off. So she had patches everywhere. She had one green eye and one blue eye, and a well-worn nose. Her dress had been borrowed from a baby doll and was pinned in the front. Rosie hadn’t seemed to mind her appearance, so neither did Annie.

Annie was a pretty little girl with a pixie face and big dark eyes, but she was shy and very quiet. Rosie Bear was everything that Annie was not. She was the leader of all the stuffed animal adventures. She had all the exciting ideas and knew the best games, and she routinely saved everyone from disasters and villains. Annie loved her teddy bear and took her everywhere.

Because her father took their car to work, Annie and her mother had to rely on the big green city bus for transportation. One day they had several things to get. They went from store to store, then stopped at the sidewalk cafe for lunch. With its colorful red-and-green striped awnings, the cafe reminded Annie of the circus. The air was filled with the delicious smell of hamburgers sizzling on a grill, and her joy knew no bounds as she sipped a lemonade and watched little sparrows picking up crumbs near her feet. When they finally piled back on the bus, Annie leaned against her mother and fell fast asleep.

“Come on, honey,” her mother said, gently jostling her awake. “This is our stop.”

Annie sleepily began to search for her things. “Mama, where’s Rosie?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for a while.”

Annie was wide awake now! She looked through their packages and under the seat. Rosie was nowhere to be found! She fell to her knees and frantically searched up and down the aisle until the bus driver turned around to ask what was wrong. Her mother apologized and explained the delay as she pulled Annie to her feet. He was understanding and said that if any teddy bears turned up, he’d be sure to let them know. They thanked him, and Annie reluctantly followed her mother off the bus.

“Mama,” Annie quavered as the bus lumbered on down the street, “I must have left Rosie in one of the stores. She’s just lying there somewhere. What if someone else finds her and takes her?” Terrible visions began to crowd into Annie’s mind. “Mama, I have to go back and find her—I can’t leave her there!”

“Leave her where, honey? We don’t know where she is, and it took us all day to go to those stores.” Her mother glanced at her watch. “We can’t get back on the bus and go look for her now. I’m sorry, Annie,” her mother added quietly.

Annie knew her mother was right, but as she trudged home, she grew more and more upset. Her best friend was lying patiently on a shelf in one of those stores, waiting for Annie to come and get her. She’d lie there hour after hour, and pretty soon she’d realize that no one was coming and she’d start to cry . …

Annie ran the rest of the way home with tears streaming down her face. She burst into her room and threw herself sobbing onto the bed. She needed her daddy. He always understood and made her feel better.

Annie cried herself to sleep. When she woke up, she heard silverware being set on the table for dinner. But she didn’t hear a newspaper rattling. Daddy worked hard loading and unloading heavy boxes from his big truck all day. He always hurried home to be with his family. He’d take a shower, then sit contentedly in his chair and read the paper while dinner cooked. He was never late.

But tonight, when Annie needed him most, he wasn’t there. Annie decided to sit in his chair and wait for him. Finally she heard the car pull up outside. When he walked through the door and held out his arms for a hug, Annie ran into his arms and poured out the terrible story of how she’d left her best friend to perish.

He looked at her solemnly. “That’s a pretty sad story,” he said. “Do you think that if you had another chance, you’d take better care of Rosie?”

“Oh yes, Daddy! I’d never let her out of my sight again. I’d make sure she was tucked into bed every night so Ruff wouldn’t chew her. I’d even make her some new clothes that fit.”

Her father looked lovingly at her tear-streaked face. He nodded. Then with a grin he reached deep into the pocket of his big coat and pulled out a small, ragged, brown bear.

Rosie! How could this be? Annie had left Rosie in a store downtown. Her father had been at work. It just didn’t make sense.

“I guess Rosie got tired of lying on the shelf with the dolls,” Daddy told her. “She must have walked over to where I work and hopped into my pocket so that she could come home.”

Of course! she thought. Rosie wouldn’t just lie there and cry. She would hurry to ask Daddy to take her home. Annie was so happy that she danced around the house all that evening.

A sharp knock on the bedroom door shook her from her reverie. “Annie, are you in there?”

“Come in, Mom.” She grinned at her mother’s happy reaction to her tidy room. “I just felt like cleaning.” She held up her beloved teddy bear. “Mom, do you remember a long time ago when I lost Rosie, and Daddy came home from work with her in his pocket?”

Mom nodded.

“How did he end up with her? I mean, I know now, of course, that she didn’t really get up off the shelf and go jump into his pocket.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Mom said as she sat down on the bed beside Annie. “I felt terrible when I realized just how upset you were about losing Rosie that day. I called your father at work and told him the whole story. Do you know,” she said, laughing softly, “that he went to five different stores that night before he finally found that bear! He loves you, Annie. He’d do just about anything to make you happy.”

“Are you girls excited to see the temple?” Mom asked as she, Natalie, and Stephanie drove to the Detroit Michigan Temple site.
“Yes!” the sisters said.
“Is it true they’re putting the marble on the walls right now?” Natalie asked.
“I think so,” Mom said.
“I can’t wait until it’s done,” Stephanie said. “It’s going to be so pretty.”
The girls were going to a special activity day. They were visiting the new temple while it was still under construction.
When they got to the temple site they met their group of girls and their leader, Sister Jones.
Walking around the construction site, Sister Jones told stories of the Kirtland and Nauvoo Temples and the early Latter-day Saints.
“They built temples and then were run out of their towns. They had to leave behind the beautiful buildings they had spent so long making,” Sister Jones said. “We are blessed to have the temples that we do today, and to now have a temple so close to us.”
Natalie looked at the temple and imagined what it would be like to have to leave it after working so hard to build it. It made her sad.
“Do any of you know what blessings the temple gives us?” Sister Jones asked.
Kelsy raised her hand. “My family was sealed in the temple.”
“That’s right! People are married and sealed together in the temple so their families can be together forever. What other blessings are there?”
“Baptisms for the dead,” Natalie said. “That’s when people are baptized for people who aren’t alive anymore so they can choose to be members of the Church if they want.”
“Very good,” Sister Jones said. “Those are just some of the blessings we can receive in the temple.”
Natalie was excited to do baptisms for the dead when she turned 12. On her own baptism day she had felt clean and peaceful, and she wanted to share that feeling with others. Natalie felt important knowing she could do something to help people who had passed away.
“I have a gift for each of you,” Sister Jones said. She opened a bag and pulled out a piece of white stone.
“This is a piece of the same marble they are using to make the temple. I got special permission to give each of you one piece.” Sister Jones handed out the pieces of marble. “I want you to keep your marble in a special place to remind you of the temple and the blessings that the temple gives us. Can you do that?”
“Yes!” the girls said.
“I also want to challenge you to make goals to be worthy to enter the temple to do baptisms when you are 12, and to be married in the temple when you are older. The temple is a special place, and I want each of you to be a part of it,” Sister Jones said.
Natalie held her piece of marble tightly. It was white and beautiful and reminded her of being clean. She knew she wanted to be worthy to go inside the temple someday.
“I promise to remember the temple. I will go inside someday,” she said to herself. As she held the marble close to her heart, it felt like she was holding a piece of the temple there as well.

Following the meeting, Don drove me back to my hotel, with Charles accompanying us. As I got out of the car, Charles looked at Don and said, “I’ll take a bus from here. I need to talk with Brother Walton.”

“All right,” Don replied. “I will come and get you at seven so that we can get to our meeting on time.” He was smiling but the worry that had come into his eyes at the suggestion of a fifty-pound donation was still there.

Charles and I went up the steps of the hotel veranda and sat down on wicker chairs. I looked into his face and saw a lifetime of grinding toil behind him. We sat there and rocked and looked across the street to the big green park and the Indian Ocean beyond.

At last he spoke. “About the money: I’m on a fixed pension and I have no other source of income. My health is poor. My wife and I struggle every month to have enough to pay our bills. I can honestly see no way to pledge anything—fifty pounds or even less.” He was a humble man, and I regretted having placed him in this position; I also felt his regret that he was not able to carry his share of our burden. “Most of the others are in as difficult a position as I am. It may be that we should wait awhile before we attempt such a huge undertaking,” he said sadly.

I said nothing because I didn’t want to pressure Charles, but I must admit that my mind began to reflect over the many pages of history written about the efforts of people who achieved the impossible. I finally said, “May I suggest that you talk this over with your wife and pray about it. It’s really between you and the Lord, not with me or anyone else.”

Charles stood and we shook hands. He was a small, pale man, with very little strength in his hands, but there was sincerity in his eyes. He walked down the sweeping wooden steps; as he crossed the street he must have felt my eyes on him for he turned and waved.

Don turned to Charles. “Let’s hear from you now.”

“I also did not know what to do. I could not conceive of how I would ever get the fifty pounds I committed for the Lord’s house. I, too, spent some time telling the Lord of my problem and asking his help to fulfill my commitments.

“I was in town the morning after that meeting, and, as I crossed the street, a truck came by with a load of reinforcing bars extending well beyond the bed of the truck. I nearly walked into them—and I wasn’t the only one. Several other people had equally narrow escapes. I was so angry that he hadn’t tied a warning flag on the ends of the bars that when I got home I called the chief of police. He told me that there was an ordinance requiring red flags, but it had not been enforced because no flags were available for the truckers.”

Charles took a deep excited breath, then continued. “As of now, my wife and I have bought up all the red cloth in town. It’s all cut into the legal size; she sews a seam and I thread a piece of stout twine through it for tying it to the loads. I contacted some of the truckers, and we have more orders than I can possibly fill. More than that, our usually dull days have turned productive and we have established a little business that will bring us additional money long after the building is completed. Yes, we have fulfilled our commitment; and we will have the strength to do even more now.” He sat back with a satisfied smile that had in it more than a tinge of gratitude.

While Howard was serving as a stake president, he was speaking to the congregated Saints of the Pasadena Stake during a special excursion to the Arizona Temple. It was Howard’s forty-sixth birthday, and he wrote in his journal: “While I was speaking to the congregation, my father and mother came into the chapel dressed in white. I had no idea my father was prepared for his temple blessings, although Mother had been anxious about it for some time. I was so overcome with emotion that I was unable to continue to speak. … This was a birthday I have never forgotten because on that day they were endowed and I had the privilege of witnessing their sealing, following which I was sealed to them.”

With an optimism that never quits, at age 18 Sage Volkman, of the Bernalillo Ward, Albuquerque New Mexico Stake, has already been through more pain and trials than most people face in a lifetime. When she was five years old, Sage was burned beyond even her mother’s recognition. After Sage survived a terrible camping accident, the doctors predicted she would not live through the night. She did. And her recovery has been laced with remarkable blessings ever since that first night of survival.
When Michael took Sage and her brother, Avery, camping that weekend after his family joined the Church, he had no idea how his family would be changed. He and Avery went fishing early one morning, and Michael had gone back to the camper to check on Sage, who was asleep. Five minutes later, the fishermen saw smoke rising from their campsite and they raced back. Sage’s dad had to pull her out of the burning camper from under melting sleeping bags. He resuscitated her, but he was so frantic he broke one of her ribs as he pumped on her chest. Michael was badly burned and had his hands and eyes in bandages as the ambulance rushed Sage to the hospital.
Sage had numerous third- and fourth-degree burns, and her nose and one ear were melted off. Doctors had to amputate her fingers because they were so badly burned. She was in a coma. One lung had collapsed. But, to the surprise of all the medical staff, Sage survived the night.
A few days later, Sage was moved to the burn unit of a New Mexico hospital. Again, there was little hope she’d make it through the night—only a 10 percent chance—but she survived and improved over the next two days. Then pneumonia struck. Sage’s condition deteriorated, and two weeks later she was flown to a burn institute in Texas, still in a coma. The doctors there said her survival through the night was a “big if.” They also said if she survived she would have vision loss, hearing loss, brain damage, chronic lung problems, and she would be unable to walk. Anything short of that would be a miracle.
Sage pulled through again with the help of numerous priesthood blessings. She also had the aid of loving parents and skilled doctors. One priesthood blessing she received promised full recovery and that she would be safe with her Savior until she was better. After a six-week coma, the blessing was fulfilled, and Sage was finally well enough to go home on December 23, 1986, after three months in hospitals.
Hundreds of letters, posters, stuffed animals, and lots of love came pouring in from all those who had been touched by Sage’s story. Sage’s life and positive attitude have touched many for good. Many of those who wrote told of how the story of Sage in the August 1989 Ensign had comforted or converted them. One missionary in Spain wrote, “I have nothing to be sad about. I now realize how small my trials are.”
Thirteen years, 64 surgeries, and lots and lots of friends later, Sage is doing better than ever. Defying all the doctors’ expectations, Sage walks, talks, sees, drives, and does so much more than that. She’s even going to take a kick-boxing class. She says it was her constant reliance upon the Lord which has allowed her to become who she is.

During World War II, while serving with the 31st Infantry Division in the Dutch East Indies, I was placed in command of a patrol charged with the responsibility of searching out and destroying enemy supply bases.
As we proceeded on one particular patrol behind enemy lines, a native dog fell in with our group; and try as we would, we couldn’t get that dog to leave. I became concerned about this. Later on, however, its alertness caused us to be suspicious to the point where we took extra precautions as we proceeded on to lower ground after coming to a fork in the trail. Therefore, when the enemy opened fire shortly thereafter, we were not caught completely by surprise. Four men were wounded in the initial burst of fire, but not a single man lost his life. We were able to evacuate the wounded and withdraw to the rear under heavy machine gun and rifle fire without losing a single man.
Sergeant Leslie E. Milam of Natchitoches, Louisiana, the only other Mormon in my company, was with me on this patrol. After we returned to the rear, he was contacted by Sergeant Dabbs, our platoon guide, who said that he was aware that Sergeant Milam and I had been meeting on Sundays, whenever conditions would permit, for short religious discussions. He indicated that he knew that our lives had been miraculously saved in this patrol, and he requested permission to meet with us in our next religious discussion. He did meet with us, and he was just as sincere as we were in expressing gratitude to our Father in heaven for his protection and watchful care.
Shortly after this ambush, Private Collins, who went through the ambush with us, sought me out one night after dark and said, “Lieutenant Bennett, I think we had some help from on high out there the other day.”
I replied, “Well, I don’t know just how you feel about it, Collins, or how the other boys feel; but as far as I’m concerned, I know we did.”
He then said, “And I know we did, Lieutenant Bennett, and there is something else I want to say. I’ve been a rough character in the past. I’ve done most of the things I shouldn’t have done, but it’s going to be different in the future. I’m a changed man.”
I have thought about this choice experience many times, for it provided me with a great opportunity to explain the gospel message to Private Collins under conditions where his heart and his mind were open.