Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Bradley Clark
Because of old plumbing and an unsound foundation, my childhood home flooded whenever a storm produced enough rain. Because storms in Virginia, USA, can last for hours, water invaded frequently.
We lived in that home during most of my growing-up years, so I thought flooding was normal.
After several storms, we improved our flood-fighting tactics and learned to work together. Storms often hit in the middle of the night, and my parents would wake us all up to work at our posts as the water encroached through the basement like slow-moving lava. My brother and father would bucket out the stairwell while my sister and I quickly sopped up water with towels to save the carpet.
We giggled as we jumped and danced on those towels, feeling the squishy wetness between our toes and through our pajama legs. Mom hurriedly wrung out the drenched towels, hurled them into the dryer, and brought new ones fresh for stomping. When we were satisfied the house was safe, we went to the kitchen to dry off and enjoy hot cocoa and cookies for our labors. Then, if it wasn’t yet time for school, we would try to go back to sleep.
Whenever my childhood home would flood, my brother and father would bucket out the stairwell while my sister and I quickly sopped up water with towels.
These floods must have given my parents great anxiety, but I remember them as some of the happiest moments of my childhood, even with the booming thunder and the flashing lightning. In fact, the smell of wet carpet still makes me nostalgic for family time.
My parents could have fought the flooding alone, but I’m so glad they employed all of us in defense of our home. Fighting the water was a joyous event because we were together and we each played a part.
Now that I am grown, I think about those days and wonder how I can create the same joy of working together in my own children. Though grateful that my home does not flood, I know that something unwanted will inevitably encroach upon our family.
No matter what trouble my family may deal with in the future, I hope we stay together and work together in defending our values, our faith, and each other. Then perhaps, even in adversity, we can laugh, smile, and feel happy as we labor side by side.

Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac aren’t the only brothers in the Clarkson family. There are four more: Levi (9), Eli (7), Sam (4), and Titus (2), and a baby on the way.
When President Nelson invited the women of the Church in October 2018 general conference to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year, Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac, along with their father and younger brothers, decided to offer Mom their support. “We’ll read it with you!” they said. Every morning before seminary, they woke up to read together.
“When we took on this challenge, I thought it was going to take a lot of time,” Andrew says. “I worried that I wouldn’t have enough time to do everything I wanted to do, like play the guitar or hang out with my friends. But I realized that it just doesn’t work like that. The more I was into reading the Book of Mormon, the more time I actually seemed to have. I realized that if I keep up on reading the scriptures as much as possible, my life is balanced. I have more time in the day.”
Matthew was going through a hard time when the family started reading every morning. He says, “I wasn’t doing well in school. I struggled with my personal scripture study and my relationship with Heavenly Father, and I kept it all to myself. I didn’t talk about it with my parents.”
However, as Matthew spent more time reading the Book of Mormon, the gospel began to take first priority in his life. He also put more effort into school. He worked hard and got his grades up.
“I also realized how much Heavenly Father and my parents love me and how much they help me. And I have a greater testimony of Jesus Christ. He has helped me overcome bad habits and helped me get my life headed in the right direction. I’m so glad we took President Nelson’s challenge as a family. It changed my life.”
Accepting President Nelson’s invitation also strengthened Isaac’s testimony. “We circled the words God, Lord, Redeemer, Savior, and Christ every time we found them,” he says. “On the day we finished, I flipped through the Book of Mormon and saw all the words I had circled. I thought, ‘Man, that’s a lot!’ I had never noticed how many there were. I felt much more spiritual reading the Book of Mormon. I’m glad we did it.”
Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac are amazed that their family finished the Book of Mormon in just two months. “It usually takes us a year,” Isaac says. Together, they discovered the blessings of following the prophet’s invitation.
“If you do what you’re supposed to do,” Andrew says, “like building a relationship with Heavenly Father through prayer, scripture study, and staying fully active in the Church, life is so much better.”
These three brothers have helped each other progress in the gospel. They follow the prophet, who has called on members “to increase their faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and in His Atonement, to … [make] and [keep] their covenants with God, and to strengthen … their families.”1

There was a time in Sasha’s life, however, when the enticements of the world almost overwhelmed her. She loves to dance and has trained from an early ageto become a professional dancer. Several months after her baptism, she became a member of a professional modern dance company in St. Petersburg. Most of the other dancers in the group were adults. None of them were members of the Church, and none lived Church standards.
When Sasha was 15, the dance company started preparing for a performance tour to Switzerland. It was a chance of a lifetime. “Every day I danced for about eight hours,” she says. “I was preparing with all my heart for the trip.” After a few months of single-minded devotion to dancing, Sasha had drifted dangerously far from her mother, her schoolwork, and the Church.
Fortunately, she still had an LDS friend—Anya. One day Anya’s mother, a member of the Church, said: “Sasha, stop! Do you think you can remain clean in that environment? Those people don’t keep the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity. Do you think the Holy Ghost can remain with you?”
“Those words went to my heart,” she says. “I suddenly realized I was surrounded by a spiritual darkness, and I was frightened. Anya and I fell to our knees and started praying. After our prayer, there seemed to be a light around us. I knew I must leave the dance group.”
But how could she actually leave? How could she let down the other dancers? Sasha asked for a priesthood blessing. Then she took Anya with her to break the news to her dance director. “When we reached the hall, I saw my director sitting there smoking, and she told me to hurry and dress for the rehearsal,” she remembers. “I told her I would not work there any more—but she wouldn’t listen. ‘How dare you do this?’ she asked. ‘Why do you betray us?’ She caught hold of me and took me in to the rest of the group. I was trying to talk to her, but I felt I didn’t have any strength; I couldn’t say anything.”
Fortunately, Anya was still at her side—saying nothing, but silently praying for her friend. “Suddenly I felt I had the power to talk to the group,” Sasha says. She explained why she was leaving. “It was difficult because they were my friends.”
When the director realized Sasha was not going to change her mind, she called a substitute and told Sasha to teach her everything. “I started dancing,” says Sasha, “and I was crying because I knew I was doing those dances for the last time.”
When she arrived home, she was exhausted. “But I knew I had won! I prayed that night and every night since then. I understood that for God we sometimes have to sacrifice our most beloved things. My new life really began from that moment.”
Sasha was reconciled with her mother, finished high school, and found another way to share her talent for dancing. She has recently completed a degree in dance at a college of culture and arts in St. Petersburg. Most important, her heart is centered again on the Lord.

I never appreciated the New Era before my mission, but now I have a living testimony of its usefulness as a missionary tool. We had an investigator who was really great but just needed a little push. One morning while studying I came across a great New Era article on testimonies. It was just what our investigator needed. We rushed the article right over to her. Two days later she called us up and told us she had decided to be baptized.
Elder William PrattCanada Montreal Mission

One young woman, Stacie, recognized the value of such traditions when she moved into a new ward. Her first few Sundays were challenging. She even told her parents she didn’t want to return. That very week her adviser called and invited her to an upcoming youth activity. Stacie recalled: “I was trying to think of an excuse, but the adviser said that every year they did a big dating game, and that caught my interest. I figured if they did it every year, it must be fun. So I went, and that was when things began to get better.”

“Why can’t Grandma be like Caroline’s grandmother?” complained Gina as she folded the towels. “Yesterday Caroline’s grandmother sent her a new skateboard. It’s really neat! She gives her presents all the time. Grandma never gives me anything.”
Mother stopped in the middle of changing the baby’s diaper. “Gina! I’m surprised at you. Grandma Ross loves you and has always been very good to you. You’re nine years old now and that’s old enough to understand love doesn’t need a price tag. Grandma Ross doesn’t have money to spend on fancy toys. She started working when Grandpa became ill, and most of her money pays for his hospital bills.”
Gina could feel her face getting hot. She knew that what Mother said about Grandma Ross was true, but knowing didn’t make her feel any better. She carried the towels into the hall closet and stacked them neatly on the shelves. “I’m through,” she announced. “Now may I go with Caroline? She said I could try out her skateboard.”
Mother put little David down to crawl on the floor. She sighed and looked at Gina. “You may go after you set the table. And remember to put on an extra plate. It’s Thursday and Grandma Ross will be here for supper.”
Gina pretended she was skateboarding around the dining room as she put the plates on the table. Then she grabbed the knives, forks, and spoons. Mmm, mmm. Her arms were outstretched to balance her skateboard pose as she sailed behind the chairs and placed the silverware beside each plate. “I’m finished, Mom,” she called to the next room. “Now may I go?”
“Yes,” her mother answered, “but be home in time for dinner.”
With only thoughts of skateboarding in her mind, Gina ran up the hill and around the corner to the familiar brown house. Caroline answered the bell. “Hi,” she greeted her friend. “I thought you’d never come!”
“Well, I’m here!” Gina said breathlessly. “Where is it?”
Caroline opened the screen door and pushed the slender skateboard out for Gina to admire. It was bright red with glistening flecks of many different colors. She spun the wheels and they made an even, purring sound.
“Wow! What a neat skateboard!” exclaimed Gina. “How did your grandmother know what kind to buy?”
“Well,” confided Caroline, “last time she called I hinted around a lot …” Her voice trailed off and she looked at Gina. The two girls giggled. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Gina watched enviously as Caroline balanced herself on the board and then breezed past her down the sloping sidewalk. She could hardly wait for her own turn. Finally Caroline handed her the shiny skateboard, but Gina promptly fell off. After a few more tries she managed to stay on, and soon she was feeling like an old pro. Gliding down the hill made her heart pound, but she loved it. Finally Gina noticed that the sun had gone down. “I’ve got to go home,” she said quickly. “My grandmother’s coming for dinner—Thursday night, you know.”
Caroline reached down for the skateboard and tucked it under her arm. “You sure are lucky, Gina,” she said. “All my grandparents live so far away I hardly ever get to see them. Well, sometimes I see them on Christmas and sometimes in the summer, but they don’t just come over for dinner like your grandmother does.”
Gina looked at her friend in amazement. “But your grandmother sends you presents all the time,” she said. “All that furniture for your dollhouse, new games and clothes, and now a skateboard. I wouldn’t mind all that.”
“Sure, that stuff’s OK, but it’s not like having a real person who can be with you. Well, see you tomorrow at school.” Caroline’s voice seemed a bit sad to Gina.
“Bye, Caroline,” Gina said softly, staring after her friend. Suddenly many thoughts went racing through her head. Maybe Caroline did have a lot of things sent to her, but she didn’t have a grandmother who played checkers with her, guessed at her riddles, and always came to school for open house. She didn’t have a smiling grandmother to give her a warm hug every Thursday night.
Gina smiled as she ran down the hill toward home, thinking gratefully of a loving grandmother who would be waiting there to greet her.

At a nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few years ago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated two widows. They were warmly and beautifully dressed—and absorbed in the game. I asked, “Who’s winning?” They responded, “We don’t even know who’s playing, but at least it’s company.” I sat between those two angels and explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I can remember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory.

My wife, Ruby, and I did not grow up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But in her youth, Ruby was exposed to many different churches and teachings. Through consistent and diligent prayer, she identified teachings she felt to be true, forming a set of beliefs from the teachings of various Christian churches. I was raised in a single church and knew little of any others.
After our marriage, we attended church together, but I began to question the faith I had been raised in and asked my wife questions regarding doctrine. She wisely and simply responded, “Have you ever read the Bible?”
I had not, so we read the entire Bible together. As we read, I wrote down questions that remained unanswered. We began searching for a church that taught everything we had discovered. During the next two years, we visited many churches, requested literature, read about philosophy and religion, and prayed. I became convinced that the Lord’s Church was not on the earth.
We lacked wisdom and needed heavenly help (see Joseph Smith History 1:11–13). So, we sincerely prayed together, asking God to show us the way. Shortly after we prayed, missionaries from the Church appeared on our doorstep. Ruby immediately felt the truth of what they taught. Their teachings resonated with her and matched the answers she had received many years earlier when she had prayed as a youth. The missionaries answered all of my questions too, but I wanted to be sure. I read the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and other Church books.
We also attended church every week and lived gospel teachings. At length, I recognized the fruits of the Spirit of God in my life (see Galatians 5:22) and received a strong testimony. We were baptized, received the gift of the Holy Ghost, and were later sealed in the temple.
We have never regretted joining the Church. It has kept our marriage strong during hard times, and the legacy of being close to the Spirit of God is living on in our six children.

Perhaps a story from my own life can best exemplify how impactful a forgiving heart can be on others. For some background, please note that this story takes place before the wide-spread use of scanners and the ubiquitous cell phone.

Following law school, I took a job as a litigation associate in the San Francisco office of a major national law firm. This job was very demanding and it was not uncommon for me to have late night, or all night or all weekend work assignments. Becky and I and our oldest daughter, Cozi (who was one at the time), lived in the East Bay and I would commute with public transportation into the City for work. If I worked too late, I would often miss the last bus and either need to call and ask my wife for a ride home or take a taxi (which I generally only did when authorized for payment by a client).

On one particular late night I had missed the bus, and was not authorized to take a taxi, so I called Becky to come and pick me up. It was about 11:45 PM. She told me she would come and get me, but that she needed to wake up Cozi, get her ready and in the car, and expected to be to my office in about 45 minutes. I continued to work until about 12:15 AM, was shutting down my computer and gathering my take-home work into my bag, when I received a call. It was a partner in the firm’s Washington DC office. He said he was so happy to find me still there. He was preparing for trial later that morning and desperately needed a document that could be found in the San Francisco office file room. He asked if I could retrieve the document and fax it to him immediately.

I told him that I, of course, would. I rushed to the file room and realized I had no idea how I was going to find this document. We had file room staff that did this work during normal hours and I had never searched for a file in the room before. I began rolling the large filing shelves looking for the client and matter number. Ultimately finding it, I began searching through the several thousand documents of the case to find the one that the partner needed. Finally, the document was found.

I immediately rushed to the fax machine to send it to our Washington DC office and realized that I did not know how to operate the fax machine. We had staff during normal hours that sent all the faxes and I had never used the fax in the office before. It required some sort of code in order to unlock its operation so that the cost of sending the fax could be billed to the proper client. I riffled through the drawers around the fax machine to see if there was a code that was written down that I could use to get this fax out. I was able to track down an administrative code, entered it into the machine and was able to get the fax to send.

The relief in having been able to accomplish this task was quickly replaced by a realization that this whole process had taken me well over an hour to complete and that my wife and child had been waiting that whole time for me in the wee hours of the morning on a dark street in downtown San Francisco.

I rushed to my office, grabbed my bag and headed to wait for the interminably slow elevator to reach the 24th floor of the building. I could hear my wife’s certain words in my head, “How could you do this to us? You know that I am uncomfortable being alone in the City? Why did you call us if it was going to take you another couple of hours to be done with work?”

As the elevator arrived and I stepped in, I began doing what most good attorneys do – prepare the defense. “What was I supposed to do, tell the partner in Washington DC that he was just not going to be getting his document. You know that would get me fired. I have to provide for our family. Who’s going to put the food on the table?”

As I hurried out to the car and looked into the windows, I froze. In her car seat in the back of the car I saw my daughter, her face red and wet from tears, my wife reaching back to comfort her, lines of exhaustion and concern on her face. Clearly she had anticipated for some time that I would be down any minute.

I opened the car door and slid into the driver seat, and steeled myself for what she would say. Then I heard Becky’s voice, “Oh dear, you look so tired, would you like me to drive home?” Immediately, I was faced with the reality of what I had done. Those words have done more to change my life than any others uttered by a human being to me. I have cried many times over my insensitivity on that night. I still find in that moment of my life the courage to be a better man.

I remember another time, while living in California, I was in my office at work and the office manager, very attractive at 30, came into my office, shut the door, sat in front of me, and with tears began to complain to me about her husband. As she cried and complained, I grabbed the phone book and searched for the phone number to the mission office in L.A. I then shared my testimony and put her in touch with the missionaries.

Illustrations by Cam Kendell
Hi, Mia. Want to play four square with us?
I don’t really feel like playing right now.
OK.
That night …
Sound label: Sniffle (coming from top bunk)
I don’t know why I feel so sad. Maybe a Primary song will help me feel better.
Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?
What’s wrong, Mia?
I was sad, but now I feel the Holy Ghost.
What does the Holy Ghost do?
He comforts us. That’s why He’s called the Comforter.
Mom, Dad, guess what? I felt the Holy Ghost! I was sad, and He comforted me.
I’m so glad! Come tell us about it.
The next day …
Hi, Mia. Are you feeling better?
Yes! Can I play with you today?
Yeah! Let’s go.
Thanks!
Thanks to Mia P. for sharing her story!

Ombeni frowned down at his lunch tray. The food at his new school was way too sweet. He wished he could just eat his mom’s homemade rice and beans.
Ombeni and his family had only lived in the United States for a few weeks. Their home country was too dangerous to live in, so they had to move to the USA as refugees. Moving was hard. Getting used to his new school was hard too.
Ombeni found an empty spot near a group of boys and sat down. They all turned to look at him. One boy said something, but Ombeni couldn’t understand him. He didn’t know much English yet.
Ombeni tried to say something back. “Jambo,” he said. (“Hello.”)
The boy looked confused. He frowned at Ombeni and turned away. Ombeni felt like curling up into a little ball, but he just sat quietly at the end of the table. Sometimes it felt like he was on an alien planet in this new school.
When school was finally over, Ombeni hurried and zipped up his coat. Back home, he never needed a coat, no matter what time of year it was. But here it was cold in the winter. The other children put on fuzzy gloves and hats, but Ombeni didn’t have any of those things.
Ombeni could see his breath in little white puffs of air as he walked. He started to run so he could get home faster. He burst through the front door and almost ran into Mama.
“Ombeni! Punguza mwendo!” she said. (“Slow down!”)
“Sorry, Mama,” he said, shivering.
Ombeni sat down and tried to warm up while his mom cooked dinner.
After a few minutes, Ombeni couldn’t stay quiet anymore. “Mama, I don’t want to go back to school! It’s scary and lonely, and I can’t make any friends. I miss my friends back home.”
Mama stopped stirring and knelt down next to Ombeni. He quickly wiped away his tears. He didn’t want Mama to see how sad he was.
“I know things are hard right now.” Mama gave him a warm hug. “But they will get easier.”
Ombeni looked away. “But how are things supposed to get easier if I can’t understand anyone?”
Mama frowned. Ombeni could tell she was thinking hard.
“Remember when we were in the refugee camp?” she asked. “Whenever I felt really lonely, I would look for people I could help. It always made me feel better.”
Ombeni nodded. He remembered how Mama would always find people who came to the camp alone and show them where to go.
Mama smiled. “And think about Jesus! People were often mean to Him. But He always looked for people to help.” She wiped another tear from Ombeni’s face. “Sometimes when we’re sad, the best thing we can do to help ourselves is look for ways to help other people.”
Ombeni nodded. That sounded like a good idea. He wanted to be like Jesus.
The next day at lunch, Ombeni looked for someone to help. Lots of kids were sitting with big groups of people. Then he noticed a girl who was sitting at a table by herself.
He walked over to her and set his tray down. He waved and said, “Jambo!”
“Hi,” she said.
Ombeni smiled big. The girl smiled back. Then they quietly ate their food together.
Ombeni felt happy. Things at this new school were still going to be hard. But he was glad to know there were people here he could help.

But life will never be the same. Some people, particularly children, who see her for the first time are frightened. For a friendly little girl who remains the same inside despite the changes on the outside, the rejection can be devastating.
Sage was playing outside one day when a child came upon her. Unprepared for the experience, he ran away screaming, “Monster! Monster!” It hurt, but Sage understood. “The kids used to laugh at me,” she says. Do they now? “Not at school. Sometimes people stare when we go to the store.”

I’m thankful for the strength my mother showed while she was going through her bout with leukemia. Unbeknownst to many of us siblings during the time we were preparing to celebrate my father’s 90th birthday in the summer of 2007 that our mother was diagnosed with pre-leukemia. The Hematologist was keeping a close eye on her blood count.

Mom went through all of the preparations for the event without a single complaint of pain or acknowledging what she was going through at the time. She was focused on making sure that everything would run smoothly for dad’s big day. You could not tell in her expressions on that day that anything was wrong. Soon after the event, she began her treatments. Then again towards the end, no one realized that mom could not see out of one of her eyes. I took her to the eye doctor who explained that a blood clot had formed inside and was blocking her vision. It would be difficult to do any type of treatment due to her chemo treatments and the fact that she was taking blood thinners.

She never complained about it.

One of my brother’s and I even tried to get her to put a patch over the affected eye thinking that might help her vision. She looked like a pirate and said she didn’t need a patched eye. We needed to add a little humor to her day. She was a real trooper until the day she passed away. And her last words that were written in a book were, “love everyone."

No one knows when emergencies will strike. I am somewhat familiar with the case of a man who was highly successful in his profession. He lived in comfort. He built a large home. Then one day he was suddenly involved in a serious accident. Instantly, without warning, he almost lost his life. He was left a cripple. Destroyed was his earning power. He faced huge medical bills. He had other payments to make. He was helpless before his creditors. One moment he was rich, the next he was broke.

Since the beginnings of the Church, the Lord has spoken on this matter of debt. To Martin Harris through revelation He said: “Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage” (D&C 19:35).
President Heber J. Grant spoke repeatedly on this matter from this pulpit. He said: “If there is any one thing that will bring peace and contentment into the human heart, and into the family, it is to live within our means. And if there is any one thing that is grinding and discouraging and disheartening, it is to have debts and obligations that one cannot meet” (Gospel Standards, comp. G. Homer Durham [1941], 111).
We are carrying a message of self-reliance throughout the Church. Self-reliance cannot obtain when there is serious debt hanging over a household. One has neither independence nor freedom from bondage when he is obligated to others.
In managing the affairs of the Church, we have tried to set an example. We have, as a matter of policy, stringently followed the practice of setting aside each year a percentage of the income of the Church against a possible day of need.
I am grateful to be able to say that the Church in all its operations, in all its undertakings, in all of its departments, is able to function without borrowed money. If we cannot get along, we will curtail our programs. We will shrink expenditures to fit the income. We will not borrow.
One of the happiest days in the life of President Joseph F. Smith was the day the Church paid off its long-standing indebtedness.
What a wonderful feeling it is to be free of debt, to have a little money against a day of emergency put away where it can be retrieved when necessary.
President Faust would not tell you this himself. Perhaps I can tell it, and he can take it out on me afterward. He had a mortgage on his home drawing 4 percent interest. Many people would have told him he was foolish to pay off that mortgage when it carried so low a rate of interest. But the first opportunity he had to acquire some means, he and his wife determined they would pay off their mortgage. He has been free of debt since that day. That’s why he wears a smile on his face, and that’s why he whistles while he works.
I urge you, brethren, to look to the condition of your finances. I urge you to be modest in your expenditures; discipline yourselves in your purchases to avoid debt to the extent possible. Pay off debt as quickly as you can, and free yourselves from bondage.
This is a part of the temporal gospel in which we believe. May the Lord bless you, my beloved brethren, to set your houses in order. If you have paid your debts, if you have a reserve, even though it be small, then should storms howl about your head, you will have shelter for your wives and children and peace in your hearts. That’s all I have to say about it, but I wish to say it with all the emphasis of which I am capable.

Annelise is a third-generation Church member. Her grandma and grandpa were baptized many years ago, her dad grew up in the Church and married a member, and Annelise is a lifelong member. She is now a member of the Frederiksberg Ward, and Annelise, a Beehive, is, along with Pia, one of the few young women in the ward.
The ward currently meets in a rented building. The elevator in the building is pretty slow, so Annelise takes the stairs. Three flights of stairs get her to the top floor, where she enters the chapel. The building is clean and nice, but Annelise says there is a temporary feeling about where the Frederiksberg Ward meets. She looks out the window of the chapel and points.
“That’s our old chapel right there,” she says. She’s looking at a beautiful brick building one block away, one of the first the Church built in this country. And it sits empty—for good reason.
“That is where our temple is going to be,” Annelise explains.
The temple in Copenhagen will serve the members in Denmark and other parts of Scandinavia. Having a temple 10 minutes from her house instead of the 12 hours it takes to get to the Stockholm Sweden Temple is a real blessing. Annelise knows it is worth the sacrifice.
But there is still the issue of a new meetinghouse. The lease on the temporary building will expire soon. So this Sunday, the Frederiksberg Ward is holding a fast, praying that the city will give the Church approval to build on property it has purchased.* Annelise is joining other ward members in fasting and praying for this special purpose.
This morning Annelise admits she’s hungry. “But when I fast I feel close to God and I feel more humble,” she says. “I don’t feel fasting is that much of a sacrifice, and I believe if everybody in this ward prays for the same thing, then our Heavenly Father will help us.”
After sacrament meeting, with her fast almost complete, Annelise doesn’t dash home to eat. Instead, she walks out the door holding the arm of Christel Petersen, a 96-year-old ward member. Sister Petersen joined the Church in 1958 and taught Annelise’s father in Sunday School. Each month Annelise gets to know her better by taking some time to visit with her.
“Sister Petersen is nice to talk with. I think she is a strong woman because she is the only member of the Church in her family. Her husband never joined, and her children were already grown when she was baptized,” Annelise explains. “She is 96 years old, and she still comes to church each Sunday.
“I admire people like Sister Petersen who are close to Heavenly Father,” Annelise adds. “And when I do things like fasting, it brings me closer to Him too.”
* A few months after Annelise and others fasted, the Church received a permit to construct a new building for the Frederiksberg Ward.

My companion and I and four other missionaries were invited to go to Camp Pendleton, a nearby military base, for a special Christmas devotional for the military recruits. This was something very special for them because they were also away from home for Christmas. We had a devotional at which the speakers testified of Christ’s gospel, and we sang hymns.
I was the largest of the missionaries, so I got to play Santa and visit everyone. Even though they knew Santa was just a missionary, they played along and it lifted their spirits.
While the recruits were eating, we missionaries did our job. Each of us had a discussion with about 10 recruits. All six missionaries had recruits who said they would like to join the Church.
Our Christmas day was “white” when three young men joined Christ’s fold. The Lord had blessed us with the perfect Christmas!
Tyler Powell served in the California Carlsbad Mission; he is a member of the Lindon 14th Ward, Lindon Utah West Stake.

I can’t tell you how much I have learned through the special Young Women issue of the New Era. My family and I have had a lot of problems the past few months. Mom and Dad separated. Then my brother went into the navy. I really miss him. For a long time I didn’t think much of life. I thought it was ruined. Then I thought, why don’t I read my Young Women New Era. It really has helped me a lot. Each time I get down on myself, I start reading, and I feel so much better. I start thinking of how special I really am, even though things at home are not so good.

Recently, I had the blessing of meeting Patriarch James R. Boone and his wife Ruth in Jacksonville, Florida. Their odyssey to happiness has come through their faithfulness to the redeeming principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ and in being the parents of thirteen children. Four children—David, Elaine, Melinda, and Martha—presently attend this University and may be in this audience. Brother and Sister Boone’s happiness was not complete with only thirteen children, so they adopted another one—Sammy, now age three, making fourteen. In their Christmas letter of this year, they said of Sammy, number fourteen, “He is very special, this boy.” I was at a conference meeting when Sister Boone was released as president of the stake Relief Society after having served faithfully and well for twelve years. In this family, among the children in one generation, there have been eleven full-time missionaries, and nine of the boys have earned Eagle Scouts, which may be a national record. Patriarch and Sister Boone have great joy and rejoicing in their posterity, who at this point number an even fifty. Time, I am sure, will do much to increase the measure of their joy and rejoicing.

Several years ago our family lived in Salt Lake City, Utah, for a short time, and while there, I served in the Young Women program in our ward. It was a profound learning and growing experience for me. One of my most vivid and memorable experiences was participating in a hike with the Olympus 7th ward Young Women. The chosen hike was the summit of Mt. Aire in Millcreek Canyon. Our guide was a sister in the ward, named Amy, who was a trained search and rescue professional who would lead us and ensure that we would safely reach our destination and also return home safely that afternoon. When this hike was proposed I thought to myself, “it’s a convenient location, with the trailhead only about a 15 minute drive from our house – how challenging could it be?”

Besides the relatively close proximity to civilization, the expected duration for the hike was only about two hours and again I figured, (for a novice hiker), that seemed reasonable. How bad could a two hour trek be? The girls were enthusiastic and eager to listen to Amy as she provided information about appropriate hiking clothing and shoes. She also reminded us to carry a light jacket and gave us a suggested quantity of water we should bring. Although it seemed like an inordinate amount to haul, I thought it best to comply since she was an expert and knew what she was talking about, but I couldn’t help ask myself, “how much is that water going weigh?”

Let me tell you what I learned about Mt. Aire during the hike. First off it should be called Mt. “No Air” or Mt. “Give Me Oxygen.” This is due to the fact that the summit is about 8,600 feet above sea level. For comparison sake, the Koolau Mountain Range here around us rises to a height of approximately 3,000 feet above sea level.

From the base of Mt Aire to the summit is a vertical climb of 2,000 feet. For those of us from sea level, a hike to over 8,000 feet in altitude presents very noticeable changes. You quickly observe a lack of available oxygen and the thinning of the air makes you feel out of shape, lethargic, and light-headed.

Let me share what I remember most about that mountainous climb. The 16 and 17 year old Laurels started out in front with Amy and stayed up with her all the way. They set a grueling pace for the rest of us (well for me). They seemed as sure footed as mountain goats, steady on their feet and moving with ease and elegance. Periodically they would stop to let the remainder of the group catch up, rest, and take a sip of water. It was easy to see they were more experienced and comfortable not only with the terrain but with themselves.

At the beginning of the hike I started somewhere in the middle of the pack but as it got steeper the air grew thinner. It became more difficult for me to fill my lungs with oxygen, but no one else seemed affected like I was. I tried to pretend everything was OK, but I started breathing through my nose and mouth to force more oxygen in to my lungs. Each step became more laborious, and I was preoccupied with looking for a place I could stop for a few seconds to catch my breath. I was not engaging in conversation or appreciating the majestic scenery for which the Utah canyon-scapes are famous. I was focused on staying alive.

All the while the Beehive girls flitted around checking out the flora and fauna like they were romping in a field of daisies laughing and having a wonderful time—you know the awe and joy that God’s creations hold. They were having a blast with not a care in the world. Not wanting to spoil their fun I waved the girls on, and they ran up ahead to join their friends but then a few minutes later they ran back to check on me.

One little girl said, “would you like me to carry your jacket sister Wright?” I thanked her and told her I was fine. At one point my daughter who could see I was having a difficult time came up behind me put two hands on the small of my back and pushed me until I felt a renewed commitment and energy to push to the end.

This little beehive group stayed with me and stood around me as I caught my breath. Although I invited them to go ahead, in part because I was embarrassed at having such a hard time, but I couldn’t shake them loose. They kept on chatting with each other and moved along the trail slower than they could have but not so far ahead that I had an excuse to call out “I’ll wait for you here pick me up on your way down.” So in the end I buckled down and decided I wasn’t going to give up. Instead, I continued to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and then continued with each successive step, and so on until we reached the Summit where the trail blazing Laurels and leaders had finished their rest and were ready to head back down the mountain. All I could think of was, “I made it!”