Gospel Story Finder

Not long ago, Aimee—a 13-year-old Beehive—was at a gymnastics meet standing at the ready to perform her floor exercise. Her coach motioned to her that the music was starting (the only special allowance that is made for her at meets), and Aimee began. Unfortunately, it was the wrong music. Instead of the dramatic music from the opera Carmen that Aimee had worked with for months, getting the rhythms and choreography just right, it was a selection of Dixieland jazz. Aimee, of course, couldn’t actually hear the music, so she had no idea what was happening.
“If her coach had tried to stop her, Aimee would have been disqualified,” says Aimee’s mom, Patsy. “She just kept right on going, and somehow she ended right with the music.”
And although it wasn’t Aimee’s personal best, it was the best score of the day. She won the competition. Aimee now holds the number one spot in the Northwestern States division, and is ranked 25th in the nation in her age group.

Sometimes our guide, like a mariner, works closely with us, teaching us what we need to know so we can successfully navigate life. In many cases the mariner accomplishes this by setting the example for us to follow. Such was the case with Patricia Horiuchi’s father, Frank.

After meeting the missionaries, Frank began regularly inviting them over for dinner. Soon he started taking the lessons. But no one else in his family wanted anything to do with the Church. “When we saw the missionaries coming,” Patricia says, “we would all run away—me and my younger brothers and sisters.”

Then Frank was baptized in July 2007 by the mission president, Nelson Bleak. It was a defining moment for Patricia and her siblings.

“I saw my father starting to change,” she says. “I knew that if the gospel could touch my father’s heart, it could touch mine and change my life. So I decided to study with the sister missionaries, and they challenged me to study the Book of Mormon and the Bible. My brother and I had had a fight before that, and I had never forgiven him. Then I read in the scriptures that if you forgive others, God will forgive you.” (See 3 Nephi 13:14–15.)

Patricia realized she had to forgive her brother in order to begin changing her life, be clean, and have peace. So she did.

“After I threw away my bad attitudes and changed to a new person who kept the commandments, I was so excited. I knew I had to get baptized so I could be in the true Church,” she says. “The Church put me on the right track. It separated me from bad influences. It taught me to respect my parents, to stay in school, and to keep on the right track.”

Brad Sorensen of the Rose Park Seventh Ward in the Salt Lake Rose Park North Stake learned important lessons about service when he was growing up. His elderly neighbor, Sister Sparks, had some health problems, and whenever she worked in her yard, his mother noticed and persuaded him to go over and help. At first he didn’t understand why he had to stop what he was doing to go help his neighbor.
“During those years I spent helping Sister Sparks, I learned that there are two different ways to serve others. The first way was when I felt forced, or compelled, to serve. I learned that this is not a good way to serve. Maybe you say, ‘I’ll do it as fast as I can so I can come back and watch TV.’ But the love for the person you are serving is not present. There is no joy in this kind of service. This is how I was at first.”
But then Brad learned about serving with love. “It came to the point that I would go to her house every week and mow her lawn without being asked. I know this was a big help to her, but it was a big help to me, also.
“I found this to be a much more satisfying way to serve. Serving with love is pure, whole-hearted, and full of unselfish concern for the person you are helping. The feeling of accomplishment and love for the person you served cannot be found in any other way. It is an all-around good feeling.
“My acts of service were nothing big, but they were done with love. If you do an act of service with love for the person you are doing it for, you will be much more satisfied with the results. I learned that it doesn’t matter how big or small a service project is; it is still important.”

When I was a mission president in South Africa in 2005, I felt a very strong prompting by the Spirit to move our Norwegian missionary, Elder Joseph Henriksen, all the way across the mission—in between normal transfer dates—to replace a missionary who needed to have surgery. I had just interviewed Elder Henriksen in Queenstown, a two-hour flight plus a two-hour drive away from Cape Town, and on the flight home the Spirit kept telling me that he was the one who needed to move into the Strand Branch and replace the elder needing surgery.
As soon as we returned to the mission home, I called Elder Henriksen and asked him to pack his bags. . . . We picked him up [the next day] and talked to him about his new area, where they hadn’t had a baptism for 18 months. I explained to Elder Henriksen that he was the one the Lord had selected to be there and to make a difference in that branch. We introduced him to his new companion, who drove him another hour to Strand, a beautiful beach area on the Atlantic Ocean, about 50 miles south of Cape Town.
The first week in his new area, Elder Henriksen was thumbing through the area book and found a referral that hadn’t been contacted in the seaside town of Hermanus, another hour south of Strand, but in their assigned area. There was a small branch in Hermanus with about twenty active members, but he and his companion were the closest missionaries. Not wanting to waste time, but feeling prompted to contact the referral, he and his companion looked up the addresses of all the members in Hermanus so they could visit them as well as contacting the referral. Then they set aside a day to visit Hermanus.
When that day came, Elder Henriksen and his companion taught a first lesson in the home they were referred to, then began visiting the members. They knocked on the door of a member lady who expressed great surprise at seeing elders at her door. “I didn’t think we had missionaries in Hermanus anymore!” she exclaimed. Then she told them it was the greatest day of her life. She had just received in the mail a 300-year history of her ancestors. She was excited to be able to do temple work for hundreds of family members who had gone on before. Then she told them that her only problem was that she couldn’t understand any of it because it was written in Norwegian.
Elder Henriksen looked at her, smiled and said, “I’m Norwegian!” What a tender mercy for the Lord to inspire a mission president to suddenly transfer the only Norwegian missionary on the African continent to the area where this dear sister lived and needed a Norwegian translator. While he served there, he was able to visit her once a week and complete the translation. This experience strengthened the faith of everyone involved.
But the story doesn’t stop there. Because of what Elder Henriksen saw and felt in Strand and Hermanus, he telephoned one morning and said, “President, if you will leave me here six months, I promise you we will have twenty baptisms in the Strand Branch!” I reminded him that they hadn’t had baptized anyone in that branch in a year and a half. But I felt inspired to leave him there for the six months. Well, he didn’t just baptize 20 people, he baptized 21 in just six months! The Strand Branch grew so fast that it soon became the Somerset West Ward in the Cape Town Stake with three sets of missionaries, and there were soon two full-time missionaries in Hermanus as well, where they had several baptisms in that small but growing branch. The Lord truly knows how to make sure the right person is in the right place at the right time.

One morning in 1831 a young schoolteacher named William McLellin heard that some men on their way to Missouri would be preaching about a new book that was described as “a Revelation from God.” He hurried to hear them. He listened to David Whitmer testify that he had “seen an Holy Angel who made known the truth of this record to him.” He deeply desired to know whether their testimonies were true. He followed them 400 miles (644 km) to Independence, Missouri, where he met and interviewed other witnesses, including Martin Harris and Hyrum Smith.4

William interviewed Hyrum for hours. “I inquired into the particulars of the coming forth of the record,” William recorded. The next morning, after praying to be directed to the truth, he realized that he was “bound as an honest man to acknowledge the truth and validity of the Book of Mormon.”5

In the following years, William’s faith was tested and strengthened by his choices and by the persecution the Latter-day Saints suffered. When Saints in Jackson County, Missouri, were attacked, William’s friend Hiram Page, one of the Eight Witnesses, was clubbed and whipped by men who said they would let him go if he would deny the Book of Mormon. “How can I deny what I know to be true?” Hiram said, and they beat him again.

William was strengthened by Hiram’s testimony—and understandably terrified of being beaten. When William heard that men in the area were offering a reward for the capture of him and Oliver Cowdery, they left town to hide in the woods with David Whitmer. There William interviewed two of the Three Witnesses. “I have never seen an open vision in my life,” he said, “but you men say you have, and therefore you positively know. Now you know that our lives are in danger every hour, if the mob can only catch us. Tell me in the fear of God, is that Book of Mormon true?”

“Brother William,” Oliver said, “God sent his holy angel to declare the truth of the translation of it to us, and therefore we know. And though the mob kill us, yet we must die declaring its truth.”

David added, “Oliver has told you the solemn truth, for we could not be deceived. I most truly declare to you its truth!”6

The sacrament provides a time for a truly spiritual experience as we reflect upon the Savior’s redeeming and enabling power through His Atonement. A Young Women leader recently learned about the strength we receive as we strive to thoughtfully partake of the sacrament. Working to complete a requirement in Personal Progress, she set a goal to focus on the words in the sacrament hymns and prayers.
Each week, she conducted a self-evaluation during the sacrament. She recalled mistakes she had made, and she committed to be better the next week. She was grateful to be able to make things right and be made clean. Looking back on the experience, she said, “I was acting on the repentance part of the Atonement.”
One Sunday after her self-evaluation, she began to feel gloomy and pessimistic. She could see that she was making the same errors over and over again, week to week. But then she had a distinct impression that she was neglecting a big part of the Atonement—Christ’s enabling power. She was forgetting all the times the Savior helped her be who she needed to be and serve beyond her own capacity.
With this in mind, she reflected again on the previous week. She said: “A feeling of joy broke through my melancholy as I noted that He had given me many opportunities and abilities. I noted with gratitude the ability I had to recognize my child’s need when it wasn’t obvious. I noted that on a day when I felt I could not pack in one more thing to do, I was able to offer strengthening words to a friend. I had shown patience in a circumstance that usually elicited the opposite from me.”
She concluded: “As I thanked God for the Savior’s enabling power in my life, I felt so much more optimistic toward the repentance process I was working through and I looked to the next week with renewed hope.”

I’m not good at basketball. But for some reason, my friends still invited me to play. During one game, I hoped the ball would never come to me. Well, it did, and I decided to take a shot. As the ball flew toward the basket, I was sure it would miss. The ball hit the backboard and then fell through the hoop.
I made the shot!
My friends cheered as I stood in disbelief. I didn’t contribute much else to that game, but it felt good to be part of a team and to participate in my own small way.

Charles received another mission call in 1862. This time he was to take his family and help settle St. George, where he planted cotton, corn, peaches, and sorghum. St. George was a difficult place in which to live because it was very hot and dry. The pioneers tried many times to dam the Virgin River so that they could irrigate their farms, but each time a spring flood washed out the dam. At times Charles had to go back to Salt Lake City to work as a watchmaker for a while to earn enough money to feed his family. Finally, after ten years of his family’s living in a one-room house, he was able to build a larger home in St. George.

Taylor sat and looked out her bedroom window. She could see her friend Lori’s house and wondered what Lori was doing. Was Lori was looking out her window too? It had been a couple of months since she had been able to go over to Lori’s house.
Taylor hadn’t seen any of her friends for weeks, and she was missing them. She missed walking with them to school, doing school projects together, and playing with them at recess. She missed talking and laughing with her friends. She missed spending time with them.
She remembered back when she’d first heard of the coronavirus. “What’s a pandemic?” she had asked Mom. “Our teachers at school were talking about it and told us to bring our books home in case we don’t come back to school for a while.”
Mom had explained that a pandemic was a sickness that affected the whole world.
The whole world? thought Taylor. It was hard to imagine.
“To try to help people stay as healthy as possible, we have been asked to stay home and keep physical distance for a while,” said Mom.
Physical distance. Back then Taylor hadn’t really understood what that meant. But now, after several months of it, she knew all too well what it meant and what it felt like. Sometimes it just felt really lonely.
Taylor liked spending the extra time with her family, but not seeing other people in person was hard. As she stared out the window, she thought about how much she missed her friends.
“Hey, why the sad face?” Mom asked as she sat by Taylor on her bed.
“I was just thinking about my friends and wondering what they’re doing today.”
Mom put her arm around Taylor and gave her a squeeze. “Well, maybe you could find a way to let them know you’re thinking about them.”
Taylor thought about what Mom had said. That night, when she knelt to pray, she asked Heavenly Father for help. How could she let her friends know she was thinking about them?
The next morning, Taylor woke up excited. She had an idea. “Mom, I know what we can do! Could you help me make some cookies for my friends? We could put a plate of cookies on each of their doorsteps. Then I could come home and call them and tell them to go look outside!”
“I think that’s a great idea!” Mom said. “I’ll start getting the ingredients ready.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Taylor. “There’s something I need to do.” Taylor ran to her bedroom. She knelt down and thanked Heavenly Father for helping her and giving her such a good idea.
It wouldn’t be quite the same as walking to school with her friends or playing with them, but it would be a fun surprise. Taylor could hardly wait to call her friends and tell them a doorstep treat was waiting for them!

Katy Mangus was crowned Miss Legend at Oconee County High School’s annual pageant in January 2005. A Laurel in the Athens Second Ward, Athens Georgia Stake, Katy stood out from the other contestants in many ways—but one distinction was the most obvious. Of the 30 contestants who each took the stage in a formal evening gown, Katy was the only one whose dress was modest. When she stood at the microphone to introduce herself and her platform, she explained, “Something that influences our everyday lives—how we feel about ourselves and how we interact with others—is my platform: ‘Making a Difference with Modesty.’”

By choosing to stand for modesty, Katy hoped to set an example for other young people, both in and out of the Church, and to encourage them to take a stand and make a difference through modesty in dress and behavior. She said, “We can influence others for the better by being an example of modesty and setting a higher standard for ourselves.”

I also prayed to know the truth when I finished reading the Book of Mormon. However, I didn’t receive an answer the first time I asked. After nearly a week of frustrated, tearful prayer, I watched The Testaments of One Fold and One Shepherd. As I watched the movie, I felt a burning in my heart, and I knew that now was the time to ask. I got down on my knees and asked in full faith and with an open heart if the Book of Mormon was true. I knew that if I received an answer, I would act upon it, regardless of the consequences. The answer I got was so powerful that I continue to feel it every day.

In 1998 my family moved to the Netherlands. My siblings and I attended the American School of The Hague. My mom couldn’t drive us in the mornings, so we rode the bus and train to get to school. My older sisters attended early-morning seminary and left an hour earlier than my younger brother, Shaun, and I. We made it to school easily for the first half of the year, but then the bus routes changed because of construction.
One day we were waiting for our bus when I saw one with a different number but the same destination. I thought the number didn’t matter much, so we got on the bus. After about 20 minutes, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Shaun and I noticed we were nowhere near our school, and we both felt very lost and afraid.
We got off the bus, and I said a prayer in my heart, asking Heavenly Father for comfort and help. I had been learning Dutch in school and realized I could ask someone for help. I asked around until I found a lady who spoke a little English. She gave us directions to catch the right bus to school. Soon we were headed in the right direction and feeling much better.
I will never forget the lost feeling I felt when I realized I was on the wrong bus. I know that the Lord helped me get back on track as He does constantly in our lives—not only physically, but spiritually. We all will feel lost in life’s decisions if we are not on the right track, but the Lord will always give direction and a way for us to get back on the path toward the right destination.

During the 2016 Christmas season, Africa Southeast Area leaders encouraged members and friends of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to participate in the “Light the World in 25 Ways in 25 Days” initiative. We had decided to follow the program in our family. We prayerfully strove to adapt the ideas of the proposed activities to our situation and environment.
During the same period, many in Kinshasa began to feel pessimistic and fearful because the impending December 19th election deadline was expected to be violent. In contrast to the alarm felt in the neighborhood, we remained positive and confident in our Heavenly Father. A few days before that fateful date, my 6-year-old son Ryan and his nanny escaped an attempted abduction during their return from school while I was testifying about peace to my neighbors. The week before, my husband gave a talk in church about the Savior calming the storm (see Mark 4:36–41).
We knew that this “Light the World” theme for December 19th—“Jesus calmed the storm, you can do the same”—was not a mere coincidence. The Lord had offered to calm the political storm in Kinshasa, and He had done so.
Each year, we are invited to “Light the World.” If we follow the suggested calendar of scriptures with prayer, our light will shine and miracles will continue to take place (see 3 Nephi 18:15).

Several years ago I made a presentation to a group of 20 managers in a large computer company. After the presentation, I asked them to describe a person in their organization who they felt was blocked and frustrated in his or her career. We heard about 20 different people who had specialized in a narrow area, and in many cases the company no longer needed the specialty. The managers were surprised that they had such a pervasive problem. But I was not surprised, because we had found that problem in dozens of organizations.

Life choices kept Shelly away from the Church for years. With the help of friends at church, Shelly eventually found the strength and faith to move forward and be a good example to her children.
But things happened, and when we got divorced, I was excommunicated. It took me about 15 years to get back into the Church. It took a while, but I didn’t want to rush it. I wanted to be going to church for all the right reasons.
I remember when we first moved to Kentucky, USA, I’d take my son to church and stay in the car while he went inside. It was a hard time. My daughter was the first of my children to get married in the temple, and I couldn’t be there. That really hurt my feelings, but of course, it was my fault.
It just takes some people like me a long time to finally figure things out. Ward members and friends were patient with me. They let me know that they were there. One family in particular reached out to me and were really like my family because I didn’t have anybody out here. They helped me start going to church, but they never pressured me. The cool thing is that when it was time, my son rebaptized me.

Jody had five older brothers and sisters. When Jody was little, being the youngest was fun because she got special attention. But now that Jody was getting bigger, being the youngest sometimes meant being overlooked.
For example, today when Jody came home from school she had lots of exciting things to tell her mother, but Mom was busy in the garage helping Jody’s brother Derek repair his bike. Later, before dinner, Jody’s oldest sister, Lisa, was in the kitchen with Mom. Lisa was helping fix dinner, chatting endlessly about boys. After dinner, Jody’s sister Amber needed help with her math homework. Then it was time for family prayer, and Jody was off to bed.
On days like these, Jody was grateful she had her secret journal friend. That night she wrote:
Dear Secret Journal Friend,
I wish I could spend more time with Mom. She is always busy with the family, but I wanted to tell her about school today. I got 100 percent on my spelling test, we did gymnastics in P.E., and in art, I made a beautiful flower out of tissue paper. I like my teacher a lot, but I love my mom.
Your friend,
Jody
Jody felt better when she had finished writing. She put the journal next to her bed, said her prayers, and went to sleep.
The next day, when Jody got home from school, her mother wasn’t there. Lisa told her that their sister, Ellen, who shared a room with Jody, had gotten sick and Mom had taken her to the doctor.
When Jody went into her bedroom to drop off her backpack she saw her journal on her pillow. She opened the journal and read the reply from her secret journal friend.
Dear Jody,
Your mom loves you very much too, and wants to spend more time with you. Why don’t you invite her out for ice cream on Friday night? You know how much she likes rainbow sherbet.
From,
Your Secret Journal Friend
Jody smiled. The ice cream was a good idea. It sounded like fun. But right now Jody was worried about her sister. She wanted to do something to make her feel better.
Jody took out her pencil and wrote:
Dear Secret Journal Friend,
I am sorry that Ellen is sick. I want to give her my tissue-paper flower, even though I made it for Mom. Do you think Mom would mind?
Your friend,
Jody
Then Jody remembered something else she was feeling bad about and wrote:
P.S. Today in art I got mad at my friend, Sara, because she spilled my paints. I even pulled her hair. Later I told her I was sorry. Will you still be my friend even when I do bad things?
The next day after school Jody found Ellen resting in their bedroom and gave her the brightly colored flower. Ellen’s eyes lit up and she grinned.
“Thanks, Jody,” Ellen said. “It’s really pretty. It makes me feel cheerful just looking at it.”
Jody smiled. Then she sat down on her bed and started reading her journal.
“What are you doing?” Ellen asked.
“I’m reading a message from my secret journal friend,” Jody told her.
“Your secret friend?” Ellen asked. “I think I saw your secret friend writing in your journal today. Do you want me to tell you who it is?”
“No thanks,” Jody responded. She took her journal out to the living room couch so she could be alone. She sat down and read:
Dear Jody,
I’m sure your mother won’t mind you giving away her flower. She will be very proud of you for being such a thoughtful sister.
From,
Your Secret Journal Friend
(who loves you always, NO MATTER WHAT)
Jody turned to a blank page, thought for a moment, then wrote:
Dear Secret Journal Friend,
Ellen liked the flower. I’m glad I gave it to her. Last night I prayed that she would feel better, and now she does!
I used to wonder how Heavenly Father can hear everyone’s prayers when there are so many people in the world, but now I think I know. Because Heavenly Father loves us no matter what, He will always find a way to answer our prayers.
Then Jody wrote in extra big letters:
I LOVE YOU, MOM!
Thanks for being my secret friend and my mother.
Love,
Jody
P.S. Don’t forget—tonight is ice-cream night!

Laura sat down next to him. “I have an idea—have you ever been in the country, like to a lake in the summer?”
Thomas felt about for a tissue, then blew his nose. “I don’t … know what the country’s like here. I’ve seen little ponds in the parks, though. Why?”
“Well, do you think you’d like to go for a pretend walk with me. I know a super little path at the lake we go to in the summer, and since your eyes are already closed, it might be pretty easy for you to see in your mind the things I’ll describe. What do you say?”
Thomas sniffed again and leaned back. “I guess I could give it a go. Do you really want to bother?”
“Sure. I’ll close my eyes too. I’d love to take a summer walk myself right about now.” She leaned back against the sofa and tightly shut her eyes. “Ready?”
“Go for it!”
“This part may be a bit hard, but I think we’ll just make you the main character, even though I was the real one,” Laura began. “It’s real early. You’re on a small cot inside a one-room log cabin. You open your eyes and see your mom pushing sticks of wood into the stove top, then plunking the heavy metal cover over the hole. ‘Breakfast in ten minutes,’ she says. You jump out of bed onto the wooden floor, splash a bit of cold water on your face, and jump into shorts and a T-shirt.
“After a quick breakfast of cereal and cold juice, you run out onto the front porch and look down to the lake. It’s a wonderful, sunny, clear morning. The air is humming with insects, and the blue water has just a slight ripple from the breeze. The grass feels pleasantly damp under your feet as you run down to the lake and dip your fingers into the water. A very small frog jumps away and hides in the reeds growing close to the shore.
“A young boy in blue swim trunks runs up to you. He’s crying. You ask him what the matter is, and he says he’s been playing with a cat all week. It’s come around every day and spent all day with him, but it hasn’t come for two days now, and he’s afraid something has happened to it.”
“I do say I’ll help, don’t I?” Thomas broke in.
Laura smiled to herself. “Of course you do. You put your arm around his shoulders and ask where the cat usually can be found. He tells you that it likes to wander in the woods and around the boathouse. You take his hand and start down the trail along the water’s edge toward the creaky old dock, where the rowboats are tied. The sun is very hot now, and you grab a long tassel of grass, slip it from its stalk, and put it between your teeth.
“The boy takes you to the boathouse entrance, and you both go in. It’s dark and cool. Old boats with their white paint peeling are leaning against the walls. You notice a small stain on the floor in the corner. The boy sees it too. ‘It’s blood, isn’t it?’ he says. You say it might be—it’s the right color and is fairly fresh.”
“I bet the poor chappy is even more worried now,” said Thomas. “Actually I guess I am, too, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Before you’d thought there wasn’t really a problem, but now you’re not so sure. You take his hand again and start down the path into the woods. The path gets narrow, and the ferns brush against your legs. In some places you have to push the brambles away, and one snags your arm, leaving a nasty scratch.”
“But I don’t let it bother me, do I, Laura?”
“Of course not; you’re much too concerned with the boy and the lost cat. When you see an old building off the trail and up on a hill, you push through the underbrush to get to it. It looks like it had been some kind of storage place. There’s no door on the rusted hinges, so you can see inside.
“Because of the woods, it’s really dark inside. The boy calls out, ‘Here Muffin,’ and a low mew is heard from a corner. He rushes over. ‘Look,’ he cries, ‘she’s not hurt at all!’ And sure enough, there lies a cat with four tiny kittens snuggled against her. Off to the side you see a dead mouse she must have caught at the boathouse and brought here to eat before the births. ‘That mouse explains the stain,’ you say.”
“I’ll be bound the lad is really happy,” Thomas prodded.
Laura opened her eyes and saw him leaning back on the pillows, a smile on his face. “You bet,” she said, “for it turns out that the guy who runs the boathouse owns the cat. He promises the boy one of the kittens when it’s big enough, and asks you if you want one.”
“What do I say?” Thomas asked, turning eagerly toward Laura.
“Actually,” Laura answered with a little laugh, “you, or rather I, said, ‘sure,’ and Mom said it was OK, so now I have a super little gray kitten named Smoky. I could bring him over if you’d like me to.”

One of the greatest testimony-building experiences in my life came early in my mission. At the Missionary Training Center, I had finished reading the Book of Mormon, and I took the challenge given in Moroni 10:3–5 to pray about the Book of Mormon. As I prayed, I expected an overpowering revelation of the truthfulness of the book, but nothing came.
When it was time for me to fly to South Africa, still nothing had come. A few weeks into my service, I hadn’t yet received an answer to those prayers. I was getting discouraged.
One night, my companion and I had an appointment to teach the first discussion to a preacher. He accepted everything we said until we taught about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. As a new missionary, I didn’t know what to do, but I felt prompted to simply testify. As I bore to him my simple testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, the Spirit touched my heart. I was filled with a sense of peace as I shared with this man a knowledge that I didn’t know I had.
That was an answer to my weeks of prayers. Up to that point I had believed that the Book of Mormon contained God’s word, but now I can say that I know that it is true; it is “another testament of Jesus Christ.”

Despite fierce headwinds, many of the conference-goers listed the skiing as their favorite activity. One group ventured out on the hard, thick Star Lake ice, thinking skiing would be simple on the level, slippery surface. Going one way, the wind almost pushed them along. Going the other, its force nearly lifted them off the ice. No matter which direction they went, a powder of ice crystals whipped through the air.

“I’m so skinny I was afraid I’d blow away,” said Karen Kerns, 14, an investigator attending the Fulton Ward. “I leaned on my poles to hold myself up and let the wind move me across the lake.”

One first noticed the dark glasses and the deep scars on his face. Then came an awareness that he had no hands; only stubs protruded from the sleeves of his coat. Soon it also became apparent that this man was blind. The dark glasses did not protect his eyes from the sun, for he had no eyes. Instead they spared others the shock of seeing only gaping holes where his eyes once had been.
This man, Cory Hanks, visited our home in Phoenix, Arizona, when I was a boy. Having been a university classmate, my father had invited him to dinner to visit and to reminisce. On entering the home, he was taken through all the rooms and made acquainted with the location of the doors and furniture. Thereafter, he moved about as if he could see. At dinner, my mother put all his food on one plate. A bracelet with a spoon attached was then slipped over one of his arms which enabled him to feed himself. We learned that special clothing with snaps instead of buttons and zippers enabled him to dress himself. At the time of his visit, he was a noted lecturer who traveled extensively, usually alone. He trusted clerks, waiters, or travel agents to take the right amount of money from his wallet to pay for any purchase. By asking how much was in his wallet, he knew whether the last person had been honest. He exuded an air of confidence and self-possession and an uncomplaining acceptance of the terrible handicaps with which he lived.
We learned, however, he had not always acted this way. There was a time when he tried desperately to commit suicide. There were also times when, rebelling against his fate, he was either wild and ungovernable or withdrawn and morose. On learning the circumstances of the terrible accident which had blinded and maimed him, one could sympathize with such conduct.
The tragedy occurred at a remote mine high in the mountains. Young Cory was working there through the summer to earn money to continue his education at the university. A rain the night before had dampened the dynamite caps used in blasting. As Cory laid them out in the sun to dry they exploded, mangling his hands and ripping his eyes and face. A companion, hearing the explosion ran to Cory to find him covered with blood and writhing on the ground. With no means of getting him off the mountain alone, the companion tied tourniquets around the stubs of his arms to prevent Cory from bleeding to death and ran for help. Regaining consciousness while his friend was gone and realizing he was blind and had no hands, the wounded miner tried to tear the tourniquets off with his teeth so he would bleed to death. Help came before he succeeded.
There followed a long period of anguish, pain, and self-pity. Cory thought his usefulness was ended, and he could see no purpose in living. He was disagreeable, angry, and argumentative, making himself and everyone around him miserable and unhappy.
But in time, a remarkable change occurred in him. It began when he realized that although he had suffered a terrible disability, he still had resources which, if used properly, would enable him to live happily and productively. It began when he discovered that his mind was unimpaired and that by using it and diverting his thoughts in proper channels, his actions and outward circumstances could be altered accordingly. This change led him back to the university and, ultimately, to a rewarding life of lecturing and travel.