Gospel Story Finder

In April of 1950, my wife, Frances, and I were in attendance at the Sunday afternoon session of general conference, held in this building. President George Albert Smith was the President of the Church, and in closing the conference, he delivered an inspiring and powerful message concerning the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Before he concluded his remarks, however, he sounded a prophetic warning. Said he: “It will not be long until calamities will overtake the human family unless there is speedy repentance. It will not be long before those who are scattered over the face of the earth by millions will die … because of what will come” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1950, 169). These were alarming words, for they came from a prophet of God.
Two and a half months after that general conference, on June 25, 1950, war broke out in Korea—a war which would eventually claim an estimated 2.5 million lives. This event prompted me to reflect on the statement President Smith made as we sat in this building that spring day.
I attended many general conference sessions in the Tabernacle, always being edified and inspired by the words of the Brethren. Then, in October of 1963, President David O. McKay invited me to his office and extended to me a call to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He asked that I keep this sacred call confidential, revealing it to no one except my wife, and that I be present for general conference in the Tabernacle the next day, when my name would be read aloud.
The following morning I came into the Tabernacle not knowing exactly where to sit. Being a member of the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee, I determined that I would be seated among the members of that committee. I noticed a friend of mine by the name of Hugh Smith, who was also a member of the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee. He motioned for me to sit by him. I couldn’t say a thing to him about my call, but I sat down.
During the session, the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were sustained and, of course, my name was read. I believe the walk from the audience to the stand was the longest walk of my life.
It has been nearly 44 years since that conference. Until the year 2000, when the Conference Center was dedicated, it was my privilege to deliver 101 general conference messages from the pulpit in this building, not including those given at general auxiliary conferences and other meetings held here. My remarks today bring the total to 102. I have had many spiritual experiences over the years as I have stood here.
During the message I delivered at general conference in October 1975, I felt prompted to direct my remarks to a little girl with long blonde hair who was seated in the balcony of this building. I called the attention of the audience to her and felt a freedom of expression which testified to me that this small girl needed the message I had in mind concerning the faith of another young lady.
At the conclusion of the session, I returned to my office and found waiting for me a young child by the name of Misti White, together with her grandparents and an aunt. As I greeted them, I recognized Misti as the one in the balcony to whom I had directed my remarks. I learned that as her eighth birthday approached, she was in a quandary concerning whether or not to be baptized. She felt she would like to be baptized, and her grandparents, with whom she lived, wanted her to be baptized, but her less-active mother suggested she wait until she was 18 years of age to make the decision. Misti had told her grandparents, “If we go to conference in Salt Lake City, maybe Heavenly Father will let me know what I should do.”
Misti and her grandparents and her aunt had traveled from California to Salt Lake City for conference and were able to obtain seats in the Tabernacle for the Saturday afternoon session. This was where they were seated when my attention was drawn to Misti and my decision made to speak to her.
As we continued our visit after the session, Misti’s grandmother said to me, “I think Misti has something she would like to tell you.” This sweet young girl said, “Brother Monson, while you were speaking in conference, you answered my question. I want to be baptized!”
The family returned to California, and Misti was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Through all the years since, Misti has remained true and faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Fourteen years ago, it was my privilege to perform her temple marriage to a fine young man, and together they are rearing five beautiful children, with another one on the way.

Gemma and her friend Harper sat under the tree in front of Gemma’s house. The tree was full of pink blossoms. It was a lovely day.
“Guess what?” Harper said. “My cousin is graduating from elementary school.”
Gemma picked at the grass. She wished she were graduating too.
“That’s cool, I guess,” she said.
“We are going to have a big family party to celebrate,” said Harper. “My cousin gets to go to middle school next year. He is so lucky!”
“My brother already went to middle school,” said Gemma.
“Did you know in middle school you get your own locker?” Harper asked.
“Yes, I know!” Gemma said. “I just told you—my brother already went to middle school.” Why does Harper keep bragging? Gemma thought. She’s not giving me a chance to say anything!
“And gym! They get to go to gym every day,” Harper said. “My cousin said—”
“Harper, I don’t care what your cousin said,” Gemma said. “I already know all about middle school.”
Harper stared down at the blossoms that had fallen from the tree. Gemma’s face felt hot. She didn’t know what to do or say.
At last Gemma stood up. She brushed the dirt off her pants and ran into her house.
Why did she get so mad? Harper didn’t do anything wrong. Gemma sat on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. She wished she hadn’t said that to Harper. It hadn’t been kind at all.
She looked at her desk and saw a peach-colored binder with shiny hearts. It was the baptism book her mom had made. Inside were pictures from her life and notes from family and friends. She grabbed the binder and flipped through the pages.
She noticed one note. It read, “I want you to know that Heavenly Father is proud of your choice to be baptized. When you make mistakes and repent, He will forgive you. Repentance is a good thing!”
Gemma took a deep breath. The way she treated Harper was not a good choice. But she knew what to do now.
She ran outside and sat down by Harper. Harper looked down.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have been so rude,” Gemma said.
Harper looked up. “That’s OK. I know you didn’t mean it. Thanks for saying sorry.” She gave Gemma a blossom that had fallen from the tree.
That night, Gemma told Mom what had happened. “Harper forgave me,” Gemma said. “But I still need to repent to Heavenly Father. Will you help me?”
“Of course,” Mom said. She gave Gemma a big hug. “Do you want to pray about it right now?”
Gemma and Mom knelt down.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Gemma prayed, “I’m sorry I was so mean to Harper. I want to repent and do better.”
Gemma felt good inside as she prayed. She was glad she could fix things with Harper. And with Heavenly Father. Repentance was a good thing!
This story took place in the USA.
How do you feel when you repent?

A few years ago, my family and I moved. It was hard, but I tried my best to adjust.
However, after getting in a car crash two weeks later and receiving a concussion and several injuries on my face, I was miserable.
Because of the concussion, I couldn’t go to school for three weeks. I felt so alone. I remember praying and asking Heavenly Father why this had to happen when I already felt so alone after moving.
Then one day, my dad told me that my Savior would never leave me alone. After hearing that, I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to forgive me for my anger. I read my scriptures and tried to understand His plan for me.
Soon after that, people from my new school, ward, and seminary class visited me with cards, flowers, and Reese’s® Peanut Butter Cups (my favorite). I felt my Savior’s love through them—and they hardly even knew me!
I know that Jesus Christ is always there for us. He provides peace and listens to our prayers. He knows us, and He knows what will help us grow.
Holland S., Washington, USA

Some years ago, a man knocked on my office door late at night and said, “President, may I speak to you? Are we all alone?” I assured him no one else was in the office. We sat across the corner of the desk, and he said, “Four times I have driven over to the stake office and have seen your light on, and four times I have driven back home without coming in. But,” he continued, “last night I was reading in The Miracle of Forgiveness again, and I realized that every major transgression must be confessed. I have come to confess a transgression. I have been on two high councils and have served as a bishop twice, and I believe the Lord called me.”
I agreed, “I’m sure he called you.”
He said, “Forty-two years ago, before my wife and I were married, we committed fornication once, the week prior to our going to the temple. We did not lie to the bishop, who was my wife’s father; he simply talked with us and signed our recommends. We then went to the stake president, and he did not interview us. He signed our recommends, and we went to the temple unworthily. While we were on our honeymoon,” he continued, “we decided to make it up to the Lord. We decided we would pay more than our share of tithing and more than our share of building fund; we would accept every assignment to the welfare farm and do all else we were asked to do. We decided we were not worthy to go to the temple, and we did not go for a year. It has been forty-two years since the transgression, and we have lived as near Christlike lives as we know how. I believe we have been forgiven, but I know that confession is necessary.”
Then he quoted from 2 Nephi 9:41, which states, “Behold, the way for man is narrow, but it lieth in a straight course before him, and the keeper of the gate is the Holy One of Israel; and he employeth no servant there; and there is none other way save it be by the gate; for he cannot be deceived, for the Lord God is his name.”
Then he said, “I would rather confess to you now. I am not a young man, and I do not have a lot of years left. I want to be able to meet my Savior with nothing left undone.”
I listened to his confession. I wept with him, and when he finished the confession, I told him on behalf of the Church that he was forgiven. He need not discuss it, think about it, or be concerned about it anymore. I told him never to mention it to me again, for I would not remember it and had no desire to. To this day, I cannot remember who it was, although I do remember the case.
We got up and walked to the door together. I said, “Where is your wife?”
He said, “She is in the car.”
I asked, “Is she coming in?”
He replied, “No, she can’t even think about it except it almost destroys her.”
I said, “You tell your wife that I would like to visit with her now. Tell her I want to take this off her heart and close it. Tell her I know what it was that was done, and I will close it, and it need not be opened again. Tell her I will make it as easy as possible for her.”
He said, “I’ll tell her, but I don’t think she will come in.”
I answered, “You tell her that if I have to sit here all night, I will not go home until she comes in. I can’t bear the thought of her carrying this on her heart one more day in this life; forty-two years is long enough.”
He said, “Well, I’ll tell her, but I don’t think she’ll come in.”
He left and was gone fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, and forty-five minutes. I was tempted to check the parking lot to see if they had gone home. I resisted; then I heard a timid knock at the door. I went to the door, and there was this sweet woman standing there. Her eyes were wet from crying. She had probably told her husband she couldn’t come in. He had insisted, telling her I would stay there all night. Finally, forty-five minutes later, she was at the door. I took her by both hands and led her across the room. I sat across the corner of the desk, and then I said, “Your husband confessed to a transgression that happened over forty-two years ago of which you were a part. I want to make it easy for you. I know what the transgression is. Every major transgression must be confessed. You tell me, and I will take it off your heart.”
It was like pulling wild horses to get a confession. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, she confessed. I wept; she wept. I told her it was closed and that I wouldn’t remember it and for her to forget it and close it. Then I stood up and put my arm through hers and we walked down the long hallway to the parking lot. When we got just about to the door, I said, “How do you feel?”
She stopped, looked up at me and, with tears in her eyes, and said, “President, I feel clean for the first time in forty-two years.”

When I was a young boy in Long Island, New York, a robin built her nest every year on the roof of our home. We used to watch as she had her little ones. She fed them and nurtured them. And when it was time for them to fly, she gently and lovingly would nudge them out of the nest. They would glide to the ground, their wings fluttering—unsure, afraid, and not knowing how to fly. Then the mother would go down to the ground and help them learn how to find their food and teach them how to fly. She wanted to help them to be on their own.

It brought me great sorrow each year when I would find a young bird that tried to “do it alone.” Often he would be found dead in the rock garden below among the lilies of the valley.

I saw the pageant in 2017, the evening before I sent my son on his mission. It was an amazing experience — all the struggles the early Saints from Britain must have endured, and hard decisions made in leaving to go to America, and for those who stayed behind. It was a wonderful spectacle. It brought me to tears. I loved it at the end when all the missionaries came out to join the cast on stage. It was a very powerful moment. In fact, it still sets me off crying just thinking about it! I had the opportunity to talk to one of the performers after, and she had experienced some of my own troubles. We had a lovely discussion that gave me hope to continue. That evening will always stay with me. Afterwards, we walked around the Preston Temple in the dark. Everything was illuminated and it was beautiful.

In 1990 we were living in the small town of Sale, in Victoria, Australia. We were happily busy with family, Church, and work commitments. On a beautiful summer Saturday just before Christmas, we decided to visit some parks and a favorite beach. After enjoying a wonderful day playing as a family, we packed everyone into the car and headed home. While driving, I momentarily fell asleep and caused a head-on car accident. After some moments of recovery, I looked around the vehicle. My wife, Maxine, had a badly broken leg and was struggling to breathe. She had a broken sternum. Our three daughters were in shock but thankfully appeared to be OK. I had some minor injuries. But our five-month-old son was unresponsive.
Amid the stress and confusion of that accident scene, our eldest daughter, 11-year-old Kate, said with urgency, “Dad, you need to give Jarom a blessing.” After some struggle, my daughters and I managed to get out of the car. Maxine couldn’t be moved. Carefully I picked Jarom up; then, while lying on the ground on my back, I gently placed him on my chest and gave him a priesthood blessing. By the time the ambulance arrived about 40 minutes later, Jarom was conscious.
That night I left three family members in the hospital and took a hushed taxi ride home with two of my daughters. Through the long night, I pled with Heavenly Father that my family and those injured in the other vehicle would recover. Mercifully, my prayers and fervently offered prayers by many others were answered. All were healed over time, a great blessing and tender mercy.
Yet I continued to have deep feelings of guilt and remorse for causing such a terrible accident. I would wake during the night and relive the horrific events. I struggled for years to forgive myself and to find peace. Then, as a priesthood leader, while assisting others to repent and helping them to feel the compassion, mercy, and love of the Savior, I realized that He could heal me.
The Savior’s healing and redeeming power applies to accidental mistakes, poor decisions, challenges, and trials of every kind—as well as to our sins. As I turned to Him, my feelings of guilt and remorse were gradually replaced with peace and rest.

The last year of World War II was the very worst for Holland. The Nazis took everything. There was no coal to heat their house. Grace couldn’t go to school. She and her family had to eat tulip bulbs to keep from starving. They tasted horrible! Worst of all, Dad was still a prisoner of war.

But people were hopeful. Some said the Nazis were losing the war. And in May of 1945, the Nazis finally surrendered. Holland was free again! People celebrated in the streets. Now Grace could go back to school. There were no soldiers to be afraid of.

Best of all, one day when Grace and her brothers were walking back from school, they saw that the flag of Holland was flying in front of their home. Could it mean … ?

“Dad’s home!” shouted Heber.

Grace and her brothers ran inside. Grace threw her arms around Dad and gave him a big hug. He hugged her back tightly. It was so wonderful to have him home.

Soon after that, packages of food, clothes, and medicine began arriving in Holland. The Church leaders in Salt Lake City sent a lot of supplies to help people after the war. Grace even got a new dress! She had worn the same dress for five years, so she was very happy to have a new one.

For the first time in years, Grace had enough to eat. The mission presidency and the government in Holland decided to start a potato project to grow more food. Church members planted lots of potatoes in nearby fields. By fall they would have thousands of potatoes to eat.

“Look!” Grace told Dad, pointing to a sprouting potato plant. “We’ll never go hungry again!”

Dad nodded but didn’t smile. He said, “President Zappey told me that the Latter-day Saints in Germany are still starving, just like we were. They are not getting help from the government like we are.” Dad put his arm around Grace’s shoulders. “President Zappey has asked if we would give our potatoes to the German Saints.”

“Give up our potatoes!” Grace cried. But the Nazis were from Germany!

“I know it’s not easy,” Dad said. “But the people from Germany are also children of God. He loves them too. I forgave the Nazis for making me a prisoner. The Lord can help us all forgive.”

Grace looked up at Dad. He was the bravest person she knew, but she didn’t know if she had the courage to forgive like him. Then she remembered one of her teachers in school during the war. Her teacher had said that not all Germans were Nazis, and not all Nazi soldiers were bad. And now the girls and boys in Germany were starving, just like Grace had been.

Grace took a deep breath. “I understand,” she said. “Let’s give them our potatoes.”

Dad hugged her and smiled. “You are such a brave girl. This is a hard thing to do. But we are disciples of Jesus Christ, and so are our German brothers and sisters.”

Grace smiled. The angry feelings in her heart melted, and she felt calm and warm. She could forgive the Germans. And Jesus could help her love them too.

Latter-day Saints in Holland gave 140,000 pounds (70 tons) of potatoes and 180,000 pounds (90 tons) of fish to the German Latter-day Saints. Later, in 1953, the German Saints sent supplies to Church members in Holland after a huge flood.

Jessie’s story is told by her friend, Maria Russo, who serves as the communication director in the Adelaide Australia Firle Stake.
Jie Ren, or Jessie as she likes to be called, arrived in Adelaide in March 2020 to study a master’s degree in speech pathology at the Flinders University.
Little did Jessie know that she had arrived just when the World Health Organisation declared the coronavirus to be a pandemic and her first semester would be in lockdown.
Jessie felt completely alone, isolated and scared. She said that all she had in her life during that time and all she did was to be “home alone, study, eat, sleep and repeat.” She was relieved when in July 2020 she was able to attend university for the first time since arriving in Australia.
Jessie said that being in a new country, away from family and friends, not knowing anyone in Australia and having to do all her studies (in what she said is an intense program) online for the first semester, took its toll on her and by November 2021 she was physically and mentally drained to the point that she needed to seek medical help.
During this time (Nov. 21) Jessie saw an advertisement on Facebook inviting people to English classes. The classes were being held by missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Jessie had previous experience with the Church in Shanghai when she was invited by friends to attend meetings, which she did sometimes. When she saw this post on Facebook, she was super excited and wanted to attend not only to learn English but also to be able to interact with people and perhaps make some friends.
As she dialled the number given in the ad, she was worried and apprehensive that she wouldn’t be accepted. She thought that the Church was a “sacred organisation and only members could attend.” She wanted to know if it was possible that she would be “accepted by God because [she had] little knowledge of Him.”
When Jessie was told she was more than welcome to attend she was delighted—ecstatic would be a more appropriate word.
Jessie still remembers the first day she entered the Adelaide Branch for English classes. She said the missionaries made her feel so very welcome and for the first time in a very long time she said she felt that “everything seemed right again.” She said it was like she “saw the light guide [her] through the darkness and felt hope again.”
Jessie couldn’t find a way out of COVID-19 and that first English class made her feel like there was light at the end of the tunnel.
After many English classes and the missionaries and members making her feel “so loved and welcomed” Jessie felt like she had arrived home. She was baptized on the first day of January 2022. She says it was a perfect way to start a new year and a new life.
Following is a quote from Jessie’s talk at her baptism:
“It is a big relief to know that there is a plan for everything happening in my life, and that plan is in the hands of God. He teaches me that I do not need all the answers and that it is okay not to know everything. Having faith in Him and keeping His commandments, I will find my inner peace. I can be calm to face difficulties in my life and believe I will make it eventually.
“I am so grateful that I am able to know God and get to experience the love and care that He has for me. I am ready to continue this journey with Him and pray that He will draw me closer to Him and guide my steps.
“Today I’m so excited to be baptized and share with all of you that I love Jesus, and He is my Lord and Saviour.”

Sister June Beharrell of Shrewsbury Ward, Newcastle-under-Lyme England Stake, was named in the 2021 New Year’s Honours List and awarded the British Empire Medal for “services to charities”.
The medal was presented at Shrewsbury Castle on 18 May 2021 by the lord lieutenant of Shropshire, on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth ll. (About 300 British Empire Medals are presented every year after considering nominations made by members of the public, who hope to bring recognition to the outstanding service of individuals in their communities.)
After her husband, Gordon, was diagnosed with cancer and died, and following his fundraising efforts, Sister Beharrell and her family continued collecting for the Lingen Davies cancer charity, Severn Hospice (Shropshire), and other charities. Of Gordon she said, “He shouldn’t have been going to the Shrewsbury Market entrance hall to collect money at all, but he told me that if something was going to happen to him, at least he’d be doing something worthwhile”.
In 2009, shortly after Bro Beharrell’s passing, June records. “I was lying in bed feeling sorry for myself, but instead of shedding tears, I thought, ‘I am going to the market on Saturday, and I am going to collect for the Severn Hospice just as Gordon would have done.’”
From 2009, June continued to collect donations in Shrewsbury Market by sitting in the hall entrance from 9 am until 2:30 pm almost every Friday and Saturday, whatever the weather or temperature. In the winter, when the cold wind would blow through the entrance, June would take a rug to keep warm. In 2020, amidst the COVID-19 national lockdown, June was not able to collect in the market, so her family helped her set up an online fundraising account which proved very successful.
Now that things have been returning to normal, June has returned to the market to continue collecting donations. Kate Gittins, Shrewsbury’s market hall manager said: “The market’s customers love her; for some, she has become their confidante, for others, particularly those visiting the market for the first time, she provides a warm welcome with her charming smile and generosity of spirit.” The Shropshire Star reported that “her fundraising over the years has helped to fund the general running costs of the hospice and enhanced the care of thousands of people over the years.”
Professor Derek Willis, medical director at Severn Hospice says, “We need specialised mattresses, we need specialised beds, we need hoists to be able to move people, and to make sure their basic care is provided for. It’s such important work. It’s through the incredible generosity of people like June that we can do that. What a legacy! What an amazing thing to be known for.”
This humble and amazing 81-year-old sister has been taken a little by surprise by the attention. She has been contacted by the media and been interviewed live on BBC Radio Shropshire. When the email came in December 2020 officially notifying her of the British Empire Medal, she thought it was a scam, and had to ask one of her sons to check it out for her.
But this is not June’s only experience with celebrity status. In 2020 she was nominated for a civic award by the mayor of Shrewsbury for charitable services, which recognises those who have gone above and beyond. She received a certificate for being nominated. June has also received a long service award from the Severn Hospice. In 2013, June was invited to attend a royal garden party at Buckingham Palace in recognition of her charitable work.
June insists, “It’s the donors that deserve the credit” and “the members of my family who have all supported me”. She continues, “After Gordon’s death the family took over the collection and we are all in it together, my sons and grandchildren”. This has been a family affair: son Adam, helping with transport to and from Shrewsbury Market, and with collections; daughter-in-laws help with the safe depositing of donations; son Mathew running a full marathon to raise money in the UK and his brother John, cycling from London to Paris (via a ferry) to raise money; 9-year-old grandson Josh creating his My Marathon Challenge, which became known around the county of Shropshire, running a mile a day around the school sports field for 26 consecutive days, raising over £1,000.
Including the efforts started by Bro Gordon Beharrell who initially had raised over £130,000 for the Lingden Davis and Severn Hospice, the family collectively have raised over £211,000 for various charities. It has been hard to get clarity about the amounts raised by the family, as their focus has always been on the service given and not the amount raised.
June admits, “Service has always been part of my life. It’s in my blood”. She started to serve as she engaged in civic youth programmes when she was a young girl, starting as a Brownie, then on to being a Guide, and then a Ranger. As an adult, June has also been very active in the Church since her baptism in 1964, having had many opportunities to serve her fellow members through callings in Primary and Young Women. She has also served as a ministering sister throughout her Church membership. She was released in 2020 as the ward Relief Society president, at age 81!
About collecting for charity, June records; “It’s taught me a lot, sitting in the market. It’s taught me empathy, it’s given me the opportunity to serve, to show love and compassion to people. I love it because I see people who are kind. It’s all about caring, just like the Saviour. It doesn’t matter what colour you are, what religion you are. … when I’m collecting, people very often tell me when they have problems in their family. I’ve held people’s hands and cried with them.”
Through June’s service she has been an unwitting but natural missionary. She quietly explains about some who share that they, or other family members, are struggling with health or other issues. “They have known I am a member of the Church and have asked me if I would say a prayer for them.” When appropriate, she even asks some regular donors if they would like the names of their loved ones who are ill to be put on the Church’s temple prayer roll, which they enthusiastically agree too!
She says, “I have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It’s all about caring for others, just like the Saviour—seeking people out and helping them. And that’s what we do as a church. We’ve all got the opportunity sometimes in our lives to give love and friendship to other people, and I think I am very fortunate to do that.”

Eight young men, all from the Sunnyvale Fourth Ward, Santa Clara California Stake, took on the ambitious project of producing a video yearbook for their high school. The proceeds from the project would go to the ward missionary fund.

With the help of their adviser and a small video production company, they acquired the equipment they needed. They approached the principal of the high school with the idea, and he agreed to the project.

With some training from the personnel at the video production company, the young men learned how to shoot and edit the tape. They wrote a script and asked a friend to help them with a musical score.

After 50 hours of shooting and countless hours of editing and dubbing music, the finished hour-long video was offered for sale to students.

The money earned from the sale of the tapes was not the only reward of the project. In working with their nonmember student friends, the priests of the ward were able to talk about the Church.

Vocational opportunities opened up as the young men gained experience. One of the priests felt he may have found an area he would like to pursue in college after his mission. And they all learned how to work hard to make a project succeed.

In addition, the project increased the friendship among the young men. They grew closer because of their shared interest and felt they were making a real contribution.

Merrell: Yes, and there’s kind of a funny story involved in one case. Betsy and I were driving back from dinner one evening trying to decide whether I should do Three Warriors. We were on the freeway, and I started hearing music I thought would be perfect for the theme song. The next morning I got up and wrote it down, and Kieth came over and I played it for him. Halfway through he got up to leave, and I said, “Kieth, where are you going?” He said, “The music is fine. I trust you.” We recorded it, and after a screening with the distributors, the producer told me he loved the music. Kieth came over to me then and said, “You know, when you played the theme song for me that day and were telling me what the French horns would sound like, and the strings, and everything else, all I could hear was your terrible voice and your out-of-tune piano. I was really worried, but I’ll never doubt your judgment again!”

Back in the year 2000, Christina Jenkins’s family had a grand idea for family scripture study: why not read the whole Book of Mormon in a month?! The family, from Yorktown, Virginia, started the month before the school year started, and her dad calculated they would need to read at least 17 pages a day to meet their goal. To help them feel the true spirit of the Book of Mormon, the Jenkins family also decided not to watch television for that month.

“The events that occurred and the lessons we learned became so much clearer,” Christina says. “Reading the Book of Mormon personally and with my family each year has strengthened my testimony of the Book of Mormon and of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Christina’s family enjoyed their month-long reading of the Book of Mormon so much they have done it every year since.

I have always been interested in animals and birds and when I was a little boy and the other children wanted to play cowboy, I wanted to go on safari to Africa and would pretend I was hunting the wild animals.
When I learned to read, I found books about birds and animals and came to know much about them. By the time I was in my teens I could identify most of the African animals. I could tell a klipspringer from an impala, or a gemsbok from a wildebeest.
I always wanted to go to Africa and see the animals, and finally that opportunity came. Sister Packer and I were assigned to tour the South Africa Mission with President and Sister Howard Badger. We had a very strenuous schedule and had dedicated eight chapels in seven days, scattered across that broad continent.
President Badger was vague about the schedule for September 10th. (That happens to be my birthday.) We were in Rhodesia, planning, I thought, to return to Johannesburg, South Africa. But he had other plans, and we landed at Victoria Falls.
“There is a game reserve some distance from here,” he explained, “and I have rented a car, and tomorrow, your birthday, we are going to spend seeing the African animals.”
Now I might explain that the game reserves in Africa are unusual. The people are put in cages, and the animals are left to run free. That is, there are compounds where the park visitors check in at night and are locked behind high fences until after daylight. They are allowed to drive about, but no one is allowed out of his car.
We arrived in the park in the late afternoon. By some mistake, there were not enough cabins for all the visitors, and they were all taken when we arrived. The head ranger indicated that they had a cabin in an isolated area about eight miles from the compound and we could spend the night there.
Because of a delay in getting our evening meal, it was long after dark when we left the compound. We found the turnoff and had gone up the narrow road just a short distance when the engine stalled. We found a flashlight and I stepped out to check under the hood, thinking that there must be a loose connection or something. As the light flashed on the dusty road, the first thing I saw was lion tracks!
Back in the car, we determined to content ourselves with spending the night there! Fortunately, however, an hour or two later we were rescued by the driver of a gas truck who had left the compound late because of a problem. We awakened the head ranger and in due time we were settled in our cabin. In the morning they brought us back to the compound.
We had no automobile, and without telephones there was no way to get a replacement until late in the day. We faced the disappointment of sitting around the compound all day. Our one day in the park was ruined and, for me, the dream of a lifetime was gone.
I talked with a young ranger, and he was surprised that I knew many of the African birds. Then he volunteered to rescue us.
“We are building a new lookout over a water hole about twenty miles from the compound,” he said. “It is not quite finished, but it is safe. I will take you out there with a lunch, and when your car comes late this afternoon we will bring it out to you. You may see as many animals, or even more, than if you were driving around.”
On the way to the lookout he volunteered to show us some lions. He turned off through the brush and before long located a group of seventeen lions all sprawled out asleep and drove right up among them.
We stopped at a water hole to watch the animals come to drink. It was very dry that season and there was not much water, really just muddy spots. When the elephants stepped into the soft mud, the water would seep into the depression and the animals would drink from the elephant tracks.
The antelope, particularly, were very nervous. They would approach the mud hole, only to turn and run away in great fright. I could see there were no lions about and asked the guide why they didn’t drink. His answer, and this is the lesson, was “Crocodiles.”
I knew he must be joking and asked him seriously, “What is the problem?” The answer again: “Crocodiles.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “There are no crocodiles out there. Anyone can see that.”
I thought he was having some fun at the expense of his foreign game expert, and finally I asked him to tell us the truth. Now I remind you that I was not uninformed. I had read many books. Besides, anyone would know that you can’t hide a crocodile in an elephant track.
He could tell I did not believe him and determined, I suppose, to teach me a lesson. We drove to another location where the car was on an embankment above the muddy hole where we could look down. “There,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I couldn’t see anything except the mud, a little water, and the nervous animals in the distance. Then all at once I saw it!—a large crocodile, settled in the mud, waiting for some unsuspecting animal to get thirsty enough to come for a drink.
Suddenly I became a believer! When he could see I was willing to listen, he continued with the lesson. “There are crocodiles all over the park,” he said, “not just in the rivers. We don’t have any water without a crocodile somewhere near it, and you’d better count on it.”
The guide was kinder to me than I deserved. My “know-it-all” challenge to his first statement, “crocodiles,” might have brought an invitation, “Well, go out and see for yourself!”
I could see for myself that there were no crocodiles. I was so sure of myself I think I might have walked out just to see what was there. Such an arrogant approach could have been fatal! But he was patient enough to teach me.
My young friends, I hope you’ll be wiser in talking to your guides than I was on that occasion. That smart-aleck idea that I knew everything really wasn’t worthy of me, nor is it worthy of you. I’m not very proud of it, and I think I’d be ashamed to tell you about it except that telling you may help you.
Those ahead of you in life have probed about the water holes a bit and raise a voice of warning about crocodiles. Not just the big, gray lizards that can bite you to pieces, but spiritual crocodiles, infinitely more dangerous, and more deceptive and less visible, even, than those well-camouflaged reptiles of Africa.
These spiritual crocodiles can kill or mutilate your souls. They can destroy your peace of mind and the peace of mind of those who love you. Those are the ones to be warned against, and there is hardly a watering place in all of mortality now that is not infested with them.
On another trip to Africa I discussed this experience with a game ranger in another park. He assured me that you can indeed hide a crocodile in an elephant track—one big enough to bite a man in two.
He then showed me a place where a tragedy had occurred. A young man from England was working in the hotel for the season. In spite of constant and repeated warnings, he went through the compound fence to check something across a shallow splash of water that didn’t cover his tennis shoes.
“He wasn’t two steps in,” the ranger said, “before a crocodile had him, and we could do nothing to save him.”
It seems almost to be against our natures, particularly when we are young, to accept much guidance from others. But, young people, there are times when, regardless of how much we think we know or how much we think we want to do something, that our very existence depends on paying attention to the guides.
Now, it is a gruesome thing to think about that young man who was eaten by the crocodile. But that is not, by any means, the worst thing that could happen. There are moral and spiritual things far worse even than the thought of being chewed to pieces by a monstrous lizard.
Fortunately there are guides enough in life to prevent these things from happening if we are willing to take counsel now and again.
Some of us are appointed now, as you will be soon, to be guides and rangers. Now, we don’t use those titles very much. We go under the titles of parents—father and mother—bishop, leader, adviser. Our assignment is to see that you get through mortality without being injured by these spiritual crocodiles.
All of the training and activity in the Church has as its central purpose a desire to see you, our young people, free and independent and secure, both spiritually and temporally.
If you will listen to the counsel of your parents and your teachers and your leaders when you are young, you can learn how to follow the best guide of all—the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. That is individual revelation. There is a process through which we can be alerted to spiritual dangers. Just as surely as that guide warned me, you can receive signals alerting you to the spiritual crocodiles that lurk ahead.
If we can train you to listen to these spiritual communications, you will be protected from these crocodiles of life. You can learn what it feels like to be guided from on high. This inspiration can come to you now, in all of your activities, in school, and dating—not just in your Church assignments.
Learn how to pray and how to receive answers to your prayers. When you pray over some things, you must patiently wait a long, long time before you will receive an answer. Some prayers, for your own safety, must be answered immediately, and some promptings will even come when you haven’t prayed at all.
Once you really determine to follow that guide, your testimony will grow and you will find provisions set out along the way in unexpected places, as evidence that someone knew that you would be traveling that way.
The basic exercise for you to perform in your youth to become spiritually strong and to become independent lies in obedience to your guides. If you will follow them and do it willingly, you can learn to trust those delicate, sensitive, spiritual promptings. You will learn that they always, invariably, lead you to do that which is righteous.
Now, my young friends, I would like to make reference to another experience, one I think of often but one I seldom talk about. I shall not mention it in detail; I only want to refer to it. It happened many years ago when I was perhaps not quite as young as you are now, and it had to do with my decision to follow that guide.
I knew what agency was and knew how important it was to be individual and to be independent, to be free. I somehow knew there was one thing the Lord would never take from me, and that was my free agency. I would not surrender my agency to any being but to Him! I determined that I would give Him the one thing that He would never take—my agency. I decided, by myself, that from that time on I would do things His way.
That was a great trial for me, for I thought I was giving away the most precious thing I possessed. I was not wise enough in my youth to know that because I exercised my agency and decided myself, I was not losing it. It was strengthened!
I learned from that experience the meaning of the scripture: “If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed;
“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:31–32.)
I have not been quite as frightened of spiritual crocodiles since then, because I have been alerted on many occasions as to where they were lurking.
I have been nipped a time or two and on occasion have needed some spiritual first aid, but have been otherwise saved because I have been warned.
Fortunately, there is spiritual first aid for those who have been bitten. The bishop of the ward is the guide in charge of this first aid. He can also treat those who have been badly, morally mauled by these spiritual crocodiles—and see them completely healed.
That experience in Africa was another reminder for me to follow the Guide. I follow Him because I want to. Through the other experience I came to know the Guide. I bear witness that He lives, that Jesus is the Christ. I know that He has a body of flesh and bones, that He directs this Church, and His purpose is to see all of us guided safely back into His presence.

Although Mary managed to get some additional cattle to help pull the wagons to the Salt Lake Valley, the trek still tested and refined her faith. One day one of her best oxen became very sick, lay down, and was apparently near death. Had this happened, she could not have continued on the journey to the Valley. Mary got a bottle of consecrated oil and asked two brethren to administer to the sick ox. Although administration to the sick had only been used for humans, Mary believed that the Lord would heal the animal that she needed so desperately.

After the blessing, the ox got up and was soon ready to pull the wagon again. Two more times other oxen became ill, and twice more Mary asked the brethren to bless them. Each time, they were healed instantly. Despite all difficulties, Mary and her family arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on September 23, 1848, a full day before the rest of the company.

I was sitting on the curb of some dirt road on the edge of town—somewhere in the middle of Argentina. I was a missionary, and this was my first area. My companion was doing an interview, and rather than waste my time I figured I would sit down and study the missionary discussions.
Just as I opened the fifth discussion, I noticed a little boy running playfully across the street like he was being chased. What was he running from? I wondered. What could be so terrible? Then I spotted the dreaded assailant coming from behind. It was a girl. He must have been considering the dreadful things that might happen if she ever caught up with him. Yuck!
Just in the nick of time, the boy saw me. Surely she wouldn’t dare follow him over by an American in a suit. He was right. Pretty soon it was just me, an empty street, and a ten-year-old boy hiding behind my coat.
Suddenly we were in the middle of a gospel discussion as he snatched the fifth discussion out of my hands and read the title. “Living a Christlike life,” he said. I’m not sure what he said after that, but I could see the wheels turning inside. I imagined his question was something like, “Who are you guys, anyway?”
I tried to brush him off with some shallow explanation of what a missionary is, only to be humbled by his profound response. In an attempt to summarize everything I had said, he replied, “¿Ustedes son amigos de Jesucristo?” or “You are friends of Jesus Christ?”
“Yes,” I answered as he ran off to play, unaware of the effect he had had on me.
I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. “¿Ustedes son amigos de Jesucristo?” There was something about the way he said it in Spanish. Did he mean it as a mere statement of fact or an actual question?
Am I a friend of Jesus Christ? I thought. What is a friend of Jesus Christ? A friend to Christ? A friend like Christ?
One morning I stumbled across a passage in the Doctrine and Covenants where the Prophet Joseph Smith records the salutation to be read in the School of the Prophets:
“Art thou a brother or brethren? I salute you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, in token or remembrance of the everlasting covenant, in which covenant I receive you to fellowship, in a determination that is fixed, immovable, and unchangeable, to be your friend and brother through the grace of God in the bonds of love, to walk in all the commandments of God blameless, in thanksgiving, forever and ever. Amen” (D&C 88:133).
I’ve never found a better definition of what a friend should be. These were brethren who had a determination to be friends, and this prayer explained what that meant. Some of the qualities that impressed me are determined, fixed, immovable, unchangeable, loving, obedient, blameless. I realized that if these were the requirements to be a friend of Jesus Christ, then I wasn’t qualified.
Christ set the perfect example of what it means to be a friend. He asks us to qualify as his friends and receive the blessings that he has made possible. In John 15:14 he said, “Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.” The preceding verse reads, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).
This is no ordinary friend.
“You are friends of Jesus Christ?” was what the young boy said. All of us need to decide in our own lives if those words are a statement of fact or a probing question.

Si is not tied to his mother, but somebody, usually his mother, Anita Begieneman, always accompanies him because he has been almost totally paralyzed since March 1,1975, when he fell from a gymnastics high bar. He can only see, hear, think, mouth words, and smile.
Prior to his accident, Si had been a fairly typical Latter-day Saint teenager. Almost 17, the oldest of six children, he loved all sports; didn’t mind school too much; played the piano; and teased his brothers, his sisters, and his mother. His one big goal was to go on a mission as soon as he turned 19.
In one instant Si went from full healthy activity to total paralysis. He lost all movement. He could not breathe, speak, or eat. He was on a life-supporting respirator 24 hours a day.
Usually when people are suddenly handicapped they experience denial, anger, resentment, and even bitterness before they finally accept their condition. Si’s medical team was amazed because he did not experience anger, depression, or a sense of hopelessness and panic.
He did get pneumonia, however, and his mother called Si’s former bishop and good friend, Robert S. Patterson, to give Si a blessing. Brother Patterson said, “Your accident has a definite and important purpose. You are to become an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hand to help bring many people who do not presently believe in God to a knowledge of him. This is to be your mission. You agreed to it before you came to the earth, and if you fulfill it well, you will thank your Heavenly Father for it every day throughout eternity.”
Si’s mother also received a witness of the Lord’s love. Si remembers, “Mom asked me what I would do if I could never again walk, talk, play the piano, or participate in sports. It was something that I had thought about a lot. I said, ‘It’s okay, Mom, I did those things the best I could when I could do them, and now I’ll learn to do something else.’
“She told me that the day after my accident she had gone down to my room, sat on the bed, and cried, ‘Heavenly Father, why? Why did this happen to my son?’ In answer, thoughts flooded into her mind. She realized that it was the Holy Ghost, so she grabbed a pencil and paper off my desk and recorded what came to her: ‘This life is a training ground for godhood. How we meet the trials that come and how we let them affect our lives are very important. We must see them as instruments of growth. All things can be for our good if we but let them. This life is the time to prepare to live again with our Heavenly Father, to grow in spirit and character and strength to meet the challenges and tremendous responsibilities of the celestial kingdom. This time of Si’s life will be exciting and challenging as new experiences come to him. None of the talents he has developed will be lost. They are just temporarily set aside while he develops others.’”
As the months passed, Si learned that he did not have to live a passive life simply because he could not move. There was still much he could give. He even learned that one way of giving was to accept help from others with love and gratitude. And he has received from many, many people.
To mention a few: His mother visits his hospital room each day and spends many hours with him. Other family members also show their love and support. Doctors and nurses at the hospital provide constant care. The Primary children of his stake raised $2,000 to buy a hydraulic lift to raise his wheelchair into his van. The Edmonton Singles Ward produced a musical comedy, and his four talented stepsisters presented a musical program to raise funds for a personal computer.
Brother Bob Layton, a news reporter for a local radio station, produced a two-part documentary on Si. It is the station’s policy to never play a documentary more than once, but the listener response to the Si Peterson story was so overwhelming, that they had to repeat it many times. Eventually the soundtrack from the documentary was combined with a series of photographic slides to form a sight and sound presentation. Brother Layton has, on request, taken this presentation to firesides, schools, and community organizations many times. The letters of response, many from school children, are evidence that Si has truly been an instrument of bringing people to God. One girl wrote, “Your faith and your acceptance of your accident help me to believe too.”
Some gifts Si has received were not altogether welcome at first. One day in 1977 a young man named Duane Simpson walked into Si’s hospital room, turned off the television set, and demanded, “What are you doing with your life, Si? Why are you wasting your time watching television? There’s nothing wrong with your brain—Why aren’t you using it?”
Si was amazed. His mother was very angry. But Duane continued, “Si, I’m here to help you any way I can.” He explained that he had been assigned to Si as a tutor.
Beginning then, Si’s life changed dramatically. “I guess I needed Duane to help me change my attitude. I wasn’t doing anything because I never really thought there was anything I could do.”
Since then Si has worked toward completing his high school education. He now aims to enroll in a university and obtain a degree in social work.
How does someone in his condition study? He listens to cassette tapes and his tutor. The tutor then reads him the questions. Si gives the answers “orally”. But because Si cannot make any sounds, his tutor has to read his lips, write down the answers, and send them to the correspondence school to be graded. It is a slow, tedious way to study, but Si jokes, “I’m getting better marks than I ever did before.”
While Si has learned to receive graciously, he has also learned to give unselfishly. He has counseled with many depressed and troubled people who are struggling to face their own handicaps and difficulties, and all have gone away lifted in spirit.
His deep empathy for the feelings and problems of others has also helped him reach out and bring people into the Church or back into activity.
One of them, a nurse in the hospital where Si lives remembers, “I first heard about the Church during my 3 A.M. discussions with Si. He gave definition to many basic feelings I’d had all my life. Then he asked me if I’d be willing to listen to the missionaries, and I did. I was baptized in August 1983.”
David McTavish is another of the many whose lives Si has touched. “Coming back from inactivity, at first I felt uncomfortable with Si. But the example of his acceptance of the Church and his faith, plus my many discussions with him, have helped me to handle the obstacles between me and the Church. He has also given me a freedom not to be afraid of the kind of person I am.”
Mrs. G. Von Busse, a tall, blonde grandmother, is Si’s physiotherapist and good friend. “I have watched Si grow from a teenager to the very fine young man he is today. With Si I have a friend. Nobody really knows me at the hospital but Si. We talk about everything—my youth, music, finances, politics, my family—everything. And when I go to Germany to visit my family there, they ask, ‘How is Si?’ And when I come back, Si has my favorite record playing. He is a very good person, highly intelligent and healthy—only that he is paralyzed, that’s all.”
If you were to stop by Si’s room unannounced, you would probably find him working on his computer or with his earphones on, listening to one of his many cassette tapes: the standard works (he’s listened to them all at least four times), conference talks, recorded books, school lessons, or music ranging from the Tabernacle Choir to classics to popular.
Si’s independence was greatly increased by the electronic control unit which the Alberta Rehabilitation Council installed for him in 1978. By touching the control lever with his lower lip, he can turn on or off everything that is connected to the system. He can even call a nurse with it. Now he has a modified personal computer that can be merged with the unit and allows him, for the first time in ten years, to write his own messages. “This opens up lots of things that have been closed to me,” he says. “I can use it to work on my education. Then I’ll write a book about my life. Also, after more training, maybe I’ll compose some music.”
Undoubtably much of Si’s strength comes from the gospel. He has been an elder since November, 1977. And on June 22, 1982, he traveled more than 300 miles to the Alberta Temple to receive his endowments. Temple President Vi A. Wood, who years before had given Si his patriarchal blessing, helped him through the endowment session.
Si calmly accepts his paralysis, but it is not easy to live as he does. Aside from the obvious discomforts and limitations, he also endures the side effects of it all. For example, because he is constantly on the respirator, his blood gasses get out of balance, causing him severe hallucinations. He has had many, many near-fatal moments when his respirator has failed. He has suffered cardiac arrest, pneumonia again and again, kidney stones, stomach ulcers, and strokes. But his faith in his Heavenly Father is unshaken.
So is his sense of humor. There is usually a smile on Si’s face, and he loves a good practical joke. When his mother went to the hospital once for her daily visit, she was in for a shock. Two hospital orderlies with very serious faces were sitting near Si’s room, and his door was closed. She opened the door and went in.
Si’s room was darkened, and he was covered with a white sheet. Anita’s heart faltered. She walked over and pulled back the sheet. Si was laughing! Then the orderlies came in, and they were laughing too.
Si is an inspiration to his whole family. His youngest sister, Barbie, reflects, “I was only five years old when the accident happened, so to me having Si like this is just a part of our way of life. It’s not a burden for us. I guess it would be if Si made a big fuss about it, but he doesn’t, so neither do I. Sometimes I wish I could make him better, but then I think no, because he’s blessed so many people’s lives. I do hope that sometime he’ll be well again. He’s really a great guy.”
Si’s father, Dr. Frank Peterson, concludes, “It’s unfortunate that he’s immobilized, but everything else about this has been positive. I’m proud of him.”
Si has a firm testimony, and he bears it frequently. His mother reads his lips and then gives voice to his feelings to the accompaniment of the rhythmic hum of his respirator.
“One of the main purposes of this earth life is to be tried, to prove ourselves worthy to return to our Heavenly Father, and so trials that come to us are an important part of our lives. Every one of us will be tried in one way or another. The important thing is how we accept our trials and grow from them. They can be stumbling blocks or stepping stones.
“I am grateful for my membership in the true and living Church, and I am grateful for the priesthood that I hold. I am grateful for my family who loves and supports me, and for the many others who help me so much. I know that my Heavenly Father lives and that he hears and answers my prayers. I am grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and for his sacrifice for me. I know that my accident had a special purpose in my Heavenly Father’s plan for me.
“I feel fortunate that the trial I have been given is so obvious that I receive a lot of encouragement and help from many people. Your trials may be just as difficult as mine, but perhaps not as obvious, and so I pray that you will be able to accept them and have the strength to endure and grow from them.”
This thought is typical of Si Peterson. Trapped inside the prison of his own motionless body, with every possible excuse to turn his thoughts bitterly inward, his mind reaches out to others in prayer and service. Even lying flat on his back, he is a giant. Si Peterson—a typical young Latter-day Saint and a unique human being.

One of my favorite hobbies is Irish dance. I try hard to practice my choreography at home so I am ready to perform. I practice very thoroughly, but when I am backstage about to perform, I commonly get the backstage jitters. At every competition, my mom and I find a quiet place to say a prayer. Sometimes it’s behind a curtain or in a room off to the side. I know that it doesn’t matter to Heavenly Father where we are, just that we have faith in Him.
At my last performance, my mom wasn’t with me to say a prayer. She was waiting in the audience. I got really nervous but decided that it didn’t matter if she was with me or not. I stepped away from my friends and said a prayer. I asked for safety as I danced and that I could do my best. I did very well that day, and I remember the feeling of peace that I felt as I walked on stage.

I remember Father’s placing confidence in me. We used to work on the farm, as I said before, and he would call me in the evening or early morning to discuss his plans, his program for the day, and ask me what I thought about it. Should we do this or should we do that? I felt that I was a part of it. I know now that he had his plans pretty well formed, but he showed that confidence in me. And realizing that I was part of it, I worked my head off to accomplish it, and I loved my dad for it.

And then I remember him saying to me one day, “You know, my son, I would rather have you helping me than any hired man I have. I have full confidence in you, and you surely do a good day’s work.” Such an expression of confidence and appreciation makes one more determined to do well what he is expected to do.

While getting ready to leave the house for a four-week summer vacation, my family and I set out to make the house completely spotless. That meant it was the time of year again for me to clean everything out from under my bed—the accumulation of a year’s worth of junk that I had put out of sight and subsequently forgotten. I dreaded the task, but it had to be done. So after cranking up my music and setting it on “shuffle,” I got to work.
I spent the next few hours on my stomach, reaching as far as I could underneath my bed and pulling out handfuls of old school papers, Halloween candy wrappers, my sister’s doll accessories, and countless other knickknacks. I dragged everything out onto my bedroom floor. When I was satisfied that not a crumb was left under my bed, I turned and found I had thoroughly trashed the rest of my room.
Exasperated, I began the seemingly impossible task of sorting the trash from the keepsakes. Near the bottom of the pile, I found three papers stapled together and folded into fourths. I unfolded the bundle to see if it was something I wanted to keep or something I wanted to toss into the recycling bin.
Immediately I recognized the letter I was holding. I sat on the edge of my bed to read it. The date at the top of the first page was my 12th birthday—the day I became old enough to enter the Young Women program, the day I became old enough to go to the temple and perform baptisms for the dead. My dad had written the three-page letter and given it to me along with my presents. At the time I received the letter, I didn’t even read the whole thing through, I admit. But now, reading it five years later, I knew that it was the best gift I had been given that year.
Lately I had started to feel a decline in my desire to read the scriptures and to go to Church activities. Sometimes at night I would collapse on my bed and go right to sleep rather than take just a minute to pray. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in the gospel; I did believe. But I wasn’t acting on my beliefs. I wasn’t going out of my way to serve others or to do the things I had been taught to do. I was struggling in my decisions, in limbo between following the world’s ways and following God’s ways.
Finding my dad’s letter again made the pathway clear. Two things about the letter really jumped out at me. First, after expressing his own love and testimony of the gospel—and adding that he knew I loved the gospel too and wanted to live righteously—my dad shared this advice:
“You become what you think about. If you spend your entire day thinking about the things the world thinks about, you will become like the world. It’s impossible to become anything that you don’t think about. If you want to become a righteous daughter of God who understands the Savior and His mission, you must study and think about those things.”
When I read that passage, it hit me that I hardly spent any of my time thinking about the eternal plan. I would think more often about what was going to happen in the next chapter of the novel I was reading than about the words of the scriptures. When I daydreamed, it wasn’t about the celestial kingdom or about serving others but about what I would do with my friends that weekend.
The next thing my dad wrote also hit me:
“The captain on the biggest ship in the ocean needs three things if he wants to get his cargo to the port: he needs to have a reliable map that shows him the way; he needs to believe that the map is reliable; and he needs to actually drive the ship in the direction indicated on the map. It’s the same for you. You have the map already. You need to have faith in Heavenly Father’s plan for achieving eternal life (belief in the map), and you need to work every day toward your destination (follow the map).”
At the moment that I finished reading those words, my music, still set on “shuffle,” switched to an Especially for Youth album. The lyrics to one song, “Stand in Holy Places,” brought tears to my eyes.
The song and the words of the letter, combined with the sudden sense of the Spirit, made me realize that, just as I needed to clean the junk out from under the bed, I needed to clean out the worldly things in my life and live in the uncluttered, spotless ways of the Lord. Like my chore that day, it would be difficult and would take time, but in the end it would be worth it.
Who knew that such a spiritual awakening could occur because of housework? The Lord works in mysterious ways. As I went back to cleaning my room, I made a silent covenant with the Lord that I would clean up my life, too, and strive to live how he would have me live.