Gospel Story Finder

Mara loved making people smile. She made her schoolteacher smile when she raised her hand to ask questions. She made her sister, Marcella, smile when she said nice things to her.
Then Mara would smile too. It felt good to help other people be happy.
But there was one time each week when Mara hardly ever smiled. That time was early Sunday morning. That’s when Mara and Marcella were always the most tired. Rushing around to get ready for church made them extra grumpy. Then there was the long walk to church. It was more than a mile away! Mara and Marcella often got there late. They would miss the first part of Primary.
“We miss you when you’re not here on time,” Sister Lima said one day. She was the Primary president of their ward in Brazil.
Mara knew she should get to church on time. But how? Then Mara got an idea. The next Saturday night, Mara decided to try something new.
Instead of sneaking bedtime snacks after dinner, Mara brushed her teeth. Most days Mama had to remind the girls to turn off the TV and go to bed. Even then they would play and whisper under their covers until late at night. Sometimes they stayed up so long they could hardly keep their eyes open. They had to wiggle to keep from falling asleep.
Tonight Mara put on pajamas and hopped right into bed. Mama didn’t even have to remind her. She started looking at the pictures in the front of her Book of Mormon.
“What are you doing?” Marcella asked.
“A test,” Mara said. Her mind was full of happy thoughts. Plus she was already feeling sleepy.
The next thing Mara knew, the sun was peeking through her window. It was almost time to get ready for church. Instead of feeling yucky, Mara felt great. Her head didn’t feel fuzzy. Her body didn’t feel tired.
She got to Primary even before some of the leaders.
“Thank you for being such a good example to the other children,” Sister Lima said.
Now it was Mara’s turn to smile. She decided she would always go to bed early on Saturday. That way she would be able to spread smiles all Sunday long.

In 2018, I was called as the director of public Affairs for Kenya and Tanzania. I had served on the public affairs committee, but this new assignment was completely overwhelming for me. I had held leadership roles in my work, but the role of being a public affairs director in a place where the Church is not well known and occasionally faced hostile media truly intimidated me.
Shortly after receiving my new calling, I was informed that the newly sustained prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, was embarking on a worldwide trip and that Kenya would be one of the places he would visit. We were further told that the Area Presidency had directed that the public affairs department would be leading the preparation for the prophet’s visit.
I went to my stake president. I told him how inadequate I felt. He listened carefully and then said, “If there was ever anyone that was fit to undertake the task, I have no doubt it is you, Sister Jepkemei. Speak to the Lord; He will direct you and He will help you.” My stake president then gave me a much needed and greatly appreciated blessing.
Our first task was to hold a news conference to inform the country about the coming of the prophet. This would be the first media event by the Church in Kenya. To our surprise, we had more than 15 attendees to the event. We also received invitations from the broadcast media houses to come and talk about the Church and the prophet’s visit. The stake president was assigned to represent the Church. In this instance, he had an emergency and was unable to attend. At the last minute, it became necessary for me to go in his place. I can’t express how intimidated I felt, but I went to the radio station and promised myself to only speak about what I knew and had experienced in the Church. I appeared on a morning radio broadcast program and spoke boldly about the Church. I was able to answer their questions with confidence. The broadcast went well and several people called the studios to ask how they might join the Church.
When President Nelson and his entourage arrived, he spoke to us and we felt the love of God’s prophet. Personally, I felt the truth of President Monson’s words that “When we are on the Lord’s errand, we are entitled to the Lord’s help.”2
There is no doubt in my mind that the planning of the Prophet’s visit succeeded, not because of our ability, for we had none. It succeeded because the Lord needed His work to succeed, and we offered ourselves, our inadequacies and all, to be instruments in His hands to bless the Saints in Kenya.
Through this sacred experience, I learned that whom the Lord calls, the Lord truly does qualify.

Third, the Master Healer can comfort and sustain us as we experience painful “realities of mortality,”13 such as disaster, mental illness, disease, chronic pain, and death. I have recently become acquainted with a remarkable young woman named Josie who suffers from bipolar disorder. Here is just a little of her journey toward healing as she shared it with me:
“The worst of the darkness occurs on what my family and I have deemed ‘floor days.’ It begins with sensory overload and acute sensitivity and resistance to any type of sound, touch, or light. It is the apex of mental anguish. There is one day in particular that I will never forget.
“It was early in the journey, making the experience especially frightening. I can remember sobbing, tears racing down my face as I gasped for air. But even such intense suffering paled in comparison to the pain that followed as I observed panic overwhelm my mother, so desperate to help me.
“With my broken mind came her broken heart. But little did we know that despite the deepening darkness, we were just moments away from experiencing a mighty miracle.
“As a long hour continued, my mom whispered over and over and over again, ‘I would do anything to take this from you.’
“Meanwhile, the darkness intensified, and when I was convinced I could take no more, just then something marvelous occurred.
“A transcendent and wonderful power suddenly overtook my body. Then, with a ‘strength beyond my own,’14 I declared to my mom with great conviction seven life-changing words in response to her repeated desire to bear my pain. I said, ‘You don’t have to; Someone already has.’”
From the dark abyss of debilitating mental illness, Josie summoned the strength to testify of Jesus Christ and of His Atonement.
She was not healed completely that day, but she received the light of hope in a time of intense darkness. And today, supported by a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and refreshed daily by the Savior’s living water, Josie continues on her journey toward healing and exercises unshakable faith in the Master Healer. She helps others along the way. And she says, “When the darkness feels unremitting, I rely on the memory of His tender mercies. They serve as a guiding light as I navigate through hard times.”15

There was Ted, for instance, who had been the great guilt-inflicter during those Halloween nights when we used to smash pumpkins just because we didn’t have anything better to do. “Sure, go ahead and destroy some kid’s pride and joy,” he’d object, as my braver friends and I left to tromp through the dark neighborhoods, hot on the trail of Mr. Jack-o’lantern. Ted’s unusual sensibility had always puzzled me. After all, I was nearly four months his senior, and I thought that kind of judgment belonged to older people who were married and had children of their own.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Bryce, the bold one, let out a scream and jumped off the cliff. It wasn’t a graceful takeoff, but it got the job done. I watched him flip like a fish as he fell through the sky, and I heard the distant splash when he hit the water. “You’ve got to try it!” he yelled as he pulled himself into the boat. It was a direct challenge.
I looked around and found my three buddies smiling at me. My stomach went sour. It was then I realized that jumping from a 90-foot cliff wasn’t such a hot idea. But how could I pull out now? They’d never let me live it down.
Just when I was about to jump, I was interrupted by Kelly, who barked out an obscenity and took off. We never saw him hit the water, but heard him crying as the others pulled him into the boat.’ His knees had slammed together upon impact, and he would be in a cast for the rest of the summer, following surgery on both knees.
The three of us who remained were now scared to death, but we wouldn’t admit it. I remember thinking about my acceptance to BYU, and about my plans to serve a mission after my freshman year. For the first time that day, I began to think of the consequences of making the jump. What if I became seriously injured? Was impressing my friends really that important?
“Fifty percent chance you make it and fifty percent chance you get hurt,” Bryce impatiently yelled at me from below. That was comforting.
I slowly walked back from the edge, then raced toward it, lifting my body off the ground as I soared into the warm sky. I looked immediately down and found the water racing toward me. I waved my arms to maintain balance.
My entry into the water was like an explosion, and I heard my back snap. As I sank through the water, I became aware that I couldn’t move my body. I felt as though my lungs would explode as I slowly floated to the surface, only to hear my friends laughing at the expression on my face.
Ted was the first to realize I was in pain, and he told the others to stop laughing as I was pulled into the boat. I mentioned something about the pain in my back as they laid me down next to the already-injured Kelly, and I was soon whimpering right along with him.
Kelly and I watched in bewilderment as the remaining two contemplated their own jumps. Despite unfavorable odds, each of them made the leap—successfully.
Since no doctors were within 100 miles of us, I decided to finish the trip with my friends. I lay in a tent for two days, shocked at my stupidity. I was only 18, yet I had risked my life for the sake of “entertainment.”
The doctor who examined my back said I had a compression-fracture which would cause arthritis throughout my life, but I still considered myself very lucky.
For nearly four years I had wandered carelessly through a world of smashed pumpkins and crazy dives. I hadn’t stopped to consider what effect my actions were having on other people, or on myself. I had been a thrill seeker who never had to face the consequences until that fateful day when I’d almost given my life just to impress my friends. It took a crash through Lake Powell’s waters to plunge me from my fantasy world into a world of reality and responsibility.

One morning when I was 11 years old, I woke up and heard voices in the living room. No one had come to wake me up for school like they usually did. When I went out to see what was going on, I found out that my dad had died.
While my family talked in the living room, I went to our garden. Our garden was big, and I had worked with my dad to help take care of it. I sat down on the bench under the trees and cried. I was feeling really sad and confused.
After a few minutes, I saw my Primary teacher opening the gate. He came and sat on the bench next to me and said, “Joni, do you remember the lesson we had last Sunday about the plan of salvation?” My teacher explained to me again that our souls are made up of a spirit and a body. He said that my dad’s spirit was in a good place, and someday he would be resurrected. Someday I would see him again.
Even though I was still sad, I felt peace. I remember that peace every time I think about that experience. My Primary teacher ministered to me, and the Holy Ghost comforted me. It helped to build my testimony of Heavenly Father’s love and the plan of salvation.

Photo illustrations by Getty Images
The landscape was dry, barren, and ugly. Beauty, admittedly, is in the eye of the beholder. That holds true for scenery as well as works of art. Yet the expanse of desert in front of me did so little to inspire my imagination that I felt sure plenty of other people might share my sentiment. The only thing growing out there was sage brush and weeds, and even those were spread thin.
I’d spent six hours in a car to reach this?
With my backpacking pack loaded with three days of food, water, and supplies, I trudged across the hot sand and hoped things would get better. Soon the dry sand deepened, which made every step feel like two or three. Things went on like that for several miles: hot, dry, dusty, and nothing at all like I’d hoped this adventure would be.
And then Coyote Gulch, one of the great slot canyons of the western United States, swallowed me whole.
It’s hard to describe the drastic change in scenery that engulfs you as you drop into this desert canyon. Hot, dry sand gives way to cool, packed earth. Sage brush is replaced with an oasis of towering trees, ferns, and other vibrant plants.
Barren flatland becomes a deep, shadowed canyon with towering walls on either side. A cool and refreshing stream courses through the bottom, whereas you can’t see water anywhere from above.
I was blown away at every step. I took pictures by the hundred. Yet for those first few dusty miles, literally none of this staggering beauty was visible, even if you looked for it.
Life is often like that.
The respective worlds of junior high and high school can loom larger than life while traveling through them. If your group of friends turns on you suddenly, for example, it can honestly feel like you’ll be friendless and lonely forever.
Getting a C+ on your report card when you’ve worked hard all year can seem like something that will derail your academic train forever. Not making the team, not getting a part in the school play, or not being invited to prom can feel in all honesty like life-altering events that forever taint your future.
The adversary tries to make us think that way, at least. But it’s simply not true. Life continues on. Life can improve beyond whatever challenges you’re grappling with at the moment.
Most likely you have no idea what wonders lie ahead, nor how Heavenly Father might be using your experiences now to prepare you for them (see D&C 58:3–4).
President Dieter F. Uchtdorf shared a story in general conference about a challenge from his own life that became a massive blessing for him. During the challenge, however, it was hard for President Uchtdorf to see much value in the struggle. He was 11 years old at the time and had to pedal a heavy bicycle and cart to deliver laundry for his family’s laundry business.
“Most of the time, I was not overly excited about the bike, the cart, or my job,” he said. “Sometimes the cart seemed so heavy and the work so tiring that I thought my lungs would burst, and I often had to stop to catch my breath.”
There was a reason the work was so hard for him. He was battling a lung disease he didn’t even know he had. But here’s the miracle: all that strenuous exercise proved to be exactly what he needed to heal his lungs. Not until many years later, when he took a physical exam to enter the military, did President Uchtdorf learn there had ever been anything wrong.
“It became clear to me that my regular exercise in fresh air as a laundry boy had been a key factor in my healing from this illness,” he said. “Without the extra effort of pedaling that heavy bicycle day in and day out, pulling the laundry cart up and down the streets of our town, I might never have become a jet fighter pilot and later a 747 airline captain.”1
Life takes time to unfold. We can’t hit the gym one time only and expect to get in shape. We don’t plant an apple seed a few months before we want to pluck fruit for an apple pie. Some of the most stunning vistas in your own life may not even be visible on the horizon yet. But they’re coming! Keep your eyes set for them even if they’re some distance away.
Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Think of the long view of life, not just what’s going to happen today or tomorrow. Don’t give up what you most want in life for something you think you want now.”2
Part of thinking of the long view of life includes recognizing that there’s life beyond high school! That sounds obvious enough. But sometimes, in practice, it’s not easy to convince your own brain to recognize that truth. If your life falls to pieces here and now, the adversary always heaps on discouragement. And one of the most tried and true forms of discouragement seems to be this: the idea that things are never going to be any different. But, of course, they will. You will change and grow too. With God’s help, you can learn to see that brighter future even when things are dark in your life.
President Uchtdorf has taught: “If you trust the Lord and obey Him, His hand shall be over you, He will help you achieve the great potential He sees in you, and He will help you to see the end from the beginning.”3
I’ve been able to look back over my own life and see many parallels to my hike into Coyote Gulch. For instance, I was a lousy student in high school. But with a mission and a few more years’ experience behind me, I sailed through college.
Various challenges that felt permanent then proved to be fleeting at best. And don’t even get me started on all the high school drama at every turn (which seemed like such a big deal at the time) that I haven’t thought about since graduation.
So don’t worry if life feels rough-and-tumble right now. Hang in there. As Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Stay the course and see the beauty of life unfold for you.”4
And what a beautiful life it will be.

Carla and Tim* moved into a new home about two years ago. Since that time their relationships with their neighbors have deepened. They’ve noticed, however, that as they become more familiar with their new friends, they also see more of their friends’ shortcomings. Apparent flaws in everything from the upkeep of their homes to their child-rearing practices seem more glaring all the time. They have begun to dwell on their neighbors’ faults in their conversations, and sometimes as they lie in bed at night they find themselves talking about the little things that bothered them that day.
Elsewhere two families in a small rural ward began feuding years ago. Although the exact circumstances are difficult for anyone to remember, it had something to do with a remark made by one father to another. The original observation was innocent, but it was misunderstood, and within days several variations of the story had spread. Feelings were hurt, sides were taken, and for years bitter feelings have chased the Spirit from them at activities and gatherings. Local leaders have tried to provide counsel and encouragement. Often those actions have been misunderstood as well. Today members of an entire family, including children and grandchildren, refuse to attend church largely because a simple observation blew up into a fire of faultfinding and criticism.
Modern prophets and the scriptures warn us that finding fault and judging others—whether in a single relationship, a tight-knit neighborhood, or a ward setting—can be spiritually hazardous.
Faultfinding distorts our perception in a number of ways. First, we inaccurately see ourselves as superior. When we become preoccupied with the weaknesses of others, our attention is distracted from our own faults. We develop a kind of spiritual farsightedness, focusing our vision on the faults of others, and our spiritual eyes may begin to play tricks on us as we see right through what is much closer—our own faults.
In Matthew 7:3 [Matt. 7:3], the Savior describes this curious condition: “Why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?”
Though we may see ourselves as better than those we criticize, in reality they are as precious in the Lord’s sight as we are, as the prophet Jacob makes clear:
“And now, my brethren, I have spoken unto you concerning pride; and those of you which have afflicted your neighbor, and persecuted him because ye were proud in your hearts, of the things which God hath given you, what say ye of it?
“Do ye not suppose that such things are abominable unto him who created all flesh? And the one being is as precious in his sight as the other” (Jacob 2:20–21).
If we find ourselves feeling superior to our neighbor, we likely have forgotten that we also have “sinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23).
In finding fault with others, we are liable to mistake appearance for substance. Unable to discern the thoughts and intents of our neighbors’ hearts, we base our judgments solely on what we can see or erroneously infer. President Spencer W. Kimball commented that “we often judge wrongfully if we try to fathom the meaning and motives behind [the actions of others] and place on them our own interpretation” (The Miracle of Forgiveness [1969], 268).
We may compare favorably with those who bear obvious signs of sin, because many of our foibles remain private and hidden. This appears to have been the case with the scribes and Pharisees, who wanted to stone the woman who was caught in adultery. But when Jesus said to them, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7), the accusers silently left.
While it’s easy to condemn the hypocrisy of the scribes and Pharisees, we may not be all that different today. Consider the growing number of tabloids and television shows that have joined the hunt for the “dirty secrets” of celebrities, politicians, and everyday people. Perhaps the popularity of these magazines and shows comes of our desire to find a shady character against whom we might appear to be glowing saints. Our own imperfections fade from our notice as we watch the sins of others paraded before us. Then, following condemnation of the designated villain, we see no need to work on our own imperfections, which seem to have diminished into insignificance.
If we ridicule others, content in believing that our sins are hidden from them, we become hypocrites like the scribes and Pharisees, whom Jesus likened to “whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness” (Matt. 23:27).
Finally, when we criticize and find fault with others, our perception can be distorted because we often see our own weaknesses in others. The Apostle Paul warned of this tendency: “Thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things” (Rom. 2:1; emphasis added).
If we project our flaws onto others, perhaps our attitude toward them is a barometer of our own imperfect performance. This advice found in the hymnbook is instructive:
Should you feel inclined to censure
Faults you may in others view,
Ask your own heart, ere you venture,
If you have not failings, too.
(Hymns, number 235)
A second hazard of faultfinding is that it stalls our personal and spiritual progress. This earth life is a time for us to prepare ourselves to meet God (see Alma 34:32), and focusing on the faults of others distracts us from that task. The danger in the practice of judging others unrighteously lies not only in what it keeps us from seeing—our own faults—but also in what it keeps us from doing—working to correct those faults.
Perhaps that is why the Lord abhors hypocrisy. Feelings of self-righteousness and complacency are deceptive, for if we are satisfied that our problems aren’t as serious as someone else’s, we tend to forget that how we measure up against other people is not the criterion for gaining eternal life.
The hare in Aesop’s fable provides a classic illustration of such pride and complacency. A hare and a tortoise agree to race. The hare scampers off, leaving the tortoise plodding slowly behind. Eventually the hare becomes tired and, sure of victory, decides to stop and rest. He falls asleep, and the steady tortoise quietly passes by, going on to win the race.
The hare’s problem was not that he lacked the ability to finish the race. Far from it. His problem was that he thought he had the race won. If we, like the foolish hare, think we have it made, there’s no need to keep working.
However, we haven’t crossed the finish line yet. If we stop now and go to sleep, no matter how far along the path of spiritual progress we have come, we’ll stop short of the finish line. As soon as we start focusing on how far behind our spiritual competition is, we divert energy needed to further our own progress and are liable to forget the whole purpose of the race.
The hare’s pride and complacency are like those of the Pharisee who found fault with the publican.
“The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.
“I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess” (Luke 18:11–12).
Without realizing it, the Pharisee had overlooked the beam in his own eye—he had spiritually gone to sleep. In the next verses, we learn that the publican, apparently having recognized and confessed his sins to God, was at that time better off spiritually than the proud Pharisee.
“And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.
“I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted” (Luke 18:13–14).
Like the Pharisee and the hare, when we think we have it made, we emphasize our supposed superiority over others instead of working on overcoming our own weaknesses. If we find ourselves becoming pacified, thinking all is well because we seem better than others, let us remember Nephi’s warning that this is a way Satan “cheateth [our] souls, and leadeth [us] away carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
Finally, when we are harsh in our judgment of others, we are not able to receive compassion and mercy ourselves.
After I had served four months as a full-time missionary, my initial enthusiasm and zeal for the work had waned considerably. I found myself having a hard time understanding and being compassionate with my companion and was discouraged that we weren’t succeeding in the work. I lacked all the confidence I had felt so strongly just a few months earlier.
Alone in an interview with my mission president, I expressed my feelings of inadequacy and discouragement. “How do I develop more confidence in my work as a missionary?” I asked.
His response could not have surprised me more. He didn’t try to boost my confidence by telling me what good work I was doing. He didn’t teach me about the power of positive thinking. Instead he asked me how I felt about other people, especially those with whom I worked.
“I don’t have much patience,” I admitted. “I was so eager when I started my mission, and it’s frustrating when things don’t go as I anticipated.”
Before I left on my mission, I honestly thought I could get along with anyone. However, in the midst of adversity, I found that I was often critical and judgmental of others.
The president then read a familiar scripture:
“Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God. …
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion” (D&C 121:45–46).
The relevance of this scripture to my situation was immediately apparent. As a missionary, I had lacked confidence, and this scripture promised enough confidence to wax strong in God’s presence. I lacked self-assurance, and this scripture promised the Comforter as a constant companion.
And the key to that kind of assurance, courage, and confidence? In addition to continually virtuous thoughts, I must have “charity towards all men.”
In my appraisal of others, including my companion, I had been critical and judgmental. By failing to have charity, I had cut off my potential source of confidence. I learned an invaluable lesson that day. I had long known that I hurt others when I criticize and find fault, but for the first time I realized how my judgmental attitude was harming myself as well. Since that discussion, I’ve noticed many times that when I am charitable toward others, I feel more confident and less limited by my own faults. In short, the harder I try to be forgiving, the easier it is to feel forgiven.
The Christlike attributes of charity and compassion simply cannot be selectively applied in our lives, and we cannot expect to feel confident and assured in our self-appraisals when we pick at the slightest defects in those around us.
Perhaps part of the reason we all experience difficulties, weaknesses, and shortcomings in this life is so that we might have an opportunity to be more compassionate with others. What a tragedy if we overlook our common humanness and point an accusing finger instead!

This year’s homecoming royalty at BYU is symbolic of the seventy countries represented at that school. The queen Michiko Nakamura is from Tokyo, Japan. Her attendants are Ruth Ann Brown, a Navajo Indian from Window Rock, Arizona, and Jana Rae Warren from Spanish Fork, Utah.
Michiko called her mother in Japan after being named queen. “We don’t have homecoming queens in Japan, so my mother didn’t even know what I was talking about. I told her to go to church and ask the American missionaries what it was.”
Michiko, a convert of seven years, will ultimately return to Japan to teach dance. “We don’t have modern dance over there, and it would be neat if I could pioneer in that field in Japan.”

A certain man, well up on the ladder of success, had great prospects for a very bright future. Then one day at a businessmen’s luncheon he decided that social drinking would make him more popular and successful. He soon began looking forward to the cocktail hours, and then found they didn’t come often enough. Finally he became an alcoholic, lost his job, his wife, and his friends. Because of the wrong choice at a moment of decision, he had lost everything he once so hopefully and diligently set out to accomplish.

“I was super excited when I found out the Newport Beach temple was going to have an open schedule for baptisms,” McKenna C. says. On Tuesday mornings during the summer, McKenna gathered a few friends, and together they drove along the beach to the temple. There they met with other young women from their ward who came each week to do baptisms for the dead.
A real desire to be at the temple kept the young women coming consistently throughout the summer. “There was a connection between us all as we sat there quietly next to each other, all dressed the same,” Perry N. says.
The young women began to view each other in a different way. “We saw one another as Heavenly Father’s daughters and as sisters,” McKenna says. “There was no judging. We had a greater love and understanding for all the young women.”
Each Tuesday as the friends left the temple, Elianna B. says, “We all would look at each other and smile. You can see how happy we are to be together. I feel like we are all family.”

After we got baptized, I was eager to have my mother’s temple work done but not my father’s work. The missionaries, however, encouraged me.

"It’s part of doing your part," they said. "Your father is also waiting for you to have his work done."

I told them I didn’t care. I was still upset with him.

"We have found the gospel," my aunt told me. "You need to forgive him and do his work."

Reluctantly, I accepted their counsel. A year after I was baptized, I took my parents’ names to the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It was a powerful, emotional experience. I was baptized for my mother and for several other people. Then our branch president prepared to be baptized for my father. I did not want to watch, so I began to leave.

After the branch president entered the font, I heard my father’s name during the ordinance. Immediately afterward, I felt the presence of my father. That experience left me feeling ashamed for not wanting to have his work done.

"Forgive me, Heavenly Father," I prayed as I began to weep. "I have been selfish."

When I returned to Nicaragua, I went to the cemetery where my father was buried. For the first time, I visited his grave and placed flowers on it. I asked him to forgive me, and I told him that I loved him. Then I wept again.

My father, like my mother, had been waiting for me to take his name to the temple, where Heavenly Father allowed me to have a wonderful experience. That experience cleansed my heart. In that moment, all of the pain and anger I had felt toward him went away.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

Fifty years ago the missionaries entered my father’s watchmaker shop to leave a watch to be repaired. As good missionaries do, they took advantage of the opportunity to speak with my father and mother about the gospel. My father accepted the missionaries, and my mother accepted the message and invitation to follow Christ. From that day to this, she has remained active in the Church. She said, “Yes, Lord, I will follow Thee!”

I think of her. I think of my father. I think of all those General Authorities who’ve influenced me, and others, including the widows whom I visited—85 of them—with a chicken for the oven, sometimes a little money for their pocket.
I visited one late one night. It was midnight, and I went to the nursing home, and the receptionist said, “I’m sure she’s asleep, but she told me to be sure to awaken her, for she said, ‘I know he’ll come.’”
I held her hand; she called my name. She was wide awake. She pressed my hand to her lips and said, “I knew you’d come.” How could I not have come?
Beautiful music touches me that way.

My wife and I likewise wanted Jesus Christ’s miraculous compassion to heal our newborn daughter. Doctors had discovered a large mass in her abdominal cavity. They diagnosed her with infantile neuroblastoma. Because she was just two weeks old and the malignant (cancerous) mass was large, her prognosis was not hopeful.

Filled with faith in Christ’s ability to heal her, I gave her a priesthood blessing before we went to the children’s hospital. During that experience, no words came to my mind. It was blank. Seeking to muster any words possible, the only phrase I could utter was, “You are in God’s hands.”

Disheartened by that experience, we headed to the children’s hospital where the medical team would perform surgery to biopsy the mass, see how far it had spread, and determine what, if anything, they could do for our daughter. Before the surgery, I again gave my daughter a priesthood blessing and had the exact same experience as before; I could utter only the words, “you are in God’s hands.”

After handing our daughter to the surgeon, my wife and I wept bitterly. When our bodies were unable to produce any more tears, I sat in frustration. I began to wonder if the compassionate miracle we had sought was not given because my faith or worthiness was insufficient. Why had Christ performed so many amazing acts of compassion for others but would not do so for us?

I felt prompted to read the story of Lazarus found in John 11. The interaction between Christ and Martha stood out to me. It felt like Martha was hoping for the same thing I was hoping for, that it was not too late for my daughter to still be miraculously healed. In response to Martha’s request, Jesus Christ said, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

“And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?” (John 11:25–26)

At this moment, it felt like Jesus Christ was talking to me. I felt that if I had eyes to see, Christ would have been sitting next to me waiting for my reply to His question. As I pondered my answer, conviction filled my soul, and I answered, “Yes, I do believe in the Son of God and all that He offers.”

Another question came to mind: “What has Jesus Christ made possible for children who die before the age of accountability?”

Again, in my mind, I replied, “That all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:10).

“Do you believe this?” was the response. Again, conviction filled my soul, and I answered, “Yes.”

The thought came into my mind, “Then you understand that she will be with God and can still become like God. What more do you want for her? You can enjoy that life with her as well when you stay faithful to the temple covenants Jesus Christ has revealed.”

I concluded that the greatest miracle in my life would always be the Atonement of Jesus Christ. There was nothing I wanted more for my daughter than for her to receive all of the blessings Jesus Christ has made available through His atoning sacrifice and sacred temple ordinances. A compassionate miracle was given to us—the miracle that matters the most.

Excitedly Tommy called out to his father, “The creek has overflowed and the back wheels of the wagon are standing in the water!”
Tommy’s father was out of the wagon in an instant. When he saw the situation, he helped Tommy pull the bed out from under the wagon and then hitched up both teams of oxen to pull the wagon out of the water. The ground was so slippery the oxen could not get a foothold.
“We will have to build a corduroy road,” said Tommy’s father.
To do this, Tommy and his father cut down many trees. They trimmed off the limbs and laid the poles side by side, close to and in front of the wagon; then with willows they bound each log tightly to the next one so they would not roll. When this was finished, they packed tough grass and pine needles on top of the poles so the oxen’s hoofs could not slip into the cracks.
Finally they coaxed the frightened oxen up onto the corduroy road and hitched them to the wagon. Father spoke to the oxen in a soothing tone, “Steady now, pull together.”
The oxen did pull together. The heavy wagon wheels rolled out of the mud, onto the tough grass, over the corduroy road, and up onto the road that the Camp of Israel would be traveling that day.
Tommy shouted, “Hooray!” and he could see by the look on his mother’s face that she was proud of her two “men.”

This letter is in response to Brother Robert Marcum’s article “Preparation for Power” in the May 1983 New Era. I feel sure the article was about my baby girl, as Brother Marcum was the one who joined with Brother Wayne Rickey to administer to her when she had been run over at the age of eight months, and all but the baby’s gender was correct—except that when I gathered my baby up I don’t remember yelling anything.
I feel that Brother Marcum would like to know just how much of a miracle he, Brother Rickey, and my husband participated in that day almost 15 years ago. The accident happened late on a Thursday afternoon, and when we reached the hospital with Bethany, her doctor tried to get one of Salt Lake’s leading thoracic surgeons as a consultant because he saw that her chest or lungs had been damaged, but the surgeon could not seem to be reached. As the doctor turned to get another number, the desired surgeon walked in the hospital door to visit a relative!
Upon examining our daughter, he felt there was a small rupture of her diaphragm, which was being partially plugged by her liver, so he postponed the necessary surgery to allow her lungs to heal a bit from any bruising they may have received.
On Saturday morning we received an emergency call from the hospital informing us that Bethany had worsened and that immediate surgery was necessary. When the surgeon finally entered our daughter’s chest, he was surprised to discover that her diaphragm was almost completely torn loose around the circumference and had a large tear from front to back. Essentially, she had been breathing with almost no diaphragm for 36 hours, buying a bit of time to allow the surgeons to do their work well.
She made a full recovery, and is now a lovely 14-year-old young lady with only a scar to remind us of the power of the priesthood in the hands of prepared men. Every day of my life I thank my Heavenly Father for the life of my daughter and for men nearby who were actively ready to use their priesthood.
Thank you, Brother Rickey and Brother Marcum, and thank you, New Era, for printing the story.
Helen ArringtonTwin Falls, Idaho

When he looked for a milk jar, there wasn’t one, so he looked in the refrigerator. All three jars were there with milk in them. What do I do now? he wondered. He leaned on the edge of the open refrigerator door and thought awhile. Finally he straightened, told himself out loud, “You think for yourself,” and took out the oldest jar.
He found a cream jar and the skimming ladle, carefully skimmed the cream off the milk, and set the jar of yellow cream in the refrigerator. Then he poured the milk into an old bucket to take to the pigs and chickens and washed the milk jar.
He set the strainer in the milk jar, picked up the milk pail and bucket of skimmed milk, and headed out into the clear evening air.
It looks like I’m going to be doing a lot of thinking for myself the rest of the summer, he reflected. After irrigating, it will be time to cut hay. Then there’ll be more irrigating. Sometime we’re—correction, I’m—probably going to have to move the other cows again.
Right now I mustn’t forget to gather the eggs and close the chicken coop door. And I should look at Ginger’s legs again while the horses are eating.
Boy! Will I have a story to tell when the teacher asks for essays on “What I Did This Summer.” I’ll call mine “The Summer I Grew Up.”
And I thought that all the challenges ended with the pioneers’ trek across the plains!

As a small boy in grammar school, I had a teacher who made King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table come alive. She caused me to become so obsessed with stories of knights that I played and dreamed that I was one.
One evening I dreamed that I was a white knight on a white horse riding over the greens of England. Suddenly, without warning, a knight dressed in black armor and mounted on a black horse appeared at the edge of the forest. We measured each other carefully, lowered our lances, and charged at full gallop. The lances struck target and both of us were knocked off our steeds.
I scrambled to my feet knowing that swords would be drawn and that hand-to-hand combat was imminent. Fear gripped my heart as I saw my opponent rushing toward me flashing a long, gleaming sword. Instinctively, I reached to my side and drew forth from the scabbard my weapon. That is when the dream turned into a nightmare! For in my hand was a small, dinky dagger—not a long, gleaming sword. I woke up in a cold sweat screaming for help.

In 1962, having returned home from presiding over the Canadian Mission of the Church, I received a telephone call from Elder Marion G. Romney. He advised me that the First Presidency had named me as a member of the Adult Correlation Committee of the Church, which committee had the specific assignment to work on the preparation of a new concept—even home teaching. Thus began a most interesting and rewarding experience for me. Each phase of our work, when completed, was reviewed by the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve. In the spring of 1963, our work was done and a number of us were called to serve on a new committee—the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee—and assigned to go among the stakes of the Church, teaching and encouraging its implementation.

President David O. McKay met with all of the General Authorities of the Church and with the representatives of the committee. He counseled those assembled: “Home teaching is one of our most urgent and most rewarding opportunities to nurture and inspire, to counsel and direct our Father’s children. … It is a divine service, a divine call. It is our duty as Home Teachers to carry the divine spirit into every home and heart.”

I called Victoria, my best friend, on Thursday. I was excited and nervous. When she answered, I asked her if she would come to church with me. She said that she would! I was so excited. I also felt all warm inside. I knew that the Lord was pleased with what I did.
Victoria asked me what time church was. I told her it was from eleven o’clock to two o’clock. She asked if we could pick her up. I answered that we would pick her up around ten-thirty.
When I got off the phone, I told my mom what Victoria had said. I even called my dad at work just to tell him. I couldn’t wait until Sunday. I thought, And all I had to do was make a simple phone call!
Kathleen Harris, age 10Orange Park, Florida