Gospel Story Finder

During my childhood my father was an excellent example to me. He was as honest and honorable as any man I’ve ever known—completely just in his dealings with his fellowmen. I am convinced he would have walked ten miles to repay a debt of ten cents. If he gave his word, no written contract was necessary. He felt this was the only decent way to live. However, I must have wanted an outward sign as a child. I was confused. If he was religious, why didn’t we go to church? If he needed God, why didn’t I see him pray? It seemed to me, also, that there was an occasional inconsistency in his actions; for instance, at one time he caught me smoking and gave me quite a thrashing, but he had to lay down his own pipe to do it.
I really didn’t attend church regularly until was serving in the navy. We marched to divine services each Sunday evening in pre-flight training, and from that time on I attended regularly. Also, I read several books on religion and pondered a great deal on the subject.
The same contradiction or inconsistency I had felt at home seemed to run throughout this experience also—the difference between what is said and what is actually practiced. I noticed this in the churches whose doctrine I studied for many times their tenets did not square with scripture. For me there were many questions left unanswered.
“If you can’t explain it, then just believe it anyway,” a minister once told me. “Faith requires you to do nothing; faith lets God do it all. Just have faith.” This never did seem right to me.
One time while going through the St. Louis (Missouri) railroad station, I met a minister at the servicemen’s canteen. He invited me into a small conference room so that we could talk. He asked me if I belonged to a church; I replied that I did not. He said that in my career in the armed service I would, no doubt, find myself in company that would not be the best for me, that there would be girls who would desire my association and that my friends might try to convince me that it would be stupid not to take shrewd advantage of these situations. But he said that remaining clean and chaste was not stupid—it was very wise; and that although there were many who thought the life of Jesus Christ was a weak and senseless way to live, their opinion did not make it so. He said that a clean life was to be highly prized and that when I married—as I surely would some day—I should be as morally clean and virtuous as I would expect my bride to be. Living a pure life might be difficult, but it would be well worth my efforts; for one thing, I would be better able to draw strength and courage to meet the challenge of demanding situations in the military. He also said it would be best for me to make my decision about this right then, while I could still view it with a detached perspective.
That encounter was very impressive to me. I knew that what he told me was true, but I did not realize at that time that I had made a decision to follow his counsel. Afterwards I faced many dangerous moral situations, but somehow I came through unscathed, as though someone were protecting me.
The desire to know the truth was intensified as I studied and prayed and as I attended first one church and then another, but there was something missing in all of them.
I was released from active duty in the navy in 1947 and returned to my home in Missouri. There I married the beautiful little dark-haired girl I had met and briefly courted four years previously. I well remember the first time I saw her. She was walking down the street. I was eighteen and she was fourteen—and I knew immediately she was for me. I spoke to her that day and we got acquainted, and I later told her she had four years in which to grow up because I was going into the navy but would come back and marry her.
So, four years later I kept my promise, and came back home to court my sweetheart, and we were married five months later. When we were married, we read and discussed the Bible together. After the births of our first two children I was recalled with other naval aviators to participate in the Korean conflict. I was assigned to a squadron based in San Diego, California, and then ordered to Hawaii for thirteen weeks of special training. I left my little family in San Diego.
No sooner had I departed and my wife had moved our possessions into our rented home than the Mormon missionaries came by and knocked on her door. They were tracting, and many of the questions that they discussed with her were the very questions we had pondered together, so she was very interested.
In one of her letters to me she mentioned that two young men had called on her and asked a lot of questions about religion, to which they seemed to have all the answers. Well, that made me a bit angry. What were young men doing calling on my wife, even in the name of a church, while I was away? I didn’t like it, especially since they were answering questions that I had been pondering all my life.
When I returned home from Hawaii, the first evening Connie, my wife, told me the Joseph Smith story. When she said that he had seen visions and had revelations, it seemed so ridiculous that I laughed in her face, and this made her cry. I then saw how much this story really meant to her, and I relented and said, “Well, the least I can do is read some of the material they left for you to study.”
No sooner did I start to read the Book of Mormon than I knew at last I had found that for which had been searching.
While reading First Nephi, I remember saying to myself, “Dear God, let this be true; please let it be the truth—for if it is, it answers all the questions I have been trying to answer all my life.” I hadn’t finished Second Nephi when I knew it was true.
I had prayed one simple prayer to the Lord for many years: “Dear God, please show me the truth. Please lead me to the truth.” I had sought truth in many places. Now here were two young men, bringing the truth right into my living room. And although they were very young, they had great powers with them—truth and God. I could not argue against what they offered, neither did I wish to.
I attended church for only a few Sundays before it became time for me to leave for Korea. When I went aboard ship on the last day of 1951, I took with me a triple combination and the Articles of Faith by James E. Talmage. I read the Articles of Faith during the first month at sea. One evening in February I heard it announced over the public address system aboard ship that Latter-day Saint services would be held in the crew library at 7:30 P.M. At the appointed hour I went to the library where I found four young men who looked very much like the two young missionaries who had knocked on my door in San Diego. I told them I was not a member of the Church but was interested in studying about it. They welcomed me with much enthusiasm.
When we arrived in Japan in the latter part of February 1952, the group decided that I was ready for baptism. So they accompanied me to the Japan Mission home where I was interviewed and received a recommend. On February 25, 1952, in the garden behind the Japan Mission home in 30-degree weather, seven thousand miles from my home in Missouri, I was baptized. Later I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My wife was baptized four days later in San Diego, California. Our search had come to an end.
Once again the Lord had stood by his word: “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.” (Matt. 7:7–8.)

My sister speaks Russian. Since she came to live with us, I have learned the Russian words for ice cream (morozhennoye), cat (koshka), and thank you (spasibo).
My sister’s name is Sophie, and she is four years old. When she lived in Kazakhstan, her name was Nasipzhan. Mama and Papa changed her name after we adopted her and she came to America to live with us.
Sophie doesn’t look like me or my brother. We have red hair, freckles, and a gap between our front teeth. Papa says we look like peaches with nutmeg and cream.
Sophie has black hair, no freckles, olive-colored skin, and eyes shaped like almonds. Papa says Sophie looks like a porcelain doll. When she smiles, there’s a dimple in her cheek.
We look different, but Sophie is still our sister. We play soccer together. We ride scooters together. We eat popcorn and drink chocolate milk together. We even wear chocolate milk mustaches together.
My brother and I want Sophie to be part of our forever family. So do Mama and Papa. Soon we will go to the temple. We will wear white and meet together in a beautiful room. We will become a forever family.
Until then, Sophie will come to my soccer games. We will go on long walks. We will eat popcorn and chase the cats and make lots of chocolate milk mustaches together.
And I will tell Sophie how much I lubit her. Because lubit is the Russian word for love.

Not long after we joined the Church, my husband and I were vacationing in Bermuda. While there I took advantage one day of a midafternoon social held in our hotel. As I was eyeing the delicious pastries, I caught a whiff of the smell of tea. I found it so inviting that in my mind I seemed to hear a voice say, “Have a cup.”
I had faithfully lived the Word of Wisdom since my baptism. In my mind I said, “No, I will not.”
“Oh, come on,” a soothing voice seemed to say in reply. “You don’t know anybody here, and you are far from home.”
With even more conviction, I once again responded in my mind, “No, I will not!”
Again that enticing, reasoning voice came: “No one will ever know.”
Firmly I responded, “I will know!”
At that point I was standing by a waiter who was pouring tea. Resolutely I passed by. As I looked for a table, I was surprised to hear someone call out my name. To my amazement I saw the smiling face of a former boss whom I had not seen for many years. He came up to me, and as we walked toward a table he said, “I heard that you joined the Mormon Church. Tell me all about it.”
I was happy to oblige, sharing with him some principles of the gospel, my happiness as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and my testimony. My former boss told me that he had been researching his family name and that he had documented many generations of family history. He was sincerely interested in what I had to share about the Church, and I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit as we conversed.
During our visit a thought came into my mind: “Could you have had this conversation had you put a cup of tea on your tray?” I knew the answer. Had I given in to temptation, I would have missed out on a memorable spiritual experience and a chance to share my testimony.

My brethren and sisters, I seek the direction of the Holy Spirit that I may say something that will add to your faith. I’ve recently had a great experience. For the better part of a week, with others, I stood in the entrance to the Washington Temple as a host to special guests. These included the wife of the president of the United States, justices of the Supreme Court, senators and congressmen, ambassadors from various nations, clergymen, educators, and business leaders. Since that week of special invitations, other visitors, more than 300,000 of them, have come to see this sacred edifice.
A vast amount of newspaper and magazine space has been given the temple, and radio and television have carried its story far and wide. It is doubtful that any building constructed in the East in recent years has attracted so much attention.
Almost without exception, those who have come have been appreciative and reverent. Many have been deeply touched in their hearts. Upon leaving the temple, Mrs. Ford commented: “This is a truly great experience for me. … It’s an inspiration to all.”
These were my thoughts as I shook hands with many of the thousands who came to the Washington Temple with curiosity and left with appreciation, some with tears in their eyes.
Said one of the leaders of our nation as he left the Washington Temple the other evening and looked up to its spires, “This beautiful structure is a symbol of those virtues which have made of us a great nation and a great people. We need such symbols.”

Answer/Sister Charlotte England and daughter
Since my daughter, Katherine, has faced this question personally, I wish to report the substance of a recent conversation with her that provides the best answer we two have found.
Charlotte: I’ve been asked whether a Latter-day Saint should date someone who is becoming interested in the Church. Does that sound familiar?
Katherine: Does it ever! I might have written that question in to the New Era when we were living in a very small branch in the mission field and there were absolutely no Mormon boys to date. Of course, during high school it didn’t seem to be much of a problem because most of our social life was in groups, not as couples or on formal dates.
Charlotte: But that began to change as you graduated and went on to a college where you were asked out by non-Mormons.
Katherine: Yes, and I remember the talks you and I had then about how we end up marrying the people we date. I really didn’t understand your concern because I was determined to marry in the temple and thought if I dated someone that I liked and who really cared for me, he would investigate and join the Church.
Charlotte: But that was exactly my concern—that he would join the Church for you.
Katherine: You mean to please me because he liked me and perhaps wanted to marry me, and not because he was really converted to the gospel?
Charlotte: Exactly. And isn’t that what almost happened with __________?
Katherine: I think so. I remember I was so happy when he came to church with me and then started taking lessons from the missionaries. He felt the special closeness of our branch and was really amazed that there could be such a spirit of love. It was different from any church service he had been to. But the informal atmosphere and the way everyone took part, from little children to new converts who were untrained—all that bothered him; he couldn’t see that that was part of what created the spirit of love. He was really impressed, though, with the missionaries; he had never met young men his own age with such high goals and such a spirit of service.
Charlotte: I remember that they became good friends, and he kept taking the lessons even though he didn’t seem to be making much progress.
Katherine: That was because of me. He wasn’t really becoming converted, but he kept on because of what the Church meant to me. He especially resisted taking initiative himself, like in praying, and he started saying he could never imagine himself giving talks, or teaching a class, or especially being a missionary. Then after a while he began to resent even talking with me about the Church. It was horrible to see the very things that had helped him before—encouraging him to study and pray and go to church, bearing my testimony to him and talking about the joy of the gospel—now turn him more against the Church and against me. That’s when we finally decided to break up.
Charlotte: That was a very painful time, Katherine; we all suffered so much with you.
Katherine: It still hurts to think about it, but I know it was the right thing to do. I’m just grateful that my convictions about temple marriage were so strong that I couldn’t compromise and marry him anyway, in the hope of converting him later. President Kimball told us in an address last fall at BYU that as much as he loves and honors those who join the Church after marriage, the odds are against it, that only one out of seven non-Mormons who marry Mormons later join the Church. That’s leaving very small chance for eternal happiness.
Charlotte: Yes, we’ve seen the heartache that situation has caused entire families. Your father and I prayed many times for you, but we had confidence in your training and your testimony.
Katherine: Well, I’m grateful to __________ for having the integrity not to pretend to believe something he didn’t.
Charlotte: I am too. That is a terrible pattern that hurts and destroys too many marriages. As you saw __________ with a person can want to please someone he loves enough to try to believe something different and become different. But if the change doesn’t genuinely occur through his own decisions, after a while he can’t help resenting the pressure on him, and he eventually turns the resentment toward the one who seems to be pushing him in that direction. This is true not only of nonmembers of the Church, but of people in the Church who do not have the same convictions about the Church and their duty in it, or as strong a spiritual witness of the gospel. Especially after marriage when there is no longer any need to pretend in order to win someone over, the very efforts that before were encouraging them tend to be turned into a source of irritation, even a cause for rebellion.
Katherine: That’s exactly what happened with __________ and me! We were lucky that it happened before we got married.
Charlotte: Would you date a non-Mormon now who was becoming interested in the Church?
Katherine: Mom, I’m really torn. I want to be a good missionary and share the joy and blessings of the gospel with others, even during these dating years, but I don’t think I’d risk it now that I know the dangers.
Charlotte: So you think it’s not possible to date a non–Latter-day Saint and still allow him to be objective about investigating the Church? Where does that leave young Mormons who live where there are few or no other members of the Church and their best hope for an eternal companion is someone they help convert?
Katherine: I guess I’d forgotten about that, even though I was once in that situation. Many Mormons can go to a Church college or a school with an LDS institute, or they can take part in all-mission or regional activities where they can meet Mormons their own age. But there is still a problem for some. I guess in those situations I would have to decide in each case whether to date an investigator after careful prayer and asking counsel of Church and family leaders. But I’d be certain to make my testimony of the gospel and my commitment to temple marriage absolutely clear from the very beginning.
Charlotte: Could it work if you were determined not to let the relationship get at all serious until after baptism and evidence of real conversion? Could you keep the few dates you had before then just friendship dates, the kind that might in fact help the investigator see the Church in action and understand its spirit and influence on your life?
Katherine: It takes a very mature person to do that, and the consequences of failure are very serious.
Charlotte: You’re right. And most young people in the Church don’t need to take the chance. They can find plenty of wonderful people to date in the Church, if they seek the Lord’s help and really try, and they can do good missionary work just as a friend, without dating.
Katherine: For us who sometimes find ourselves in a situation where it seems good to date investigators, are there some guidelines and helps?
Charlotte: You should first be certain your own goals and convictions are clear and strong and that you are willing and able to express them forthrightly. You should assess carefully the risk of actually interfering with a person’s conversion by shifting his attention from the struggle to have faith and do right to the struggle to please you. And you should consider the terrible risk of a marriage where you might be caught in the trap of having to hide or suppress your deepest convictions about how to live and bring up your family—or else having your husband resent you for being self-righteous or trying to change him.
Katherine: How painful it would be to live the most sacred and important part of my life—my religious activities and spiritual feelings—essentially by myself.
Charlotte: The most important guideline is that you can ask for and depend on receiving the Lord’s help—both in deciding whether to date an investigator in a special circumstance and also in controlling the dating properly if you do. There is nothing the Lord is more concerned about in your life and more anxious to help you with than choosing your eternal companion and building an eternal marriage. If you ask thoughtfully, “with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ” (Moro. 10:4), and then really listen for the answer—which may come directly through the Holy Ghost, through a patriarch, a bishop, a branch president, or a parent—you will know what to do. I know this is true from my own experience, from the answers to my prayers that have made possible my own marriage, which is the most precious and joyful thing in my life.

The following experience is an example of how this principle can work.
Two young missionaries knocked on a door, hoping to find someone to receive their message. The door opened, and a rather large man greeted them in a less-than-friendly voice: “I thought I told you not to knock on my door again. I warned you before that if you ever came back, it would not be a pleasant experience. Now leave me alone.” He quickly closed the door.
As the elders walked away, the older, more experienced missionary put his arm on the younger missionary’s shoulder to comfort and encourage him. Unknown to them, the man watched them through the window to be sure they understood his message. He fully expected to see them laugh and make light of his curt response to their attempted visit. However, as he witnessed the expression of kindness between the two missionaries, his heart was instantly softened. He reopened the door and asked the missionaries to come back and share their message with him.

When I turned 18, a lot of members in my ward and stake began telling me I should go on a mission. Even though I had always planned to serve a mission, I didn’t like all the pressure.
Soon I began my first year of college. As a result of hard work, I won a scholarship that allowed me to study in Germany. Germany was very different from my native country, Mexico, but I became immersed in the culture and learned the language quickly.
Eventually I was offered a permanent job at a prestigious European company. Serving a mission suddenly felt more like a duty than a desire. I thought that I could take this job and enjoy worldly success.
One snowy day I traveled to the city of Heidelberg with my friend Melanie. After several hours, the highway was covered with snow, and we became sleepy. We were driving around 65 miles (105 km) per hour when we passed through a red light and hit a bus.
When I woke up, I saw the police, the ambulance, and Melanie, who was crying. The car was destroyed, and I was still in it. Tears came to my eyes when I realized how blessed we were to be alive. I began praying and thanking my Heavenly Father for letting us survive, but a new fear came to me—I was not able to move my legs.
On our way to the hospital, I heard the nurses saying that if I had a spinal injury, I probably wouldn’t be able to walk again. I prayed with all my heart to my Heavenly Father. First I thanked Him again for letting me survive, realizing that my life was not my own. Then I promised Him, “If my legs are OK and I can walk, I will serve a mission with all my heart and mind.”
After four hours at the hospital, my diagnosis was promising: I would walk again. I no longer had any hesitation about serving a mission. Instead I felt a strong desire to share my testimony that God lives, that He is our Father in Heaven, and that He can perform miracles in our lives.
After that experience I decided not to take the job I’d been offered. I knew that my time and everything I have belong to the Lord. Why shouldn’t I give Him a little of that time and serve Him for two years?
After graduating, I was called to serve in Frankfurt, Germany. During my mission I testified of my Heavenly Father. I know that He lives, that He is my Father, and that He protects me. He has given me my life, and it will always belong to Him.

A story is told of an encounter between the Prophet Joseph Smith and Brigham Young. In the presence of a rather large group of brethren, the Prophet severely chastised Brother Brigham for some failing in his duty. Everyone, I suppose somewhat stunned, waited to see what Brigham’s response would be. After all, Brigham, who later became known as the Lion of the Lord, was no shrinking violet by any means. Brigham slowly rose to his feet, and in words that truly reflected his character and his humility, he simply bowed his head and said, “Joseph, what do you want me to do?” The story goes that sobbing, Joseph ran from the podium, threw his arms around Brigham, and said in effect, “You passed, Brother Brigham, you passed” (see Truman G. Madsen, “Hugh B. Brown—Youthful Veteran,” New Era, Apr. 1976, 16).

Arlene
Arlene, 20, has been working as a nanny for two years. She has found a wonderful family to work for that cares for her and encourages her in everything she tries. She, in turn, does an excellent job for them and appreciates the affection they share. She has been with them nearly two years, caring for their little girl Sasha.
“Charlie and Deb are the second family I have worked for. The first family turned out to be more of a maid position than a nanny position. I was totally unhappy there. I heard from a friend that Charlie and Deb were looking for someone. I called them, and they invited me to their house. I was offered the job that evening.”
Deb talks about what they expected from Arlene before they hired her. “We asked a lot of questions of her. We asked who she was, what did she want to be when she grew up. We told her who we were and what we expected of a person who would be a part of our family. We didn’t want someone who was a maid. We wanted another family member. It was important to us, because we both work full-time, that whoever took care of our child really wanted to do that and wanted to be a partner with us.”
Charlie added, “We also wanted to be sure she was given the resources to be independent. In the suburbs of Boston, you need a car to get around all the time. She needs to have transportation when she is not working, or she would be stuck here. She needs a telephone in her room, and privacy so she can live her own life.
“We’re lucky to have the resources to have someone live in with us. Some people who hire nannies think they have bought a 24-hour baby-sitting service, someone who will be at their beck and call and who will sacrifice completely for that family. We don’t perceive Arlene that way. This is someone we recognize as a full, well-rounded individual, and we weren’t going to try to turn her into some type of servant.”
Arlene points out how being a nanny differs from baby-sitting. “When you are baby-sitting, you are responsible for who you are watching at that time, but here this isn’t just when I’m working. It’s 24 hours a day. When I’m in the home, I’m responsible. We all work as a team. The most important thing is the communication between the nanny and her employers.
“When I came out, I wanted to avoid going to school. But now I’m going to school in the evenings, and I’m a studious person. I’ve learned so much about myself and who I want to be.”
Although she was not a member of the Church when she came east, Arlene began attending the ward on her own. Eventually she became a member. Her employers came to her baptism because they knew that it was important to her and wanted to be supportive.
Arlene is now the ward’s Young Adult representative in charge of the nannies. She uses her leadership abilities to help other girls who are having problems or need encouragement.

Last year I reported to my doctor. We had a full surgery scheduled for my right hip, which would mean a body cast for several months, perhaps even endangering my ability to attend my senior year of high school. We’d known about this for a year, since the last checkup when he told me my right hip was in bad shape.
When my dad and I got in the examination room, my doctor held the X-rays to the light. After looking at them, examining me, and looking back at the X-rays again, he announced, rather astonished, that there seemed to be nothing at all wrong with my hip. He could see no reason to perform the extensive surgery he had planned. He said that, except for some work that needed to be done on my feet, I was in fantastic health and would need no more surgeries.
That was surprising news to someone who had already had eight major surgeries and several minor ones.
It is more than important to note that our family and others had offered many prayers prior to my examination, and many dear friends were praying and fasting.
Sure enough, my hip was healed. I know only Heavenly Father could have accomplished what I experienced. I know I have been healed by a miracle, but a miracle is not always required. Sometimes the greater miracle lies in how we deal with not having a burden eased.

It was the year 1975, and I was serving in the Uruguay-Paraguay Mission as a young missionary. During my first month in the mission, the zone leaders held an activity to demonstrate a gospel principle. Each missionary in the zone was blindfolded, and we were told that we were to follow a path leading to the cultural hall. We were to follow the voice of one particular leader, a voice we heard before starting to walk. However, we were warned that during the journey, we would hear several voices that would try to confuse us and get us to stray from the path.
After some minutes of hearing noises, talking, and—in the midst of it all—a voice that said, “Follow me,” I felt confident I was following the right voice. When we arrived at the cultural hall of the chapel, we were asked to take off our blindfolds. When I did so, I realized that there were two groups and that I was in the group that had followed the wrong voice. “It sounded so much like the right one,” I said to myself.
That experience of 39 years ago had a lasting effect on me. I told myself, “Never, ever again follow the wrong voice.” Then I told myself, “Yes, Lord, I will follow Thee.”

When a Hawaiian swimsuit company approached surfing pro Joy Monahan and offered to be her sponsor, the Honolulu native had some reservations. “I told them, ‘I really only wear modest one-piece suits.’” So they worked with Joy to design a swimsuit that was both modest and functional for surfing. They even named it after her, and it has since become one of the more popular swimsuits of their line.
It’s also the one Joy wore last July in Biarritz, France, where at age 23 she topped 47 international competitors to become the Women’s World Longboard Champion. The first surfer from Hawaii to win that honor, she calls the experience the fulfillment of a longtime dream.
“I just started to cry when I heard the final horn blow and I knew that I had won,” she says with a smile that stretches almost as long as her surfboard. “I’d worked so hard on that goal.”
Joy stands out not only on the waves, but also among her peers for her high standards. She says that most people know she won’t do things like smoke or drink, and they respect her decisions.
“At the awards ceremony after the championship, the girls were spraying each other with champagne. Most of the girls knew that I didn’t drink, but one girl poured a beer on my head,” she explains. “The other girls were like, ‘You can’t do that to her!’ So she came back with a water bottle and sprayed me with water instead.”
Being “the Mormon girl” and sticking to her principles isn’t always easy, Joy says. “For example, it’s hard, wherever you live, to be modest because so much of fashion is very revealing. It takes a little bit of courage to stand out and be different.”
But it’s worth it. “Whether it’s easy or it’s hard, do what you know is right. Then you can feel good about yourself.”
Joy lives up to her name. She’ll quickly tell you that the joy she feels comes from living the gospel. “It changes lives and makes them better. Along with my family, it’s my number one priority.”

When I was a child, my parents sang in our ward choir. Mother especially loved to sing at Christmastime. Every Christmas Eve our family reenacted the Nativity story and sang Christmas songs. We always finished with mother’s favorite, “Silent Night.”
In her early 60s, my mother developed asthma. Years of coughing and struggling with the illness eventually ravaged her voice. She also lost hearing in one ear and suffered diminished hearing in the other ear. She still attempted to sing but often just read and thought about a song’s lyrics.
One Sunday while I visited my parents during the Christmas season, we attended sacrament meeting. The program centered on the birth and mission of Jesus Christ.
“I won’t have asthma in the hereafter, will I?” my mother asked me before the meeting started.
“Of course not,” I replied.
Then we talked about other physical ailments she would no longer have after the Resurrection.
“I’ll be able to sing again,” she said.
“With the choirs of heaven,” I added.
As we sang the opening hymn, “Away in a Manger,” Mother could not hear the piano accompaniment. She started singing the Primary version of the song instead of the Hymns version, which has a different melody. I tried to correct her, but she had difficulty hearing me. During the sacrament hymn, she continued to struggle. She really wanted to sing, but her pitch was all over the place.
As the sacrament meeting progressed, I felt the warmth of the Spirit and the sweet innocence of the children who bore their testimonies of the Savior in song. Then, as the congregation began to sing the closing song, “Silent Night,” so did my mother.
Listening to her struggle, I wished with all my heart that she could again sing Christmas songs the way she used to. As she sang, however, I felt the quiet warmth of the Spirit speak to my mind and heart: “Her offering is acceptable to me.”
At that moment, my mother’s voice took on a new beauty, blessed and sanctified by a loving Savior who looked on her heart. And, as He did when the widow cast in two mites (see Luke 21:1–4), He rejoiced in her sincerity and offering.

Whitman wrote: “The ice storm [that winter] wasn’t generally destructive. True, a few wires came down, and there was a sudden jump in accidents along the highway. … Normally, the big walnut tree could easily have borne the weight that formed on its spreading limbs. It was the iron wedge in its heart that caused the damage.

“The story of the iron wedge began years ago when the white-haired farmer [who now inhabited the property on which the tree stood] was a lad on his father’s homestead. The sawmill had then only recently been moved from the valley, and the settlers were still finding tools and odd pieces of equipment scattered about. …

“On this particular day, [the lad found] a faller’s wedge—wide, flat, and heavy, a foot or more long, and splayed from mighty poundings. [A faller’s wedge, used to help fell a tree, is inserted in a cut made by a saw and then struck with a sledgehammer to widen the cut.] … Because he was already late for dinner, the lad laid the wedge … between the limbs of the young walnut tree his father had planted near the front gate. He would take the wedge to the shed right after dinner, or sometime when he was going that way.

“He truly meant to, but he never did. [The wedge] was there between the limbs, a little tight, when he attained his manhood. It was there, now firmly gripped, when he married and took over his father’s farm. It was half grown over on the day the threshing crew ate dinner under the tree. … Grown in and healed over, the wedge was still in the tree the winter the ice storm came.

“In the chill silence of that wintry night, … one of the three major limbs split away from the trunk and crashed to the ground. This so unbalanced the remainder of the top that it, too, split apart and went down. When the storm was over, not a twig of the once-proud tree remained.

“Early the next morning, the farmer went out to mourn his loss. …

“Then, his eyes caught sight of something in the splintered ruin. ‘The wedge,’ he muttered reproachfully. ‘The wedge I found in the south pasture.’ A glance told him why the tree had fallen. Growing, edge-up in the trunk, the wedge had prevented the limb fibers from knitting together as they should.”

Not long ago, my wife and I decided that we should more fully experience the beauty of an area close to our home in northwest Montana. We determined to take our bicycles to the Hiawatha Trail, a converted rail line that crosses the beautiful Rocky Mountains between Montana and Idaho. We anticipated a fun day with good friends, enjoying the natural beauty of the area.
We knew our ride along the magnificent 15-mile (24 km) trail would include trestles stretching over deep canyons and long tunnels penetrating rugged mountains. So we prepared ourselves with lights strapped to our helmets and bicycles.
Those who had gone before warned us that the tunnels were dark and that we needed really strong lights. As we gathered in front of the massive stone opening of the Taft Tunnel, a caretaker explained some of the dangers of the trail, including deep ditches along the edges, rough walls, and complete darkness. Impatiently, we pushed forward into the tunnel. After we had ridden only a few minutes, the predicted darkness engulfed us. The lights I brought proved inadequate, and the darkness soon overwhelmed them. Suddenly, I began to feel anxious, confused, and disoriented.
I was embarrassed to admit my anxieties to my friends and family. Although an experienced cyclist, I now felt as though I had never ridden a bicycle. I struggled to stay upright as my confusion increased. Finally, after I did express my discomfort to those around me, I was able to draw closer to the more powerful light of a friend. In fact, everyone in the group began to form a tight circle around him. By staying close to him and relying for a time on his light and the collective light of the group, we pushed deeper into the darkness of the tunnel.
After what seemed like hours, I saw a pinpoint of light. Almost immediately, I began to feel reassured that all would be well. I continued to press forward, relying on both the light of my friends and the growing pinpoint of light. My confidence gradually returned as the light grew in size and intensity. Long before reaching the end of the tunnel, I no longer needed the assistance of my friends. All anxiety disappeared as we pedaled quickly toward the light. I felt calm and reassured even before we rode into the morning full of warmth and splendor.

I’ve always known that I needed to go on a mission. I also knew that the prophets had commanded every worthy young man to serve. I just wasn’t sure if I could do it. My family, not being well off, had to struggle when my older brother served his mission. It just didn’t feel right to cause my family to suffer for me.
I started to read the Book of Mormon again, but this time 1 Nephi 3:7 [1 Ne. 3:7] impressed me in a way that it had not before. I must have read or heard the story of Nephi getting the plates from Laban a hundred times. It was his reply to his father’s request that moved me. “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them.” My answer was that the Lord would prepare the way, and I must then walk it.
How would He do it? The only answer I could come up with was by “small and simple” means (Alma 37:6). It wasn’t much to go on. I decided to put my trust in the Lord and let Him use me to further his work.
After this, I began to feel a desire to finish our garage. I could not understand the reason for this desire, nor could I ignore it. It was a task I felt had to be done right then. I set about the steps for completing the task.
I started putting the insulation in the walls. This helped the work progress faster, but soon I was in need of another roll of insulation. I purchased the insulation, put it up, and rested.
A couple of days later I was out there with my drill and a bag of screws. My task now was to finish the walls with some scrap pieces of plywood. The wood required very little cutting and soon all of the walls were done.
I knew that the ceiling needed to be done, and I did not have the money for that. The Lord, however, saw to it that the funds were made available. My dad received a surprise bonus check from work that covered the cost of the sheetrock and insulation for the ceiling of the garage. I worked with my dad and younger brothers for the next few nights putting up the sheetrock. It took a little time and a lot of patience, but we finished the job. I was then able to look and admire the completed work.
A couple of months later, I received my mission call. I went to the missionary training center and then to the Arkansas Little Rock Mission. The work done on that garage was forgotten as I now worked for the Lord. Winter came as it always does, and my mom was surprised at the utility bill. It was very low for that time of year. The drop in the electric bill in our all-electric house in Provo, Utah, was the result of the work done on the garage.
I have paused to look back and see how the Lord led me. He placed a desire in me to finish the garage and would not let me rest until the work spread to those in my family. It was only by a joint effort that it was ever completed. The money saved by this work now helped support me on my mission.
I now truly know that the Lord will prepare the way. Still, the principle is the same for us as for Nephi. We must listen to the Spirit, even if we are told to do something as trivial as finishing a garage. The Lord knows what will make things work out for the best. We need to have the faith to follow.

Once, while I was on a solo flight over mountain country, my airplane was suddenly engulfed in a thick cloud. I could barely see the tip of the wing out the right window. Below me, the fields, the miniature houses, and the ribbons of road wrapping up the green valley floor had vanished. A Cessna 150 has no radar, and with the familiar landmarks gone, I panicked. Was I too low? How close were the mountains? Disorientation could prove fatal.
At that instant I remembered my flight instructor’s words: “Return to remembrance of past sunshine.” I took a deep breath and coaxed the plane into a 180-degree turn. The clouds began to thin, and sunshine returned. I saw a tiny tractor below, changing a field from yellow to brown. No one heard me shout for joy.

In April 1847, Sam Brannan and three other men left San Francisco Bay in search of Brigham Young and the main body of the Saints. They did not know exactly where to find them, but most emigrants followed the same trail west. If Sam and his small company headed east along the trail, they would eventually cross paths with the Saints.
After stopping briefly to pick up supplies at New Hope, the men trekked northeast to the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. People who knew the Sierras well had warned Sam not to cross them so early in the year. The mountain pass was still choked with snow, they said, which meant the journey could be a two-month ordeal.
Yet Sam was sure he could cross the mountains quickly. Urging their pack animals forward, he and his men hiked for hours up the mountains. The snow was deep but tightly packed, making it easier to find footing along the trail. The mountain streams ran high, however, forcing the men to risk dangerous swims or hazardous alternative routes.
On the far side of the mountain range, the trail led them along hulking granite crags to a view of a beautiful pine-wooded valley with a lake as blue as the sky. Descending to the valley, they found a few abandoned cabins at a campsite littered with human remains. Months earlier, a wagon train bound for California had become stranded in the snow. The emigrants had built the cabins to wait out a bad winter storm, but low on food and unprepared for the cold, many of them slowly starved or froze to death, while some resorted to cannibalism.1
Their story was a grim reminder of the dangers of overland travel, but Sam refused to let their tragedy frighten him. He was captivated by the wilderness. “A man cannot know himself,” he exulted, “until he has traveled in these wild mountains.”2
By mid-May, Brigham Young and the advance company had covered more than three hundred miles. Each morning, the bugle awoke the camp at five o’clock, and travel began at seven. Sometimes delays slowed the company’s progress, but most days they managed to travel between fifteen and twenty miles. In the evening they circled their wagons, gathered for evening prayers, and extinguished campfires.3
The dull routine was sometimes broken by buffalo sightings. The large, shaggy animals traveled in massive herds, rumbling across hills and bottomlands so fluidly that the prairie itself seemed to be moving. The men were eager to hunt the animal, but Brigham counseled them to do so only when necessary and to never waste the meat.4
The company traveled along an existing trail that other westbound settlers had blazed a few years earlier. With each passing mile, the grassy prairie slowly gave way to desert meadows and rolling hills. From the top of a bluff, the landscape looked as rough as a stormy sea. The trail followed the Platte River and crossed several creeks that provided water for drinking and cleaning. Yet the ground itself was sandy. Sometimes the company spotted a tree or a patch of green grass along the trail, but much of the land was stark and forbidding as far as the eye could see.5
Sometimes, a member of the company would ask Brigham where they were going. “I will show you when we come to it,” he would say. “I have seen it, I have seen it in vision, and when my natural eyes behold it, I shall know it.”6
Every day, William Clayton estimated the company’s mileage and corrected the sometimes imprecise maps that guided them. Not far into the journey, he and Orson Pratt worked with Appleton Harmon, a skilled craftsman, to build a “roadometer,” a wooden device that accurately measured distances through a system of cogs attached to a wagon wheel.7
Despite the company’s progress, Brigham was often frustrated when he saw the actions of some members of the company. Most of them had been in the Church for years, served missions, and received the ordinances of the temple. Yet many ignored his counsel on hunting or idled away their free time with gambling, wrestling, and dancing late into the night. Sometimes Brigham woke in the morning to the sound of men arguing over something that had happened during the night. He worried that their quarrels would soon lead to fistfights or worse.
“Do we suppose,” he asked the men on the morning of May 29, “that we are going to look out a home for the Saints, a resting place, a place of peace, where they can build up the kingdom and bid the nations welcome, with a low, mean, dirty, trifling, covetous, wicked spirit?”8 Each of them, he declared, ought to be men of faith and sober minds, given to prayer and meditation.
“Here is an opportunity,” he said, “for every man to prove himself, to know whether he will pray and remember his God, without being asked to do it every day.” He urged them to serve the Lord, remember their temple covenants, and repent of their sins.
Afterward, the men grouped themselves together in priesthood quorums and covenanted, by uplifted hand, to do right and walk humbly before God.9 The next day, when the men partook of the sacrament, a new spirit prevailed.
“I have never seen the brethren so still and sober on a Sunday,” Heber Kimball noted in his journal, “since we started on the journey.”10
While the advance company traveled west, roughly half the Saints in Winter Quarters were outfitting wagons and packing provisions for their journey. In the evenings, after finishing their preparations, they often gathered together to sing and dance to fiddle music, and on Sundays they met to hear sermons and talk about their coming trek.11
Not everyone was eager to go west, however. James Strang and other dissenters continued to lure Saints away with promises of food, shelter, and peace. Strang and his followers had started a community in Wisconsin, a sparsely settled territory some three hundred miles northeast of Nauvoo, where some dissatisfied Saints were gathering. Already several families in Winter Quarters had packed up their wagons and left to join them.12
As the presiding apostle in Winter Quarters, Parley Pratt begged the Saints to ignore apostates and follow the Lord’s authorized apostles. “The Lord has called us to gather,” he reminded them, “and not scatter all the time.” He told them he and John Taylor wanted to send companies west at the end of spring.13
Parley had to delay the departure, though. Before the advance company left, the Twelve had organized several companies according to revelation. These companies were composed mostly of families that had been sealed by adoption to Brigham Young and Heber Kimball. The apostles instructed them to pack enough provisions for the coming year and to bring with them poor Saints and the families of the men in the Mormon Battalion. If people would not keep the covenant to provide for these needy families, their wagons could be confiscated and given to those who would.14
But Parley saw problems in carrying out the quorum’s plan. Many Saints in these companies, including some company captains, were not ready to leave. Some of them lacked the resources to make the journey, and without sufficient supplies they would be a heavy burden on others in the companies who barely had enough provisions for their own families. At the same time, there were other Saints who had not been organized into companies but who were ready and eager to go, fearing they would lose more loved ones to sickness and death if they stayed another year in Winter Quarters.15
Parley and John decided to reorganize the companies, adapting the original plan to suit the roughly fifteen hundred Saints who were ready to go west. When some Saints objected to the changes, questioning Parley’s authority to modify the Twelve’s plan, the two apostles tried to reason with them.
In Brigham’s absence, John explained, the apostle with the most seniority had authority to direct Church members. Since Brigham was not in Winter Quarters, John felt it was Parley’s responsibility—and right—to make decisions for the settlement.
Parley agreed. “I think it is best to act according to our circumstances,” he said.16
As Wilford Woodruff traveled west with the advance company, he often reflected on its sacred mission. “It should be understood,” he wrote in his journal, “that we are piloting a road for the house of Israel to travel in for many years to come.”17
One night, he dreamed that the company arrived at the new gathering place. As he gazed upon the land, a glorious temple appeared before him. It appeared to be built of white and blue stone. Turning to some men standing near him in the dream, he asked if they could see it. They said they did not, but that did not diminish the joy Wilford felt in beholding it.18
By June, the weather turned hot. The short grasses that fed their cattle turned brown in the dry air, and timber was harder to find. Often, the only fuel for fires was dried buffalo dung.19 The company, however, remained diligent in keeping the commandments as Brigham instructed, and Wilford saw evidence of God’s blessings in preserving their food supplies, animals, and wagons.
“We have had peace and union in our midst,” he wrote in his journal. “Great good will grow out of this mission if we are faithful in keeping the commandments of God.”20
On June 27, the advance company encountered a well-known explorer named Moses Harris on the trail. Harris told the Saints that neither the Bear River Valley nor the Salt Lake Valley was good for settlement. He recommended that they settle in a place called Cache Valley, northeast of the Great Salt Lake.
The following day, the company encountered another explorer, Jim Bridger. Unlike Harris, Bridger spoke highly of the Bear River and Salt Lake Valleys, although he warned them that cold nights in the Bear River Valley would likely prevent them from cultivating corn. He said the Salt Lake Valley had good soil, several freshwater streams, and year-round rain. He also praised Utah Valley, south of the Great Salt Lake, yet he cautioned them about disturbing the Ute Indians who lived in that region.21
Bridger’s words about the Salt Lake Valley were encouraging. Though Brigham was unwilling to identify a stopping place until he saw it, he and other members of the company were most interested in exploring the Salt Lake Valley. And if it was not where the Lord wanted them to settle, they could at least stop there, plant crops, and create a temporary settlement until they found their permanent home in the basin.22
Two days later, as the men in the advance company were building rafts to cross a fast-moving river, Sam Brannan and his companions walked into the camp just before sunset, surprising everyone. The company listened raptly as Sam entertained them with stories of the Brooklyn, the founding of New Hope, and his own perilous journey across mountains and plains to find them. He told them the Saints in California had planted acres of wheat and potatoes to prepare for their arrival.
Sam’s enthusiasm for the climate and soil of California was infectious. He urged the company to claim the San Francisco Bay area before other settlers arrived. The land was ideal for settlement, and important men in California were friendly to the Saints’ cause and ready to welcome them.
Brigham listened to Sam, quietly skeptical of the proposal. The allure of the California coast was beyond question, but Brigham knew the Lord wanted the Saints to establish the new gathering place closer to the Rocky Mountains. “Our destination is the Great Basin,” he declared.23
Just over a week later, the company turned off the well-beaten trail they had been following to take another, fainter trail south to the Salt Lake Valley.24

Illustration by Jimmy Holder
“Are you sure you’ll be OK taking care of Reynna?” Ashley asked. She gave Emma a worried look.
Emma nodded. “I’m 12. I can handle it!”
Emma’s grownup sister, Ashley, was going with Mom to visit Grandma in the hospital. That meant Emma got to babysit! Emma loved playing with her little niece. It was the best part of being an aunt!
“Thanks for looking after Reynna,” Ashley said.
“We’ll have lots of fun,” Emma said. “Everything will be fine.”
Reynna clapped her hands and giggled.
Ashley smiled. “Sounds good! We’ll be back soon.” She kissed Reynna on the forehead, and then she and Mom left for the hospital.
Emma started playing hide-and-seek with Reynna. Actually, Reynna wasn’t very good at hiding. But Emma pretended to look for her anyway and acted surprised when she “found” her. Reynna squealed with laughter every time.
After playing for a while, Emma got thirsty. She left Reynna in the hallway for just a minute to grab a juice box from the kitchen. When she came back, Reynna wasn’t there!
Then she heard splashing and laughing coming from the bathroom. She peeked her head around the doorway and saw Reynna. “There you are!”
“Dere are!” Reynna said back.
Emma noticed Reynna’s clothes were wet and her little feet were dancing in puddles of water on the bathroom tile.
Then Emma saw where the water was coming from.
Oh no. Reynna had tried to flush a whole roll of toilet paper down the toilet!
Reynna looked up at Emma with a sweet smile. Emma tried to smile back, but she flinched as more water gushed from the toilet. “Reynna, you and I are in so much trouble.”
Reynna just giggled.
Emma took her out of the bathroom and dried her off. Then she did her best to clean up the water. But it kept pouring out of the toilet like a waterfall. Some of it even spilled out into the hallway. Emma used towels to soak up the puddles as much as she could. Finally the water stopped running. But the bathroom was a mess.
“Mommy and Grandma are not going to be very happy about this,” Emma told Reynna.
Reynna frowned. “Uh-oh.”
Emma sighed. Babysitting was a little tougher than she thought!
When Mom and Ashley got home, Emma burst into tears. She explained what had happened and showed them the bathroom.
“It’s only water,” Mom said with a smile. “We’ll clean it up in a jiffy.”
“You’re not mad?” Emma asked.
“No,” Mom said. “Reynna was curious about what would happen if she stuffed a roll of toilet paper down the toilet. Now she knows.”
Ashley smiled. “And now we know how fast she can make a giant mess!”
“And I know I can’t leave Reynna by herself,” Emma said. “Ever!”
They all laughed.
Ashley put her arm around Emma’s shoulders. “You’re a good aunt, Emma. Thanks for helping with Reynna.”
Mom nodded. “You did your best. That’s what Heavenly Father asks of us. Just that we do our best.”
Just then Reynna tugged on Emma’s leg. “Hide see?” she asked.
Emma grinned and took Reynna’s hand. “Let’s go play one more round of hide-and-seek!” ?

For a while when he was 14, Aleksey Kulikov was a man without a country.
Though his mother was from St. Petersburg, she had taken work in Nuremberg, Germany. While there, she and Aleksey met the missionaries, studied the gospel, were baptized, and became active Latter-day Saints.
Now they had to leave Germany. The government said noncitizens on work visas must return to their homelands. To make matters worse, Aleksey and his mother were told their papers were no longer valid in Russia.
“Officially,” Aleksey explains, “we had no citizenship anywhere.”
Things seemed pretty dark, but Aleksey and his mother knew about faith.
“I remembered what the missionaries taught me,” Aleksey says. “If you have problems, then pray about them. So we asked Heavenly Father to bless us.”
From then on, the trip became easier. “We found out we did have Russian citizenship. When officials found out we were carrying all we owned, they waived the luggage restriction. At the Lithuanian border, some kind soldiers took pity on us and kept us from being forced off the train. They even called ahead to the next border and asked them to let us pass. So we came without trouble to St. Petersburg.”
After six years, they were home. But what would the city be like, now that the Soviet Union was gone? What would the Church be like, compared with their wonderful friends in Nuremberg?
“We were delighted with what we found,” Aleksey remembers. “The city had a happier feeling. Some beautiful buildings were being renovated. But best of all, we found there is a new dawn of the Church in St. Petersburg. We knew the gospel had been restored, but now we know it’s been restored here too.”
Aleksey is now 17, a member of the Nevsky Branch. His greatest desire is to serve a full-time mission, “perhaps in Germany.” But it doesn’t matter where he’s called. “I know there’s gospel light to share wherever you go,” he says.