Gospel Story Finder

Indeed, Isaac Watts did demand much from himself. In his lifetime he wrote approximately 600 hymns. Two of his most productive years were between his graduation from school at age 20 and his taking a job teaching when he was 22. At that young age many great hymns flowed from him. Lyrics by Isaac Watts in our book of hymns include, among others, “Joy to the World,” “Sweet Is the Work,” and “He Died! The Great Redeemer Died.”
Even as a small boy, Isaac Watts had poetic potential.
Once, during family prayers, he began to laugh. His father asked him why. [Isaac] replied that he had heard a sound and opened his eyes to see a mouse climbing a rope in a corner, and had immediately thought,
A little mouse for want of stairs
ran up a rope to say its prayers.
His father thought this irreverent, and proceeded to administer [physical] punishment, in the midst of which Isaac called out,
Father, father, mercy take,
and I will no more verses make.

One summer I participated in a youth leadership summit hosted by a popular teen magazine. Once there, I soon made friends with the other girls. We addressed important issues like how to overcome bullying, the smart use of technology and social media, and how to be a good friend.
During my group’s free time, one of the girls pulled out her phone and began to watch a video that was very offensive. When I realized what they were watching, I was really confused. If we were the leaders, then why were they choosing to watch this awful video?
I asked them to turn the video off, which they did, but soon turned on another video that was even worse. I decided to walk away and left the room. Another girl followed close behind me, and we spent free time somewhere else.
I thought about Sister Ann M. Dibb’s general conference talk, “I Know It. I Live It. I Love It” (Oct. 2012 general conference). When we really know, love, and embrace our faith in the Savior, we can receive the help we need when tough choices have to be made.
I had been taught the gospel my whole life. In that moment, I had been able to live what I knew to be right, but most importantly, I loved the peace I felt from making the right choice.
Mia H., Missouri, USA

I opened my eyes to pure darkness. I was alone. And I needed to get moving.
Moments before, my siblings and I had gathered in our barn. This was the perfect arena for our favorite game: hide-and-seek in the dark.
I had the misfortune of being the first seeker. My siblings ran off with flashlights in hand, and I was left alone without a light source. After two minutes of waiting, it was time to run off in search of my siblings.
But I couldn’t bring myself to move.
I was temporarily paralyzed by the fear of what lay beyond in the dark. Eventually, my fear of being alone took over. I took tentative steps forward and …
I fell flat on my face.
I got back up and continued to stumble around in the dark.
As someone with a crippling fear of the dark, I felt vulnerable and exposed in my pitch-black barn. If I hadn’t been so focused on my fear, perhaps I would’ve been more prepared for the obstacles that awaited me.
I tripped and fell in my barn because I couldn’t see any obstacles. A flashlight would’ve warned me of the danger and saved me a great deal of pain.
My sister was my hero that day in the barn. She could’ve ignored my pleas for help as I crossed her path. But instead, she turned on her flashlight and ran to my rescue. Her grace made me feel less alone. And I clung to that grace until the search for my brothers was over.

Then, nearly a century and a half later, on April 4, 1999, President Gordon B. Hinckley said in his final remarks at General Conference, "I feel impressed to announce that among all of the temples we are constructing, we plan to rebuild the Nauvoo temple."[31]

President Hinckley's grandfather, Ira N. Hinckley, was a young man in Nauvoo. His father, Bryant S. Hinckley, served as president of the Northern States Mission which included Nauvoo. In 1938, his father wrote that Nauvoo would rise again and, "annually, thousands . . . will visit it."[32]

In 1939, President Hinckley's father led a 100th anniversary celebration of the founding of Nauvoo. President Hinckley has said that his father "wished with all his heart to see the temple rebuilt and worked to that end."[33]

Many things had to come together in order for that to happen. The property needed to be acquired. In 1937, hearing that the property was going to be offered for sale, the Brethren sent Brother Wilford C. Wood to see if he couldn't purchase it for the Church. This was during the Great Depression and the First Presidency authorized him to spend no more than $1000. Brother Wood was distressed when, visiting with bank officials, he learned that the bidding for the property would start at $1000 and probably sell for $1500. Brother Wood felt impressed to ask, "Are you going to try to make us pay an exorbitant price for the blood of a martyred prophet, when you know this property rightfully belongs to the Mormon people?"

Brother Wood later said that he "felt the spirit of the Prophet, Joseph Smith in that room. [One of the officers] said, 'We will sell the lot for $900.'"

In 1948, a chance meeting between LDS missionaries and a descendant of William Weeks, the architect of the Nauvoo Temple, led to the acquiring of the plans for the original temple. After President Hinckley's announcement, members of the Church brought forward journals from that period that described the temple. A rare photograph taken in 1847 surfaced, providing researchers with additional materials.

A friend related this experience her husband had while attending medical school. "Getting into medical school is pretty competitive, and the desire to do well and be successful puts a great deal of pressure on the new incoming freshmen. My husband had worked hard on his studies and went to attend his first examination. The honor system was expected behavior at the medical school. The professor passed out the examination and left the room. Within a short time, students started to pull little cheat papers out from under their papers or from their pockets. My husband recalled his heart beginning to pound as he realized it is pretty hard to compete against cheaters. About that time a tall, lanky student stood up in the back of the room and stated, 'I left my hometown and put my wife and three little babies in an upstairs apartment and worked very hard to get into medical school. And I'll turn in the first one of you who cheats, and you better believe it!' They believed it. There were many sheepish expressions, and those cheat papers started to disappear as fast as they had appeared. He set a standard for the class which eventually graduated the largest group in the school's history."[8]

The young, lanky medical student who challenged the cheaters was J. Ballard Washburn, who became a respected physician and in later years received special recognition from the Utah Medical Association for his outstanding service as a medical doctor. He also served as a General Authority and as the president of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple.

Many years ago, I went on assignment to Brazil. As part of the trip, I was to travel by car from São Paulo to a conference in a city about two hours distant. A member of the Quorum of the Twelve was going to preside at that conference. I hoped to ride in the car with him so that I might learn. But he suggested that I make the trip in another car with missionaries. He said, “Teach them while you travel.” So, when I climbed into the front seat of the car, I learned that two young lady missionaries, companions, were going to that city for a transfer.
After we had become acquainted, I leaned back over the seat and asked, “What would you like to know about?” Both of them, eagerly and almost in chorus, said, “Tell us how we can become more humble.”
You might have struggled with that as I did. I only remember the green hills of Brazil going by as I tried to reply. And the feeling at the end that I failed. If only I could have the chance to answer again, I would share some things I have learned about their question since President Hinckley issued the call to this sacred office as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. I think I could help them a little more now.
First, I would have realized that they already had the first lesson in their hearts. The fact that they even asked meant that they had gone beyond being overwhelmed by their doubts about themselves to hope that if they would just submit, if they could just learn what to do, they could be better. If I had the chance again, I would have told them that. And then I would have given them just this one bit of counsel, counsel about what to do. I would have said just this: “Always remember him” (Moro. 4:3; Moro. 5:2; D&C 20:77, 79).
I would have tried to help them to do that by taking them in their minds to a garden where they would hear the Savior’s words: “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42).
And then I would have taken them to that glorious day reported in the Book of Mormon when the resurrected Lord appeared to the people in the Americas and said: “And behold, I am the light and the life of the world; and I have drunk out of that bitter cup which the Father hath given me, and have glorified the Father in taking upon me the sins of the world, in the which I have suffered the will of the Father in all things from the beginning” (3 Ne. 11:11).
I know from the softness I heard in their voices and saw in their eyes that those missionaries would have then, and perhaps always, remembered him. And from his perfect example they would have felt their hearts breaking and received the answer to their pleading, “Tell us how we can become more humble.”
When we drove away from them in the city of our destination, they were standing waiting for a bus. I looked back. There they stood alone. I wish I had known what I learned when I received this call so that I could have read to them while they were in the car these words from the Doctrine and Covenants: “That the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world, and before kings and rulers; …
“And inasmuch as they sought wisdom they might be instructed;
“And inasmuch as they sinned they might be chastened, that they might repent;
“And inasmuch as they were humble they might be made strong, and blessed from on high, and receive knowledge from time to time” (D&C 1:23, 26–28).
They would have known the Savior spoke of them. And then in their humility they would have found that they were given power to proclaim his name.

Mike and his younger brothers, Eric and Tom, liked to go hiking with their dad. Dad always said he knew the mountains like the back of his own hand. He had grown up walking the same paths with his own dad, who was a sheepherder. Dad was a teacher, but he still enjoyed getting out in the fresh air and sunshine of the mountains.

“When we come around this bend, you’ll see a little waterfall,” Dad might tell the boys. Or, “Be really quiet here, and you’ll be able to hear the wind whistle up in the cliffs.” He always seemed to know just what to watch or listen for. When Mike and his brothers did what Dad told them, they always found something new to love about the mountains.

But sometimes they just wanted to run, and Dad let them do it when it was safe. One summer day they were excited to reach the top of the trail—a high meadow filled with fresh green grass and flowers of just about every color. And so they took off running through the trees at top speed, even though they were tired from their morning’s hike. They wanted to burst onto that meadow like jackrabbits.

“Stop when you get to the meadow,” Dad called after them. “I’ll meet you there.” They ran ahead, each trying to get in front of the others. When they burst from the trees, neck and neck, butterflies flew up to avoid the running brothers.

The boys stopped a moment while their eyes got used to the light. Then they took off again, forgetting Dad’s instruction. They ran in circles through the deep grass, jumping and dodging, whooping and hollering and tagging each other. “You’re it, Tommy!”

“No, you’re it, Mike!”

Then Eric had an idea. “Let’s race all the way across the meadow!” Tom hesitated. They couldn’t see the far side of the clearing because a grassy hill obscured their view. But Mike wasn’t worried. “I think this is the same meadow we came to last summer,” he assured his brothers.

They gathered back at the trees. “Ready!” Eric shouted. “Set! GO!” The wind felt fresh and cool on Mike’s cheeks and in his hair, and the faster he ran, the more wind he got. Soon he was leading the race. He felt like he could run forever.

“STOP!” a voice bellowed like thunder behind them. All three boys stopped immediately. They turned and saw Dad running toward them from the edge of the meadow. “Come back here beside me,” Dad called, more gently this time. The boys obeyed. “Now, everybody hold hands,” he said. Eric and Tom held Dad’s hands, and Mike held Tom’s little hand. They walked together across the meadow. As they topped the little hill, Dad suddenly stopped.

Just a few paces ahead of them, a sheer cliff dropped down at least 20 or 30 feet. If they had been running, there was no way they could have seen it in time to stop.

“Whoa!” Eric gulped. “That’s pretty scary.”

“Yeah.” Tom shook his head. “Thanks, Dad.”

They turned away from the cliff. Eric and Tom ran back across the meadow, but Mike slipped his hand into Dad’s. “We could have died,” Mike said softly.

“Well, maybe. I’m sure glad you stopped running, even though I didn’t have time to explain. Sometimes we have to obey first and ask questions later!”

“Especially when someone else knows what’s coming, and you don’t,” Mike said.

Dad smiled. “You might find the same thing to be true at other times in your life. Maybe your mom or I, or a teacher, or perhaps the Holy Ghost will give you some instructions. You might not know why right away. But if you trust the person the instructions came from, obey anyway. Later you’ll understand why.”

Mike nodded. He couldn’t always know where cliffs were hidden, but he could always listen to those who knew more than he did.

One such product of the early Brigham Young Academy was James E. Talmage. He was recognized quickly for his great intellect, spiritual strength, and outstanding character. As he concluded his studies at BYA, he became a member of the faculty and then left for a few years to obtain his graduate education at Lehigh University and Johns Hopkins University before returning to BYA and the Church Educational System. Of course his crowning appointment was to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and his many contributions are widely known and appreciated throughout the Church. Jesus the Christ and The Articles of Faithare two books that continue to be classics in Church literature and deserve our careful and regular study in our libraries of “best books” (D&C 88:118).

Two accounts of his character (perhaps showing that he also was a character) are found in The Talmage Story, the biography written by his son, John. These accounts have been favorites of mine for many years, and some of you are likely familiar with these experiences. I believe they deserve retelling because they not only reveal much about Brother Talmage but also give significant insights into important dimensions of character.

Let me go directly to the experiences as the younger Brother Talmage recorded them. Both occurred when James Talmage was a mature man. The first was shortly after he left the Church Educational System and became president of the University of Utah at the encouragement of the First Presidency. He had obtained a bicycle, which was then the newest fad in transportation during the 1890s. These are his son’s words:

James acquired one of the new machines, not as a hobby or physical conditioner but as a practical means of transportation. . . .

Some time after James had achieved reasonable proficiency in handling his machine on standard roads, he showed up at the front door one evening a full hour late for dinner and scarcely recognizable.

May [his wife] nearly went into shock, for her husband was a frightening sight. Battered, bruised, and bleeding profusely, clothes torn in a dozen places and covered with dust and mud, James looked as though he had been caught in a riot, or at least a fight of unusual violence. Neither, it developed, had been the case.

Half a block from the Talmage home a single-plank footbridge crossed the ditch of running water that separated the street from the footpath. Until now, James had dismounted when he reached this point in a homeward journey, and crossed the narrow bridge on foot. Today, he had decided that he had reached the point in his development as a cyclist where he should no longer resort to this prudent maneuver, but rather ride over the bridge in the manner of an accomplished veteran of the two-wheeler.

Having so decided, James approached the bridge resolutely, confident that he would negotiate the tricky passage in a manner to be proud of and to impress neighbors, if any should chance to be watching, with his skill and casual daring. He turned sharply from the road toward the bridge with scarcely any diminution of speed. The result was spectacular, and observers, if any there were, must indeed have been impressed, but in a very different way from that intended. The professor’s bicycle went onto the plank at an oblique angle and quickly slid off the side, throwing its rider heavily into the ditch bank.

Dazed, bruised, bleeding, and humiliated, Dr. Talmage was not convinced that the difficult maneuver was beyond his skill. Rather, he was stubbornly determined to prove that he could and would master the difficulty.

For the next hour, [James] might have been observed trundling his bicycle fifty yards or so down the road from the bridge, mounting and riding furiously toward the plank crossing, turning onto it with grim-lipped determination—and plunging off it in a spectacular and bone-shaking crash into the rough ditch bank. Uncounted times this startling performance was repeated, but in the end mind triumphed over matter, willpower over faltering reflexes, and the crossing was successfully made. Not just once, but enough times in succession to convince James that he was capable of performing the feat without mishap at any time he might desire to do so. From then on, he never again dismounted to cross the bridge, albeit he never made the crossing without experiencing deep-seated qualms which he kept carefully concealed from any who might be watching. [John R. Talmage,The Talmage Story: Life of James E. Talmage—Educator, Scientist, Apostle (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1972), 138–40]

This is an interesting insight into a man who believed something likely trivial to most people was not only worth doing but worth doing well. This same unfailing determination was demonstrated much later in a more widely recognized sense when Brother Talmage literally lived in the Salt Lake Temple as he wrote his famous and beloved book Jesus the Christ at the direction of the First Presidency. His absolute commitment to completing a task he determined to be important, whatever anyone else might think, served him very well throughout his life and, in turn, blessed and continues to bless countless others.

My family and I were baptized in General Santos, Philippines, on 5 February 1995. At that time I was a freshman in high school, and I had a good life. My parents provided me with many nice things, and I was studying in a private school. My father worked at a pineapple plantation, and my mother managed our chain-saw business.
There were seven in our family. Even though we lived far from the meetinghouse, we were always there for Sunday services and other activities.
One day my father took a day off work to help my mother with her job; she had to go to school with my brother and sister and me to pay our tuition. On that day somebody hired our chain-saw operator to cut down some coconut trees. My father had to supervise the job.
While we were at school, one of the coconut trees that was being cut fell on a very expensive jeep. My mother went quickly to the place where it had happened. The owner of the jeep was very angry and demanded complete payment for the ruined jeep. My mother felt as though the whole world had fallen on her. We didn’t have that much money. My father requested an early retirement, but his retirement benefits were not enough to cover the damages. The chain-saw operator was arrested. Our chain saws were taken away—as were our house, land, and belongings. In a moment, everything we owned was gone. My father decided to go away, leaving our family to face the consequences alone.
It was a very hard time for all of us, but we didn’t lose our faith and hope. The day my mother had to go to court, we fasted and prayed. Fasting and prayer brought her comfort.
We had nothing left, not even a roof over our heads, but the Lord helped us. Indeed, He helped us through our bishop, who took us to his home to live with his family. Later another member offered his property for us to stay on until we could recover.
When the new school year was about to begin, I prayed that my brother, sister, and I could study again. Through prayer, faith, and hope, we were able to go back to the school where we had enrolled before, even though we did not have any money. I felt the love of our Heavenly Father then more than at any other time in my life.
In a difficult situation, Heavenly Father will help us if we stay faithful, prayerful, and obedient. He helped my family start all over again and kept us going. I know that if we continue to obey the commandments, we will continue to be blessed.

After the two brothers returned to surrender state arms as ordered by the governor, Leonora Taylor was in the Smith home when the Prophet went again to say goodbye. And as he turned away, he said “Well, if they don’t hang me I don’t care how they kill me.”

It seemed likely that Willard Richards overheard that statement and that that is why, in the last moments, he offered – and he meant it – to be hanged in the Prophet’s stead. The Prophet’s statement also tells us that he hadn’t yet been made to know exactly how he would die. There had been threats, one of them published in the newspaper, that his enemies would, as the letter said, “make catfish meat of him.”

There was also the problem of a reward offered by the Missourians. They had placed a price on his head – they would pay a thousand dollars for his delivery. So he did not know how he would end his life, but he did not relish the thought of hanging.

Mary Ellen Kimball overheard the Prophet say, as the group stopped to ask for a drink of water on the way to Carthage that morning, “Brother Rosenkranz, if I never see you again, or if I never come back, remember that I love you.” She felt that to her soul, and fled and wept on her bed.

And then there was the pause the group made at the temple, where the Prophet lovingly surveyed that building, the city, the landscape, and then said; “This is the loveliest place and the best people under the heavens; little do they know the trials that await them.”

When they were several miles out from Nauvoo he instructed – and that’s the only way he could get them to do so – that many who had ridden that far with him turn around and go back. John Butler recorded:

We were all willing to live or die with him. Brother Joseph spoke to us all and told us that he was like a lamb led to the slaughter. He also spoke to Brother Hyrum and wished him to return home with us.

We begged him to let us stay with him and die with him, if necessary, but he said, no, we were to return to our home, and Brother Hyrum said that he would stay with Brother Joseph. He blessed us and told us to go. We bade them farewell, and started. We had twenty miles to ride, and we went the whole distance with out uttering one word.

All were dumb and still and all felt the Spirit, as I did myself. I cannot express my feelings at that time, for they over powered me.

As I turned and as we rode away I felt as I suppose the ancient disciples of Christ felt when he said, ‘I must be crucified.

They also stopped at the Fellows’ farm after being met by a menacing group on horseback from Carthage, and Joseph went in and countersigned Governor Ford’s order for the surrender of all state arms in possession of the Nauvoo Legion.

“I am not afraid to die,” he said,

Every June my parents go rafting on the Snake River near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. In 1991 my dad let me float the river for the first time. I had waited a long time to be able to go. I felt very excited as I dressed, first in my swimsuit, then in my wet suit. I put on my life jacket and climbed into the raft with my mom and dad, and the other adults with us.
The river was muddy and running very high due to a heavy spring snow melt. The color of the water was like hot chocolate. I rode in the very front of the raft with my feet tucked under the thwart (rower’s seat), and held tightly to the front rope. I laughed and screamed as we rode through the rapids. The water was very cold, so I ducked my head as the big waves crashed over me. To keep the boat straight, the adults paddled through the rapids. During the calm parts, we would talk and laugh.
My dad thought that we had already passed a dangerous rapid called Three Ordeal. He doesn’t like going through it because it’s a hydraulic wave, which means that it’s like a big washing machine with one strong wave. He says that it’s like riding over a spillway, then getting caught on the powerful wave at the bottom.
The adults were talking during a calm stretch in the river, and the raft was floating kind of sideways. My dad looked up and realized that we were heading right for Three Ordeal. He had just enough time to get the boat straight. The grownups started paddling as hard as they could to pick up enough speed to pull us over the wave.
I ducked my head as we hit the first big wave, and when I looked up, I saw Uncle Jerry being thrown from the raft. Clinging to the rope, I looked around. The raft was empty except for me! The force of the wave had knocked all the adults into the churning river. I learned later that the force of the collision folded the raft in half, with the back almost touching the front.
While the adults were being swept downriver, the wave trapped the raft and me in the middle of the river. The raft twisted and turned and rocked up and down like a teeter-totter. I was very scared, but I clung to the rope, keeping my feet wedged under the thwart. I looked for my mom and dad—where were they? Should I jump into the river with everyone else? What should I do?
Then I felt something in the middle of my heart tell me, “Stay in the raft.” Suddenly I felt calm instead of panicky. I felt I was being helped and protected. I believe it was the Holy Ghost. I obeyed the prompting and stayed in the raft. Soon it broke free of the roaring wave and started floating down the river. Oh, what a feeling to be safe and protected by the Holy Ghost!
Once I didn’t have waves crashing around me, I saw my aunt and uncle on the bank. Again I wondered if I should jump in the river and swim to the shore. Again I had a strong feeling to stay in the raft. I kept still, and the raft floated to the bank by itself. I grabbed some branches and held on to them until a friend came and tied the raft to a bush.
I learned many things from that experience. I learned that as soon as the adults reached shore, they prayed that Heavenly Father would protect me. Twice I had felt the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Twice I obeyed the promptings and was kept safe from the dangers of the river. I learned that maybe the raft didn’t float to the bank by itself after all. I learned that Heavenly Father can accomplish things when people can’t. He can accomplish all things.

Sister Daggi loves the gospel of Jesus Christ, and she used to read her scriptures faithfully until she went blind.
“When I lost my sight, I prayed to be able to retain His word,” she recalls. Retaining His word was important to her as a symbol of spiritual vision.
And though she must now study the gospel in other ways, Sister Daggi believes “the word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Psalm 119:105). She is a living example of the Savior’s promise: “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12).
According to her husband, Juan, the Lord honored her sincere request. “Her mind captures things well. She could discourse for hours,” he smiles wryly.
“If you ask, you will receive,” she replies. “My spirit still has very good vision.”

While recovering at the clinic, Elder Navarro received visits from Luis Palomino, a friend from his hometown who was attending school in Lima. Although his injuries made it difficult for him to speak with Luis, Elder Navarro began sharing the missionary lessons.
Luis was surprised and impressed by Elder Navarro’s decision to finish his mission. “I want to know what is motivating you,” Luis told him. “Why is your faith so great?”
“I want to know what is motivating you. Why is your faith so great?”
Six weeks after the explosion, Elder Navarro left the clinic and started serving at the mission office in Lima. The threat of terrorism still loomed, and he was afraid every time he saw a car like the one that exploded. At night he struggled to sleep.
One day, Luis came to the mission office to visit Elder Navarro. “I want to be baptized,” he told him. “What do I have to do?”
Over the next few weeks, Elder Navarro and his companion taught Luis the rest of the lessons at a nearby chapel. Elder Navarro was excited to teach a friend, and Luis eagerly completed all the goals he set with the missionaries.
On October 4, 1990, Elder Navarro performed Luis’s baptism. Although Elder Navarro was still suffering from his injury, the ordeal had made it possible for him to baptize a friend from his hometown—something he never expected to do. After Luis came out of the water, they embraced, and Elder Navarro felt the Spirit strongly. He knew Luis could feel it too.
To commemorate the occasion, Elder Navarro gave Luis a Bible. “When the days get dark,” Elder Navarro wrote on the inside cover, “just remember this day, the day you were reborn.”

The snow was falling hard as I slowly drove up the hill. If I could just get to the top, I thought, I could make it home safely. But as I negotiated a curve, I saw a downhill car swerving out of control and coming straight at me. I had time only to scream before the impact, and then I blacked out.
I had no sense of how much time had passed when I tried to open my eyes. The snow bit at my face as it blew in through a shattered side window. I struggled to remember basic information, like where I had been going before the accident. Alone and frightened, I cried out from the throbbing pain in my shoulder and chest. I pleaded with Heavenly Father that my injuries wouldn’t be too extensive and that I would be all right.
A few moments later I felt a hand holding mine. Instinctively, I grasped it. I opened my eyes and saw a man in a black coat and hat standing outside my crushed car. He said his wife had seen the crash from their home, and he came to see if he could help. He held my hand and told me I would be OK.
I tried to ask the man if he was a Latter-day Saint, but all I could whisper was, “Can you give me a blessing?”
He said yes and then reached through the broken window and placed his hands on my head.
I don’t remember what he said. But I remember thinking that I would be all right because I had received a blessing. I felt peace and comfort.
When the ambulance arrived, I lost track of the man. A few hours later I left the hospital with a broken rib and many bumps and bruises but no serious injuries.
That morning I had prayed that I would travel in safety, and at first I thought Heavenly Father hadn’t answered my prayer. But I soon realized that He had and that He had not left me alone. My prayer was answered through a willing priesthood holder who lived just a few steps away from the site of my accident, an accident which could have left me in a much more serious condition.
I wouldn’t recognize the man’s face if I passed him on the street. I wouldn’t remember his voice if I heard him say hello. But I am grateful for this stranger who was worthy and willing to administer a priesthood blessing when I needed one.

Abby P., 12, of Utah, USA, has witnessed such respect and love firsthand as her family has mentored a refugee family from the Democratic Republic of the Congo that came to America after living in refugee camps in Burundi and Tanzania, Africa.
She’s also been impressed at how young women in her ward have rallied around four refugee teenagers.
“The family we’re friends with has a sister in high school and a younger brother, Alimasi M.; a sister; and a cousin, all in junior high,” Abby says. “We wanted them to be ready for school and for winter, so we organized some events to help them prepare.”
First was an opportunity for the refugees to meet young people their own age. Abby’s family organized a party “where we served food that you might see in Tanzania, like mshkaki [skewers of roasted meat and vegetables].” They also played games familiar to Americans, like tag. “Mostly we just introduced our refugee friends to everybody, so they could have friends when they started school,” Abby explains.
They also learned that their new friends had never experienced winter, so they organized a clothing drive to gather coats, boots, pants, and stockings. And they learned that the refugees’ younger brothers and sisters were homesick, “so we found some videos in French and Swahili [languages they understand] and put them on a flash drive so they could watch them with their siblings.”
When someone asks Abby why she helps refugees, she says, “They’re nice people, and they shouldn’t be left to suffer.” Then she shares the Bible story of Mary and Joseph fleeing to Egypt with two-year-old Jesus to escape Herod’s soldiers, who were murdering innocent children (see Matthew 2:13–23).
“The Savior was a refugee, too,” Abby says. “I think He must have a soft spot in his heart for refugees.”

From the time she was a young teen, Emilie struggled with substance abuse. Experimentation led to habit, and habit eventually hardened into an addiction that held her captive for years, notwithstanding occasional periods of wellness. Emilie carefully concealed her problem, especially after she became a wife and mother.

The beginning of her deliverance did not feel like deliverance at all. One minute, Emilie was undergoing a routine medical exam, and the next, she was being driven by ambulance to an inpatient treatment facility. She began to panic as she thought of being separated from her children, her husband, her home.

That night, alone in a cold, dark room, Emilie curled up on her bed and sobbed. Her ability to reason diminished until finally, overcome with anxiety, fear, and the oppressive darkness in that room and in her soul, Emilie actually thought she would die that night. Alone.

In that desperate condition, Emilie somehow summoned the strength to roll off the bed and onto her knees. Without any posturing that had sometimes been part of previous prayers, Emilie completely surrendered herself to the Lord as she desperately pleaded, “Dear God, I need You. Please help me. I don’t want to be alone. Please get me through this night.”

And immediately, as He had done with Peter of old, Jesus stretched forth His hand and caught her sinking soul.11 There came over Emilie a wondrous calm, courage, assurance, and love. The room was no longer cold, she knew she was not alone, and for the first time since she was 14 years old, Emilie knew everything would be all right. As she “awoke unto God,”12 Emilie fell asleep in peace. And thus we see that “if ye will repent and harden not your hearts, immediately shall the great plan of redemption be brought about unto you.”13

Emilie’s healing and ultimate deliverance took a long time—months of treatment, training, and counseling, during which she was sustained and sometimes carried by His goodness. And that goodness continued with her as she entered the temple with her husband and children to be sealed together forever. Like the people of Zarahemla, Emilie now gives thanks as she reflects on the immediate goodness of God and His power in delivering her from bondage.

My husband and I are serving a live-at-home mission in a tiny branch in Tuskegee, Alabama. Another wonderful young family has also been called to serve there. They have two Primary-age children—Matthew (9) and his brother Marcus (4). They travel about an hour every Sunday and Wednesday to help strengthen the branch. The father of the family is a counselor in the branch presidency, and each Sunday they all arrive at 8:00 a.m. so he can attend his presidency meeting. They stay until the tithes and offerings have been counted and recorded around 2:00 p.m. It is a very full day for the children, but they are happy and well-behaved. Before and after meetings they read scriptures with their mom and older sister or talk quietly. Often they are the only two children in Primary, where they say the prayers almost every week. On Wednesday evenings they help clean and vacuum the building or empty garbage while their mom teaches Mutual. They both plan to serve full-time missions when they are old enough.

I should like to tell you of an experience I had when I was called to go to New Zealand to reorganize a stake. I had never met anybody living in New Zealand, other than the president of the stake at that time. I asked for a list of the bishops and high council in that New Zealand stake, and as I read over the list I saw one name that just seemed to stand out. The name was Campbell. Each time I read the list I noticed it. Bishop Vandenberg was with me, and we interviewed all these people, after having prayed that we might be guided.
After all the interviews I said to Brother Vandenberg, “Let us call upon the Lord for direction.” We did, and as we stood up I asked, “If you had the responsibility, whom would you choose as president of this stake?”
He said, “Bill Campbell.” I had never mentioned his name to Bishop Vandenberg. This was another evidence that the Lord does direct these appointments.

When Brother Patricio Ávila went to the Santiago Chile Temple for the first time, he had an experience that changed his life and eventually blessed the lives of many of us. In the temple, he very distinctly visualized that all of us, the brothers and sisters of his branch, were together with him in that sacred place. We are members of the Obrador Branch of the Mendoza Argentina Stake in western Argentina; the temple in Santiago is the nearest temple.
When he got back home, he couldn’t forget his mental picture of everyone together in the temple. With faith, he told us all about it. Some of the members smiled indulgently or made indifferent comments. But some of us became serious about making our own trip to Santiago.
Under the direction of our branch president, Brother Ávila went to work right away to help us. First he set up meetings, and we discussed our temple goals and started collecting money for the trip. (These early donations became very important later.) Next he helped get temple preparation classes going so that everyone would be spiritually prepared. Thanks to his attention and drive, our enthusiasm grew.
Things slowed down temporarily in the summer when Brother Ávila had to leave town to work. But when he returned in the fall, our momentum returned, too. The classes entered their final phase, and those who were ready had temple recommend interviews with our branch president, Orlando Maris, and with our stake president, Martín Borges. We organized a three-day trip and set a departure date for Thursday, 16 April 1992.
The only obstacle still in our way was the cost of chartering a bus. To meet it, we needed to sell fifty-eight fares—and with only three weeks to go, we had sold only forty-four fares. Unless we sold the remaining fares, the individual cost of each ticket would be higher, and some people wouldn’t be able to go.
But Brother Ávila’s faith didn’t waver. He decided that if we couldn’t fill the bus with branch members, we would invite the rest of Mendoza Stake. So he and Brother Alejandro Suriano visited each of the wards and branches in the stake, leaving a small poster and inviting their members to join us.
What happened next proved to us that signs do follow those who believe. Interested people quickly came forward, and the unsold seats were soon gone. Some of these newcomers did not even live in the stake boundaries. Brother and Sister Freire were from the nearby Godoy Cruz Argentina Stake, and the five members of the Badami family were from Santiago del Estero province—more than 1,000 kilometers away.
As arrangements were finalized, there were three families who had prepared for the trip but could not pay the full cost. Thankfully, the money we had donated at our early meetings settled the balance. Now everything was in order.
On the eve of our journey, the whole group met for a special family home evening at the meetinghouse. Afterwards, those who lived far away remained there all night to be on time for the bus, which came at 5:30 the following morning. Leaving early would give us enough time to get through Chilean customs.
As we traveled, everyone was filled with the spirit of love and brotherhood. Food and juice were divided generously. Each family had stories and testimonies to share, and there were many sessions of hymn singing. We looked out the windows often to admire the magnificent Andes mountains. We passed picturesque towns as our winding road traversed snowy peaks, ravines, and streams. Who could doubt that a divine hand had created this beautiful world?
We crossed the border into Chile, and before long we were making our approach to the temple. How our hearts leaped with joy when we saw the angel Moroni on the temple’s spire! We could almost hear the call of his trumpet. The temple workers were there to welcome us. They had arranged places for us to stay in homes of Chilean Saints, and we immediately went to the homes, bathed, and made ready for the special temple session that had been prepared.
Next came the sublime moment when we actually entered the house of the Lord. It was truly indescribable. Mere words can never express the spirit of that holy place. One must experience it—and that can happen only when a temple recommend is presented with a humble and contrite heart. Only then can the initiatory ordinances, endowments, marriages, family sealings, and baptisms for the dead be performed with the proper spirit.
Now we understood those who had gone before us. They had been right when they said that once we were inside the temple, we would never want to leave. Nevertheless, that wonderful day eventually came to an end. We went to the homes of our Chilean hosts, eager to return in the morning.
Because the following day was the Friday before Easter, a great many people came to the temple from all parts of Chile. Those of our group who were lodged far away did not arrive early enough to get in. We were extremely disappointed, but we made the best of the situation. That evening, we held a beautiful family home evening together, bearing our testimonies and singing hymns. And we made arrangements to attend the first session the next morning.
The Saturday morning session was indeed one of great rejoicing and spirituality as our whole group met in the house of the Lord. We felt that He was happy and pleased with our service as we performed the sacred ordinances again, this time for the dead.
After the session, it was time to return to Argentina. But since the bus had developed a mechanical problem, we had to stay Saturday night in Santiago while it was being repaired. However, even this difficulty turned to our advantage. Again we held a home evening as an entire group—rejoicing in hymns, prayers, and testimony. All of us were as one.
On Sunday our bus, reverberating with the hymns of Zion, finally started for home. Eventually some of us slept, while others remained awake, letting pass through our minds the thoughts of those past few days. We arrived at our own meetinghouse at 2:30 on Sunday afternoon and held our sacrament meeting according to the commandment of the Lord.
How many things we had to tell our brothers and sisters! How we wished that someday they might feel what we had felt!
Brother Ávila’s dream had been fulfilled.
Following are thoughts of some of the members who made the journey to the temple together:
Patricio Ávila: “Miracles do happen! In humility and with great love for our Creator, I give thanks from a full heart for the opportunity that he has given me to be an instrument in his hand—and for the great blessing of visiting his holy temple with a group of his children. May this blessing be poured out upon all the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. May we always have the strength to do those things that are pleasing in his eyes and never cease to love one another.”
Alba de Caballero: “It was very moving for me to be sealed to my parents and to other members of my family who are dead. Now I know that I have a family waiting for me when I leave this world.”
Maris family: “We felt a great spirit of brotherhood, hospitality, and the pure love of Christ. What incomparable happiness! We invite all of our brothers and sisters to seek these eternal blessings.”
Amalia de Ojeda: “Now I know He loves me!”
Delfín de la Cruz Bello: “I feel blessed to be sealed to my wife and children for the eternities.”
Alejandro Gonzales: “It was a great pleasure to share this edifying experience. I hope it is not the last. Let us combine our testimonies and personal experiences and use them to strengthen the rest of our branch and offer them the same blessings.”
Alberto Lisandrello: “I cherish a new testimony in my heart of the divinity of our Father in Heaven and of His love for his children.”
Edilia Bertolani: “What a profound thing it is that the Lord would permit me to enter into his temple! While we performed the baptisms and sealings for the dead, I could feel their presence and knew that they were happy and grateful that we were helping them to be together for eternity.”
Rojas family: “Thanks to the organizers of this trip, we were able to be sealed as an eternal family!”
José Badami: “It was a beautiful trip. I really felt a good spirit and enjoyed the good humor of all our brothers and sisters. Thank you, Brother Ávila, and those who worked with you, for all that you sacrificed to coordinate and organize this temple trip. The Lord will bless you for it.”

In my stake as I was growing up, fathers didn’t baptize their children; they assigned the priests to have that experience. So a young man baptized me. Afterward my father took me to a store, gave me some money, and told me that I could buy anything I wanted that would remind me of my baptism.
I remember looking and looking. Finally I found five wonderful pictures of the Savior and His life. One of them showed the star when He was born, and the rest showed other special scenes. I thought those pictures were the most wonderful things! I put them up on the wall in my bedroom. As I looked at those pictures every day, I had a peaceful, happy testimony that Jesus Christ was the Savior and that Heavenly Father loved me. It was a wonderful reminder of my baptism and of the promises that I made to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.