Gospel Story Finder

Our uncle Logan is on a mission. He said that miracles happen when you open your mouth and talk about the gospel as best you can. We gave away 10 copies of the Book of Mormon in one week by opening our mouths to people we met as we ran errands with our mom. Several people thanked us for the book and told us they were going to read it! Now we keep copies of the Book of Mormon in our van so we can keep being missionaries.
Eliza and Lucy B., ages 7 and 6, Virginia

Once there were two brothers, Hasty and Swigley, who lived near the sea. Hasty was a pleasant fellow but very poor. Swigley was cranky and stingy but very rich.
When a holiday feast day came, Hasty had nothing to eat so he went to his brother’s house. “Please give me some food for me and my wife, Brother Swigley,” he said. “You have plenty and I will repay you in work when harvesttime comes.”
Swigley didn’t really want to give Hasty anything, but he was afraid the neighbors would scorn him if he didn’t, so he gave Hasty a piece of ham. “Take it and be off with you. When harvesttime comes, I’ll expect a good day’s labor in payment,” he said ill-naturedly.
Hasty took the ham and started for home. Because he was anxious to get there, he took a shortcut through the woods. As he hurried along, the woods began to look unfamiliar to him. Hasty finally decided he had lost his way. While he was deciding what he must do, Hasty heard the sound of a woodcutter’s axe in the distance. Following the sound of the chopping, he soon came upon a large house where an old man was cutting wood.
“Can you tell me the way to—” he began. But before Hasty could finish the sentence, the axe flew from the old man’s hand and would have cut the woodcutter’s leg had Hasty not jumped quickly and knocked it to the ground.
“You are a good man,” said the old woodcutter, “and you have saved me from being hurt. Now go into the house where there are those who will want your ham. Be sure to take nothing in exchange except the old mill that stands behind the door. Then come back and I’ll teach you how to use it. That mill can grind anything.”
Hasty thought this was strange but he did as the old man directed. Inside the house were several dwarfs. When they smelled the ham, they began clamoring and asked Hasty what they could give him for it.
Hasty said, “I’ll take the old mill behind the door and nothing else.”
They offered several other things in exchange but Hasty refused. Finally, the dwarfs agreed to the trade of the ham for the mill.
The old woodcutter smiled when he saw Hasty coming with the mill under his arm. Quickly, he told Hasty how to start the mill and then how to stop it. Hasty thanked the old man and soon found himself on the right path for home.
When he reached home, Hasty put the mill on the table. “Grind a good dinner,” he said. To his wife’s delight, the mill began to turn and out came the best dinner she and Hasty had ever eaten.
After that, Hasty had the mill grind many good things—food, clothing, silver, gold, and anything else he and his wife needed. They invited all their friends and neighbors to come and share their good fortune. Swigley was invited, too, but when he saw how much Hasty had to enjoy, he was jealous and angry. “Where did you get so much wealth?” he demanded.
When Hasty explained about the mill, Swigley was determined to have it. He begged so hard that Hasty finally agreed to give it to him. However, before he did, Hasty and his wife had the mill grind enough good things to last them for several years. Then he took the mill to his brother.
Swigley could hardly wait to be alone with his new treasure. He was so anxious to use it that he didn’t listen when Hasty explained how to stop the mill. As soon as he was alone with the mill, Swigley commanded, “Mill, grind out porridge! I am hungry for good porridge.”
At once, the mill began to grind. First, it ground a bowlful, then a tubful, a tableful, and soon the room was half full. Porridge was running out the door into the yard. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” cried Swigley, but the mill did not stop and the flood of porridge kept coming from the mill.
Finally, Swigley decided to go see his brother. He slogged through the porridge until he was outside and then ran to Hasty’s house. “Take the mill back,” he cried. “Take it quickly! If it grinds more porridge, we’ll all soon be smothered in it! Take it back! I’ll give you anything you ask if you’ll only take it back!”
Hasty took the mill back, stopped the porridge flow in the way the old woodcutter had told him, and for a long time continued to use the mill to get the things they wanted. Soon he became a rich man, living in a fine home that shone with splendor near the seashore. Many who sailed by stopped to see the wonderful mill.
One day, a skipper of a ship asked, “Can the mill grind salt? I have to travel a long way to fill my ship with a cargo of salt to sell. I’d like a mill that could grind out salt.”
“Of course, it can grind salt,” Hasty answered.
“I’ll give you a thousand coins for it,” the skipper offered.
“No,” Hasty answered. “I don’t want to part with my wonderful mill.”
But the skipper kept begging until Hasty finally decided to sell it. The man hurried off with the mill, boarded his ship, and sailed for deep water.
When he stopped the ship, he set the mill down and commanded, “Grind salt! Grind salt and grind it fast!”
Immediately, the mill began to grind. And just as had been the case with Swigley and the porridge, it didn’t stop. The ship’s hull was soon full. Salt filled every crack and the skipper shouted, and begged, and whimpered, and cried for the mill to stop. However, the salt continued to pour out, piling up on the deck while the boat began sinking lower and lower into the water.
At last, the boat sank completely out of sight and came to rest on the ocean floor. And there it is to this very day, endlessly grinding salt into the sea.

Originally from Fiji, Reena Naidu’s family moved to Sydney, Australia, when she was young.
She discovered her gift for art in high school when an assignment required her to submit a self-portrait. “At about the same time, I read a Church talk about developing our talents and I felt inspired to develop my artistic skills,” Reena says.
She followed that inspiration to the National Art School in Dalinghurst, Sydney, where she earned a master’s in fine arts. Today she is a manager for an art supplies company where she helps others select the right materials for their art projects.

Brother Ayerdis currently serves as bishop of the Brooklyn Second Ward, where meetings are conducted in Spanish. He recalls the day when he took his family to see the judge who would grant them permanent residency in the United States: “Our children sat beside us on the long bench—quiet, like angels.” The judge thought that New York would corrupt the children and said to the family, “What a shame that you had to bring your lovely children here.” Sister Ayerdis responded, “We may have left our furniture, our house, and our clothes behind in our native land, but we did bring our traditions.”

“This past year Christmas was very special to me. It was completely different from past Christmases. This year I engaged in helping many people during the pandemic.
“Though we couldn’t attend church or participate in some of our normal Christmas activities, helping others was still uplifting and made me feel the joy of Christmas. My family exchanged gifts with each other. We also made delicious food and served it to many of our friends of other faiths.
“I took the Light the World initiative diligently and served people. Doing so brought me peace and great happiness. I know Heavenly Father loves me and all His children. I know that Jesus Christ came to this world to love and to save us.”
Ruthwik V., 14, Bengaluru, India

When serving in Peru as the Area President five years ago, I came to know General Vidal.

General Vidal had just been promoted to be the youngest general in the Peruvian National Police Force, and I had the chance to go to lunch with him. While we were having lunch, he told me an interesting story.

He said that about two years before, while he was still a colonel, he walked into his superior's office, the general in charge of all Peruvian police. There was another general sitting there, who said to him: "Colonel Vidal, you're a Mormon, aren't you? He replied, "Yes, I am." This other general said: "Well, I am Catolico, Apostolico, Romano (meaning I am a Catholic through and through), but I know about you, Colonel Vidal."

Turning to the general in charge of the police force, he said: "I need Colonel Vidal to go to this place and solve a corruption problem that I have there." "I am sorry", the superior replied, "but he can't go because he is straightening out a corruption problem where he is right now."

The other general then turned to Colonel Vidal and said: "Give me the name of another Mormon colonel". And Colonel Vidal did so. "Then I want that colonel to go to this place and solve the corruption problem." "I am sorry", once again the superior said, "but that colonel is also straightening out a corruption problem where he is right now."

Once again the general demanded of Colonel Vidal: "Give me the name of another Mormon colonel." "I am sorry, sir, said Colonel Vidal, "there are no other Mormon colonels."

Now, of course it is true, that there are people in every religion who are people of integrity. But I thought it was interesting that this general, "Catolico Apostolico Romano", had apparently formed such a favorable opinion of Mormons, that he wanted a Mormon colonel to solve his corruption problem. Because those two members of the Church were known to be honest and incorruptible.

Years ago, one of our sons, who was in fourth grade at the time, came home from school and asked me, “Dad, how much money do you make?”

I replied, “That’s a very personal question. Your mom didn’t ask me that until the third date.” (I’m kidding of course. She asked me lots of questions, but not that one.)

I asked him, “Why do you want to know?”

He explained, “At school today, we learned about income. So what is yours?”

I said, “I tell you what. I will give you one guess, and I will tell you if my income is higher or lower than your guess.”

Without hesitation, he quickly responded, “OK, $47,000.”

I responded, “That’s a pretty specific guess. Why did you guess $47,000.”

He said, “Well, we learned that the average income is $45,000 . . . and I thought you were a little above average.”

There are times that I feel I do not even measure up to average, much less a little above average. Most of us experience, at some point, what could be called the Ds of the devil: doubt, discouragement, despair, despondency. If you ever feel those Ds of the devil, go to the temple. In the temple, we can be reminded of who we are, that we are children of a loving God. We are also taught that He has a plan of happiness for us. I find that the temple does not take away my challenges or feelings of inadequacy, but the sweet whisperings of the Spirit felt in the temple remind me that I am not alone and that God is anxious to bless me.

Years ago I read in a Church magazine the story of a girl who was living away from home and going to college. She was behind in her classes, her social life was not what she had hoped for, and she was generally unhappy. Finally one day she fell to her knees and cried out, “What can I do to improve my life?” The Holy Ghost whispered, “Get up and clean your room.” This prompting came as a complete surprise, but it was just the start she needed. After taking time to organize and put things in order, she felt the Spirit fill her room and lift her heart.

Christmas away from home. My favorite gift was my first Christmas away from home, when my parents, sister, and I went to visit my brother and his family.
We were used to family Christmases at our house, but this year my other siblings were going elsewhere, and we decided to visit my brother, Josh, and his family because they couldn’t come home. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I thought that if we weren’t home for Christmas, it wouldn’t be fun. It seemed that Christmas just wouldn’t be the same. My parents, sister, and I had already opened our presents to each other before we left home.
When my brother picked us up at the airport, my four-year-old niece, Kialey, started to sing Christmas songs, and I started to feel better. On Christmas morning I enjoyed watching the faces of my nieces and nephews light up as they opened their presents. It was nice, instead of focusing on what I got, to look at others opening their presents and to feel their joy.Hannah S., Montana, USA

“I have to duck through almost every doorway in this house. It was built ten years ago, and Mom and Dad had no idea I would be this tall.”
The doorways cause problems when Shawn forgets to duck his head. He and Justin sometimes start wrestling and chasing each other as brothers will do. “When I get chasing Justin around, once in a while I’ll forget that I’m indoors,” says Shawn. “Then, bang! My head hits the doorway, and I’m flat on the floor. I almost knock myself unconscious.”
Shawn’s mother, Theresa, lists a few other adjustments they have had to make at home. “We had to extend the height of our mirror in the bathroom so Shawn can see. We’ve had to order him a 2.43-meter-long bed. He loves to come home after he’s been traveling with the basketball team and sleeping in hotel beds.”
“I have to sleep on the floor when I’m traveling,” says Shawn.
Friends and family are completely used to Shawn’s height, but they find it entertaining to go places with him and notice other people’s reactions.
“My family treats me horribly when we go to the stores,” Shawn says, in mock complaint. Justin and sisters Tasha, 15, and Adrianne, 9, just smile because they know what he is going to say next. “We’ll all be walking together, my family and friends, and I’ll look around and no one will be there. I turn around, and they are about six or eight meters behind me, watching everyone look at me. I’ll say, ‘Thanks a lot, guys.’”
His sister, Tasha, adds, “You can’t believe the looks he gets.”
Doesn’t he get tired of never being able to go anywhere without causing a sensation?
“Sometimes he gets tired of it, but he loves it,” says Corinne Pugmire, one of Shawn’s best friends from high school. “He wouldn’t exchange the experience for anything, and he’ll be the first one to tell you that.”
“I love being tall,” says Shawn. “I do get tired of people always looking at me and always saying things, but I try to represent myself in a good, upstanding manner for my faith and my family. I am what I am. I’m 2.26 meters tall, and nothing is going to change that. I have to deal with it and live with it. My family and my coach have taught me to look positively at things. Make the best of the situation is a slogan I live by. Look for the best in everything. That’s what I’ve tried to do so far in my life, and that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life.”
It’s the kind of attitude that would make anyone stand out in a crowd. Shawn gives a lot of credit for his positive outlook to his parents.
Theresa and Reiner Bradley met in a hospital. She was visiting a friend, and he was working his way through college as an orderly. When he walked into her friend’s hospital room, Theresa remembers thinking, “Wow, this guy is tall.” Standing 1.82-meters-tall herself, she was aware of height. Reiner is two meters tall. “He remembered my phone number when I gave it to my friend, and he called me,” says Theresa. They were married a year later. It was while the couple were stationed in Germany, fulfilling an obligation in the army, that Shawn was born. After finishing his schooling as a medical technologist, Reiner moved his young family back to Theresa’s hometown of Castle Dale, Utah. They wanted a small-town atmosphere for their children.
“I wanted my children to become well rounded,” says Theresa. “I wanted them to participate in lots of different activities so that when the time came for them to choose what they wanted to be in life, they’d have a good background. It’s happening. My kids are involved in almost too much. We have animals, and the kids can sort of learn how to work doing chores.”
“No ‘sort of’ about it,” Shawn interrupts. “We do chores. I like doing most chores, but the worst is in the middle of the winter when it’s snowing, and out in the corral it’s really messy. The milk cow is wet and dirty, and you have to go out and milk her at six o’clock in the morning when the temperature is below freezing. It’s got to be the worst chore in the world.”
Shawn may have to face the cow in the freezing barn some mornings alone, but in everything else his family offers encouragement and love. “We were there behind him to support him,” says Reiner, “not to push him. I don’t think he ever felt pressure to play in any sport.”
Shawn loves to play baseball and also played football during his junior high school years until he felt he couldn’t risk injury. He was on the high school golf team, although he’s quick to add that when they organized the eight-member team, only seven tried out. “They had to let me on.” He likes to horseback ride, rock climb, and water-ski with his friends.
“Reiner is very athletic,” says Theresa, “and so am I. When Shawn came home from the hospital, my husband put a basketball in the crib. That was the first thing Shawn saw.”
Shawn laughs and shrugs his shoulders, “I had no chance.”
“We knew quite early that Shawn would be good in basketball,” says Reiner. “I played ball with some men in the ward early mornings at the stake center. I asked Shawn if he would be interested in coming along. He went with me many mornings to the stake center and played with the adults when he was only eleven or twelve years old.”
Some time in his early teenage years, Shawn first beat his Dad in one-on-one basketball competition. “I don’t remember when it happened. When Dad would win, it would make me feel bad, so the next time, he’d let me beat him. I never really knew when I actually could beat him.”
But Shawn is not quite so kind to his younger brother, Justin. Would he like to beat his older brother? Justin answers very quickly, “Yes.”
Theresa says, “That’s Justin’s ultimate goal.”
Under his breath, Shawn mumbles, “It’s never going to happen. I’m not going to let him. When he beats me, he’ll know it.”
Of course, Shawn’s basketball prowess has not gone unnoticed. He has attracted national attention since he was in the ninth grade. His family’s ability to look for the positive really helped while college recruiters visited around Castle Dale trying to persuade Shawn to consider goint to their colleges. Shawn’s dad, Reiner, says, “We were told the recruiting process could become unpleasant. We sat down as a family and said, let’s not let it get that way. Let’s do this from a positive angle. Let’s enjoy it. It was an incredible experience, and the family enjoyed every minute of it.”
From the beginning of the recruitment process, one of Shawn’s requirements was stated clearly, and if schools would not agree, then there was no more discussion. Shawn told them that as soon as he turned nineteen years old, he would be taking two years off to serve a mission. That point was nonnegotiable. All the colleges that talked with Shawn agreed. His family supported Shawn’s decision as he selected a school. Theresa confesses to being delighted when her son chose to go to Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, just about a two-hour drive from home.
As many prospective missionaries do, Shawn has thought about some of the places he may serve a mission. “I’ll go anywhere,” says Shawn. His mother adds, “We’re hoping he’ll go to a country that feeds missionaries really well so he can gain weight.”
And that brings up the subject of food. Shawn is too skinny for his height. He weighs ninety-five kilos and is consciously working to put on weight. “I eat anything I can get my hands on,” Shawn explains. “It’s like a constant hunger. I can always eat. It’s really hard for me to gain weight.”
But serving a mission is more than living and eating in another place. It is teaching others about your deepest beliefs. Shawn has already had some experiences that have prepared him for teaching the gospel.
When Shawn was fifteen years old, he and a friend attended a national basketball training camp with 120 of the best high school players in the United States. A new friend talking with the two Utah players had some unusual misconceptions about Mormons.
“He asked me, ‘There are Mormons where you’re from, right? Do you see them? Do you live by them?’
“I answered him,” says Shawn. “‘Yes, we go to school with them. We see them all the time. Mormons are just like you and me. They are normal people. They look like us. They dress like us. They act like us. They talk like us.’
“He didn’t believe me until I said, ‘I can prove to you that Mormons are just normal people.’ He said, ‘How?’ I said, ‘We’re both Mormons.’ It really shook him up. A few days later, he started asking more about the Church and our ideals. He couldn’t believe we practiced chastity and that we wouldn’t drink alcohol or smoke. We had a very serious discussion for fifteen-year-olds.
“On that same trip was the first time I had ever had to tell the Joseph Smith story. I was asking myself, how much do I really know? I did not feel satisfied with myself at all explaining what I believe. I ended up bearing my testimony to him. That is the best missionary tool in the world. I just couldn’t find a way of explaining everything I knew. But I knew it was true. It was an excellent feeling to know something is really true.”
Shawn finds himself more and more often talking about the Church. Besides his television interviews with national press, he spends time speaking at firesides. His friend, Corinne Pugmire, says people can sense his testimony. “When he speaks, he never has to take something back that he said about the Church. You can tell that he is not making it up to impress people. He definitely has a strong testimony. He’s adamant about standing up for what he believes and not backing down one bit.”
Friends mean a lot to Shawn. He wants to be able to trust everybody, but he’s already met people who just want to take advantage of him. “Deep down I can sense their motives. I can tell when people want to know me for what I am, not who I am. I think it’s the Holy Ghost saying, ‘Be careful.’”
“People ask, is he conceited?” says Corinne. “He’s not at all. He’s very ordinary. He never gives you the feeling that he thinks he is better than anyone else. He’s always quick to say he’s sorry if he does something wrong.”
In his ward, Shawn’s bishop, Scott Johansen says, “He’s quiet, friendly, and very considerate of others. He goes out of his way to cheer others up. He would be an outstanding young man even if he were shorter than he is.”
When asked to think about someone Shawn has helped, his friend Bill Wright thought for a fraction of a second before answering, “He’s helped me. He’s incredibly caring. He puts everybody ahead of himself. My mother died two years ago, and he was the only one of my friends who came to her funeral. That has stuck with me. He was so caring and thought about me so much. He’s always there for me when I’m feeling bad.”
When asked what advice he would give to young people, Shawn says, “It bothers me when people don’t think well of themselves. They need to have high self-esteem. If I had advice for anyone anywhere, it would be that you have got to think of yourself as the Lord would think of you, as one of His children.” Maybe that’s part of Shawn’s secret, why he treats people with such kindness and courtesy.
And his ability to see the good side to things has something to do with his favorite scripture, 2 Nephi 2:11. “That’s the one that talks about opposition in all things,” says Shawn. “If something goes wrong, I say, well, there is opposition in all things. This is the opposition. You have to put it aside and go on.”
Shawn has learned how to take gospel truths into his life and let them guide his actions and decisions. It is in this way that he continues to grow.
Yes, Shawn Bradley is tall, and he is definitely someone to look up to.
Since this article was written, Shawn has received his mission call. He is now serving in the Australia Sydney mission.

It was Saturday morning, and Eli was crouched in the goal box, ready to pounce. He jumped and dove, doing his best to keep the soccer ball out of the net. But it was hard! Then right before the end of the game, the ball slid past his hands. The other team had scored! Eli’s team had lost. He was so sad.
The next day at church, Eli walked slowly to his Primary class, still feeling glum.
Eli saw his friend Kate outside the classroom. Kate’s mom pushed Kate’s pink wheelchair inside. She hugged Kate before leaving to go to her own class.
“Hi, Kate,” Eli said.
Kate couldn’t answer or wave back, but she always looked right into Eli’s eyes so he knew she heard him.
Usually Kate smiled when Eli said hello, but not today. Is Kate sad? Eli wondered. I know what that feels like. He still felt sad that he hadn’t stopped the other team from scoring the winning goal.
Eli sat by Juan and Makell as Sister Young started class. Then Kate whimpered. Sometimes it was hard for Kate to sit still because her body hurt.
“Kate, are you hurting today?” Sister Young asked.
Kate started to cry.
“Maybe a Primary song will help,” Sister Young said.
The class started to sing. Kate loved music. Usually she sang along by making happy sounds. But today, Kate just cried.
How can we help Kate feel better? Eli wondered.
Then an idea popped into his mind. “I know!” Eli told Sister Young. “I’ll push Kate’s wheelchair a little bit.”
Eli had seen how Kate’s mom gently pushed her chair when Kate needed to feel better. He hurried over to Kate and started rocking her wheelchair slowly back and forth.
Kate stopped crying.
“Can I have a turn?” Juan asked.
“Me too!” Makell said.
As Sister Young taught the lesson, Eli and his friends took turns pushing Kate’s wheelchair. Kate smiled. The whole room seemed brighter.
By the end of class, everyone was smiling.
“Helping Kate makes me happy,” Eli said.
“I’m glad,” said Sister Young. “I’m sure it makes Heavenly Father happy too. He loves Kate and wants her to feel better. Sometimes we get to be His helpers.”
Eli looked at Kate. “You help me too,” he told her. “Every time you smile.”
Kate grinned.
As Eli headed home from church, he felt as warm as a soccer field on a sunny summer day. Maybe I can’t catch all the soccer balls, he thought. But I can still help people!

Most recently we have been called upon to face some of the most difficult challenges of our lives, as my dear sweetheart again went to deaths doorstep with a massive stroke three and a half years ago, that left her paralyzed on her left side. Through all of that time, we have again witnessed the undeniable power, and reassurance of our Father, that His will would prevail, and that our eternal covenants, made in His holy temple bind us together and assure us of eternity together if we stay the course, “hold on our way”, and not lose our “hearts”, the core of eternal truths that we will never deny. We have felt the presence of loved ones and friends from across the veil, knowing that our Father is keeping His promise to send them to be “round about us to bear us up.”
This scene here today, with her being here and us bearing testimony to you, was shown to me in a dream on the Sunday morning two days after her stroke. It was that day that she had the surgery on her brain that saved her life. However, we still did not know how much damage had been done and whether she would wake up. The image in the dream, I know, was a tender mercy, an expression of reassurance from our loving Father, that we still had things to do together on this side of the veil. The reason I am not wearing a suit today, but am wearing my white shirt and white tie that I wear in the temple is to remember a very sacred event that took place on Christmas Eve 2012, ten days after she had her stroke. As we were getting ready to go to the hospital as a family to be with her on that night, I felt strongly impressed to put on this shirt and tie. We went to the hospital where she was still unconscious in the ICU. She had not opened her eyes for ten days. We sang Christmas songs around her bed, and I again felt strong impressions come to my mind, that I should take her right hand and bless her to awaken and return with me to the house of the Lord. As I said these words in my mind, she squeezed my hand and briefly opened her eyes. Even though she still had breathing tubes in her mouth and throat, she gave me a small, beautiful smile, then closed her eyes again for another two weeks.
We will be forever grateful for so many of you and for our dear children and extended family who have truly been “angels round about us, to bear us up” during this most difficult time in our lives. We know that you have been the promised angels sent to us on this side of the veil, just like those on the other side who care for us.

Once, when Otto was leading a San Fernando, California, LDS Boy Scout Troop, he gave a small, laughed-at lad the important task of notching his stick with a nail each time they crossed the river. Faithful to the task, the boy scratched 252 marks on the stick by the trip’s end. (Brother Fife, now choir president of the Cedar City [Utah] 5th Ward, has led 1,060 LDS Scouts through the Narrows in all.)

I recall being in Hawaii on a Church News assignment in February 1996. President and Sister Hinckley had gone there for several events in connection with the Polynesian Cultural Center and to fulfill other responsibilities. I was privileged to report on the “Aloha” outpouring given them. It was a delightful experience.

Before returning home, I attended a session in the Hawaii Temple. President David Hanneman was a gracious host and invited me to dress in a room adjacent to his office. He said President Hinckley had been there the previous day for a session, and pointed out the white socks worn by the prophet that were still there. I dressed and realized I had forgotten my temple socks. President Hanneman said he would get me a pair, then he smiled and asked: “Maybe you would like to wear President Hinckley’s?” I said it would be an honor – and it was.

More important than following in a prophet’s socks is following his footsteps and example and in doing our very best. I testify in doing so there is safety, security and spiritual support that bring peace and joy in this life and eternal life in the world to come.

My son, Chris, was in his senior year in high school and was enjoying a fourth year in the choir. He had worked hard, and his voice was very good, yet he had never tried out for the annual high school talent show before. This was the year he decided to try.
Chris said that he had decided to sing “How Great Thou Art.” I knew it was a song very close to his heart. I asked him why he would sing such a spiritual song in that setting. He said that he and his sisters had taken a lot of flack about believing in Jesus Christ. Many people at school and in the choir had accused them of not being real Christians. He felt strongly that this song would help settle the question once and for all that he did believe in and love the Savior.
I was scared for him and said I would support him in whatever he did. After successfully auditioning, Chris was notified that he was to be the last performer out of 18 acts.
On the night of the performance, the crowd went wild over the more extreme acts. Then there came a girl singing a country song. She had a lovely voice, but because the crowd would not calm down, she couldn’t hear her music and got off the beat. The crowd kept whistling and yelling, basically driving her off the stage.
At intermission Chris left the performers’ waiting area and made his way to us at the back of the gym. I wanted to be encouraging, but I also wanted to take him home. He calmly said, “I saw what the crowd did, and went off by myself backstage and prayed. I still feel like I should sing that song. It doesn’t matter whether they like it or not. I will have given my testimony of Christ, and that is why I came.”
I still felt afraid for him. Even though the director of the program had spoken to the crowd about their behavior, there was still a lot of noise. Two acts before Chris was a very popular rap group. They got the crowd going at such a high level we just sat in the middle of the noise and watched. After this group left the stage, about half the kids in the gym got up and left as if the show were over.
The act just before Chris was a blind girl and her friend playing a guitar duet. It changed the feeling and spirit in the gym. It was beautiful and sweet. As Chris moved onto the stage, we all prayed that he would do his best and that somehow it would be a positive experience. As his mother, I felt that I had let my son walk into the lion’s den and only the Lord could save him.
Chris’s music teacher had given him a mouth harp. That was the first sound we heard. Then his voice, sweet and clear, came across the gym to us. I could feel the feelings of love he had for the Savior as he sang all three verses. When he finished, half of the crowd gave him a standing ovation.
We waited around to hear the judges’ results. Chris had told us they usually voted for the group that was most popular with the crowd. Still, we decided to wait and see how things went. Then the judges announced the first-place winner as Christopher Tucker. We were all yelling, jumping up and down, and hugging each other.
What a night! We felt that winning was nice, but the most important thing was seeing the faith that our son had put into action.
Editor’s Note: Christopher is now serving a mission in the North Carolina Charlotte Mission.

Tim was a good hiker. But this hike seemed very long. He and his family had hiked all the way to a lake. Tim liked seeing the little fish in the water. He liked throwing rocks in the lake. But now he was tired and hungry. Hiking was hard!
“Will you carry me?” he asked Dad.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said. “I have to carry your little brother.”
Tim started to cry. He was so tired. He did not want to walk anymore.
“Will you carry me?” he asked Mom.
“I have to carry baby Mia,” Mom said. “But I can hold your hand. We’ll walk together.”
Mom held Tim’s hand. “You can do it, Tim. We can do hard things.”
When Tim got tired, Mom pointed to the colorful flowers. They stopped to drink some water.
Then they hiked a little more. “We can do hard things,” Mom told Tim. “You are doing such a good job.”
Soon Tim could see the car. “Look! We’re almost back!”
When they got back to the car, Mom gave Tim a big hug. “You did it!” she said. “You really can do hard things.”
Tim smiled. He felt so proud. He had hiked the whole way!

We of the Council of the Twelve have heard President Ezra Taft Benson describe how his father was called to fill a mission. He left behind his wife, his seven children, the farm, and all that he had. Did he lose anything? President Benson tells how his mother would gather the family around the kitchen table and there, by the flickering light of an oil-fueled lamp, read the letters from her husband. Several times during the reading there would be a pause to wipe away the tears which flowed freely. The result? Each of the children later served a mission.

A true story from Costa Rica.
“Whoa!” Ethan said. “Did you see that one?”
“Yeah, look at its cute little tail!” said Lily.
Boston looked up, but he only saw shadows.
“We’ve already seen three monkeys today!” Ethan said.
But Boston hadn’t seen any! His family was visiting a rainforest to see wild monkeys. But the monkeys were too far away for Boston to see.
Boston was blind. He could only see things very close to him. Usually, he didn’t mind being blind. He could still do lots of cool things. He could read Braille with his fingers and walk with his cane in the dark. And he could find people by listening to their voices.
But sometimes, Boston didn’t like being blind. Like today.
Boston sat on the ground and sighed. It’s not fair! he thought.
A few minutes later he had an idea. Heavenly Father, please help a monkey come close enough for me to see, Boston prayed in his mind.
Boston couldn’t see any monkeys yet. Then he heard a noise from far away.
“Did you hear that?” Boston asked. “I think it was a monkey!”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Ethan said.
“Neither did I,” said Dad. “You have good ears!”
Boston heard a monkey run through the bushes by the trail. He pointed toward the sound. “Over there!”
Then he heard another one, and another. Sometimes his family could see the monkeys once he pointed them out. But none of the monkeys got close enough for him to see.
Soon it was time to go home.
“I’m sorry you didn’t see any monkeys,” Mom said as they walked to the car.
Boston shrugged. “It’s OK. I wanted to see one, but I got to hear lots of them instead.” Then he thought about his prayer. “It kind of reminds me of the Holy Ghost.”
“What do you mean?” Mom asked.
“When I stopped to listen, I realized they were all around me. I could hear them even though I couldn’t see them. It’s just like how I can hear the Holy Ghost when I listen.”
“That’s a great lesson,” Mom said.
Boston heard something in the bushes next to him. Then something ran out onto the trail—right in front of him! It had reddish hair and a long tail. It stopped and looked right at him. Then it ran into the trees again.
A monkey! He got to see one after all!
Boston smiled. Being blind was hard sometimes. But today, it helped him learn about the Holy Ghost. And that was pretty cool.

Mom hung up the phone slowly. “Ben,” she called quietly, so as not to waken the younger children. “I need your help.”
“Sure, Mom,” Ben said, closing his book. “What is it?”
“Dad is coming home from his business trip tonight,” Mom began, “but planes have had trouble landing at the airport because of the fog. I just called there. They expect Dad’s plane to land, but the bad weather has made it late—so late that Dad will miss his ride home from the airport. It’s a dangerous night for driving, but I’ll have to go and pick him up.”
“Do you want me to baby-sit?”
“No. I’ll ask Mrs. King to come over and sit while the little ones sleep. It’s awfully late, I know, Ben, but I’d like to have you come with me to the airport. I’d appreciate your company.”
“Sure, Mom!” Ben dashed to the closet. “I’ll get my coat.” It wasn’t often that Mom even allowed Ben to stay up late.
Once in the car, Ben realized how thick the fog was. It drifted past his window like clouds of pale cotton candy. He could scarcely see the white lines marking the lanes of the freeway, let alone the signs giving directions. “I sure hope you know the way to the airport, Mom. This is like trying to look through mashed potatoes.”
“Actually,” Mom replied hesitantly, “I’ve only driven to the airport once before, and that was in daylight. I know which signs to look for, but without those, I’m pretty lost. That’s one reason I asked you to come along. I hope that two pairs of eyes watching for the signs will be better than one.”
Ben stared into the milky whiteness outside his window, trying to see anything besides fog. The words of the prayer Mom had offered before they left the house meant more to him now: “Please bless us with safety and guide us to our destination.”
Mom seemed to be whispering. “Did you say something, Mom?” Ben asked.
“Yes, sweetheart, I did,” Mom answered with a smile, “but not to you. I was praying. The fog’s getting worse. I can hardly see the road at all now, and it’s too late to turn back. Please pray, too, Ben.”
Ben didn’t need to be asked. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he was saying silently, his eyes closed, “remember what Mom prayed for before. We need help to find our way through this fog.”
When Ben opened his eyes, in front of their car and a little to the right, he saw two small red lights glowing dimly through the fog. “Look, Mom,” he pointed. “Lights!”
“I see them,” Mom sighed. “They’re taillights. Another car must be in front of us. If we follow it, maybe it will help us stay on the road.”
They followed the taillights through thick fog and through thin fog. Once, when the fog cleared a bit, Ben saw that the other car was a rather ugly old green one. “It’s not a very pretty car,” he laughed, “but I don’t think I’ve ever liked one better.”
“Me, either,” Mom agreed. “Watch for signs now. We need to exit the freeway soon and take another road.”
Ben’s eyes searched for signs. In the thinner fog, he and Mom saw their exit sign at the same moment. But while they had been looking for it, they lost sight of the old green car.
“I feel as if I’ve lost a friend,” Mom said. “I wish I could thank whoever is in that car. They’ll never know how much they helped us. Without them, I don’t know if we would have made it through the first challenge of our trip.”
“The first challenge? That means there must be another one.”
“More than one, I’m afraid. It’ll be darker on this country road, and there’s only one little sign to mark the airport turn. If we miss it in the fog, we’ll really be lost. Keep praying, Ben.”
Usually when he was with Mom, Ben talked nonstop about everything he could think of. But now he was too scared. He felt that they were all alone in a big empty whiteness that was swirling in darkness. It was a lonesome and fearful feeling.
After a few minutes, Mom spoke again. “Do you know what this reminds me of, Ben?” Ben shook his head. “Remember Lehi’s dream that we talked about in family home evening a few weeks ago? Remember how all the people were striving toward the tree when thick mists of darkness surrounded them and many lost their way? Well, this is like being in a mist of darkness. We know where we’re trying to go, but we can’t see to get there. But some people made it through the mist. How did they, Ben?”
“They held on to the iron rod.”
“And what is the iron rod?”
“The word of God,” Ben answered.
“Well, I’m thinking of some of the words of God right now. I remember that He said, ‘Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.’* I think ‘whithersoever thou goest’ even includes through the fog to the airport, don’t you?”
Ben smiled a little into the darkness. His eyes strained for a glimpse of a sign out the window, and in his mind he kept praying, “Please help us find our way.”
Mom slowed down so suddenly that they came to a complete stop. “Do you see something out there?” she asked.
Ben’s eyes ached as he tried to see. He watched one tiny patch of fog clear just enough to reveal a sign: AIRPORT.
“Oh, Ben!” Mom’s voice trembled as she turned the car. “We’re not alone out here, are we? Only one more challenge now.”
“What’s that?”
“At the airport, there will be quite a bit of traffic, and since I don’t know my way around very well, I’ll have to go slowly and follow signs. I hope we don’t have an accident in the traffic and the fog.”
Mom was right about the traffic. As they neared the airport, cars and buses and all sorts of vehicles converged from all directions, some going much too fast for a foggy night. Mom was forced to keep up with them. “I can’t see the signs, Ben, can you?” Her voice was tense. “I’m not sure where to go from here.”
Ben didn’t know how to help. He was nervous about the speeding cars all around them. Then, just ahead, Ben spotted a familiar-looking ugly green car. He relaxed his clenched hand to point; then he and Mom glanced wordlessly at each other. Mom changed lanes and followed the green car right to the entrance of the parking lot. She parked the car, turned off the engine, leaned back weakly, and looked at Ben.
“Mom,” said Ben, after a quiet moment. “Do you think Heavenly Father answered our prayers with that ugly green car?”
Mom smiled. “What do you think, Ben?”
“Well, I think …” Ben swallowed. Then he grinned. “I think Heavenly Father can answer prayers any way He wants to. Let’s go find Dad.”

The technical phase of training began after boot camp as we headed East to Great Lakes, Illinois, and then to Orlando, Florida, before turning West to Idaho Falls, Idaho. We were young, married, and parents of a newborn and far from home. We wondered when we would see Polynesians like us again, so we were grateful to meet a Samoan sister in our ward in Illinois. What are the chances, we thought? Imagine then how overjoyed we were to go to church in Orlando and find Hawaiians, Samoans, Tongans, and Tahitians all in our ward! Of all the places we could have lived and all the possible wards we could have been in, what are the odds that we would find ourselves in a place that felt like home? Chance had nothing to do with it, shipmates. Once again, and time after time after time, over the entire course of our career in the Navy to the present day, the Lord reminded us that He knew who we are and where we are, and He cared about us.