Gospel Story Finder

I heard President Spencer W. Kimball, in a session of conference, ask that God would give him mountains to climb. He said: “There are great challenges ahead of us, giant opportunities to be met. I welcome that exciting prospect and feel to say to the Lord, humbly, ‘Give me this mountain,’ give me these challenges.”
My heart was stirred, knowing, as I did, some of the challenges and adversity he had already faced. I felt a desire to be more like him, a valiant servant of God. So one night I prayed for a test to prove my courage. I can remember it vividly. In the evening I knelt in my bedroom with a faith that seemed almost to fill my heart to bursting.
Within a day or two my prayer was answered. The hardest trial of my life surprised and humbled me. It provided me a twofold lesson. First, I had clear proof that God heard and answered my prayer of faith. But second, I began a tutorial that still goes on to learn about why I felt with such confidence that night that a great blessing could come from adversity to more than compensate for any cost.
The adversity that hit me in that faraway day now seems tiny compared to what has come since—to me and to those I love. Many of you are now passing through physical, mental, and emotional trials that could cause you to cry out as did one great and faithful servant of God I knew well. His nurse heard him exclaim from his bed of pain, “When I have tried all my life to be good, why has this happened to me?”
You know how the Lord answered that question for the Prophet Joseph Smith in his prison cell:
“And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.
“The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?
“Therefore, hold on thy way, and the priesthood shall remain with thee; for their bounds are set, they cannot pass. Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever.”
There seems to me no better answer to the question of why trials come and what we are to do than the words of the Lord Himself, who passed through trials for us more terrible than we can imagine.
You remember His words when He counseled that we should, out of faith in Him, repent:
“Therefore I command you to repent—repent, lest I smite you by the rod of my mouth, and by my wrath, and by my anger, and your sufferings be sore—how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not.
“For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;
“But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I;
“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink—
“Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and finished my preparations unto the children of men.”
You and I have faith that the way to rise through and above trials is to believe that there is a “balm in Gilead” and that the Lord has promised, “I will not … forsake thee.” That is what President Thomas S. Monson has taught us to help us and those we serve in what seem lonely and overwhelming trials.
But President Monson has also wisely taught that a foundation of faith in the reality of those promises takes time to build. You may have seen the need for that foundation, as I have, at the bedside of someone ready to give up the fight to endure to the end. If the foundation of faith is not embedded in our hearts, the power to endure will crumble.
My purpose today is to describe what I know of how we can lay that unshakable foundation. I do it with great humility for two reasons. First, what I say could discourage some who are struggling in the midst of great adversity and feel their foundation of faith is crumbling. And second, I know that ever-greater tests lie before me before the end of life. Therefore, the prescription I offer you has yet to be proven in my own life through enduring to the end.
As a young man I worked with a contractor building footings and foundations for new houses. In the summer heat it was hard work to prepare the ground for the form into which we poured the cement for the footing. There were no machines. We used a pick and a shovel. Building lasting foundations for buildings was hard work in those days.
It also required patience. After we poured the footing, we waited for it to cure. Much as we wanted to keep the jobs moving, we also waited after the pour of the foundation before we took away the forms.
And even more impressive to a novice builder was what seemed to be a tedious and time-consuming process to put metal bars carefully inside the forms to give the finished foundation strength.
In a similar way, the ground must be carefully prepared for our foundation of faith to withstand the storms that will come into every life. That solid basis for a foundation of faith is personal integrity.
Our choosing the right consistently whenever the choice is placed before us creates the solid ground under our faith. It can begin in childhood, since every soul is born with the free gift of the Spirit of Christ. With that Spirit we can know when we have done what is right before God and when we have done wrong in His sight.
Those choices, hundreds in most days, prepare the solid ground on which our edifice of faith is built. The metal framework around which the substance of our faith is poured is the gospel of Jesus Christ, with all its covenants, ordinances, and principles.
One of the keys to an enduring faith is to judge correctly the curing time required. That is why I was unwise to pray so soon in my life for higher mountains to climb and greater tests.
That curing does not come automatically through the passage of time, but it does take time. Getting older does not do it alone. It is serving God and others persistently with full heart and soul that turns testimony of truth into unbreakable spiritual strength.
Now, I wish to encourage those who are in the midst of hard trials, who feel their faith may be fading under the onslaught of troubles. Trouble itself can be your way to strengthen and finally gain unshakable faith. Moroni, the son of Mormon in the Book of Mormon, told us how that blessing could come to pass. He teaches the simple and sweet truth that acting on even a twig of faith allows God to grow it:
“And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.
“For it was by faith that Christ showed himself unto our fathers, after he had risen from the dead; and he showed not himself unto them until after they had faith in him; wherefore, it must needs be that some had faith in him, for he showed himself not unto the world.
“But because of the faith of men he has shown himself unto the world, and glorified the name of the Father, and prepared a way that thereby others might be partakers of the heavenly gift, that they might hope for those things which they have not seen.
“Wherefore, ye may also have hope, and be partakers of the gift, if ye will but have faith.”
That particle of faith most precious and which you should protect and use to whatever extent you can is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Moroni taught the power of that faith this way: “And neither at any time hath any wrought miracles until after their faith; wherefore they first believed in the Son of God.”
I have visited with a woman who received the miracle of sufficient strength to endure unimaginable losses with just the simple capacity to repeat endlessly the words “I know that my Redeemer lives.” That faith and those words of testimony were still there in the mist that obscured but did not erase memories of her childhood.
I was stunned to learn that another woman had forgiven a person who had wronged her for years. I was surprised and asked her why she had chosen to forgive and forget so many years of spiteful abuse.
She said quietly, “It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I just knew I had to do it. So I did.” Her faith that the Savior would forgive her if she forgave others prepared her with a feeling of peace and hope as she faced death just months after she had forgiven her unrepentant adversary.
She asked me, “When I get there, how will it be in heaven?”
And I said, “I know just from what I have seen of your capacity to exercise faith and to forgive that it will be a wonderful homecoming for you.”
I have another encouragement to those who now wonder if their faith in Jesus Christ will be sufficient for them to endure well to the end. I was blessed to have known others of you who are listening now when you were younger, vibrant, gifted beyond most of those around you, yet you chose to do what the Savior would have done. Out of your abundance you found ways to help and care for those you might have ignored or looked down upon from your place in life.
When hard trials come, the faith to endure them well will be there, built as you may now notice but may have not at the time that you acted on the pure love of Christ, serving and forgiving others as the Savior would have done. You built a foundation of faith from loving as the Savior loved and serving for Him. Your faith in Him led to acts of charity that will bring you hope.
It is never too late to strengthen the foundation of faith. There is always time. With faith in the Savior, you can repent and plead for forgiveness. There is someone you can forgive. There is someone you can thank. There is someone you can serve and lift. You can do it wherever you are and however alone and deserted you may feel.
I cannot promise an end to your adversity in this life. I cannot assure you that your trials will seem to you to be only for a moment. One of the characteristics of trials in life is that they seem to make clocks slow down and then appear almost to stop.
There are reasons for that. Knowing those reasons may not give much comfort, but it can give you a feeling of patience. Those reasons come from this one fact: in Their perfect love for you, Heavenly Father and the Savior want you fitted to be with Them to live in families forever. Only those washed perfectly clean through the Atonement of Jesus Christ can be there.
My mother fought cancer for nearly 10 years. Treatments and surgeries and finally confinement to her bed were some of her trials.
I remember my father saying as he watched her take her last breath, “A little girl has gone home to rest.”
One of the speakers at her funeral was President Spencer W. Kimball. Among the tributes he paid, I remember one that went something like this: “Some of you may have thought that Mildred suffered so long and so much because of something she had done wrong that required the trials.” He then said, “No, it was that God just wanted her to be polished a little more.” I remember at the time thinking, “If a woman that good needed that much polishing, what is ahead for me?”
If we have faith in Jesus Christ, the hardest as well as the easiest times in life can be a blessing. In all conditions, we can choose the right with the guidance of the Spirit. We have the gospel of Jesus Christ to shape and guide our lives if we choose it. And with prophets revealing to us our place in the plan of salvation, we can live with perfect hope and a feeling of peace. We never need to feel that we are alone or unloved in the Lord’s service because we never are. We can feel the love of God. The Savior has promised angels on our left and our right to bear us up. And He always keeps His word.
I testify that God the Father lives and that His Beloved Son is our Redeemer. The Holy Ghost has confirmed truth in this conference and will again as you seek it, as you listen, and as you later study the messages of the Lord’s authorized servants, who are here. President Thomas S. Monson is the Lord’s prophet to the entire world. The Lord watches over you. God the Father lives. His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, is our Redeemer. His love is unfailing. I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Once you make a decision concerning whom you would desire to marry, may you have the courage to move forward. After a stake conference in Tokyo many years ago, a young Japanese convert, perhaps 26 years of age, drove Sister Monson and me to the hotel where we were to stay. He was extremely neat and meticulous in all that he did. The car was polished to a brightness seldom seen. He even wore white gloves. I engaged him in conversation and as a result learned that he had a girlfriend who was a member and whom he had dated for some time. I asked him if he loved her. He replied, “Oh, yes, Brother Monson.”

My next question was obvious: “Does she love you?”

“Oh, yes, Brother Monson.”

I then suggested, “Why don’t you ask her to marry you?”

“Oh, I am too shy to ask.”

I then recited, for his benefit, the words of the hymn, “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” with emphasis on the phrase, “Fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake.”4

Some months later I received a lovely letter from my Japanese friend and his new bride. They sent the wedding announcement. They thanked me for my urging and added: “Our favorite hymn is ‘Come, Come, Ye Saints.’ We took fresh courage. God did not forsake us. Thank you.”

Let me share a personal example of this truth. I distinctly recall a time when I received a prompting in answer to mighty prayer. The answer was clear and powerful. However, I failed to act immediately on the prompting, and after a period of time I began to wonder if what I had felt had been real. Some of you may have fallen for that deception of the adversary as well.
Several days later, I awoke with these powerful verses of scripture in my mind:
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart. …
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?”7
It was as if the Lord was saying, “Now, Ronald, I already told you what you needed to do. Now do it!” How grateful I was for that loving correction and direction! I was immediately comforted by the prompting and was able to move forward, knowing in my heart that my prayer had been answered.
I share this experience, dear brothers and sisters, to demonstrate how quickly our minds can forget and how spiritual experiences guide us. I have learned to cherish such moments “lest I forget.”

May I relate a personal experience from the Peterson family. Several years ago after wrestling with the problem for some time, my wife and I, sensing the urgency of our parental charge, devised a new battle plan. You see, up to that point, Satan had been winning the battle of “Should we or should we not read the scriptures together in the Peterson home?” We had tried off and on for years with no sustained success. Our big problem was that someone or something always interrupted our schedule. With a 17-year spread in our children’s ages, we felt we had a special challenge.
As we studied and prayed over it, we concluded that the best time for our family of girls to read would be when no one else wanted our time. Since the older girls had to be in seminary by 7:00 a.m., our controllable time had to be early. We decided on 6:15 in the morning. We knew it would be a challenge to get teenage support. The idea was good, but its implementation was most difficult and it still is. Our family is still struggling.
Our great new plan had its birth one hot August day in Phoenix, Arizona. My wife suggested we give them a whole month to think about it and prepare for it. We went about their mental preparation in a very positive way. The plan was to start the first day of school in early September. To their protests that it was impossible to have their heads all filled with rollers in time, or that it was not likely they would feel happy so early in the morning, or that they might be late to seminary, or not have time to eat breakfast either, we replied very cheerfully that we knew they were clever enough to cope with any minor problems that might arise.
At its announcement, we also told the girls we had been praying for guidance in this family problem. This made it easier, because they had been schooled in prayer and had been taught not to question its results.
The historic first morning finally came. My wife and I got up a little early so we would be sure to be wide awake and happy. Our initial approach must meet with success. We entered each bedroom singing and happy at the thought of the prospects before us. Purposely we went to one special bedroom first. Here slept a daughter who would be able to get up early but who couldn’t wake up before noon. We sat her up in bed and then went to the others and started them all into the family room. Some stumbled, some fell, some had to be carried in, some slept through that first morning—and I might say through subsequent mornings too.
Little by little, we have learned over the years what reading the scriptures 15 minutes each morning can do for our family. You should know that we don’t try to discuss and understand each point we read. We try to pick out only a couple of thoughts each morning to digest. You should also know we still have to struggle with the plan’s performance, even though we now have only two children at our home.
Can you imagine how a parent would feel to ask a little girl, “What did King Benjamin mean when he said, ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God’?” (Mosiah 2:17.) And she would respond, “I suppose he means that I shouldn’t be selfish and should do little things for my sisters because it makes Heavenly Father happy—and Daddy, I want him to be happy with me, so I’m going to try harder.” Innumerable are the blessings that will accrue to the family that persists in this noble effort of reading the scriptures together daily.

The Young Women in the Roy First Ward, Roy Utah West Stake, wanted to do a special service project for their ward. They had an opportunity to clean an apartment complex for a local builder and spent four full Saturdays working on the project. They also made and sold homemade lollipops to earn money.

On completion of their projects, they presented a check to the bishop to be used for the ward budget. It was a surprise to both the bishop and the ward members because the girls had kept their plans a secret.

Many years ago it was my opportunity to serve as president of the Canadian Mission. There we had a branch with very limited priesthood. We always had a missionary presiding over the branch. I received a strong impression that we needed to have a member of the branch preside there.
We had one adult member in the branch who was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood but who didn’t attend or participate enough to be advanced in the priesthood. I felt inspired to call him as the branch president. I shall always remember the day that I had an interview with him. I told him that the Lord had inspired me to call him to be the president of the branch. After much protest on his part, and much encouragement on the part of his wife, he indicated that he would serve. I ordained him a priest.
It was the beginning of a new day for that man. His life was quickly put in order, and he assured me that he would live the commandments as he was expected to live them. In a few months he was ordained an elder. He and his wife and family eventually went to the temple and were sealed. Their children served missions and married in the house of the Lord.

In the winter of 1831–32, Joseph Smith came to the Snow home. As he sat by the fire, Eliza “scrutinized his face as closely as I could without attracting his attention, and decided that his was an honest face.” Even so, her investigative nature led her to observe what happened over time. She attended a local meeting where Joseph and two Book of Mormon witnesses spoke, and she was deeply impressed. Her mother and sister, Rosetta and Leonora, believed and were baptized that spring.4 Still Eliza waited, studying the Book of Mormon, watching and listening.

In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5

Even then, baptism was a challenge for Eliza, a humble woman who followed social rules and propriety. She prayed for someone to come baptize her, but no one came. When she heard of a meeting of the Saints about two miles from home, she asked her father’s permission to go and be baptized—as an adult, she respected her father, and he readily consented. At the meeting, there was no discussion about baptism, but Eliza gained courage to stand up and request the privilege. Before she could arise, a dark fear came over her. She pushed through the fear and was baptized in a nearby stream on April 5, 1835. “From that day to this I have not doubted the truth of the work,” she wrote.

That night, Eliza reflected on her baptism: “I felt an indescribable, tangible sensation, … commencing at my head and enveloping my person and passing off at my feet, producing inexpressible happiness.” She saw in a vision a candle with a long, bright flame, and a voice told her, “The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path.” She was satisfied.6

Eliza moved to Kirtland to join the Saints for a time and taught school. When she returned to her family’s home at the end of the term, her old friends and neighbors asked about the “strange people” with whom she associated. “I was exceedingly happy in testifying of what I had both seen and heard,” she later wrote. Eliza determined to change her life and live permanently with the Latter-day Saints. Her conversion deepened even further in 1837 when she lived with Joseph Smith and his family. Again, she observed. “I had ample opportunity of judging his daily walk and conversation,” she recalled. She saw much more than the miraculous events of the Kirtland Temple dedication—she saw the life and relationships of a prophet of God. “The more I made his acquaintance, the more cause I found to appreciate him in his divine calling.”7

Thirty-seven years after her baptism, with a heart firmly fixed through persecutions in Missouri and the eventual assassination of Joseph Smith, Eliza remained a committed Latter-day Saint. On June 22, 1872, she shared about her conversion with a group of women in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA: “When I heard it announced that the Lord had spoken from heaven and a record had been brought forth I was deeply interested. I prayed unto the Lord to let me know if the work were true, covenanting with him if he did so that I would ever praise his name.” After her baptism, she said, she attended Church meetings. “We were called upon to speak; I dared not refuse for I had promised God I would ever praise his name in the congregation of the Saints.”8 Her continual conversion required her continued witness.

Eliza bore her testimony over a thousand times as she traveled throughout Utah Territory to teach the Relief Society, young women, and Primary children about the Restoration. Her heart was fixed, and she invited others to experience their own conversions and become firm and steadfast.

The 2005 hurricane season in the southern United States and the western Caribbean was the costliest and most devastating on record. Storm after storm lashed at homes and businesses from Honduras to Florida. Thousands of priesthood-directed volunteers were there each time a hurricane struck, providing the necessities to sustain life. Hygiene and cleaning kits, food, water, kitchen sets, bed linen, and other commodities helped clean homes and establish temporary housing.

Brother Michael Kagle took a convoy of trucks loaded with equipment from his own company to Mississippi. Many employees, who are not of our faith, volunteered to go with him every weekend to give assistance in the storm-stricken areas. Walkie-talkies were used for communication along the way. Mike’s high priests group leader, while driving along with them in his pickup truck, said he had white knuckles from driving so fast. Trying to slow the convoy down, he got on the walkie-talkie and said, “Gentlemen, do you realize we are going 80 miles per hour?” One of the truck drivers came on and said, “Well, you have to understand that’s all these big trucks will do. We can’t go any faster.”

Hundreds of letters of gratitude have been received. One woman, a nurse from Mississippi, wrote: “I was speechless. Had God answered my prayers so quickly? Tears immediately began to roll down my cheeks as men in hard hats and boots, with chainsaws of all shapes and sizes, appeared out of the debris. It was absolutely, unequivocally, one of the most supreme sacrifices that has ever happened to me personally.”

It was in this town of Zwickau that my grandmother was invited by an elderly single woman to attend church with her. The setting was still desperate—the war was just over. Food was scarce, and so were all other goods, like coal to heat our homes or cook our meals. Houses had been destroyed, and a family was fortunate if they were all still alive and had a roof over their heads.
My grandmother accepted the invitation of this dear single sister to attend sacrament meeting with her. This act of kindness might appear small and not too hard to do, but it changed our lives forever.
We attended church in a cold, cramped, backroom meeting place with electricity often failing, leaving us in the dark. But at the same time, this room was filled with the Spirit, and the divine light of the message of the restored gospel was in great abundance, and we were surrounded by the love, friendship, and helping hands of the dear members.
All of our family joined the Church. Because I was only six at the time, I was baptized two years later in a local indoor swimming pool by one of the Church leaders in our branch. I will always remember the feeling of warmth, safety, and importance as I came out of the water after this sacred ordinance had been performed.

Brother Mamin’ny Aina Rakotoarisoa had been hoping to serve a mission since his early childhood, but during his teen years, his desire lessened as he believed he was not worthy to be called. But when a member friend invited him to join a missionary preparation class, it changed everything.1 Despite many challenges, and with help from his bishop, he finally made it. Now, recently released from his two-year, full-time mission, he is planning to marry in the temple.

I hope I can convey to you the humility with which I approach this calling. I’ve just recently been released as a second counselor. What does one say, when one day you are the second counselor of the Bountiful Thirteenth Ward bishopric, and the next day you’re the Second Counselor in the Presiding Bishopric. In the Regional Representatives’ seminar Friday morning, Elder Russell M. Nelson reminisced that last year he was sitting in the Regional Representatives’ seminar—sitting very inconspicuously in the back, and very comfortably. Later that day he received an interview which turned his life upside down.
Last Friday I was in the Regional Representatives’ seminar, but my ticket wasn’t stamped “Regional Representative”; it was stamped “Invited Guest.” By four o’clock that afternoon, I had received a letter signed by President Hinckley telling me I was to speak for thirteen minutes in the Sunday afternoon session of conference.
My first question to President Hinckley wasn’t “What should I say?” It was “How do I get in?”
As late as last Wednesday night, I was rehearsing for a ward play. (By the way, Sister Lalli, wherever you are, I’m sorry I wasn’t to play practice yesterday morning.) I was released from the bishopric in January after serving for four years. How I loved that calling, and the brethren with whom I served—Bishop Lee J. Lalli, and his able and dedicated first counselor, D. Ray Alexander—Lee J. and Ray, as I affectionately called them.
Since my release I’ve been traveling extensively, and therefore have been without a calling for two months. At that play practice Wednesday, I sent a signal to the new bishop, Russ Herscher, that I was ready to reenter the “job market.” I hope you won’t feel that I’m an aspiring person, but I told the Primary president, Susan Mabey, I wanted to teach Primary—ideally my seven-year-old daughter’s class. I know sanctification comes not with any particular calling, but with genuine acts of service, often for which there is no specific calling.
Now, despite the humility with which I approach this call, I have full confidence in my ability to perform. This, however, is not self-confidence, but confidence in the fact that the Lord makes every man and woman equal to the assignment that he or she is given. Therefore, I state clearly but humbly, “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.” (1 Ne. 3:7.)
Brothers and sisters, I have never been a bishop. Since Friday afternoon I have felt puzzled, almost bewildered and overwhelmed, at how a man could be called to be a member of the Presiding Bishopric without having had the experience of being a bishop. I agonized for twenty-four hours until yesterday afternoon, when President Hinckley laid his hands upon my head and ordained me a bishop. I heard the voice of the Lord say in my heart, “No, Glenn, you have never been a bishop, but now you are a bishop, and always will be.”
Several years ago, I made a covenant with the Lord. I promised to give him anything he should require of me, and prayed this gesture might warrant forgiveness of my transgressions. Yesterday I gave the only thing I had left. It was something I cherished. I held on to it until the very last moment. I never thought of it as a selfish possession. That of which I speak flew out the window of my home when I turned on the television to watch the news and saw my picture on the television screen. I speak of my prized remaining possession—anonymity.
How I love not to be noticed! I don’t want to sit with the General Authorities in the “fishbowl” at the BYU football games in my dark blue suit! I want to sit in the stands with my father, wearing an obnoxious T-shirt which reads: “BYU #1. Enough said!” I have license and credentials to be obnoxious! I was born and raised in Provo, Utah. I attended school at Provo High School. I received my bachelor’s and master’s degrees from BYU. I’m a member of the Church, and I even work for the Church. My credentials are impeccable. I want to go berserk in the upper tier of the San Diego Stadium as I have the last four years at the Holiday Bowl—with the exception of Ohio State [which soundly beat BYU’s team in the bowl game], when I went into deep depression. I still have one faint hope—perhaps the Brethren will let me sit with Elder Perry at the ball games. Nevertheless, I give up my prized anonymity, just as I will give up my life if it is required of me.
I love the Lord Jesus Christ. I love the transformation his atonement has wrought in me. Earlier speakers have spoken of him with such eloquence. How I wish I had command of the language which would enable me to express my feelings on this Easter afternoon. May I add my simple testimony to those who have spoken articulately. I once was in darkness, and now see light. I once lost all of my confidence, and now know all things are possible in the Lord. I once felt shame and now am “filled with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.” (2 Ne. 4:21.) “I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love.” (2 Ne. 1:15.)
I express my deepest loyalty to Bishop Hales and his First Counselor, Bishop Eyring. I will not betray their trust. I express my love and loyalty to the First Presidency, the Council of the Twelve Apostles, the First Quorum of the Seventy, and those I love most—the rank-and-file members of the Church. I express my love to my wife; without her love and understanding, I literally would not be standing at this pulpit today. I love my children, who must also give up their anonymity, as well as some time with their father. How I wish I could embrace my oldest son, who is serving a mission in the Cook Islands!
I thank God I was born of goodly parents. I begged my mother not to stand and take my picture as I came to the stand for the first time yesterday morning! But what would I have done if, during my formative years, she had not demonstrated that same pride and enthusiasm for everything I accomplished, however small. My father, Bishop Kenneth L. Pace, was the bishop of the Bonneville Ward in the East Provo Stake during my teens. He remains uppermost in my mind as exemplifying the pure love of Christ throughout his life.
Finally, I share the prayer of my heart with you at this time. May I display in my service the courage of my convictions in a manner like unto that displayed by Bishop Victor L. Brown. May I acquire the inspired, objective judgment of Bishop H. Burke Peterson. And may I acquire the open, warm, Christlike personality of Bishop J. Richard Clarke. May I exhibit the love and loyalty to Bishop Hales taught to us so beautifully by Joseph’s beloved brother, Hyrum. And lastly, may we as a Bishopric acquire the same love, respect, and unity I felt in the bishopric of the Bountiful Thirteenth Ward with Bishop Lee J. Lalli and D. Ray Alexander, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In Part 1, Sarah Ann describes how her family traveled to the United States from Norway. She hears Mormon missionaries preach and knows what they say is true. Sarah Ann is baptized and promises the Lord that she will always do whatever He asks her to do.
Chardon Point, Iowa, 1849
Sarah Ann was too weak to open her eyes, but as she listened to the crickets chirping nearby she remembered where she was—in a covered wagon camped near a creek in Iowa. Despite painful muscle cramps, Sarah Ann smiled softly, grateful to still be alive.
The crickets were interrupted by the sound of two people talking quietly outside the wagon. Sarah Ann tried to hear what was being said.
“How is she today, Anna?” asked a man with a Norwegian accent.
“I am afraid she isn’t doing well,” Anna said. “Nothing is working. She has a very bad case of cholera.”
Sarah Ann recognized their voices. The man was Canute Peterson. Sarah Ann had known him since she was a young girl. When Canute’s parents died, Mother had welcomed him into their home as though he had been part of the family. The woman, Anna, was Sarah Ann’s nurse.
“I wish that something could be done,” Canute said.
“I do too. Sarah Ann is such a wonderful young woman.”
Sarah Ann let out a cry. The pain was almost more than she could bear. Sarah Ann thought about the events that had led her to where she was now. When she was baptized, she had promised the Lord to do whatever He asked her to do. A short time after that, the prophet Brigham Young told the Saints to gather in the West. Sarah Ann packed a few belongings and joined a wagon team of other Saints. They had traveled 200 miles (322 km) when Sarah Ann became sick with cholera.
A tear rolled down Sarah Ann’s cheek. “I want to live to see the place that the Lord has prepared for the Saints,” she thought.
Meanwhile, Canute walked along the edge of a nearby creek in the woods. As he walked, he felt a gentle prompting from the Holy Ghost to pray for Sarah Ann. He knelt down and prayed that Sarah Ann’s pain would lessen. As he prayed, Canute felt the Spirit tell him what he should do.
“I know that if I give Sarah Ann a priesthood blessing, she will be healed,” he thought.
As Canute returned to the wagon, he could hear Sarah Ann groaning. Anna and the other nurses filled the wagon, making it difficult for him to get close.
Putting all of his faith in the Lord, Canute went to the side of the wagon, put his hands under the wagon cover, laid them on Sarah Ann’s head, and gave her a blessing.
As soon as Sarah Ann felt the hands on her head, she knew whose hands they were even though she couldn’t see Canute.
When the blessing ended, Sarah Ann’s pain immediately stopped.
“I am healed!” Sarah Ann exclaimed.
“You are not in any pain?” Canute asked.
“None at all. It’s a miracle! Thank you for giving me a blessing, Canute. I know that God has healed me through the priesthood power you hold.”
Within an hour, Sarah Ann was up and trying to help others who were sick.
The wagon company was soon able to continue the journey. Sarah Ann felt closer to Canute than she ever had before. As they traveled, the two of them spent a lot of time together. They soon began to fall in love.
(To be continued.)

The Lodi 2nd Ward Primary, Lodi California Stake, celebrated President Thomas S. Monson’s birthday with service. Each child completed an act of service and then filled out a card describing their service. Some children helped their family take food to a neighbor, others shared school supplies with kids that didn’t have any, and lots of kids helped around the house. These cards were sent to President Monson for his birthday. They also had a birthday party and made the rainbow cake President Monson’s mother made for him when he was a boy, featured in the August 2012 issue of the Friend.

PING!
At the faint, bell-like sound, Wanda’s eyes opened in the dark. She had been half-awake already, too excited to really sleep. But it’s too early to get up, she realized with disappointment. The family rule was that nobody was to get up before daylight and no gifts were to be opened before breakfast.
What a different kind of Christmas this will be, she thought sadly, listening to the steady patter of the California rain. For the first time since she could remember, there would be no snow and no sled to share with her three brothers. Maybe we’ll get a wagon this year, Wanda hoped.
Ping! Wanda sat up and clutched the iron armrest of the old-fashioned daybed. A drop of water fell on the back of her hand. Quickly she snatched her hand from the armrest and rubbed it dry on her flannel nightgown.
Ping! Suddenly she knew what caused the sound—drops of water falling on the metal.
It would be just like this old place to have a leaky roof and spoil our Christmas! she thought with disgust. Daddy had rented the house before he had sent for Mama and the children. It stood on a sandy plain near a shallow river that was hardly more than a trickle. “I know it’s kind of run-down and old,” Daddy had said apologetically, “but it’s all we can afford till I’ve been on this new job a while longer.”
There were two small bedrooms—one for Mama and Daddy and one for the three boys. Wanda slept on the daybed in the living room. She slipped out of bed now, shivering as she picked her way over the cold, bare floor to the window. She strained to see past the rivulets chasing each other down the windowpane and willed daylight to appear through the dark clouds.
Plink! A new sound joined the familiar ping! Another leak, Wanda realized. When she returned from the kitchen, where she’d gotten a couple of bowls to catch the dripping water, she bumped her shin on the table.
Do I dare turn on the light? she wondered, her shin still smarting. She hesitated for just a moment, then groped for the dangling light chain.
Click! The one bare bulb hanging on a cord from the ceiling shone dimly on the little Christmas tree with its homemade decorations. It wasn’t actually a tree, but a rubber plant Mama had gotten to brighten the room. “We’ve always had a Christmas tree,” Mama had declared, “and we’re not doing without one this year just because we don’t have much money.” Then, with a wink at Wanda, Mama had said, as she often did, “Money can’t buy everything.”
This year Wanda felt that she was beginning to understand what Mama meant. She remembered the fun that they had had making the tree decorations. While Wanda and the boys had worked with paper, scissors, crayons, scraps of cloth, fruit jar lids, and homemade flour paste, Daddy had transferred the rubber plant to a large tub of dirt and set it in a corner of the room.
A board creaked, interrupting Wanda’s thoughts. She stopped abruptly, listening for sounds of awakening from her parents’ bedroom. In the silence she became aware of a rhythmic orchestra of sound: ping! plop! plink! splat! Drops of water were falling in several places. Glancing up, Wanda was alarmed to see that the ceiling sagged noticeably just above the table where Daddy had stacked the presents when they hadn’t fit under their little tree. Most of the gifts had come in the mail from Grandma and Uncle Walt the day before. “Just in time,” Daddy had remarked, “to save us from a very skimpy Christmas.”
As Wanda watched, horrified, the bulge seemed to dip lower. The ceiling’s full of water! she realized. It could burst any minute and ruin all the presents! Uncertain about waking her parents, she prayed silently, then decided to wake her older brother, Blaine. He would know what to do.
She slipped into the boys’ bedroom and tugged on Blaine’s pajama sleeve. “Wake up, Blaine!” she urged in a hoarse whisper. She shook his shoulder. He moaned in his sleep and turned away from her. But when she said in a low, tense voice, “Merry Christmas, Blaine!” his eyelids fluttered open.
“Wake up. We have to do something. The rain’s going to ruin all our presents from Uncle Walt and Grandma!”
“What?” Blaine mumbled sleepily. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor.
“Shh! Don’t wake the other boys. And watch where you step. There are puddles everywhere.”
Blaine’s eyes widened when he saw the bulge in the ceiling. He was fully awake now and ready to take charge.
“First thing to do is to move this table. You grab one end, and I’ll take the other. Careful you don’t knock off any presents.”
“I can’t lift it!” Wanda wailed. “It’s too heavy.”
“OK, you drag your end, and I’ll lift mine. But we have to move fast.”
The table legs rasped against the floor as Wanda tugged. “Oh,” she gasped, almost in tears, “if that ceiling breaks, the whole house will be flooded!”
Suddenly Daddy appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Look, Daddy!” Wanda pointed to the sagging ceiling.
“Oh no!” exclaimed her father. “Blaine, bring that big bucket from the back porch. Wanda, get your mother’s canning kettle from the kitchen. I’ll go get my screwdriver.”
Wanda nested several smaller pots and pans inside the big canner, then hurried back to the living room.
Daddy held the bucket under the bulge and poked a hole in the ceiling directly above the bucket. A small stream of water shot into the bucket.
“That will relieve the pressure on the ceiling,” Daddy explained. He directed Blaine to watch the bucket and empty it outside before it got too full to carry. Wanda was to replace the bucket immediately with the empty canner.
“Larry and Andrew can tend the other pans,” said Mama, “and I’ll mop up the water from the floor.”
Wanda hadn’t noticed that her mother and the two younger boys had joined them. Already the smaller pans were positioned around the floor, catching drops.
Soon everyone was dressed and eating hot cereal between quick trips into the living room to check the pans.
Wanda helped Blaine carry the first bucketful to the back porch.
“We could have used a wagon for this job,” she grumbled.
“We should have asked for a boat instead,” Blaine joked as he emptied the bucket.
Then Wanda saw that the boardwalk leading to the woodshed was surrounded by puddles. Wanda’s sense of humor dispelled her gloom. “We don’t need a boat,” she said with a giggle. “Our house is the boat. It’s just like being on Noah’s ark, but without the animals.”
The presents were unwrapped amid general merriment as the family tried to avoid the wet spots in the room. Finally they took the presents into a bedroom to keep them dry.
The children played with their toys for a while, then Mother read the Bible story of the first Christmas—with frequent interruptions as someone raced into the living room to replace a full pan with an empty one.
As Wanda helped Blaine empty the canner for the third time into the “lake” outside, she realized that she had never thought too much about Jesus at Christmas. Other years her mind had been on Santa Claus and what he might bring her. Now, thinking of her family in this rundown house—in a city far from their old home—Wanda felt a kinship with the little family who had spent that first Christmas in a stable far from their home.
We didn’t really need the presents, she thought, to have a good time together.

The Mia Maids in the Anchorage Eighth Ward, Anchorage Alaska Stake, turned Halloween into a money-making activity by selling ghost insurance to ward members and friends. If an insuree’s home or car became the target of a prank like soaped windows, splattered eggs, or toilet papering, the Mia Maids cleaned up the results of the Halloween tricks.
With the money they earned, they are helping to support a missionary from their ward.

Ever since he was a boy, Wilford Woodruff wanted to know which church was true. When he was 26 years old, he still had not joined any church. He lived with his brother Azmon on his farm.
Wilford: Heavenly Father, help me to know how to live my life.
On December 29, 1833, two Mormon missionaries stopped at Azmon’s house. He and Wilford were both away working, but Azmon’s wife was home.
Missionary: God has restored His Church upon the earth, and we would like to tell you more about it.
Woman: My husband and brother-in-law are not home right now, but we would definitely be interested in hearing more.
The missionaries rented the local schoolhouse that afternoon. They passed out notices inviting anybody who wanted to learn more about the gospel to come to a meeting that evening.
When Wilford got home from working, his sister-in-law told him about the meeting. He immediately turned his horses around and started to the schoolhouse, praying the whole way to know whether or not the missionaries were true followers of Christ.
Woman: But, Wilford, what about supper?
Wilford: These men could be the answer to my prayers! I must go.
Wilford arrived at the schoolhouse, which was packed with people. His brother Azmon was already there. Wilford couldn’t find an empty chair, so he sat on one of the writing desks where he could see and hear everything.
Missionary: I bear strong testimony of the divine authenticity of the Book of Mormon. I also know that Joseph Smith is a prophet who has come to fulfill a great mission here on earth.
Wilford: I can feel the Spirit telling me that these are men of God.
After the missionaries were finished speaking, they asked members of the congregation if they would like to stand and say anything. Immediately, Wilford stood up and told everyone that he knew the missionaries were speaking the truth.
Wilford: The Lord urges me to bear testimony of the truth of this message. Do not oppose these men, for they are true servants of God. They have preached to us the pure gospel of Jesus Christ.
Two days later Wilford and his brother Azmon were baptized.

In the spring of 1975 my family and I were living among beautiful green farmland in the Rheinland-Pfalz area of West Germany. Driving home from church one rainy Sunday, we stopped to have a look at an automobile that had rolled onto its side in the wet roadbed at the edge of a forest. Inside the forest it was already dark because of the thick canopy created by the trees and the oncoming night.
After looking at the wrecked vehicle, we returned to our car and discovered it was stuck in the mud. I couldn’t back up, but I could drive forward—into the forest. We had previously driven through the forest and found that many forest roads were interconnected and would eventually lead back out, so I decided to move forward into the blackness.
I quickly realized that I had made the wrong decision. The narrow, wet road was filled with deep ruts of mud and kept leading farther and farther into the dark forest. I tried to keep up speed, fearing that if we stopped, we would become mired. I saw a high spot just ahead that looked firm enough to sustain the weight of the car. My plan was to get the car out of the mud to give myself time to think. The car lunged up and out of the mud.
I turned off the car and climbed out. With the headlights off, I couldn’t see a thing. I turned the headlights back on, grabbed our flashlight, and after looking the car over, decided that my best bet was to back into the forest and then make a mad dash out the way we came.
I backed as far into the forest as possible, revved the engine a little, lunged back onto the road, and sank deep into the mud. Now we were really in trouble. Outside the car it was total darkness and silence. Inside the car my wife and I sat with three terrified children.
I asked my wife for any ideas. After a moment she said, “Maybe we should pray.” The children calmed down almost immediately. I offered a humble but desperate prayer for help. As I prayed, a thought came clearly into my mind: “Put on the tire chains.”
Standing in 10 inches (25 cm) of mud in her Sunday dress, my sweet wife held the flashlight while I cleaned the rear tires with my bare hands and put the chains on. With faith and confidence, we prayed again and started the engine. Slowly we drove through the mud and eventually back onto the pavement.
In the excitement of being freed from the mud and the darkness, I almost forgot who had helped us out of the forest. Our five-year-old daughter reminded me when she said, “Daddy, Heavenly Father really does answer prayers, doesn’t He?”

We couldn’t help being a little nervous. Mrs. Hall was one of our strongest investigators. She already knew the Church was true, even though she was not a member. Other missionaries had initially contacted her, and as she had received the standard lessons and read the Book of Mormon, her inclination to believe had grown into a strong testimony. My companion and I had encouraged her continued study of the gospel.
But now her sister, Joan McArthur, was coming to visit. Mrs. Hall’s husband and all the relatives on both sides of the family were devoted to other churches, and she did not want to be baptized until her husband (who was, at least, friendly with the missionaries) would embrace the gospel with her. She was also concerned about antagonizing other family members, particularly her parents, by joining the Church before they fully understood what she was doing and why.
It was easy to imagine that Mrs. Hall’s sister was being sent to check up on her and to warn her to quit associating with Mormons. Still Joan was only 20, and it would be her first time away from home. She must have been as full of apprehension during her journey to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, as we were waiting for her to arrive.
Mrs. Hall, however, seemed unruffled. She simply invited us to dinner a few days later when Joan had had time to get settled. I think Joan was surprised when her sister greeted us at the door and ushered us into the living room. Maybe she had suspected that “missionaries” had to be middle-aged men or raving fanatics. We were happy and yet earnest; she, in turn, seemed at ease chatting with two young ladies approximately her own age. Following the meal, we showed a filmstrip. She had plenty of questions, and we promised to return.
At the next appointment, Joan came dressed almost in armor. Every argument and falsehood she had ever heard about Mormons bristled. But she didn’t fling them at us. Rather, she laid them on the table and asked for an explanation. As she described her apprehensions, we responded as best we could. Our answers seemed to satisfy her. She knew her Bible well and referred to scripture after scripture. She seemed genuinely interested in the passages we quoted, and all of us looked them up and discussed them. From that day on, I was impressed with her deep spiritual insight. At the end of the conversation we all felt a little more at ease. We explained why we were called “sisters,” talked about our homes and families, and shared the convictions that had led us to our 18-month calls of service to the Lord. She told us about the excitement of her first cross-country train trip.
The next lesson was about the Apostasy. Joan desperately fought it, finally asking us to leave and not come back. She said she didn’t want to hear any more. She was upset; we were disappointed and frustrated. She later wrote in a letter, “I remember that after you left that evening, I cried bitterly because of the words in the Joseph Smith tract that said all of the other churches were ‘an abomination in my sight.’ That really hurt because my church meant something very special to me. I had believed all my life what my parents had taught me, and a statement like that dashed my whole world. How could Joseph Smith say something like that? But he had said the Lord had said it. That was the big difficulty.
“Jessie (Mrs. Hall) didn’t force me to continue studying, but she did encourage me. I don’t think I would have continued without her. But there was too much love between us as family members for me not to.
“I was angry and felt indignant, feelings I marvel at now. I wonder how I remained teachable, but the Lord was kind to me and patient. My problem was, I thought I could believe everything the sisters were teaching me and still remain a member of my church. I clung to that idea.”
But Joan was a truth-seeker. After a week of prayer and soul-struggle, she called us back. She had changed her mind. When could we come teach her more?
I noticed as we presented the next discussion, about the restoration of the gospel, that a change came over her. She stopped resisting. She seemed to be thirsting eagerly asking questions as though the answers wouldn’t come quickly enough. She was understanding that Christ’s visit to Joseph Smith was an act of love; that the truth is on earth in its fulness not for those who want to find fault, but for those yearning to fill in missing pieces.
The same spirit prevailed at the next lesson. Topic: the plan of salvation. I knew my companion and I weren’t alone doing the teaching. Words flowed freely. Scriptures were located without trouble. Spirit communed with spirit. Overcome with excitement, Joan exclaimed, “Now, I see why Jessie wants to be baptized!”
Despite all her declaration that she would never join the Church, Joan was a different person than she had been when she first arrived to visit her sister. As we left the house, I felt inspired to turn to my companion and say, “I know that someday she will join the Church.”
We spent a few more visits with her, teaching a strong gospel lesson each time. Then I was transferred to another area in the mission. I heard no more about this sincere young lady, or about the Hall family, until after I returned home from my mission.
Then one day a letter with Canadian stamps was waiting in my mailbox. It had taken them a long time to track down my address and to write to me, the letter said, but Joan and Sister Hall wanted me to know that they had both been baptized two years before in a cold lake just outside the city!
It was the start of a string of surprise letters. Two years later one told me that Joan was on a mission in South Africa and that Sister Hall’s husband, Barry, though still not interested in studying about the Church, loved the missionaries and members as he always had and was taking the family to Sunday School. Later I received a wedding announcement from Joan. She was being married in the Salt Lake Temple to a returned missionary. Later that same year Sister Hall wrote that her husband had been baptized and loved working in the Church. The next year they brought their children with them to be sealed as a family in the Salt Lake Temple.
Since then Brother Hall has been a branch president, a member of a stake presidency, and is now a member of a stake high council. Joan’s husband, Dale J. Laub, became a bishop. Both sisters are active in their callings and have done genealogy that has allowed them to accomplish temple ordinances for several hundred ancestors.
As a young lady just out of her teens, Joan McArthur had come to Victoria determined that she would change her sister’s mind if necessary. Instead, she had the courage to change her own. Her sincerity in calling upon the Lord would not allow her to do otherwise. Her sister Jessie was wise enough to be patient while explaining the gospel, allowing the Lord’s Spirit to do the persuading.
Both of them learned to listen to their hearts, and many others will be eternally grateful that they did. Joan McArthur not only changed her opinion about the Church, she changed her life.

When facing some difficult challenges when I was a teenager, I remember praying to Heavenly Father, asking Him to just take them away from me. I knew He could. I knew He had the power to. But every morning when I woke up, the trials would still be there! I would be devastated. My heart would sink, my faith in the Lord would dwindle. I would feel completely abandoned.

Sometimes I thought my trials were given just to torment me. I couldn’t see any point to them.

One day, I came across these words from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “When those moments come and issues surface, the resolution of which is not immediately forthcoming, hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.”1

I didn’t know the reasons for my trials at that time, but I decided to focus on what I did know. And I did know deep down that if God wasn’t taking my trials away, there had to be a reason for what I was going through, even if I didn’t understand what that reason was at the time. So I continued to put my faith and trust in Him. I kept hoping some “additional knowledge” would come.

And for me in some of my trials, that knowledge finally did come. And even if it didn’t, the Lord still blessed me in other ways.

President Spencer W. Kimball taught that without trials and challenges in life, “there would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls.”2

There has to be opposition in all things (see 2 Nephi 2:11). Otherwise, how would we ever appreciate the good without the bad? How would we ever feel triumphant when we beat a challenge? We wouldn’t be able to grow if God just magically waved trials away when we asked Him to! When I realized this, my whole perspective on adversity and trials changed. I began to see the good in them.

Trials bring goodness, growth, and strength like nothing else can. But sometimes it can take a while to recognize that goodness. For example, I’ve faced a heavy trial for years, and I may have to face it for the rest of my life.

This particular trial has stretched me, pushed me, and almost defeated me a few times. But now that I look back on everything this trial has put me through, I can honestly say that I am thankful for it. I’m thankful for all my trials.

I’m a different person now because of them. I’m more compassionate, more patient, more forgiving, more resilient, and more hopeful. Through it all, I’ve grown closer to my Heavenly Father and the Savior more than I ever thought I could be. I wouldn’t be who I am today without all my trials.

Adversity is meant to shape you into the person Heavenly Father wants you to become. Trials are definitely challenging, yes, but through it all, they allow you to reach out to God for help, and to feel the comfort, peace, and joy only He can offer you.

If you are struggling to see the good in them now, be patient, keep praying, and have faith. Heavenly Father can strengthen you to endure them well as you continue to put your trust in Him.

Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Challenges, difficulties, questions, doubts—these are part of our mortality. But we are not alone. As disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, we have enormous spiritual reservoirs of light and truth available to us.”3

If you’re facing a difficult trial, you’re in good company. The Lord is very close to you. He will not abandon you. And He can give you more strength and more courage and more faith than you can imagine.

Though it may seem impossible, you truly can have joy in your trials! In fact, President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives. Joy comes from and because of Him. He is the source of all joy.”4

Having joy in your trials comes from focusing on gratitude, having a good attitude, serving others, and always remembering how much God loves you. He is on your side! He wants what’s best for you. He has a plan. Trust Him. He can bring you true happiness. Things might not always be easy in this life, but it is possible to have joy in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in!

Whenever you’re feeling discouraged, remember that everything will make sense one day. We will have all the answers to our “whys.”

Doctrine and Covenants 101:32–33 says: “In that day when the Lord shall come, he shall reveal all things. Things which have passed, and hidden things which no man knew, things of the earth by which it was made, and the purpose and the end thereof.”

I look forward to that day when everything will make sense. When all the dots finally connect. When everything will absolutely work out. Because it will! Though the tunnels of trials we enter may be long sometimes, the light at the end will never go out. It will always be there to guide us. Just keep going. Just keep trusting in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. They will be with you! And you will find true joy throughout this adventure we call life.

Sammy Snake was busy crawling out of his old, dry skin when Hosea Hamster scampered by. “Ha-ha!” laughed Hosea. “Sammy, you certainly look funny—like a worm crawling out of its cocoon.”
Sammy Snake turned to his old friend and replied, “Snakes always shed their skins in the springtime.”
“I don’t see why you should shed your skin. Your old one looked just fine to me,” said Hosea.
“Every year I grow bigger so my skin becomes too small,” Sammy explained. “In the winter I hibernate, and I grow a new skin under the old one while I’m asleep. When I wake up in the springtime my old skin is dry. It splits along my belly and I crawl out of it. It’s like being born again every year.”
Hosea looked puzzled and replied, “Sure sounds like a lot of trouble to me. Why don’t you just stretch your old skin? That’s what I do. Watch this!” He puffed out his cheeks, making his little round face look like a fuzzy table tennis ball.
“No, no! You don’t understand,” cried Sammy, a little exasperated. “My skin doesn’t stretch like yours. It has to be hard and tough so it won’t tear when I crawl over sharp rocks. My skin needs to be strong enough to protect me from the hot sand and from Benny Badger or he could bite through it with his sharp teeth.”
“I see,” replied Hosea. “A skin that can do all those things couldn’t be expected to stretch too.”
Hosea sat on his hind legs and watched Sammy wiggle and squirm. Finally all his old skin came off. As Sammy crawled free of the skin, he gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I’m glad that job is over for another year. I am hungry! I’m hungry enough to eat a …” His beady eyes fixed on the plump little hamster sitting in front of him.
Hosea understood what he was thinking. Quickly, he scurried down the path to safety. He paused for a moment and turned to say, “Good-bye, Sammy. I’ll see you later—maybe we can play after you’ve had your dinner!”