Gospel Story Finder

As I read the article “The Contaminated Chocolates” in the December New Era, I relived that exciting time in our ward in Idaho Falls, Idaho. The story was accurate and well written, but there is more to be told. The news of Danny Collette’s serious illness and the subsequent loss of the chocolates came at a time when our ward was deep in grief. During the preceding two months of 1973 we had been devastated by a series of tragedies.
First, David Atkinson, an active young seventy, died of cancer, leaving a young widow and five small children, including a month-old son. Then death finally claimed Reed Ricks, who was a spiritual giant an a spiritual giant and an inspiration to us all—especially influential with the young men and boys of the ward. His physical condition had deteriorated over a period of years as a result of a progressive muscular disease, but in the end cancer took him too: Of his six children, three were still at home with their mother, and a son had just departed on a mission to the Philippines.
About the same time, a tragic automobile accident seriously injured Valerie Storer, a student at Ricks College. Val was beautiful and talented, and her cheerfulness and optimism had brought sunshine to our ward family. She and her doctors fought for her life, and we were encouraged by her steady improvement. Suddenly one evening, however, she suffered a cardiac arrest and was gone. Very shortly afterward, Johanna (Anna) Young succumbed to cancer after a six-year battle, leaving her husband and young daughter.
It was too much. Our spirits were low, and with Christmas fast approaching, we found it difficult to lift ourselves out of the depression that seemed to permeate the entire ward. Our meetings were solemn, and we wept easily. Then tragedy struck again. Danny was seriously ill with hepatitis, and because he had helped with the chocolates, all had to be destroyed. Added to his severe illness was his terrible feeling of guilt. His heart-broken mother confided in her friends, and an idea was born.
Was it really a tragedy, or was it a blessing? It seemed to be precisely the medicine we needed for our own illness. As our fund-raising project escalated and activity increased feverishly, our spirits rose. Christmas was more joyous than we could have anticipated a short time before, and we could hardly wait for news of the New Year’s Eve party in the Lloydminister Branch in Canada when Danny would open the envelope we had sent. We smiled at each other more now, and laughter came easily as we thought of the secret we all shared and of the surprise waiting for our Canadian brothers and sisters. I have often thought of the lines James Russell Lowell wrote in “The Vision of Sir Launfal”: “Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me.”
Edythe B. CasperIdaho Falls, Idaho

There is probably no greater Gethsemane for saint or sinner than the grief felt over the death of one’s child. I am going to read a portion of a letter written by a father to his ten-year-old daughter just minutes after he learned of her accidental death. Note how this good man’s Gethsemane became a sanctifying experience because of his knowledge of the gospel and because of the gift of the Comforter. Contrast his reaction with what it may have been without the light of the gospel. I read it with his permission.

If you may be permitted to listen, these are some thoughts your “Dear Ol’ Dad” would like to express in his and your mom’s hour of joy and sorrow.

You have been an angel of light in our home. Even in your passing you have sanctified the experience by the sweet sorrow of this temporary parting. As I sit in this hotel room many miles from home and only moments after hearing of your passing, I have confidence that you are really home. It’s pleasing to know that you are now unencumbered by the mild, but troublesome physical limitations you accepted and lived with in such an adorable noncomplaining way.

Mom and I and your seven brothers and sisters are better because you came to our house. Soon after your day of birth you helped us to accept fear and the unknown; to better love others with physical, emotional, or mental challenges; to accept the disappointment accompanying an unknown prognosis and to query and plead with our Father, who today you know better than we do. As you grew older, we learned determination from you, who had every right to spill your milk but never did, who royally beat your mom and dad in tetherball, who averaged ninety-seven percent in spelling for an entire year and by sheer grit struggled with math, and who without ever a complaint sat with your mom every night—summer and school months—to read and understand what you had read. Yes, we did our best to help you learn, but what we learned from you cannot be printed in books—cannot be written because it is almost too sacred to rehearse.

We pray for all of us who the Lord expects to stay here on the job for yet awhile. Our prayers are that we will be worthy to be reunited with you and to see you whole and perfect. Oh, how we would have loved to have you stay. How we would love to hear your ever so spontaneous “I love you.” How we’d thrill to feel that clinging embrace. Oh yes, especially today.

It is a humbling experience to receive these young men and women home and to release them from their missions. It’s a bittersweet experience for most as they are both happy to be home with loved ones but have also left their hearts with people and places who have strengthened their love and devotion for the Lord. A few months ago, I released a missionary coming home from his mission. The hour of his arrival was late in the evening, and he had traveled all day. We opened with a prayer and had a brief conversation about his mission and areas where he served. I then asked him to share his feelings about his mission, what it meant to him, how it had changed him, and to bear his testimony. He looked at me and then looked down at the ground. I could see the tears begin to fill his eyes and then roll down his cheeks. He began to cry, softly at first, and then continuing with large uncontrollable sobs. I came around my desk and put my arms around his broad shoulders. When he finally regained his composure, I sat back down, and when our eyes met, I simply said, “Elder, you have had a wonderful mission!” He said, “Yes, President. I have been so blessed. I can’t even begin to describe the love that is in my heart for my Heavenly Father and my Savior and for the blessing that I have had to serve them.” He had experienced a “mighty change of heart” and had been truly converted to the gospel.

Around the turn of the previous century, two missionaries were laboring in the mountains of the southern United States. One day, from a hilltop, they saw people gathering in a clearing far below. The missionaries did not often have many people to whom they might preach, so they made their way down to the clearing.
A little boy had drowned, and there was to be a funeral. His parents had sent for the minister to “say words” over their son. The missionaries stood back as the itinerant minister faced the grieving father and mother and began his sermon. If the parents expected to receive comfort from this man of the cloth, they would be disappointed.
He scolded them severely for not having had the little boy baptized. They had put it off because of one thing or another, and now it was too late. He told them very bluntly that their little boy had gone to hell. It was their fault. They were to blame for his endless torment.
After the sermon was over and the grave was covered, the elders approached the grieving parents. “We are servants of the Lord,” they told the mother, “and we have come with a message for you.” As the sobbing parents listened, the two elders read from the revelations and bore their testimony of the restoration of the keys for the redemption of both the living and the dead.
I have some sympathy for that preacher. He was doing the best he could with such light and knowledge as he had. But there is more that he should have been able to offer. There is the fulness of the gospel.
The elders came as comforters, as teachers, as servants of the Lord, as authorized ministers of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

At 5:40 in the morning, when most people are still asleep, Jay McKinley and Amy Fuqua of the Monroe Branch of the Mobile Alabama Stake are at church with their scriptures and seminary manuals. President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) said that seminary is one of the most significant experiences that any youth can have, and he encouraged youth to “regularly attend seminary and be a seminary graduate.”1 It is a while until sunrise, but these two students and their teacher know the importance of the blessings they receive from following the prophet’s counsel to become seminary graduates.
“Sometimes it is really hard to get up at 4:45 a.m., but it’s totally worth it,” says Amy. “I love the feeling I get when I have the Spirit with me so early.” All three agree that the early starts are tiring and hard to manage, but all know that the benefits of early morning gospel study far outweigh the challenge of juggling each of their schedules, chores, and lives on top of seminary. Amy says, “When I think about it, having class at 5:40 a.m. isn’t a sacrifice at all.” The opportunity to learn more about the Savior is worth every effort, she says.
Jay and Amy’s seminary teacher, Sister Miranda Smith, agrees, and Jay says, “I have to go to bed earlier than normal in order to get up around 4:30 a.m. Sometimes when I have a lot of homework, my big brother will take over my chores.” In Monroe, seminary really is a group effort, even for those who don’t attend seminary. One of the reasons for the early seminary is that Jay’s school is an hour’s bus drive away and his bus driver picks him up from the chapel immediately after seminary.
One of the benefits gained from the early start is the friendship that comes from spending quality time together. “Sister Smith, Amy, and I have become close. We really didn’t hang out together, even at church, unless we had to,” says Jay. “Now we like being around each other and really are friends.”
Of course friendship is not the only reason for being in seminary; the true goal is the gospel knowledge that comes from studying the scriptures. All three who attend the class can see the benefits. Sister Smith says the best thing about early-morning seminary is “getting to start and end my day with a gospel lesson.” Not only is she the seminary teacher, but she is also a mother of four and a Cub Scout den leader, so she normally waits for her children to go to bed so that she can have some quiet time to study the lessons and prepare for the next day’s class.
Amy agrees that seminary has brought many spiritual benefits into her life. “I have a better understanding of the scriptures,” she says. “Sometimes during the day I find myself thinking about scripture masteries I’ve learned, especially Moses 1:39.”
When asked what their favorite lessons from the past few months have been, both Amy and Jay agree that they enjoyed the lessons about Nephi’s journey to the promised land with his family in 1 Nephi and 2 Nephi. Jay says these chapters have been the most memorable so far.
“Whenever I read those chapters, I think about how I can make it through any trial that is placed in my way. Just like it says in 1 Nephi 3:7, ‘I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.’ He had such great faith and trust in the Lord, and in turn the Lord placed great trust in him. That is something that I want.”
Jay and Amy’s efforts have not been lost on Sister Smith. Not only does she get up to teach them, but she is also inspired by her students. “They are definitely the reason I keep doing this,” Sister Smith says. “I know they expect me to be there just as much as I expect them to be there. I’ve enjoyed seeing Amy and Jay grow in the gospel this year. Amy has been a member only for a few short years. She’s always excited about the gospel and has a beautiful testimony. Jay tends to be a little quieter, but I know he has a strong testimony and knowledge of the gospel as well.”
So what is it like to have early-morning seminary earlier than most schools have their classes? Jay says, “I find that I have more peace and patience as I go through school and other activities. It is such a blessing to have the scriptures in my life.” Jay, Amy, and Sister Smith are forgivably tired at times but cheerful and positive about regularly attending seminary. They find strength and comfort in overcoming obstacles and fulfilling a prophet’s advice to be seminary graduates.

When I was young, I came home from a mission and needed a job. I got married and was working for a hundred and twenty-five dollars a month when I heard there was a job in Scouting in Ogden. An old friend, Howard McDonald, past president of your University here, met me on the street and wanted to know if I wanted that job.

“What is it?” I asked.

He said, “You get paid for being a Boy Scout leader. Lots of fun. You direct the Scout work in a community.”

The only thing I had ever done in Scouting was to help my little brother in a fire-by-friction situation. I showed him how to make fire by friction in our kitchen, and all I succeeded in doing was boring a hole through our kitchen linoleum. So I said that I was not interested; but all the way home that night I thought, “Well, why not? Maybe I could do it. I don’t know what it’s about.” So I applied to the president of the local council in such a manner that he was not impressed—anything but impressed. I was frightened, I was stuttering, I was hesitating, I did not know what to say, I could not give him any reason for wanting the job, I did not know what the job was, but I said, “I want it.”

He looked at me casually, and finally he said, “Well, we are going to receive written applications, so if you want to write an application we’ll read it.”

So I wrote the application, and to my surprise I was invited to come to a meeting where I could be interviewed. There were eight candidates, all of whom had had years of experience in volunteer Scouting. I had had none. At that time, however, I suddenly became very calm, very sure of myself. I did not have the least fear. When my turn came to speak—each of the others had taken at least thirty minutes each, so it took nearly all day to hear them, and I was the last one—the president reminded me that they were all tired. So I said, “I don’t know a thing about this job, but I know that I can learn to do it rapidly,” and then I sat down. To my surprise, I was one of two picked out of that crowd to appear before the board; and with that much of a statement before the executive board, against a man who had had fifteen years of experience, they chose me.

Looking back upon it, I can see the steps by which I was inspired to say the things I said and not say the things I should not have said to get that job. It proved to be good. I had it for twenty-three years before I became a member of the First Council of the Seventy. I am certain as I stand here that the Lord directed me to that job through Howard McDonald and others, and that I was given it, not because of any qualification—not at all—but because somehow I was supposed to have it.

A busy teenager in a rather large family complained about the amount of time that family prayer was taking. As the wise mother was praying the next day, she intentionally left that youngster out of the prayer. As the prayer concluded, the busy child said, “Mother, you left me out of the prayer!” The loving mother explained that she was just responding to the youngster’s complaint. The busy child complained, “Don’t leave me out.”

As I’ve reflected on this experience, I’ve quizzed myself, How well do I remember those two memorization requirements? I discovered I could still name the Twelve Apostles that existed at that time—Rudger Clawson, Reed Smoot, George Albert Smith, George F. Richards, David O. McKay, Joseph Fielding Smith, Stephen L Richards, Richard R. Lyman, Melvin J. Ballard, John A. Widtsoe, Joseph F. Merrill, and Charles A. Callis. But after the first five articles of faith, I had trouble remembering their order and their full content. I needed a refresher course! I photocopied the Articles of Faith from the scriptures and taped them to the wall of my bathroom where I could see them each morning as I was brushing my teeth and shaving. Within a very few days, I again had them firmly in mind. This experience has brought a deep conviction to me that they were given by revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith. I reached the conclusion that if I studied the content of each of the Articles of Faith, I could explain and defend every gospel principle I might have the opportunity to expound to someone searching for the restored truth.

Danilo zoomed out of his apartment. His tiya, or aunt, was babysitting him. And they were going to the park!
His little sister, Rosamie, held Tiya’s hand as they walked along. But Danilo didn’t need to hold Tiya’s hand. He knew the way! He ran ahead and circled back, pretending to be flying at the speed of light as he raced around them.
When they got to the park, Danilo knew where he wanted to go to.
“Follow me!” he said as he ran to a place on the trail where trees grew overhead. It looked like a leafy green tunnel.
“Stay where I can see you,” Tiya reminded Danilo.
Pretty soon they came to a spot where a dirt path branched off and headed down to the river. Danilo had never gone that way before.
“I’m going down here,” Danilo called to Tiya as he started sliding downhill.
“You can stay there for a minute, but then come back up,” Tiya called after him. “I’ve tried that path before, and there’s not a good way to walk along the river down there.”
But Danilo was already at the water’s edge. He could see a small strip of dirt running next to the water. That way seemed fine to him. Maybe Tiya just didn’t know what she was talking about. Danilo kept walking along the water. Tiya and Rosamie kept walking along the path above.
Soon Danilo noticed that the hillside was getting steeper. He could still hear and see Tiya and Rosamie, but they were getting farther away. The ground became sticky with thick mud.
“Oomph!” Danilo pulled himself on top of a big rock. When he looked ahead, all he saw was the river. He felt his stomach do a little flip. There wasn’t any more trail. And he wasn’t sure he could climb up the hill by himself. He was stuck!
“Tiya?” he called, looking up. Tiya looked down the hillside and gave him a little smile. He felt his cheeks get hot. “Um … can you help me?”
With a kind look in her eyes, Tiya nodded. She picked up a long stick and held it down to him.
“Grab this,” she said. “I’ll pull, and you can climb back up to us.”
Danilo grabbed the stick and started walking uphill. It was hard! His knee scraped against a rock. His elbow hit a low-hanging tree branch.
Finally he took Tiya’s outstretched hand, and she pulled him back onto the trail. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and shook the leaves from his hair.
“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
Tiya put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “I love you, Danilo. I want you to be safe.”
Danilo nodded. With a smile, he pointed forward. “Let’s keep going! On the trail, this time.”

So, remarkably, just this past week I was privileged to spend a few minutes alone with our living Prophet, President Russell M. Nelson’s office. I told him I was preparing a message for you here today (BYU-H) and mentioned that I had been thinking about his insightful and remarkable statement, “If there is anything I’ve learned in my 94 years of living, it is that a life with God is far better — more filled with hope — than one without Him.” He positively responded, “That is the bottom line, don’t you think?” After responding, “Yes,” I then mentioned that I had been also pondering this intimate and friendly invitation from the Lord to Enoch, “walk with me,” and asked if President Nelson had thoughts about this phrase that he might share with them [you]. He thought for a moment, and then exclaimed, “It’s the covenant path!” Continuing he went through our covenants starting with baptism and on through the ordinances in the temple, explaining that “we come unto Him and walk in His ways, taking His name upon us, thereby.” Then he exclaimed, “As we remain faithful during this very brief period of mortality, which just goes ‘whoosh,’ then we have a little interview, which will be a wonderful, glorious experience, and receive a big welcome!” Finishing on a serious note, he said, “If you have chosen the covenant path, you get all that! If you choose otherwise, you miss all that!”

I fell prey to that devilish stratagem early in my professional career, as a management consultant. The prestigious Boston firm for which I worked paid well and entrusted me with leadership opportunities beyond my expectations. I became confident to the point of arrogance. Though I served faithfully in the Church, pride in my professional accomplishments led to a significant deficit of humility.

Providentially, I learned the hard way what Solomon taught: “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” [iv] When the professional promotions slowed in Massachusetts, I decided to move home to Utah and open a Salt Lake City office of the consulting firm. I quickly discovered that I had overestimated my abilities and underestimated the challenge of selling high-priced consulting services to Utah’s independent and thrifty entrepreneurs. Before long, I had given up on a Salt Lake City office of the consulting firm. I was grateful just to be getting project assignments in distant cities.

In the meantime, my father had been called as an Apostle. Rather than becoming a high-profile person myself, I felt lost in his shadow. Gradually, disappointment and declining confidence began to show up in my hair. Before long I had lost all of it, from head to toe, leading friends to ask worriedly about my physical health. Having planned to become a “big wheel” in Utah, I instead found myself wanting to disappear.

At the time, I felt like a victim of cruel circumstances. Yet, in my pride, I had actually set myself up for an inevitable emotional fall. I had succumbed to worldly temptation without realizing it. In hindsight, I recognize that my striving for professional success was largely selfish. I had rationalized my self-serving behavior as motivated by desires to benefit my family and the Church. I thought that I could simultaneously bless other people while also fulfilling my personal ambitions.

Not realizing these spiritual faults at the time, I began to feel angry toward heaven, which seemed to be the source of my disappointment and despair. In self-pity, and ignoring my unrighteous motives, I wondered why the law of the harvest wasn’t working for me. It seemed that I was being treated unfairly.

Fortunately, Sister Eyring and other loved ones stood by me. Through wise words and kind deeds, they helped me see the need to repent of my pride and seek the healing balm of the Atonement and the ministry of the Holy Ghost. I increased my study of the scriptures. And, at Sister Eyring’s inspired suggestion, I began to keep a personal journal. In time, I began to qualify for Heaven’s blessings, which took a different but far better form than I had imagined.

A few weeks ago, I sat in a sacrament service where a member of a stake high council was speaking. He related just such an experience in his own life. He explained that after serving several years in a bishopric, he had been called as a member of the high council. He and his wife had an appointment to meet with the stake president on a weeknight for his setting apart. However, on the very day of their appointment, this new high councilor's wife received some devastating news. The results of a routine cancer screening had disclosed a suspicious mass; a biopsy was scheduled for the next day. Being a physician himself, this high councilor understood the portent of such news. Thus, it was that he and his wife went to their appointment with the stake president with heavy and fearful hearts. Concerned about what probably lay ahead for his wife and for him, this good man sought to dissuade the stake president from proceeding with the call. But the stake president pointed out that the Lord knew of his wife's health condition at the time the call was extended, that He had chosen to inspire the call nonetheless and that, in any event, there were eleven other high councilors who would be eager to fill any assignment this man on occasion might be unable to fill because of family challenges. Then, these two priesthood holders—the stake president and the newly set-apart high councilor– laid their hands on the head of this stricken woman and pronounced a profoundly beautiful blessing of reassurance and health.

The next day, however, the biopsy revealed what they feared the most: she had cancer. Learning of this news, the stake president telephoned their home. They were not there, but the stake president left this message on the answering machine: "This changes nothing!" The Lord knew of her condition; a priesthood blessing had been pronounced. In a manner of speaking, she and her husband must not cast away their confidence in this moment of distress. “Remember what you know!”was in substance the message.

Ultimately, related the high councilor in this sacrament meeting talk, surgery was performed. The cancerous mass was removed with no indications that the disease had spread further. She was cured, and the priesthood blessing was realized.

Let me share a sweet, related story. I am currently serving as priest quorum advisor in our ward, and one of our priests related the following: he and a group of his friends had purchased their tickets and were going into a movie. As they were waiting, this young priest texted a friend and asked him to come down to the theater and join the group. His friend texted back that his parents had walked out of that particular movie the evening before and that he was not interested in seeing it.

Our young priest told his friends of this text from his friend, but they did not think it was a problem, and besides, they already had their tickets. Nevertheless, he tore up his ticket and went to work at his nearby place of employment. He understands threats to virtuous thoughts.

I have seen such courage many times but the most dramatic was while I served in the Untied States Army. There were six Latter-Day Saints in my training company. One was a school mate of mine, Lee Gillman. Like me, he was just an ordinary teenager. There was nothing really special about him. Neither of us were athletes, or particularly bright, or popular, or school officers just ordinary kids making our way along. Then came the day.

It was a Sunday evening about six weeks into our basic training at Fort Ord, California. We had received our first weekend pass and many enjoyed the time off by going to Tijuana, Mexico. That evening the men began to gather back to the barracks. We Latter-day Saints were together getting ready for inspection the next morning. We were chatting, polishing our boots, and paying little attention to what was going on around us when we were surrounded by a self-appointed committee who announced that they were going to show us Mormons what a real women looked like. This group, while in Tijuana, had picked up some pornographic pictures and decided we needed to see them. In those days, such items were not easily come by.

Lee was the one who spoke up first and told them to bug off, that we were not interested. Due to his objection, he became the target of their growing ire, so they forced him down and held a picture over his face. He closed his eyes. That made them mad and one of the guys tried to pry his eyes opened. That suddenly galvanized the rest of us and we can to the rescue. Before things got really bad, however, some with cool heads shouted the only two words that could stop a brawl, "SERGEANTS COMING!" By the time we realized it was a ploy, those same cool heads intervened and separated us thus giving everyone space to cool down.

I was quite upset by all this and went to the latrine to be alone. I sat in the stall frankly much longer than was necessary, primarily getting my feelings under control. I was not really paying attention to what was going on until I heard the word Mormon. Instantly, I was very alert. Not knowing what had preceded the word, I just sat and listened. Shortly there after I heard one of the guys say, "Yeah, they really are different," to which another responded, "Yeah, their different alright. They are clean." Then after a pause the first guy said, "I just wish I were clean." "Yeah," said the other, "So do I."

Interestingly, we never had any problems after that. Indeed, there were some of the guys who became our self-appointed guardians who really kept the other guys off our back. More importantly, it opened a discussion we these and others that allowed us to share the gospel.

Now there is a lesson in all this. You really don't have to be Johnny Lingo, the best of the best, in order to make a difference. You just have to be you but YOU must stand up for righteousness. My experience illustrates the importance of two key virtues of our day: courage and purity.

Like another prophet, Joseph served “notwithstanding [his] weakness” (2 Nephi 33:11). “Out of [Joseph’s] weakness he [was] made strong” (2 Nephi 3:13). At one point, when he was translating the fourth chapter of 1 Nephi, Emma was acting as his scribe. Joseph reportedly encountered the words about the wall around Jerusalem (see 1 Nephi 4:5). He apparently paused and asked Emma if, in fact, there was a wall around Jerusalem. She replied in the affirmative. Joseph hadn’t known (see The History of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, 1896, reprint [Independence, Missouri: Board of Publication, 1967], 4:447). According to Emma, when she and Joseph were interrupted during his translating, Joseph would later resume on the very sentence from which he had left off (see Saints Herald, 1 October 1879, pp. 289–90; see also Parley P. Pratt, Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1938], p. 62).

Susan and I … have traveled to Africa on many assignments. … We have tried to observe and learn lessons from the behavior of African wildlife. …
Susan and I spent almost two hours watching two cheetahs stalking a large group of topis, Africa’s most common and widespread antelopes. …
While one cheetah sat upright in the grass and did not move, the other cheetah crouched low to the ground and slowly crept closer to the unsuspecting topis. Then the cheetah that had been sitting upright disappeared in the grass at exactly the same moment that the other cheetah sat upright. This alternating pattern of one cheetah crouching low and creeping forward while the other cheetah sat upright in the grass continued for a long time. The stealthy subtlety of the strategy was intended to distract and deceive the topis and thereby divert their attention away from the approaching danger. …
Positioned between the large group of topis and the approaching cheetahs were several older and stronger topis standing as sentinels on termite mounds. The enhanced view of the grasslands from the small hills enabled these guardian topis to watch for signs of danger.
Then suddenly, as the cheetahs appeared to be within striking distance, the entire group of topis turned and ran away. …
… The pattern of pursuit continued. … [The cheetahs] were relentless in following their strategy of distraction and diversion. …
That night Susan and I had a memorable conversation about what we had observed and learned. …
… Spiritually dangerous ideas and actions frequently can appear to be attractive, desirable, or pleasurable. … Each of us needs to beware of beguiling bad that pretends to be good. …
… Spiritual complacency and casualness make us vulnerable to the advances of the adversary. …
Constant vigilance is required to counteract complacency and casualness. …
Satan “is the enemy of righteousness and of those who seek to do the will of God” [Guide to the Scriptures, “Devil,” scriptures.ChurchofJesusChrist.org]. … His only intent and sole purpose are to make the sons and daughters of God miserable like unto himself. …
I promise that the blessings of effective preparation and spiritual protection will flow into your life as you are watchful unto prayer vigilantly and continually.

Most Creative Response
The most interesting reply to an invitation for a date that we’ve heard about came from Nikki Mather of Preston, Idaho. She responded to a dance invite from Wade Meek by delivering a jar full of Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms. She told him if there were more M&Ms than Reese’s Pieces, the answer was yes, and vice versa. It’s difficult, however, to tell one kind of candy from the other, so Wade had to have the whole family and half the neighborhood over to cut the candies in half, see if there was chocolate or peanut butter inside, and count them. When they were all tallied the answer was yes, of course.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to preside at a regional conference in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. As I enjoyed the sweet spirit which prevailed during the conference and the wonderful hospitality of the people, I reflected upon how the community’s spirit of compassionate help had been tested in the extreme on April 19, 1995. On that day a terrorist-planted bomb destroyed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in downtown Oklahoma City, taking 168 persons to their deaths and injuring countless others.
Following the conference, I was driven to the entrance of a beautiful and symbolic memorial which graces the area where the Murrah building once stood. The day was dreary and rainy, which tended to underscore the pain and suffering that had occurred on this spot. The memorial features a 400-foot (122-m) reflecting pool. On one side of the pool are 168 empty glass and granite chairs, in honor of each of the people killed. These are placed, as far as can be determined, where the fallen bodies were found.
On the opposite side of the pool there stands, on a gentle rise of ground, a mature American elm tree—the only nearby tree to survive the destruction. It is appropriately and affectionately named “The Survivor Tree.” In regal splendor it honors those who survived the horrific blast.
My host directed my attention to the inscription above the gate of the memorial:
We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever.
May all who leave here know the impact of violence.
May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity.
With tears in his eyes and with a faltering voice, my host declared, “This community and all the churches and citizens in it have been galvanized together. In our grief we have become strong. In our spirit we have become united.”
We concluded that the best word to describe what had taken place was compassion. My thoughts turned to the musical play Camelot, written by Alan Jay Lerner and based on a novel by T. H. White. King Arthur, in his dream of a better world where people would share an ideal relationship one with another, said, as he recalled the purpose of the Round Table, “Violence is not strength, and compassion is not weakness.”

MonicaAfter about two months of dating, Keoni and I decided to date exclusively. By November, three months later, I already knew—I wanted to marry him.

One day, while we were talking, Keoni shared a story about friends who had dated long distance for three years while attending colleges in different states. After he told me the story, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. At the time, Keoni was planning to begin a PhD program the next year, and I assumed he brought up that story to hint that he wanted us to do long distance too. I did not want that. He never actually said that—but I couldn’t shake the worry.

Over the next few days—maybe a week—I felt frustrated, anxious, and upset. Eventually, I knew I had to talk to him about it. I was scared because I didn’t know what he’d say, I didn't want him to break my heart. I ended up calling Keoni in tears and told him that we needed to talk.

He came to pick me up, and we drove to the Provo temple grounds. We sat down on the grass, and the first thing I said was, “Do you see yourself marrying me?”

KeoniI was so relieved. I thought she was going to break up with me, and I had no idea why. I thought things were going great! So, without hesitation, I said, “Well, yes. That’s why we’re still dating—because that’s where we’re headed, right?”

MonicaSo we counseled together. I told him I didn’t want to date long distance like his friends had, and he immediately said, “Oh, I don’t either.” I explained that I thought the story he shared meant he was preparing me for that kind of relationship. He reassured me, “No, I was just telling you about my friends.”

Then I asked, “So… we are getting married?” And he said, “Yes.” It was settled.

I had spent days feeling anxious, assuming things, and bracing myself for disappointment—all because I was too afraid to ask. But the moment I finally spoke up, everything shifted. Just a few honest, reassuring words from him brought immediate peace.

That conversation turned out to be a turning point for me. I realized how open and willing Keoni was to communicate, to listen, and to work through things together. I realized that with him, I didn’t have to hold back or be afraid to share what I was truly feeling. I felt understood, trusted, safe, and loved.

KeoniThis was a turning point for me too! I had assumed that Monica knew what I meant when I told her about my friends, I assumed that she knew how I felt about our future together, but I hadn’t made either of those things clear in my communication. I began to understand how Monica acted when something was bothering her. I realized that when we were talking that, I needed to listen patiently to hear what was on her mind, and that she would actually need quite a bit of time with me, sitting quietly, before she was ready to share her thoughts.

MonicaThe lesson we learned from this is that you must trust your partner and share your real feelings with each other.

When I was 15 years old I was in one of those Connecticut blizzards. I walked four miles through a wood into the open country, and I sought some place where I could hide from the storm and rest. There was but one house within a mile of me—that was the poor house [a place for needy and homeless people], which was about twenty-five rods* away. The man was moved upon to go up in his garret [attic] to get some pennyroyal [herbal medicine] to give to a sick woman, and he felt led to look out of the window. He saw me crawling into the hollow of a big tree. He knew what the result of that would be better than I did. He took his horse and sleigh and came to me, and when he got there I was asleep, and he preserved my life.