Gospel Story Finder

When I moved away from home and started my life as an adult, I needed to find a lot of answers. I particularly struggled to know how to understand my relationship with the priesthood as a woman. I heard contradictory statements from friends, ward members, and online sources. I felt confused and unsatisfied by the answers that others gave me to explain the role of women in the Church.

The question kept coming back to me: I know that God loves me equally, but how can I feel equal to men when I have a different role? I couldn’t help but feel like having a different role meant having a lesser role. Dwelling on these questions felt like starting up the mountain at 1:00 a.m. I couldn’t see the answer yet, and searching felt dark, cold, and discouraging.

In the October 2019 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson issued an invitation, specifically directed to the women of the Church: “I entreat you to study prayerfully all the truths you can find about priesthood power.” He encouraged us to understand how we could have the same access to priesthood power as a man could. Here was a prophetic invitation to ask my questions and then devote time to studying them. President Nelson promised that as we did so prayerfully, our ability to draw upon priesthood power in our lives would increase.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said: “Asking questions isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a precursor of growth. God commands us to seek answers to our questions and asks only that we seek ‘with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ’ [Moroni 10:4].”

Understanding that I could have faith and have questions was key for me as I began to search for an answer. It helped me remember what I did know: God loves me; He speaks through His prophets; He wants me to feel joy. By starting my search based on this foundation, I was able to turn to good sources that I had already gained a testimony of. Specifically, there were talks by President Nelson, President Dallin H. Oaks, and other General Authorities that all taught the same truths and helped me understand how God feels about me.

The sections in the Doctrine and Covenants mentioned by President Nelson (sections 84 and 107) gave me another starting point. I could lean on the testimony I had already gained of the scriptures to support my fledgling understanding of truths about the role and value of women in God’s plan. I felt grateful for trusted family members, friends, and ward leaders who offered their thoughts and let me bounce ideas off them. It helped me the most when they would point me to other helpful resources that I could read for myself instead of giving me their opinions.

I spent many hours reading and praying. Prayer helped me keep my eyes on Heavenly Father; I felt His love for me through the process of asking Him questions. Through my studies, here are just a few of the truths I learned:
I have direct access to the power of God as I keep my covenants.
I am given authority from God to act in my calling when I am set apart by someone with the proper priesthood authority.
I received a gift of God’s priesthood power when I was endowed in the temple and a knowledge of how to draw upon that power.
I can experience exaltation and return to live with God someday if I keep His commandments (see Doctrine and Covenants 25:15).

I received peace and clarity as I searched for answers to my question. While I can communicate some of the truths I learned and my process for coming to an answer, the full answer was impressed upon my soul in a way that is difficult to explain. I refer to the experience of learning these truths as a sacred struggle. As I dedicated time to pray about my questions and wrestle with them, I created space for God to teach me.

What started as an area of confusion and darkness led to specific, quiet experiences with God as the Spirit distilled knowledge or increased my patience. I have faith as I approach other questions that I can work with my Heavenly Father to feel more peace and confidence in His plan. Now I try to support those around me in their sacred struggles so that they can come to know eternal truths by the spirit of revelation.

In 1938 Hitler had his armies invade western Czechoslovakia, and he soon ruled it. All Americans were warned to leave the country. Before the mission president, Wallace Toronto, left, he set apart Josef Roubícek, a Czech and a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, as the acting mission president. For the next five and a half years, Church headquarters received no word from the Saints in Czechoslovakia.

During that time President Roubícek held regular meetings. For a few months the government outlawed public meetings. When that happened, President Roubícek kept in touch with members by mail. In his letters, he encouraged them to study the Book of Mormon with their families.

When the war ended in 1945, an American soldier took a letter from President Roubícek and mailed it to President Toronto. “I wish to inform you,” President Roubícek wrote in the letter, “that after six years of war all members of the Church have remained well and alive. It has been a terrible time. … The [Saints’] … testimonies of the truthfulness of the gospel have not wavered even in the worst moments of this great conflict.”*

The day after Martin’s departure, Emma endured an agonizing labor and gave birth to a boy. The baby was frail and sickly and did not live long. The ordeal left Emma physically drained and emotionally devastated, and for a time it seemed she might die too. Joseph tended to her constantly, never leaving her side for long.38
After two weeks, Emma’s health began to improve, and her thoughts turned to Martin and the manuscript. “I feel so uneasy,” she told Joseph, “that I cannot rest and shall not be at ease until I know something about what Mr. Harris is doing with it.”
She urged Joseph to find Martin, but Joseph did not want to leave her. “Send for my mother,” she said, “and she shall stay with me while you are gone.”39
Joseph took a stagecoach north. He ate and slept little during the journey, afraid that he had offended the Lord by not listening when He said not to let Martin take the manuscript.40
The sun was rising when he arrived at his parents’ home in Manchester. The Smiths were preparing breakfast and sent Martin an invitation to join them. By eight o’clock, the meal was on the table but Martin had not come. Joseph and the family started to grow uneasy as they waited for him.
Finally, after more than four hours had passed, Martin appeared in the distance, walking slowly toward the house, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.41 At the gate he paused, sat on the fence, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. He then came inside and sat down to eat in silence.
The family watched as Martin picked up his utensils, as if ready to eat, then dropped them. “I have lost my soul!” he cried, pressing his hands on his temples. “I have lost my soul.”
Joseph jumped up. “Martin, have you lost that manuscript?”
“Yes,” Martin said. “It is gone, and I know not where.”
“Oh, my God, my God,” Joseph groaned, clenching his fists. “All is lost!”
He started pacing the floor. He did not know what to do. “Go back,” he ordered Martin. “Search again.”
“It is all in vain,” Martin cried. “I have looked every place in the house. I have even ripped open beds and pillows, and I know it is not there.”
“Must I return to my wife with such a tale?” Joseph feared the news would kill her. “And how shall I appear before the Lord?”
His mother tried to comfort him. She said maybe the Lord would forgive him if he repented humbly. But Joseph was sobbing now, furious at himself for not obeying the Lord the first time. He could barely eat for the rest of the day. He stayed the night and left the next morning for Harmony.42
As his mother, Lucy, watched him go, her heart was heavy. It seemed everything they had hoped for as a family—everything that had brought them joy over the last few years—had fled in a moment.43

As I pondered my family’s current lack of support, I remembered that miracle of peace I’d felt before I was baptized. I recalled that all things are possible to Heavenly Father (see Matthew 19:26) and that as I turn to Him in faith through fasting and prayer, He can make seemingly impossible things possible through faith in Christ.
As we learn in Helaman 3:35, “Nevertheless they did fast and pray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their humility, and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation.”
I wanted to deepen my trust in Heavenly Father, fill my heart with joy, and do what I could to soften the hearts of those who didn’t support me. So I consistently fasted and prayed for relief from the loneliness I was facing.
Nothing changed immediately. I was told that I was causing challenges in our family because of my Church membership. I felt so alone. But I trusted that Heavenly Father was listening to my prayers and that my fasting would bring blessings. Eventually, I saw a miracle—my parents’ hearts gradually softened toward the gospel.
I also felt my faith in Heavenly Father and my Savior become empowered. My stronger faith helped me know how to respond to others when they were unkind and how to deepen my relationship with loved ones and with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
After a lot of fasting and prayer, I received the answer to serve a mission. Miraculously, my parents ended up getting baptized before I left to serve, and I was also able to be sealed to them in the Manila Philippines Temple a few months before I finished my service.

From 1846 until 1869, when the railroad came to Utah, many members of the Church traveled across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. They came by wagons and on foot. From 1856 to 1860, many pushed or pulled small handcarts with their worldly possessions packed inside. The trip was hard and long, and the Saints who made it to the valley arrived tired, sick, and hungry. Some turned back, and, unfortunately, many died along the way.
In the general conference of October 1856, word came to Salt Lake City of the plight of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. They had started out late and had been struck by an early winter storm in the plains of Wyoming. President Brigham Young adjourned the conference and called able-bodied men to quickly gather supplies and organize a rescue party. Among the many valiant men who rode out of Salt Lake City to help the stranded Saints were young men by the names of C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, David P. Kimball, and Stephen W. Taylor. When they left, they could not have known what would be required of them or what contribution they would make to the building of the kingdom.
Arriving at the banks of the ice-filled Sweetwater River, the rescuers found the handcart companies bogged down in snow 46 centimeters deep. Men, women, and children among the group were too weak to cross the river. Their energy was spent; their strength was gone; and no doubt they felt the effects of frostbite, hypothermia, and extreme fatigue.
It was then that these strong young men made a sacrifice that few are ever called upon to make. They waded into the stream time and time again, carrying members of the company across the icy stream. Back and forth they crossed until every member was safe on the other side and on their way to shelter and finally into the Salt Lake Valley. These young men, by then cold, wet, and suffering themselves, joined the ranks of the heroes that day. They were not perfect—they were probably regular young men with faults and shortcomings, with their own problems, fears, and weaknesses. But they answered the call of the prophet—they were where the Lord could find them when they were needed to bless the lives of others.

Theresia Mangels, an elderly widow, lived alone in an apartment in northern Germany. One evening she heard a knock at her door and opened it to find two young men standing there. Remembering that she still had a book their colleagues had left years before, she invited them in, then went to find the book. When she tried to return it, they grinned and refused to take it, telling her the book was actually from another church. They were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they said, and asked if they could give her an important message. She was a bit lonely and, besides, they were such nice young men. She agreed to listen.
They taught her that evening about someone named the Prophet Joseph Smith, but their message confused her. Visions and gold plates and angels—it all seemed so strange. They asked if they could come back another time, and she almost said no. But she decided to give them one more chance.
When they returned, they said they were going to teach her about the purpose of life and God’s plan of salvation. That sounded interesting. And then they started talking about something she had never heard of before: a premortal existence where all of us lived with God. It was as if a light went on in her soul. This doctrine was true. She could feel it. And it explained so many things she had wondered about but her church had never been able to clarify. From then on, everything the missionaries taught made perfect sense, and when they invited her to be baptized, she accepted eagerly.

Opportunities for Christian acts of service do not always come at convenient times. Approximately two or three years ago I was in southern California. I had reorganized a stake. Just as I was getting ready to go out to the airport where I could relax and just let down, a woman approached me. She was in her mature years and she said, “Elder Featherstone, are you going back to Salt Lake today?” I said, “Yes.” She continued, “Are you going on that four o’clock flight?” I responded that I was. Then she said, “Would you mind doing a favor for me?” I quickly thought about the schedule I had just been through, and the flesh was begging for a little break. I assumed she wanted me to hand carry something to her relatives. I never check baggage unless I absolutely have to. I wondered if I would have to check what it was I assumed she wanted me to bring back. I thought about waiting at the baggage claim for the item; then I wondered where it would need to be delivered. Only a moment’s pondering and as always, the spirit thrust aside all empty excuses and responded as a service-oriented leader should.
I said, “I will be glad to help in whatever way possible.” Then the woman said, “My grandson Phillip has been down here with me for a couple of weeks. How would you like to baby-sit him home to Salt Lake? He is two-and-a-half years old. His mother will be waiting for him at the airport.” We arranged to meet at the Los Angeles Airport, where the grandmother introduced me to Phillip. Before we boarded the plane she said, “Here is an envelope. Will you wait until you are on the plane to open it?” I found out why she made that request later.
Phillip and I boarded the plane. We sat on the row behind the bulkhead.
I reached into my pocket and opened the letter from the grandmother. It went something like this:
“Dear Elder Featherstone, Thank you for taking Phillip back to Salt Lake and baby-sitting him for us. We appreciate it. His mother will be there at the airport to meet you; but if she is not there, then here is what you do.”
Then she had written, “The reason I did not dare have you open the letter before you were on board the plane is that I did not have enough courage to ask you to do another favor for us. Phillip’s brother Ricky is in the University of Utah Hospital. He has had constant seizures, many a day. The doctors do not know what else to do. They have done all they know, and he still has the problem. Do you think you could possibly find time to go by the hospital and give him a blessing?”
When we arrived in Salt Lake, there was no one to meet us at the gate. We walked the length of the terminal. Still no one recognized Phillip. We went down the escalator, past the baggage claim, and out to the curb. I have done some unusual things in our marriage, but I wondered what my wife would say when I came home from a stake conference with a two-and-a-half-year-old boy.
I looked around and stood with Phillip for a moment, and then the mother pulled up along the curb. She had been delayed coming to the airport. The sweet mother was very kind, and she loaded a happy Phillip and all his gear into the car.
A short while later I was standing in one of the pediatric wards at the University of Utah Hospital. There were about six children in cribs. An attendant was mopping the floor, and then he left the room. I was all alone in the hospital room with these six beautiful children.
I found out which was Ricky’s bed and went over to him. I said, “My name is Vaughn Featherstone. Do you know who I just left?” He said, “No,” and I said, “I came back from Los Angeles today, and I brought your brother Phillip home. I told him I was coming here to see you.” Ricky was only four, but tears came to his eyes. He missed his little brother.
Then I said to him, “Ricky, I am a friend of President Spencer W. Kimball, and he loves you. President Kimball is a prophet. Your grandmother asked me if I would give you a blessing. Do you know what it means when someone lays his hands on your head and gives you a blessing?” He said, “Yes.” And then I said, “Ricky, do you believe in Jesus?” He said, “Yes.” “Do you know that Jesus loves you? Do you know that Jesus can heal you?” He answered, “Yes.” Then I asked, “Would you like me to give you a blessing so you can be healed?” “Yes,” he said.
I laid my hands upon his head and gave Ricky a blessing. An interesting thing happened in the little pediatric ward. The other children stopped playing or crying and seemed to listen.
When I finished the blessing I reached in my pocket and pulled out a beautifully polished rock with my name on it that someone had given me. I gave it to Ricky, so that when his mother came she would know that I had been there.
Two years later I was in the Kingsport Tennessee Stake and a sweet young mother came up to me after conference. She told me it was her mother that had asked me to baby-sit Phillip and bless Ricky and then she said, “Have you ever had any feedback on your blessing?” I told her I had not. Then she shared with me the great miracle, “Ricky has not had another seizure since you gave him the blessing.”
It was not opportune to take Phillip home, nor was it convenient to drop by the University of Utah Medical Center; but it was what Jesus would have done. Our service must always lead us to ask, “What would Jesus do?”

Linda and Robbie came poking down the stairway of the old farmhouse where Grandma and Grandpa lived. They always dawdled when it was time to go home.
“Hurry up!” Mom called out. And Dad’s voice came from outside, urging them to get a move on.
The children hurried a little faster, but not much. They hugged Grandma and Grandpa good-bye and then got into the back of the car. When Dad turned the ignition key, there was a strange whirring noise. When he tried to start the car again—nothing.
“Oh, no!” he cried.
Grandpa walked over to the car. “What is it, Ben?”
Dad shook his head. “The starting motor’s on the hummer.”
“Won’t the car go?” Robbie asked.
“No, it won’t,” Dad replied.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to stay here for Thanksgiving,” Linda said, a note of hope in her voice.
“I have to get home for that business meeting tomorrow,” Dad agonized. “But how can I?”
“Well,” Grandpa suggested, “you could take my car.”
Dad looked surprised. “You mean Lisbeth? That old Model T?”
“Only car I have,” Grandpa replied.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Dad said. “I’ve never driven a Model T. Besides, it—it might break down!”
“It’s easy to drive,” Grandpa persuaded, “and it’s been running for over fifty years. Don’t think it’ll break down now.”
“Oh, let’s!” Linda said. “I love Lisbeth.”
Grandpa and Dad went out to the barn, and Linda and Robbie trailed along behind. Grandpa opened the barn door, and there waited Lisbeth—shiny and black. Her top was folded down for nice weather, and there were side curtains to snap in place when the top was up during bad weather.
There were two little levers on the steering wheel, and Grandpa adjusted them just so, then he went around in front of Lisbeth and took hold of the crank. He turned it a couple of times and Lisbeth started. The children climbed in back, with Grandpa and Dad in front. Grandpa told Dad what to do. Dad drove Lisbeth around the barnyard and between the chicken coops a couple of times to get the feel of it. When he felt confident that he could drive it, he parked the Model T beside his own car. After they had loaded everything and everyone into Lisbeth, Dad released the hand brake, then pushed one of the foot pedals, adjusted the throttle lever, and they were on their way down the lane.
Lisbeth’s engine was noisy. Her body rattled, and the ride was not very smooth. Dad frowned. But Mom hid a grin, while Linda and Robbie squealed and bounced up and down on the back seat. At the end of the lane they pulled up onto a blacktop road. Lisbeth ran more smoothly and rattled less, but she was slow. “It’ll take a week to get home at this rate,” Dad muttered.
“Pull her ears down,” Robbie said, pointing to the little levers on the steering column. “That’s what Grandpa does.”
Dad pulled the little levers all the way down and Lisbeth ran faster, but not much.
Dad pulled into the first service station they came to. The station man looked at the old car and frowned. “That’s Mr. Jackson’s car,” he said. “What are you doing with it?”
“He’s my grandpa,” Linda piped up. “We had to borrow it.”
“I’d like the tank filled,” said Dad, getting out of the car and removing the front seat cushion that covered the gas tank. “And please check the oil and tires too.”
Soon they were on their way again, rolling along a superhighway.
The newer cars whooshed past. Horns honked, and people laughed and waved. Linda and Robbie waved back, and Dad hunched down lower in the seat.
Then Robbie said, “Uh, oh. There’s a police car right behind us with its red light flashing.”
Dad pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped. The policeman parked behind their car and came up to them.
“What’s wrong, officer?” Dad inquired.
“See that sign just ahead?” the officer asked, pointing. “It says you have to drive at least forty-five miles an hour on this freeway.”
Dad nodded. “I’d be glad to, officer, but Lisbeth—this car—just can’t quite go forty-five miles an hour.”
“Then you’ll have to leave the freeway at the next off ramp,” the officer said. “Sorry.”
Dad drove down the off ramp to an older, rougher road. “I don’t think we’ll make it home today,” Dad said. “I’m sure Lisbeth doesn’t have very powerful lights. If dark catches us, we’ll have to stop at a motel.”
“Like a vacation!” Linda shouted. “That’ll be fun, huh, Robbie?”
Lisbeth bounced and clattered along, and the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky. Dad turned the lights on, but they weren’t very bright. A little later Dad pulled into a motel, and they rented a big room for the night. The family played games, watched TV, and then went to bed.
Early the next morning Dad got everyone up. Linda and Robbie grumbled, but Dad paid no attention. “I have to get to my business meeting before noon,” he said, “and Mother needs to do some shopping for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
Lisbeth didn’t much want to start, and Dad had to crank and crank, but finally the old engine came to life and the family was on its way. They watched the sun come up, then they saw their town just ahead.
Linda sighed. “We’re almost home. I wish we were just starting. Lisbeth is lots more fun than our car.”
Dad grunted. They started down Main Street but soon came to an intersection where a policeman came toward them, waving his arms.
He gave them a big smile and motioned for them to go right on down Main Street, although he was directing other cars onto a side street. Dad drove on, then had to slow down to keep from running over a clown riding a motorcycle. Another clown rode up behind them, then both clowns began riding their motorcycles round and round Lisbeth.
Linda looked on down the street where there was a band, horses, more clowns, and big floating balloons. She looked back and saw more of the same.
“Whoopie!” Robbie called out suddenly. “We’re in a parade!”
And they were—in a big Thanksgiving parade. At first Dad frowned, then he looked at Linda and Robbie and laughed. “Guess I’ll just have to be a little later for that meeting than I thought,” he said. “But I’ll be thankful if I get to it at all.”
Mom gave him a hug. “I’m glad that you can see how much fun the kids are having.”
Linda took a deep breath and looked back and forth as they drove slowly down the street between the crowds of people.
“I’m thankful for Grandma, Grandpa, and Lisbeth,” she said. “This is the most fun ever.”
Lisbeth chugged along to the end of the parade, then on home. Dad turned off the engine. “Whooee!” he sighed. “We’re all glad that’s over, aren’t we?” he asked with a sly grin.
“Oh, Dad, that was fun,” Linda said. “It isn’t every day we get to ride in a parade!”

When times were tough, I learned to take time to feel joy in the little moments—the gifts—that are given to us. When my son cannot help but give me a kiss, I am grateful. When I watched my son ride the bus without anyone to sit with, I was blessed to have this scripture come into my mind: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88). I knew that Brad was not alone and never will be.

During World War II, several Latter-day Saints moved through the islands with advancing Allied forces. In 1944 and 1945, military groups held Church meetings in many locations, and numerous LDS service members and service workers were still in the Philippines when the war ended. Among them were Maxine Tate and recent convert Jerome Horowitz. Both helped introduce the gospel to Aniceta Fajardo. While helping rebuild Aniceta’s house in a bombed-out area of Manila, Brother Horowitz shared his newly found faith with Aniceta and her daughter, Ruth.
Aniceta gained a testimony and desired baptism, but the Church did not authorize baptisms for Filipinos at that time because there were no permanent Church units in the islands. Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles became aware of Aniceta’s desire, and in his capacity as chairman of the General Servicemen’s Committee, Elder Lee approved Aniceta’s baptism. On Easter morning in 1946, Aniceta Fajardo was baptized by serviceman Loren Ferre and is now acknowledged as the first known Filipino to become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

One is humbled by the spiritual submissiveness of the dying young mother of twenty-six, understandably anguished at the prospect of not rearing her two children, one of whom she so recently made ready to lay down her life for, if necessary. The baby arrived safely, but, alas, the gallant mother could not tarry. With childlike faith this young sister touchingly inquired, “If I am to die, then how can I help my husband and my parents as they watch me die?” Surely she (and others similarly situated) faithfully conforms to King Benjamin’s portrait of a Saint as one being “willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.” (Mosiah 3:19.)

I was scared I wouldn’t make new friends when we moved to South Korea. When I was reading the Friend, I saw Matt holding the South Korean flag in the “Find It!” activity (April 2020). Matt said, “Wherever you go in the world, Primary is the same.” I felt Heavenly Father was telling me that Matt was right and that I can go to Primary in South Korea and make friends!
Alice W., age 10, Gyeonggi-do, South Korea

Time for lunch! We’ll start practice again in 30 minutes.
Hey, look at this!
We shouldn’t be looking at that kind of stuff.
You’re such a baby.
Later that night …
Hey, buddy. We wanted to talk about what happened at soccer camp.
One of the boys’ mom called and said some boys were looking at pictures of people without clothes on.
Yeah. I tried not to look.
We know. The mom said you walked away.
How did you know to leave?
We’ve talked about how those pictures were bad. And I felt bad when I saw them.
That was the Holy Ghost telling you it was wrong.
We’re proud of you.
You can always come talk to us when something like this happens, OK?
OK. Thanks for talking with me.
This story took place in the USA.

Lisa was sad. The next day was Father’s Day, and her father was far away in another country. And it was already Father’s Day there.
“Why does Dad have to be in the Army?” she asked Mom. “I want him to be home, especially tomorrow. More than anything, I want Dad home on Father’s Day so I can give him a big hug.”
“The Army is Dad’s job right now,” Mom said. “But when he calls today, you can talk to him and tell him how much you miss him. We sent Dad a present three weeks ago. He knows that you love him.”
Then Mom sighed. “I had better take out the trash before fixing lunch. Taking the storm windows down yesterday took so much time that I didn’t take it out before I went to bed.”
Lisa watched Mom pick up the heavy trash container. Dad usually takes out the trash, she thought. He takes the storm windows down, mows the grass, and fixes our car. Mom must wish Dad were home too. There are lots of extra things she has to do that he does when he’s home.
Lisa thought about Dad. “I bet Dad worries about Mom doing everything he would do if he was home,” she said out loud. Then she smiled. Now she knew something special she could do for him today, even though he was far away.
She ran to the cabinet, found the silverware for lunch, placed it on the table, and went to get the plates.
“I can’t use the stove yet, or I would have cooked, too,” she told Mom later, while they were eating.
After lunch, Lisa helped Mom do the dishes. She found the newspaper and brought it for her to read. Then she went upstairs and picked up the toys on her bedroom floor. When the telephone rang, she was carrying her dirty laundry to the hamper in the bathroom.
“Happy Father’s Day!” Lisa cried when she heard her dad’s voice on the telephone. “I miss you, and I wish you were home.” Then she told him about the extra things she’d done to help Mom. “Mom does a lot of your chores every day, so I thought you might like it if I did something special for her as another Father’s Day present.”
“Helping your mother is the best Father’s Day gift you’ve ever given me!” Dad told her. “I have a Father’s Day surprise for you too. Next month, I’ll be coming back to the States. I’ll still be in the Army, but you and Mom can come and live at the Army base with me. Won’t that be fun? We’ll all be together again.”
“I’m saving up a big hug to give Dad the minute he gets home,” Lisa told Mom when she hung up the phone. “And I’ll keep helping you until he gets home, because that will be our real Father’s Day this year.”

When I was growing up, every year or so my stake would put on a road show. For weeks before the event, leaders in the wards would concoct unlikely plots, create ridiculous songs and dances, and coerce reluctant youth into wearing outlandish costumes. Our road shows could hardly be termed theater, but they were a lot of fun.
Of all the stake road shows I took part in, one in particular stands out in my memory. The year I was 16, the stake presidency, of which my father was a member, decided the wards would not be allowed to use glitter in their costumes or makeup. Although the shimmering flecks looked wonderful on stage under the spotlight, they invariably found their way into the carpets and furniture. Because the road show was to be held on Saturday night, the stake presidency hoped this measure would help keep the building clean for the Sabbath.
But in the enthusiasm and good-natured competition of that year’s road show, the stake presidency’s counsel unfortunately went largely unheeded. When the performances concluded, I looked for my dad among the members slowly trickling from the building. They all seemed to have had a night of friendship and amusement. When I finally found my father in one of the rooms used for preparation, I could see that he was not amused. He was walking slowly around the room, surveying the damage.
“Most of the wards used glitter,” I said, stating the obvious.
“It’s like this in almost all the rooms,” he said and sighed, pointing to the glitter scattered across the carpet. “Weren’t we clear about not using glitter?”
“I think you were,” I said, hoping to ease some of the tension.
When we found the rest of the family and went home, it was already late. After seeing the younger kids to bed, my father took his coat and the car keys and went to the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Back to the stake center,” he said quietly, “to see what I can do to get it ready for Sunday. Do you want to come?”
I didn’t have any special desire to spend what remained of my Saturday evening cleaning, but then I thought about him doing all that work alone.
By the time we reached the stake center, my dad’s attitude had changed. As we cleaned, he seemed less and less discouraged and even somewhat enthusiastic about the challenge before us. He spent the time asking me about school and my friends.
Although the cleaning took several hours, we both felt a certain pleasure in our work and tried to be as thorough as possible. It wasn’t until after midnight that we felt the building was ready for church in the morning.
The next day, I felt special satisfaction as I looked through the clean rooms and remembered how they had appeared the night before. I considered telling my friends about my one-night stint at janitorial work, but that didn’t seem appropriate. Apparently, my father felt the same—to this day I can’t remember his mentioning that night to anyone.
Today when I think back to that road show, I’ve forgotten the humor, costumes, and music. What comes to my mind are images of my father vacuuming and sweeping and picking up glitter from the floor of the church—doing behind-the-scenes work in preparation for the Sabbath.

The day I discovered I could, with my mission president’s permission, extend my mission for a month was one of the most exciting in my life. As a recent convert, I was determined to stay in the mission field and share the gospel with as many people as I could.
As the end of my 24th month drew to a close, I was grateful for the chance to stay a little longer and teach the gospel. On Sunday night, three days before transfers, the phone rang. I was serving as the zone leader in Lubbock, Texas, so I wasn’t surprised to hear my mission president’s voice.
I figured he was going to update me on the upcoming transfers. Instead, he told me that he felt inspired to send me home on time and revoke my extension. The president instructed me to pack my belongings and be on the mission van headed for Fort Worth at 7:00 a.m. the next morning.
As I hung up the phone, I began to cry. I couldn’t believe my mission was about to end. I wanted badly to have an extra month to share the gospel as a full-time servant of the Lord.
The next morning I boarded the van for the 15-hour ride to Fort Worth. By the time I reached my destination I was drained, spiritually and emotionally. I could not understand why I needed to go home now. In my final interview, the mission president assured me that it was the Lord’s will.
After returning home, I reported on my mission to the stake high council. When I left the high council meeting, I was approached by a high councilor, who invited me to accompany him on an upcoming speaking assignment. The topic was on being a modern-day pioneer. I agreed to speak.
During the next few weeks I readjusted to life but still had no answer as to why I had been sent home on time. The day of the speaking assignment arrived, and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me speak with His Spirit. During my talk, I told of being a pioneer as my family’s only Church member and of the hardships I had faced since my baptism. I also shared the experiences of other converts I had met on my mission and how they overcame their obstacles. I felt that the Spirit was guiding my every word.
After the meeting, a 17-year-old girl approached me. She said she was not a member of the Church but was friends with a young man who was. Her friend and his family had shared the gospel with her. The girl said she had a testimony but was afraid of how her parents would react to her desire for baptism. She thanked me for sharing my experiences and told me she now knew what she needed to do.
Several months later, the high councilor I had spoken with approached me. He mentioned the girl who had talked with me after my pioneer talk and said she had been baptized a few days earlier. He said the girl felt the Spirit so strongly during my talk that she had no doubt that Heavenly Father wanted her to join the Church.
My heart swelled with joy as I realized why I had been denied my mission extension. I was merely an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hands, and He knew where I could serve best—at home.

Andy’s bare feet kicked at his reflection in the water. He bit his tongue to keep himself from talking, but it didn’t stop his thoughts. Why can’t I go? I’m twelve now. I could help!
Slowly Andy put his moccasins on and sauntered up the footpath to the house. Disgustedly he kicked into the dirt. The flying pebbles sent the chickens squawking in every direction.
“Andy,” his mother asked, “are you still pouting about your father’s decision?”
“I’m not pouting.” Andy stuffed his hands deep in his overall pockets and leaned against the porch post. “I’m just wishing I could go on the hunt.”
“Maybe next time,” Mother said.
“That’s what you said last time.”
“I know, but the bobcat hunt is not just a game. You’ve heard of the damage that old cat’s done. If the cat wasn’t killing the sheep, the men wouldn’t go either. It’s dangerous! Now come on in, your father’s already washing for lunch.”
“Andy,” Father said as they finished eating, “I’m sorry you can’t go on the hunt. I hope you understand.”
Andy sat back down in his chair. His eyes were glued to his empty plate. “Is Billy going?” he asked.
“No. Mr. Longrun and I decided together that you are both too young. Maybe next time, Son.”
Andy went back out to the porch and sat on the step. At least Billy isn’t going either, Andy thought. But still I wish I could go. I’ve listened to all the men talking at the trading post and I know almost everything there is to know about that cat.
His thoughts were interrupted as a wagon pulled up in front of their house. Billy Longrun jumped out of the wagon and started toward him. He didn’t smile and Andy knew why. Without a word Billy sat down on the steps.
After a long silence Billy finally spoke. “My mother said you could come stay with me while my father is gone.”
Andy began to smile. He remembered what fun it was to stay in a Navajo hogan. If he couldn’t go hunting, this was the next best thing.
“I’m sure Mother will let me go,” he said.
“Let’s ask her now. I don’t want to watch them leave,” Billy said as he pushed his black hair out of his eyes.
Andy’s mother said that he could stay with Billy, and in a few minutes he had a small blanket roll of his belongings collected.
“I’m ready!” he shouted as he ran out the door. “I’ll race you to the black rock.”
Both boys ran as fast as they could to the rock then slowed to a walk, laughing between deep pants as they tried to catch their breath.
“I have an idea,” Andy said when he had his breath back. “While the men are on the hunt, let’s go trapping.”
“That’s a great idea,” Billy said. “Then when they get back we’ll have some pelts to show them.” His black eyes began to shine.
“That way staying home won’t be quite so bad,” Andy said.
Mrs. Longrun was sitting just outside the hogan weaving. Her long black hair was tied back with a piece of bright cloth and her arms and fingers were covered with beautiful turquoise and silver jewelry.
Billy sat down beside her. “Can we go trapping?” he asked.
“If you don’t go for long,” she answered.
“We’ll be back before the sun sets,” Billy promised.
Inside, the hogan was very warm. The fire in the coal stove was still smoldering. There was not a lot of furniture, but Andy recognized the bedrolls stacked against the wall. While he put his bedroll by the others, Billy gathered up the traps.
“Now be careful,” Mrs. Longrun called after them. “Don’t forget the time.”
Andy and Billy tramped through the bushes and grass into the hills, then they followed a large stream into the forest. It did not take long to find several good places to set the traps. Just as the boys started back, Andy suddenly grabbed Billy’s arm and said, “Hey, wait!”
“What is it?” Billy asked.
“What’s that between those two trees way over there?” Billy looked in the direction where Andy was pointing.
“I can’t tell.”
“Let’s go see. We have time,” his friend suggested.
Billy looked at the sun and then nodded in agreement. Quickly the boys made their way over to the trees.
As they came closer Billy grabbed Andy’s arm. “Stop! It’s a shindee hogan.”
Andy had heard his father talk about the Navajo customs, and he knew that when one of them died a new door was cut in the north wall of the hogan for everyone to leave and then the hogan was destroyed. But if for some reason the hogan was not destroyed, it was considered haunted. The haunted hogan was called a shindee and under no circumstances would any Indian go near it.
Slowly the boys found their way back to the stream and started for home. Billy’s mother had supper ready. “Tell your mother about the shindee hogan,” Andy whispered as he took a bite of fry bread. Mrs. Longrun stopped short.
“It was near the river in the forest,” said Billy. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“Was it near the high ledge?” Mrs. Longrun asked.
“Yes, and it was almost hidden by the trees,” Andy told her.
Mrs. Longrun began to smile. “It is not a shindee. It was Littlewolf’s hogan, but it was built in a very bad place. Instead of building on the warm mesa he built in the forest where the sun could give it no warmth. He had to move.”
Very early the next morning Andy and Billy were up and off to check their traps.
The first trap had been sprung, but nothing was in it. However, a skunk odor was so strong that it was almost impossible for the boys to get near enough to reset the trap.
“Wow, that animal left a strong message!” Andy said as they wiped their stinging eyes.
“Let’s get out of here!” Billy motioned for Andy to follow.
They hadn’t gone far when they heard a strange, weak bleating sound.
“Oh no!” Billy pointed to the left. “One of the lambs is caught in our trap.”
The lamb’s front leg was not seriously cut, however, and carefully Andy opened the trap while Billy tried to comfort the frightened animal.
“She’s just scared. She’ll be fine,” Andy said as he patted the lamb’s head.
“We’re not far from that abandoned hogan. Let’s take her there until we finish checking the traps,” Billy suggested.
The boys were almost to the hogan when they heard a noise. Carefully they crept behind a dirt bank so they could see what was causing it. Two bobcat cubs were playfully rolling in front of the hogan.
Quickly the boys ducked down! “The big cat must be near,” Andy whispered. “The man at the trading post said she’d never go far from her cubs.”
They looked again just as the mother cat appeared with her ears pricked, as if she sensed intruders. Then the lamb began to bleat. The hungry old cat tensed and held very still. Billy grabbed for the lamb’s mouth, but it was too late. The cat had heard.
“What will we do now?” Billy asked softly.
“Put the lamb down!” Andy cautioned.
“But we can’t let the cat get her,” Billy protested.
“We won’t,” said Andy. “We’ll just use her for a decoy. Hold the lamb down in that crevice where it will be hard for the cat to see her and I’ll circle around behind the hogan.”
Andy took the downwind side and quickly, but very quietly, circled behind the hogan to where the cubs were still playing. The big cat continued to search for the lamb.
Carefully Andy crawled up behind the cubs and then, when the old cat was out of view, he grabbed one of the cubs by the tail. The cub started squalling.
Andy leaped behind a rock just as the mother cat ran to see what was wrong. She pushed the cubs into the hogan and then came out again, her head erect and alert for intruders.
Andy’s heart was beating so hard that he was afraid the cat could hear it. But she soon disappeared into the hogan. Andy moved cautiously toward the opening of the hogan, slammed the door shut, and put all his weight against it.
“Hurry, Billy, and bring the biggest rocks you can carry,” Andy shouted.
The angry cat growled and pawed furiously at the other side of the door. Andy’s heart was racing faster than ever while he waited for Billy to bring rocks to barricade it. Afterward both boys quickly carried heavy rocks to make the barricade secure. Then they ran home, stopping only to pick up the lamb.
Breathlessly they told Mrs. Longrun what had happened. She listened quietly and then said, “The men were just here. They’ve been hunting the cat all night, but they could not find it. I’ll see if I can catch them and tell them where it is.” And she hurried from the hogan.
In a few minutes Billy’s mother returned. “I told them where to go,” she reported. “You boys did a very dangerous thing. You could have been slashed to ribbons.”
“But I know all about that cat,” Andy insisted. “And we’ve helped everyone by catching it! I’m just glad I listened to the men talking about her at the trading post.”
“Bobcats are smart,” Mrs. Longrun explained. “There is only one thing that really saved you from being attacked. The cat must have thought the intruder was a skunk because that is what you both smell like!”
“Is that why she didn’t come after us?” Andy asked.
“Yes,” Mrs. Longrun answered. “And it’s lucky for you or you might have been in real trouble.”
“I’d be in trouble if I went home smelling like this,” Andy said. Then turning to Billy he added, “I’m glad for that stinky old skunk, but we better wash up good, so my mother will let me in the house tonight or I’ll have to start living in that shindee myself.”

The missionaries held up a photo. “What do you see?” they asked.
“A happy family,” I answered.
“Are all families happy?”
I shook my head no. “You’ve seen my family,” I explained.
I was a 16-year-old living in Brazil, where I had lived all my life. The missionaries had been teaching me for several weeks, but nobody else in my family wanted to listen. During that time, the missionaries had often seen my family fight and argue. My family and the grinning family in the photo had nothing in common.
One of the elders said, “Well, maybe your current family isn’t this way. But you can build your future family differently.”
When we ended the visit, they asked me again to pray about what we’d been studying. As always, I didn’t exactly promise to do so. I enjoyed how I felt when the missionaries visited, and the gospel made sense to me. But I was afraid of the answer I might receive. If the gospel was true, I would have to make a lot of changes.
After the elders left, I couldn’t stop thinking about happy families. Ours wasn’t even close. My dad wasn’t in my life. My relationship with my mom wasn’t great. Grandma was the one who took care of us, but none of us behaved like a family the way the missionaries taught. None of us expressed love to each other or even spent much time together.
All my life I promised myself I would be a good dad someday. I would be the parent I never had. Yet as the missionaries taught me, I started realizing that I was doing the same things my parents did at my age. I stayed out late, did whatever I wanted, and lived like a rebel. Without meaning to, I was repeating the same story.
It was time to ask God.
When I finally prayed, I received
the answer I had expected all along. The Church is true! Now it was time to make a choice.
My grandmother had to give permission before I could be baptized. She was against it, but I persisted.
“Grandma, which Leonardo do you prefer?” I asked. “The one who was out drinking and smoking and coming home late? Or do you prefer who I am now? These changes are because of the gospel.”
Grandma finally agreed, and I was baptized and confirmed. From that moment, something interesting began to happen in my family—something I didn’t realize fully until a few years later.
Right before I left for my mission to southern Brazil, Grandma attended stake conference with me. Afterward we held a small testimony meeting with family and friends. To my surprise, Grandma wanted to say something.
“Ever since Leonardo joined your church, my family started becoming a real family,” she said. She then listed ways our entire family had grown closer: We now spent time together. We started saying “I love you” to each other, when we never had before. The fighting and arguing stopped. Real friendships developed among all of us. We had more to eat and were blessed with abundance in other areas.
I had noticed these changes too, but I hadn’t realized the timing could be linked back to when I was baptized.
“I may not be a member of your church,” she said, “but I am a friend of your church. And I know our family has been blessed because of Leonardo’s choice.”
I could hardly believe it! And yet, as Grandma spoke of how our family had grown closer, I suddenly remembered the photo the missionaries had shown me years before. Back then, I thought my only way to have a happy family was with my future family.
But I was wrong. My current family was happy! We had grown to love each other.
Maybe none of my family members will join the Church in this lifetime. But even if they don’t, I know that God has already blessed us in so many ways. The gospel of Jesus Christ shows us how to improve our families, no matter what our family situation looks like.

My first experience with the Lord’s protecting care came when I was only three years old. My aunt and uncle had a farm north of Idaho Falls, and my grandfather and our family usually visited them there every summer. Their mailbox was located on the main highway about a half mile from the farm home. On a beautiful summer morning, Grandpa, Mother, and I went for a walk to get the mail. Along the side of the highway was an irrigation ditch full of water. I wanted to throw rocks into the water to see it splash, but as I bent over to pick one up, I lost my balance and fell into the water. My mother screamed, and, just as I was about to disappear into the culvert going under the road, my grandfather was able to grab me by the suspenders of my coveralls and pull me to safety. Once into the culvert, I surely would have drowned before coming out the other side. Yes, mother had prayed that morning for the Lord’s kind and protecting care to be with us, and her prayers were answered.

When my friends Brother Chen and his wife were baptized into our ward, I was overjoyed. A year after their baptism, they were sealed in the temple, and their son who had passed away before they joined the Church was sealed to them. It was wonderful to see the Chens grow in the gospel.
Then Brother Chen was killed in a car accident the next year. Following the accident, his death seemed to always be on my mind and often haunted my dreams. I woke up in tears and asked over and over again, “Why? Why does the Lord allow this kind of tragedy to happen? Why does such a thing have to happen to this beautiful family?” One day, when I was struggling with these questions, I picked up a lesson manual and read these words from President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985):
“If we looked at mortality as the whole of existence, then pain, sorrow, failure, and short life would be calamity. But if we look upon life as an eternal thing stretching far into the premortal past and on into the eternal post-death future, then all happenings may be put in proper perspective. …
“Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?”1
At that moment, I decided to let go of my sorrow and look into the promised and possible future. I saw in my mind’s eye Brother Chen happily reunited with his family. That sight brought me peace. I know that Heavenly Father will give us the wisdom and courage to face adversities.